#sacrilegis

[tendercherie]

forgive me lord for I have imagined a life far more soft and tender than the one you created for me

[texaschainsawmascara]

‘IN LOVING MEMORY OF MY SUGAR DADDY’

NAMILIA SS24

[mickgaydolenz]

real question to all of my fellow book reading people. how do you guys mark your place? do you use a bookmark, dog ear, memorize the page #, or a secret other thing???? 📚

[sourkreem]

a panel redraw commission i did just recently. i probably should post more commission samples here.

[thegunslingerletmedrop]

[love4hobi]

🫶

[01zfan]

pray/want | j. sc

bad boy!sungchan x church girl!reader | 9.5k words

back at it again with another installment of my sacrilegious series! hope you guys enjoy heh. loosely based off of it will come back by hozier.

contains: drug mention, hand stuff (f. and m. receiving), biblical references and allusions to mary magdalene

sacrilegious masterlist | kofi

you were too forgiving. too merciful. you were raised to think it was a strength. giving extra grace to people who don’t deserve it. forgiving those who took advantage of you. 

it was a problem you had since you were a child. you always considered yourself to be empathetic towards others before you even knew what the word meant. if they were mean to you, they must have been having a bad day. if someone took your toys on the playground, they must have wanted it more. if you were pushed, they must be in a hurry. everyone in your life told you this was a strength to have. they presented your patience as if it was a holy virtue, and it was your duty to give it to everyone. your private christian school only further instilled this mindset. meeting everyone where they were often came at your expense, but you didn’t mind. school was an echo chamber of positivity and life was a bubble inside the padded walls of the church.

sungchan was your first introduction to the world outside. he was a new face at mass, round and young just like yours. you remember being confused at the way they scowled at him, how the elders pinched his sides and told him to pay attention to the preacher. he remained unbothered, always picking at the chipping paint on the pews or messing with the flimsy hand fans. you watched as they called sungchan a problem kid and a troublemaker. you think that the words they whispered about sungchan was the first time you were exposed to the harsh reality of people. you watched those words mold sungchan into the very thing they called him. whispers from the elders told you that he was out doing drugs, having sex with women, and hanging out with the wrong crowd. you remember your parents pulling you aside and telling you to not get involved with him, that he would only drag you down. 

your empathetic heart couldn’t stop you from extending an olive branch to sungchan. you didn’t see him as the terrible person they claimed him to be. you saw him as a troubled boy with no guidance. he was still so young, the same age as you with baby fat present on his cheeks. 

sungchan taught you that your forgiving heart was a character flaw. it was a problem you were developing, not being able to leave him alone. you were like his silent apostle, set on the mission of fixing his tumultuous relationship with the church. you would sit next to him during youth group and answer for him, singing extra loud during hymns incase he didn’t know the words. your voice had gone raw from talking to him constantly. you would talk to him for ages to only get a simple shrug or a one worded reply. it didn’t stop you, only further encouraged you to try and break down his walls. 

you came to him in between mass and individual prayer when you saw him sneak out through a door in the kitchen. you found him outside leaning against the church, smoking right below the kitchen window. all someone had to do was look outside and they could see him.

“you know you’re smoking right in front of the window?” you ask him. 

sungchan didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. your polite and slightly nagging voice seemed to follow him everywhere. but sungchan found himself looking to you often, loving the shocked look on your face when he’d shrug his shoulders and blow smoke clouds into the air.

“i don’t care.” sungchan says. 

his tone had become flatter over the years, losing that playful lift he had when you first met him. his sentences had become deadpanned words and eyes became stone. it didn’t drive you away, it only did the opposite.

you come down the stairs, lifting your sunday dress as you did so. the flowy fabric grazed your ankles, and revealed your cute frilly socks. sungchan watched you let the dress come back down your legs, using the same hand to motion at his cigarette. 

“can i try?” you ask.

sungchan has amusement on his lips as he raises his eyebrows at your question. he takes in another drag, turning his head away so he doesn’t blow smoke in your face.

“you smoke?” sungchan asks.

you shrug your shoulders, trying to copy the way sungchan did it. it feels awkward pretending not to care about anything and you’re sure sungchan can tell that your shoulders stayed up for just a moment too long.

“yeah. sometimes.” you lie. 

you don’t know why you are lying to sungchan, or why the lie fell so easily from your lips. you were never the type to ever lie, telling the truth no matter what consequence fell upon you. sungchan looks towards the door to the kitchen. someone could come out at any moment and catch you.

sungchan was intrigued by you. he let his eyebrows fall back down his face and looked away from you to knock the ash from the end of his cigarette. he was intrigued how you continue to stay there while all of his attention went to the ash falling from his cigarette, something that came like second nature to him. sungchan let his eyes go to your clear jelly shoes, something he had only seen children wear. he couldn’t stop himself from letting out a little laugh seeing you nervously rock back on your heels while he basically ignored you. 

once the ash had fallen to the ground sungchan walked over to you. he looked down with a smirk as he moved it to your lips. when you tried to grab it with your own hand sungchan raised it just out of your lips reach. you looked at him and he lightly shook his head. 

“the smell will get on you, let me hold it.”  sungchan said.

he watched you as you took your first drag from the cigarette. you almost went crosseyed to focus on the butt of the cigarette lighting up. it was fine only for a moment, before your lungs that were only used to pulling in air filled up with smog. your lungs started screaming at you and you could feel your throat burn, but sungchan looking at you expectantly egged you on.

“attagirl.” he said once he decided you were done. 

he pulled the cigarette away from you and watched you intently.

you could only hold in the smoke for a second before you started coughing profusely. sungchan gently clapped his hand over your back, your face started to burn along with your throat and lungs, embarrassed at how you couldn’t stop coughing. the heat only intensified when you looked up at sungchan. being so close to sungchan made you realize how angelic he looked. he was like a cherub, with his soft cheeks and unblemished skin. you were wondering how anyone in the church could call someone so pretty such awful. he had a smile on his face while looking at you, biting his lip to not laugh in your face. he distracted you almost to the point your body forgot it had to cough, having to turn away from his face to cough into your fist. right before you could cough, you heard the screen door of the kitchen open.

“what are you two doing?” a woman said. 

you recognized the woman from the congregation. she had a hand on her hip and the other clutching a purse just a little too big for her close to her chest. her dresses always matched her purse, and you always found your eyes ruefully drifting to the fraying garment of her apparel.

sungchan looked at you, like he was expecting you to lie to the woman. your heaves had turns into slightly labored breathing, clearing your throat to keep yourself from coughing. he saw your expression and decided to take matters into his own hands. he leaned against the wall of the church to hide his hand. he dropped his cigarette to the ground behind him, putting out the end with his heel. he cleared his throat and you cleared yours again. when sungchan straightened his back you did too.

“praying.” sungchan said sarcastically.

the lady rolled her eyes. you saw her sneak a pack of cigarettes back into her purse and she flicked her head towards the door.

“go back inside. they need help setting the table.” she said.

sungchan puts his hands in his pockets and starts heading towards the door. he is unfazed by the light scolding, something he has gotten used to over the years. you, however felt your heart drop at the thought of disappointing someone older than you. the shame is doubled when the older lady stops you before you go inside.

“you’re a good girl. you shouldn’t be hanging out with him. he’s a bad influence.” she said quietly. 

you know sungchan could hear it, because his steps falter for a moment before he continues walking out of sight. you nod in haste, wanting the interaction to be over. the lady closes the door and you watch sungchan go past the kitchen. he continues to walk down the hallway of the church, far away from everyone else.

the lady’s warning set the dynamic for your relationship with sungchan. it didn’t stop you from seeing him, it could be argued it made you want to hang out with him more. you had become his goody-two-shoes sidekick, tagging along to his adventures and indulging yourself in his lifestyle. 

you had your first drink with sungchan. you remember taking the shot, the clear liquid stinging the back of your throat and making your stomach warm. it had become more enticing to you than the blood of christ that touched your lips during communion. the cheers of your name from the unfamiliar faces around you tempted you to take another.

when your hand reached for the bottom sungchan places his hand over yours. you looked up to sungchan and found the same look on his face of when you took your first drag of the cigarette. you didn’t know a look could be so powerful, giving you the courage to do things you would’ve never done in a thousand years. 

you watched sungchan’s friend get a tattoo the same day you got your first piercing in the bathroom. sungchan leaned over the sink to inspect your ear, marking the perfect place. you could feel his hot breath fan your neck as he prepped your ear for the puncture.

“you’re parents might be upset.” sungchan said.

he pulled away from your ear to look at you. he was giving you the chance to back out, to refuse the piercing. but it was that look he gave you that had you shrugging your shoulders—it was starting to come to you naturally.

“i don’t care.” you said. 

the truth was you did care, but you cared more about the man dangerously close to you. your parents were the furthest thing from your mind as sungchan went back to looking at your ear, sticking a needle through your lobe. the sound you made caught both you and sungchan by surprise. you bit your lip when he did the other ear, not trying to make that sound in front of him again. your teeth nearly drew blood from your lip when sungchan moved backwards to inspect you, making sure the punctures were even.

when sungchan turned you around in the mirror he stood behind you as you checked out the new jewelry. you turned your head, trying to take it all in. you looked to your ears then sungchan, standing behind you with his hand on your shoulders.

“it’s pretty.” you said.

sungchan looked into the mirror to look into your eyes.

“yes. very pretty.” sungchan said.

just when you thought you had sungchan, he disappeared. it was like he was a ghost or a figment of your imagination. one day he was sitting next to you in the pews and the next day he wasn’t. he stopped coming to church, his parents stopped coming too. rumors spread that he had runaway after a particularly bad argument with his parents. the fact that his parents were too ashamed to come back made you assume they did something awful the church didn’t want to admit.

sungchan was even harder to get in contact with. each time you had hung out with him he came and found you. when you wanted to reach him, you realized you had no way to do so. 

not being able to see him led to your imagination running wild. everyday you would go outside to the kitchen window where he would smoke, looking out into the forest that surrounded your church. your mind had helplessly come up with a scenario each time you’d walk down the steps. your mind conjured up the image of sungchan hiding in the trees, scared to be seen by anyone else but you. after seeing sungchan you’d stop in your tracks, so surprised to see him standing there. you had practiced your facial expressions, letting your eyebrows raise and your eyes get large. you saw yourself mindlessly walking over to him when he’d beckon to you. you imagined that he would bring you in for a kiss, a type of kiss that would make up for the months of all the yearning and pining. 

then afterwards you imagined that sungchan would tell you how much he missed you, not being able to find god at the parties of the bottom of shot glasses. you’d then walk him back to the church and have the congregation apologize for pushing his soul to stray even further away from the path of god. you wondered about a christian wedding, going full traditional. having kids that were baptized for everyone to see. everything about you two would be by the holy book, except for sex. you don’t think you could wait that long.

your manifestation of sungchan coming to you didn’t come to fruition. you didn’t see sungchan until months later as you were leaving choir practice. the expression you had practiced didn’t pan out the way you wanted to. your binder fell from your hands, sheet music falling onto the rocky parking lot.

sungchan came over to help you quickly, catching papers before they could run away in the wind. you had bent down to take the music from him, but you were frozen, stuck in place looking at sungchan. he didn’t say a word to you until your papers were safely tucked away again in your binder, closing it and putting it back in your hands. he looked to you and you couldn’t believe your eyes. your feet were stuck to the ground keeping you both in the squat position.

“hi.” sungchan said quietly.

you nodded you head and cleared your throat. you hung onto your binder, the only thing keeping you present.

“where have you been?” your voice is barely above a whisper.

you had a white knuckle grip on your flimsy plastic binder. you don’t know why you were so nervous to ask sungchan a question. in his absence he had become someone you didn’t want to doubt, scared that he would leave you again. 

sungchan’s face flashes for a moment before he stands up. he dusts himself off, metaphorically wiping your question off of him. he holds out his hand for you and you grab it, surprised at how clammy his hand is on yours.

once you’re up you still stare at him like he’s a ghost.

“can i take you somewhere?” sungchan asks.

it was dangerous to have sungchan in your life. you found yourself nodding quickly to every question he had, you think you would leave the church the same way he did if he held your hand while you walked out. seeing sungchan smile outside of the church made you wonder what life was like outside of it. maybe it was nice and you would be happier than you were here. so you nodded as he led you to the motorcycle that looked similar to his fathers.

he helped you to the back and took a helmet out of the side compartment. he coaxed your musical binder from your hands to put it in there, tightening the leather strap to keep it safe. you were nearly shaking with anxiety as sungchan put on his helmet too, throwing his leg over to straddle the seat.

the engine revved underneath you, and your hands that were previously gripping your binder were now clenched at your sides. you waited for sungchan to reach behind him and guide your hands to clasp around his waist.

“hold on tight.” sungchan said as he pushed away the kickstand.

your words were drowned out by the sound of the motorcycle leaving the parking lot. you held onto him, letting your head rest against his back as he hit the throttle. you thought that the road sungchan was taking you down at an unbelievable speed could be comparable to your life. the fear that came with your future turned to excitement when sungchan turned around and looked at you, asking if you were having fun. everything that was scary seemed fun when you had your arms around sungchan’s waist, even the idea of getting into an accident on the motorcycle turned into a thrill for you. it was the same thrill that sungchan always seemed to give you. it was one that only subsided when you used the same hand that signed the cross on yourself underneath the sheets. you pressed your hands flat against his stomach, feeling how solid he was through his shirt. sungchan’s back vibrated against your head from laughing.

sungchan didn’t move your hands until the motorcycle was parked. your eyes didn’t open until the engine stopped roaring and sungchan gently touched you to let you know you had both arrived. you don’t know how long your eyes were squeezed shut to get here. you opened your eyes to  sungchan standing in front of you, helping you out of your helmet. this was somehow more intimate than having your arms wrapped around his waist as you two plummeted down the highway. you had to look away for your own good, focusing on the concert venue that had a steady stream of people going in. you saw people dressed like sungchan going in, various crowds of people were around the concert hall smoking while others tipped their heads back and wiped their noses.

“have you ever listened to music that wasn’t religious?” sungchan said.

he had leaned against his motorcycle as you took in the view around you. it felt like you were dropped in a different dimension or alternate reality from your own. you had no idea that people like this existed so close to your modest township. it was all so foreign to you that you couldn’t even find the words to describe the aesthetic. the words came and went, trying to define ripped skinny jeans and people cursing freely. what this had to do with music was beyond you, but before you could answer sungchan’s question you saw him turn his head towards someone in the moving mass of people.

“sungchan! you’re fucking late!”

you followed the voice until it landed on someone dressed similarly to sungchan. black leather jacket and ripped skinny jeans, with hair that was so black it shined underneath the street lamps. he looked younger than you and sungchan, he had an innocent look about him that betrayed the clothes he was sporting. the only thing you had in common with the person in front of you was the same beat up shoes you both everyday. you felt nervous and out of place, like you didn’t belong here.

“who is this?” the boy said.

he seemed to know you didn’t belong here either, his voice significantly lower than when he called to his friend. the boys gaze went back to sungchan after giving you a once over. you did the same, looking to sungchan like you didn’t know who you were.

“this is,” sungchan looked like he was contemplating for a moment. a hand that was supporting his body against his motorcycle pointed towards you. “my friend from church.” sungchan said.

anton’s eyes got big for a moment, head slightly tilting in confusion. it was almost like a lightbulb went off anton’s his head a second later. anton turned to you, his face suddenly neutral.

“oh. nice to meet you. i’m anton.”

he didn’t offer his hand out to you, they stayed stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. he nodded his head and you did your best to copy him. it felt just like when you started shrugging your shoulders to copy sungchan. anton took his phone from his back pocket and showed the time to sungchan. it was about to be your curfew.

“wonbin is about to be on soon.” anton said.

“let’s go then.” sungchan said.

sungchan pushed himself off his bike and started following the crowd heading towards the building. you followed behind the two men, not really having anywhere else to go. you couldn’t help but stare at every face you passed by, wondering where all these kids your age had come from.

the only indication that showed you were in your town still was that the building had the same look as everything else in your town. there was a certain archaic and abandoned look to the building on the exterior. the brick had cracks the painting was chipped, and vegetation grew along the edges. the closer you, sungchan, and anton got to the building you could make out the faded sign of what the building once was. it was a factory who knows how long ago, and judging by the size business was booming at one point. now it was honing beacon for all the rebels in your town, young adults that were the same age as you but looked wiser and seemed significantly more mature. you had always been proud of your innocence when it came to life, but your lack of experience weighed down on you heavy as you looked past the large doors into the unknown. 

you saw two burly men guarding the entrance dressed in all black with shades on even though it was nighttime. both of their eyes immediately went to you, and you felt even more out of place than before. sungchan followed their eyes to see what they were looking at. he grabbed your hand and you grabbed it back, trying to seem as casual as possible. sungchan visibly straightened his shoulders a little more, his hand settling on something in his back pocket. you saw anton show his ID to the other bouncer while sungchan’s hand led you to the other one. the bouncer held out his hand but before he could ask for your ID, sungchan smiled big at him.

“she’s with me.” sungchan said cheerfully.

“still need to see ID.” he said.

you see sungchan pull whatever it was from his back pocket and hand it to the bouncer. it’s something small, but sungchan’s body blocks your line of sight to see exactly what it is. the bouncer gives you one last look and you can’t stop yourself from looking down at your feet. you’re sure it is painfully obvious you shouldn’t be here. the bouncer takes mercy on you for some reason and nods his head. sungchan pulls you by your hand to drag you inside. the bouncer only continues to look at you for a second before tending to the next person in line.

the inside of the venue was completely opposite of the outside. if the outside was worn down the interior looked like it was recently experienced a complete rebirth. the ground you thought would be cracked concrete was reworked hardwood. the mass of people coming in walked towards a medium sized stage, where a curtain was drawn hiding who was behind it. this was what you imagined to be a concert venue now, equipped with stands on both sides for extra people. you didn’t know something like this existed in your town. you stopped for a moment and anton looked back at you smiling.

“first time?” anton asked.

sungchan looked between you and anton with an apprehensive look. you almost felt like you shouldn’t talk to him before you nodded your head yes.

“this is like sunday mass but for a different type of congregation.” anton said.

you don’t know anton said it to poke fun at you, the smile on his lips fading when he looked at sungchan. but it made complete sense. everyone looked the same, dressed in attire for the occasion the same way you dressed every sunday morning. anton and sungchan bobbed and weaved through the crowd, sungchan leading you through the mass of people until you ended up on the side. anton said something to the security guard, leaning in close before turning around and pointing at you and sungchan. the security guard faltered for a moment before stepping back and pulling open the safety gate. the three of you walked through and made it on the other side of the curtain to a smaller room.

immediately when you walk in the something musty and pungent fills your nose. it’s strong and almost skunky. you look to anton and sungchan—they are unfazed. you don’t comment on the overwhelming smell, or the smoke that filled the small room. 

you only remember being in the room for ten minutes before your perception of time changed. one moment you just suddenly felt yourself looking to the clock every ten minutes to see that only two had passed. you sat on the couch while sungchan navigated the whole room. they listened to every word and the way they followed him around made you think of disciples. it made you giggle, you smiling into your hand when sungchan came to you on the couch.

“what’s so funny?” sungchan asked.

he had a smile of his own now, and his eyes were low and bleary. when you forgot the answer you just kept smiling. sungchan smiled back at you. you were giggling while sungchan when sungchan told his friend to break a leg, and you were giggling when sungchan grabbed you hand and took you to the bathrooms. you laughed at how piss covered the floors and how there was no toilet paper or soap in the dispensers. you were nearly in tears when sungchan started stuffing pieces of toilet paper into your ears as makeshift ear plugs. he was laughing too, quelling your worries that the toilet paper would get stuck in your ears. 

whatever you felt had died down by the time the show started, the loud music pulling you from your trance. the music thumped in your chest, you had to hold a hand to your heart to make sure it was still beating. sungchan seemed unbothered by being so close to the speakers though. he was cheering and singing along with his friend on stage. sungchan smiled more than you had ever seen him do so in church, and he knew all the words unlike the latin hymns he mouthed unsuccessfully during service.

everyone sang along to the lyrics except for you, bodies bumped into yours and everyone was pushing. if it wasn’t for sungchan behind you, you were sure you would’ve been swallowed up into the crowd. the music was nothing like what you were used to, but you tried to enjoy it anyway. it was different to see what rebels your age were doing while you were busy knowing nothing about life beyond your oratory.

the music blared from the stage, the bass made the floor underneath your feet shake. it went right through the soles of your shoes and travelled up from the balls of your feet. the bass went all the way to your head, shaking the individual hairs and rattling your skull. it was like all your senses were being taken away from you and replaced solely with the music that played onstage.

you could barely make out anything from the strobing lights, as fast as you were granted vision it was ripped away. the flashing lights contributed to the energy of the people surrounded you, like a ticking time bomb as gasoline filled all the way to the ceiling. everyone’s restless bodies started colliding when the music intensified. you don’t know if people started forgetting there were bodies around them as the music got louder and louder. it was the same way it was at sunday service. you saw people be overcome with emotion as they pushed to the music. they were swayed by the band on stage the same way your congregation was swayed by the priest. but just like there and just like now, the only thing that swayed you was sungchan. the only difference was that in church you could only dream about how close he was to you now. his hands rested on your hips as he guarded your body from the people moving around you. you felt his wet lips place a kiss to your neck, so soft and gentle unlike the harsh music that played onstage and the hectic crowd of people that surrounded you. 

sungchan’s wet lips pressed to your skin. you could feel the heat coming off his body in waves, and you were sweating on your own. the air seemed to vibrate as sungchan worked his way up to your ear before kissing the shell and leaning further in. you could feel his chest come close to your back as he whispered in your ear.

“i missed you.” sungchan said against your neck.

you weren’t sure if you were supposed to hear what sungchan said to you. his voice had intent, but it was supposed to be drowned out by the riffing guitar onstage and the bass that vibrated the speakers next to you. but when sungchan spoke to you, it cut through all the noise. it made the pulsing bodies surrounding you disappear. suddenly it was just you and sungchan in the venue--maybe in the whole world. 

you knew that whatever you said would be lost over the sound of the music. you just tilted your head until it rested on sungchan’s and nodded, to make sure he knew you felt the same way. 

you knew sungchan understood when his hands on your hip dug into the your church dress. the fabric stood no chance against his grip, it was almost like there wwas nothing there at all as sungchan held you tight.

“i want you.” he said into your ear.

you smiled as you looked ahead to the stage. want was so juvenile to you. you learned about want and have felt want for so long that it came to you like breathing. the want you were taught about in church was subject to god’s will. what you felt for sungchan couldn’t be contingent on anyone, not even if they were all knowing. 

what you needed couldn’t be defined as something so simple as want. it was defined as a burning desire and something you pretended wasn’t a necessity until now. the same way you taught sungchan about the bible you planned to teach him about something else. so while you were shoulder to shoulder with sweaty pushing strangers you turned around to face him. sungchan was still leaned over to kiss your neck when you put both hands to his face to pull him in. he kissed you with want but you kissed him back with necessity. it was carnal the way you took his bottom lip into your mouth and the way the bass in your moan rang in both of your mouths. you only took a hand away from sungchan’s face to push his hands lower on your body. he gripped your ass as you deepened the kiss. you kissed sungchan so eagerly that his face was being pushed back as he tried to reciprocate. 

when the song ended you pulled away first. sungchan was in the same place you left him, with his eyes closed and head tilted. his lips were red and swollen. want couldn’t compare to what you felt. you could fill this warehouse to the ceiling with want. what you felt for the man before you was something that could only be expressed underneath the sanctified sheets of your bed.

“my parents are asleep around this time. they don’t get up till afternoon service.” you said.

you said it at normal volume, still thinking it was just you and sungchan. the lights around you barely illuminated your face as your faced sungchan. your voice was lost in the screaming crowd, and sungchan could hardly make out the words your lips mouthed. so he looked into your eyes, he let them guide his next actions as he nodded his head. sungchan looked down to see your hand and your gaze fix on the exit. 

the show was over when sungchan grabbed your hand and led you to the exit. it was sungchan who was pushing concertgoers now, bumping into people without care if they were in the way. you trailed behind him, bumping into people as a result of it. you apologized to who you could, but someone giving you a hard look was the least of your worries. you would repent for being impatient later.

you and sungchan beat the crowd leaving the venue. he didn’t bother to look for his friend or to say goodbye. sungchan was only focused on making sure his spare motorcycle helmet was secure on your head before kicking his bike off the ground.

you held onto sungchan’s waist as you sped down the highway towards your home. you took the risk to let go of him when he hit the highway. he slowed down on the empty road to let you spread your arms out. you felt the wind around you, and you hoped it would carry away the smell of cigarettes and skunk that stuck to your clothes. sungchan still knew the way, and he knew to park his motorcycle on the side of the road instead of pulling up to the driveway. 

you looked to sungchan one last time before opening the door to your home. he was on his own path that deviated from the church a long time ago. you weren’t sure what he was doing besides enjoying music and doing drugs, but it didn’t matter. him being outside of the church as you were leaving had to be something like divine intervention. 

it was that intervention that led sungchan down your creaky hallway, sneaking past your parents that were sleeping on the couch. with a finger to your lips sungchan found himself following someone else’s orders for the first time in awhile, taking the same steps as you to be as quiet as possible.

sungchan walked down your hallway that was adorned with crosses and decorations of angels. he was sure he saw the statue of jesus on the top of a table, and a painting of his birth was stuck to the wall. sungchan let you pass by him so you could slowly open the door of your bedroom. he looked down the hallway to see the glow from the television casted on the wall. he heard the low sound of a late night televangelist before hearing your voice.

“sungchan.” 

you called to him gently from the depth of your room. he couldn’t see from his spot in the shadow of your hallway, so his feet carried him until he was beside your doorframe. 

sungchan saw you sitting on the center of your bed. you were still in your dress, but sungchan felt like you were laying yourself bare before him. he was frozen in place underneath the rosary that draped your doorframe. he was compelled to do the sign of the cross over his body, but nothing could make him move. it wasn’t until you beckoned to him that sungchan took a deep breath before taking a step into your room. 

sungchan said nothing about the religious paraphernalia in your room. suddenly the crosses you had collected over the course of your life was humiliating as sungchan looked at every single one of them. you motioned for him to turn off the lights as he closed the door behind him, but the miniature figure of christ you had on your desk could still be seen in the dead of night. sungchan almost felt like something terrible would happen to him if he mentioned it, like getting struck by lightning or your parents suddenly coming into your room. 

the only thing that kept sungchan calm was looking at you. you felt unrest seeing sungchan stand still in your doorway. he must’ve still feared something judging him by the way he looked at you. you patted the space on the bed beside you, adjusting yourself on your knees to seem as welcoming as possible. 

sungchan sat on the bed next to you, his legs leaning over the side of the bed. he was ready to get up and leave at any moment. you’re body head to toe is tingling with excitement, and you want to remind sungchan about the want he told you about earlier. you turn your back to him and reveal the zipper down the back of your dress.

“can you help me?” you ask.

sungchan says nothing, but you can feel the pads of his fingers hold the fabric surrounding your zipper in place while he brings the other hand to the zipper itself. you can feel the pads of his fingers on the bare skin of your neck that the dress doesn’t cover. you shake as your hear the metal teeth open down your back, and the cold skin of your room touches your skin.

when the zipper is all the way down, sungchan brings his hand to your two shoulders. he slowly helps your arms out of the sleeves, and you let it fall off your body. you can hear him exhale and feel his breath fan the skin of your back. sungchan brings hesitant fingers to the clasp of your bra. you can hear him behind you shuffle to move his body further on the bed.

“can i?” sungchan whispers.

you swallow and nod your head.

“yes.” you say quietly.

sungchan misses the clasp on the first try, and it catches you off guard when your chest suddenly feels free after his second attempt. he helps you out of the bra the same way he did with your dress. you let it fall off your body, falling on top of the pile your dress made.

you stretch the curve or your back. sungchan only looks at your shoulder blades, too nervous to move any further. you lift the top of your dress from the bed and press it to your bare chest. you look behind your shoulder to look at sungchan. his eyes break from your shoulders to your eyes, and then to your lips. sungchan watches you as you move backwards onto the bed, giving him space to move in front of you.

the two of you sit in the silence of your room, looking to eachother. you can hear the sound of the wind blowing outside, and the sound of a loud commercial break on the television in the living room. you move underneath the loose fabric of your dress and bring your legs closer to your body. sungchan shifts too, and you can see his hand reach out before he brings it back to his body. he lets his finger press into the duvet on your bed as you clear your throat.

“do you still want me?” you ask.

sungchan nods his head and moves forward towards you. he still hesitates, not letting his hand that’s on your calf go up any higher. 

“i want you so bad. you don’t understand.” sungchan said.

you hated that you understood what sungchan meant all too well. you could sit here and debate the logistics with him, how you could teach him what it feels like to truly yearn something like the way you yearned for him. you wanted to show sungchan about passion that went beyond want, and you longed to drive him so crazy that he would feel the same burning desire you felt when you didn’t see him for all that time. so you grab sungchan’s hand and guide it to the dress you had let go of. it rested on your body like covers, ready to be taken off if sungchan was willing. he looked to you and you nodded your head as he held your dress. 

sungchan pulled the dress away from you slowly, revealing more and more of you to him. you gasped as you felt his eyes on you. by the time sungchan takes your dress fully off, you are only left in your cross pendant and underwear. sungchan is entranced, eyes dragging down your whole body. he lifts your legs to help pull the dress off all the way. sungchan gently drops your clothes over the edge of your bed. you point at sungchan’s shirt, and he takes off his shirt and pants too. 

you are both left in your underwear underneath the plethora of crosses on your wall. the bible is next to your bed on the table with a rosary piled neatly on top. it’s ignored when you sit on your bed and spread your bent legs slightly. sungchans hand starts from your feet, tracing up your leg slowly until he reaches your knee. his fingers come down your leg as he slots his body in between them. 

his fingers don’t stop until he thumbs the cross pendant on your necklace.

“sign of the cross.” sungchan says quietly.

you settle further into your bed, and spread your legs further.

“do you remember how to do it?” you ask

sungchan nods before bringing three fingers from his right hand to your bare body. he touched your forehead, then dragged his fingers down the valley of your chest to your solar plexus. sungchan touched both of your shoulders, using your collarbone as a guide. you let out a breath sigh of amen, but sungchan didn’t do the same. he brought his hand back to your stomach, going lower and lower on your body. he looked at you for permission, and you nodded and spread your legs further. 

you felt the carnal desire that evolved from want fill your room to the brim as sungchan let his fingers go underneath the waistband of your panties. he teased you only for a second, the pads of his fingers bumping your clit before his fingers went further down your folds. you gasped when sungchan finally put his fingers inside of you. he kept his fingers still for a moment inside of you, waiting for you to adjust and move first. you wasted no time pulling your hips back to bring them forward again as you used sungchan’s fingers to pleasure yourself.

he brought his other hand to your lower stomach, feeling the supple skin of your stomach.

“i’m so bad for you, you know.” sungchan said.

his actions differed from his words. the way he had his fingers on you made you feel so good, and the high you felt from the drugs in your system and the rush from the night made you want to continue chasing that feeling. so you ignore sungchan’s indirect warnings and continued to push your hips to meet his fingers.

“i can save you.” you whimper quietly. 

sungchan looked from your hips to your eyes. he looked deep into you but you didn’t shy away. you continued to push your hips to feel his fingers go inside of you deeper. you didn’t break eye contact until sungchan bent his fingers and hit a spot you didn’t know existed. you bit your lip and tilted your head back. your whole body leaned, forcing you to prop yourself up on your outstretched hands behind you. 

sungchan moved from his spot on the bed to get closer you. he hovered over your body, his hand on top of yours as his other hand continued to pump in and out of your body. you looked up at sungchan, spreading your legs further as sungchan took over. he let you rest as he started doing all the work. he wanted it to be fast, seeing your chest jump as his finger started pistoning into you. you brought your hand that was free to hold sungchan’s bicep. he still held your gaze, nodding as you let quiet moans fall from your lips. your eyes closed in bliss—you couldn’t stop the words from falling out of your mouth.

“oh my god.” you sighed.

“i know.” sungchan whispered back.

sungchan kept going, even through the pain of you digging your nails into his skin. he kept going even when you fell to your back and closed your thighs around his hand. sungchan didn’t stop until you cried out his name from your pillow and slick want came from you. you clamped around his fingers and sungchan scissored them inside of you, trying to give you all you could take. he didn’t stop until your legs slid down your bed and you used a weak hand to pull his fingers out of you.

sungchan watched you bring your hand to your chest as you stared at the ceiling. sungchan laid on the bed next to you and placed a hand next to yours. he could feel your heart pounding in its cage. he brought a hand to his heart and he could feel it beat with the same urgency.

you let yourself relax next to sungchan. you let your hand go down his body. you do the same thing sungchan did to your body, your three fingers grazing across his body before going underneath the waistband of his boxers. you look up and kiss sungchan’s forehead as you wrap your hand around his length. it’s heavy and twitches in your hand as you slowly stroke him. 

his usual demeanor crumbles almost instantly, he is the vulnerable one underneath your touch. he pushes his body further up until he is resting against the headboard of your bed and you follow him. you face sungchan as you continue pumping his length, and his hands dig into your sheets. you come closer to his lips to kiss him again, trying to swallow the tiny sighs he lets out. sungchan gives you the reins and you let desire take control of your actions. desire makes you pull down sungchan’s waistband and it makes you put your tongue into his mouth. sungchan pulls his underwear off the rest of the way and you take a peak at his length. in the darkness of your room the moonlight comes in perfectly, giving you just enough sight. you can see your hand glisten in the light as it goes up and down sungchan’s dick. it’s a soft wet sound, only magnified by the quiet of the night. 

sungchan grips your hand and tightens it around his length. he starts lifting his hips to fuck himself up into your hand and you watch his body work to bring himself pleasure. you can see the sweat form on his taut skin, and his hair starts to stick to his forehead from the exertion. sungchan can barely bring himself to look at you as he chases his own pleasure. you force him to make eye contact when you move his bangs from his face and lift his gaze with fingers underneath his chin. the pace he set with his thrusts falter for a second when he looks into your eyes. you help him by bringing your hand down faster and tighten the grip of your hand. you can feel sungchan’s hand clasp around yours further, and how his thighs start to shake from the work of thrusting. 

that’s what separates you and sungchan. his want drives him to hastily fuck your hand, trying to reach a high that only came to him hours ago. what you needed has had time to ferment. it started as want—you wanted sungchan to come to church. you wanted him to find his path. you wanted him to kiss you. but it had time to brew in your stomach over the time time you didn’t see him and when your mind was forced to fill in the gaps. it was like a wound, festering on your skin and reopened anytime sungchan came into your orbit. he knew nothing about yearning or craving something the way you did. but you kept pumping your hand for him, because you wanted to keep him coming back for more. you wanted to become a wound on his skin and burn the fleeting touches into his brain. you were going to become something sungchan longed for, and maybe over that time your own craving would subside. sungchan would need you and you would be able to use a word as weak as want to describe how you feel about him. 

when sungchan’s hand go back into your panties, your hand faltered. you looked to sungchan bewildered, but he only looked back at you with blown out eyes. his eyes consumed you while his bitten lips drew you in again. maybe sungchan already felt the same as you, he was just better at hiding it. maybe the plan you had for sungchan would end up destroying the both of you. you didn’t care as you helplessly rutted into his fingers. if desire killed you before it subsided to want you would be okay with it. if you were to die at the hands of something that felt so good, you would welcome it with open arms. 

you brought your mouth away from sungchan’s to go to his neck. you suck and bit at his skin, and he brought a hand to your back to bring you closer. you were kneeling beside his body, praying into the skin of sungchan’s neck as he whimpered next to you. in the comfort of your bed kneeling wasn’t painful. you wondered why you spent so much of your life kneeling for forgiveness on the rough ground of the outside world or the padded walls of your church. you wasted your time kneeling to anything but pleasure. 

your revelation hits you the same time it hits sungchan. he thrusts into your hand once more before staying there. he whined quietly as his hand presses deeper into your back and inside of you. you can feel his dick twitch and warmth covers his hand and yours in spurts. you continue to pump his dick as he becomes a mess underneath you and you grind your hips on his hand so you can feel your own revelation again. your body turns to jello for the second time of the night as you lean your entire body weight against sungchan’s chest. you can’t stop letting your sounds increase in volume as you lean further into sungchan’s chest. you let your sounds out into his clammy skin as he continues to finger you. you have to take your hand from his dick and pull his hand out so you can calm down.

“i’m sorry.” sungchan says.

he wraps both arms around you and brings you weak body in for a hug. you only shake your head, trying to form a coherent thought.

”it’s okay.” you whine.

after you come back from heaven, you realize exhaustion is starting to weigh down on your body. you’ve had a busy day, the adrenaline high crashes down on you fast. you end up drifting to sleep still leaned against sungchan’s body, but he is left wide awake. he only says your name once, slightly shaking your body to see if you will come to. you don’t wake up, and sungchan uses what’s left of his energy to slide down from the headboard so you’re both laying on the bed. sungchan feels the mess he made over his hands and stomach. he believes that he doesn’t have a home here, or the right to lay in your bed. so he gently moves your sleeping body, pulling your hand wrapped around his waist and turning you so you lay on the pillow. your body instantly adapts, pulling in a blanket to hold it the same way you were holding him. 

sungchan gets up from your bed and starts putting his clothes back on. it’s slow and hesitant—he does everything in his power to keep you asleep. sungchan starts walking towards your door with his jacket and belt in hand when he hears shuffling on your bed.

“do you need a place to sleep tonight?” you whisper sleepily.

sungchan froze before he could turn the handle. he looked back at you, seeing your state and he nodded solemnly. you thought even in the dark of night you could see his crestfallen face, or maybe it was waves that radiated off of him in droves. you thought for the night he wouldn’t be alone as you lifted up the corner of your sheets, showing an empty spot just for him. sungchan came from your doorway to your bed, setting his jacket on the back of your chair and taking off his jeans. in just his boxers and shirt he crawled underneath the covers. he held open his arms, showing he had a spot for you too. you nestled into him without hesitation, tucking your head underneath his chin.

“i would give you anything you need.” you whispered into sungchan’s chest.

his arms around your body wrapped around you more, pulling you closer. you had almost wished he had drifted off to sleep. you wanted to whisper into his chest that he could come to you like a stray cat, wounded and hungry and you’d take him in each time. you wanted to tell him that you didn’t care if you were too forgiving or too naive. you wanted to be there for him like a saint if it meant you could continue to receive his offerings. if you enabled him until there was nothing left you would savor each moment you had with him. if you ended up saving sungchan you would make a future with him.

sungchan knew that he wouldn’t be able to rid himself of you even if he tried. something about you entranced him and had him wanting to come back. maybe it was the way you prayed with the same hands you used to undress yourself backstage. he imagined nights in the near future of him sitting on the edge of your bed while you gave him a show. maybe it was a trauma response. sungchan knew that the life he was living would drain him emotionally and physically. if he were to appear on your doorstep in the dead of the night after a show or a bender he knew your forgiving heart would let him in. he knew you couldn’t bare to see someone else in pain, especially if it was him.

you both knew the dynamic you two were actively changing all night was going to become volatile later down the line. you would end up taking mercy on sungchan’s self-destructive lifestyle in exchange for the freedom he brought you, while sungchan would use you to recuperate before going out and destroying himself some more. you would try to change him under the guise of showing him “the light” and he would corrupt you under the guise of showing you life outside the church. who needed who more would only become blurred and several lines would be crossed. you both knew you were trapping yourselves in a vicious cycle, one that you would probably go through on your own to keep it a secret from the church and your family. 

it didn’t matter when sungchan sighed contently and kissed your forehead. his lips were soft against your skin, it brought you the same comfort the church used to bring you. so you sighed from the comfort and settled further in your tomb, underneath the six layers of your clothes and blankets. your body was still cold, the only thing that brought warmth was sungchan’s body. it made you feel like you were alive, like you would be reborn when you emerged from the covers in the morning.

“you know i’ll be back.” sungchan said clearly.

when you woke up the next morning, sungchan had dug himself out from under the blankets. he had risen revived from your forgiveness while you were left alone in the grave.

[suddenlysentient]

I made a funny

[glassclownz]

flat dreams sketches!!!💥

[nilla-bear]

[whumpninja]

This may be the dumbest idea I’ve ever had, but I am that special flavor of idiot that will apply whump to anything currently going on. And my news feed has been nothing but the Olympics lately, so this was basically inevitable.

Whump Olympics. Whumplympics, if you will. Whumpers who train their whumpees to withstand different forms of torture, and the competitions are to see which one lasts the longest. (Or alternatively, it’s the whumpers competing to see who can break their whumpee the fastest.)

Go forth into the world, dumb idea, and don’t tell anyone that your creator knows zip about sport.

[yawntu]

Okie your right bestie now that your ask box is open you have to do the avatar guys reacting to spicy body piercings. Neteyam, Roxto, Ao’nung and Lo’ak I AM BEGGING YOU

/)/) ( . .) ( づ♡

a/n: Head so empty had to get this out though bc two other people agreed tongue ring was chefs kiss. We have a bunch of ancient cultures who pierced their tongues ritualistically so the Na’vi probably do it

Pairing(s): Ao’nung x reader, Neteyam x reader, Roxto x reader, Lo’ak x reader

word count: Little under or ~1k for each character

warnings: NSFW / MDNI, Characters are 18+, Spice under the cut, all characters are 18+, proceed with caution. Descriptions of sexual activity, Alludes to fallacio, Sexual situations, Vulgar language. Inspecting? They’re looking inside your mouth idk. Spit kink (Neteyam), idk man if there’s something i miss lmk

꧁ Aonung: is no stranger to bodily modifications. He can confidently say he did not love the feeling of being tattooed the way some of his aunties and uncles would swear they did. He didn’t brag that he could fall asleep though the pain of ink being malleted security into his thick skin. Which is why for a second Aonung cannot seem to comprehend how his squirmy little girlfriend could have sat through such an ordeal, cringing at the pang of jealously that rises in him at the idea that others would have the same foul thoughts regarding the adornment that he has.

One of his favorite places to be is the netted hammock that sways outside of his marui. He enjoys the cooling sea breeze through his downed hair while watching the waves dance in the wind. Mindlessly keeping an eye out for anything that may intrigue him. It was undoubtably a good place to be whenever he found himself to be stressed or tired. Even better- it was a peaceful place to relax with you. He can agree to himself that he liked this spot even better when your legs straddled his waist and he got to rub loving circles onto your body with the pads of this thumbs while you joined in on his sea gazing. Its only when you shift on his torso that he realities thoughts had wondered past the words you were speaking. It was not often that you would loose his devoted focus, however, he realized he was not really listening to you as you spoke. Not in a cruel or inattentive way way. He did not mean to disregard you. He was just too distracted at the soft slur you give off. That was different. He has spent so long grasping at every word you said- every noise to fall from your perfect mouth. So he knows that there is something wrong.

“You break a tooth?”

He knows he is rude for cutting you off and even ruder for jostling you up as he sits up slightly in worry. Evident concern that you had fallen or bit into something and broken a tooth and that is where the slur of your words came from. That you were in pain. Though it had been some time since the incident, he remembered when Tsireya’s best friend had faced a similar ailment and his mother had been forced to pull the tooth from her skull. He shuddered remembering the ordeal, and hoped you would not go though the same pain.

“Nuh-uh,” you assure rubbing a hand against his soft cheek, eyes softening in endearment at his worry.

Your sweet boy is sitting up further to move closer to you in query when you greet him with the sight of your pretty wet tongue sticking out past your soft lips. The prettiest adornment nestled on your tongue makes his lower stomach twitch. You can’t help but pull yourself back a bit in surprise at the sight of his imposing form sitting up quicker then you expect him to. The natural reflex of your body as he adjusts your position in the hammock you were both meant to be napping on. Your movement only results in his thick calloused palms making a firm grasp for your cheeks, holding your face steadily in front of him for his viewing pleasure,

“Open your mouth.”

He’s bossy, and for a second you worry he absolutely hates it and will instruct you to remove it once you give into his demand. The thought alone is what keeps you from listening to him quick enough for his liking. Which is probably why once your lips finally start to part again his pointer finger is quick to hook over your lower teeth, pulling your jaw open so he could inspect you once again. Not giving you a choice in closing your mouth once again.

All you can do is peer down at his inquisitive eyes that seem to be judging the very ivory of your teeth and whine at how intently he is staring down your welcoming throat. He does not mean to look so incredulous as he inspects your wet mouth. Your tongue is swollen and the intrusion of his long finger has your salivary glands working overtime coating the little ball in you saliva. You look perfect on his lap, spitting all over his finger as it hooks your jaw wide open for him. He only removes the binding finger from your mouth when he inquires,

“Who touched you?”

You’re confused for a second, not realizing he means the piercing until the pad of his finger caresses the tip of your tongue careful to avoid the sore center. He can’t help but wonder what burly large man had touched your pretty fleshy tongue that belonged to him. He feels terribly for the anger that bubbles at the thought of said man getting to see you sat obediently, mouth open and waiting. He could only imagine what thoughts they had as your big pretty eyes stared at them while they made a new hole in your body. As if you mean to scorn him you only giggle. You giggle at his jealousy, and though it should vex him more he can’t help but feel soothed at your reaction,

“Your mo’ther,” you giggle and the material clinks against your teeth, and you slur over a too long bar that accommodated for the swelling.

It soothes him a little. His mother- your mother- had pierced you and not one of the men he had known with said job. Now the only issue at hand was the fact that he was sure other men would see it and have the same first thought that had crossed his own mind.

“It was for Eywa,”

The holy name cuts him from his unholy thoughts. He instantly meets your words with his objurgate simper that you’re used to. A unique expression that conveyed a playful scold that he knew was sure to leave you putty in his hands.

“Nah, you know better. That’s there for me,”

His words make your face flush a pretty shade of plum and you find it increasingly hard to look up at him. It’s endearing to him really, your cheek warm against his open palm. He runs the finger covered in your spit against your bottom lip,

“Ya, can’t wait till it heals. Gonna feel real good when you gag on my cock, huh tìhona?”

꧁ Neteyam doesn’t really care what you do to your own body. It’s your own body; how could he possibly tell you what to do with it. Besides the fact that he thinks it was cute how brave you were for sitting though it, he can’t help but find the way you toy with it annoying. Neteyam still thinks it has its own unique charn though.

Neteyam is too aware. It’s probably why he struggles so much to relax. Something always draws his attention, and he can’t stop his brain's desire to hyper-fixate on it. For this reason Neteyam is well aware of your tongue ring. In your defense he was aware of the adornment from the beginning. He knows so much about it as he was there as the sharpened point was pushed through you outstretched tongue while his mother howled in laughter at the way your tail extended out in shock at the pain.

In all honesty, he has rarely caught a glimpse of the jewelry since you had done it. Despite your loud mouth, the jewelry stayed relatively hidden behind your ivory canines. he guesses you just don’t open your mouth that wide. It’s a shame he doesn’t get the luxury of just catching a flash of the adornment. Instead, he lays here on an old roll-out woven mat, basking in the warm sun with you draped across him. It should be a calming ordeal. Yet you preoccupied yourself with rolling your tongue ring across the ridges of your teeth with no regard for the safety of the bones.

This is supposed to be relaxing. That was the point of coming out here to nap away from the intrusions of your families and burdens of society. As much as laying with you is meant to calm his ever-increasing nerves the fact that the clank of your tongue piercing gliding across your teeth in some sort of stim is ever present and driving him up the wall.

“Cut it out,”

His voice comes with a bite to your fleshy cheek which makes your eyes blink open. You pass him a displeased glance from where you lay next to him.

“Why? Am I irritating?”

You ask him so sweetly that if he had not been so sleep deprived he would have assured you that you were perfect and nothing you could do would ever vex him,

“Very. I’ll rip that thing out of your mouth,”

You laugh because he sounds exactly like his mother, yet had the same scolding undertone his father had often taken on. He is almost pleased with you when he feels you roll over half onto him, thinking you had accepted defeat and would settle down for seep. Relishing in the feeling of you tossing one of your legs over his waist and propping yourself up on one elbow to quickly cuddle against him. His sweet purr as you run your fingers through his braids swiftly almost makes you feel bad for the fact that you lean down to run your wet muscle from the bottom of his jaw to the top of his cheek. It is almost scary how slowly his eyes open. He cannot even feign shock at the way you play with him and his dwindling patience. It is ridiculous- you are ridiculous. Yet you are still shocked (and delighted) at how quickly Neteyam is hooking his leg around yours and rolling the both of you over so your back presses firmly to the mat behind you in retaliation for your annoying actions.

“Does being a imp bring you satisfaction?” He asks, though there’s no indication of real annoyance.

You grin up at him so pretty too, he can’t help but appreciate your mouth. The plush of your soft lips, and the shine of your ivory teeth,

“Undoubtably!” you chip,

And then his thumb runs across your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly so he can look at the red of your gums.

“Open your mouth, annoying girl.” he huffs down at you.

Though you intend to listen to him he does not give you the time too. Squeezing your cheeks between his freed palm until you have no choice but to part your lips for him. With your leg wrapped around his waist your foot rests on the small of his back and you can feel the muscles of his lower back flex as his tail flicks between his legs in excitement at the sight. As you loll your berry-fleshed tongue out for him he wastes no time in returning the crude indecency of your previous actions to you. You’re not dumbfounded when his spit lands on your waiting tongue, but you do jerk under him with a huff. Nonetheless, you are so good for him still, waiting for him to smile and give you a slurred go-ahead before you swallow.

Neteyam guesses he likes the stupid thing. Gives him something to aim at.

꧁ Roxto is shy. Not with normal people. But when you speak to him so pretty him he can’t help but tense up at the way his mind wanders. Especially as you sit there blabbering about your home in the jungle, she should be listening but he’s too busy eying the piercing in your tongue and wondering what it would feel like on him.

Rotxo is sweet. So sweet that he feels terrible for the way he stares at your mouth from where he is lent opposite on a thick mangrove root while you speak. Chirping away at him because you had grown the closest to him out of everyone after your arrival.

Don’t get him wrong. He could spend his whole day and whole night (and whole existence) with you. He liked nothing more than sitting pleasantly next to you or with his head on your lap while you spoke. He had been thankful for the fact that you had gotten the closest to him out of anyone you could have chosen when your family arrived at his home. He truly thought you were the most interesting person he had ever met. Perhaps that is why he watches you so intently. As if he is worried he will miss even a fraction of what you had to offer. He felt like he had known a decent amount about you. Knew you well enough that he could predict what you would say before you had even said it. Which is probably why he is so eager to get his question out.

“What is in your mouth?”

He just faces the nalutsa head-on. Blurts his question out; almost cutting your sentence off early. Once your eyes snap up to meet his from where you picked at stones on the ground. Your tongue is rolling out of your mouth in response as you stand to face him,

“This?”

Of course you sound silly as you talk around your tongue, but Rotxo is just looking at the modification. His first question is did it hurt, and you gave him a deadpan ‘obviously’. Despite this, you seem to be far more interested in this line of questioning than you had been while you were rambling. Ears are drawn forward in his direction, arms behind your back while your tail twirled behind you.

When he asks why you would do such a thing (despite having tattoos himself) you tell him it was a thing some of the more spiritual people of your clan would do. He could not help but feel a little guilty at the fact that all he can think about is how it would feel twirling around the head of his cock. How pretty you would look sitting on your knees with your tongue out waiting for him to paint the shiny little adornment white. He doesn’t even realize that his eyes are trained down on you, and his tail sways between his legs.

But you notice. You notice the way he relaxes on his arms more. How his pretty sea-foam green eyes relax as he maintains tantalizing eye contact. The fact that his ears are drawn back, his jaw is clenched and his tail thumps slightly against his own leg, dragging across the ground behind him would be evidence alone of where his thoughts had traveled to. The thick bulging at the brown fabric of his tweng however seals his fate. You giggle at him. If all it took to work him up was a flash of your tongue then you will surely be the death of him. He is not even listening to why you had done it, what it meant. Ignoring all talks of salvation so he could look down at you and think of what you could only fantasize about.

“Ya, but you do not really care why I got it, huh?”

Your question catches him off guard, mostly because you are right and he’s too busy thinking about you to notice that you had once again begun to ramble. He is terrifyingly intrigued when your moving to stand right in front of him, head cocked up curiously at him, an amorous smirk on your lips.

“You just care about what I can do with it.”

Like the tease you are, you glance down at his hips. It is only then he realizes how tight the confines of his bottoms had gotten.

“You really are a devil huh?” His fingers are digging into the bark of the root he leans on as he huffs out the only thing he could think to say. He supposes there was no honor in hiding anything now- to bashfully try and defend the situation. That pretty tongue of yours sliding past your teeth to lick across your lips,

“If you want a vrrtep I can show you a vrrtep,”

Your voice is charmingly playful, and he can hear the click of the ring against a tooth. As your fingers dance across his lower stomach you’ve all but convinced him to be at your mercy with no effort. When you wordlessly drop to your knees before him he cant help the noise that ripples through his chest. Parts of him buckle at the idea of letting you be in charge and show him more of that pretty tongue ring but he can’t help but be honorable. Try to gain some sort of dominance. He thought he had gained the upper hand when at the contact of one of his big palms to the back of your head. The assumption was foolish of him. To think for a second he had the upper hand. The feeling of the cool material on your tongue sliding up his thigh has his fingers knotting in your hair and his breath coming out in huffs. He thinks it’s perfect- you’re perfect. He can’t wait to feel it everywhere.

꧁ Lo’ak doesn’t mean to not notice really, you were both so busy. You should take it as a compliment how hard he focuses on your eyes when you talk. But when he finally catches on that somethings different about you and you show him he can’t help but get too excited.

You were Lo’aks very best friend. In fact, you could not recall a point in life where he was not at your side while your gaggle of friends got into mischief. In all honestly you had spent your childhood following Lo’ak around like his shadow, and it is a habit that has followed you into your adulthood. You know he is plagued with an overabundance of energy and thus kept you entertained the best. Lo’ak was many things- emotionally aware, compassionate, charming, and with no effort made you feel alive. He’s probably why you were a bit of an adrenaline junky, and why you so eagerly agreed to the modification to your body after your Uniltaron. There was some reason behind the bleeding that you did not quite know if you cared about more then the fact that there was a cool piercing in your mouth.

Most importantly, you had hoped Lo’ak would have noticed the piercing quickly, however, the fact that Lo’aks own Uniltaron was the day before yours and he (like his father) had an intense experience, meant that you had uncharacteristically been apart for what you considered too long. Lo’ak had spent the days in which your tongue was at its most swollen (and thus noticeable) resting at home. Though you had been plagued with your own duties which made any meaningful interactions between Lo’ak and yourself non-existent since then. This meant that he just hasn’t noticed the new addition to a body he was rather familiar with. The lapse in time spent together was not something either of you had been used to, nor particularly fond of.

Which is why Lo’ak is blabbering to you wildly while you both eat your supper. You think he’s cute despite talking with his mouth full, and your dazed staring is what pulls Lo’ak out of his excitement and forces him to stare back at you. It is when he noticed you’re eating lighter than usual.

“Soup? It’s too warm for soup,” his tone indicates it’s an astute observation in his mind, “Are you sick?” He asks, reaching to touch your head. You snicker at him as you smack his lingering hand away,

“No, skxawng- you really hadn’t noticed?”

The playful faux sadness in your voice still barbs at his heart. It is quickly replaced with an indescribable feeling when you open your mouth for him and he’s greeted with a heart-stopping view. Eywa you were pretty, and for a second you looked like you could really be his- looking up right at him with your mouth wide open. It’s innocently possessive for a second, really he hadn’t thought too much into why he had reacted to the view in such a way. That was until he noticed the little ball perched on the center of your tongue. Like the little stones they found in the river mollusks they used as jewelry.

“Oh shit!”

His response makes you shut your mouth and snicker while your tail wags faster than you had been used to. You even turn your head in to avoid his ardent eyes. Though Lo’ak is quick to brace his hands on the wooden table to lean over and follow your gaze,

“I wasn’t done- hey,” and when he pinches your cheeks in his hand he almost knocks over your soup with the enthusiasm he exudes.

“You are acting like a fool,” your smiling half out of amusement, half out of pure inarticulate flabbergast at how quickly he had become interested in the orifice.

“Does it hurt?” He questions.

If it’s possible his smile grows larger at the shake of your head,

“Let me kiss you then,”

It leaves his mouth before you can even tell him how the pain has passed. It’s incredulous, how brazen Lo’aks words are considering his parents were barely out of earshot also enjoying their meal.

“Are you the one with a fever?”

Your voice crack is loud as you grip his wrist, and you make a note that you lean closer to him almost subconsciously.

“What? We have kissed quite a bit?”

In secret- in private- not when everyone you knew was right there, you were sure people presumed but you did not particularly feel the need to deal with the questioning eyes of either your families or your friends.

“You’re parents are right there, Lo’ak. I am not-” But his pretty wide smile cuts you off, and his tail swings down to snatch your swaying one

“We can go somewhere they’re not,”

There’s a snort in his voice like it’s the obvious answer. As though the both of you getting up and walking away together wouldn’t have drawn the same questioning gaze that kissing would have cast upon you, Eywa knows why you are dumb enough to nod at him. Quickly moving to stand up first, but pause when his tail stays wrapped right around yours halting your movement, and you look to him quizzically.

“You gotta wait a minute before we’re going anywhere,”

You’re confused. He was just so eager to be alone with you. How could he possibly be more interested in his previously abandoned meal? And how can he be chuckling at you- and why is the free arm he had propped on the table motioning towards the bench you both sat on and- oh. Thats why. The undeniable tent forming. A reminder why you so quickly agreed to be whisked away by him.

[attyrocious]

i wish my patience was at least half as long as law or cora’s limbs are bc theyre so hard to draw inside panels

[texaschainsawmascara]

en el nombre de la Madre

Sasha Grey / Ramon Martinez 2x / Carrie / tbd / The Doors billboard / Tomb Raider PlayStation ad / Angelina Jolie / Drop Dead Gorgeous / Rose McGowan by David LaChapelle 2x / Demri Parrott / The Story of Jessica Christ / Belladonna of Sadness / Ethel Cain / The Sentinel / Agnes of God / Mother Joan of the Angels / Labyrinth / Afloat - Lee James McKnight / (x) / Sailor Moon / Agnes of God / Demi Lovato / tbd / Demri Parrott / St Barbie - Mark Ryden / Mariuss Perlich / Videodrome / Courtney Love / Tori Amos / Vic de Angelis / EXistenZ / Blood Tea and Red String / Tori Amos / Lindsay Lohan / Ramon Martinez 2x / Mad Heidi / Valerie and Her Week of Wonders

part 1

[dorian-is-dead]

Low effort Gabriel sketch 😔😔😔🫶🏻

[01zfan]

understanding my faith pt. 2 | l. at

churchboy!anton x reader | 2.9k words

this is a mature work. minors do not interact

contains: references to the bible, implied virginity loss, oral (f. receiving)

umf: part one | part two | part three

anton had become your tutor when it came to church. although it took him awhile to text you, once you scheduled the meeting you were with him almost everyday. it turns out you were also looking for escape from your strict bible thumping father. you both found your strict parents appeased by being in the house god built, learning about his holy word.

after spending time together for a month, you two had finally started to open up. you two were cramped underneath the cubby of the grand piano, hiding from a mom in the congregation. it started off as a joke, giggling while she called out your name. after a while, the proximity to you made anton feel lightheaded. he needed to distract himself so he said the first thing that came to his mind.

“why did you leave?” anton could feel you tense up next to him. he was ready to tell you there was no pressure to answer but you started your story.

anton finally heard the truth of why you left, your mom shunned from the other mothers in the congregation. she was an atheist. anton remembers holding his breath when you said that word, like something was going to strike you then and there. your parents divorced shortly after, belief systems too different. your father moved you two back here while your mom stayed. he remembers the hurt in your voice when your mom didn’t even fight for custody.

“i’m sorry.” anton put a hand on your shoulder. he tried to imagine being in your shoes. hearing the whispers every time you walked into the room. your dad was held in good graces for leaving the non believer and coming back home, while you were the spitting image of your mother.

“he will never admit that my mom was the one who wanted the divorce.“ you whispered to him after the pastor welcomed your father back to the congregation.

“it’s okay, anton.” you rested your head on his hand.

anton was so close to you in this space. he could see your eyelashes, and the wispy hairs the sun always caught. everything about you had a glow to it. when you looked up at him from his hand, he couldn’t bring himself to look away. your eyes were locked on his when you scooted closer to him. anton didn’t know what he was doing when you put an hand on his knee, or when he scooted closer to you. anton didn’t know what he was doing when he tilted your chin upwards or when you put a hand on his face to bring his lips to yours.

you closed your eyes first. anton watched you tilt your head and intertwine your fingers. by the time he had closed his eyes, your lips had already made contact and you pulled back.

“is this okay?” you whispered.

anton squeezed your hand and nodded. anton summoned all of his courage to go in first this time. anton wasn’t surprised the lips of an angel were so soft. they tasted like the vanilla chapstick that you kept tucked in the pocket of your pants.

anton painfully let go of your hand to put both hands on your face. the gentle pecks eventually turned to something more after you put your hand on the back of his neck. he got into the rhythm you set quickly. it was like the first time you met him. he’s waiting for your cues at every move. when you tilt your head to get a better angle, he tilts his the opposite way. when you lick his bottom lip he opened your mouth just a little wider to let your tongue in. you let your hands roam the back of his body, and anton for the first time in his life showed off the muscles he gained from swimming. he let your hands come in contact with flexed muscles, becoming solid like the heavenly sculptures on pillars. you slowly pulled away from him, sucking on his bottom lip and looking up at him. you had a look in your eyes that anton at the time couldn’t pinpoint. all he knew was that he was a little closer to understanding his faith.

“have you ever done anything like this in church?” you still had your hands on his body. anton wanted to touch more of you.

anton could see the space in between your cardigan, the supple skin of your neck. you kind of were reminiscent of the paintings from that time. anton could see some renaissance painting with you holding a cherub, or being surrounded by gods disciples.

“anton.” you tapped the back of his neck to get his attention again.

he forgot you asked him a question.

“no i’ve never done anything before.” anton shakes his head.

“anything?”

anton shakes his head again. he doesn’t know how he expected you to react. but he feels something when you smile at him.

“anton have you ever worshipped anything besides god before?”

anton shakes his head again. you stand up from your cramped stop underneath the piano. anton looks at the buckle on your shoes as you move to stand in front of him. anton feels a soft hand underneath his chin, to bring his gaze up to yours.

“i see the way you look at me, anton.”

anton looks up at you. although you look down at him, he feels you pass no judgement on him. you are forgiving and warm, bathed in the light coming from the stained glass windows. you have a smile on your face, but a look in your eyes that causes anton to get on his knees before you.

“i feel your stares all the time.”

anton wants to grip the ends of your dress to bring you close. you bend over to get closer to him. anton can feel your lips close to the shell of his ear.

“do you worship god even in the bedroom?” you whisper into anton’s ear.

anton pulls away to look at you in astonishment. he wonders if you’ve read his mind, hearing the thoughts of lust when he first saw your lips. anton’s then thinks your all-seeing eyes have laid witness to anton in between his sheets, huffing over where his imagination would lead him late at night. you go back to standing above him. anton is looking at you still, tears welling in his eyes.

“i’m sorry.”

you put a finger over his lips. your other hand rests on his cheek and anton leans into your touch.

“don’t apologize.” you voice still lacks judgement. all anton hears is empathy.

anton would be lying if he said he never touched himself. he was young and his hormones were raging a new flame blazing everyday. when he would be alone in the dead of the night though, his mind wouldn’t focus on anything specific. just the thought of something more was enough to take him to the edge. anton recalls the first time he was able to finish. he was approaching the edge, trying to remain silent. sometimes it seemed lile his old house creaked if he breathed too loud. so he did his best to remain, other hand digging into his bedsheets. he saw white hot flames burst over his vision when he saw your hand reaching for him. anton leaped over the edge as you pulled him to the other side, surrounded by trees that bloomed apples. by this point, anton became accustomed whimpering your name at night. he thought it wasn’t obviously, that he was secretly worshipping you in the bedroom.

“i have sinned.” anton says pitifully. he looks down, unable to meet your gaze.

you are silent for a moment. anton tries to keep the tears back.

“maybe if you sin, you will be brought to the path of righteousness again with a better understanding of your faith.”

anton looks at you again in disbelief. you bend your legs to get closer to him. your dress is caught on your knees. you look at anton innocently before grabbing his hand.

“and maybe if you worship something else,”

anton feels his hand slowly be put underneath your dress. you move his hand so that its over the fabric of your panties. anton sees your eyes hooded and sleepy, an expression he’s never seen before. he takes a moment to lean forward on his other hand to get closer. his strength gets the best of him as he slightly overpowers you. you hands quickly catch yourself from falling backwards. anton almost lurches forward to try and catch you, but you remain steady. anton can feel the heat radiating from your core and he moves his hand forward to cup all of you. anton is astonished at how warm you are, everywhere.

“you can find that same feeling of faith in god too.”

anton wondered if he was going to go to hell for how he touched you in god place of worship. so he drove you both in the dead of night to his house, where his bedroom had become his place to worship you.

in less than an hour you were there atop the same sheets he first found his faith. with your hair resting like an angels halo.

anton started at your feet. he took off your socks and shoes slowly. he massaged your feet and kissed your calves. you were propped up on your elbows watching his every move. anton thought this is how god must look down at his creations, wrecking havoc on the earth.

“i have never felt like this before.” anton confessed in between kisses. telling you his secrets came easily now. he knew you would extend sympathy and a gracious hand each time.

“just do what comes naturally.”

anton stopped kissing. he became aware of the fact that he had something so beautiful in his bed. he didn’t want to stumble through the night. he needed you to have an experience, to feel like you were properly worshipped.

“can you tell me what to do?” anton looked at you.

you pushed yourself up from your elbows and brought anton’s face close to yours. you kissed his lips; a quick peck.

“i want you to act on your own volition, anton. if you have blunders i know it comes from a good place. if it ever hurts, i will let you know.”

you bring him in for another kiss. immediately anton deepens the kiss. putting a hand on the back of your neck to bring you closer.

anton laid you down and broke the kiss. he went down to your neck, laying experimental kisses. he looked up at you. he was so desperate for your approval that when you nodded he started sucking on your skin.

anton was egged on by your whimpers. your secular mouthpiece gave him the closest thing he’s ever heard to god’s speech. anton followed your moans and whimpers until you were completely naked underneath him. although you were the exposed one, anton felt completely at your mercy.

anton wandered down. he held your boobs in his hands. he moved them in tandem. your skin was so soft and supple. without second thought, he brought a nipple into his mouth. you rubbed his hair affectionately, moving down to massage his ears. he wanted to pierce his ears in all the places you touched in your memory. you arched your back into him and he moved to the other.

he kissed down the valley of your breasts. anton couldn’t stop himself from occasionally biting your skin. anton bared witness to the flesh and blood of his new christ, how could he not take a bite? as reparations anton covered each bite in gentle kisses. you let out new noises when anton administered a little pain.

when anton got to your navel, he looked at you for approval. when you nodded, anton brought his index finger to your core. you sucked in a large breath, one you didn’t let out until anton put his finger all the way in. you were squirming underneath him, anton watched your stomach flex as you moved your hips against his hands. he added in another one, fixated on the way your flesh moved against his. you were soft and warm and snug inside, like the hug you gave him. anton slowly pulled his fingers out and put them back in just as slow. anton wasn’t sure if the pace was the speed you wanted, but he had to go slow for his own selfish needs. he needed to watch you grind against his hand for more friction. he needed to see you grip the sheets of his bed, trying to ground yourself. anton also needed to feel the slight pain you caused him as you slightly pulled his hair. anton wanted to take his time.

“i understand why service lasts for hours now.” anton whispered from your thigh. you laugh quietly. anton wants to tell you he’s close to a revelation and it might be in between your thighs. he says nothing and instead uses his other hand to spread your folds. he pulls his fingers out, and rests his head on the bed to look directly into you. he sees your walls close in on nothing, and sees the bundle of nerves tremble. you let out a shaky breath. anton brings his mouth to you.

your slick was holy water that anton was baptizing himself in. he moans hymns into your heat, sticking his tongue inside of you. anton hears you chanting like you are saying prayer of your own, incorporating anton’s name into the words. he thinks it’s all so backwards, how he should be singing praise about you. he continues to kiss and suck on your heat. anton sees your hand work on the protruding bud. he watches you for a moment, to see how you being yourself pleasure. after he learns, he moves your hand away and does it himself. this has you closing your thighs around his head, locking him in place. you rock against his lips and anton picks you up from below your ass to get a better angle. anton feels all his senses get flooded as you yell out his name. anton feels you all over his face, and he sees your communion glisten when he finally pulls away from your core.

your eyes are droop like you’re tired and anton feels you pulling at his clothes. wordlessly he takes his shirt off, flexing the muscles he’s earned over time. you watch him with bated breath feeling like you may catch on fire at any point. anton doesn’t let you reach for his him again. he returns himself to you after discarding the rest of his clothes, condom in hand.

“can i put it on you?” you ask. anton pinches the tinfoil package in his hand, wondering if he’s worth your touch. before anton can say no, you swipe it from his hand.

“lay down for me.”

anton heeds your request instantly. anton touches your thighs to bring you to straddle him. slowly you open the package and anton watches you bring the condom to his dick. you grabbing the base of him alone has him near the edge, he has to breathe in an out to calm himself down. you look at him and smile. smiling down at him purely while you put a condom on his dick. he’s almost dizzy from thinking about it.

“does it feel good?”

“yes it does.” anton moans. how could it not feel good?

you move yourself up anton’s body slowly. anton watches your every move. his hands have a vice grip on your hips. when you raise yourself above his dick, his grip on you stops you from going all the way down.

“i should’ve worshipped you sooner.” anton says. his lips are parted, pupils blown out. he slowly guides you down as you take all of him.

you stay like that for awhile. anton fully inside of you. anton can feel your flesh pulsing and clenching around him. the clenches are inconsistent, each one causing him to jolt further inside of you. anton pries his hand from his hip to hold one of your hands as you stabilize yourself. before anton can comprehend anything, you are bouncing on him. anton reaches for anything he can grab. he holds onto your boobs and hip, watching your body move. he refuses to stop you in your element. when you lean over to anton, he wraps your arms around your body to bring you close. anton plants his feet into the mattress and fucks relentlessly into you.

neither of you can say anything as you both hurdle closer and closer to the edge. anton keeps a firm hand on your back and you hold onto his shoulder, resting your head on his chest. both of you ramble out the mouths with incoherent thoughts and moaned names.

with one final thrust anton brings you down to him and he can feel himself pulse into you. anton pulls himself out and you fall beside him, eyes closed. anton looks at you while he ties off the end of the condom, afraid that if he looks away you’ll be gone.

he returns back to bed and you curl into him. he plays with your hair, trying to figure out how he can get you to confess that you are an angel, sent down to help him understand his faith.

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