#something something words that aren’t in the bible

[lodestarrush]

I have a vague idea for the plot about the necklace emblems but by jove the writing

[chososdiscordkitten]

Kneel.

Synopsis: pt 2 of this fic ^-^

Pairing: Priest!Nanami x Fem!Reader Content: pwp, not as much church stuff as the last one, lots of flirting, breaking church vows, nanami trying to justify his actions as permissible, lots of pleading to his god, hand stuff, rough (?) sex, cream pie, multiple orgasms

Taglist: @eliuriastwo @ingojo

MDNI

It plagued him. The severe tension ran thick every single Sunday after mass. Where you would sit in his office chair- this look of smugness on your expression with the corner of your lip curled as though you were aware of the torment you were inflicting onto him. 

Insinuating conversations of the carnal sins you would confess to—barely even sins— just thoughts that plagued your mind unwillingly. 

Middle of the third time he saw you- the way your eyes dared to sparkle as you confessed the so called disgusting thoughts to him. His mind started putting the pieces together. 

“Cold showers aren’t working anymore, Father. I had to. I had to rid myself of the hellfire that burned in me.” Your lips bordered on smiling as you watched the Father lower his gaze. 

He didn’t know when, but his index and thumb had started toying with the little fly of his zipper, flipping it up and down—something to keep his hands busy as you spoke. 

“I know that must be a sin, isnt it father?” you placed your hands between your knees, leaning over in the slightest and exposing even more of the crevice of your chest to him. His eyes tried to avoid the tempting ploy. 

Little wired glasses on the bridge of Nanami’s nose as his eyes betrayed him- Unwillingly, they flashed down to your breasts, catching himself and looking back up to your face. 

You raised your eyebrows in the slightest, as though you had caught on to his urge to look. 

Nanami cleared his throat, pulling off the little glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. “The Bible- says it is, yes. Against the sixth commandment-” Looking back to your expression that seemed even more unbothered than before. 

“If it is a sin,” you whispered, pinching your eyebrows in question of the Father’s faith. “Then why does it help?” 

Nanami cleared his throat for what seemed like the hundredth time in those 30 minutes. “God made us sexual creatures,” he mumbled, trying to make it sound as business-like as he could. 

You let out a little giggle- something that sounded like a siren trying to lure him into a trap. “Then god made me too sexual.”

Nanami inhaled- taking a little swipe at his lip with the tip of his dry tongue, parting his lips and averting his gaze. “How…” he inhaled sharply, “How did it feel?” barely legible, but the words deepened your smirk into something crueler.

A sigh of contentment left your lips, “As though I had chipped away at the temptation in the slightest.” you took a deep inhale- the skin of your chest pressing against the edge of your low cut top and daring to spill. 

“It felt so good, Father. Freeing almost.” You continued, seeing Nanami’s blush spread through his cheeks down his neck in the slightest. 

The thought of how freeing it would feel had he acted as callously as you did in your own desires made the Father realize he needed a freezing shower by the time he went home. He couldn’t give in as quickly as you did. 

His hand halted the little flipping movement on his zipper. Gulping in the slightest and leaning back into his chair- “And your prayers… didn’t help?” trying to change the daring topic he had brought on. 

“If I could be honest, father?” you sat up, pushing your shoulders back and lightly tilting your neck. Collarbones exposed to his nervous eyes with that same self-satisfied smile on your painted lips. 

“Please, be honest.” 

“I think my prayers have caused the opposite effect.” 

Nanami nodded softly, thinking up something else to offer you besides the strained words he practically forced himself to say. 

“Maybe a place in the community?” he asks, thinking that if you and he try to debrief these issues, you’ll get nowhere but a very frustrated priest who just wants to ‘help’. 

He inhaled sharply, opening a little drawer in his desk and reaching for a flier, “Next Sunday, we’re having an Easter event for the children- you could find your place in our community.” 

Placing the little flier onto the wood in front of you, your eyes scanning the colorful sheet with a half cocked smile. “Help serve the food, or just stay for a while. You’re welcome to it.” 

And the following Sunday, you showed up bright and early, sitting through Easter Sunday mass. Noticing that, compared to other times, the Father wore a black short-sleeved dress shirt this time. 

He excused it because he knew it would be hot that day and was getting ahead of an issue before it arose. 

“Excuse me for being so indecent today,” he joked in front of the congregation before continuing his sermon. 

But the little flexes of Nanami’s bicep strained against the tight sleeve of the shirt when he grasped the side of the podium. Or how, with every inhale, his plentiful chest would press against the buttons of the black shirt in strain. 

It made that Sunday even more special. His arms were exposed, and how that shirt was at least a size too small for the man. Tempting. It made you wonder if it was you trying to lure in the tortured man or the other way around. 

And when the service ended- a few stolen glances and raised brows at the stumbling of his words before all the church people gathered at the back of the building. A patch of grass and a few tables covered in colorful plastic tablecloths. 

You did as he asked, served the children and the churchgoers food and waited for them to start their hunt for plastic eggs. And your effort didn’t go unnoticed; the Father would look over every now and then to see you happily serving the people of the church. Glad to see you enjoying yourself.

As though his attempt to help you was finally working- maybe all you needed was community and congregation to rid yourself of the shameless confessions you’ve made in his office. 

But you- now standing on one end of the grass patch, derived from any sort of community the Father thought you were participating in. 

Though it didn’t bother you, making friends with bitter church women was neither your task nor the conquest you sought. 

But when your eyes caught the Father excusing himself from a few people of his parish- dashing into the church’s back entrance- you chose to follow. 

Placing the little cup of lemonade onto the table before walking past the doors the Father had dashed past. Following him to the little cracked door of his office, hearing the light shuffling of papers. 

You knocked twice- pushing the door open to see the Father jump at the sudden noise and the sight of you at his doorstep. 

“You haven’t said a word to me, Father.” you thrummed, stepping into his office and closing the door behind you. Be it the general conquest or how delectable he looked in that tight short sleeve, you wanted to push even further this time. 

He let out a little sigh with a smile, “You’ll have to excuse me- today has been very laboring.” his brows furrowed with stern eyes looking for the pages he swore he left at the very top of a stack of paper. 

“Anything I could do to help?” taking on a sweet tone as you stepped closer to him. 

Nanami let out a little laugh, almost in disbelief. “You’ve done more than enough to help today,” he said, his shoulders stiff from your presence standing at his side. 

“I couldn’t ask for more,” he whispered, feeling your eyes pierce through him as he moved the stack of papers- the cotton around his bicep suffering from the flex of his arms. 

Looking down at his hands. Spreading the papers, tantalizing thick fingers with a prominent vein standing proud at the top of his hand. Swallowing lightly at the image in your mind. 

“I want to help, Father. Tell me how I can assist you.” reaching down to the top of his hand and placing yours atop his- halting its movements and causing Nanami to look over at you as though you were deranged. 

Nanami parted his lips- derailing his train of thought entirely from the seemingly innocent touch. “What are you looking for?” you murmured, lightly caressing your thumb against his skin. 

The first thing that popped into his mind was nowhere near priestly or godly. But he gathered his thoughts and mustered the words. 

“The choir-” he inhaled a choked breath, “They need the lyrics for the service on Wednesday,” he whispered, looking at your low eyes with your hand still atop his. 

“Your parish made you leave an event to look for song lyrics?” you teased- as though that was some lame excuse he made up on the spot. 

Nanami let out a little laugh, pulling his hand from beneath yours and going back to looking for the pages again. “I know,” he mumbled, but you weren’t quite done urging you to be there to help. 

You placed your hand over his again, looking at him with all the earnesty you could muster. “You are such a good priest, father.” picking up his hand from the desk and holding it in both of yours. “If you need help-” and there went the corner of your lip curling with sadistic intent. 

“You can ask for it.” you assured, caressing his hand lightly as his lips parted with an inhale, “You can ask me for it.”

His heart was pounding in his chest—the words themselves weren’t filthy. Were they spoken by anyone else, it would’ve been heard as a simple offer.

But the honey soaked in the way you said it- the sparkle in your eye and the tenderness in which you held his hand. Nanami knew you were not offering an innocent way of assisting him. 

Nanami felt it in his gut. It made his mind fuzzy- made him unable to think coherently. 

It made him forget the white collar around his neck, the years he had spent as a priest and at the center of a church, and his vows—and for the first time in a very long time, his mind wasn’t judging the thoughts that raced inside of it. 

You took a step closer to him—just one step and your chest was mere inches from his. His eyes flashed from your half-lidded ones down to your plush lips. You could feel the little tremble in his palm between your hands.

“I-” he started with an exhale, being able to breathe in the sickeningly sweet aroma of your skin. How it whirred in his mind should’ve been a sin in itself. 

You tightened your grip on his hand, whispering a sweet, “Do you need help, Father?” watching his adam’s apple bob past the white collar around his neck and blinks become hazy. 

The hand atop trailed up his forearm with a ghostly touch, feeling the light goosebumps rise beneath your fingertips. 

It wasn’t till he saw your gaze turn dark- that’s when it clicked in the Father’s mind. That’s when the pieces came together. 

You weren’t some lamb in desperate need of guidance; you weren’t innocent of the invading thoughts that the devil tried to tempt you with. 

‘You were put before me as a test.’ was the one clear thought that broke through the mist in his mind as he looked at you. 

And what he feared most—Nanami knew that if you had continued offering your assistance, he would have failed this test put before him by his cruel god.

Only the sound of a harsh knock startled him from the invading thoughts of what he could do to you in that room—or what you would have done to him had nobody interrupted. 

A parish member cracked the door open- “Father, have you found the-” halting their entry as they looked at the sight before them. Furrowing their eyebrows before Nanami cleared his throat- pulling his hand from yours again. 

“I’m afraid I’ve lost them entirely- I’ll reprint them tomorrow morning.” his tone stern and clear as the parish member nodded- unsure of Nanami’s words as you stood there. 

You flashed a small smile at the parish member- “Father, the deaconess is looking for you.” they continued. 

Only you crossed your arms beneath your breasts and rested back onto the edge of the Father’s desk- too smug for what they had just witnessed. 

“Thank you, I’ll be out in a minute.” 

Hesitatingly, the parish member closed the door and left. Leaving you and the Father in a devastatingly thick with tension room. You placed a hand onto his upper bicep- the same bicep that had been tempting you for the entire service. 

“I’m available anytime you need me, Father,” you whispered before you left the troubled man alone in the room. Your touch lingering on his bare skin as he placed his hands flat onto the surface of the desk. 

The very same desk he was picturing you bent over in his mind a mere few seconds ago.  

His hands were clammy against the surface, an ache rowling in his tummy as he closed his eyes and tried shaking away the thoughts of your breasts daring to spill from the low cut neckline of your dress. 

Or how tight the fabric looked pressed against your hips when you walked away from him. 

In the end Nanami was still a man with eyes- not even a priest could control their wandering gaze. 

He wanted to tell you- he needed to say to you that he couldn’t help you anymore. That little arrangement after Sunday mass, where you would lure him in with descriptions of the proclivities taking place late at night, couldn’t happen anymore. 

Nanami was sure that the next time he saw you, he would tell you to get out of his church and find someone better suited to your troubles. 

Yet he sat there again, twiddling his thumbs to avoid the urge to reach for his zipper. 

A week of cold showers were, as you said- they didn’t fucking help. On mornings when Nanami would wake up with urge bursting from his boxers or by just remembering the sweet tinge the air had once you left- the appendage between his legs would twitch in betrayal. 

The realization that you were a test made him even more intrigued, as though it pushed him further into your clutches. He was desperate to know if he would succeed in this test his god put before him. 

And sitting in that chair, hearing you speak of the filth that raged in your mind without shame. 

A feigned chime of disappointment in yourself when you fell back into the temptation again, but this time, Nanami saw it was false. That the slight curl your lips had wasn’t a defense mechanism; you found humor in the trouble inflicted on him. 

As though you could smell the fear in his very soul from the chance of succeeding in enticing him. 

And yet, Nanami still sat there listening. A masochistic churn in his brain had him listen to every temptation. 

“You’ve never felt this way, Father?” you whirred, the amused look in your eyes masked by the fanning of your lashes. “As though you started something you couldn’t stop doing?”

Yes, he did know the feeling. He knew once he met you he wouldn’t have been able to stop seeing you- speaking to you. Even if you were trying to bewitch him, he knew in his mind he wouldn’t be able to stop saying yes to your requests for these sessions. 

“Has it helped?” He murmured, straightening his back and interlocking his hands. 

You let out a little giggle, “If anything- it hasn’t. But I can't stop.” taking a little nibble at your bottom lip, “It makes me crave more.” That was the sentence that made Nanami look at you more dangerously than before- 

Now, Nanami knew you needed more, and you didn’t care to stop the urges. 

Keeping a low tone, “I yearn for more.” you spoke- clearly so he could hear. Nanami gulped, tingles rushing into his cheeks making his brain nervous. “For the warmth of another person.” 

Nanami had to bite his tongue- pretend he heard your thoughts as a church priest and not as a man. 

“I’m sure you’ve never felt this way Father. You’re an extraordinary priest- It must be jarring to hear my inner monologue.” You spoke softly, so sure he would agree.

Nanami inhaled, “Not at all. Life as a priest is very lonely.” he smiled, his mouth dry at the words that dared rumble in his mind. “I’ve found myself craving the warmth of another person before. It’s normal.” 

Except it fucking wasnt- not for a man with as much ressolve as he did. Not once in those ten years of being in the priesthood did he find himself craving warmth to surround and twitch around him as badly as he did now. Especially now. 

And when the time came to walk you out of his office, you stood at his desk. 

He took the place next to you in the very spot he pictured you bent over in before. Standing the very same way you were the last Sunday you were in his office. 

Only this time- there was no chatter outside his window from the event. In that church it was only you and him. 

And as though you knew, you looked into his eyes, testing the space between you, leaning in mere millimeters at a time. 

And the Father, tormented by the choice of stepping back or falling into the temptation you had to offer. Your lips parted as you gazed into Nanami’s eyes, his jittery and nervous pupils trying to figure out if you were getting closer or if he was just crazed enough to picture it.

“Can you help me, Father?” you whispered, raising your hand to his bicep and touching it lightly. 

His lips were agape- inhaling as much air into his dry mouth as he thought of the words to say. The only ones he could process; “How?” 

Your nose no more than an inch from his- you inhaled, a fire burning in your tummy and pooling between your legs at his dissolve. “Touch me.” was all you could whisper before he closed his eyes and pressed his lips to yours.

Warmth. The warmth of a human he had craved for days now pressed against his lips made his shoulders shiver. Raising his hands from his side and placing one as lightly at the side of your neck. The other lacing behind your back and pressing against the little curve above your bottom. 

His lips took a gentle approach- slotting them with care against yours as his hands urged you to rest on the edge of his desk. 

Burning in his loins was an ache- an ache that grew with the haste he made in slipping his tongue past his lips and against yours. Leaving behind any last reservation he had to stop this before it went too far. 

Whispers of groans took form of small whimpers as your hands dragged down his torso and guided his hips to rest between your thighs. Never did he appreciate how good this felt before- the feeling of tongues slathering against each other and being able to taste you on his tongue. 

Never in his days before becoming a priest did he appreciate the feeling of warm plush skin beneath his hands, the hand on the small of your back lowering to the clothed swell of your ass and taking a desperate grip. 

The one on your neck lowering to your chest- cupping his hand on the side of your rib with his thumb curled at the bottom of your breast. 

Nanami knew that he could come undone from just this- no stimulation to the leaking with excitement mess in his black slacks, just his hands full of plentiful skin and his lips busy with feeling the muscle of your tongue swirl against his. 

But your hands roamed down to the buckle of his belt, being able to feel his ache press against your thigh. Nanami pulled his lips from yours begrudgingly- “I can’t-” he breathed, slowing your moving hands and hearing his plea. 

“I can’t.” he closed his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows; only one of your hands reached up to his neck, pulling his head onto your shoulder with your lips at the perfect angle of his ear. 

“You are a good priest,” you whispered, placing a light kiss on his cartilage and continuing your other hand in slowly unbuckling his belt. The tips of your fingers softly grazing the short blonde hair of his undercut. His hands went unmoved from your clothed skin as he fought the mental battle. 

You placed another soft kiss on his warmed ear, “Tell me how long it’s been since you rid yourself of the poison, Father.” you whispered, undoing the button of his slacks slowly as his breath grazed against your collarbone. 

“Far too long.”

You licked your lips at the image of how much seed he’ll spurt- undoing his zipper at an agonizing pace, “Tell me to stop and I will.” you murmured, your breath tickling his ear as your hand rested on his hip. Waiting for his permission. 

Nanami swallowed harshly; his hands had a bruising hold on your skin as you offered what he yearned for on a silver platter. 

“Please,” he whispered, not knowing what he was pleading for.

A little exhale with a giggle grazed Nanami’s ear, “I need to hear you say it.” you whispered, the hand on your button roaming down the side of your thigh and grazing the hem of the skirt you wore. 

“Please touch me.” he whispered- your hand trailed to the band of his briefs, his breathing hitching against your skin with a mean grip formed on your thigh. 

The gasp that left his lips bordered on a whimper as your fingers dipped into his briefs, being able to feel how hard he was immediately. Wasting no time in pulling out his strained desire as he held you closer, bracing for what he had asked for. 

Taking a light hand as you wrapped your fingers around his shaft- heavy and hot in your palm as he inhaled sharply. “You are a good man, Father,” you whispered, starting slow strokes at his crying cock. 

“You deserve to be helped,” 

“To be touched.”

His strained cock threatened to release his mess right then and there- the scent of you filling his nose with the slow strokes of your wrist, added with your assuring words; Nanami swore he was about to. 

But your hand didn’t let him, cutting your strokes short right before you could roll over his cockhead. Opening your mouth and placing your lips onto his neck, lightly lapping at the skin- his groans deepening in response.

Pulling his forehead from your shoulder, pressing his lips onto yours again in urge- Nanami wanted to do as you had asked. He wanted to touch you. But his hands couldn’t focus on anything other than groping at whatever body part he could find. 

His lips moving in unpatterned movements against yours- speeding up the pace of your hand and feeling his groans rumble onto your lips. Your eyes half-lidded and watching the little sheen of sweat form at his blonded hairline. 

Amused at how worked up he was from a few strokes- but your hand isn’t moving fast enough for him. Nanami started bucking his hips into your hand with urge. His balls clenched as he felt the estranged feeling of an orgasm build. 

His nose huffed out strained breaths as his kisses became sloppy, tightening the grip of your hand and watching his brows pinch together. Pulling his lips from you and letting out a drawn out groan. 

Nanami’s hips stuttering as his orgasm rolled over him in hot waves. Oozes of his seed coating your fingers with every thrust he made. And it was so fucking much- it made you regret not hiking your skirt up and taking it inside wether than on your hand.

His breathing was coarse as your wrist assisted in riding him down, kissing softly at your exposed collarbone as his still-hard cock pulsed in your hand. Making you wonder just how backed up he really was. 

As though his hand heard your thoughts, they reached down to the hem of your skirt and started hiking it up. You looked into his eyes—dark and full of want, with a goal shimmering in them. 

Smiling softly, “Father-” you teased, feeling his strong hands grip your bare thighs before roaming back to the little zipper of your top and undoing it slowly, wasting no time in unclasping the band of your bra along with it. 

Pulling back and looking at you- bare and as he had pictured you. 

Nanami didn’t have a thought in his mind- completely mush and with only one goal in mind. Guiding you to lay back on the desk, his hands roaming down to your thighs- being able to see the growing dark spot of your lace panties. 

Your skirt bunched up at your hips as he reached a hand up to his collar. Pulling it off and closing his eyes with a small exhale. Undoing the top button of his black dress shirt and feeling his cock pulse. 

His lips moved in a soft whisper- almost in a prayer. But his hands trailing to the damp center of your lacy panties told you that prayer isn’t working. 

Nanami didn’t pray for the strength to stop- he didn’t want to. He started the prayer of forgiveness knowing that he didn’t want to stop. Some kind of assurance that the sooner he started begging for forgiveness, he would be pardoned. 

A soft gasp left your lips as he traced his middle and index finger up your damp cunt. Looking at the enticing sight with his mouth watering, lightly circling the tips of his fingers onto your perched clit as you hummed. 

His other hand going to his cock- pained and daring to run red from the neglect. You bit your lip softly at the sight, his hair disheveled and an unashamed blush on his cheeks. 

Stopping his prayer and looking at the painting hung on the wall in front of him- a saint looking at him in disgust. He waited a second- as though he was waiting for the voice of his god to come thundering down.

But it didn’t- “Forgive me.” he muttered, placing his fat cock onto your slit. His heavy shaft resting against your clit with a little sigh. 

Bucking his hips with soft grunts as your warmth radiated on the underside of his cock. Frotting his cock against you- another way of justifying his sinning. He wasn’t actually fucking you- so it didnt count right?

But every whimper and moan your lips would make, added with the feeling of his heavy cockhead bumping against your clit made it fucking tempting. As fast as the first orgasm build in his tummy- the second one came even quicker.

And he knew he could hold it- no matter how many thrusts his cock brushed against your cunt with vulgar squelches- Nanami was determined to wait.

But the smile on your lips at the lack of resolve curled into a wicked smile: “Put it inside—please, Kento.” The one time you had said his name—what kind of man was Nanami to deny you such a request?

He pulled his cock from your slick with various strings of your arousal as he angled his tip with your entrance. 

Nanami’s face was troubled, as though he was still hesitating. “Just the tip,” you whispered, smugly knowing he barely had the resolve to hesitate. He would listen to you. 

He gulped with a little grunt, placing his tip at your slick entrance and gasping at the sheer warmth. You hummed lightly when his hips finally pushed in the slightest, pushing past the seal of your cunt with a moan soaked with bliss. 

Unable to remember when he felt such pleasure that made him want to say thank you. 

And as though your cunt was trying to suck him in- his hips didnt stop, “I’m sorry.” he whispered, sinking himself into you and planting a hand onto the wooden desk, allowing himself to lean over on top of you with a drawn out moan. 

You let out a light hiss at the sting of his girth- placing your hands on his back and holding onto him as he stayed still. 

His shoulders trembling and his hips urgent in moving. Even if it was you who was making him go mad- Nanami still had the decency to allow you time to adjust. 

Your breasts pressed against his chest as you waited for his hips to start moving. But he didnt want to, as though having his cock inside of you was still permissable, but the movement of fucking you wouldn’t be. 

“Move-” you hummed, hands braced against the back of his dress shirt with your velvet walls twitching around him- pleading at the Father to give you what you wanted. 

Nanami only let out a shaky breath- “I can’t,” similar to a little sob but laced with a grunt. Your lips pressed against his temple, brushing them against his ear with a smile. 

“Give me what I want.” Whispered and invaded his ear as his grip on the desk turning his knuckles white. “I want this Kento-” you whined, trying to convince him to move- to fuck you like you knew he could. 

“I want you.” 

Nanami groaned at the little clench your walls made around him- “I can feel you trembling-” kissing his ear with a little damp spot left in wake. “Just pull out of me- then push back in.” feeling his hips follow your guidance as though you controlled them.

He whimpered in a breath at the sensation, “Doesn’t that feel good?” you hummed, digging your fingers into his back in the slightest. 

And it did- it felt like heaven on earth for Nanami. And as though he couldn’t control it- he did it again. As slowly as he could, with his tip brushing your gspot on every drag of his cock. And every slow thrust he made- grinding his pelvis against your clit from how deep he was pushing himself in. 

You only whimpered at the slow thrusts- being able to feel the hesitance in the pushes Nanami made. 

One side of him kept the appearance of being kind, making sure to make this about you, whereas the other side of him was yelling at him, pleading with him to speed up- faster and faster. 

Fuck into you as you had been begging him to from the moment you first walked into his church. 

You laced your lips with his again. Had his hands had any more strength, they would have cracked the wood of the desk from how desperately he was gripping. 

Barely able to withstand the sluggish strokes he made- as slow as you had instructed him to. But you pulled your lips from his, want and demand in your eyes as he looked at you- completely broken down and yours in that moment. 

“Fuck me-” you whimpered, watching the urge to make this about you dissipate behind his eyes. 

With one drag of his cock- he jabbed back into you. And again and again- rougher and with intent as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. 

Nanami didn’t even know what words spilled from his lips- laced with grunts and the crude plapping of his heavy, full balls slapping against your ass. Pleads for nothing in particular- ‘Please, please-’ 

Apologies muttered into your ear for having his way with you, ‘I’m sorry- m’sorry.’

“I have to- I have to-” muttered between his grunts as a mantra to keep him sane.

His frustrations with the chaos you caused in his mind aided in drilling into you with mean thrusts- your whimpers full of content and moans littered with one more request of him- “More.”

And he gave you as much as he had- Nanami had given himself up to you entirely and was fucking glad to do it. His tortured mind had metamorphosed into pure bliss, with his body buzzing in sheer excitement for his second orgasm. 

Grunts with one question- “Can I-” barely legible and laced with the sounds of vile squelching coming from where you linked with him. “Inside,” huffed in the same breath as a groan. 

You huffed a happy exhale- glad he wanted to spill himself inside of you. 

“F-fill m-” was all you managed before he took on a rougher pace- pounding into you as though he was made for it. His skin burned beneath the black clothing and pressing his lips onto yours again. Barely able to kiss you- pearly teeth clashing against yours at every turn of his head. 

The joint groan that left you both when he halted his thrusts- burrowed deep inside of you as your walls clenched around him. Shallow pumps were all he gave before searing, thick seed spilled inside of you. 

Shakingly breathing against your lips as he eased down the pinnacle of his second orgasm. Thinking the realization of what he had done would hit him like thunderous fear- but it didn’t. 

In the moment of the afterglow bliss, Nanami didn’t care what happened after this. He knew in his marrow that this was worth it—you were worth it. 

Even if he had failed the test sent down by his god, Nanami knew he would never have found anything or anyone that gave him half as much serenity. 

Not in the years he had spent in the priesthood did he find half as much peace as he did now. Balls deep in the coated walls of your cunt in the office meant for a godly man. 

That’s what peace was to Nanami at that moment. 

-

(a.n) this was very hot to write ^-^

[slvttyplum]

there’s a reason i make suguru so pervy, because that’s what he is. he’s a man who can’t hide his nasty desires when it comes to you; don't you want me to tell you about it?

about all the times he’s jerked off his dick to your pictures or just your voice in general, then smiles in your face like nothing happened.

that’s the type of man he is, he’s a disgusting percent that uses you to his nasty advantage, and he doesn’t feel bad about it at all.

he’s so sweet and goofy when it comes to literally anything else, but once he’s in your proximity, it’s like he’s lost his mind.

the only thing he can think about is you, but that’s normal, right? to think about your partner in a nasty light sometimes... but suguru just takes it too far sometimes.

some thoughts are just for your head, okay? they aren’t actually supposed to be conversations that you have, but he would, he would tell you all the nasty things he was thinking in that moment and all the nasty things he wanted to do with you.

once he saw that you weren’t repulsed by the series of words that weren’t written in the bible falling out of his mouth, they went into play.

to be honest, his perverted acts started off small. even though you weren’t repulsed by what he had to say, he still wanted to take things slow and make sure you were ready for what he had in store.

first, it started off with sexy costumes he wanted to see on you; make sure they were the same as what he imagined in his head, and what not; then it progressed to spanking you repeatedly until you belted out tears; the list goes on.

all you know is that after the fifth time of trying something that he wanted to do, you were on your knees with watery eyes, doing everything in his command.

he subtly slutted you out, and you didn’t even know it until you were in so deep. what a disgusting man he was.

suguru knew what he was, and he didn’t care, not one bit. you did this to him; you made his dick jump every time you spoke, you made him cum in his pants from just staring at him.

his sex drive was on 20 because of you, and if that meant he had to try all this nasty shit to satisfy himself when it came to you...

he would do it.

[homelessnerd]

I have seen a lot of blogs that subscribe to the prosperity gospel/name it and claim it style preaching/inspirational quotes, so I want to address it as I’ve seen a lot of people be hurt by it.

For those of you who don’t know, this way of teaching attempts to use scripture to say that all Christians will be healthy, happy, have a good relationship, blessings, good finances, etc. “All you have to do is pray” and “You can do anything if you have enough faith” are common ideas even if they aren’t explicitly said. Sowing and reaping is another common idea that the pastors of churches who use this ideology use to ask for money from people, especially the poor because the promise is that if they sow a seed of money they will reap even more. It usually just leads to debt.

A lot of these things seem innocent at first, especially the inspirational quote style ones. One I just saw was a Bible verse that says “Whoever sows little reaps little, and whoever sows much reaps much.” And that is a good statement, it’s the Bible, but out of context it isn’t clear at all that the verse is specifically talking about offerings in the church. And later on in the same passage it says these offerings are for the needs of the saints (saints referring to all Christians for any Catholics who may read this) and thus implies that if you need the money you shouldn’t give it. It also says in the verse before it that the offering should be a willing gift and not an exaction. So it is doubly clear that this is not meant to be forced, it is meant to be given out of what you can give.

There is a whole lot more I could write on this issue, it spreads so broad. Rather than explain every single thing they say that’s wrong it would probably be a better use of my energy to say what is right.

God gives us uncomfortable situations, sometimes even dangerous ones. I was homeless for the first four months of my marriage. It was rough. We have debt. My husband has genetic medical issues. It still is rough. But through it all we have trusted God and he has given us something more valuable than all the money or health in the world could get us, and that is a solid community of believers that follow God’s word and urge us to do the same. Even when we didn’t have that, we still had assurance of our salvation and God to lead us through.

Life isn’t easy. People aren’t always healthy, no matter how much faith you have. Sometimes you are struggling with money and can’t seem to get what you need. Sometimes it doesn’t matter how much you give, sometimes all you get back is hatred for being kind. But there is one thing more valuable than anything in this world, and that is God. So don’t cling to what God can give you, trust him and follow him through everything that does happen. God works all things (good and bad, some things he doesn’t throw at us but instead a fallen world does) for the good of those who love him and are called according to his purpose.

[alostwanderernotfound]

On the 10 Commandments:

———

The First Commandment Explained

———————————

People often still debate the meaning of what God’s Commandments are after the numerous translations. The Orthodox Jewish Bible actually contains the transcript of that speech I gave that day in Shemot 20.

And in my own words: If you do not hold anything else, hold & speak my commandments. Let us review the originals as they were intended- the speech with the teaching summary. Any & all attempts to do harm and/or cause suffering by bypassing the Commandments with “loopholes” will be considered with harsh penalty.

I will eventually cover all 10 commandments.

1. “Thou shalt have no elohim acherim in My presence.”

‭‭Shemot‬ ‭20‬:‭3‬ ‭TOJB2011‬‬

https://bible.com/bible/130/exo.20.3.TOJB2011

This actually started with a somewhat of both a truth & a small joke. “Get these false Christians out my face”.

It’s somewhat silly, but I had a lot of internal anger around many of these events because there were MANY people around that were preaching things that weren’t practicing the same religion as you.

This was a call to stop believing in false teachers & allowing them to have authority.

A big note is that at the time this also was specifically speaking to those that practiced sagery, sorcerery,witchcraft, & other beliefs that were attempting to be false spiritual leaders inside of Christianity. These are people that aren’t Jesus attempting to lead the direction of the church/his people. Stop listening to all these random people divining here on Earth our religion.

Jesus was handed down the religion in heaven. Everyone should be saying the same underlying message & there should be no fractionation of the church. If there is, something went VERY VERY awry.

[angelstate]

FWB!Ghost x InloveFemReader.

FWB!Ghost who hates commitment, he doesn’t care about being in a relationship or romantic shit in the slightest, so you don’t even try to come asking for anything else than meaningless sex because he won’t give it to you, he doesn’t have the stomach to do so, neither the heart capable of feeling that sort of things.

FWB!Ghost only knows how to fuck you rough and hard, to make you feel more pain than pleasure, and fill your skin with bite marks and bruises. he doesn’t know gentleness nor care to learn, aftercare is fucking nonexistent with him, if you feel shitty after fucking then you better dress quickly and figure it out in your own house because he is too tired to care.

FWB!Ghost pretends like nothing happens between the two of you when there are people around, he won’t fuck you in the bathroom of a random bar or a dark alleyway, he wants no part in being associated with you in a romantic way. sex is just sex with him, nothing else so don’t get ideas on your mind, he won’t entertain them.

FWB!Ghost is as loving as a rock, with no emotions other than sarcasm and anger coming from him. He doesn’t understand why to stick around but doesn’t care enough to ask, one day you’ll leave him, it is only a matter of time, so he keeps himself clueless on how you see him so as not to strain the “friendship” you have in any way. (he doesn’t consider you a friend)

FWB!Ghost tried to pay you after the first time you had sex because he didn’t want you to think he took advantage of you or that he loved you in any way, it was just an exchange, a way for him to take out his frustration and for you…he isn’t sure what you get but it must be good because you keep coming back to him.

FWB!Ghost who definitely fucks other women, you aren’t the first or the last on the long list of people he has put his dick inside of, but you are the only one that stuck around and the only one he allows to stick around, no matter how much he tries to deny it, he feels like he owes it to you, maybe because he tried to pay you the first time he fucked you, maybe because you were a friend of Soap first that got introduced to a disgusting man like himself or maybe he just feels a bit guilty of how he treats you constantly (he doesn’t change though, at least not for a very long time.)

FWB!Ghost isn’t all bad at times, if you’re telling him something he listens to you till you finish, he sometimes buys you things you want, all sex-related of course, and he isn’t going to pretend he cares about your interest (he does care) he has been more times at a sex store and victoria secret than at a grocery store in the last 3 months.

FWB!Ghost secretly does enjoy spending time with you, don’t get him wrong, he values solitude and having space for himself, but you are good company, you please him in more ways than you just in the bedroom, you cook his favorite foods, watch horror movies even though he knows you hate them, you listen to the little information he gives you about his missions like his words are manuscripts from the bible.

FWB!Ghost loves little things in life, and he would never open his heart for anything or anyone that can hurt him, he doesn’t allow it out of self-preservation, having learned from his past experiences, he loved his family and they were dead because of him, he doesn’t want more blood on his hands, not of the people he loves. (but he doesn’t love you, right?)

FWB!Ghost is comfortable in silence, but with you being oh-so-quiet when you often talk till you have nothing more to say is definitely a strange sight, one that takes his breath away and makes him want to throw up. because he knows silence from you means something is eating you alive so much so you can’t speak.

so he watches you with careful yet empty eyes, nothing is ever really quiet with you, you’re a stubborn woman and he knows that, he knows you like the back of his hand, so when you stare at him, doe eyes full of something he can read it brings a set of emotions he thought he had buried a long time ago. and when you open your mouth to speak but stay silent it becomes his breaking point. “spit it out, will you?” he speaks, his tone rude even though he doesn’t mean to sound that way.

he sees your eyes become wider for a second, bringing your knees to your chest and looking away from him. He hates when when you shut him out of the sight that is your face, always so expressive he doesn’t even have to hear you to know what you think. “I can't do this anymore, I don’t want to do this anymore” you finally speak and time freezes for a second.

Stranger!Ghost doesn’t regret a lot of things in life, nothing burdens his heart to the point of continuous regret, to undying guilt…except you. He knows he wasn’t a kind man, he didn’t know kindness then and doesn’t know it now, but looking back he knows he should’ve learned for you, he should’ve allowed himself to love and accept that letting someone into his life and heart wouldn’t be a death sentence for that person.

Stranger!Ghost isn’t an honest man at all, but when he’s alone and his feeling catch up to him he can’t help to accept he indeed loves you, that he cared about you more than himself, and that he wished to be your lover, to be your husband to…to have a fucking family and a dog and all that corny shit he swore he hated for years.

He had an unknown hope for you to not give up on him back then, to always stick around no matter what because that’s exactly what you did for a long time, you were there and wore the bruises he gave you with honor and love he never understood, he did now.

He saw something shift in you the night you told him you couldn’t keep him around anymore, he remembers your words, they are engraved in his mind so strongly that they keep him up at night sometimes, and when he is drunk he thinks of calling, to confirm you don’t want him anymore.

Stranger!Ghost who can’t help but get drunk and let a few tears fall when he finds out through Soap that you had gotten married to your first love and were now pregnant, waiting to welcome a little girl into the world, and that your husband had gifted you a puppy as to complete the family.

Stranger!Ghost heart aches at the fact he isn’t the man who made you a mother and that he isn’t the father of your child, but he knows not to come into your life again, you deserve peace and build a family without ever facing him again, he wasn’t going to be cruel to you again, he was going to stay away out of love for you, love you will never know about.

[levisjinchuriki]

insatiable 

summary: armin is inexperienced in every way. he’s never been on a date, had his first kiss, has never been touched… armin wants it to be with someone special. someone like you. 

warning: armin fluff, confessing feelings, innocent!armin, virgin!armin, mentions of religion, armin secures his first date ever

word count: 2.1k - ch 1 

armin’s religion is something precious to him, however, he doesn’t agree with every limitation. he prays everyday and attends church on sundays, but he doesn’t believe in waiting until marriage. his main ideology is saving himself for someone special. he doesn’t want to have flings with people just for the sake of it. he wants to have a meaningful connection with someone first before trying anything. along with this idea, armin is incredibly shy. hence why he’s still a virgin and entering his second year of college. that fact doesn’t bother him, but it confuses the hell out of his friends.

armin is human. he obviously feels the same urges everyone else does but he chooses his beliefs over the fleeting thoughts. he’s not one to cave into peer pressure. his friends have tried to take on the role of his wingmen a few times before to try to get girls to talk to him, but he’s always politely declined their offers. one time eren had successfully talked a girl into going on a date with armin. when he heard about the plan armin approached her and apologized for his friend’s behavior. 

armin is an introvert. he likes to be in the comfort of his own room listening to music, watching a movie, studying, reading his bible… he doesn’t get out much. the only people he hangs out with are the friends he’s had since he was a child. much to their surprise, eren and mikasa convinced armin to go out with them tonight. it’ll be his first time attending a house party in a while. the music is always too loud and way too vulgar for his taste. he doesn’t drink. he doesn’t smoke. he’s too timid to talk to strangers. nothing about the environment screams armin arlert. 

other than his friends, the only thing he likes at this party is you. he likes how you show off your intelligence in philosophy class, how kind you are when you tell the professor to have a good night, how pretty you look when you smile… armin has thought about you quite a bit the last few weeks. he has a bit of a crush on you. it’s a new feeling for him, he’s never had a proper crush on someone before. 

when armin thinks of you his thoughts of you are always pure. he wonders what it’s like to be the one to make you laugh, take you on a date, maybe even hold your hand while he walks you home… 

“is that a purity ring?”, you ask. your voice is a bit loud as you try to talk over the music and other people’s conversations. you shift your weight on the couch as you lean down to get a better look at the piece of jewelry on armin’s finger. you’re careful not to spill the drink you’re holding as you look closer. armin looks down at his hand as you inspect it. you’ve never seen one before. 

armin isn’t sure when his crush on you began. he could feel his heart race whenever you entered a room and how his eyes automatically shut when he caught a whiff of your perfume. he’s only known you since the semester started. although you’re in the same class, he hasn’t had an opportunity to talk to you just yet. while he doesn’t know much about you, armin can tell you’re out of his league. he knows you're beautiful and intimidating and he’s just armin. nothing was really special about him. 

“it is”, he answers you, voice timid. when you sit back up he nervously clasps his hands together. he’s not embarrassed of his faith one bit. he’s proud to say he believes in a higher being. armin just isn’t one to crave attention and your question had inadvertently caused some heads to turn. 

“so you’ve never had sex?”, you ask. you’re trying to be respectful. you aren’t asking in an attempt to humiliate him, you’re genuinely curious. armin is very handsome, sweet, charming, smart… you wonder how no one has had the chance to be with him yet. he’s such a catch.

armin meets your eyes, then looks behind you. mikasa and eren are looking at him expectantly. they’re sure armin has never been intimate with anyone before, but he’s never confirmed it. he’s not sure what his friends will say about it. armin hesitates to answer. he looks back down at his ring and plays with it. 

you scold yourself for embarrassing him. this is not a conversation to have so publicly. you down the rest of your drink before leaning into armin, closer this time. 

“come with me”, you whisper into his ear. goosebumps run down his arms at the feeling of your breath against his skin. before armin has time to respond, you hold his hand and lead him away from the living room. armin notices that his much larger hand swallows yours. 

eren and mikasa give each other a look as you both leave the couch. they know about your crush on each other. 

armin desperately follows close behind you, not wanting to get lost in the sea of drunk college students. his hands already feel clammy in your grasp. 

“where are we going?”, he asks as you both make your way upstairs. armin purposefully keeps his gaze up, being respectful and not looking down at your hips as they sway in front of him. 

instead of answering him you guide armin into the bedroom and shut the door behind you. it’s much quieter here. all that can be heard are the muffled conversations from below and the bass of the music. 

armin wipes his palms on his pants, feeling a bit on edge. he makes sure not to snoop around. it wouldn’t be very respectful of him. armin fidgets with his ring while he waits for you to break the ice. you watch him as you lean with your back pressed against your door, wondering what’s going on inside his head. his blonde bangs cover his forehead, but you still notice that he keeps his eyes on the floor, careful not to pry. how thoughtful. 

“i thought we could have more privacy here”, you explain. armin smiles gratefully at you, but quickly averts his gaze again. you’re not sure if he’s upset with you, but you decide to apologize anyway to cover your bases. “i didn’t mean to embarrass you-”, you start. 

armin shakes his head at your apology. “please”, he interrupts you. “it’s okay, really”. he doesn’t think you have anything to apologize for. was the question intrusive? yes, but he knows you weren’t asking him with any malicious intent. 

“you can ask me anything you want”, he tells you. armin’s blue eyes bore into yours. you nod and carefully select your words. you don't want to come off as ignorant for not understanding or too critical of him. you weren’t a virgin yourself, but you definitely were not a pro. you were just picky. 

“is it a religious thing?”, you ask. armin considers your question for a moment. he tilts his head to the side as he thinks. 

“yes and no. my faith says not to be intimate with anyone until marriage. it’s a nice sentiment, but i don’t intend to wait that long”, armin pauses to collect his thoughts. “i’m waiting to give myself to someone i trust completely. and maybe even grow to love” he says sweetly. there’s crinkles next to his eyes as he smiles, thinking about his beliefs. a smile appears on your own lips at his answer. you didn’t expect him to say something so innocent. 

“i admire that”, you tell him. he looks away and tries not to blush at your comment. surely armin had to have girls falling over each other to get a chance with him. what’s not to like?

“so that means you’ve done everything leading up to sex, right?”, you ask expectantly. 

armin shakes his head. “not exactly”, he places a hand behind his neck. “i’ve never done anything before”, he answers truthfully. armin doesn’t say anything after his confession. you take a moment to look at him. he’s so sweet and gentle. he isn’t the heartbreaker type and is definitely not one to have a one night stand. he’s mature, unlike most people at this age. he knows what he wants and is willing to wait for the right time. 

you can’t hide the surprised look on your face. in college everyone has had their first kiss, first relationship, maybe even first heartbreak by now. it’s so rare to find someone who hasn’t experienced anything at all. you hate to admit it, but the thought of being his first is intriguing. a bit naughty, too. 

you speak before you can stop yourself. “do you want to?”, you ask. armin’s cheeks are crimson. “you said you were waiting to give yourself to someone you trust. i’m not saying we have to go all the way, but if you ever want to try a few things…”, your voice fades away as you try to explain your thoughts.

armin stands there, stunned at your offer. he’s never been given a proposition like this before. it’s a lot to consider. he wouldn’t be abandoning his faith, but he’s not in an established relationship with you. what if this situation goes south and it changes his feelings for you? what if it makes you see him in a negative light? armin doesn’t want to experiment with something as precious as you. 

on the other hand, you do have a point. armin doesn’t know what he likes and dislikes. he won’t if he doesn’t explore himself. what if he’s a bad kisser and doesn’t know it? or bad at other things but isn’t aware because of his lack of experience? 

the middle ground is you. he isn’t being pressured to do anything he doesn’t want to. you were just offering. he could say no and it would be entirely okay. but if he was going to try anything he’d want it to be with you. 

“i know you like me, armin”. he looks away from you, feeling a bit embarrassed. “mikasa told me”, you inform him as you walk closer. he holds back his urge to cringe. of course she told you. 

“don’t worry”, you coo as you rest your fingertips under his chin to tilt it up. armin’s eyes shift between yours. you're so close to him now. he holds his breath, feeling his chest tighten up a bit. 

“i like you too”, you smile. armin can’t believe what he’s hearing. you actually like him? he stutters, not knowing what to say. with the way you’re looking at him he’s sure you’re telling the truth, but he’s hesitant to believe you. why would you like him?

armin remembers you’ve had a few drinks. he’s never tried it before so he’s not sure how it works. but he remembers hearing that sometimes people say things they don't mean, so he’s running with that idea.

“you’ve been drinking”, he states. surely the alcohol is to blame for the discussion you’re having. your smile doesn’t waver. 

“i’m not drunk, armin. i’ve meant everything i’ve said”, you tell him sincerely. you drop your hand from his chin, giving him some space and time to think. armin spins his ring around his finger as he reflects on your conversation. he’s nervous, interested, scared, hopeful… he’s feeling a bit of everything right now. 

“if we’re going to do this i think we should do it properly”. armin always thinks strategically. he doesn’t want this situation to blow up in his face later. he wants to make sure he does things the right way.

“properly?”, you repeat. you try not to seem so eager. 

“well, i should take you out first, right?”, he asks, uncertain of his own question. a smile returns to your lips. just thinking about being with armin was making you giddy. 

“are you asking me out on a date?”. he stutters again. it’s cute how he’s so easily flustered. you let him short-circuit for a moment before calling his name soothingly. your voice grounds him. armin closes his eyes and takes a deep breath to center himself before speaking again.

“if you’ll let me, i’d like to take you on a date sometime”, armin says, much more calm than before. it’s your turn to blush. no one has ever made you feel so special in such a short amount of time. you’re more than happy to accept his offer. 

“i’d love to go on a date with you”, you respond. armin’s blue eyes shimmer as he beams at you. he’s excited for what’s to come.

-------

ch 2>>

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[godhasatenderheart]

I earnestly encourage you to read the Bible TODAY! Please, allow God to speak to you through His Word, even if you aren’t feeling inspired at this time. Even if you’re backsliding. Even if you’re ashamed or feel guilty. God has something He wants you to see.

[ikeoji-subs]

Zettai BL Ni Naru Sekai VS Zettai BL Ni Naritakunai Otoko 2024 - Episode 2 Eng Sub

VS SMELLS and VS AGE GAP RELATIONSHIPS

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translation notes:

about Fish Cake Man (7:28)

As we state in the subtitles, this guy’s monologue isn’t something we’re equipped to translate and if we did, it probably wouldn’t make much, if any, sense to English-speaking viewers. We learned from Snow’s Japanese friend that he's a comedian who is famous for doing this particular bit. After we had already finished most of the subtitles, I rewatched seasons 1 and 2 of the show and found that he was also in the other two seasons. In the first season, when Mob is explaining about how he's a side character and intends to keep it that way, he looks at a gardener on his university campus who is pulling weeds, illustrating that the world of BL needs to include some people who are unlikely to ever become main characters. That’s this dude. He appears again in season 2, when Mob is scouring the university for signs of Kikuchi after reading his goodbye letter. In every appearance, he's shown wearing the same sort of nondescript work clothes and cap and seems to work in some kind of maintenance or cleaning capacity at National BL University. –Towel

His name is Nou Misoo (脳みそ夫) which means brain tissue. I believe there's a pun here I'm missing but you can check our his sillyness on youtube, instagram or tiktok. –Snow

about “the gods decided to smite me” (10:24)

The first version of this line said that Mob “received divine punishment” for his Mob Move. That was already a great line! But I thought it had the potential to be a little more specific and evocative in an English-speaking context. At first, I was just trying to think of something a bit more specific to replace “received.” I thought of a few possibilities, including “I was smitten by divine punishment.” But since “smitten” is barely used anymore except to describe someone who's in love, it had the wrong connotation. Then I thought about how another tense of the same verb, “smite,” avoids those connotations and has a kind of King James Bible quality. But if I was going to say “smite,” I’d have to change the sentence from passive voice to active voice (which is generally best anyway) and give the sentence a subject who is doing the smiting.

I thought a unitary, capital-G God would make it sound a little too Biblical, possibly tipping it over into sounding overtly Christian. I knew that some religious traditions practiced in Japan, like Shintoism, included multiple gods. So I tried “the gods decided to smite me.” This seemed to balance out the Old Testament-ish aspect of “smite” a bit. The end result seemed more vivid than the earlier version, and it seemed like something Mob would say.–Towel 

about “select shop” (11:30)

Observant English speakers might notice that when the guy who used the same shampoo as Mob talks about where he got it, he uses a term made up of English loan words. He says he bought it at a “serekuto shoppu" (in English, a "select shop"). While both parts of the word are borrowed from English, the term you get when you put them together isn’t commonly used in the US. I ended up replacing it with “boutique,” which gets across some of the meaning. But I’ll explain in more detail here. 

It turns out that a “select shop” is a kind of smallish shop with carefully curated items that all fit a certain aesthetic. A business like this might be called a “lifestyle boutique” in America, but it’s slightly different from any business model used widely here. The big selling point of a shop like this is the fact that they’ve already vetted and coordinated these products. Their offerings are tailored for a particular niche, so that if you’re into the general idea a select shop is going for, you’re likely to be interested in a lot of what they’re selling. The items for sale will also have been hand-picked by a professional who’s able to find just the right thing in a way that a typical consumer wouldn’t be able to. 

You can imagine what kind of college student would not only shop at this sort of place but declare it proudly. Even if Mob was going to fall in L with a B, this guy would be a bad fit.–Towel

about “a listless ne’er-do-well” (19:04)

The more literal translation of this part goes “a man like this, without ambitions or vitality.” It’s a nice turn of phrase, definitely, but I thought if I could localize it a bit it might evoke more of the right feeling. I thought it would be more typical in English to express this in terms of an adjective plus a noun describing the kind of person he’d appear to be, rather than saying he was without these qualities. From “without ambition” I got “ne’er-do-well” and from “without vitality” I got “listless.”–Towel

Tag list: @absolutebl @bengiyo @c1nto @come-back-serotonin @lurkingshan @my-rose-tinted-glasses @porridgefeast @sorry-bonebag @twig-tea @wen-kexing-apologist

[ladylooch]

Listen I know it’s not November but could you write something about reader trying to get Nico to fail No Nut November?

A/N: Challenge accepted, Nico. 😈 This may be my favorite smut I have ever written.

Word Count: 1.0k

Hand on the Bible, you promise the day wasn’t meant to start out this way.

Nico is behind you, fucking you hard as the headboard slams against the wall. You push back against the covered wood, moaning loudly to the ceiling.

“Right there.” You beg him, choking on your moans as he grips your hair, keeping your head tilted back. He loves the way he can see the outline of your features. Your forehead quivers, eyebrows furrowed, nostrils flaring. Your teeth stab at your bottom lip, trying to hold back. “Uhhh.” You finally let lose. Nico pounds harder, thighs clapping against your ass.

“Fuck, you’re going to be so worth it.” He groans. 

But that’s now. Not how this all started.

You were in the kitchen, making yourself a cup of coffee in one of Nico’s t-shirts. The shirt completely covered you just to the edges of your butt cheeks. You walked around like this all the time. You didn’t think anything of it.

Nico came out of the bedroom at the smell of waffles. He shoves his wild hair back from his face, coming to the island where you are pouring more batter into the waffle maker.

“Hi Disney Princess.” You smile up at him, tilting your face for a kiss.

“Good morning.” He croaks, voice coated in sleep. His hand finds your opposite hip with your other side pressing into him. His fingers splay out under his shirt, holding your thigh and fiddling with the waistband of your panties. “Why aren’t you wearing pants?”

“I never do in the morning, unless it’s snowing.” 

“Yeah, but you know what month it is.” You glance at the calendar, seeing today’s date as November 6th. No Nut November can kick rocks in your book.

“Why are you participating in this?”

“Dougie brought it up as a team thing.”

“Easy for him to say, he doesn’t have a girlfriend.” 

“I think his justification is that makes it harder… no pun intended.” He chuckles. 

“You have waiting puss in your bed every night and his bed is empty… and he thinks that is harder for him?” Nico snorts at the word puss. 

“Babe.” He taps your ass at the filth. “Make it easier on me.”

“No. I don’t want you to participate in this!” You laugh, checking the waffle. It needs another minute. “This is a sad month for me. I may slip into a dickless depression.”

“It’s for a good cause.”

“You say that, but are you actually putting money to it?”

“Yeah, the whole team is. Losers have to pay more.” 

“So, if we have sex you’re going to admit that to the team by contributing more to the pot.”

“I am a man of honor, baby.” He nods, picking up your cup of coffee and taking a sip. “And I wanna brag about you too.” He hides his snicker in the cup. You narrow your gaze at him. 

“You better not be talking about that.” You insist, opening the waffle maker again. “That’s between me and you.”

“I did tell Woody your mouth is like a vacuum cause it sucks my soul out.” He covers his face with his hand. “I was so drunk in Vegas last month.” 

“You shit!” You laugh hard, using a fork to take out the waffle. Honestly tho, you’re proud of that. “What did he say?”

“Marry her.” You toss your head back and laugh harder.

“See I knew I liked him. Confirmed favorite.”

You walk across the kitchen to grab plates for both of you. They are a bit high for you so you have to get on your tip toes.

“Oh my god.” Nico moans behind you. His shirt has pulled up on you, exposing the see through backs of your panties. He admires the perfect curve of your ass before squeezing his eyes shut. 

“What do you think about No Nut November now?”

“What if I don’t… nut?” He questions. 

“You can’t.” You know immediately if he slips into you, he’s not going to be done until he leaves a puddle inside of you. 

“I think I can.” 

“Okay. Let’s go.” You take his shirt off, leaving it on the kitchen floor. Nico follows you fast.

And that is how you got here. 

With his cock buried to the hilt as he fucks you, telling you how worth it this is going to be.

You lay down on your stomach, then wrap your calves around his thick thighs, bucking back into him. Nico’s hand wraps around your stomach as he goes aggressively silent. The sound of your skin clapping together fills the room as you work him over. His hand slides down from your stomach, fingertips rubbing your clit to get you clenching him tighter. Your body curls inwards as he starts to thrust deep into you again, awkward, jerky movements that hint at what he is about to do. 

“Come on, Neeks. Fill me.” You beg him as he leans forward to connect your back with his front.

“You.. fuck. Babe!” He groans as he comes inside of you. You follow him, pushed over the edge by his uninhibited moans as he coats your walls. You clench him deeper with each pulse of your orgasm, milking him for all he is worth. Nico collapses onto your back, staying buried inside of you, balls resting on the back of your thighs. You reach around, running your fingers along his spine in encouragement. 

“Happens to the best men, baby.”

“You said that on purpose.”

“Yeah, I wanted you to fail.”

“You pay my fine then.” 

“No, it’s probably 20 grand or something outrageous you rich people decided.”

“It’s like 5.” Nico kisses along your shoulder. 

“I’ll pay you back in blowies.” 

“Sold!” Nico chuckles, rolling out of and off you to settle on his back on the bed. His hand comes to your ass, giving it a gentle pat, then resting there calmly.

“Let it be know, on the record with the New Jersey Devils locker room, that Nico Hischier made it 6 days into No Nut November.” You high five yourself with a snicker. Nico sighs, eyes closed with a blissed out smile on his face. 

“Worth every fucking penny.” His hand slaps your ass hard, filling the room with the distinct sound of a job well done. 

[slowcatsworld]

Julian Loki acts like an older sibling. PART 1

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Small disclaimer, as far as I’m aware his family hasn’t been mentioned in canon in the manga or the egoist bible; therefore I’m basing this off of his interactions with other characters in the manga. Also bear with me, I wrote a lot of words.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Julian Loki’s introduction: good sportsmanship

Julian Loki already acts differently than the other World 5 players in their introduction in chapter 90, both physically and personality wise. Julian is the only player that is not an adult since he’s 17, and the only one that practiced good sportsmanship throughout the whole ‘World 5 game.’

This is seen when he tells Leonardo Luna to not disrespect Japanese soccer to the Blue Lock team (when Luna states, “Gambling your lives on a wish that will never come true..Japanese people really are the world’s top masochists!” and with his handshake/conversation with Isagi before the match started.

Despite being the youngest on his team, Julian shows the most maturity and respect towards his opponents (which is something taught to young players of every sport for them to carry this sportsmanship into the rest of their career) even though some of his teammates are a whole decade older than him and have been in the world of soccer longer.

(I love Isagi’s little profiles he makes of different characters, and how he notices Loki’s polite manners and confidence but I’ll get back to that later maybe hehe)

Julian Loki- Master Striker in the NEL: Maturity & Adaptability/Flexibility

Julian Loki was announced as the Master Striker for France’s team PXG in the Neo Egoist League, which is insane when you take into account he’s coaching players around the same age as him. (Love me a mature boy) In chapter 244/246 I think the reader is able to understand a lot about Julian’s flexibility as a coach even though it wasn’t that much explicitly stated.

PXG is beginning a match with Barca, and they start with Rin as their main attacker with Shidou off the field. Later we see Rin get swapped for Shidou, so the both of them get their turns as the star and to score goals. This makes the most sense since we, as a reader, know that Rin and Shidou so far have had no chemistry at all and the two of them do not work well together at all.

However, Julian didn’t know that prior to them joining PXG. He had to figure out a solution to this in order for PXG to perform well on the field during matches. The games are set in a round robin format with two games every 10 days (if I’m not mistaken) and PXG has played either 3 or 4 times. Plus, these aren’t 90 minute games, they’re just to 3 points. These games are relatively short, probably less than 30 minutes long (idk, I quit soccer a long time ago.) This means aside from scrimmages and training practice, Julian had a rather small amount of time to develop a play style that would suit both of these very different strikers that refuse to work together.

Julian Loki found something that worked too. Whether he experimented by placing one of the two (Shidou/Rin) in for the whole game or talked with them both about what to do, Julian made a strategy that everyone benefited from. (GUYS! Ik he stated in chap. 246 that he experimented with their play styles to create two factions on the PXG line up, but pick up what I’m putting down yk?? Adversity!)

This shows how adaptive Loki is able to be in unfavorable circumstances and create opportunities from it. Julian has been trying to create an environment that encourages Charles to grow as a player. Because of Julian’s thought process of using both Rin and Shidou at different times to help Charles, we’ve witnessed how adaptable he can be.

[pro-mammonologist]

Demons Are A Girls Best Friend

There are other parts!!!! I’m too tired to link them!!!!!! Anywho: Mc has a dirty ass fantasy and the brothers plan it out and this the plan coming to life!!! Yay!!! Inspired by a power metal song about demons taking virginity!!!!!!! The Mc isn’t really a virgin tho!!!!!! Yaaay!!!!

Nsfw ahead: praise, degradation, throat fucking, impact play, spanking, blowjobs, size kink, demon kink, corruption kink, vaginal sex, clit play, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, orgasm control, yeah like almost everything

Chapter 3: “let your carnal lust prevail tonight”

You stood outside of the door, note in hand. The brothers were on the other side, waiting for you to come in so they could commence the scene. You were nervous, heart beating uncontrollably and mind racing. Glancing down, you could faintly see the outline of your underwear through the outfit you had decided on earlier. Perhaps you went a bit too far with the innocent -not-so-innocent act.

All the lights were out in the house now, leaving you to rely on the one and only light source that laid beyond that door. You looked back at the note and with a shaky breath, you opened it.

The room was transformed, it had an old feeling to it. It was a dark brown and smelled of frankincense, it was polished and the light reflecting from the torches made it have a golden-orange hue. You could see a table in front of you with a few chairs and sat on one of those chairs was Satan, flipping through the pages of a Bible. He was dressed head to toe in a priest’s garb, if it weren’t for your knowledge of him already, you would’ve assumed he was a young, attractive priest. He lifted his head to you, eyes just briefly leaving the word.

“How can I help you, young one?” His demeanor was calm and kind. His lips slightly stretched into a smile, but it felt soft, not mischievous in the slightest.

You remembered the note. “I’ve been searching for sanctuary. The storm has run me here.” You answered, trying to think of the best way to fit the plot.

“I see. You’ve come to the right place. I am here with some of my brothers in Christ.” God, this is ironic. If it weren’t for your nervousness, you’d start cackling. “We can house you here.” He placed the Bible down. “Come, sit with me.” He pulled a chair out and turned it so it was facing him.

You nod and move over. Your footsteps were light but even so, the floorboards creaked as though you were in an old house. “Thank you Father.” You sat before him, crossing your legs.

“What brings you so far out in the woods? I’m sure you know it’s dangerous for people such as you.” He acted well, furrowing his brows and adding concern to his eyes.

“Well, I…” this wasn’t in the script, do they expect improv??? “I ran away from my home a long time ago.” Well, might as well make the lore nice and juicy. “I was traveling alone, moving from place to place.”

“Hmm, I see. Humankind often moves about, you are no different. Even so, you must remember that on nights like these, demons come out to play.” Like on cue, one of the torches went out and lightning outside struck. “You are safe here, but you must beware the night.”

Think of something! Think think! You look so awkward!

He shifted in his seat. “Sorry, you must forgive me, I must’ve scared you.” He opened the Bible back up. “You could consider me an expert on demons. Demons crave many things, I’m sure you know. They crave to create chaos where there is calm and corruption where there is innocence.” His words were silk, moving through your ears and sinking into your head. “You are innocent, aren’t you? Untouched by darkness?”

It was arousing how his words sounded so genuine but you knew exactly where he was going. “What do you mean?” You tried to sound innocent, but your blush and the stutter in your voice could not be disguised.

He tch’ed three times. “This won’t do. Tell me, what have you done?” He was still soft, still quiet, still priestly. “You can tell me, I will forgive you.”

“Brother, don’t torture this child.” Another voice. Lucifer. “They’ve come here for sanctuary and here you are, interrogating them.”

You whipped your head around to see him dimly lit, the golden light making his face warm and ethereal. Perhaps this is what he looked like in the celestial realm. Lucifer was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed with a gentle and welcoming smile on his face. He was dressed similarly to Satan, but his cassock wasn’t plain, it had a red trim with red buttons. Not to mention, the crucifix Lucifer boldly wore around his neck.

“Hello there, did I scare you, dear?” He asked, tilting his head up. “I simply overheard your conversation.”

“No, you didn’t.” You kept your eyes on Lucifer, taking him in.

“Good. Humans have a tendency to not want to follow directions. A little bit of rebellion is normal.” Lucifer crossed his legs against the wall, keeping his gaze transfixed on you.

You heard Satan lean back in his chair, making it creak. “You’re not wrong, but it’s essential to remember that they will be judged when the time comes.” You turned to look at Satan again. He propped his head up on the table and looked at you with concern etched across his face. “Why not let us relieve you of your sins now, lest it be too late?”

You were feeling nervous again, they play this game too well. You were still silent, trying to not trip over your words.

“It’s obvious that they’re scared of being judged.” Lucifer broke the silence and stepped forward, going toward your chair. You felt his hands grip the back of it and his chest was almost pressed against the back of your head. You felt compelled to glance up at him. “It would be hypocritical of me to judge you, dear. After all, we are not perfect.” His eyes were looking down at you, half-lidded and brimming with lust. “Who’s to say we are as holy as we seem?”

God, he was hot right now. You peeled your gaze away from him, afraid you might break away from the script. They would not initiate everything, with your permission. That’s what the note said. You had to wait, which is basically what it meant. You wonder who decided to egg you on like this? Whose idea.

Suddenly, a chair was pulled beside you and Asmo sat in it, legs crossed, looking at you and smiling. “Forgive me for my intrusion! I could feel their nervousness from the other room. I’ve come to alleviate it.” He sounded his usual cheery self, but still managed to fit the role. His cassock was similar to Satan’s, but he also wore a white sash adorned with etched crosses at the bottom.

Lucifer shifted behind you. “So, do you mind telling us what you’ve done? There’s no need to be ashamed.”

You felt as though they were waiting for you to say it, to say you’ve slept with demons. You tried to suck your nerves back in and speak. “I will.”

Satan looked pleased. “Then, is it true? You’ve bedded with demons?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

Asmo’s smile couldn’t help but stretch wider. “There, that wasn’t that hard was it?” He put a hand on your shoulder.

“No, father it wasn’t.” You felt relieved, guess you could say the introduction was over.

“Now,” Lucifer tapped his fingers, “since you’ve been touched by them, do you still crave their touch?”

Well fuck. Your heart rate went right back up. “Sometimes.” You answered, averting Lucifer’s gaze.

“Are you so ashamed you can’t look at any of us?” Asmo pouted. “It’s alright, demons are known to tempt. To seduce.” He didn’t try to hide the growing arousal in his voice.

“Perhaps they are.” Back to Lucifer. “Do you feel shame because you wish to feel their touch again? Or do you feel… something else?” He was loving every second of this, every word.

You could feel their hunger, it was obvious. Blatant. You were scared to indulge, but you were desperate to feel them. “Something else.” You were too quiet.

Satan crossed his legs. “I don’t think we are making you nervous anymore.”

You could really use some water but you didn’t want to stop the scene.

“I don’t think they are either.” Asmo pushed hair out of your face and his touch gave you goosebumps. “I think I know what you’re feeling. Would you like me to say it?”

More lightning outside. The rain on the roof thundered onto the rooftop and sweeping across the window. You could faintly smell the smoke from the candles strewn across the tables and the torches on the walls. You definitely aren’t nervous anymore and yet here you are trying to ground yourself. Truth be told, you’re excited now.

“They won’t admit it themselves. At least not yet.” Lucifer said, encouraging Asmo. “Say it.”

“You want us.” Asmo’s hand was on your thigh now and he was leaning closer to you.

You slowly turned to him. “I do.”

Lucifer couldn’t help but chuckle. “You have no intention of repenting, do you?” His hand drifted to your shoulder.

“I came here, not for repentance, but sanctuary sir.” You answered, feeling his hand slide the fabric of your clothes slowly.

Satan was grinning now. “Well, you’re lucky. We can’t do that anyways.” On cue, his tail and horns emerged and from behind you, you heard Lucifer’s wings flap, accompanied by Asmo’s tail that was now wrapped around your calf. “So, with us like this, would you let us indulge in your need?”

You felt heat between your legs grow and grow and all you wanted to do was pounce on one of them and ride them til you were sated, but that isn’t a choice right now. “Can you?” You say.

Asmo feigns shock. “Can we? We are made for it. So!” His tail rubbed your leg. “Why don’t you tell us what they’ve done to you.”

Man, do you really have to admit that? Out loud? Your mind filled with memories of them touching you, how each of the brothers pleased you. You also wondered when you’d see the rest of them. You’ve seen Satan, Luci, and Asmo plenty.

“Ahhh, shy are we?” Lucifer stroked your cheek from behind. “How can we know what you want, what you like, and what you need without you telling us, hm?” He teased you, feeling so powerful.

“Perhaps you don’t wish to be pleased.” Satan said, letting his usual mischievous demeanor take over. “You were indulging us about confessing your sins, perhaps you crave punishment.”

Lucifer hummed his approval. “Ah, I could see that. Perhaps we need to become holy again for them to admit their sins. Now, tell us, do wish for us to continue?” Lucifer was both in the scene but speaking genuinely, you could tell by his touch.

“Yes.” You answered.

Satan retracted his tail and wings and horns. “Maybe you like feeling dirty. Do you?” He asked you, but didn’t let you answer. “I can tell you do.”

“Yeah, I do.” You breathed out and Asmo squeezed your thigh.

“That’s it. Give in to it.” Asmo whispered, watching every little move you made.

Satan played the good priest too well. He instantly shifted back into the demeanor he had before the demonic reveal. He leaned forward and clasped his hands together, eyebrows feigning concern as he teased you with his words.

“A good child of god confesses their sins, no?” He was pouting, shaking his head. “Should you continue to hold your tongue, I fear your punishment might worsen.”

You clenched your legs together, desperate for any friction. Asmo felt as your other thigh pressed into where his hand held your thigh.

“She seems to be distressed, perhaps they’re so ashamed of their sins they can’t even fathom speaking them aloud.” Lucifer was so close, you felt him leaning over you now as Satan stared from directly across you, you couldn’t help but wonder if they could hear your heartbeat.

Asmo could, for sure. “This is why you don’t mess with demons, sinner.” He couldn’t shield the excitement in his voice. “We w—they’ve touched you. You’re dirty.” Asmo’s breath was on your ear and neck. “Defiled.” His voice was low and dangerous, each syllable rolled off slowly and enough force that each one licked at your neck.

You were unbelievably horny, pushed to a point you didn’t expect to reach with just these three. When the rest join, you don’t even know how you’ll handle it.

“We need to purge the demonic essence from ya.” Fuck, like right on cue, Mammon. “Can’t have a sinner in the church right.” He emerged from what seems to be nowhere and crouched in front of you from your left. “So why don’t you tell us what they did.”

A low rumble came from behind you. “So we can do exactly what they did to you.” As Lucifer spoke, Levi, Beel, and Belphie emerged from different parts of the room. All of them but Satan were in their demon forms and now Satan transformed again to join them.

“You’ve wanted this, right? To get fucked by demons, you like the feeling of being fucked by demon scum?” Levi asked you, now moving in your direction. “It’s alright, you can admit it. You can take more than those three, right?”

“Yeah I can.” You say, your breathing fastening. “I can take you all.” Beel was moving toward you now and Lucifer pulled your chair back so there was more space between you, Mammon, and Satan. Enough room for Beel to situate himself between your legs.

Beel looked up at you. “I’ll start us off.” He parted your legs and dipped himself beneath your dress. You felt his fingers trace over the fabric of your underwear and he rubbed his knuckles against your wetness. You weren’t quite yet soaked but it was moist enough for him to tell. You felt him pull them aside and pin them against your thigh using his hand. He used his other hand to part your labia and he licked along starting from the bottom to the top.

You shivered. You looked around seeing what was next. Suddenly, you could see Lucifer’s horns out in front of you as he leaned forward to kiss your neck. He nipped under your ear before traveling down your collar bone. And on the other side of you, Asmo was doing the same. Mammon, Satan, Belphie, and Levi remained watching for a moment, taking in how you responded to their tongues. Satan looked at you with an unreadable expression, simply taking in how your mouth was parting and every tense and twitch you made. You brushed your legs against Beel’s sides, trying to show your appreciation.

“‘I wonder what’ll happen next?’ Is that what you’re thinking?” Belphie said, standing to the side of Satan.

“They clearly want more.” Mammon teased, still crouching. “Y’all are bein’ too sweet? Ain’t that right? They can be a lot louder than that.” He slid himself forward and onto his knees, beside Beel.

“What are you going to do?” As you asked, Asmo’s hand reached around to cup your breast and rub his thumb against it. Mammon lifted up your dress and spread your legs further. You felt Beel’s head retract and Mammon’s fingers press into you. You gasped as he worked to stretch you.

“There ya go.” He said. Beel’s tongue returned to your clit, leaving Mammon to the bottom half. Mammon worked slowly, curling his fingers against your g-spot, working it at a snails pace. Beel was moving similarly, keeping slow to tease you.

Lucifer was busy leaving your right shoulder covered in marks while Asmo played with your breast, rubbing the nipple slowly and sucking at your neck.

“Did the demons do this?” Satan said, bringing you out of your trance.

“Yes.” You responded, feeling how Lucifer’s tongue slid down your neck.

“What are Beel and Mammon doing to you now? Why don’t you tell me?” Satan asked, keeping his legs crossed to hide his boner.

“Beel’s eating me out slowly and Mammon is fingering me even slower.” You felt Beel move slower as you said that, making you whine.

“Hmph.” Satan replied. “You want them go faster don’t you?” Lucifer reached for your other neglected breast, fondling you oh so carefully. “Do enjoy the feeling of them touching you?”

“Yes. I do.”

“Yes to what?” He wanted you to say it.

“Both.”

“Both what? You can say it. Say what you want.” Satan sounded annoyed, but assertive.

“I want them to move faster. And I like how they touch me.” You were blushing as though you’ve never fucked them before.

“You give in so easily, no fight.” Belphie noted, not trying to hide how his cock was pressing against his pants. “Do you like being obedient?” He asked you. “Obedient to demons?” He was smiling, trying to dig into you.

“I–I do.” Mammon stopped fingering you. Beel’s tongue stopped shortly after.

“I didn’t catch that last part.” Lucifer whispered in your ear. “You need to speak up, Mc.”

“I like being obedient to demons.” It wasn’t hard to say at all but it definitely embarrassed you especially how Satan was grinning in front of you. Couldn’t he move anywhere else?

“Are ya mad we stopped?” Mammon’s head came out from under your dress. “Why don’t you tell us what you want?”

“I don’t want you to stop. I want to cum from yours and Beel’s stimulation.” You said, eyes locked on Mammon who was looking at you with hunger on his face.

“They wanna cum now?” Asmo was getting bored, you could tell. “Wow, aren’t you eager.” He pulled your chin toward his face and kissed you. Your tongues connected and you moaned into his mouth, the intimacy of it overwhelming you. He was excited and eager, practically forcing Lucifer to detach from you and for Beel to come out as well.

Lucifer didn’t show any agitation but based off how he pulled your head to face up toward him after your lips departed from Asmo’s, you could tell this was his way of saying “we share”. His lips connected with yours briefly knowing the angle would hurt you. The feeling of his hand around your throat was good, especially how he gripped the underside of your chain.

“Let’s get you out of that and then we’ll give you your first orgasm, hmm? That sound good?” Lucifer let go of your head and you stood and started to pull the dress over your head. Levi grabbed the dress for you and folded it quickly and put it to the side.

“Just panties and thigh highs?” Levi eyed you. “I kinda like that.”

You felt Lucifer’s hands on your hips from behind as Asmo pulled away the chair you were on. He turned you around to face him and then he lifted you to sit you on the table. You felt the coolness of the table and goosebumps rose on your skin.

“Is it too cold?” Levi asked.

“It’s chilly.” You said and more lightning struck, illuminating the room with white light. This strike made you jump a little. “Shit!”

“I think the fear should’ve warmed you enough.” Satan stood and pushed you back onto the table. “If not, I can fix that for you. Asmo, the sash.” Asmo handed him the sash he wore and Satan looked down at you. “You wish to be obedient Hm?”

“Yeah.” You said.

“Then this will make it easier on you.” He pulled your wrists together and tied them in a knot using the sash. Gently, he raised your arms over your head and Beel spread your legs again.

This time, you could see Beel’s expression as his tongue connected back with your clit. He didn’t bother to hold back now, going as fast as he liked and clutching your thighs with his hands. Your legs were cast over his shoulders, giving him exclusive access to your nethers. You gazed down at him looking how he looked at you like he’d been starving desperate for more of your sweet cunt. If it weren’t for the angle, you’d see his drool mixed with your arousal sweeping down his chin and dripping down his neck. When you rested your head back down you realized a small pillow was there to support your neck and head and that your head hung over the table.

“Thought you needed more comfort.” Belphie was behind you, erection in your face, but still clothed. “This next part will be fun.”

You tried to see where everyone was now. Mammon was still over with Beel and Asmo, while Lucifer and Belphie stood behind you and Satan and Levi watched from the side of the table. Levi stretched forward a traced a hand up your side to feel your goosebumps. “We need to warm them up.”

“I see that.” Satan took to the other side of the table and both of the demons stretched across the table to play with your breasts again.

“Ah!” You gasped, feeling how Levi’s fangs gently grazed your nipple and how Satan’s hand tenderly stroked the other.

“They like that, huh.” You could hear the grin in Mammon’s voice.

Lucifer nodded. “Yes but they need to remember they need to obey before getting their release.” You looked at Lucifer who stroked your hair, sitting in a chair right next to your head. “And what’s the best way to obey, Belphegor?”

Belphie released his cock from his pants, the length almost slapping your face. “By pleasing others.” He tapped the tip against your lips. “Open up.”

You opened wide and let him slide in. It was much easier to take his cock from this position, almost giving perfect access to your throat. Belphie gasped as his balls pressed against your lips.

“Good human.” Lucifer stroked your head. “Focus on his cock. You can’t cum until he’s satisfied.” He was gentle but the words stung, but you aren’t surprised. You did say no overstimulation to them, all of whom have a taste for pushing you.

You tried your hardest to ignore the other three demons that were pleasuring you to prevent yourself from getting to your peak. It was hard, especially with all the sounds coming from Beel as he sucked at your cunt. Or how Satan managed to pinch hard enough to hurt but to also make you moan on Belphie’s cock, who in turn would gasp at the vibration. Poor Mammon, who had to resort to coming to the other side of your head to get any attention.

“You should see how hot you look right now.” He said, touching the bulge in your throat as Belphie thrusted. “You can take cock better than any human. Hell, you might have most demons beat. Wonder how good you’ll take more than one in ya.”

Belphie pulled out for a moment, prompting Lucifer to raise your head up to let the blood run back down.

Mammon kissed your cheek. “Yeah, you can do it.” Belphie was grunting and rubbing your saliva all over his length, desperate to feel your tongue again but not wanting to push you too much. You breathed through your mouth, swallowing your saliva, but unable to wipe your drool.

Mammon stood and situated himself behind you, moving in front of Belphie. “Think you can go back and forth?” You watched as Mammon popped his out now and how it was an angry shade, already dripping precum.

“Yeah.” You answered and Lucifer slowly lowered your head back down. “I’m ready.” You felt Levi’s tease your entrance and your lower half jumped a little.

He giggled. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist.”

Mammon was ready and Belphie was beside him. You opened your mouth and Belphie pushed in first, gasping. “Mm.” He hummed as he pulled all the way out and pushed back in just about halfway and then pulled all the way back out. Mammon angled himself and slowly slid into your mouth, sharply inhaling.

“Nice and warm.” He pulled out and pressed back in a few times before letting Belphie back into your mouth. They both continued this pattern as Beel was sucking your pussy so hard it’s bound to be sore.

Satan bit into your breast leaving teeth indentations and then biting into your side playfully. You ‘mmpf!’ed onto Mammon’s cock, making him let out a tiny ‘heh’.

“Can’t hear ya with your mouth full. Don’t tell me we gotta teach you manners.” Mammon’s hand on your cheek pinched just slightly.

Lucifer grabbed a handful of your hair to get your attention following Mammon’s comment. “You’re focusing well. Perhaps we should reward you.” He didn’t pull at your hair, but his grip kept you in place. He pushed at his brothers abdomens and used his other hand to put his fingers in your mouth. “Suck.” You were thankful for the little break from dick down your throat and the taste of the leather of his gloves almost soothed your gag reflex, strangely that is. “Now use your teeth and take it off.” You connected with the fabric, carefully avoiding his fingers and pulled, already knowing he’d put forth no effort to help you. It was a struggle but once it was past his wrist, all it took was one big tug.

“Well done.” He removed it from your mouth. “Mammon, hold their head up.” He put the other hand at your mouth, this time making it easier by angling his wrist in front of your teeth so it was also one big tug. “Good.” He took the other glove and put them into his pocket. “Now, Beel, pull them so their head isn’t hanging off.” Mammon lifted your upper body so that you didn’t just get dragged and Belphie pushed the pillow further toward your head.

Mammon was definitely mentally cursing himself for not choosing to fuck your throat first since he was already so ready to cum but it was alright especially for what he got to do next. He leaped up onto the table and raised your lower body so that you were leaning against his stomach and elevated slightly. You were now resting on him, thankful that all the blood could run back down now. Levi raised a glass of water to your mouth and you drank until it was gone. Lucifer was adamant you remained hydrated.

“So, once Beel finishes his meal, we’ll move on to fucking you, hm?” Satan was smiling at you, innocently. “Let’s get you to cum so he can finish eating you up.”

Beel pulled away slightly and allowed Levi to push his tail into your pussy. “Oh fuck.” You said out loud as his tail pressed into you. Levi watched you close your eyes and scrunch them together as the circumference increased.

“Does it hurt?” He asked.

“Yeah.”

“I’m gonna stretch you slower.” You could feel his tail curl as it neared your cervix so that he didn’t hurt you. “How’s that?”

“That’s good.” You opened your eyes and saw how Beel breathed heavy, eyes fixated on how wet you were. You grew hot at the sight of the droll and arousal coating his chin and even his nose. His forehead too? “You’re such a messy eater.” You told Beel and his eyes snapped to you.

“I’m not full yet.” He kept eye contact as he lowered back to your clit and started to suck.

Lucifer, Satan, and Belphie chuckled at your whines, making you even hotter. Levi was biting his lip. “They’re so sensitive. You should feel how tight they are.” Levi moved the tip of his tail, swirling it around inside. Mammon took the opportunity to clench and tug at your tits, playing with your nipples careful not to press into your marks.

You were so close from Beel’s tongue earlier so it only took seconds to have you nearing your peak. You pushed into Beel slightly and stretched, pressing your back against Mammon. Beel continued to eat to his hearts content, unbothered by you nearly suffocating him with your pussy. If anything, he loved your want for him.

“Beel, it feels so good.” You told him as your heels dig into his back. His knees were hurting but he powered through it as you bucked into him.

Mammon playfully smacked your breast. “Just gonna ignore me huh?”

“Sorry Mammon.” You whined, your right tit stinging a bit now.

“Awww, that’s alright. Did I hurt ya?” He said, rubbing the spot. “You’ll feel nice and good soon, don’t worry.”

Levi didn’t want to disturb the rhythm, so he tried to press into your g-spot retracting his tail just enough for his own comfort. “That feel good, Mc?”

“Yeah.” You tugged against your handcuffs, wanting to pull at Beel’s hair, as you neared your peak.

Levi could feel how you clenched around him, knowing how close you were. “You’re gonna cum soon, you better ask nicely.”

“Can I cum please? Please?” You begged a little bit out of habit.

Mammon rubbed your cheek. “It’s safe to say it’s unanimous, darlin’, you can cum. Cum on Levi’s tail, get it nice and slick.”

“Yes!” You gasped and your mouth went agape as you came. Your breaths were sparse and fast as you rode out your orgasm. You felt Beel pull away, wiping his mouth. Levi slowly retracted his tail and swiped his fingers across it and slid them into his mouth to taste you.

The brothers smiled down at you, watching your face as you caught your breath. Lucifer spoke. “Color.”

You were confused and then you understood. “Green.” Mammon slowly slid back, laying you on the table alone.

“Sit up.” Satan told you and you followed. “Get off the table.” You slid forward and pulled up your thigh highs that had travelled down. “Now turn around and bend over it, hands out in front of you.”

It didn’t take long for you to realize who was about to lead this next part and what this next part was going to be. With Lucifer and Satan standing on either side of you, your head was facing what should’ve been the wall, but instead you had the other 5 either sitting or standing so they could see your face. Beel was sat next to Belphie and at the head, Asmo sat.

“Satan and I are going to ask you a few questions, alright?” Lucifer was already rubbing at the flesh of your ass, a gentle massage preparing you for the sting of his hand that approached. “So, would you like to start?”

Satan hummed. “Yes, I will.” He ran his finger tips across the flesh instead, almost tickling you. “So, Mc, tell us how long you’ve had this fantasy.”

You thought for a moment. “A while, I guess. I can’t answer you confidently.”

“Hm, that’s alright.” Satan sounded pleased.

Lucifer picked up the next one. “Have you always known you’ve wanted to get filled with demon cock?”

“Not always, but for a long time.” The question made you smile, amused by his wording, and that he said that.

“What’s so funny?” Lucifer asked.

“That’s a funny question coming from you.” To be fair, you weren’t the only one amused, Belphie and Satan enjoyed the Lucifer bullying.

“Should you be laughing at the demon with their hand next to your bare ass?” Lucifer asked you.

“I suppose not.” You were honest and you could tell by Mammon’s face that Lucifer was preparing to land a harsh one.

Smack! Wait… that was Satan.

“Lucifer, I was supposed to ask the next question not you.” He sounded aggravated.

“So you punish them instead of me… seems I raised you well.” Now Lucifer’s hand planted itself onto your ass. His smack made you jump and then laugh a little. “To be fair, you get to ask two questions next.” Your laughter was contagious, most likely because Satan and Lucifer were passive aggressively eyeballing each other.

“Stop laughing, Mc.”

“I’m trying.” You responded and Satan smacked again.

“It’s a yes or a no. Haven’t you learned that by now?”

You tried to bite back a smile. “Yes sir I have.” None of the brothers wanted to snitch on you even though you were still smiling.

“Great I just wasted a question because you laughed. I need to punish you again.” He spanked again, this time much harder than before, causing you to clench your eyes shut. “So, next question. And I’m not afraid of the repercussions.” God, you could hear the smug on his face. “Who do you think can spank you better, me or Lucifer?”

Asmo wiggled next to you. “Be careful who you say. Who’s wrath would be worse?”

“Ironic choice of words, Asmo.” Lucifer mumbled.

You waited to answer, biting your lips still. Lucifer wasn’t too keen to wait. “You need to answer.”

“I think… that… right now—“ you tried to emphasize “Lucifer’s stings are worse.” You tip-toed around the question and both hands went down simultaneously. You yelped and looked to Beel who almost looked concerned.

“You can’t seem to answer correctly.” Lucifer chuckled. “So, did that sting worse than Satan’s?”

Satan leaned down to whisper. “Remember, you can always use yellow and tell him to leave.”

You started to grin again. “I’m not doing that.”

“Well, since you asked your question. I’ll ask mine. So, Mc, how many orgasms do you expect to have before our little scene is over?”

Damn, that is a good question. You decided to start small. “At least three.”

Lucifer’s hand didn’t swing down. “Hm… a little weak… but I suppose you will be taking all of us.”

Satan scoffed. “You didn’t ask about their maximum. So, Mc? What’s your maximum?”

You knew to stay low, considering your own strength and nymphomaniacs in the room. “I guess 5.”

Lucifer was much more pleased. “I like 5. Now. Who would you like to fuck you first?”

Why must you pick favorites??? Lucifer and Satan must be trying to stir up trouble. But, the kindness in your heart made you answer. “Belphie. He was so close earlier, and I stopped. It’s only fair.”

Belphie leaned forward, grinning at you. “Aren’t you sweet.”

Satan returned to the attention to him. “Alright then, choose who you want to answer this next question for you.”

“What’s the question?” You asked.

“If we tell you, we choose instead of you.” Lucifer answered for Satan.

You had a feeling it either had to do with how you cum next or the spanks. “Then I’ll choose…” But you can take a lot of pain and you can take a lot of pleasure. “Asmo.”

He got a burst of energy. “Yay!”

“So Asmo, how many more spanking should they take and how should Lucifer and I administer them?” Satan was eager. Very eager to hear his answer.”

“I think there needs to fairness. Each cheek deserves the same amount and I think you two should try to go at the same time. I think we shouldn’t be too mean but not too nice. They’ve felt your lashes before and they know they can take it. Let’s say 20 on each cheek.”

Lucifer looked proud and Satan looked to his elder brother. “Hmm, I like that. Do you?”

“Yes, and it’s only appropriate that Asmodeus counts us off and I think that Mc should count for us.”

Asmo leaned over the table so that his face direly in front of yours. “Think you can take it?”

“Yeah. I want to.” You said.

Asmo held your face. “3…2…1!”

Smack! “1!” They both started softer, but the double impact was enough to shock you. Then again. “2!” They kept going and once you were at “10!” their spankings were bordering on fiery. Asmo stroked you through the pain and he kissed your nose. “14! 15!” You could feel your eyes watering. “16! 17!” You were so close to the end, but you still had three more. And they were only getting harder. “18!” That one had you jumping. “19!” You saw Mammon flinch, but your ass was fully prepped for it.

“Last one.” Lucifer said.

“You’ve been so good, one more.” Satan encouraged you. A few seconds passed and you could hear the air sweep around their hands as they came down.

And fuck…. It hurt. It hurt good. “20!” A single tear went down your face and Asmo wiped it away. You were thankful it was over but you also craved a little bit more, you wouldn’t dare tell the sadists behind you that.

“My hand is stinging a good bit. Perhaps this is why most prefer toys.” Satan noted, tenderly rubbing away the pain along with Lucifer who was admiring the redness of his palm.

“Skin to skin can’t be beat, in my opinion. It’s very intimate.”

“Color?” Satan asked.

“Green, but let me breathe a little bit.”

“Of course.” Satan reaffirmed. “We want this to be special for you, love.” Gently, Satan turned you on your back and the cool of the table soothed the burn on your ass. You could see the redness of their hands, realizing their hands must be hurting too.

Belphie rounded the corner, pumping himself. “You ready? I can’t wait.” He grabbed your hips and stood between your legs. You wrapped them around his waist and nodded.

“Go ahead.”

Belphie pushed in and sighed. “You’re so wet.” He savored the feeling before beginning to thrust. He filled you up nice and whole, thrusting at a pace that wasn’t too slow or too fast.

Asmo swept around and started to play with your clit, watching how you whined and moaned. “So naughty. Who’d think someone a sweet as you could be this dirty?” He admired your face, loving how you started to unravel.

“They’re a slut for some demons, why are you surprised?” Mammon said from behind you. “You could tell from the beginning, couldn’t ya?”

“Of course, but I like to see how she reacts when you tell them how nasty they are.” Asmo responded, diligently teasing your clit.

“Should’ve felt how Mc gripped around me when you called them a slut.” Belphie huffed out, moving faster as he neared his peak.

“A little bit of degradation and some praise and Mc is ready to cum again, I bet.” Levi hovered over your face, smiling. “I can’t wait to fuck you.” He leaned down to kiss you.

“Mc, should I cum inside you or would you rather be cummed on?” Belphie asked, fucking harder.

You broke the kiss. “Cum inside me.” You answered.

“Ask me nicely.” He tried to fight the urge to cum.

“Please cum inside me, Belphie. I wanna cum too.” You whined, feeling your next high approaching.

Belphie, with a groan, came hard. He pressed his cock into you as hard as possible, wanting to not let any drip out. You felt his cum against your inner walls, feeling a new warmth as he released.

“Mm, thank you.” You said and Asmo retracted his fingers temporarily.

“I think you need to take another cock before you get to cum. Now, who do you want to take next?”

You weren’t given the option to choose because the second Belphie left from between your legs, Mammon was pressing into you.

“Me.” He said. “I can’t stand watchin’ anymore. I need to feel your pretty pussy now, darlin’. I wanna make ya cum.” Mammon was sincere in his words but what was the most arousing was the way he pressed down on your abdomen as he filled you to the best of his ability. “Let’s see ya come undone. And once I’m done we’ll get you in a new position.”

“Yes sir.” You curled your toes as Asmo’s fingers returned to your clit playing with it delicately.

Mammon thrusted wildly, taking no time to build up, just wanting to cum in you. “You like getting fucked by a demon, don’t you? You like how this demon dick stretches you, huh?” Mammon would pull your hair if he could but that wasn’t an option so instead, he leaned down and propped himself up on his arms. “Tell Mammon what you like.”

“I love getting fucked by your demon dick.” You told him, legs shaking as Asmo increased his pace. “It’s so good.”

“Aw, atta human.” He kissed you and tangled your tongue with yours messily. When he pulled back, spit dribbled down your lip. “You can make such a fuckin’ mess. Just like when you had those cocks in your mouth earlier.” He was struggling to breathe through his words. “I like seeing your—ngh!”

You squeezed around him spastically, unable to hold back as you reached your second orgasm. “I’m gonna—“

“Cum as I fuck you. Milk my cock, make me cum inside you.”

His words were like a key. “I’m cumming!” You shouted and threw back your head. Asmo giggled and didn’t relent as Mammon prepared to finish inside you as well.

“Fuck, good, good! Oh it’s so good.” He bit into your shoulder and moaned your name. “I’m gonna cum in your fucking pussy.” As you finally finished spasming Mammon came inside you. Now a second demon has released all he could into you. As he pulled back and his cock pulled out, his seed dripped onto the edge of the table. Mammon grinned and wiped it onto his fingers and then placed them into your open mouth. You willingly licked them clean and leaned up as Lucifer brought you more water.

“Color?” Lucifer wiped the sweat from your forehead.

“Green.”

“Who’s next?”

“I’ll take Levi and Asmo.” You said, making Asmo light up and Levi almost stumble.

Lucifer raised a brow. “Then I’ll let them have you.”

Asmo was already prepared for what was next. “Let me guess… double penetration? Let me cum down your throat while Levi fucks you?”

Levi got ready to position you. “I know exactly how to do this most efficiently.” He had you on your side so that your body was on the edge of the table, front facing the two demons. Levi lifted up your leg and propped it up using your arm. Asmo finally let himself free and you could tell he was almost at his limit of waiting.

“Tell us when you’re ready, sweetie.” Asmo said, gently stroking your head.

“I want it.” Asmo’s gentle touch transformed as he grabbed your hair and pushed past your parted lips. Levi started to thrust and both of the demons were not shy with their noises. Asmo moaned happily, praising you over and over while Levi could barely get a word out.

This was a good reminder for you to never be embarrassed to be noisy, you’ll never match the volume as those two inside you. Asmo managed to fuck your throat without gagging you in the slightest while Levi fucked hard enough to hurt but so amazingly.

Beel, Lucifer, and Satan both watched as your ass jiggled with their movements and if it weren’t for Beel’s self control, he’d think it’s jello and probably try to take a bite. Lucifer tried to pretend he wasn’t painfully pressing against the fabric of his costume and that the heat of it was getting to him. Or maybe it was his arousal. On the other hand, Satan was shamelessly teasing himself, likely trying to hold back. Beel knew he was next based off your suggestions and he was already playing with himself, ready to fuck you into the table. Hell, once it comes to them, Levi might have already broke it.

“Mc!” Levi raised his knee up onto the table to give himself more leverage. “I wanna cum on you.”

You heard him and looked to his face. You’ve never seen him so red and it was fucking hot. He was sweating and his tail was shaking at the tip. Levi was going to cum soon. Your pussy was aching especially as his cock almost hit your cervix and you haven’t even been fucked by the biggest one of them yet. Asmo had plenty of stamina from his years of excessive sex, but watching how you unraveled from his touch earlier kept on sweeping across his mind. It was fucking insane, honestly, how fast you made him reach his peak.

Levi was actually about to cum though. He pulled out just in time and came all over your stomach. Despite the ache, you wanted more cock and you still had at least one fucking orgasm to go. And if Lucifer gets his way, you have three. Levi clenched his eyes shut and sat back in the chair, winded from him almost violent thrusts. “Fuck Mc. You have the greatest pussy ever.” Levi wiped the sweat from his face and smiled at you.

Asmo wasn’t having how you stopped focusing on him. “Look at me, Mc. Whose cock is in your mouth?” He sounded almost angry. “It’s mine, isn’t it? Nod.”

You nod.

He smiles again. “Good, now swallow it like a good little human. Take it like you’re in love with it.” He thrusted a few more times and came in your mouth. It was much sweeter than regular cum, likely a pro of being the avatar of lust. Demon cum in general tasted much better. “Ahhhh… that’s right. You love demon cum, don’t you?” He patted your face.

You nodded. “Yeah I do.”

“Okay well I’m gonna go with the others and get cleaned up. Once we are all back, we’ll take care of you. But remember, you still have to take Beel and the two sadists.” Asmo reminded you.

Beel came over and stood in front of you. “Mc, I’m gonna fuck your throat next.”

You looked anxious, but you willing opened up.

“I want you on your knees instead.”

“Oh.”

Lucifer and Satan couldn’t help but chime in. “They’re excited, don’t disappoint them.” Lucifer said.

Satan agreed. “Perhaps they’ve been waiting for it.” Satan nudged Lucifer and said something to him you couldn’t hear.

Beel undid your binding and helped you to your knees. He used the pillow from earlier and placed them under your knees. “That good?”

“Yes sir.” You reached for his cock, now given full permission to touch him. Beel was big, larger than most, still not the largest in the Devildom (cough cough diavolo cough cough) but large enough to intimidate you. Beel knew you could only take him so much but to see you try made him throb. It was the hottest thing in the world.

“Let’s see if you can fit more than usual.” He suggested, leaning back as you took the tip into your mouth. “Think you can get to the base tonight?”

You tried, slowly moving back and forth, taking in just a little more as you went further down. It really wasn’t the length that was the struggle, it was the pain in your jaw with the thickness. The further back it went, the more it would hurt.

“You’re doing good.” Beel was getting breathy. “You can go slow. I’ve been ready to cum since you first came. You tasted like… better than heaven.” You felt your pussy throb as he sang his praises and when he grunted, fuck it was over with. You took him as far down as you could and somehow managed to get to the balls. “Fuck! Mc!” He kept his hand on the back of your head. “Keep just like that.” He held you at the base. The lack of movement was almost enough to make you gag but he let you release his cock from your mouth before you did.

“Beel, I can keep going.”

“No, let me cum on your tongue, just keep playing with your pussy and open your mouth.” Beel told you.

You didn’t even notice that you were playing with your clit. “Okay.” You parted your lips and stuck out your tongue. He stroked himself hard and fast, much faster than you could suck him off but you knew that was the purpose. He wanted to give you something to work toward. And it was… “I want you to be trained to take it just like this.” Yeah, it’s fucking hot.

You didn’t stop touching your clit and you thought you might cum before Beel especially as you could tell Lucifer and Satan were plotting your fucking. Beel didn’t care. He just wanted to see his cum on your tongue. He wants you to taste him just as he tasted you.

“I’m gonna cum, Beel.” You said and that’s all he needed. Suddenly, your tongue was met with the salty taste of his cum.

“Oh—yeah, that’s good. Fuck.” You came as he finished cumming and you swallowed through the waves of your orgasm. You were pretty sure you were bound for 2 more orgasms now, especially how the two remaining walked over to you, cocks out and dripping.

Beel wiped your lips and raised up from the chair. But then he leaned right back down to kiss your forehead, making you smile a little. He left to join the aftercare prep crew and then now it was just the three of you.

“So.” Satan eyed your slicked up fingers. “You were so desperate that you made yourself cum?” He grabbed your wrist and helped pull you up.

“Yeah, I didn’t even notice I started to touch myself.” You admitted. “I really was desperate.”

“I enjoy an honest submissive.” Lucifer took your fingers into his mouth.

Satan sat on the table and patted his lap. “Sit on my cock. I’m going to make you work for your next orgasm since you’re so eager to.” Lucifer sat in a chair and patted your ass encouraging you to go.

“And while you’re riding him. I’m going to tell you a few things.” Lucifer looked evil right now, but you didn’t have time to admire him especially as you sunk onto Satan’s weeping cock.

“You’re gonna hear what he says too. You’re gonna listen.” Satan leaned back onto the table and put his arms behind his head. “Now ride.”

You were exhausted but with how he was looking at you, you knew you could go for more. You moved roughly, slapping your ass down and panting.

Lucifer cleared his throat. “Mc, you’ve been a very good human tonight, even with all the overwhelming pleasure we’ve provided and the bit of pain from earlier.” You tried to listen and focus on the pleasure at the same time. “We’ve also learned of your demon kink or rather confirmed it. I hope you know that will be something for us to both enjoy, after all, a pathetic human is a beautiful sight for me.”

Satan kept his composure as you rode him, trying to keep himself under control.

“So, to satisfy me and Satan, I want you to beg for us, beg for these demons to make you cum. And don’t just say please. Beg earnestly. And don’t stop riding him.”

You heard his command loud and clear, with the oxytocin running wildly, you knew exactly how to beg. “I need you to make me cum. Fuck me with your demon cocks and fuck me hard, I wanna be a demon fucktoy. Fill me til I go dumb from it.” You hoped that was to Lucifer’s liking. Knowing him, he already had something planned for later for when you’re in private.

“You need it huh?” Lucifer was so ready to have you to himself. “Let me see you cum on his cock and then maybe I’ll take you up on it.”

Satan was enthralled with how your body moved on top of him to the point that he didn’t give two fucks what Lucifer was saying. Lucifer could be calling him garbage and all he could think about was the way you moaned and cried out as you fucked yourself on him.

“Satan, please let me cum.”

“Go ahead. Let me see how tight you can get.” He said and smacked your ass once more. “Then I’ll cum inside of you.” Satan was trembling with how hard he held back. He’s a gentleman, you get to cum first.

“Yes!” You shouted and ground your clit against him as you shook and if it weren’t for Satan holding you up, you would’ve fallen over. Satan was so ready to cum but he waited for you to calm down.

“Can I fuck into you?” He asked, begging silently you’d nod or anything.

“Yes.”

He didn’t hesitate, he instantly lifted your hips enough and used his core to fuck upwards. You weren’t overstimulated luckily, but it was enough to make you see stars. It only took a minute of thrusting before he cried out and released into you, adding to Belphie’s and Mammon’s cum. You thanked every Devildom doctor in your head for their contraceptives.

You pulled off of Satan and watched as he lifted up and kissed your shoulder. “I’ll see you in a little bit, love.”

And then there was the most depraved of them left. Lucifer instantly pinned you down to the table. “Color? I can still stop.”

“Green. Finish me.” You touched his hand on your shoulder.

“I won’t be gentle, I regret choosing to go last. I wish I could’ve had you all to myself for this fantasy. Though it’s been lost at this rate, the holiness wasn’t the appeal was it?” Lucifer raised himself so that both his knees were on the table. “It’s the corruption.” He was grinning and ready. He lifted your legs up and cast them over his shoulders. “It’s getting to really understand the feeling of have a demon ruin you. To see you overcome that shyness, the embarrassment. You wished for us to fuck all the innocence out of you.” Then he leaned down and raised your hips to balance on his thighs. “You wanted me to go last and I knew that’s what you needed.” And now you were in a perfect mating press. “You needed me to make sure you became the perfect demon fucktoy.” He chuckled a bit and slowly slid into you. “Those were your words. While I enjoy a demon’s toy, for you to demean yourself to be exclusively for a fuck, I see much more value in you. I understand what you meant, though, you wanted to be fucked like a toy. And that’s what I’ll do. And you’ll cum with me. So col—“

“Green.” He couldn’t even finish. There were no ifs, ands, or buts. “Finish me.”

Lucifer was rough. He fucked hard and fast, animalistically. You immediately started moaning, he had everything perfectly arranged. This whole fantasy wasn’t yours, it was his, all of theirs. To see you completely lose it. You were lost indeed.

“Good. That’s it. Keep moaning like that. Let me see you get fucked nice and dumb.” Lucifer’s wings wrapped around you both and only the occasional lightning outside provided any light. Each blast of white made his eyes glow as he stared down at you, fuck, Lucifer was gorgeous.

“Lucifer! Fuck! You feel so good!” You knew the others could hear especially how the table creaked under you and how Lucifer wasn’t afraid to grunt or moan either. Lucifer’s thrusts were wet and messy, especially as you felt how your arousal was running down your asscheeks. “Lucifer!”

“Mc! Tell me what you want.”

“Lucifer, I want you to make me cum, I need it please, just one more.” You tangled your hands in his hair, fingers tracing his horns. “I’m begging, please!! It’s all I need.”

“I love hearing that. When I tell you to cum, you’ll cum.” Lucifer kissed you. “You need to fight it. The harder you fight, the better the release will be.”

You didn’t respond, instead you cried out as you held back. His words didn’t make it any better, it only made it harder. “Please cum, Lucifer!”

Lucifer watched as you almost began to cry from the overwhelming pressure. “Just a little more. Beg me again.”

“Please! Cum inside me! I can’t take it anymore. I need it so so so bad!” You held onto him for dear life.

“Yes, Mc! Cum for me! I’m—ah—AH!” Lucifer came and you saw stars as you came for the 5th and final time of the night. You could pass out, to be honest. Especially after how Lucifer fucked the god out of you.

After Lucifer came, the illusion surrounding you faded with the candles, torches, and the extra old appearance. The door opened and Beel came in. Lucifer pulled off of you and used a rag Beel gave him to clean himself off. Following Beel came Asmo who immediately tended to the cum covering your stomach, pussy, and the table. Beel helped lift you and you wrapped around him. He carried you to the shower and sat you on the toilet.

Mammon entered with Belphie. “Big ass bathroom. Are you okay, Mc?” He asked, checking the temperature of the water. “Can you even stand to shower?” He looked at you, concern in his eyes. “Ya look wiped the fuck out.”

“I can stand.” You rose up and all three panicked like you were gonna fall even though you stood completely stable. “Thank you for the pampering. I can bathe on my own.” You giggled and hopped in, leaving the boys for the rest of the work.

Once you were cleaned and you attempted to wipe the cum out, instantly regretting letting 4 of them cum inside you, you exited the bathroom where Asmo awaited to help get you dressed. “You okay, hon? Just put on underwear and a shirt for now, I’ll try to alleviate the sting on your butt.”

Asmo massaged cream onto your ass while Mammon helped to lotion you up all over. “I’ve gotcha.” Mammon was almost as precise as Asmo. By the time they were done, Beel had returned to cradle you and bring you to your bedroom.

You were laid down and soon after, the rest of the brothers entered. Lucifer was the first to speak. “Was it too much at all?”

You shook your head. “Somewhat unexpected, but not too much.”

Asmo plopped down beside you and handed you a cupcake. “Here!”

“Water first.” Lucifer said sternly making Asmo pout. You laughed and took the bottle from Lucifer. “Oh… I was going to help you.” He said.

“It’s alright. Are all of you okay?” You asked.

“I was really worried they were gonna slap your ass off.” Beel said.

Mammon looked relieved. “When Asmo said 20 i about fell over!” You couldn’t help but laugh again.

Satan looked offended. “We aren’t that mean.”

“I was worried Mc was gonna tap out after I finished.” Levi said. “You looked exhausted.”

“Thought I looked hot?” You teased.

“Well! You did! But very tired too!” Levi sat beside you and laid on the bed. “But I’m fine I already feel better.”

“Have you decided who to cuddle with now that you’re done?” Belphie asked, not waiting for an answer and laying on top of you.

“I figured you’d all find a way to lay with me. Good thing it’s cold outside.” You said.

“So…” Mammon wondered aloud. “Guess we need to get a spot while we can.”

Lucifer had already moved between everyone and was right up against your side, making Levi, Belphie, and himself the closest demons to you. Everyone looked shocked at his eagerness. Satan looked pissed. But that’s besides the point. Everyone also looked exhausted and the second everyone went silent, you immediately closed your eyes and was out faster than you’ve ever fallen asleep. You couldn’t help but dream about Satan and Lucifer arguing about how to do the impact play part from when Satan was on the phone with Lucifer earlier today. You couldn’t wait to tell them about when you got up.

Note: Jesus ducking Christ don’t write orgies with plot when you have a job and are also a full time college student omfg oh fuckkkk anywho hope you enjoyed if you got this far. I love comments and strange reblog hashtags they make my day. Thank you for your patience again!!!!!!!!

[thatringboy]

A Body Built for an Undeserving Soul, A Boothill Theory

My definitely sober thoughts while grinding for the eventual Ruan Mei rerun and writing some robinhill have led me to a startling train of thought. I’ll do my best to sound sane as I say this, but the 18 minute discord voice memo I originally made is definitely anything but. Spoilers for Boothill’s backstory, character stories, and other lore, and no I’m not really gonna be citing things because it’s 3 in the morning and I’m high. If at any point I say something that isn’t really supported by canon, please be nice i’m a little silly boy

Anyways

I don’t think Boothill is a Pathstrider.

Let me cook, please. Here’s my reasons why:

The way he talks about Aeons and Paths

The way his body is designed

And 3.

Enjoy the madness below the cut

So, there’s not really a proper way to word any of this without it being an ADHD word vomit. Bear with me. Please.

Penacony has been a fantastic update for those of us waiting for worldbuilding. We’ve learned a LOT about the many factions in the cosmos, the true nature of the IPC, the powers of the Aeons, and that the Paths are tangible things in the universe. The Luofu arc opened up a bit about this, but since it was so focused on The Hunt and The Abundance and The Permanence, we sort of fell back into the same story beats as the Herta Station arc. Either way, Penacony has been amazing for little lore bugs like me.

So what does this have to do with the wild claim that Boothill somehow isn’t a Pathstrider?

Let’s touch some grass for a minute and consider our places in the irl universe. Hi, I’m Perseus, a young transmasculine white adult guy from South Texas who grew up reading too many Rick Riordan books and now has a complicated relationship with both the christian god and the greek gods. It’s an autism special interest of mine to learn about the greek pantheon and while I don’t know everything about it, I’m a silly little guy and can recite fun facts about dozens of gods. I can also recite fun facts about the christian bible and christian mythology because I was forced to study christianity when I was younger. Nice to meet y’all. Now, when I, Perseus, talk to people about the various religions I know a thing or two about, I infodump. A lot. I think I once ranted about Dionysus for 20 minutes before my sister told me to shut up. It happens.

Now focus back in on the important topic: the fictional cyborg with jiggle physics. I’m working purely on memory, but I’m pretty sure when he first meets Dan Heng and Pom-Pom, he does go on a spiel about the Aeons and Paths as he tries to prove his identity as a Galaxy Ranger and Acheron’s identity as Not a Galaxy Ranger. The way he describes The Hunt, The Nihility, Emanators, and Paths, it all just sounded… i don’t know, canned? It came across as very emotionally disconnected, even as he talked about The Hunt, but he was saying all the right words. Like someone who studied a religion but isn’t actually a part of the religion. 

On its own, this means absolutely nothing besides just reminding us of his home planet’s hostile takeover by Qlipoth-worshiping IPC workers. If you haven’t seen the post yet, I really recommend reading the So, Honkai: Star Rail made a cyborg cowboy... an INDIGENOUS cyborg cowboy. post by @ahworm I’ll link it here, please check it out because it recontextualized a lot of how I viewed Boothill’s actions and mannerisms

So the way Boothill talks about the Path he should be a Pathstrider of sounds more like an encyclopedia than a follower. Now, maybe this can be explained by the fact that Galaxy Rangers aren’t the most zealous bunch, especially when standing next to the Xianzhou Alliance who worship Lan as a deity more than The Hunt itself. The Galaxy rangers are the opposite, they are hunters first and last regardless of what Lan in THEIR “greatness” does.

But if Boothill is just a normal Galaxy ranger (whatever that means), then how does he recognize the Jade Abacus of Allying Oath instantaneously? Dan Heng’s barely put the damn thing on the table and Boothill’s already jaw on the floor amazed. One could make the argument that, well, Boothill’s a well-traveled guy, of course he’d know the most valuable artifact to his Path. To that, I say: there’s more to it.

Boothill’s main accusation against Acheron in the beginning is, what? “An Emanator that shouldn’t exist.” He talks about The Nihility and Device IX the same way he talks about The Hunt; learned and detached in an agnostic way. He’s aware these are real concepts and beings, he’s crossed paths with an Emanator of Elation before so he can’t deny the existence of literal gods in the universe

We also know that it’s canon in the star rail universe that there are planets who haven’t heard of the Aeons before, like Sigonia - Aventurine’s planet. Instead of Aeons, we know the Avgins worshiped the goddess Giathra Triclops. I’ve seen the argument that Giathra is just another name for Xipe since THEY have three faces, but Aventurine’s flashbacks are very clear in showing that the worship of Giathra was very different from the worship of Aeons. We don’t know much about Aeragan-Epharshel, but from how the IPC described the indigenous people as needing civilization and other disgusting things (not to mention how they forced a synesthesia beacon into boothill when he was maybe like a teenager? And then his brain nearly broke from the influx of information?), I think it’s safe to say that the tribes of Aeragan-Epharshel also didn’t follow any specific Aeon.

But Aventurine is now a Pathstrider of Preservation, so why can’t Boothill be a Hunter Pathstrider too? Well, dear reader, allow me to bash my head against the wall trying to form words. Aventurine doesn’t believe anything about the sovereignty of The Preservation, just like the rest of the Stonehearts. He has his agenda, and if he has to play Preservation to do so, then he will. I think Boothill is the same, which is also why I can’t wait to see what happens in the upcoming quests with the two of them in the same room. That being said, Aventurine’s Preservation powers only come from his Cornerstone, crafted by an Emanator of Preservation. It’s how he and Topaz and Jade can all be such different people but all be classified as Pathstriders of Preservation, the sheer proximity to an Emanator’s powers canonically give them powers equivalent to actual Pathstriders.

So… what about Boothil? This leads me into my next point: Boothill’s cyborg body. By looking at his Character Story Part 3, we learn that Boothill VOLUNTARILY became a cyborg to become stronger. He literally shed the skin and name from an ancient, dead tongue to become a real loaded gun. His voice lines in combat talk about death a lot, his name literally is in reference to a graveyard - this man cannot wait to finally die in some sort of blaze of glory and vengeance. I say that with a little bit of sarcasm, but Boothill designed his body to be a weapon. 

In a lot of parts of the USA, it’s illegal to even insinuate that you have a firearm as that constitutes as the crime of  “armed robbery”, even if you don’t even have a gun. The threat alone is enough to warrant a higher penalty. But Boothill is already a great shot with a gun, why does he also need augmented teeth and crosshair eyes and hips that can fold his body into any sinful shape he needs? Because the threat alone is enough to give him power over his prey. Almost as if he’s compensating for a lack of magic godly powers. He needs to be able to keep up with even the strongest IPC goons, to pierce their Preservation shields with his bullets so that he can get closer and closer to Oswaldo Schneider.

But how can I prove that Boothill doesn’t have any Path magic? Well, let’s take a spin around his character model. What’s that thing sitting snugly against his exposed asscheek? His pistol? But that’s not weird, Perseus, most cowboys hold their guns there!

But what other playable character has their weapon on their actual model like him?

There are so many in-game cutscenes showing that, canonically, the Pathstriders summon their weapon from some sort of unseen storage or hammerspace. I like the term hammerspace, let’s use that. The playable Pathstriders all use hammerspace to easily summon their weapons. None of them actually carry their weapons on their model. Even Welt Yang has scenes of him summoning his herrscher cane (I’ve never played hi3 please forgive me for using incorrect terms) from his hammerspace. But not Boothill. He has his arm gun and he has his trusty 9 millimeter pistol on his little slutty hip. His idle animations involve reloading his weapons and putting them back on his person. No particle effects, no vanishing tricks, just a man sticking his tongue out to catch a bullet for a snack.

So what have we learned?

Boothill doesn’t have an emotional connection to his Path, it most likely is just the Path he figured met his needs and decided the philosophy was good enough

Boothill’s body is designed to perform specifically to kill Pathstriders, especially sturdier Pathstriders of The Preservation

Boothill either can’t or won’t use the same hammerspace the other canonical Pathstriders use

Each point by themself means nothing, or can be chalked up to unique character designs. But together? My intoxicated mind theorizes that Boothill is not a Pathstrider, merely a broken man trying to play the game according to the rules of the oppressors that colonized his planet and bombed his tribe into reservations and the dirt. Thank you for your time.

[catoperated]

At some point we’re gonna have to talk about how toxic websites like 4chan and Something Awful (rest in piss, Lowtax) influenced trans spaces online.

I only ever used SA back in the day, and it’s now mostly forgotten that “troon” came from a portmanteau of “trans goon” (goon being a member of something awful, not like a gooner… but, eh, it’s still apt), though it was always meant to be belittling.

And then there I was, a transmasc egg surrounded by transfemmes. I didn’t know how to express that I wanted what they had but different, cause I seriously didn’t know trans men existed back then. All I saw were transfemmes, and most of them were transmedicalists. I got called a transphobe when I said wearing a skirt shouldn’t be a required part of transitioning. I have since met many cool trans ladies who aren’t truscum, but the scars remain.

At the time I couldn’t fully articulate how uncomfortable I was with the idea of transitioning to the same old binary, because I also didn’t know GNC was a thing. So for a time I was suicidal because I had no idea of the options open to me. I’m not sure that reading Theory back then would have helped. Having read Theory now (both feminist and communist), I’ve come to the conclusion people lean on it way too much, take it way too literally, never considering that the things proposed have to be adapted to changing times and circumstances. It’s almost like evangelicals interpreting the Bible literally—to everyone’s detriment.

My point being, you can read anything, watch any YouTuber, but for fuck’s sake form your own opinions instead of just throwing books and videos at people like it’ll explain everything and also must be followed to the letter. It won’t, and it shouldn’t.

Yeah, I was also briefly suicidal over leftists dogpiling disability activists for daring to get groceries delivered or using plastic straws. Only other disabled people probably remember this, but it was perpetuated by that butter cat account, which was the most surreal fucking thing to watch unfold.

I’m just tired. Tired of self-proclaimed feminists failing to recognize the patriarchy is what makes us all suffer, including cis men, and that’s the real enemy. I know radfems are largely to blame for pushing the “all men bad” narrative again with the express purpose of dividing trans people, I’ve seen them cackling about what they get away with on accounts where they pretend to be trans. It’s sad people are making their work so easy for them.

I don’t hate or resent transwomen (I can’t remember if the space is preferred or not, but I’m sitting here sweating over it, afraid someone will call out my language when “troon” is already up there), but here I am right back at that awful feeling I had when trying to say skirts should not equal femininity. Fuck, I would probably be suicidal again if not for my partner, who is the best thing to ever happen in my life (love you, babe).

I don’t know how to word this better or more succinctly. My mind wanders a lot when writing. But it’s not just me, right? I see the schism forming and it’s bad for all of us, because the people who want us dead do not care how we present ourselves or how well we pass. We desperately need to support and uplift each other if we’re going to survive all the shit they keep throwing at us all in governments across the entire goddamn world.

So yeah, we need to look at how those websites poisoned the well, as it’s where that mentality of “if you’re not queer/trans in the proper way I deserve to call you a slur” mentality comes from. The pickme urge to go “I’m not like those cringe fags/trannies, I’m one of the cool ones,” too. To reiterate, the people who want us dead for existing do not care one way or the other.

Fuck, why am I worrying about how I word this? If people are gonna interpret this in bad faith there’s nothing I can do to stop them. I just wanted to get this off my zipper-tits—which I’m stealing from you fuckers who use it against transmascs. I got my dirty testosterone fingers all over it and it’s ruined now, sorry.

[onceonafullmoon]

Character Analysis Yaps

Part 1: Sae

Aka just some rambles about Sae and his personality, not really proof read

I think Sae as a character is sort of convoluted, but not necessarily for the reasons most people would think. In terms of soccer when you view him he seems sort of unreachable, after all, he is a prodigy and he’s got a great brain. But who is Sae outside of that bubble of soccer?

Well, he’s a blunt, singularly focused, asshole type of guy… but I think he’s also someone who values domesticity and comfort, and that he’s someone who deeply cherishes his close ones.

I think a great example of this is apparent with his brother. But he’s been shown to take the fall for Rin consistently when he messed up (ex. Rin breaking his toys) and even being there to comfort Rin when Rin wonders if no one will like him due to his more off putting personality traits. Sae doesn’t offer false comfort by saying that people will like Rin, instead he says that even if no one likes him, his older brother will always be there for him.

Even later on, when Rin and Sae have their confrontation, Sae’s choices of words are harsh, but underneath it, there’s honest advice. That advice being that Rin, if he really wants to be a pro player, should stop seeing football as a way to bond with his brother and find his own appreciation for the game untethered by other people. Even when Sae says that he’s never seen Rin as anything but an eyesore, he’s pushing Rin away, not to further his own goals, but to further Rin’s goals by helping Rin move away from depending on Sae. Obviously, that doesn’t exactly work due to Rin’s obsessive tendencies, but it’s clear that Sae has been doing two things: one, really testing if Rin wants to play soccer and two, making sure that Rin knows what lies ahead on his path to become a pro.

I think these reasons show some insight into his childhood and his personality. Once again, two main points, one, that some part of Sae mourns his childhood/ a loss of the sense of normalcy and two that Sae is a deeply considerate person.

Obviously, daily interactions aren’t exactly shown in the manga, but there are a few key hints to the fact that Sae does crave this comfort and most of these come from the Egoist Bible. 

The first thing that stood out to me is that his favorite anime is Crayon Shin-Chan, which is targeted towards children, which I think furthers my point for his sense of longing for those unburdened childhood days. This is also interesting to me because his favorite movie is Taxi Driver which is a drastic leap in genre change and could serve as a contradiction to what I said before about him craving comfort. However, despite the somewhat violent and unsettling nature of Taxi Driver, the director himself stated that the movie “…arose from my feeling that movies are really a kind of dream-state…”, which I believe serves to show the type of comfort that Sae seeks out. The movie also is largely about male loneliness which could serve to reflect Sae’s mental state being both isolated in his own country as a prodigy and in Spain as an outsider.

The second thing that stood out to me was that Sae’s least favorite food was French fries. Now normally this wouldn’t mean much, but I think it’s interesting to note that Sae doesn’t hate French Fries, he actually thinks that they’re “addictive”, and that the only reason he doesn’t like them is that they’re unhealthy. I think it’s interesting that his least favorite food wasn’t something he disliked, but rather something that he craved but wouldn’t allow himself to have because he’s so committed to football. It makes you think about what other things Sae must have given up, what average everyday things he found solace in that he felt like he needed to remove, that he now finds distaste in, simply because he can no longer enjoy them unburdened.

Finally, the last and the most heart wrenching piece from the Egoist Bible is the question of what he would do if he didn’t play football, and he finds that he can’t even provide an answer. Because for Sae, his whole life, since he was one, has been focused on honing one talent, and everything else has seemed to fall second, only becoming important when he needs it to further that one skill. Perhaps that’s why he values the simple things outside of football, because he never even got a chance to develop a taste for anything outside of that bubble. And maybe that’s why he was so harsh towards his brother, someone who he saw as unburdened by his talent, slowly growing into someone like him.

[boolger]

READ ME A VERSE - COD

☆Kate Laswell x afab!Reader - explicit - MDNI - 11k words ☆AU to a certain degree. Reader and Kate are in a fictional radical christian group who is pretty secluded in a little town. Inspired by the song Verse by Emily Jeffri, which i have been obsessed with for a while, but in particular this part;

“Last time I saw her, we were in church I said my love to her and somebody heard We haven't locked eyes since or said a word.” Verse, by Emily Jeffri

☆tags: radical religion, homophobia, religious homophobia, internalized homophobia, sexism, abuse, violence, isolation, mention of miscarriage, dub-con, non-con sex, non-con kissing, victim blaming, bad parents, mention of death, afab!reader, forced marriage, masturbation, fingering, oral sex. Happy ending.

☆Summary: You had been considered ‘sick’ for years, sent away from your hometown and family to get better, isolated and forced to repent. But years later, when you are ‘healed’ and granted permission to return, there is a woman in church that you don’t know. You want to be a good Christian woman, even if you don’t want to marry Phillips Graves, but this Kate haunts your mind. No prayers can stop your thoughts, the verses are not able to stop how the two of you  constantly feel pulled towards each other, lured by your sinful thoughts and the lust for actual love.

You grew up here, in between good Christian women and men, with sin seeping into your bones, only hidden by your fragile flesh and skin. Organs rotten with wicked thoughts, every day of sickness a punishment for your refusal to repent, you were sure.

That was the way you had lived your entire life, knowing something was wrong with you - but every waking hour, you couldn’t help but wonder, if this sin, this evil, the crime, was merely that in their eyes. In the community’s eyes.

Once, when you were younger, 19 and naive, you had told your best friend, thinking she could keep the secret, thinking she might understand that it wasn’t something that should be said out loud. Yet, barely 24 hours passed and then your parents knew, pulling you to the church, to the elders of your village, the leaders of the church making you admit out loud to your immorality, to the sinful demons of lust that had taken over your body.

Women aren’t supposed to fall in love with other women, they said, you’re not supposed to lust after another woman - your lust is only for your future husband.

Your mother cried, sobs echoing through the empty church, no doubt with people around it, listening in to the judgment of the crime that had never manifested anywhere but your body.

Your father’s face was like stone, but the disappointment dripped from him wordlessly, at his refusal to even look at you.

It can be cured, they said, their wrinkled faces spitting out your sentence, praying, bible reading, hard work - and sending her away. Only when she is changed, when she truly repents, can she be loved by our Lord again.

With such simple words, your fate had been sealed for the upcoming years, pulling you from your well-known home, from your family and the town you had never truly left for longer than a couple of hours. To a farm, miles and miles away. You had been there once, several years ago with your family, vague memories of petting some cows and collecting eggs.

Instead you watched the car drive away after an hour or so, leaving you behind in the middle of nowhere, your trusty flip-phone taken from you as well.

At the farm, two couples lived, a younger and an older pair. The only good thing about your years at the place was that you couldn’t be married off when considered “sick”. You prayed that God would never forgive you, when you saw how the couples treated each other. A couple of farmhands appeared now and again, that you weren’t allowed to speak to but other than that, you didn’t speak to anyone but the couples.

You lived in a small room, bare walls except the cross next to your bed and the painting of Jesus next  to the door - caught in between a painting of a man you were constantly forced to read about and a crucifix that would remind you of the punishments if you didn’t change.

Simple food, simple clothes, work hard, routines and prayers several times a day. The men would read out verses in the evenings sometimes, as you all sat around them. You weren’t allowed to watch anything but specific christians movies every saturday. After watching each one twice, you stopped asking for it.

A year passed before you saw your parents again. Once again your mother was crying, but she seemed happier now, talking about how you had grown, how you looked healthier. You showed her and the upper church members who had tagged along around the farm, doing your best to seem better. Sinfre. Never mentioning anything bad. They went into the kitchen to talk, while you were sent to feed the chicken and collect eggs, denied access to your second judgment.

Another year, they said, another year would do her well, just to make sure she is truly well again.

Your mother kissed your forehead, telling you to read your verses, your father saying he would pray for you. They all would, they comforted you, another year and you could join them in the car, go home with them.

That night you ran, crawling through the window, abandoning Jesus and his crucifix, no plan in mind other than to get away. Another year wouldn’t cure you, one year hadn’t even done much. You understood it was wrong, sure, but you couldn’t stop it. You refused to be on the farm till you turned 21. 

The town wouldn’t offer you any sanctuary, you knew, so you ran the opposite way, into the unknown darkness.

They found you the next day, walking along the road towards another town, hoping someone would pick you up and help you. You screamed, fighting all you could, scratched and kicked as they pulled you back into the car - returning you to the farm. They belted the soles of your feet until they bled and left you in your cleared room, with nothing but a bible.

You knew then, that it would probably be more than a year before you would return home. After that night, the door to your room was locked every night, bars put in front of the window, keeping you from crawling out through it again.

Days passed, prayers spilling from your mind, weeks then, verses recited, months - it took almost three years more before the lies spilled as easily from your lips as the prayers did, and the people around you finally dared to believe. The lies about dreaming of a husband, of stepping into the role of a good, christian housewife, of bearing children for your husband, all sin free. You were a good girl now, a woman of God, who prayed every night for a husband and finally, finally they believed you, men of the church and your parents once again returning. 

You felt alienated to them, yet you smiled, saying you were cured now. Said you dreamt of marrying, of having your own house with a husband. Your mother cried tears of joy. Healthy again, you stepped into the car, going back to a town you no longer considered home, after four years of departure. 

“A sheep led back to the fold by the Lord,” your mother whispered to you in the car, holding your hand, but you felt no relief as you returned to the town.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

You had thought you could wait a little longer - thought they wouldn’t bring it up so soon, but you supposed it made sense in a way; they had to prove to the town that you were cured, you had to prove that the homosexuality no longer festered inside your body, but that you had become a pure woman now. A woman, just waiting to be married off.

Usually, women in the town would marry when they turned 21, so to not be married at 23, almost 24? A scandal that had to be avoided, your status had to be changed as soon as possible.

It was the first time back in church, back in the fold, that you saw her.

The most beautiful woman you had ever seen. Dark blond hair neatly pulled back in a low bun, face sharp and eyes blue, arm in arm with Shepherd - despite the modest clothes, you felt a fire run through you, the wounds blooming up inside your rotten organs, crawling along the spine like demons, demons that the priest and elders had promised were banished. The wrong thoughts and feelings to have inside a church - God would judge you, wouldn’t he? 

Let you suffer, just like Christ had, make them pull you back to the farm.  

You hurried to look away, instead looking at the men in church. Asking your mother about some of the men, some new members. You had been gone for almost four years, things had changed, people had passed, babies had been born.

Your old best friend, whom you had whispered your secret to, who had done the right thing according to everyone around you, had married her childhood crush, carrying a small child on her arm - smiling at you as she passed, her stomach having the iconic bump proving another child was on the way.

Most of the people you had grown up with and considered friends were married now, most of them already parents as well. 

You had spent years worshiping in silence, barely surrounded by more than 4 people and now you were surrounded by over 100 followers, singing the hymns of the Lord that was supposed to have freed you from the madness of your lust.

She sang too, you noted, sitting dutifully next to Shepherd who looked like an old man next to her, though you doubted he was that much older. You grabbed your hymnbook harder, fingers hurting with how hard you gripped it, looking down even though you knew every word and tone.

The prayers spilled easily, the verses familiar, the daily cleansing of your soul. 

Your eyes had met, just for a second. It was like your world paused, frozen, just to make sure that you understood that she had looked at you too. Only to immediately look away again, both of you pretending you hadn’t looked. Like a fallen angel, ready to be overcome with the thing that made you unholy at the first point, you let yourself dream of meeting her, properly.

Your appearance at the church, well looking and submissive, dutifully following your parents, knowing your prayers, your worship clear, it all made your parents look good. The priest blessed you as you left, saying it was good to have you back. You thanked him, saying it was good to be back, to be free of demons.

Lies, lies, lies, spilling from your lips, just like the prayers, prayers, prayers. You wanted them to be true, wanted to be free so that you wouldn’t suffer so much. 

But butterflies uncurled from their cocoons as you passed the woman who stood with Sheperd, your parents greeting them politely - you too, smiling as a good girl should, your eyes lingering on her for just a second longer, noting how she was looking at you too; it was your imagination surely, but still. You followed your parents, your sister who had been 15 when you left and who was 19 now, the age at which you had disappeared, babbling away.

“She is Mr. Shepherd's new wife, Kate Laswell,” your sister explained as you sat next to each other in the car, apparently aware of everything going on in the town now - or at least, of the gossip, “An outsider, mind you.”

“Alice,” your mother warned from the front seat, the tone sharp, “She isn’t any longer - and she is Mrs. Shepherd, not Laswell anymore. Besides, her parents are good Christian people too… just not a part of our Church. Yet.”

Your sister just waved her hand at her, as if to say ‘details details, mother’, while she continued, “He met her about three years ago on a trip, she came here while you were sick and they married. Before coming here she had a miscarria–”

“Alice!” Your mother turned around in the seat, sending your sister a sharp look, clearly displeased, just as the car pulled into the little driveway, “It’s improper to talk about such things.”

“Sorry, mom,” Alice said, even as she didn’t look apologetic one bit.

You were still stuck at her words, while you were sick. The memories of running in the night, the endless hours of work, of prayers and verses that were supposed to free you. Of people telling you that you were sick, that demons had possessed you. Four years of being turned into a good, pious woman.

“Mr. Shepherd is a good man,” you said, feeling emotionless but knowing that was what you were supposed to say, if this thing had been told to you while on the farm.

“He is,” your mother confirmed, “He is happier after he met her, too - now come on, we have things to do.”

You knew his first wife had died - pneumonia, they said, quickly and without warning - God always takes the good ones first. The bells had rung, echoing through the houses, into your mind as you remembered how the entire town wore black at the funeral. Had it only been that sickness that had curled in between your ribs and infected your organs, things might have ended differently. 

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

The Graves family was respected in your little town, wealthy, the Mr. Graves Senior one of the church leaders.  He had been one those who took a part of your judgment, of sealing your fate for four years, making your parents abandon you in between harsh treatment and farm animals, surrounded by neverending fields of wheat and corn.

Yet, somehow, despite knowing of your sickness first hand, having been a part of the healing, having touched your head and prayed for you, he still came to your parents’ house, with a smile on his lips.

Feeling hostage in your own childhood home, you served him and your father dinner with your mother, leaving your parents to talk with the older man, told off to do the laundry. You only returned once the doorbell rang, opening it…

To one Mr. Graves Jr.

“My my,” he stepped in, pushing the door open as you stepped back out of reflex, his blue eyes instantly on you, shamelessly running over your body, the arrogant smile you remembered from when you were younger, still present on his face “Haven’t you grown.”

“Mr. Graves,” you answered politely, already wanting to request him to leave. To not look at you in such a manner, to not say such words in that tone. 

“Nah, just call me Phillip, darling. You will soon anyway.” His voice was honeyed and he winked at you and before you could ask what he meant, your mother appeared - ushering you away and back to the laundry room, while he was led to the living room.

You tried distracting yourself, humming the familiar hymns as you emptied the washing machine, loading it with dirty clothes, wishing you could enter it too - but no matter what, the words you will soon anyway echoed inside your hollow body.

The Graves family was respected. They were looked up to by many people, one of the few families where the men were allowed to leave now and again. Even having the father of the family over for lunch like this, was a good sign that your family was being respected again, despite the veil of disgrace you had thrown over them.

So really, you should be honored. Not feel nausea in your throat, your heart beating so fast you were sure it would spring out from your ribcage, barely able to breathe. You could barely get the word out. 

“Marriage?” You repeated, watching your mother’s excited face as she nodded, your father proudly smoking behind her, standing in the door frame, clearly pleased too, “With… Mr. Graves’ son?”

“Yes dear – oh Phillip is a kind man, bless his heart,” you didn’t like her tone, “Even with everything that has happened, he still wants to marry you!”

“He is a good man,” Your father added from the door frame, eyes watching you, clearly waiting for a reaction, “Wanted to marry you before you were sick - waited for you.”

Waited for you.

You wanted to scream of horror. Legs trembling, feeling like you went blind for a second. Once, when you were a child and your family had been driving home, a deer had been caught in the lights of the car, gone rigid at the sight. It had managed to escape, just in time, saved from death. You had a feeling you wouldn’t be able to escape your fate, however. 

“I don’t know if I–” you barely knew what apology to spew out, what lies to tell them.

“Don’t worry - I know this is sudden, dear,” you mom said, taking your hands in hers, leaning forward to kiss your forehead, “but God is really looking out for you.”

“It’s a miracle that the Graves family would even consider her,” your father muttered, thrown at you like a stone, but you barely felt the impact, even as your mother hissed his name.

“Oh, I’ll have to call my sister - you will have the grandest wedding, my baby girl.”

That was what you feared. Your mother disappeared again to go call her sister and within hours the entire town would probably know - not even caring what your answer had been to the proposal that hadn’t happened. 

“You’re not going to cause a scene, are you?” Your father stared at you and you wondered for a moment if you would prefer the farm over this. Out there your tears would dry, no woman could seduce your mind, no man would marry you.

“No,” you answered, giving him a smile that barely seemed real, “of course not.”

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You stared at the date, the 8th of July, 2010, with your name printed next to Phillip Graves Jr. - to be wed. They had given you two months, two months to get to know each other, though you knew you wouldn’t get a say, not truly.

The mere fact that Graves Senior hadn’t stopped his son, meant that they all believed you were free of sin. Yet you always felt watched. As if the security cameras scattered around the town would be able to catch the way you were still sick.

“You’re getting married,” a gentle voice said behind you; it wasn’t a question, more of a statement - just like it had been for you. 

You turned, distracted from the bulletin board in front of the Church, only for your eyes to meet those blue ones you kept dreaming of.

“Mr. Shepherd,” you greeted, giving her what you hoped was a polite smile, “I am, yes - in two months.”

She nodded, turning to look at the bulletin board. You dared to think that the smile on her face truly looked a little sad.

“Were you given a choice?” her voice was careful, barely above a whisper. You stared at her, barely able to blink for a couple of seconds as the words sank in.

“His offer of proposal is a blessing,” you felt like it was your mother’s words that escaped you, not your own, “given my time of… sickness… it’s very kind of the Graves family to have even considered me.”

As your eyes met, you recognised the look. Sad, resigned in a way, as if she recognised that it wasn’t your own words, that you were a mere hostage in this situation. You wondered for a brief moment if her situation had been like this. If she too hadn’t had a choice, even though she was older than you. Probably ten years. No more than that. Her lips looked soft, but bitten; probably from nervousness, your mother did that too sometimes. 

“It is not a sickness.”

Five words. She made it sound so simple. You felt your jaw clench, your teeth grind together. Verses ran through your mind, prayers through your blood, the urge to step into the church and repent, for something you hadn’t even said.

“Don’t say shit like that,” you hissed, anger that was forced down your throat for years escaping you, as you looked back at the board, whispering out a “it is.”

“No, it’s not.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” it was like needles escaped your mouth, forcing words of others, “it’s because you’re from the outside.”

“What if–”

“I must go,” you said, fearing you had stood there on the main street, close to her for too long, “Have a good day.”

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It is not a sickness, it echoed through your mind for several days, it is not a sickness.

Tell on her, a dark part of your mind offered, she is spewing sin. But if you told on her to the elders, then you would have to tell why the subject was even present in your conversation.

What if you would never see her again then? The mere idea of not getting to see her again, made you want to cry, even if you had barely talked.

The world outside our community is godless, they said, disgraceful and evil, with demons and fallen angels roaming among the humans. Leaving us is like surrendering your place in heaven with our Lord.

Yet you yearned. With each ring of the church bell, you wondered if you could find peace outside, even if it meant your eternal damnation. 

No verses had the answers to why you were sick. They had tried to tell you many proved it, yet it was like it never quite fit.

As if God wouldn’t admit to you why he made you this way, even as you submitted to him. 

You wanted Kate despite barely having talked to her, certain in your bones that something connected you. Whatever it was.

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You didn’t have a lot of opinions when it came to planning the wedding - it didn’t feel like yours anyways. You saw her, now and again. Glimpses of her as you looked at flower options with your mother at the little florist of the town. In church, next to her husband, never looking happy.

Your eyes met, but you never talked. Anger bubbled beneath your skin, remembering her saying it wasn’t a sickness.

Because if it wasn’t, truly wasn’t, like she had dared to say and you dared to dream, then you had spent four years in hell for nothing. Then you had endured four years of loneliness, surrounded by ghosts who merely reminded you of the words in the book that was your entire word. Watched every night by the painting of Christ, who said love thy neighbor like thyself , but according to the town that didn’t count if thy neighbor were gay.

It was the scars beneath your feet that ache after a long day, it was the darkness of the room you were abandoned in with your bible. These made you angry, when she dared to come here and say it wasn’t a sickness, that it wasn’t wrong.

Because… it was… wasn’t it?

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Despite your anger, the pleasure continued to grow in your abdomen until it became too much.

Pulling open the string of your pajama pants felt wrong, yet you did it, sliding your hand beneath the fabric, then beneath your underwear too. You were 24, you had touched yourself before but it had been years. The farm had snubbed any urge.

You thought of her hands, wandering over your skin, her soft looking, anxious bitten lips kissing yours. Skin pressed against yours, nails digging into it.

Your cunt was wet as you hesitantly touched yourself, fingers sliding in between the lips, the wetness feeling forbidden and sacred almost. It felt as if your body was on fire, a fire that you thought had been killed years ago, making you press your lips together to keep silent. To not let any sound escape your traitorous mouth that had lied for so long, electricity going through your bones as your fingers brushed your clit.

Whether Kate would touch you there or not, you dared to hope she would. You dared to hope that she would let you touch her, the sinful ideas mixing with the shame, though it only seemed to spur you on.

Toes curled, legs cramping and eyelashes fluttered as you came on two fingers, imagining Kate being next to you. Immoral, just like you.

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“Graves,” The name stumbled from your mouth as you stumbled back a few steps, feeling trapped in the garden, your back almost pressed against the apple tree, the fruits hanging around you, heavy on the branches. Your fingers gripped the basket with the apples so hard that you feared it might splinter beneath them.

“That’s my father, darling,” the older man pointed out, stepping closer, breathing a little heavy as he looked at you, confident smile on his lips as always, “I told you to call me Phillip, didn’t I?”

You let out a little huff, smiling at him the best you could, “yeah, sorry - Philip, then.”

“You look beautiful,” it dripped like honey soaked from his lips and you wondered for a moment, if the honey could be poisoned, if he was the snake in the garden - or if the sickness inside you were, “love your dress.”

He stepped closer, your heart quickening, yet not from excitement. 

“T-thank you,” you managed, face heating up, eyes flickering towards the house, but you didn’t see any sign of your parents being home - had he just wandered into the garden, knowing you were home alone, “I uhm - why are you here, Phillip?” 

He laughed, reaching out to take one of the apples out of your basket, big hand almost swallowing up the fresh fruit.

“What? Can’t I go lookin’ for my wife?” There was a boyish charm to him, you supposed. Most of the women in town would swoon for him and you wondered why he had decided on you.

“We’re not married yet,” you pointed out before you could help yourself, “you really shouldn’t be here, if our parents–”

“What? Think they will be upset about me being here?” he teased, free hand suddenly raising to gently caress your cheek, taking a hold of your chin, leaning closer, grip stopping you from pulling your head back, “I’m a man, darling - not a woman.”

You swallowed.

“Dirty thing,” he crooned, “I’m gonna heal you, yeah? Make you a good an’ proper woman.”

“I-I’m not dirty,” you whispered, barely believing your own words, “I was healed at the farm.” 

He chuckled, dark and low, grinning so you could see his gums and you wondered if he would ruin you, bite from bite, take your life from you, “Not properly cured until you marry a man, hon.”

All you felt when he kissed you were burned saccharine and bitter fear. It was a short kiss but it burned on your lips, spreading nausea through your body like a plague, infecting your blood. He let go of you then, stepped back, winking as he raised the apple, “I’ll see ya’ soon, wifey.” 

As he left the garden of Eden, the crisp sound of his bite of the fruit almost echoing, you couldn’t help but hope there was a worm in the apple.

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You went to church the next day, earlier than you were supposed to, promising to do your chores later. You needed to talk to God, Mary, Christ, whoever would listen, any saint who might help you feel clean again. Homosexual sin tainting your fingers from masturbation and burning impure lips from the unwelcome kiss from your future husband. 

What were you thinking, they would say, you were sure, have you learned nothing? Have you gone mad, sick again from the devils and demons dancing inside your mind and body?

Christ hung on the crucifix in front of you as you sat on the pew, looking up at him. Would he consider you wicked too or had he forgiven you the moment he took upon humanity’s sins?

Would Saint Peter truly turn you away, push you from the loving home of heaven, to the dark, demonic –

“Hi.”

It was barely above a whisper, yet you felt as if it echoed throughout the church, into every crevice, making any statue or painting upon the walls look to the two of you. You turned on reflex, not to her, but to the everpresent church servant. The man was snoring gently, head resting against the cold wall behind him. Unaware of the other’s arrival. 

Finally, your eyes met Kate’s, flowers blooming in the pit of your stomach as she smiled gently at you.

“Hi,” you dared to whisper back, watching her as she sat down next to you at the pew.

Silence grew for a moment and you listened to the vague snoring of the servant, your eyes moving to watch Christ on the cross once again. He hadn’t moved one bit since you last looked at him, eyes still on the ground in front of him.

“I’m sorry I upset you.”

Forgiveness - could you really offer her forgiveness, when deep down in your putrid organs, you knew that she was right? You looked over at her, a careful, worried expression on her face.

“It’s okay,” you answered, voice not as loud, “I - uhm… Was mean too.” A small smile appeared and you found yourself smiling back at her, despite your fear. For another moment you hesitated, unsure whether you should utter the truth at her or not. “I don’t want to marry him.”

The words made you feel small, but you continued, though you looked up at Christ once again, keeping your voice low, “but I don’t have a choice, do I?”

She was quiet for a moment, as if to agree with you silently. It was as Philip Graves had said, wasn’t it? A dirty thing who can only become pure again by marriage with a man.

“You do,” she whispered, “but it’s not an easy one.”

You almost jumped when her hand touched yours, warm and soft against your skin. A choice, an opportunity. You had an inkling that you already knew what she would suggest, a part of you wanting to stop her from doing so.

“Leave,” she whispered, the word sounding so simple, yet it was filled to the brim with danger, immorality… the unknown.

“I can’t,” it escaped like an instinct, “My home is here.”

“Is it a home if you cannot be yourself?” Her hand squeezed yours, “don’t let them convince you to marry, don’t make the same mistake as me. Please.”

The sound of the bells rang throughout the church, calling to the daily prayer. She stood suddenly, hand slipping away from yours, stepping to the pew on the opposite side, eyes turned towards the altar. A groan left the Church servant, who mumbled a little, surprised at the sight of you - but he made no other comment.

Don’t let them convince you to marry, don’t make the same mistake as me.

Was she, as an outsider, forced too? She was older than you, probably around 32 or something, but she had been here three years, while you were at the farm. Shepherd was older than her, probably only a few years, but the everpresent angry look always made him seem older.

The prayers tasted like ash at that Church sentence, not dripping as easily as they used to. You did your best to hide it, listening to the verses, worshiping like you were expected to.

Philip winked at you as he passed you on the way out. Creep.

Your eyes met Kate’s  but you didn’t react and neither did she. It was like playing with fire - you were sure your parents wouldn’t find her company too agreeable. 

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“He is your fiance,” your mother pointed out as you stared at the apples you were cutting up, trying to keep the scowl from your face,“I think a walk together near the lake would be a good idea. So you can get to know each other some more.”

“What if…” you didn’t know how to not express your already growing disdain for your future husband, “What if he wants to do something improper? Like, I don’t know, kiss?”

Your mother laughed, your father huffing from behind the local newspaper.

“Philip is a good man,” your mother said, patting your shoulder as she passed.

“I kissed your mother before marriage,” your father’s comment, calmly but with a hint of mischievousness, made your mother shriek.

“Edward! Don’t tell her that!”

“What? We did.”

The knife in your hand parted the piece of apple into two.

“That’s not proper,” you pointed out, the ever present reminders of what was improper and sinful and what was not that you learnt from the farm, the words you had to repeat, had to know, even in the middle of the night. 

“It’s no sin,” your dad pointed out, “nothing wrong with a kiss or two.”

“Don’t kiss him if you don’t want to, darling girl,” your mother assured you, “besides, Philip would hardly ask you to do something like that.”

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“Kiss me?” Oh how you wished you still had the knife that you used to cut the apples, in the palm of your hand.

“Uhm, we really shouldn’t,” you pointed out, stepping back as he stepped forward, trying to keep some distance in between the two of you.

“C’mon baby, don’t be like that,” his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist. You tried twisting free instantly, fear overwhelming you as his smile slowly disappeared, his blue eyes seeming darker. You wanted to scream for help, but who would come to your rescue? You were almost halfway around the lake, away from most eyes, though it wouldn’t surprise you if there were some security cameras out here in the trees as well.

Before a loud enough sound could leave you, his hand was on your mouth and he was pushing you in between the bushes, up against a tree.

He touched you, like you had touched yourself that night in bed, thinking of Kate - but you weren’t crying out or fighting the pleasure now, instead it was the disgust that overwhelmed you, your lower half exposed as he had pulled your skirt up. Apparently he quickly grew bored of touching your cunt, unable to make you do anything but cry - but as he pulled out your cock, you truly panicked.

Hitting him in the chest, pulling his hand from your mouth. “nonononno, please -” “shut up-” “Phillip I can get pregnant-” He laughed, turning you so quickly you almost fell, pushing you against the tree, “Don’t worry baby, I’m not putting it in, just fucking your thighs–”

He did so, pressing your thighs together as you cried against the bark of the tree. As he grunted and moaned in your ear, you disappeared into your mind, back to the farm. Praying, bible reading, hard work, just like they had said, had filled your life for four years. Four terrible years, yet you would rather go back to the farm than this.

You wanted to feed the chickens and collect the eggs, you wanted to pet the sheep, making sure all of them returned in the evenings. You wanted to clean the wooden floors again, forced to do so while praying and singing hymns as a punishment for talking back. 

You felt dirty afterwards, unsure of what really had happened but there was cum on your thighs as he pushed down the skirt.

“Don’t tell anyone, no? You tempted me, after all,” he pointed out as he fixed his shirt a second time, grinning as you sniffled.

You shook your head. 

“Knew you were a smart girl, baby girl,” the words made you want to throw up and your eyes didn’t meet his, “Lemme get ya’ home.”

You didn’t tell your parents everything - and when your sister asked if you had kissed, you had shaken your head. Phillip is a good man, you had said, he will be a wonderful husband.

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A part of you wanted to leave the house and go directly to the priest, stare him in the eyes as you admitted that demons still hungered around your body, that you were still sick. That the homosexuality had never left your body, that only lies had dripped from your lips when you weren’t praying. Those four years had changed nothing but messed up your mind, not your sexuality.

Yet you refrained, instead going to the church early every day. Watching the church servant sleep, sitting on your pew, in the familiar spot, watching the altar. Wondering why God would do this to you. Why he would make you wrong in the eyes of the town, why he would send Phillip Graves to touch you against your will.

Almost every morning she would appear.

Sweet, beautiful Kate. Always kind and soft despite the world that surrounded the two of you. You dared to bring her a piece of cake at one point, one that you had baked yourself, loving how her face lit up at the sight. Basking in the praise she had given you in her whispers.

You would live, survive for those times with her in the church. Perhaps, that was why you didn’t admit to your sins, why you didn’t truly repent. Because, if they sent you away once more or locked you away inside a home, you wouldn’t be able to see Kate anymore.

Kate, who held your hand. Kate, who you dared to kiss on the cheek one morning two weeks later, as the church servant snored particularly loudly - who then framed your face with her wonderful hands and kissed you on the lips.

Every day that passed brought you closer to the day of the wedding, but also to Kate.

You didn’t need to ask to know that she was infected, just like you. That her organs were also rotten with sin, bones decaying from the want.

You dared to pull her to the bathroom of the church with you, listen to her whisper out oh God, taking the Lord’s name in vain as you ate her out, pride blossoming from it.

She came on your tongue, on your fingers. You came on hers too, on her thigh once. 

Panties soaked the entire service that followed, the prayers and sermon barely understood, constantly reminded of how she had looked as you rode her thigh, muttering praises into your ear as you kept it down, as not to draw any attention.

The forbidden fruit had never tasted better, but you knew that it too would rot, given how close the wedding was. 

You exchanged numbers but were too afraid to call or text, fearing being caught; you by your parents or by Phillip, her by her husband Shepherd.

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It wouldn’t last forever, that you knew, yet you had hoped it could. 

“What were you doing in the church with Mrs. Shepherd?” your dad asked one day at the dinner table, giving you no time to figure out an answer or to truly understand how he would know.

“Praying,” you lied, the words feeling so familiar by now, despite the ashy taste, “We don’t talk together. We just pray.”

Your father was staring at you, eyes cold, anger possibly boiling just beneath his skin.

“Wilson said he never saw you two.” You could strangle the bloody church servant and his snoring body.

“Lies,” you merely answered, “Mr. Wilson sleeps every day in the back of the church. His snoring echoes, disturbing my prayers.”

He didn’t look convinced. You wanted to scream at him, to mind his own bloody business. To not judge you, to accept you and love you, despite what they deemed flaws. 

“You can come with me yourself tomorrow - see how he sleeps in his chair, leant against the wall. Or hear it, I suppose - Mrs. Shepherd and I merely greet each other - nothing else.”

Somehow, the fact that you were willing to take him along - not really, but you wouldn’t mind proving your point, just to be able to continue your time with Kate - seemed good enough.

“Bloody always asleep, that man,” your father finally grumbled.

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There was a week until your wedding, the days having disappeared in between your fingers. You hadn’t been able to see Kate except during church service, not able to speak together or utter a word to each other - Shepherd's angry eyes would find you every time, staring you down. You did your best to ignore him, ignoring the judgment you were sure he had placed upon you and focused on the hymns. You tried worshiping the divine, in a desperate attempt to escape reality. 

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The dress felt too tight. Modest, barely showing anything but you hands and head, nothing like you had dreamt of when you were a kid, nothing like you had seen in a magazine that you found when you were 13, buried in a book in the little library of the town.

“You look beautiful,” your mother whispered, voice wet, having cried all day. You felt hollowed out, watching yourself in a white dress as if you were a lamb, sent to slaughter.

“It’s tight,” you muttered, the seamstress removing a pin or two but not enough. Perhaps it wasn’t the size but merely the fact you didn’t want it.

Four days, then there would be nothing improper about all the things Graves had whispered that he wanted to do with you. Then your moments with Kate, excused by the lies of prayers and hymns, would stop. Then you couldn’t forget the world with the slightly older woman, who would tell you of the world outside. Of parades for sinners like you, where you could be accepted and loved for who you were. Of art and music, of books and poetry, of politics  and of animals who weren’t kept merely for food.

It was simple, modest like everyone expected it to be. Long loose sleeves, ankle long skirt with white lace trim. Fake white flowers on the headband with the veil, pearls that Philip had gifted you for around your neck.

You had the feeling that your parents wanted to show you off, prove that they were good Christians who had raised a child that wasn’t lost. Who had been sick but was cured. The Graves family wanted to prove what great people they were, showing that you could be saved by the church even if Satan tried to claim you.

Philip wanted to show you off before he ruined you.

You cried then, when the seamstress said she would be ready with it in two days. Your mother took it for tears of joy and you lied once more, as you had for years, saying it was.

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“They’re saying she is becoming mad,” you heard them whisper, your body freezing, barely breathing as you tried listening. Your mother had people over for bible study but it was rarely actual studying.

“She was mad even before he got her,” one of the neighbors whispered, “told Shepherd didn’t I? Why would he take an outsider?”

“I heard Stacy say it was a favor for her parents —“

“She is probably going to the farm.”

You felt your mind spiral, almost dropping the basket of laundry, before you recognised your mother saying your name.

“- don’t want her to know. She is cured and healthy, but I don’t want her to think there is anybody sick in this town.”

“Might infect her again,” another neighbor pointed out, making you feel like you could barely breathe.

“God forbid,” your mother mumbled, “she is finally getting married. A baby or two will do her well.”

You abandoned the laundry basket in the hallway to find your phone. 

You had seen some of the better families in town had fancy phones, with touch screens and everything. When younger you might have been overcome with jealousy but by now, you just felt relieved you had a phone to contact Kate with, old as it was.

Women aren’t supposed to fall in love with other women, they had said the day your fate was sealed, damning you to years on the farm without your family, abandoned with animals and prayers, verses read to you about how wrong you were, you’re not supposed to lust after another woman.

Sure, you had been 19 and the fire inside of you had turned to embers - and Kate was older, wiser, but if she was sent to the farm, the two of you would surely never see each other again.

Your fingers felt numb as you wrote out the message, knowing you would be in trouble if anyone ever found out you had sent it.

>They’re going to send you to the farm

You waited for a reply, but it didn’t come immediately like you had hoped. 

Seconds turned to minutes and minutes turned to hours - all while you pretended everything was fine. You were with your family, listening to your mother pointing out everything they needed to get ready for your wedding. Your father talking about the money, your sister about dresses she could wear, about what hairstyles you should have.

In many ways Alice seemed more excited about your wedding than yourself. A part of you wondered if she ever found what it was about you that everyone declared an illness - or if she lived blissfully unaware of it. If she would marry for the sake of the family like you were forced to or if a young man from church would shyly appear on your doorstep and ask to court her.

If she wanted babies - while you didn’t. At least not with Philip. Not with any man. You just wanted Kate.

Kate, Kate. Your saint, your light in the dark, your guiding star in the evil that surrounded you.

Kate who had whispered that you had a choice but it wasn’t an easy one.

You knew she had been right then - and you knew she was right now.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

The air was cold as you crawled out the window, your small backpack strapped to your back, nails digging into the sill as you almost slipped. You managed to get a footing on the roof, slowly lowering yourself. There was a scent of rotting apples in the air, the last fruits rotting beneath the tree, while your organs flowered and grew stronger inside your body.

Because maybe you weren’t the rotten, sick one - possibly they were. And even if you were wrong, even if it was truly demons having possessed your mind and making you sin… then you would rather sin and rot together with Kate.

You wanted to live a life where you didn’t have to worry about what was wrong with you, every minute of the day - but one with Kate where you could sin in peace, perhaps in a town that didn’t hate you for the feelings you had for each other. You wanted a life without prayers, without the constant urge to seek forgiveness from a God that never showed you any love.

Or at the very least, you wanted a death with Kate. One where your rotten bodies could disappear together, melt into the ground and disappear, away from the people who had hated you for so long.

Despite the fear and the sweet, rotten scent of the apples, you felt the strongest you ever had as you crawled down the roof and jumped to the ground - even as you fell rather clumsily, making more noise than you had planned.

A window snapped open and you looked up, staring up at Alice. Neither of you spoke, merely staring up at her.

You wordlessly begged her, no, screamed at her to not tell, to not call out for your parents. Even in the vague light of the moon you could see her drown.

Young and confused, a good girl, who reminded you terribly of your mother. Whom you loved but didn’t trust - not anymore.

Finally, your sister moved her hands - quickly motioning for you to keep moving, not to come inside. You hoped she could see the thankful smile you sent her as you got up from the grass and moved towards the garden gate. Tomorrow they would find your letter on the pillow of your neatly done bed, written with your favorite pen, on heavy paper. On top of it, the engagement ring would rest, abandoned to be worn by somebody else who would have the misfortune of marrying Phillip Graves.

Your room would seem the same except for a few missing pieces. Pictures, phone, passport and the little money you had, would be gone. Pressed into that little backpack of yours, that was currently crossing the street, wary to not be seen by anyone.

There weren’t many words on the letter, you didn’t want to leave much behind, you didn’t want them to think you would forgive them.

You are the sick ones. I am sorry. Goodbye.

Your mother would cry in the morning, clutching the paper, while your sister would have laid there and expected it all night, knowing you had run away. Your father would perhaps be able to shed a tear. If not, you didn’t care. You wouldn’t be around to find out either way.

Guilt tried following you as you crossed another street, slipping in between houses to keep in the shadows, working your way towards the Shepherd’s house. Further than that you hadn’t planned but you couldn’t return now - you would rather try and fail, than to never have tried at all. The church loomed above you, letting you walk in the shadows of it, the bells not ringing and calling out your deed.

As if the church allowed you to pass, allowed you to continue your mission, whispering encouraging words for once instead of judgemental once. Blessing your decision to abandon everything, to abandon Christ, God.

You stopped outside of the Shepherd residence, your courage shaking for just a moment, unsure of how to get in - how to get in contact with Kate. By now your plans dried up, but you doubted you would ever have a possibility like this. Kate was worth the fear that burned inside you.

The door was locked - it shouldn’t come as a surprise, but it wasn’t uncommon to leave the door unlocked in your town, merely because you rarely dealt with crimes in that way- then it was outsiders who broke in. Checking several windows, doing your best to move silently around. However, you hadn’t learnt a lot from the last couple of years, other than taking care of animals, saying prayers, and singing hymns to cleanse your soul.

You found a half open window into what looked like a living room. You wished you could have crawled in discreetly, barely making a sound, like a ghost seeping into a new house to haunt.

Instead you fell onto a little table, which tipped over, a potted plant falling over, the pot shattering. The soil, barely visible in the dark, stained the floor with your fear.

However, silence still ruled the dark house, keeping you safe for now. For a moment, you wondered if there truly was a God who cared, just a little, for your broken soul.

That was until the lights turned on suddenly and the first thing you saw was a barrel pointed towards your head.

Herschel Shepherd had never seemed like a kind man to you, but a spiteful man, filled with greed and hatred. He was a respected man in the town, sure, and when he became a widower you were sure many of the other widowers dreamt of a marriage with him. He was rich, involved with the church and traveled with his company, that you didn’t even know what did. Especially after returning from the farm, seeing Kate next to him, never smiling despite having whom you considered a saint as a wife. The two of you had never talked about it but you suspected that he wasn’t a good husband. That perhaps he was open to the idea of sending away his wife, forcing her to manual labor in an isolated area for years in an attempt to control her even more.

You were willing to die for Kate, just so she shouldn’t see the room in which you had suffered. The painting of Jesus Christ who would be judging her day and night, the crucifix next to her bed, the never ending fields of loneliness, the constant repeating of the ashtasting verses and prayers, the dying hymns about love for a God that had never loved you.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He snarled, not lowering the shotgun despite seeing it was only you, an unarmed member of the church.

Like a monster stepping out from a fairytale book, or a demon, ready to stop the noble Christian knight from his goal. You barely managed to speak before he did so again.

“Bloody roach,” he hissed, venom spitting from his mouth, “they should have abandoned you at the farm, let you stay mad and broken out there”

“Fuck you.” You were proud of how your voice barely shook as you blurted it out, how you got to your feet, staring at the only man in between the one you were ready to love forever.

“Shooting you will be—“ You hadn’t seen Kate come up behind him before the lamp collided with his head.

As blood splattered, you found yourself even more in love than before. Like embers filled up every bone in your body, your heart ringing its own church bells, declaring it true love. Perhaps you shouldn’t be turned on by her committing a violent act like that, yet it did, because Kate did it for you.

Kate was a savior, a knight in shining armor, even if she merely wore nightdress and a gown, her sword nothing but a wooden lamp that had blood stains on it now.

Her blue eyes staring down at the dragon that had kept her captive for years, in her own kind of hell - before your eyes finally met.

The lamp was abandoned on the floor next to Shepherd and you met halfway in the living room, embracing each other for only a short moment, before pressing your lips against each other’s.

Starved for the acceptance you had found in a woman in church, who you fell in love with, even when you knew it could end horrendously for the both of you.

Foreheads pressed against each other as you both breathed hard, fingers running over the other’s hair, face shoulders. As if to make sure it wasn’t a dream or hallucination, that you were actually both standing there in the room.

“You ok?” You whispered and her eyes flickered to the man on the floor before she answered, voice strong and steady, “yeah, better than I’ve been for years.”

You finally dared to look down at Sherpherd.

“Is he dead?” You asked, as if you only realized what she had done.

Sin sin sin sin sin sin

Killing was a sin. It was a big sin, or was one of the worst, it was— he was breathing, you realized. Chest moving up and down, even as blood from the wound from where the lamp had connected, sept into the carpet beneath him, staining it. Shotgun next to him. You could kill him. It would be an easy kill even, you would just have to take the gun, point it to his head and pull the —

“No - he will wake in a couple of hours with a headache,” Kate confirmed, hand then grabbing yours, “we can’t stay here, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. You liked that nickname.

“I know, I mean, I’m here to get you out-“ your words stumbled from your mouth as you followed her, only to be quieted down by a kiss. It was deeper than before even if it wasn’t long, a small whine escaping you as she pulled away again once more.

It was water after thirst, it was sun warming your skin after freezing in the snow. 

“My hero,” she whispered, touching your cheek, her blue eyes watering just a little, even as she clearly tried keeping them back, continuing,“and I know where the car keys are.”

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Leaving the town felt wrong on so many levels. By escaping its clutches, painful and sharp, you also abandoned what you considered your home and the safety of the church. The community it had given you throughout the years, the promises of a better afterlife, without eternal suffering.

You wanted to throw up, beg her to stop the car, fear crawling inside your throat and filling your lungs, making sobs escape as you shook. You wanted to run back, let Kate escape.

She kept driving, constantly looking over at you, as you curled together in the passenger seat next to her; she touched your shoulder, held your hand, petted your hair. Whispering sweet words, that weren’t prayers, that weren’t promises of a God who would look over the two of you. But of how the two of you would be alright, how you would figure things out.

How she could get you out of the country, how the two of you could start somewhere new, somewhere safe.

Create your own paradise. Together. 

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

The two of you didn’t stop driving for hours - only stopping at a gas station to get more gas and some food. If the two of you looked weird, you in an oddly modest long blue dress, soil on it, with red and puffy eyes, Kate in a morning gown pulled tight around her waist, well then the cashier was nice enough to keep his mouth shut.

You watched the world pass by, watched nature change, the endless fields, the cows, different kinds of cars you had never seen before began to pass.

It was at the second stop at a gas station that you dared to stop for good. Car pulled to the side, Kate’s hand shaking as she took your phone and pressed a number. Then she waited, your hand holding her free hand.

The two of you sat in the backseat of the fancy car that Shepherd always rode. Hours had passed since you abandoned the town, the church, your family, your God, everything. You wondered if they had found your letter by now, if they were trying to call your phone, only to realize you had blocked them.

You wondered who they would blame; the two of you or God.

“Price,” you heard a gruff voice say.

“John,” Kate could barely say the name, voice almost trembling and you wanted to hold her tight, crawl into her lap and embrace her into a hug she couldn’t escape. 

“Kate?” The sound of disbelief, as if he had never expected to hear her voice again; as if she had been considered dead, had risen again. You were pretty sure you could hear a British accent to his voice, one you had only heard in movies, “Is that really you?”

“It is - I, John – fuck - we need you and the boys’ help. If your offer still stands.”

“Always Kate,” the certainty in his voice made you want to cry, “no matter where you are.”

—--

You abandoned the car in a random town and took a bus to the next town over, that would be close to where they would pick you up, Kate explained.

That night you slept in a motel together, close, breathing in each other’s air. Kissing each other, watching the other’s chest, just to make sure the other was alive. You listened to her heart before falling asleep, your head resting on her chest. A part of you wished that you could crawl inside her ribcage, in an attempt to get closer to her heart, to make sure she would never stop living

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

You had never seen an actual helicopter this close. Once one had passed over the farm, but that was years ago and it had barely been visible. You stood next to her, your fingers intertwined with Kate’s, just like you wanted your ribs to be. You weren’t necessarily proud of how you hid halfways behind her, but she seemed so calm around the machine - which meant she had probably been around some before. Both of your clothes were moving wildly due to the air from the wings, the grass laying down as if it was a divine figure who appeared from the sky, to offer you a way to safety.

You wanted to kiss her, as you had the night before in the motel, not caring if the sins would swallow you whole, drag you to hell and let you burn for all eternity. You would eat all forbidden fruits, if it meant another minute with her - no matter how scared you were of the world outside.

No matter how much the sight of five men stepping out from the helicopter, with the engine slowly stopping, walking towards you scared you, you stayed right there with Kate. The men who stepped out seemed like divine symbols of sins, of fallen angels, ready to welcome you into the damned eternity. No verses or prayers could save you now.

One of the angels wore a skull mask, a clear representation of death and while you trusted Kate with your life, wanted to trust these men too, since she said they were close friends, you wondered what life she had lived before coming to the town, before becoming Shepherd's wife.

Before meeting you.

She let go of your hand when they got close and you almost wanted to cry, wanted to beg her not to abandon you. But then she stepped forward to embrace the man who reached them first. He wore some sort of hat you hadn’t seen before, an oddly shaped beard too – a military uniform of some sort, they all did. 

“Kate,” he said, before embracing her hard and you watched how his fingers fisted in the night gown, as if afraid she would disappear in front of you. Then his eyes found yours; while you had escaped some sort of anger, some sort of judgment or perhaps a facial expression that proved that you shouldn’t trust it, there was none. Instead his eyes and face softened at the sight of you, not looking away until he and Kate broke the embrace, his eyes almost seeming shiny as he held her face in his hands, saying it was good to see her again. Then he turned to you, while Kate turned to the next man, greeting somebody called Nikolai, who twirled her around, but you were busy fearing the other man.

He offered you his hand, movement slow, as if he could see that you were like a skittish deer, ready to bolt at the sign of any danger.

“I’m John Price,” he said as he gently shook your hand, “An old military friend of Kate.”

You told him your name, even as it tasted a little foreign on your tongue, like you had to admit who you were, to a stranger for the first time. An outsider.

“I’m…”

What were you? Somebody who had fallen in love the moment you saw Kate, who had spent years being told you were wrong, who was supposed to be married today but who had instead run off with the woman that made your heart beat.

“My girlfriend,” Kate said, “She is my girlfriend.”

Warmth enveloped your entire body and Price didn’t look upset instead he smiled. Looking happy for you, for Kate, a reaction so alien to you that you barely believed it.

The others introduced themselves. Nikolai - who also spun you around, saying you were already loved by him, much to your confusion - then the demon-looking man who introduced himself as Simon or Ghost, as if you could decide what kind of danger you wanted him to be. Then Kyle - or Gaz - who thanked you for taking care of Kate, even if he knew nothing about what happened, why the hell Kate Laswell was out in the middle of a field, wearing only a night dress and gown, why a messy looking woman in a long dressed stood next to her, looking like she was ready to run. Then Soap - or Johnny, he had added with a grin, who said he didn’t know Kate, but that his team trusted her, so he did too - as well as you. But during the whole thing, your thoughts rummaged around the word girlfriend.

You were Kate’s girlfriend. She took your hand afterwards and you smiled at her, as if you saw her for the first time once more, hoping to wordlessly tell her how much you loved her, even if you didn’t dare to whisper the words out loud.

You curled up next to her in the helicopter, afraid of the sounds, the feeling of flying, of everything. She kept her arm around you, offering you safety once more, from the overwhelming world you had never been in before.

“What the ‘ell happened, Kate?” Simon or the grim reaper looking man asked, an accent that you suspected to be some kind of British, voice rough through the microphone. You didn’t look at Kate, weren’t sure how she would even explain this. You weren’t even sure how to explain it. It had been your entire life after all.

“It’s a long story,” Kate said, giving your shoulder a squeeze, “I’ll tell you later. When we’re safe somewhere.”

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

The UK was gray most of the time, but you didn’t really care, had grown accustomed to it as time passed.

Kate was still the light of your life. She was often busy, but you didn’t mind, knowing her burning passion for her work. You worked in a library a couple of hours a week, even if she had enough money to let you do whatever you wanted and never work another hour of your life. You went to therapy, a lot in the beginning but less and less as the years passed and you got better.

You were slowly forgetting the words of the hymns you had grown up with, and the verses forced upon you. It had taken years, but you felt like a good person. Not a sick, sinful one, even though the urge to repent made its ugly return once and again - it was easier to dismiss now, easier to talk about.

Reborn into a human being who made her own choices. Who could love who she wanted.

You had brought a house in the suburbs, big enough that you were able to have some chickens in the garden and two cats. They kept you company and kept you busy, the chickens following you around the garden, the cats sleeping in your laps and on you stomach whenever Kate was at work.

You were forever grateful for Kate’s friends, who helped you assimilate to the world, to Britain, their partners' close friends too by now. You liked looking after John’s and Kyle’s son, Johnny’s, Simon’s and their girlfriend’s dogs. Like drinking coffee or eating together with their partners or family members - you had managed to get friends through the library, who introduced you to so much literature and media that you had never even dreamt of existed.

Though, it was always Kate who brought you the most joy. You had married her, a year after you escaped together, which was a little over a decade ago. It wasn’t anything like what was planned up to the wedding you were supposed to have had with Phillip. A marriage that apparently wouldn’t even be official and recognised by the government, since the town wouldn’t tell anyone about it. Kate’s marriage wasn’t even valid, so nothing stopped the two of you from marrying.

It was nothing wild, no church, nothing you had to live up to. Your rings were simple, so were your clothes. It was at town hall, it was small and simple, John, Simon, Johnny and Kyle your witnesses - their partners, more of Kate’s friends and the few others you had met outside, ready to celebrate you. It reminded you more of a birthday party or barbeque, something like that, nothing formal. Casual clothes, food made on the grill and in the kitchen, eaten in the garden. Games played, alcohol drunk, music that you never listened to before playing softly. It was happy, simple, with Kate kissing your hand and pulling you away to kiss your lips, making you whine happily.

You finally felt happy, cured. Not from the love you had for Kate, but from the hatred and pain that had been forced on you all of your life. A life that you were ready to spend with Kate.