#there’s a reason it’s in my top 20 it fucking slaps

[mooseonahunt]

Looking at my year in music and I am surprised that Welcome To Valdelobos by Alita Nightsbane was in my Top 20 tracks while not a single FOB song made it.

[andromedasummer]

around about this time last year the protests on parliament ended violently but god is the impact still visible. the whole month they blocked access to one of the two cafe bookstores run by the uni where you can grab a coffee/food, your textbooks and a bunch of other literature. they broke a window and glass door, meaning after they cleared out the cafe still had to wait to open and their overtaking of the main bus station and train station meant a lot of people (myself included) couldnt come into uni and had to buy our 1st trimester textbooks online.

the bookstore at the campus beside parliament and the bus station/train station shut some months ago. the one at my main campus up the hill will be gone in a month, with the loss of tri one sales being what put them under. so there will be no physical place you can buy textbooks in the city all because those fucking moron protestors who think having to get a vaccine is what communism and fascism is so students have to spend god knows how much more money shipping the books in from other cities/countries. and sure i graduate in a few months but my brother is here another 4 years! this city is already the most expensive place for students to live! like, fuck!!!

[itadodori]

professor!gojo who could sense your jealousy every time he had a conversation with his coworker, utahime. the type of man gojo was, he’d do it on purpose. just to see if he could get a rise out of you. sadly.. his plans always worked. every single time you saw the two of them talking the only thing you wanted to do was smack both of them, but you couldn’t.

your relationship with him had to remain a secret or you’d be kicked out of uni, and he’d loose his job. that’s the reason gojo loved ticking you off so much.. he knew there was nothing you could do about it.

well.. he may have forgotten the fact that you were one petty woman. you were sick of gojo’s little mind games so you thought why not play along? maybe this would get him to stop toying around with you.

all it took was for you to say one word to professor toji, who was at the top of gojo’s most hated list. when he saw you in toji’s class after hours giggling and wearing that short ass skirt of yours.. he lost it.

toji fushiguro? did you really have to go that low?

“quit the cryin’ already. you did this to yourself.” gojo had you bent over his lap— ass in the air as he delivered a stinging slap.

he’s been at this for hours. you lost count of how many times he spanked your ass, but from the excruciating pain on both your cheeks.. you’d say about over 20 times.

“’m sorry baby.. but you made me mad!” you croaked, hands quickly flying to his as he tried to deliver another smack.

but of course.. he was gojo. so you couldn’t hold him off for too long.

“grab my hand again and im gonna start spanking that pretty little pussy instead..” he found himself slipping his fingers through your folds— toying with your throbbing clit. “would you like that, baby? hmm?”

he wasted no time slipping his fingers into you, yanking your hair in the process, forcing you to look at him.

“who’s pussy is this? better answer me before i get upset pretty girl.”

“y..yours- aw fuck! it’s all yours daddy!” you didn’t notice it at first, but from the position he forced you in, you had a clear view of his neck.

the black ink was too hard to miss. your name, in big bold letters was tattooed on the side of his neck. anyone that walked passed him would see it if they looked close enough. he’d have to hide it during work.

“oh.. you like my new tattoo mama?” gojo chuckled lowly— sliding his fingers out of you just to slam them back in a second later. “i got it just for you.. so everyone can know who i belong to.”

those words alone made your pussy flutter, and you couldn’t stop yourself from getting tighter around his thick fingers.

“g..gojo please.”

he completely ignored your cries as he watched your pussy suck his fingers in, mesmerized by the sight. right now any sense of logic he once had was gone, and the only thing he was focused on was drilling it into your dumb little head that you were his.

“but don’t worry baby.. daddy’s got some other ways to prove his loyalty to you.” you had no clue what he could be hinting towards— nor did you care. right now your body was too overstimulated to think straight.

“maybe i should put some babies in this cute lil tummy.. let everyone know you’re my wife?”

all rights reserved ©itadodori ♡

[witchywcmans]

AGAINST THE LAW. | KEN RYUGUJI

synopsis ━━ after one too many trips to the auto repair shop with your old car, you realize you can focus on your work tasks so much better in the waiting room. but when the head mechanic notices you've been loitering, you recognize him instantly: ken ryuguji. there’s zero chance you’re getting out of this one. (older!draken x f!reader.)

content warnings ━━ missionary position on a motorcycle (hey, this is fiction), cunnilingus + fingering, praise, semi-public sex, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, pet names (i.e. cherry), mentions loss of virginity in the past, mutual pining, au as helllll, draken is in his late 20s and a mechanic. nsfw (minors + ageless blogs dni).

word count ━━ 5.2k

song inspiration ━━ one for the road, arctic monkeys / one of the girls, the weeknd / fallen star, the neighbourhood

author's note ━━ ok off the bat, I just wanna say this fic was completely inspired by this movie called wait with me. my friends and I like to watch passionflix movies for the laughs, but this one wasn't. well horrible. if you watch it, don't expect oscar-worthy performances, but it was fun and stupid and yeah, it made me think about what if part of this concept was applied to draken when he was older, workin as a mechanic. idk. I'm not caught up on the manga whatsoever so take this as a major au lol

Your car was a piece of shit, but that wasn’t the only reason you ended up sitting in the waiting room at the mechanic’s more than usual. A police officer would call it loitering. You, on the other hand, called it a safe space. For the past couple of weeks, your car had been in and out of the shop due to a faulty ignition sensor that your mechanic couldn’t nail down until your car broke down on the side of the highway. For the third time. Needless to say, it had been a stressful past month. The car issues had been one thing, but then there was all the pressure at work. And for some reason, you began to find comfort in working at the mechanic’s waiting room.

Your work as a journalist was very important to you. A perfectionist at heart, you needed to be in the right zone, the right state of mind, to write. Unfortunately, you weren’t someone who could sit at your desk at home for hours, typing away at the speed of light, and you definitely couldn’t focus at a coffee shop. You tried a plethora of other places. The local park: your laptop died. The library: teenagers still whispered too loud even in the quietest of places. The McDonald's parking lot: you got distracted by your hunger. Nowhere was right … until you were forced to work from your mechanic’s waiting room while he worked on your car. 

Even when your mechanic figured out the issue, you couldn’t help but sneak in through the entrance late mornings and work on your articles. The waiting room was just so … quiet, even more quiet than a library. There was hardly anyone in there besides the retired folk who could wait all day for their car to be fixed. You had a coffee machine at your disposable – not good coffee, but good enough – and a selection of snacks from the vending machine. It was pure bliss. You liked to hole yourself up in the corner, picking out different outfits that would conceal your face enough, and type away until the sun began to set. No one said a word to you. No one batted an eye.

So, as you can see, it was a surprise to you when someone eventually approached you two months into your loitering scheme.

It was just about closing time and you were shoving your laptop in your backpack after sending off another draft to your editor. A pair of feet appeared in front of your chair, and when you looked up at the young mechanic chewing on the end of a toothpick, you knew you were fucked. 

“Toyota,” he said without missing a beat, knowing your car from the top of his head, “ignition sensor, right?”

You paused, sliding on your backpack. Could you make a break for it? “Um … correct.”

“That was fixed weeks ago,” he said, slapping a dirty rag on his shoulder, car keys dangling from the other hand. 

Your mouth went completely dry. How the fuck could you explain this without coming off as a total weirdo? Your hands gripped the straps of your backpack for dear life. This was so embarrassing.

Before you could reply, the young mechanic gestured to the back door with his chin. “Follow me,” he said. “Boss wants to talk to ‘ya.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Still fiddling with your backpack straps, you knew there was no choice but to follow this guy. He led you through the back door and into the main workshop area of the shop. There were some cars left on a few lifts, ready to be inspected tomorrow, and the shelves packed with parts seemed to be in disarray. Besides that, there was no one in here but you, the young mechanic, and whoever this “boss” was still working in the back of the shop. You had never met the owner of the shop before; you typically worked with your mechanic and no one else.

You took down the hood that you’d been wearing today. There was no use in hiding your face now.

“Here she is, boss,” the man beside you said, still twirling those keys. “Can I go home now?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the boss replied, hidden behind the huge motorcycle he was working on. “Good work today.”

The younger man left, the bell above the office door jingling, and now it was just two: you and this so-called boss you’d never met. You stood there in silence, hands fidgeting with anxiety, as you waited for the boss to say something. From behind the motorcycle, all you could see was a flash of blonde hair and smoke puffing out into the dingy air. It smelled like motor oil and cigarettes back here.

You lifted your foot – maybe it was time to try and sprint out – but then a deep voice entered the work space.

“You know that loitering is against the law, right?”

That voice … it was familiar, but you couldn’t put a pin on it. And then, the boss was standing up, and you saw the tuft of blonde hair slicked back, the shaved sides on his head. That infamous dragon tattoo still on his left temple. The little hoop on his left ear was accompanied by a few other small piercings. He was still the same height – over six feet – but had grown some muscle. His hands were calloused from all those years of fighting, and now, from heavy labor. And those eyes … they were still as stormy and dark as the first day you saw him in school.

This wasn’t just embarrassing. This was mortifying.

“C’mon, Cherry,” Draken said, instantly recognizing you and your old nickname, “you know you can’t loiter in my shop.”

Cherry. You hadn’t been called that since … well, since high school. Your classmates hadn’t started calling you that because of a specific physical trait. To your face, you were told the nickname was for your quick skill of tying a cherry stem into a knot with your tongue. You had been the best, after all. But unbeknownst to you, the nickname came from when Mikey Sano, the infamous former leader of the Tokyo Manji Gang, popped your cherry.

You hadn’t even liked Mikey at the time. You were just sweet sixteen, and he was a year older, and you had assumed it would be better for your first to be someone with experience. Unfortunately, Mikey Sano had no experience. The sex had been awkward and terrible, as most first times between teenagers are, but at least you could say that you lost your virginity to the leader of Toman. Your eyes had always been on someone else, though. Someone who you had been too nervous to talk to, who you had only shared just a few interactions with. You never had a crush on Mikey as a teenager; you had always liked –

“Draken,” you said finally, shock lining your voice. Your eyes formed into wide saucers. It had been so long, and he was here. This whole time. Right under your nose. How surprised did you look right now?

He chuckled, wiping his hands off on a rag. The cigarette dangling from his lips was plucked out, and he stabbed it into an ashtray. “Don’t look so surprised.”

Oh, so you did look that shocked to see him.

He threw the tool he’d been using on a bench and stepped around the bike. “I really don’t go by Draken anymore,” he continued, sitting down on the rusted motorcycle, stretching his legs out. “Just call me, Ken.”

You were speechless. Were you breathing right now? You had to admit … you still found him to be handsome. He always had been. God, you were obsessed with him in high school, but always hid your crush in the shadows. Not even your friends knew about it, but you’d made it obvious, even if you didn’t know it. And now … he’d gotten better with age. The lines underneath his eyes told a story, as well as the scars etched into his veiny forearms. He could have more that you couldn’t see underneath the tattoos on his arms. Your mouth was so dry from staring at him that you had to lick the corners of your lips.

“Ken,” you said in a single breath, lacing your hands together in front of your body. You hadn’t moved from your spot, even when he was looking at you so casually. “I’m so sorry for loitering. Please, don’t call the cops on me. Or something. I have a reason –”

“Me? Call the police?” He laughed again, and it was just like how you remembered. “Do you know me at all, Cherry?”

Once you found the courage to breathe again, you stepped forward. Then another. And another. “I guess I don’t,” you shrugged, still playing with your hands. “I guess I just knew of you.”

“And I knew of you, all those years ago.” He smiled like you two were in on a secret. The rag that had been in his hands was tossed onto his left shoulder. He was wearing a pair of grey coveralls stained with oil, but the top half was unzipped and tied around his waist, leaving him in just a white tank top on his torso, which hugged his muscles so nicely. “So, tell me then. What’s the reason for your loitering?”

This had to be the most words shared between you two than all those years at school together. You thought about pinching yourself, just to check if this was all part of an elaborate dream. Or nightmare, depending on how it ended.

“Um …” You rubbed the back of your neck, blushing slightly. “Well, you see … the waiting room at your shop is very … quiet.”

His brow raised. “So I’ve been told.” He stared you down. “C’mon, out with it.”

“You’re going to make fun of me.”

“I will not.”

“Yes, you will.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because we went to school together!”

“Oh, you know that means noth –”

“I’m a journalist and I write my articles better in your waiting room,” you finally answered, crossing your arms over your chest. “There. I said it.”

Draken couldn’t stop himself from laughing. He knew he promised, but the giggles bubbled up inside him, forcing themselves to emerge. You looked at him incredulously, blinking too fast. All you wanted right now was to crawl into a hole and be left alone. You had to find a new mechanic after this.

“You said you wouldn’t make fun of me,” you sighed.

He waved his hand as his laughter died down. “I’m not. I promise.” Finally, his shoulders sagged again and he stood up. “I think it’s really cool that you … like my waiting room so much.”

You found your lips pulling into a smile at the same time as him. The tension broke and you felt your dimples crease. “I also like all the little snacks in the machine.”

“And the coffee?” He added.

You shrugged. “Could use some work.”

Draken laughed again, and just the sound of it made butterflies form in your stomach. You never had such a reaction to someone laughing before. What was wrong with you?

He stuck his hands in the front pockets of his coveralls. “It’s … really nice to see you again, Cherry.”

You mimicked his actions, instead sliding your hands into the back pockets of your jeans. “You too, Ken.”

“I won’t bust you for loitering, by the way. Even if it is against the law,” he chuckled under his breath, whipping the rag off his shoulder once again. “Come over here. Let me show you what I’m working on.”

His tone was so casual, as if years hadn’t passed between you two, as if this wasn’t the most you talked in years. You set your backpack down and approached him in front of the bike. Your fingers ran over the slope of the seat, all new despite the rusty exterior of the motorcycle. “That’s new leather,” he informed you. “Feel free to test it out. I need someone else’s butt on this thing so I know if I chose a good material.”

You giggled, all light and flirty. You simply couldn’t help it, especially when he looked at you with those dark eyes, the corners creasing when he smiled. Without missing a beat, you sat down on the side of the bike, like he had minutes ago, and looked up at him. He was tall, but from this seat, he was even taller. 

He pointed to the wheel of the bike, and then the headlight. “I just started replacing the …” His voice drowned out as you simply focused on his lips. His mouth quirked as he explained what he fixed so far on the bike. You watched his finger dance around the bike, taking in the rough exterior of his hands up close. They were so much bigger now, amongst other things –

“So how’s that seat?”

You blinked, bringing yourself out of your horny stupor. “Oh, um – comfy. Very comfy.” You cleared your throat. “So … is this for a customer?”

“It’s mine. This is a personal project,” he explained, leaning slightly to the left, closer to you. “I wouldn’t be working on anything this late except if it was for me.”

His eyes were on you again, drinking you in as you sat on the bike. He placed his hand on the fuel tank, so close to yours. Your stomach was definitely doing flip-flops now, especially when you noticed the way his eyes raked down your figure. You wished you’d chosen something better to wear, something other than a pair of jeans and a cropped hoodie, but you’d only expected to be getting work done in the waiting room today. Not to be confronted by your old school crush. But it looked like it didn’t matter to him. The way he was looking at you … it felt like you were naked.

“It really is nice to see you again,” he said, voice just slightly above a whisper. His stance changed and he moved to stand between your legs.

You bit your lip for a moment. “You already said that.”

“You’re right. Uh … I …” He looked down at his hands, flexing them, breaking his nerves. “You just … look very pretty … sitting on my bike.”

You looked down at yourself. The way you sat with your legs spread wide was anything but attractive, and it wasn’t like you were wearing a cute, little dress. “I do?”

But when you lifted your stare again, his face was so much closer to yours. He was leaning down now, bracing two hands on the leather seat, and trying to pretend like he wasn’t inhaling your perfume. You just smelled … so good. Like strawberries and apples and … cherries. Red, ripened cherries. And the way you were sitting on that seat, eyes wide and cheeks blushing from being caught earlier. Fuck, it reminded him of the first time he saw you in high school. He had been a horny teenager, of course, but the way he saw you tie that cherry stem with your tongue … you were the first person he ever jerked off to the thought of. He had never made a move on you – ever – but at this moment, he was glad. Because things would’ve been different, and you never would’ve ended up loitering at his shop, and you never would’ve been sitting so pretty on his bike, all these years later.

“I just …” He trailed off, words failing him, as he lifted a hand to skim it over your jawline. “You can tell me to stop.”

But you didn’t. You wouldn’t. Your eyes simply batted up at him, leaning into his touch when his fingers caressed your cheek. Your skin immediately flushed. You were so soft, and warm, and god, did his skin prickle when he touched you. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” He muttered, voice gravely. You nodded instantly, and his thumb went to trace the outline of your lips. “I had always been … jealous that Mikey got to you first.”

Had your feelings in high school been reciprocated and you didn’t even know it? You licked at the corners of your lips, your tongue quickly flicking his thumb in the process. “You were?” You asked, already feeling yourself getting wet from just him tracing your lips. “I … never really liked Mikey anyways.” You then shook your head. “It feels silly to talk about this so many years later –”

Draken turned your face back to his, looking into your eyes sternly. “You never liked Mikey,” he said, point blank, pressing his thumb onto your bottom lip.

Without hesitation, you wrapped your lips around his thumb, swirling your tongue around the fingertip. You shook your head at his question.

His breath hitched. Just the sight of your lips around his thumb had him adjusting himself in his pants. He could feel his cock start to swell with need, causing him to mumble a soft, “Fuck,” under his breath.

You weren’t just wet now. You were soaked.

You slipped your mouth off his thumb, leaving a tiny trail of spit. His face immediately got closer, his lips grazing yours. He could tell they were soft, and even your chapstick smelled like cherries. God, how could he be so hard already? “I liked you back when we were teenagers,” you confessed, reaching out to hook your thumbs in the belt loops on his coveralls. “I was too scared to say anything, and Mikey … he’d just been there. Right place at the right time. We really didn’t feel anything for each other.”

Your words stirred something within him, something more than jealousy. Was it regret? The fact that he could’ve had you, all those years ago, if he’d just manned up and asked. He could’ve fought people all day, but when it came to asking out the girl he liked, he’d sat back, let his best friend pop your cherry. It should’ve been him. Fuck, it could’ve been him. 

His lips pressed to yours instantly, needing to taste the sweetness on your lips. His tongue darted out, swiping at that cherry flavor, and he moaned. Actually moaned. Draken wasn’t known to be weak for anyone, but you … you had always been a different story. You pulled him in closer by his belt loops, tipping your face up as he leaned over you. His mouth devoured yours, his tongue slipping past your lips once again to explore your mouth. He gripped the edge of the seat, his other hand cradling your jaw, and you wanted him so much closer. If he just put his knee between your legs, you could –

There it was. He did it, placing his knee right in the perfect spot. You bucked your hips up, setting a slow grind against his knee as he kissed you with feverish intent. Moans fell from your lips and into the kiss, making the tent in his pants grow bigger every passing second. He was so fucking hard now, and he needed more of you. He would have more of you.

“No, stop,” he muttered, breaking the kiss and moving his knee away. You huffed with disappointment, wanting that delicious friction once again, but when you opened your eyes, he was staring at you with purpose. “Please, let me taste you.”

You nodded dumbly, eyes blown out with lust. All you could say was, “Okay.”

In another life, you would’ve said something endearing, or maybe even hit him with a little dirty talk. But you absolutely couldn’t right now. Your head was swimming, the image of him unzipping your jeans and taking them off felt like it was out of a fever dream. Is this what it felt like to drown? No, you were breathing – just about – and Draken was throwing your pants off to the side, kneeling before you. Your legs spread wide as you sat on the bike. Surely, there could’ve been a better place to do this, but the way he was staring at your soaked panties, pushing them to the side to take in your pussy … you knew there was no stopping him. This was just his first course of the night.

His tongue dove between your wet folds, drinking you in like a glass of lemonade on a hot summer’s day. You knew you were done for when his arms wrapped around your legs, holding them apart, giving himself better access to one thing he’d craved for years. He rolled his tongue over your swollen clit, enjoying the sounds that slipped out of your mouth. You muttered obscenities, bucked your hips without thinking, pulled on his slicked-back hair. Anything to give you more friction on your precious, aching clit.

He dragged his tongue down, pushing it inside your warmth, collecting the arousal and groaning like a man starved. Fucking his tongue into you, he angled his nose to brush your clit, and you just about mewled. You had spent so many years either having mediocre sex or stressing over this stupid job, when this – this man you had been in love with in school – was here the whole time, just dreaming about the day he could eat your pussy. So much time wasted, so many fake orgasms, while Ken Ryuguji owned your favorite auto shop, so close to you and right under your nose. 

You were pretty sure the seat on this bike had to have been ruined. Draken was turning you into a wet mess, making your hips buck against his face. His lips wrapped your beloved clit, sucking and pulling, needing more – so much more – of you. Slipping two fingers inside you, he pumped them fast. It didn’t take long for his fingers to curl and find that sweet spot that had your core trembling around him. He didn’t know what he’d do if you came on his face. Honestly, he’d probably cum in his pants on the spot.

“C’mon … c’mon … you can cum in my m–mouth –” He was practically begging, his voice muffled from deep within your thighs. “Tastes so, so good … fuck, Cherry, fuck –”

You couldn’t stop yourself, couldn’t even think about anything but the way his tongue lapped at your clit, before you were cumming on his tongue, your arousal smearing all over his lips. He moaned the second he got just a hint of your essence, burying his face more into your legs. You tasted better than candy, than cherries, than menthol cigarettes. He could spend forever between these thighs, drinking you in and listening to your desperate moans.

Once your body stopped shaking, he dragged his tongue one last time through your folds, making sure he didn’t miss a drop. You yelped from the overstimulation, and when you opened your eyes, he was rising from in between your legs. His licked at your slick still staining his lips, bringing your mouth to his again, letting you taste yourself. Your hands fisted into his shirt, downright desperate for more of him. As if reading your thoughts, he pulled back.

“I know it’s not ideal, given the place we’re in, but …” He cradled your face in both in his hands, as if you were just a baby bird. “Can I fuck you, Cherry?”

You nodded without hesitation, already drunk on his touch. You weren’t exactly sure how he planned on doing this. I mean … you two were in the dirty workshop area of an auto repair shop. This wasn’t exactly the best place to have sex. But then he was adjusting your position on the motorcycle, laying your head down by the handlebar and pulling your legs on both sides of the seat, your ass resting nicely in the curve. His hands were quick to roll off your panties.

“Ken,” you called out, sitting up a little and dragging your hand up. His white tank bunched up at the waist. “Wanna see more of you …”

Draken was so goddamn hard in his pants, his cock throbbing with the anticipation of being inside you, but you were just so pretty and he was putty in your hands. He let your palms explore him, lifting his tank top up so you could see what the fabric had been concealing. He’d really filled out since school – his arms were toned, his abdomen more defined. He looked like the statue of Apollo, all lean and muscled, but with just the right amount of grit. You liked that he never got his dragon tattoo removed (although, that would’ve been very painful), and that his piercings remained the same. Everything about him seemed untouched, but he’d just gotten better with age. Just the sight of him made your mouth water.

You leaned back down on the bike, bringing him down with you. Your lips pressed against his hungrily, and he was so, so tempted to slip his tongue into your mouth, when he felt his cock hard as a rock in his pants, aching and pulsating. His mouth broke away from yours, and he whispered, quite hopelessly, “I’m so sorry, but I really, really need to be inside you or my dick is going to explode.”

A chuckle escaped your lips, and just the sound of it made Draken smile. You nodded, urging him to continue, and he quickly unzipped the bottom half of his coveralls. He took his cock out: it was long, curved, pink at the tip, and leaking precum on the shop floor. All the more reason to be inside you; he couldn’t have his mechanics seeing that on the floor and wondering what he was doing after hours. He pulled a condom out from his wallet and slid the ribbed rubber on. Lifting both your legs onto his shoulders, your ass was almost rising off the seat and he positioned himself between your thighs, noticing the way your slick was smeared all over his seat. He grunted at the sight of it, slamming his cock into your without thinking.

You cried out, feeling him so deep so quickly. He held your legs up, leaning down as far as he could, and muttered, “Fuck, I’m sorry – so sorry – just … needed to be inside you. Needed to fuck you on my bike.”

You hand came up to cup his chin for a moment. “S’okay,” you promised, “just fuck me like you should’ve done years ago, Draken.”

He knew he told you to call him Ken, but just the nickname falling your lips in such a filthy manner had him groaning. Draken pulled out of you until only the tip remained, and then pounded his cock back inside you. You keened, trying to close your legs, but he held them up by his shoulders. He set a fast pace inside you, unable to keep his moans at bay, and slipped one hand off your leg to snake his fingers up your hoodie, pushing it up to your chin. Pulling your breasts out from your bra, his eyes clouded and played with your sensitive nipples. “So good,” he muttered, teeth sinking into his bottom lip for a moment. “Feels so, so good … needed you for so long, Cherry.”

“I know, I know, Draken,” you whimpered, locking your arms around his neck to bring his face closer to yours, your thighs now curling against your chest. Your back ached against the seat and your legs burned from the uncomfortable position, but you wouldn’t dare push him away, not when he was filling you like this. 

With his lips just grazing yours, he tugged on your lip, making you moan, and he fucked into you harder. Your nails were now dragging down his shoulders, leaving marks that he’d think about forever. “Fuck, I’m s’deep … so deep inside you. You’re so warm, so wet – fuck, I’m so close already.”

“Wait for me,” you begged, sighing as his cock curved against your sweet spot. “Wanna cum with you, Draken.”

“I know, Cherry,” he grunted, his pace relentless. Fuck, this was all he ever needed, all he wanted to do, forever. It felt like you were made to take him. “Touch yourself f’me. Cum together … we’ll cum together.”

You nodded quickly, moving your hand in between your bodies, finding your puffy clit so easily. A whine escaped your lips as you fingers rubbed little circles, getting you so close already. You just needed a little push. Draken was slamming into you, his breaths fanning your cheeks, and when he felt your legs start to shake, your walls clenching just a little, he almost died. “Such a good girl …” He cooed, nose brushing yours. “Touching yourself f’me so nicely … fuck, you take me so well … yes, yes, you’re so close. Just like that.”

Your fingers rubbed a little faster, and you knew your orgasm was imminent. With him pushing into you, filling you completely, and the stimulation on your clit … you felt your lips purse into an O-shape. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Draken. I’m gonna … fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“I know, I know,” he groaned. “Fuck – gonna cum too. That’s a good girl … doing so good – fuck –”

His release came first. He had been close for so long, Draken was surprised he’d been able to hold back. He came with a loud groan, spilling himself into the condom, and it was only seconds later that your jaw went slack with pleasure. His name fell from your lips in a whimper, and you kept rubbing that aching clit through your orgasm, going tight around his cock. He wouldn’t stop fucking into you, even when your orgasm subsided, needing to feel you clench around him for just a moment longer. The way he filled you wasn’t like any other. You never wanted to feel empty again. You couldn’t, not when you knew how Ken Ryuguji felt inside you.

When you both eventually stopped trembling, he gently placed your legs back down on the sides of the bike. They felt sore and limp, but that was the last thing on your mind. You opened your eyes at the same time, and you both couldn’t help but laugh at the position you were in, the absurdity of it all. The workshop smelled like gas and oil, and you were surrounded by broken-down cars. But you two had fucked like you were in a bedroom, on a soft mattress, rather than a motorcycle. You hand went over your mouth to suppress your giggles.

Draken smiled with you, and then removed your hand, liking the way you laughed. “I know it’s been a long time coming, but … can I take you out some night?”

You couldn’t stop smiling even if you tried. “I’d like that, Ken.”

His cock had gone soft, but he was still nestled inside you, basking in your warmth. Draken wished he could be inside you forever, with your fingers playing with his hair. He would give anything for this moment to last, but he knew this position on the bike had to be the most uncomfortable for you, and he needed to take off this condom. He chuckled under his breath.

“Also, in case you were wondering,” he said, lips pulling into a smirk. “You can loiter around my waiting room anytime.”

[sunflowerwinds]

only on camera | e.w

summary: you and your girlfriend, ellie, find an old camcorder at local thrift store. it’s fun, domestic, and sweet until the two of you decide to use it to make your own personal movie.

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

contains: mature content, modern! ellie, established relationship, fluff, smut— oral (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), reader and ellie are roughly 19-20, ellie is obsessed with reader, reader is described to have a soft stomach and stretch marks so its open to all body types.

word count: 3.3K

a/n: i’ve been debating to post another ellie oneshot and even writing anymore for a while now because of everything that has been going on gaza. i hope you guys click on the links below to educate and keep yourself updated on the horrors that the people of gaza are going through. free palestine.

FREE PALESTINE | DAILY CLICK | DO NOT BUY TLOU2 REMASTERED

It started on a simple thrifting date.

You and Ellie often shopped at your local thrift stores for a multitude of reasons: it's cheap for not only clothing but accessories as well. You had a slight addiction to the purse and jeans section. There was nothing you loved more than finding a good pair of jeans.

But today, you decided to linger in the electronics section. Ellie trailed behind you with a shopping cart that already had a bunch of pants and cheesy graphic tees for the two of you to try on.

You picked up a small speaker, examining it for its quality.

“Ellie?” You hum to Ellie who was already holding up a chunky VHS camera.

“Babe, check this out,” Ellie walked around the cart to hold up the flipped screen to you.

You set the speaker down on the metal shelf, leaning over to see that the early late 90’s camera was still working properly. With just your luck, too, there were a few tapes next to where Ellie had picked it up from.

“Holy shit, this still works?” You grin as you fidget with the settings. “Should we get this?”

Ellie let out a scoff before nodding: “Fuck yeah. We could record videos to look back on when we’re miserable and old as shit. Like thirty or something.”

You shake your head at her dramatics.

“Thirty is not old but yeah, it could be fun.” You lean into her side, pointing to the tapes and charger that were still plugged into the camcorder. “Grab the tapes, please?”

You tilt your head with a smile at her. Ellie blushes at the eye contact you made with her, kissing your cheek before taking the tapes and charger into her hands. She nervously scratched at her ear as she set the objects into the cart where the child seat was, hoping you didn't see how pink her cheeks turned.

God, she was so adorable.

She would deny the accusation constantly with a shake of her head and a mutter of ‘no, I’m not’ being the stubborn girl she is.

After trying that on all of the clothing, you ended up only narrowing down to a few pairs of jeans and the camera plus the equipment. Once you got back to Ellie’s place, it started out with a few recordings of you doing nothing.

“So, vlog, my beautiful, hot, and sexy girlfriend is getting ready for the day,” Ellie pressed record and held up the camera to you who was applying sunscreen to your freshly washed face. “Not that she needs to because, damn, look at her.”

You let out a groan as you shake your head, now applying your moisturizer right after.

“Babe, you can record at any other time. Why right now?” You chuckle as she just gets closer, zooming into your eyes.

“What do you have to say to your future self who is probably already very happily married to me?” Ellie ignores your complaint, grinning as she backs up a little to get your entire face into the frame.

“Is she still giving that good top?” You deadpan to which Ellie chuckles at.

“I wish I could stop, baby,” she cups your face with one hand, smirking from behind the camera.

“Els,’” you trail off, almost warningly as your cheeks flushed.

Without missing a beat, you playfully slap the camera out gently of your face. Ellie dramatically gasps at your actions, holding the camera at an angle so she can clean the lens with her black wife pleaser.

“Hey! You brought it up.” She shrugged her shoulders as if it were nothing, showing off her outfit in the full-body mirror on the back of the bedroom door.

You smile adoringly at her from your set-up in your vanity mirror, hearing her hype herself up. You had just applied a good amount of your base before motioning for her to come over to you once again. Ellie walked over to you, grinning happily.

“It’s your turn, Els,” you grab the chunky camera from her.

She reluctantly lets you take it from her and crosses her arms in front of her chest, looking at you patiently. You pan the camera up and down as she was wearing a very basic outfit but damn, she always looked good. The way she crossed her arms accentuated her biceps and the big tattoo on her forearm.

“What do you have to say to your future self, baby?” You look at her through the small screen and then at her in real life.

Ellie hummed as she scratched at her jaw. The awful lighting from just your open-blind window made it more homey to you.

“You better not fuck it up with this perfect girl right here.” Ellie points to you with a slight grin as she notices your own smile from behind the camera.

A lot of the videos were just like that. Domestic and homey as the locations changed between your house and hers. Joel even made a few appearances like, for instance, his 58th birthday. All of your family and Joel’s threw a barbecue to which you and Ellie had traded interviewing your sides of the family.

Sarah gave a few loving words for her dad, Jesse, and Dina covered the lens the entire time Ellie tried to record them, and your parents made a few jokes about him being ‘damn near in the grave already.’

Now, you were standing in front of Joel who was working the grill. Ellie was busy already tearing into a few hot dogs so you took the time to ask him some questions.

“So, Joel, how do you feel being fifty-eight?” You record him.

“I feel the same as last year. Ain’t nothin’ special,” he shook his head as if you were bothering him but you knew he was just being a grump for the camera.

“Well, birthday boy, describe what it's like being almost sixty,” you chuckle as he places a hand on his hip, looking at you this time with raised brows.

“Old as hell. Now, here, eat.” He grumbled as he grabbed a hot dog for you and placed it on a paper plate.

You giggled as his southern accent was hilarious when he got all grumpy. He just sounded like a Texan grandpa who’s always complaining about kids these days.

“I figured. Happy birthday, Joel.” You warmly smile at him as you shut the small screen and walk over to hug him.

He tensed for a moment, holding the tongs out of the way. He relaxed into your embrace before pointing at your hot dog.

“Thanks, kid. Now, eat before the damn flies get to it first.” Joel kissed the top of your head before releasing your body.

You let out a soft laugh as you grabbed the white plate before walking over to where Ellie was sitting with her step-sister, Sarah. You send Sarah a smile as you set the camera down next to Ellie, watching her lick the mustard off of her fingers. You grimace at her messy eating before Sarah tells her to stop being gross.

Ellie put her middle finger up at her with an annoyed expression. You grabbed her finger and put it down as your parents were only a few feet away from the two of you.

A few more days passed and you and Ellie had a rather sensual make-out session in her bedroom. Her hands were already up your Beatles oversized t-shirt, the feeling of her palms groping at your tits sending shivers up your spine. You were underneath her, your own hands cupping the sides of her face as you moaned softly into her mouth.

Ellie pulled away suddenly which only caused you to whine, missing her touch.

“Can I get the camera, baby?” She asked you, moving one of her hands down to your hips underneath your shirt and squeezing the flesh.

You nod your head frantically, not even hesitating. The idea was brought up maybe two minutes after purchasing the camera. Ellie said it as a joke but you knew that you would make a million sex tapes with your girl. She made you feel like the sexiest version of yourself and you were curious to see what that looked like on video. Plus, no risk of it getting stuck on the cloud of either of your phones.

Ellie leaned down to peck your lips as she stood up from her bed to grab it from the top of her dresser, right next to her cologne. You sit up slightly as you wait patiently for her to start the camera fixing your hair a bit. You knew the footage was solely going to be between you and her but it didn't hurt to try and make sure you look good.

“Look at my pretty girl,” Ellie’s voice is dripping in lust as she points the lens directly at your flushed and panting figure on the bed.

You somehow managed to blush even more, practically beaming at her compliment. You didn't know what to do now that it was a reality. All you were doing was looking up at her from her standing figure.

How did pornstars do this?

“What do you want me to do, hmm?” Ellie cupped your cheek, her inked arm coming into the frame.

Your face leaned into her touch, sighing at the feeling. Her thumb teasing ran over the swollen skin of your bottom lip. Being the horny shit you were, your jaw fell open in hopes Ellie would slip the finger into your awaiting mouth.

But no; she continued to trace the supple skin with a cocky grin on her face.

“You want my finger, baby?” Ellie hums as she tightens her grip ever so slightly.

“Maybe.” You raise your brows, your pupils blown with desire practically giving you away.

“Maybe?” She looks at you with her head tilted, her own brows raised to match yours. “The way you instantly opened your mouth said something way different.”

You shake your head and take her thumb into your mouth seconds after that, sucking on it with a smile. Ellie muttered a curse under her breath as she watched you through the pixelated screen, wondering how she got so lucky with you.

You, being the tease you are, pull away after about a minute to look up at her with need in your eyes. While still looking up at her, you removed your oversized tee to reveal your bare chest. Your hair settled over your shoulders, framing your face perfectly. You were only in your cheeky cotton maroon panties.

“Jesus, fuck me.” Ellie angled the camera down to your tits, having a little too much fun holding it.

“Alright, give me it, Els.” You snatched the camera from her, pointing it up at Ellie’s towering figure. “You want to eat me out or what?”

Ellie couldn't help but chuckle at your bluntness and confidence now that the camera wasn’t on you. Regardless, she kneeled down on the bed with a ready sigh. She leaned over the camera to capture your lips into a gentle kiss, making you smile giddily.

Your smile was infectious, Ellie, too, smiling so much to the point where she had to pull away. Ellie began to scoot more down your body as you pointed the camera down at her figure. She was caressing your sides as her lips kissed at your chest, moving more and more downwards to your tits. Your breath hitches as she takes your left nipple into her mouth, the warmth and wetness of her tongue sending pleasure down your spine.

Ellie palms both of your tits, looking up at the lens and then your flushed face from behind it. She continues to suck on your hard nipple, smirking when your hips buck into her own.

“Feels good, Els,” you whimper, your arms already becoming weaker.

Ellie hums against your damp skin, pulling away to grope and admire them. She was annoyingly still in her sports bra and her boxers, revealing nothing to you. If you weren't so clouded by the want of her mouth on your pussy, you would’ve said something.

Ellie’s long fingers hook at the waistband of your panties, looking up at you with a silent question of if it was okay. You nod with a grin, lifting your hips to help her. Ellie slid the dampened underwear down your legs. You could see the wet patch on the crotch area, a slight pang of embarrassment flowing through you.

Ellie, thankfully, began to place feather-soft kisses on the plush of your stomach. You watch her trail her lips down from your skin, inching closer to above your pubic bone.

“Fuck, baby, look at how wet you are,” Ellie teased your drenched folds, the obscene sound causing you to blush shyly.

She holds up her pointer and middle finger, the clear slick of your arousal glistening. She practically shoves them into the lens as you groan at her actions.

“Els, please, don’t. I don’t want my… juices on the camera.” You cringe at the way you phrased it but end up giggling at Ellie’s disgusted face.

“Well, I love your juices,” Ellie quickly grinned devilishly as she sucked off those fingers.

She drove you insane with the smallest things. When she kissed and caressed the plush of your hips and thighs, whispering how ‘sexy’ and ‘perfect’ you are to her. Even touching into the stuff you tended to be more insecure about like the stretch marks on your body.

You never worried about those toxic mind-consuming thoughts with Ellie.

”Can I see the camera, baby? Wanna get this view right here.” Ellie reached for it to which you handed back.

She aimed the camera lens more towards your crotch, legs spread to reveal how much your cunt was needing some release. You suck in a deep breath and adjust yourself as Ellie muttered praises as she ran her fingers carefully over your throbbing clit and soaked folds.

Beginning to grow impatient, you let out a soft noise. Ellie notices that you are becoming more and more needy for something, anything, so she leans over your panting body and sets the camera on the bedside table. The small screen was flipped so that Ellie could adjust it so that the two of you were in the frame. Your hands find their way over Ellie’s body and up into her hair.

You tug her down into a messy kiss, humming as Ellie is caught off guard by your force and nearly slipping from how she was holding herself up with one arm. She moaned softly against your lips, enjoying how your nails were scraping against her scalp.

She hungrily moved down your body, growing impatient herself. You pant softly as you watch her place messy kisses on the curves of your skin as she finally makes her way to your desperate cunt. You let out a soft sigh as she licks one teasing stripe over your clit.

“Look so pretty, Els.” You murmur as you move her falling strands of hair out of her face, a slight whine leaving your mouth.

And, god, she really did. Her eyelids were heavy over her gorgeous eyes as she looked up at you with a slight smile on her lips. She lazily kissed over the sensitive bud, that cheeky smile growing as your hips stuttered.

“My sweet girl.” She teased two fingers over your wet folds, letting out a groan at the obscene sight.

You continue to caress her face and head of hair, never wanting to tear your eyes away from your girlfriend. She glanced up at you as she carefully slid her middle finger into your warm cunt. She kept telling you how good you felt around her fingers and how much she missed your ‘perfect pussy’.

For a moment, you forgot about the camera that was recording your every move. The mic picks up every whine, moan, the sound of Ellie’s fingers fucking into you.

“Baby,” you pant, allowing your hips to grind and follow her curling fingers.

Ellie merely hummed in question as she peered up at you with hooded eyes. You nearly forgot what you were going to be begging for.

More. You just needed more. More of her touch and her lips everywhere. The tightening coil in your lower abdomen and the desperate hump of your hips alerted you that you were getting closer to your orgasm.

“I’m gonna cum,” you admit, feeling almost embarrassed by how quickly it was happening.

Ellie pulled her mouth off of you as her arm continued to pump her fingers inside of you. Your chin tilts up, hands reaching up to cradle her face. Ellie hungrily leaned down to kiss you, moaning at the sound of you whimpering against her slick-covered lips.

You were whispering pleads as she continued to fuck you like her life depended on it. Ellie leaned back to look down at her movements before glancing at the camera.

“Cum for me, baby. Need something to help me later on when I watch this over and over just to see how beautiful you look cumming for me.” Ellie groans into your ear.

Your hand reaches down to grip at her wrist but Ellie grabs your hand to kiss at your palm as another form of stimulation. You whine as your hips stutter and you feel a sharp feeling running down your spine. Ellie mutters curses as she feels you clamp down on her two fingers as your orgasm takes over.

You let out a few louder moans as you sit up carefully to let yourself ride out the orgasm.

“Fuck, Els,” you whisper as you try and come down from the high as easily as possible.

“Hey, hey, lay back, baby,” Ellie ever so slightly pressed on your lower abdomen so that your back was against the mattress once again.

Feeling light and lazy, you do as she had told you. You take slow breaths as you shut your eyes. Ellie’s body hovers over yours for a moment and you hear the hard plastic being lifted from the bedside table. You open one eye to see Ellie was aiming the camera towards the cum that was leaking. Her already wet fingers were running through your folds, being as filthy as ever.

“How’s it look?” You hum with a playful grin.

“You know, perfect, I guess,” Ellie shrugs her shoulders but her grin tells you she’s matching your energy.

As tired as you were, you wanted to make Ellie feel good too. You sit up to come face to face with her, leaning close to capture her lips into a gentle kiss. Ellie hums against your lips, setting the camera on the empty mattress right next to you both. Pulling away, you take her hand that was inside of you and raise it to your lips.

“You're gonna wanna record this, Els,” You tilt your head towards the still-recording camera.

Ellie didn't have to be told twice as she leaped for the boxy hunk of plastic and aimed the lens at your pretty plumped lips. You lick up the length of her fingers, tasing your own arousal. Ellie watched you through the small screen, wondering how fucking lucky she got with you.

You had no idea who infatuated the freckled girl was with you. Your eyes flickered to Ellie behind the camera, her pale skin practically a poppy red shade from how flustered she was. You popped off her long fingers, kissing the pads of her middle and ring fingers before sitting back on your ass as you looked at her with raised eyebrows.

“You think I’ll be a star?” You ask again, playing into the pornstar role-play.

Ellie blew a huff of air as she cupped your face to peck at your lips: “Without a doubt, babe.”

[chao-thicc-hcs]

Sex with them.

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sup. I got a little bit too brave and decided to go out of my comfort zone, so...here's a couple of headcanons that came straight out of my delusions. ( ͡❛ ₃ ͡❛)

Note: Those are characters that my custom wheel chose, cause I'm indecisive. AND I HATE THE WORD COCK IT'S DISGUSTING OIEFJOSPOSLA

reader is afab!

warnings: idk it's sex expect everything lmfao

genre(s): smut

All characters are 20+. MINORS DNI

Characters: Mikey (Sano Manjiro), Hanma Shuji, Baji Keisuke, Chifuyu Matsuno, Takashi Mitsuya

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Mikey is majority of the time slow. Painfully, teasingly slow. He cannot hold himself for long, because he yearns for your body and the warmth of your walls at every given second of his life, and just inserting his tip inside of you is capable of making him cum instantly. You are the only person who can get him to this state, who can give him the pleasure he always dreamed of. He wants to enjoy all of you as long as he can, even if he doesn't cum himself, even if it means he has to miss an entire work day, he just wants to feel you, or more precisely, your pussy that is sopping wet from him. His slow thrusts are sending waves down his dick and inside of you that pass by your intimate zones slowly, making the feeling more euphoric. His hands are always traversing your body, caressing it, massaging it, but his favorite part of you are your boobs. He whimpers softly. Mikey would always opt for the reverse cowgirl, doggy style or prone bone, because he enjoys watching your ass jiggle when he thrusts.

Baji is rough, unsurprisingly. And I mean it. He knows the difference between fast and rough, and is capable of driving you to tears from how mercilessly he pounds into you, grunting and growling like a wild animal. He has a steady grip on the fat of your hips at all times, moving your hips with the same rough pace he usually keeps up. He loves choking you and biting you, leaving marks all around your body. Baji wants to see you cry from pleasure, he adores the way your face is all red, your eyes are shut close and watery from the way he is manhandling you. Baji opts for positions where he can see your face, he adores how you grimace and scrunch your nose from the overwhelming pleasure he's capable of giving you. He loves holding the back of your head while squeezing your hair and licking your lips, or even nibbling on your lower lip, and of course, landing a hard slap on your ass, boobs, or thighs.

Chifuyu is a sweetheart who will ask you 15 times if you're okay with what he's doing. He's invested more in your own pleasure and is willing to do anything to make you cum. He isn't vocal in terms of moaning or whimpering, but he is vocal in terms of praising you. He wants to be dominated and wants you to take the lead most of the time, choke him, pull his hair, and if you tell him he's a good boy or an obedient pet he will literally cum in his boxers. He's submissive af lmao. Chifuyu is slow and sensual, but increases his pace once he hears you moan for him or instruct him to. He loves, loves, LOVES you riding him and just being on top of him, overpowering him. He loves seeing your entire body move in rhythm with his movements, and he wants you to place your hands on his neck, and even land a gentle slap on his cheeks.

Hanma will fucking bend you. He loves degrading and humiliating you, calling you his own whore, slut, doll or something. He's going to try and bend you into positions that will initially hurt your thighs, but he will massage them with his lean fingers while pounding inside of you, and these positions are the reason he hits your g-spot with every single thrust every.single.time. Mind you he's going to keep his signature grin, chuckling at the sight of your gaping mouth, and he will stick his fingers inside of it. He's a fucking menace and loves orgasm control. The way you grunt and grimace in disappointment when he denies your climax makes him go feral. He just knows when you're about to cum even when you don't tell him, and he stops you from doing so. And he's going fast, squeezing the back of your thighs until there's blue bruises from his fingers. An absolute ass slapper too fr.

Mitsuya makes you custom lingerie and always makes sure you have it on during sex. He always makes them brighter colors, so he can see the wet stain your pussy leaves on your panties the moment he shows you his hard dick and/or massages your crotch through the fabric. He even prepares you panties with a special hole in them, for easy access. Mitsuya adores to fuck you on his work table while youre laying down on your back, making it shake and tremble as he plunges inside of you, and at the same time admiring your body in the lingerie. The bra is always see-through, with a special harness in intricate shapes that enhance your chest area. He's fast, but at the same time sensual and considerate, trying not to inflict any pain to you. Mitsuya changes his pace frequently, he might go like an animal, and out of nowhere he will go slow, just to tease you and make you groan in frustration. He's capable of ripping apart the lingerie to pieces, but he doesn't want to ruin his work, so he just sticks to pulling the straps of the panties or garters. Adores eating you out and making you squirt, then sticking his tongue out to gather as much of your juice as he could.

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should I make with other characters?( ͡❛ ω ͡❛)

[dollypopup]

also also- to cut so many intimacy scenes in a season where body positivity was the focus is a slap in the fucking face

The showrunners claiming that love scenes matter less after the couple has gotten together- bullshit. I call fucking bullshit. Because that scene of her riding him at the end of the season could have made up for a LOT of disappointment in the ending. That bed is symbolic. Them being TOGETHER in the bed is symbolic and meaningful and says so much and is such a perfect way to represent they are a unit again. He was on that sofa for so long in part because of a rift between them with Lady Whistledown in the storyline, but also because that was a safe place for him. That was the first place he and Pen had sex as a couple and they were happy and they were in love, and it was difficult for him to leave that.

A scene at the end where she is on top, riding him, and they are on the bed together, signifies his trust in her and them moving together into the future. It is important. And it should have gotten more than just 20 seconds on the screen. Her on top was meaningful, because in the carriage, she is a passive participant to pleasure. On the sofa, she asks him to tell her what to do, and when he says he'll do it all, she demands to be a part of it. And in riding him, she is an active party in the intimacy. He can relinquish the control, trusts her enough to do so, and she trusts him enough to be in the vulnerable position of being on top. A position women who have had concerns about their body in a fatphobic society know all too well. Why cut it so short? Why not truly lean into that?

You cannot pat yourself on the back as a body positivity season to make bank off of your plus size viewers and then cut so many intimacy scenes, Shondaland and Netflix. That's fucked. You cannot profit off of us and then do a half assed job in telling our stories.

Where are the fat writers in the room? The fat editors? To say 'actually, this love scene is important. we should cut something else'. Why is it that we don't get Colin going down on her? It was filmed, why was it cut? Why are there less intimacy scenes between Pen and Colin than there were for Benedict?

How are you going to claim over and over that this is representation, and then do our representation dirty? I would understand in part if it wasn't even filmed, for various reasons. Actors feeling uncomfortable, the scenes being unnecessary to the narrative itself- but they were filmed, and they were VITAL.

Pen and Colin are FROSTY after that Lady Whistledown reveal. To use words from a very hilarious video: he doesn't wanna dip his quill in her inkwell anymore after finding out about the lies. Because for Colin, love and intimacy and trust are all entwined. He can't have angry sex with her because he craves intimacy, not just sensation. To have one without the other isn't fulfilling for him. So they split apart and apart and apart, until they come together again. (pardon the innuendo) Them having sex at the end of the season is supposed to be the sigh of relief the viewers AND the couple get after that angst. It's the payoff. They had distance, and now they are together again. They were apart and now they are one. They are joined.

Where was the payoff?

Nicola talked about the importance of intimacy scenes, that they are not throwaways, that they mean something to the plot, and for them to be scrapped feels like an injustice. An injustice to the people who saw themselves represented in this story, (note: I'm a fat woman, and I'll say, I do NOT feel personally represented, because I'm a size 18/20 and a size 8 lead isn't my representation, but many many people do not feel as I do, and so if you DID see yourself on screen, I'm sorry: you deserved that intimacy montage), an injustice to the narrative, and an injustice to your actors, who put themselves in a very vulnerable position to deliver the most poignant love story they could, who really went for it, and who ended up on the cutting room floor.

Nic and Luke love this pairing, you can TELL they're shippers, you can tell they have so much empathy and adoration for Pen and Colin. They poured their heart into those scenes. To see them cut is a disservice and a disrespect.

We fucking deserved better.

[twistedvanillacoffee]

Unlawfully Wed

A Random Twisted Coffee Fic Fix

I watched the new Matlock tonight, and immediately banged out this silly idea. It's an AU of my AO3 fic, Witch Heart, set in the 20's/30's era with Human Alastor and his lawyer, [Reader].

TW: mentions of blood, suicide and bad language

SFW, but Minors no mining. I'm not anyone's mother.

That smile. Oh! how it could turn a world. Swooning listener fans. Spinning crooked cops. Snaking viperous quarry. Yet, seducing only her. Ever her.

Turning the hand worn steel knob, the door to the interrogation room whined open upon that smile. That grisly grin gleaming of its guilty guillotines beneath spattered spectacles. She knew what he’d done. She knew why he was there. It was written in plain black, white and red across his tuxedo. He’d been sloppy. Again. For whatever reason tonight; usually due to that insufferable friend of his, Mimzy, who was better at getting him in trouble, than herself out of it.

“Good evening. Apologies for the wait, but I had some calls to make.” Closing the door behind herself, [Reader] moved to the seat next to her client. Instinctively, he made a grab toward it; hoping to pull it out for her. But as his hands were cuffed to the table, he only succeeded in making the two cops across from him jump to their gun butts. “Easy, boys,” [Reader]’s voice held a lilt of fun, “you’re acting as though my client is capable of something.”

“You’re not getting him out this time,” the detective across the table blatantly stated. Jake Sandersen; young, boy scout, clean as a whistle and twice as loud mouthed. Especially, in comparison to his partner, David Trent; quiet, chain smoker, and whatever wasn’t muscle was pure gristle. Both of them had been chasing her client for little over a year. At this point, he was top of the tree of suspects. Though, no matter how much shit they threw, [Reader] ensured none of its stink could stick.

“Now, now,” [Reader] tsked unworried, “you’re beginning to make this look an awful lot like harassment, racial profiling, stalking, and gross negligence of justice again.”

“Not this time, bitch,” Jake sneered; leering over her business dress suit in such a way, she heard her client’s teeth scrape. “This time, we’ve got him dead to rights. Motive. Caught at the scene of the crime. Weapon. And two eye witnesses. I’d like to see this fucker smile his way outta this, this time.”

“Yes, about that,” she sighed, opening her briefcase as she pulled out the papers she’d been gathering. “Let’s see, it was Avery Jessip who died, yes?”

“How did…” Jake’s eyes widened as a slow fury began to set in. He knew where this was going. The tune had already been playing in her countenance, long before she sat down. A matched pair, those two; [Reader] every bit the slayer in a courtroom as her client was in the streets.

“I told you; I made some calls,” she replied with an ease he wanted to slap. “My client was at a party all night. These are three sworn, official witnesses that he was there. As you can see, the Mayor, the Mayor’s Aide, and the County Coroner were there. Who, incidentally, as of ten minutes ago, already ruled Avery Jessip a suicide.”

“Fucking impossible,” Jake leapt to his feet, with a shove upon the furniture. His emotions bolted freely; unlike the table fastened to the floor, and the upturn of his chair. “A fucking suicide?! How?! He stabbed himself in the back eleven times and then sliced his own throat?”

“Apparently, Mr. Jessip was extremely limber,” she retorted, “the world weeps for the loss of his talents.”

A sharp finger flew its darted stare toward her, followed with, “Your client was fucking found at the scene!”

“A good Samaritan, responding to the screams of your two eye witnesses—who found the victim long after the victim was dead,” she expertly dodged his accusation, “which, I might add, cannot be considered credible due to the lack of streetlights in the area this occurred.”

“The murder weapon was a sharpened letter opener, that has his name fucking on it,” Jake slammed his hands upon the table, but neither of his opponents bounced an inch. “Explain fucking that.”

“If you ever went to the gift shop of the Radio Station, you would see an entire section dedicated to my high profile client.” She placed a stack of papers upon the table, and slid them toward Jake’s flattened hands. “Among them are letter openers, that are the exact same as the one, our unfortunate Mr. Jessip, used upon himself. As you can see, in these, Mr. Jessip was an avid, rabid fan of my client. These are all documents acquired from the Radio Station detailing his stalking and unrequited love of my client. It makes perfect sense that he would kill himself with memorabilia of his obsession. My client is lucky that Mr. Jessip decided to take his clear, unwell mind out on himself and not toward others.”

“This is fucking insane,” Jake ran his hands through his hair, walking a bit away from the table, “fucking insane. I feel like I’m on drugs!”

“Careful what you say in here,” [Reader] reminded, closing her briefcase in a few clicks before standing, “you might need a lawyer next. Now then, if you have nothing else, release my client immediately. Otherwise, I’m calling Judge Gordon and filing for your suspension. Obviously, for the past year, you’ve become as obsessed of my client as Mr. Jessip was. And I’m beginning to worry for his safety.”

David—the cooler heads of the two detectives—moved toward the cuffs. Fishing in his pocket for the keys while his partner began to spout off sharply, “What the fuck are you doing! We fucking have him!”

“We had him,” David’s tone was an even keel, “now we don’t. Calm down, before you give yourself a heart attack. With scum like this, there’s always tomorrow. He can’t help it…it’s in his fucking blood…” David’s knowing stare bore deep into the silent laughing glint of the splattered spectacles.

In a click and clink, the wrists were free for fingers to rub. His tall, lean, angular body rose to tower a few inches above the cops that had once ranted and raved. Oh, how delicious it was to see their pained faces as he breathed his freedom. “Always a pleasure,” he stated with a wicked glee. Watching as Jake wound up to take a swing, but David held him back—stating how it wasn’t worth it.

[Reader] loudly clacked her heels to the door; drawing everyone’s attention as she opened it wide. Hearing behind her as Jake howled, “Just you fucking wait. That man is gonna run outta people to kill, and there will be just you. Bleeding out on the floor. And when that happens, when I come upon your crime scene, I’m gonna take a piss right in that pretty fucking mouth of yours.”

“So,” she tilted her head to the side, “you admit that you tamper with evidence at crime scenes.” Moving her attention toward the one-way glass window she stated, “Make sure that’s added to the record in my client’s growing file here. I’d hate to think that someone, as dumb as this cop, is getting away with miscarriages of justice such as that.”

Motioning to her client to go first, who did his very best not to laugh abruptly, she followed behind him out of the room. Neither one spoke; they knew the drill. No where was safe inside the precinct building. Once outside, she walked to her car; the waiting driver immediately starting the engine upon seeing her. Entering into the back seat, she closed the door and pulled in a deep breath. [Reader] could feel her client next to her; slipping in like a shadow, as the driver began to pull away.

“My, what a show that was,” her client marveled, grinning madly as he stretched his acquitted arms, “and they say I’m entertaining.”

“Why do you do this to me?” [Reader] groaned, leaning forward to rest her elbows upon her knees, and rub her temples. “Out of all my clients, you’re by far the worst.”

“Are you mad, my dear?” he asked, turning his head with his most dashing of smiles to her. That fucking grin. How she desperately wanted to hate it, hate him, but despite all odds couldn’t.

“No,” she sighed, easing back in the seat to look at him better. “I know who I work for, and you idiots are all alike. Being mad at you, is like being mad at that dumb deer that ruins my garden. I know what I’m growing, and I know how much he loves it; so, we’re at a standstill. Just… be more careful, okay? One day, I might not be here to protect you, Alastor.”

“Perish the thought,” Alastor took [Reader]’s hand, and gave it a gentle kiss. Warm, affectionate, and full of the words he couldn’t yet say to her. “But should that day come, I doubt I’d need you any further anyway.”

“Oh?” she raised a brow, blushing at his lips lingering upon her knuckles, “Why’s that?”

“Because, my dear,” his eyes were a promise, his lips a swear, his touch a vow she felt in every fiber of her being, “after my revenge upon the one who got you, I’ll be immediately looking for wherever you grow your new, beautiful gardens in the afterlife—like the dumb deer I apparently am.”

[satonpie]

“My homie as soon as a 20 dollar bill is involved” but unironically??

I want to be a sworn little straightie but without even a dollar in my pocket so I always have to bargain with my friends to have something to eat when we go out.

Until one of our friends jokes about me sucking his cock for a 20 piece. I get really defensive but he insists.

“You barely pull your weight with us. I honestly don’t see a reason to keep hanging out with you being a money siphon n shit.”

I’m really hurt by his words but I can’t really deny them. All I do is stay by them and ask for food… and without that I don’t really have much of a life so I don’t have a choice!

So we back into an alley and I hesitantly kneel down and wait…

“Hurry it up, fag. I’m tired of doing all the work for you.”

Silently I reach to undo his pants, the others chuckling and calling me a bitch. But I can’t shake off that this feels… good…

I pull his pants down and I’m met with his hard dick slapping against my chin, sending the others into a laughing fit while I’m blushing, embarrassed.

“Y-You guys are gross-“

This is the first time I see one up close, can’t say I ever expected to. I’m hit with the strong smell of a hard member which unexpectedly gives me butterflies in my stomach and cheeks…

“Well? Hurry it up sissy. Quit staring at it like a damn dog and pay for your food.”

Ten long minutes pass in that alleyway with me trying my best to recreate what I’ve seen in porn. Bobbing up and down with it in my mouth and clumsily rubbing it with my tongue as it goes by. He’s on his phone, disinterested to what’s going on and flicking through his favourite material trying to get off on my less-than-adequate head.

He finally snaps out of boredom and pushes my head off his dick.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that for me to keep you around dumbass”

He grabs me by the hair and holds me in front of his cock before furiously jerking it off with his other hand, holding his tip up to my dazed mouth.

“H-how’s This for a free meal you f-fucking twat”

I feel his seed shoot into the back of my mouth, filling my throat with it and leaving me no choice but to swallow. Can’t make any messes that would make him angrier…

I did eventually get my chicken nuggets and no one spoke about that moment the rest of the day. Things went by as they normally would. Except I couldn’t shake off how hard I got during all of it

When I got to my shitty little apartment, I hopped into my bedroom and fantasized. Thinking back on the affair and I got all tingly again. I touched myself to the thought, calling myself a dumb gay fag for enjoying it. Not just the head but the constant name calling and humiliation. Was i really not just into girls? No time for my dumb cock drunk brain to think though, I was too absorbed in these little fantasies.

I came… and i came again… and again… faster than any time I would touch it to the thought of topping a cute girl. My mind was all around strong men making me slobber on their fat, smelly, hard cocks. Slapping my face with it, cumming on my face and on my soft, barely masculine chest…

And when I was done, I curled up in bed and tried to fall asleep despite the post-nut voice screaming about how much of a fag I am. I cant admit this to anyone… but maybe I’ll keep accepting these little bargains from my friend ♥️

-

Hope this goes without saying but this didn’t really happen (sadly 😞) I just realized halfway through I wrote this in past tense

…I Like orientation play a lot

Bye :3

[deseraethesimp]

Chair DUPE!!

Prompt: Ghost Begs you to sit on his face, and has been begging in private for awhile.

Warnings: Female Anatomy, Face sitting Obvi-, a little bit of “attitude” if you squint, Sub!reader and Dom!Ghost..

You were arguing with Konig for hours for some stupid reason, but you finally came to Ghost’s office. You continued complaining for hours, then you got interrupted by his question ‘’Why won’t you sit on my face, and spend hours screaming?” Your face flushed at this idea. Although he has been bringing it up for weeks, you were just so scared of crushing him...But you agreed. After a few weeks of waiting, you both went back to your shared apartment where Ghost turned and you could see that stupid grin under that mask.

You slowly pulled down your panties and got in position, you looked at him “What if I crush youuu- o..or you can’t breathe??” you kept going on with your worries of hurting him before he slightly slapped your thigh. “Luvie, If I was scared of getting smothered between two thighs I wouldn’t have joined the military” You saw what he meant so you slowly lowered down. You only put 20% of your body weight, and he knew what you were doing so he pulled you away from his mouth...”Y/N, I need all your body weight I don’t care if I have to fucking pull you down.” you blushed a lot..He meant it to, you continued with barley putting any weight before you felt his strong arms completely hold you down, making you loose balance and putting all weight. Simon Kept you like that...

About 10 minutes later, you tried to pull up and get off but Ghost was pissed!     “Fucking hell, I’m not done with you!” You whined overstimulated “please please pleeeassee Simonnn!!” That always worked but not this time. He continued till he saw you were going dumb. 

The aftercare was wonderful, you were just watching TV laying in bed. Only a tight white tank top, and panties...Nothing else. Ghost was there just clinged onto you. 

Requests are still open, feel free to ask for anything!! - Xoxo Deserae

[carcarcraziiv2]

The Woman with the Pink Hair (Parts 10, 11, 12, and 13 (final))

HERE ARE THE LAST PARTS FOR THE WOMAN WITH THE PINK HAIR! I Sincerely hope you enjoyed <3. I have already started the next story in the series (oooo). Lmk if you wanna see it! <3

This is a Vi x Fem! Reader fanfiction.

Please note that this is the first piece I wrote after a HEFTY (I mean years long) hiatus from writing.

P.S. Lowkey I KNOW there's a bunch of shit I could fix in here to make it better due to my practice over the past year or so, but I just… I'm so lazy rn LOL. Anyhoooooo….

ALSO- here are the TW for you lovelies! (This is for the WHOLE SERIES)-

Violence, mental illness, oral sex, dominant tendencies, torture, kidnapping, plotting?… lowkey there's probably more but you should get the gist here, AS ALWAYS ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK ILY<3

READ PART ONE, TWO, AND THREE HERE->

https://www.tumblr.com/carcarcraziiv2/737189248110821376/the-woman-with-the-pink-hair-p-1-2-3?source=share

READ PART FOUR, FIVE, AND SIX HERE->

https://www.tumblr.com/carcarcraziiv2/738139002294747136/the-woman-with-the-pink-hair-p-4-5-6?source=share

READ PART SEVEN, EIGHT, AND NINE HERE-> https://www.tumblr.com/carcarcraziiv2/739738198020964352/the-woman-with-the-pink-hair-part-7-8-9?source=share

~~

PART TEN - Vi

 "What the hell...?", Vi said lightly, scanning the top deck of the ship she just boarded after returning from her confrontation with Kench. She was not in the mood for anything but a drink and to cuddle up with (y/n). Her stomach plummeted when she saw the small pool of blood a few feet away.

    Blind panic fills her soul, and she bolts for the stairs. Please don't be gone. Please don't be gone. She thinks to herself, silently pleading to the Gods she wasn't even sure exists. Basically jumping down the small flight of stairs into the cabin of the ship, she notices it is in disarray. The dark wooden table was flipped, and glass was shattered all over the floor. There was a trail of water from the top deck, down the stairs, leading directly to a dead stop in front of the room the two lovers were occupying.

   "Fuck, no no no!" Vi yelled, running down the hallway, and bursting into the room. The armoire was open, but there was no (y/n). "Fuck!" Her hands reached up to her hair, pulling as she fell to her knees. Her shoulders slumped, and she lowered her head and began to cry.

    After a few minutes of sobbing, Vi slowly crept up onto her feet again. No emotion on her face, her eyes glazed and icy cold. She walked over to the chest at the end of the bed and pulled it open. Inside were two large fighting gauntlets. She hadn't used them since all of the bullshit with Jayce. 

    There is no better time than the present, and she was prepared to destroy anyone in her path to finding (y/n). 

--- 🖤🖤🖤 ---

    "Please! Please! I'll do anything, just don-" Crack.

    The sickening crunch that resounded through the dark rocky cavern made you shiver. Prior to what you assumed to have been the untimely death of some other prisoner down here, the voice had sounded like a young woman, much like yourself. 

    You did not move as you waited to hear anymore sounds, shuffling, or wet slapping footsteps. Waiting nearly 20 minutes, you finally let out a gasp of breath, and crawled back to your corner where a useless excuse for a bed lay on the floor. It was nothing but a long, dirty piece of fabric. At one point, you were sure, it had been padded. 

   The cell was entirely uncomfortable, and you were sure you had been there for at least a week at this point. You prayed, which you never ever did, for someone to rescue you. The things that you and Vi shared for some reason did not fully convince you that she would want to go through the trouble of rescuing you. Hell, you didn't hardly know anything about her.

   Over the days that you had spent here, they had been sending in plates of slop, you weren't entirely certain of its origin, that smelled like absolute ass. The first few days you refused to eat, and Tahm personally came to inform you that if you didn't eat, he would either kill you or let you starve to death. You were sure no matter what you did, you had a death sentence over your head, but due to fear and your hunger you decided after the third day to finally just eat it. After today's food was delivered, a few hours after the confrontation down the hall, you heard those wet sloppy footsteps approaching the iron gate of your cell. 

    As the steps approached, you quickly scurried to the very most corner of the room, drawing your knees to your chin as you awaited and prayed that the beat would continue past. To your dismay, the large shadow enunciated by the faint candlelight in the hall stopped right before your door. 

    "(Y/N), I have some questions for you. Do you wish to comply, or are you going to make me force them from you?" The long-winded question reverberated through your body, making you tense up and tingles run down your spine. 

   You stayed silent. If there was anything you would do, talking would not be one of them.

   The creature let out a defeated sigh, and you held still, not wanting to react. Even as a tear began to fall down your face and the creature wabbled inside, and engulfed you in the rancid large mouth, you still did not struggle. 

    Mind blank, the only thought in your head was how easy it would be to break you. You had the pain tolerance of a baby and were terrified of what he might do. 

   As Tahm Kench walked, you sloshed around in the small space you were in. You could feel his long tongue wrapped around you like a rope holding you tight. Although slick and slimy, it did not budge when you dared to fidget ever so slightly. You simply squeezed your eyes shut, and forced the rising bile back down your throat as the journey quickly came to a stop. 

   He spit you out, and again you landed on a hard floor. Before you had the opportunity to take in your surroundings, two gruff pairs of hands were dragging you off the ground and sitting you onto a lone chair. Looking around, your eyes straining from the brightness, you realized that the sun was shining through a broken window to the left. In fact, it appeared that you were being kept underneath a large, abandoned boating house. 

  You were quickly snapped out of your realization when the monster began to speak..

   "Tell me, (y/n), how do you know Vi?"

   Silence.

   He let out a soft chuckle, and leaned closer to you, the motion looking hard due to the bulkiness of his body.

   "I will give you one more chance, child. How do you know Vi?" 

    Remaining silent once more, you conjured the spit in your mouth and spewed it directly into the monster's face. He took a moment to wipe the spit off of his face. Turning around, his chubby arms resting at his side, he looked over at one of his minions and nodded slightly before continuing his venture to the other side of the room. 

    Panic blossomed as you noticed what one of them was holding. In its green, wet hand you saw the sheen of a blade. You leaned as far away as you could as the creature approached you slowly, as if it was enjoying your fear. It leaned in, its face mere inches from your own, it raised the knife and pressed it to your cheek, snickering. It began to slowly press in, when you let out a sharp hiss.

    "She's my girlfriend," You said quickly, silently cursing yourself for breaking so quickly. As you realized the shit you were in, you prayed that he would not ask any in depth questions that you didn't know the answer to. You knew they wouldn't believe you. 

   Tahm turned back towards you, a long smile spreading on it's face.

   "Good," He said, and you felt he wasn't simply talking about your answer, but more so the ability to break you. 

PART ELEVEN- Unleashed

 Getting thrown back into your cell, you were wholly torn apart. The evil menace that had captured you picked you up, crumpled you in his palms, and threw you onto the ground. Entirely spent, you could not sleep, not while you knew that those demons were wandering the halls and rooms above you thinking you are hiding some important information from them. 

    You aren't.

    You hadn't a speck of knowledge aside from the things that you and Vi had shared. Kisses, long gazes, conversations about both of your childhoods. You realized, in that moment, that you didn't even know what her favorite color was. What kind of food she liked to eat or where she liked to go to get away from it all. 

    You decided that when - if - you got out of this hell hole, you were going to make a point of learning all of those things.

    Sighing, you wince as you roll over on the decrepit pad on the floor. Your ribs were bruised, at the least, if not having a few broken. Every breath you took caused a sharp lingering pain to blossom in your torso. There were small lashes on your arms, your face, and you were sticky from the sweat and blood covering your skin. As you laid there, tears falling at their own will down your cheek and onto the mattress, you prayed once more for your savior to find you.

--- 🖤🖤🖤---

---         VI         ---   

    "Tell me where the hell she is, I don't want this to be harder than it needs to be, Illaoi. Please, please just tell me," Vi seethed, her fists where clenched inside the large foreboding gauntlets.  Her heart was racing and breaking beneath her white tank top, her thick arms straining with the stress coursing through her veins. 

    Before her, Illaoi sat in an old brown leather chair, her legs spread and her forearms resting on her knees. Her fists were held together, acting as a podium in which she rest her sodden and tired face. 

    "Vi, I don't know where he keeps them. I only know where his base is. I am telling you this because I have been bound to that monster for far too long, and I, too, want to get my revenge. But please, you must call down. He has cronies all over the town, some who may be lingering these very halls. Their hearing is keen and sharp, and they will do anything in their power to protect their boss."

    "Do you think I give a single shit about that? Take me to his base," Vi spat, her body unflinching as she gave Illaoi the option, no, the order to take her where she needed to go. She would break through every god damn house in Bilgewater if it meant finding (y/n).

    "Vi, I ca-,"

    Vi slammed her fist against the wall, making the house shake. Dust fluttered off of the shelves and ceiling, littering Vi's shoulders and arms like sad rain.

    "Take. Me. There. Now." She said calmly, but her calm demeanor only hid the wrath behind her eyes so much. Illaoi sighed, standing. She was a tall, muscular woman, and her admitting defeat was anything but that. She was willing to fight for what she believed in, even if that meant risking her life. Vi was proud of her for that and vowed silently to forever be in her favor.

     After the woman collected her items and put on a few scraps of leather and gold armor on her arms and chest, they left the small apartment that Illaoi must have called home. Vi had located it after cornering Captain Fortune in a pub a few streets down.

    It had been 5 days since Vi last saw (y/n), and she didn't dare think about the possibilities of torture, of death, that have been plaguing her little love. She seethed, gritting her teeth and choking down the lump in her throat. She would not cry, not here, not now. Not while she needs to be strong.

    Illaoi led her down a few wary streets, venturing down a few blocks from where they started. They ended up at some old rotting docks, the boards broken and falling into the stinking sea beneath them.  

    "That boat house, down at the end. That is where Kench and his men do their biddings. I will not proceed, but I will be here, waiting. Yell if you need me, and I will come to you. I will help you, for the sake of defeating Kench."

    Vi merely nodded, her fists clenching within her gauntlets as she strode towards the decrepit building. The place smelled this shit, like him, and she was not happy about the concept that (y/n) may be here somewhere. 

    The thought rattled her, that she could be a mere few feet away and Vi wouldn't even know. She silently begged the gods that she was here, simply so that she could rescue her as soon as possible.

    Approaching the large rusted doors, Vi didn't care about silently entering. She slammed through them with her gauntlets, making the whole building shake as the door shattered in front of her. She stomped in, over the broken wooden splinters littering the floor. Across the warn concrete floor, there was a table of cronies playing cards and shooting shit with each other. They all looked up in unison, gaping at Vi before everything broke into chaos. 

    Two of them approached her, unsheathing sharp twisting blades and stalking in her direction. Vi cracked her neck and rolled her shoulders, and snarled as she began stalking towards her. 

    The one on the right lashed out, and she quickly parried it by bringing her massive metal fists up and smashing it against its body, making it fly to the wall beside them. It slunk to the ground, grunting with no appearance that it was going to stand. The second one ran at her, and she turned 45 degrees to her right, launching her fist into the creature's face. A sick crunching sound reverberated through the building, and it fell to the ground before her. 

    It held its nose and whimpered slightly as Vi lent down to grasp its dirty hole ridden shirt. She lifted it, her face a mere inches from her own.

    "Where is she?" She snarled.

    "I don't know who you're talking about," the creature snickered back. She could tell it was lying and that made her even more feral.

    "I will cut out your tongues and feed them to your cowering brothers," she threatened, pointing at the two others who were running towards a door in the back of the building. 

    A door she hadn't noticed before. A door she was sure led to the very captor she was looking for. 

    She shoved the monster to the ground, and it grunted on impact as she raised her fist again and punched his face into the ground. When she stood, the creature did not stir. She wasn't sure if it was dead or not, but she didn't care. The other that she had fought was still on the other side of the huge room, its body slouched against the base of the wall.

   Quiet, almost silent screams echoed below Vi's feet.

   She's here. She's here. She's here.

    Vi stormed towards the back of the room, slamming into the door. Those fuckers locked it, she thought. She didn't hesitate for a second as she brought back her fist and slammed it into the iron door. It didn't move but a smidge, and so she hit it again, and again. Finally, the bolts broke from their spots and the door shot open, not falling off of its hinges. A musty, sodden smell drifted up the stone stairs that Vi stood atop of. 

    Another scream echoed through the chambers below, this time much louder than before. She could hear shuffling, and the sounds of grunting as she assumed whoever was screaming was being dragged away.

    She cascaded down the steps, now more alert to her senses as the darkness encompassed her being. She wanted to be quiet enough so that they didn't know exactly where she was. They already knew she was here.

    She listened for more sounds, more grunting, more anything. Silence ensued, so she began walking down the dimly lit hallway. She noticed immediately the small iron gated rooms surrounding her. Each had a small sad bed on the floor. Some, there were bones and blood, others were empty. She reached the end of the stretch where another hallway collided with this one, making a T shape. The very last room she peered into before veering down to the left caused her to stop in her tracks.

    There, in the middle of the room, as if left as a sign for her and her alone was her jacket. Her dark red jacket she took from one of the first people she encountered in Zaun after getting out of prison.

     She was here. Vi could hardly hold back the vomit that threatened to rise in her throat, as she scanned the little stone room. From top to bottom, she could sense that she had been kept in here. Various plates were strewn across the room, rotting food sat on a few of the plates and she grimaced at the thought of (y/n) being forced to eat that trash. Gods know what it was.

    Right before she went to continue on her hunt, she heard another blood curdling scream, before a familiar voice yelled-

    "Vi? Vi! Please, anyo-," a grunt sounded from that voice, as if being punched in the stomach to quiet her pleas. White hot rage flooded Vi at the thought of someone touching and hurting her girl. Hers. 

    She zig zagged through a few more halls, before descending a small staircase and bursting through a door that she could hear a ruckus coming out of. The sounds; crying, cursing, and heavy breathing. Vi had to momentarily shield her eyes as brightness flooded her vision. As they adjusted, she took in her surroundings quickly. 

    There, in the middle of the room, bound to a chair and gagged, was a beaten and bloody (y/n). Her eyes widened at the sight of Vi, and she whimpered, pulling lightly at her restraints. Vi started towards her, her only inclination to free her immediately. At her first step, she heard (y/n) yelling through the gag, her eyes widening and her head shaking vigorously. Vi took another step, and (y/n) closed her eyes and screamed into the gag. Only then did Vi realize there was a crony behind her, using her as a meat shield with a knife to her back. 

    "Well, well, well," a familiar voice boomed. Vi didn't flinch as Tahm Kench emerged from a shadowed room to the far right that she hadn't noticed before. "It's a pleasure, as always, Vi."

    "Free her, Kench. Now." Vi ordered. It merely offered a chuckle in response.

    "For a price, child. Everything comes with a price."

     "What do you want?" Vi pleaded. She did not plan to go through with anything, other than to get (y/n) as far away from here as possible.

     "Your girlfriend here told me a lot about you. About your connections to the one they call Jinx?" Panic flooded her momentarily, and she glanced at (y/n) who only sobbed, her head sagged to her chest. She knew (y/n) was strong and must have endured a lot to say anything. "Although, she wouldn't tell us anything else. About your dealings in Piltover. Pity, if she had cooperated, I would have offered her a clean, easy death. But they never do, do they Vi?"

     She shuttered at the thought and burst out of her stance towards kench. She stopped dead in her tracks when 10 other creatures came out of the shadows. Fuck, she thought. She knew Kench could, and would fight too, but she didn't know his moves, what to expect. Thinking for a moment, she knew what she had to do.

    She leaned back her head, and as loud as humanly possible she yelled, "ILLAOI!"

    A quiet tense aura shifted the place, each of the creatures looking back and forth at one another. A minute passed before Vi cursed again, and a few of them laughed. 

    "Illaoi? That is how you found us, huh?" Tahm smirked, a hint of distaste lingering in his tone. "She wouldn't dare come down here and face me, not for the like of you."

     Just as he finished his sentence, Vi felt the heavy presence of Illaoi's spiritual bonds to the Kraken. The air shifted into a heavy, haunting, foreboding feeling. She turned around, just in time to see the massive woman breach the threshold of the room. She glowed slightly, Vi realized then, and her power was emanating through her and rippling through her room. 

    Illaoi did not hesitate as she approached Kench. All of his cronies seemed to cower in her powerful presence. 

    "Release the girl, Kench," She stated plainly. 

    "You do not understand what you are doing, woman," Tahm said, sounding slightly afraid. Even the great demon cowered in her presence. Vi made note not to fuck with Illaoi. 

     "I suppose you are going to do this the hard way," She mocked. She must have been closer than I thought. Suddenly, all around the room, large green spirit like tentacles rose from the floor, flapping mindlessly left and right. Illaoi glanced back at Vi, "Take her, and come help me kill these scum." 

    Vi did not hesitate as roaring combat erupted around her. Her primary focus was (y/n). She stormed over to her, immediately ripping the binds of the gag off of her face. She threw it to the floor and leaned down, making quick work of the bindings around her arms and legs. (y/n) quietly sobbed and looked up through her wet, blood-matted hair at Vi.

--- 🖤🖤🖤---

(Y/N)

    You couldn't stop crying. Not now, not here. Not while Vi knelt in front of you looking entirely panicked and you couldn't move an inch. Every part of your body ached, and you felt weak from blood loss. You didn't flinch, though, as Vi delicately looped one arm under your legs and the other around your back and carried you towards the stairs. She set you down, on the steps, far enough away to keep you safe, but close enough to be able to monitor you. 

   "I've got you, baby. I've got you," She brushed a hand lightly over your bruised face, and you winced from her touch. The color drained from her face, and she looked utterly defeated as she stood. "I have to help Illaoi, don't move." You almost, almost, laughed at that. As if you could move if you wanted to. You were so weak, so frail. 

    Maybe she would teach you how to fight, when this was all over with. You watched her as she turned her back to you, descending the few steps she had gone up. You could see through the doorway the hell that had broken lose. Illaoi had made quick work of the monsters that worked for Kench, the tentacles becoming solid and slamming into them, crushing the majority under their weight. Blood splattered the walls, screeches echoed until all was silent. The only remaining contender was Kench. 

    Before you, Illaoi shot out what appeared to be a tentacle, much smaller than all the others, towards kench. Before it could reach him, a giant hole summoned below the monster, and he jumped into it. You gasped, then grimaced from that pain it caused your body. Suddenly, you heard a wet thud from above you. 

    You didn't dare look behind you, you knew who it was already.

    "You have caused me quite a bit of trouble, child," he said, his stubby arms wrapping around you. You let out a scream, guttural and otherworldly, as you grabbed the knife that was still attached to your thigh. It had gone unnoticed, or more likely, they hadn't bothered to care simply because you were a weak little human. 

    Slashing backwards, pure adrenaline made the pain subside slightly as your blade coursed through the thick skin of Tahms face. He let out a disgusting screech, dropping you. Your body rolled aimlessly down the stairs, and you could feel a snap as your arm landed beneath you. You let out a scream and saw Vi and Illaoi running towards you. Through your tears, and the encroaching darkness that was shrouding your vision, you noticed that Tahm was no longer at the top of the stairs.

    Before you lost consciousness, you saw the woman fall to her knees beside you, carefully adjusting your body and arm. Relentless pain tugged at your sanity.

    "(Y/N), baby, I've got you. I've got you. Let's go home." you heard her voice say faintly. Her tear ridden and bloody face was the last thing you saw before you lost consciousness. 

PART TWELVE- Encouragement

  Your eyes flutter open, and for a moment you are flustered. You do not recognize your surroundings, and you scramble up against the headboard of the large bed you realize you rest upon. Panting, you clutch the covers to your chest, your clean chest. After a moment, you also notice the pain.

    You yell out in pain, and quickly clamp a hand over your mouth.  Before the panic could set in, the door at the furthest left-hand corner of the room swings open. 

    At the threshold, Vi stares at you with wide eyes, panting as if she had sprinted to the room. For a brief moment, you were in shock. Vi let out a soft sigh of relief as she began walking over to you.

    You did not mean to, but you shrank from her. The experiences of the last week were still haunting your very being. She stopped in her tracks.

    "Baby, you're at my house. You're safe now," Vi said in a cool tone. Her hand was put up out in front of her as if to further reassure your safety with her gesture. It didn't take more than a second for tears to begin falling down your cheeks, cascading down your neck and onto your chest under the shirt you wore. 

    As Vi walked to the bed and sat on the edge, she placed a hand on your knee. You did not flinch away from her touch as you did when she was walking toward you. Instead, you let your head fall back against the headboard and let out a pitiful sigh through your sobs.

    "It hurts, Vi," was all you could muster. You hated sounding so pathetic, but the state your body was in was not one to argue. Vi nodded, and reached her hand up to your face, caressing it far more gently than she ever had before. In that moment, the only thing you could think of to say was, "What is your favorite color?"

    She looked slightly taken aback, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. "It's red."

    You smiled slightly.

    "What is your favorite food?"

    "Um... don't make fun of me, but bar food?" she laughed, lowering her head in embarrassment. 

     "Where do you...escape to?" you said lightly, your gaze landing on her own piercing one. You twiddled your thumbs as she looked at you as if studying what she was seeing. She looked away, out the square window that, to your surprise, had sunlight seeping through. 

     "I used to leave for stretches of time after getting out of prison. Usually for odd jobs here and there." She looked back at you before she continued. "There is this place here in Piltover, where the trees surround a small lake close to the border of the undercity." She swallowed. "When I got out, I had... a relationship with an officer of one of the Council leader's daughters. They hated me, thought I was scum of the earth.

    I would leave Cait's house and wander the streets as if I knew where I was going. No matter where I went, people gave me dirty looks. They knew who I was. What I was. But when I found that place where the grass was green and the only noise was birds chirping and leaves rustling in the trees, I knew I had found my safe space.

    That was, of course, until I met you."

     You could feel your chest tightening, your heart aching for the harsh treatment she had received from people that didn't know her just because of where she came from. Where you both came from. 

    "When I met you, it felt like something clicked inside of me. Like a missing puzzle piece had gone into place. Even when I was throwing a fit in that alley way unsure of who you were. When I looked into your eyes in that moment, it felt like we were meant to be there. I was supposed to meet you. Every time thereafter that I saw you and you laughed, I felt that same feeling as I had at the lake. I felt safe."

     Tears that had dried on your face became wet again as new ones began tumbling down your cheeks. "Vi..." you whimpered; your mouth downturned in a far too dramatic that's so sweet type of look. "I feel the same way about you, too." You tried pushing off the headboard but hissed in a breath as a shooting pain traveled through your torso. Your arm, luckily, had been put back into place as you were unconscious. It no longer hurt aside from minor aching.

    Vi stood, and leaned over you so that her shadow covered your famished frame. Bending her neck, she raised her hand and lifted your chin ever so slightly with a single finger. Her lips pressed against yours so gently. It was as if she was ensuring that she would not break you. 

    "I am going to go downstairs and grab you something for the pain. You have two options, a remedy from a medic or booze."

    You let out a slight chuckle, and replied, "I think it would be smart to take a remedy this time."

    After a few minutes of observing the room you were in while she fetched the pain reliever, you came to the conclusion that this was her space. Her familiar (now quite destroyed) red jacket was thrown over the back of a black chair in the corner of the room. You could see spools of white wrapping on a desk that rested in front of a large rounded window, looking over what you presumed to be the city.

    "Here you go," Vi said, startling you slightly as she re-entered the room with food and a small bottle of red liquid. "This does not taste or smell great, please don't smell it like you smelt the shit on the ship." She sat beside you once again, popping open the small vile and handing it over to you. You hesitated, almost smelling it before reaching your other hand up and plugging your nose. Throwing your head back as you drank, you sank it back like a shot of whiskey. "Good girl." was all she said in response. You melted at her praise, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. She snickered, no doubt noticing your reaction.

    "Patience, baby. Once your better I am never letting you leave my room."

    "Promises, promises," was all you said in reply as a sly smile spread across your face.

PART THIRTEEN (FINAL)- Peace

- Spicy -    

It has been a few weeks since your expenditure with Tahm Kench. Vi had not lied for the most part, she had not let you leave her side even once after having rescued you. No matter where you went or what you did, she was with you.

    "(Y/N)," Vi said, lying next to you on her large bed. She lay on her side, resting her head on a hand and twirling absentmindedly fiddling with a piece of your hair with the other. "You feelin' okay today?"

     You nodded in response, turning your head away from your book to peer down at her. "Yeah of course babe, why?"

      "After everything, I just want to make sure you're okay. Like... mentally?" She gazed at you with concern lingering on her face, but as if she was trying to hide it. 

      Contemplating for a moment, you weren't entirely sure. You were certainly glad to be here, but it felt so sudden. Like all of these things had happened so out of the blue. The momentum of your life had been completely overturned, and the experiences of the last few months had certainly changed the way you think about things.

    "Honestly... I don't know. I am not scared, but I am not at peace. Do you know what I mean?" You looked at Vi as you talked with your hands. She nodded knowingly in response. "I am just glad I am out of that place, and we don't have anything to worry about. Plus, I feel a lot better physically which definitely helps."

    "Good. Do you want to go to that place I told you about? By the lake?" 

     You recalled the place that Vi had told you about being her hide-away location. Her peace. 

    "I would love that." You replied with a smile.

--- 🖤🖤🖤 ---

     Vi had given you a light sweater to wear, as spring had just arrived and although it was warmer than during the winter the wind was still crisp as it ran across your skin. 

    Walking through the streets of Piltover, you didn't care to look back at the gawkers and whisperers. You held Vi's hand in yours and felt like the most powerful woman in the world standing next to her. She did not look anywhere aside from ahead, and occasionally over at you to give a faint smile. 

    Approaching the end of a neighborhood road, the sidewalk curved around with a tall fence guarding from what lay beyond- the forest. You looked over at Vi and raised a brow.

    "Am I supposed to climb that?"

    She laughed, "My love, there are some obstacles you must overcome before you get to where you want to be."

    Although she was right, you still let out a prominent sigh and rolled your eyes to the heavens. She laughed again, bright and vibrant sounds radiating through your skin and bones. You approached the fence, using your fingers and boots to push you up, up, up and over the top. You took a moment at the top, looking over the small road you had come from. No one was watching, and you were thankful that no one was going to see you struggle with such a simple physical activity.

     "You ever going to come down?" Vi urged, shocking you from your revery. 

     "If I fall, will you catch me?" You said in response, nervous flutters racing through your chest. It was ridiculous, as it was only a few feet off of the ground. It felt like a hundred.

     "Always." She responded, looking you dead in the eyes. You sighed again, slowly turning your body and descending the opposing side of the fence. Once you nearly reached the bottom, you jumped off the last ten inches and turned to face Vi.

    "You have got to help me get into shape, honestly," You smiled, huffing out breaths. 

     After a tad bit of banter, the two of you continued walking. A thick line of trees sat ahead of you, a sweet whisper of pine lingering in the air. Vi released your hand and began walking forward, beckoning you to follow. You stepped in line behind her as she pushed branches aside and followed a path only known to her.

     "Here it is," Vi said, holding back another branch and stepping back as if revealing the area to you. You stepped forward, gawking at your surroundings as Vi stepped up behind you. 

     "Oh my Gods, its..." You started. You couldn't even find the words. A small meadow filled with Lavender, Honeysuckle, Tulips, and various other flowers rest in front of you. The breeze made gorgeous floral scents waft over to you, instantly relaxing your mind and muscles. A few feet ahead, you could see a round pond littered with lily pads. Across from the pond, the trees finished the circle encompassing the area. It really was a secluded paradise.

    "I know, right?" Vi smiled, looking longingly at what lay ahead. She grabbed your hand gently and pulled you with her as she began walking. "Over here there is a perfect place to lay down and look at the stars at night, if you want to stay long enough to do that."

    You nodded sheepishly, feeling honored to be taken to her sacred place. As you reached the flat plane of grass that looked almost manicured compared to the rest of the space, she sat down. Gently she tugged your hand to follow suit.

   Sitting in silence, you rested your head on her shoulder and looked across the water. It was crazy that all of these things had happened in the span of a few months. Meeting Vi, meeting her sister Jinx, getting kidnapped and tortured... All to lead to this place, next to this woman, who you could not deny you were falling undeniably in love with.

   "What are you thinking about, sweet stuff?" Vi murmurs, looking over at you with her head tilted as she lifts your chin with a finger. Your gaze meets hers and you take in her beauty. The small scar that sits on her pink lips, the jewelry in her nose. Her hardened eyes softening only for you. 

    "I think..." You start, pausing to suck in a shaky breath, "I think I'm in love with you, Vi."

     She looks taken aback, her eyebrows raising, and she blinks a few times. You feel heat rise to your cheeks before she smiles sweetly at you. Relief floods you when she responds.

     "I think, sweet stuff, that I may just love you, too." Her hand moves to your cheek, cupping your face. You lean into it, closing your eyes for a moment and inhaling deeply. When you open them, you meet her gaze. Her eyes have heated, lids lowering. As she gazes and you through her lashes, she runs her teeth over her bottom lip. "You know... I think you feel better enough that we can consummate our love... the good ol' fashioned way." She sniggers, raising a brow and tilting her head the other way. 

     "I suppose there is," You reply, trying to sound sultry even though you have no idea what you're doing.

    She giggles at your attempt, leaning in close. Your foreheads touch, and for a moment the two of you just sit there basking in each other's presence. You can feel her eyes on your lips, and instinctively you lick them. She lets out a small growl, moving her hand to the base of your neck and pulling you in. Her lips brush yours slightly, and a sigh escapes you. As your lips part, she enters you with her tongue. The two of you kissing passionately, she slowly lays you backward on the grass you sat upon. 

    Vi wants to cater to you, to love you. She wants you to feel special, but you can tell that there is something else urging her to go faster. She is ravenous to taste you, it seems, as she quickly trails down your body and pulls the pants down that you are wearing. You nearly reach down to cover yourself, but she snaps her gaze up to your own with an intensity so fierce you can't help but feel obliged to let her move forward. 

    Leaning your head back on the grass, your breathing intensifies as you feel her breath brush against your bare skin. The feeling of being out in the open, in the wild, is exhilarating. You had never experienced anything like this, and you are more than happy to be doing it with her. 

    Deep in thought, you intake a sharp breath of air as you feel her flat tongue lick you from your opening up to your clit. The world slows, but she speeds up. Your eyes roll back into your head as you reach out a hand a clasp her hair. She lets out a satisfied groan.

    "Fuck, baby. You look so fucking hot when I am pleasing you," Vi says quickly, returning to what she was doing. You feel one of her hands travel down your side, past your thigh and to your center. She pauses briefly as she adjusts herself and inserts a finger into you. Vi curves it up, flicking that spot perfectly, making little breathy moans escape your lips as she continues licking and worshipping your clit. 

    "Vi... Vi I'm gonna...", you start to say, and she looks up at you, breathing against your pussy only to pause for a moment.

     "Look at me while you cum, Princess," She urges, returning to that spot. You look down at her, and as she consumes you, you see her eyes meet your own, and you explode into a million pieces. You can't help it, falling back and bucking your hips against her face. She doesn't stop savoring the moment, until you use the hand that was once clenched in her hair to gently stop her.

    She smiles, a feline smile as she retreats from your throbbing pussy. You're panting heavily, and she crawls up your body. You think she is going to kiss you, but she brings the hand that she was fingerbanging you with to your mouth. You reach out your tongue and suck your juices off of her finger, and watch as she inhales and closes her eyes. 

    Using all of the strength you can muster, you grab her wrist and pull her to the side. As she falls over, you giggle maniacally and crawl on top of her. She laughs out loud as if shocked you got the upper hand for even just a moment. 

     "Now, Vi, let me return the favor? This love... it isn't one sided." Before she can open her mouth to protest, you lean down and kiss her long and hard, letting your right-hand trail down her neck, her breasts, until it brushes over a nipple. She gasps, and you can't help but marvel in the fact that she is sitting here beneath you. Vi looks so stunning, a blush creeping into her cheeks. Her blue eyes are hooded, never leaving your own.

     You lean down, unzipping her jacket as you go. You let it fall to the sides of her torso, and slowly caress her bare stomach underneath her white tank top. You pull it up and up until her chest is exposed to you. You had often wondered what she would look like here, as you hadn't gotten the opportunity to see yet. But she was perfect. Her breasts were not big but not small, cute little pink buds were hard as the breeze and most certainly her arousal enticed them. You bit your lip, before leaning down and taking one into your mouth. Swirling around it, sucking, and releasing it with a pop. You turned your attention to the other and did the same thing. 

    After you were satisfied that she was feeling positively enchanted, you trailed soft kisses down her stomach, stopping at the hem of her pants. You hooked a finger in one of the belt loops and looked up at her expectant gaze. In this moment, you recalled the first time she did this to you.

    "Is this okay?" You smiled, and she smiled back. She must have also remembered what she said to you that night on the ship.

     "More than okay, Sweet stuff," she said, no louder than a whisper. 

    You took no time in removing her bottoms, her panties, and marveling at her beautiful pussy. She was so wet, glistening. The thought that you were what caused her intense arousal made you proud. You had no mercy in your fucking her. The love flowed through you and your tongue against her clit until she was crying out your name. You had never heard her sound like that before, so sensual, so free.

    After you were finished, you both got your clothes back on. Vi rested her head on an arm as her back pressed against the grass, and you climbed up and onto her chest. Mainly, the two of you were looking at the stars.

    "I guess we get to look at the stars, after all," She smiled, and you glanced at her in awe.

    "If it's with you, I will do anything." You shifted onto your stomach, resting your chin on her chest so your face was directed at her. "Because after everything we have been through, I have come to realize that you're my escape, too. You're my home."

     Vi stretched down, tears threatening to leak from her eyes. You rose up slightly, to accommodate the space between the two of you and shared a pleasant, soft and loving kiss.

    You realized, in that moment under the stars, that there was nothing you would ever change about the past. And that the future, no matter what it could bring, would always be better than it could of been before if you were with her.

    Your home. 

------  🖤🖤🖤 ------      THE END      ------ 🖤🖤🖤 ------

[blondeboyfriend]

𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRINGS ] Eren x f!reader, Grisha x f!reader, Zeke x f!reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] My magnum opus /hj. Shout out to my dear friend Mica because I couldn't have written this fic without their support and guidance. And shout out to @strawberrystepmom because this fic is what brought us together lmaoooooo. [ SYNOPSIS ] Disillusioned by your current church, you find yourself drawn to a charismatic televangelist and his seemingly pious sons. [ WORD COUNT ] 14.6k [ CONTENT ] DARK CONTENT, tall-coded reader, sacrilege, incest (between Eren and Zeke), age gap (Grisha’s in his late 40s, y/n is in her 20s), masturbation, cucking, threesome, voyeurism, drugs (weed), dubcon (power imbalance, pastor x parishioner), degradation (during sex and just in general), angst, manipulation, creampie, thick Yeager dick, humiliation, y/n gets called “sister” while getting fucked but it’s in a religious sense, religious trauma, disturbing biblical imagery (violence), cigarettes (Zeke), biting, hair pulling, impact play (slapping), oral sex (m + f receiving), cum play, panty sniffing, spit play, blood (not in a sexy way), these men are strong and can manhandle/lift you with ease.

And I saw an angel standing in the sun; and he cried with a loud voice, saying to all the birds that fly in the midst of heaven…

The early vestiges of a Sunday morning didn’t inspire deep thinking or any form of reflection. It was a time to be brain dead, to indulge in the death rattle of public access television. You witnessed a zookeeper getting bit by a garter snake on a children’s program, families attending therapy while honing their dancing skills, deadly go-kart races, and a man demonstrating the superabsorbent qualities of chamois cloths.

It was welcomed. You needed to be numbed before meandering to the megachurch. Sermons were easier to suffer through if you were vaguely dissociative, your eyes glazing over as the exploiter behind the altar repeated his chicanery.

Salvation had to be earned. Consumption was godly. Wealth was bestowed to only the most pious of people. Sinners lived impoverished lives. They didn’t work hard enough. Your inability to line the pastor’s pockets proved you didn’t believe hard enough.

You weren’t sure if you called yourself a believer anymore. Church didn’t inspire you. It was just an unexciting compulsion. It signified the start of the week, the sun overtaking the hills. Nothing more, nothing less.

You don’t know what possessed you to tune in for Service For Shut-Ins that morning. Usually you knew to turn off the TV when twilight began to brew. But for whatever reason the show called out to you.

It likely had something to do with the emerald-eyed man on the television shouting, “Hey, you! Yeah, you!”

You were immediately transfixed. His chocolate brown hair was piled on top of his head in a messy bun, tendrils of hair haphazardly framing his face. His olive skin was sun kissed. He wore a crisp white button-down tucked into a pair of black straight leg trousers. His outfit was topped off with a pair of respectable, leather suspenders of a mahogany hue. He looked more like a model than a preacher.

“I think you’ve sufficiently startled the three people that are watching this,” a gruff voice muttered from behind the camera.

“Aw. Come on, brother. There’s at least five.”

The brunette smirked and flipped through a worn bible resting on the walnut wooden pulpit. The room he stood in was sparsely decorated. The walls were stark white. A blue velvet curtain hung behind him, giving everything a rather Lynchian appearance. It was the exact opposite of the flashy amphitheater you typically worshiped in.

“Do we start? Where’s dad?” The brunette asked.

“No idea. We’re live. Start without him.”

“With my luck he’ll get mad and not talk to me for two fuckin’ days.”

“Eren!” The voice hissed.

Eren shrugged and brushed his hair out of his face. He exhaled and cracked his neck, the sound echoing through the television. Just as he went to speak, a door opened and quickly  slammed shut. Solid footsteps emanated from beyond the frame.

“Glad you decided to show up,” Eren joked.

“Very funny,” a rather commanding voice replied. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today.”

An older man walked into frame and shooed Eren away from the pulpit. His sleek dark hair was tucked behind his ears, much longer than the hair of your usual pastor. He was dressed exactly the same as Eren, though he looked more disheveled and unshaven.

The man stared down at his bible and smiled.

“Ah, excellent choice, Eren. The Gospel of Matthew.”

You heard the man behind the camera sigh and grumble something incomprehensible under his breath. It was pungent with annoyance. You couldn’t help but laugh.

The pastor stretched and cleared his throat. He dove right into the story of Jesus and the rich man, and how the rich man questioned Christ about how one can attain eternal life. He orated the story by heart; it was riveting. At your church the pastor relied heavily on cue cards when he was compelled to quote scripture. But this pastor passionately relayed how the rich man told Christ he followed all the commandments and was curious as to what he lacked.

“‘If you wish to be perfect, go, sell your possessions, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.’ When the young man heard this word, he went away grieving, for he had many possessions.”

He made direct eye contact with the camera.

“To some believers the rich man’s grief is understandable. But what Jesus witnessed was weakness in its purest form. A man too grounded in the luxuries of this world. It’s rather tragic, isn’t it? I can’t imagine having my self worth tethered to the things I own. If you know God, undeniably, you’d never cling to your possessions in the first place.

However, this is not to say the rich man is a lost cause. Everyone is capable of being saved, even the most disgusting and depraved of sinners. But as Jesus says, ‘It will be hard for a rich person to enter the kingdom of heaven. It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle.’”

A chorus of men chanted, “Amen.”

“You,” the pastor said, pointing at the camera and leaning over the pulpit. “I can feel your discontent.” He held his hand to his heart. “I know what it’s like to witness heresy itself. I know how it can make you question your devotion. You curse God, unsure if He is worth following. I want to tell you that He is. It’s undeniably worth living in His light. I tell you, it's not God you wrestle with. It’s the used car salesmen masquerading as your brothers, shrieking in arenas filled to the brim with lost souls. You wrestle with the demons sinking their teeth into your wallet, draining it of every dollar.” His tone grew more intense by the moment. “That is not godliness! That is chicanery! These men do not shepherd their flock with kindness in their heart! They merely want to shear and bleed the sheep, to sell their wool to the highest bidder!”

The chorus of men chanted another, “Amen,” their fervor growing. The pastor’s eyes softened and he gave a small smile.

“You don’t have to weather the storm in your soul alone.”

You were aghast, mouth agape. A tear trickled from your eye down your cheek, leaving a single, salty trail. You wiped it away with the back of your hand and sniffled. How did he know? How did he know you struggled with your faith? That you attended a megachurch run by rich freaks?

No, it was just a coincidence. But a lovely one. You were changed by the pastor's words. He was what you were missing. Him and this Eren. They saved you.

You eschewed attending your old church. Service For Shut-Ins was all you needed. You hung on Pastor Grisha’s every word. Every little thing he said filled you with unspeakable joy. He was intelligent and progressive in comparison to the sermons you used to suffer through. He was also significantly more handsome than any preacher you stumbled upon.

Your hands often found themselves in your underwear, breath hitching as he rolled up his sleeves. His toned forearms could send you spiraling into the depths of lust. Under his intense gaze as he recited scripture, you pretended he could see you delving your fingers in your dripping cunt.

Shame tended to follow after you came, but you couldn’t help yourself. You were smitten.

“I need to see him,” you exhaled.

You found the address for the church on their bare bones website. When you mapped out a route you were pleased to see the church was on the outskirts of town, secluded from the secular nonsense and false prophets.

Your nerves almost got the best of you when you saw the one room church resting near the coast. It was painted black with a white door and white windowsills. It was simple, a welcome change.

“Are you here for service?”

You turned to see a tall blonde-haired man smoking a cigarette. He adjusted his glasses and took a drag. He dressed the same as Pastor Grisha and Eren though the first few buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a hint of chest hair.

“Uh, yeah. I am. Am I… Am I allowed in?”

He chuckled.

“It’s a church, sister. Not a nightclub. Come on.” He tossed his cigarette to the side. “I’ll walk in with you.”

“Thank you. I won’t lie. I'm a little nervous.”

“Why?” He asked, smirking.

He looked so much like Pastor Grisha you wondered if they were related. The only difference being his flaxen, wavy hair and more muscular build.

“I have a complicated relationship with the Lord.”

“Don’t we all?”

He held open the door for you. You brushed up against his body and your breath hitched. Heat radiated off of him. You wanted to curl up next to him in the pews, have him be your security blanket until you got your sea legs.

“You can sit anywhere, but I don’t recommend sitting in the first row unless you want to get up close and personal with the fury that is Pastor Grisha.”

“Where do you sit?”

He patted your shoulder with his weighty hand.

“I don’t. I work the camera.”

So he was the mysterious voice you heard on occasion. You anxiously thanked him for his kindness before finding a comfortable seat in the middle of the pews. The only other people in the church were a handful of men all dressed the same: white button-down, black pants, leather suspenders. Not a single woman in the room. Suddenly you felt like even more of an outsider. A harlot considering you mostly came to gawk at a beautiful man of God. You nearly choked when he took to the pulpit, but to your dismay Eren was nowhere to be found.

Throughout the sermon you noticed the pastor’s gaze lingering on you. He seemed a little antsy, stumbling over his words, tugging at his collar. A sense of power washed over you. Never once had you seen him struggle to get through a sermon. It was charming.

Once the sermon was finished you quickly gathered yourself and headed towards the door. You caught the eye of the blonde camera operator. He latched onto your wrist as you tried to move past him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asked, smirking.

“I was gonna go,” you conceded. “I don’t wanna be a bother, y’know?”

“You’d hardly be a bother if you stuck around.”

His tone was flirtatious.

“I—I, uh, okay,” you stammered. “I can stick around.”

His hand snaked around your waist and he started to lead you out the door. You didn’t know what was happening, but you were pleased Zeke took the initiative to take you under his wing. He was a good Christian.

“What’s your name?”

“It’s Ze—”

Before he could finish, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned around to see Pastor Grisha smiling warmly at you.

“Zeke, I hope you're not scaring this young woman away.”

“Oh no. You caught me,” Zeke said, his words dripping with sarcasm.

Zeke let go of you and trudged off, mumbling expletives under his breath.

“He wasn’t scaring me off,” you assured the pastor.

“I’m just giving him a hard time,” he chuckled. “Though he’s not exactly the most welcoming boy around. At least not in a traditional sense.”

“He was very nice. He calmed my nerves a bit,” you said, nervously scratching the back on your scalp. “It’s my first time here.”

“I’m well aware. You’re hard to miss. What’s your name, sister?”

You told him your name and thought it was funny he bothered to tell you his, considering you knew it so well. It was a name that often fell from your lips late at night when you’d let your lusty mind wander. When he shook your hand you tried to memorize how his skin felt against yours. You didn’t know when you would be blessed with such an opportunity again.

“A lovely name for a lovely girl,” he said, squeezing your hand.

You were awestruck and ready to sign your life away to him. No one ever told you were lovely.

“Are you in a hurry?” He asked.

You shook your head.

“Would you be interested in coming to the parsonage for tea? I like to get to know my new congregants lest they not be true believers,” he said with a sharp tongue.

Your eyes widened, terrified that you might not be considered a true believer.

“I’m only kidding, lamb. Come, let’s go.”

You followed him out the door. He directed you towards a little house closer to the cliff overlooking the coast. The architecture was similar to that of the church, but it had two stories and larger windows. The pastor led you inside and you marveled at the foyer. The walls were paneled with wide, oak slats.

“How do you take your tea?” He asked warmly.

You pinched your thigh, dying to know if you were dreaming or not. Luckily you weren’t; you were very much grounded in reality. You told the pastor how you took your tea.

“My office is down the hall, first door on the left. I’ll meet you there.”

You followed his instructions, eager to show him you were an obedient parishioner. As you made your way down the hall you noticed a door cracked open. You peeked inside and saw Eren sitting on his bed, back against the wall, fiddling with something in his lap. Your skin grew hot and you wondered if he was jerking off. You hated yourself for watching, but your curious nature overpowered you.

“Aw shit,” Eren muttered. “I just ground that up.”

He got up, moving a little plate that was resting discreetly in his lap. You sighed. He was just rolling a joint.

“I said it was the first door on the left, lamb.”

You spun around and saw Pastor Grisha holding two cups of tea.

“I… I… don’t know my right from my left.”

You gritted your teeth. It was one of your shittier lies.

“It’s alright. Come, come.”

You followed him into his office and took a seat across from him. His desk was large and made out of the same wood as the paneling on the walls. You dragged your finger across the top of it. It was smooth, not even a hint of splintering.

“Did you make this?”

“I’m flattered you think I’m that handy, but no. My son did. He tends to do most of the building and upkeep around here.”

“Wow. He operates the camera and does the maintenance?”

The pastor stifled a laugh. “No, my other son. Eren.”

You took a sip of your tea. It was exactly how you liked it.

“So, what brought you here?”

“My feet. I’m kidding, uh.”

He smiled.

“I’ve been watching you guys on channel 5 for a few months. I figured it was about time I came to see you in person.”

His eyes narrowed. “To see me?”

“I mean like, you know.” You paused, your nerves getting the better of you. “I wanted to experience this in person. Your sermons.”

You felt like he was staring through you. Like he knew every lurid thought your brain dreamt up.

“I see.”

“I got sick of the church I used to go to,” you admitted.

“And which one was that?”

“Hope Springs Eternal Ministries. It’s the one tha—”

The pastor slammed his cup of tea back on the saucer.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

He ran his hand through his hair and sighed.

“There is no need to apologize. It’s not your fault you attended the most heretical church in town.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad there.”

“Tell me, lamb.” He leaned over his desk. “Were you happy?”

“Obviously not,” you scoffed.

“What didn’t you like?”

“Too focused on money and I never have any to spare,” you explained, taking another sip of tea. ��Hard to stay a believer when your salvation is tethered to how much money you can throw at someone.”

“You poor thing. It’s a tragedy you and all those other cretins are cursed to attend such a disgusting testament to God.”

“Wow. Cretins, huh?”

He blushed. “I suppose it’s my turn to apologize. It’s not their fault they’re so small minded.”

The pastor’s pretentiousness sullied your deification of him. Granted it was your fault for putting a man on a pedestal in the first place.

“Am I small minded, Pastor Grisha?”

He rubbed his foot against your shin. You swallowed hard.

“I’m not sure, lamb. Have you cut ties with your old church?”

“I haven’t been there in a few months.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

You held his gaze and tried to ignore his foot rubbing up and down the length of your leg. Silence flooded the room.

“Yes,” you finally spat out. “I don’t associate with anyone from there. Not a single person.”

He leaned over his desk and beckoned you to come closer. You leaned in and your palms started to sweat. He smelled like cedar and juniper berries. Part of you wanted to kiss him, but you refrained. He cupped your face with his right hand and ran his thumb along your bottom lip. You couldn’t tell if you were turned on or on the verge of an anxiety attack.

“Poor thing. Tell me, are you lonely?”

You hesitated to answer. You were in fact painfully lonely, especially now that you rejected everyone at Hope Springs Eternal. Grisha’s stare was so intense you could have sworn he could read your mind. Just as you went to speak the door abruptly opened. Zeke walked through carrying a bunch of camera equipment. A lit cigarette hung precariously from his mouth.

“You have to tell Hannes not to show up drunk anymore. I spent ten minutes trying to clear him out—Oh, it’s you,” he said, setting the equipment on a plush couch on the other side of the room.

The pastor dropped his hand and leaned back in his chair.

“If I tell him that he’ll never show up again,” he rued. “I hate to think about the trouble he’d get into.”

You were frozen in place, struggling to see how the pastor could be so calm after Zeke saw you on the verge of sucking his thumb.

“Zeke?” He asked. “Are you listening?”

Zeke glared at you, his grey eyes colder than an overcast day in January.

“I heard you, father,” he hissed as he exited the office, leaving the door slightly ajar.

“I oughta go. I don’t want to intrude.”

“Will you be joining us next Sunday?”

“I think so.”

You wanted to bolt for the door but remained seated. The pastor seemed to have some sort of magnetic pull on you. Getting up was out of the question until he said you could.

“I’d prefer it if you knew. Why don’t you give me your phone number so we make sure you remember to show up.”

You gulped. “Alright.”

You scribbled your number down on a sticky note and grimaced. It was a tragic attempt at a smile, but your nerves tainted it.

“I look forward to seeing you again, lamb.”

“That’s if I come back,” you laughed.

His lips became a flat line.

“You will. I’m sure of it.”

The sentence reeked of ominousness. You excused yourself and slid out the door without a word. You feared that if you opened your mouth you’d just scream. When you entered the foyer you saw a very disgruntled Zeke and a sympathetic Eren. They glanced over at you. Eren’s demeanor changed, becoming vaguely welcoming. Whereas Zeke ignored your presence.

“Bye,” you said quietly.

Eren waved and resumed comforting Zeke. Shame came over you. You assumed you were the reason Zeke looked so bothered. Though your obsession remained, you had no intention of returning.

Your phone rang at 2 am, the chime blistering your ears. You didn’t recognize the number and opted not to answer. Just as you were about to fall back asleep, your phone rang again. You declined the call and turned your phone on silent. It didn’t take long for the screen to light up; the mysterious number demanded your attention.

“What?! What is it?!”

“Sorry to bother you. I do realize I’m calling rather late.”

It was Pastor Grisha, his voice clear as day. Not a hint of sleepiness to it.

“Oh fuck, I mean, damn. Dang! Uh, what is it?” You stammered.

“I just wanted to talk to you; that’s all.”

You swallowed hard.

“About?”

“Whatever you’d like.”

You furrowed your brow. Grisha’s actions felt odd and lacking goodwill.

“I don’t have anything to say. I’m pretty tired.”

“It doesn’t matter. Just speak,” he said, his tone finally revealing some hint of urgency.

You paused and tried to think of something to say. You looked out the window at the frost coating the grass.

“It’s been cold lately. I don’t know about you but I’m not used to it. Do you remember it being… this cold?”

You heard rustling on the other end of the phone.

His answer was a clipped, “No.”

“See I’ve seen people try to say it’s always been this way.”

“Ha—have you?” He sputtered.

“Yeah. Uh, like on the news. I feel like they downplay it on purpose.”

“Uh-huh.”

The pastor's breathing grew heavier and you heard him spit in his hand. You clenched your fists and tried to think of harmless things he could be doing. Maybe he had something stuck in his teeth and spit it into the sink.

“It’s gotta be an environmental thing.”

“Climate change,” he choked out.

“You know one of the reasons I started hating Hope Springs Eternal was the pastor not believing in ‘global warming.’ Shows how much he knows, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m, uh, assuming you believe in it.”

“Yes,” he moaned. “It beckons the eschaton.”

You paused, trying to collect your thoughts and ignore what was happening on the other end of the phone.

“Did I tell you to stop?”

“It’s just… That’s a rather disconcerting thought, pastor.”

“Call me Grisha.”

“Okay… Grisha.”

You could hear his hand sliding up and down his cock. You paced around your room. You knew you should have hung up, that this was wrong. But the inappropriateness drew you in. You felt powerful knowing you managed to break down Grisha’s defenses and make him behave like a pitiful sinner.

“Are you close?” You asked.

“Y—yes,” he responded, the words stumbling out of his mouth.

“I hope you realize how loathsome this is.”

You heard a low groan followed by panting, and hung up. You were ashamed of the wet spot in your underwear. You thumbed through your drawer for a fresh pair, slipping them on before crawling back into bed. You lied awake, staring at the ceiling, and tried to make sense of what happened. Masturbating crossed your mind, but it would’ve been unholy. You opted to close your eyes and pray that morning came quickly.

You initially had no intention to return to the little church on the coast, but it wasn’t as if you had anything better to do. As you crested the hill you saw Zeke standing by the cliff, staring out into the ocean. The back of his shirt was speckled with red stains. A cloud of cigarette smoke lingered around him caught in the cold, morning air.

You walked towards him, your hands shoved in your pockets.

“Hi,” you said.

He perked up and side-eyed you.

“Yeah?”

“I just wanted to say good morning.”

“Well, you said it.”

He tossed his cigarette off the cliff and headed towards the church. You trailed after, embarrassed that you reached out to him. Entering the church you were pleasantly surprised to see Eren sitting in the pews. You grabbed a seat in the same row as him but kept your distance.

“C’mere. No need to sit so far away, sister.”

You scooched over to him. He was much more personable than his brother or his father.

“Sister? Wow. So formal.”

He blushed.

“Sorry. It’s a habit I can’t break for the life of me.”

“It’s fine… brother.”

He snickered. “You know for the longest time I used to say it like Hulk Hogan.”

“You mean like, ‘Bruhthurrrrr!’” You mimicked.

“Ha! Exactly.”

“What was your favorite verse? Austin 3:16?”

“You know it,” he said cheekily.

Service began and Grisha spent the majority of the time comparing various atrocities to the Book of Revelation. It was more militant than his previous sermons. Never before had he ever dropped a reference to a “holy war”, but today that seemed to be the running theme.

To say it made you uncomfortable would be the least. But still you found yourself hanging on his every word. You pictured yourself charging through a broken landscape. Flames ripping through cracks in the earth. Locusts fluttering about. The stench of carnage filling your nose. A hideous, rotted beast rising from a bottomless pit. The bodies of sinners heaped high into the heavens; those still cursed with life gnawing on their tongues in agony. It was horrific, but you felt pride. If you lived a virtuous enough life you could fight in God’s army and live in His light eternally.

You were ripped away from your nightmarish fantasy when Eren’s sweet voice blessed your ears.

“Was the sermon that boring?”

“What? No, I was just thinking about it.”

“It’s all good. Trust me, I zone out the second my dad starts talking.”

You wished that was what you had done. You missed the mindlessness you could indulge in on Sundays. Ever since you started attending service you were hypervigilant, bordering on too aware. You stretched your arms over your head and stood up, hoping it would quiet your disturbing thoughts.

“Shit. I should’ve introduced myself earlier. But, uh, my name’s Eren.”

“I know,” you laughed, and then told him yours.

“Now that’s a pretty name.”

Your face grew warm upon hearing his compliment. “Well, I’m off,” you said cheerfully.

“It was nice talking to you. Happy to be around a normal person for once.

You giggled. If only you were a normal person. You bid Eren farewell and headed towards the door. Just as you were about to step outside the threshold of the church, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned around to see Grisha.

“Where are you off to, lamb?”

“Home.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Why?”

“I was hoping you’d come back to the parsonage so I could properly apologize for my… indiscretion.”

You had tried so hard to forget about him jerking off while talking on the phone with you, how he punctured you with the sword of his mouth. You knew you should’ve declined his invitation and set a boundary between the two of you. But you were smitten despite how much the pastor unsettled you.

“Okay,” you relented.

Once in his office he collapsed onto the couch, resting the back of his hand on his forehead.

“So,” you began. “Are you going to apologize?”

“I think you should be the one apologizing to me.”

“What? But you said—”

“I’m well aware of what I said.” He fixed his gaze on you. “However, you tempted me to share in your plagues.”

“I didn’t do shit. You’re the one that called me up.”

“You didn’t have to answer.”

“You called me three times!”

He exhaled deeply.

“I suppose I am partially to blame.”

“Jesus fucking Christ! You’re fully to blame,” you seethed.

“Why are you being so hostile? Come, sit beside me.”

For whatever reason you did as you were told. You sat next to him and stared at your shoes like a child about to be reprimanded.

“I feel as though you solely exist to tempt me, like some sort of divine punishment. Tell me, lamb, are you clothed with the sun or are you a whore that sits on many waters?”

“I don’t know…” You thought about the lewd thoughts that often plagued your mind. “I guess the latter.”

“I see,” he said, placing his hand on your thigh. “I can save you, if you let me.”

“And how exactly would you do that?” You asked, glancing down at the bulge growing in his pants.

He squeezed your thigh and turned to face you. His eyes were dark with ardor. He only ever looked this passionate when he was preaching.

“I’d rather show than tell, lamb.”

He started to unzip his pants, revealing his hard cock. You turned away and stared at the wall. He latched onto your wrist and placed your hand on it. You prayed for God to stop your underwear from getting soaked.

“Are you afraid?” He asked.

“No. But this… isn’t right.”

“You have nothing to fear. I’m your savior. You should trust me.”

You faced him. He didn’t look untrustworthy. What would he gain from pulling the wool over your eyes? You needed to be saved. You were lucky this man had decided you were worth his time. You squeezed his cock, watching his reaction. He blushed.

“There’s no reason to be shy,” he cooed.

He repositioned himself so he was lying on his back, pulling you on top of him. He lifted up your dress and pulled your underwear off, throwing them to the side. You had taken to wearing prairie dresses with high necklines and white ruffled collars to fit in amongst the congregants. Oddly enough this made the men pay more attention to you, notably Grisha.

He guided his cock inside you. Your breath hitched as it stretched out your tight cunt. It had been years since anyone had fucked you. You gritted your teeth and breathed heavily through your nose.

“Am I hurting you?” He groaned while thrusting into you.

“Yes!” You yelped.

He placed his hands under your ass, lifting you up, leaving only the tip inside. You braced yourself by putting your hands on his tense shoulders. He peered up at you and tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear.

“That wasn’t my intention,” he grunted.

He pulled your body closer, keeping it flush to his, and started to ease his cock back inside you. You held his face in your hands and kissed him. Your lips overlapped his in a desperate attempt at intimacy. You wanted him to feel your passion and love, that you weren’t some trollop that waltzed in to simply whore herself out.

He slowly pushed his cock deeper into you, his hips rocking ever so slightly. You whined through the kiss before breaking it.

“Fuck. It’s too much,” you whined. “Can you get on top?”

He was more than happy to oblige, lifting you up and resting you on your back while his cock continued to throb inside you.

“How’s that?” He asked breathily.

“Much better,” you moaned.

He smiled and lifted your dress up higher. He pushed down the cups of your bra and groped your breasts.

“Harder,” you mewled.

He pinched one of your pert nipples, letting out a tiny laugh as you squealed. You grabbed ahold of his ass, driving his cock deeper into you. A few tears fell from your eyes as he bottomed out, his cock ramming into your cervix. You bit down on your bottom lip and tried to hold back an agonized moan. But the ache invading your body needed to be heard.

Grisha’s thrusts grew more erratic and his groans became louder. He had been starved of intimacy for so long. His desperate hymn radiated through your body. You found yourself being overcome by ecstasy. It was as if God was shining His holy light down on you. It took everything out of you to start babbling the Lord’s Prayer.

You happened to glance out the window and saw Zeke standing outside, partially obscured by a Monterey cypress. You knitted your brow and swallowed hard, nearly choking on your spit.

“Wh—what is it? Am I still hurting you?” He asked, thrusting away, his eyes now shut as rapture consumed him.

You squinted as if it would give you a better look at Zeke.

“It’s nothing. Keep going.”

You hugged him closer as his cock leaked precum inside you. You prayed Zeke couldn’t see anything. But alas you were wrong. Zeke had adjusted his position, revealing that he was fucking his fist. His pants hung around his ankles. It made you nauseous and you felt as if your entire body went cold, like your blood turned to ice.

“I—I’m going to wash away your sins with my seed.”

You felt disgusted by everything: Zeke masturbating to the sight of his father fucking you, Grisha’s ostentatious assumption his cum was a sacrament, the fact you still found yourself reeling from the rapturious pleasure of Grisha’s cock slamming into your cervix. He dropped one of his hands and rubbed your clit, leaving you a quivering mess.

You wanted to hold back, to have him come inside you and walk out of his office with some form of dignity. But it was impossible. Your unstoppable moans flooded the room.

“That’s it, lamb. Let it all go,” he grunted as he came, fucking his cum into your cunt.

Once he was finished he got up and tucked his cock back into his pants. You were rendered immoveable, body glued to the couch.

“It’s time for you to go,” he said solemnly, zipping and buttoning his pants.

You wordlessly tucked your breasts back into your bra and pulled your dress down. You scurried out of his office, passing Eren on your way out.

“Oh shit! Hey!”

“I’m leaving,” you mumbled, not actually hearing what he said.

“What?” He asked, his eyes filling with concern.

“I have to go!” You cried out while speed walking away from the parsonage.

You quickly glanced over your shoulder and saw him chasing after you, his long hair flowing in the wind.

“Wait up, sister,” he shouted.

“Leave me alone! Just… please. Don’t. I—I just wanna go home,” you said, having regained some level of composure.

You stopped; your feet felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. You felt Grisha’s come seep out of your cunt, dripping down the inside of your thigh.

“Did something happen to you?” He asked.

You shivered.

“No. No. No,” you repeated mindlessly.

He narrowed his eyes, his stare fixated on the rumpled state of your dress.

“Who was it?” He asked.

“No one. It was nothing,” you mumbled as your legs finally found it in them to move.

“Are you going to get home okay? I can drive you back to town.”

“Stop! I don’t even know you. I think I can manage on my own.”

Part of you wanted to collapse in his arms and weep, but you were sick of relying on these men for comfort, for a smidgen of solace. Eren didn’t seem to pick up on your distaste. He took a few more steps towards you before stopping.

“Tell me, sister. Was it my dad?”

“Didn’t I say it was no one?” You seethed, clenching your jaw.

You didn’t return to church the following Sunday or the Sunday after that even though Grisha incessantly called you. Instead you watched a live feed of the service at Hope Springs Eternal. You were able to lose yourself in the pompous extravagance. It wasn’t particularly pleasant. The sermon was the typical “poor people are poor because they don’t love God enough.” But it was nice to not hear rants about fighting in God’s army. Plus you thoroughly enjoyed roasting your old church.

“Idiots,” you muttered, shoving your hand in a box of cereal. “That guy doesn’t love God enough because his toupee isn’t on straight.”

You laughed with a mouthful of cereal and nearly choked on your giggle fit.

However you grimaced when the pastor brought out a rattlesnake. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he spoke in tongues.

“What is this? Fear Factor?”

Suddenly the crowd erupted into a shrieking mass of glossolalia, throwing themselves at the ground, as the pastor held the snake above his head. You were shocked to see the church had become such a spectacle while you were gone.

“Well that’s unsettling,” you said, turning off your television. “I hope the snake is okay.”

Pastor Grisha’s sermons suddenly seemed reasonable in comparison to whatever the fuck it was you’d just witnessed. You stared at your phone and picked it up. It felt like a stone in your hand. You called Grisha, hoping he wouldn’t answer.

Much to your disappointment he picked up on the first ring.

“Hi,” you said solemnly.

“My precious lamb, have you decided to come crawling back?”

You clenched your fists, your fingernails leaving valleys in your palm.

“Do you guys speak in tongues and handle snakes?”

“I run a church. Not a sideshow.”

“I take that as a no then.”

“That’s all ceremonial grandeur. It’s not of God.”

“Isn’t it in The Bible?”

“Much of The Bible is not to be taken literally.”

“Fair enough…”

“Why do you ask?”

You sighed. “Hope Springs Eternal livesteams their servi—”

“Heretical bastards!”

“Don—Don’t you broadcast your sermons on television? How is that any different?”

“Because I’m right goddammit! Even if I wanted to stop, I couldn't! It’s God’s will! How am I supposed to deny his desires?!”

“I—”

“What I do… What I do is necessary. It’s my duty. Only I can lead us on the virtuous path.”

“What about your sons?”

“Zeke’s more than capable, but he let his brain get eaten away by lust.”

“What about Eren?”

“He’s charming, but a lost cause. Noncommittal. He’s not a firm believer.” He exhaled. “It has to be me. There’s no other option.”

He sounded almost wistful, like he was being forced to do these things against his own will.

“It is how things are and have to be,” he mumbled. “I wasn’t exactly interested in this, but when God calls you don’t bury your head in the sand.”

“I guess. But you could stop. You know that, right? It doesn’t have to be like this.”

“Who am I to question the Hand of God, lamb? I’m a mere man. If He isn’t guiding me, I’ll stray. It’s—It’s hard… for me. You’d know that better than anyone.”

You held your breath. You were used to a level of opaqueness he operated under. To hear Grisha express doubt in the Lord bothered you. He was supposed to be different, to be stronger than the average pastor. One that was steadfast in his beliefs.

“I’ve missed seeing you,” he sighed.

“I doubt that.”

“It’s true. I need you. I’m lost without you.”

“I thought I was a temptress, a whore sitting on many waters or whatever.”

“Hush, lamb. Promise me you’ll come back next Sunday,” he pleaded.

“I’ll think about it,” you hissed before hanging up.

You were pissed Grisha’s plea managed to convince you. You showed up at the church the next Sunday dressed in a plain black prairie dress, something that wouldn’t make you stand out amongst the plain clothed men. You took your seat in the pews and didn’t make eye contact with anyone.

A familiar voice coming from behind you. “Hi!”

“Hey, Eren,” you said, a small smile crossing your face.

“It’s nice to see you, sister. I was worried about you.”

“I’m alright. No reason to be concerned.”

You wanted to placate him, but your tone was too clipped. It was like you were brandishing a knife after every word. Eren’s green eyes were tinged with worry, but he grinned and took a seat beside you. Service began as it usually did, but you noticed Zeke and the camera equipment were nowhere to be found.

“Are you guys not filming anymore?” You asked in a hushed tone.

“Hm? Oh, not today.”

You raised an eyebrow and decided not to think about it.

Grisha’s sermon ended up being much more benign. There was little talk of violence and not a single reference to God’s wrath. As he preached you zoned out.

“Am I boring you, sister?” Grisha asked pointedly.

You perked up and shook your head. He glared at you briefly before resuming the sermon. Nothing weird was happening, but there was an oddness in the air, like something unseen to only you was brewing. Even Eren started to look a little antsy.

“Who here needs to be healed?” Grisha suddenly asked.

You turned to Eren, but his eyes were fixated on the floor. Your body went cold. No one was speaking. Everyone’s eyes were trained on you. You sunk down into the pew, hoping people would forget you were even there. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Sister,” Grisha suddenly said.

You weren’t used to him addressing you in a formal way.

“Yes,” you said cheerfully. You wanted to pull the wool over everyone’s eyes. Maybe if you were pleasant, the mood in the church would change.

“Do you need to be healed?”

“Nope. I, uh, I think I’m good.”

“Who here thinks our sister needs to be healed?”

The men all raised their hands at once. You were aghast to see Eren slowly raising his hand, eyes still focused on the floor in front of him.

“Seriously?” You asked in a hushed voice.

He gave you nothing in response.

“I think we’ve come to a consensus,” Grisha said, leaving the pulpit. “Let’s gather around our sister.”

Everytime he said “sister” you felt like you swallowed a razor blade. You hated hearing it, but speaking up was thankless. It wouldn’t do anything. You were outnumbered. The men gathered around you, all with rather blank looks on their faces. Their eyes were flat and shark-like.

“You guys can’t be serious.”

One of the men placed their hand on your shoulder. The others followed suit and placed their hands on your shoulders, back, and the top of your head. You directed a pleading stare towards Eren.

“It’s fine. They’re not gonna hurt you,” he muttered.

You wanted to attack him like a wild animal, rip into his skin and pluck out his pretty, green eyes. You barely knew him, but somehow this was the ultimate betrayal.

“Fucker,” you said under your breath.

You breathed deeply to calm yourself. It was true. The men weren’t hurting you, at least on a physical level. The church was silent other than your labored breathing and the offshore winds occasionally rattling the windows.

“Do you have anything you’d like to repent for?” Grisha asked.

You flared your nostrils. “No.”

“Are you sure?” A drunk parishioner slurred.

You refused to answer.

“Are you sure?” Grisha repeated.

“Yes,” you answered in your most authoritative tone.

“You made eyes at me during service,” one of the men said. “You gave me a look.”

“What? I don’t even know you.”

“I saw you do it,” another one said.

Another tightened his grip on your shoulder.

“We all saw,” he rumbled.

The door of the church flung open. For a brief moment relief came over you.

“Sorry I’m late—Oh, so we are doing this,” Zeke said, fastening the last few buttons on his shirt.

“You’re just in time,” Grisha said cheerfully.

“Is this really necessary?” Zeke asked, surveying the situation.

“Do you doubt me?” Grisha asked.

Zeke nervously scratched behind his ear. “No.”

He took a seat on the floor near the door and stared at his feet much like Eren did. You wanted to scream, but you were frozen by God’s apparent will. The men continued their chorus of “I saw you” and proceeded to accuse you of other minor offenses you never committed. Every so often you denied the accusations, but after a while your mind began to slip. Had you given a lusty stare to someone? You couldn’t be sure anymore.

“I did it,” you finally said dejectedly. “All of it.”

The men removed their hands and went back to their seats. Grisha sighed and returned to the pulpit.

“Don’t you feel better now? Don’t you feel cleansed?”

You mindlessly nodded.

“Did you finally let the Lord into your hideous heart?”

Again, you nodded. The service ended with little fanfare and everyone left quickly. You found yourself tethered to your seat, unable to move lest you be accused of heresy. Eren remained as well.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“No. You’re not… But it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine.”

“Well then why didn’t you help me? You were right there.”

“I don’t know.”

“Is it because I deserve it? Am I that bad?”

“No.”

“Then why did they do that to me?!” You shouted.

“I don’t kn—”

“You don’t seem to know anything, brother.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t mean shit!” Tears welled up in your eyes and your throat burned from yelling after being so quiet. “I… Fuck!”

You kicked the pew in front of you. You didn’t know what to do. Eren probably was sorry. He probably didn’t have much pull over Grisha. What could he have done? You knew you were innocent; none of those sins were yours. The parishioners hadn’t even brought up your daliences with Grisha. Though it’s not like they’d have any information that would make the pastor look bad.

“I don’t think this will make you feel any better. But it’s happened to me a lot. I know how it feels.”

He scooched closer to you and cleared his throat.

“My relationship with God is complicated. It has been since my mom died.”

“That doesn’t make me feel sorry for you,” you hissed. “Everyone has a complicated relationship with God.”

He kept talking. “It usually goes longer. The last time it happened to me it was two hours of getting told I was useless. A drug addict. One guy even called me the Antichrist which made my dad stop everything. He ended up punching him.”

“That’s horrible.”

“It sounds worse than it actually is, sister.”

You couldn’t imagine suffering through an hour consumed by hands laying upon you. You were angry Eren downplayed it, trying to act like it wasn’t all that bad. It was a horrific experience. Not one you’d ever want to return to. You stood up and walked away. You didn’t bother saying goodbye to Eren. He was too lost in his own mind.

Once outside you saw Zeke standing near the edge of the cliff smoking as usual. You made your way over to him. The sunlight danced behind low hanging clouds, occasionally illuminating him in a heavenly way. Instead of the usual scowl, he gave a solemn, “Hello.”

You hated how much he looked like his father. It made you want to be mean to him.

“Are you alright?” He asked, taking a drag off his cigarette.

“I guess. I don’t know. I can’t tell yet.”

“Ah, yeah. That’s the worst part. Don’t worry,” he said, stretching his arms. “You’ll realize how awful it was when you’re trying to sleep tonight.”

You were already plotting how to induce insomnia. Zeke placed his hand on your shoulder. You were too exhausted to flinch. He took a few steps closer until you were finally in his arms, your face buried in his neck. He rubbed your back and you proceeded to sob. You felt silly for breaking down in a stranger’s arms, but Zeke was there. He was tangible, something you could hold onto.

His hands trailed down your back, resting them on your ass.

“Need a distraction?” His breath was hot against your ear.

You sniffled. You could feel his semi-hard cock through his pants.

“I guess. I—I have no idea how you could help me though,” you muttered dejectedly.

“Trust me, sister. I have plenty of ideas.”

He tightened his grip on your ass and rubbed his erection against you. You stared out over his shoulder at gentle waves licking the shore. You wanted to lose yourself in his broad-shouldered embrace.

“You can do whatever you want,” you mewled.

He let go of your ass and held onto your face by the jaw. His fingers were calloused, but the roughness of his touch was spirituous. He forced his leg between your thighs. He had a sick grin on his face. You tried to ignore it as you rubbed up against his leg. Instead you focused on how good his body felt on your clit. You dragged your throbbing cunt up and down his thigh, your breath hitching when the friction became too much.

He forced you to look him in the eyes as you pleasured yourself against him. You wanted to find kindness in his gaze but there was none, just lust. You started to unbutton his shirt while he hurriedly unzipped his pants. You kissed him, biting down on his bottom lip. He groaned and pulled away.

“No biting,” he chastised.

You frowned and lied down in the grass. You hiked up your dress, revealing your glistening folds. Zeke got on top of you, stroking his cock. It was girthy like his father’s, but more veiny and it lacked any sort of curve. You guided it inside you, watching Zeke’s reaction as he was greeted by your tight cunt. He looked so lecherous, so hungry for you.

“Oh God,” you moaned.

Zeke slowly thrusted; his cock filled your cunt. He stared down at you, eyes partially obscured by his glasses.

“How does that feel, sister?”

“Like heaven.”

“Ca—can I hit you?”

The idea of his hand gracing your face thrilled you to no end. You welcomed any sensation that would make you forget the numerous hands that had previously invaded your body.

“Please.”

His hand was swift across your face, leaving a stinging pain in its wake.

“Again,” you pleaded, stroking his cheek.

He was more than happy to oblige. He thrusted his cock deeper inside you and slapped you again. You pulled him into a kiss, pushing your tongue past his teeth. His tongue tasted of tobacco. The woody, sour taste overtook your mouth.

His hands roaming your body was a blessing. His touch healed the wounds left behind the parishioners. You never wanted to let him go. Your fingers were tangled in his soft, flaxen hair. You twirled a lock in between your fingers and tugged on it. He let out a muted yelp you soon swallowed. He broke the kiss, panting as he bottomed out. Your body writhed underneath his, swimming in the shadow of this saint.

“How does it feel, sister?” He asked, holding you down.

“Good,” you gasped.

He grabbed ahold of your jaw again, his grey eyes tunneling holes through yours. You wanted to live in his light, until your body rotted away into dust. You tightened your walls around him. He groaned, his hips bucking against your limp body. You were putty in his hands.

You slid his suspenders off and yanked down his pants. You held onto his plush ass, pulling him towards you so his cock kissed your cervix. His hips seemed to skip a beat as his cock leaked precum inside your cunt. A needy moan fell from his lips and he shut his eyes.

“Can I come inside you?” He quickly asked.

You eagerly nodded. He let out a few desperate whimpers as he drove his cock in you, your fluids intermingling. He was panting harder, his cheeks now a pretty pink. He bucked his hips as his cock shot cum into the depths of your cunt.

“Do you like that, sister?” He asked, fucking you harder.

“Yes,” you squealed.

Once he finished he slid his cock out of you and lowered himself down to your cunt. He lapped at the cum seeping out of it, tongue flicking your clit.

“Say my name when you come,” he ordered.

You dug your fingers into the grass as your body quivered. Zeke ran his hands up and down your legs as he sucked his cum out of you, the lurid noise harmonizing with the waves.

“Zeke,” you mewled as you saw white.

You felt like you were ascending as your body squirmed against his face, his beard tickling the inside of your thighs. You were too lost in your orgasm to hear the footsteps stomping through the grass. Zeke looked up at you, smiling. He rested his head on your thigh and sighed dreamily.

“Are you interested in doing anything else, sister?”

You ignored his question and posed your own. “Why were you jerking off while I was fucking your father?”

His gaze hardened.

“It’s not as if I was looking at him.” He kissed your thigh and took on a kinder tone. “It’s not our fault none of us know how to behave around women… It doesn’t help that we all have a sick crush on you.”

“How are you gonna solve that problem, huh?”

“I did talk to you first. If you belong to any of us, it’s me.”

“I don’t belong to any of you,” you said, unable to hide your disgust.

“Don’t you want to be mine?”

You rustled his hair. He was cute in a tragic sense. It was strange to see such a domineering man rendered down to an endearing puddle of goo. You alternated between wanting to toss him off the cliff, and marrying him.

You were ripped from your peace by the sound of rustling grass growing closer and closer. Zeke glanced up and his face fell. You craned your head back and saw Grisha standing there, clutching his worn down bible to his chest.

“How could you?” Grisha lamented; his question directed at you.

Zeke sat up and pulled your dress back down.

“Are you jealous?” He taunted.

Grisha glared at his son. Although Zeke’s expression was haughty, it had a tinge of uneasiness. It was warranted. The pastor launched his bible at his son, hitting him square in the nose. Blood seeped from it, staining his white shirt red.

“You’re going to hell for that,” Zeke said, covering his nose with his hand.

“Well I’ll see you there, you disgraceful whoremonger!”

You frowned at the notion of you being a whore. It was an accusation you never got used to. You weren’t chaste by any means, but this was the most action you had in awhile.

“Did you not lie with her too?” Zeke asked, standing up and stepping over you to get closer to his father. “I saw you. I bore witness.”

Grisha blushed, clearly horrified by this revelation. “I—I was saving her!”

“You have a really funny way of saving people then.”

You grew tired of their bickering. You found your underwear hiding amongst the cat grass and slipped them on. You bounded off to the path that led down to the beach. Neither of the men noticed you left.

The wind had calmed down, making the journey less precarious. You kicked off your shoes and dug your toes into the sand. Such a simple thing and yet it was the best you felt in years. You walked closer towards the ocean, digging your feet deeper into the sand with every step. Once the water licked your heels you swam out, submerging yourself in a mellow wave. You held your breath as it washed over you. You dove deeper as the currents pulled you further from the shore.

Salt water weaseled its way into your eyes, killing any sense of comfort you found in the lull of the waves. You let your body float to the surface. Resting on your back, you stared up at the overcast sky. You looked like a pathetic version of Ophelia, madness driving you out into the sea. It was hard to be serene while coughing. The salt burned your throat and left your tongue numb.

You were decidedly less glamorous than any Millais painting. But that didn’t matter. You couldn’t care less about how you appeared. Maybe this was pathetic. Maybe you were wading in madness. But was that a bad thing? You’d be in good company. Even Jesus’s family and followers thought he was insane on occasion, possessed by demons, riddled with paranoia. And yet he was a paragon of holiness, of a just life.

The sun peeked out from behind the low-hanging clouds, a little beam of sunlight bled through. The first you’d seen in awhile. It looked like glitter ebbing along with the waves.

“Nice,” you whispered.

Your phone rang constantly. You thought about blocking Grisha's number, but you wanted to hear the desperation in his voice and if he still thought he could save you. Much to your disappointment he never left a single voicemail.

Nothing seemed to completely sever the attachment you had to them. You thought about Zeke fucking you in a field constantly, though on occasion you imagined he was Eren. You found yourself missing the brunette. He was always nice to you. His only major misstep being that he didn’t help you when you were assaulted.

Twinges of resentment remained a plague. You knew Eren was just as much a victim as you. But there remained a pervasive sense of betrayal. It was such a strong feeling for someone you barely knew.

There was some relief knowing they were no closer to God than you.

Eventually one early Sunday morning, your curiosity got the better of you and you answered when Grisha called you for the umpteenth time. You reclined on your couch, watching Hope Springs Eternal’s live stream with the volume turned down.

“Did you call to jerk off to the sound of my voice?” You asked haughtily.

“What? No, sister. I’m not a pig.”

You were surprised to hear Eren’s voice.

“Oh… Hey? Why are you calling from your father’s phone?”

“Psh. My dad wishes he had his own phone. We all share the one in his office.”

“Okay. Uh, what’s up? Did something happen?”

He sighed. “No. I just miss talking to you.”

“I’m sure there are other parishioners to talk to.”

Eren paused. “Actually there aren’t any. My dad stopped opening up service to the public and kicked everyone out. We just do the TV thing now.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Last Sunday he said something about someone taking his lamb to the slaughter? And how he is not fit to be a shepherd because he tasted the waters of Babylon. I tried asking him about it, but he didn’t want me to bear his burden which I appreciate. But on the other hand, I’d like to know what the fuck is going on.”

You knitted your brow and asked, “How’s Zeke?”

“A disaster. He smokes inside now. I can’t remember the last time I saw him with a shirt on. And he’s been asking me for weed which is… I don’t mind sharing, but my tolerance is high. It takes a lot to calm this mess down.” He punctuated his sentence with a soft chuckle. “Also he films dad at a Dutch angle. I don’t know, sister. It’s all bad.”

You wanted to hug him, hold him close and like a vice.

“I guess I can stop by, if you want.”

“Really? You’d be down?”

“As long as I don’t see your father, I don’t mind. He’ll be busy preaching, right?”

“Yup!”

“I’ll see you in a few then.”

“Wow. Really? It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

You assured Eren it was no problem and hung up.

Looking through your wardrobe, you hated yourself for getting rid of all your secular clothing. You burned it all in a religious fury, replacing everything with long dresses, with high necklines accentuated with oversized collars, and long sleeves. Your most plain one was still stiff with ocean water. You ended up settling on one in your favorite color.

When you arrived you expected the church to be in ruins. It was a rather hyperbolic thought. But given what Eren told you, your mind felt free to wander down darkened paths. You didn’t dare approach the church proper, instead heading for the back door of the parsonage.

The tide was low, the stench ever present. You dry heaved every couple seconds. You stepped closer to the cliff and saw the rotting carcasses of fish. You hadn’t heard anything about a major die off. You pinched your nostrils shut and swallowed the spit collecting in your mouth.

“It’s gross, ain’t it?” Eren said, walking over to you. “Let’s get inside.”

He held the door open for you and shut it tight. The sound of door slamming made you jump.

“I’m sorry. I’m tryna keep the smell out as best I can,” he said sheepishly.

“It’s okay. I’d rather you be aggressive towards inanimate objects than smell death.”

“You want coffee? I just made a pot. Or do you like tea? I can make tea. Or we can have both. Best of both worlds. Like Hannah Montana,” he rattled off nervously. He shut his eyes tight and sighed deeply, very much aware of how silly he sounded.

“Coffee is fine.”

“How do you take it?”

You explained in great detail how you like your coffee. Eren was shaky and needed the specificities even if your request was on the simpler side. You took a seat at the dining table, one he clearly built. He carefully prepared your cup and placed it in front of you with a very prideful grin on his face. You thanked him and took a sip. It was perfect.

You wasted no time and started to question Eren on the current state of the church the moment he sat at the table.

“Pastor Grisha kicked everyone out?”

Eren winced, hearing you call his father that.

He took a sip of his coffee. “Yeah. He won’t tell me anything though. He does his sermons and then he spends the rest of his time in his office, muttering weird shit like ‘Where did I go wrong?’ and ‘He slaughtered my little lamb.’’

You snicked. “He’s talking about me.”

“What makes you so sure, sister?”

“I fucked your father, brother.”

“I know,” he answered casually.

“And I fucked your brother. Your father caught us in the little clearing by the cliff.”

“I told Zeke not to do that.” Eren said, the vibrancy of his eyes completely dulled.

“You knew?”

“Duh.. He’s my brother. I know everything about him.”

“Did he tell you he jerked off while your dad fucked me?”

“Unfortunately. He… He was desperate and he really likes you. I’m not saying it was right. He’s got some shit to work through.”

“You really care about him, huh?”

“Why wouldn’t I, sister? I love him,” he said cheerfully.

“Where is he?”

“Probably asleep. Service doesn’t start for another hour and a half.”

“I’m very much awake,” his voice boomed from down the hall.

He stepped out of his room clothes in only a tiny pair of grey underwear that left little to the imagination. His back was covered in spindly welts. He had no shame, not an inkling of it. He sauntered into the room and took a seat next to Eren. He glanced back and forth at the two of you. A skimpy joint was tucked behind his ear.

“What’s she doing here?” He asked Eren.

“You can ask her yourself. She’s right there.”

Zeke turned his attention towards you. “Who invited you?”

Eren groaned. “I did. I wanted to hang out with her.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure you’re just ‘hanging out.’” He said, laughing.

“I have no one to talk to! Dad's on the path to being one of those embarrassing street preachers that scream about the end of days. And you never wear clothes and only ever talk to me when you want weed!”

“Do you need a hug?” Zeke asked, his tone comically serious.

“What?! No. Go put pants on.”

“Fine. I’ll conform, if that’ll calm your ass down,” he said.

“Is he high?” You asked.

“Terminally.”

You mouthed a “wow”.

“I can’t decide what pants,” he yelled down the hall. “Come help me.”

Eren sighed. “Let’s humor him.”

The two of you made your way to Zeke’s room. It was rather barren. He had a nice sized bed, with crisp white sheets and a turmeric colored quilt folded at the foot of it. He had a small desk made from birch wood stained a muted black. The chair was the same, though a small pillow softened the seat. His closet door rested on the ground. Zeke explained it fell off the hinges and didn’t care enough to fix it. His room looked like something out of the past. The only modern thing in it was the camera equipment.

Eren frowned and lightly kicked Zeke’s broken door.

“I said I would fix this for you, dumb ass.”

“You’re so cruel. Now! Let’s get down to business.”

He grabbed a lighter off his desk and lit the joint he had behind his ear.

“What about the pants?” You asked, trying not to stare at his cock.

“The what?” He waved his hand as if that made the previous conversation disappear. “Who cares? Here, take a hit.”

“I’m okay,” you demurred.

“Aw, come on? Do you not like me anymore?”

You rolled your eyes. “No. I just feel like getting high in a parsonage goes against God’s will.”

He patted your head and passed the joint to Eren. Zeke sat down on his bed and gestured for you to join him. Briefly you resisted but he was too handsome and too willing. Maybe it was God’s will for you to merely sit beside him.

Eren took a seat next to you while puffing on the joint hanging from his lips. He passed it back to Zeke.

“I’m good for now,” he relayed.

Zeke stubbed the joint out in an ashtray and opened a window to let the smoke air out. The haze that had once permeated the room slowly ebbed out into the cold wind. You tried to focus on that instead of Zeke’s cock which appeared to be a little stiff.

“I know you’re looking, sister.”

“I am not!”

Eren laughed. “If you want I can, uh, leave you two alone.”

“No way. I’m here to see you, remember?”

Zeke rested his head on your shoulder.

“What are you saying? You don’t want to see me?”

You rustled his hair. “No. That’s hardly what I meant.”

Eren wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close to him. There was a territorial tinge to his eyes. You struggled to stifle your laughter. All of the men in this family seemed to be desperate for your attention, even Eren who on occasion seemed like a normal guy.

Zeke looked over at Eren and narrowed his eyes.

“Are you jealous I found my way to her before you?”

“Are you jealous that dad fucked her first?”

Zeke scowled. You sighed deeply and tried to ignore your attraction to them. It was a thankless task.

“Do you want to lay with me, brother?” You asked on the verge of hysterics, playing up the religious pleasantries.

Eren blushed.

“He does,” Zeke said as he sprawled out across your lap. “He told me.”

Eren was staring out across the room, desperately trying to ignore Zeke and you.

“Is that true?”

He ran his hands through his long, dark hair, the silky tendrils finding their way between his fingers.

“Yeah. Happy?”

You gazed at Eren. Your vision blurred around him; he was all you could focus on. You carefully slipped your hand under his suspenders and ran it down one of his pecs. He shivered at your touch. You rubbed his delicate nipple with your thumb.

“Get on top of him,” Zeke suggested, his head in your lap. “I’ll eat your ass if you do it, sister.”

Eren’s eyes widened. The prospect of Zeke eating your ass was very appealing. As you went to straddle Eren, Zeke grabbed your shoulder.

“Not here. The office.”

“What?! No,” you exclaimed.

“Would it make you feel dirty because that’s where you fucked our father?”

“What if he catches us?” You panicked.

“Don’t worry about it. Your brother isn’t going to let anything bad happen to you, okay?” Zeke cooed.

Eren fake gagged and corralled you into Grisha’s office. Zeke’s words did not set you at ease.

You and Zeke took a seat on the couch. He rambled on about how Pastor Grisha now ended every sermon with “Jesus wept.” Eren took off his suspenders and his pants, folding them up neatly. He stood still for a moment, caught up in his own thoughts. You were getting impatient listening to Zeke ramble on. Your desire to fuck Eren was unbearable. All your attention was focused on him.

“Alright. I’m rea—Jesus Christ! Show some restraint!” Eren shouted.

You looked over at Zeke who at some point took off his underwear. He had a smug grin on his face. His cock was standing straight up, veiny and thick as ever. He was raring to go and you hadn’t even noticed.

“I don’t like to waste time,” he responded.

You and Eren both were a little perturbed, but not enough to turn back. Lust flooded your core; you could feel it bubbling up your throat. Zeke’s cock demanded your attention, the tip of it like a red beacon. You leaned in a little closer to him and cupped his balls, squeezing them with your gentle touch. You rubbed them, your grip tightening. Zeke exhaled and lazily threw his head back, eyes shut with pleasure. He beamed; you didn’t realize he was capable of such contentment.

“I’ll let Eren fuck you first, considering I already blessed you with my seed.”

“More like you filled her with your dirt,” Eren groused.

“Just let me have this,” Zeke complained.

If you weren’t so turned on, you would have stood up and walked out the door. But you were hopelessly tethered to them, your body devoted to their light. The holiness you perceived in them made it okay.

Eren gazed at you, his eyes as fertile as a verdant field. He held out his hand which you took and walked to his father’s desk. He kicked his father’s belongings off and gestured for you to sit on it. You happily obeyed. Your total willingness made him nervous. His hands quaked as he lifted your dress and peeled off your underwear.

“Over here,” Zeke said, holding his hand up.

Eren balled up your underwear and beaned them at Zeke’s face. Zeke didn’t seem to care and took an audible whiff. Eren gripped your hips and pulled you closer to the edge of the desk. He swiped his fingers against your cunt, coating them with your fluids.

“Open wide.”

You parted your lips and sucked them clean, running your tongue along the pads of his fingers. Your cunt throbbed, aching for his touch. He spread apart your labia and ran his cock down your slit. You whimpered as he slowly plunged it inside you.

“You guys are boring,” Zeke heckled. “She’d be ruined by now if I was fucking her.”

Eren let out an annoyed groan and started to thrust. Zeke reclined on the couch, happily watching the two of you. Eren grunted as your cunt hugged around him. His movements were slow and precise, lacking any of the urgency Zeke or Grisha’s had. You wondered if he was more experienced. You thought about him fucking his way through town, not a person untouched. He was certainly handsome enough.

“Pick up the pace,” Zeke said, stroking his cock.

Eren gritted his teeth. “For the love of God, please shut up. I’m begging you.”

“I’m getting bored though. I want to hear her squeal.”

“It’s not about what you want.” Eren turned his attention towards you. “Right?”

You nodded. Zeke sighed audibly and absent mindedly stroked his cock. You couldn’t help but stare; you wanted it in your mouth.

Eren took notice and began to fuck you harder, the length of his cock consuming your cunt.

“Don’t look at him,” he sneered, grabbing a hold of your face with his free hand. “Open your mouth again.”

You did as you were told. Eren spat directly in your mouth, the action full of derision. His saliva was sweet, tinged with coffee and citrus. He glared down at you and held you by the neck, his palm barely grazing your throat. His touch was gentle unlike his gaze. He clenched his jaw and thrust into you, groaning as he bottomed out. He erupted into a symphony of grunts and moans. His long hair hung in his face and he tried to tuck it behind his ear with no luck.

You heard Zeke laugh and get up off the couch, walking over. Zeke positioned himself behind Eren and reached over his shoulders to tuck his hair behind his ear.

“You looked like you were struggling,” Zeke cooed.

Eren let go of your throat and looked over his shoulder, mildly perturbed, and nodded.

“Why do you still have your shirt on, puritan?” Zeke coyly asked, as he started to unbutton it.

“You’re pushing your luck,” Eren grunted as he drove his cock into you.

Zeke snickered and helped Eren take off his button-down.

“Now it’s a party!” He cheered, resting his head on his brother’s shoulder.

Zeke gazed down at you, the weight of his body pressed up against Eren. You were a panting mess and tried to cover your face. Your shame always got the best of you. After all, you were a Christian. The brothers loved every second of it. Your whines and sighs were their favorite hymns. Zeke grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to Eren.

“Ow!” You yelped as Eren’s cock collided into your cervix.

You gazed up at the men lording over you, their eyes devouring every inch of you like a couple of jackals.

“I’m having a hard time focusing with your cock wedged between my ass,” Eren mumbled.

“Is it too weird?” Zeke asked, backing away.

“I have an idea,” you said, pulling Eren’s cock out of you.

You sat up and gestured for Zeke to sit behind you. He happily got up on the desk and sat behind you. You nestled in between his legs, letting his cock rest up against the small of your back.

“Why do you still have this on?” Zeke murmured in your ear.

His dexterity was impressive; he managed to quickly undo all the little buttons on your dress and pulled it over your head. You could feel his heaving chest up against your back, the hair tickling your spine. Eren unhooked your bra and tossed it to the side. He guided his cock back inside your weeping cunt and began to thrust.

“That feel good?” Eren grunted.

“Y—yes,” you choked out. “So good.”

Zeke groped your breasts, tweaking your nipples in between his rough fingers. Eren gave a smoldering glare to Zeke.

“What is it, brother?” Zeke asked sarcastically. “Did you want her all to yourself?”

Eren continued to force his length into your tormented cunt. He was blushing, still glaring at Zeke. His lush brown locks hung in his face. He almost looked like Jesus. Zeke went to speak, his eyebrows knitted with concern, but Eren interrupted him with a rough kiss, ripe with insatiable yearning. He continued to thrust wildly, delving his cock into your dripping cunt. Eren was close. His moans obscured by the kiss. Zeke pulled away and cleared his throat. You managed to catch a glimpse of his beet red face as you felt a spurt of warm fluid on your back.

“Sorry, sister,” he murmured.

Eren’s balls clapped up against your taint as he pounded away. Your body tensed up in anticipation of your orgasm. Eren’s cock filled every inch of your cunt, stretching it out as his hips grinded up against you. Your skin felt like it had electricity running through it, the Holy Spirit imbuing you with its light. Your body contorted in rapture as your vision faded. All you saw was light. You felt like God Himself.

Zeke lazily started to rub your clit, lubricating his finger with your fluids, which sent you to the brink. You were entrenched in ecstasy as your orgasm crashed over you. You tried to speak but all you could do was babble, the only coherent sound being you sputtering out Eren’s name.

Eren smirked and slowed down his pace, becoming more deliberate with his thrusts.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight,” he moaned.

He tossed his head back and filled you with his warm, milky cum. His hips bucked a few more times before he slumped forward, resting his head on your shoulder. You kissed the top of his head.

“I wanna worship you both,” you said breathily.

“Oh yeah?” Zeke asked.

Eren chuckled. “How do you plan on doing such a thing, sister?”

“Come down my throat.”

Zeke tumbled off the desk and quickly got to his feet. Eren helped you off and stood next to his brother. You got on your knees and gazed up at them. They were regal and beautiful, painfully so. You could bask in their presence for ages and never tire of it. Eren met your gaze and smiled. He stroked your cheek.

“Need some help?” Zeke asked Eren, pointing at his semi-hard cock.

Eren’s eyes widened.

“It’s cool if you don’t! I just thought since… You do realize you kissed me, right?”

Eren huffed. “Yes! I was hoping dad would walk in.”

“It’d really ruin him if he caught me jerking you off, especially so close to his precious, little lamb.”

Zeke had the mind of a demon. It disturbed you to no end, but it was just as alluring. Both of the brothers were blushing, their chests as pink as their cheeks. Eren looked down at you for guidance.

“Let him help,” you replied.

Your tone was marred with shame. You were still scared by the sin of it all, but traumatizing Pastor Grisha had its appeal after everything he had done. You needed your wanton desires to triumph, to horrify the holy man.

Eren let out a muted moan as Zeke gripped his cock. You eagerly watched as Zeke squeezed the length of it. Eren’s expression exuded an alluring agony. You lapped at his balls as Zeke hesitantly jerked him off. You rolled your tongue along the raphe, relishing in his rapturous groans. You flicked Eren’s aching cock with your tongue like a serpent.

Eren’s body relaxed a little, his shoulders not held as high. You sucked on his cock, savoring the precum dribbling from it. You worked in tandem with Zeke until Eren’s cock was throbbing and glistening with precum and spit.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Zeke asked. “I’m not playing coy. Was that okay?”

“I guess,” Eren mumbled. “Yeah.”

“Let’s just think of it as a really fun Eucharist,” Zeke replied, hip checking his brother.

You stared up at Eren and Zeke, eager to service them. You took Zeke’s cock in your mouth and swirled your tongue around the tip. He patted your head as you sucked. Drool trickled from the corners of your mouth. Eren watched intently and stepped closer to you, his erection demanding your attention. You caressed it with a tender touch. His verdant gaze fixed on you, heavy with ardor. No one had ever looked at you like that before.

You released Zeke’s cock from your mouth and masturbated him using your free hand. Zeke’s gaze matched Eren’s, his grey eyes boring holes through yours. You beckoned them to stand closer together and frotted their cocks, suckling on the tips in between jerking them off.

The sound of heavy footsteps ripped you from your debauched trance.

“Did you hear that? I think I heard—”

“Suck us off at the same time,” Zeke pleaded.

Eren nervously looked to the side, but gave you a nod. You resumed holding their cocks together and eased them into your mouth. You felt like the corners of your mouth were going to tear as you struggled to fit them in.

“Atta girl,” Zeke purred.

The footsteps grew nearer.

“Boys? We ought to start service,” you heard Grisha call out.

“Zeke,” Eren muttered.

“Hm?” He said as he watched as tears ran down your cheeks.

Eren cupped Zeke’s face in his hands and kissed him as the knob of the door jiggled. It was ripe with desperation like the previous one. Eren bit down on Zeke’s bottom lip. Your cunt throbbed at the sight. You gagged and took their cocks out of your mouth, opting instead to jerk them off.

Grisha opened the door and stepped inside. He let out a little sigh before he noticed the depravity taking place.

“Oh God, no!”.

Eren laughed, breaking the kiss.

“Why? Why would you do this?!”

You lapped at Eren and Zeke’s cock, relishing in the pained shouts coming from the pastor. Zeke bucked his hips against your fist, fucking it furiously.

“Give me an answer! What did I do to either of you to deserve this?!”

The brothers ignored his cries. Zeke nuzzled his face into Eren’s neck and rubbed the back of your head.

“I’m close,” he whimpered. “Can I come on your face, sister?”

You nodded with a big smile on your face.

“How could you do this?” Grisha asked dejectedly, holding your gaze.

You didn’t answer. Grisha was of little importance. All you cared about were his sons.

“Sorry, father,” Zeke moaned as ropes of cum splattered across your cheeks.

“I—I raised you better than this!”

Eren clenched his fist while his erection dwindled.

“I don’t think you did,” Eren replied.

Grisha was stunned. “Excuse me?”

You let go of Eren’s cock and tried to wipe away Zeke’s cum with the back of your hand. You only proceeded to make a bigger mess. Zeke got to his knees and licked the remnants off your face.

“Look at us,” Eren said. “Zeke’s been convinced he’s going to Hell since he was four years old.”

“That has nothing to do with me! I never once told him such a thing.”

“It was implied,” Zeke whispered.

Eren was undeterred. “Did you know he flagellates himself? Or do you just not pay attention to the blood stains on the backs of his shirts?”

“I can’t be aware of every little thing that goes on, Eren. You… You could have told me!”

“And what good would that have done? Would you’ve cleaned his wounds at two in the morning? Let him sob in bed with you until sunrise?”

Zeke’s eyes had glazed over, not a hint of light to them.

“I… I d—don’t know,” the pastor sputtered.

“Exactly,” Eren laughed. “See, I didn’t even have to think about it. And you know what’s really fucked up? I didn’t learn that from you.”

“Eren, I…”

“And it’s not like I came out of this unscathed! Why do you think I’m high all the fucking time? I can’t deal with the overwhelming guilt an—and shame for not being whatever it is you wanted me to be.”

You wanted to run out of the office and leave everything behind. The situation was too much to bear. Eren’s rage, Zeke’s dissociation, the fact the three of you were still naked.

“I’m… going to go,” Zeke said suddenly.

He stood up and breezed past his father like he wasn’t even there. You remained a distressed heap on the floor.

“Eren, I’m sorry,” Grisha whispered.

“Oh my God,” Eren laughed again. “No. No, you’re not.”

Grisha’s face fell and he turned his attention towards you. You were to bear the brunt of his discontent.

“This is your doing, isn’t it?”

“Don’t try to pin this on her. She was just a catalyst.”

Grisha shook his head, resuming his previous pathetic visage. “My son, what can I do to make this right?”

Eren held out his hand to you and helped you up. You quickly found your dress and yanked it over your head.

“Nothing. You fucked up,” he responded, getting dressed. “You might as well find some poor woman to bear you a new son. Maybe you won’t fuck him up though you never seemed like the learning type.”

Eren led you past Grisha and out of the office.

“I know this is asking a lot, but could I stay with you for a bit?” Eren asked matter-of-factly.

You tried to shake yourself from your daze. Grisha’s words still haunted you.

“My apartment’s kinda small, but sure?”

“Thank you. I’m gonna go grab some stuff and then we can head out.”

Eren left you in the foyer to grab his keys from his room. Grisha approached you, desperate to convince you to stay with him.

“My precious lamb—”

“Don’t.”

“Please, I want to explain.”

“Stop talking to her,” Eren called out, pulling on a jacket.

Grisha glared at him momentarily before sighing and walking off. You didn’t think he’d give up on you so quickly. It was strange to see him so subdued and broken. You felt a twinge of sympathy, but it was gone as fast as it came. Grisha didn’t deserve any goodwill.

“You’ll be back,” he murmured, stepping into his office and slamming the door shut.

Eren and you set off for his car and hopped inside. It was a boring sedan, an older model from the early 90s, and it reeked of marijuana. He put his keys in the ignition as a smile crossed his face.

“You alright?” You asked.

He started the car and drove away from the parsonage, a few tears fell from his eyes.

“Yeah. It… It was a long time coming, but honestly I have no idea what I’m gonna do now.”

“We carry similar burdens. We can figure it out together.”

You liked the idea of healing with Eren, growing past your oppressive Christian upbringings and seeing the world anew. He rested his hand on your thigh and looked in his rear-view mirror.

“Is that?” He said, his green eyes popping out of his head.

It was Zeke, hauling ass after the car. He was sprinting like he was competing for a spot in the Summer Olympics. His form was astounding. He always looked like an athlete.

“Oh shit,” Eren said, stifling a laugh. “Hold on.”

He pulled over and waited until Zeke tapped on the window. Eren unlocked the car and Zeke crawled into the backseat. His shirt was barely buttoned and his fly was down. His flaxen hair was more askew than usual.

“I can’t believe you were going to leave me,” he said, catching his breath.

“You wandered off! I didn’t know where you went.” Eren scrambled for the right words. “I—I would’ve called you.”

“How? I don’t have a phone and neither do you.”

“Well, you’re here with us now and that’s all that matters,” you said, trying to settle the brothers down.

It seemed to work. Zeke exhaled and rested his head on the window, gazing out into the ocean. You weren’t sure how you’d make this all work. Your apartment had a single bedroom and not much space for two grown men, but you were determined to make it work. After everything you all had been through it was crucial you remained together, at least until the wounds healed. And the stinging guilt of turning your back on Pastor Grisha and God subsided.

“This is gonna sound kinda stupid, but… I don’t know what I would have done without you guys. I felt lost for so long. Going to church and hating myself for not being the most pious person. Getting wrapped up in your father’s crap. But you, uh, you both changed that. You saved me.” You tacked on a nervous laugh. “Somehow.”

The car fell silent and you felt silly for making such a claim.

Eren broke the silence. “We saved each other.”

[stellisketches]

for the asks, 20 and 27?

20- you can only change one plotline in the entire canon—what would it be and how would you alter it?

The relationship between Aphmau and Aaron. I know, huge surprise, but gimme a minute: I don’t really care about the fact that they slept together all that much (though I definitely could’ve gone without), I care about how only how that was the sole reason used to say that Aphmau was in love with him (which again is not the rarest of complaints). However, I have a theory that I'm going to explore about how Irene's relic may have factored into that relationship and how it may have influenced Aphmau without her knowledge. One of the subtler themes I've noticed about the show is how it explores the concept of free will and the sins of the father trope. I think a storyline following Aphmau as she learns more about the relic and how it changed/changes her as a person would be pretty juicy if it came to a point where someone suggests that the love she thought she felt towards Aaron may have just been a product of the relic finding attachment in one of Shad's descendants, as it remembers how much it cared about Shad in the past. I could see a whole subplot of her coming to a decision about whether or not she chooses to claim those feelings she had as her own or as Irene's.

27- what's something really interesting that you wished canon decided to explore more? alternatively, what's something interesting that you wished the fandom acknowledged more?

God there's literally so much. My two big ones would be the Divine Warriors as a whole and the monarchy that existed before Irene destroyed it. Something interesting I wished the fandom acknowledged more... Honestly can't think of anything of the top of my head, though one thing that has been driving me crazy for a while is how actually fucking stupid it was for the Lord of Scaleswind to agree to an arranged marriage when Nicole (his only child ever shown or mentioned) to the heir of O'Khasis. Because buddy, how the fuck did you think that was going to go? Who the fuck was going to rule Scaleswind after you died when you shipped of what is implied to be your only heir to the next greatest superpower in your region? Unless long distance marriage was A-OK or something he was essentially signing his entire dynasty's death warrant. If he was stupid enough to think Scaleswind would've been able to stay independent after losing his only heir then he fucking deserved for his lineage to end. Idiot.

Anyway in my rewrite I'm giving her a briefly mentioned older brother that was the first heir of Scaleswind just to slap a bandaid on that little plot hole.

[eldritchamy]

@creative-sparx replied to your post “science fantasy is such a hard genre to be into...”:

The magic system in Diane Duane's Young Wizards series is handled very much like a science with many different categories, grounded mostly in the concept of entropy I believe; I would say it is very much a fantasy using science elements rather than science fiction using fantasy. As a bonus, Diane is a very active and friendly Tumblr user who often engages in the specifics of the system with fans, and has a lot of writing credentials in both fantasy and science fiction.

Now that sounds like something me and my own magic system might be interested in reading.

I think what I'm looking for is not Science Fantasy, (which seems to be just a synonym for science fiction), but Scientific Fantasy.

I want a world where magic is just a fact of the world and is studied like any other science. It's just part of how the world works, as recognized and math'd out as gravity.

So much of Urban Fantasy fucks up the worldbuilding by just slapping a magic system on top of a world that is otherwise exactly like ours. And a world exactly like ours wouldn't exist at all if there were magic. If magic was a TOOL that people could use to SOLVE PROBLEMS, it would be USED to solve problems the same way we would think to use machines and electricity. Those solutions, and the new problems people would discover by using them, would look nothing like our world at all.

In a world that has had access to magic over a long period of time, the kinds of problems you CAN solve, and even the kinds of problems you would THINK OF AS PROBLEMS IN NEED OF SOLVING, would be radically different from the problems our world, and our technology, has developed to deal with.

Long range communication wouldn't be solved by a box with electricity trapped inside it. There would be magical approaches to solving that problem. Okay, MAYBE a crystal tablet that can display information is a good enough idea that someone would think of it. If the world is old enough? Sure, someone has probably figured out that electricity exists and can be used by people who are less skilled or comfortable with magic to solve similar problems, but magic wouldn't just be slapped onto the surface of an otherwise unchanged world. The entire structure of society and the tools it creates and uses would be completely different.

Like Senshi using earth golems as a kind of farmland that manages its own water supply and fights off pests. LIVING HYDROPONIC CONSTRUCTS. That's brilliant.

The entire fucking world would be radically changed in more ways than even a very dedicated worldbuilder could ever really imagine. Public transit could be magic based, even teleportation based. Energy grids could be powered by magic. Something equivalent to an elevator could be done through levitation fields. Shipping could be managed through demiplanes that open in multiple places. Medical science could incorporate magic as a diagnostic tool. With an extreme level of fine control, surgeons could heal incisions or tissue damage without stitches. Magic wouldn't need to be a separate form of education, the basics would just be taught alongside the water cycle or the respiratory cycle.

People would make jokes 20 years after graduating about how mana is the powerhouse of the soul.

THERE'S NO GODDAMN REASON FOR A WORLD WITH MAGIC TO BE LOCKED TO THE AESTHETIC AND TECHNOLOGICAL DEVELOPMENT OF MEDIEVAL EUROPE.

Magical constructs could be teleported into orbit for space research. Think of the possibilities of a magic space race! Astromancy wizards summoning familiars on the moon!

There's so much more you can do with a magical setting than mud and castles and dragons and liches and horses. It's FANTASY! FANTASIZE! IMAGINE SOMETHING!

What if instead of meeting in a tavern you were stuck on a 3 hour connecting flight together on a sky train. You meet at the airport on your way to a tourist trap in the fey realm for spring break while working towards a degree in Arcanodynamics, and bond over the fact that it kinda sucks, and that pixiedust pretzel was in no way worth SEVEN gold, and their internship at the alchemical research hospital doesn't pay enough for this shit.

[23yearold-virginslut]

Compiled a list of questioned & am answering them to the best of my ability 😇

Answers in pink 💗

Doesn't Apply in red ❣️

1. When was the last time you masturbated

30 minutes ago

2. Do you enjoy being fingered/fingering

Yes!

3. How do you feel about food during sex

Depends on what food & how its being used

4. What do you do directly after sex

Unsure, but depending on the time, i'd probably sleep

5. Cuddle with the tip in

10000%

6. What’s the nastiest sexual thing you’ve done

As of right now, I'd say masturbating (legs spread open on the dash)in my college parking lot

7. Name a follower you would fuck

I'm not going to name names, but you know who you are. Send me the message

8. Name a follower you have fucked.

None... yet

9. What’s the sexiest part of your body

I'd say my ass (especially with handprints on it)

10. FuckMarryKill: DJ Khalid, Rick Ross, Fat Joe

F- Rick Ross M- DJ Khalid K- Fat Joe

11. Would you ever be with a trans person

I think it depends, I wouldn't say yes or no solely because they're trans

12. Riding dick or doggy style

I'd say doggy, especially because I can have my hair pulled, hands pulled behind my back & I can have my ass slapped harder than when I'm riding a dick.

13. Ever fucked in a school

Nope, well... I've fucked myself in my car. That's it

14. Most random place youve had sex

Nowhere right now

15. Would you join the mile high club

Absolutely I would!

16. What are 3 of your "hawt" spots

Tits, throat/back of neck & pussy

17. Fuck on the first date

Maybe not the 1st time meeting, but the 1st date would be okay

18. Would you suck dick

ABSOLUTELY!!! 😝

19. Would you eat ass

I would try it, but am unsure

20. Would you eat pussy

Yes & I've done it before 😍😍

21. Kissing, Y or N?

Fuck yes, even better if it's needy & rough

22. Is farting during sex a turn off

I have no idea. Maybe if it was in my face. Otherwise, I don't think that it's a prooblem

23. Sex in the shower, Y or N

Definitely 💦

24. When virginity lost

Not yet 🫣

25. Do you prefer sex in the morning, afternoon, or night?

I would love getting fucked 1st thing in the morning or... maybe during the middle of lunch.. but there's also after our day stress fuck. Maybe all of the above

26. Drunk sex

Sure, maybe with consent 1st. Bit I am a huge fan of intox & would love it.

27. High sex

I've never been high, but would try it

28. FuckMarryKill: Nicki Minaj; Cardi B; Kash Doll

F- Kash Doll M- Nicki Minaj K-Cardi B

29. First kiss

Sophomore year of high school with my bf at the time

30. How did you meet the person you lost your virginity to?

Haven't yet

31. Faked an orgasm

Nope

32. Painted/ been painted on

Yes & written on

33. Sex toys, Y or N

Absolutely, they are tools to be used, not an enemy.

34. Favorite position

Tied up/ tied down or hands behind my back getting pounded into the mattress or ground.

35. Bed, couch or floor

Edge of the bed or over couch arm

36. Car sex, Y or N

If we'd fit sure. Or we could fuck with the door open and you railing me into the seats off the side of the road.

37. Whyd you get horny

For just about any reason. Typically because I opened tumblr or was reading smut

38. FuckMarryKill: Trey Songz, Chris Brown, August Alsina.

F- Chris Brown M- August Alsina K- Trey Songz

39. Describe crush

I don't have one rn

40. Would you ever be with someone with an incurable STD?

I would say no..

41. Rate head game

7/10 - there's room for improvement for sure

42. Rate your sex

Rn, 0/10

43. Would you date outside of your race

Yeah

44. Type of freak you are

Bratty, CNC, Hypno, Dirty, Cum guzzling slut

45. Ever tasted your own cum

Well, I've tasted my juices & self, I've not cum before.

46. Golden showers

Yes

47. Body count

0, zero, nada, none

48. Nipple play

Yes!!

49. Where do you like to be nutted on

Preferably in, but if anywhere my face or tits

50. Topping or bottoming

Bottoming, for sure

51. Whats too small

My sex life

52. Is fighting foreplay

Fuck yes

53. Angry sex

Hell yes!

54. Quickie length

Before someone notices

55. Too long during sex

Never, I love overstim

56. Too long to go without

I can't answer that in good health

57. Is no relevant in a relationship

Yes & no, it depends on the question it's in response to..

58. NSA sex real or no

Real AF

59. Sex in a public bathroom

Yeah, sounds like it could be an experience

60. Sex in a changing room

Yeah, just cum in me. Don't leave anything for employees to clean up.

61. Last person ive fucked

🫣 I havent

62. My type

I honestly don't know.

63. 3 turn ons

Tattoos, Filthy Dirty Nasty Naughty talk, & Teasing

64. 3 turn offs

Gore, Feet & Permanent Harm

65. What makes you stop in the middle of sex

I'm not sure

66. Answer a phone during sex

I would, and I'd try to act normal

67. Would you pay for sex

Maybe, probably not though

69. How i felt after sex

... 👀

70. Like your body

I do, I've been trying to lose weight, but otherwise absolutely.

71. Send nudes

Only when deserved... not often

72. Cheated on someone

Absolutely not

73. Cheated on

I have been

74. 3some

PRETTY PLEASE 🙏

75. 4some

PRETTY PLEASE 🙏

76. Orgy

PRETTY PLEASE 🙏

77. Run train on me

PRETTY PLEASE 🙏

78. How often do i masterbate

At least once a day, mostly before bed while scrolling

79. Lights on or off

Lights on

80. Music or TV

Music

81. Cousin you'd fuck

Nope.. hate that

82. Last relationship

During covid, she didn't want to come out & wanted to keep our "friendship" hidden.

83. Sleep naked

Hell yeah, how else is some stalker/stranger supposed to know I want it when im asleep

84. Commando

I have to wear pants a lot, so no.

85. Nipples pierced

I wouldn't want to, but I love sucking on a pierced titty

86. Dive in or converse first

Depends on the person, but I'm more of an action person

87. First move once naked

Drop to my knees..

88. Would you make the first move

I would, but only when I'm super horny.. which is very very often.

89. Have you ever had sex with more than one person in a day

I would like to, maybe at the same time

90. Do you like dryhumping

Yes, I love it

91. Can you twerk or do a split on a dick

I haven't tried the splits on a dick and I haven't tried twerking in about 2 years. Idk if it's any good

92. Would you ever record yourself during sex

I would love to, I think it would be great & even more fun to do masturbate to while he/she degrades me for it.

93. Would you watch porn during sex

Not yet, but would love to

94. After fucking, do you try becoming friends with a one night stand

Probably not, just stay fuck buddies.

95. What’s your kink

There are so many... they're all over my page

96. Would you hook up with the same hook-up again?

Yeah, unless it absolutely sucked...

97. Ever made a relationship from a one night stand?

Nope

98. How romantic are you during sex?

It depends on who with, I honestly don't know

99. Describe your sex in 5 words or less.

Sad, non-existent, cry worthy, boring

[illumiiiz]

songs with some of the best guitar intros ever made in my opinion, in no particular order, a comprehensive (& continually updating) list:

Crazy Train (Ozzy Osbourne); I don’t care how you feel about the rest of the song, the intro fucking slaps and if you deny that you’re lying. to yourself and everyone else.

Smoke on the Water (Deep Purple); literally iconic. the intro reaches a part of my soul no other song does, besides maybe the cinematic cover version by 2wei

I Don’t Wanna Stop (Ozzy Osbourne); I feel like this is probably in a Tom Cruise movie somewhere. self explanatory. I’ve had this song on repeat for two days

Personal Jesus (Depeche Mode); again, SO iconic. if I could inject a song into my veins like drugs it’d be this one

(Don’t Fear) The Reaper (Blue Öyster Cult); maybe I should start keeping track of how many times I say “iconic” in this list. not only the intro, but the instrumental bridges throughout the song, ESPECIALLY the one after verse 2 and the second chorus… 🤌✨

For Whom the Bell Tolls (Metallica); *slaps track name* this bad boy can fit an intro that is SO LONG. and it ALL FUCKS.

Kickstart My Heart (Mötley Crüe); there should be some sort of warning feature installed that doesn’t let you listen to this song if you’re driving bc if you do you WILL get a speeding ticket. altho it does sound better if you’re driving tbh. but watch for cops

Welcome to the Jungle (Guns N’ Roses); see my notes on Crazy Train above

New Divide (LINKIN PARK); ok honestly this one’s a nostalgia trip for me but also just objectively I feel like it goes pretty hard regardless of what scene you were into during the 2010s and how many amvs you watched

Everlong (Foo Fighters); I mean come ON. do I even have to say anything

Panama (Van Halen); sets the hype tone for the rest of the song right away, also this is another one that’s so much better while you’re driving for some reason. whole song fucking slaps too

Whispers in the Dark (Skillet); it’s not right at the beginning like most of these other ones are but just. just give it 20 seconds I promise it’s worth it.

Monster (Skillet); while we’re on the topic. imagine trying to fight the weird kid allegations and then these two songs come on back to back. lol. couldn’t be me..

Smells Like Teen Spirit (Nirvana); ICONIC. changed the game forever and ever.

Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy) (Big & Rich); this one’s mostly just here for that drop at the beginning cuz it’s actually pretty dope

The Adults Are Talking (the strokes); I can’t explain how this one makes me feel. but boy does it make me feel

Thank You For The Venom (My chemical romance); LITERALLY SO GOOD. sometimes I’ll listen to this song just to headbang to the intro and then skip the rest

Scotty Doesn’t Know (Lustra); this is embarrassingly near the top of my “songs I recognize within the first 0.1 seconds” list. we don’t need to talk about that tho

Headstrong (Trapt); even if you don’t know the name of this song you would recognize the intro, I’m sure of it

Puppet (Thousand Foot Krutch); this one had 14-15 year old me in a CHOKEHOLD OKAY and it still fucking slaps. I love this band.

Are You Gonna Be My Girl (Jet); fun fact the first time I heard this song was in the movie Flushed Away so now I always associate it with that 💀 but yeah this song bangs

Supremacy (Muse); gosh this whole song is just. like. RIDICULOUSLY good imo, the vocals the strings and drums combo,, the intro part lays the foundation tho. easily one of my favs out there

Iron Man (Black Sabbath); NO SHUT UP BC THE WAY IT SOUNDS LIKE A HEARTBEAT AND BREATHING ARE YOU KIDDING ME

Immigrant Song (Led Zeppelin); see notes for Crazy Train and Welcome to the Jungle

Living Dead Girl (Rob Zombie); gets stuck in my head a lot.

Something In Your Mouth (Nickelback); yes, I listen to them unironically and yes, this song made the list

Square Hammer (Ghost); honestly I listen to this song pretty much solely for the guitar track in it

Let It Happen (Tame Impala); I don’t know what instruments those are at the beginning but one of them sounds like a bass and regardless, the thing slaps so I’m including it bc I want to

link to the spotify playlist! (updated 2/23/24)