#they’re so…so…dear good god!

[axxa-the-allikatt]

The reality behind these words have hit me like bricks ever since I finished reading svsss. It good to see this in a post. Smh.

i firmly believe that if shen qingqiu had just turned on the waterworks in the water prison luo binghe would've folded like a house of cards. no self detonation no nothing if shen qingqiu had just let the mask down even for 2 minutes and cried real tears luo binghe would've busted him out, healed his wounds, fed him nice food, tucked his shizun in, and punted himself back into the abyss again. my god

[idekwtf-is-happening]

Damien’s currently getting cancelled on Twitter for *checks to make sure I’m reading this shit right* apologizing for a joke he made five years ago where he mentioned the conflict in Gaza

[tigerplushh]

(Arcane s1 ep3 spoilers) why have I seen. Nobody talk about this scene because it actually drives me insane

[yourpaceangel]

There is literally nothing more painful than absolutely HATING a popular fanfic author

[teamfortresstwo]

….Honestly this has changed my opinion on sooo many ships

[takeyourcyanide]

posting isn’t giving me any sort of sense of familiarity or stability in the foundation which makes sense given that everything has been replaced yet again but damn

[skullfragments]

as i’m sitting here past midnight working on good omens fanart, laughing to myself as i ponder the possibilities of expanding the ridiculous good omens x high school musical crossover i threw out there, i realize that perhaps my friends have, in fact, chosen not to watch good omens (despite my insistence on its quality) simply because they do not want to be subjected to this new flavor of brain worms from yours truly

[thedeadthree]

ok ok besties teehee in honor of the bg brainworms i have nailed it down to these two for a url?

[aquatic-batt]

I needa listen to more of The Family Crest holy FUCK

[gladiatorcunt]

- A ROTTEN TREE BEARS ROTTEN FRUIT | I.

god loves you, but not enough to save you

cw: kinktober prompt (whipping/flogging), blasphemy, inaccurate religious practices, lyrical sadomasochism (more so sadism on his part), erotic religious imagery and references, this dynamic is so weird, implied (as in in my mind) bi reader and charlie, plus sized reader, reader’s chest referred to as ‘breasts’ & ‘tits’ and their crotch referred to as a ‘hole’ but they do have a seperate one other than their ass, pregnancy fantasy, vomit mention, don’t know shit about the show fuck you ryan, blood kink, interchangeable ‘charlie’ & ‘mayhew’ based on pov

do not translate, repost, or feed this work to ai |

kinktober 2024

“Shh, let me clean you up, Father.” You smile, so softly, he could snap your neck if he squeezed hard enough.

You run your nails over his back, trimmed to an appropriate length. Father Mayhew sighs the way Adam might’ve when Eve’s walls clenched around him, God never being more important than this bliss. You’re so devoted, so devout in your worship but he’s beginning to think that you cry out to a different God than he does. If you even believe in an invisible one anymore when you have a savior in the flesh.

“Thank you, dear. That’d be great.” The pulls are pulled from his lips like rotund wooden beads, as if he has no choice but to endure the stretch as they exit his body one by one.

You shuffle off the bed and kneel behind him, stroking your fingertips down his back like he’s a marble statue you just can’t help but reach out and touch. The opposite of Delilah cutting Samson’s hair, you only want to imbue him with your pure love from the inside out. Spooning milk and honey over the tender welts.

His eyelids crinkle as you kiss the nape of his neck, blotting your lips with rouge. There is no inch of his back left without, and when you arrive at the bigger gashes you lavish the cut with your tongue. Drinking his life away and cleaning him up like a good little whore, servicing the man becomes the only thing of importance to you. You dip the tip of your tongue in the recess of the deeper wounds, and caress his tensing abs from behind when he grits his teeth and traps a curse behind them. You only kitten lick him, but often he wishes you would get real dirty with it, caressing your tongue over his muscles in broad and messy swipes.

His scars from previous lashings glint in the low light of the candles surrounding you. You give them their just desserts of course, grateful pecks of attention and acknowledgement. Soothing his pain, that is the only excuse you have to encroach on the verge of breaking your vows. Father Mayhew gives you a purpose and stops your bleating with a heavy hand if you forget your place. Stern hand to raw and stinging flesh.

Sometimes there is no pillow when you kneel behind him.

The next step is that you turn around and face the wall after picking up the cattail whip off the bed and returning it to its rightful owner. You’ve already discarded your habit, no tunic, coif, or veil left on your person. They’re folded neatly beside you, only your rosary nestled in the embrace of your heaving breasts. Your peaks harden in the stuffy humid air, all the oxygen in the world confined to this small room.

He saddles up behind you, his sweaty chest so close to the flesh and contours of your back. Father Charlie breathes you in, taking whiffs of your debauched scent in between silent prayers. He never allows himself to be as forward as you are, his thread of control over his desire has not snapped yet. There are boundaries he can push, but lines he can never cross.

“Good lamb, God recognizes your penance and forgives your soul.” He whispers, dragging the strips of leather down your back until goosebumps rise to the surface.

When you least expect it, he strikes. You muffle a shout into the wall and Father Charlie’s cock jumps under his towel. Briefly he imagines slamming into your tempting body dry, with no preparation, making you sure you feel as much pain as possible. The way you’d wince with every step around the church, the begging in your puppy dog eyes when you’d take communion. How he could hold it above your head like a bone in the shape of a fractured cross, dangling just out of reach of your gorgeous mouth.

The devil gives him dreams of fucking your throat until you’re vomiting and hoarse.

Every droplet of bed peeking out from the cracks of your skin to say hello nourishes him. He shushes you when you’re unable to hold back your sounds, cooing when he notices you humping the air after the fifteenth hit. You just can’t help yourself, nerdy by nature and nurture.

You start soaking the pillow beneath you, imagining what he must look like. A man and his broad hulking body curling around you as he hurts you. Your hole suddenly feels so empty, you have a night of riding your pillow ahead of you, you just want to be good for him in all the ways you’re supposed to be.

As you let a demon of sex control your body, he spies a flash of a white lacy thong nestled between your plump ass cheeks. He knows that if you had also worn a towel, he would’ve hooked his fingers under the fabric and pulled it off. You don’t get to hide any part of yourself from your Father. And he knows he will have to give himself another lashing for those thoughts alone. Even the secret wedding he plans as he strokes his angry red cock, always edging himself, he’s afraid of what would happen if he lets go. How loud the iron gates would be when they creak open. Like the way he wants to spread your ass open and toy with the hidden puckered hole.

His words are in his actions, reopening your old wounds and bringing the warm leather across your back one last time, he hopes your blood soaks through the material. Staining it, the way you have already stained his heart. Father Charlie grins despite himself when you slump against the wall, sliding his bible-roughened hands over your love handles and sticks his pecs to your shoulders.

“You did lovely, today. The Lord thanks you, and I’m so proud of you, you know that?” His thick fingers brush along the bottoms of your tits, never going higher.

He wants to slap them, wrap the beads of your rosary around them until the flesh bulges, painting your nipples in a mix of both of your blood. Marking your souls irreversibly. Marriage of the spirit, a ritualistic wedding in the eyes of the beholder. You shiver like a mouse in front of a snake, and beads of precum fall from his cockhead.

Did Saint Teresa have these feelings when she had the vision of an angel piercing her heart with their golden spear? Did Saint Sebastian when he was pierced by those arrows under the order of the Emperor? Did David when he wrenched Goliath’s head back by his hair and bested him into humiliation? Did it compare to the covenant he formed with Jonathan?

He kisses your glittering scars in thanks and washes your blood away with his lips and tongue too. But unlike any other day in which you’ve done this, he stands up with a grunt and pulls you up with him. Father Mayhew falls backwards onto his bed and so you follow dutifully, and because the hold he has on your wrist is strong to the point of bruising. You lay your head over his heart and pant into his skin as he teases your plush thigh, tracing crosses into the chubby expanse of skin.

“No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us.” He cajoles, walking on that burning tightrope with you.

He wonders if your cunt would be just as chubby, if you’ve ever thought about humping the organ bench, riper than the forbidden fruit, and he mentally catalogs an extra long session of repentance. To be fresh and clean again. Father Charlie will go through his sermons with his lighthearted tone and charming personality, desperate to hide that he’s thinking of plunging his tongue in your asshole. Sipping and slurping up your musk like it’s the only holy water he needs to live. Or entice you into eating his ass, you would love being able to serve him properly, no doubt.

To nourish you with his fragments, his vertebrae and viscera. The body and the blood. The teeth and the testicles.

He’ll sit in quiet contemplation in front of the pulpit, pouring wine over your body in his mind. Following the red trail with his tongue as it trickles down the valley of your chest and dips in and out the folds of your belly. He’ll leisurely open his mouth on a silent moan at the top of your mound, the hairs like yellowing blades of glades against his philtrum, in a perfect paradise there’d be blood there too. His own personal, pervertedly literal, red sea.

You’d look so beautiful, swollen and fat with a child growing in your womb. A shame that can never happen, but a blessing that no heretic of a man could snatch you up and take you away from him. Your flock is here, and the heavy crook of his staff is all you need to guide you back home when you go astray. Trapped in his thighs, molded by his hands, punctured into line with his cock.

[aria-allium]

three hopes’ ost has absolutely no reason slaying as hard as it does. and i’ve only heard like 1/3 of it in-game bc some of the tracks are dependent on the route you choose. great googly moogly

[hoshifighting]

sucking off svt until their tummy caves in a little?

seungcheol thinks he’s in control… until he’s not. he’s all cocky at first, like, “yeah, that’s it, baby, just like that,” but the second you hollow your cheeks and really get into it = his voice cracks. literally. you’ve got him gripping the sheets like they’re the only thing keeping him tethered to earth. his abs are tensing up, his eyes roll back, and his hands fly to your hair, but not to control you—he’s just holding on for dear life. “f-fuck, baby… what the hell are you doing to me?” but you know he doesn’t really mean it. he’s loving it, and you can tell by the way his hips are bucking into your mouth, half against his will. “goddamn… you’re gonna kill me.”

jeonghan tries to tease you. “is that all you got?” he’s smirking, like you’re not about to ruin his whole life. the second you start working your tongue, his smirk falters. you feel his thighs start to shake, and he’s pressing his head back into the pillow, gasping haard. “oh fuck… okay, okay, i get it—jesus��” he’s laughing, but it’s breathless, like he’s losing his mind, and he knows he’s not the one in control anymore. he’s letting out these choked noises.

joshua’s the one who tries to stay all proper at first, but you’re sucking him off so good, he’s losing his damn mind. his hands are gripping your shoulders, and his mouth falls open, this breathy little whine slipping out. “holy shit... you tryna destroy me or something?” and his head’s tilting back, all flushed and fucked out. he’s trying so hard not to swear too much, but the second you take him deep, he curses, his hips jerking up without thinking. “breathe, y/n… breathe.” but it’s him who’s struggling to catch his breath.

junhui’s a mess almost immediately. like, you’ve barely started, and he’s already grabbing the back of your head, eyes squeezed shut, muttering some shit in chinese under his breath. muscles twitching with every move of your mouth. “fuck, babe, i—i can’t—gonna cum quick asf” he’s got his eyes clenched shut, his voice shaky as hell, and when you go harder, his voice cracks, turning into these low, broken moans that you know are real.

hoshi tells you how good you look between his legs and etc. “shit, shit, shit! oh my god, baby, what are you—oh fuck!” but the second you really get into it, he’s gone. the words are lost in his throat, his hands are gripping your hair so tight, like he’s trying to ground himself. “holy fuck, i—i’m gonna—” his whole body jerks, and his abs? they’re going wild, twitching like he can’t control himself. when you don’t stop, he’s whining, high-pitched and breathless. “you’re gonna suck the soul outta me!”

wonwoo is just breathing deep and letting you do your thing, but his cool cracks the second you start going harder. you hear him let out this low groan, his hands flexing on your shoulders. “you’re… too good at this,” he murmurs, voice all low and husky. his stomach’s tensing up, muscles flexing like he’s trying to hold it together. and when you hollow your cheeks, really taking him deep, his voice gets rougher. “fuck—keep going.” he’s barely holding on, eyes screwed shut like he’s about to ascend.

woozi’s done for. you hear him choke on a gasp, his abs caving in like he’s trying to breathe through it. “oh my god—fuck, slow down,” he mutters, but you know he doesn’t mean it. his hands are tangled in your hair, and every time you take him deeper, he’s letting out these broken, breathy moans that he probably didn’t even realize he could make. “fuck… fuck, i’m gonna… if you keep—oh shit.” his body’s shaking like crazy.

minghao’s the quiet type, but you know you’ve got him when his thighs start trembling. “fuck, so good, so good” he whispers, almost too quiet, but then his abs are caving in, and his hands are gripping your neck. he’s not saying much, but his body’s doing all the talking—his hips twitch up into your mouth, and his breathing gets all ragged. you hear this whiny moan slip out, and when you look up, his head’s thrown back, mouth open, and you know you’ve got him. “don’t stop,” he finally whispers, voice raspy.

mingyu’s gone from the start, honestly. you’ve barely even started, and he’s already letting out those moans that doesn't even match him, like he’s feeling it in his soul. voice is all shaky when he tries to talk. “holy… fuck, baby, slow down!” his hands are in your hair, half pulling, half just holding on. when you go harder, his voice breaks, and he’s gasping. “oh my god, you’re too good at this…” he’s laughing breathlessly, but his moans are way louder than his jokes.

seokmin’s moaning so loud he shocks himself. “oh my god, wait—fuck, fuck,” he’s saying, his body jerking every time you take him deeper. his abs are flexing like crazy, and he’s got this absurd look in his eyes like he can’t believe what you’re doing to him. “how are you… fuck, i’m gonna lose it.” when you don’t let up, he’s almost crying, voice all high-pitched and breathless.

seungkwan’s absolutely losing his shit. “oh fuck—wait, wait,” he’s gasping, his hands flailing for something to grab onto. his stomach’s twitching, and his voice is breaking into these high-pitched moans that he’s probably embarrassed about, but he can’t control it. “holy shit, i’m gonna… fuck, i’m gonna come.” his hands are shaking as he grabs your head, he’s crying as you suck the soul out of him.

vernon’s gripping the sheets, abs tensing so hard you can see the muscles twitch almost wanting to rip his skin, and he’s got this breathy, broken moan slipping out. “you’re gonna suck the life out of me.” his whole body jerking with every deep suck.

chan's stomach tightens, caving in, the muscles squirming exhaustively. “oh my god… y/n, what the fuck?!” his stomach’s contracting, and he’s moaning so loud he can’t even control it. “shit, slow down, i’m gonna… fuck!” his legs are shaking, and he’s whining, moaning, chuckling. “i’m not gonna last like this!”

[xxflyingwiththestarsxx]

This is a FALL BREEZE AND IT FEELS LIKE THE LEAVES SHOULD BE FALLING AND IT SHOULD LOOK ORANGEY AND WHISPY.

*ahem* sorry for yelling. It just - ahh. I love the fall 🥺 when will it come back

… in the fall, obviously but like - I SHOULDN’T HAVE TO WAIT THAT LONG, I’VE BEEN A RELATIVELY OKAY SENTIENT BEING.

No one should have to wait that long for the seasons that they love 😔 all seasons all the time, for everyone

[tallandsad]

Jaime Lee Curtis is absolutely EATING UP this episode of The Bear

[chapricot]

I FINALLY WATCHED ACROSS THE SPIDERVERSE

[poppibranchlover]

They’re making him look all ghostly! That’s so messed up! 🥺😭❤️

Oh…