#EVE V: New Generation | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

satoruhour · 7 months

Note

need reader to have a confession with priest!geto about how they feel guilty for touching themselves late alone at night and priest!geto helps them by just fucking their brains out as a “penance” for their sins.

yes, i’m okay in the head btw! (lie)

AU REVOIR, O HEAVEN !

wc: 12.2k

warnings: DARK CONTENT, SLOW BUILDUP, CORRUPTION, priest!geto, fem!reader, age gap (reader is in early 20s, geto in late 20s), long descriptive fic that goes in depth of christian lore, lots and lots of christian references / metaphors / analogies, comparison to Satan’s banishment and fall from heaven, religious themes used in inappropriate ways, questions of religion and life, multiple scenes of f! and m! masturbation, fingering, clit stimulation, virginity loss, both f! and m! receiving oral, cumshot, praise, degradation, spitting, sex in a religious place, p -> v sex, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut

for a small town like yours, it was a no-brainer that everyone knew everyone; and everyone’s drama as well. from the baker’s daughter being a whore to the mayor of the town being sacked for purposes that have since been twisted by word of mouth. that was another thing: word got around fast, and it was particularly suffocating in a conservative town such as yours. people were not outright about the obvious choices they favoured, but there was the older generation who were not shy to turn down progressive ideas.

because of that, the previous priest was kicked out because of the misuse of funds from mass collection and offertory. it was one thing to see a bunch of notes missing from the sack and the money counter but it was another thing to see that money going into funding a new strip club that was opening in the next town over.

it was simply unheard of, and the parishioners basically gave him a free ride to that very strip club by excommunicating him from his own church. it was unbecoming of a priest, especially in such a small congregation that everyone made sure the new priest to transfer here was a God-honouring one.

you hope he was. you’ve always felt the obligated need to serve your god and your parents. always the good girl, following the Ten Commandments, saving yourself for marriage. it was the natural order of a christian, and you could only hope that you’d get even a fraction of the eternal life they preach about in mass. but lately you’ve been having some . . thoughts, and you pray that this new priest could help you immensely, even if you had to do a hundred Hail Mary’s at the pews.

it was peculiar, the first time it occurred to you. the area where your body separates into two and forms two legs — the centre of it all, the middle where Eve had it covered in statues and paintings with a leaf, the middle where you had only learned of it in anatomical drawings. you knew what the vagina, cervix and the ovaries were, but seeing the convergence of pink and maroon between your legs confused you, even scared you.

and the next was when you’d had a guy come up to you whilst doing up your university application, saying something along the lines of how cute you were, would you like to grab a drink some time? and you were left dumbfounded and unable to answer. you let your eyes travel over his features, of the exposed arms of his button up shirt and the thickness of his forearms, you let your eyes skim over his plump thighs before you’re asked “are you okay?”

“n . . no sorry, i already have a boyfriend.” you lie through your teeth and all the guy does is sigh before walking away — but now you’re left with a bigger problem . . why was the thing between your legs throbbing? you swear you can feel your panties getting wet as well, but you aren’t quite sure why.

that night you’re lying in bed with a lewd website shining right in your face, as you’ve laid here for about two hours already, going through in your head whether you really wanted to do this. your hands had been clean, untainted from the moment you were born, but you imagine going to university and knowing not a thing about sex and that makes your whole body burn in embarrassment.

you chicken out and fall asleep.

“honey! come down here, i want you to meet someone.” your mother calls out to you, running about like she usually does. she’s always overworking — caring for the newborn, cooking the meals, cleaning the place. why don’t you ask dad to help sometimes? / nonsense! he works so hard and deserves a break! i don’t mind. / but he just lazes around at home after work . .

you’re pleasantly surprised to find a long-haired man at your front door, clad in a thick and loose turtleneck sweater with a gentle smile on his face. that uncomfortable feeling returns to your core and you land a hand to your stomach to calm the churning that’s happening.

“hello, and you are?”

you’d never think you would see one of God’s angels on earth in actual flesh in front of you. you’re convinced God is looking over you and you think you might see heaven when that silky voice repeats himself again.

“hi, kind miss, are you alright?”

“h . . huh? oh! yeah, uhm— who are you?”

your mother smacks you on your shoulder and sidles up to your side, holding onto your arm a little tightly that it hurts just a bit.

“don’t be rude!” she whisper-shouts to you, “this is geto suguru, and—”

“and i’m the new priest for the church.”

that catches you off-guard. he’s the new priest that was just transferred over? he looks anything but a holy man of God, what with his long hair and gauges in his ears; if you didn’t know any better you would think he was the one paying for the strip club instead. he seems to read your mind.

“i know i look . . a bit of a delinquent, miss, but i promise you the word of God is what i strictly live by. i honour and praise him with all that i can.”

“ah, i’m sorry if you thought i thought that way, father.” you mumble, giving him an awkward smile that he misses because he’s too busy focusing on the way you say father. you’re prepared to close the door on him already; the pulsing sensation between your legs isn’t fading and your whole body feels like it burns in hell. you rub your thighs together for some sort of relief, nothing.

“that’s usually the response i get, so i thought i would preface it first.” a little laugh leaves geto’s lips and if it wasn’t for you holding on for dear life on the door, you definitely would’ve buckled under your knees. “no hard feelings.”

“he’s a charmer, ain’t he?” there’s another sheepish laugh from the pastor at that. “told me he’s been going around giving cakes to all the people as a way to thank them for letting him take over the church.” your heart melts at that — he looked so hot and had a heart of gold, too?

“what cake did you get us, father?” you blurt out and you have no time to take it back, but the preacher doesn’t seem to mind. you also don’t seem to mind that barrier of authority that was established ever since he‘s introduced himself as the new priest of the church. it felt . . friendlier, less intimidating than the previous. it was probably mostly due to him not wearing his cassock or collar, though.

“chocolate.” that one word possibly ignited every nerve in you. the smooth lilt in his voice paired with the slight smirk. it was detrimental. you were going to hell, you were condemned to eternal damnation.

“how’d you know i liked chocolate?”

he shrugs, “lucky guess.” wrong.

he had come around the day before already, but you were too distracted with work and pressured with a deadline that music drained out everything else — one look at your side profile and the hard-working first year university student was all it took for geto to return again today with another cake of your liking. oh! you’re such a sweet one for asking what flavour we like; frankly, my dear boy, my husband and i don’t really eat cake but her . . loves it for some reason. i wonder where she gets the sweet tooth from, honestly.

geto could only thank his saviour that your mother had promised not to tell you he already came around yesterday. and it looks like she didn’t.

“i should get going, miss . .”

“(y/n).”

geto simply nods his head, resisting the urge to call your name pretty and only manages a decent call to your mother. “mrs (l/n), i’m heading off, thank you for having me. (y/n).”

you return his smile, hesitantly, inching the door close with immense difficulty — you wanted to see him walk away with that imposing height of his, of the proper gait he carried himself with and the politeness in which he greets people of the town.

that night you locked yourself in your room, muttering out some dumb excuse of having to study for a test when in reality you were more interested in the feeling between your legs. it both excited and scared you when you first find a comfortable position on your bed, stalling for a good half ’n hour before the clinking cutlery of dinner happening downstairs had brought you to your senses. there were countless articles open in your safari tab, none of which helped your growing dilemma — a tear in the Red Sea between the sin of pleasure and the liberation of acting on it. you felt like Moses, treading in the centre, on the fence.

one last text made you yelp out loud.

[8:03 pm, read]: R u coming down 4 dinner?

it was your mother, as if she knew what was happening behind doors.

[8:03 pm, delivered]: nope, sorry mummy. need to study for this test, its important !

[8:05 pm, read]: Alright, alright. I left out a serving of what we cooked tonite. Heat up if u need to with the microwave O.K.? Don’t sleep so late!

you simply favourited her message, losing all motivation from before; until your mind crosses over dinner and goes straight to that chocolate cake, and then to the person who had brought it.

“Farewell happy fields / Where joy forever dwells: Hail, horrors, hail.”

“geto . . geto suguru.” the name feels foreign. it does sound like a countryside name but it felt like he had come from the city instead. “geto . .” you sigh, letting your hands tremble and move along your body. they brush over your chest, over your nipples and you recoil a little from the strange feeling. they harden under your touch as you continue to repeat his name.

each murmur of his name is a step farther from God, dipping your toes into the waters of hell as your fingers travel lower, lower, lower. you press a finger against your clit unknowingly, and you let out a loud moan; you immediately slap a hand over your mouth.

but the pleasure’s too much, and so you try again. one hand goes back to your nipples, squeezing your tits and playing with them while your fingers rub pathetic circles along your core.

“su . .” you gulp. “geto—”

you pant softly to yourself as you continue to rub your clit, messy, inexperienced circles in whatever shape or form. as long as it felt good to you, you were doing it. you made sure to keep your moans in as your hips bucked into your hands, back arching off the bed in needy movements. your hands were getting tired, clutching at the bedsheets.

long hair, built physique, crucifix on his neck. funny, you never noticed that before, but now you imagine it clearly, dangling over your face. you’re imagining geto fucking you, thrusting his cock into you as he groans out your name.

you’re at the end of your tether, feeling the deep plunge of your body in Satan’s lair the same time you cum for the first time in your life and your body shakes so violently. you flail around on your bed, bite into your shirt, anything to keep you quiet from the immense orgasm you had just felt. your pussy clenches around nothing and your hand aches so much it might fall off, but it just feel so damn good that you only have a minute’s rest before you’re rubbing at your clit again.

scooping up a little of your cum, you marvel at the clear liquid, sucking on your finger to try the thing that’s always drenched your panties. and soon you’re conjuring the image of the long-haired priest yet again, never really studying for that test you made up or even eating dinner — all you do is rest and come again, each time more wrecked than the last time.

you dreaded going to church the next morning.

it had slipped your mind that service was to continue once geto has gotten settled down in the rectory, a small outhouse at the back of the church that had been revamped. you’re not sure on how father geto was able to get it done up so fast but, you’re not one to question.

with the short walk to church, you regret not eating the night before, groaning softly at the discomfort of your growling stomach. what you were more worried of though, was what would happen to you once you stepped foot in the church. was your body going to go up in flames? were you going to get ridiculed by the townspeople? were you going to get called out by father geto in front of everyone?

“what’s gotten you so worked up?” your father was walking behind and smoking, as always, not giving a shit about your mother and the newborn.

“nothing . . just, wondering if i got everything in my head for my test.” your mother coos, and your baby brother in the carrier thinks it’s because of him. he babbles into your mom’s shirt, giggling.

“you’ll do fine, honey,” the reassurance worried you only more. you were lying outright — you had no test, you weren’t even studying, you were busy—!

“i raised a smart girl, didn’t i?” you can only manage a smile, reaching the church within minutes. taking the chance to mutter a short prayer and a plea, you take a deep breath and that light from above Lucifer’s kingdom seem to call out to you again.

stepping into the simple but cozy church, you dip your hands in holy water. Father, Son, Holy Spirit along your forehead, chest and shoulders before you trail behind your mother, suggesting places for you to sit at the back. she only waved your hand away, pointing towards the front. we always sit at the front! why the sudden change? / nothing . . maybe thought we could switch it up a little.

the mass starts after a few minutes of waiting, and you have the luxury of wallowing in your self-pity and guilt for those few minutes, trying to get the very filthy imagery of father geto above you, father geto between your legs, father geto himself out of your head. you fail, it’s only amplified when the bell rings and the congregation stands up.

everyone waits in anticipation for the new priest in this small town, hoping he won’t disappoint them like the last one. but they already seem to be in good spirits as he makes the entrance down the very short church. two altar boys follow behind him in the procession, accompanied by an organist and a duo of choir singers, straining to have their voice heard over the loud instrument. he’s already made some friends, nodding to the excited kid who whispers and the shy girl who waves her hands at him. but while everyone feels anticipation in hopes of a good sermon, dread is only making your legs feel like lead, you feel lightheaded, dizzy even.

because whatever you had imagined last night was him in his sweater get-up, and it just now sinks in what a disgusting thing you were doing as you watch the rich purple of his chasuble sway alongside his stole — the very image of him in his priest robes (in Lent season too, not to mention) — meant to deter you from more thoughts, only fed your desires.

geto suguru made being a pastor look so natural, and attractive, that it was almost criminal.

“good morning, brothers and sisters, how are we all doing this morning?” there’s a few murmurs around, but geto doesn’t falter, instead pressing on with his very convincing, beautiful speech; as does he with the rest of the mass. he conducts himself with as much professionalism as he can, handling the Eucharist with proper hands, giving a sermon whilst giving you too many eyes, distributing Holy Communion with a gentle, accepting smile; your skin burnt when he handed you the body of Christ, a soft inaudible “amen” hanging off your lips.

father geto was all the talk after, some hanging around to catch a minute of geto’s time if they could and you were no different, purposely looping your arm through your mother’s and slowly down your pace.

“goin’ out for a smoke.” your father gruffly tells the three of you, two of which understands better. your newborn simply cuddles deeper into your mother’s breast, humming softly into the nap.

“’kay.” it was opportunistic, now, as your eyes flit around the place to find geto talking to two older ladies. he’s politely bent down to reach their heights better, chasuble now removed and simply in his alb, one patting his shoulder and the other giggling. you think you imagine it but his eyes dart over to you for a moment and then off to the other parishioners.

“how are you two lovely ladies doing?” you hear him before you see him and the voice startles you a little, jumping back from brushing your baby brother’s almost non-existent hair.

“fine.” it comes out kurt and abrupt and you burn when your mother nudges you like yesterday.

“think what she means is that we’re perfectly fine. how was your first mass?”

father geto looks around the church, recalls the altar boys, ingrains each church-goer into his head, “i hope the congregation likes me.”

“oh, nonsense! i’m sure they do,” your mother reassures. she was always good like that, putting others before her and making sure they see the best in themselves, “that was a very riveting sermon you delivered.”

“yeah—! yeah, i . . really enjoyed it, father geto.”

a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, “did you now?”

you nod, and he continues, “you enjoyed me telling you that sin was revolting?”

when he phrases it like that . . you swallow, “isn’t that what God’s whole schtick is?”

and that makes father geto laugh, because for such an innocent flower like you, you make it sound like you were forced to go to church and made to learn the basis of why God exists and now you just don’t know what to do with it. it’s common for people at their university age where they’re exposed to more views and mindsets, to question the religion you were born in and think about what it meant to be tied to a god you didn’t even really know existed, and when that happens, Christianity turns stagnant and boring.

“yes, pretty much, miss (y/n), but His schtick also involves forgiving anyone who has sinned against Him. after all, that’s what He died on the cross for.”

“y . . yeah, i know, father geto.”

you only realise now his purple chasuble matches his eyes, eyes that swirl with the colours of amethyst. they’re much brighter in the parish lighting, and they hold your stare much longer than yesterday. there’s the tugging feeling at your stomach again that goes right down to your centre and it throbs; your eyes flutter and blink to get you out of your head.

“good that you know . . of course, it’s not an invitation to sin. self-restraint and chastity still exists,” you hate how he puts an emphasis on the latter word, because he could be referring to anything, “but we need not be worried for our lives. we only need to pray and repent in prayer, and God will have mercy on us.”

but well, if God didn’t want you to sin, how then can he explain creating such an attractive person? if God valued his followers’ self control, why did he have to plant such lewd, inappropriate thoughts of his preacher in your head?

father geto could probably see your dilemma with how hard he was staring at you, and he only makes it worse by putting his larger hand on your left shoulder. it descends deeper to your upper arm and the skin there ignites—

“i hope you liked the chocolate cake.”

you manage a small smile, “haven’t had the chance to try it, sorry, father.”

“don’t apologise.” you forget your mother and baby brother is even beside you with how he talks to you. you’d love to be on his chest, hearing the deep rumbling of his voice or even have his hands be somewhere else but your arm. you don’t know how simply talking to you has got him doing everything in his power to restrain himself; not even a prayer from God could help.

“The mind is its own place, and in it self / Can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n.”

what you don’t know, either, that the hand on your shoulder was between his legs just last afternoon, trying so hard not to sneak under his cassock. he could barely keep his moans in, palming his bulge from above his robes at the mere thought of you. no touching means less sin, right? he comes to that pathetic conclusion easily, so all he does is bury himself in the outhouse after distributing his cakes, hips positioned over his pillow and he grinds.

the feeling for father geto was so archaic, been so long since he’s given up his life to God right after graduating university. all the carefree times that he’s experienced — drinking in dorms, going to parties, getting some nice quick fucks in between exams — were going to stop for good. but that doesn’t mean he stopped lusting.

lust. one of the seven deadly sins, a weak point for father geto’s journey as a pastor. it’s obvious now too that he hasn’t really left his older ways, bucking his hips into the fabric of his pillow. he thinks of you, your sweet little eyes and your cute outfit at home, he thinks of your face twisted into pleasure as he’s positioned between your legs.

father geto twitches, friction against the underside of his cock feeling so good after years and years of holding back — with a pretty face to think of, too. his hips ruts in short thrusts, desperate for that high and he chokes on a moan imagining your sweet voice begging to cum. and so does he, shooting such a large, hot load into his underwear that even his cassock is stained with his cum. but unlike you, he’s already thinking of his next round — if he’s doomed to die by lust, then might as well go all the way.

father geto spares a glance towards the door just to be safe before flipping over on his back, and pulls his robes above his lower half. the sight is dirty, underwear painted a darker colour and cum sticking to every part of the fabric. once he wraps a hand around his cock, geto is gone, pumping it so fast he might have gotten a burn along his length but it’s all rewarded by the second quick orgasm he reaches — spurting ribbons of cum all over his holy garments.

it’s why he didn’t have time to write a proper sermon for the morning mass. he was up all night, stroking himself — just, from the thought of you.

it was father geto’s turn to have uneven breaths as you asked if he was okay, hand on your shoulder shaking. but the visions of last night is overtaken quickly by his need to impress the other parishioners, and so he gives you a tense smile.

“enjoy the cake.” it sounded like an innuendo if you’ve ever heard one, but you mutter a soft thank you, before heading off back home with your family. that contact with your shoulder is all you can think of, giddy at the warmth of his hand and eyes.

“baby, could you open the door for me?” your mother calls out to you, hastily wiping her hands on her apron and abandoning the kitchen to tend to your crying baby brother.

“ok, mummy!” the doorbell’s been rung twice now, jogging a little to the door to prevent the person from waiting. you didn’t think to look through the peephole, a tight-knit (conservative) community made you trust anyone, opening the door to find father geto standing in front of you.

“o-oh. hi, father . .?”

he was dressed in his roman collar, a black shirt with a white strip around the neck and some black jeans. it wasn’t as casual as the first day, and it still held an ode to God even on a weekday.

“hi, (y/n).”

“ohhh! it’s father geto, come, come!” your mother bellows throughout the house, baby brother on her hip as she bounces him to get him to stop wailing. “are you hungry already?”

geto displays a meek smile, “a little, mrs (l/n), since you mentioned how big of a feast you were cooking.”

your mouth drops in recognition; was that why she was so preoccupied for the whole day? doing the maximum in the kitchen not just because it was for your father’s recent promotion at his job, but also for dinner with father geto.

“you’re having . . dinner with us.” it’s more of a statement to yourself than a question to the priest, but he still catches on and assists you by closing the door himself, and taking off his shoes. already, he looks part of the family, looking like a hard-working husband coming back from his job to you. instead, he’s answered the vocation of priesthood, and not matrimony.

“it looks like i am.” it’s such a sly comment, like he already knew the effect he had on everyone. this sucking up was just to get every church-goer to like him more, and it’s working.

geto is charming at the dinner table as he is at the parish, cracking jokes that make both your parents and you laugh, talking about his university life and telling a myriad of stories that he’s gone through.

“what did you major in in university, father?” it felt such a weird question, especially with an honorific attached to something that you were doing at the moment — it felt out of place that someone so close to your age was already pursuing a lifetime commitment of serving God.

“my studies focused mostly on philosophy and theology. i minored in linguistics.” there’s a chorus of ooh’s that echo throughout the table, cleaning up the last bit of food on his plate before he continued. “i’m currently going more in depth for latin, which is a stunning language, beyond those who say it’s dead and should stay dead.”

that only makes him hotter, and you cross your legs beside him, looking at him from the corner of your eye at you play with the last meatball on your plate. the sauce leaves a trail of red from the tomato, somehow mirroring the murder of your old self — or what you thought it was. it was more of a knife wound, a cowardly stab in the arm.

that dinner with father geto only deepened your sense of guilt.

it was the way the priest was quick to stand just as your mother does, offering to help with cleaning up the dinner table. even when she brushes him off, he insisted, answering for her when he only silently takes the plates to the back. all your mom does is shake her head with a smile, letting you help as well. your father just watches curiously, entertaining the baby with his canned alcohol.

“i’m embarrassed i can’t fight back against you well enough to stop ya from cleaning up at my own house,” your mother confesses, already having used her last breath to tell him to not help with the dishes as well. you scrub at a stain on geto’s plate over and over, a stubborn one at that until you finally are able to get it out. it still leaves a faint red glow, though.

“it’s nothing, really, mrs (l/n), i’m happy to help whenever.” father geto’s eyes rake over your figure as you clean alongside your mother, heel bouncing up and down; to non-existent music or in impatience he wasn’t sure.

she just takes the soapy plate from your hands with a laugh, “c’mon, it’s okay, my dear. go entertain father geto.”

it was the way his courtesy shined through when he doesn’t enter your room until he has gotten verbal confirmation from you, guiding him in with a uneasy hand as he looked around your quaint little space. it was filled with photos, some plants, tons of research papers and a messy table to match, but all he did was reassure you. you take note of his flowing hair and the laid back hairstyle he liked to don when it wasn’t for mass.

“how is university treating you?” you’re stuck on being completely honest and lying with every answer, but father geto has a face that makes it difficult to lie to.

“it’s . . alright, i guess,” you settle on your bed, crossing your legs and hoping he wouldn’t pick up any of your essays. thinking is manifesting, though, and his hands naturally go for the paper with the many red markings on the front page.

“Paradise Lost? by Milton?” ah. that paper. you shoot up from the sheets before he can read it, because frankly your thesis in that paper was weak and wasn’t well supported, but you still believed it deeply. you were just having a little bit of trouble straying from your reverence for God. you only manage to clutch the top of your paper, but geto is adamant on reading it, piqued by genuine curiosity.

“the retelling of Milton’s Paradise Lost humanises the experience of Satan’s (or Lucifer’s) fall from glory . .” he trails off, reading over your evidences and analysis. you feel like you’re being read like an open book, laid out bare for vultures to pick at and for God to enumerate your sins until you felt no shame.

with his head still tilted down, father geto has to look up through his lashes and bangs, seemingly making you cower more and more in your spot as the unsolicited advice for your essay dies down on his tongue. the size of his hands has you hypnotised, and he decides it’s against his own values to give feedback about a text he so childishly brushed off when he was in university, even if he had to read it to complete four years in the seminary. geto places a hand upon yours and the heat is dizzying; you can’t help but think if he was just normal person, instead, holding your hand like this.

it was the way he let you explain yourself a little better through your own words. it was a premature essay, anyway, made to test out your close reading and citation skills. but he found your interpretation of Milton’s poem to be much more insightful than he expected it to be — you think maybe, your understanding of the text grows the more you learn about your body, how you like to be pleasured; you feel like Lucifer.

“i . . don’t necessarily think you are born into evil. it’s multi-faceted and loaded, this question. God our Father would do anything but create evil willingly, it’s just unfortunate that the people that bring up their offspring contribute to the shaping of their identity and outcome.”

“then, how . .” your lips twist as you think of a way to word the question, “how would that justify evil existing? wouldn’t the fact that evil is developed somehow meant that God created evil in some shape or form, in the first place?”

father geto rushes to answer but—

“why did he have to create the serpent that tempted Eve in the first place? couldn’t he have just left them alone in Eden?”

“...there to dwell / In adamantine chains and penal fire / Who durst defy th' Omnipotent to arms.”

you frown, not expecting the other to answer but instead just wallowing in your thoughts. you never thought the talk with father geto would turn into some philosophy lesson, but the more you chatted with him on the bed, the more the conversation seemed to steer that way.

your own faith wavers in the night, a quietness settling over the two of you like a cloak of stars. the mass of each star weighs heavily with your questions up in the air until you faintly hear his answer.

“i don’t . . know, miss (y/n).”

“ah! no no— sorry to dump everything on you, father geto,” you scratch the back of your head, “it was just passing thoughts. i’ve never thought to think of this before.”

it was morbid, it was macabre. it was like looking over and seeing a skeleton in your place instead of flesh and skin and yet each question after question ignites something in him that no one has excited before. he can already feel lust influencing the other six, pumping through his veins at a life void of God, void of religion, a free place to think of the omnipotence of a higher being that no one was sure really existed.

“it’s okay . . it’s natural to ask. it’s natural to inquire. God,” he nods like he was in a trance; the word feels weird on his tongue, “God would want this.”

that night you did anything but sin, clutching the essay between your hands and digging your knees into the floor with elbows on your bed until they ached and you prayed. you wished blessings on your family, you wished blessings on the parishioners, you wished blessings on father geto and you wished eternal damnation on yourself.

there’s a heavy pull on your heart when you go to sleep a few minutes after and the dream you have of your body turning to soot and burning with each feet into flames makes you crave salvation all the more — like all a bad dream, it will be fine as long as you pray, and pray, and pray.

but the flesh desires what the heart denies: the more you ‘hang’ with father geto (by God, he was perfectly okay with that word when you let it slip to your mother. he merely throws up a peace sign in a ‘cool’ way and then immediately cringes, but it makes you laugh), the more you find yourself attracted to his morals, to his ideals, to the natural way in which he exists. he could speak for hours on end, voice sounding like birdsong and a chilling breeze all at the same time.

his voice did wonders in your head, as well, coaxing you into betraying your own code; and you betray it easily. that phantasmic voice leaving you to remove your top and pinching your nipples as soft little moans leave your mouth. the imaginary sway of his crucifix above your face while you harshly abuse your clit and dip a finger into you for the first time. the feeling is so foreign and weird that you shamelessly think of the slight lilt of his voice helping you: “it’ll feel better soon, (y/n). c’mon, finger your pussy for father geto.”

father geto had a natural talent for talking and preaching. that downturn of tone like hitting a dead-end when he holds a point above your head (“but”) and then resolves it into perfect cadence like chords ending a phrase when he proposes a solution (“God will take care of everything”). he does it so much you think he’s rather convincing himself more than he’s convincing you, though.

“perhaps this parable that Jesus uses tells us rather to look within ourselves, to look within the vineyard that is us. the owner have done everything: kept the roots tied so it would not be trampled, making sure they get all the sunlight and water it needs, yet . .” he pauses a little, looking at the almost full parish now that he’s won over the hearts of your town. his eyes flit down to you at the second pew, shooting you a quick smile.

“and yet he yields sour grapes. we pray, we act civil and diplomatic, we are giving, but are you truly doing it for the glory of God? is that maybe why we only get the sour grapes — not satisfied with the ‘thank you’ after doing a favour or silence from God after praying daily?”

geto looks over the last bits of the scribbled sermon, a little more coherent than last week, but still done with thoughts of you. there’s multiple smudges of his words that he has to squint and stutter a bit, caused by the frantic cleaning of his cum upon the paper.

“we all . . naturally expect things back, but to be Christian, to be a follower of Christ, we would have to abandon all thoughts of that.” father geto’s mind wanders to last night as his eyes look for you again. “we would need to be generous, to be kind without needing anything in return.”

father geto integrates into the church easily, shown in how his sermons capture the hearts of many. albeit, they never really take in the true meanings of the preachings he gives, but it’s enough for geto if they nod and mutter amen like fools in mass; whatever they do out of it is out of his hands.

but along the many preachings he does, there is one subject he fears approaching: lust, the one thing that threatens the downfall of his vocation and yet he cannot get enough of it. each walk and meeting with you only heightens his desire, makes his cock throb beneath his robes. each sunday he wishes he could split his soul in half — one as the confessor and one as the confessing — and repent in the confessional box.

“today’s gospel from Mark, chapter 6 talks about lust, briefly.” there’s a shake in his voice, eyes now scrambling over the congregation to find you in a much more revealing top contrasting with the out-of-place cardigan you have on. he’s sure it was mrs (l/n) that had made you put that on before you left the house; the house where he’s memorised the placement of your shoe rack and how your door creaks when it’s opened too quickly. geto is so fucked.

geto clears his throat before continuing, seeing you adjust your body for a moment, “King Herod is tempted by his flesh when he sees one of Herodias’ daughters dancing, so much so that she tempts him to commit murder. a clear beheading, just from giving into her body, and when she asks of him, he delivers like a dog. this calls us to truly think of the desires that we possess. they need not be sexual,” soft whispers emerge, a taboo subject, “they can also be related to money, to power.”

“lust for more things turns into greed when we act on that initial lust,” geto is sweating by now. he pulls lightly on his collar when you press your arms together in retaliation and he has to look away from the way your tits perk up so perfectly.

you had to know what you were doing, surely. partially — you were feeling cold, but you stifle a smile when you realise how geto’s eyes linger a little longer on you, or rather your chest, before he coughs and continues,

“when we are driven so terribly by the feeling that we abandon all morals just to please this person, thing on earth is when we tread into dangerous territory. no earthly possession must make you feel this way,”

the irony settles in his bones after he says it and his dick twitches at the thought of having you under the podium right now, sticking his fat cock down your throat while you struggle to keep the gagging noises to a minimum.

“no matter . .” a gulp, “how rewarding the aftermath must be.”

father geto knows you both are braving the edge of God’s merry kingdom. it is just a matter of who falls first.

“your place is in the kingdom of God, meant to fulfil eternal life with Jesus and the Lord which is what we all should be keeping in mind and working towards, ignoring all the distractions that will soon fade and die off.”

geto coughs again in the mic and breaths shakily, finally tearing his eyes away from you before he concludes the sermon and eases into the Offertory and Eucharist. he buries himself so deep in the procession in order to get you out of his mind, and it’s shown in the haste in which he carries the mass. it feels like he rushes so much that even the day outside follows too, because evening seems to arrive earlier than usual.

the sun sets outside, illuminating the altar. it taunts you like reminding you of the beauty of your faith; it deepens the need developing in your core.

“body of Christ.” you can faintly hear it being repeated over and over at the front, just a few steps away from your turn and you wish you weren’t standing behind your dad’s hulking figure so you could actually prepare yourself for father geto. you’re greeted with his cascading hair tied up into a bun and the cup containing Jesus’ body, gold and shining. you see your stretched reflection before your eyes snap back to the pastor in front and you will your hands not to hail routine.

instead, you stick out your tongue for the father to put the communion on and you take in the little panic of his hands and the choked sentence of body of Christ. his eyes drift down to your pink tongue, to the small twitch it does when he places the host on it and he cannot wait for you to get out of his sight, lest he be overtaken by the sin he particularly preached about just minutes ago.

“any test to study for tonight, darling?” your mother asks after dinner, meaning to ask after seeing you be so fidgety like you needed to be somewhere.

“uh . . no, not exactly, but i do have something i need to do.”

“oh! what is it, sweetie?” she doesn’t read your expressions, you mannerisms, so you were safe from that, but you willed your voice to not break. your body is on fire, you needed to quell your needs, now.

“just— i promised father geto i would meet him later for a confession, since he’s so busy, he could only propose a late timing,” no, you didn’t. either way, you give a reason, explain yourself before she can speculate, works every time.

“oh, okay . .” she trails off, seemingly unaffected, “just don’t get home too late, alright, darling?”

you nod even though she’s too focused on the dishes, pressing a hand to her back in thanks and she carries on, carefree, while you sprint to your room. lock the door, get your phone out.

“ . . ings turns into greed when we act on that initial lust . .” the words recorded just hours ago leave the phone speakers on a low volume, already lighting a flame in your pussy when your hand brushes over the microphone and he stops at the same time, “when we are terribly dri . .”

you sigh loudly when your hand starts to make its way down to your centre, rubbing slightly to the sound of his voice. your clit is just begging to be touched, begging for your inexperienced hands flicking your nub in every which way. impatient, your hands dip into your cunt and your jaw drops open at the intrusion of your fingers, just as your eyes widen and your imagination has never worked as well as it does now.

you can see geto’s amethyst eyes boring into yours, you can see his hips fucking into yours and yet it doesn’t give you the same kick as you think it would — you’re fucking yourself with your fingers even faster, circles on your clit increasing in speed and messiness and you smear your juices all around.

“father— father geto—” it was pathetic, the way you moaned for a man of God, but the feeling of your cunt clenching around what you wished was his dick was too good, the coil in your stomach still feeling rather uncomfortable but welcoming and you’re unravelling with a silent scream soon, back arching off the sheets.

“s . . suguru, f-fuck,” the swear word feels weird on your lips, as with his first name, but the trembling of your virgin body is so delicious that you just keep rubbing and rubbing, taking so long to come down from your high as your pants get heavier and heavier. and then his face starts to fade off, eyes turning into lilac air and you’re glancing towards the crumpled essay on your bed with guilt festering in your chest.

“ . . mptations of the flesh are childish, are temporary. they lead you to do foolish things that have no place in the kingdom of God. we may repent and put it past us but the memories that our tainted bodies possess, they remember the sinful things that you did.” the recording of father geto dies out as with his powerful conclusion, speaking so loudly into the mic that it screeches with feedback, you remember. you don’t even know where the guilt builds up from, in your torso and your heart, despite questioning the faith you were in for all your life.

if God did not want us to sin, why did he create temptations and ask us to pray for forgiveness?

you roll over and remove your fingers with a small whine, taking up your phone and opening up the contact with father geto hesitantly. it was meant to be a strictly professional exchange like the conversations he’d had with many other parishioners: updates on the church, changes in mass timings, but your chat was filled with questions from you and answers from him. you didn’t dare ask him anything out of the faith.

[9:37 pm, delivered]: uhm. father geto? are you there?

oh god, it’s you. the you who on the second walk around the town exchanged numbers with him because he found your thoughts so intriguing.

[9:39 pm, read]: Yes, Miss (Y/N). What is it?

you take a deep breath. better to ask for that confession, you couldn’t risk your mother asking about it tomorrow.

[9:40 pm, delivered]: is it alright to have

[9:41 pm, delivered]: can i come over to the church, for a bit

father geto straights up in the rectory, getting closer to the socket where his phone was charging and hovers over the screen. his hands are clammy when typing a response and he manages it in about three minutes.

[9:44 pm, read]: Of course, my dear. The doors of the church are open for the congregation at any time.

bidding goodbye to your mother, you stay on the lit path to the church and you’re bathing in anticipation, too excited to see father geto that you bump into a dark shadow. almost resembling a hard wall, hands emerge from its sides to clutch at your biceps.

“miss (y/n), what is it? what has gotten you up so late at night?” if he was still in university, he would’ve laughed at how he asked that question. hundreds of texts of u up? that mimic the nature of the question right now.

“i was hoping . .” you ignore the tingly feeling of the way in which his hands leave goosebumps along your biceps and then to your forearms. finally, they clutch your hands between his, meant to be like a warm hug but instead is like fire, licking at your fingers and wrist like you’re at the stake. “i was hoping that i could, request you for a confession?”

the priest across you swallows with a nod, swiftly putting a hand across your back to lead you to the booth. you both could’ve done it perfectly fine in the pews, sitting across each other. “the confessional is where we will feel the strongest compulsion of Christ. come,” he answers your question before you can ask it, “take your place on the kneeler behind the curtains.”

father geto showers in the same sea of anticipation when he makes sure you’re okay before heading over to his side of the confessional. he’s imagined this scene over and over — you on the pew kneeler, breath warming the velvet curtains — he cannot help the bulge that forms.

the first words he speak behind the curtain shock you, voice sounding so close yet so muffled and distant.

“come, now, (y/n), make the Sign of the Cross with me.”

Father, Son and Holy Spirit

upon your head, chest and shoulders you do it, taking a deep breath before you start. “bless me, father, for i have sinned. it has been . . about five years since my last confession.”

geto nods, the soft carry of your voice in the late night having an effect on the priest. the hold he has on the crucifix of the rosary is so tight it makes an indent on his skin, the only thing on mortal flesh to keep him from falling.

“What though the field be lost? All is not lost; the unconquerable will, And study of revenge, immortal hate, And courage never to submit or yield.”

your thighs rub together, hot breath sending chills down your clutched hands and down your arm as you ponder over the things you’ve done — “i’ve . . lied to my mother at times, to my friends when they ask me where i’m from. i have stolen money for my own needs, n-not— that high of an amount but um . . still a fair amount.”

“what did you need to buy, sweetheart?”

the name surprises you, but you simply ignore it. “i wanted new clothes — was all the rave at uni when the girls wore miniskirts and little tops. unfortunately it didn’t suit me.”

geto swears under his breath when the image of you in such skimpy clothing infiltrate his thoughts. his curiosity overtakes him; overwhelmed with emotion, he never had the chance to see what you were wearing before he pulls back the curtains and hopes your eyes are closed and they are: pulled tight with quivering eyebrows. there, like a sinning Christian is you in a thin camisole, cleavage showing beneath your arms. he peers lower, gasps softly to himself when you’re wearing a skirt.

“father? father, what’s wrong?” you think you hear the swift swoosh and the rings of the miniature curtain clatter.

“n—nothing is wrong, miss (y/n). are there any other sins you want to confess?”

you swallow, “i . . i’ve wished misfortune on my father.”

not the sin he was hoping for but he wasn’t surprised; his head moves in understanding. he had seen your father — merely a ghost in the house and hardly contributing to fostering the family. it goes against what Mary and Joseph stands for as the Holy Family, but father geto has seen a lot of absent fathers and incompetency to truly be taken aback anymore.

“i’ve also . . i’m not sure whether to tell you this, father geto.”

your breaths were all you could hear in the silence of the church, an eerie quietness settling as if the critters and animals of the earth strived to listen to your ultimate sin, too. Beelzebub, Asmodeus, possibly even Lucifer himself clawed themselves up from hell to eavesdrop.

“of course you can, my dear.” the wind through the wooden confessional box sounds like the hisses of the three demons, like they have had holy water sprayed on them from the mere sounding of his voice; but they look hopefully for a server of Christ to fall exactly like they did.

“it’s, related to my body, father. i,” gulping, you continue with a prompt from the other, “i’ve had this growing need, like, one has when they’re hungry. they have the need to fill their stomachs. or— or a sudden pain you have to massage yourself through, like a cramp in the arm of sorts.”

“well . . is it your torso or your arm?”

“it’s . .” you spare a glance towards your centre under your very, very short skirt, the familiar pulsing of your clit turning more and more prominent. “it’s related to my pussy, father.”

you hear a choke from the other side, and then you realise your choice of words.

“ah— m-my bad! i meant my . . vagina, father geto.”

“no— no u-uhm, the previous term was fine. could you describe what you did? how far did you go so i c-can . . give you the appropriate penance?”

behind the curtains, geto have already started palming his bulge, massaging the ache in his length that still continues to grow and harden. the way you describe is so terribly innocent and unknowing, a deepening urge to corrupt you running through his veins.

“i played with um— my breasts, first. i pulled up my top and felt around my nipples, but i got impatient and . .” geto hangs on to every word of yours, shifting to get his robes out of the way. it was just like the first night: his underwear stained with so much pre-cum it’s probably changed the colour of the garment. he peels it away and the lack of restraint leaves him sighing softly while you ramble on—

“i tried playing with that . . thing between my legs.” you recall the quick google search from that first night, “i played with my clit, father.”

geto stifles a groan into his hand just as he starts to stroke himself softly. “y . . yeah, and?”

“i tried to um . . fit my finger in. it was uncomfortable, at first,” you cannot ignore the pull of your core; your hand shimmies past the clasped hands and down to your skirt. you have no panties to swipe to the side: you came here without any. your finger rubs gently at the throbbing bundle of nerves, a soft whine leaving your lips before you remember you’re in the midst of a confession.

“but i . . i got it into my pussy soon enough. and then i put in another finger.” there was a more audible grunt from the other side, the confessional weirdly heating up immensely as you follow your confession: two fingers easily glide in from just how wet you were.

“when?” there’s a strain in father geto’s voice when he asks it, maybe because he was trying so hard to keep quiet. his jaw is locked as he pumps his cock slowly because his tip is leaking so much that even a simple movement would give him away.

“w-wha—?”

“w-when did you first start . . touching your pussy, (y/n)?” hearing a priest say such a lewd word makes you clench around your fingers.

“after you came to deliver t-that chocolate cake . . father geto.”

“f-fuck—” geto squeezes his eyes shut and it’s like he’s a university student again losing his virginity for the first time by the hands of some random chick pumping him. the implied confession has him stroking faster; it was after that trip he made to your house, it was after seeing you stand at the door like a good little girl, it was because of him, right? right?

you snap back the curtains and your mouth waters at the scene: father geto hunching over the little window that separates the two of you and his head hung low; his cassock gathers around his hips and his cock— good Lord, his cock was so big, clutched tightly between his left hand. his tip was weeping, an angry red as it continued to push out globs of pre.

“f-father!” geto doesn’t seem to care, giving you a drunk and nonchalant glance as he continues to stroke his shaft. he knows it’s wrong, doing this in the house of the Lord but it feels so fucking good. “y-you—”

you’re at a loss for words, pointing to his exposed bottom, but even though you’re speaking out against him, you can’t help but follow his hand as it moves up and down like a spell. his eyes are simply pleading, hips bucking up and you would think he was a parishioner instead. shaking in the presence of God, in the presence of you—

you stick your hand past the squeezy window, drawing his interest and before you know it you’re blindly bumping into his erection. there, he silently grabs your hand, guiding it to his shaft. he uncomfortably leans down to look at your face, eyebrows still furrowed but your tongue stuck out and his dick twitches in your hand.

“s-shit, baby . .” geto swears under his breath, and again when you pull on his dick to the window. uncomfortably his body lightly slams against the partition, a soft thud coming from the booth as his head collides with the wood, “(y/n) . .”

he can’t see you, but he can hear you. “may i, father geto?”

you don’t wait for his answer, gauging mainly from the heavy breaths coming from above you. they really do need to change the confessional, too, because you can clearly hear every word he mumbles out from the holes in the partition.

“shiiit—” when you kitten lick his tip, collection the pre-cum that continues to leave his tip, and it feels better than his Rite of Ordination and when he finally got to host his first mass. it’s better than that prophetic dream he has of God calling him to serve Him and the churches in the city with church-goers of boring faces and predictable stories.

here was a rural place, a place where he never expected such a pretty girl to practice the Christian faith, only to falter in the presence of a pastor. he’s gotten such a cute little slut to corrupt. you start to bob your head slowly, unsure of what to do apart from putting his cock on your mouth. your teeth grazes his skin a little and he hisses.

“no teeth. suck in your cheeks,” he cannot see you but he wishes he can, and he knows you listen to his advice when he feels only the smooth glide of your mouth and he wishes it was your pussy that you fingered.

“going deeper, darling,” geto grunts when he pushes his cock past your mouth and into your throat, the sweet gag you do making him dig his forehead deeper into the uneven wooden partition. he can hear your struggling sounds, the muffled moans with his cock down your cavern. but he cannot go any longer without seeing you and reluctantly he pushes you off, still holding your hand and you seem to catch his drift soon enough.

you’re as eager as him, bouncing off the kneeler and leaving your side of the booth, and you’re opening the door to his. the reality of the situation fully sinks in, geto standing there with his cock dripping with your saliva and your camisole pulled down under your tits.

“oh . . baby,” geto coaxes you into him, under a little spell of his when you trail in a light as a feather. you don’t resist his hands pushing you down to your knees, and just like earlier, you’re sticking your tongue out and the priest looks at you from under hooded lids.

“did you touch yourself to me, little girl?” it comes out stronger than intended but you seem to like it, even when your answers are cut off by him slapping his tip on your tongue. it’s so heavy, his cock, and thick too that you can help but suckle on it when you get the opportunity.

“ever since that day, father geto.” you look drunk, swirling your tongue around the tip and continuing to talk, “i . . i imagine you above me and sometimes i dangle my crucifix thinkin’ it’s yours.”

a small laugh escapes the priest. “did you now?” it’s reminiscent of the time where you praise his sermon. his laugh is cut off as you continue to suck him off, hands still confused. he helps you by bringing your hands to the places you can’t reach and you follow like second nature. “dirty fucking slut, aren’t you?”

“i promise i didn’t know anything before this . . father.” you look up at him through your lashes, big doe eyes proving every last bit of your innocence. aht, partially. you did watch a video of this chick blowing her boyfriend, cumming with your own fingers in your throat, wishing it was geto’s cock in your mouth instead.

but having a real cock in your mouth? it was divine, better than the body of Christ in melting on your tongue. your ministrations speed up, the obscene noises of you gurgling reverberating in the wooden box late at night. it would be even worse at the altar where it would echo everywhere.

“y—yeah, baby, that’s it, that’s it . .” his eyes are shut tight, intoxicated on the way your warm mouth feels. you whine into his shaft, tears forming at the corners of your eyes from how deep he was in you.

“mmf— mmph!” your moans sends vibrations up his body, interrupted when geto thrusts his hips into your mouth suddenly and your nose meets with his pubes, eyes rolling back from the muskiness of his body. it smells like incense and sweat, filling your senses as he keeps you right up to his hilt.

“ohh . . fuckfuck fuucck—!” the father pulls you off to let you breathe, pleasantly surprised when you start pumping him violently, tongue stuck out again. there’s a hint of light from the outside that highlights the pinkness of your tongue and he’s never wanted to cum this badly before.

“i’m cumming— baby, baby, i’m g’nna c-cum—” there’s a long, drawn out whine from father geto upon feeling the warmth of your hands stroking his cock so obediently, resting his tip on your tongue where you’d willingly drink his cum like wine. geto shoots his load into your mouth and is the loudest he’s ever been; he doesn’t care who hears him, he doesn’t care if he gets transferred out tomorrow, all he wants to think about is you on your knees and your nipples hardened from confessing to him. he’d like to bet that your pussy was drooling too, hips bucking into the soft skin of your hands.

some of his cum gets onto your face and on your lips, and geto almost cums again when you use his tip to smear his seed around your face, sucking lightly on his tip.

“dirty girl . .” he pulls on your biceps to bring you up, and your lips meet instantaneously like you were meant to be separated for eternity, doomed only to meet for one day a year. it’s messy and sloppy, drool drips from your sides of your mouths as your lips merge together.

“was that your first kiss, baby?” father geto can tell by how you don‘t know how to follow his lead, teeth clashing and breathing uneven.

“am i that obvious?” you frown, feeling self-conscious, but geto is quick to reassure you.

“father geto’s going to teach you everything you need to know, alright?” he brings you in with a finger to your chin, hovers over your lips like a tease.

he teaches you everything you want to know and more, like how the front of the church looks like and how cold the marble of the altar feels against your back as he eats you out and the sensations are all too much for you. he teaches you that using God’s name in vain is alright when it comes to moaning out how good he makes you feel and how your penance is whatever he makes it out to be he teaches you how you can take not one, not two, but three fingers up your pussy.

they’re so much thicker than your own, one hand pushing on your shaking thighs to keep them open while his three fingers move in and out of you. you’re leaking so much, your virgin cunt dripping like holy water down the white marble and onto the matching marble floor.

he teaches you his first name and he makes sure you say it.

“su—suguru . . god, r-right there—” he latches his mouth onto your clit, suckling and flicking his tongue impatiently because he just wants to see you cum. your legs stretch out to knock over a candelabra and the clatter of the metal against the ground is enough to wake up a whole village but you. don’t. care.

your hips grind onto his tongue, feeling the borderline painful stretch of his thick fingers in you but they reach all the right spots that you can’t find it in you to care.

“you taste so good—” geto spits onto your cunt and goes back to sucking on your clit, “pussy’s so fuckin’ sweet, holy fuck.” your noises come out of you non-stop as you bury your hands in his hair, finally knowing what you sound like in an unrestrictive space under the apse.

father geto teaches you how to take a cock up your cute, tight pussy, not bothering for a condom when basically all of your clothes have been discarded throughout the night. it’s almost midnight and your mother have fallen asleep on the couch, unaware her sweet, sweet daughter is losing her virginity in the place she was baptised, where she got her first communion.

the first push into your drenched cunt is painful, mushroom tip stretching you out slightly as you clutch tightly onto his forearm, brows knitted together at the girth of his cock.

“been wanting . . to fuck this pussy so bad, baby,” geto grunts it out, obsessed with how his length slowly disappears into you. he can feel each ridge of your gummy walls, hugging him so snugly that there’s several moans that leave his lips, “have you been— thinking ’bout this as much as i h-have?”

your jaw stretches beyond your limit when he eases himself inch by inch into you, thanking the hells below that your vision was finally coming true. above you there’s that same crucifix, sterling silver with amethyst stones embedded into the design, you remember, catching the light of the lone spotlight above the both of you. there’s a similar glint in father geto’s purple eyes.

“all the time, father—” you moan out, pulling him by his necklace to your lips that are more experienced now, each minute that passes is one more atom of your body turning black from the fire that licks at you from below the altar. you kiss the lips of your parish priest, whimpering slightly when his hips buck and you feel the stretch more clearly now.

“is this what Isaac felt when Abraham tried to bind him for a sacrifice on Moriah? helpless, confused, betrayed?”

geto lets out a hum, sucking hickeys into your neck and you think it’s a million times better than questioning a God that never showed himself, who never really had the intentions of the people in mind, who created sin to watch the downfall of men while he enjoys his time in his kingdom.

if this was what was meant by losing yourself to your devils, you would gladly shake hands with Lucifer and hope the warmth of the fire in hell would be a hug warmer than any hug you’ve received by people of the Christian faith.

“well, baby, do you feel helpless?” thrust “confused,” thrust “and betrayed?” thrust

he punctures each word with a snap of his hips and the pain gives way to pleasure and soon he’s already lost in the comfort of your pussy, hips starting a pace easily that emphasises just how wet you are. the echoes of your weeping cunt and the lewd slapping of his balls into your ass is like the bell ringing during mass, loud, resonating, it shakes your whole body.

“mmfuck . . helpless, m-maybe,” you whine out, legs wrapping around his back, “confused, n-not— suguruuu, yesyesyes!”

you try again, “n-not really. betrayed . .”

you feel like a sacrifice, but it was willing, of a confession that has led to this lewd showing of just how much the temptations of the flesh were insanely undeniable. there’s a murmur of i don’t think i can last much longer into your ear, cock driving into your tight pussy so harshly you’re hoping the small altar doesn’t move.

“b-betrayed, i think—” you squeal when father geto angles his hips up and it kisses your cervix just nicely, sending multiple chills down your body. your moans penetrate the holy air, hair splayed out like a painting and geto knows this is better than any Eucharist he’s ever tasted.

you clench around his fat cock, and he twitches, switching to short, pathetic thrusts into your pussy and he cries out your name as he cums deep in you, giving you all of his seed deep in your womb. your breath catches in your throat at the feeling of your first load, the warmth already hooking you in and you pull so hard on his hair he has no choice but to follow your hand.

you let him handle you deep into the night, taking you off the altar and pushing you up against it, entering you again and you brace yourself against the marble.

“s-sorry, sweetheart, you were saying?” he also wants to apologise that he hadn’t made you cum just yet, but your pussy’s so fucking heavenly he just has to be in you again.

“i-i feel a little betrayed,“ you sag over the altar, back arching into his hold. father geto is fixated on the movement of your ass fucking back onto him, “that a priest would break his m-marriage to God for me.”

“i thought they were supposed to be men of God,” you barely manage to form sentences. geto’s laugh at that startles you, as with the hand grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling. payback. you love it, however, a sweet Christian girl turned into a slut, and the last bits of the thread unravels when father geto reaches around to rub your clit.

“’m gonna— cum, suguru—” you whine out, body turning to mush with how hard he rams into your pussy. by now there’s a ring of white around the base of his cock, your juices slowly starting to coat it, too and Lucifer succeeds at sin yet again.

you cannot blame Eve when the serpent is as beautiful and cunning as geto suguru, nor can you blame her when his thick cock just reaches so deep into you, tip kissing your sweet spots and his hand impatiently drawing messy circles on your bundle of nerves.

“that just makes it the best though, right?” geto breathlessly says, “a holy man fucking a virgin raw in a holy place where prayers are said.” your legs are spreading further and further, his sweaty body engulfs yours, you’re dizzy, “you’re too tempting, sweet girl. tempting enough for me to want to abandon priesthood just so i can be buried in this pussy for fucking eternity.”

and you cum, head and heart going a hundred miles per hour as your body trembles in his hold. “there we go, little slut, thereee we go . .” you can feel the chill of the sterling silver into your back and his smile before he orgasms a second time into your waiting pussy, a second, heavy load let go into your pussy. it’s so warm and filling, and you already want more, more, more.

lust for more things turns into greed when we act on that initial lust.

“aw,” father geto coos at your fucked out face, flipping you around to give you a sloppy kiss and forcing himself to his knees just to watch his cum drip out of you, “does she want more?”

“always, father.” you answer with a drunken smile, putting a leg on his shoulder. again, your finger hooks around his crucifix, and you drag the priest down deeper into hell, somewhere father geto would‘ve always ended up.

somewhere where he would renounce his priesthood and worship something, and someone: you.

“Better to reign in Hell, then serve in Heav'n.”

a/n: LOOOONG MAN WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS. also i put the author’s note at the bottom this time bc i wanted to format of the fic to look the best without my goofy words ruining it! hope you guys liked it :) / tagging @crysugu @omgeto @kazushawty @suguruplsr @hydrovillette @slttygeto @hyomagiri @jabamin

part two ✶

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loliwrites · 5 months

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The One You Need | five

🎶 I spent most my life thinkin’ love was out of reach, so maybe just this once, you could be the one I need, if you let me be the one you need🎶

pairing: neighbor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: when you move into town hellbent on keeping everyone at an arm’s length, your neighbor Joel finds his way into your life. warnings/tags: au, neighbor joel, age gap [reader is late 20s/early 30s, Joel is late 40s], hyper-independent reader, unannounced visitors, actual daddy issues, dysfunctional parental relationship, SMUT, brief oral [m receiving], fingering, unprotected p in v sex, general manhandling, spanking, hair pulling, choking, joel’s a closer, sweet soft aftercare, terms of endearment [sweetheart, pretty girl], female reader, no physical description, protective!joel, soft!joel, dare i say ei!joel, no use of y/n. word count: 6.4k joel miller masterlist | part four a/n: happy new years eve hunni buns! lets usher this year out and the new one in with a bang. literally and figuratively.

Joel took a long, deep breath and held it as he stretched his legs, knees cracking with the tension. He released the breath and relaxed his sore body all at the same time. His lower back was screaming with tightness. The sort that ensured he knew he was no longer as young as he once had been. The kind that told him he never would be again.

Blinking languidly and taking an extra moment to get himself awake, he found himself in an unfamiliar place. It took a couple seconds, and the sight of the stray bolt on the nightstand, until he remembered where he was. In your home. With you. He turned over to lay his gaze upon you; to catch you sleeping. But getting onto his back, quickly noticed that you were no longer in bed beside him. For long enough by this point for your side to have grown cold in the morning air. Joel glanced at the clock unhurriedly. 7:54. Far later than was normal for him. Though partaking in the activities from the previous night hadn’t been normal in his recent history either.

He got out of bed cautiously so as to not aggravate an already angry back. A groan ripped through his chest when he bent over to grab his jeans and slid them up his legs, opting to leave them unzipped and unbuttoned around his hips as he strode for the bedroom door. All seemed quiet in the house, save for the knocking of some cabinets and silverware. Joel yawned and rubbed his eye with his fist, afterward trailing that hand up to his skewed hair for a scratch. He found you with the noise. Back to him, in front of the coffee machine, with a line of cups in front of you.

Approaching silently, you made no notion of being aware he was there until a hand laid upon your ass. Lips followed suit to the side of your head.

“Morning,” he mumbled, voice deep and gravelly. He squeezed his fingers into the flesh of your backside where you’d traded in being naked for his t-shirt and a pair of cotton pants.

“Hand off ass,” you grimaced through your teeth.

He pulled his hand away and held it up as innocently as possible, staring down at you with a worried gaze. What had happened between late last night and early this morning?

“What’s wrong?”

You huffed and let your shoulders sag. Maybe if you collapsed to the floor, everyone would just leave your house and you could carry on with life. But Joel replaced his hand on you, this time on your mid-back and you only tensed up a little, though was sure he noticed. “My mom and dad are here,”

Joel turned his head to the side as subtly he could muster and snuck a peek of a pair of men’s shoes in the living room he’d never seen before. He looked back at you, “take it we’re not happy about their arrival,”

A glare in his direction was answer enough. “I left because of them,”

He nodded as if assuring you that he needed no explanation. “I’ll get out of your hair. Come ‘round when they leave,”

“No, don’t go,” you rested your hands on his stomach. “They might behave better if someone else is in the house,”

He let out a breath and seemed to look down at you, authoritatively. You were leaving him in a bit of a situation – if only because you were currently in the shirt he’d come over in. “Still got my other shirt you stole?”

“I didn’t steal it!”

He let out a low hmph.

“It’s in my dresser. Middle drawer on the left,”

If you’d seen it coming, or had any inclination of it, you probably would’ve resisted, but when Joel leaned in to kiss you, it caught you so off guard that you had no other instinct than to kiss him back. To allow his lips to brush over yours softly at first, and then find their placing with more force. A clear sign to any potential onlookers that this is where I belong, against her lips.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Sitting across from your parents reminded you of every reason why you’d left, and reignited feelings in your body you thought you’d banished after moving away and creating your own little world here. Granted it had only been a month, but your body had felt lighter, your mind freer. Nothing like mom and dad to get you back to feeling inadequate and insignificant. You knew they loved you. Sure of it. But dad was loud and mom was… weak. And from it was born every fucked up conception and fear you had of relationships. Mom and dad made relationships look like a thing to avoid like the plague. To ward them off any way you could. No price was too large if it meant keeping someone at bay. Someone who may know the dark and scary things about you and then eventually use them against you without so much as a breath or a blink of an eye. To willingly show someone your weaknesses knowing they would inevitably stab you in the back with them…? Why would anyone want a relationship?

It was some point within your father’s rant of how your home was just okay – “I mean, this isn’t what I would’ve done. I would’ve changed this… this is falling apart… you spent how much? For this…?” – that you realized Joel had apparently made himself mighty comfortable in your bedroom. Safely stowed away behind a closed door. Not that you wanted to subject him to the horrors that were the humans who gave you life, but if he’d at least make his earthly presence known, maybe your dad would cool the fuck off.

“For that price you could’ve found something a little nicer somewhere in the valley.” Your dad continued on one of his rants that you’d learned to tune out. Picked at an invisible fuzz on the shirt you wore. “No use coming out here. I’m sure peak summer’s just about the most awful thing. And winter? Gonna be miserable…”

The clearing of a throat saved you. Lifted you from this realm and tossed you into a different one. A better one. All three of you looked up at the same time, but only you smiled when you laid eyes upon Joel standing in the threshold. Arms dangling at his sides, almost uncomfortable with their lack of something to do.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he glanced at your father, not giving heads or tails of what he was really thinking. He took a couple steps into the room, jutting his thumb back over his shoulder, “gotta grab some stuff from my place to fix your door.”

You hopped up from your seat and met him halfway. “I have tools,” sounding too eager to keep him on the perimeter of your property.

“As much as I love that floral screwdriver, it’s gonna take a bit more,” he pursed his lips together, eyes darting over your face to pick up any intricacies of your expression. “Y’good?”

A nod was all you could muster. A weak thing that bowed your head until your eyeline was even with Joel’s chest. You’d turn back to your parents as soon as he turned to leave, but not a moment before then. Why return to that when you could live here for just a little bit longer, almost like you could pretend they weren’t there at all. And in the pause, Joel lifted a hand and curled it to the back of your neck, fingers pressing against skin to inch you closer to him. Just close enough for him to lay a gentle kiss on your forehead. He lingered there with a deep inhale. And having grown uncomfortable with the closeness and perceived intimacy in front of your parents, you pulled away and looked up at him.

You weren’t sure what he was thinking at that moment. Wasn’t sure of his game plan or endgame. But in the split-second you pulled away from his lips on your forehead, he leaned back in and pressed a quick peck to your lips. And his slight smirk after he stood back to his full height and left was all you needed to see. He’s gonna get the shit slapped out of him.

The front door clicked back in place before you turned back toward your parents to face the questions you knew were coming.

“Who was that?” Your mom asked. She speaks! She breathes! She lives!

“The handyman,”

“You kiss your handyman?” Good question, dad.

“He’s also my neighbor,”

“You kiss your neighbors?”

Instead of answering and opting to sit back down, it gave your dad time to interject yet again.

“He’s kind of old,”

“What’re you doing here? I’d appreciate a heads up,”

Your mom sat forward, “sweetheart, we just wanted to see how you were doing.”

Somehow that name didn’t sound as nice as it did when it came off of Joel’s tongue. And you also knew that wasn’t entirely it. They hadn’t cared to stop by and see how you were doing when you lived in the same town as them. Never dropped in to check out your apartment there. Really you knew it was because the version of you they once held so much control over had slipped away. And with the distance from your move, it seemed that you’d slipped away entirely. Despite dad’s total lack of emotion and mom’s “woe-is-me” attitude, you knew they knew it, too. You’d never be coming back to “old home”.

The front door creaked back open and you turned your head to watch the newcomer who went to great lengths to avoid eye contact. He’d changed out of the t-shirt and into a green flannel, the sleeves halfway rolled up and his renewed presence only halted your dad momentarily from talking about himself.

A fleeting thought passed through your brain about what Joel thought of all this. Did he think you were being too hard on your family? Did he think they were absolute nuts? Did he get why the choice between staying or uprooting your life was an easy one? But mostly you thought about how you didn’t want him to think differently of you because of your parents. You didn’t want him to see shades of you in them and have that change his perception. They were never meant to be here. And you’d moved across the country to have a better chance at that being reality.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Despite many failed attempts, you finally urged your parents out of the house come evening by insisting there were a few work deadlines you were behind on. Work was always the perfect excuse because they never care to understand what it was you did anyway. They made a half-hearted mention about swinging by tomorrow before their flight, but you made up another excuse about work and knew they wouldn’t fight it. You locked the door behind them and turned, coming face to face with Joel, who stood a few feet away from you, twirling the oven bolt in his fingers.

The only thing you knew to do was take a breath, so you did. Let it sit and linger in your chest hoping he’d be the one to break the silence.

“Back door’s fixed,”

Ever the gentleman.

With a grateful nod, you approached him. The urge to slap him silly had worn off – long after your parents had grown inquisitive of him. You bowed your head forward and rested it against his chest; the feel of his heartbeat serving as a new exercise in grounding. He wrapped an arm around you, hand settling on your ass again, pride swelling in him when you didn’t reprimand it away as you had earlier.

“You wanna talk about it?” A pause was punctuated with his fingers squeezing your backside. Keeping your head firmly against his chest, you shook it. “Y’wanna help me fix your oven?” Another pause was met with another shake of your head and the laugh that rumbled through Joel’s chest was almost enough to pull you out of the funk your parents had put you into. “How ‘bout you keep me company then, while I get to fixin’ it,”

And that you could agree to. Though not before a kiss to try and make everything better. For the first time that day, despite having spent a fantastic night together, a real, substantial kiss was able to take place. Lips meeting and parting in sync, tongues hesitant until they met each other. Even then, they remained even-paced. Like the unhurried, practiced ministrations of old lovers.

He pulled away first despite a groan from you, and took your hand, leading you into the kitchen. You made for the counter and hopped up on it to supervise while he went straight for the next appliance to fix. As he bent down and opened the oven door, inspecting some of the places the bolt could’ve come from, you wondered how much money you would’ve lost at this point had he not insert himself in your life. First with your bed, then the fridge, and the back door, and now this.

“Y’know, come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you go to work.”

You blinked, realizing you’d zoned out, staring at his ass. You furrowed your eyebrows, “are you implying I don’t have a job, Miller?”

“No, no. Jus’ implyin’ you’re not very good at it,” he shot you a smile. Only a momentary shift in his focus. Long enough to rile you but not long enough for you to respond before he looked back at the oven and wordlessly set the bolt at what looked to be a hole in the hinge to the oven door missing the exact part.

“I’m a copywriter,” you mused, watching as he plucked a screwdriver (one much larger and serious looking than your floral one) from his toolbox.

He started to tighten the bolt into the hole. “Oh yeah? ‘S’pretty cool,”

“Boring,”

Joel gave the bolt a couple more turns with the screwdriver before it was tightened to his liking. He sat back on his knees and closed the oven door. Fixed. “Well it got you this house, so…”

You nodded in agreement. That job had gotten you everything you’d ever wanted. A house of your own far, far away from blood relatives. A sanctuary. Peace. It had even gotten you something you didn’t think you wanted. A ridiculously attractive, handy neighbor.

Joel was back in front of you then. Hands resting on your thighs, he made a spot for himself between your legs. With you on the counter, he now found you at his height, and lowered his forehead against yours. “You wanna go out and get some dinner with me,”

Arms reached forward and wrapped around his shoulders, “when?”

“Tonight. Now,” he smirked and lifted his head just enough to place a gentle kiss to your forehead, “ya nut.”

“Like a date?”

Now he fully leaned back and cocked his head to the side, trying to figure out what was the right answer here. If he said yes, would you read far too into it and climb back into the shell he’d been working you out of? And if he said no, would you be disappointed that he didn’t want to be seen with you in public in that way? As he had done with everything thus far, he decided to go with the truth. Worst case scenario, he’d have to call you out and set you back in line. “Yes,”

And you only nodded. Your arms squeezed over his shoulders, fingertips pressing into the rippling muscles of his back. Surely a date with Joel Miller would be leaps and bounds better than your last date. “Could you do me a favor first?”

Joel smiled. His eyes flicked from yours, up to the top of your head where a piece of hair was threatening to fall loose and dangle in your eyeline. With deft fingertips, he brushed it back and nodded.

“Can you rail me?”

“Are people still saying ‘railed’?” He chuckled and stepped in closer, between your thighs. Hands grabbed on to them with intention.

This time you were the one to push your fingers through his hair, combing through those graying curls. “I think that’s the best adjective for what I want,”

“Yeah?” He studied you, not needing to search too far to realize there was a correlation between the torrid thoughts in your head about your parents, and you wanting him to knock them out. “I think I might be able to do that,” he grinned, partially disheartened. There was doubt on his end whether his body would fail that specific task after the day he’d spent bent over fixing your back door. “Might have to cut an old man some slack,”

You smiled softly and brushed your fingers through his hair again. With a nod and the hooking of your ankles around his back to cage him between your thighs, you planted a kiss to his lips. Just a chaste little thing to kick things off, knowing it wouldn’t be long before he opted to take the reins. But there was still one territory you had yet to venture into: the blowjob. And perhaps that wasn’t necessarily the go-to first step on the road to getting railed, but you were anxious to check it off the list. A nervousness bubbling at the surface even as you pressed against his stomach and inched him a couple steps back. In your eyes you had every right to be. Though you’d never been flat out told you were bad at it, it was never high on your list of pleasurable things to do and you were sure your general lack of enthusiasm around the act was picked up on by the men on the receiving end. Yet in this moment, you still knelt to the floor in front of him, hands fumbling with his jeans as the nerves manifested by causing your fingers to tremble.

“That’s alright, you don’t have to,” Joel whispered, undoubtedly picking up on your anxiety. He even covered your hands with one of his, giving the permission to stop.

The out was appreciated but it didn’t keep you from the task you’d put yourself to. Despite his hands in the way, you managed to unbutton his jeans and slide the zipper down with skill you didn’t even know you had. “I want to,”

“Y’sure?”

You tilted your head to the side and glanced up at him. That’s all it took. Because you both knew you wouldn’t have gotten on your knees in the first place if you hadn’t genuinely wanted to be there. And before you lost the nerve to remain there, you nudged his pants down over his ass. Quiet giggles of contentment emanating from you when his hands joined in the fun and helped push the jeans down his thighs and past his knees. Now confronted with a growing (literally) situation, it was impossible for you to subdue the involuntary shiver that ran up your spine and attacked every inch of your body. You tried to dispel it by reaching for Joel’s member; the outline of it straining against his boxer briefs. But that sort of luck wasn’t on your side. Had never been on your side. And every boy you’d ever found yourself in this situation with never so much as blinked an eye before they pushed themselves into your mouth.

But this man in front of you. He was steadfastly attuned to you. Picking up on every single one of the cues. At the sight of your entire body shivering, Joel lowered his hand to the side of your face and brushed your hair away from it. He cupped your jaw and tilted your chin up until you looked up at him again. Waiting for him, you raised a hand and traced the outline of his cock in his underwear, giving it a gentle squeeze after your fingers had run its length.

“Don’t stay down there too long,” he said with a smirk, and catching your questioning look, he glided the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip. “I’m not gonna last,”

You tried to suppress a smile so as to not give him any ideas that you were going to mock him for it. The truth couldn’t be further from that. In actuality, you were flattered by the admission, and more than a little thankful that it seemed to serve as another out for you. You’d get to cross something off whatever list you’d made up in your mind, but wouldn’t have to be committed to be at it for very long. That somehow seemed to relieve some of the pressure you’d put on yourself.

“Get to work, pretty girl,” he murmured, taking you out of whatever inner monologue had you so preoccupied. “Just a taste,”

Focused back at his waist, you peeled back his underwear, reaching in with your free hand to take him out of the tight fabric. It wasn’t the first time you were seeing the sheer size of him but being on it face first now made it seem that much bigger. How you ever managed to fit it inside you was one thing. How you’d fit it in your mouth was another. Yet you started on, pressing your lips to the underside of the head softly, and moving down his length with brief kisses. Joel let out a deep breath through his nose and let his fingertips toy with your hair. You hadn’t noticed that his eyes were glued to you until you looked up at him and caught his stare. Opening your mouth and purposefully batting your eyelashes, you took him into your mouth and let your tongue swirl around the crown. It was the first thing you did that made Joel let out a throaty groan. So you repeated the action and got the same lusty response from him.

“That’s good, sweetheart,”

Your mouth stretched wider around him to accommodate a smile, but then you gently shook your head side to side, working your lips lower and lower on his shaft. At about halfway, you realized there was no shot of taking him in his entirety. The temptation to gag was already there and you lifted your hands to the remainder of his length to help along. But then you felt one of Joel’s hands migrate to the back of your head, tangling in your hair, and your body stiffened on instinct. Flicking your eyes upward and catching Joel with his head tilted back and jaw slack, you kept your body stiff, trying to work through that impact. Then you closed your eyes hoping that if you couldn’t see him, he wouldn’t see you, and the fear growing in your gut would dissipate.

Maybe it was the tension in your jaw. Maybe he picked up on the tension in your entire body. Regardless, his fingers, albeit still tangled in your hair, seemed to grow gentler. A lack of pressure while still being present. “‘M’not gonna push you down on it,”

Eyes flicked back open to inspect him. A pink hue had arisen in his neck and was working its way up to his cheeks. His nostrils flared in his damnedest attempt to keep himself from thrusting deeper down your throat. Catching that his words were the truth, you relaxed once again; the anxiety fleeing every fiber of your being. Consciously back in your body and picking back up where you’d left off, you tilted your head to the side, allowing the head of his cock to press along the inside of your cheek. The sight of your mouth stretched to accommodate him resulted in a low pitched growl from Joel. Something terribly needy. Hungry.

You noticed his eyes flutter shut while the muscles in his stomach flexed and released in a steady procession. The sinew in his forearm flexed, too, with the clenching of his fist in your hair. And given slightly more freedom by the lack of eye contact, you pulled your lips off his shaft and replaced it with quick, sloppy strokes from your hand. Your mouth was not far from him for long. Lips navigating around the way your hand held his member up, you pressed them to his balls and smirked to yourself when you saw the way his body responded when you eventually rolled your tongue over them, paying each temporary attention.

Joel kept his promise and didn’t use his grip on your hair to press you down on him, but did use it in order to pull you off of him. Your swollen lips fell open when you were forced to stare up at him, his chest heaving like his heart was trying to break free from its cage.

“That’s enough,” he growled and all but lifted you back to your feet without any help from you.

It took him no time at all to spin you around with ass pressed back against the edge of the counter. He set one hand on the granite top behind you and cupped the other down past the waistband of your cotton pants. His fingers found your clit with practiced ease. A move he’d obviously spent the better half of his life perfecting. And no sooner did his fingers trail along your slit, your lips met each other with fervor. The barrier of your parents for the most of the day had created a feeding frenzy between you. Neither able to get as much as you wanted fast enough. Mashing of lips and tongues. Teeth grazing against soft, plush skin. You were all erratic movements and whimpering pleas to keep going. Only when Joel pressed two fingers inside of you did your mouth drop open, causing a delay. An airy gasp floated out of your lungs and into the space between.

Joel dropped his forehead to yours, eyes piercing into you though you weren’t returning his gaze. How could you? Fingers down to their last knuckle had you squeezing your eyes shut and doing your absolute best to not become a trembling mess then and there.

“Please… please,” you sobbed, fingernails digging into his back. You knew crescent-shaped marks would be littering his skin despite the flannel. You were marking him. Yours for now. Yours for tonight.

An almost sadistic smile crossed Joel’s lips. Fingers curled inside of you and sent you lurching forward, wrapping up against his chest. Legs already shaking and squeezing shut around his hand. “Look at you. Already begging f’me,” he lowered himself just enough to tuck his head to your neck, leaving love bites on your skin. “Suckin’ my cock got you so wet. Already desperate for it,”

“Joel,”

“Tell me,”

You raised your hips into the heel of his palm, finding that friction on your clit was just about the last thing you needed to get to the first climax of the evening. Fingers curled around the fabric of his shirt, tugging him close as if that was going to be the thing that’d get him to keep his fingers inside you. Really, you knew he didn’t have any intention of letting you go without them. But the new closeness, and the way he towered over you, a looming presence with broad, square shoulders diminishing any size you might’ve had… and the smell of him… You came with a whimper, unable to have forewarned him of the spring being snapped inside you. His fingers slowed only enough so as to not hurt you but never stopped entirely. Even when you tried to wriggle away from him, overstimulated. He just curled his fingers inside of you again, against the spongy front of your throbbing core, and kept you right at the edge you’d just fallen over.

“Please–God, please, fuck me,” you reached forward and wrapped your hand around his shaft again, tugging and stroking him impatiently.

“I know that mouth can do better than that,” he mocked. “Tell me,”

You could cry, wanting something far more substantial inside you than two of his fingers. “I need it, Joel. Please,” stinging tears threatened to fall from the corners of your eyes. “Want you to bend me over and fuck me,” you figured you were on the right track when he slowly eased his fingers out of your dripping hole and replaced them with quick circles over your bundle of sensitive nerves. “Want you to make it hurt,”

While to you, you didn’t notice any hesitation on Joel’s end. He just spun you around and bent you over the countertop. He kicked your feet out from under you until you were being held up solely by the counter and the press of his hips. But he had clocked your words. Make it hurt. Knew he wanted to remember that. Knew he wanted to talk about that at some later time.

Make it hurt.

He grabbed your wrists and secured them behind your back with one of his hands while his other went to the base of his cock and notched it at your entrance. Still dripping from your first orgasm, it was enough to not notice the stretch from the head too greatly. But then he moved that hand to the back of your head and pressed against it, holding you down on the countertop. You were defenseless. Unable to move at all. Hands rendered useless and body being held in place for every one of his whims. And there wasn’t any time to process before he snapped his hips forward and buried himself inside you to the hilt. Bottomed out in one fell swoop. A scream erupted from your throat, very nearly feeling like your vocal cords would be on their way to being shredded. Joel shushed you; a hiss between clenched teeth, only giving a second for your string of loud breaths to sound a little less pained before he began to move, stretching you to the max with each drag and push.

It didn’t take long for those screams and breaths to quiet down to nothing. Just a mouth gaping open, sucking wind as his length rubbed against the deepest parts of you. He wasn’t holding back. He was doing just as you’d asked. He was making it hurt. But your quietness was thwarted by his hand coming down hard against your ass. It was only then that you’d realized he’d removed it from the back of your head. A deep gasp filled your lungs with fresh air. The smack had left a sting and burn on your skin, and the returned noise from you spurred Joel on.

He landed another spank to the opposite cheek, flesh bouncing beneath it from both his hand and the press of his cock. “You like that, huh?” Another spank, this time his hand didn’t pull away on the impact, and instead his fingers dug into your fleshy backside, “look even prettier with my handprint on ya’.” His hips faltered, progress stuttered when you clenched around him, pulling him deeper. He used that momentum to lean forward and bite into the back of your shoulder, “good fuckin’ girl. So fuckin’ tight. Love it so much,”

“It’s yours,” you panted, legs having gone completely out beneath you. You were sure you’d crumble to the floor if he parted from you. Your pulse pounded in your ears.

“Hmm?” he hummed, burying his face in the back of your head, “I’m gonna come.”

“I’m yours. It’s all yours,”

A particularly hard thrust squished you against the counter, your hipbone colliding with it. You yelped and you weren’t sure if it was from the painful impact on your hip or the feeling of Joel spilling into you. He kept himself deep. Short thrusts to fill you with his spend, and only once he’d finished pushing it into you as deep as he could, did he pull out. Though you hadn’t come, you felt well-fucked despite it. Not even missing the rush of a second orgasm. But no sooner had he pulled out, were you being whirled around, facing him now; your ass notched at the cool, stone countertop. He stared endlessly into your eyes and pushed himself back inside you without a second thought. Only when he’d sheathed himself in completely and caught your off-kilter expression, did he move his hand up to your neck, fingers squeezing either side of it.

“Didn’t think we were done, did you, sweetheart?” He squeezed your neck a little tighter and you reached up to hold onto his wrist. You applied no pressure to get him to loosen his grip, just kept it there for the contact. “I know this pussy’s got one more orgasm in her,”

A guttural moan left your body. The new angle was far more conducive to your pleasure. The base of him rubbing up against your clit. Your eyes blinked languidly, threatening to stay closed, but Joel used his grasp on your neck to shake you. Once your eyes fully opened again, he brought his free hand to the back of your head and gave your hair a generous tug.

“C’mon, pretty girl. You can do it. Soak me,”

He mashed his lips back to yours and licked his way into your mouth. It was everything you wanted. Needed. The overwhelmingness of his size. The dominance. The control. Your walls fluttered around him and he urged you on some more. Words of encouragement matched by the strengthening of his hold on your throat or the one in your hair. And when you came, eyes drifting shut and remaining so, body convulsing and squeezing his length, you felt his hands loosening their hold on you. Not leaving completely, but certainly not applying any type of pressure as they had just previously been.

Your body went limp in his arms. Had it not been for your heavy breaths, he might’ve thought he’d done some actual damage. But your breaths were trying to grow steadier and were mixed with the whimpers of someone who’d asked for one thing, had gotten it, and now needed something else entirely.

Joel pressed his lips to the side of your head, lingering against your temple as he carefully stepped out of his pants and underwear that had bunched up at his ankles. You groaned at the soft jostling it created for, and Joel just hushed you and tucked his arms around your back and beneath your knees. He lifted you up and kept you cradled to his chest where you complained again. This time a quick mention of his back.

“I got’cha, sweetheart,” he bounced you in his arms just once to get a better hold on your body. “Don’t worry about it,”

Eyes completely shut, too heavy to keep them open for very long, you knew he was carrying you to the bathroom. This man and your pH balance. You wrapped your arms around his neck and held on to him as tightly as you could, wanting no amount of separation. But before you knew it, you felt the cold porcelain of the toilet beneath you. Joel’s hands uncurling your arms from around his neck, then moving to the hem of your shirt and pulling it off, over your head. Soon thereafter, he unhooked your bra and slid it off your arms.

Concern started to work its way into Joel’s bones. The sight of you, nearly swaying to the side when he released you completely. He made quick work of turning the shower on, fearing you’d topple to the side and hit your head on the way down. Returning to you with urgency, he crouched down and brushed your hair away from your neck, searching for any marks he’d left behind. “Y’alright?” He whispered, finding some red patches on your skin but none too definitive to be seen as marks from his fingers.

Eyes still closed, you pressed a smile, “good.” You blinked your tired eyes open, looking down at your feet as Joel unraveled your pants from around your ankles that had been hanging on by a thread. “You hurt me like I asked you to,”

His eyes flicked up to you. Make it hurt. The words he was holding onto. He held onto these new ones too, keeping them for later. “Maybe too much,” he murmured, gathering a wipe from on top of the toilet tank.

“No,”

Though you’d said it in earnest, he had a hard time believing it. Your eyes were mostly closed. But his eyes were seeing all the consequences of the way he’d handled you. Thinking better of fighting you on that, he helped you up from the toilet. His body kept you upright while he wiped along your slit, cleaning up the mess he’d so haphazardly made. You were pliant in his arms, willing to trust that he’d take care of you as he always had, despite the new territory you’d ventured into today with each other.

He led you to the shower and carefully peeled his flannel shirt from his body while helping maintain your balance. As he helped you in and kept his chest flush to your back, he caught sight of the bruise forming on the left side of your hip and knew it had been his doing. Easing down to the floor, both sat at the end of the steady stream of water, warm against you both from the shower and from Joel’s body heat. You let your head fall back against his shoulder, turning in toward his neck.

“Sure you’re alright?” He set his cheek down on top of your head and wrapped his arms around you, “I marked you up pretty good.”

“I’m okay,” you insisted. “I don’t break easily,”

“No, I don’t suppose you do.”

Now with open eyes, you tilted your head back and looked up at him. Your smile caught his worried expression and you hoped to dispel it. He’d only done as you asked. And so perfectly so. Maybe he’d ask you about it somewhere down the line. Why you’d asked him to make it hurt? Why had that been the chosen wording? It was evident in his eyes now that he likely wouldn’t be so accommodating to comply the next time you asked him to make it hurt. Yet you raised your hands and curled them behind his head to get him closer to you. Close enough to kiss. Slowly. Tenderly. Quiet assurance that he was still the good man you knew him to be.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller au #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #the one you need

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doll3tt33 · 5 months

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╰➜ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ┆ temp v gulp gulp┆⊹ ࣪ ˖

she/her 𝜗𝜚 libra ☉ libra ☾ sag ↑ 𝜗𝜚 multifandom (AHS, The Boys) 𝜗𝜚 lives off of lana, c.ai, and the thought of kai anderson rearranging my insides

my most recent fic/hc! - my haunted lungs, ghost in the sheets ❥ colin zabel

everybody knows I’m a good girl, officer ❥ colin zabel

‘cause when you know you know ❥ colin zabel

my most recent c.ai bot! - a day in the life of a cleaner for homelander ❥ homelander

check your window, he’s at your window ❥ tate langdon

gimme ‘em gold coins! ❥ stan bowes

Requests are open! ♡

Please make sure to read the rules here before requesting!!! ((for bots. picky for fics but might consider

a lil’ info:

• If you’re under 18, then it means this place isn’t for you and YA BETTER GET OFF MA PROPERTY!! On a fr note, please do not interact if you’re a minor.

• characters I’m sorta confident I won’t mess up with (aka characters you can request for): Kai Anderson, Tate Langdon, Austin Sommers, Kyle Spencer, Kit Walker, Colin Zabel, Peter Maximoff, Stan Bowes, Luke Cooper, Charles Decker, + characters from The Boys

• characters I’m not so confident with right now: James Patrick March, Jimmy Darling, Warren Lipka, Mr. Gallant.

I’ll need a rewatch to get a better grasp of their character so they won’t be ooc, but I’ll make them available to request in the future!

• general requests are cool! but I really appreciate requests with a specific scenario/AU. This is a kink-friendly blog, so feel free to go wild!

Bots & fics masterlist below the cut!

all of the bots below have detailed defintions and descriptions, along with example messages! So dw, none of them are empty carcasses of an ai bot

angst/dark themes - ✮ sfw - ❀ (might lead to) nsfw - ✧

c.ai filter breaking tut: pt.1, pt.2

Kai Anderson:

𝜗𝜚 Fanfics:

Your faithless love’s the only hoax I believe in. ✮

𝜗𝜚 Headcanons:

Kai Anderson SFW headcanons ❀

𝜗𝜚 AI bots:

Being in a toxic relationship with Kai (based off the song ‘Ultraviolence’) ✮

Kai breaking into your home for revenge ✮/✧

Visiting spiritual counselor!Kai to seek guidance ✮/❀

Kai coming up to you at a bookstore ❀

Kai “accidentally” spilling his coffee all over you ❀

⇢ I recommend the bookstore one over the coffee one if u r looking for a standard Kai bot to use, cuz the former’s settings are improved ((but like the coffee one’s still aight ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Colin Zabel:

𝜗𝜚 Fanfics:

Everybody knows I’m a good girl, officer ✧

My haunted lungs, ghost in the sheets ✧

‘Cause when you know you know ❀

𝜗𝜚 AI bots:

Having your first session with therapist!Colin ❀

Professor!Colin teaching you on your first day of college ❀

Peter Maximoff:

Peter challenging you to Pac-Man at the arcade ❀

Chilling with Peter in his room ❀

You’re both lonely on prom night so Peter invites you to join him ❀

Stan Bowes:

You’re the daughter of Stan’s boss and he has to pick you up from a party ❀

Having your first ever dinner with sugardaddy!Stan ❀

Interrupting Stan in the middle of work ❀

Austin Sommers:

paparazzi!Austin who won’t stop pestering you ❀

Kyle Spencer:

Frankenkyle showing up at your doorstep in the middle of the night ❀

You’re a new witch at the academy and you’re responsible for Frankenkyle ❀

Studying alone with frat!Kyle at the campus library ❀

frat!Kyle comes up to you at a college party on New Year’s Eve ❀

Tate Langdon:

perv!Tate snapping photos of you in the school’s bathroom ✧

Helping Tate after he gets bullied at school ❀

Tate walking in on you playing a ritual game ❀

Dealing with an emotionally unstable Tate after your break up (based off the song ‘Meant to Be Yours’ from Heathers: The Musical) ✮

Kit Walker:

singledad!Kit hiring you as a babysitter ❀

Kit taking all the blame for you at the asylum ✮

bartender!Kit serving you a free drink ❀

Getting steamy with husband!Kit in the kitchen ✧

Luke Cooper:

Luke getting everyone’s coffee orders wrong but yours ❀

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contemplatingoutlander · 2 months

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This is a gift🎁link so anyone can read the entire NY Times article, even if they don' subscribe to the Times.

Jamelle Bouie does another excellent job of looking at current events through the perspective of American history. In this column, he compares the current Roberts Court with the infamous late 1850s/ early 1860s Taney Court--the Court that lost all credibility with its Dred Scott decision. Below are a few excerpts.

If the chief currency of the Supreme Court is its legitimacy as an institution, then you can say with confidence that its account is as close to empty as it has been for a very long time. Since the court’s decision in Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization nearly two years ago, its general approval with the public has taken a plunge. [...] In the latest 538 average, just over 52 percent of Americans disapproved of the Supreme Court, and around 40 percent approved. [...] At the risk of sounding a little dramatic, you can draw a useful comparison between the Supreme Court’s current political position and the one it held on the eve of the 1860 presidential election. [color emphasis added]

[See more below the cut.]

NOTE: Remember that back in the 1850s/1860s the Democrats were the party that supported slavery. The Democrats and Republicans switched positions on civil rights in the late 20th century.

It was not just the ruling itself that drove the ferocious opposition to the [Taney] Supreme Court’s decision in Dred Scott v. Sandford, which overturned the Missouri Compromise and wrote Black Americans out of the national community; it was the political entanglement of the Taney court with the slaveholding interests of the antebellum Democratic Party. [...] Five of the justices were appointed by slave owners. At the time of the ruling, four of the justices were slave owners. And the chief justice, Roger Taney, was a strong Democratic partisan who was in close communication with James Buchanan, the incoming Democratic president, in the weeks before he issued the court’s ruling in 1857. Buchanan, in fact, had written to some of the justices urging them to issue a broad and comprehensive ruling that would settle the legal status of all Black Americans. The Supreme Court, critics of the ruling said, was not trying to faithfully interpret the Constitution as much as it was acting on behalf of the so-called Slave Power, an alleged conspiracy of interests determined to take slavery national. The court, wrote a committee of the New York State Assembly in its report on the Dred Scott decision, was determined to “bring slavery within our borders, against our will, with all its unhallowed, demoralizing and blighted influences.” The Supreme Court did not have the political legitimacy to issue a ruling as broad and potentially far-reaching as Dred Scott, and the result was to mobilize a large segment of the public against the court. Abraham Lincoln spoke for many in his first inaugural address when he took aim at the pretense of the Taney court to decide for the nation: “The candid citizen must confess that if the policy of the government upon vital questions, affecting the whole people, is to be irrevocably fixed by decisions of the Supreme Court, the instant they are made, in ordinary litigation between parties, in personal actions, the people will have ceased to be their own rulers.” [color/ emphasis added]

[formatting edited]

#scotus #roberts court #dobbs v. jackson women's health organization #taney court #dred scott #legitimacy of the supreme court #jamelle bouie #the new york times #gift link

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loupy-mongoose · 4 months

Note

Was all of this gallbladder stuff sudden, or is it just sudden for us because you never mentioned anything about a gallbladder removal until recently

I mentioned a few times throughout the first week of Jan. that I was having some tummy issues, but I never really brought it to the spotlight. The most I did was inform you all that I had gotten "sick", and then only a few days ago mentioned my gall bladder.

There is very little way I can call this sudden in general, however.

I'm... actually gonna put this under a read more, because it runs a lot deeper than just these last few weeks... (Kinda turned into a life-story lol)

So, throughout that first week of Jan, I was having off-and-on mild pain. Nothing too intense, and I'd been through it many, many, MANY times before. (Yeah.... MANY.)

I tried to wait it out every time, only going to Doctors twice for it, and it would eventually go away. I would be careful with my eating afterword (based on past experiences, not any research or knowledge) and eventually I'd be back to normal for the time being.

The time between spells varied. Sometimes it was only months, sometimes it was almost a year. I don't think I ever went beyond a year with no spell, but I can't remember.

This started about

TEN

YEARS

ago.

If each episode has been a pancreatitis attack, then I consider it no small miracle that I'm as good off as I am.

I went to the Doctor once for it as a youth, and they gave me some kind of IBS or other pill for bloating. They did nothing to help, and I didn't pursue any more doctor visits about it until '22.

That time the pain didn't go away for many days, and it got incredibly incapacitating. So I went to the Doctor (completely different one from the first--we'd moved states.) I got some imaging done and they found Pancreatitis and Colitis. They gave me antibiotics and sent me home to recover.

But they didn't finds gallstones.

So I recovered and felt armed to better handle these pain episodes--Just limit my consumption to liquids.

Well, I was doing alright until now.

We had... a V E R Y fatty Christmas dinner, and I was grazing off of the worst of it the following week.

Then, come New Year's Eve, I start to feel that little ache. I... I ignored it, and ate some of the goodies we'd prepared for the night, a little more reserved about it than I normally would've been. Eating has always been one of my absolute favorite parts of that time of year, and I didn't want to let my potential stomach issue completely ruin it for me.

I'm actually surprised by how mild the pain was at first, given all the nasty stuff I'd been eating.

Anyway, that mild pain subsided, and I foolishly let myself eat some more leftover goodies, thinking I was being careful. And of course, it came back.

This went on through the week, with me gradually being more and more careful about what I ate, trying to eat more stomach-bug friendly foods like crackers and toast.

A night finally came where it was so irritating that I threw up. That night it instantly made me feel better. I still increased my carefulness in consumption the following day, taking in nothing but a couple cups each of Pedialyte and chicken broth.

But still it came back. And that was the night it got bad.

I threw up a couple more times that night, and instead of helping this time... the second time left me in a lot of pain. So much that it was uncomfortable to breathe. Uncomfortable to do anything.

Thankfully my dad didn't have work that night (he works overnights), so we ultimately decided at about 6 am to take me to the emergency room.

There they found the gallstones and got blocking ones out of the way, and I spent the following week recovering in the hospital.

It seems most likely that gallstones have been the offender all these years, but the symptoms never quite matched that. I remember once looking into Pancreatitis and seeing that the symptoms matched that pretty well, but never let gallstones settle as an option.

Anyway, I guess I can at least say I have some closure after all this time. It'll be good to finally be free from this plague!

#violetjazz25 #ask #peek behind the Loupy curtain lol #Somehow I doubt you all needed to hear all that.#But I dunno--I just felt like telling it.

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random-musings-of-life · 11 months

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A (Mostly) Comprehensive List of Tumblr Holidays

I saw this post about Tumblr holidays/celebrations, and there were a ton of them, so I decided to make an organized list and their meanings. I am also adding famous "fandom holidays" to this list. Feel free to point out any I missed/explained incorrectly and I'll add them!

Tuesday:

Supernatural Tuesday --- an episode of Supernatural was about a time loop where it was always Tuesday. Can be posted on any Tuesday.

Leave the Bog --- a meme with a drawing saying "When it's safe to leave the bog" and an arrow pointing to Tuesday. Can be posted on any Tuesday.

Thursday:

Out of Touch Thursday --- a video of the cast from the anime Lucky Star dancing to the song "Out of Touch" by Hall and Oates. Can be posted on any Thursday.

Thursday the 20th --- a screencap of a rapper in The Simpsons with a gold necklace that says "Thursday the 20th". Can only be posted on Thursdays which are also the 20th of their month.

February:

Galentine's Day --- February 13th. From an episode of Parks and Rec where Leslie dedicates this day to celebrating female friendship.

March:

Pi Day --- March 14th. The first digits of pi, 3.14, line up with "March 14" or 3/14.

The Ides of March --- March 15th. The day that Julius Caesar was assassinated. Many memes and jokes are made about him, the assassination in general, or bad luck.

Evergiven/Suez Canal Anniversary --- March 23rd. Refers to an event where a ship, the Evergiven, got stuck in the Suez Canal.

94 Meetings Day --- March 31st. From an episode of Parks and Rec where April doesn't think this day exists and books all of Ron's appointments then.

April:

April Fools --- April 1st. Also a real world holiday. The most popular prank is Rickrolling.

Mishapocalypse --- April 1st. On this day, Tumblr users spam one specific photo of Misha Collins, who played Castiel on Supernatural, where he is looking at the camera wide-eyed.

Neil Banging Out the Tunes --- April 13th. Refers to a photo of a rat by a children's keyboard with the caption "Neil banging out the tunes April 13th 2006".

Homestuck Day --- April 13th. The birthday of Homestuck, a web comic. It is/was one of the most popular fandoms on Tumblr.

It's Gonna Be May --- April 30th. Comes from a GIF of Justin Timberlake singing the song "It's Gonna Be Me". In the song, he pronounces "me" like "May".

May:

Star Wars Day --- May 4th. It comes from a pun between "May the force" and "May the Fourth".

Revenge of the Fifth --- May 5th. It comes from a pun between "Revenge of the Sith" and "Revenge of the Fifth".

June:

Let Papyrus Say "Fuck" Day --- June 16th. Someone who was annoyed with mischaracterization of Papyrus from Undertale established this holiday and it caught on.

July:

Dashcon Anniversary --- July 11th. Dashcon was a poorly organized attempt to hold a Tumblr convention.

September:

21st Night of September --- September 21st. The day referenced in the catchy disco song "September" by Earth, Wind, and Fire.

Frodo and Bilbo's Birthday --- September 22nd. The joint birthday of Frodo and Bilbo Baggins from The Lord of the Rings.

October:

Mean Girls Day --- October 3rd. This comes from the part of the movie where Cady's crush asks her what day it is.

Treat Yo'Self --- October 13th. From an episode of Parks and Rec where Tom and Donna have a day to pamper themselves.

November:

November 5th --- Multiple holidays. It's Guy Fawkes Day (a holiday in Great Britain where effigies are lit to celebrate the failure of a traitor), and some people post screencaps of the movie V for Vendetta, where it's mentioned. November 5th, 2020 specifically had three huge news items: rumors of Vladimir Putin's resignation, Destiel (a ship from Supernatural) becoming (one-sided) canon, and the controversy over counting electoral votes in the U.S. election.

Life Day --- November 17. The equivalent of Christmas in Star Wars.

December:

Christmas Adam --- December 23rd. It comes from a Tumblr post making a pun on "eve" and "Eve" (from the Bible). As the original Tumblr post describes, it "comes before Christmas Eve and is generally unsatisfying".

Almost Christmas (Means It Wasn't Christmas) --- 11:59 P.M. on December 24th. This is from Ace Attorney, a video game where you're a defense lawyer. The fact that it's not quite Christmas is a crucial piece of evidence in one of the cases.

DL-6 --- Christmas/late December. This is when one of the most famous cases from Ace Attorney (mentioned above) occurs.

Other:

Annoy Squidward Day --- either January or February 15th. This refers to an episode of Spongebob where Mr. Krabs votes for Employee of the Month; a screen cap shows Spongebob pointing to the 15th day on the calendar with a sticker of Squidward on it.

Fuck this Post and Happy Birthday [Fictional Character] --- any character's birthday. The original Tumblr post starts out with a user saying "People who celebrate fictional character birthdays are annoying, pass it on", and another retorts with "FUCK this post and happy birthday, Sonic". "Sonic" can be replaced with a character of your choice.

#for the reddit refugees #tumblr holidays

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groovebunker · 2 months

Text

fic masterpost

been meaning to do this for a little while - indulge me so i can pin it.

ongoing work

it's all there in black and white [teen - 4/?]

when newspaper editor maxwell sheffield wants to introduce an advice column, he pairs veteran political reporter cc babcock up with his newest hire, fashion columnist fran fine. the only problem? cc wouldn't take her own advice at gunpoint. oh, and she hates fran's perfect face and stupid laugh and general existence. there is that. aka the agony aunt au.

chapter one -- chapter two -- chapter three -- chapter four

i only liked a lot of things before i knew (the way i love it when you touch me now) [explicit - 1/2]

cc admits she's never been with a man who got her off. fran's nothing if not persistently helpful.

chapter one

can't reach the moon up above, don't dare touch the fire [explicit - 1/?]

cc's never been sure how to want things. fran's determined to show her how.

chapter one

what would you do?

what would you do (if they never found us out?) [explicit - 11/11]

after what was supposed to be a one time thing in the wine cellar, cc and fran find they can't keep their hands off of one another. but it's only because neither of them can get maxwell. right?

i. how it started -- ii. furious -- iii. do you trust me? -- iv. beautiful -- v. missed you -- vi. promises -- vii. i'm glad you're here -- viii. i've got you -- ix[a]. only bought (you) this dress so i could take it off. -- ix[b]. needing -- x. what would you do if they ever found us out

the latke-verse

i like you (a latke) [teen - completed - 1/1]

fran doesn't want to show up to her ma's chanukah party alone. cc's fed up of seeing her sad since she got back from paris. no ulterior motives here, none at all. aka the fake dating chanukah fic.

seventh time is (hopefully) the charm [teen - completed - 1/1]

cc gets some help with valentine's breakfast.

won't you?

won't you just let me pretend that this is the love that i want? [teen]

there's a lot of things cc and fran never talk about. until they do.

won't you just show me the love that i need? [teen]

cc's never been good at being needed. unless, obviously, fran needs her.

should be over all the butterflies [teen]

a series of vignettes set in the won't you universe.

august two thousand and nine: the fence -- two thousand and six: crossword

one-shots (for now)

trick or treat (or: how cc babcock learnt to enjoy halloween) [mature]

c.c. does not like halloween. fran's absolutely not going to stand for that.

fran fine, sweater thief [teen]

five times fran wears c.c.'s sweater and one time c.c. turns the tables.

wise men followed the star (the way i followed my heart) [explicit]

when the phone rings at 11 on christmas eve, fran doesn't expect cc on the other end.

i want your midnights [teen]

c.c. does leave maxwell but that's not the only reason she runs away from the sheffield house. when she and fran end up at the same new year's eve party, can she convince herself to stand still?

i still see it all in my head (burnin' red) [teen]

soulmate au: the world is black and white until you see your soulmate for the first time. or: how red becomes c.c. babcock's favourite colour.

#fran x cc #cc x fran #francc #the nanny #my fic #making this to pin #wwyd

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elvis1970s · 5 months

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The first of two New Year concerts Elvis performed was 1975-76; one night at the Silverdome, Pontiac, Michigan, to a record in-person audience of over 62 000. Newspaper reports of the time conveyed the excitement with headlines, 'Elvis Still Shakes 'em Up', and 'The Legendary Elvis Dazzles New Year's Eve Stadium Crowd'. The $800 000 gross for the night also attracted widespread publicity, at that time a record for a single performance by a solo artist.

The time of year, and the unprecedented size of the venue, created a number of challenges. The weather was freezing, described by a concertgoer as 'the worst ice-storm ever', and there was an unfamiliar stage rig; Elvis biographer Peter Guralnick suggested that there was no way Elvis could have pre-approved the design which left him isolated on a catwalk several feet above the main stage, making the usual eye-contact and unspoken communication with the band difficult to impossible.

It appears the audience remained generally patient and did not allow the sense of excitement to be undone by ticketing mix-ups, troublesome sound and the freezing temperatures, as well as a seemingly endless pre-programme which on this occasion also included a group named Bodie Mountain Express, a side project of Colonel Parker who was trying to get them signed with RCA.

Early in the show, Elvis tore the seat out of the 'rainfall' jumpsuit and had to leave the stage to change into the 'white V-neck', on his return joking about being a 'quick change artist'.

The Detroit News;

"...Inside the stadium, there were some hassles over tickets. A few fans complained of duplicated seat numbers. Others, most of them $15 stadium floor seat ticket holders who were unprepared for the booming acoustics of the arena, complained about the sound. Others weren't happy about their distance from the stage, but many Elvis fans seemed content to watch 1976 come in through a pair of binoculars...Presley hit the 50-yard line stage - a platform 10 feet off the stadium floor, surrounded by speakers and connected to his dressing room by a 70-yard tunnel - At 11:10 pm; women in glittery dresses and billowing pantsuits joined kids in a rush toward the stage. Lots of screaming. Everything flickered as a generation of flashcubes meets oblivion..."

It was the most ambitious single performance since Aloha, and once again, after some nervous moments, and in almost impossible conditions, Elvis rose to the challenge.

He talked a little about the show in a lighthearted moment on stage in 1976;

youtube

The Pontiac Silverdome was demolished in 2018.

#elvis history #elvis presley #elvis in the 70s #rock history #elvis fans #elvis #elvis 1970s #live music #musicians #1970s rock #new years eve #happy new year #Youtube

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boliv-jenta · 7 months

Text

A little Halloween visit to my Pedro Boy motel.

Agent Ortega x f!reader, The Thief x f!reader

(My Ortega and Reader from Trust and my Thief from New Year's Eve.)

WC:3.9k

Warnings: Smut. Unprotected P in V sex. Cum eating. Blow job. Literal magical sex. Blood and gore.

Summary: The motel usually makes dreams come true. On Halloween, things get even more magical.

Part of And It Just Keeps Getting Better

Halloween Weekend

Mrs Lord pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. Her eyes were beginning to ache from going over paperwork. It just so happened that Halloween fell on one of their Fantasy Weekends and she was determined to make it memorable. Everything had to be perfect from the themed mocktails to the costumes, oh boy, would there be costumes. The thought of the guys all dressed up was almost too much. The clients would go nuts. Almost entirely lost in her vision she didn't realise that she was being watched. Something was stalked through the house towards her. It took its time, keeping its footsteps slow and gentle so as to not make a sound. It was only when it was right by her paperwork covered bed that she saw it

"I vant to suck your blood. Blah!" The creature announced as it pounced on her.

"Maxwell!" She playfully admonished. "You'll crumple my paperwork!"

"Sorry, Mi Vida. I just can't help it. You look good enough to eat." He managed to get out around his fake fangs.

"To eat, huh?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

That's how Max in his leather posing pouch and little black cape came to be face down between her legs for the next half an hour, thankfully minus the plastic glow in the dark fangs, while she deliberated over the food menu. Once she was satisfied in more ways than one, it was her turn to suck.

"Pathetic fallacy." Ezra mumbled as he looked out of his window.

Gregor lifted his head from the book he was reading. "Huh?"

"Oh nothing. It just seems like the weather has decided to join us in the festive mood. There's a storm coming in."

"I'm going to check the storm shutters just in case those clouds don't blow over. We've got enough food and water if we get cut off. Can you check the radios are all charged and handed out?" Joel asked Dave as he checked his tool box.

"Were you a survivalist in a past life?" Dave ribbed his friend.

"Something like that." Joel muttered heading out.

"Mrs Lord, I took down some of your decorations outside. If the wind picks up it'll rip through them like a tornado in a trailer park." Jack deposited the gathered decorations on the desk.

"Thank you, Jack." Mrs Lord gave him a half smile. It was all she could give him with the stress this weekend on her head.

Everything had been fine, all but one guest had checked in. All the preparations were complete. Then the sky started to darken. The weatherman had called for clear skies, it was unnerving to see anything but. With their location they had prepared for situations like this. They had a backup generator, emergency supplies, they were in a good position should the worst happen.

Mrs Lord let out a steadying breath. "It'll be fine."

Lightning flashed across the sky, it was almost lost against the lights of the reception room. The accompanying thunder was definitely lost against the sounds of the party in full swing. Almost all of the guests were happily paired with a partner for the night. Din, in his Knight costume, had a woman on each arm. Ezra in his best Pirate Captain threads had accepted a client. Oberyn was dressed as a god in golden robes, much to Dieter's delight, who was dressed, fittingly, as a housecat. His 'costume' consisted of a black jumper, black sweats and cat ears. It was almost as half hearted as Jack's Cowboy costume, which consisted of his normal clothing. Even Joel had put in a bit more effort with his pale face paint and neck bolts. He figured Frankenstein's Monster was fitting for him.

As the pairings filed out, ducking under the awning to hide from the driving rain, Maxwell noticed a guest, dressed in old wild west clothing, standing with both the Marcuses.

"Gentlemen." Maxwell greeted them. "What seems to be the problem?"

Pike spoke up "It seems that Mr Ortega here was booked in with Max Phillips but he's nowhere to be found. My client is missing and Moreno's was a no show."

Max thought for a moment. "I know we have one no show. So where is your client? And Phillips?" Max Phillips may be a brash jerk but clients liked him well enough. He always left them in a euphoric daze as they checked out. He didn't mix much with the other employees but he was a busy man. He worked in the city by day and spent his evenings working at the motel. Beyond that no one really knew much about him.

Maxwell did know that Max was very professional and had never missed an appointment. "Let's go look for him."

The short leather skirt creeping up her thighs was definitely out of her comfort zone.

"Come as you aren't night." She reminds herself as she hurries along to the party that she is late for.

Stopping once again to pull down her skirt, a voice from behind you makes her jump. "I think it looks great."

Spinning around, she found the voice's owner leaning in a doorway. His long legs crossed at the ankle as he leans against the frame. Taking in how strikingly handsome he is, she hopes that he's that man she's here to meet.

"Marcus?" She tries.

"And you would be…?" He holds out his hand.

For a second she wondered why he wouldn't already have her name, since the host assured her that he had discussed her desires with Marcus and set everything up for her. Maybe he didn't give him her name to protect her in case she backed out, she reasons. Giving him her name she shakes his hand.

"Come on in." Giving her an easy smile he leads her into his room.

Once inside, Marcus is a little more forward than she expected. His thick fingers dig into her thigh and scalp as he pins her to the wall. His lips don't leave hers until she's breathless. All her insistence on taking things slow was rapidly flying out of the window and into the storm beyond. There was no hesitation left in her when his fingers hooked under her panties to move them to the side. With the first swipe of his fingers across her now throbbing clit, she decides that she wants him now.

Taking a breath to gather her courage she manages to say the word that's been hidden in her fantasies. "Daddy, please make me come."

Marcus lets out a deep chuckle as his fingers breach her, stretching her in the most delicious way. "Don't worry, Sweetness. Daddy will make you come hard."

Marcus made good on his promise, his fingers pumped in and out of her relentlessly until that spot inside her couldn't take anymore. Her walls clenched around him, pulling his fingers in as he pulled her in to kiss her neck. He kisses and suckes on her pulse point so hard that she knows she's going to have marks later. He only stops to lick his fingers clean of her cum before returning to her neck and sucking harder than before. No, not just sucking, biting.

A scream cut through the air. It wasn't unusual to hear screams echoing around the courtyard. It was unusual to hear one so clearly blood curling.

"That came from upstairs!" Pike called before taking the stairs two at a time with Ortega hot on his heels.

The two men had been in the courtyard trying to sort out alternative arrangements if Max Phillips wasn't found. Pike was sure Oberyn wouldn't mind some more company for the evening. Ortega politely entertained the idea but Pike could see he seemed pretty set on Phillips. He thought this odd for a first timer but maybe Mr Ortega was just a man who knew what he wanted.

Pike ran down the narrow balcony zeroing in on the sounds of a struggle.

"You bastard!" A woman screamed before the door to the next room flew open. Out sprinted Max Phillips, the lower half of his face covered with blood. Pike was about to chase him when he saw the woman holding her neck, the red of her tank top darkened.

Ortega ran past "I've got him."

Pike had no other choice than to let the other man handle it as he administered first aid while waiting for Kyle. Joel had given the paramedic a call after hearing the commotion.

Once the woman was safely taken down to the small medical room, Pike tried to make sense of what he'd seen.

"He bit her?!" Moreno was stunned even with the evidence in front of him.

"It looks like." Pike sighed, still in disbelief.

"Was that some sort of kink he had? Did he take it too far?" Moreno mused out loud.

Pero had joined them when he heard the fuss. He muttered something under his breath in Spanish that only Moreno caught.

"You can't be serious." Moreno huffed a laugh. "A vampire?"

"We never saw him in the daytime. Or saw him eat or drink. His clients always checked out acting rather peculiarly. I have travelled to many places with such myths and seen things that I cannot explain."

Before either Marcus could react to Pero, a man approached them from the shadows. "Your well travelled friend is right. You have a vampire in your midst."

The man was very well dressed. He had on a white dress shirt, fastened with an expensive looking pair of cufflinks complimenting the even finer watch on his wrist. He wore a black bow tie that matched his vest in colour. Black dress pants and designer shoes adorned his lower half and the outfit was completed by a leaf pattern embroidered overcoat.

"Forgive me. I am Señor Ladrón. I have been searching for your vampire for a while. He had left quite the trail of victims." The man informed them as casually as if he had just told them to expect rain.

"Well, you found him. What do we do now?" Joel stepped out of the first aid room, closing the door behind him to give the recovering victim some privacy.

"We kill him." Señor Ladrón stated simply.

This seemed to be a good enough answer for Joel who simply nodded. Pero seemed satisfied too. Both Marcus's had seen some weird things during their time in law enforcement but a vampire would be pushing it. Nevertheless there was a bad guy on the loose and it was their job to stop him. The men paired off. Joel with Pero, Pike with Moreno. Señor Ladrón excused himself to gather some equipment from his car.

"Do you think we should be letting him walk around here by himself? The guy thinks vampires are real." Moreno asks Pike as they make their way through the motel.

"Max is my biggest concern. I'll have Din go check on our visitor." Pike edged his way around to the part of the motel that was under development.

The only light was the glow from the well lit side of the motel, the full moon and the occasional flash of lightning. Even Pike had to admit with all the vampire talk and it being Halloween night, the whole setup had him a little rattled. A little. That must be why he could have sworn for a second that he saw a light on in the last room on the block, even when they found it completely empty.

The cloaking spell worked perfectly as you watched the Chef and Superhero take a look around the room before walking off the way they came.

It didn't take much to lure the vampire into a trap. It was thirsty in more ways than one, so with your blood pumping and all that flesh on display, how could he refuse to follow you into one of the rooms that were closed for refurbishment. The spell you had cast on the room took effect almost immediately. The well-dressed vampire swayed on his feet. With a little support from you, he made it to the bed.

"What the fuc…?" Was all he managed before he was out like a light.

Studying his profile in the light of the full moon you thought it was a shame to kill someone so handsome. "Sorry, Gorgeous. I promise it's for a good cause."

Straddling him, you pressed the tip of the cedar stake to his chest lining up it before preparing to raise it. A flash of lightning was followed by the boom of the door being kicked open.

Ortega ran into the room, grabbing the stake in your hand. "Carrying out the ritual without me?"

"Just like you tried the last one without me." You snatch the stake back.

"I was going to include you but you seemed a little preoccupied."

"For the last time. That was a business dinner!"

"He didn't seem to think that. Even when I made it clear to him."

"What? That's why he reneged on the deal!"

"If he couldn't handle a six shooter aimed at his balls, he had no place in business."

A scream of frustration left you. "Aren't you bored of this?! A hundred and fifty years we've been at this. You betray me. I betray you. One hundred and fifty years and we're still both so stubborn that we can't trust each other. We can't love each other." You feel the weight of your words slip from your shoulders.

Ignacio Oretga usually presented an intimidating front unless he needed to turn on the charm. There was exactly one person and one person only who could bring out the soft demeanour he took on now. "Darlin', there hasn't been one second of the last a hundred and fifty years that I haven't loved you. Now trust is another thing entirely…" he grinned.

"Don't laugh at me." You pout.

Ignacio leans in to kiss your bottom lip poking out. "I'm not laughing at you. I would never!"

"Yes, you would!" You grin back at him, your fingers fiddling with his lapels. "I love you, too."

The first kiss between you in a decade sparks the old fire between you. The reason for you being in this motel is nearly forgotten as Ignacio lifts you as close to his body as he can. He's eager to refresh his memory of your body against his.

"Wait, My Love. We need to finish the ritual or our hundred and fifty years end here."

Ignacio's fingers lace between yours around the stake. "Allow me." He slips the wood from your hand.

Ignacio lines the stake up just as you did and prepares to raise to deliver the killing blow. Just as it had with you, the door bursts open. A familiar figure is back lit by the lighting outside from the worsening storm.

"Thief." You spit in its direction.

"Oh, I'm so much more than that." He laughs. "For example, tonight I'm a trader."

"What is it you want to trade?" Ignacio's eyes narrow on him.

"The vampire and the secret to securing a few more years of life for you both, in exchange for allowing me to feast on the energy from the ritual."

"But we have the…" You trail off as you see that the vampire is gone and all that remains on the bed is a faint mist. The potent tang of magic settles on your tongue.

"When you say 'feast on the energy'...?"

Ignacio presses, keen to get rid of your uninvited guest.

"It's simple. To increase the longevity of the ritual you must make love in the blood of the creature rather than just bathe in it. I simply wish to watch and feed off your passion." The Thief sat himself in a chair at the end of the bed as if the whole thing was a done deal.

"You're an Incubus?" You wonder aloud.

"Among other things." His brown eyes glint red with amusement.

Turning to Ignacio, you could see him weighing up the deal.

"We've done more exotic things in bed." Your lips quirk up at the memory. "Prague."

"Hmm. California in the 70's." Ignacio smiled, stepping closer his hands finding your hips as if he was engaging you in a dance.

"Amsterdam." You swayed to the old melody supplied by your memories.

"So we are in agreement?" The Thief snapped his fingers and the vampire reappeared.

"Yes." You say in unison with Ignacio.

Neither of you so much as glance at The Thief as you let muscle memory take over until the two of you are naked. A wispy tendril of red mist winds its way to you from the hand of The Thief. It licks up your bare skin increasing the sensitivity of every nerve it touches. When it pushes between your legs it almost brings you to orgasm in an instant. Ignacio seems similarly affected as his cock flushes red and weeps.

"Just a little gift from me. For being so gracious in accepting my offer." The Thief undoes his belt as he speaks before cupping the large bulge below it.

Ignacio presses a single kiss to your bare shoulder, it's enough to make your knees weak. With shaking hands the two of you manage to wield the stake. The weight of the two of you tumbling into bed pushes the stake into the vampire's heart. An explosion of thick, crimson blood covers you as you sink down into the bed. Ignacio is inside you before you know it, filling you with his cum as your convulsing body milks it from him.

The Thief moans in contentment as he strokes himself through his clothing. "Again."

The tang of copper rolls over your tongue as Ignacio kisses you. It takes only a fraction longer for the two of you to come this time. Your heels dig into the meat of his pert ass as you draw him deeper. His warm release drips out on the bloodied sheets below. He seems to have even more for you than usual.

"Again." The Thief groans as he starts to stroke his now bare length.

Ignacio fights through the fog of his mystical arousal to position you where he wants you. He now has you on all fours. After all these years there is still something primal about spearing you on his cock from this angle. He manages to last a little longer this time. Enough that he gets to enjoy the arch of your back as he pulls on your hair and the jiggle of your ass as he smacks into it. His cum gushes into you as he stutters out a groan. Each climax feels electric. He wants to fuck you over and over. Not just because of the spell but to make up for lost time. How had he been so stubborn as to miss so much as a day with you?

Gripping the bed frame you try to compose yourself as the last orgasm fades. Each one hits like plunging into the ocean. It hits hard before consuming you in its depths. Making the mistake of looking up you see The Thief with his head thrown back in pleasure. His hips chase his hand as his fucks into his fist. The sight of him so freely chasing his pleasure has you coming again.

Ignacio's hand lands firmly on your ass cheek. "I forgot my naughty girl likes to watch. Thief!"

The Thief still carries on jerking his cock as he acknowledges Ignacio.

"Why don't you join us? My wife has a very talented mouth." Turned on by his own words, Ignacio Jackrabbits into you hard until he comes again.

The Thief moves with inhuman speed pressing the tip of his cock to your lips before you realise he even left his chair. "Would you like a taste?" He strokes your cheek gently until you open up for him.

The precum gathered on his slit is like nothing you've ever tasted before. You find yourself sucking and bobbing your head in earnest just to get more. When Ignacio starts snapping his hips into you from behind, the force causes you to gag on The Thief's swollen head. The sound makes Ignacio throb inside of you. His wife choking on a cock while he fucks her from behind prompts another load of his seed to fill up your warm cunt. The warmth of him triggers another orgasm from you. Whatever this magic is, you want more of it. Not just for the sex but for how your husband feels inside and against you. Ever touch is heightened. You couldn't get any closer to him than you are right now. It soothes the ache in your heart from spending years without him.

The Thief utters something in an unrecognisable language as you swallow around him. He then pulls out with a slick pop. "I will still let you have a taste but I'm afraid I might be too rough while I chase my end."

The Thief proceeds to wrap his hand around his thick girth.The noise of his balls slapping against his fist while he groans deeply is enough to even affect Ignacio. Flipping you over, he mouths at your blood soaked tits. Sucking on each nipple until it aches. Each suck and bit builds another climax it only takes his fingers pressing to your clit for you to achieve it. You watch in fascination as Ignacio's cock spurts another load across your thigh without even being touched. Running your fingers through it, you greedily stuff them in your mouth.

"I've missed you so much." You pull your husband in for a kiss that evolves into a slower pace of love making. Slower, but no less satisfying as you both come twice in each other's arms.

The laguid, comfortable satisfaction that The Thief drinks down reminds him of his own love at home waiting for him. He's almost full and his cock aches for release. He starts to withdraw his magic from them. It's harder than he anticipated as they were already so much in love and lust. He finally does so as Ignacio has his wife's legs spread wide in the air to thrust impossibly deep inside her. Reaching out, he grips her ankle to steady himself as he prepares to finish himself off. He's so close, he can feel the heat in his spine. Looking down, he watches Ignacio's thick cock splitting his wife's tight pussy open. Her folds glisten with both their releases. Her puffy, pink cunt looks throughly fucked still it pulls her husband's cock deeper. He can feel their love and passion fueling the spell. The magic in the air ripples over his skin, his nipples tighten just before his balls do. His fist works incredibly fast to pump his overdue spend over the face of the beautiful woman underneath him. As he covers his face, her husband paints her insides. The scream that rips from her leaves her mouth open to catch The Thief's seed. She rides out her climax on his husband's cock while licking The Thief's cum from around her mouth. The Thief thinks that he got the better end of the deal. As the heavy energy in the room lifts, The Thief prepares to leave.

All the years you'd seen the man as nothing more than an annoyance. Someone who turns up now and again when your agenda's crossed. Now you were seeing just how powerful he was.

"Wait. That was…" All coherent thought leaves your brain as you look up at your husband practically glowing. Your eyes trace a bead of sweat from his forehead down the curve of his beautiful nose before dripping onto your bare chest.

The Thief chuckles. "If you think I know how to celebrate Halloween, wait until you see how I celebrate New Years."

Author's Note: I had a completely different vibe planned for this one but I'm just so happy to have finished something after going through a dry spell.

Tags: @kirsteng42 @prolix-yuy @thegreenkid2 @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed @aynsleywalker @mswarriorbabe80 @rise-my-angel @adancedivasmom @kinda-nobody @movievillainess721 @munsonownsmyass @mandoloriancookie @faceache111 @elegantduckturtle @manazo @simpingcowboy @pedrit0-pascalit0 @yourcoolauntie @pedrostories @geekrenaissance @its-nebuleuse @sherala007

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #agent ortega #agent ortega x f!reader #the thief #the thief x f!reader #max phillips #maxwell lord #marcus pike #marcus moreno #joel miller #kyle hartley #mojo dojo casa sex house #the motel

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smartzelda · 5 months

Text

Grim Loneliness

By: SmartZelda

Summary:

Set just after the events of Sonic Prime Season 2, Nine returns to the Grim to build the paradox prism—another step necessary to create his new world. However, as he waits for Sonic and Shadow to arrive, the minutes turn into hours. Make no mistake, Nine knows Sonic's arrival in the Grim is inevitable, but until then he seems to be feeling...lonely something.

Rating: Teen

Category: mlm

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog , Sonic Prime

Relationships: Sonine , Chanine

Additional Tags: post-canon, canon compliant, Shadow is mentioned mostly but he's there, Sonadow if you squint, Chilitonic (Sonic/Chaos Sonic) if you squint, practice kissing, kissing, Nine is kind of bad at feelings, mom said it's Nine's turn to be in a love V, to be honest this is mostly Nine character study, first kiss, unreliable narrator

Words: 11,993, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Link to Fic:

Happy New Years Eve, everyone! 🥂

I've been working on this fic since the Sonic Prime Season 3 teaser came out. I started working on it like a man possessed, and then it took a while because of general business in life and writers block and yeah...

But it's out! Finally! It's been a while since I've posted anything, so I'm happy to get one last thing out before 2024 (and for a new fandom too).

If anyone is actually reading this bit, before you read the fic just be aware that this entire thing was outlined without knowledge of the second s3 teaser or the s3 trailer, and was not changed to include anything from either of those after the fact. Also, Chanine is the name I choose to use for the ship Chaos Sonic/Nine the fox.

ㅤ

....Oh yeah and you guys can blame Chaos Sonic for the length. Sometimes the spirit of a dead robot copy of a blue hedgehog takes over your body and forces you to let him do things and it expands your fic

#sonine #chanine #sonic the hedgehog #sonic prime #sonic prime season 3 teaser spoilers #sonic prime s3 teaser spoilers #sonic prime season 2 #miles nine prower #nine sonic prime #nine the fox #chaos sonic #chaos sonic x nine #nine x chaos sonic #sonic x nine #nine x sonic #my writing #smartzelda #any commentary/thoughts are under the cut as always #happy new years eve!

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gaycrouton · 1 year

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When is the “Real” Anniversary of Mulder and Scully’s Partnership?

In The X-Files, March 6th marks the anniversary of when Dana Scully became partners with Fox Mulder.

While you can anticipate many commemorative tweets, you might notice a discrepancy when it comes to the year. Is it the 30th or 31st anniversary?

Find out in the following exploration 🔎

[As always, because of Tumblr’s photo limit on posts, this thread looks a lot better on Twitter]

The Pilot episode of "The X-Files" aired on September 10th, 1993 on the FOX Network, but it took a long time to get there.

Chris Carter first conceptualized the idea for the show in March 1992, and he began working on the first draft in September 1992 (Lowry, 16). The FOX Network ordered a script by November 1992 (Lowry, 13). The first draft of the script was submitted in December of that year. Further revisions – from which the shooting script was compiled – were made in March of 1993.

Principal photography took place over fourteen days in March 1993 (Lovece, 47). Post-production work on the episode was finished by May 1993, with the final version of the episode being assembled only three hours before its preview screening for FOX executives (Edwards, 37). With that, "The X-Files" was slated to join the 1993-1994 FOX Network lineup.

While many television shows are flexible with timelines, "The X-Files" tends to generally reflect real-world time. So with most production occurring in 1993, what's the problem?

According to research done by avid fans at Eat the Corn, Chris Carter set the "Pilot" in March 1992 to honor when he first conceived of the idea. A small ode to the birth of "The X-Files."

While a small detail, the 1992 v. 1993 debate has plagued fans every March for decades.

While the timestamps in the "Pilot" indicate 1992, there's a plethora of in-show, direct references to support that it's canon Mulder and Scully started working together in 1993.

In honor of Mulder and Scully, let me present you with the facts so you can make an informed decision

To begin, here is a screenshot from the "Pilot" that indicates 1992. Mulder and Scully met the day before they begin investigating the case, so they were partnered together and first introduced on March 6th.

While "Deep Throat" (1x02) doesn't reference a date, a timestamp in "Squeeze" (1x03) indicates 1993. You can also see/hear references to 1993 in "The Jersey Devil" (1x05), Shadows (1x06), "Ghost in the Machine" (1x07), "Ice" (1x08), "Eve" (1x11), and "Lazarus" (1x15).

This is a trend "The X-Files" typically follows. The first half of the series is generally set in the fall while the latter half is set in the spring, mirroring the traditional television schedule (barring finale/premiere two-parters and post-production changes in episode order).

Based on "The X-Files"’s tendency to reflect the year a given episode is airing, it can be presumed the "Pilot" is included in that (barring Carter's self-referential Easter egg).

While I recognize the hypocrisy of saying "don't believe this timestamp" by providing evidence of other timestamps, I hope to demonstrate that if you believe it's 1992 solely because it was shown in canon, there is an overwhelming amount of similar evidence to prove the contrary.

Additionally, if they met in 1992, that means there is a whole year of their partnership we never see.

Many of the lines in season one were written to highlight the newness of their relationship and would sound awkward coming from partners of over a year.

In seasons one and two, there aren't many allusions to the "Pilot" or Scully being assigned to The X-Files. However, as I'll demonstrate below, there are several references made in every season for the rest of the show's run that solidify 1993 as the correct date.

Keep in mind that "The X-Files" generally uses the year of the episode's airing as the in-show date, so while many of my examples will only have a Month/Day reference, we can assume from the airing year.

Syzygy (3x13)

Written By: Chris Carter

Airing Date: January 26th, 1996

SCULLY: Look, we’ve been working together for, what, two years now? We have different opinions, but I didn’t expect you to ditch me.

Evidence: Presuming the three-year mark is March 1996, this indicates 1993

Musings of a Cigarette Smoking Man

Written By: Glen Morgan

Airing Date: November 17th, 1996

While watching CSM's history, we see the moments leading up to his appearance in the "Pilot" wherein the 1992 appears on screen once more.

Evidence: 1992 Timestamp

This moment of Musings of a Cigarette Smoking Man is the piece of evidence (often the only) that pro-1992 fans use to justify the 1992 date.

It could be said that, while writing his connections to the "Pilot", Glen Morgan rewatched the episode and used 1992 to keep continuity.

Tunguska (4x08) and Terma (4x09) - Same Dialogue

Written By: Frank Spotnitz and Chris Carter

Airing Date: November 24th and December 1st, 1996

SCULLY: I left behind a career in medicine to become an FBI agent four years ago because I believed in this country.

Evidence: 1992

Tempus Fugit (4x17)

Written By: Frank Spotnitz and Chris Carter

Airing Date: March 16th, 1997

SCULLY: Mulder... you have never remembered my birthday in the four years I've known you.

MULDER: [...] It's every four years, it's like dog years that way.

Evidence: 1993

It is valid to point out that this one could be discounted being that we know Scully's birthday is in February and they met in March -- meaning that they would've only been together for three of her birthdays.

However, her line is very explicitly "four years I've known you"

Elegy (4x22)

Written by: John Shiban

Aired: May 4th, 1997

MULDER: What is that look, Scully?

SCULLY: I would have thought that after three years you'd know exactly what that look was

MULDER: What, you don't believe in ghosts?

Evidence: ... 1994 (we can discount that one haha)

Gesthemane (4x24)

Written By: Chris Carter

Aired: May 18th, 1997

SCULLY: Four years ago, Section Chief Blevins assigned me to a project you all know as the X Files [...] I come here today, four years later...

Evidence: 1993

Redux I

Written By: Chris Carter

Aired: November 2nd, 1997

This episode has multiple

SCULLY: That would mean that for four years we've been nothing more than pawns in a game. --- MULDER'S VO: In four years, I have shared my partner's passionate search for the truth.

-----

BLEVINS: Agent Scully. Please have a seat. Some time has past since you were first in this office.

SCULLY: Yes, sir. Four years.

Evidence: 1993

Redux II

Written by: Chris Carter

Aired: November 9th, 1997

This episode also has multiple

SCULLY: He's been in a position to know everything from the beginning, everything that we've done over the past four years.

----

MULDER: Four years ago, while working on an assignment outside the FBI mainstream, I was paired with Special Agent Dana Scully, who I believed was sent to spy on me.

Evidence: 1993

Patient X (5x13)

Written by: Chris Carter

Aired: March 2nd, 1998

Multiple references

WERBER: It's been some time.

MULDER: Almost five years.

-------

MULDER: I've had my head up my rear end for the last five years.

Evidence: 1993

The Red and The Black (5x14)

Written by: Chris Carter, Frank Spotnitz

Aired: March 8th, 1998

Another episode with multiple.

SCULLY: Mulder, when I met you five years ago, you told me that your sister had been abducted ... by aliens.

----

SKINNER: Over the past five years I've doubted you, only to be persuaded by the power of your belief in extraterrestrial phenomena.

Evidence: 1993

Folie à Deux (5x19)

Written by: Vince Gilligan

Aired: May 10th, 1998

MULDER: Five years together, Scully. You must have seen this coming.

Evidence: 1993

The End (5x20)

Written by: Chris Carter

Aired: May 17th, 1998

Multiple references

MULDER: That’s all I do. That’s all I’ve been doing for the last five years.

-----

SCULLY: This would be quantifiable scientific proof of everything Agent Mulder and I have investigated over the past five years.

Evidence: 1993

Fight the Future (1998)

Written by: Chris Carter and Frank Spotnitz

Released: June 19th, 1998

MULDER: Five years together, Scully. How many times I been wrong?

Evidence: 1993

Tithonous (6x10)

Written by: Vince Gilligan

Aired: January 24th, 1999

We can see Scully’s career timeline on screen, but I, personally, cannot discern the date. Maybe it says 1992, maybe it says 1993, maybe it gives me cataracts.

Evidence: ???

Field Trip (6x21)

Written by: Frank Spotnitz

Teleplay by: Vince Gilligan and Chris Carter

Aired: May 9th, 1999

MULDER: Scully, in six years, how... how often have I been wrong?

Evidence: 1993

Hollywood A.D. (7x19)

Written by: David Duchovny

Aired: April 30th, 2000

GARRY SHANDLING AS MULDER: You know, seven long years I've been waiting for just the right moment, Scully.

Evidence: 1993

Fight Club (7x20)

Written by: Chris Carter

Aired: May 7th, 2000

MULDER: No, the interesting thing about these agents is they had worked together for seven years previously without any incident.

SCULLY: Seven years?

MULDER: Yeah, but they are not ... romantically involved if that's what you're thinking.

Evidence: 1993

A tounge-in-cheek reference to Mulder and Scully’s relationship taking a sexual turn a few episodes prior.

Je Souhaite (7x21)

Written by: Vince Gilligan

Aired: May 14th, 2000

SCULLY: You know, Mulder, in the seven years that we've been working together I have seen some amazing things, but this?

Evidence: 1993

Requiem (7x22)

Written by: Chris Carter

Aired: May 21st, 2000

Multiple direct references to the pilot

MALE VOICE: (on phone) My name is Billy Miles. I don't know if you remember me.

MULDER: Oregon, seven years ago.

-----

SCULLY: I watched Agent Mulder paint that there seven years ago.

------

MULDER: Seven years ago you came to Agent Scully and I for help.

Evidence: 1993

Per Manum (8x13)

Written by: Frank Spotnitz and Chris Carter

Aired: February 18th, 2001

DUFFY HASKELL: I contacted you about my wife About eight years ago because she was an alien abductee.

SCULLY: That was before my time here.

This episode is one of those “back from break” episodes that takes place in Fall of the previous year, so the “present day” parts of this episode occurs in 2000 -- meaning the eight year anniversary hasn’t happened yet. It more than implies 1992 would be “before her time.”

Evidence: 1993

DeadAlive (8x15)

Written by: Chris Carter and Frank Spotnitz

Aired: April 1st, 2001

DOGGETT: What?

SCULLY: I heard the same speech come out of my mouth seven years ago.

Evidence: Would you look at that, two accidental 1994 references.

Three Words (8x16)

Written by: Chris Carter and Frank Spotnitz

Aired: April 8th, 2001

Multiple references

KERSH: From this report, you and Agent Scully have had more arrests on percentage than she and Mulder over seven years.

-----

MULDER: Truth is, this is a bullet that was fired about eight years ago.

Evidence: Mulder went missing in 2000, so for Kersh’s statement to be correct, they had to have worked together from 1993-2000. 1993 is further backed up by Mulder’s line.

Dæmonicus (9x03)

Written by: Frank Spotnitz

Aired: December 2nd, 2001

SCULLY: Dr. Dana Scully. I have just been assigned to the Academy as a forensic investigator. For the past eight years I was part of a unit known as the X-Files.

Evidence: 1993

Sunshine Days (9x18)

Written by: Vince Gilligan

Aired: May 12th, 2002

SCULLY: It very well could. I mean, I've... I've been working this unit for nine years now. I-I've investigated nearly 200 paranormal cases. We are due for some incontrovertible proof. I want vindication, for ... for Mulder and ... for all of us.

Evidence: 1993. This was the 200th episode of the show, meaning we’ve watched nearly every case they ever worked together.

The Truth (9x19/20)

Written by: Chris Carter

Aired: May 19th, 2022

Several references

SCULLY: My name is Dana Katherine Scully. I was assigned nine years ago to the X-Files to spy on Agent Mulder whose methods the FBI distrusted.

------

MULDER: Because this is greater than you or me. This is about everything we worked for for nine years.

------

KALLENBRUNNER: She gave up the miracle child? The proof of everything that she and Mulder claim that they've risked their lives for over the last nine years - she just sent it off to some strangers?

------

REYES: You don't care what these people have sacrificed over the last nine years - what's been lost to their cause.

------

MULDER: I'd like to congratulate you on succeeding where so many before you have failed. A bullet between the eyes would have been preferable to this charade. But I've learned to pretend over the past nine years - to pretend that my victories mattered only to realize that no one was keeping score.

Evidence: 1993

My Struggle (10x01)

Written by: Chris Carter

Aired: January 24th, 2016

MULDER: In 1993, the FBI sought to impugn my work, bringing in a scientist and medical doctor to debunk it, which only deepened my obsession for the better part of a decade, during which time that agent, Dana Scully, had her own faith tested.

Evidence: Can’t lay it out much more than that. 1993.

Babylon (10x05)

Written by: Chris Carter

Aired: February 15th, 2016

SCULLY: Nobody but the FBI's Most Unwanted. I've been waiting twenty-three years to say that.

Evidence: Direct reference to the “Pilot.” 1993.

To sum it up, there are 23 episodes (over 1/10th of the series) that reference 1993 as being the year Mulder and Scully met, 4 episodes (technically 3 since it’s a repeated line in Tunguska/Terma) that indicate 1992, 2 that imply 1994, and 1 that I can’t read.

It is worth noting that many television pilots end up looking different than the rest of the show (I mean... we don’t even get the classic X-Files theme in the Pilot, and Scully’s hair isn’t quite the red we’ve all come to know and love). Pilots are the ‘pitch’ in the hopes they’ll be approved for more, and sometimes the network exectutives say “okay, but change xyz,” resulting in actor changes, character alterations, and pivoting directions. One could say the Pilot date shouldn’t be taken at face value for this reason.

Also worth noting, 1992 isn’t treated like an accident. Like many other shows, The X-Files has made alterations to certain details they wanted to change before the DVD releases. One such example is that Gillian Anderson’s wrist tattoo was accidentally left in during a scene that aired, but you can see it has been edited out on subsequent releases because Scully doesn’t have a wrist tattoo. This proves that they want the show to be as accurate as possible when they release it. Since they haven’t changed the 1992, it serves to illustrate that it is likley a meaningful Easter Egg for Chris Carter, and not a true canoncial fact he sticks by seeing as many of the above references to 1993 were made by Chris himself.

Despite my 1993 propoganda, I know damn well we will all see a bunch of “Happy 31st Anniversary” posts here in a few days. I’ve been on those X-Files Facebook fanpages enough to know that if you post “Happy 30th Anniversary,” an angry, self-righteous bro will post a screenshot of the timestamp and say “Actually, it was 1992.” The X-Files’ popularity made it a hit with general audiences who see 1992 on screen and take it for what it is, and The X-Files’ appeal to cult fandoms inspired anal-retentive fans like myself to look deeper and find the 1993 written in the margins (over-and-over).

Above all else, I encourage everyone to celebrate it however they want, at the end of the day, I think it’s beautiful that a thirty year old show is still being celebrated by its fans and recognized as an important piece of pop culture and television history.

I will end this thread with one final quote from Scully: “The truth is out there... but so are lies.”

#the x files #pilot #mulder #scully #msr #x files #season one #gillian anderson #david duchovny #chris carter #frank spotnitz #1x01 #1992 #1993 #anniversary

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innerchorus · 8 months

Text

It's a very similar expression, isn't it? There's even a little tear in Bahman's eye, too. (Bahman from Chapter 43, Zandeh from Chapter 59.)

I can't help it, my thoughts are so addled right now that I keep thinking of Bahman as being part of Team Hilmes. But he could so easily have been, couldn't he? I would have loved to see him interact with Zandeh (see: the old dog and new puppy discussion of it here, and I also love the thought of Bahman taking Zandeh under his wing and teaching him in military matters).

The moment in Chapter 38 where Hilmes encounters him in Peshawar... The way he's hesitant, yet as he realises he's tentatively reaching out for Hilmes's proffered hand... If that moment hadn't been interrupted, if they'd been able to talk for a little longer, I wonder what would have happened?

And I keep looking at that expression on Hilmes's face (not that you can see all of it, which highlights Bahman's inability to recognise him and that it's not solely because he thinks he died 16 years ago, it's also because his face is covered by a mask). That panel focuses the attention on his smile, and the hand he's offering to Bahman, and I just... honestly, it makes me really sad, because here is someone who knew him before the palace fire, who must have been fond of him, and trusted by him as a child. Bahman is someone whose support Hilmes needs on a practical level, but isn't it more than that, too?

And though it's not evident in the manga, it's worth remembering that in the novels, seeking Bahman's loyalty is the whole reason Hilmes enters Peshawar Fortress in the first place! His encounter with Arslan was entirely unexpected!

I think having Bahman's support would have been good for him. And realistically I know Bahman would have remained just as torn up by the conflict as when he was with Arslan, but wouldn't it have been nice for him to reunite with Hilmes, who he thought was dead, and see him grow into a fine Shah?

Tanaka made some comment in the Reader's Guidebook that amounted to it essentially being merciful for a character like Bahman who is torn between two choices to be killed off. I don't think he's wrong, especially with the trajectory that canon took, but just as he gave his life for Arslan's sake in the anime and manga, I feel he would have done exactly the same thing for Hilmes under different circumstances.

Actually, let's look at Bahman's death scene, because it's something I've been wanting to discuss for a while now. The relevant manga chapters are 51 and 52.

I think everyone's aware that the anime and the OVAs both made the same choice regarding Bahman's death, in that he is inadvertently killed by Hilmes when protecting Arslan in Peshawar Fortress. (And I liked this change, personally.) But I don't think it's as commonly known that Arakawa also made some changes?

The event itself takes place similarly in Sindhura, but in the novels:

Bahman's inner conflict doesn't feature in his death, and

Gadhevi's spear was aimed at Bahman, so Bahman did NOT take a blow meant for Arslan as he did in the manga.

'“Your Highness Arslan! Please hurry up and go!” Before he could finish his words, Bahman unsheathed his sword and cut down the attacking Sindhuran soldiers in a cloud of blood and smoke. Although he was already over sixty years old, his skillful swordsmanship showed no signs of decline. However, just as he cut down two more enemy soldiers, Gadhevi picked up a spear, aimed it at the old general, and threw it. The spear made a whistling sound as it flew towards him, stabbing hard into the area between Bahman’s left shoulder and chest. Bahman let out a short groan and fell down.' (Book 3, Chapter Three, Part v)

We don't get any of his internal thoughts before he dies, either.

By contrast, in the manga, when Arslan's life is in danger? Bahman hesitates. And honestly to me this change is just so masterful that I really ought to have included it on the list of my favourite differences between novels and manga.

Yet even as he acknowledges that thought, his body is already in motion, moving to take the spear that was meant for Arslan. So here's why I like this scene so much:

It feels as though Bahman's conflictedness may well be the very reason he dies. If he hadn't hesitated then, if he had called out instantly to warn Arslan, would Arslan have dodged? Would Bahman or Narsus have instead cut down the spear before it reached him? Bahman's death didn't have to be the outcome, whereas in the novels it feels like there was no way for it to have been avoided.

The fact that his conflict doesn't just stem from being undecided who he should give his loyalty too, but because he recognises the turmoil that having two candidates for the throne will bring to Pars. His concern is for his country; out of Arslan and Hilmes, who will be the better ruler?

And as usual, Arakawa shows us so much. That panel of Hilmes that Bahman sees in his moment of indecision, the way it's sort of shadowed and his eyes aren't visible, because even though Bahman knew him when he was a boy, he doesn't know him in the same way now. What does he know of Hilmes? He is clearly competent in matters of war, and on the surface more equipped to lead than a boy of Arslan's age. And he has royal blood, which Bahman knows that Arslan does not.

But he must also know of Hilmes's involvement in the Lusitanian invasion, and his brutality in trying to kill Arslan. I think Bahman's decision to give his life to save Arslan's comes not just from being unable to stand by and watch Arslan to die before his eyes, but because although he worries about whether Arslan is right for the task, he has misgivings about Hilmes, too. It would have been easier, after all, to do nothing. To let Arslan die. In making the active choice to save Arslan, I can't help but see it as him hoping that Arslan will be better for Pars than Hilmes would have been.

And yeah, it does feel tragic that he'll never be able to see for certain that he made the right choice, worrying about the softness in Arslan's nature (as evidenced by his refusal to leave Bahman's side even when it endangered him). Yet that same softness that can be seen as a weakness is also a strength, isn't it? And there is little of it to be seen in Hilmes.

I also appreciate that it's clear he's not just worried for the fate of Pars, but for Arslan's individual fate, too. Surely it's the time he's spent with him in Sindhura getting to know him on a personal level that has resulted in this moment where he opts to give his life to save Arslan, effectively choosing him over Hilmes. And when I think about it like that, while in both cases a change was made so that Bahman gave his life for Arslan's sake, ultimately I prefer this over his death in the anime. The angst potential of Hilmes being the one to accidentally kill his old teacher is good though.

Personally, I like that his death ends on a hopeful note. Despite his worries, he is able to place his faith in Arslan due to the fact that he has companions such as Daryun and the others who will lend him their support and strength and can offset his youth and inexperience as he grows into the good king that Bahman implores him to become before he dies. It feel like he's made peace with his decision.

One more thing I like from Bahman's death scene:

Bahman's recognition that he's about to die coming as he looks up at Azrael, named for the "Herald of Death" (an angel in Parsian cosmology) and thinks of his already departed friend, Vahriz.

#arslan senki #the heroic legend of arslan #bahman #hilmes #arslan #azrael #bahman: 'durian denka is not soft inside'

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see-arcane · 1 year

Note

There were so-called "Approved For The Female Sex" V-cards too, though Mina would probably have to teach that it may be seen as too bold for the girl to send one, still. But she may have been all "I'm not a hypocrite but..." again like when she allowed Jonathan to hold her arm (a man offering his arm to the of-age lady he's escorting was encouraged, but not the other way around), and made a card for him herself.

I should have a card-specific response to this but I kind of just blindsided myself with an entirely different revelation and it's staggered me:

Jonathan Harker is the Romantic Corruptor Villain Hero of Dracula.

I'm serious. Think about how many times in the novel Mina goes out of her way to mention propriety, or 'not like other girls New Women'-ing herself and Lucy, or otherwise tries to wave the flag of what a good and proper and Worthwhile immigrant orphan working woman young lady she is? Very often. She slips it in over the first two thirds of the book, really.

But in Jonathan's presence, or for Jonathan's sake, she breaks those rules like they're pretzel sticks.

Oh, she should think less of him because he was ill and suffers PTSD anxiety attacks? She shouldn't let him take her arm in public? She shouldn't aspire to be equals with him no matter how much he seems thrilled and eager for them to be on par with each other? She shouldn't take the lead despite how willing he is to follow and support her? She shouldn't be interested in such a soft and non-conforming sweetheart and should look for a Generic Manly Man instead?

Hm, thinks Mina. She makes eye contact with Jonathan for 0.0000001 seconds.

Jonathan: 🥰

Mina, literal etiquette teacher who has lived her whole young life having harsh lessons ground into her by the bootheel of her era and surroundings to be Proper and Pious and Perfect and Follow All Social Norms: Fuck propriety actually 🥰

Which is all to say, making a Valentine card for Jonathan despite it being outside the norm for girls is the teeniest tiniest act of rebellion Jonathan Harker's...Jonathanness (?) has spurred her into. And it is objectively hilarious to me how, in the context of the time period, Jonathan Harker could be seen as an actual corruptive influence to a young woman, eeevilly seducing her into un-meek un-maidenlike behavior!

The rake! The cad! Lucifer himself beguiling a poor ignorant Eve into wanting rights and education and interests and autonomy and equality with her partner! True Men everywhere are borrowing their ladies' pearls to clutch as we speak. (While said ladies are fanning themselves and wondering where they might find a Jonathan Harker for themselves.)

Step aside, Count. The true wooing gothic horror liberator is here to seed dangerous ideas with his nefarious romantic wiles.*

*He is taking Mina to a New Woman gathering after the events in Transylvania and getting her literature on the topic that does not come straight from a Punch comic. The fiend.

#in which True Men are fine with (and stealthily envy) your average bloodsucking Lothario #but would quail in horror at a villainous villain like Mr. Harker #this got off track but I stand by my thesis #mina harker #jonathan harker #holiest love #valentine's day #dracula #dracula daily

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pokemonapex · 26 days

Text

Apex Build 10 Is Now Available!

After over three years, I have finally completed Build 10 of Apex! This is planned to be the final feature release of Apex as a Pokémon fangame before converting it into my own original IP (more on that another time).

As for this build, you can now continue the story of Apex in Chapter 5 by exploring the western half of Abbadon, including the sprawling Megiddo Plains, the touristy beachside town of Ys, the sleepy floral town of Eden, and much more! Check out the changelog below for a full list of additions and changes, comprising the largest changelog so far.

As always, you can get the game either through the launcher (recommended) or assemble the game yourself through manual downloads on the blog.

If you want to report bugs, discuss the game, share theories, or praise me (please do, I worked very hard on this), please visit our discord server.

That's all for now, everyone. Thank you so much for your patience and support!

Here are all the changes and additions in Build 10!

Additions

Content

The Megiddo Plains, Ys, and Eden areas are now open to explore! Continue Chapter 5 with a deluge of new content, including some surprises!

Levitate system overhaul. Pokémon that formerly had the Levitate ability now inherently levitate based on their species. See the wiki for more details.

Pokémon that normally evolve due to trading now evolve when leveled up in Assiah. Any required held items are still needed.

New fast food items that are cheaper versions of strong healing items, but lower your Pokémon's EVs randomly when consumed.

New item: Inn Coupon. Exchange these tickets at any inn for a free stay!

New trainer classes: Zangs (male and female), Priest, Pirate, Surfer, Action Kid (Beach), Tourist, Sunbather, Beach Bros, Sightseers, Salaryman, Rancher, Florist, as well as some special encounters.

Four new musical tracks, courtesy of new composer DSTY.

New Artifact is now available! Complete the Great Canal dungeon to acquire the Hydrophobic Disc to cross calm waters.

New custom move: Grim Word, a low-power special Dark move that lowers the target's Sp. Def by 1 stage.

Everyone is here! With the exception of most legendary Pokémon, every single species up through Generation V is now available in Apex!

New questline events! Hang out with your favorite NPCs.

New ghosts to battle, including three difficult challenge ghosts for extra Keystones.

Features

Artifacts now give badge boosts. War God's Hammer: Attack, All-Seeing Eye: Sp. Attack, Quantum Mirror: Speed, Geos Gauntlets: Defense, Hydrophobic Disc: Sp. Defense. For existing save files, use the associated artifact in the overworld to permanently enable the respective boost.

Added Not-So-Crazy Fesiq to Old Jul'far Ruins as a dung merchant.

Added ambience to Sagaxis Forest, Mt. Belial Upper, Shrieking Cliffs, and Acacia Lake.

Added an Ether to RevTex Textiles 1F in the generator room.

The protagonist now remarks on the flickering lights in RevTex Textiles Front Office for context.

Added an Escape Rope to RevTex Textiles B1F.

Added a healing area and some flavor to the entrance area of Acacia Temple (not available in Hard Mode).

Wild/bred Pokémon now have a 5% chance to spawn with their hidden ability.

Added in-game trades and gift events for exclusive species. Check the wiki for details.

New TM Kid quest is available after acquiring the Hydrophobic Disc.

Added visible items to Sagaxis Forest.

Luvdisc now evolves into Alomomola at lv30. The two species have been rebalanced and given updated movesets to match.

Eevee can now evolve into Glaceon in Crystal Channel Upper.

Nosepass can now evolve into Probopass in the Adamantine Palace.

Added messages when entering maps with a Pokémon with a location-based evolution in that map.

Added Lucifer's Notes #2 to Altar of Truth.

The Guru of Potential has been added to the Amon Desert. Visit him to draw out your Pokémon's latent potential.

The Experience Share can now be purchased in the Rosemary Market in Acacia Town. It's relatively expensive, so you'll have to weigh your options!

Added Eviolite to Acacia Tunnel.

A Soothe Bell is now available from a new NPC in Nysa Indoors.

Added ancient runes to text for lore purposes. This should improve clarity for puzzles that rely on ancient runes.

Larry now answers his phone.

Tweaks

Aegis Facility

Added a hint to the door to Aegis Secret Room.

Added support struts to the elevator on Aegis 1F.

Swapped locations of the Elevator Key and Max Revive in Aegis 2F Rooms for better visibility.

Vahram Temple

Added additional hints for the Vahram rune puzzle.

Braziers in the Vahram and Cliff tilesets are now fully impassable on the bottom tile for better consistency.

Acacia Town

Opened a previously unused house in Acacia Town.

The Thornwood Inn in Acacia Town begins charging for lodging after the player enters Jul'far. No more warping back to Acacia Town for free heals!

The Puzzle House is now accessible immediately upon visiting Acacia Town for the first time.

Jul'far

Added more path blocking to help keep players from getting lost.

Added a new bandit encounter with Bandit Logan.

Added some new visible items, one of which only appears during the raid.

The Camerupt Cart that goes to the Old Jul'far Ruins now cannot be used until after the player has visited the ruins, to prevent skipping the entire desert.

Added a hint if the player tries to enter the Jul'far Town Hall through the front door during the bandit raid.

Hard Mode

Items cannot be used from the bag during battles (except Pokéballs, as normal).

During the Jul'far raid, Bandit Captain Kurt now only appears on Hard Mode.

Granny does not heal the party.

Holly stops healing the party after defeating the Cloaked Elder in Acacia Temple.

Other

You can now forfeit trainer battles outside of Hard Mode by selecting Run, but beware the losing cost!

Official starters can now only be found at level 5 in the wild.

Player name entry now supports up to 10 characters.

Stick renamed to Leek to match Gen VIII+ naming.

Scratch Cards now use fixed randomness to determine the prize (if any), so they can no longer be save-scummed. A unique message has been added if the jackpot is won.

Improved visual quality of in-battle rain animation.

Reduced visual intensity of overworld snow animation.

Deerling and Sawsbuck now appear in different forms based on location. Mt. Belial area: Winter form. Verdant Path area: Spring form. Acacia Secret Hollow: Summer form.

Updated new game scene flow. Quickstart option renamed and now defaults to Sarah instead of Griffen, and some suggested character names have been changed.

Switched locations of the TMs for Rock Smash and Brick Break and adjusted TM Kid's dialogue to match. If you already have one but not the other, you will get the old drops.

Disabled entry message from Mold Breaker ability.

Small tweaks to Nascene Suburbs layout to make skateboard pathing a tad easier.

Added visual details to Jagged Cavern B1F. Side path is now blocked by breakable rocks. Added a shortcut usable with the Quantum Mirror.

Ladders in cave/temple maps have more outlining for better visibility.

Battles with Larry now use the Rival Battle music.

Balance

Levitate overhaul

In addition to those species which formerly had the Levitate ability, the following Pokémon now levitate: Beedrill, Venomoth, Magnemite line, Mew, Scizor, Celebi, Dustox, Castform, Shuppet, Glalie, Froslass, Munna line, Solosis line, Vanillite line, Escavalier, Elgyem line, Lampent, Chandelure, and Volcarona.

Ability changes as part of the Levitate overhaul

Gastly line new abilities. Base: Cursed Body, Stench. Hidden: Bad Dreams.

Koffing line new abilities. Base: Forewarn, Aftermath. Hidden: Serene Grace.

Misdreavus line new abilities: Base: Shadow Tag, Frisk. Hidden: Prankster.

Unown new ability: Base: Technician.

Hydreigon, Vibrava, Flygon now use the same ability or abilities as their pre-evolved forms.

Duskull now uses the same ability its evolved forms.

Solrock, Lunatone new abilities: Base: Sturdy. Hidden: Magic Guard.

Baltoy line new ability: Base: Magic Bounce.

Chimecho line new ability: Base: Soundproof.

Latias, Latios new ability: Base: Cloud Nine.

Bronzor line abilities shifted: Base: Light Metal, Heavy Metal. Hidden: Heatproof

Carnivine new ability: Base: Chlorophyll.

Rotom new ability: Base: Motor Drive.

Uxie, Mesprit, Azelf new ability: Base: Filter.

Cresselia new ability: Base: Serene Grace.

Tynamo line new abilities: Base: Shed Skin, Static. Hidden: Volt Absorb.

Cryogonal new ability: Ice Body.

Move changes

Increased Gyro Ball PP from 5 to 10.

Raised accuracy of Gunk Shot from 70 to 80 to match Gen VI+.

Shadow Ball power increased from 80 to 90.

Drill Peck and X-Scissor now have an increased crit chance.

Constrict power increased from 10 to 40.

Leech Life power increased from 15 to 40.

Pin Missile power increased from 14 to 25 to match Gen VI+.

Luster Purge and Mist Ball power increased to 80 and PP increased to 10.

Pokémon changes

Raised Riolu's starting happiness from 70 to 100.

Gothita line is now Psychic/Dark.

Gothita line gains Unnerve as second natural ability.

Steel type is no longer resistant to Ghost and Dark moves, as per Gen VI+.

Torkoal, Wingull, Roggenrola, and Vanillite lines gain their GenVII+ second abilities.

Ice type no longer resists Grass.

Stat changes

Stat buffs from Gens VI and VII have been added.

Sunflora base Sp. Atk and Sp. Def increased by 20 each, bringing its base stat total up to 465.

Mightyena base stats increased: +10 to Attack, Defense, and Speed, bringing its base stat total up to 450.

Farfetch'd gains 20 base stat points in HP, Defense, and Speed, and 10 in Attack, bringing its base stat total up to 447.

Spinda base stats increased, +30 to HP, +10 to Speed, and +20 to Defense and Special Defense, for a new total of 440.

Whismur line has 10 base stat points moved from Attack to Special Attack.

Growlithe line has 5 base stat points moved from Special Attack to Attack.

Sableye gains base stat points: 30 to HP, 20 to Defense, and 20 to Special Defense, bringing its base stat total up to 450.

Rebalanced Cacnea line's stats. Lowered Sp. Attack and Speed by 10 and increased Defense and Special Defense by 10.

Corsola stats modified. -5 Attack and Speed, +10 Defense and Special Defense, +20 Special Attack and HP. New total: 460.

Ariados stats increased. +20 to HP, Defense, and Special Defense, +10 to Attack. New total 470.

Spinarak/Ariados now learn Megahorn at level 51/60 and now learn Psycho Cut instead of Psychic.

Beedrill stats increased. +10 to HP and Attack, +20 to Special Defense, and +35 to Speed. New total 470.

Butterfree stats increased. -5 to Attack, +30 to HP and Special Defense, +10 to Special Attack and Defense. New total 470.

Beautifly stats increased. +10 to HP, +20 to Attack and Special Attack, +25 to Speed. New total 470.

Ledian stats increased. -5 to Special Attack and +75 to Attack. New total 470.

Dustox stats increased. -5 to Speed, +10 to Special Defense, +20 to Special Attack, and +30 to HP and Defense. New total 470.

Kricketune stats increased. +3 to HP, +4 to Special Defense, +30 to Attack, +29 to Defense, +35 to Speed. New total 470.

Parasect stats increased. +5 to Attack, +20 to HP, Defense, and Special Defense. New total 470.

Marowak stats increased. +5 to Speed, +20 to HP and Attack. New total 470.

Purugly stats changed. -1 to HP, +8 to Attack, +11 to Defense, -4 to Special Attack, +6 to Special Defense, -2 to Speed. New total 470.

Chimecho stats increased. +5 to Special Attack, +10 to Special Defense. New total 470.

Dunsparce stats increased. +5 to Attack, +25 to Defense and Special Defense. New total 470.

Girafarig stats increased. +10 to Special Attack, +5 to Speed. New total 470.

Tropius stats changed. +1 to HP, -8 to Attack, +17 to Defense, +8 to Special Attack, +13 to Special Defense, -1 to Speed. New total 490.

Treecko line has had its Special Attack and Attack base stats swapped to now favor physical attacks.

Relicanth stats increased. +15 to Special Defense. New total 500.

Lanturn stats changed. -8 to Attack and Defense, -2 to Speed, +9 to Special Attack and Special Defense.

Learnset changes

Electrike and Manectric now learn Thundershock at level 7.

Absol now learns Focus Energy as a starting move.

Solrock now learns Zen Headbutt instead of Psychic, and now learns Flare Blitz at level 57 and Morning Sun at level 61.

Lunatone now learns Ancientpower instead of Stone Edge, and now learns Shadow Ball at level 57 and Moonlight at level 61.

Farfetch'd now learns Drill Peck instead of Air Slash at level 49, and now learns Focus Energy at level 16.

Grimer line now learns Poison Fang, Bulldoze, Poison Jab, and Night Slash instead of Sludge, Mud Bomb, Sludge Bomb, and Fling, respectively.

Gothita line now learns Dark Pulse at levels 53/58/64 respectively, and now learns Grim Word instead of Faint Attack.

Misdreavus, Gastly, Drifloon lines now learn Grim Word instead of Payback.

Litwick line now learns Grim Word instead of Imprison.

Yamask and Spiritomb get Grim Word as an egg move.

Umbreon, Murkrow, Girafarig, Purrloin lines now learn Grim Word instead of Assurance.

Oddish line now learns Grim Word instead of Natural Gift.

Swapped Ancientpower and Power Gem in Corsola's moveset, and it now learns Hydro Pump at level 57.

Butterfree, Beautifly, and Dustox now learn Psychic at level 50.

Ledyba/Ledian now learn Bug Bite instead of Silver Wind, Mega Punch instead of Swift, and X-Scissor instead of Bug Buzz, and now learn Drain Punch at level 50/60.

Dustox now learns Poisonpowder at level 15 and Air Slash at level 55.

Bronzor and Bronzong now learn Curse instead of Imprison.

Tropius now learns Leech Seed instead of Bestow and Dragon Pulse instead of Natural Gift.

Deerling and Sawsbuck can now learn Zen Headbutt by Move Tutor.

Venusaur can now learn Earth Power by Move Tutor.

Durant now learns Screech instead of Metal Sound.

Difficulty/Game Balance

Lolita Fayte's Ralts initial level lowered from 18 to 15.

Lolita Esmerelda's party initial levels lowered from 15 to 13. Added an additional rematch.

Elder Gerald's party levels lowered from 16 to 15.

Snow Angel May's party levels increased by 5.

Slight rebalance to encounter levels in RevTex. Max level reduced by 1 on 1F and Front Office and min level raised by 1 on B1F.

Lowered max encounter levels in Acacia Lake and Acacia town by 1.

Slightly raised Beldum's capture rate (making it easier to catch).

Reduced price of Pokeballs and Great Balls to 1000 and 2000, respectively.

Scratch Card price increased to 1000.

Fixes

Fixed Aegis warehouse minecart puzzle unintentionally completing while the minecarts are still moving. Minecarts must now stop on the correct positions to count.

Fixed Lolita Amelie using the wrong battle sprite.

Fixed an issue where, during the egg event on Shrieking Cliffs East, if the player catches the Braviary instead of defeating it, the whole event starts over. (Reported by Yasik)

Fixed Vahram 5F North button still considering the rock in the hall to the south of it to be blocking.

Fixed missing collisions on Vahram lava rocks.

Fixed a stray masking tile in the Bandit Hideout.

Rival name in Unknown Dungeon is now loaded dynamically from variable and not from static strings, which could cause inconsistency.

Fixed note 28 being inaccessible in XENO Corp. Server Room. (Reported by mflamel101)

Fixed a bug in Essentials where if the player was facing a water tile, but that tile wasn't otherwise passable, the game would let the player begin surfing on their current tile instead.

Fixed broken Love emote animation (finally!).

Fixed impassable stair railing tile in RevTex B1F blocking wall sign.

RevTex facility now properly sets cave flags on entry.

Fixed a typo in Note #18.

Fixed a movement bug with Mori in Murmur Tower 3F when playing as Sarah.

Fixed mismatched wall tiles in Nysa Indoors.

Fixed tile layering issue with wall/desk phones in the Indoor tileset.

Fixed inconsistent glowstick radius when changing maps (finally!).

Fixed incorrect BGM volume level in Aegis 2F Bathrooms.

Fixed some missing tree top tiles on Mt. Belial Upper.

Removed text referring to "someone's PC" when receiving Pokémon through events.

Fixed a script crash when attempting to fight the Frozen Prince.

Fixed incorrect barrel tiles in Puzzle House Challenge 2.

Fixed Snarl incorrectly flagged as a physical move.

Tweaked dialog with Sayaka on Mt. Belial Upper to better match lore.

Fixed legendary encounter events not using the same generated Pokémon for the battle and the post-battle distribution, which could result in minor discrepancies.

Fixed legendaries missing their summoning sigil where the ball icon should be in the summary screen.

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