#ex catholic shit

[kedsandtubesocks]

be your hallowed ground

Demon!Ezra x F!Reader

summary: 1700’s. the journey home before you is long, weary, and you are alone… but not for long

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI. colonial era inspired AU, inexperienced!reader, religiously raised reader, historical/societal period negative views of women, major supernatural elements, religious discussions along with Christian imagery & mentions of scripture, Ezra’s use of petnames, heavy corruption kink, possessive!Ezra, finger sucking, wound kissing and one small moment of blood consumption, Ezra lifts reader with his demon strength (reader has no physical description), intense kissing & spicy moments, f!oral receiving, light overstimulation, briefest mention of Ezra watching/stalking, sacrilegious themes, dark & spooky vibes

word count: 7.9k

a/n: so this is my first Ezra fic & i blame this AU on my ex catholic school kid roots along with playing too much cult of the lamb bcs here we are lol I wouldn’t be here without the ones who paved the way/inspired me to take the jump to write Ezra so thank you @morallyinept @julesonrecord & @lowlights for being true lovely guides, also to @pastelle-rabbit @haylzcyon & @ahauntedcowboy for letting me scream/cry about this lol I love each & every one of y’all - and to you, if you decide to take a peek and read, thank you so much ♡

The forest stretches out far, daunting.

Twilight glimmers on the last of her heels and you hope to return home soon. You can almost hear your father’s anger at your stubbornness for not staying at the inn for another night and for simply being on this journey in the first place. You should’ve saved up for a carriage ride home.

Now, alone in the woods, you fear the tree branches will soon reach down to claw you into their canopy cluster above.

Deeper and further you walk through the forest path. You haven’t prayed much recently. But you faintly remember words urging you to not fear the terror of night, nor the danger that prowls in the darkness, and you’re gently eased. You also think of the early spring blooms scattered among the town waiting for you.

Then a branch cracks behind you, the sound of someone stepping on it, and you stop.

The trek has been silent, eerily so. Not even bird chirps or the wind’s breeze has filled your space. Yet it now sounds like something approaches.

You whip around.

No one stands behind you. Only the dirt and dust linger in the air.

The woods must be clouding you with unnecessary dread. You’ve walked these roads alone before and you will walk them again even though the forest seems darker now.

Determined, and slightly frightened, you spin on your heels to quickly return on your journey.

“There you are, turtle dove.”

The voice startles you so suddenly you almost collapse. Strangely accented, the thick drawl flows heavy with a twang of someone from the wild southern territories.

Your heart beats fast like a petrified rabbit and your eyes snap towards the source of the voice.

Leaning against a large tree is the most exquisite man you ever believe to be crafted.

Dressed in a striking coat, a beautifully sharp nose and dark facial hair, he’s ethereal. You also spot the most interesting tuff of white blonde hair against his dark chestnut locks. What’s startling are his magnetic inky eyes staring at you.

“I don’t know you, good sir.” You politely reply.

The man smiles like a fox creeping around a chicken coop.

“Ezra is my given name, turtle dove. Now we’re no longer strangers.”

His name - Ezra.

Like his name suggests you wonder if maybe he’s here to provide aid, your personal blessing.

Yet his words flutter out duplicitous and heavy like something dangerous chains around them down.

“Then good day to you, sir.” You nod, a polite reply, and decide to withhold your name.

“May I accompany you on your journey?” He suggests surprisingly gentle, his words olive branch-like offers.

You ask him where he is even headed, and for what brings a well speaking, slightly suspicious, man as himself into these woods.

“The same as you, sweet bird,” Ezra replies simply. “We all have our journeys to be upon. Mine just happens to coincide with yours. A rather fortuitous blessing if I do say so myself.”

Your eyes narrow. Something scratches at the back of your mind urging you to keep walking and pay no heed to this man.

But then the wind picks up.

From a soft breeze it quickly transforms into the strangest howl, like a warning of the dangers lurking all around. In a slight panic your eyes survey your surroundings. This man might be a stranger, but having company might not be such a bad choice.

“Come now.” Ezra comments reassuring and steady even among the howling winds. “These woods are wild and deep, ain’t no place for a treasure such as yourself.”

He is handsome, the most stunning man you may ever see. And the glimmer in his eyes seems to beckon you.

After you quietly nod, your journey expands by one.

With a gracious bow of his head, the man from the shadows falls into step beside you.

The wind suddenly, but thankfully, settles. However, tension prickles against your skin and a strange warmth blooms from the center of your chest.

“So, what’s a lovely angel like yourself doing here, a babe in the woods?” Ezra begins.

Your fingers tighten against your cloak while the truth stays sealed tight.

The man chuckles.

“Don’t go shy on me now, sweet dove,” he teases.

You huff annoyed. However, seeing as how you will be traveling with him until you return home, you decide to engage with him.

Your dearest friend moved to the next town when you both became fully grown. She fell in love with a married man in a loveless marriage to a cruel woman. Because of that your friend was condemned to banishment. Now, she’s with child. Some even whisper the child was maybe even convinced due to witchcraft.

However, with the recent passing of your town’s relentless head clergyman, you hope this will help improve the situation.

Ezra listens patiently, letting you quietly explain everything.

“And so you traveled to visit your dear friend like a kind emissary.” He notes. “Your town must be in an uproar over you visiting her.”

“They are.” You answer stiffly.

Your father absolutely detests it. Even the governor’s son, who has shown interest in courting you, has made it known that your lenient position doesn’t help towards a marriage possibility. But you won't falter in your loyalty. Especially after your faith has been so shaken from seeing the harsh treatment given to your friend.

“A fair decision.” Ezra agrees. “All those upset are fools anyway. Seems they forgot the good book even mentions how cherished a gift it is to forgive others just as the lord forgives us.”

He quotes scripture so passively it surprises you. He doesn’t seem like a spiritual type. If anything, Ezra seems like a man who slinks around the shadows late at night among the thieves and brothels hidden at the edge of town.

“You’re right,” you agree with him. “Who are we to judge others on simple matters of passion compared to our lord, especially to condemn it?”

“Lust is considered a grave sin though, dear birdie, so I understand why.” He quietly answers while his words scurry over your skin. “After all, look at the predicament it entangled your dear friend in.”

“And don’t passions of the flesh wage war against the solemnity of the soul?” Ezra politely answers lightly referring to scripture and you wonder if he is a man devoted to the good book.

So you reserve your words again.

“Please… do not silence your song, biride.” Ezra coos.

“Now, tell me your thoughts,” he whispers low.

As you swallow hard, your skin feels tight against your bones. But you decide to speak freely, as dangerous as it may be.

“It’s true that my friend committed a terrible sin.” You begin with a shaky sigh. “I understand her punishment. But for others to be so cruel when faith says to forgive and embrace salvation feels hypocritical.”

“True indeed. And as you said, all this for the sake of condemning passion? There are worse commandments to shatter under heaven’s watchful eye.” Ezra drawls out.

“Exactly.” You agree with a firm nod more at ease with your new companion.

“Besides… isn’t the act of creation an offspring of passion?” He challenges and the thought stuns you.

The stranger is correct and his perception moves you.

You’ve never engaged in such discussions like this with anyone before, especially not with a man. You noticed he speaks to you like an equal, never diminishing your ideals or fully trampling on your opinions.

Something greedy urges you to slow down your step and spend as much time with your new companion.

“So, is there a husband of yours waitin’ at home to meet you with passions, dear dove?” Ezra asks with the curl of intrigue in his voice and you almost choke on a gasp.

“A rather forward question to ask a stranger.” You snap back sharply and glare at him.

Ezra keeps his abyss eyes drawn forward and doesn't seem bothering at your reply or the discussion matter he brought up.

“Thought we established we’re no longer strangers?” Your stranger mutters back.

“We’ve discussed religion, the ways of the hearts and their passions. Only good friends touch on such topics, yes?”

He’s unbearably confident, and he knows it. You want to storm off, maybe even demand him to leave. But you can’t do it. You almost can’t endure the thought of him leaving now.

So you reply stiffly. “No. I have no husband at home.”

“Truly?” He now squawks confused.

“Ain’t that a damn shame.” He purrs. “A creature lovely as yourself deserves to be worshiped every minute you’re here among this green earth.”

Your heart thumps erratic against its cage.

“Are you mocking me, good man Ezra, for not being married?” You deflect with a shaky voice.

“Never, turtle dove.” He reassures. “I believe the ultimate sin is to be denied any shade of passion.”

“Especially for a beauty marvelous as yourself.” He exhales and his voice dances devilishly.

An uneasiness settles into your legs, like your body could give out at any moment.

“What you say is blasphemy,” you manage to reply, however your voice wavers. “A heathen's words.”

“I could’ve recounted the same about you moments ago when you spoke your thoughts.” He mutters back.

Your heart drops. He’s correct. This man has your thoughts tied up in so many knots and you cannot find a path within yourself.

“No need to worry.” Ezra says. “Treading into heathen’s territory is never frightful when you have a companion.”

You don’t know how you feel about this conversation or where it seems to be heading towards. Your gaze turns to Ezra. He continues staring ahead composed.

He’s a strange unorthodox man, an anomaly, someone you never believed existed.

“Now tell me… have you tasted desire, my sweet turtle dove?”

His eyes now move to you, catching you staring red handed. Like an exposed thief, your gaze flies away from him.

His question, as if composed of thorns, constricts around your throat refusing to let you answer.

You’ve tasted it on the tips of your tongue. One of your old childhood friends became a courtesan at a brothel. During her nights off, you’d sneak out to visit her. She recounted with giggles about the various sexual escapades she’s experienced. It made your mouth water wishing for the embrace of a lover, to understand what it meant to be truly desired.

You’ve been tempted to fall into bed with the blacksmith’s brother but once you discovered his cruel treatment of the women in town you were soured by the thought. So during the late nights alone your fingers slipped under the quilts and you would find a sticky taste of passion.

Getting caught up in your thoughts keeps you quiet.

“When I was a younger man and lived in France.” Ezra begins with a sudden gentle musing, the voice of a storyteller almost. “Even when I migrated here to the southern territories, I learned of an interesting turn of phrase.”

“La petite mort.” The words flow from him beautifully, rolled with such finessed precision. Hearing him speak sparks a jolt up your spine.

“I’m not quite sure you know of it, but do you know what it means?”

Your eyes that had glazed over are now back on Ezra. His devastatingly beautiful face remains serene.

“The literal translation is ‘a little death.’” Ezra continues. “But what it speaks of is the little moment of feeling as if you’re dying when experiencing true orgasmic release, something that makes us see god.”

His words, hanging with a thinly concealed desire, rip through you and a slickness slowly pools between your legs.

Now his eyes flicker to you.

“A pleasure so rapturous we taste a little death.” He mutters looking so intently at you that you want to scurry and hide away.

But you can’t. You’re drawn into his gaze, a poor moth entrapped by his erratic flame, and you’re not quite sure if this fire is hellfire.

Rationale within you screams this man could be a robber or could be leading you into his sticky web to simply harm you. Yet it seems like he could vanish into smoke.

You also notice you and Eza have both stopped walking. Now staring into his eyes, you discover storms in them.

Until an oncoming storm arrives all around. The wind erupts into howls. It whips around fast and you tug your cloak closer trying to stay warm against the gales.

Your face even scrunches up at the drastic change in the weather.

A firm hand moves to your back pulling you closer until you rest within the shade of a firm body. Ezra has drawn you into his side, lifting his cloak to cover you, and your eyes become full moons.

“To keep you sheltered from this weather. Though, we may need to hunt for some sanctuary soon.” He mutters.

He smells of pine, like the forest itself gave him to you. However you also catch the smallest hint of something smoky, like he slept too close to a campfire.

But, his words confuse you.

“Terrible weather? It’s simply just bad wind.” You yell against the wind and glance around the forest.

That’s when you notice how terrifyingly dark it’s gotten. The tree branches now stretch above like monstrous limbs crawling along the darkness.

How long have you been out along the trail? You haven’t even reached the halfway point to town. The woods now loom incredibly dark like a chasm ready to swallow you whole.

Then the drum of thunder comes, and the skies open up, as if on command by Ezra’s prophetic words. The rain unleashes a downpour. You squawk like a petrified bird at how soaked you’re getting even being covered by his coat.

“Come!” He cries over the storm keeping you close. “I believe there is shelter close by.”

So through the darkness you go, led by him off the path and deeper into the thicket.

How did he know a shelter was nearby? Shouldn’t he have come here earlier and left you on your journey? Or did he maybe sense the storm was coming and wanted to keep accompanying you.

The rush of the rain along with how quickly Ezra moves you and him feels as if you’re flying through the forest like your feet never once touch the ground.

Your body stops and out from the darkness, among the rain, stands the faint shape of a building.

Ezra guides you inside and you exhale relieved you’re out of the storm.

The stale smell of dust greets you first and makes your nose crinkle.

Looking out to your new makeshift shelter, you find yourself standing in a very abandoned church. Dried dead leaves scatter the floor. Vacant pews hold a hollow ghostly emptiness. You didn’t even know this chapel was here.

“How did you know of this place-” you turn to ask Ezra but discover you’re alone.

So focused on soaking in the church you didn’t even notice his departure.

“Ezra?” You call for him and silence replies.

Where could he have gone?

“Worry not.” Ezra’s voice floats out an echo. From the side of the sacristy, beside the main congregation hall, he emerges.

How did he get there without you noticing?

In his grasp is a lit candle. The flames create interesting shadows upon his handsome face as his molten eyes stare at you.

“Apologizes,” he reassured you with the ease of a saint. “Went to scavenge for some light.”

“Seems you were unsuccessful.” You dryly tease, walking towards where Ezra stands at the front of the congregation.

A slight tug of amusement comes over his heavenly face.

“We shall make camp here until the storm quells.”

No better place to find sanctuary than in a chapel, even though this one has seen better days.

Outside the wind continues rattling the windows while the rain creates a soothing melody. Yet, there is an emptiness here, like you can’t sense any sacred spirit within these walls. You wonder if the Lord maybe has even abandoned this space.

“Come rest with me, turtle dove.” Ezra beckons to you as he sits casually on the floor up besides the altar.

“You can’t sit there!” You whisper urgent.

“Why? Who is here to stop me?” Ezra counters with raised eyebrows and amused crinkled eyes.

“This is sacred ground! You can’t simply sit in the sanctuary like it’s some sort of encampment!” You argue.

“Biride,” Ezra begins. “This momentary shelter is merely a building. The same way all buildings are just simple creations of stone and labor.”

“Not buildings like this, especially when our lord resides here.” You reply like a dutifully faithful follower.

Ezra now sits up from his lax position to glance around. His eyes survey every inch of the space.

“You say our Heavenly Father is here. But tell me, turtle dove, do you sense his presence here?”

He noticed it too.

Your tongue becomes metal, heavy and bitter.

“Come,” he urges again, kinder now. “Rest. Your legs need their strength for the rest of your journey. It will be much more comfortable than those stuffy pews.”

You narrow your eyes at him, still hesitant. Defiant, you try sitting in one of the vacant pews only to find clusters of spider webs creating a slightly unnerving barrier. And you didn’t want to check every pew for availability. You were too tired.

Refusing to meet Ezra’s eyes you step past the pews, into the sanctuary, and delicately sit a small space away from your companion.

“See? Not so hard, and you didn’t even combust into flames sitting here.”

You glare at him while Ezra grins triumphant. Silence settles. But with a man who readily embraces the gift and curse of gab, it feels dangerous.

A small gurgle of a noise rumbles out and your face heats up horrified. You didn’t realize you hadn’t eaten this entire journey.

“A bit peckish, dear dove?” Ezra chuckles a smokey thing.

You’re about to grumble under your breath annoyed until he again peers around the abandoned church.

“Rather unfortunate there doesn’t seem to be any source of subsidence here.”

You quietly reassure him as you shift your cloak to reach for your covered satchel. Thankfully, your morsel of a wrapped loaf was spared from the rain.

“I have this for us to share.” You quietly announce.

Ezra gasps small but surprised.

“Divine goddess, you are salvation.” He breathes out.

“I am no goddess. No one person is divine in such a way.” You correct him.

The man hums. “If the maker created man in his image does that not mean we are shades of god in our own ways?”

Midway unfolding the bread out of the paper, you halt.

You never thought of it that way. It made sense. Slowly, it feels as if a wagon wheel is turning in your head leading you towards something you cannot reach.

“Sweet turtle dove,” Ezra calls to you. “Would you be so gracious and let me consecrate our feast?”

You’re stunned by the heartfelt request. This man seems to be a never ending labyrinth confusing you with no end in sight.

You slide closer to sit fully beside him. Readily you hand him the wrapped bread and try not to jump at his hand brushing yours. His skin is soft, warmed, and your knuckles tingle from the simple exchange.

“Thank you kindly.”

Now holding the bread in one hand, Ezra moves the other to lightly hover above the morsel. Closing his eyes in prayer, Ezra begins.

However, he mutters low and so fast that you can’t even catch a word of his prayer. You wonder if he even is saying anything or is simply mocking the form of prayer.

You’re about to chide him until he quickly finishes. Dreamily opening his eyes Ezra then simply breaks the bread into two.

“To break communion with someone lovely as you is an honor.” With a gracious grin, your stranger hands you a piece. You thank him with a soft mutter.

The storm continues its wrath and you arrive at a bleak conclusion. Your night will be spent here in this eerie abandoned church with this strange mysterious handsome man.

Resigning yourself to that, you sigh and take a bite out of the bread.

The bread was a simple one you got from the neighboring town’s bakery. It’s nothing special. You’ve even thought it rather stale at times.

However, the bread you taste now is indescribable.

It melts in your mouth, wonderfully soft and warm. There’s even the sweetest taste like a whisper of a fruit that reminds you of apples. An uncontrollable moan of satisfaction escapes you.

But your eyes widen realizing how you just acted.

Embarrassment floods you fast and you anxiously gaze at Ezra who smirks at you.

Unable to stare at him long, you turn back down to your lap. The bread looks exactly the same as it always does.

Is your mind so exhausted it believes this stale morsel now tastes this heavenly?

You must be imagining things.

Besides you, Ezra shuffles. Out of curiosity your eyes lift towards him and find the man shrugging off his coat.

He even removes his waistcoat to reveal his simple white slipover. Rain still lingers on his skin allowing the pristine white cloth to stick to him. Without the coat you’re given clear sight of his glorious neck.

A thought flutters into your mind.

You imagine sinking your teeth into his beautiful flesh and lapping up all the rain droplets.

Dread fills you.

How could you think such thoughts?

“Turtle dove,” Ezra’s voice shatters the silence almost making you jump.

“If you could create a world of your own, what would it look like?”

The question stumps you, even brings in a twinkle of curiosity. What would bring on such a question? You suppose it must be a way to break the silence and pass the time.

In thought, you hum a small noise.

“I think…” you quietly utter and let your thoughts flow.

You think of a world built on compassion, one without hunger or war, of one filled with peace and justice.

“And without sin, I suppose.” Ezra gently comments and your eyes turn to him.

He stares towards the ground with a peculiar look shadowed over his handsome face.

“Yes of course.” You answer. Sin is the root of all evil and corrupted humanity’s souls.

“What if I told you some sins are not all evil? And that what you long for, dear turtle dove, is not a world void is sin, but one free of guilt from it.”

Your face scrunches up a bit confused over his nebulous words.

“Should we not all live in indulgence?” Ezra adds, clarified in his words.

“Indulgence leads to corruption.” You reply parroting all the countless sermons that discussed this.

“If our creator didn’t want us to indulge, then why did he indulge in creating such a world so lush as this one?” Your stranger offers.

You try gathering a reply, thinking of all the lessons about how this world is meant to be seen in awe and appreciated. Not to indulge in. But now all your arguments seem to fall short, not even sound correct in your head.

Before you can press the discussion further Ezra leans closer towards you. Your thoughts and body become completely petrified.

You should lean away, lean back from his casual intimate movements.

But you can’t. Or, within the deep terror of your heart you know the truth. You don’t want to.

His thumb moves towards the corner of your mouth and you transform completely into stone.

Ezra’s ink eyes haze over while his thumb gently swipes against your skin.

“Crumbs.” He mutters, answering for his actions. Yet, his hand doesn’t leave.

You don’t shove him away or demand him to go. The downpour rattling the windows becomes the church’s only noise while you and this man sit in the stillness.

Ezra’s attention falls to your mouth.

His thumb now strokes the corner of your lips. You believe it’s to wipe more bread crumbs away. Then his thumb swipes across your bottom lip and a sharp inhale escapes you.

His eyes and yours find each other.

“You deserve to live in indulgence,” Ezra whispers deviously rich.

Your skin feels ablazed and your throat dries. Out of instinct or perhaps something darker you wet your lips. In that movement your lips press against his thumb and your tongue manages to swipe at his skin.

You’re rewarded the faintest taste of him, a crumb of his salty golden skin, and it’s like a thread slowly catches fire.

You want more, need it.

Possibly possessed now, your mouth opens up and simply slips more of his thumb into your mouth.

The moment the salty taste of him hits your tongue your eyes close.

Feeling his finger in your mouth against your tongue, against your teeth, is divine. His flesh must be coated with ambrosia because your mouth waters aching for more.

Heaven, or this must be a slice of it.

Until horror strikes you and you realize what you’re doing. Terrified eyes now open, you’re about to pull away and yelp horrified.

Ezra’s hand rapidly moves to cradle your face firm and slide his thumb deeper into your mouth.

“Oh my sweet bird,” he coos now closer to you. “You’ve tasted the pleasure I can give, the magic I can conjure. Don’t deny yourself this.”

His beautiful nose presses into the side of your face nuzzling against your skin and your eyes close. Bliss overtakes you.

“Now” his voice drops a dangerous lulling whisper. “Hollow your cheeks for me, and suck in.”

You do as told and the groan Ezra lets out vibrates deep past your skin. You even let out a whine.

You’ve heard the noises men make in the waves of passion, but this was decadent. You never knew a man could sound this beautiful.

You wanted to hear him even more. And knowing you did this to him? A syrupy drunken pride courses through you intoxicating.

You suck harder, allowing your tongue to caress his skin and Ezra exhales heavenly.

Before you can indulge any further, a creature screeches into the church and shatters the sensual spell. You shriek in terror and scramble. Wings furiously flapping come and out of reflex you cover your head.

Then a solid body collides into you and your world falls over.

You hit the floor of the sanctuary with a soft thud. It would’ve been a harder fall if not for Ezra’s hand cradling your head to soften the impact. Your eyes look up to find Ezra covering you, protecting you from whatever flew in.

Your heart thumps loud in your ears, a horrible drum drowning out your thoughts. His broad shoulders, firm frame, he really is a man crafted out of pure beauty and desire now that you’ve tasted his skin.

“Blasted bats… must’ve been nesting in here.” Ezra comments with a mutter while his eyes stay watching out.

Now you faintly hear the familiar chirps of the creatures. You hope they all leave soon or move to another area within the church.

Slowly the rustling settles. Ezra does not move from his post above you, a shield keeping you safe from the interrupting creatures.

His large hand cradling your head holds you gently but with a firmness that speaks of his control.

The strangest clash of sensations arrives. Like Eve awoken out of her blissful sin, you’re keenly aware of the cold clothes sticking to you. Particularly your wet cloak weighing on you sends a chill crawling up your skin making you squirm.

Ezra’s eyes slip back to you. The candlelight highlights the shadows of his face and his eyes seem deeper than before. Candlelight doesn’t even reflect in their abyss.

Until his obsidian eyes go wide in a slight panic.

“Your wing, turtle dove.”

Now confused you shift to lift your arm up. A small cut has ripped through your cloak and blouse sleeve. You didn’t even notice or feel it. Must have cut yourself on the old wooden floor below.

The church didn’t seem this dilapidated to have rotten wood floors. However, without upkeep, it only makes sense everything begins to splinter and decay. Thankfully the cut isn’t deep but dark crimson does stain the cloth.

“Oh,” you even mutter a bit stunned.

Gently Ezra shifts to help you up while being cautious of your wound.

“Are you in pain?” He asks, concerned.

“No.” You shake your head, truthfully telling him you didn’t even notice the cut.

Ezra delicately moves towards your arm. “May I?”

You nod quietly.

Gingerly, your mysterious stranger places his hands on you to further inspect your wound.

“It doesn’t hurt.” You reassure him.

Surprisingly, Ezra stays silent. His eyes remain on your arm. As if you’re an injured sparrow, he folds up your blouse sleeve delicately.

The faintest touch of his thumb strokes your bare skin and your throat constricts tight. This unknown mystery of a man tenderly touching you clutches at your soul.

“My creator, so heavenly in his wisdom,” he suddenly speaks low, like his voice is dipped in sticky honey. “Taught me this is how we heal wounds.”

Then Ezra draws your arm up and he leans down. And in that swift moment, he presses his lips to your wound.

A tender kiss.

Your breath hitches, tripping over itself. You indeed had his finger in your mouth moments ago. But this opens a chasm in you. Especially as you watch him lick away your blood at his lips

Then his lips return to your skin, on your wound, and it feels like devotion.

There were saints that kissed the wounds of your lord and now how angelic, reverent, Ezra’s face looks, you imagine him as one.

However, his lips start kissing all across your arm, quickly becoming greedy. Like a silent thief, he continues kissing up your arm with deliberate nips.

If he is a robber, this thievery is divine. You even squirm, squeezing your legs together because a slick wetness leaks between them. You wish to quell this burning urge to be touched.

Your mind only focuses on Ezra’s lips that you don’t even notice he unclasped your cloak until the heavy cold weight drops off you like shackles unchained.

However, an awful breeze across your skin makes you shrink back from the cold and snaps you into awareness.

You can’t do this with a man like this, a stranger.

A fanged piece of yourself urges you to simply give in, especially with a man not known in town. The internal struggle vanishes when Ezra’s breath tickles against your exposed neck.

“Do you wish me to stop, my turtle dove?” He coo’s. “I believe you deserve to taste this indulgence.”

“I don’t know you.” You croak out. Yet your voice doesn’t even sound convinced of your own resolve.

“Oh but you do.” Ezra pleads, his voice drenched in gilded desire.

“You know me.” He urges. “This is what you wanted. Your heart summoned me. I heard your call and here I am.”

“What do you mean?” Your voice cracks, an unsteady foundation.

“The hidden truths in your heart,” Ezra whispers and his breath dances upon your skin a ghost’s hymnal.

“The festering jealousy of knowing your dear friend found adoration, even out of sin…you wished to know of such delights. And your anger of this world for damning you to such solitudes, of being so constricting - it all called to me.”

Fear captures your heart. This couldn’t be true.

“Oh but it is,” Ezra answers you.

You don’t even know if you spoke those words aloud or if this man has now slithered into your thoughts.

“All those nights you longed for a lover,” he mourns sympathetically. “All alone with just your fingers in your sweet sex.”

You choke on air, gasping for some sort of relief from this terror drowning you.

“Oh and I’ve watched you for so long, my bird.” He bemoans. “Ached for so long to claim you mine.”

“You…you’ve seen me before?” You stammer.

“Indeed I have. I know you’ve partaken in sin. And the guilt you hold consumes you. Let me be your redemption,” Ezra continues with a pure temptation crawling from his voice.

You should be concerned at how this man has seen you before. Yet…With his mouth simply a breath’s pace away from you nothing seems to matter. Because your mind only wants him to kiss you, ravish you.

“You must say it, my angel.” He mutters.

Do you dare jump off the ledge and plunge into this molten fire?

A light terror runs across your skin, like hearing the hiss of a snake yet not seeing it. Something is afoot with Ezra. You can’t pinpoint it…

But you also wonder if this doubt is born from the chains of your faith holding you back?

“Ezra.” You mumble his name, a choked noise.

“I await your command.” The man reverently responds as if in a mass himself.

“Please….” You whimper out.

“Please what?” He murmurs and his twang clouds his voice even more.

“Please….touch me.” You croak while your voice trails.

It unleashes a monster.

Ezra’s lips dive onto your neck, kissing upon your skin with a possessed fervor. Even while sitting, the sudden rush of his lips, the scrape of his facial hair against you makes your body collapse.

It only allows for Ezra to sweep you into his arms.

Yanking his face away from your neck, you’re about to mourn the loss of him against your skin until his lips swoop in to consume yours.

You’ve kissed others before. In the hidden shadow of buildings after dark, you’ve even recently shared a kiss or two with the blacksmith’s brother a handful of times. They’ve been wonderful but secret encounters.

This however sets your soul on fire.

His tongue swiftly maneuvers into your mouth and now tasting him from the source, you never want to know a day without this, without him.

You moan, yanking at him closer, and try to slide your own tongue against his now. It’s messy, wet, a clash of bone and spirit but it’s delicious.

Sliding his arms under your legs, Ezra lifts you up with ease as he stands. You squeak against his lips, but then your eyes roll back when the man suddenly begins sucking on your tongue.

Your body feels like it will crumble at any moment.

That’s when you notice you’re being laid upon something cold and flat.

Wearily you find you do rest high upon something.

And now, the church is lit.

You panic looking around. The torches lining the walls burn with warm flames and illuminate the space in amber light.

How? Ezra did not leave you for one moment. Was there another here? And if so, how did you not hear them?

A warm calloused hand moves to cradle your face and your eyes snap to Ezra who peers down at you with smoke filled eyes.

“Don’t fret, my dove. We are only here.” He reassures, leaning down to kiss you again and your eyes shut once more.

“And if you’re not simply focused on me, then I’m not doing this correctly.” He mutters against your lips.

A wanton drunkenness comes with how consuming he kisses, especially as his mouth pulls from your lips to lick against your jaw.

He hums a satisfied groan.

“Oh my darling turtle dove, you were born to be worshiped by me weren’t you? And I blessed to simply be your devout disciple.” A revered holiness oozes thick from his voice.

“Let me venerate at your holy temple.” Ezra exhales against your throat kissing your feverish skin.

This is more than you can handle. It’s tremendous. It’s too much, yet not enough. It’s building something just out of your grasp, a flame that can’t be extinguished and scorches so fierce.

Blinking out of the haze, you find instead of being beside you, Ezra, like magic, now stands by your feet.

His hands slide up your legs and yank you closer towards him.

A yelp of surprise squeaks out from you. Any other noise or thoughts get swallowed up when Ezra’s hands snake under your skirt and up your legs.

Your eyes close under the sensation of his calloused warm hands.

“Do you know what true sacrifice cleanses sins?” Ezra asks with gravel in his voice.

“Hm?” You mumble, unable to create a response with how wonderful his fingers feel caressing your thighs.

“It’s to offer up one’s life. That’s the ultimate form of sacrifice.”

His words terrify you. Is he insinuating what you think he is? Are you to be made a lamb to slaughter because of the desire consuming you?

“Shh…” Ezra notices your worry and soothes you, rubbing gentle circles on your skin.

“Fear not, my dove. For I shall bring you redemption just as you’ve brought me mine.”

Slowly, he hoists your leg up and your eyes widen. He shifts to stand between your legs. Keeping his gaze on you, the mysterious man kisses your calf, a calming balm that also ignites a heat brewing in you again.

“Tell me,” Ezra asks, speaking into your skin. “Has anyone tasted you…here?”

Suddenly his fingers graze against your sex and warmth floods your face at just the thought.

You heard of such a thing from your friend at the brothels. However it was a rare occurrence, almost seemed mythical.

“No.” You breathe out.

“Shame.” Ezra mumbles. “All for me I suppose. A wonderfully ripe peach, all mine to consume.”

His inky dazed eyes flicker to yours.

“Will you let me take you to heaven, my lovely? May I swim in your ocean and taste your pearl?” Ezra offers like a man asking for your atonement.

The terminology is not missed on you and lust crashes in a dizzying tidal wave.

Quietly, swallowing thick, you nod yes.

Pride grin tugs at Ezra’s lips and his eyes twinkle like a creature lurking out from the woods.

Softly closing his eyes, he returns to kissing your skin. Except this time he moves up your leg with a purpose -

Like he’s on a holy pilgrimage.

Almost bewitched you watch him kneel down and push up your skirt to reveal your under garment. It’s a sight you want seared into your memory.

Then Ezra presses forward and kisses your covered sex. A gasp rips wild from you and your eyes roll back.

With a fast rip, Ezra takes apart your undergarments. Bare to him, his tongue then licks against your cunt and the most debauched sound you never knew you could even make escapes you.

“Do you enjoy? Wish me to continue?” You don’t know how Ezra’s voice swirls around you, a caress in the whispering wind, but you nod frantically.

“Ezra please… more.” You whimper.

And he does as you command.

Ezra pulls you apart with a wet devotion and frenzy that feels like you’re being devoured. He’s feasting on you.

You whine, even slap a hand over your mouth to silence how loud you’ve become when he sucks hard on the pearl of your sex.

“No.” He mumbles wet within your molten heat. “Let me hear you, my lovely.”

You don’t deny him after that.

The storm now rages outside, violently ramming into the windows. It mixes with the cries of your pleasure ripping through you.

When your climax arrives and knocks you out of this realm, you scream Ezra’s name while your legs shake.

“Beauty divine,” Ezra sighs, devout and borderline drunk.

Breathing down from your high with your back fully now flat against the floor surface, it hits you.

You’ve been lying on the chapel’s altar this entire time.

The offering is you. You indeed are the sacrifice, one of vitality. The throne of ecstasy is a form of life…

And did Ezra not tell you passion is also a tiny death itself as well?

Before you can gather this, Ezra dives back into you again and you squirm unbelieving this man can want more. He’s a man possessed like he’s trying to consume you from the inside out, devouring you until he reaches your marrow.

“Ezra.” You whimper. It borders too much, but you also don’t want this to stop.

“Let me feast, my dove.” He growls back and you catch it.

Ezra’s voice sounds distorted, fluttering between his twang and now a jagged danger sounding monstrous.

Wearily, trying to stay aware among the heat of building rapture, you exhaustedly lean up.

Between your legs Ezra is a sinful sight. His broad shoulders keep your thighs open as his tongue dips into the caverns of your cunt. You melt, unable to keep your eyes open.

But you want to watch him, want to remember this for as long as you can.

Especially now that the storm rages all around. You even wonder if the decaying church’s roof might be ripped off.

So your eyes open.

From between your legs, Ezra glances up.

His mouth stays stuck to your sex, except his eyes are completely hollowed out.

Drenched in darkness, like ink spilled entirely into them, they’re unholy and inhuman.

A scream rips from you but you can’t tell if it’s born of fear or pleasure. Or maybe both have blended together.

Your hips rise galvanized more and more, unable to stop their grind into his lips. Ezra’s grip keeps you secured and grounded.

Yet the sensation of sharpened nails now scrape against your skin.

You discover there are indeed claws, gruesome and monstrous claws, that form Ezra’s hands and arms.

“What- what are you?!” You sob.

Ezra hums and peers up at you.

“Salvation, my lovely. Yours and mine.”

A second orgasmic high hits and from the overwhelming pleasure your vision goes white. You wonder if this is heaven.

Or perhaps it’s hell.

Maybe you have died.

You should scream in terror or pray for absolution. But it’s so hard when this tastes so incredibly intoxicating, a most potent elixir.

As your body crumbles back against the altar, the overstimulated sensations become numbing, fogging your mind. Your eyes flicker up to the ceiling of the chapel.

You cannot find your god anywhere in the shadows.

The back of Ezra’s clawed hand gently strokes your cheek.

So tired, barely able to stay awake, your exhausted gaze flickers to him.

Those eyes of his, dark chasms of hell, should be soulless. But instead he looks at you with utmost tenderness.

The blazing lights of the church cast a warm glow outlined around Ezra, almost like a halo.

It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful in the terrifying way a fire is.

The mystery known as Ezra suddenly whispers out your name and you realize…

You never once gave it to him this entire time.

He is the last sight you see before your vision finally falls into the darkness.

When you awake, you’re among your quilts and bed.

You’re home.

Rapidly you look around so confused. How did you end up here? Was it all a dream?

“You’re awake!” Your father cries relieved and rushes to your side.

He thankfully answers all your questions.

You had arrived the morning after the storm. However, you hadn’t been alone.

“You had fallen ill on the road.” Your father explains. “But, thanks be to God, the new pastor sent to our town discovered you and carried you home.”

Now you’ve been resting ever since.

Had that experience been a fever dream, a temporary temptation conjured from your heart’s dark desires?

That had to be a dream, one brought on by your sudden sickness. So you rest and stay in bed for most of the day. From your window you admire the beautiful clear skies, the wonderful weather, and wildflowers growing so lovely.

You also notice your arm is completely healed, like you were never cut to begin with.

Midafternoon, a knock arrives at the door.

Your father calls your name. “Someone here to visit!”

Your mind sorts through all the possibilities of who is here to see you. You never expected your dearest friend to enter in with tears in her eyes. Overjoyed emotion washes over you as she rushes to embrace you.

“How can this be?” You hiccup, wiping away the tears. She was rarely allowed back home, especially now with her early pregnancy.

“The new pastor,” she smiles wide. “So holy and forgiving, he spoke to the judges and they are all redetermining a new sentence for me.”

You almost whisper out a prayer of thanksgiving. You hoped in your heart this would happen. She doesn’t stay long, wanting you to rest and you urge her to do the same.

By twilight another knock at the door arrives.

“Seems we are quite popular today.” Your father teases out from the main quarters.

Then he exclaims in excitement at seeing who’s arrived.

“Oh we are so blessed to have such a considerate clergyman coming by to visit!”

The new pastor. You’re beyond interested to meet this man and now you will.

When your father enters your room, Ezra waltzes in behind him.

Fear seizes your soul.

No. It couldn’t be.

This must be a man that looks like him down to his beautiful sharp nose and white patch of hair.

“Pleasure to see you again and under better circumstances.” Ezra’s clear twang rings out low and twinkling within your room.

Your heart rages rapidly and wild.

“Don’t look so terrified.” Your father chides soft but you still can’t believe this sight before you.

“Might I have a moment of solitude with your dear offspring?” Ezra asks with all the humility of an apostle.

Your father readily agrees, shutting the door behind him.

Now in the confines of your room Ezra slowly saunters towards your bed, a creature approaching its prey.

He exalts your name on an exhale.

You try to speak, but nothing comes out and Ezra moves to kneel beside your bed. His eyes twinkle with patient and pious understanding.

“Shh…no need for words, my dear turtle dove.” He quietly soothes you.

So many emotions clash in you, a tremulous onslaught you can’t handle.

“Have you come to kill me?” Fear manages to escape your lips and Ezra’s glorious face drops.

“Oh no, my beloved birdie. I’d never lay a hand on you with any violence or killing intent.” He reassures, a tender caress. “I’m here to free you. For us to set everyone free…did you not hear of what I did for your dear friend?”

His hand graciously cradles your cheek.

You should be terrified this man, this creature, is here. But you’re not.

Instead consuming relief and dangerous glee fills you. He is real. It was real.

Your hands clasp onto his and you hate how much you lean into his touch

Ezra leans forward and places a kiss against your forehead.

“What are you?” You ask barely above a whisper.

“The shadow of an angel, perhaps a monster to some.” He replies back. “But yours, nonetheless”

And you want him to be yours.

This is wrong to feel so greedy, to want a creature this dangerous. But were demons not once angels who deserved forgiveness and love?

So shifting your face you turn and place a kiss against Ezra’s palm.

Now when you hear the sermons, when you hear Ezra preach, you will think of Eve with sympathy because you understand.

You too fell for the serpent.

After all, evil never looks so beautiful as it does holding you. And desire never tasted so divine, never felt so holy.

Outside your window, the wildflowers begin to rot and the sudden rumble of a thunderstorm rolls in.

#sorry my ex Catholic school ass jumped out in this one & I need to go bathe in holy water now holy shit #anyway me and demon Ezra love you very much #ezra x reader #demon!ezra #ezra x f!reader #ezra (prospect) fic #ezra (prospect) x reader #ezra 🤎 #pedrostories

[voiddaisy]

Do you think that when Jason Todd was dying, head bashed in as he waiting for the timer to reach zero, he prayed? And not to God — he stopped believing in a god years ago — but praying to Bruce. Praying in the hopes Bruce would hear and save him. Praying and crying out for Bruce to forgive him for making such a mistake. Praying that when he died, Bruce would mourn his death?

And when Jason came back from the dead, hoping his father avenged his death, he found out that Bruce didn’t kill the Joker for killing Jason. And Jason stopped believing in Bruce, too.

#bat family #batman #jason todd #dc comics #this is for my ex catholic!jason todd truthers #religion as a metaphor for parent/child relationships kills me #jason reeks of catholic guilt #catholic jason todd #i saw this quote in a tiktok slideshow for the 1000th time and cried thinking about jason and bruce #i don’t know who this quote is by but they ate that shit up #also i know jason is only a priest in flashpoint #you can pry ex catholic jason todd from my cold dead hands

[amillionkilopascals]

they're pinning my wings to a cork board tomorrow,

and i will stretch them out to be pierced.

i will offer no struggle or complaint,

i will lie there with obedience and docility

and let them make a show of how i chose to let them pin my wings.

look at her, they will point and say to my fellow winged creatures,

look at how she let us pin her wings!

she is so much happier like this.

flying is an abomination. 

and i will hang there,

suspended,

until i slip off of the nails eventually

and the holes heal.

then i will realise,

when my mother is taking me back to them to pin me down again, that 

i do want to fly.

i will no longer let them pin my wings to a cork board.

inspired by x via @papayajuan2019

#religious trauma #growing up #queer #catholic #leaving religion #deconstruction #catholicism #ex catholic #christianity #ex christian #journal #poetry #apostate #apostasy #feminism #misogyny #theology of the body #FUCK tob for real that shit fucked me UP

[apostate-in-an-alcove]

The way white Christians get all huffy when people call Christianity the white man's religion is telling. Be in denial all you want but Christianity has and continues to be a tool for racism and white supremacy.

#white christians sucks #ex christian #deconversion #deconstruction #apostate #the way white christians treat POC who aren't Christian like they're stupid and savage #i see you pricks demonizing practices that come from predominantly non white countries and groups #sorry i think of how catholicism was used to colonize canada and how that legacy still lives on and get mad #white canadian catholics are deeply racist pieces of shit

[oh-surprise-its-me]

Roy/Jamie prompt: Something pisses Roy off to nuclear levels. It's like he's about to go on a full-tilt rampage but Jamie's there, braving the rage as he simply takes Roy into his arms and presses their foreheads together. Roy tries to resist but Jamie is the calm against the chaos. Soon Roy's deflating and clinging to Jamie as the helpless sobs take over.

I like to think he manages his anger better but I think if Phoebe’s dad tried to come back around he’d go nuclear.

Roy was pacing their house again. Jamie is sitting on the counter watching him rant. “And the fuckhead left her. He knew our parents wouldn’t do anything for her and he still left. Christ. How dare he I should kill him.”

Jamie slips off the counter. He catches Roy’s arm on the next pass by. He winds them around his waist. “I know baby I know. But him being dead is just going to take you away.”

Roy feels the tears he keeps so locked down start to slip out. Jamie brings their foreheads together, “your sister is smart. Phoebe doesn’t even want to meet her dad. It will be fine.”

Roy holds onto Jamie. He can’t believe this man. “Anyway we know enough people to make his life continually hell if he sticks around.”

Roy sobs.

He can’t help it. He can picture his parents faces still when his younger sister announced she was pregnant out of wedlock.

No love like catholic hate.

On bad days he blames himself for not being around to help her cope. But he knows she doesn’t blame him for anything.

Jamie pulls him onto the couch. Roy ends up with his head in Jamie’s lap and fingers in his hair. “Thank you, I know I don’t have to say it but I still feel it.”

Jamie twists some hair around his fingers, he shrugs. “It’s easy to be here when I love you.”

Roy is still lightly crying when he eventually falls asleep there in Jamie’s lap. Jamie knows the next few weeks are going to be bad. He just hopes he can help Roy enough that it’s fine.

#ted lasso #jamie tartt #roy kent #jamie x roy #royjamie #jamie tartt x roy kent #roy kent x jamie tartt #fluff #thanks for the ask !! #Phoebe’s dad is a piece of shit in my head #ex catholic Roy Kent

[squeesquoo]

Whoops 😬

#whoops #easter memes #easter #non religious #ex religious #ex religious memes #no hate to religious folks though #meme #memes #shitpost #shit post #shitposting #shit posting #funny #humor #ex lutheran #ex catholic #my parents were both #but not really practicing #actually autistic #autistic adult #autism #autistic things #autistic artist

[gxlden-angels]

Love when fundamentalist christians call other fundamentalist christians a cult like I can accept telling children they'll go to hell if they don't hug the parent that spanked them and smile, but I draw the line at suggesting barcodes contain the mark of the beast

#they built a new hobby lobby in my hometown #so I told my family about how I don't mess with hobby lobby and they were like ??? why??? #so I told them and they were like 😶 #my grandparents are pentecostal apparently #my dad is just vibing tbh #he's even anti-quiverfull #which makes sense he was the oldest of 6 and got Heavily Parentified #he also accepts me as trans #we stan one (1) [Last Name] man in this household #that's a joke for friends of mine that follow me here #n e ways it's so wild talking to my dad and him agreeing the duggars and hobby lobby and all them are in a cult #cause his own dad told me I was too tall and unfeminine to get married #so he saw that shit and shut it down real quick #and even started working on himself and moving away from that mindset #my aunt still complains about my masculinity but I legit don't talk to her if I can avoid it #but she also told me to eat oatmeal to fix my heat-related high blood pressure so #(can't believe she has a medical degree) #my family will call catholics and JWs cults but turn around and say the cultiest shit #it's wild #ex christian #religious trauma #child abuse tw

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

”I don’t want to give Jehovah’s organization a black eye so I have to suffer in silence. Oh the pain! The pain!”

Mhm. Have you ever considered that Jehovah’s organization has given you not one, but two proverbial black eyes, broken ribs, and a concussion over the years; and maybe you should expose them for the abusers they are, if only enough to get yourself help to heal from the abuse you’ve experienced? You’ve got Stockholm syndrome bad, and you’re making it everyone else’s problem. You cared about your abusers so much that you abused me in their name, just because I wanted no part of their organization. Even if I didn’t seek out apostate resources, I wouldn’t have needed them to make my decision to leave because of how much you vented about them to me since I was about five years old. Did you just expect me to stay here and take the abuse like you did? I’m better than that; I’m better than you.

#exjw #ex cult #I woke up and he was venting about it to my mom very loudly so I just went “fuck that” #I could’ve went somewhere in the house to eat but I specifically chose the 20 degrees F screen room so that both of them know #I’d rather freeze than hear one more second of his venting knowing that he is still refusing to get help #Mom wants to watch the convention? Glorious. I’m not leaving my room until he’s done talking. I will not be her deus ex machina #I will not be her excuse to end the conversation so she can watch the convention with me #She can sit there and listen to it; and maybe she’ll grow some reasoning ability and realize #the religion she so piously subscribes herself to is splitting us apart and killing her husband #and maybe she’ll begin to take his triggers seriously and not make passive-aggressive remarks about how she wants to listen #to all the comments and not mute it when an elder who sexually harassed him begins speaking #and maybe my dad will grow some common sense and realize that continuing to go to meetings will ensure he is in a state of trauma #for all eternity #and maybe — just maybe — they will realize that everything they read in my diaries was right #and that they were absolutely positively 100% in the wrong for screaming at me about their contents #and apologize for what they’ve done to each other and to me #But that’s wishful thinking because [first name] “I’m more stubborn than you” [last name] will hold out until it kills him #and my mom is ex-Catholic and convinced the JWs are entirely truthful just because she prefers the possibility of death over hellfire #You can’t make this shit up #I live in a madhouse with crazy people

[morelikebaldursgay]

Going through the BG3 art book and Shadowheart’s armor was apparently inspired by Joan of Arc and she initially had a rosary…what with the whole cloister thing I REALLY wish that the Sharran clergy had been more Catholic and nun flavored. I think it would add some extra fun fucked up-ness to Shadowheart’s religious trauma.

#bg3 #shadowheart hallowleaf #cw christianity #also JOAN OF ARC #Babygirl we can fit so much religious trauma in you #its clear it influenced it from the designs and mother superior shit #But we can lean into it MORE #*banging pots and pans* make good end shadowheart ex-catholic!

[sky-daddy-hates-me]

Not to make light of the disgusting situation the overturning of roe v wade has caused, but I'm finding it fucking hilarious that these 'woke christian' women are insulted that a bunch of old men are deciding what women should do with their body.

These are the same Christians who will attack people who speak out against Christian cults.

The same Christians who will defend Jehovah's witnesses and Mormonism and Catholicism, are now pissed that old men are in control of their bodies.

Where was your anger and rage when we told you that old straight dudes were forcing us to obey them in order to save our souls or live for eternity in paradise ?

Where were your petitions and tiktoks when we told you that old men would rather have a child carry the sperm of their rapist then get an abortion?

What was your response when we told you that old men in charge of millions of people believe you shouldn't have put yourself in a position to become pregnant if you didn't want kids ?

I'll tell you what it was, it was "not all Christians are like that" , "they just want what's best for you" , "you can't argue with the bible", "have you tried this branch of Christianity instead", "I'll send thoughts and prayers your way"

Funny how now that you're living our reality you give a shit

#im pro choice #and i agree that #roe v wade #being overturned is bs #but im pissed at these bitches #im pissed that people only give a shit if it affects them personally #ex jw #ex jehovah's witness #jehovah's witnesses #religious trauma #cult survivor #exjw #ex christian #ex cult #apostate #possible tw #ex mormon #ex catholic #woke christian #im fucking exhausted #im sick of this life #politics #us supreme court #fuck conservatives

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

people online will be like “haha i will make 9/11 jokes because the american reaction to the event had many levels of irrationality” but will not confront the massive amounts of internalised islamophobia that arose from american propaganda justifying the ‘war on terror’ and the iran and iraq wars which was then compounded by a culturally christian society that portrays Islam to be inhumane and oppressive resulting in them now hearing that a muslim group is targeting a fanfic website for ‘degeneracy’ and ‘being usa based’ and then believing it without a second thought

#will y’all confront your shit before you try to laugh about something that had horrendous real world impacts just because you’re only #thinking of how it applied to you #i also think ‘freedom fries’ and the change in country music to rabid nationalism and making kids watch it live on tv was fucking ridiculous #but that’s not the only result from it #anyway moral of the story confront your shit and do some introspection #this is a conversation i had with my friend in middle schools at the back of a very poorly taught history class where the teacher was an ex #catholic who was still basically catholic except he wanted to divorce his first wife and didn’t like that they didn’t want him to so he left #catholicism. however he didn’t understand any other religion and we were the only two people in the class who were not Christian or #culturally Christian. we both learned a lot about each other and our cultures and experiences. we didn’t learn much history tho #both of us did always get 95-100 grades in that class for the three years we had that guy as a hisory teacher #Islamophobia #9/11

[another-white-void]

Sometimes I hope there is a god so I can hate someone for all the shit their followers did to me

#I'm sorry I had to interact with Catholics today #some short ex-christian and anti-god shit there #I promise I'm not against religion I am religious in a way myself #I just... #feel so bitter and hurt now and had to express it somehow #I'm sorry #anyways

[mamamittens]

Coming Home for Christmas (+18)

This is part 2/12 of the 2023 December Event

(finally)

Law X OC(Kirin)

I am so sorry for the delay, @cebwrites! Hope it was well worth the wait!

Warnings: Religious/familial trauma, toxic relationships (past), Catholicism, Ex-Catholic Law, deep misunderstanding of Christmas and Santa, oral sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation, they/them Law, clothed sex, kitchen counter sex, implied but not confirmed marathon sex, and cockwarming.

They really go at it but no one is keeping track or score here, so if you'd rather imagine it was one really satisfying orgasm, feel free to lol.

Word Count: 5,443

This time of year was always a mixed bag for Law. Had been ever since they were young.

Usually, they squirreled themselves away in their lab until the unmistakable Christmas music stopped playing in their ears. Ducking out only to give a terse phone call to Lami, dear sweet Lami who never wanted to rock the boat because she never understood why not everyone fit in the boat to begin with. She had no problem being the good, catholic schoolgirl.

So why did Law have such a problem with it?

Didn’t ‘he’ see how loving their parents were? How they tried so very hard to open their hearts to this lost, confused, wayward soul that was their son?

Even when Law was too young to understand their discomfort, they never felt at home in the church. Aside from the sermons lasting hours long every week, the judgmental look every time they asked questions despite asking for questions, and the condescending choir teachers that harped on about purity of the voice and soul. It just… never felt like the home their parents claimed it to be.

Law didn’t feel relaxed in the house of God. Law didn’t even really feel tolerated unless they folded themselves into a tidy little boy-shaped box to sit quietly with all the other little boys and girls unless spoken to. Which was always a trap because it never seemed like the adults back then actually wanted to hear anything but ‘yes, ma’am, God is ever so good to ungrateful wretches like me’ and ‘no sir, I’d never make God cry by being a heathen sinner, no sir’!

Sometimes… sometimes Law would hear the strong, dignified speech of a preacher playing on the radio or television and get… well, not quite nostalgic. The emotions squirmed unpleasantly in their throat, too sour to be bittersweet but so achingly familiar it almost seemed to be like longing. The closest they felt to peace in those walls. Alone in a congregation of nearly two hundred maybe more.

A heavy gaze weighing down on their shoulders from the eyes of a God that seemed only half of what they’d been told. Or maybe that was just Law wanting that accepting embrace they never got from the arms of their family. Still… they supposed that it made sense their feelings were so convoluted. Such was often the case for places and people that so much time is given to when it felt like there’d never be an end.

That place and time still haunted Law in unexpected ways. In all of it’s beauty and twisted love.

The heat of dim candles. Stained glass casting light across dust particles high over his head. This hushed feeling of reverence and promise of something bigger if they just believed.

Cheated.

Law felt cheated. That’s really what it boiled down to.

Law was promised from a very early age that the church is where, above all else, they could belong and feel safe in. When the world was a raging storm, God’s house was a blessed port from the brutal waves of life. But even little perfect, folded-box boy Law didn’t fit right. Didn’t feel safe and loved.

Unless he was quiet.

Unless he was obedient.

Unless they was everything he was told to be.

Maybe it did come from a place of love. Some deep, prickly, twisted love that would rip everything about Law to shreds until they could fold neatly into the perfect catholic son. But it would kill them.

In every way that mattered.

Their—motherfatherFathersisterGod it didn’t matter—love was never enough to keep Law together if they had stayed. Was never meant to. Not really.

So… Law left.

And they made their own family of the weird and strange and everything their parents would have clutched their pearls at.

Even the love of their life was probably the biggest afront to their beliefs Law could have managed to find short of a straight up atheist. Kirin, in all his sweet but bizarre glory, would likely send Law’s parents to an early grave.

And Law was pretty sure they’d never willingly resurrect their parents—however the hell they managed to bring Kirin back, they could not imagine how insufferable their parents would be after that!

So, when Law first heard the achingly familiar Christmas melodies start playing, he quietly resolved to not let Kirin get involved in the holiday that held a key feature of being all about family.

Nope.

Not happening. Even if Lammy would love anyone that Law loved, she’d insist that he met their parents and that would be a fucking disaster.

They couldn’t imagine a worse way to spend an already difficult holiday than trying to explain Kirin in a way that wouldn’t give their estranged family a heart attack. And the discomfort Law felt in their chest did not bode well to the straight up nasty argument that would ensue. Even ignoring Kirin’s backstory, the fact Law was dating a man—totally ignoring the unique sexual characteristics Kirin sported on a whim—was enough to scandalize the whole church.

Law grimaced into their coffee as they realized that alone would warrant a ‘very concerned’ visit from the deacon that baptized them despite never seeing that old man after they left home.

Absolutely not.

Never shall the twain meet and never will Law need to tell a very frail old man to go biblically fuck himself.

Although the look of pure scandal would almost certainly bring an addictive level of satisfaction if they did.

No! Nope! Not happening!

Not even if it would almost be worth the headache that would follow.

--*--

Kirin glanced at Law over his book, brow twitching up in amusement.

Something was making them twitchy. Incredibly twitchy. Every time something started playing music, they rushed to turn off the offending electronic or jumped to start an inane conversation. And now Law looked like they stuck a whole lemon in their coffee. Nose wrinkling in disgust and something bordering on wistfulness in their eyes. It wasn’t always the same tune. Sometimes it was light chanting and other times tinkling bells. A group of people showed up at the front door with booklets and Law quickly slammed the door shut in panic.

Now, Law was perfectly capable of being persnickety and rude. Kirin had no illusions about his lover’s typical attitude. But this was very new. If Kirin didn’t know any better he’d think Law was losing their mind. Or failed to sleep for almost a week again. But Kirin’s new system worked wonders for that problem, so that couldn’t be it.

It took an unexpected glimpse of one of the neighbors to get a hint. A bright display of colorful lights draped over their trees, eaves, and bushes. On the front lawn in bold, bubbly letters, was the phrase ‘merry x-mas’. Kirin’s eyes narrowed as they resolved to look that up. Clearly it was a big deal if it was worth putting on such a gaudy display on usually pristine lawns.

The display looked infinitely better at night. And the late research was equally illuminating, if a little chaotic. Every time Kirin started to follow a thread he found a new piece of information that begged to be investigated further. So, in effect, he got a very broad but scattered view of ‘Christmas’. Not to be confused with ‘Hannuka’, which didn’t seem to be the source of all this paranoid-Law inducing music.

For some reason, Law had neglected to tell Kirin about this holiday. And he could almost understand why. The idea that they needed to buy massive boxes with ribbons, cars with bows, trees, lights, and rings so ‘Kay’ can make out with… someone? Some’s wife from what Kirin gathers. All this to keep some other guy from breaking into their house and eating their food in exchange for gifts, which was frankly weird as fuck. How did that even happen and did Kirin need to worry about Law being haunted for not participating in the holiday?

Kirin… didn’t think ghosts were real. But he’d also been multiple corpses at some point so who was he to argue about the dead? He wasn’t sure, there was a whole book about it deemed so important that they made movie adaptations. Once even with ‘Muppets’, which Kirin assumed were like puppets but not.

At the very least, everyone looks like they’re having fun when they aren’t paranoid over this Nick guy coming down the chimney, kissing moms, or watching them sleep—seriously what the hell is wrong with this creep and why is there a holiday for him???

The psychopath even has a list! A list! That he checks twice, the thorough bastard. Honestly, the more Kirin hears about him, the less he likes.

And don’t get him started on the reindeer and elves! What is Santa paying these elves? Who is paying Santa to pay these elves? Why do the reindeer fly?

Kirin felt like he was really starting to understand why the government tracked this psycho every year. He’d want to know where ‘Nick’ was going too!

There was one good thing about Christmas though.

The stores sold super cute clothes for the season. May as well look the part while reassuring Law that he would help make sure ‘Nick’ didn’t break into their house for food or presents.

--*--

Law had been on edge for weeks now as the ‘Christmas cheer’ intensified. So far, they’d been successful in keeping Kirin from discovering anything about the holiday. But it was growing more difficult by the way as every commercial had a rip off of some Christmas classic and the neighbors started stringing lights up. Someone even put ‘Merry X-Mas’ on their lawn and Law ordered curtains for the kitchen.

To be fair, they should have done that sooner. They’d been getting frisky in there often enough that someone probably got an eyeful by now.

But it was worth it to maintain the new peace and warmth in their home. Law couldn’t dream of risking it after their… misunderstanding before. And their parents had a way of uniquely setting every happy moment on fire so Law could only remain vigilant and wait for this damn oversaturated, commercialized holiday season to end. They’d like to do New Years though.

That sounded nice, actually. Starting a whole new year with Kirin’s lips on theirs. Alone or at a party where the whole world would fall away like it tended to when Kirin cupped their face and melted into a kiss. Law really couldn’t wait.

Law shuffled into the kitchen, brand new curtains over the kitchen window pulled tight, and made a bee line towards the coffee maker. A hot cup waiting for them next to the pot.

They froze.

There was a candy cane in the mug, steam curling around the red and white stripes.

The mug was wrapped with a bow.

For one fleeting moment, Law wondered if someone broke in because there was no way in hell Law owned either item before this.

There was a quiet sip to their left and Law’s head whipped over to see Kirin reclined against the counter with a small smile. His eyes cutting through the steam of his own coffee cup. Law felt their heart stutter as they took in the sight.

Though the house was reasonably warm, Kirin wore a sweater. Not just any sweater, but a white turtleneck sweater dress that stretched over his bare hips just enough to cover his ass and a section cut over his chest, exposing the tops. Around his waist was a red belt with a bow, the color vibrant and emphasizing his figure shamelessly. Almost as shameless as the knee high boots with stockings clipped up with small bows and elastic trailing up under the dress. Kirin’s hair was tied neatly with a red bow, trailing over his shoulder.

Law had never been so horrified and aroused at the same time.

There was no way in hell Kirin bought all that and missed the Christmas time propaganda all over the place.

Did he get lingerie to wear underneath—

Didn’t matter. No matter what their dick thought, that didn’t matter! Damage control time!

“… so.” Law trailed off, ripping their gaze from the reflection off the leather boots and nearly succeeded in not trailing up Kirin’s toned thighs to where the dress ended. “You went shopping, huh?”

Kirin grinned.

“Yes. I did! Glad you noticed.” Kirin laughed. “You didn’t need to hide it from me, you know.”

Law could feel a cold sweat break out.

“Oh yeah?” They said faintly, pushing around the melting candy cane before taking a sip of their coffee. It tasted mildly like peppermint, the cool burn helping keep them distracted enough to not panic outright.

“Of course, Law! I know it’s gotta be stressful this time of year keeping an eye out for that psycho, but we’re a team, you know? Whatever you need, I can help.” Kirin pleaded softly.

Psycho?

That pyscho? As in, a specific one???

For a brief, hysterical moment, Law thought Kirin had somehow met their father or the elderly deacon. But that wasn’t possible. Lammy would have called half a dozen times if that was the case.

No. Certainly not. Something definitely went haywire and now Law has a much different kind of damage control to do.

“Kirin… who the fuck are you talking about?” Law asked curiously, mentally preparing for some crazed Christmas stalker or something.

“Nick? The saint guy? You know, the dude watching people sleep, breaking into houses, and trying to have affairs with people. Honestly, I get why you’d be so stressed if this maniac is at it every year if half of the stories I heard are accurate!”

Law felt like they were having a brief but intense out of body experience. Static in their head as the taste of peppermint faded to a vague sense of sweetener and menthol.

Shachi and Penguin would come around the corner with cameras at any moment. Perhaps with party poppers and dumb grins as they loudly laughed at his confusion.

“…Saint Nicholas? Santa Clause?” Law asked faintly. “Why would…”

It occurred to Law then that with the fervor around the holiday and intense work everyone put into making it believable, there was every chance that Kirin genuinely thought Santa Clause was real. And not just the historical figure.

Law never thought they’d be put in the moral quandary of whether or not to disillusion their lover of the existence of Santa Clause. But since whatever image Kirin had of the mythical man was clearly very warped compared to the typical child, they should probably be honest. In hindsight, people say a lot of weird shit about the man, so it’s no wonder Kirin heard all that and thought the jolly old man was a creep.

“Kirin. Santa Clause isn’t real. Well, he was like… a few centuries ago. Gave toys to kids and shit so they gave him sainthood but otherwise he’s a fairytale. Marketing to get people to buy shit at this time of year. There is no fat man breaking into our house.” Kirin looked at Law with wide, confused eyes.

“Then why have you been so paranoid around Christmas stuff?”

Law began to sweat again. Maybe they should have gone along with it. Installed a new security system with Kirin and everything. Make it a tradition to upgrade their security against a mythical old man with mild omniscience.

It did not escape Law’s notice the irony of pretending to guard their house against an all-knowing man to get away with not talking about the other all knowing one. And their family. Because the two had always been inextricably linked for all the harm it caused them growing up.

Desperate for something to distract Kirin, Laws eyes caught on the slit of fabric exposing Kirin’s chest. The shine of dark stockings stretched over his toned thighs with tiny bows. Seemed a shame for Kirin to get all dressed up as a show of support and not show their own appreciation.

Law chuckled, setting down the mug and striding up to Kirin. Their hands settling on the silk belt as they kissed Kirin’s knuckle, the scent of coffee strong.

“You got all dressed up to tell me you wanted to help keep out an old man.” Law laughed. “It’d be rude to ignore your efforts.” Law gripped his waist and lifted, settling Kirin on the counter as he scrambled to put down his own mug of coffee. Hands brushing over Law’s shirt as he laughed.

Law brushed their hands down to the thick hem of Kirin’s dress where barely half an inch of skin was exposed before nylon stockings were secured in place. Teasing their fingers underneath the stockings and snapping them against Kirin’s hot thighs. Leather boots crossed behind Law’s ass and pulled them in closer but they resisted. Wanting to take a closer look at what else Kirin was wearing.

Law made the mistake of looking into Kirin’s eyes and froze.

There was heat in his gaze. Interest unmistakable. But underneath the easy lust was understanding. Kirin knew damn well what Law was doing and accepted it. Was willing to wait for as long as Law needed to say what had really been bothering them about Christmas. Law saw how much Kirin loved them, enough to set aside their concern until Law was ready.

That look, specifically that knowing, loving look, was achingly familiar. Not in the painful way church bells ringing cracked their ribcage open. But deeper and all the sweeter for it. Soft hands cradling his heart, mindful as they brushed across the raw surface and thundering vessels.

I’m here. I’ll be here waiting until you’re ready, Law. I won’t go anywhere.

“Law?—”

“They’d hate you almost as much as they hate me.” Law heard but it took a moment to realize that they’re the ones that said it. Their next words tumbling in a fit of panic. “Cora would love you though—I mean—I-I…” Law’s tongue fumbled around their words, throat squeezing as a different panic settled in.

The panic to explain away the very out of pocket response. The panicked realization that they’d have to explain everything about their family. All the complicated, raw emotions Law still felt to this day. The perfect choir boy their parents wanted on the mantle and the real adult they spat at every time it came up. Ruin what could have been a sweet moment.

What if Kirin agreed?

No. No, he’d never, Law knew that—but?

Law hated this doubt they felt in their heart. Pure understanding of their love warring with the wounded child who tried everything to cut away the parts their parents hated and drowned in the bleeding wounds. Kirin would never just as their parents could never.

Warm hands gently brushed up their neck, teasing over their skin and yanking them free of their frantic thoughts. Palms settling over scruffy jawline so his thumbs could brush over Law’s damp cheeks. Kirin’s face inches from theirs with an expression of soft surprise lined with worry. Law didn’t even realize they’d been crying.

“I’m right here.”

I won’t go anywhere.

Law’s lungs seized and shuddered with a ragged breath.

“It’s… complicated.” Law whispered as Kirin pressed his lips between their eyes. “I-I don’t know where to start.” Law admitted.

“Wherever you want. Whenever is the easiest.” Kirin encouraged gently, his lips brushing over Law’s skin as he stayed in place. Law squeezed Kirin’s thighs and swallowed hard.

“…I talk to Lammy maybe once a year. She’s my sister but she doesn’t get it.” Law breathed out. “She thinks we can all make up one day. Our parents and I. B-But I don’t think we ever could. They want their son—this perfect catholic boy who works in a secular hospital and marries a good catholic girl and gives them grandkids—” Law sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. “I was never good enough. Good enough to be a leading researcher but that wasn’t enough. Wasn’t right. B-Because I wasn’t right. Never had the right words or interests. Never smiled right for pictures or dressed right for the occasion. They want someone who’s not me and hate that I won’t even try.”

Kirin hummed, rubbing his nose into Law’s hair as they pulled Law in closer. Encouraging them to bury their head into his sweater.

“I-I ran out of that house as soon as I realized I’d die if I stayed there. One way or the other. M-Made friends somehow with Shachi and Penguin. M-Met Cora. H-He kept me off the street and out of trouble. Didn’t care how much I snapped at him, he just wanted me safe and happy.” Law sucked in a sharp breath. “They’re family. I-I was afraid that if you knew about Christmas you’d want to meet my parents and I… I couldn’t do that to you. To us. Not after fucking it up all my life and then that thing with Shachi and Penguin—”

“We can do Christmas with your real family. If you want. Shachi, Penguin, and Cora. I’m sure they’d love to celebrate with you.” Kirin mused. “I don’t want anything to do with someone who would hurt you like that for so long and not beg on their knees for forgiveness. Maybe not even then, really. You didn’t deserve to feel like that and I’m sorry you thought I’d ever want to put you in that position again.” Kirin squeezed Law close.

“Really?” Law asked softly, throat tight and strangely vulnerable. “You want to meet my dad?” their breath hitched.

“I’d love to meet your dad. He took you in. That’s all the reason I need to want to meet him and thank him for raising you well.” Kirin reassured.

Law cried. Shuddering tears and lungs aching as they cried into Kirin’s shoulder, squeezing him tightly. Fighting to not openly sob.

It hurt. But in a good way. Like cutting open an abscess that had festered for years. Because Kirin got it. Understood what Law meant and what they said. Didn’t argue about intentions and blood. Didn’t even try. Kirin only cared about what Law felt. Nothing else mattered.

For once, Law’s feelings mattered more than anything else. Anyone else. Something they’d only felt with three people in their life. And none of them shared blood.

“I love you.” Law gasped, turning their head to press their lips to Kirin’s ear. “I love you so much. A-And that’s all Cora needs to know to love you too—not that he wouldn’t anyway.” Law reassured Kirin with a wet laugh before pulling away to wipe their face. Kirin rubbing their arms with a fond smile.

“I can’t wait to meet him then.” Kirin breathed, tears clinging to his lashes. He looked beautiful under the admittedly sterile kitchen light. Just like he did everywhere else he went.

“Later… first, I want…” Law struggled to find the words they needed to convey the want that swelled in their lungs. The kind of want that can only be satisfied with taking in every inch of Kirin’s body.

Instead of trying further to find the right words, Law pressed a kiss to Kirin’s lips. Chaste until they nipped at his lips and slipped in their tongue. Tasting sweet peppermint coffee and soft moans. Their fingertips brushing over stockings and leather to push open his thighs. Law pulled away but didn’t go far. Kissing down Kirin’s throat where they could and then to the window of his sweater.

Kirin moaned hoarsely when Law nosed down the fabric to lap at Kirin’s nipple. Teasing him with their teeth and tongue as Kirin’s hands carded through their hair with increasing desperation. Thighs clenching against Law’s hands to close in and pin them in place. But Law had plans that required Kirin open and exposed.

When Law started to feel the familiar quivers in Kirin’s body, they stopped. Spit clinging to their lips and Kirin’s stiff nipple. Smiling at the cry of denial and sharp tug on their hair before nipping at the other one. Quickly driving Kirin to the brink of ecstasy only to yank away.

“A-Aaaahh--~! N-Nooooo~ L-Law, babe, please~!” Law chuckled at the petulant whine as they sank to their knees between Kirin’s thighs, lifting them up onto their shoulders. Law’s hands grazing along the outside of Kirin’s stockings. They didn’t bother pushing up the scant few inches of fabric to expose Kirin. Merely pressed into the heated space, their nose brushing the distinct feeling of lace.

“I want to show my appreciation, Kiri—how much I love you~” Law purred into the shadow of Kirin’s thighs.

Soaked and unbearably hot, the fabric scratched under their tongue as they lapped at the moisture. Pressing into the folds of Kirin’s pussy through the fabric where his entrance throbbed. Sucking up the familiar flavor of his arousal as Law opened his lips to take in their lover’s whole pussy. Kirin’s voice quivered and shook as they moaned, thighs pressing into Law’s head as they ground the slick fabric into his clit.

Law’s cock strained against their pants but went ignored in favor of Kirin drunkenly squirming, rubbing his pussy against Law’s face. Arousal flooding the skimpy underwear and smearing along their cheeks and thighs. Law pulled away just enough to blindly run their tongue up Kirin’s soaked thigh, pressing the tip of their tongue into the crease where skin met fabric. Pulling it away to slip into wet folds as Kirin moaned sharply.

“Y-Yes! O-Ohhhh right there, La-aw~!” Kirin begged as Law’s tongue found the throbbing entrance. Teased along the inner folds in increasingly right circles as they slipped in a hand to keep the fabric out of the way. Just before their tongue made contact, Law flicked it up and to Kirin’s clit. Attacking the throbbing area with a gentle nip as Kirin cried out.

“Are you going to cum? Give me all of it, I need to know how much you love me~” Law gasped in the damp, hot space. Nearly drowning in Kirin’s arousal.

“S-Soo—ooooh much! So much, L-Law~! I love youuuu~ I love you—A-Ah! Hnmmm~! A-hn~!” Kirin panting, one hand on Law’s head pushing them closer and the other likely pinching his nipples. Law’s tongue slipped into Kirin suddenly, pussy throbbing around the muscle in tight seizing motions as Kirin crested noisily, speech slurred as he chanted drunkenly. “Il-lovey-ooooh~Ilo-aah-veyou~LawlawlawL—A-AAahhhn~!” Soaking Law’s face as he squirted on their tongue. Law slipped in their other hand and teased Kirin’s clit, drawing out his orgasm as Law fucked him with their tongue.

Law’s cock was smearing pre into their thigh now, but Law ignored it. Just like they ignored Kirin shuddering, stuttering cry as Law pushed them over the edge again.

And again.

Utterly lost in the slick mess they made of Kirin’s pussy, eagerly lapping up his cum. The smell and taste thick all around Law. Elated at how well they could please their lover and intent on going until their jaw ached.

There was a sharp yank on Law’s hair as Kirin pulled them away. Law’s lungs ached as they blinked at the bright kitchen lights.

Kirin’s face was red, tears smeared over his cheeks as he panted.

“I wasn’t done.” Law licked their lips with a needy grin, jerking against the shaky hold on their hair to dive back in.

“L-Law, please fuck me.” Kirin cried softly. “I need you inside me.”

Law didn’t make Kirin beg any further, smoothly shifting out from under Kirin’s thighs to give him a messy kiss. Kirin hungrily lapping up Law’s hard work as Law shoved free their cock. Moaning as the pressure eased on their length. Kirin squirmed closer as Law blindly nudged their cock against soaked underwear. Smearing the tip along the itchy fabric.

With one hand, Kirin desperately reached between his thighs to push aside the lacy fabric. Grabbing Law’s cock to guide it where he needed it. Law didn’t argue, too busy chasing the faint taste of peppermint mixing with arousal.

Law rocked their cock between slick thighs, gathering up enough arousal to make a smooth motion. Fucking slowly into Kirin as he gripped Law’s ass, desperately trying to force Law to hilt.

“Easy, Kiri~ Let me love you right~” Law purred against his lips. Kirin’s eyes heavy with lust as he reluctantly relaxed. Allowed Law to go slow despite his pussy throbbing around every inch he could.

Kirin whined every time Law pulled their cock free only to gasp as it returned with aching slowness. Inch by inch, Law’s cock throbbed between Kirin’s walls until there was nowhere else to go. Hilted and soaking their balls with dripping arousal that slipped further down their thighs.

Before, Law didn’t have the patience to wait. But now it seemed insulting to fuck Kirin on the counter after how understanding he’d been. How sweet and loving. Eating him out on the counter was fine at the moment. But making love to Kirin?

That deserved a bed.

Law kicked away their pants and Kirin helped tear off their shirt. But Law stopped him from trying to remove anything of his own.

“No. Keep it on.” Law panted, slipping their hands under Kirin’s ass to pick him up. Kirin’s legs wound around Law’s waist as his pussy throbbed at the unexpected display. “Let’s take this to the bedroom.” Kirin sighed in agreement as he held onto Law with a weak moan, rolling his hips to the best of his ability. Grinding his clit into Law.

Law nearly stumbled a few times but managed well enough, pinning Kirin to the bedroom door to free their hand long enough to force it open. Kicking it closed behind them as they fell onto the bed. Kirin whined as Law accidentally fucked into him attempting to move further up. Leather sticking to Law’s sweaty back as they rocked their hips into Kirin sensually.

In the dark, they were both blind. Only able to hear the wet slap of their thighs together, Law’s balls smacking into Kirin’s ass with every slow thrust. Pants and unsteady moans as they couldn’t get enough of each other. The room growing hot with sex and the faint burn of peppermint. Law held themselves up with their hands clenched in the sheets by Kirin’s head. Their bodies pressed together and lips rarely further apart than a hairsbreadth.

Kirin keeping them close with a hand on their ass and the back of their neck. Grip slipping from sweat or arousal, it was impossible to tell at this point.

Kirin’s voice echoed in their ears as they whined and moaned, the sound increasing in volume along with Law’s groans. Balls throbbing as their cock struggled to slip free of Kirin’s tight pussy despite how wet he was. Electricity sparked along their spine as they both slowly began to crest over the edge.

There was no rush despite Kirin’s desperation. Just a slow, inevitably crash as they both came undone in each other’s arms.

“I love you.” Someone said as they came again. And again. And again? Time dripping away from them like their cum soaked the sheets.

Law couldn’t say if it lasted hours or minutes. If they both only came once or so many times their orgasms smeared together until their bodies shook. Lost in each other again and again until Law collapsed into Kirin. The both of them trembling and gasping for air but refusing to keep their lips to themselves.

Kirin rolled them to the side and threw his leg over Law’s waist. Distinctly free of any leather despite the other boot clearly being on still. Just ripped nylon tickling their skin. Their cock still throbbing in Kirin’s walls, cumming weakly in thin spurts. Obviously, they couldn’t go again, Law’s cock growing reluctantly soft despite the tempting squeeze from Kirin’s pussy. But they both lingered as they were.

Wet lips pressed together in slow kisses. Exhaustion clear in every soft sigh.

Kirin chuckled, his eyes just barely visible in the dark as he smiled.

“I love you, too.”

Law drifted off, already looking forward to the holiday they once dreaded. And every other one after that. Fully planning on ensuring Kirin knew just how much he was loved. On their knees, in bed, in the lab, the kitchen…

Law loved Kirin no matter where it was and had no intention of letting that go unnoticed ever again.

#one piece #December event 2023 #Law X OC #one piece smut #out of context Santa mythos is weird as shit and I need you to accept that #Ex Catholic Trafalgar Law #tw: religious trauma #Law is Catholic but I am not so sorry for any misunderstandings of Catholosism

[apostate-in-an-alcove]

I get other denominations are taught to hate and have disdain for Catholics but if former members of other denominations of Christianity could stop being twats to ex-Catholics and Catholicism as a whole for five minutes that'd be great.

#ex christian #ex catholic #deconversion #apostate #excatholic #i don't need some smarmy fucking ex mormon or exvangelical in my notes or dash #catholics are assholes enough to us #seriously most of you have very little knowledge of catholicism and will still talk mad shit about catholics and ex catholics #sit down and humble yourselves fr

[likeabxrdinflight]

when I talk about the harm catholicism did to me I usually talk about the homophobia, which was certainly a thing, but I don't always acknowledge some of the other fucked up shit that happened, like an eight year old feeling personally responsible for the health of her cancer-diagnosed second grade teacher or a middle schooler fearing divine retribution in the form of lightning for any minor infraction

#...you'd be shocked how often the lightning thing was a legitimate concern of mine #really thought that was gonna be a bigger deal than it ended up being #tho part of me still fears karmic punishment from on high whenever I do something a little bit wrong #and I don't even believe in this shit anymore #anyways pretty sure my aunt thinks I'm going to hell for breaking the second commandment how was your thanksgiving #ex catholic tag

[batsinurbelfrey]

Funniest hard pivot I've made in a while is after a tangent where I explained the finer points of how crucifixion worked and how torturous it was esp if they went for nails instead of ropes, including like gestural physical examples [holding my arms out and pretending to "pull myself up to breathe against the nails" ] during a 1:1 meeting with a coworker I went "YEAH, shit was brutallllll...... Anyway so all I really put this meeting on the cal to cover was [insert project update here] " LMAOOOO Happy easter week yall /j

#ex catholic #personal #work shit #rambles #crucifixion #easter #shitpost