#i am definitely going to hell for this

[worldsfromhoney]

Jewels of Mine

Masterlist

tw: period-typical homophobia

Prompt 7 - Self-Adornment @thepromptfoundry

It’s after his morning prayers that Tobia finally shakes himself out of his reverie and deems himself ready for the day. He is not ready for almost falling flat on his face on the merciless stone floor, making him foolishly flail around to get a hold on something. Tobia’s fingers brush against something cold and he reaches for it, the metal brazier digging into his palm as he hangs onto it.

The culprit of all this?

“What in the blazes were you thinking?” Tobia hissed. “Oh, my mistake. I gather you weren’t thinking at all!”

Wide, innocent-looking eyes return his glare but Tobia isn’t fooled. Even Giobbe, with all his masks, cannot stop the smile dipped in mischief as pure as the evil of Hell. It’s at moments like this—when it’s just them and no one else to see, think, or persecute—that Tobia wonders how God hadn’t struck this man down yet.

Then again, the same could be said of him.

“Father Tobia,” Giobbe says in an almost purr. He takes a step closer. “That’s not a nice thing to say to a fellow member of the Grand Church of God.”

Tobia snorts and crosses his arms, leaning away from the man. His back hits the shelves and a few pots shake from the slight impact. Daylight barely passed through into this storage room that only had a small hole for a window near the ceiling. Shadows and chatter passed right outside the closed door. Once or twice, he even heard his and Giobbe’s names.

Never in tandem. Of course, never together. And if ever, then not in the way they’d ever imagine if imagination was limited to what God permits.

“What’s not nice—” Tobia says, still glaring at those innocent-seeming eyes. “—is leaving things for a good member of the Church of God to almost trip over, Father Giobbe.”

Instead of being chastised, the other man brightened up at this. Giobbe stepped closer till there was nary an inch between them, their breaths mingling and those cursed eyes sucking him in. Tobia’s breath hitched at the first touch, the first brush of fingers against his cheek. He can smell holy incense and the musk of perfume so subtle no one would’ve noticed if they weren’t this close.

Giobbe tucked away a strand of Tobia’s hair, his smile still steeped in mischief. “So?”

“So what?”

Giobbe licked his lips and he couldn’t help it really, having his eyes drawn down to it. He was no longer flush against the cabinets but was drawing closer to the other man—his fellow priest, gaze fixed on where that slip of tongue had disappeared back behind those lips.

Tobia’s mouth was dry. He needs to drink something.

Giobbe chuckled, his fingers now playing with the curl of hair at Tobia’s ear, each brush against skin making it flush and burn.

“So,” Giobbe said. “Did you get it? My gift?”

Tobia must’ve answered somehow and it must’ve been satisfactory because Giobbe had closed the distance, hands roughly taking hold of his face, and those eyes and lips swallowing him whole. Giobbe was always rough but today he was rougher. He moved insistently against Tobia, lips pressing hard and teeth nipping and pulling with ferocity. He sucked at Tobia’s lips, murmuring cuore mio, cuore mio amidst Tobia’s moans and whimpers and gasps.

“I…I—” Tobia gasped out in between kisses. “I… I can’t believe you—ah!—G-Giobbe. G-Gifting me—mhm—that. Of all—ngh!—things. What were…. What were you thinking?”

That question had been rocketing round his mind since he took the box in his room. It was flat, unmarked, and eerily similar to a clothes box. Wrapped in a single black ribbon, he hadn’t thought much of what was inside till he…opened it.

Giobbe laughed into the kiss and drew away slightly, their noses brushing and breaths mixing into a heady heat of air that was obviously getting into their heads. Enough that Tobia did nothing to stop Giobbe from reaching for his buttons and undoing them at an achingly slow pace.

As the button by his chest popped off, Tobia bit his lip and turned away.

Silence. Glorious, embarrassing silence that didn’t help with how regret was now washing over Tobia because what was he thinking—

“Dio mio,” Giobbe said, his voice breathless. “Dio mio, Tobia. You actually… You’re wearing it. Really. Truly. In front of me and under your cassock.”

There were no mirrors here but Tobia didn’t need them to know he was blushing. He half-heartedly slapped Giobbe’s chest, not to push away but just to… well, do something. The man grabbed at his hand and began delving kisses upon it, nipping at skin and lathering his tongue around his fingers like a beast.

“Ah, cuore mio,” Giobbe said and the tone of his voice finally got Tobia to turn and look. He looked drunk, eyes half-lid and blown black. “You’re really something else, aren’t you, my dear priest?”

Tobia rolled his eyes. “If I’m something else, then what are you, amore mio? A heathen? A spawn?”

And like always when Tobia is making attempts to shed this relationship—this thing that they are and they have as something unholy and wrong, Giobbe smiles at him. It’s different from earlier. Everything about him goes soft and pliant as if Tobia is God and here is a man willing to be putty in his divine grasp.

“I am whatever you want me to be, cuore mio, and that’s a promise I’ll never break.”

The gifts keep coming and Tobia is running out of ways to wear them covertly. The first one had been easy. A woman’s bralette and underwear so perfectly fitted to him that he wonders if Giobbe had measured him during their nights together. Knowing the man, he most likely did and went off to his unruly ‘connections’ to get the commission done.

It wasn’t an ordinary bralette and underwear. It was… well, it was simply all string but not the kind that dug painfully into skin. No, this was a fabric close to the smoothness of silk and the artistry of lace. In all honesty, Tobia thought it more comfortable than any proper undergarment he’d had. So he had no problem with that.

The following gifts were becoming a challenge, though.

Priests belonging to the Grand and Holy Church of God aren’t to be seen wearing any sort of jewellery or accessory that would be taken to flaunt wealth. Jewellery are for the upper class; for the damned people who went to mass only to flaunt their status and barely give donations to the House of God. It is an unspoken rule that every priest follows.

Tobia stares at the pair of earrings in the box and runs a hand down his face, exasperated. What was next, a tiara? Or, even worse and a possibility he doesn’t want to entertain, rouge and powder. And yet the thought of the gifts that’d piled up in his closet, hidden beneath his cassocks, makes something twist in his chest. It makes his breath hitch, his face warm and burn with this feeling of sin.

Tobia looks up at the cross by the small altar every priest’s room had and finds himself caught by that wooden gaze. Christ the Son and Saviour is looking straight into his soul and sees it twisted, tainted, and tied up by temptation he’d been too weak to refuse, time and time again. It makes Tobia’s legs tremble under him and a different kind of twist in his chest comes from an invisible, nay, divine grasp round his heart, squeezing in attempt to purify and save—

In the corner of his eye, the earrings twinkle. They’re in the form of a cross, jewels of the colour of Giobbe’s eyes exuding a glow of its own. It is a mockery to the divine and yet Tobia finds himself taking them.

He sheds blood for a different kind of cross and knows, in this moment, where his faith truly lies.

“Do you think we’ll go to Hell, amore mio?”

This is not the first time Tobia asks this and they both know it won’t be the last. Not when almost every moment of the rest of their days have been sworn to God the Almighty and Omniscient. Not when Tobia doesn’t draw away from Giobbe’s soothing touch right now, their bare skin and sin brought to the light by the moon.

Giobbe, as always, laughs. Tobia knows the man well enough to hear the hollowness and the utter grief of a faith lost to sin continuously committed.

“I think at this point, cuore mio, il Satana himself knows our names, no?”

The thought of the fallen angel committing their names to heart makes Tobia laugh and turn to the side—to Giobbe. He shakes his head as he cups this face sculpted by God Himself, watching as Giobbe leans into the touch.

It’s another moment, not the last not the final, where Tobia knows his faith lies not in God but in His creation who’s chosen to stay by his side. Through love and sin and hellfire, Giobbe promises and Tobia prays.

[pixie-felix]

Lee Felix Definitely Doesn't Have a Mommy Kink.

Word count: 1.5k

Content: mommy kink, edging, tiny bit of bondage (just wrists), very mild dirty talk (because Felix is a good boy), begging, crying, hand job, blow job, cowgirl... I'm going to hell aren't I?

Heavily inspired by this by @emdaudied

Smut under the cut. Minors dni.

“I do NOT have a mommy kink.”

Felix is so cute when he pouts. Even when he's lying.

“That's not what you said last night…”

“It was ONE TIME.” You love teasing him so much. He turns such a pretty shade of pink, he's all glowy. Not even covering his face with his hands can hide it. “It was just one time.”

“It was literally last night.”

“I was distracted.”

“You were distracted… thinking about your mommy?”

The look of horror on his face as he realises what he just implied is… you wish you could to take a picture of it and hang it on your wall. You know Felix doesn't call his mother mommy, but that's not the point you're making here.

“You were thinking about your mommy last night, while I was riding you like a prize pony?”

He's like a fish out of water, gulping for air and looking a little more than mildly alarmed.

“It's okay baby, I don't mind. I can be your mommy if it gets you off…”

“I DON'T HAVE A MOMMY KINK!”

“...wanna prove that?”

Felix is so cute with hands tied above his head, a whimpering shivering mess as you deny him his third orgasm.

“Are you going to be a good boy now?"

Felix is always a good boy, but it's just so fun to make him beg for it.

“I'll be a good boy, I'm your good boy, I'll be such a good boy for you…"

His babbling stops with a help as you run a finger up his shaft, swirling around his weeping cockhead. His eyes wide and lips parted as he watches you gathering his pearly essence on your fingertip, holding it up to show him, before sucking your finger into your mouth.

His moan is music.

But you like it better when he uses his words.

“P-p-please baby, please baby, please baby just fucking touch me…”

The look of relief on his face when you decide to finally have mercy and start jerking him off properly. Between that face and the rock solid meatstick in your hand, the one that's brought you so much pleasure… it's enough to make you drip.

But no one likes a dry hand job, so you make sure to spit on his dick for lube before you start dragging your hand up and down. Noice and firm, the way Felix likes it best.

“Y-yes, yes, ye-esss, please baby just like that- don't stop, baby please don't stop…”

He's so desperate to cum. But he also never wants you to stop.

So he squeezes his eyes shut. He wants to watch you play with his cock, it's one of his favourite things. But he's not ready for this to end yet, so he has to deny himself the view of watching you pleasure him.

He's a mess.

Oh, the beautiful agony of edgeplay.

You love edging him, watching him get all sweaty, his hair sticking to his slick forehead as he writhes at your touch.

But you're a fully grown woman with needs of your own. And what you need, is Felix's dick. Preferably fucking you blind.

But before that, you've got a point to prove.

So you start working up the pace, quickening your wrist until you're going fast enough to make your arm start to cramp.

Felix is practically vibrating with the effort to keep still and not buck up into your hand. (Like the last three times, and the last three denied orgasms.)

“Keep still baby, you know the rules. Aren't you supposed to be a good boy?”

“I'm a good boy, I'm a fucking good boy, I'm your good boy-” Felix interrupts himself with a particularly beautiful moan, “I'll do anything you f-fucking say, I fucking promise, just please baby… please.”

He has been a good boy. He deserves a special treat.

his eyes snap open when he feels your lips around his cock, lapping at his slit. Crying out when you start digging your tongue into it. You should really get him a sounding rod.

Maybe for Christmas.

He's getting more and more desperate as you tease him with your tongue. From the way his hands are flexing in their restraints, you know he's fantasing about grabbing your head and forcing you down.

Making you take him nice and deep so he can fuck the back of your throat. Gagging around him, drowning somewhere between his dick and your own spit.

Well, his wish is your command.

Smacking sounds fill the room as you suck him down, making sure to make it messy.

“Oh god, just like that. Just like th-that. Feels so go-o-ood-”

It's amazing what a little drool can do to a man.

You speed up a little, cutting off his words mid sentence as his dick hits the back of your throat. You both love it when Felix is reduced to a whimpering mess by your touch, but today you're sucking him off with purpose.

You're going to make him say it.

It won't be long now.

He's so close to giving in, you know it.

He's biting his lips, trying so hard not to say it, but you know.

And when you start humming contentedly as his legs start to shake, you know that he knows you know.

“Mmm-mm-mmm…”

The obscene, wet pop as you release his dick from your mouth is almost drowned out by his cry.

And he is crying, looking at you with wide eyes, tears gathering at the corner as you sit up. Licking your lips like his salty precum is the most delicious thing you've ever tasted.

“Is there something you want, baby?”

“Mm-mm…” His moans are almost squeaky now. He's desperate for you.

You switch to his favourite position, moving so that you're on your knees, straddling him with just enough space that his dick is barely skimming your cunt. The tears start to fall, and he whimpers.

There's a reason cowgirl is a classic.

You take him in hand and slo-o-owly brush him up and down your folds, listening to his choked sobs as you coating him in your slick. Taunting him, teasing him. Showing him how fucking wet you are, as your juices run down his dick.

He breaks.

“M-mommy.” It's quiet, barely more than a whisper, but he said it. “Mommy.”

He's being too quiet. So you kick up the teasing a notch, lining him up with your entrance and pushing down just slightly. Just a little giving, but nowhere near enough to actually penetrate.

He knows what you want.

“Mommy, please.” You let him have a little more, lowering yourself onto his tip a fraction more, but he's being too quiet.

“Mommyyyy….”

Felix’s voice breaks. He knows he's lost, so there's no point holding back now.

“Use me mommy. Use me. Please.”

Well, how could you refuse?

You sink down, taking him balls deep in one fluid stretch.

Usually you'd take your time, savour the feeling of him stretching you out.

Teasing him, making him beg for you. Beg for you to to go a little faster, a little harder.

A little more “please mommy yes mommy just like that mommy mommy mommy moMMY a-aa-aaa-”

But today you're going to ride him like a prize fucking pony straight out the gate.

Fucking the cum out of both of you while Felix begs for it like the good boy he is.

“M-mommy please, p-please let me cum. Please let me cum mommy, I’ve been so good. I've been a good boy, I've been such a good boy, please let me cum mommy please let me cum…”

The faster you bounce, the louder he pleads.

“-please mommy please mommy please please please momMY PLEASE MOMMY PLEASE MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMM-”

He cums so hard you swear you feel him shoot through your cervix. Coating your insides white and sticky as he breaks out of his wrist restraints, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you down.

Squashing your tits against his chest, holding you bruise-tight as he ruts up into you, giving you absolutely everything as he tries to fuck you through his orgasm.

That's what sends you over.

You've been mean and unfair and teasing him for hours, but. Felix is a good boy who always wants to get you off.

Fucking you even when he's overstimulated and sore, until he finally feels you clenching around him, clenching around him hard as your orgasm hits you like a freight train.

It takes you both a few moments to recover, the room silent except for the sound of panting.

You try to detangle yourself, but Felix just pulls you closer, humming happily, his arms like a vice. Pulling you close like you're a blanket he wants to wrap himself up in and never leave.

He relents eventually, murmuring sweet things and cupping your face with his hands as you kiss him deeply.

He's a good boy.

“Such a good boy.”

“Mmm…” His after sex sounds are some of your favourites.

“...a good boy with a mommy fetish.”

Felix groans and hides his face in your neck.

“Shut up.”

this is a side blog so any reposts are appreciated, I will repay you in cake and pixie dust 🧚‍♀️

m.list

[colealexart]

last waudna wednesday of c3🖤

(taking a moment to say thank you to anyone who has contributed to waudna wednesday. when i first started it, it was an excuse for me to draw more laudna. now it's become a day to appreciate her & it makes me SO happy. here's to more waudnas!)

[hoolyelina]

did you know pangi was the first to join g- hey wait a second

( yellow faction trpangi au tehe )

[waterfallofspace]

something about a breathless "sorry-" uttered right between the last sneeze they've barely finished, and the next they're already starting to hitch for~

[bigskydreaming]

Imagine looking at a character whose entire premise is that in every stage of his life, he's made every version of himself into someone that inspires people to such a degree that EVERY SINGLE VERSION OF HIM has people wanting to literally follow in his footsteps in some way or another.....

And coming to the conclusion that like.....the most important things about him are the sum of all his trappings. His entirely homemade developed from scratch could not exist if not for what he already was and brought with him BEFORE crafting this newest version of himself trappings, with his greatest trait throughout all of it being his adaptability; his ability and willingness to roll with the punches and not try to simply weather any opposition or changes to his life but instead reshape himself as needed to better fit INTO whatever new shape his life and the world around him takes. All while managing to carry the most innate, fundamental and necessary aspects of himself from one version to the next. Thus every single version of himself is different but simultaneously every single version of himself is also undeniably the same person.

The strength of this character, to me, will always be that he can be so many versions of himself, he can become so many things, all without ever actually losing or discarding any of the aspects of himself he considers most essential, the things he's not willing to lose or give up just to keep going. Finding that road not taken by most, usually because most never even think to look for it as an option. But one that he's always able to find because the one trick he's mastered in his tumultuous life is threading that needle of not just digging in his heels in an unproductive way but rather being selective about when and where he makes a stand and decides "this is not a thing I'm willing to compromise about" but here are places and ways I can and will change and evolve and adapt in order to make it possible for me to hold onto these parts and keep them as they are.

And that's why its always so mind-boggling to me that so many writers can't seem to think of anything else to do with Dick Grayson other than invent some new reason for him to just....not be that person, or to like just take the character whose most basic fundamental trait he's NOT about to compromise on is willingly giving up his spot in the driver's seat of his own life.....and make him just a passenger in his own life and stories.

Dick Grayson at age nine....at age nineteen...at age twenty nine....the one core thread running through all versions of him is the only way he's standing back and letting you call the shots for him or putting him on the sidelines in some way is over his dead body.

HOW he goes about that, what that looks like, who he becomes and what aspects of himself he plays up at some times and what traits he lets fall by the wayside at other times when they offer less in service to his primary goal here....that changes constantly. He changes constantly.

But those changes are almost always (or at least they used to be/should be IN MY OPINION) made with the intention of keeping certain things about him or his life as consistent as possible.

That's the duality of Dick Grayson that I'm here for. The inherent contradiction of him that COULD allow for endless conflict and breaking new narrative ground in all sorts of ways if mined properly:

His eternal willingness to compromise....but only ever in pursuit of doubling down on the ways he's not willing to compromise.

Forever walking that tightrope in ways that only a kid born and raised in a circus could ever hope to.

[camels-pen]

you never know what might bite you in the ass later

[albatris]

so maybe it's the late night talking but I think I might have ocd

[tinyevilgremlin]

bitna (justitia), a demon, getting to experience the whole spectrum of emotions because of daon, a mere human, is an absolute delight to watch

[gertritude]

dexter update: ended the pilot episode ready to hate dexter (I find that mid-2000s "ouuughhhh he's an empathy-less SERIAL KILLER #messedup #freak" writing quite annoying), but in the past few episodes I have been unable to shake an insane interpretation that dexter was just an autistic kid with behavioral issues due to some traumatic event in his past, and instead of getting him therapy his foster father made him think he was a monster and encouraged his violent behavior in a weird form of abuse/him using dexter to enact some of his own violent fantasies as a cop.

like this is absolutely not intentional. due to things like "the writing" and "this show was made in 2006." but I literally cannot get this interpretation out of my mind. it is making the show more bearable at least

[egophiliac]

I hear you on brave but I think Mr. CEO man could be woz

Which I’m all here for tbh

anon you sent this over 9 hours before the reveal, h...HOW DID YOU KNOW

(I am also all here for it honestly) (I kind of hope they lean really hard into the overworked-CEO bit...how is he supposed to fight evil when there's all this paperwork that he has to get in by Friday, ugh)

[danwhobrowses]

Okay so I've watched Dynasty, and I get that people are upset that Mox won again. But here's the thing;

Wrestling never lets lightning strike twice, Swerve winning 1 year after winning the title before at the same event already felt like there was the risk of fuckery to rain on the parade. Swerve was also mega protected in defeat and while Moxley's reign does lack in luster, the villain does have to win sometimes - it makes his defeat all the sweeter.

Swerve losing here however might just be a necessary evil. If Swerve won, the Owen would be locked for Hangman on the same night the first round began - at least now Ospreay is back to being considered as a potential winner too. And it's not to say that Swerve won't get a second chance, All In Texas is 3 months away; Spring BreakThru, Double or Nothing, AND Fyter Fest are in between that, there's still time to deal with the Bucks and use winning as stakes to get a second chance.

Are there places AEW still needs to improve? For sure, all companies have that; several talents are absent in all divisions, several talented wrestlers fall lower in the pecking order than their talent should allow, and several talent who are over are in need of something substantial even if it's feuds that'll lead into challenging for a title. But if you can endure 2 years of Bloodline main events you can endure a bit more of the Death Riders. Dynasty was still good, AEW is still good, don't let Moxley retaining make you forget that.

[whollyjoly]

@luztoyeweek 2024 day 2 - francis forever by mitski

[peppermintstarsonamintyway]

hey would y'all want motivational cookie run stickers

cause i really wanna make some sticker sheets but i need a reason to outside of "i need the motivation"

if yes; gimme cookies and little quotes i can put with 'em, i wanna see what people can come up with

[cryptii-co]

</AM papercrafts i've done so far!! <3 . > ︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶

</this one's supposed to be a pin/clip thingy, hehe,,, >    -> please... PLEASE IGNORE HOW LONG MY FINGERNAILS ARE I FORGOT TO CUT IT OFF FJFGNTGUJGNGUJ </3 </3

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢ </anyway, ill definitely try to make more in the future!!>

[kaythefloppa]

The struggles of being a Lion King fan and a Wild Kratts fan witnessing major fandom events happening on the same day is a living struggle.