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#[confess your sins]
localratwithcowboyhat · 3 months
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hi omg!! i love your art style so much, i just discovered your blog!! its so cool to see another trans autistic dyslexic adhd physically disabled artist whos a furry with a tma special interest?!?!/pos and /gen!! if you're ok with a request, can you draw michael (shelley or distortion) from tma?/nf hes my comfort character i love him so much!! thank u for all of your content!! and sorry for any spelling/grammar errors!!(dyslexia :P)
Ayyy thank you so much thats so sweet‼️im glad you enjoye my art :]
So here a michal just for you
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americanhell · 9 months
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If you had one night with one or two of the kiss members...
what would you do in that one night?
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"Finally, in a low whisper, he said, 'I think I might be a terrible person.' For a split second I believed him - I thought he was about to confess a crime, maybe a murder. Then I realized that we all think we might be terrible people. But we only reveal this before asking someone to love us. It is a kind of undressing."
— Miranda July, The First Bad Man
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Thots and prayers for the day:
Be me, in a church. The weight of my many sins consumes my very being. He sees me from afar. My blasphemy radiates from my body like a painful aura, brighter than any light the winged beings of his heavens could summon forth. I am beautiful. I am cursed. I am broken. He believes he can save my mortal soul.
I go to the confessional. The grain of the wood feels like home as I sit. The thick scent of anointing oils permeate my senses. Even the screen that separates us now as he enters, echoes with the judgment to come, though not spoken.
I am his child. I am broken. I hurt in my bones. I do not deserve his forgiveness. He feels my suffering, knows this may be the first, but likely not the last time I will come here. But the sorrow, I wear bereavement like arousal and he feels that stirring beneath the cloth cage of his cossack. He should send me away, cast my penance like dice from his hands and let them fall where they may. To walk away.
But he holds those unseen instruments of fate in his mind as he moves to beckon me to join him. To be seen and understood. To push past that threshold into his personal space. An interloper. A temptation against the temple of his body. An affront to the guardianship of his being. He feels that melancholy note that hovers between us and he wants to cradle it, nurture it. How he mourns the joy he has never seen upon my face.
How he longs to see it.
Shaking breaths are deafening, the tremor of how wrong this is warbles through the air. Forbidden and necessary.
"Come to me, my child. Come to me. Let me see your eyes."
We stare at each other in stasis. Perhaps this is enough. It can be enough. It can sate the longing that crawls through the broken glass of blood in our veins. He tells me to show him where it hurts.
"Everywhere. Everywhere."
He knows God by name. He speaks with angels freely. But never has he felt moved by an act of mortality such as this. There are no more deities, only this. Only the need to serve. To fix the broken parts. I came to pray. To beg him.
Tell me why he is now on his knees, clinging to my body. Tell me why he begs for sacrament and to taste my grief on his tongue. Explain the reverence with which he parts my thighs and buries himself there. How does the warmth of his breath against the entry of my own temple seem to be the only way salvation will find me?
He speaks psalms against the places he should not be, wraps his tongue like a rosary around that bundle of nerves that sings hymns when he calls. He can fix me. He can fix me.
Ardent in his prayers, his hands grip the altar of my thighs to part them further and cast my demons out. I am to crumble against the divine, I will fall anew. He begs me to be unburdened, to baptize him in the waters of my suffering and become clean.
There, I break. I am broken. I am broken.
I just want to be clean again. I just want to be clean again. But I pour my sins upon his mouth and soon he will ascend, rise like the sun itself before setting against the skyline of my welcoming arms. Soon he sinks in those hidden depths and bathes in my longing. Drowns in those waters, trying to save me. As the light consumes him with fervor, he weeps in awe of this ethereal moment.
He came to save. He left enrobed in my blessings, already counting down the moments he can prove his devotion again.
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mod gnarpy’s interstellar intro! *
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hai there! i am mod gnarpy, but you can just call me gnarpy :3 and this is my intro post! dedicated to explaining the blog to you
= the questions and answers! =
what is this blog for? ; showing off all your regretevator related confessions, of course ^_^
who runs this blog? ; gnarpy the kitty cat alien
why did you make this blog? ; because a confession blog seemed fun, and also cause of oscconfessions (the mods over there are great go check their blog out)
further info in the bio :)
= my rules and boundaries! =
be respectful please and thank you, and just don’t be weird (the bad kind)
and remember, whatever gets confessed here is not always endorsed by me
i won’t always reply to the confessions, nor will i always post them fast
nsfw is allowed ^^
= custom tags! =
#pure whimsical joy = things that make me feel true bliss
#the horrors = things that make me want to deactivate
#simp alert = things that SIMPS are saying. i know what you are
#what the scallop = people that need to be studied closely because they confuse me so much that i NEED an explanation for why they do what they do
#raging anons = people who are VERY angry, or just haters
#comedy gold = i feel like the name is self explanatory
= the anon list! =
🛏️
🌟
🍌
silly anon
🧠🎧
⌛️🧩
👾 or scag anon
🪻
🔵
💻🟢🔵
🎸🪷
🎉
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5eraphim · 1 year
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Yandere Spy licking reader's hand making them flustered, turning them on and off at the same time because the reader only likes him as a friend, but hand stuff really turns them on.
I have no idea how this wound up being another heirophilia piece, but I suppose that's where my mind's been fixating lately. I hope that works for you! Thank you for the request and I hope you enjoy!
Summary: Up late at night tossing and turning, you step out for a late night walk to get a little fresh air. Passing an abandoned Church and it's graveyard Reader sits in silence among the graves, feeling at rest in the stillness. But you weren't the only one lurking out in the shadows that night. You'd never been here before, but Spy has. Making him wonder if meeting you all alone in a place like this was no coincidence.
Character: The Spy🐍 (Team Fortress 2)
Rating: X (MINORS DON'T INTERACT, THIS ISN'T FOR YOU)
Content Warnings: dubcon/coercion, Touch starved reader, yandere, hand kink, manipulation, possessive behavior, outdoor sex (graveyard sex), fingering, heresy/blasphemy, slightly rough, toxic relationship, AFAB reader, bad ending/angst
Word Count: 5.6k
MASTER LIST
TIP JAR
(Song inspo- Sagrad Прекрасный, Grimes)
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"Therefore, confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another so that you may be healed. The effective prayer of a righteous man can accomplish much." (James 5:16)
Summer's night settled, and the clear sky illuminated only by the moon, bringing the world into a warm, gentle, dark quietness, but unfortunately for you- not sleep. All alone in bed, you writhed restlessly, unable to find a comfortable position or quiet your inner thoughts. Finally, the stress of it all too much, and with a bit more tossing and turning, you decided to get some fresh air to clear your head. Creeping as silently as you could down the hall, trying your hardest not to make any noise and awaken anyone, slipping past the door, shutting it tightly behind you.
Humid summer's night settled, and the clear sky, illuminated only by the moon, brought the world into a warm, gentle, dark quietness, but unfortunately for you- not to sleep. All alone in bed, you writhed restlessly, unable to find a comfortable position or quiet your inner thoughts. You couldn't quite pinpoint what was bothering you, but you felt too hot from the summer's heat and too cold alone in bed. Of course, it wasn't always this bad, but you swore to yourself some time ago that life as a mercenary was safer if you kept your head down and didn't let anyone get too close. The fear of costing another their life was enough to keep you away from others but not enough to satisfy your own neediness and desire for companionship and belonging within another. Finally, the stress of it all was too much, and with a bit more tossing and turning, you decided to get some fresh air to clear your head; not like getting out of bed now would ruin your sleep schedule any worse than before. Creeping on tip-toes as silently as you could down the hall, trying your hardest not to make any noise and awaken anyone, slipping past the door, you shut it firmly behind you.
In no particular direction, you wandered the roadside, wanting to, at the very least, get away from the base. It was so late into the night you hardly saw cars pass, allowing you to enjoy the silence all the better. And while you wanted to keep in motion, trying to work off your restlessness, an odd building in the distance caught your eye, making you linger before drawing closer. While you were too far away to distinguish any significant details, there was an air of magnetism, something you couldn't quite put your finger on, which felt as though the building were calling out to you, beckoning with a silent siren's song to come closer.
As you realized, the building, or rather, the church, was protected but not entirely locked within a black, rusted iron gate, evidently long since gone into decay. The moon illuminated like a spider's web over the cracked glass of windows, the breeze wafting the scent of long-since-fresh decay, now primarily concealed by the aroma of fresh overgrowth, of nature, and all the weeds and fresh grass growing amid the desolation. The sight of the holy esteemed building succumbing to rot and overgrowth was even more disheartening than the gothic cemetery beside it. Though there was a morbid beauty to it all, even run-down and consumed by nature, there were remnants of the once-holy parish, like so many other derelict chapels. As though you could feel the eyes of God watching over you as you timidly tried closer. You doubted you could get inside the building, it was dangerous to try and slip inside a place like this in the dark, in thin night clothes, but you were happier to stay outside anyway. Inside, the summer's heat felt stuffy and overpowering, but the air flowed freely outdoors as though it were practically pulling you into the cemetery.
The lawn, like the rest of the church, was overgrown, providing you a comfortable seat as you slouched back against the headstone, your eyes drifting shut as you let your mind wander, losing track of time, feeling so content to enjoy the sounds of leaves rustling, insects chirping a distance away, and the occasional creaking sound of wind rushing through the splintering wood of the abandoned church. It wasn't until you smelt the trace of a menthol cigarette's familiar odor that you realized you were no longer alone.
Sitting upright, you looked around, but given all the shadows cast by the graves and church, visibility was practically non-existent.
"Looking for someone?" You nearly jumped out of your skin in surprise, hearing Spy's voice directly overhead as he leaned over your tombstone, casting a shadow overhead, which you were somehow blind to before now.
"Oh, it's you. How long have you been back there, Spy?" Your panic instantly dissipated as you recognized your comrade. "How did you even find this place?" You wanted to end the question with, "You weren't stalking me, were you?" But you wanted to believe he couldn't have followed you so long without your knowledge, but you didn't want to think too hard about the answer to that question.
"I've been around here back when I was younger. Before the church was abandoned. I remember how I still visited this cemetery even after the church began to fall into decay. The grounds are so mysterious at night, so many hiding places."
You hated how the idea of a younger version of your friend hanging around an abandoned cemetery alone, stalking in the shadows, made too much sense. But you supposed that his actions were likely fueled by an odd sentimentality, even if it was a little morbid. Spy looked remarkably at the place in the gothic cemetery in a way you couldn't explain. Something about the harsh shadows under the moon's light reminded you how he could remain withdrawn into the shadows, hidden and poised even during the day. Able to stay out of direct sight, but never enough to be forgotten entirely.
Standing before you, he stalked around the tombstone, the trace of a smile cast down at you. "May I sit?" Without waiting for an answer, he stooped closer, making himself comfortable before you could even scoot to the side to give him more space to rest against the headstone. Not that it was needed spatially, but you could only be so comfortable so close to the infamous backstabber.
Now sitting hip-to-hip beside you, back against the gravemarker, without hesitation pressing himself beside you, his hand over yours, keeping you in place. You spent so much time yearning for the touch of another earlier that night, tormenting yourself from withdrawal, but now that it was here, now that it was someone so close to you, it felt like too much. 
Spy spoke, "You were restless and found your way to church. Are you here for confession?" You chuckled, looking over, expecting him to be messing with you, but the look on his face was far from humorous. His eyes were narrowed, smiling coyly. He looked so intense, you felt awkward put on the spot like this. Attempting to lighten things up, you answered.
"Are we playing church now? Are you sure you're morally qualified to stand as a priest?" Rolling your eyes and acting unimpressed, you were about to shift your body a little away from him, but he moved first, leaning his own weight heavier against your side.
"Maybe I'm no priest, but won't you still give me your confessional?" You couldn't think of anything to respond with, your brow furrowing, failing to understand where he was going with this. But when you felt his hand squeezing against yours, fingers curling just a little tighter. "Someone as lovely as you shouldn't be so burdened by stress; tell me, what's on your mind? One sinner to another?"
His face was far too close to yours, but you forced yourself to stay still, not wanting to let Spy see how much he unnerved you, selfishly wanting to think there was still a chance he was just leading you on. Then, turning your head to look up at the stars, you rambled absentmindedly, more so to fill the silence than give him an honest answer.
"To tell you the truth, I don't think I could tell you why if I wanted to. I just couldn't really fall asleep, I suppose; you know how it is."
"Something was on your mind?" His voice sounded somehow closer, but now you were a bit more relaxed with his closeness.
"Oh, wouldn't you like to know-" You began, but the Spy cut you off.
"Staying up all night isn't healthy. Whatever it is you're hiding, you shouldn't keep bottled up. You know you can tell me anything, don't you?" His chin was practically resting on your shoulder. He continued, "Don't be so afraid; this is a holy space; you're safe here." Your lips parted to say something, but you were stunned into silence as you felt Spy's hand not touching yours connect to your cheek, guiding your head so you looked directly at him. While his thumb rested against the outline of your lip. "You'll always be safe around me." His voice lowered to an almost purr. 
"I-I just, sometimes, I have trouble falling asleep- I guess, yeah, kind of a lot. Sometimes it's too hard to quiet my mind. I get overwhelmed with work and keeping professional, but it's no big deal; it happens to everyone." Spy's thumb continued to ghost over your lip; you almost didn't even hear your own voice, so hushed and nervous.
"You poor thing…" Spy's fingers curled under your jaw, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. "All alone at night- don't tell me you've been looking for someone to warm your bed? Have you been dreaming of me- wishing I were there beside you? Is that what has you trembling under my fingertips?"
You wanted to pull away, to tell him to knock it off, but you both knew he was right. Spy read you like an open book, and you didn't fight back when he pushed his thumb into your mouth, slowly sliding over your tongue, forcing your mouth open wider.
You yelped gently when his grip on your jaw tightened without warming, just a playful little surprise, but with darker intention. His other hand slithered from your hand to your upper thigh as he shifted positions, keeping your head pinned back against the headstone. At the same time, he swung one leg over your waist, his knees on either side of your legs, and you could feel the lean muscle in his thighs squeezing against your lap, forcing your thighs tightly together like a snake coiling around his prey.
The pressure was almost enough to hurt, making you squirm in place while you watched Spy's eyes darken in perverse amusement. Your heavy breathing sounded so much louder with your mouth stuck open like this, and you could feel Spy moving your saliva inside your mouth as he maneuvered his thumb over your teeth and the insides of your cheeks. You couldn't speak but whimper a little as though it did you any good. You didn't try to stop him when he popped this thumb out of your mouth, hooking it under your chin while his index and middle finger pushed inside. You didn't even realize what you were doing when you mindlessly began to suck against his fingers, selfishly giving in to your inner touch-starved desires. Wanting to feel them plunge deeper inside your mouth and feel his thighs forcing yours tighter together.
Breathing heavily through your nose, you felt him playing with your tongue, compelling you to lap against his fingertips, thoroughly coating them with your spit. It wasn't until you felt his free hand wrap around your throat that you managed to snap out of your mental haze, remembering all it was you were letting pin you down. You used your tongue to force his fingers out of your mouth, jerking your head sharply to the side, catching Spy by surprise and breaking his bind on you.
"Spy! What is the matter with you? This is so disrespectful- we're in a graveyard!" You tried to rise, but his thighs were much too hard to break out of, and you could do nothing but struggle, trying to buck him off and wriggle free while he watched from above with far less delight.
"Why the change of heart? You wanted some help for that insomnia, didn't you?" He feigned a mocking ignorance, making you feel all the more embarrassed for not pushing him away sooner. He was a charming man; he knew that- everyone knew that. But you didn't like seeing this side of your comrade. 
The sinister way you'd seen him toy with other women, stringing them along, getting their hopes up only to abandon them, playing deaf to their beckoning calls. While you didn't know much about Spy's past, and likely even less, that was actually true, just about everyone knew about Spy's abandonment issues, even if he never actually verbalized them. And you imagined treating people like pawns, pushing them around like their love was all some game to him, satisfying some deep emotional wound. He needed to assure himself no matter what. He was the one who left other people before they left him. Spy didn't need their emotional bonds, and he never would. It reminded you not to get too close to someone like him.
"Spy, c'mon! This is so weird; let me up already!" He made a show of dramatically pretending to ponder this, raising an eyebrow, his thumb and forefinger pressed against his chin in mock-deep thought.
"That depends. Will you take me back to bed with you?"
"Spy! Stop being creepy, and let me up!" You tried your hardest to sound bold, pretending you didn't notice the drool smeared around the outside of your mouth. You used your hands to try and push him off your lap, but he was much stronger than he looked. Managing to stay clamped down on your waist. "So pushy; why so aggressive tonight?"
And before you realized what was happening, you felt his hands seize your shoulders, squeezing them painfully tight. Spy spread his thighs, keeping you in place with his hands before shoving you to the side, belly-up to the ground, lunging back into place just as quickly. "You really wanna play rough with me? You must've forgotten who you're dealing with."
His gentle purr was now a hissed threat.
"Spy, I don't understand-" You sounded so weak in comparison. He looked nothing less than lethal, sending a chill down your spine. This wasn't your friend; Spy was acting like an entirely different person, and you were getting seriously disturbed. "I've had enough of you and your distance- pretending you don't see me like I'm not worth your time! I'm putting an end to all that. Now." He white-knuckled your shoulders in place, which hurt, but not nearly as much as his death glare, and you couldn't help but feel yourself buckling under the pressure.
"Spy, this isn't you- Please, I know you don't want to do this…" You hated yourself for sounding so weak and hesitating, you should be trying to wrestle free, but you didn't have it in you to fight back in earnest. He was acting deranged, but you wanted to believe so badly there was a reason for all this. Spy laughed under his breath without humor, eyes snake-like and hardened with malice.
"You tell me you are lonely, yet beg me not to touch you- is that what this is? I'm not good enough? I must repulse you, don't I, little cherub?" You could practically feel the venom dripping from his words, and you knew with a sinking certainty there was no longer any chance of saving this friendship. One way or another, tonight would change everything, and you could do nothing to stop it. You shook your head, not trusting yourself to say the right thing to appease Spy. He leaned in a little closer, making sure to press his body as hard and as close to yours as he could, "I know you've always wanted me. Pretend you didn't; ignore me all you want; you've had this coming." He paused, his lips right over your own, just enough to make fleeting contact with yours when he spoke. 
"Spy, it's not too late; you're sure you want to go through with all'' Before you could finish your sentence, Spy cut you off by crushing your lips against his own, sliding his tongue into your mouth. Your mind went fuzzy as you felt him breaking away just enough to pull your light clothes off, followed by his own as he continued to dry hump you. Spy was already hard but continued to grind against you, and despite shedding your clothes, you couldn't help but feel overheated. Spy continued to build clothes-on friction before removing your undergarments, giving you just enough time to adjust by sliding up and down your sex, coating himself in your slick, before slipping his head inside. 
You hadn't realized how touch-starved and needy you were until you felt his desperation to touch you. Spy, the man you once knew to be the living embodiment of decisiveness and self-control, was now nothing but a mess of a man before you. Spy's head buried deep in the crook of your neck as he smothered the sound of his own moaning and heavy breathing. Your head pulled back as he planted open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin, forcing you to bite your lower lip harder to endure the intense sensations. Finally, you opened your eyes, seeing the outline of Spy's silhouette against the backdrop of the night's clear sky, his overheated body pumping into your own, the act so lewd, but under the moon's light, it made things feel almost romantic. Almost enough to make you forget you were literally fucking raw in the grass above a yard of dead bodies.
The shamefulness of it all, the desecration of what should've been a sacred, respectable space now sullied by the two sinners defiling each other's bodies in the grass. You'd be lying if you said it didn't turn you on all the more. Only making you all the weaker under his touch, his hands groping against your skin, needing to feel every inch of your body now naked and aroused, all for himself. In a way, it felt powerful knowing Spy once knew this church as a reverend, pious space, and because of your body, and your sinful effect on him, Spy would never be able to see the graveyard the same way again. You moaned, feeling Spy's hips grinding harder, pushing himself even deeper inside, forcing you to stretch even wider, to feel his thick veins as they throbbed against your inner walls.
"G-god, Spy, I'm close- Fuck! I'm so close; please don't stop!" You begged almost directly into his ear as he continued to mark your skin with dark bitemarks and abrasions against your poor neck's overly-sensitive skin. Before, you tried to keep your thighs wrapped around his waist to help him pound into you even deeper, but now your legs felt too limp to do anything but sprawl out, trying to stay spread as wide as possible while Spy pumped in and out from above, hips snapping back, only to slam right back inside.
"I can feel it." Despite his lust, Spy somehow managed to keep his voice low, intimidating, and commanding, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. Your head fell to the side, your cheek meeting the grass as you inhaled the smell of the earth for just a moment before you felt Spy shift his weight overhead, supporting himself with one arm as his fingers tapped against your lips. "Open up."
You obeyed immediately, your tongue helping to coat his fingers in saliva while you opened wider to fit more of his hand into your mouth, feeling his knuckles scrap against your teeth. Your mouth forced open around Spy's hand made your moans morph into a choked cry while he used your mouth to coat his fingers, causing some stuff to spread around the corners of your mouth. Spy pulled his fingers out sharply, without warning, leaving a thin trail of saliva connecting them to your mouth. 
And in the blink of an eye, you felt him reach your clit, finding it without missing a beat, pulling out slightly to give him room to play with it, making you clench tighter at the new sensation. Cursing under your breath as you felt his fingers swirling around the bundle of nerves, coating the area in spit moving slow and steadily, ensuring the entire area was even wetter and slicker. While he couldn't fuck into you as hard as before, it did nothing to diminish the pleasurable stretching warmth of his dick inside you. 
"You've no idea how long I've waited to feel you coming over my cock. My fingers in your pretty little mouth-" Spy stuttered for a moment, cursing under his breath as you continued to grind against and clench down on his cock, so spastic and manically you felt like a feral animal. At the same time, he managed to keep a steady rhythm over you. Intentionally keeping you on edge, not quite moving where he knew you wanted him, moving just a bit too slowly to truly satisfy you.
"How about you make this all worth the wait? I want to feel you come on my cock as hard as you can. Do you think you can manage that?" He stalled just a moment, but for you, it was agony.
"Y-yeah! Please, just- Please Spy more!" You babbled obediently; the compliance and the struggle to do so made Spy feel as powerful as a god before you. Able to warp your mind and body to his will while you obeyed without question. He stole a deep kiss, feeling the saliva still coating the outside of your mouth against his own lips while you were barely strong enough anymore to kiss back. He greedily kept his mouth locked over yours while you moaned into him, feeling his fingers picking up the pace once again. 
The pressure in your lower gut tightened; you were so painfully close now, your legs twitching, feeling your climax drawing even closer as he felt your hole tightening and pulsating wildly. Spy used his fingers to pinch and roll your clit over his fingertips while your pussy leaked against his cock. Spy grinned against your lips as he felt your orgasm finally overtake you, making your body seize up as you mindlessly clamped down on his manhood, your mind going blank while you rode out the pleasure. 
Watching your face while you came was almost enough to make him burst alone, but biting his lower lip, Spy forced himself to endure it, wanting to ensure you were all done coming for him before he got his. And the moment he felt your breath fanning over his face as you sighed deeply, the tremors began to settle as your one vice-like grip softened before going limp. Spy didn't waste another moment. 
Fucking your overstimulated body while you whimpered and trembled feebly. Spy's hand left your clit, allowing himself to reposition, elbows on either side of your head, letting him once again pound deeper inside of you. It wasn't only for his amusement to force you to come before himself. Spy knew he wouldn't last long fucking you, far shorter than he usually could, not after he's spent so long touching himself in secrecy, dreaming of this night. He never thought you'd let him fuck you in a place like this, and he never thought he'd be so primal to fuck outside on the grass like an animal, but he couldn't let an opportunity like this slip away. Now that he was here in the flesh, your body, limp and wet, allowed him to insert himself deep inside without any resistance as his pace began to increase, feeling his orgasm coming on.
When Spy hit his climax, your body was still in the after-glow phase, throbbing and sensitive from your orgasm. You felt him finishing, emptying himself deep inside of you, while you winced at the feeling of hot cum filling you, his cock still tucked inside you, forcing the stuff to stay inside as well. The sensation of Spy forcing your body to stretch to accommodate his manhood no longer felt stinging or painful. Still, now without friction, you couldn't help but feel a bit uncomfortable at the feeling of something so large stationary inside you. Forcing your eyes open, you looked up at Spy while he kept your head caged in place with his elbows planted on both sides while he used his forearms and fists against the ground to remain balanced. You could see the lingering "thousand-yard stare" look in Spy's eyes, visible even in the darkness.
But after a few deep breaths, he pulled it together again, regaining his composure enough to lean back from you, rising to his knees. Leaking a few sticky strands of cum into the grass between your legs, the wetness made Spy shiver, feeling the chill summer draft against his dribbling cock.
Selfishly, you couldn't help but feel like the intimate moment with Spy hadn't entirely satisfied your touch-starved neediness. Your after-glow made you want to curl up and rest your head on Spy's chest, to feel him wrap his arms around you, allowing you to feel entirely enveloped and at home in his arms. It was a common enough feeling post-climax, but given the day you'd endured before, it was hitting you stronger than ever. But you were still too weak in the knees to move much, still laying belly-up in the grass below while Spy rose to his knees, taking a moment to appreciate your naked body, full of his come, neck, and shoulders speckled with bruises and bite marks. Nothing less than a living work of art. 
While Spy first fell for your sharp wit on the battlefield, how you always managed to keep a level head no matter how fearsome the combat, your body also compelled him. He tried to deny it for some time, rationalizing his affections as nothing more than gratitude to have another "sane person" around the base, but he knew better. Spy was head over heels for the new guy in a manner he'd never seen from himself before. And now here you were, his once headstrong and independent comrade reduced to a come-soaked, mindless little sex toy, and all under his command.
Spy forced himself to stop staring and dressed, side-eyeing you while you slowly began to come to your senses. When you focused your vision, you realized you'd almost entirely forgotten your current situation. You just got fucked out of your mind in the cemetery of an abandoned church; blinking with bleary eyes, you felt the post-sex clarity setting in, the guilt finally setting in like a heavy hit in your gut. 
Not only had you desecrated the sacred soil of the cemetery, but you let Spy get the best of you. Humiliatingly so. Using his silver tongue to have you wrapped around his finger and turn your own body against you. The gravity of the situation began to catch up with you, your conscience screaming, "How could you be so weak?! You let him take advantage of you- to use you like a toy, like a brainless whore! You know he'll never respect you again after this, right? He got what he wanted, and now he'll leave you behind. You were a fool to ever think you could trust him in the first place!" 
It was impossible to keep these overwhelming thoughts from flooding your head, making you feel ashamed and self-conscious. Like you were Eve, tricked by the vile serpent to eat the fruit of knowledge, forcing all this shame and guilt onto you. The kind of guilt you knew you'd never forgive yourself for or forget. You didn't know if you hated yourself or Spy worse at this moment, but you didn't even want to look at Spy. While you were angry, he led you to do something unholy; you hated yourself for letting it happen. Rolling onto your side away from him, you curled into the fetal position, unable to stop the tears from prickling in your eyes, but doing the best you could to silence your sobbing, burying your face in your hands, hoping Spy would just leave you alone now that he had what he wanted. But you weren't so lucky.
"Here, let me help you get dressed-" You could hear his shoes against the grass as he stepped closer, still using that soft, charming voice of his.
"Go away, Spy." He halted, likely surprised to hear such anger in your voice. You curled up even tighter, trying to hide your face as best you could. Your fingers dug into your arms, deep enough for your fingernails to leave little crescent-shaped indents in your skin. Spy already beat you, but your stomach sank as you desperately tried to hide your crying face from his sight, though as you heard his footsteps draw closer, you knew it was only a matter of time. The feeling of his hand on your shoulder, his fingertips rubbing in a soothing motion, exactly like he had against your hand when he first made contact with you this night. The memory made you want to vomit, mentally beating yourself for letting him touch you all over; the phantom sensations over your neck, down your throat, over your breasts, and between your legs made you feel absolutely filthy.
"Shhh, it's just me, don't cry-"
"I said get away!" The anger does nothing to hide your obvious sobs. "You got what you fucking wanted, didn't you? Will you get out already!" He paused, lifting his hand from your body.
"Pardon?" You had a feeling he was baiting you, but you didn't care anymore, your head shooting up to look him in the eye. You were humiliated and enraged and couldn't bear to hold it in anymore.
"You won! You had your way- haven't you? And I'm the idiot- I-I'm the slut for letting you talk me out of my clothes and let you fuck me into the dirt. Are you happy now? This is what you wanted all along, wasn't it? Isn't that enough? You've taken my pride- my body; what more do you want from me!?" The words were tumbling out of your mouth faster than you could stop them, your mind racing and heart beating rapidly in your ears; what angered you more than the hatred you felt for Spy was how he didn't appear hurt by your harsh words, mouth pressed in a straight line, his face a hardened mask of unreadable resolution. "I should've known- I've seen how you look at women, you pig!"
You grit your teeth, done shouting for the moment. You didn't want to hear Spy make excuses for himself, but feeling him kneeling there watching, judging you silently, unnerved you greatly. 
"I see you're upset now, but you must understand; I've waited so long to show you how I felt. When you found your way here of all places- I couldn't wait any longer." You expected him to say something about how you're just scared, how common it was for friends to fool around like this; you didn't expect to hear something like this. And with an eerie uncertainty, you wondered if being genuinely sought after by Spy was worse than being another conquest like so many others.
"I know you, Spy; you're nothing but a liar and a dirty coward. You don't love anyone but yourself, and I won't let you fool me again." Your eyes were narrowed, waiting for his manufactured charisma to appear again or for him to defend himself from your personal attacks, but Spy wouldn't budge. 
"I may be a liar, but tonight I confessed all I've felt for you before now- perhaps I took it a bit too far-"
"Spy!"
He held a hand, motioning for you to silence yourself, to which you complied, furious but tortured with inner indecision. He gently tugged your shoulder, smoothly pulling you out of the fetal position, as you were too emotionally burnt out to fight against him. Laying on your back, looking up at Spy, you felt him trace the side of your face with his hand, thumb stroking your cheek, brushing away the tears gently. 
"It was never my intention to take things so far so soon- it was my own weakness that hurt you. And I may regret that. But you must believe my confession- it was all to show you how I love you- how I need you! My love, God made you just for me, and I for you. And if you can't understand this now, then it is my mission from God to ensure you do."
While the logical part of your brain screamed at you that he was a liar, not to believe a word he said. But you couldn't ignore your emotions' much quieter voice of doubt. Despite saying you never really trusted him, this wasn't exactly true, and you genuinely valued Spy as a friend for the longest time, and you'd never seen him so humble, self-effacing, or with such pious sincerity. Yet, you hated yourself for wanting to hear him out. What he just did to you was so cruel, even out of love, it was sacrilege, and you didn't think you'd ever forgive him for what he did, but you feared to believe it wasn't enough for you to hate him as you should have.
"Spy, you've done more than ruin our friendship; you've broken my trust forever." The anger was already burnt out, leaving you feeling nothing but hollowness on the inside. Spy wanted to take the relationship beyond a friendship, and in a way, he had succeeded, leaving that relationship broken beyond repair. A look of almost pity crossed his face, breaking his firm assurance.
"All will be well, my love, I swear. Nothing will come between us, not while God is on our side."
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danosrosegarden · 4 days
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Maybe a continuation of the rimming one shot? It was super yummy.. 🥺
i would love to…insert devilish smirk here…BUT i have a question. what in this continuation would you specifically like to see? 👁️
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catholic-zeldastrife · 8 months
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I just got out of confession after four years of not going and I feel like I’m a new person!!
God is so good all the time!
All the time God is good!
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pafl-confessions · 5 months
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Pinned post moment
Hello, hello!
This is the pafl confessions blog, run by @hiddenwizard
(pafl belongs to @nopanamaman)
Some ground rules (I don't think there will be any issues, but just in case):
Obvious things- no racism, homophobia, transphobia, bigotry or hate speech of any kind
The guy who runs this blog is a minor, don't send in anything you wouldn't send to a teenager, essentially (use your own judgement on this)
Confessions should be about pafl or pafl-adjacent
Be kind and courteous to me and other confessors
Do not bring discourse onto this blog
No character hate unless it's funny (I will be the judge of this)
Please keep interpersonal conflict off this blog. Sort it out somewhere that is not a sillygoofy confession blog's askbox
I am not saying don't be serious here. I am saying use discretion please
With that said,
GET CONFESSING!
[plain text: get confessing!]
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localratwithcowboyhat · 5 months
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here's my rat plushie, Rat Joe. he wants to sniff your rat as a vibe check
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Unfortunately that rat you saw isnt mine
But victor here is. so joe is more than wellcome to perform a vibe check on this guy
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vintage-tigre · 7 months
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sp00nsbyelle · 1 year
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entertain me
Tell me your deepest secret (or someone else’s), share your favorite memory with me, or tell me about that person you’ve been thinking about (or your partner that you love and/or miss). Ask me for advice!! I’ve always wanted to have my own little community come be my friend!!
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She could be promised. Her ring finger, claimed as property with a band of metal as proof of purchase. She might have his arms around her in the night, feeling safe and protected from harm. He promises her a future. She promises him a life. Together they are eternity, unfolding in real time before the many eyes of the angels.
This is what I consider when she comes to my place of refuge. Any other night, I would be gone. But this is the eve of his coming, the birth of our savior. To leave would be disgraceful and repugnant. So I am left bound to my cause and that due diligence was repaid by the way of a sacrificial lamb naively entering his domain like a gift, wrapped neatly and tied off with a bow. How fitting.
How he is mysterious in his ways and somehow quite cruel in his dangling of the forbidden fruit is not lost on me. Of all nights, this night. This is the night she is bestowed upon me, through an act of divine intervention. She has come to pray. Not to stray. Not to cut her teeth on proverbial apples in this manufactured building, this modern day barn taking in the lost and weary.
I watch her from afar. So humble and lacking that aura that sinners carry like a badge. She is different. I am fascinated. How long has it been since such innocence graced this place? I cannot remember, long enough though to make me nervous. Make my hands shake. Make my heart race in my chest. Long enough that even the notion of it brings an aching need between my legs to life. Oh, if only. If I could have her. I move to sit beside her. To offer my guidance and support.
"Please, pray with me."
Who am I to refute such dulcet words? I am nobody, that is who. I nod and we bow our heads, speaking softly. I can smell the lilac on her skin. Feel her dedication from afar. I want to touch something this beautiful and feel it in my hands. I want to know what it is like to lay myself at the manger of her body.
Before I can stop myself, I am on my knees. She is a miracle manifest and I must praise her. I sense her confusion, her hesitation. But I also hear her breath quicken and become shallow in her chest.
"An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified."
"...but the angel said to them, 'Do not be afraid. I b--"
I never give her the chance to finish. I am parting her legs. I am between them, on my knees, weakened to the core by this ethereal being. I throw myself upon her altar, praying for her good graces to deign me worthy of such a holy ground. Her answer comes as a timid lift of her hips and I rush to meet her.
Her thighs cradle my face in their embrace as I pull the thin layer of cloth that separates me from direct contact to the side. She is frankincense and myrrh. My fingertips run over smooth petals and I am lost. So transfixed by this earthly goddess, so consumed by her presence that I am not worthy of her blessing.
She can sense it and soon, her loving touch is felt as she strokes my hair. As she guides me forward, presses my mouth flush against her with the sweetest of sighs. To kiss her here, where all life begins. To bring my tongue over every part of her and taste that precious nectar. I want to be smothered in her adoration, I want to know her love.
My worship is doting, slow and methodical at first. I want to explore this territory completely. But I am lost once her legs come over my shoulders. I am shackled by hands at the back of my head. I am so greedy, so greedy. Oh, as she rocks against my mouth, I want to make her know the depths of my devotion. To wrap my lips around the one place she cannot control me, to suckle that nub of flesh desperately as she grinds into me.
Moans. Her moans are hymns. Her moans are declarations that rebirth is coming, that the holy spirit itself will be reborn this night. Two fingers push into her as I deliver my wordless sermon to this attentive congregation. Faster and faster I race to close that distance as she embraces me from within.
Suckling my little lamb as her hips scream prayers to my face. Mouth. Lips. Tongue. Fingers. Everything for her. Then it comes, like the star rising in the sky to announce the arrival of our Lord. Fluttering muscles and throbbing release, unintelligible outcries and whimpering. She is mine. She is mine.
My divine goddess. This holy mother. Already red stains her cheeks. But she does not realize this night is young and my worship, incomplete. But she will. Oh, she will. Then unlike the other, she will know exactly what holy spirit will fill the aching holes of her soul with his presence.
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joelswritingmistress · 8 months
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Confession: I was Googling sexy gifs (kinda for my story and kinda for me 😆) the other night. I ended up stumbling upon a "video" and the guy in it looks soooo much like Pedro Pascal. I never actually watch p*rn, I prefer reading lol, but I went down a rabbit hole to find out who this guy was and he's hot AF!!! He doesn't look 100% like Pedro in other videos but now that I found him I kinda Google him late at night if my hubs goes to bed early 😆 . He's got major DILF vibes. Would be happy to relay the "actor's" info to anyone old enough. Lol
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flowersinapril · 1 year
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Jesus died for somebody's sins, but not mine.
- Gloria
Patti Smith, 1970-2015
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