#( .ezra. ) 𝔶𝔬𝔲— 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔇𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔯. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔉𝔞𝔩𝔰𝔢 𝔓𝔯𝔬𝔭𝔥𝔢𝔱 .⊱

[deathmcth-archived]

you all are probably sick of hearing about how insaneo ayalon is so here’s a nsfw drop about these four

sophie’s vulgar. crass. they like a woman who they’re able to man-handle in bed. they’re very rough and want women who are into that sort of thing as much as they are 

ezra definitely has a worship kink. he wants someone on their knees kissing his feet and begging for forgiveness. he’s manipulative and controlling and that definitely applies to the bedroom (kill him)

eli’s a sadomasochist. so far he’s only interested in reid, and that takes shape in the form of ‘anything reid does to me i’ll accept it. i dont care if he stabs me. actually, i would love it if he stabbed me.’ 

reid is bad at blowjobs. he forgets he actually has to do stuff instead of just putting it in his mouth and holding it there 

[deathmcth-archived]

                 y’all like men with god complexes? 

[deathmcth-archived]

a very polite young man...

x / x

[deathmcth-archived]

Artist: Huh_1222 | DO NOT REBLOG .

Smile and drop the cliche till you think I'm listening.. Take just what I came for, then I'm out the door again.

Lie to get what I came for. Lie to get just what I need.

Lie to get what I crave. Lie and smile to get what's mine.

ᵀᶦᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶠᵉᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒⁿˢᵗᵉʳ . ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᶠʳᶦᵉⁿᵈ .

[deathmcth-archived]

Golden digits twitch and twist, thrusting deep into Ezra's stomach - churning his guts that weigh heavy in his palm. The beast hissed into their ear, delight in hidden gaze as the opposite hand raises to hold their cheek - tender and with kindness as if his touch wasn't corroding their organs from the inside out. "It's strange, isn't it? Haha... You worship anyone, don't you? Like a concubine for any King... Spreading your legs for the nearest power."

Ah, how it smelt divine - their blood, their eyes, only made the beast's hand stroke down their neck to latch on with a fierce grip and raise the human from his very feet. The hand still remained in their intestines, squeezing as they tried to figure out if they wished to tear them out in one go to tug it out like a rope in slow motions...

"Praise me, boy. Sing my name on your eager common tongue."

The waft of hot blood stings his nose, jaw clenched and dripping crimson as he groans in delicious agony. Ezra coughs up another foul glob of it, choking when it sits too long in this throat. Another thrust of Bài Huài's fingers has his toes curling in an ecstasy so sweet his leg twitches upwards, accidentally bumping against his forming erection and the front of his pants is already wet, stained with an orgasm he had previously— when the God had first entered his stomach. The pain was hellish, a torture Ezra had never thought he'd experience in his lifetime, at least, not without meeting his beloved death.

But his God, his God, the moth that's seared into the back of his eyelids every time he so much as blinks, would not let him die at the hands of another. Is that not proof of his love? Ezra's mouth curls into a bloody grin with a cheeky huff of laughter, vocal amusement cut short the moment Bài Huài wraps his fingers tight around Ezra's throat.

Rip me apart, the prophet wants to say, watch how death does not take me.

" And shall I spread my legs for you, my King? " Is Ezra's rasped impudence. Still grinning, still disgustingly aroused by the position Bài Huài has him in. His stare is mocking, despite how readily he was to worship the God, dark hues boring into the cloth obscuring him from the other's eyes. " I worship divinity. I worship what's greater than me, as the way it should be. " And yet, he's looking down at Bài Huài with ill placed mirth, smugness thick.

" How should I praise y— " A sharp tug at his intestines draws out a sudden gasp, his eyes rolling back as he arches in the God's grasp. Warmth flows thick down his pelvis, his legs, dripping off the tips of his shoes in a macabre puddle. Bài Huài has pulled something out, making his body feel weightless, yet dragged down all at once. More blood rushes to the surface of his mouth, covering whatever words that once coated his tongue. " You are.. awfully generous, " Ezra manages to groan, body growing limp and cold before his temperature spikes with an unexpected convulse of his body. The prophet moans, another orgasm racking through his body that has cum slip down red painted thighs. He's shaky, hands wrapped around the being's wrist to use as leverage. Pleasure has its hands on him, pulling out each individual gasp and pleased hum the same way Bài Huài yanks out his organs.

On instinct, a leg wraps itself around the deities waist, head thrown back as he gives another delighted little laugh. " Bài Huài, " he calls, flashing his teeth in a wolfish grin, " Bài Huài, Bài Huài, so beautiful.. my good Lord, my God— mine, mine. There's nothing greater than having you like this. I'll beg you for more, plead for a morsal of your attention. That's all I want, to be a steppingstone to your desires. Carve your name into me, if that's what you wish. I am the voice of God, so use me. "

[deathmcth-archived]

ezra's love language is isolating you from everyone you know and love so you're solely dependent on him.

[deathmcth-archived]

Pay no mind what other voices say They don't care about you Like I do

Safe from pain and truth and choice and other poison devils See, they don't give a fuck about you Like I do

Just stay with me— Safe and ignorant

I'll be the one to protect you from Your enemies and your choices son One and the same, I must isolate you Isolate and save you from yourself

[deathmcth-archived]

@phantasmaw asked: It drapes its arms over Ezra from behind, silent as the tomb as it bends so lips will tickle against the man's ear as Miryin whispers, "What do the gods tell you? What can only you hear?" Its hands wander, the lethal sharpness of claws catching on the fabric of shirt but not yet tearing, tracing over the outline of his chest before dipping to cup hips. "Bless me with the knowledge only you hold. Unravel me bit by bit." Miryin turns its head to mimic a kiss to his temple. Its voice drops lower, a vibration that passes from it to him, "You can do that, can't you?"

" I can do whatever the Lord asks of me. " The Lord in question was not in the holy image of a Moth, but whatever twisted being now occupying his space. The weight across his shoulders was foreign, too close for comfort. Ezra had been denied touch whilst with his father. Touch was sin, an affectionate person merely a Harlot. He pictures calling Miryin such a thing, despite no longer holding that belief, and his jaw clenches. He can't laugh. He mustn't.

Still, the preacher smiles good mannerly, cupping one of Miryin's hands with his own when it finds purchase at his hip. No other would dare touch Ezra so intimately, no one but his Visitor. There's a tingle in his lower belly, another feeling so unfamiliar that it nearly leaves Ezra's mouth dry. " Except for that. " He finishes with a grin. So demanding, it was. So entitled. " I'll tell you what I need to tell you. " Only Ezra would look such a being in the face and deny it what it wants. If Miryin felt entitled to the words of his God, Ezra felt enabled enough to decline. " Are you jealous? " Is his cheeky inquiry, " that I was chosen, and you weren't? That I know something more than you could ever hope? "

His unoccupied hand reaches up and behind him, racking his fingers through the dark strands of Miryin's hair that was in reach. He's surely to be punished for mouthing off, maybe it would go as far as to make him cry mercy. But the him of the future would be Miryin's victim, because the him now was able to talk as he pleased. " I'll unravel you, but only when I feel it's what you deserve. You want to know the God's secrets? Perhaps you should become one, instead of questioning the prophet. "

[deathmcth-archived]

ezra be the type to tell someone to “taste god” and then spit in their mouth.