#godliest

[mightethor]

@godliest​​ :  “ it was … a kind of marriage ,  being so close . “   / yeahhhh let him talk abt amora for once :’)     prompts / open.

amora  the  enchantress .. mighty thor was well aware with the deity, more than once had her own run throughs  with the green enchantress. while it was not at all surprising to understand that loki had been involved, more so tangled with her, hearing how such things as relationships worth among the gods had interested jane  foster,  mortal.  “ you seem plagued  by  these  memories. on midgard, marriage was rare to find with someone meaningful to spend life with. “ having someone to grow old with, to watch you die. as morbid as it may sound, isn’t that what everyone wanted ? to escape loneliness ?

“ with that being said, it’s probably not taken as sacred as you describe things with her. “ maybe jane foster once entertained a lingering thought on marriage but it always ended the same way.  not without fear. it was worthless to daydream now, since her sole responsibility is the lightening. “ so what story do you have ? a trickster and enchantress, sounds endearing. “

[hyewka]

warnings. hickeys lol, sub!gyu, fleshlight use

i feel like beomgyu lovessss marking like whether he’s the one giving or receiving, he just likes the idea of ‘claiming’. lol he especially likes when you do it to him, get him all prettied up with purple splotches on his collarbones—not too high so he doesnt have to go through a hassle of covering up, but he urges you anyway because beomgyu likes it—loves it. feeling like he belongs to you. “it’s okay, go—h-ha—go higher.” poor baby is such a whiner :(( want to kiss his pouts away, smooth out the tiny furrow of his eyebrows, and calm his already unsteady breathing, but when he lets out a whimper through his pressed lips you focus on giving him what he wants. beomgyus the type to get off from this, it just turns him on so so much. spending time to trail kisses down to his squishy tummy, then laying wet pecks while jerking off his poor dick, already leaking ughh, twitching in your hands. i know he loves it rough too, having you suck sore purple red hues, letting out the godliest, out of the world sounds, hes soo pretty with his soundss ughhh :(

showing them off is also something he would totally do—the next day after getting fucked dumb, clinging onto you a lot more than he’d usually be, his hickeys peeking through his oversized shirt, right in front of your roommates—hes so shameless. making a show of fanning himself with the ends of his shirt to flash what you did to him, he loves being claimed, and he loves showing it off. little brat, you have to spend more time teaching him to behave, punishing him when you’re finally alone, speaking to him like the dumb puppy he is, “you can’t go a day without showing the entire world you’re my whore?”

aww baby is a crier, already feeling his wispy lashes getting wet, sticking together as your finger dance along his tight hole, your puppy gasping at every touch—he was a total slut, fucking the fleshlight as punishment, still going dumb and light headed at the silicone toy. “answer me.”

his lanky body so cute slamming his hips uncontrollably into the toy, previous hickeys trailed all around it—he was so pretty at this exact moment, noticing his staggering pace. “y-yes, i’m your whore—mmf! w-want everyone to know.”

you huff out a laugh through your nose, shaking your head at the boy—he’ll forever be a shameless boy. but he’s yours, your shameless boy. so you watch as he finally spills his load, his hair stick to his forehead, so fucked out, you give in to lean in a kiss on the top of his head whispering to him all the praises he yearns to hear because if its anyone who deserves it, its your puppy boyfriend.

[alchemistc]

keep on dancing | bucktommy 1/1

"We actually met before, you know," Tommy says, casual as anything. "Uh, I think I would remember," Josh says, not quite able to help the way his eyes drop and scan up. "A couple times, actually." Josh is being pranked. "Pull the other one," he intones, already feeling the awkwardness start to lift away, which shouldn't be possible, but there's something about this Tommy guy, the way he carries himself, the way his expressions bring you in on the conversation. --- Josh has his memory jogged at a little gathering Tommy throws for Maddie and Chimney's six month anniversary.

read on ao3

"Josh, hey!"

Josh spins from the table with half an eggroll still stuffed in his mouth, and immediately wishes a sinkhole would open up beneath him. Just - just beneath him, though, he doesn't want to get stuck down there with Maddie's earnest as all get out brother and the man he's presenting to Josh like a prize-winning bull stud.

And.

He's still got an unchewed lumpia in his damn mouth.

Josh chews like his life depends on it, feeling mortified as The Boyfriend grins. They've technically met, although Josh doubts he remembers. Josh had still been stuffing his face with cake (a theme, apparently) and The Boyfriend (Tommy, he knows his name is Tommy, he's got to stop being so weird about the absolute hunk of a man Buck bagged by being a bumbling idiot) had been a little too invested in staring at Evan Buckley like the sun shone out his ass.

Fair assessment, really. If any of them had known Buck was bi, Josh might have shot his shot, at one point. They'd have been terrible together, but they are all intimately aware of how thoroughly Evan Buckley kisses, now.

"Josh, you remember Tommy?"

Tommy seems to clock that Josh is still chewing, damnit. And of course, of course, Evan Buckley hasn't just managed to bag the Greek-godliest, calendar centerpieceist hunk of a man in LA, he's also apparently found someone completely willing to not just ignore social faux-pas, but cover for them too. He tilts his gaze away from Josh, does something with his eyes that Josh would categorize as a flitter, if he wasn't built like a tank, and slides a hand up along Buck's back. Josh watches the big wide hand curl over the back of Buck's shoulder and seriously considers whether it would be blasphemous to pray for one of his own.

"You introduced us at the hospital," Tommy says, and Buck beams, like he's pleased Tommy remembers. Christ. The way they've been orbiting each other all evening, Josh is pretty sure Tommy never forgets anything he does with Buck.

He doesn't catch the weird phrasing until after he's swallowed, cleared his throat, and extended his hand. "Nice to meet you again," he says, and absolutely does not curse the gods when Tommy's grip is firm and crisp and gentle without being condescending.

Josh is happy for Buck, he really, genuinely is. He'd just be happier if he had his own.

"We actually met before, you know," Tommy says, casual as anything.

"Uh, I think I would remember," Josh says, not quite able to help the way his eyes drop and scan up.

"A couple times, actually."

Josh is being pranked. "Pull the other one," he intones, already feeling the awkwardness start to lift away, which shouldn't be possible, but there's something about this Tommy guy, the way he carries himself, the way his expressions bring you in on the conversation.

"You helped me through a rough call, my first week in the air," Tommy says, fingers still squeezing at Buck's left shoulder, posture open and inviting, and Josh tries to pull the voice out of his memory. It's -- distinctive, really, low register but slightly nasally, a high up-down to the cadence that Josh would have clocked in a heartbeat. Patterns of speech is a terrible way to generalize, but he's got a pretty good success rate, when he can put a living breathing face to the voice.

He doesn't take many air support calls, and really that's what does it. "The fire whirl in the Thomas Fire," Josh says, and Tommy nods, smile lines deep around his eyes. "They'd just named it, and you felt like it was a little on the nose."

Buck's eyes brighten, like he can't help but be charmed by the story.

"He saved my ass," Tommy says, bumping his shoulder against Buck's, and Buck beams, blinks, grins at Josh. "And then when I invited him for drinks with the Harbor boys he beat me at pool and bounced before I could ask him out to dinner."

"That -- that did not happen."

Tommy's head tilts, brows dancing up his forehead, expression gently insulted.

Josh desperately reaches for the memory. A vague outline of it, even. The voice, a little concerned, a lot matter-of-fact as he informed Josh that they'd hovered too low over the fire, and if Josh could please send out a radio call to anyone on the ground in the area to clear out before the bird crashed to the earth and exploded, because his radio was out. Josh, who'd talked to enough air support to have a basic idea of what mechanics were causing the issue, reminding the voice of the maneuver he could use to steer out of it.

Josh, bright red and stifling his bashful giggles when the voice informed him he was good in a crisis and he should come down to The Rose so that Tommy and his team could buy Josh a drink.

Josh squints. Oh, he'd taken one look at Firefighter Kinard and chalked that up to wishful thinking, ordered an Uber before he'd sunk his first solid, and dipped before he could convince himself the gentle teasing was anything more than a man grateful he'd had someone in his ear reminding him he was a competent pilot with years of experience under his belt.

Josh blinks. "You were hitting on me."

Tommy runs his tongue over his teeth. "Unsuccessfully, yeah. The boys gave me shit for a month about it."

Buck has clearly already heard this story. He's staring at Josh like he wants to tease him, is reining it in by the skin of his teeth. There's nothing smug about it, which Josh is grateful for merely on the basis that he's seen the way these two look at each other and he's no competition for Tommy's attention at all, anymore.

"Well that's mortifying," he admits, and Tommy laughs, head tipped back, smile lines etched deep into his skin. Buck's face does something deeply endearing, and Josh has to look away, for a moment.

Tommy tips forward again. "It was character building. First attempt I made with witnesses, taught me I had to be a little less subtle." He shoots a significant look at Buck, who dips his chin towards his chest. God, Josh wants that. He'd been pretty sure he had it, for a hot second. His gaze is annoyingly wistful when Tommy turns back to him and catches it. "Can I grab you a beer?"

And Josh had kind of forgotten who was hosting this little shindig -- Maddie'd made noise about how sweet it was for Tommy to float the idea of a little celebration for their nuptials, when he heard the Buckley parents were coming back into town, and Chimney had just grumbled that Tommy was looking for excuses to get Buck on a dance floor, but he'd been pleased about it too, under the sarcasm. Josh can't quite hide the face he makes, though. He's not a snob about his alcohol, but all he's seen floating around here are Corona's and Bud Light. Buck shifts his weight, sways his hip into Tommy's.

"We could crack open those weird cheesecake sours you got last week," he suggests, and Tommy tilts his head, squints his eyes.

"They're not weird, you just have the palette of a frat boy."

"Well, Josh definitely has more refined taste than me, the flavor won't be lost on him."

Tommy grins at Josh. "Clearly that wasn't always the case," he shoots off, even as he's slipping his hand from Buck's shoulder, shifting to the side, backing away with a smarmy little grin on his face, and Josh throws his hands up in the air, sends the parting shot before he gets far enough across the yard that Josh has to yell.

"You can't try it out if you don't know it's on the menu!"

Buck and Josh both watch Tommy saunter away. Lord, Josh hopes Buck is taking full advantage of those glutes.

"Congratulations, again," Josh says, letting some of the put-upon ire drop out of his voice. "I know I've said this already, but -- I really am happy for you."

He's really only heard bits and pieces of Buck's absolutely ridiculous jump from solid, unflinching ally to bumbling crush on a beautiful man, but just like every other person on planet earth who discovers a facet of themselves that isn't considered normal by the world at large, he knows there are bumps in the road. Moments where you question yourself, and your place within the confines of society. Buck could have called it a wash, after acting a fool, but clearly he'd found something in himself he felt was worth pursuing.

Buck smiles, and not for the first time since he'd stumbled into Howie's hospital room, face covered in soot and Tommy's hand clenched in his like a life-line, Josh can tell there's something settled in him that hadn't been before. He knows the feeling well.

"I'm not sharing," Buck tells him, tongue in cheek as he smacks a meaty hand to Josh's shoulder, and Josh is too busy pretending not to struggle under the solid weight to think of something clever to say back.

-----

"You weren't kidding," Josh says to Chimney, as he openly stares at the couple dancing across the yard. Everyone else has been attempting at subtlety, but at Josh's words at least three people guiltily dart their gazes away from Buck and Tommy swaying together under a string of fairy lights.

"I should be out there dancing with my beautiful bride," Chimney says, and Maddie holds out a hand, a challenge in her eyes.

Sometimes Josh wishes he was less of a romantic, so he could at least pretend to find the way Chim's eyes sparkle a little exhausting.

Bobby is already spinning Athena into the circle of his arms as the quiet, steady thrum of an acoustic guitar floats across the little makeshift dance floor in the orange light of the yard. When Athena says something to Buck and Tommy, tucked together and speaking in soft voices two songs ago now, Bobby grins, and Buck ducks his head bashfully into the solidness of Tommy's shoulder. Whatever Tommy says back has Bobby pressing a laughing kiss to his wife's forehead as he guides them just far enough away to give Buck and Tommy some distance.

He finds Eddie Diaz moping on one of the patio chairs under little built-in pergola that makes Josh more than a little jealous of Buck's stumble into possibly the perfect man.

Hen and Karen have joined the dancing, too.

Eddie eyes him for a moment when Josh settles into the adirondack to his left. "You tired of the love-fest, too?" he asks, and Josh shakes his head, settling his chin on his hand to watch the annoyingly hopeful scene.

"Just -- taking it all in."

Eddie harrumphs, but out of the corner of his eye Josh can see him watching, too.

Maddie barks our delighted laughter when Tommy cuts in to spin her out of Chimney's arms, and Chim and Buck take that as their cue to conduct a frankly ridiculous waltz between the rest of the group.

Josh sighs like the damn romantic fool he is, and Eddie shifts on his right.

"You wanna...?" Josh tilts his head, and Eddie's face morphs into a shrug of an expression.

"I'm good here," Josh tells him, and Eddie purses his lips. "But you should join them."

Eddie rolls his tongue against his cheek, takes a sip of his beer, rolls his neck and darts his gaze across to the rest of his rag tag family. He nods, shifts his weight, rolls his hands down his thighs to find leverage against his knees to stand. "Find me for the Electric Slide. Tommy's a nightmare about line dances."

[walnuthillfarm]

Shine Test Stencil

Honestly, I had to give a realistic shine a go. I was proud of it for a little while...

Until @itskatart decided she was going to unleash the godliest Sims 4 horse shine stencil to date (she hasn't posted it yet, but oh boy will it be worth the wait - I am SO excited). ♡

Regardless, I wanted to share this with you all anyway, because someone out there might quite like it! Otherwise, it's just gonna sit in my files and rot.

I will give it another go at some point using the Photoshop model rather than my current method - hopefully this one will be 10x better.

Download!

[rise-my-angel]

Since I've been writing the books version of Euron Greyjoy for my fic, nothing offends me more when people act like Criston Cole is as awful of a person as certain Game of Thrones characters.

Euron Greyjoy did not spend his adult life turning himself into a human eldritch horror who seeks to destroy this world so he can rule over it as a god, for you people to call Mr Sad Eyes over there, a character who rivals Joffery Baratheon and Ramsay Bolton.

Nothing Criston Cole has ever done or said has given me chills the way Euron has with his dialogue alone, okay?

"I am the storm, my lord. The first and the last."

"It was me who taught you how to pray, little brother. Have you forgotten? I would visit your bedchamber at night when I had too much to drink. You shared a room with Urrigon high up in the Sea Tower. I could hear you praying from outside the door. I always wondered. Were you praying that I would choose you or that I would pass you by?"

"Godless? Why, Aeron, I am the godliest man ever to raise sail. You serve one god, Damphair, but I have served ten thousand. From Ib to Asshai, when men see my sails, they pray."

Stop replacing his spot as an utterly vile and despicable character worthy of villian status to a man who gives Alicent Hightower loyal puppy dog eyes.

Give my man Euron the evil credit he deserves.

[justonemorechapternicercy]

Day 1 of @hadesxpercy-events

“Ask me for sanctuary. I’ll protect you.”

Everything was in ruins. After all these years, after all these quests and battles in the name of the gods, they betrayed them. Their children. Their faithful soldiers.

They mercilessly killed all those, who stood up against the god's enemies, who slayed Kronos’ and Gaia’s armies. In the end, Luke had been right.

The younger kids were killed at first; those deaths seemed like accidents. Injuries too severe from the fights against monsters, car crashes, parental abuse… they all seemed - ordinary, for the lack of better word. Normal, for demigods. Then, the Stolls died. People could say anything about them, but they were no idiots. They were taught by Luke, they were battle-hardened and crafty. There was no way a mere boar could defeat them.

Chiron closed off the borders, trusting the gods, who said that there was a great evil working against them - greater than any previous enemy. Dionysus stayed, drinking himself into stupor. But he stayed, even when Zeus called him back to the Olympus. Percy had to admit - in the end, the old drunk was better than any other god.

Annabeth had been staying with her family - Percy was visiting Nico at the Underworld. They didn't hear about the devastation, only after it happened.

Then, the Romans were the next. They had more time to prepare against the gods. Percy was with them; the Huntresses too. Yet, not all gods could be defeated, and in the end, the demigods failed.

They said, the Roman and Greek demigods brought their demise on their heads. They said, it would have always ended like this. It was just the way the world worked.

Not all gods were like that. Triton - not Poseidon. Not that god - had died to protect his, their, baby sister. A baby sister Percy never even knew about, and now, he would have no opportunity to get to know her. Apollo and Artemis were a terrifying duo, but then they disappeared. Nobody knew what happened to them, and their group. They just disappeared.

Hades didn't fight against them either - but he didn't do anything at all. He just closed off the Underworld, not allowing anybody in, nor out. Not Nico, nor Hazel - nobody could leave, no contact was allowed. Percy didn't know what had happened to them.

One would have thought that the demigods, especially with the Roman's strategies and preparedness, could win. But, they didn't count that the other gods outside of the Olympians would join. That they, too, felt threatened by the demigods, they wanted to protect the status quo. With more gods and goddesses - many of whom were once demigods themselves - on one side, and the currently alive demigods and a small handful of gods at their sides, the defeat was unavoidable.

Betrayed by their own kin, they had fallen one by one. Desperation and exhaustion weighted heavily on them, on Percy especially who had been tasked to shield the remaining group, and before he could stop himself, he prayed. Not to anybody - those who could aid him were the ones he was fighting against -, but it was a desperate prayer nonetheless.

“Anyone… anyone who can help me… help…” he sighed. He didn't offer anything, he didn't pray to any of the gods, yet-

From the shadows, a figure emerged, familiar in its danger. He approached Percy with a predatory grace, looking every inch the godliest god Percy had always thought him to be, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Ask me for sanctuary,” Hades’ voice was a silken whisper, dark and seductive, wrapping around Percy like a velvet shroud. “I’ll protect you.”

Trusting a god was always a mistake. Always.

But…

Percy didn't see any other choice. His eyes met with the god's gaze, determination meeting with intensiveness. A shiver ran through his spine, the predator in Hades had always thrilled Percy, ever since the first time he had seen the god. He was afraid of him, but he was attracted to him - a dangerous combination, especially at that time. Trusting a god…

“Why?” He asked, standing tall and proud. If it was only to keep him as a trophy, he'd rather die. His still living brothers and sisters counted on him. He couldn't fail them like he'd failed many.

Hades’ fingers brushed lightly against Percy's cheek, leaving a trail of cold fire in their wake. “Because it's you. Because now you can finally be mine. Because what my siblings are doing is madness.”

“Why didn't you help us?!” he demanded. It would be one thing that the god wanted him - but another that he was against the “cleansing”.

Hades' eyes darkened, his voice hardened. “Don't presume you know everything. If you wish to know, my annoying little nephew and his smarter sister and their group of ducklings accepted the sanctuary. We keep safe those we can. Openly turning against my siblings now would be suicide, but in my domain, I can hold them back. After all, people will always believe in Death. So, come, and you and yours will be safe.”

Percy hesitated. Trusting a god was foolish. But he couldn't help it. He'd always been impulsive; he nodded.

“You must ask for my protection, Perseus. Will you?” A cool finger traced his lips, burning Percy's skin.

“Yes. I'm asking for Hades, the Lord of the Underworld to provide me and my people sanctuary.”

Hades' eyes darkened, a flicker of something possessive appeared in their depths. “Good boy,” he purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “You're mine now.”

A shadowy mist swirled around them, and before Percy could assume betrayal, he found himself, and his group of demigod in the familiar halls of the Underworld palace.

“Perseus Jackson,” Hades stepped closer to the young man, tracing a finger down on his spine. “You are bound to me now. In return of keeping you and all of those who need it, safe, I only need you to become mine.”

Percy faced the god, their eyes locking in a heavily charged moment. Ultimately, Hades was a god.

Trusting him might have been a mistake, but-

For now, if the only thing he had to do to save as many demigods as he could, to become the cherished possession of the God of the Underworld, there was nothing he would do more gladly.

And so, Percy did. He surrounded himself to the dark, alluring god, who had offered them safety.

[madame-fear]

I’ve been receiving several requests for my coffee themed milestone event— and since all of you have the GODLIEST ideas,, I don’t know which one to start with! So, I will leave that to all of you.

I didn’t include all of the requests, but I did add most! If you want to request something for my event (please read the event rules if you do so!) you can do it until July 10th. ♡

note. I made this HOTD centred because I only have 1-2 new reqs for the LSDLN cast rip lmao

[mwehster]

the godliest whim

[hangmanapologist]

Corrupt Preacher!Rhett x reader

warnings: corruption kink, age gap (Rhett is in his late 30s, reader is of age, early 20s), power dynamic, religious themes, mentions of masturbation, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it folks), p in v penetration, loss of virginity

a/n: pic credit to @h0neyfire ! If any of these themes make you uncomfortable you should not read, this is not written for you and that’s okay. Also I will never be writing smut again I feel so awkward <3 also this is a fully consensual scenario. Also thank you to my love @sebsxphia who listened to me ramble endlessly

“Romans 13:13, Let us behave properly as in the day, not in carousing and drunkenness, not in sexual promiscuity and sensuality, not in strife and jealousy.”

You sat on the edge of the bathtub, toying with the hem of your nightdress as the words of the evening’s sermon rang through your ears. Drowning out the sound of the motel highway and your heart hammering in your chest.

Your fingers threatened to creep further under your nightie as you thought about the way he preached. The fire, the passion, the authority. He had every person who lined the pews in the palm of his hand and he knew it.

He knew he had you kneeling at his feet too. All he’d have to do was ask.

Rhett was a man of God. And you’d never say it out loud in case God could hear you, but he was the godliest man you knew. But he gave you feelings. Feeling you knew you shouldn’t be having about your preacher, never mind as an unwed woman.

You opened the door and padded across the carpet meekly. Kneeling at his feet, knees just brushing the patent leather of his dress shoes, you looked up at him, hands clasped together, eyes wide, as if you were searching for salvation. Salvation only your crooked preacher could give you.

You had both talked about it before. You confessed your lustful thoughts, even though you were saving yourself for marriage; or so you planned. You found solace in Rhett’s arms, in the safety of the church. But that’s where you found yourself one too many times until it ended with you, legs spread on his desk saying your Hail Mary’s while his fingers worked their way in and out of you. It felt dirty. But the kind of dirty that gave you butterflies as you thought about him during sermons. The way he would gesture with fire in his voice. His slightly greying hair would fall over his forehead. The same hair your fingers ended up tugging on as he pressed soft kisses to your thighs and sucked on your clit until you didn’t have a voice left to pray with. It was your secret. You worried about the sin but he hushed you, he told you that “it’s not a sin if it’s a man of god, it’s a sign.” 

You had both talked about it before. You confessed your lustful thoughts, even though you were saving yourself for marriage; or so you planned. You found solace in Rhett’s arms, in the safety of the church. But that’s where you found yourself one too many times until it ended with you, legs spread on his desk saying your Hail Mary’s while his fingers worked their way in and out of you. It felt dirty. But the kind of dirty that gave you butterflies as you thought about him during sermons. The way he would gesture with fire in his voice. His slightly greying hair would fall over his forehead. The same hair your fingers ended up tugging on as he pressed soft kisses to your thighs and sucked on your clit until you didn’t have a voice left to pray with. It was your secret. You worried about the sin but he hushed you, he told you that “it’s not a sin if it’s a man of god, it’s a sign.” 

You had both talked about it before. You confessed your lustful thoughts, even though you were saving yourself for marriage; or so you planned. You found solace in Rhett’s arms, in the safety of the church. But that’s where you found yourself one too many times until it ended with you, legs spread on his desk saying your Hail Mary’s while his fingers worked their way in and out of you. It felt dirty. But the kind of dirty that gave you butterflies as you thought about him during sermons. The way he would gesture with fire in his voice. His slightly greying hair would fall over his forehead. The same hair your fingers ended up tugging on as he pressed soft kisses to your thighs and sucked on your clit until you didn’t have a voice left to pray with. It was your secret. You worried about the sin but he hushed you, he told you that “it’s not a sin if it’s a man of god, it’s a sign.” 

You sat up on your elbows watching him unbuckle his belt. “Will it hurt?” “Only for a little, but then it’ll feel so good, baby. You trust me don’t you? God would never steer us wrong.” You nodded as he slipped his thumb in your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. Like he was giving communion. His other hand freed him of his jeans and boxers as he kicked them across the room. You swallowed thickly when he removed his hand from your face and pumped his cock a few times. The tip red and already leaking, a smattering of light brown hair trailing down from his stomach, framing it almost.

“This wet already? And I haven’t even touched you yet” he smirked slipping his fingers in the waistband of your cotton panties, the fabric was clearly saturated and you felt your face flush red. “And have you been touching yourself like I showed you? Stretching yourself out for me?” You nodded meekly. “It… it doesn’t feel the same when I do it” “Don’t sulk, the Lord doesn’t like it when we’re ungrateful.”

You gasped as you felt his tip brush through your folds, teasing your hole before wetting your clit with his precum. “Please….” your voice broke as you begged him. What you were begging for was a sin. But you didn’t care. You wanted to give yourself to him wholly. Utterly devout beneath him.

You whimpered as you felt the stretch while he slid himself in, just the tip as first. “Rhett- it’s too- oh my godddd” your back arched as you left crescent marks on his bicep while he went deeper. “Just a little more and it won’t hurt. You’re doing so well. My sweet, sweet girl.”

Usually he’d scold you for taking the lords name in vain. But how could he when he was buried so deep in your tight pussy. The only man who ever has been. You were taking him like you were made for him.

“God took his sweet time on you lamb, made you just for me” he praised, stilling inside you as he pressed chaste kisses to your neck. The tenderness contrasting the roughness as he began snapping his hips. Your body was thrust up the pillow without warning, his body weight fully on top of you. You weren’t sure if you couldn’t breathe or just didn’t want to as the pain absolved into pleasure.

“Don’t you feel good baby? It feels good to give all of yourself to God” Rhett grunted lowly as his hips snapped into you in a sustained rhythm. The room smelled like cigarettes, whiskey and sex. It smelled like sin. The only sound that could possibly be heard was the sound of skin against skin as Rhett buried himself to the hilt over and ever. Your moans dissolving into each other’s mouth as his tongue ran over your bottom lip.

“Look at me” he gripped your face, fingers slightly digging into your cheeks so you couldn’t break eye contact. “Spit on your fingers. Show me how you touch yourself.” You could tell by his tone that it wasn’t a question. It was a demand. You tried to spit as ladylike as you could. It was a pathetic amount that earned nothing but a disapproving tut as his hand gripped your wrist and you felt him spit on your hand. “Show me. Show me, you deserve this.” Your hips jerked as you drew tight circles over your bundle of nerves. It provided you friction you didn’t even know you were craving. All while Rhett was pounding into you. “Atta girl.” He took your other hand in his and pressed it to the bottom of your stomach. Feeling the bulge of his cock inside you only made you rub yourself harder. The tight circles got sloppier as you started to give in to the pleasure washing over you, your legs tightening around him, pressing your heel into his back as you tried to get him deeper.

“I can’t- I’m gonna- Rhett please I need to cum. Can I cum?” “You know how to ask.” “Please Pastor Abbott, I’ve been a good girl. Let me cum for you?” Rhett imagined that’s what he’d hear at the pearly gates. Not that he was going there. But to hear you whine and beg was worth a lifetime of unabsolved sin. The grunt caught in his throat as he tried to regain composure. “Cum around my cock angel, show me how good it feels to serve me and the Lord.” His name fell from your lips repeatedly, like a sweet prayer. The same way it did when he had you spread on his desk, or in the confession booth, touching yourself. The thought was sending him over the edge and he found himself closer than he realised. “I’m gonna fill you up baby, gonna cum inside you and watch it drip out. Are you gonna be a good girl and take it? Show me what a good little wife you’d make.”

Rhett knew you were both playing fast and loose but neither of you cared. You definitely didn’t care when you felt him fill you up. His grunts turned to whines as you felt him pulse, giving you every last drop. Rhett knew from the blissed out look on your face that this may be the first but it wasn’t the last time you’d let him have you like this. He pressed his forehead to you as he slid out. Lips just brushing over yours.

He raised his head to meet the crucifix on the wall above the bed, his cum dripping out of you, “Lord, consider my affliction and my trouble, and forgive all my sins.”

[aladaylessecondblog]

Red Mountain Waffle House, pt. 9

"My lord, a message from Azura."

Archcanon Saryoni looked...strange. Either he was trying not to be sick or he was trying not to laugh.

"Well? What is this message?" Vivec slipped into the godliest voice possible and looked down at his devoted priest.

"Ah...it includes an expletive, so I wrote it down. I should prefer not to speak such profane words in...Your presence, Lord Vivec."

Vivec gestured, took the offered paper, and looked with what he hoped was detached serenity. "You may go. I am not in the least angered at you, for if the messenger is blighted for giving bad news, however can it be turned to our advantage?"

Saryoni left, and Vivec finally unrolled the message, which was both very short and very simple.

To the apostate murderer Vivec

Fuck. You.

He burned it, and watched the ashes drift off. The daedric princes didn't usually bother with things like this. He still got the odd stalkerish message from Molag Bal, but this sort of thing?

What in oblivion did it mean?

He opened Morrowtwitter, intending to do his usual morning scrolling, and nearly broke his phone.

---------------------------------------------------

*The Night Before*

---------------------------------------------------

"This was a terrible idea." Sadara grumbled, and pushed closer to Jiub to stay under the umbrella. "You have all this weed and you can't get a bigger umbrella?"

"Why don't YOU get a bigger umbrella, huh? Cozy up to His Cultiness and see if you can't get us a little more gold, huh? Feel like we could use him as a friend considering Almalexia's body wasn't where I left it. First time a body I tossed just up and vanished."

"Because if I wanted to go into prostitution I'd move to Suran where that shit's legal." And she REALLY didn't want to think about Almalexia right now.

"It's not like you can catch anything off him."

"No diseases, anyway, but probably a hell of a lot of clinging."

You need to relax, Nerevar's voice wafted through her mind, Have a little fun, you know. You can't do much well if you keep being stressed about petty things.

Nearly dying because of your boyfriend isn't petty. The man has no hobbies except spreading plagues and trying to recruit people to worship him.

If you spent even ONE night with him--

I'm not fucking him, Nerevar! How about this, I'll fuck SOMEBODY at the party. Would that make you happy? But you've got to agree to be quiet while I'm here. If people think I'm talking to a voice in my head I'm not getting laid this night...or any other night.

Thankfully, Nerevar agreed.

She wanted a romp anyway. A one night stand. Something that would leave her with a headache, an ache between the legs, and a ripped pair of panties stuffed into her pocket to show for the whole thing. A story to tell for a while about the dangers of being too drunk. There was something exciting about the whole idea--

"What'd ya bring?"

A guy out in front of Greg's house, standing under the porch awning, flicked a cigarette and gestured vaguely.

"Weed," Jiub said, waggling the bag in his other hand, "Let us in."

Inside they found Greg, already well-watered and swaying only slightly. "Hey, hey, you made it! Jiub, great to see you...and uh...Sad...Sada..."

"Sadara."

"Yeah, that. There's a bunch of food in the kitchen, we've got some ashlanders in here that brought a whole roasted kagouti, so if you like kagouti steak or a burger or something you might want to get on that pronto. Ah, we got karaoke, but Jolene's here so you'll have to wrestle him off it if you want a shot."

"Jolene?"

"Big motherfucker. We don't know his name but he shows up now'n then, brings an armful of booze...and only ever sings that 'Jolene' song, so we started calling him that. Kind of a weepy drunk."

Sadara went on ahead, got a kagouti steak, some sujamma, and some ash yam fries which all vanished in a hurry. She grabbed a bottle of flin from a 6 pack somebody opened, poured it into a cup and set off, looking...

...alright, who might I regret the least when I wake up tomorrow morning?

What looked like a gulakhan made a pass at her, but the poor thing was so wobbly she couldn't do anything but decline. She gave him a smile and guided him over to an empty couch. "Have some water, you don't look so good."

He stammered out a thank you and then she turned away.

There's too many people here, Nerevar said in her head, Reminds me of old council soirees.

Yeah, this is how we party now.

She walked looking for anyone she knew, and chatted with one or two of the Waffle House regulars.

"Stupid landlord raised our rent again. We're already renting four to the apartment and we're talking to a fifth guy who's an ash ghoul."

"Thought people didn't want them in around here. Not that I mind, they've always been polite to me."

The Dunmer shrugged. "He can pay a share of rent and only eats corprusmeat. You'd think they'd be messy as all oblivion but they're actually pretty tidy. Like to keep things 'in order.' He actually came in and did our dishes without being asked."

"That checks out," she laughed. "Careful of the ordinators though, no matter how polite they are, they don't care for the ash folk."

"Oh yeah, we already got that down. Cult or not we agree all ordinators are bastards."

There was a laugh, and then the guy saw some friend or the other and headed off to speak to him.

Sadara moved through the crowd, only half-paying attention to the sea of faces around her. Her cup was half-empty and she was strongly considering going to find Jiub and ask what he did with the weed when some imperial woman appeared at her elbow.

"Hey, can you help me out?"

"With what?"

"I want to do a song and Jolene's five times in and showing no signs of stopping."

She'd ask why her, but figured it was because she didn't look too drunk...or maybe that she looked like an easy mark, who knew. She agreed and followed the woman into an upstairs room where she was then unfortunate to get within earshot of this Jolene.

"--flaming locks of auburn hair, with ivory skin and eyes of emerald green--"

Half the room was ignoring him, and half were complaining, but Jolene didn't seem to notice any of it, so consumed with the song as he was. Sadara moved closer, and got a better look at him.

He looked like someone's long-haired dad with delusions of being a rally strider racer, right down to the bandana covering his forehead and tied off in the back. Black leather jacket, jeans, shades, the whole nine yards, as the saying went. The cherry on top, though, was the braided goatee.

Why me? she thought.

Nerevar stirred in the back of her mind, but didn't say a word.

"--and I cannot compete with you...Jolene."

The man was really putting his all into it; Sadara felt bad for walking up to him. He was a little drunk, she guessed, because he didn't notice her until she spoke to him.

"Come on, time to sit down. Let somebody else have a turn."

"Why?" He sounded half-about to cry. "What's the point?"

One of THOSE drunks, she thought ruefully. Well, there wasn't much going on...she wasn't having a lot of luck finding a guy for the night. Maybe if this guy were less focused on whoever he lost he'd do.

"Come on." She grabbed his arm and tugged gently. "You don't look so good, you need to sit down."

Sniffling. Half a sob. Then he looked up at her, and his weepy expression changed in an instant.

"Sure. Sure, why not.."

Jolene let her lead him off to a couch in a back hallway that only seemed to be frequently by people heading to the bathroom at the back. She fetched a bottle of flin and came back to him with two cups, then poured him out a bit. It was only being this close now that she noticed his ring--black and with a boxy setting and a little spike at the top.

"A drink'll serve you better than weeping over it. Or at least it'll put you out of your misery for a few hours."

"Nothing ever helps. I don't get hungover and I don't stop thinking about--about--" Jolene sputtered slightly.

"Well, there's got to be something that'll work," she patted his shoulder. "Get your mind off it. It's not the same thing, but I'm broke as hell and I have a bunch of ways to keep my mind off how much it sucks."

"Such as?"

"Finding literally anything to do that's free. I learned how to make tea from trama root, that's everywhere. The Waffle House I work at's got a nice jukebox...the manager's been teaching me to patch things up better than I was doing. That...none of that will probably help you, though, you look like you've got enough money you don't...don't, uh..." Sadara waved a hand absently. "Cliffracer hunting is fun if you need to burn off some steam. It'll make you some money but you'll probably get a bunch of new scars out of it."

She rolled up one sleeve and gestured to some of the healed-over scars.

"It looks--terrible," Jolene said, his voice halting. "And you did this for drinking money?"

"Oh no, I did it for a living before I got the job at the Waffle House," Sadara shrugged. "When you don't have much you have to take what you can get...and cliffracer plumes sell for well enough to be worth the trip. They're edible, too, so it's easy food...less gold to spend on food and more to spend on healing potions and armor repair. I kept meaning to buy a lute, but..."

"What stopped you?"

"These." she gestured. "Jiub got me the job, and it's not great...pipes get clogged, landlord keeps raising the rent, and we eat sleep for dinner two nights a week, but it's not bad."

"How is that not BAD?" he burst out. "You could do MUCH better. I'm sure you have more opportunities."

"Without qualifications, and not wanting to kowtow to crazy Telvanni...I'm not sure I'd suit for the Redoran, and as for Hlaalu...well I guess I am one, but..."

She shrugged. The flin was making her chatty, she knew she was saying too much, but she couldn't help herself. Jolene was such an easy listener and seemed to be hanging onto her every word.

"But what?"

"But I prefer not to tell people, because then they ask where I'm from, and then I tell them, and I have to hear, 'oh, I know you. Your cousin is the corpsefucker, right?" Sadara shrugged. "So I just tell everyone I don't belong to a Great House. It's easier. People expect less from you anyway. If I said I was house Hlaalu they'd probably think I was an idiot for not...you know..."

"Kissing Imperial ass, it's what they're known for," Jolene said. He finished the rest of his flin in one gulp, then took the bottle and took a long guzzle from it. He handed it back to her, and grumbled slightly. "That's swill, do they not have anything better?"

"It's a party, not a soiree," Sadara shrugged. "It'll get you drunk. Who cares about the quality?"

"I do. I have this thing called standards--"

"You're in the Red Mountain neighborhood, there's no such thing. There's probably a guy in every apartment building making prison wine out of whatever he can get his hands on. And why show up if you're going to insult what they've got on offer?"

"Like I have anything else to do." Jolene sat back, and looked up at the ceiling. "All this time, all these people..."

He started mumbling under his breath and she only caught bits of what he said.

"...have to show for...the point?...know what I'm doing..."

He straightened up once Sadara had finished her own cup and was pouring out another.

Nerevar? she thought.

Yes? The voice in her mind was unusually muted.

Will this guy do?

YES. The enthusiasm was clear, and in an odd way it was contagious.

"You don't seem like you're doing good," Sadara said, "So I was wondering...I came here to get a little...well..."

"Get what?" Jolene, for all his woe over his lost love, whoever it was, seemed completely clueless.

"You know. You want me to scream it in front of everyone?" she gave a slight giggle and leaned in as close as she could manage, considering he was taller than her. "Unless you aren't interested."

"Interested in wh--"

Jolene finally seemed to get it, and tensed straight up.

"You don't...know me," he said slowly, and after a moment, leaned down and said in a quieter voice, "Feeling reckless, are we?"

"Maybe." Sadara gave a grin, and met his eyes directly. "I don't really care who you are, I don't care what you've got - I can't catch it anyway."

They were a hair's breadth away from kissing when the shout came that had ruined many a party in the Red Mountain region neighborhood and would likely ruin many more.

"BONEHEADS!"

Chaos erupted in the hallway, and shrieks aplenty were heard in the rooms nearby. Four people stumbled out of the bathroom, one of then a Dunmer trying to zip up his shorts and the three others screeching about leaving half the moon sugar on the bathroom floor.

"Fucking hells--" Sadara swore, and started to get up. "Figures I'm about to get laid and the ordinators show up. I guess I'll see you at the next o--"

But Jolene was up beside her in a flash and said, "How do you feel about Suran?"

"Suran? What's that got to--"

"I can get us there, there's a Telvanni that runs a portal from near here to there for his drug money. You want to go?"

For only a moment did she think.

"Sure. How're you gonna get us out? And I thought you couldn't teleport from inside the Ghostfence?"

Jolene grinned madly. "The Ghostfence can't stop me."

-------------------------------------------------

Between an invisibility spell and the ordinators getting busy arresting a few people who decided that attempting to run off with the ordinator's guar mounts was an excellent life decision, Sadara and Jolene slipped out without being seen--though the rain didn't stop, even for a moment. The Telvanni he mentioned was only a street over, and it wouldn't take long, she was told.

She insisted on not going too far until she got word back from Jiub--who'd been "taking a walk" with a few other guys and so had early warning of the ordinators pulling up.

You good? Jiub texted back as they were entering said Telvanni's house.

Better than good, she wrote back, as Jolene was negotiating. Going to Suran with some big hunk of a man.

I don't want to hear any details. Just be careful, alright?

Alright. I'll be fine.

"Sadara, let's go. Portal's ready."

She put away her phone, and stepped into a glowing circle on the floor. That looked enough like what she remembered from some of the Mages Guilds back in Cyrodiil.

A single blink.

She opened her eyes.

And right before the two of them was a huge sign with big gaudy flashing neon that said, "WELCOME TO FABULOUS SURAN."

"Well," she said suddenly, "What're we gonna do here? You can't go at me on the street, you know."

"There's a lot more to do here than back there behind the Ghostfence," Jolene said, waving one hand briefly. "Musical theater, magic acts, acrobatics...gambling. There's tours, if you wanted--have you ever seen any stage shows?"

"Well--online." Sadara looked around. The crowds around weren't paying a bit of attention to them. People were in House robes, armor, wearing feathered costumes...and the city, however glittery, seemed so--alive. Not like the Imperial capital, but...somehow MORE. "Just being around here's a treat, though, you don't have to--it's not necessary."

She was going to bang him anyway; she didn't want him to feel like he had to wine and dine her.

"It is ENTIRELY necessary," Jolene added in a grandiose tone. "Now tell me, my lady, where shall we go first?"

[coffeexxcigarettes]

Temptation

-

Being in love feels

So humilating.

The way I want to scream your name,

And tell everybody about the way

Your smile is crooked.

The way I struggle to think

About anything but

How it seems like you were crafted

To tempt even the godliest

Among us.

You. You. You.

I feel as if I was nothing,

Before I fell into your path.

Now I'd follow you

Into the darkness,

If you'd have me.

x

[mimimurmurs]

your mother asks you about me

and you don’t know what to say.

i haunt you.

the girl you almost loved enough to keep.

close your hands and know

you never held me.

i am the godliest thing

you never touched.

you love me more than your next breath

and it sickens you

that my face is not the one you wake up to.

you’ll never not miss me

and that is my peace.

knowing that you’ll never love another

without wishing she was me.

[tortoisesshells]

devotion went unanswered (DS, ~360 words, G, character study for Sarah Johnson, canon compliant)

Bill Malloy's burial reopens old wounds for Mrs. Johnson,

or,

If it was easy to be a god-fearing woman in Collinsport (thought Sarah Johnson, ignoring the sounds of the coffin being lowered) it was only because it was so easy to be afraid: even the proudest and godliest among them always knew that another blow was coming. She’d never gotten to bury Mr. Johnson those twenty-five years past, but that was a common complaint in a town like this one. Men – good men – didn’t die. They disappeared. It was the lot of Collinsport’s women to wait for their reappearance – godly, god-fearing Christian women at the tomb, waiting for the sea to give up her dead. The sea – oh! As a much younger woman, all in black, shushing her infant daughter through the memorial service, she’d hoped the Almighty was paying attention elsewhere, though she knew he hadn’t been watching Mr. Johnson – oh, the sea, that jealous bitch! All of Collinsport had turned out to mourn the men of the Debbie Ann, holding their widows and orphans like something precious in cotton wool. Unmatched sets. They had been good men, all of them – and then they had been gone.

Read the Rest on AO3!

[ariel-seagull-wings]

C'EST MOI

@thealmightyemprex @a-roguish-gambit @themousefromfantasyland

Gambit:

Camelot Camelot In far-off France I heard your call Camelot Camelot And here am I to give my all I know in my soul what you expect of me And all that and more I shall be A knight of the Table Round should be invincible Succeed where a less fantastic man would fail Climb a wall no one else can climb Cleave a dragon in record time Swim a moat in a coat of heavy iron mail No matter the pain he ought to be invincible Impossible deeds should be his daily fare But where in the world Is there in the world A man so extraordinaire? C'est moi C'est moi I'm forced to admit 'Tis I I humbly reply That mortal who These marvels can do C'est moi c'est moi 'tis I I've never lost In battle or game I'm simply the best by far When swords are crossed 'Tis always the same One blow and au revoir C'est moi C'est moi So admirably fit A French Prometheus unbound And here I stand with valour untold Exceptionally brave amazingly bold To serve at the Table Round The soul of a knight should be a thing remarkable His heart and his mind as pure as morning dew With a will and a self-restraint That's the envy of every saint He could easily work a miracle or two To love and desire he ought to be unsparkable The ways of the flesh should offer no allure But where in the world Is there in the world A man so untouched and pure? (C'est moi) C'est moi C'est moi I blush to disclose I'm far too noble to lie That man in whom These qualities bloom C'est moi c'est moi 'tis I I've never strayed From all I believe I'm blessed with an iron will Had I been made The partner of Eve We'd be in Eden still C'est moi C'est moi The angels have chose To fight their battles below And here I stand as pure as a prayer Incredibly clean with virtue to spare The godliest man I know C'est moi

[shinyhappysims]

Sunday, 11:54 AM, 127th annual National Baptist Convention, Zauberhaft Performing Arts Center, Windenburg

Nnadi: Isioma? Really surprised that you’re here.

Isioma: Hi, Nnadi! Wait why are you surprised?

Nnadi: Well I mean, you haven’t exactly been living the way our parents raised us to.

Isioma: What are you saying, Nnadi? I attend church every Sunday. God is the head of my life and I’ve done nothing to suggest otherwise.

Nnadi: You sure about that? You don’t homeschool. You dress immodestly. Your daughters wear pants. You and Anwar haven’t left your family size up to the Lord. How do you distinguish yourself from the world?

Isioma: How could you say that? I had always looked up to you as one of my Godliest siblings, and here you are judging me! My relationship with Him is much deeper than clothes or children!

Nnadi: Then why don’t you do the things He requires of us? This “relationship” seems really superficial to me.

Isioma: Do you hear yourself right now? I live for Christ. I’m teaching my children to do the same. And that is all He requires of me. Never question my faith again.

Nnadi: Hey, I’m just giving you some tough, sisterly love. Sorry I made you upset. That’s what I get for casting pearls before swine. I’ll keep you in my prayers.

[mickmars-hairspray]

Godliest guitarists ever.

#1 Mick Mars

#1 Robbin Crosby

#2 Slash.