#nobody talk to me about this

[ashstfu]

no lube, no protection, all night all day, from the kitchen floor to toilet seat, from dining table to church, while i gasp for air and scream the lord’s prayer, he can top me.

[beachbabey]

ENOCH

Priest Rhett telling you to touch yourself in the confessional booth when you tell him about your impure thoughts 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

ROBYN COME BACK HERE THIS INSTANT

the fact that i had to look up bible verses and psalms-

im never forgiving you for this

Playlist: / nwfmb - hozier / without you - lana del ray / little bit - lykke li

word count: 931

“Bless me, Father Abbott, for I have sinned…” 

He catches the shakiness in your voice, the way you mumble his name like that makes him shift on the wooden bench, black slacks beginning to get unbearably tight in the mere seconds you've been here. 

“It’s been…” he cuts you off before you can finish your sentence 

“Two months if I recall correctly? Since your last confession?” he forces a chirpy voice, biting his lip so hard he’s almost drawing blood at the small, breathless chuckle you give him

“Good memory, yes. Thank you, Father Abbott, I-”

“Rhett. You can call me Rhett. If you’d like. It's just you and me in here"

Your cheeks glow bright pink at his words

Father Rhett… 

If only he knew how many times that name left your lips in the middle of the night, back arching off of the damp bedsheets

“I- I have been struggling lately. I’ve been having these, feelings….and urges Father Rhett” The crotch of his pants grow tighter in wicked temptation at your confession. 

“Urges?” He prompts with a clipped tone, scrunching his face up in frustration and balling his hand up to keep it from straying to his zipper. 

“Yes…. well, you see,” You stop yourself, unsure of how much you’re willing to tell the man. Yes, the guilt had been making you lose sleep, swallowing you whole. 

But a part of you enjoyed it. Enjoyed it the way you wanted his fingers to replace yours. How you wanted him to lay you down on his bed, take you all over his church. 

“I’ve tried, Father Abb- Rhett, please believe me, but sometimes, I can’t help but act on them and sometimes I…” he can tell you’re nervous by the way your speech quickens, he can picture you on the other side of that thin plank of wood, rubbing your thighs together, canting your hips forward just enough to get enough relief to continue your confession

“God values, and admires your honesty, as do I, child” His calm, soothing voice eases you into your contrition.

He had to be teasing you, surely. He has to be

He’s seen the way you’d discreetly grind down on your own fingers during congregation, hiding your moans behind hymns and prayers. He’s felt the way your lips wrap around his finger ever so slightly when he placed the bread in your mouth, sticking your tongue out a little more than need be, looking up to him with those big round eyes. Sucking your spit off of the tip of his thumb as he went back up to the altar. 

He touched himself for hours after that day. Leaning against his bedroom wall, looking down at his own hand, pushing his hips forward, fucking into his palm and envisioning your mouth, those big, doe eyes looking up at him as he shoved his cock down your virgin throat. Feeling his pants fully tent as you contemplate your answer. 

“But it happens more often now, Father. And I’m ashamed, I think.”

“We all have shame, dear girl, the Lord knows this, and loves us anyways. Are you ready to say your act of contrition?”. You sigh shakily and give him an affirmative hum, stumbling half-heartedly through the prayer. 

“Good girl” Rhett croons as you finish, and catches the breath that gets lodged in your throat at his praise, he turns his head to look at the carved wood and mesh screen and he catches the silhouette of you from behind the flimsy partition, you have your head bowed. He can see your shoulders rocking back and forth slightly and he knows what you’re doing. And he wants nothing more than to press his lips to the delicate skin of your neck, just behind your ear, helping you make those unholy noises in his church. Defiling the sacrament he took all those years ago. 

“Tell me, Angel. What urges do these feelings provoke?” The alluring way he phrases the question catches you off guard

“I do…. unholy things” Your whimper as you confess, the flush crawling up your ears and down your neck.

“Why don't you tell me a little bit more about that?” You can all but see the smug grin on his lips as he asks you, biting his lip. 

“Like. Like….” You don’t even realise your eyes are closed as your fingers caress your thighs, your lower lip hiding a moan as your fingertips trail up your skirt, curling around the seam of your panties, letting your thumb fall over your throbbing clit, bucking your hips as inconspicuously as possible 

Are you being serious right now?

“Like what you’re doing right now?” 

Your hitches in your throat, your hips stilling as you’re caught. It takes a few seconds for him to speak again. You don't dare move, knowing he can probably see your profile through the screen.

“None of us are without sin” He continues nonchalantly, teasing you even more. You gather up the courage to start humping your hand again, a little harsher this time, even letting out a small gasp, the newfound confidence shooting down into your cunt, making you clench around nothing. 

“I, of all people should know that. Having to resist temptation. Every. Fucking. Sunday.” He groans. And you know he's talking about you, hearing his head softly hit the wall behind him. You hear a zipper and let out a small moan at the realisation that he's now touching himself. Because of you

“So I’m sure we can repent after. Now, let me hear you sin for me Angel”

[nat-20s]

Ten and Donna end up on a fucked up deadly space newlyweds show despite uh. Not being newlyweds but they get almost all the questions right. They start to sweat when the final question is "what's one secret desire you have involving the other?" And Donna writes "sometimes I wish I could occasionally shrink down the doctor real small so I could carry him around in my pocket and make sure he doesn't get lost' while Ten writes "sometimes I wish I was small enough that Donna could carry me around in like a cat backpack or maybe a shirt pocket" and they look at each other like AYYYYYY because not only are they deeply drift compatible they're also fuckin weird about it 💖

[opikiquu]

iknow my comics are ugly please just hear me out

[holographic-mars]

The missile is very tired

(Edit: NOT SHIP ART‼️)

[brw]

When people talk about my favourite minor character: omg Hiiiii do you like Blorbo Dongus too? That's soo cool! I love talking about them! Doesn't matter that your interpretation is different than mine, isn't it so cool that such a minor character can still have such varied interpretations?

When people talk about my favourite popular character: Everyone But Me Is Wrong, This Place Is A Freakshow And I Respect None Of You, Next Person To Misinterpret The Source Material Gets Executed On Sight, You'll All So Fucking Stupid–

[kourota]

⸢This story is for just that one reader.⸥

[egophiliac]

this is basically what happened, right?

(these guys are very lucky that everyone at NRC 1) has the combined intelligence of a sack of bricks, and 2) is easily distracted by shiny things.)

[bixels]

tarpit site.

[hex82141a]

Miku more like. Микырӟан.

very very rushed but i did want to contribute to the trend with my southern udmurt miku...

[coffin-flop]

remember when Gideon said "I am a good girl and you are an evil nun"? Tamsyn Muir really did right by us with that one

[miguxadraws]

famous last words

au belongs to @spitinsideme

[rubberbandgirlme]

wherever you go, that's where i'll follow

[bread-that-draws]

Flowey’s so funny and has me so fucked up like he’s a talking flower. He tries to kill you upon your first interaction. He is ten years old. He is damaged beyond repair. He’s a flower named Flowey. He’s become friends with every single character. He’s killed all of them countless times. He knows everything about everyone. He doesn’t care anymore. He takes care of his mom when she can’t take care of herself. He’s killed her before. He doesn’t care if you kill her. He thinks she’s trying to replace him. He just wants to be himself again. He wants to destroy everything. He hates you. You’re the only one who understands him. He wants his best friend back. He’s terrified of them. He believes in kill or be killed because he died by giving mercy to the wrong person. He believes himself to be the wrong person. He doesn’t understand when you show him that kindness he showed others, even when you know he could kill you for it. He’s tried every route. He asks you if you have anything better to do when you try to do the same. He’s a direct reflection of the player. He’s a fucking talking flower named flowey and his only voice line is by Ronald McDonald and his officially licensed plush does a little dance for you

[transmechanicus]

The transgender contrast of loving your parents but also for Trust Reasons longing for an additional external authority figure you can count on more unconditionally to support or protect you that totally doesn’t risk becoming a kink

[flippyplush]

merry almost christmas heres your gift