sins upon sins

                                       bless me father for i have sinned                                it's been a week since my last confession

               tim huffed and rolled his eyes, lips pursed because that was something that he absolutely could not argue. wyatt knew just how hot he was, and that was part of the issue, what drove tim up the wall half of the time. “there is no way in hell that i look better in it than ya. it’s your whole aesthetic, the rugged marshal runnin’ ‘round like the fashion hasn’t moved past the 1880s.” an aesthetic that tim unfortunately found incredibly attractive, which he blamed on the obsession his father had had with spaghetti westerns. “i heard that if y’steal a cowboy’s hat that you’re lettin’ him stake a claim on ya. that he’ll take y’home ‘nd breed ya. that true, mister rhodes?” 

           “perhaps in an attempt to ease your mind, yes,” tim replied, though it did occasionally grow exhausting being the positive one of the two. it was not something that came naturally, but tim refused to believe that the child they’d brought into the world would fall to darkness before she’d ever had a chance to live. “i did not believe you such a nihilist, sister. you sound like father.” which was certainly no compliment, their elder brother was the most similar to their father and tim would very much like to keep it that way. “are you frightened? is this not the same battle that we have been immersed in all our lives? there is no way out but through. orcs are no match for you steel, aislinn.” 

               jack was so caught up in grief for the relationship he’d been torn from mere hours ago that he was perfectly content to lose himself to his best friend’s desires. to feel wanted after his heart had been torn free and crushed underfoot without care. jack whimpered against santiago’s lips, shocked by how terribly it seemed that he wanted him. had he known this before, they could’ve done this sooner. “santi, tus manos se sienten como una bendición.” 

               isabelle was no fool, she now knew what she was to her parents. a sow to be bred, to continue the purity of their familial line. they expected two heirs of each sex, and she would have to continue breeding until she produced them. then you could be tossed to the side, no longer valuable to people who should’ve loved her instead of used her. isabelle trusted alejandro, she knew that he would come up with a plan to save them both. the praise struck a deep cord within her, and with a cry, head thrown back, isabelle climaxed, juices splattering against alejandro’s face. groaning as tremors shook through her, isabelle tugged on alejandro’s hair. “ay, hermano mayor, ¿por qué no me metes la polla? quiero que tu corrida corra por mis muslos mientras estoy en la cita con diego. solo ten cuidado con el vestido.” 

               pietro couldn’t help but smile seeing wanda’s face light up so beautifully, far outmatching the beauty of his gift. “i may have some connections with the dwarves. it is mithril, my love. i desired to do something special for the hundredth anniversary of our wedding.” he explained while carefully sliding wanda’s hair to one shoulder, encircling her neck with the silver metal. then, pietro bent down to press a line of kisses along wanda’s shoulder. “something that could express how flawless you are to me.”