#I used to work at a church!! I used to read from the bible every morning!! I used to go to a youth group every week!

[schmope-is-dead]

my little sibling says I’m not allowed to meet their friend’s christian parents 🥺 oh nooo

[speaknow-sw]

«𝓢𝓾𝓰𝓪𝓻, 𝓘 𝓮𝓷𝓳𝓸𝔂 𝓵𝓲𝓯𝓮»

Summary : When you question Don’s abilities to loosen himself a bit, he decide to show you how precisely he meant when he said he’s enjoying life.

Word Count : 2.9k

Ｃｏｎｔｅｎｔ: mdni, age gap (Don is 38, Reader 20), pastor kink, God complex, pussy eating, nipple playing, vaginal fingering, PiV, rough sex, daddy kink if you squint, mustache kink, seashell position, degradation if you squint, huge breeding kink, mention of sequestration, faith kink, innocence kink, corruption kink, pet names, dumbification, choking, orgasm denying, cockwarming.

AN : this is the nastiest piece of shit I’ve ever written and the main idea comes from the lovely @mathesonlvr who I share my passion for Don mustache with. (I think). Anyway that’s like hella dirty so enjoy !

The large, old house stood as a symbol of everything he believed in—solid, immovable, a structure built on faith and discipline. Pastor Don Piper, a man well into his thirties, was known for his devotion to the church and his deep convictions. Every sermon he delivered was woven with scripture and firm, unyielding guidance. And then, there was you—his much younger wife, with a heart full of kindness but a spirit still uncertain of the boundaries that came with marriage to a man like him.

Don sat at his desk, reading scripture with the same unwavering focus he gave to all things. His life was built around discipline, faith, and order—he had lived every moment according to the rules of his belief, and it had brought him peace. But now, sitting in the silence, there was a tension he couldn’t quite name. It came from you, his much younger wife. You had been married to him for only a year, and while your sweetness and enthusiasm had drawn him to you, there were times when your innocence, your naivety, seemed to test the very boundaries of his patience.

You were in the other room, humming softly to yourself as you tidied up the living room. He could hear the occasional clatter as you absentmindedly dropped a vase or bumped into a piece of furniture. It was something you did often—your clumsiness was just another piece of the puzzle he had come to accept about you. But tonight, after a long day of counseling and sermons, the sound grated on his nerves more than usual. "Careful with that," he called out, trying to keep his voice calm but feeling the edge creeping in. "Oh! Sorry!" you replied, your voice light and airy, as if nothing in the world could ever bother you. It was part of what he loved about you—your innocence. But that same innocence sometimes left him feeling like you didn’t truly grasp the gravity of the life you had stepped into.

A few moments later, you appeared in the doorway, smiling brightly, holding a plate of cookies you had made earlier. "I thought you might want something sweet while you work." He glanced up from his Bible, taking in your wide-eyed expression, your gentle smile. There was no malice in you, no understanding of the inner conflict that simmered beneath his composed surface. "Thank you," he said, trying to soften his tone. He reached for a cookie, but the tension in his chest didn’t ease. You set the plate down on his desk, hovering awkwardly beside him. "You’ve been working a lot lately," you said, your voice filled with concern. "I worry that maybe you're too hard on yourself. You always seem so… serious."

He paused, looking up at you fully now. Serious. It was a word you often used to describe him, but he couldn’t understand why you found it strange. "My work is serious," he said slowly, carefully choosing his words. "The church, faith… these are not things to take lightly." You nodded quickly, but the way your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your blouse told him you didn’t entirely understand. "I know," you said, "but I thought maybe… sometimes it’s okay to not think so much about all the rules. To just… you know, enjoy life a little." He stiffened at that, the tension rising. This wasn’t the first time you had said something like this, and each time it struck a nerve deep within him. He had spent his life devoted to his faith, to guiding others on the path of righteousness. And here you were, with your innocent and almost childlike outlook, suggesting that perhaps it wasn’t all that important.

This innocent and naive look sent him into arousal right away. How should he took you ? On the desk, soft and sweet or in the bed, your beautiful and supple body laid bare for him as you whimper breathlessly under him. Oh, how he wanted to see your belly swell with his love for you. His pretty little housewife round with child. Your naive nature would be perfect to keep you locked in the house, nursing child after child. Looking pretty at his arms was your only duty right now but he could promote you to being the pretty mother of his children. His mind went wild and he imagined what it would be like. « Donnie ? » You squealed innocently seeing him dozing off. Don's eyes snapped open, a brief flash of panic crossing his features before he saw it was you, his beautiful, innocent wife. He smiled then, the tension from earlier dissipating as he looked at you, his heart swelling with love and desire. "Yes, love?" he asked, his voice a gentle rumble.

You walked closer to him, your hair cascading over your shoulders as you stood beside his desk. "It's late, shouldn't we go to bed?" He nodded, his hands moving to the back of your neck, his fingers tracing the curve of your jawline. "Yes, my love. Let's go to bed." As you walked with him, your hand resting in his, he couldn't help but imagine the delightful sin he'd commit with you tonight. As you climbed into bed, he followed, his eyes never leaving your body. He watched the way your nightgown hugged your curves, the way your full breasts peeked out from the top.

He pushed you gently onto the bed, his hands skimming over your body, teasing your nipples through the thin fabric. "Sugar," he whispered, his voice thick and low, "I’m going to take your advice to enjoy life." You bit your lip, your eyes wide and innocent. "Really, Don?" He smiled, his lips brushing against your ear. "Yes, my precious little lamb. Tonight, I'm going to show you that I really enjoy you." And with that, he began to unbutton your nightgown, revealing your soft, supple skin. 

His fingers traced over your body, making you shiver in anticipation. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your neck. "Tonight, you're going to feel the glory of God," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin, "through me." His hands moved lower, sliding under your panties, his fingers finding your wetness. You gasped, your body arching into his touch. "Donnie," you moaned, your voice a sweet, innocent plea. He chuckled softly, his voice full of adoration, "Just wait, darling. Just wait."

You whimpered « Don… please… » Your nails dig in his shoulders as you threw your head backwards. Suddenly Don's fingers danced over your aching clit, sending shivers of pleasure through your body. He watched you, the sight of your sweet, innocent face filled with pleasure driving him wild. "Do you like that, sugar ?" he purred, his voice low and seductive. Your hips bucked against his hand, your back arching as you cried out, "Yes, please…"

He smirked, his fingers delving deeper, finding the sensitive spot that made you gasp and moan. "You're such a good girl, aren't you?" he cooed, his voice a soft rumble against your skin. "Such a sweet, innocent thing." Your body quivered, the pleasure building within you, threatening to spill over. "Don…" you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders, leaving tiny crescents of red. He grinned, his fingers slowing as he felt you on the brink. "Not yet, my love," he said, his voice firm but gentle. "Not until I'm buried deep inside you." Suddenly he leaned down between your thighs. You whimpered just from the sight. « Don …what are you doin—… » You moaned loudly when his lips kissed your cunt.

Don's lips brushed against your swollen folds, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. He inhaled deeply, his senses flooding with your scent—sweet and pure, like you. He flicked his tongue against your clit, making you buck and moan. "Daddy," you breathed, your body trembling.

He chuckled against your flesh, his tongue dancing and teasing, making you squirm beneath him. "Such a naughty little thing," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "But I bet you'd be even naughtier if you were mine completely." The thought sent shivers down your spine, your body quivering as you felt the edge of your climax growing nearer. You couldn't help but whimper, your hips thrusting up to meet his mouth.

« Don…please…your mustache is scratching so good » You whimpered loudly. Don grinned, his mustache brushing against your sensitive skin as he continued his assault on your body. "Is that so, my love?" he purred, the sound low and deep. "I must remember that." He increased the pressure of his lips and tongue, his fingers still teasing your wetness. You cried out, your body arching off the bed as the pleasure mounted. "Donnie…" He smirked, his eyes never leaving yours. "Do you want to cum for me, sweet girl ?" he asked, his voice a low, husky rumble. "Do you want to feel the love of God through me?"

Your body shook, the words sending you hurtling over the edge. "Yes, unh," you cried out, your orgasm washing over you in waves, your body shuddering and trembling. He continued to tease you, his tongue flicking against your clit as you came down from your climax. When you were finally still, he pulled back, his lips trailing kisses along your inner thigh. "Now," he said, cooing, "let's go to Heaven." He positioned himself between your legs, his thick, uncut cock pressing against your wet entrance. He looked down at you, his eyes filled with love and desire. "Are you ready, sweetheart ?" he asked, his voice a deep, seductive rumble. Your body tingled with anticipation, the thought of having him inside you making you tremble. "Donnie," you breathed, your voice soft and sweet. "Please, I'm ready."

You looked at him through half-lidded eyes, his mustache dripping from your cum, pearls of it coating the once silky hair. Don's stared down at you for a moment, his eyes filled with desire, before he pushed into you slowly. The sensation of his thick shaft filling you caused you to gasp, your eyes widening as you adjusted to the feeling. "Oh, God," you whispered, your voice a soft, sweet moan. He paused, his hands gripping your hips as he looked into your eyes. "I'm going to take you to Heaven, little lamb," he growled, his voice low and full of promise. "And I'm not going to let you come down for a very long time." The words echoed in your mind as your body responded to his, the pleasure building within you, threatening to consume you. All you could do was cling to him, your body arching, your nails digging into his shoulders as you cried out his name.

Soon enough you were reduced to a babbling mess who couldn’t form a word as he pounded into you, his heavy sack slapping against your ass. Don took your desire as a challenge, his hips thrusting into you with a force that left you breathless. His hand slid down your body, his fingers digging into your hip as he pulled you closer, his thrusts growing more and more brutal. "Take it, you little slut," he growled, his voice a low, rumbling purr. "Take it from your husband, your God." He felt your body trembling beneath him, the wet sound of his cock slapping against your ass a symphony to his ears. Without warning, his hand left your hip, snaking around your throat, his fingers tightening as he fucked you harder. 

« Uh, uh, uh » You couldn’t talk, you couldn’t breathe… you couldn’t even think as Don fucked you dumb. His left hand squeezed your throat and some of his thick right digits flickered on your clit making you moan loudly. Don's fingers worked your clit with precise, lewd motions, causing your body to shudder and buck under the dual onslaught. "Such a good, dirty little girl," he murmured, his voice a low, seductive growl. "You love it, don't you?" Your body responded without the need for words, your moans filling the room as you clung to him, the pleasure building within you. "Do you want to cum for me again, sugar ?" he asked, his voice a deep, rumbling purr. "Do you want to feel your God's thick cock pumping inside you as you explode?" Your moans grew louder, your body shaking as you felt the edge of another climax drawing near. "Ungh, ungh…" you whimpered, your voice a sweet, innocent whine.

Don's thrusts grew rougher, more primal as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "You're mine, you know that, little lamb?" he growled, his voice thick with lust. "You're going to feel this cock, this seed, this miracle, pumping into you again and again." His fingers worked your clit with a frenzied intensity, his other hand tightening around your throat as he fucked you, driving you closer to the edge. "I'm going to fill you up, sweetheart," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. "I'm going to impregnate you, make you full and round with my babies, over and over." His eyes looked crazy, like a wild animal under attack. 

Don's thrusts grew wilder, his face contorting with the pleasure of claiming his wife, his sweet, innocent little lamb. "You're going to be my personal breeding machine," he growled in a guttural moan. "You’re my wife, my church, my everything." His fingers pinched and pulled at your nipples, his other hand squeezing your throat, his cock pumping into you with a fervor that bordered on animalistic. "You're going to be nothing but a vessel for my seed, a temple for my cock," he said, his voice a grinding, lewd purr. "And I'm going to use you, over and over, until you're nothing but a broken, satisfied, and pregnant shell." 

You drooled, your head falling backwards as you let out raw screams of pleasure. Tears flowed down your cheeks. Don's thrusts grew even more brutal, the rhythm of his cock slamming into your tight, perfect pussy echoing through the room. You could feel the shadows of his manhood disappearing deep within your core, the connection between your bodies visceral and primal. With a grunt, he took your legs, hooking your ankles around his neck, nearly folding you in two as he took control. "Such a tight little pussy," he growled, his voice thick with lust. The sight of you drooling, crying, and whimpering, your body trembling beneath him, sent a surge of carnal pleasure coursing through him. "Makes me think that maybe I married you just for her," he whispered, his voice a low, guttural rumble. "A tiny, young cunt to snuggle my cock perfectly while I decompress." 

He pressed into you, his hands gripping your hips, his thrusts fierce and unrelenting. "You're my little plaything, my doll," he breathed, his voice a mix of dirty possessiveness and love. "You're my wife, my bitch, my love." Don's hips continued to thrust, his grip on your legs tight as he folded you into an obscene position. The sight of his thick cock disappearing deep into your body, the outlines of it, showing on your stomach, elicited a groan from his lips.

The sight of your pleasure, the way you drooled and screamed, drove Don wild, his hips slamming into you with a brutal force. "That's it, sweet girl," he groaned, the primal need to claim you, to bury himself in your body, overwhelming. "Daddy wants you to come." He felt your body tense beneath him, your screams growing louder as you reached the peak of your climax. You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as he pounded into you, your body tensing, the edge of your climax drawing near. And as your release crashed over you, you cried out his name, your body convulsing around his cock. "Yes," he roared, his own release surging through him, his cock throbbing inside you. "Cum for me, my love, cum for your God." 

Don felt your body tighten around him, your walls milking his cock as he let out a guttural groan. "Lord, darling," he breathed, his own release surging through him, his cock throbbing inside you. "Such a good little cunt for your husband." He collapsed onto you, his face buried in the crook of your neck, his breathing ragged as he came down from his high. The sounds of your pleasure, the feel of your body still quivering beneath him, left him feeling both satiated and insatiable. His fingers slowly released their hold on your hips, his cock still buried deep inside you. "We're in Heaven, my love," he whispered, his voice thick with love and desire. "Let's stay here for a while, don’t move. » He kissed your cheek with his wet mustache as you laid, broken, on the folded position he put you through it all. 

« Gotta make sure it takes… » He patted gently your belly and his hand caressed the swell of your breasts, occasionally playing with a nipple. You whimpered helplessly from your position, feeling his thick cock in your guts every single time he moved. Finally he pulled away and a big pool of sperm squirted out of you in the most obscene way Don ever saw. He patted your left butt cheek. « You did good, baby. » He cooed softly and pushed back the cum in your fluttering hole. You whined from exhaustion « Donnie ? » You called meekly. « I’m right there, sweetheart » He said reassuringly kissing your forehead.

Nine months later, Don introduced your child to his community with a big smile, pride in you fluttering in his chest for giving him a little miracle.

[homelessnerd]

I have seen a lot of blogs that subscribe to the prosperity gospel/name it and claim it style preaching/inspirational quotes, so I want to address it as I’ve seen a lot of people be hurt by it.

For those of you who don’t know, this way of teaching attempts to use scripture to say that all Christians will be healthy, happy, have a good relationship, blessings, good finances, etc. “All you have to do is pray” and “You can do anything if you have enough faith” are common ideas even if they aren’t explicitly said. Sowing and reaping is another common idea that the pastors of churches who use this ideology use to ask for money from people, especially the poor because the promise is that if they sow a seed of money they will reap even more. It usually just leads to debt.

A lot of these things seem innocent at first, especially the inspirational quote style ones. One I just saw was a Bible verse that says “Whoever sows little reaps little, and whoever sows much reaps much.” And that is a good statement, it’s the Bible, but out of context it isn’t clear at all that the verse is specifically talking about offerings in the church. And later on in the same passage it says these offerings are for the needs of the saints (saints referring to all Christians for any Catholics who may read this) and thus implies that if you need the money you shouldn’t give it. It also says in the verse before it that the offering should be a willing gift and not an exaction. So it is doubly clear that this is not meant to be forced, it is meant to be given out of what you can give.

There is a whole lot more I could write on this issue, it spreads so broad. Rather than explain every single thing they say that’s wrong it would probably be a better use of my energy to say what is right.

God gives us uncomfortable situations, sometimes even dangerous ones. I was homeless for the first four months of my marriage. It was rough. We have debt. My husband has genetic medical issues. It still is rough. But through it all we have trusted God and he has given us something more valuable than all the money or health in the world could get us, and that is a solid community of believers that follow God’s word and urge us to do the same. Even when we didn’t have that, we still had assurance of our salvation and God to lead us through.

Life isn’t easy. People aren’t always healthy, no matter how much faith you have. Sometimes you are struggling with money and can’t seem to get what you need. Sometimes it doesn’t matter how much you give, sometimes all you get back is hatred for being kind. But there is one thing more valuable than anything in this world, and that is God. So don’t cling to what God can give you, trust him and follow him through everything that does happen. God works all things (good and bad, some things he doesn’t throw at us but instead a fallen world does) for the good of those who love him and are called according to his purpose.

[candycandy00]

Character: Sukuna

AU setting: Church

spice level: NSFW

Mood: writers choice

Kinks: Non-Con(however would it be alright if it's consensual non con?), daddy kink, breeding, spanking, Size difference and Praise

(Could it be Fem reader? Thx !! :))

Father Sukuna’s Discipline - A Sukuna x Reader Fanfic

I might have added a couple kinks and took some liberties with the CNC kink but I hope you like it! 

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Sukuna as a Priest. Probably very offensive to Catholics (I know nothing about Catholicism so please look over any errors). Breeding. Spanking. Sort of CNC. Dubcon. Daddy kink (he’s a priest so Father is used instead of Daddy), light bondage. Size difference. Rough sex. Praise. Dividers by @benkeibear. 

Part of CandyCandy’s 2k Followers Event! Any feedback whatsoever would be adored!

You stand in the drafty hallway outside Father Sukuna’s office, shifting from one foot to the other. He’s angry with you. He definitely saw that you were late for morning prayers, and he happened to be walking by when you flubbed reading the study verses to your students. As a new nun working in this Catholic school, you should be providing a strong example for the students to follow. Instead, they giggle when you try to scold them. 

Father Sukuna, the headmaster, has had to discipline you several times now for your careless behavior and mistakes. You appreciate that he’s taking the time to give you such personal attention, but his punishments can be… severe. 

And so you take a deep breath before knocking lightly on his door. He calls for you to come in, so you twist the brass doorknob and push the heavy wooden door open, then step inside. 

The room is large, with high ceilings and tall windows along the back wall. The air is chilly, despite the low fire burning in the fireplace. You flinch when the door slides closed behind you, feeling like you’ve been sealed in.

There’s a large wooden desk in the center of the room, and behind it sits Father Sukuna, looking at you over the top of his reading glasses and closing the Bible in his lap before placing it on the desk. 

“Do you know why I asked you to come?” 

His voice is deep and smooth. His black priest robes do little to conceal his muscular form. As he pulls off his glasses, his unusual red eyes seem to shimmer. His handsome face is lined with black tattoos, remnants of his former life before joining the priesthood. 

You fidget beneath his piercing gaze, thinking, far from the first time, that it’s a waste for someone like him to be a priest. Sensuality seems to ooze from every pore on his body. Every little move he makes, every word he utters with that voice, makes you think impure thoughts. 

“I was late this morning,” you say, looking at the floor. 

“And?” he prompts. 

“And I messed up my reading of scripture.”

“Twice,” he adds. 

You nod pathetically. “Yes, twice.”  You raise your head then, meeting his eyes. “I beg your forgiveness, Father! I’ve only been a nun for six months now. I’m having a hard time adjusting.”

He stands up from his leather chair and walks around the desk to stand in front of you. This close, you’re very aware of how tall and big he is, how he towers over you, how he could throw you around like a rag doll if he wished. You can smell his cologne, a deep musky scent with contrasting cherry blossom undertones. 

“It seems that you need more discipline, Sister. Did you come prepared?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, your face burning with shame as you reach your trembling hands down and grip your robe. Hesitantly, eyes on the floor to avoid his face, you slowly pull the fabric up to your waist. 

Just as he instructed, you’re wearing no panties, only black silk thigh high stockings. Even with your soft thighs pressed together, he can definitely see your bare pussy, shaved the way he demanded. 

“Ah, so you can follow instructions after all,” he says, and you glance up at his face to find him grinning widely. It’s an expression wholly unbecoming of a priest. 

You watch as he steps back to his desk and uses one arm to knock everything off it with a single swipe. Then he pats the desk and says, “Climb on, and get in position for your punishment.”

You drop your robe and move over to his desk. He lifts you up and sits you on it, then you nervously maneuver yourself to be on your hands and knees. Your limbs are shaky as he walks around behind you and jerks your robe up again, letting it bunch up at your waist, leaving your lower half bare. One of his large hands sets upon your naked ass, then rubs down it, tracing your shape. 

“As for what we discussed earlier… are you still certain?” he asks. 

“Y-yes,” you say. 

Two days ago, Father Sukuna proposed giving you “special discipline” to help you improve as a nun and turn away from your careless, sinful behavior. He said it would be intense, possibly painful and embarrassing, and that you would have to consent to allowing him full access to your body, using it however he sees fit. He gave you those two days to think about it. Today, you gave him your answer. 

Now, with his eyes roaming over your exposed flesh and his warm hand squeezing the fat of your ass cheek, you don’t regret your choice, even if it’s humiliating. Because you truly do want to be the best nun you can be, and… being touched by a man like him, so tall and so intimidating, with those wild tattoos, makes your body quiver with excitement. So many nights you’ve laid in your bed, shamefully touching yourself while thinking of him. 

He gave you a word, what he called a “safe word”, for you to say if you decide you can no longer handle the discipline and want to stop. Otherwise, he said, he would continue no matter what you say. The very thought of being completely at his mercy both frightens and thrills you. 

Stepping around to the front of you, Father Sukuna pulls your rosary from your neck and winds it tightly around your wrists, binding them together and forcing you to lean more on your elbows than your hands. This makes your position slightly more unstable, and leaves your ass elevated higher than the rest of you. 

He moves out of sight for a moment, and returns holding something in his hands. It’s a large wooden paddle with several holes drilled into it. Your eyes widen as you stare at the threatening object. 

“Years ago, before I became Headmaster, this paddle was used to punish misbehaving students. We don’t do that anymore, but we keep the paddle around. Sometimes it’s effective to just have it lying on the desk when talking to an unruly student.”

He slaps the paddle into his open palm, resulting in a loud thwacking sound that makes you jump. “The holes supposedly make it sting more,” he tells you, that unnerving grin spreading across his face again. 

Moving to your side, he holds the paddle up, looking down at your glassy, wide eyes, then he swings it downward, smacking the harsh wood against your trembling, vulnerable ass. You cry out in pain, feeling the burn of the holes, instinctively trying to scoot away. 

Father Sukuna uses his free hand to firmly grip your shoulder, holding you in place, before bringing the paddle down again. This time the sting is enough to bring tears to your eyes and a scream from your throat. 

But he remains merciless. 

Thwack!

Thwack!

Thwack!

Three more hits, each one hard enough to make your body jump from the desk. Your ass burns. It has to be totally raw by now. 

“Father, please! Forgive me!” you weep, your knees nearly collapsing, your face now buried in your forearms, your hands clutching the rosary that has them bound together. 

Father Sukuna pauses and sits the paddle on the desk beside you. He uses his now empty hand to grip your sore cheek, kneading it, making you whimper. 

“Spread your legs wider,” he commands, and you struggle to comply, scooting your shaking knees further apart. He leans over to look, making you flush with heat and embarrassment. “Such a sinful body,” he says. “You’re absolutely dripping.”

“I’m so sorry, Father!” you cry, desperate to close your thighs and hide your shame, but knowing better than to anger him. 

You feel his hand slide down, and then his fingers dip into your wet folds. You shudder, fighting the urge to try to pull away. He laughs as his fingers brush over your clit, making you twitch. “Such a fuckable little cunt,” he says, and you glance back at him over your shoulder, shocked by his words. 

“Father?” you ask, trying to ignore the feeling of his fingers stroking you. 

“Hmm? Do my words concern you, Sister? I find that hard to believe when this soaked pussy is practically begging to be fucked. Do you want that? Do you want to be fucked by my huge cock?”

“I… I don’t…”

He suddenly withdraws his hand, picking up the paddle again in one smooth motion and then slamming it back down on your raw, stinging ass. This time it hits so low that it connected with your pussy. You squeal and jerk, and Father Sukuna holds the paddle up to his face. “You’ve gotten it all sticky,” he says. 

After sitting the paddle back down, he reaches down with both strong hands and effortlessly flips you over onto your back. He grabs your bound wrists by the rosary and jerks your arms above your head, then forces your legs even wider apart. He pulls your whole body down toward the end of the desk, making your robe ride up even further, nearly exposing your chest. 

He uses one hand to pull up his own robe and open the black pants underneath. “I fucked countless women before becoming a priest,” he says, his voice deeper than usual. “I thought I got it all out of my system. But fuck it, I’m still a man. So I’m gonna ruin this cute little pussy of yours.”

His tone of voice, his manner of speech, they seem different, rougher. “F-father, please,” you beg, “be gentle with me!”

He pulls a massive cock from his pants and lines it up with your entrance. “Not a fuckin’ chance!” he says, then immediately shoves himself all the way in. 

You gasp as you feel yourself being completely stuffed, his hands firm on your waist, keeping you steady as he pounds into you. “Please forgive me, Father!” you sob out. 

“Huh? Forgive you for what?” he asks, that maniacal grin on his face. 

“F-for being so sinful!” 

He laughs before he leans down and extends his tongue, licking a stripe up your crying face. “No need to apologize. Your tight pussy feels fucking incredible! This sinful body of yours is a blessing!”

You feel dazed, out of your mind, as his cock repeatedly slams into you. You have no idea what’s right or wrong anymore. You gaze up at him through teary eyes. “Is… is this part of the discipline? To make me a better nun?”

He reaches one hand down to stroke your clit, making your hips buck off the desk. “Yeah, I’m making you a better nun!” he grunts. “I’m making you my personal little slutty nun!”

You can’t take anymore. Your mind and heart are so confused. Only your body seems to understand Father Sukuna’s discipline. So you let go, you let yourself fall over the edge, and you scream out his name as you cum around his cock, clenching him with everything you have. 

His grin only gets wider, his red eyes gleaming, as he fucks you even harder. And when you finally feel him pulsing inside you, followed by a gush of his hot sticky cum filling you up, you lose all strength, going limp on the desk beneath him. 

Once he’s bottomed out, he pulls back and looks down at you. “Good girl, taking my cock so deep. I’ll forgive your mistakes this time,” he says as he buttons his pants and pulls his robe back down. His voice is returning to his more formal tone. “But if you don’t show more grace as an employee of this school, I will have to discipline you again.”

He reaches down and unties your hands, then gives your rosary back to you, leaving you speechless and stunned. You quickly recover and scoot off the desk, jerking your robe back down to hide the cum dripping down your thighs. 

“Thank you, Father,” you say with a quivering voice as you hurry out of the room. 

[letmeoutofthebasementt]

How religious/Christian is skz?

Chan

Chan is definitely religious. I think there’s certain aspects of his religion that he doesn’t agree with (which from what I’ve read before I believe is catholic?) and some things about the church he’s disappointed in, but he generally has a lot of faith in his religion and maybe has a specific religious leader in his life he has a lot of trust in. He’s also had a lot of prayers he’s had answered that he personally believes cannot be coincidence.

Minho

Definitely is not religious but we been knew. He doesn’t like the church, doesn’t like that it’s built off of, and doesn’t align with any of its beliefs. Probably has a lot of really bad past experiences with them he’ll never be able to get over. Like religious trauma.

Changbin

Changbin is and so are a lot of his close friends/family and past partners. He definitely thinks that a lot happens in the church that can be…Bad, but he’s seen the bad and he’s seen the good and he knows there’s a bright side to it that he loves. Though he has a very turbulent relationship with religion. Definitely thinks a lot of peoples views are too harsh though. On both sides of the fence.

Hyunjin

Yes. He’s religious and he’s open and honest about the fact that he is. It’s not something he tries to hide or keep to himself. I think he’s a practicing believer of a certain religion (Pretty sure I’ve seen he’s catholic) but also has a more…Spiritual side along with that? I don’t see him being TOO spiritual, but he’s not closed off to it. He feels free to explore whatever he wants to explore. He also likes learning about and observing religions outside of his own without judging them. He also doesn’t feel the need to push his religion onto people.

Jisung

Han is religious. He has a lot of hope, trust, and faith in his religion and he’s very inspired by it as well. He’s probably been born and raised in the same religion all his life. But through it he’s met people, broadened his horizons, and just expanded a lot in a lot of aspects.

Felix

Obviously, Mr. Bible scandal himself is religious. According to what I’ve seen and the cards themselves. However he doesn’t discredit science and logic. I think he’s been referring more back to his religious roots lately, though he’s always been practicing and religious. It also helps him explore more about himself and he likes the emphasis on love and kindness within his religion (Which, correct me if I’m wrong, I’ve read may be catholic too?)

Seungmin

He is. I think he’s not very devout or all-in practicing, but he has his beliefs and he’s stuck with them for a long time. Another who was probably raised religious, and finds happiness in the community surrounding his religion and the people he meets through it.

Jeongin

Yes, of course, Mr. Wanted to be a priest is religious. But I think there’s an imbalance between his work and his religion. (Maybe the aspect of being an “idol” kind of rubs him the wrong way. Plus the things he does for work may not align with how he is expected to act or be in his religion. And his work distracts him from actually practicing said religion.) he’s definitely memorized the Bible. He thinks of it a lot and references it in his life. He’s very disciplined in his religion and determined to follow it, though he’s used to “overly rely on it” in the past and had little faith in himself as an individual.

Would they date /marry someone who's not?

Chan: No. he wouldn’t want them affecting his own faith and beliefs.

Minho: Yes. He himself isn’t. So.

Changbin: No. He’d probably feel ashamed to bring someone who isn’t to his family and afraid of what they’d think or say. Also just differences in values and beliefs he doesn’t believe they’d get passed.

Hyunjin: No? Back to the recent breakup thing the person he was just with was probably not religious and he’s like “Well look how that turned out.” He’s probably tried it a lot and it was a disaster every time.

Jisung: no. Again, that shame is there

Felix: Yes. If he loved them he’d love them, and he’d love them unconditionally.

Seungmin: Yes. He’s confident if he truly loved them they’d be able to work through any issues that would arise because of conflicting beliefs.

Jeongin: Yes. As long as they’re happy together. Though he wouldn’t marry someone who wasn’t.

Would they want them to convert or would they convert themselves?

Chan

Honestly, probably wouldn’t get himself into this situation. But if he was, he’d try to work at it. He’d see if they like his religion if they’re interested but I don’t think he’d force or pressure them to convert. He wouldn’t convert for a partner though.

Minho

If Minho was with someone religious he’d expect them to…Stop? Being religious for him? He has this “They’d wake up and smell the roses” type of mentality. He wouldn’t join a religion for anybody though.

Changbin

He wouldn’t expect a partner to convert for him. I think…He’d probably convert for someone though. If he’s that infatuated.

Hyunjin

Hyunjin would never. EVER. Convert for someone. When I tell you I felt…Judged pulling this card. I felt judged. Like those “bitch you better be joking” vibes. Hyunjin gave a no for the if he’d ever expect his partner to convert but he gave very much “I’d never even put myself into that situation” energy.

Jisung

Han would convert for someone as long as their religion matched with his ideals. He’d also think it over. He’d also expect his partner to convert for him. Like “Oh, if they loved me enough they’d do it.” Type energy. If he was with someone not of his religion he’d have that mentality of “Well one of us has to convert.”

Felix

Felix would never expect someone to convert for him. Because he knows what it’s like to strongly believe in something and would think it’s unfair to expect someone to go against their beliefs for him. Honestly? I think he’d convert in name if quite literally forced to but still would keep his own beliefs.

Seungmin

He wouldn’t convert for someone. Even being asked this is pissing him off. Like I’m getting very pissed energy here. He’d also never expect someone to convert for him.

Jeongin

No and No. But also yes and yes. I think if asked and young, stupid, and whipped he’d just impulsively be like “Yeah sure why not” next thing he knows he’s signed on to Islam or something and he’s just kind of like “Oh. How’d we get here?” And he’d definitely subconsciously wish for his partner to one day find interest in being part of his religion. But generally he’d never consciously do either.

[ghostchems]

sacred blasphemy - catholic priest!copia x f!oc

chapter one: blood!

in another world, copia has become a catholic priest after being drawn to it during his childhood in an orphanage. he is content with his life, finally feeling grounded and like he belongs -- until a new face in his flock captures his attention.

author’s note: this is the project i’ve been talking about for the past few weeks! eventual smut, my friends, but nothing too spicy here. this story came about because a lot of fic i’ve read and also written have the papas as the seducers, the ones who draw “innocent” people to join the satanic church with their charm and sexiness so i thought what if i did it the other way around. about 4k words. ao3 link!

The young boy stood motionless in the schoolyard, his arms wrapped tightly around his chest in a protective embrace. He remained there, a still figure amidst the bustling playground, his heart pounding with anticipation. Time seemed to slow as he waited, knowing full well what was coming but powerless to stop it.

Suddenly, the air was split by the unmistakable sound of rubber against skin. A dodgeball, thrown with cruel precision, struck the boy squarely in the face. The impact was immediate and intense, causing his nose to erupt with blood. As it trickled down his face, a strange sense of relief washed over him. The nuns, alerted by the commotion, rushed to his aid, their habits fluttering as they escorted him swiftly to the infirmary. Despite the pain and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, the boy felt a small spark of triumph. His plan had worked – he had successfully escaped the dreaded dodgeball game, just as he had hoped.

He found solace in the quiet sanctuary of the infirmary. The gentle care he received there was a balm to his battered spirit. The nun tended to his injury with practiced hands and he felt a sense of peace wash over him. Seeking further comfort, he reached for the Bible that lay nearby. It really should have been his by now. He opened its well-worn pages. The ancient words spoke to him, offering wisdom and solace in equal measure. He immersed himself in the sacred text, allowing its timeless messages to soothe his troubled mind and provide a temporary escape from the harsh realities of his daily life.

Every trip to the infirmary ended with wondering when this would all be over. When he would be free of this place. The thought both terrified and excited him. The infirmary, with its antiseptic smell and quiet atmosphere, had become a strange sort of sanctuary. Here, at least, he was safe from the chaos of the playground and the cruel taunts of his fellow orphans. he'd always felt like an outsider, never quite fitting in anywhere. His appearance didn’t help. He was a gangly child, oddly proportioned child and his eye certainly didn’t make people want to be friends with him.

But he knew he couldn't stay here forever. Sooner or later, he would have to face the world outside these walls. He turned another page of the Bible, his eyes scanning the words without really reading them.

***

This has been a long time coming for the priest.

He surveyed the parking lot as members began to arrive for mass, a content smile on his face.

Copia's journey to this moment had been a long and winding one. The sense of displacement he felt as a child led him to seek solace in faith, eventually finding his calling in the priesthood. The path hadn't been easy - there were moments of doubt, struggle, and loneliness that echoed his childhood experiences. But now, standing before his congregation, he felt a sense of peace and belonging he'd long yearned for, a stark contrast to his rootless beginnings.

As more people filed into the church, some stopping to shake his hand, Copia reflected on how far he'd come. The hardships of his past had shaped and guided him here. He felt settled, grounded in a way he never had before. This small church, this community—it was home. Though it had taken some getting used to on their part. He was the strange priest with the ghostly white eye. The one who sometimes had dark circles around his eyes, rumored to be from any number of things. Definitely not your typical priest. His appearance had initially raised eyebrows and sparked whispers among the congregation. Some had even questioned whether he was fit to lead their church in the wake of beloved Father Acosta’s retirement. But Copia's genuine compassion and unwavering dedication to his flock had gradually won them over. Very gradually. Still, he couldn't help but notice the occasional curious glance or startled reaction from newcomers, though that wasn't very often.

He shook the thoughts off, focusing on the message he was about to deliver. Copia was excited to share his homily today, having worked on it for the last few days. The message he had prepared felt particularly poignant, addressing themes of acceptance and unity within the community, drawing inspiration from Ephesians 4:2-3: "Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace." He hoped his words would resonate with the congregation and foster a sense of belonging for all members - a belonging that he would gladly provide after being deprived of it for so long in his own life. The irony wasn't lost on him; the outsider now creating a space of inclusion for others.

“Father Copia!”

Copia spun around at the sound of his name, a warm smile spreading across his face as he recognized the pair approaching him. Mark, a single father who had become a regular at the church, was gently guiding his daughter Maisie forward.

"Ah, good morning, Mark! And hello there, Maisie," Copia greeted them, his voice softening as he addressed the shy little girl. Maisie, usually hesitant to make eye contact, was clutching something in her small hands.

"Go on, sweetheart," Mark encouraged, giving her a gentle nudge. "Show Father Copia what you made."

With a deep breath, Maisie stepped forward and held out a piece of paper. Copia knelt down to her level, his mismatched eyes twinkling with curiosity. "What's this, little one?"

Maisie's voice was barely above a whisper. "I... I drew you, Father."

Copia carefully took the offered drawing, his heart swelling with emotion as he examined it. There in bright crayon strokes, was an unmistakable portrait of himself. Maisie had captured every detail - his black cassock, his graying brown hair, and most notably, his distinctive eyes. One was scribbled a deep green, while the other was left white.

"M-Maisie," Copia breathed, genuinely touched. "This is beautiful. Th-thank you so much." He looked up at the girl, who was now beaming with pride. "This is, ehm… this really is me."

Mark chuckled, resting a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "She's been working on it all week. Wouldn't let me see it until it was finished."

Copia stood, still holding the drawing carefully, almost unable to tear his eyes away. “This is going straight to my office. I'll treasure it always, piccolina." The little girl's shy smile grew wider, and Copia felt a warmth spread through his chest. He was so touched by Maisie's gesture that he felt a lump forming in his throat. He tried to mask it with a cough, urging them to get to their pews. "Thank you again," he managed, his voice slightly rough. "Please, take your seats. We'll be starting soon." As Mark and Maisie moved away, Copia took a moment to compose himself, touched by the unexpected kindness. He carefully folded the picture and tucked it into his pocket.

The last few congregants entered the church with Copia watching, taking a deep breath to center himself. The moment had arrived. With a final glance at the sky—a calming ritual he'd long practiced—he turned and strode towards the entrance. His mind was already racing with anticipation. He could feel the weight of his responsibility, the trust his congregation had placed in him. As he stepped into the church, the familiar scent of incense and old wood enveloped him, grounding him in the present moment. Even so, the chasuble always felt heavy on his shoulders. It was green today — to represent the 17th Sunday in Ordinary Time. He let it drape over him, heavy yet calming. Copia took his place at the altar, ready to begin the service.

His eyes swept over the congregation. The familiar faces of his flock brought comfort, but a new presence caught his attention. A nun he hadn't seen before sat in one of the back pews, her head bowed in prayer. Something about her struck him as... different, though he couldn't quite place why. His gaze lingered on her as the words to his introduction fell effortlessly from his lips until a sudden, sharp pain flared behind his left eye — his white eye. The sensation was entirely new, a stinging that made him blink rapidly. Copia faltered for a moment, taken aback. He'd never experienced anything like it before, especially not during a mass.

He recovered quickly, his hands flying into motion as he continued his sermon. His fingers danced through the air, emphasizing key points with dramatic gestures. The congregation seemed to lean in, captivated by his animated delivery. His Italian heritage shone through in every sweeping motion and expressive flick of the wrist.

"And so, my dear brothers and sisters," Copia proclaimed, his hands spread wide, "we must remember that our faith is not just words, but actions." He brought his palms together. "It is in our deeds that we truly show our love for God and our fellow man." As he spoke, Copia found his natural rhythm, his earlier discomfort fading into the background. His hands continued to paint pictures in the air, bringing his message to life with each gesture.

Throughout the service, Copia found his gaze drawn back to the mysterious nun. Her posture, the way she held herself during the hymns, it all seemed slightly off-kilter for a woman of the cloth. He shook off the feeling, chiding himself for being distracted during mass. As a priest, his focus should be solely on the service and his congregation. Yet, there was something undeniably intriguing about this newcomer. Copia silently admonished himself, refocusing his attention on the sacred rituals at hand. He took a deep breath, centering himself in the familiar rhythms of the mass.

When it came time for communion, Copia's heart rate inexplicably quickened as the line of parishioners moved forward. The new nun approached and he felt an odd tension in the air. She raised her head, and their eyes met. Copia's breath caught in his throat. Her eyes were a striking shade of blue, almost luminous in the church's dim lighting.

"The body of Christ," Copia intoned, his voice steady despite his inner turmoil.

"Amen," the nun replied, her voice a low, melodious whisper that sent an unexpected shiver down Copia's spine. To his surprise, she opened her mouth instead of raising her cupped hands as most parishioners did. He exhaled slowly, steeling himself, momentarily thrown by this deviation from the usual practice.

He placed the communion wafer on her tongue, his finger brushed it ever so slightly. A jolt of... something... passed between them, leaving Copia momentarily stunned. The nun's lips curled into the faintest of smiles as she turned away, leaving Copia almost shattered. Shaking himself mentally, he continued with the communion, but his thoughts kept drifting back to those piercing blue eyes and that enigmatic smile.

The last of the parishioners returned to their seats, Copia moved back to the altar, a place of safety for him. He carefully cleaned the sacred vessels, his movements deliberate and reverent. The familiar ritual helped to calm him, pushing away the lingering thoughts of the nun. He felt like he was in autopilot for the rest of Mass, not his favorite feeling in the world but he was at least able to get through it. He raised his hands, inviting the congregation to stand for the prayer after communion. “Let us pray," he intoned, his voice carrying through the church. He recited the prayer, asking for God's continued blessings and grace upon those who had received the Eucharist.

After the prayer, Copia shared his usual weekly announcements with the congregation. He reminded them about the upcoming parish potluck and called for volunteers for the food bank drive. The attentive parishioners responded with nods and murmurs of agreement. These community events and opportunities to give back were truly Copia's favorite aspects of his role—even more so than having an audience for his sermons. Such initiatives held a special place in his heart; after all, he'd benefited greatly from them during his own upbringing.

Finally, it was time for the Concluding Rite. Copia spread his arms wide, his voice warm as he spoke the familiar words: "The Lord be with you." The congregation responded in unison, "And with your spirit." He then gave the final blessing, making the sign of the cross over his flock. Mass drew to a close, members began filing out of their pews and Copia felt a mixture of relief and lingering unease. The service had gone well, despite the unexpected distraction. Yet as he watched the congregation file out, his eyes couldn't help but search for a glimpse of blue eyes and a nun's habit among the departing crowd.

He lingered in the pull for a moment longer then made his way into the crowd, exchanging warm greetings and engaging in light conversation. He found himself particularly drawn into a chat with Margot, a cherished elderly parishioner who never missed a Sunday service.

"Father Copia," Margot beamed, her eyes twinkling with excitement, "I can't wait for the potluck! I'm planning to bring my famous lemon tarts. Everyone always seems to enjoy them so."

Copia's face lit up at the mention of Margot's renowned dessert. "Ah, your lemon tarts are truly a blessing, Margot. I'm looking forward to them myself." He leaned in conspiratorially, "I'm thinking of making pasta for the event. I, eheh, got the new Martha Stewart cookbook and..."

Their pleasant exchange was interrupted by a gentle tap on Copia's shoulder. He turned to find Sister Laura, one of the regular nuns, standing beside the mysterious newcomer he had noticed earlier.

"Father," Sister Laura began, her voice warm but formal, "I'd like to introduce you to our newest member, Sister Veronica."

Copia's breath caught in his throat as his eyes met those striking blue ones once again. Sister Veronica offered a small, shy smile. He took her in, trying to be discreet. She was petite, with wisps of dark hair escaping from beneath her habit. Her posture seemed self-protective, arms wrapped around herself. Copia couldn't help but notice how her blue eyes sparkled with an inner light, a contrast against her pale skin. He quickly averted his gaze, reminding himself of his position and the impropriety of such thoughts.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Father Copia," Sister Veronica said, her voice carrying the same melodious quality he remembered from communion.

Copia reached out to shake her hand as he felt a familiar stirring within him - a temptation he had grappled with before. The touch of her hand sent a jolt through him, reminiscent of their earlier encounter during communion.

"Welcome to our parish, Sister Veronica," Copia managed, his voice steady the discomfort that warred inside him. "I hope you'll find a home here with us."

Sister Veronica's smile widened, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Thank you, Father. I already feel welcomed." She glanced around the church, her gaze lingering on the ornate stained glass windows. "It's a beautiful parish you have here."

Copia nodded, his eyes following her gaze. "Indeed, we are blessed with such beauty. Perhaps… I could, eh, give you a tour sometime, show you some of the hidden treasures?" The words left his mouth before he could stop them, and he felt a flush creep up his neck. Sister Veronica's eyes widened slightly, a hint of something unreadable flickering in their depths.

Sister Laura, sensing the tension, cleared her throat softly. "Father, perhaps you could tell Sister Veronica about our upcoming potluck? I'm sure she'd love to contribute."

Copia blinked, grateful for the interruption. "Ah, yes, of course," he replied, his voice a touch higher than usual. "We'd be delighted to have you join us, Sister Veronica. It's a wonderful opportunity to meet the congregation."

Sister Veronica nodded, her blue eyes sparkling with interest. "That sounds lovely, Father. Perhaps I could bring my grandmother's secret recipe for cannoli?" She glanced at Sister Laura, who nodded approvingly. Copia felt a flutter in his chest at the mention of the Italian dessert, one of his favorites.

"That's perfect, Sister Veronica," Copia said, his tone polite but brief. "I look forward to trying it." He nodded to both nuns. "If you'll excuse me, I have some matters to attend to. Sister Laura can help you with any other questions."

With that, Copia turned and walked briskly towards his office, his mind spinning with frantic thoughts of what he was feeling. In almost a blink of an eye, he had arrived, quickly seeking the solace. He leaned against the closed door, his heart racing. A panicked laugh escaped his lips, echoing in the silence of his office. "Why?" he whispered to himself, running a hand through his hair. "Why do I feel this way?"

The image of Sister Veronica's piercing blue eyes flashed in his mind, causing a shiver to run down his spine. He shook his head vigorously, trying to dispel the thoughts. This wasn't right. He was a man of the cloth, dedicated to his faith and his congregation. These feelings... they were inappropriate, forbidden even.

Copia pushed himself away from the door and paced the small confines of his office. His hands fidgeted restlessly, a nervous habit he'd never quite shaken. "Get a hold of yourself," he muttered, his Italian accent thickening with his distress. He paused by his desk, his eyes falling on the worn Bible that always sat there. Guilt washed over him in waves. Copia sank into his chair, burying his face in his hands. He needed to pray, to seek guidance and strength. But for the first time in a long while, he felt off kilter.

Copia shook his head, trying to dismiss the worry. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper - Maisie’s drawing. A deep sigh fell from his lips.

This was why he had chosen this path. This was his purpose - to guide, to protect, to be a beacon of hope for those who needed it most. The innocence and trust reflected in that simple drawing grounded him, reminding him of his vows and responsibilities.

"I will stay the path," Copia whispered to himself, his resolve strengthening despite the lingering worry about his eye. With renewed determination, he clasped his hands together and bowed his head in prayer, seeking the guidance he so desperately needed - not just for his spiritual dilemma, but now also for this unexpected physical concern.

As Copia he began, a sudden, sharp pain lanced through his eye. He winced, his hand instinctively reaching up to touch the affected area. The world around him began to blur, his vision swimming in and out of focus. Panic rose in his chest as he struggled to make sense of the plan.

He felt a warm trickle from his nose. Copia lowered his hand, his eyes widening in shock as he saw the crimson stain on his fingers. Blood. He was bleeding. In a daze, he fumbled for a tissue, his movements clumsy and uncoordinated. He pressed the cloth to his nose, his gaze fell upon the drawing in front of him. His entire body went rigid, a mix of anger and despair welling up inside. Droplets of blood had fallen onto the paper, marring the innocent crayon strokes with stark red splatters. Copia stared at the ruined drawing, his heart sinking. With trembling hands, he carefully folded the bloodstained paper and tucked it into his pocket.

More blood spilled from his nose, splattering on his desk. Panic ripped through him, his head feeling light and heart thundering in his chest. He stumbled to his feet, his vision still blurry, and rushed out of his office towards the restroom.

He collided with someone on the way because of course he did. Looking up, his heart skipped a beat as he recognized Sister Veronica's concerned face. The sight of her caused another surge of anxiety, and to his horror, he felt a fresh gush of blood from his nose.

"Father Copia!" Sister Veronica exclaimed, her blue eyes widening with alarm. "O-oh goodness! Here, let me help you."

He wanted to protest, to tell her he had it handled but the words refused to leave him. Sister Veronica gently guided him to a nearby alcove, away from prying eyes and he followed silently. She produced a clean handkerchief from her pocket and began to dab at the blood on his face with a tenderness that made Copia's heart race even faster.

"Tilt your head forward slightly," she instructed softly, her warm fingers on his chin sending an involuntary shiver through him. "It'll help stop the bleeding." Copia complied, feeling a mixture of gratitude and unease at her proximity. The scent of her - a subtle mix of incense and something floral - filled his senses, making it hard for him to focus on anything else.

"Thank you, Sister," he managed to mumble, his voice muffled by the handkerchief. "I... I don't know what came over me."

Sister Veronica's eyes met his, filled with genuine concern. "It's alright, Father. These things happen. Just take deep breaths. Are you feeling any better?"

Copia nodded slightly, acutely aware of her gentle touch as she continued to tend to him. The bleeding seemed to be slowing and he was grateful. He took a deep breath and a wave of nostalgia washed over him. The gentle care and the clean scent of the handkerchief transported him back to his childhood days in the infirmary. He remembered the kind nuns who had cared for him then, their soft hands and soothing voices a balm to his young, troubled soul. The memory brought a bittersweet ache to his chest.

"It's... it's been a rather strange day for me," Copia finally spoke up, his voice slightly shaky. He met Sister Veronica's concerned gaze, feeling a mix of vulnerability and unease. "I apologize for troubling you with this, Sister."

Sister Veronica's expression softened, a gentle smile gracing her lips. "There's no need to apologize, Father. We all have our difficult days. Is there anything else I can do to help?"

Copia felt a warmth spread through his chest at her kindness, even as he struggled with the conflicting emotions her presence stirred within him. He shook his head slightly, careful not to dislodge the handkerchief. "Your assistance has, eh, been more than enough, Sister. Thank you." Copia gave a deep sigh. "I'll make sure this is spotless when I return it to you, Sister." He tugged at the handkerchief.

Sister Veronica shook her head gently, her blue eyes warm. "Please, keep it, Father. Consider it a small token of welcome to your parish."

"Thank you again, Sister," he whispered, raising his hand to hold the handkerchief to his nose. As their fingers brushed, Copia felt a familiar jolt course through him.

Sister Veronica's expression softened further. "I'm here if you need any assistance, Father. Please don't hesitate to ask." She lingered for perhaps a moment too long, then turned to leave, her footsteps echoing softly in the hallway.

As Copia watched her retreating figure, he felt a twinge in his chest - a mixture of gratitude, confusion, and something else he dared not name. He took a deep breath, relieved to find that the blood flow had finally stopped.

Lowering the handkerchief, Copia leaned against the wall.

A strange day indeed.

[teawitch]

Classical Correspondences

"Correspondences are just things people made up." various tumblr blogs

Working with a local witch community, one thing I've noticed is that a lot of witches coming from very (sometimes very very) Christian background haven't really been exposed to "Classical" education in the sense of Greek, Roman and Medieval history and thought, except for a sort of biblical overview.

This is the Bible belt and often the question isn't - "Well, you've read Greek mythology, right?" but "were you permitted to read Greek mythology?" Which has left a big gap in the foundational understanding of where some of our witchcraft and broader magical work comes from, including those correspondence lists you see everywhere.

In broad terms, the Egyptians influenced the Greeks who influenced the Romans who influenced the early Christian church and most of medieval Europe. This gives a sort of historical and geographical foundation for our Classical Correspondences. And a lot of other things but right now, let's just look at correspondences.

The periods above give us a long history of men (and sometimes women, but honestly, this was mostly an old boys club) looking at the universe and saying "how does all this fit together?"

In an attempt to answer that question, they started looking at connections between things to try to understand them. Why does valerian smell that way? Why does camomile also make you feel relaxed? Are these two related somehow? Can we find a way to organize them?

Isn't that what botany does? At least for plants?

Yes. And we can see that because both these plants fall under the influence of Jupiter they are kingly, helpful, and aromatic, imparting a feeling of relaxation and expansion.

Umm, Tea, it doesn't say that in my botany textbook.

You have the wrong textbook. You need Culpepers Complete Herbal which is the culmination of all the plant knowledge you'll every need. Says so in the title - Complete. And it was published during the reign of Queen Elizabeth, so you know it's up to date. Queen Elizabeth the First. A time of great scientific progress. (its free on Project Gutenberg)  Though of course Culpeper worked from reliable sources like Aristotle. And  Pliny the Elder, who wanted to categorize everything. (Pliny is probably best known on Tumblr for that elephant religion post that makes it's way around now and then. Pliny is not a reliable source for elephant religion or, well, other topics. But I digress.)

Let's break things down a bit. By Jupiter we mean the planet Jupiter, not the god. (Though Jupiter does fall under Jupiter). The Romans categorized according to the seven ruling planets - Sun, Moon, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn - with additional influence from the four Greek elements - earth, air , fire, water as well as the astrological signs. They assigned properties to each of these that fit with their view of that planet/element/sign. Jupiter is kingly, along with other properties.

You take everything - plants, metals, gem stones, colors, parts of the body, emotions - and you figure out which ruling planet they fall under and you have a system of correspondences based on the planetary properties. (Venus for love, Mars for courage and strength, Mercury for speed and communication, etc.)

Tea - you're missing a couple of planets and the sun and moon aren't planets.

These are the 7 classical planets or the 7 wandering stars. These were the seven things that could be seen with the naked eye and didn't follow the fixed pattern of the stars. From the Greek word meaning "to wander". We are standing on earth so obviously it's not wandering around the sky. (We have correspondences for Uranus, Neptune and Pluto that were added later)

Got it. So they developed a system of correspondences using the classical planets and used it for witchcraft?

Of course not. From the Romans onward, witchcraft was generally illegal. (Greece disapproved but the laws were a bit different.) So no one would have developed an expansive system of correspondences for witchcraft and made it public.

These were scientific. And for medicine. And, well, for occult practices that were definitely not witchcraft! (Look up high magic vs low magic but basically, it was an economic difference and being poor was bad.)

The important part was - this was science. It had rules. It had structure. They didn't just randomly assign meanings to plants. They developed an entire system of classification and examined each plant to decide where it fit under that system.  Sometimes plants could fall under multiple planets. Sometimes different parts of a plant fell under a different influence. And when used in medicine, what ruling influences the patient fell under could affect the treatment.

I don't want to use them.

It's hard to avoid them. They come into witchcraft through Western Ceremonial Magic but also through pure practicality. See, some of them work remarkably well, possibly because of the medical aspect of things. In medicine there had to a be a probability of success because if everyone died, no one would use them.

And from a witchcraft perspective - a lot of them make sense to the way we work. Plants with hallucinatory properties are often classified as Lunar and fall under the Moon. Spicy and hot plants fall under Mars. Pretty, sweet smelling flowers fall under Venus. These are already connections most of us have. It's also culturally an open system. Remember, it was considered science and medicine in its day. Anyone can reference and use planetary correspondences in their work.

I think personal correspondences would be stronger.

Possibly, over time and for the person involved. Personal and cultural correspondences  build up a resonance in the cultural or with the person, but that resonance  may not transfer well to others. Planetary correspondences have had a long time to develop that resonance and are broadly used, so that resonance is considered to transfer well to the working of others. They are simply a good base for publicly shared work.  

[banana-with-a-bow-tie]

I have a friend who is a Christian who has started accepting LGBT lifestyles and claiming they are not actually sinful. Me and my friends have had meetings with them and given scripture but they refute it every single time and call us unloving. They don’t believe God actually said it’s a sin to be gay/trans and encourage other Christians to embrace the lifestyle to get closer to God. We aren’t even sure they read their Bible anymore, and if they do we aren’t sure how they can possibly ignore what it says. We have tried so many times to lovingly correct and they continue to tell people to go and sin because Gods word is outdated. What should we do now?

I’m so sorry to hear you’re going through that. Be encouraged that you were able to stand firm on the truth and loved your friend enough to offer correction.

As a random guy on the internet, I don’t have answers for what steps you should take in your situation or what your friend needs. I can only speak generally from the Scriptures. This is why the local church is important. Your pastor/mature Christian friend or leader can offer you much better wisdom and possess much better understanding of your situation up close than I can from a distance.

Ultimately “What you should do now” can only be determined through prayer and walking by faith in what you believe God has called you to do based on His Word. Here are few things I believe His Word says that would be helpful for situations like these.

Most importantly, only God can change a person’s heart. We can bring all the sound biblical arguments that we want, but our faith must be in God (1 Cor 2:4-5). It’s not our job to convince anyone, only lovingly present them with truth and action the way Jesus would and surrender them into His care. If there is a professing Christian who is falling for Satan’s lies, the Spirit weeps over that (Isaiah 63:10; Heb 10:29). God loves sinners and calls us to believe He has the power and desire to rescue those blinded by lies and imprisoned by sin (Isaiah 61:1).

If we believe that God wants to save people and is the only one who can save people, then before we do anything we must pray, pray, pray, and pray some more. Then when we are done praying, go and get some more believers and pray with them.

Ephesians 6:19

praying at all times in the Spirit, with all prayer and supplication. To that end, keep alert with all perseverance, making supplication for all the saints

Phil 4:6

do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.

Luke 18:7

And will not God give justice to his elect, who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long over them?

Matthew 18:19-20

Again I say to you, if two of you agree on earth about anything they ask, it will be done for them by my Father in heaven. For where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I among them.”

That last one is really important because in context Jesus is commanding us to pray together for the restoration of a sinning brother. When we pray together seeking God's will for helping those in need of His grace, we can be sure that He will respond and help us know what we need to do with confidence that it is right.

As we pray together with fellow believers for God's grace to work in the lives of those we love, we will find God working in our hearts to shape us into the image of Christ so that we can be used by Him the way He wants. Then we can act in faith to share what the sinning believer needs to know.

Matthew 18 also tells us that if the sinning believer refuses to repent, even after going to him/her with two or three witnesses and elders and even the whole church, then we surrender them to their choices and put them out of the church. If they don't want to follow God's ways, then they don't need to be in God's church. Let them live like the world and trust that God will do what is right.

I will be praying for you and for your friend as well.

[veras1ne]

༉‧₊˚. “Devil in Disguise.”

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Summary 🕊️: Smut but not necessarily any plot! Proceed with caution this is your checkpoint! I am not responsible for any media you decide to consume <3

🫧➷ Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x AFAB!Reader (Apologies that this one isn’t Gender Neutral! Based on my own personal life it’s just easier for me to write AFAB smutfics).

: ̗̀➛ WARNINGS🪷: Your warnings are as followed 🦢 Explicit smut, PIV, fingering, corruption kink, religion used in a NSFW way, creampie, virgin!reader

🫧Thank you for all the love recently! I love interactions so please please PLEAAAASE if you literally have anything to say put it into my inbox I love answering asks <3

💌Thank you to the dearest and loveliest @fuckmyskywalker for the lovely little reblog sesh we had on this and what I’d say is their own little sparkle to this fic. I love Anya so much and it would be greatly appreciated if you checked them out aswell <3

You were still unsure of how you ended up in this position.

Anakin’s fingers were buried deep inside your sopping cunt as he hiked up your shirt in order to expose your chest. His lips were working on a particularly sweet spot just below the crook of your neck, his tongue swirling languidly over it. You were sure it would leave a mark, one that was visible and harsh, and at the very least would leave you waking up and wondering what devil had taken advantage of you the night prior.

The devil in question, though, was your sweet, loving boyfriend, one to whom you had promised your life and love, but not before making him very aware that it was in your motives to wait ‘til marriage, and still, you had ended up with your Bible in hand, being forced to read verse by verse as he fucked you stupid. Not that it really mattered anymore, though, given that his body and his fingers were moving so well inside your tight hole. "Read Hebrews 13:4 back to me, baby. Don’t be shy; you and I both know that if this were such a sin, God wouldn’t have placed your perfect body in the hands of a sinner like myself, would he?" His words were getting lost in an orgasmic haze as he thrust them into you again and again, each one bringing forth more bliss than the last. "Let marriage be held in honor among all." Your voice cracked as your moans slipped through your words.

As you tried to hide in the bedsheets, a hand took reign of your hair, pulling it back to look back on your Bible, the one Anakin had commissioned to be made for you, highlighted and bookmarked with your favorite verses. "Come on, Angel. You know you can do it; just one more for me, and I’ll let you cum on my cock." The rasp in his voice rang out in your ears, making you whimper and writhe under his grasp, with only his hand lodged in your hair holding you in place.

As you regained your composure, you looked around in a frenzy in order to find your place on the page: "And let the marriage bed be undefiled, for God will judge the sexually immoral and adulterous." Your voice was high-pitched and whiny, essentially pleading for him to give you what you so desperately lusted after. He could never refuse you anything, and even though you loved him dearly, you knew that, but he did love you too much to give himself fully over to your every whim. "What a good little dove you are, letting me corrupt you under God’s watchful eye." His fingers worked their way out of your cunt as he rolled away from you, leaving a sickening trail of your fluids connecting to his fingers as he brought them up to his lips to taste you.

The sight of him licking your juices off of them gave you goosebumps, and you remembered that the cool metal of his promise ring was inside of you just moments ago. "Don’t worry, baby; you should know I keep my promises." His breath fanned against your ear as he moved your body to face him; instead of being met with lacy white sheets, your eyes were met with his watercolor blue irises. "Such a good little whore for me. Imagine if those at your church knew all about the things that you let me do to you." His smile was smug, knowing you would do anything for him, even if it meant exchanging your place in heaven for his fingers that brushed so elegantly against the inside of your thighs or how his body fit so perfectly against yours like a missing puzzle piece.

The sound that escaped your lips was somewhere between a moan and a sob. You were unable to deny the feelings that washed over you when he teased your clitoral area relentlessly, preparing and distracting you from the stretch of his cock that was briefly painful. You had known Anakin long enough to understand what he intended, yet you could not help yourself. "Please, please take me now." Your body shook in anticipation as his cock finally bottomed out, eliciting another sharp cry from your lips at the sensation.

A few deep breaths seemed to momentarily calm your mind down as he held you and soothed you.

Even in the most blasphemous and downright sinful situations that you and Anakin had gotten yourselves into before, he had always made sure to care for you and match your energy and level of comfortability.

Your hand had squeezed his, letting him know that you were ready for what came next, as your body had tensed up once again as he began slowly fucking you hard, his hand cupped in yours and your lips pressed firmly against his. Oh, my God, Ani," you breathed out, his dick pumping in and out of you. "God can’t save you now, my angel. Don’t beg for mercy from him; you need to beg for me." His speaking was sloppy and breathy, and his pace got increasingly faster as he chased his own high. “Please, Anakin, I’m going to cum.." A string of whines and pleas slipped past your lips as his hand caressed your cheek lovingly.

Your hips lifted to meet his thrusts as he continued fucking you furiously, his fingers digging deeper into your hips as he pulled out and plunged back in forcefully.

A overwhelming sensation overcame your body as you reached your thighs,  quivering at the pleasure and roughness of Anakin’s movements, with his falling close behind you seconds later. His teeth latched onto your shoulder in order to bite softly, his grip tightening ever so slightly as he let go of you to come deep inside of you. Anakin groaned as he came undone in your embrace, removing his cock from inside you and lying beside you, just holding your now tired and sweaty body in his arms. "I love you, Angel. Thank you for trusting me with this." He smiled at you and rubbed your sides, allowing you to still come down from your post-orgasmic haze. "I love you so much, Ani." Your voice reassured him, and you took his hand and led him to your bathroom. Allowing the steam of your shower to clear your senses, you quickly became aware of all the marks on your body that your dearest lover had left on you.

“Anakin, we have church tomorrow."

[honey-flustered]

Eddie Had A Little Lamb (MDNI +18)

Summary: Eddie is trying to be good and with your help, he could be exactly that. But Kas, on the other hand, thrives in all that is unholy and he’ll stop at nothing to bring you and Eddie to the dark side.

Kas!Eddie Munson x Virgin!Religious!Reader

A/N: This is a spicy piece of work. I hope I did this concept justice as this was a request. Please let me know what you guys think since it’s my first time writing kas!eddie. Thank you for reading and please enjoy!

Word Count: 8.7k+

Warnings/Tags: Dub con elements, religious themes, extreme blasphemy, possessive!kas and eddie, innocent!reader, whole big bag of (fluff, smut, angst) mentions of mental health, dom!kas, dom!eddie, use of “daddy” and “master”, corruption/innocence kink, finger sucking, drooling, dumbification, belly bulge, blood kink/drinking, p in v (unprotected), loss of virginity, minor monsterfucking elements, mention of traffic light bdsm system, biting, scratching, face fucking, spit kink, dacryphilia, oral sex (m & f recieving), small breeding kink, creampie, cum eating, doggystyle, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, fingering, use of fox tail butt plug, anal play, reader referred to as “lamb” “bunny” “angel” , some violence, mentions of minor character death/disappearance

There’s a reason why lambs are considered a symbol of innocence. The poor things nary a clue when they’re brought to the offering table, gloriously prepared to be slaughtered for the pleasure of man.

Kas pities you. For that was exactly what you were in his eyes: A poor little lamb. Eddie hadn’t realize that he was currently wrapping you up prettily—with a bow on top—to be presented before the beast. Nonetheless, Kas will happily accept this offering. For now, he will wait. He’ll let you come closer until it’s too late to turn and run.

“Eddie,” You say, taking his hands in yours with a sincere smile. “I’m glad you’ve decided to come to Bible study. What’s brought you here tonight?”

Aside from atoning for my sins, you mean?

“I wanna keep trying with this religion thing. Maybe become a better person. I don’t know if I’ll ever believe in God, to be honest with ya,” He admits. “But I’m hoping to prove everyone wrong about me. I’m more than what’s on the surface.”

Eddie’s consumed with guilt. He’s not been himself lately. A few nights ago, Eddie walked home from Gareth’s home, considering it was not much far from where he live. He was randomly attacked by a rabid bat. Bitten and disoriented, he soon blacked out. When he awoke, he found himself covered blood, the metallic taste in his mouth. Then, the missing reports came in about a missing elderly man. Although Eddie was not certain, he believed to be responsible for the disappearance of that man.

Ever since then, he’s been doing all he could to suppress the appetite and that godforsaken voice. It wasn’t him. It couldn’t be him. He was depraved, sick and twisted! That part of him was so far removed, he had a name for himself: Kas.

Usually, staying awake and alert was one way of stopping this undiscovered being within him. Of course, Eddie couldn’t always stay awake. So the next big thing was to sign up for the local church’s mentorship program in which young adult church members assisted the ‘lost’.

“You’re just misunderstood. Sometimes people are afraid of things they don’t understand,” You smile. “Like you must be terrified coming to a place like this. I’m sure everything you heard today sounded a bit foolish to you. I get that everyone outside the congregation thinks we’re all ‘Jesus freaks’ but we’re all just trying to understand things, ya know.”

“If it’s any consolation, I’ve been called a freak, too. That never stop me from wanting to join the program. Although, I can admit that this bible study thing’s not my style.”

“I’m really happy you did come though. You usually say you’ll come when I invite you but don’t turn up,” You began.

Well, it’s not like he actively tried to avoid. He’d come every day if it meant that he got to look at you. When he was partnered up with you for the mentorship program, it was as if he’s one the lottery. But of course, Kas took a liking to you as well only his desires for you were beyond inappropriate. Kas planned to ruin you. So Eddie avoids you as much as he can all so that he can protect you.

“It’s just really nice to see the effort you make towards this.” You finish, cleaning up the desk of books and placing them on the shelf.

“I get cold feet sometimes,” Eddie explains, stacking the chairs away. “Crowds and events also aren’t my thing. But I figured it would make you happy and since you’ve worked so hard steering me in the right direction…all I can do is try.”

You nod. “So are going to do prayer at your place or mine?”

“Yours, I guess.” Eddie says.

Let her come over to our place, idiot.

No, we’re going to her place that way you won’t be able to try any tricks while her parents are there.

“Oh, umm, I was kinda hoping you’d say your place? I know I suggested mine but my father is little overbearing and I didn’t want to just invite myself to your place.”

“I’m fine if your father’s a little overbearing. My Uncle Wayne was at one point of my life.”

“No, you don’t understand. I love my father but he is ‘spy-level crazy’ overbearing. You’d probably never show up again or would ever like to speak with me either. I would know. It’s happened plenty times before.”

“O-okay. We can do it at my place. Just a little warning, Wayne’s working a late shift so…we’ll be alone.”

“Oh…t-that’s okay. We’ll be on our best behavior.” You laugh nervously.

“Exactly.” He joins in on the awkward laugh.

After cleaning up the church library, the two of you got in his van and head to his home. Eddie’s never been to your home and vice versa but he knew you came from an affluent community. He could only imagine what you must think seeing the trailer park.

“Well, um, this is my home.” Eddie says, holding open the door for you. He’s never self-conscious about showing off his place. Couldn’t give a shit about materialism. But he wanted to impress you.

“It’s lovely,” You smile, having a seat on the couch when you recognized that some pillows and a comforter. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is this where you sleep? I didn’t mean to—“

“Oh no, no. You’re fine. Sit wherever you like. My Uncle actually sleeps there. My room’s down the hall,” He clears his throat. “W-we could go in there and do the session there. T-the prayer session.”

“Yeah, t-that sounds good.” You follow his lead.

Eddie thanks the imaginary man in the sky for reminding him to clean his room today. He nervous shifts on his feet while your eyes scanned the room, smiling.

“Your room’s really cool.” You compliment.

“Really? I’m sure your room way cooler.” And bigger.

You look at his red electric guitar hanging up on the dresser. “Whoa, I’ve never seen it up close before.”

“You’ve seen me play it?”

“Oh yeah, I watched you perform one time. My parents don’t allow me to listen to that kind of music but…my friend and I snuck into a show one time after you put the fliers all over the school. You did really great.”

The lamb’s got a naughty side.

Eddie disregards him. “Thanks. The band and I have been working on those songs for years.”

“I’d like to hear more music like that sometime. All my cassettes are of gospel music.” You say, almost sounding annoyed.

“I can fix you a mixtape of all the songs I like. Then, you could tell me all about the songs you do and don’t like during community service.”

“That would be great! But I’m not sure if I can bring it home with me. I don’t even own my own walkman. I share it with my sister and she loves to hog it.”

“Sure you can. You can even borrow mine. We could keep it as our little secret.” Eddie says, putting a finger to his lips.

You laugh. “Okay. Why not? I can live on the edge sometimes.”

Eddie sits on the edge of the bed, patting the seat beside him. You sit, a small gap between the two of you. He could tell that you were uncomfortable, you hands crushed between your thighs as you avoided his stare.

Why don’t you get a little closer to her? She wants you to. I can feel it.

You’re full of shit, man.

“Should we pray now? Or would you like to talk about the study’s topic?” You asked.

“Not even sure what tonight’s topic was even about?” Eddie admitted.

“It was about repentance. How sincere we are in regretting our wrongdoings. We can do a prayer where we apologize for our sins. It doesn’t have to be out loud if you don’t feel comfortable.”

“I’m not sure how to do that.”

“You mean, prayer?”

“Yeah, like do I just talk?”

“Exactly,” You giggle, sliding off his bed to lower onto your knees before him. Eddie’s breath hitches at the sight. This was going to do wonders for his late night fantasies. You, being on your knees and looking up at him through your long lashes was going to do wonders for his late night fantasies. Fuckkkk. Was he really going to pop a boner right now? In front of your fine ass. “You clasp your hands together like your high-fiving yourself and you just talk to him as if you were talking with me. Don’t hold back either say everything. Then, at the end you say ‘amen’. It’s kind of like hanging up the call.”

“Should I keep my eyes open?”

“It’s preferably better if they’re closed,” You lay a hand on his thigh. “You’re probably shy. Not a problem. I’ll just pray for the both of us. Then, next time, you’ll join me.” You squeeze your eyes shut and whisper a prayer.

A lust for a taste. Just one taste.

His legs move on their own accord, standing up so that he’s towering over your small frame. You smelled so fucking incredible. Just…one…taste.

Eddie’s heart beats rapidly, vision blurring as he began to see double. You were oblivious to his inner turmoil, peacefully praying away.And just like that it felt like Eddie had taken the backseat in his own mind.

“Amen,” You finish, looking up at him in surprise. “Oh, I didn’t feel your presence in front of me. You move as swift as a mouse.”

“And you as gentle as a lamb.” He smirks.

This wasn’t Eddie speaking. No! The being known as Kas has taken over. Eddie being so sleep deprived, he didn’t have a fighting chance against him.

You stand on your feet, checking your watch.“Oh, no. How is it already time to go? We hardly got anything done. I’ll have to go. My parents are probably anticipating my arrival by now.”

“It’s only 7 pm, bunny. Is it your bedtime?”

“I can assure you I’m a big girl who sleeps at anytime I please,” You chuckle. “It’s supper time. My family always eats together.

“You should call your parents. Tell them you’ll be staying for a bit. I’m sure they wouldn’t want to keep you from a lost soul who’s eager to learn about the Lord.”

“I-I…I’m not sure if they’d be okay with that. My father was on the fence about me even coming here. Mother had to defend me.”

“Mama does know best. She knows her little girl wouldn’t do anything Jesus wouldn’t do,” Kas winks before holding out the house phone. “Go on. Let make the call. It’ll only be for one more hour.”

No, Kas! Fuck you! Let her go home!

“O-okay,” You take the phone from his hands. “I’ll just take it in the living room in case the conversation needs to be said in private.”

“Do whatever you wish.” He bows, holding open the bedroom door for her. She exits.

Kas!

If Kas weren’t so proud, he’d laugh. The game of chess has been set in motion. Striding over to his bedroom’s dresser, he looks at the reflection in the mirror.

“You rang?” He smiles a toothy grin, his top canines extended.

“Stay away from her,” Eddie hisses. “She doesn’t deserve to be treated like your meal.”

“Then, you shouldn’t have starved me,” Kas grunts angrily. “Besides…she looks good enough to sink my teeth into.”

“I won’t let you hurt her.”

“I’m not gonna hurt her. At least…not in a way she wouldn’t like.”

“Good luck with that. There’s no way her parents will let her stay.”

You walk in, prompting Kas to turn and face you. A smile on your face as you too your seat back in his bed.

“After a some convincing, my father says that I can stay for just one more hour.”

“That’s fantastic.” Kas says in feigned excitement, silently gloating in his head.

“Although,” You play with your thumbs. “I kind of told a little white lie. I told my father that we weren’t left unsupervised.”

“Probably for the best.”

“I feel so guilty, though. I rarely lie to my Father unless it’s reasonable and even then I still end up telling him. I told him I snuck out to see your concert. It’s probably why he doesn’t…” You quiet down.

“Doesn’t…like me?” Kas finishes.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“No, I understand, bunny,” He sits down, scooting closer to you. “Your father’s justified in wanting to protect you from me.”

You smile. “Why would I possibly need to be protected from you? You’re sweet, funny, and interesting. You couldn’t hurt a fly.”

Kas smiles at her cluelessness. “Think about it, bunny. Why do you think your father would be worried you being alone with me?”

“Because it’s late?” You say, softly.

“Because he was once my age. Because he could only imagine that i’ll be doing exactly the things he used to do with your mother before they were married.”

“Y-you mean fornication. But that’s a sin.”

“Sinning’s a part of human nature. It says so in the bible: We’re all born sinners and what not.”

“You’re right about that. B-but church folk say that marriage is important first to enjoy things of that nature.”

“What if I told you, you don’t have to marry…to fuck?”

The emphasis on the swear word sends chills down your spine. You bite your lip to keep him from hearing your heavy breathing.

“I mean, come on. Would you really wanna marry a bad lay? With each new generation, sex is more liberating, raunchier and nastier. It doesn’t always have to come with strings attached. That’s what makes it sooo fascinating. You get to fuck whoever and whenever. Why enforce these principles on yourself when there’s always something new to learn about it. Don’t you like fun?”

You swallow hard. “I do but lots of things could be fun aside from…sinning.”

“What could be more fun than feeling the best pleasure you could ever imagine?”

“Going to church could be just as pleasurable.”You try smiling again to keep him from thinking he’s affecting you.

“It could…but you wouldn’t know that for sure unless you’ve been fucked? But not just regular fucking. Hard, fast. The kind that takes your breath away and makes you feel like you’re dying a little.”

“I experience that above worldly pleasures and the physical. That’s why this mentorship program is out in place, Eddie. It shows us how to seek happiness outside of those things. It’s like a spiritual awakening.”

“I can give you that with just my fingers alone, bunny. You don’t need to talk to some imaginary man in the sky when you’ve got one right here willing to show you things that’ll rock your world.”

“Like what?” You weren’t sure why you kept this conversation going. It was supposed to be about God. About today’s bible study topic. Not…this! But your curiosity got the best of you. You were like a scientist poking and prodding for your latest discovery.

“Have you ever played with yourself?” Kas asks, eyes ruby red. You being so lost in his trance, you couldn’t bother to realize that you were staring into the eyes of a monster.

“You mean, touch myself… down there?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Yes,” You breathe. Somehow, you don’t feel embarrassed to admit this to a guy you’ve had a crush on since the 9th grade, never acting on your feelings because your world had never aligned up until this point. “But not directly.”

“What do you mean, bunny?”

“I’ve never put a finger inside or touch there at all when I’m pleasuring myself because I’d feel too guilty if it were by my own hand. So I…” You look away and trail off, afraid to continue.

“Go on. Don’t be shy.” Kas encourages, a hand on your knee.

“I…shove my pillow between my legs and rub against it.”

“That sounds hot as fuck.” He shift closer to you, his knee touching yours.

“It’s shameful.” You whisper.

“It’s natural. I get that feeling, too. You just want some release. You deserve that. Don’t you, bunny?”

“I’m not sure.” You clamp your thighs together, bringing his attention to the hand that’s rested on your knee.

He slithers a hand up your soft, supple thighs and squeezes. You let out a quiet squeak. “I think you do. You’ve been such a good girl.”

His hand move further up before wedging between your inner thigh. “Tell ya what…maybe I can teach you some things, too. It could be my gift of appreciation to you.”

Kas stalks over you, eyes staring into yours while you gradually fell against Eddie’s pillow.

Don’t you fucking dare, Kas!

You’re shaking and Kas places a hand over your heart, feeling it pound against his palm. It was so delicious. You are just so full of life. And blood. Innocent, pure blood.

“So you’re a virgin?”

You nod.

“I can change that.”

He’s being weirdly crass! You thought to yourself.

And yet, you throbbed for him. Your hands have the sudden urge to pull his face down to yours for a passionate kiss.

But Kas makes the first move, lowering his face above yours. The guitar pick necklace dangling above you slots itself between your breasts when his lips are just inches away from yours. You close your eyes, feeling the lightest of touch only to quickly dissipate before you could even register its presence. You hear a pained groan, opening your eyes to see him rubbing his temple, eyes screwed shut.

“Eddie?”

“Sorry about that, bunny. Got a real pain in my head head just now,” Kas laughs. “I’m ready to continue if you are.”

“Actually, do you think you could take me home,” You reach for your bag beside you, standing on your unsteady feet. “This was…a night.”

Kas exhales deeply. “Why not?”

He sluggishly reaches for the keys of the van, leading you out the door to his van. The rest of the car ride was quiet but the exchanging spoke loud enough. When Kas arrived to your home, you gathered your things slowly almost like you were thinking of saying something.

“Umm, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Maybe.” Kas says, nonchalantly.

“Okay,” You say, discouraged. “Goodnight.”

You pull the door handle but it wouldn’t budge. After couple of tries, Kas leans across your seat.

“Sometimes, you gotta give it a little shake.” He strongarms the handle, popping the door open.

He could here your breathing above him, you really were inexperienced. The slightest touch or breeching of your personal space and you’re flustered.

Kas decides to have fun with this, making sure you can feel his breath ghosting over you skin as he gradually looks up at you. When you felt it tickle against your neck, you shudder. Just as he’d hoped: goosebumps light up your skin.

“Goodnight.” Kas finally says.

“Mm, yeah.” You rush out, going up to the front door. He waits for you to enter and he’s off, cursing himself. You were a lot harder of a catch.

But it wasn’t lost on him that you’d been rubbing your thighs together. You probably couldn’t wait to get back to back to your room to hump your pillow until sunset. Kas prides himself in this thought.

“Thanks to you she thinks I’m some perv.” Eddie complaints.

Kas groans. “Don’t you have an off switch? Besides a pervert is exactly what you are. Don’t pretend you weren’t thinking of fucking her, too? I didn’t hear you once complain when I asked her about playing with herself.”

“You won’t be coming near her again, Kas. I fucking swear it. From now on, I’ll be serious with my avoidance of her.”

“We’ll see how long that’ll last. Hell, she’ll probably come looking for us first after the time I just gave her.” Kas winks through the rearview mirror.

Eddie could feel himself slipping into his own mind, trying to find solid ground. If he didn’t figure out a way to find the balance within himself, Kas will take full control. And who knows how many people’s lives could be at risk.

—————

Eddie’s ashamed. After your confessions last night, he touched himself, imagining the way you’d sound moaning as your wet pussy dragged along your pillow. He imagined what words you’d say when you climax. Would you call for God? Would you swear? Would you call out for his name?

The next thing he knew, his hands were down his boxers, stroking his cock and sniffing the parts of the sheets where you were lain against. It was pathetic. Desperate. He hated to admit that Kas had been right. Eddie wanted to fuck you hard and deep, making you take every inch of him.

The next day—as Kas predicted—you were actively searching for him. Eddie made sure that whenever you were entering a room, he was exiting.

He’s been successful for the most part. The occasional times where he would run into you, he’d quickly rush off explaining to you how he’s needed in a different department of the church. But despite that, he was at ease knowing that you’d be safe from him.

That was up until he was reminded of bible study. In which, Eddie had to sit in a room of close proximity to you. You’d try to sit next to him and he’d pounce at the very moment the hear your body radiates against his skin.

He needed to think fast. So when the meeting begun, Eddie made sure to sit in a chair with the seats around him filled. Every now and then, he’d catch your stare. Especially, when the two of you shared a momentary smile at one another when the lead went on about the “devil worshipping game of Dungeons and Dragons”. Once the meeting concluded, Eddie’s attempts to walk out the door when the lead begs him to stay to clean up again along with You like the other day.

He reluctantly agrees, starting in a corner of the room far from you. Every now and then, he’d catch himself staring. Did you have to dress goddamn stunning today? Like a goddamn angel. It wasn’t fair.

You pretend as if you needed something in the section he was hiding in, casually walking around him. “Hey! I was looking to speak with you today.”

“Really? Oh man, I’m sorry.” Eddie wasn’t much of an actor.

“You seem like you’re very busy today. It’s nice to see that you being so active here.”

To avoid all my problems, of course.

“Everyone’s been talking about it,” You continue. “Nobody could have seen it coming. Eddie Munson, church goer.”

“Well, no one’s as shocked as my friends. They still don’t believe it, pictures and all,” Eddie laughs before clearing his throat for a more serious topic. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I was being a dick—sorry I mean, jerk.”

You look at him strange.

“Did I say something wrong?” Eddie asks.

“No. It’s just funny that you’re apologizing for cursing,” You giggle. “Yesterday…you were sort of a sailor mouth.”

“Oh, right. I’m not sure what came over me.“

“To be quite honest, I kinda liked it,” You smile, looking down in your lap. “Everyone’s so formal and proper all the time. It’s nice to hear something…different.”

“Oh…” Eddie’s floored.

“Anyway, how’d you like today’s study?”

“Not my favorite, honestly. They talked so much shit about D’n’D being ‘demonic’.” Eddie says, putting on a gravelly demon voice.

“I’m really sorry about that. I know it’s a sensitive. It was very admirable of you not to interject your points even though you could have very well done so with no judgment. In my opinion, it’s only a harmless game. I’ve been curious to play it.”

“You should come by my club sometime, then. I can teach you all that I know.”

“I’d love for you to teach me.” Your smile fades when you’re reminded of the implications of your statement. Eddie catches this, nervously twirling the rings on his fingers. Neither of you meeting each other’s gaze.

You clear your throat, breaking the silence. “Eddie…I have a few questions.”

“Sure, angel. What’s up?”

“Is there something you’re hiding from me? I want you to know that whatever it is that you feel you can’t tell me…you really could tell me. I may not be a great liar but I can keep secrets.”

Yes, actually. I have a lust for blood because I’m a vampire with an alter personality that attacks humans for their blood and now we’re competing to claim you. : Is what he wished to say… instead he simply puts it at a, “It’s complicated. But I don’t think I have much to say.”

“It’s just that you’ve been so different lately. I’ve never know you to remotely care what people think of you. Or go to church meetings and want to learn about the Bible.”

“People aren’t born religious, they find their way. I did.”

“Yeah but it’s like you’re doing it to make up for something. Whatever it is…you should know that you don’t have to deal with it on your own. You don’t have to avoid me. And if it feels like I’m not forcing you into doing this program in anyway—.”

“I chose to sign up for this. None of this is because I’m force to do this. If anything I like being around you, I’m just going through a lot of stress. It’s hard learning to be more responsible and in control.”

“I know what you mean,” You laugh. “I feel like I nearly lose control all the time. Especially…when I’m with you.”

His eyes widen at your bold admittance.

“Yesterday, I was on the edge, waiting to go over. It’s like that whenever I’m near you. Like, I’m hanging on by a thread that just gets keeps getting thinner and thinner, anticipating the moment it snaps.”

“That’s exactly how I feel.” Eddie says, feeling as if a weight’s been lifted off his shoulders.

“Is it wrong that I wish for you to teach me those things you said you would? To think such sinful thoughts right here on church grounds?”

He swallows audibly, adam’s apple bobbing. “I wouldn’t think so.”

“I’ve always liked you, Eddie. I like you. Not whatever constructed version of you that you’re trying to build to appease the masses. I’m interested in you and the things you like and how excited you are when you get to share them with someone,” You close the space between your bodies. “When I think about you…I can’t stop the ache I feel between my legs. No matter how many times I touch myself at night.”

“Oh, angel,” Eddie breathes. “You’re gonna break me down.”

“What I feel is so intense that all I could do is touch myself to get some release. You were right. I don’t want to deny myself of what I need. I need you.”

“I need you, too. So fucking bad. I could never get you out of my head.”

Your eyes light up. “Really?”

“How can I? You’re amazing. And you’re really pretty and nice and you smell like a dream. Whenever I look at you, I just wanna hold you and kiss you.”

“I can’t stand it. I want you now.” You whine, grabbing the collar of his jacket to press your lips to his.

He’s more confident in his kiss with you, tongue running over your bottom lip. You grant him the permission to explore your mouth, deepening the kiss. You even tasted incredible, too.

Eddie feels as if he’s on top of the world and he hopes Kas could see him now.

That’s checkmate, asshole.

You break the kiss, a line of spit connecting your lips before you lap at it with your tongue. A heat creeping up on your lips when you remembered exactly where you were.

“I hope these old cameras don’t work.” Although, something within you says the opposite.

“Come on.” Eddie takes your hand, leading you to the back corner of the library.

He turns you over, your back against the bookshelf as he starts off by kissing your neck. He, then, resumes moving his lips over your pouty ones, his skillful tongue works its wonders. When his hands reach your butt, he cups it and uses the leverage to glide your clothed core over his denim-covered thigh.

“First lesson in pleasuring yourself, if you’ve got a partner…use ‘em.” Eddie says, grinding you down against him causing you to moan out.

You cover a hand over your mouth afraid that you’re being too loud. He quickly removes your hand away.

“It’s just us, angel. I wanna hear you.”

“But what if someone walks in?”

“Don’t care. Show me how you play with that pussy when your at home. Ride my thigh.” His hand collides hard on your ass, the sting hurts so good.

“Please.” You rasp, rutting against his leg like a dog in heat while he sucked on your neck.

He wanted to taste you so badly. Drink of your nectar as if you were the very source of life itself. So, once he felt like he’d gotten his fill, he drops down to his knees before you. You were confused at first until you felt his hands creep up your dress, finding the band of your panties.

It was a blessing you decided to wear nice underwear today.

He slides your pink thong down your legs, hiking the skirt of your dress around your hips. The look on his face was enough to make you feel like a goddess. His hooded eyes, fluttering as he watch your honeyed arousal seep from your puffy lips.

“It so damn perfect.” Eddie groans. Not wasting a second longer, he dives in. His tongue licks a long stripe up and down your slit before taking in the sensitive nub between his pursed lips.

Your knees begin to buckle underneath you, the only thing keeping you up is his hand on your abdomen.

“Ngh..ooo please! Eddieee.” You whine, biting your lip to keep from screaming. In that moment, there was no turning back for you. You’ve now experienced the kind of pleasure your pillow could never compare to.

You almost felt sorry for denying yourself this kind of bliss. But it was worth the wait because now you get to indulge. And indulge you did, grinding your sodden cunt against his face. His arms wrap around your thick thighs, pulling you into him as if you weren’t close enough.

Eddie kisses your pussy like does when he kissing the lips on your face, savoring the feeling against his. He collects your juices on his tongue then spits back onto your throbbing pussy before sucking it off again. It was absolutely filthy. Something you’d never seen which was enough to make you cum hard at the sight alone.

Your walls clench and unclench within you, desperately needing to be filled. As if he’d read your mind, he slips in a thick digit into you. Then, another. You gasp at the sensation. It was foreign but it intensified your orgasm to the point where you reached for the books behind you to ground yourself into reality, knocking them to the ground.

You were like a work of Michelangelo. He watches intensely as you cry out and writhe against his mouth and fingers. The sounds of his moans combined with the suction noises would have anyone fooled that he was currently eating a 5-star cuisine.

“Oh, yess, daddy.” You let out a guttural groan, the whites of your eyes shown.

Eddie liked the sound of that, laughing wickedly against your thigh. He knew he’s won, taking you down piece by piece until you crumbled. He rubs your clit until your shaking from overstimulation, pulling his hand away to breathe again.

He smirks. The little tease. You smile back, panting. Your hair’s probably a mess from all the thrashing.

You expected him to slide your underwear back up your legs. Instead, he sniffs them and groans, pocketing them.

“Mine now.” He claims with a smile.

“You’ve definitely rocked my world.” You praise, now that you could form a coherent sentence.

He chuckles, helping you straighten yourself out. “So did you. I’ve never been so turned eating pussy. Nearly came in my pants like some prepubescent kid.”

“I want more.” You jump him, kissing with tongue and tasting yourself.

He pulls away, cradling you in his arms. “Whoa, whoa. Let me take you out on a date first. Let’s take things a little slow.”

————

He was no better than Kas. Eddie was just as thirsty for you. Just as much to credit for your corruption. There was no slowing down between the two of you. Ever since you’d began dating, things have been intense.

There was lots of kissing for sure and Eddie loved going down on you every chance he got. He was a addicted to your taste and the way you sounded, determined to make you scream his name whenever the two of you were alone.

You’d asked Eddie to go to the sex shop with you because tonight was the night. You and Eddie have talked about it for these past few weeks now. He was going to take your virginity. Like you’d always dreamed about.

You were looking for your first time to be somewhat experimental but also as loving as possible. You knew Eddie would provide that. But there wasn’t just Eddie Munson who’d partake in your christening…Kas would soon make his entrance.

“You should buy that,” The little devil in Eddie’s mind says, drawing Eddie’s attention to the foxtail anal plug hung up on display. “It’ll train her ass just right for what I plan on doing to her tonight.”

“Fuck off. I’m not letting you get in on this,” Eddie bites. “She’s mine.”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t come out to play when our girl’s begging for our cock?” Kas says, smugly.

“Get the fuck out of my head, Kas. You’ve caused enough trouble in my life.”

“You can deny me all you wish but it changes nothing. I am your most primal desires and truest of nature. I am you,” Eddie could feel himself weakening. Kas growing in his awareness. “I have you to thank, though. You prepared the little lamb nice and ready for me to partake. Maybe I’ll let you take the reigns…eventually.” Kas chuckles, darkly.

“Eddie,” You skipped giddily over to him. “I think I’m ready to go now. I didn’t get much other than some condoms and lubricant like you said.”

“What do you think of this?” Kas says, picking up the foxtail, curling it around your neck as you look in the mirror.

You giggle. “What is that?”

“Oh, you’ll find out.”

—————

You made it to Eddie’s trailer and your nerves manifested into butterflies aimlessly fluttering in your tummy. This was going to happen. You were going to lose your virginity to Eddie Munson. But as excited as you were…you couldn’t bring yourself to step out of his van.

A part of you felt guilty. Like you wanted to call it off in that moment. You’ve been saving yourself for marriage but all your views and moral values were slowly unraveling. Was God looking down at you right now?

“Hey, bunny?” He says warmly, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Something wrong?”

Your eyes look into his and suddenly you’re skeptical of the man before you. His pale skin contrasted with the darkening around his eyes which in return highlights the ruby red of his irises. “H-hey, um, Eddie?”

You say the name itself in the form of a question, which prompts him to catch onto your suspicion. And yet he smiles. “Yeah?”

“What if I were to say that I’m having second thoughts about this?”

“That’s normal. But that’ll pass. I promise I’ll make this enjoyable for you.”

You grip the edges of your skirt. “It’s just that…it feels so different. Y-you feel different again.”

The moonlight over his faces leaves one side lit brightly against his skin while the other half of his face was shaded in the dark.

“What makes you say that?”

“There’s something about your energy that’s… shifted. And your eyes—It’s like that night all over again. The night we almost….” You swallow the hard lump in your throat. “You’re not Eddie, are you? W-who are you?”

The corners of his lips curl. “You’re a clever little lamb, aren’t you? That explains why you ran off that night. Do you always run from danger?”

You frigid in your seat, watching his every move.

“My name is Kas. Think of me as an enhanced version of lover boy who’s, by the way, watching us through these eyes. Right now. Tonight…I’ll be filling in for him by filling in you.”

“You,” You whisper, pointing at him. “You’re the one that’s been influencing me and Eddie to do these unholy things. You’re possessing him.”

“Bunny, you’ve gotta stop reading that fairytale crap. It rots your brain. I’m no demon,” His fangs extend and you’re scared shitless. “I have no part in controlling Eddie’s emotions or yours. He’s been wanting to fuck you since he saw you. I couldn’t blame him. You’re so sexy.” He growls, leaning in.

You hold up the rosemary around your neck. “I’m protected by God.”

He smirks, reaching out to squeeze the pendant between his index and thumb. He bends the copper in half. You’re shocked to see that he was able to hold it without it negatively affecting him in some way. “Your God can’t save you. No one can. And with my cock down your throat, no one’ll hear you scream either.”

“What do you want?” You hiccup, a tear trickling down your face.

“To fornicate.” He mocks.

You try pulling at the door handle but to know avail, resorting to climbing into the back of the van. His manic cackling is a form of torment.

“You’re exactly where I want you, bunny.” Kas chortles, hopping out the driver’s side to yank open the double doors of the van. “I’ve always wanted to pop your cherry under the stars.”

You kick at him but he’s quicker than you, catching your legs and pulling you towards him. He forces your legs open for his body to stand in between. Climbing over you, he crashes his mouth over yours, teeth knocking in the impact. Your mouth opens at the force, allowing him bite down on your tongue and draw blood. You yelp out in pain, which dissipates into pleasure as he suckles on it.

You’re grinding your core into his hardening erection. He pulls away, looking between your bodies.

“Would you look at that? Looks like our girl wants me, too, Eddie.”

“Eddie?” You stopped rolling your hips in embarrassment, prompting him to slap the side of your thigh.

“Hey! Did I tell you to stop?”

“But Eddie…” You whimper.

“Awww, you scared he’s gonna be mad your humping my leg like a desperate little whore? He’ll be a lot more pissed at me for the things I’ll be doing to you.”

He thrusts his hips against you, pressing his erection into you. You whine out. “I’m sorry, Eddie.”

“Don’t be. He’s right here with us. He’ll feel every part of this. I just get to take the lead,” He pulls himself up on his knees. “Would you like to see what’ll be splitting you apart?”

You nod. You’re not sure why you’re flooding in your underwear at such graphic language but the thought of being impaled by him forcefully was more than inciting.

His shirt is the first to go, chest and abdomen riddled with large scars that made you question his survival of whatever attacked him. You follow his happy trail, his hands just above it before they find their way to his belt. The metal clanking of his belt fills the silence then the quiet zip of the zipper.

He straddles your upper body, the crotch area close enough to your face. “Pull ‘em down.” Kas demands.

With shaky hands, your fingers hook around the waistband of his boxers and pants, lowering them slowly until his cock springs out and hovers over your face with a bounce. You eyes widened in pure horror and fascination. Not only was it huge but it was freakish. Two toned with a rose pink tip, it jumped and wiggled as if it had a mind of its own. As if it were a tendril-like entity.

“Oh my god.” You squeak in shock.

“He looks happy to see you,” Kas smiles. “Why don’t you have a taste?”

You reluctantly stick your tongue out, licking a small strip up the tip. You taste the saltiness of his precum on your tongue then rest your head back against the layers of comforters.

“What was that? Suck on it.” He demands, growing impatient.

“But I don’t know how.”

“I’ve seen the way you eat popsicles, sweetheart. You’ll do just fine. Here, I’ll even help you,” Gripping your hair forward, he sheaths himself down your throat. The entity of a cock, wriggling inside your throat and forcing you to gag. “Oh yeah, that’s it.” He moans.

Kas forces your head down on him over and over. Your trapped between his legs so there was no running. The gurgling sound beneath him eggs him on as he fuck your face roughly. He yanks your hair back for a moment, a thick glob of spit dripping from the tip. You take in as much as air as you could.

“Look how pretty.” He pulls down on your hair, forcing your mouth up and open. Sticking his tongue out, he lets the saliva trail down onto your awaiting tongue.

You aren’t given enough time to compose yourself. Kas shoves his length down your throat once more, adamant on choking you with it. At one point he pinches your nose, using his handle around it to push and pull you down around him. You could hardly breathe but you would not allow yourself to tap out, wanting to please him.

He lets go of his hold around your nose and you learn to breathe through your nostrils, bobbing your head back and forth.

“Now, you’re getting the hang of it,” He says, breathlessly. “Here’s your reward.”

He collects the mass of spit drip between your mouth and his cock. You feel your panties push to the side and then that familiar pressure within you. You clamp around his fingers immediately.

“Ooo, yes please.” Your eyes roll back into your skull like always.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” He groans, pounding his finger into you so deep that you could feel the band of his rings tap against your clit. “What do you say, bunny?”

“Thank you, Master.” Your hips lift up to meet his thrusting fingers, your hand curled around his thick length as much as you could fit to jerk him off.

He circles his finger around something inside you that you hadn’t known you’ve possessed, flicking the trigger repeatedly until the sounds of your wetness echo in the vacuum space.

“I’m close…gonna cum.” Your legs are shaking as you pant for dear life. The pressure building more and more. “Oh god.”

“Not god, bunny. God couldn’t give you this much pleasure.”

You whine and babble, tears running down your face. Then, you’re gasping, eyes fluttering. This was going to be an intense one. One that scared you so much that you nearly ruined it on your own trying to suppress but Kas’s fingers knew how to draw your orgasm when you begged for it to retreat. No way could you handle this and come out sane.

“Unnh, mmm.” Now your toes are curling, arousal seeping and just before you snap…he pulls his fingers.

You’re hyperventilating. You hated him. You wanted to stop this. To give up. How could he be so evil?!

You cry out your frustration and he’s amused, studying features while you threw a tantrum beneath him.

“I was going to let you finish but then I remembered you tried running away from me…again,” He chides. Yet, now you cry and beg for me. So what is it? Are you mine or not?”

Your chest rises and falls, hot and angry tears streaming down your cheeks. “You said I deserve release.”

“Then, prove yourself worthy. Move me.” He smirks.

“I wanna cum,” You groan, throwing your head back in frustration. “Wanna cum on your fingers, Master. Please. I belong to you. I’m yours.”

“Alright, bunny.” He coos, shoving his fingers into you again. And It’s like he’d never left. The pressure is there again and somehow there’s layers upon layers of it. One push of a beckoning finger against the pearl within you and you’re gushing endlessly.

You’re wetting the comforter beneath you, calling out into the night without a worry or care in mind as if he didn’t have neighbors. He doesn’t stop his ministrations and your convinced he’s trying to keep the trend of you screaming loud enough for people to think you’re being murdered.

“Just one more.” He says, wriggling against it again and you’re so sensitive that it feels like he’s broken something in you so that all you can do is leak out your arousal.

You tremble and jolt, eyes glossed over. Unaware of him sliding himself off you, it wasn’t until your legs are pried open again that brought you back. You look up at him, his pants fully removed.

“Take off your clothes. I’m done waiting.” He commands.

You oblige, shyly removing your clothing and garments until you lay bare before him. He looks you up and down, the entity-like cock stiffening in your direction.

You expected him to roll on a condom. Instead, he flip you around on your stomach.

“What about wearing a condom?” You panic.

“I’ll be filling you up with my cum. Think I could get your belly all round and swollen for me?”

You shook your head. “No, please.”

“You know how to end this. Say it and I’ll stop right now.”

He was right. Eddie had taught you the colors in case you needed things to stop or go slow. But you didn’t want any of that. You craved the full experience. You silently lift yourself on all fours, pushing your ass against him to show how badly you need him. It was going to hurt going in this way your first time but you weren’t a quitter.

“That’s my girl.” His hands squeezed around your waist, fingertips digging into your belly. The fat tip his cock at the entrance of your core.

You exhale, feeling the pressure and then just as he said…you’re being split apart. “Oh, ffff-“

“What’s that?” He teases, inching into you some more before snapping his hips forward. He’s officially fed you the entire length, stretching you beyond comprehension.

The wind is knocked out of you, your hand searching for something to grip. “Oh, fuck.” You squeak.

“Feels so fucking good ruining you.” He laughs, hitting sharp thrusts into you. Pound for pound, he elicits a noise out of you each time.

Kas smells the familiar scent of blood on his length and his bloodlust spikes. He fucks into you hard and your knees give out, now laying flat on your stomach.

“Oh, fuck, Master. Thank you.” You whine, biting into the sheet below you.

He’s relentless taking you as if you’ve been through this times before. No mercy. Your breath and words snatched away with each nudge of his tip teasing you g-spot. He pulls you up on your knees again and you feel a cool gel ooze onto your puckered hole. His thumb teases the entrance, circling around it until it’s replaced with a cold metal object that breaches through your anal cavity fully.

“Your ass looks so yummy, bunny.” Kas moans, spanking your ass roughly, yanking on the tail.

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” You chant, overwhelmed by the feeling of both your holes being filled.

“Howl for me.” He says, slapping your ass again.

You don’t even have to try. You were doing that exact kind of noise. His neighbors would for sure voice their complaints.

You feel his cock doing something to your walls that seemed near impossible as it suctions itself to your walls, keeping him snug within you while it searched for its main target.

Kas grunts with every thrust going deeper and deeper into your channel until reached your cervix. You began to salivate, mind numb. Was he in your stomach? You didn’t have to wonder long, feeling him apply pressure near your belly button. Oh yeah, he’s deep in your guts. Rearrange them for a permanent indentation. He’s officially broken you and you’re not understanding your reality at this point.

“You’re squeezing me tight, bunny. You gonna come?”

“Uh-huh.” You pant, eyes crossed.

“Then, fucking ask for permission!”

“Please make me cum, Master. Please. I’ve been a good girl. I wanna cum!”

His fingers find your swollen nub, rubbing it back and forth . Your legs give out once again but he doesn’t miss a beat, stroking long and deep into your squelching core. Skin slapping against skin as your ass jiggled at the force.

“I’m cumming!” You cry out, squirting your juices at anything in within range. Kas takes this opportunity to bite into your neck and feed. It all felt so overwhelming. Now you’ve understood it why the french call it ‘a little death’. You’re positive that your heart’s stopped momentarily during your convulsions.

“Shit, shit, shit.” You bite down on your finger, he’s still drinking of your blood.

Kas’s warm seed shoots through your warm channel. He unsheathing his sharp fangs from your neck, mouth bloodied as he pumped away in your clenching core. His moans enough to make you whine again at the sound even though you’re pretty much spent.

Once, he’s sure he’s pushed his cum far enough into the deepest parts of you, he stills and slides out of you slowly. His dick is covered in a mixture of cum and blood. You mourn the loss of him as if his place was meant to be inside you. He collapses in the space next to you, caressing your backside and playing with the tail thats still plugged in you.

“How do you feel?” He asks.

You turn over on your back, panting. “I feel…like I just had a spiritual awakening.”

“Didn’t I tell ya.” He chuckles.

“I’m also really lightheaded.”

“That’s both the orgasm and the blood loss. You’ll need some food to replenish.”

You hum your understanding.

Kas curls into your side, pressing kisses into your shoulder. “Do you like me, too? I know you like Eddie but do you like me?”

“I do,” You nodded. “I like every part of you.”

“Even if there were some…darker parts that you don’t get to see.”

You had to think about that one, piecing together Eddie’s arrival to the church along with the very idea of Kas. “I think that because I like you…I’m willing learn to understand you. But I don’t want anyone to get hurt. So, if you ever need to feed, I am yours.”

He nudged his head into the crook of your neck. Kas choose not to tell you about the missing man, wanting to start a new clean slate with you. Maybe you had influenced him just as much as he did you.

“Hey, Bunny. Lover boy’s looking to cut into our time. So if I go, just remember that I fucked you better.”

You giggle, playing in his hair. Kas shuts eyes and reopens them and they’re the familiar brown cow eyes.

“Eddie?” You place soft kisses all over his face when you notice his glare. “Are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad, angel. But I won’t be so nice either.” He captures a hardened nipple between his teeth and bites down, making you scratch angry lines down his back. His mouth latches onto your creamy pussy, drinking of its essence. You were sensitive but you sigh in delight, hands in his hair as you arched off the van floor.

Should you be a lamb, then you shall serve yourself as a precious offering to your kings?

[faithfullyfound]

Don't Put God On Hold

Recently I've felt far from God. I feel like my testimony is a series of highs and lows. Moments when I'm full of the Holy Spirit and moments when I'm full of my flesh. Recently I've been very worried about what college life will entail. I'm worried that I will fall victim to sin or that I'll miss out on "college milestones" as a result of my being a Christian. I'm worried I'll be labeled as weird prudish or even judgemental. However, it is silly to be worried about things that have not even happened. As I began to be worried I stopped reading my Bible, began listening to sinful music again, and giving in to my other common sins.

Despite all of this God was still close by. He hadn't left. I kept seeing reels about Jesus. I kept hearing those around me at Church spread the Gospel. And I kept wishing to feel the love and peace I felt when my heart was on fire.

Today it was through reading Colossians 1:13-20 that I saw the centrality of Christ not only in my life but in the universe and existence itself.

13 For he has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves, 14 in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins. 15 The Son is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. 16 For in him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through him and for him. 17 He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. 18 And he is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything he might have the supremacy. 19 For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, 20 and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross.

Christ has never left me ever since I committed myself to Him. I know that I am overburdened by my worries and that I often am lazy when it comes to my faith. I tend to not read my Bible for weeks and then go crazy reading scripture and repeat. This cycle occurs because I continue to give in to the same sins. The same fears. The same sadness. By pushing Him to the back I've pushed myself over the edge. God is my strength. For HE IS THE BEGINNING. HE IS MY BEGINNING AND ENDING AND EVERYTHING. I cannot live without Him. My time away from Him (evident in my absence in positing) has shown me that even when I'm far from God I'm still thirsting after him because he is the only one who satisfies.

Colossians 1:9-12 is a prayer for spiritual strength, knowledge, and wisdom of God. I pray this over myself and over every one of you who reads this. Know that God loves you and once you commit to Him even in your worst times He is just waiting for the moment for you to reach out to Him.

 9 For this reason, since the day we heard about you, we have not stopped praying for you. We continually ask God to fill you with the knowledge of his will through all the wisdom and understanding that the Spirit gives, 10 so that you may live a life worthy of the Lord and please him in every way: bearing fruit in every good work, growing in the knowledge of God, 11 being strengthened with all power according to his glorious might so that you may have great endurance and patience, 12 and giving joyful thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of his holy people in the kingdom of light.

[minaloywhore]

hey, it's been a minute, but let's talk about dark academia that isn't as euro-centric cause i'm like, really sick of it lmfao

(also, i'm white and live in the US! people who aren't white and who don't live in the us, lemme know if there's anything I'm missing!)

yeah yeah, dark academia, learn a dead language. latin is good because of science, but have you ever considered learning arabic? lots of our math stuff comes from arabic and the scholars in the baghdad house of wisdom (hell, al-gebra)

or maybe learn sanskrit! like latin is an "academic language" in the west, sanskrit has similar connotations in the indian subcontinent, with many historical records having been written in sanskrit

hell, if we're talking liturgical languages like latin, why not try church slavonic or coptic?

please stop romanticizing only european architecture. its beautiful and stunning, and so is architecture from all over the world! just as a couple examples:

st michaels golden-domed monestary

 the bibi-khanym mosque in Uzbekistan

the tomb of askia in gao, mali

machu picchu

the iron pagoda in Kaifeng, china

etc etc etc!!

read academia from all over the world!! there are scholars in india and china and kazakhstan and south africa with wonderful writing about their own histories and cultures, you just have to do a little google scholar search to find it!

look at oral histories and folklore from all over the world! like blue from osp said, if people consider the witcher (which is just medieval poland) as exotic, what will they do when they read gilgamesh or the monkey king? look at the wonderful parallels between our bodies of folklore and mythology and oral history, like the floods in the bible and in gilgamesh!

that being said, look for sources written BY the people who are telling these stories. outsiders have their own biases and agendas, so read anything about different cultures than the author (especially ones that no longer exist) critically and biographically. looking at you, snorri

be more chill about people with bodies that you dont think are normal. be more chill about people with bodies that you don't think should be wearing DA clothing, or that you think are doing it wrong. they have every right to wear DA clothing, and they're doing it better than you are.

understand that if you're in a position to be enjoying DA, you're probably privileged. use that privilege for good, fight for what is right, and listen to marginalized voices. if you fuck up, acknowledge that you fucked up and work to right the wrong and not do it again, but don't take someone telling you you fucked up as a personal attack. it's not.

i acknowledge that the land i live on was originally stewarded and lived upon by a native american tribe that no longer exists because of european colonization. i acknowledge their (and the tribe that survivors of the colonization in my area went to)'s right to the land.

[fatherenoch]

One of the most pious young men in the congregation stopped coming to mass recently, so I spoke to his family and asked to come by for a home visit, to make sure everything is alright. He wasn’t there when I came by, so I said I would examine his room for any signs of sinful behavior. What a naughty boy, trying to hide his heretical texts among his other books. Even a translated Bible between the Swedenborg and Calvin. I slipped one of them under my cloak and asked for his family to send him by the church when he returned.

He came the next day, wide-eyed and with a tremor in his voice. I sat him down in my office and set his blasphemy on the desk before him. His face burned and his eyes started to water. He’d be disowned if anyone knew of his beliefs. I didn’t care what he believed, but he begged for me not to tell, that he would stop reading those things, that he would burn them. I agreed, on two little conditions. The first was ordering him to strip and bend over on my desk. At first, he hesitated, but once I started to tap my fingers on the cover of his book, he started to undo the lace of his shirt.

I asked him catechisms, and spanked him with his own book for every mistake. By the time he’d gotten ten right, his ass burned bright red, and he begged for me to show him mercy. For asking, I hit him again. Then I realized why he asked - not for the pain to stop, but because that last smack was all he needed to come. I pretended to be upset with him, told him what a dirty boy he was. He’d have to clean up and apologize to me for defiling the church. I pulled him back up by his neck and pressed his face against where he’d made his little mess. He understood, sticking out his tongue and licking up his come from my desk. Before he could swallow, I had him stick out his tongue to show me. To apologize, I had him on his knees in front of me. His little display had worked me up, and I used his mouth to finish myself off.

As he swallowed, I told him of his second condition. He was to have weekly classes on scripture with me, to prevent further blasphemy. He understood.

[alpaca-clouds]

Let's talk about the whole "natural order" thing

Something I have realized is that a ton of people are not quite aware of the context of the one idea that the bad guys within Castlevania: Nocturne keep bringing up again and again: The natural order.

If you watch the show you will find that no episode goes by without a bad guy bringing up that idea every other scene, so let this history nerd quickly explain that concept.

So, this entire idea came from two sources: Enlightenment, and the pre-capitalist, colonialist system.

You need to understand that from the 4th century till the 16th century usually most stuff got explained to people with "because it is God's will". Why is that person poor, and that person rich? Because it is God's will. Why is that guy the king? Because God had made him. Why do we have this war? Because God wants us to.

That does not mean that the people in power actually believed that, but they could get away with everything by having some arch bishop or even the pope agree with them. (I mean, just look at the crusades.)

But then things happened. Gutenberg invented the printing press. Folks read the bible for themselves. People started to get more literate in general. Information about science got wider spread. There was splintering within the church. And people were just not as willing to accept "because God" anymore.

At the same time we had just as bad (if not at times worse) differences in quality of life between rich and poor than in the middle ages. And of course we had the entire colonialism happening, that also included genocide and slavery. And this needed justification. Que: The natural order.

This was just the umbrella under which so much pseudo-science would pressed underneath at the time. A pseudo-scientific explanation for everything that was happening.

Why are some people richer than other? Because they are just naturally more suited to be rich. That is the natural order.

Why do we have a king? Because it is a human need to have one central leader. And that family were always kings. It simply is the natural order of things.

Why do we subjugate the people in America? Because it is just natural for advanced civilizations to subjugate other civilizations. It is actually good for them. It is the natural order.

Why do we enslave Black people? Because they were actually born to be servants. That is their natural state. It is the natural order.

The entire stuff with phrenology and eugenics and all of that came from this specific idea. Of a natural order. Like, racism and all that came from that. Manifest destiny. All of that was connected to this idea of a natural order.

Ironically, while this sprang from the need to take the religion out of the stuff, they then just fitted religion right back in. Making the "church being excempt from everything" also as part of "natural order".

And yes, this is still very much the idea that a lot of conservatism is build around. That there is this pseudo-scientific idea of "this has proofen to work this way before, so it should work like that forever, that is only natural".

Funnily enough those new atheist scientist dudes also LOVE to appeal to the natural order. At times literally. Because they are also really big at conservatism when it comes to women, and keeping cultures apart, and anti-queerness and all of that. And yes, they are gonna appeal to the natural order and it being natural. Somethin that has only been brought up and seen critically recently.

But of course religious conservatives also love to use that, too. Because not all of them have the guts to just keep saying "but God" to defend their position (and sometimes they even know that their stuff directly contradicts the bible). And then they will also go: "But it is natural!"

It is a shitty idea. That is where it came from. It was what a lot of people used to argue against a lot of change that was happening in the 18th and 19th century.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

TELL ME ABOUT THE SHOES!!!

related to this

Okay, okay, okay, first, I have to mention that every day I drive home from college, I drive past two different sex shops and one strip club and one of these sex shops has an LED sign that advertises a bunch of different spicy stuff, and the other day they had one word up--

Shoes

And upon reading that, I was hit over the back of the head with the first shoe-related thought I have that relates to fandom:

You always want what you can't have

Bucky mentioning in Captain America: Civil War how Steve used to wear newspapers in his shoes speaks to me about the depression, how he must've had beat up, worn out, hand-me-down shoes with newspapers stuffed in them to make them fit better, to make them warmer in the winter, to try and at least make them feel like there weren't holes in the bottoms of them. Steve drawing here and there throughout the Captain America movies--drawing himself as a dancing monkey, sketching buildings--makes me think of his artistic eye. An artistic eye that we see beyond drawing, with his comments about Stark Tower being big and ugly, plus, similarly with, according to Steve, the ugly brown van they use to save the world. Both Bucky's comment of the way things used to be and Steve's appreciation for aesthetic makes me imagine that Steve could gravitate toward shoes. Pretty, slim "women's shoes," as well as generally shiny, bulky "men's shoes."

The first time he notices shoes is early, when he watches his Ma slip into her Sunday best heels. Her stockings might be laddered and torn because she doesn't have enough pairs to have a special Sunday pair--she needs to use all the ones she has when she's nursing, dealing with all sorts of untold grossities at work, often throwing them out--but this pair of shoes look brand new. She takes good care of them, so much so that Steve's not allowed to touch them. Her Sunday best heels are hardly scuffed or creased because she never wears them to work or anything, just to church. They're pretty and special, and on the way, she's always careful, not stepping in puddles, on cracks, or anything.

The way his Ma treats her Sunday best shoes makes Steve investigate during church, more interested in eyeing all the other special shoes than listening to the preaching that Sunday, peering over the open Bible his Ma holds out in front of him. He's cataloging all the differences between the men's and women's shoes. Both kinds are shiny, but women's shoes are especially so. Angular and polished and bright, often with tiny details that men's shoes don't get the luxury of having--tiny buckles, little bows, patterns pressed into or cut out of the leather, etc. Women's shoes are so delicate, clicking across the floor while men's land much heavier, more of a clunk. A thunk even.

As soon as he's drawing, his interest translates there, too. It's the shine, reflective and glinting, every crease exemplified; the angles, shapely and precise; the colors, usually more muted but occasionally very bright and attention grabbing, either way, they're always saturated. It's fascinating to draw shoes. The lines are so clean that it's easy to make a mistake. And it's so challenging to capture the way the positioning of the shoes changes the shape of the whole thing! But that's what makes it interesting. Every angle holds new details. Steve discovers quickly that he can tell stories through shoes, too... where the creases are and how many there are, scuffs, rough leather, loose threads, color bright and bold or not, the angle he draws the shoes from, too--looking down at them from where he stands, lying on his belly and sketching straight on, detailing the bottoms--there are endless possibilities.

But, as Steve gets older and the more it sits in his head, the more it becomes something deeper until it's something beyond a passive, special interest. Beyond somewhere where his eyes always go when he meets someone new--glancing at their footwear just to see. It becomes something of desire.

Desired because of how forbidden it is. Women's shoes are for girls. Steve isn't a girl. He can't have them. He wasn't allowed to touch them. He's still not allowed to touch them.

There is a desire for men's shoes, too, but he knows men's shoes. He appreciates the sound of a big, tall man walking down an alleyway by the hidden bars around their run-down cold water walk-up with the swaggering thunk thunk thunk of their boots on the street. He does like that. Something about it makes shivers crawl up his crooked spine. But, he knows them. Bucky wears work boots. They live in a heap next to their front door. Plus, Steve has his own shoes. Men's shoes are familiar.

Steve buries his desire for men's shoes deeper, for whatever reason. It has nothing to do with internalized homophobia, no, why do you ask?

Women's shoes, though...

They're forbidden and unknown. The closest Steve's gotten to fancy, truly bright, and angular ladies' shoes (outside of staring at them through shop windows) was when Bucky brought home a blonde dame--Steve never got her name, she just came and left once--with a rich Daddy. Her shoes were kicked off by the door when Steve got home, sitting fallen over next to Bucky's heavy boots. Steve's heart pounded unevenly in his thin chest, just seeing them together. Darting between the shoes. The contrast.

(That dame must've been short, too, like Steve. Her shoes were so little, especially next to Bucky's. By the looks of it, they might even fit Steve. Maybe. He wouldn't dare touch them, though, not even to straight them in the way he grumbles but organizes Bucky's footwear.)

The second time Steve really comes close to the off-limit territory of women's shoes is after the serum, dragging through the USO Tour with all the chorus girls. Their glittery, flashy, short, and bright uniforms. Meant to attract, so can Steve be blamed? Because suddenly, it seems like Steve can't go ten feet without tripping over one of the girls' pairs of shiny, bright, tall heels.

Once, just once, one of the gals leaves her heels behind. She's going back home, her service done with, so...

With his heart pounding strongly in his broad chest, practically echoing through it, he swears, Steve grabs them. Hastily stuffing them under his trench coat and wisking them back to his private tent--the luxury of being a technical captain.

Alone and in private, Steve knows just looking at them, understanding space strangely well these days, that they're too small for his feet. Even if they weren't too small, Steve is sure he couldn't bear to try them on. Not here. What would he do anyway? He's never thought past getting his hands on ladies' shoes. He couldn't walk with them on. Could he? No. He would be scared of someone hearing the click click click. And he couldn't... he doesn't have anyone to... show?

So, what would be the point?

There isn't one. And Steve doesn't even try to put them on. Instead, he sets one of the pair of the heels in his lap. Cradling it, the shoe is a lot lighter than he expected it to be. The material is much thinner than he thought even though he's drawn shoes a ton. He's studied them. And he studies them again now, up-close and personal, just... looking.

He just holds it.

Without realizing it, he starts to subconsciously stroke the shiny, patriotic-colored leather. It's so smooth. It's cold to start, but quickly, it isn't anymore, warming up to him. The heel isn't as sharp on the edges as he would've thought, but it's not too soft, either.

He's more familiar, having it in his hold, but they're still exciting. Fascinating. Interesting. No matter how often he sneaks away to hold one or both of the stolen shoes in his hands, they're still so different.

They're special.

Steve loses the pair when he walks to Austria. He's not sure what happened to them, and he's afraid to ask. Did someone find them? If they did, what did they think? At worst, they probably just thought Steve spent the night with one of the chorus gals, right? They wouldn't know about... about what Steve did? (And what did he do? He just held them!?) He can't stop thinking about them, though. His hands are so calloused these days, and all his shirts are grimy and coming apart at the seams, holes everywhere, and wouldn't it just be nice to touch something smooth?

Bucky sees through him and asks him what he's missing, but he falls before Steve can say it out loud. So, the secret dies with him.

Steve doesn't let himself think about something so soft and delicate when he wakes up. He can't stomach it.

Eventually

Bucky is back.

Steve has Bucky back.

And they're both trying to heal.

Healing takes many shapes... including, apparently, the shape of a sleek, biege box with a looping, white font delivered to their front door, which contains rich, red, and shimmering tissue paper, fragile and weightless, and a pair of matching, shiny black heels with blood red bottoms.

Steve doesn't even want to know what they cost Bucky. He vaguely grasps the pop culture knowledge to understand how infamous heels like these are, how expensive they are, and he's not dumb enough to miss all the details, thoughtfulness, and exorbitant materials. Shockingly, they have money now, existing somewhere, acrewing in a bank account that feels like it belongs to someone else entirely, and between the two of them, Steve is the one who doesn't know what to do with it. Bucky knows.

Bucky knows.

Bucky bought him a pair of heels, not so bright, save for the bottoms, but still delicate and shiny and alluring. The shoes feel more like Bucky's style than Steve's and... Steve likes that. He likes that Bucky chose them, he likes that he wants to see him in them, and he likes that they're here.

Steve's almost afraid to put the shoes on, his thumbs rubbing back and forth across the smooth, perfect surface. He's not even sure if he wants to put them on or not. He's only ever drawn or held shoes like these. He's not put them on. Does he want to cross that line? Is that even a line? After all the things he's done, is this even daring?

What if it's not special? What if it's not as good as he wants it to be? Does he want it to be good? What's good?

Should he put them on?

Steve's head is so full of questions that he can't do anything but stand there, a contemplative statue; Steve's supposed to be brave and daring, but there are moments where even he's allowed to hesitate.

Right?

Bucky isn't so hesitant. He knows his best guy is going to look killer in those heels, and he knows whatever Steve has built this up to be in his head... it'll be fine. He just has to let go and do it.

With some convincing and a few charming grins, Steve puts the red bottomed heels on and...

It's good.

It's better than he imagined.

While he's wearing them--falling apart at the seams and succumbing weakly to the fever raging through him--Bucky fucks him hard. Deep and good. Leaving Steve unable to hold back the ah, ah, ahs that pour out from inside him and causing him to put bruises, dents really, in Bucky's back with how tight his legs are wrapped around his stocky waist. He can't. Bucky's dick hits his prostate again and again. Oh, god. It's making him so weak--his dick always does. It forces Steve's brains to melt out of his ears, struck stupid with his lips falling open, bright red and wet.

With another hammering, ah, ah, ah, dick carving so deep in him, sparking and hot, desire courses through Steve so strongly that his toes curl until the soles of his feet cramp. As his toes curl, it forces the shiny heels to slip off of his feet just as he crashes through his orgasm. His moans pitching higher--shattering suddenly, shaking apart with the pleasure coursing through him.

Bucky is merciful enough to fuck him through his orgasm, leaving him a whimpering, shaking mess, all too docile and sweet, but he doesn't say merciful. He's awful. Terrible. Evil because he's slowing his hips to a filthy, deep grind. It's slow enough to have Steve's gasping, his body electric and white-hot, making him go haywire and stay achingly hard. He doesn't do anything about it, though. He doesn't reach to jack him off or touch him or do anything but--

Bucky spares one hand to grab the shoe from where it landed haphazardly on their ruffled bed before sliding it back onto Steve's foot after using his strength to uncurl his leg from around his waist, straightening his leg so the back of his knee is at Bucky's shoulder, all so he can put the stray heel back onto him.

He's so flexible.

The position makes Bucky's cock get in deeper.

AH!

Fuck, Bucky is treating him like he's delicate and cute, kissing the thick curves of his muscles and making sure nothing is out of place as he worships him, fucking him like he isn't soft or delicate or nothing. It's like he's being fucking out to make sure Steve's heated draw to heels is even worse after this!

Also, secondly, I keep thinking about:

You wear your devotion on your sleeve

By the time Steve gets to the front and gets to Bucky, pulling him from the jaws of Hell, dangling above its throat, on the cusp of being swallowed, Steve is fucking sick of...

Everything?

He's sick of being in a body that doesn't fit. Chronic illnesses first. A lifetime of rasping lungs and fatigue that follows him like a shadow, always growing taller and longer with the ever slowing dip of the sun in the sky. Then. This. Whatever this is. A body that attracts attention, eyes always dragging over his form, never leaving him alone when before no one would ever even glance his way. He was invisible and agonized; now, he's in the spotlight and burning up.

Something in him yearns to be small again.

The only refuge he finds for that is at Bucky's feet.

He finds the feeling of being small yet respected, taking up no space at all but still being seen and heard, at Bucky's feet while he's shining his boots. He knows how much appearance matters to Bucky. His hair is always done just so, even in the middle of the rain and wind and wilderness. He's always freshly shaven, no matter if there's running water nearby or not. And his boots are always shining, never mud caked like all the others.

So, when Bucky ended up with bruises shading his ribs, barely able to sit up, let alone bend over or breathe as good as he should be able to...

It's only natural that Steve offers to shine his boots for inspection for him.

At first, honestly, it's terrible. He's holding Bucky's leg as delicately as he possibly can, scared to even slightly squeeze him too hard and leave more bruises or, god forbid, break his bones, but Bucky won't have it. Bucky tugs on his hair, shaking his head to get the point across, making sure he's looking up at him before he assures him he won't hurt him. He can't. He needn't hold him so delicately, and, c'mon, if his boots are gonna be clean, he needs to put some more muscle behind it. A smile cracks across his face, and, suddenly, it's all good.

It's great.

It's so fucking nice to be staring up at his familiar face and be small and--

How does Bucky convince him to wrap himself around his leg and grind against his newly polished boots until he's messing them up, so he has to lick them clean again? 😮‍💨😮‍💨

(I wanted this to be longer, but I don't have the time right now, ughh)

[study-with-aura]

Wednesday, July 3, 2024

Today was packed with so much music study! I am going slow with theory, but I am mostly caught up with where I should be on the course. I am about to finish up studying Haydn tomorrow. I'll be looking at sonata form and Emperor Quartet. Thursday, I should be ready to start on Mozart.

I also got some school supplies today because there was a huge sale going on in the store. It was only notebooks, but when I find notebooks that will work for only $0.45/each, I buy them. I went ahead and ordered my erasable gel pens too. I looked at different reviews and I found some for cheaper where the reviews said they were even better than Frixion by Pilot. I also ordered a scientific calculator. I've always used the one on the computer because it was easy enough to do what I needed to as it can be placed in scientific mode, but going into Algebra 2 and eventually pre-calc and calc, I probably need a physical scientific calculator that can do a bit more. By the way, it's pink! It won't be here until sometime next week because I did no-rush delivery, but I am excited! I always get excited when shopping for school supplies!

It's almost Independence Day here (July 4th), and fireworks have been going off like crazy, even though they are illegal where I live. Thankfully in our gated community, we don't worry about them too much, but our house is close to one of the main roads near the park, so I can still hear them every now and then. I also hear the police when they come by to issue fines. Seriously, the fine here for fireworks is nearly $1000. Only professionals are allowed to set them off at pre-determined times because there have been many fires from them and they cause a huge disturbance to people, especially veterans, and animals in the area. I am looking forward to the fireworks in our part of the city that the city sponsors every year. They're set off over the lake, and they are so beautiful!

Tasks Completed:

History 9 - Learned about classical music style + studied the life of Haydn + learned about Haydn's contributions to classical music style

Theory - Studied melodic writing + completed self-assessment + quiz

KA GRF Algebra 2 - Completed Unit 1: Lesson 6 (review of factoring quadratics)

Duolingo - Studied for approximately 30 minutes (Spanish + French + Chinese) + completed daily quests

Piano - Practiced for two hours in one hour split sessions

Reading - Read pages 122-157 of Lumara by Melissa Landers

Chores - None today

Activities of the Day:

Personal Bible Study (Mark 11)

Morning Yoga

Swimming

Youth Group at church

Journal/Mindfulness