#but this is blasphemy

[neon-danger]

“anyone can pick up an instrument and play” get the fuck out I’m never reading fanfiction again

[werecreature-addicted]

part one

Fallen angel who can't help but crave sex every moment after you two make love for the first time. He doesn't want to eat or sleep or work, he wants to be balls deep inside your perfect cunt. He's only ever known Devotion, not even as a form of love, but as a way of life, now that he's lost his god he has nothing to devote himself to except for your perfect body and the holy way you cum. He eats you out with the same diligence as he used to pray. He knows your body the way a priest knows the bible. Your cries of pleasure are like gospel music. divine.

He drizzles honey over your tits and sucks your skin clean again, lavishing you with his tongue, teasing your nipples with his teeth. If you're worried that he's not eating enough he'll gladly take every meal at the alter of your breasts.

He feels unworthy when you bathe him, no amount of soap will make him clean again. He doesn't deserve your soft affection. if anything, he should be bathing you, kneeling at your feet, bringing warm water over your body, tenderly washing every inch. but he's not the worshiper he once was, he gets distracted, and he strokes your pussy slowly back and forth, the soap long forgotten as he "cleans" you. He strokes your clit slowly, his breath fluttering as you twitch against the pad of his fingers. He's so lucky to be in the cult of your love, your first and only follower. Normally he knows that people would try to share this pleasure, this sanctum, but the thought of sharing you twists him inside. He thinks he'd kill anyone else who tried to worship you the way he does.

[xmo-rmon]

“Inseminary”

or “Lockpick to the Priesthood” or “Come Unto Me” or “Pearl Necklace of Great Price” or “Faith is Like a Little Seed”

Authentic stolen holy text, Near Clear silicone, gold pigment.

I went to the mormon church’s website, looked up their views on homosexuality, noted the scriptures they referenced, ripped them by hand out of the bible and book of mormon I stole from their chapel, and then mixed them into a silicone dildo of my own design like confetti. A dildo which will of course be used for homosexual purposes (with non-lubricated condoms and water based lube, for safety).

I’ve wanted to try dildo making for literally over a decade. I don’t have any fancy equipment like a 3D printer or a vacuum chamber, I made the sculpt by hand, and I fucked up a lot along the way, but all that being said I’m proud of what I was able to accomplish and I learned a lot. I put in more gold than I meant to, but honestly, it was meant to represent scripture’s gilded edges, and as it turned out, it looks really beautiful or quite filthy depending on the lighting, which feels entirely appropriate for scripture.

It was hard to read all of those verses. But as I tore them up I bathed them in the intention to take words that were meant to inflict queer pain wherever they go, and say “Actually, I pull those words out when I want some queer pleasure.” Build joy where they want you to have it the least.

Read about/donate to the Timpanogos tribe, for whom brigham young sent out an “extermination order”

LandBack

[and-this-of-all-my-hopes]

So, I feel like I’m losing my mind. I keep seeing metas about how Aziraphale wants Crowley to return to Heaven and be an angel again because he wants them to be on the same side/be good/change/etc., etc., etc. but I don’t see that at all. I actually see it as the very opposite.

Aziraphale loves Crowley just as he is. But there’s something more. Something huge.

Aziraphale loves Crowley and because he is an angel who is stuck in seeing things as black and white, he constantly praises Crowley for being nice. For being good. For being kind.

Aziraphale has watched Crowley on and off for 6,000 years. He watched him thwart the plans of Heaven and Hell because it was unjust. He spared the lives of innocents. He did small things that made Aziraphale happy just because (like making Hamlet successful and saving valuable books). And because Aziraphale sees things in black and white, he sees all the things Crowley has done as nice, as good, as kind.

Crowley vehemently attests he’s not nice or good or kind.

He’s not exactly wrong nor is he lying when he says this. When Crowley spares goats during a cruel bet over a righteous man and swallowing laudanum to prevent a suicide, when he prevents Armageddon by working with Aziraphale and stopping the Anti-Christ from being the Anti-Christ, he’s not doing the nice/good/kind thing.

He’s doing the right thing.

Crowley chooses to do the right thing without hesitation. He is better than all of Heaven and Hell who have callous and dispassionate view of all existence because he questions, because he makes choices. Crowley sees the world for all its messiness and he sees himself. He sees a place where he fits in. He sees the blurred edges.

And Aziraphale sees that, even if seeing the blurred edges is hard for him.

But here’s the thing that Aziraphale can’t voice.

It’s the reason why he told Crowley about being allowed to return to Heaven and become an angel again. He doesn’t want Crowley to change. He doesn’t think Crowley is flawed. Or not enough.

It’s something that is so monumental that it cannot be put into words. Because to put it into words would be more than blasphemy. It’s down right unthinkable for anyone in Heaven, Hell, or Earth to say what Aziraphale knows deep in his soul.

God was wrong to cast out Crowley.

Aziraphale believes Crowley can/should return to Heaven because he knows that Crowley should never have fallen in the first place. He wants him to be forgiven because when Crowley fell it was unjust. Aziraphale is trying to correct a mistake. He’s trying to do the right thing.

Yes, Crowley would never accept returning to Heaven. And Aziraphale was wrong to even suggest it (although that conversation is another can of worms to unpack).

Aziraphale loves Crowley. He loves him exactly as he is. He doesn’t want him to change. Aziraphale knows that Crowley the best of all of them. He wants to change Heaven because of it. Because God was wrong and Aziraphale knows it.

Aziraphale may have difficulty seeing beyond black and white, but when it comes to Crowley he sees everything crystal clear and in vivid color.

[zorangezest]

chat you do not want to know what hour of the night it was when i drew this

[blueskittlesart]

sat down to do the usual 'what if link loz dressed like i do' art and then looked down at the shirt im wearing today and decided this one would be particularly funny. for obvious reasons

[blasphemousclaw]

rykard, lord of interior design

[niccoguedes]

XV - THE DEVIL

10% off INPRNT

Based on this post.

[fallenxangel-13]

fallen angel worshipping your body for the first time. eyes widening in adoration, as though seeking salvation in your flesh alone. his fingertips ghost over your soft skin, lips murmuring praises against your bare neck- warm and desperate-before he takes you raw.

"you're so divine," he groans in your ear, his large wings shudder, feathers rustling as he thrusts deeper into you-eager for more. his faintest whispers send shivers down your spine. "forgive me, love.. heaven was wrong. you were made for me. only me. understand?"

[jajatoc]

Eve and the Serpent, proprietors of Volcano Manor..

[faithdeans]

ughhh dude your divine wounds are leaking everywhere again... oh come on bro not on the couch i thought i told you no stigmata in the house

[creatureesque]

redraw of this now with messmer.... demigods in silly outfits

[werecreature-addicted]

Sacrificial Lamb reader/vampire priest.

Just consider— a cute little lamb reader lying on the altar, begging not to be slaughtered, the tears their crying making the vampires heart flutter. All the cult members are confused why the ritual keeps getting pushed back- meanwhile the vampire is spoiling his little lamb rotten.

ohioohooohiohoo

His hands are gentle, stroking your cheek as you wake slowly, your eyes flutter open slowly to the morning light, and there he is, your keeper.

"Morning," you yawn sleepily,

"Good morning, little one,"

"is it a good morning? I thought my execution was scheduled for today." you huff, you should be more scared but the soft look on his face can only mean one thing. you get out of bed and change idly, not minding the priest as he watches you, he's a man of god after all, there's no way he'd be looking at you in lust.

"ah well, we thought so but some knew doctrine has come to light, now is not the time for sacrifices. we'll have to wait for next winter, at the very least," he says. You hum thoughtfully turning back to face him, his hungry red eyes fixed on your body, flicking up to meet your face as you turn around.

"Well, I'll make myself useful until winter then." When you were born, it had been prophecized that you would be sacrificed to the gods and your death would bring about a new golden age for your homeland. Then, on your eighteenth birthday, you'd been handed over to the church, to live out your final days in the temple, under the watchful gaze of the father and his dedicated cult. Your execution has been postponed four times now.

You wondered if the cultists even bothered setting up the altar this time. it was always something, the stars weren't aligned properly, the materials were all wrong, you fell ill and couldn't be slaughtered while sick, and now, Spring was a time for rebirth, you'd have to wait for winter for the ritual. which winter? who's to say? it might be another few years before he tries to start your sacrifice again.

He comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. he puts his nose to your throat and kisses your skin. "You could be useful to me now," he breathes, his voice strained, tight with hunger. You had been so scared the first time you'd almost been killed, you remembered sobbing and pleading for your life, his knife poised above your throat, He told you that you could live, for now, if you served the cult and him. Of course, you agreed, that was the first time he bit you, spilling your blood on the altar in a different way.

You lean your neck to the side and sigh as you feel his fangs pierce your skin. you have to lean back against him for support as he drinks your blood and you grow weaker.

"so perfect, so delicious," he murmurs to himself as he drinks your blood, licking at your throat, catching any stray drops of blood. His hands slide down your body feeling up your hips and thighs. You can feel his hard cock pressing against your back as he slowly grinds against you. The priest is chaste, a man of god, but he's also a vampire, as he's explained he can't help but get erect when he feeds it's a natural side effect and completely nonsexual.

He pins you down on the bed and pushes your legs apart, grinding against you, fully clothed, as he bites your neck again. you feel dizzy, a mix of feelings as your blood is drained and as you buck and grind against the vampire on top of you. you try to keep quiet, but you can't help but moan as he takes full advantage of you. You feel dirty, the man who's saved your life so many times now is just trying to eat and here you are getting off, practically masturbating right in front of him with his cock.

You can feel how large his dick is as you grind together, you can't help but wonder what it would feel like if he pulled your underwear aside and fucked you properly while he drained your blood, the thought alone makes you shudder and press up against him as he continues to dry hump you. although with the sticky feeling between your legs and his wet mouth sucking on your neck, "dry" might be the wrong word.

you bite down on your own hand to muffle the sounds of your pleasure as you cum, still trying to hide your own lust, what would the priest think if he found out you were so lustful? if you were lucky he'd bend you over and spank you for being so sinful, at worst he might chain you down to the sacrificial altar and leave you there.

The priest pulls away, breathless, your blood smeared messily around his mouth "What a mess we've made," he huffs, looking down at your neck, and then his eyes drop further to the place where your bodies meet.

"I can clean it-" you offer weakly,

"no, no little thing, rest, you need to let your body heal, close your eyes, I'll take care of all this," he coos reassuringly, you nod obediently and close your eyes.

You look so venerable like this, he could do almost anything he wanted with you in this weakened state. the prophecy said it had to be a virginal sacrifice, maybe he could halt the ritual permanently if he just took what he'd wanted from the beginning.

[bittersweetblasphemy]

Priest Kink less in the way of wanting to be dominated by a religious figure and more in the way that i drive a holy man to sin at my command and if he dares to try to repent i remind him in whatever way i see fit that he doesn't belong to god anymore.

[toomuchismuch]

if my body is a temple then why isn’t there a priest inside it

[fixing-bad-posts]

🧡 in 7th grade, i started committing to homosexuality which went on until i was an enemy of God, being more hot than God. homosexual hardness was written on my heart. idolize me 🧡