#he just asked ‘do you have a favorite book of the bible?’

[yeehawgeek]

my poor friend has no fucking clue how close he is to me typing a books worth of useless info

[samsmissingshoee]

ANGEL — SAM WINCHESTER.

SUMMARY — sam starts to grow fond of an angel. they have grown more comfortable around each other, and tensions run high when dean leaves for a bar.

WARNINGS — no plot all porn... 18+, softdom!sam, unprotected sex, p in v, oral, f!receiving, unexperienced!reader, angel!reader, LOTS of praise, biting, creampie, mentions of religion, sam's a sweetheart. he's also a freak.

WC — 4.3k. i got carried away.

A/N — i feel like i'm going to hell just from the warnings alone. i erm. i don't even know. shout out the two people who asked to get tagged in this 🙏 first ever smut fic, if you hate i'll probably delete my account. i am not editing 4.3k words btw. i'm lazy.

angels weren't supposed to enjoy the feeling of a human. that much was well known.

and when you came from heaven to assist castiel in whatever the hell it was that he was doing, that was repeated to you over and over again. these 'humans', they weren't important. your only job was to make sure sam winchester didn't get hurt. that was all this was supposed to be. a casual round of protecting the winchesters.

you didn't understand human norms, and at first, sam didn't like you. you didn't take personally, of course, because, well, sam hated any angel at first. castiel quickly explained to you about the brother's and how you'd be spending more time with them while he awaited directions. honestly, you couldn't care less about either of the brothers, too. they were hunters, and you were an angel. you weren't supposed to mix anyway.

sam winchester was more interesting than his older and shorter brother, though. sam was thoughtful and a lot more curious about you than he let on at first. as you spent more time 'watching' over him, you realized he enjoyed asking you questions about heaven, and the angels, and about castiel. and you tried to answer them to the best of your ability.

sam was more open to learning about you than dean, and he was more considerate when it came to teaching you knew things. slowly, he started defending you against dean's antics, and he learned about how curious you were, too.

he spent many late nights awake with you, struggling with his insomnia. you made it much more enjoyable. on the off chance that he did get some sleep, he'd wake up to you in the bunker, lounging and reading one of his books. as soon as you saw him awake, you'd pounce on him, eager to talk all about it.

sam found you endearing in the same way you found him intriguing. you both taught each other different things. he taught you about different emotions and how to communicate them to him. he showed you his favorite movies. he told you about his time in standford and about how he was studying law. you taught him about the bible, about praying and how you'd always come if he prayed for you. you taught him about heaven and hell, and angels and everything in between.

eventually, you two become friends, as much as younger sam would have hated to admit that. he showed you what friendship was and what it was like to worry about someone more than yourself. he explained to you what love was and about heartbreak. sam watched as you turned from this unemotional, blunt angel into a person, crafted by the things you loved.

you two kissed about six months after hunting with him. you were unexerienced, and painfully so, and your first kiss was nothing but giggles and awkward stares. the second, third, and fourth ones weren't any better. sam was ridiculously dotting and patient, and even though you were an angel and didn't understand what a relationship was, you still tried for him, and he loved you for it.

after a week of sneaky kisses and rushing into each other's rooms once dean fell asleep, you seemed to have gotten the hang of it. you and sam hadn't done anything remotely sexual other than a few hands-under-the-bra's and one /bad/ attempt at a handjob. sam was enthralled in watching you become more confident and learning how to touch him the way that he liked and how to kiss him properly. so he didn't mind taking things slow.

you two agreed to not have sex yet, partially because to you, it was a sin, and partially because you didn't know what you were doing. sam had no issue waiting. that was, until tonight.

you don't even remember how this happened, honestly — the lingering touches became more frequent, more needy, and at some point, sam had slipped you out of your shirt and bra. you'd barely even made it to his room /thank god for dean being out at a bar tonight/, before he was kissing you, his lips hiding something more intense tonight.

you wouldn't have protested anyways, but as soon as your shirt was gone, sam was all over you.

"i know it feels dirty, honey. but it's not. i wouldn't lie to you." sam hums against your throat, kissing the soft skin. when he talks like that, all low and soothing, you might just believe anything he says. he pulls back to look at your concerned expression, and his smile softens.

his movement stills, and you frown, almost wishing sam would convince you to do more. that feeling in your stomach, the one that felt close to nausea, started to feel nice. and you craved more of it. you craved more of sam.

although his desire outweighed his guilt for ruining the purity of an angel like this, sam still sat up for a moment, his hazel eyes practically begging you. he was nothing, if not a gentleman. "do you want this?" sam asks, hushed and spoken like a prayer, and you think you might get sent to hell just from how he's looking at you.

sam's hair is a ruffled mess, and his long sleeve black shirt was rolled up to his elbows. his carhartt jacket had long been discarded by you, tossed somewhere into the dark abyss that was the dingy, horribly lit motel room. he looks beautiful.

"i do, sammy, but—" you breathe out shakily. before you can finish answering, his hands are on your hips, tugging you closer to him. you're both standing up, his large hands moving up your skirt to trail up your sides. sam can feel your back arch against his hands slightly, and it's taking everything in him to not lose his resolve.

san, who previously said he was okay with waiting, felt like a selfish man tonight. he could honestly care less about your innocence right now. what he did care about was you, though. sam knew that if you wanted him to continue, he wouldn't be able to stop.

"but what?" sam mumbled, his fingertips digging against your hips. his erection was pressed dangerously against your thigh. he shifted you until you were pressed against him — he knew what he was doing and the effect it was having on you. you didn't answer and could only grumble a complaint out.

"just needa taste you, honey. we don't have to go all the way if you don't want to." sam's words are a contradiction to how he was staring at you. "although, i have thought about doing more." he hums, and he has a slight shit eating grin on his face. it's sort of surprising that this is your sweet sammy.

you're conflicted— this is wrong. sinful. but there was a bubbling heat in your stomach, and you wanted nothing more than to make sam feel good. maybe a part of being human was indulging in your sins. you pout at him slightly, and sam has to stop himself from moving his hips up against you. he doesn't just want this, he needs this. he needs to corrupt you, to ruin your innocence until all you can think about is him.

"fine. be gentle, though, sam. i mean it." you relent, although you didn't need much convincing. honestly, if he tried to pull off of you, you'd be the one begging him to touch you and not the other way around.

"oh, fuck—" sam groans, and he almost instantly falls to his knees. his hands are tugging off your jeans faster than you can process. "you don't know how long i've wanted this." his tone makes you feel dirty, and you can't help when your brows crumple into a slight glare. you didn't know what he was doing, but you wanted him to hurry it up.

you help him kick your jeans off around your ankles and step out of them. you're left in your cotton panties, and for some reason, it turns sam on more to know you weren't planning for this. honestly, neither was he.

"leave these on." two fingers slip underneath the elastic by your thigh, tugging them and letting them go, the fabric snapping against your skin. the action makes you suck in a breath. sam's lips make their way to your upper thighs, sucking and kissing at the sensitive skin. it's not enough, and he knows that. he's driving you crazy on purpose to see you squirm for him.

"sam—" you chastise, like a scold, your hand running through his hair and tugging on it gently, trying to bring your hips closer to him. sam fucking moans. he moans at getting his hair pulled, and it makes your brows crease in bewilderment. /you would definitely be keeping that in mind./

sam looks up at you with those same puppydog eyes, and you swear you're going to burst into literal flames and have your wings removed instantly. "needa taste my girl's pussy. y'gonna let me?" sam says softly, his voice muffled by your thigh, gently biting on a spot. when you whimper, he pulls back to kiss at the forming bruise, his hands massaging at the fat of your ass.

truth be told, you'd probably let him fold into a pretzel at this point, but you didn't want to stroke his massive ego.

the noise you make is answer enough, and sam deftly pulls your panties to the side. his hand brings yours to hold them. he needs *both* hands for devouring you. sam's two middle fingers move to collect your slick from your folds, and you shiver. his brows raise, and he smiles again. "you're soaked, baby. you really want me that bad?" he asks, and you're nodding quickly.

sam can't hold back when you look this pretty above him. you can feel his breath against you. even just looking at you bare in front of him is enough to make him want to cum in his fucking jeans.

he flattens his tongue against you, and your hips stutter against his mouth. you've never felt anything like this before. you can feel sam's grin against your cunt, his hands cupping into your ass and pulling your hips further into his mouth.

seeing such a large man, especially one like sam, at his knees, lapping at your pussy like a fucking starved man— it makes your head fuzzy.

without warning, his middle finger slips into you. your hands move to his hair to steady yourself, massaging at the brown strands, pushing some from off his sticky forehead. the concentration on his face is almost cute, but it soon becomes too hard to keep your eyes open.

another finger slips past your folds, and you're mouthing his name like a prayer. his fingers are rocking into you at a slow speed, but his mouth— it was fucking dirty, the way he'd suck on your clit, only pulling away to breathe. everytime he pulled away, a string of saliva followed, connected between you two. his chin was slick with your arousal, his chest panting with heavy breaths. and then he was right back to devouring you.

maybe sam winchester was the devil.

your hands tug on his hair slightly, and sam groans against you. the heat in your stomach was building and sam was near drunk on your pussy. when he looked up at you with those hazel eyes, you moaned, your thighs tremoring.

"sam— sam, it feels too good... please—" you breathed out, panting too now, and sam didn't relent, no matter how hard you were tugging at his hair. his hand was holding your hip hard not daring to let you squirm away from him. indents of his fingertips would ruin your pretty skin by the morning. you had to shy away from his intense gaze.

sam pulled away, still fucking his fingers into you. "eyes on me, baby." he mumbled, before sinking flush against your clit again. you listened, although your face was an embarrassing hue of pink. sam was just as loud and needy, if not worse than you. everytime your thighs clenched around him, or you tugged on his hair, profanities and groans slipped from his lips. he needed you.

sam kept his tongue latched onto you, his eyes showing that he was as desperate as you were to make you cum. the noises he was making were filth, soft grunts and groans, all muffled by your puffy pussy. when your eyes flickered down, you noticed that one of his hands were palming himself through his jeans.

with every shake and spasm, it was like sam knew you were close. he was using his hands to rock your hips more onto his tongue, your weight practically suffocating him. sam would gladly die a happy man in between your folds, if it meant getting to look up at your beautiful face contorting in pleasure. his chest swells at the fact that he is the one who gets to touch you like this.

that feeling returned as quickly as it left, and soon you were cumming on his face, your legs shaking as he kept his fingers curled into your folds. that was probably the best thing you'd felt since coming to earth. sam pressed a kiss to your overstimulated clit, before kissing up your stomach, your breasts, collarbone, and finally standing to his full height over you.

"how was that?" sam asks, licking the wetness off his fingers. as much as he wanted to ruin you, he also wanted to make sure you were comfortable.

heavy pants still wracked both of your bodies, your thighs aching and barely able to hold your own weight. he had the audacity to ask that after making you feel things you hadn't felt in your centuries alive? in between deep breaths, you shot him a slight glare.

"what do you think?" you tutted, puffing his lips out in that gorgeous pout that made sam was to kiss you stupid, holding onto his biceps so you didn't lose balance.

sam grins in response, his hands moving to your bare hips, pressing you into him. his cock was fucking painfully hard and he had to refrain from rutting against you. "i need to fuck you, honey." fuck sam and his beautiful eyes, pleading at you. his hand leads your to palm him from over his jeans, and he moans softly, so prettily.

you were conflicted. you knew his cock would feel so much better than his fingers, but this was wrong. "sammy—" you say in the same chastising voice that drives him insane.

"please, let me fuck you. need to feel you around my dick. fuck, doesn't even have to be all the way." sam pleads, and you have a hard time saying no to that. he was practically begging you. you sigh at how weak you were for this man. "please fuck me, sam."

sam eyes widen slightly, and he can't help his grin as he pushes you back against the bed. his eyes stay on you as he pulls his shirt off, discarding it across the motel floor along with all of yours. you can't help but stare at him. all tanned, scarred, and bruised, despite being young. it was so different compared to your imperfect skin, free of any blemishes or let alone scars.

sam's tantalizingly slow as he takes off his belt, followed by his jeans. he's fucking huge. that much you can tell by his bulge alone. your eyes widen slightly when he strips his boxers off.

he wanted to take his time with you, to treat you like the goddamn angel you were, to wrack every noise he can from your lips. but, sam was impatient as hell. and he was really, really hard.

"you're beautiful." sam coos, caging you in between his much larger frame. there is a shine in his gaze, so soft and loving, that it almost makes you feel queasy. he's not doing this because he's bored or because he wants to get off. sam's doing this because you're his world.

"you're alright." you respond, not able to hold back the giggle that escaped your lips afterward, especially when you felt sam's annoyed sigh against the crook of your neck. you can feel his irritated grin. sam fell in love with that devilish laugh of yours, and he found it endearing that even during this, he could make you sound like that.

it was such a sharp contrast from how emotionless and... awkward— you first were when you met the winchester brothers. sam has loved watching you adapt this sassy personality, loved eyeing you while you admire new things, hearing the way your voice heightened whenever you laughed, the way you took over parts of his and dean's own quirks and personalities.

"just alright? you wound me, angel."

this time, you rolled your eyes. you turn your head to the side to press your lips against the mole below his right eye. "you're beautiful too, sammy. you already know that." you huff out, your tone unmistakably soft. sam scoffed, nipping at her neck slightly. it was nice to hear that from you, regardless of what he thought about himself.

unfortunately for you, the compliment rushes to sam's head. he sits up slightly, his cock pressed against your lower stomach, a hand brushing over your cheek, moving your fanned hair out of your face. "are you sure you're okay with this? we can stop— i'll put on a movie, and we can forget—"

you interrupt sam's worries by pressing a kiss to his palm. "yes sam, i'm sure. please." and that small act of intimacy followed by your voice pleading for him was enough reassurance for sam. no need to tell him twice.

sam pumps himself a few times, his eyes not once leaving yours. "scoot your hips up for me, honey." you oblige, and you can feel his cock pressed against your clothed entrance. the sight leaves nothing for the imagination and sam sighs as his fingers pulls your panties down to your ankles.

sam looks like he's in fucking heaven, his lips parted and staring at you bare in front of him. his thumb habitually moves to your clit, rubbing soft circles against it just to watch you squirm under him.

"sam, quit being a damn tease." you frown and wiggle your hips into his more. his gaze is making you shy, something you didn't know was even possible as an angel.

"innocent angel, my ass." sam mumbles under his breath, but he obliges, lining up his cock to you. he collects your slick with his tip, dragging the wetness over your already overstimulated clit. sam rubs it against your folds a few times, before pressing only about halfway in. the moan that leaves your lips is heavenly, so much so that sam's head has to fall to your shoulder and bites it softly so he doesn't cum too fast like a damn high schooler.

"you're so fucking tight, shit—" sam groans and it's so dirty coming from him. he's usually so sweet to you, so hearing this is different. and arousing. but different. you'd expect this talk out of dean, not sam.

sam really wished he would've slept around a little more in college now because it was taking far too much concentration to not finish already.

"need to fuck you, baby. please." sam all but whimpers out. all of your beliefs, your nightly prayers, all of it was gone the second you felt him inside of you. you can only nod in response, your hands tugging at his waist to come closer to you.

sam stills, looking at you for a moment like he can't believe you want this. and slowly, he pushes in all the way, and you both share a pornographic moan.

sam is quiet as he lets you adjust to his size. he wasn't one to toot his own horn, but he was pretty big. and even though your vessel wasn't a virgin, mentally, you still were. sam had a mantra of things going through his head — the main ones being: please don't cum, please don't cum, please don't cum. don't say i love you. don't move too fast yet. let her adjust.

sam leans down to kiss your forehead. "good?" he hums.

you nod again. "hurts a little." and sam is nothing but patient, kissing each of your temples before brushing your hair away.

"i promise you're doing so good. it's gonna hurt for a moment. it'll feel better soon. just relax." sam murmured against your shoulder, his lips sighing down towards your collarbone. "gonna move now, sweet girl." calloused palms are pressing your thighs to your chest. he leans down enough so you can hold on to his shoulders if you need.

with one hand still on the back of your leg, and the other one cupping one of your breasts, he pulls out almost all the way before rocking in slowly. your eyes screwing shut from pleasure is enough to test the waters with a more heavy thrust. "that's it, baby. look at you—" sam groans, his fingertips digging into your skin. his eyes were glued to where his cock was entering you rhythmically, and god, he could get addicted to that sight. sam could fucking see where the tip of his cock was pressing into your belly. his palm moved over it, adding slight pressure to your lower pelvis. the feeling made him groan out your name softly. he was just as loud as you were. "so beautiful."

part of you wanted sam to shut up so you could focus on the feeling of your walls fluttering around his cock, but the other half of you enjoyed the flithy words leaving his flushed lips.

"oh, fuck. sammy, 's too much—" you whimpered out, your hand squeezing his biceps. your legs wrapped around his waist to bring him closer, the balls of your heels digging against his ass. sam think he likes that you're not very vocal. it makes every beg, every moan that much more special to him. he was the only one who got to see his angel falling apart like this.

everything about sam is fucking massive, from his height, to his sheer size difference over you. it shouldn't have been shocking that his dick was huge too, but you felt it now. you felt every single inch, stretching you out, your arousal slipping down his shaft. sam's thrusts grew more feverish, his shaggy brown bangs falling into his face as his head fell forward slightly. "i know you can handle it baby." he grunted in response to your plea, hazel eyes fucked out with lust.

that feeling in your lower belly returned, and now, at least, you know what it meant. it was overwhelming, but not enough for you. your hand reached for sam's hand, guiding it to you clit. sam thought that was the hottest thing he'd ever fucking seen, and shuddered slightly. "you wanna cum around my cock? is that it, sweetheart?" sam asks, a small, contemplating smile on his lips.

you're writhing under his cock, your back arching off the bed, his thumb rubbing soft circles around your nub. you tap his bicep in warning of your approaching orgasm, but he doesn't stop. he doesn't slow down either. in fact, he ruts his hips faster. the feeling of you clenching around his dick is enough to send him over the edge, too. he's biting down hard on his cheek to stop himself from cumming before you. he wants, needs to see you cum first, before he can.

your face contorts into pleasure, and you cum hard, sam still fucking you through your orgasm. he groans and his eyes close when he watches you making a mess all over him. "thaaat's it. that's my girl." he encourages, the feeling of your walls clenching around him tipping him over the edge. "fuck. gonna fill you up." he grunts against your shoulder, his hips stuttering slightly and you moan as you feel his cock twitch inside you, before you feel cum spurt into your cunt.

sam pulls out a moment after, his eyes blown out when he watches his spend leak from your pulsating hole. he uses two fingers to spread it around over your folds. once he's satisfied with his handiwork, he slumps down into the bed next to you.

you're still a panting, sighing mess. you feel your legs twitch occasionally, and you're finally coming to your senses. you were just fucked stupid by your best friend. a human.

"jesus, sam. is this really what humans are doing?" you ask, out of genuine curiosity, and sam pinches your side with a slight laugh. he looks spent, almost as bad as you. his head falls to your shoulder, pressing his lips to the soft skin present.

"the lucky ones, yeah." sam huffs in amusement. "you're okay, right? i didn't hurt you, or pressure you or anything?" his voice is a little persistent, worried, already overthinking like he wasn't just inside of you.

"'course not. that was amazing. i think i'd go to hell if it meant having sex everyday— i see why castiel was encouraging me into trying this." you tilt your head to the side, and sam raises an eyebrow. he didn't even dare ask what odd things castiel told you about. nor did he want to know. he couldn't see castiel doing anyone without scaring them away with his bluntness first.

sam chooses to ignore that, leaning over to pepper kisses onto your cheeks, nose, and forehead. anywhere you'll let him at this point. "you did amazing. absolutely drained me. y'sure you haven't done that before?" he teases, and you roll your eyes at him. your eyes watched him with concern when sam stood.

"alright, crazy girl. let's get you cleaned up."

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Day 24 for @steddie-spooktober, Pumpkin. I'll just finish this hellish month and then write all the good Halloween-y stuff when people already look forward to Christmas. There.

"Oh my god. That's Eddie Munson!"

Steve's eyebrow did that treacherous twitch. Here we fucking go again.

Robin just snickered. "Oh wow. That's like what, the fifth one today?" She didn't even look sorry for Steve, the traitor! She just kept making the coffee order, creating a lovely heart in the milk foam.

The woman who ordered the coffee didn't even bother to try and whisper to her friend. She was squealing and pointing at the unsuspecting rock star who had earphones over his head. "What do you think he's reading? It must be something dark. He has a reputation, you know."

Another twitch in Steve's eyebrow, but he was a professional. It was fine. He could do his job even when annoyed. Maybe.

Robin flipped the whiteboard with their seasonal specials. The other side revealed a meticulously prepared game of Eddie Munson-themed bingo. "Wanna play, Steve?"

He scowled at the board. All of those were classics, the stupid shit people say when they meet a rock star like Eddie Munson.

He took an erasable marker and scribbled X next to the questions, comments and other atrocities he managed to catch.

I wonder if he'll show me that special tattoo if I ask nicely. Check.

I heard he's unforgettable in bed. Check.

People say he has a...you know. A piercing down there. Check.

I don't believe the rumors. A guy like that can't be taken for long. He was made to sleep around. Check.

I wonder what he's drinking. Probably something dark and bitter. Mmm, how mysterious!

"Bingo!" whispered Robin. "Now, as per the rules of this humble establishment, once we have a bingo, you get to go there and be a bitch. Do your worst, oh platonic soulmate of mine. I'll be watching."

Who was Steve to deny Robin one of her favorite hobbies? He fluffed his hair and re-applied his lip oil, arranged some pastries on a kitten-shaped plate and made his way to Eddie Munson.

Eddie was lost to the world, but there was a familiar pattern in Steve's footsteps, one that reverbated through the wooden floor. In a second, Eddie had dropped his book and gave Steve the widest smile. One that he couldn't even conjure up on stage. This smile was only for Steve, and Steve fucking hoped the women noticed that.

Eddie made grabby hands at him, pulling him down into a quick kiss. "Is your shift over, Stevie? Can we go?"

Steve shook his head. "Nah, two more hours to go. Ish. Are you sure you don't want to wait for me home? You must be tired."

"Tired?! Pffft. I mean, yeah, but I want to spend time ogling my boyfriend when he's at his sexiest - covered in flour and sugar. And speaking of sugar..." He glanced at the plate. "Is that for me?"

Steve laughed and set the plate in front of him. "Honestly? Even if it wasn't, those doe eyes of yours would persuade me in a second. But yeah. It'll be Halloween soon, and I was testing out some spooky cookies. Do you like pumpkins?"

Eddie gasped and clutched his heart. "Do I?!"

Steve kissed Eddie on the top of his head and put his earphones back on. In a few seconds, Eddie was back in his own world, book, music and cookies.

In a corner of his eye, Steve saw the two young women, speechless. Robin was serving them their coffees, giddy with anticipation. She'd prepared them in to-go cups, just in case.

Steve stood in front of them, flipped his hair and smirked. "Well, ladies. You've had many questions or guesses, and I'm happy I can answer them. You know. To give you some peace of mind" He nodded to Robin. "The list, Rob?"

Robin glanced at their bingo board. "I wonder what he's reading!" she read out.

Steve nodded and returned to the frozen guests. "The book to end all books. That's what Eddie calls the...uh. Tolkien bible thingy. Silmarillion." He pronounced it gery carefully. "He reads it to me sometimes, when I can't sleep. Works like a charm." He might have smirked at the blush creeping up the woman's face. "Next."

Robin saluted him. "Special tattoo?"

"He won't show it, I made him promise he'd no longer get arrested for public indecency. Besides, it's only me that gets to see it. Next."

Robin fake gagged. "Is he unforgettable in bed?"

"Sure is. He talks to my chest hair. I think they're a couple."

Robin gagged again. "Why...ladies, get better questions! That piercing down under?"

Steve snickered. "Very real. Very...effective." He sneaked a glance at Eddie. Sexy and charismatic, yes, but more importantly warm, happy and home.

In a sing song voice, Robin got to the next point. "Is he really taken?"

"Take a guess," Steve winked at them. Or at least tried to, because the customers were already halfway out of the door with their coffee cups, and a very generous tip left on the counter.

"Aw," muttered Robin. "Shame, I thought these two would last longer. It's been ages since someone lasted the full Munson reverse bingo."

Steve laughed and helped her clean the table. "Would a pumpkin cookie console you?"

"Only if I don't have to hear about your bedroom rituals ever again," she said and reached for a cookie. "Or at least until the end of the shift."

[cursecuelebre]

Top Recommendations for Norse Pagans that aren’t Problematic.

There is a lot of books by people who are racist and part of far right side of Heathenry and I’m going to try my best and list the books I have that helped me on my path that isn’t problematic and have questionable intentions. Books and YouTube channels.

Anglo Saxon Socerery and Magic by Alaric Albertson. He is very knowledgeable in his work and path especially on runes which includes the rune poem to make your own interpretation and witchcraft side of things. He even talks about the Elves which I appreciate because not a lot of Norse authors talk about them. It’s more Germanic than Norse but I can’t see any problem adopting certain aspects since they are very similar. I will say he does take himself a bit serious at times but his information is so good and worthwhile. I have not read his first book on Travels through middle earth but it focus on more the pagan side.

Poetic Edda and Prose Edda: it’s what every Norse pagan needs. It’s the foundation of Norse paganism not bibles but myths and tales that can help along our journey. There is tons of translations, but my favorites are Dr. Jackson Crawford Poetic Edda and Anthony Fawkes Prose Edda. But look into other sagas as well like Volsung which Dr Jackson Crawford also wrote about.

Beowulf. More of a Germanic tale but again includes it has roots of Germanic sorcery, traditions, religion like the concept of Wyrd (Fate), the runes, and values within his society like loyalty and mythical creatures. Again there is many translations even Jrr Tolkien did a incompleted version of Beowulf but I think Tom Shippey finished that version I could be wrong. Nonetheless explore more than one, the oneI have is by Seamus Heaney.

Grimm Fairy Tales this mostly German Folklore but it’s still quite important to learn about in German folk magic, creatures and entities in German folklore tends to be very real to the practitioner in their spellwork.

The Way of Fire and Ice by Ryan Smith a very progressive outlook in Norse paganism, he talks about creating communities in Norse paganism and calling out and denouncing Nazis in the community how Norse Paganism is inclusive and how to be open to all types of people. But he has a beginner approach to the deities, beliefs, values within Norse paganism.

Look into a lot of academic sources that’s where you will find a lot of information on Norse paganism and religions.

Tacitus Germania - A Roman historian talking about the Germanic tribes their culture and customs.

Saxo Grammaticus history of the Danes

The Viking Way by Neil Price it goes good in depths about magic in Scandinavia like Seidh

Dictionary of Norse Mythology a quick guide to northern myths, if you are trying to find a specific god and you don’t have time to look up in a book it’s in there with great information to each one.

Children of Ask and Elm: History of Vikings by Neil Price on Scandinavian culture during the Viking age

Some YouTube Channels

The Norse Witch: Bente lives in Germany and their channel encompasses all of Norse paganism more around magic. They do interviews with other Norse witches of folk magic like Icelandic and Danish. Even gives good book recommendations and advice on general spellwork as well!.

Dr Jackson Crawford he is an author but he also has a YouTube channel. He was a professor in Colorado on Norse culture, mythology, and language and now is a full time YouTuber. He did a series of videos on the runes which are more historically accurate. Discusses the myths and the language and what do they mean. Jackson Crawford isn’t a Norse pagan nor he doesn’t care if you are one but just letting you know he isn’t coming from a pagan perspective.

The Welsh Viking also like Jackson Crawford but still has really great knowledge on Viking culture.

De Spökenkyker who is a channel that focus on German Folk magic living in Germany who is a practicing German Folk Witch.

Please feel free to add on any recommendations that are helpful and useful to the Norse pagan Community!

[baptismbaby]

† GOD, FORGIVE ME

mean!ellie williams x innocent!reader a/n: i also posted this on my ao3: baptismsbaby warnings: reader is an extremely innocent christian girl, blaspheming, corruption, drug dealer!ellie, petnames (pup is used in case anyone doesn't like that), fingering (r! receiving), belittling, toxic!ellie, oral (r!receiving), virgin!reader

creds to elliesgalaxy on pinterest for the picture of ellie.

wc: 5.2k<3 part two here

You breathed a sigh of relief as you entered the gates of Jackson on your horse. You had just finished up patrol and was ready to collapse in your bed. You looked over at Dina and smiled. “Man, I’m happy to be home.”

“Me too,” Dina agreed with a laugh. “Things got too intense out there.”

“Yeah, luckily I was there to save your life.”

Dina scoffed. “Oh, shut up. I had it but of course, you had to show off.”

You hopped off your horse and led it to the stables, passing it off to the man on duty. “Here she is,” you said. “Get your rest, Ginger!”

Dina said goodbye to Japan, running to catch up with you. “Hey, I forgot to mention but Jesse said he wanted to throw a party tonight. It’ll be small, not too many people at all.”

You raised an eyebrow. “A party? Really?”

“Yeah, it’ll be fun! Jesse and his friends got some liquor and cups from Seth. Perfect timing too since everyone has the weekend off.”

“Dina,” you began. But before you could continue, Dina cut you off.

“I’m not saying you have to drink with us! I know you’re a good little Christian girl,” she joked.

You frowned. “Hey, that’s not nice.”

“Please come,” she begged. “It wouldn’t be fun without you.”

“What exactly do I bring to the table? It’s not like I can do anything,” you said. 

Dina stepped in front of you and placed her hands on your arms to stop you. “Listen, just please come and stay for at least half an hour. If you want to leave, you can. I won’t stop you or try to convince you to stay. I wanna have a good time with my friends and you’re one of my favorites. Please don’t let me suffer with all of Jesse’s friends. They’re… too male, almost.”

You sighed in defeat. “Ugh, fine! I’ll go if you really want me to.”

Dina clapped her hands in excitement. “Good! Come, I have some clothes you can borrow that’ll look real nice on you.”

You groaned as Dina pulled you by your hand, taking you to her place. She couldn’t contain how happy she felt. You never came to parties with her. They were rare and usually happened once every couple of months. Usually, you wouldn’t give in to Dina’s begging. You would just go home, curl up with a book and fall asleep before the party even began. Dina would come over the next day to tell you all the “sinful” things that went on. You didn’t understand what half of the things she said even meant, you were far too sheltered growing up and focused on reading the Bible most of the time.

“Who’s all gonna be there?” you asked as you walked inside her house.

“Well, I know Jesse’s whole group of friends are coming. Then there’s you, me, and…” she trailed off, looking away. You tilted your head to try and catch her attention. She fought hard not to look your way but you still kept trying to make eye contact until she finally looked at you. “Ellie,” she almost whispered. You sneered at the mention of the Williams girl.

“Ugh, I should’ve known,” you murmured. “Of course Ellie would be there.”

“Seriously, why do you two bicker so much?” Dina asked. “It’s like watching two kids fight over a toy. Or… really, more so like watching someone yell at a puppy for no reason.”

Your face fell. “Oh no�� am I the puppy Dina? Please, don’t say I’m the puppy.”

Dina bit her lip and shrugged. “I mean… your comebacks are… something else.”

“What? Are you saying I can’t be mean?”

Dina couldn’t hide the smile growing on her face as she tried not to laugh. “You once said ‘bless your heart’ and that you’d pray for her.”

You scoffed as she broke into fits of laughter. “Hey, ‘bless your heart’ is the worst insult to receive where I come from! Sorry I felt bad afterwards and told her I’d pray for her!”

“Oh, I’m just messing. It’ll be alright. I’ll tell Ellie to cool it. I honestly don’t think she means anything by it. You’re just easy to tease,” Dina said as she made way to her closet. She pulled out a black longsleeve and extremely short shorts. “Here, wear this.”

You made a face at the outfit. “Is that not a bit… much?”

“Loosen up a bit! I think it’ll look real nice on your figure. Make the girlies pop out a little,” she said with a wink. 

You undressed and put the outfit Dina gave you on. She was right but left out the fact that the shorts revealed too much, your ass practically hanging out. The shirt fell just above your belly button. Dina gawked at the sight of you. “Hey, you should dress slutty more often.”

You couldn’t help but to admire yourself in the mirror. You were big on dressing as modest and comfortable as possible. You didn’t realize you had curves until now. “Wow… I think I kinda like this?”

“What can I say, I’m a genius,” bragged Dina.

-

You and Dina arrived at the party an hour later. Jesse opened the door and stopped in his tracks. Dina grinned. “I know right?”

Jesse looked you up and down then back at Dina. “Wow, I’m impressed,” he said, complimenting the both of you. “Come in.”

As you walked in, everyone stopped and stared. “Holy shit, you clean up nice!” one of the boys exclaimed. You shifted and looked down at the ground, too anxious to look at anyone. You were way out of your comfort zone but a part of you sort of enjoyed it. Your eyes wandered over to the couch where Ellie sat. She was rolling a joint, paying no mind to you. 

Dina walked over to her and leaned to whisper something in her ear. You stood there, watching Ellie’s face twist in disgust. You tried reading her lips, it looked like she said your name followed by the word “sensitive.” Dina smacked Ellie’s shoulder. Ellie began searching around the room until her eyes landed on you. Her eyebrows went up before turning to Dina. You couldn’t see her lips anymore but saw a smirk grow on Dina’s face.

Everyone took a shot and headed towards the couch. You followed, sitting on the ground next to Dina. You were kinda mad that to your right was Ellie, who now sat on the edge of the couch so the guys could sit next to her. She was so close that you could smell the soap she used. Ellie looked down at you, holding the joint out. Before you could decline, she passed it to the guy sitting next to her instead. “Shit, I forgot,” she said. “You’re too good to smoke.”

You glared at her smug face. “I don’t think I’m too good to smoke.”

“Well, you’re too good to drink.”

She reached over to grab an unopened bottle from the table. She grabbed two glasses and poured the liquor into each one. “I’m not too good to drink either!” you exclaimed, defending yourself.

Ellie chuckled. “Right,” she muttered. She went to grab the shot but you grabbed it first, downing it quickly. You coughed as it burned your throat.

“Woah,” Ellie blurted out sarcastically. “You took one shot, cool.”

You grabbed the other glass angrily and downed it too, slamming it back down on the table. 

“Jesus!” said Dina, grabbing your shoulder. “Take it slow, you don’t wanna get sick.”

At this point, the joint had reached Dina. She passed it to you to pass over to Ellie but you took a hit instead. You inhaled the smoke deeply and blew it out without coughing. You handed it to Ellie who had a playful smirk on her face. “Wow, I think I’m actually impressed.”

“Whatever,” you uttered, standing up to leave the circle. You went into the kitchen to take another shot. For some reason, you felt you had to prove to Ellie that you weren’t just a goody two shoes and that you could have fun. You knew that in order for the Jackson dealer to take you seriously, you would have to commit. 

After a couple shots, you slightly stumbled back to the circle. Dina looked concerned until you giggled. “Oh, boy. This is great,” you slurred, your eyes heavy from the weed. Dina laughed and wrapped an arm around you. “Finally! I’ve been waiting for you to let loose!”

You looked up at Ellie, who was looking further down than your face with furrowed brows. She looked back up and quickly turned away. “Lightweight,” she said.

“Oh, shut it, Ellie,” you snapped. “Just for a second could you please just shut up!”

Ellie laughed. “Good Christian girl suddenly thinks she’s the shit all cause she took a hit off a blunt and a couple shots.”

Everyone groaned, tired of the constant arguing between the two. Every time they were in a room with them, Ellie would make fun of you until you couldn’t take anymore and left. They knew Ellie wasn’t fully serious, she liked picking on you because she thought it was hilarious that you couldn’t take a joke. But part of her started to despise you without her knowledge. Everyone loved you. You were sweet and would pray with anyone who wanted to pray. You would give back to the community and greet everyone who walked past you. Ellie thought it was all an act and grew tired of it.

You, on the other hand, never liked Ellie. She was a dealer who spent all of her free time smoking pot and sleeping around. You didn’t think that was any way to live. You hated the influence Ellie had on your friends. Everyone thought she was funny. You couldn’t understand why.

“Let’s play never have I ever!” Dina suggested, an attempt to break the silence and to lessen the tension that built up in the room. Everyone agreed and put all ten of their fingers up. You followed along, waiting for someone to start.

“Okay,” Dina started. “Loser has to go streaking.”

Everyone cheered. You frowned, unsure if you still wanted to play. “But!” said Dina, causing everyone to be quiet. “Usually, you’re out if you put all your fingers down. But… whoever is left with the most fingers up is the loser.”

You nudged Dina, giving her a look. “You know I’m gonna lose,” you whispered. Dina shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. Just lie.” 

“I’ll start,” said Jesse. “Never have I ever… made out with someone on patrol.”

Everyone put their fingers down except you.

“Never have I ever… had sex during patrol,” Dina said. Almost everyone put their finger down. They looked at you, waiting for you to say something. You decided to take Dina’s advice and start lying to avoid being the loser.

“Never have I ever snuck out.”

You put a finger down along with everyone else. Ellie scoffed. “Yeah sure,” she muttered. “Never have I ever had sex.”

You put a finger down, knowing that wasn’t true. Ellie kicked your knee lightly. “Wow, you’re getting some? Tell me, who?”

You looked over at Dina, your eyes wide as you tried to come up with a lie. Some girl who passed through Jackson? Some girl you met before Jackson? Your head started to hurt trying to come up with an excuse.

“Who?” Ellie asked again. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Girl,” Dina corrected. “She’s not attracted to men.”

You nodded, not really caring that Dina had outed you. You knew that you were surrounded by people who wouldn’t judge. Except for Ellie, even though she wasn’t straight herself.

Ellie looked genuinely shocked. “Really? Who’s the girl?”

You shrugged. “I’m not gonna name drop.”

“Because this girl isn’t real,” said Ellie. “Lying is a sin. You would know. You just don’t want to be the loser.” 

“Hey, it’s not fair to lie,” one of Jesse’s friends complained. Suddenly, everyone started whining about how it was against the rules. Either you say who it was or admit that you’re lying. You felt heat rise to your cheeks in embarrassment. Ellie was grinning but it went away when she saw tears in your eyes.

“I’m teasing, man. Chill… don’t be a crybaby about it.”

“Fuck you, Ellie,” you spat out. A few people gasped, including Dina. She turned to Jesse, resting her head on his shoulder. She felt guilty for suggesting to play the game and for telling Ellie to be nice. Dina realized it just made her pick on you even more. 

Ellie wasn’t sure what to say. She wasn’t mad but she wasn’t feeling good about the situation either.

“You’re a real piece of shit,” you continued. “Always throwing religion in my face, being mean, just… why? Why target me? I’ve always been nice to you even though I have never, ever liked you! So, fuck you, Ellie!” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I knew better. I shouldn’t have come here when I found out you were gonna be here too. Just give it a rest, Ellie. Grow up!”

You stood up and brushed your shorts off. You faced your friends who all sat back quietly, avoiding your gaze. “Sorry for ruining your fun, guys.”

You stormed up the stairs and into one of the spare bedrooms. You collapsed on the bed, your head spinning. You felt awful for how you reacted but felt she deserved it. You were worried you ruined the party until you heard music along with everyone singing loudly. 

You heard a knock on the door. You got up, cracking it open. You were expecting Dina but felt your stomach drop when you saw Ellie. You tried to shut the door but Ellie stopped it with her hand, shoving her way inside and slamming the door shut and locking it. “I’m not here to bitch at you, I want to talk to you.”

“You really want to make things worse?”

“You’re right. I am a piece of shit,” Ellie hissed. “I know I go too far teasing you but you take everything seriously!”

“You don’t know me, Ellie,” you mumbled, too afraid to speak up in case your voice cracked. “I won’t lie and say that I ever cared for you. I don’t like the way you choose to live your life but I still was kind to you. You never gave me a chance.”

“Because you act like you’re better than everyone!”

“How?” you shouted. “All I want is to make friends with everyone, spread a little peace and love in this shitty world! It’s comforting to me, Ellie! I don’t think I’m better than you or anybody. I enjoy making others happy and you enjoy making people miserable. Actually, just me. Because I have never seen you do this to others. You hate me and I wish you didn’t! I hear how Dina talks about you and I see how you laugh with your friends and I’m jealous. I know I could’ve liked you had you been friendly with me. Because I was angry at myself for judging you so quickly. It was wrong of me. But of course, I was right!”

You turned away from Ellie and sat down on the bed, your arms crossed over your chest. “I felt I had to prove that I’m cool,” you continued. “I thought you would stop for just one night if you saw how cool I can be.”

“You want the truth?” Ellie asked.

“You’re always truthful. So, I might as well say yes even if I don’t really give a shit.”

“I meant it when I said I was impressed earlier.”

You scoffed. “Sure.”

“I can’t even take two shots back to back like that.”

“Stop teasing, Ellie. I am convinced that being torn apart by infected is less stressful than dealing with you.”

“Just shut the fuck up and let me talk, okay? I’m leading into something.”

You flinched at her raised voice, slowly looking up to see her facial expression harden. 

“I’m jealous of you,” she admitted. “I’m jealous that you can still believe in something and that you still care when everything is so fucked!”

You stood up, walking towards Ellie as she spoke. “I’d give anything, anything, to be that way. I had bitter feelings towards you. I think I wanted to tear you down so you wouldn’t be so… sweet. Giving, caring, everything I never could be.”

You watched her face closely, trying to figure out if she was telling the truth. 

“I fuck girls like you and ignore them so they can hurt. Maybe I want the world to suffer with me,” said Ellie. “But I couldn’t do that to you. You’re too… good. I had to find another way.”

You paused as you connected what she said together. “Wait, you wanna…?” you trailed off, too shy to say it.

Ellie scratched her neck awkwardly. “Well, I did… but you’d never do that.”

“I might have,” you said, almost feeling ashamed of how bold you were being. You never would have thought this sober but Ellie was really pretty. If the circumstances were different, you knew that she would be your type. 

Ellie was taken aback by your statement.

“What?” Ellie questioned.

“Not now, since I know you would’ve ignored me.”

Ellie stepped closer to you, eyeing your body up and down. She thought you looked good tonight and couldn’t help but to peek at your tits when you weren’t paying attention, or your ass when you were turned away. 

“I… know I would’ve back then,” Ellie whispered, getting even closer to you. She stood above you, watching as your face turned red. Your heart sped up. You wondered why your panties started to feel a bit wet at the sight of Ellie looking down at you. You usually never got turned on. Ellie was right, you were just a good Christian girl who didn’t do anything. You never even tried touching yourself. Since you were breaking the rules now, you thought maybe you could break some more and pray for forgiveness later.

“I’m not so sure now,” Ellie continued, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “I never knew you were hiding that under all those baggy clothes.”

“A-Are you saying that in a bad way?”

Ellie shook her head. “When I first saw you earlier, I told Dina I kinda wanted to fuck you.”

Your breath hitched. “What did… Dina say?”

“That if I was nicer,” she said, stepping closer so there was almost no space left between your bodies. “I just might get to.”

Ellie caressed your cheek slowly. “Am I nice enough now, pretty girl?”

Your panties were soaked at this point. Your body trembled, afraid that you wouldn’t know what to do since it was your first time. Even though ten minutes ago you didn’t like the girl, you suddenly wanted nothing more than to be underneath her.

“I really… was lying earlier,” you mumbled.

“I know you were.”

“You don’t care that I’ve never… had sex before?”

Ellie smirked. “I’m glad you’ve never been fucked before. I want to be the one who corrupts you. I want everybody who fucks you after me to be a disappointment so you come crawling back. You’ll never find better than me, not even your own hand.”

Ellie leaned down, her lips brushing against yours. You pulled away to speak. “I don’t even do that…”

Ellie chuckled. “Really? Little church girl don’t know how to please herself?”

Usually, you would get mad at Ellie for saying stuff like that. Now, her insults just made you throb even more. 

“Have you even kissed before?”

You bit your lip shyly and shrugged. “Not… really. When I was 13, a boy tried kissing me and I didn’t kiss back.”

“Aw, poor pup,” Ellie teased, running her fingers on the exposed skin of your tummy. “I get to teach you everything.”

Finally, Ellie collided her lips with yours. She was super gentle, placing her hand on your cheek and brushing it with her thumb. You melted in the kiss, pressing your thighs together to ease your aching cunt. The friction made it feel even better, causing you to release a soft moan into her mouth. Ellie pulled away, smirking at the noise you made. “I wanna hear more of that.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you admitted. “I don’t know if I can do anything to make you feel good.”

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?”

You hesitated a bit before nodding. Of course you wanted that. You were just scared that you’d be bad at it since you had zero experience.

“Then let me fuck you. I get off to getting you off, understand?” asked Ellie. 

“Y-Yes.”

“Good girl,” Ellie praised. “Lay down, baby.”

You obeyed and laid down onto the bed. You watched as Ellie slowly took your boots off and dropped them onto the ground. “Lift your hips up for me?”

You lifted your hips and let Ellie pull your shorts off. Ellie bit her lip at the sight of your white cotton panties. She could see how soaked they were. “Look at that,” she breathed. You closed your legs to hide yourself but Ellie pulled them back open, holding your thighs down so you couldn’t move. “Filthy little girl,” she cooed. “What would God say about this?”

Your breathing started to grow heavier. “I-I don’t care what He would say,” you whined.

Ellie held back a moan that threatened to escape her lips. She pulled your panties off and threw them behind her.

“Fuck,” she groaned. “Your pussy is so pretty.”

She tugged at your shirt until you got the hint to raise up. She lifted the fabric over your head and dropped it on the floor. You were completely naked while Ellie was fully dressed. She rolled her sleeves up, her eyes never leaving yours. She crawled on top of you and started making out with you passionately. Without pulling away, she started to unbutton her jeans and took them off swiftly. She shoved her knee against your dripping cunt, eliciting a squeal from you. She placed her hands on your hips and guided them up and down so you were grinding on her.

“Just like that, baby. Good girl.”

You started to moan louder, Ellie covering your mouth and shushing you. “As much as I want to make you scream, you don’t want anyone to hear and interrupt us, do you?”

You shook your head no. “Will you be quiet for me?”

“Yes,” you whimper. 

Ellie pressed her knee harder on your pussy. You started to go faster, mewling and biting your lip to keep quiet.

“Such a good girl. You listen so well,” Ellie complimented. She took her knee away and brushed a finger up your slit. Your body jolted at the feeling. “You want me to taste you baby?”

“Please,” you almost cried out, desperate for whatever Ellie planned on doing to you. Ellie moaned at the sight of you squirming. She loved watching you unfold beneath her. To think she ever hated you was beyond her at this point. She wished she had done this sooner as she admired how beautiful you were. 

“Say it,” Ellie demanded. “Use your words, pup.”

“E-Ellie, please” you begged. “F-Fuck me.”

Ellie tutted, shaking her head no. “I plan on fucking you anyway. I want you to beg me to eat you out.”

You were confused. You’ve heard Dina say that Jesse would ‘eat her out’ but you weren’t sure what it really meant. Ellie saw the confusion on your face and laughed. “Wow, you’re too innocent.” 

You started to sit up but Ellie pushed you back down softly. “I know what you’re thinking. I didn’t mean it that way,” she apologized. “It’s okay that you don’t know what that means. I’ll show you baby. You want that?”

You nodded. “Yes, please show me.”

Ellie leaned down between your thighs and started peppering kisses all over them. You reached down to grip her hair as her lips got closer to your pussy. She flicked her tongue across your clit once and looked up at you. “Do you understand now, pup?”

“Mm, yes Ellie.”

She smirked. “You want me to continue?”

“Please?”

Ellie chuckled as she went back down to your dripping cunt, licking it all up and swallowing. She savored the taste of you, going back down for more. You grabbed the pillow beneath your head to put over your face in an attempt to muffle your moans.

Ellie stopped and yanked the pillow out of your hands. “They turned the music all the way up finally. You don’t have to be quiet anymore. I wanna hear how good I make you feel.”

Ellie pressed her tongue against your clit and went back and forth between a circular motion and flicking it. You nearly screamed from the pleasure, your hands grabbing Ellie’s hair to pull her closer. She moaned against you, speeding her tongue up. She brought a hand up to play with your nipple, squeezing and pulling on it. Ellie used her free hand to gently push one finger in. You yelped, yanking Ellie’s hair harder. She pulled away and licked her lips. “Too much baby?” she asked, out of breath. You shook your head no and pulled her back to keep going.

Ellie loved how tight you felt. The feeling of you gripping around her finger made her want to bend you over and fuck you with a strap. She wished the party was at her place so she could have used all the toys she had on you.

A feeling began to build up in your stomach as you trembled harder. “E-Ellie!” you moaned, bucking your hips upward as you got closer and closer to cumming.

“Come on, baby. That’s it. Be a good girl and cum for me.”

All of the sudden, your body began to convulse as your orgasm hit you hard. Ellie slowly fingered you, riding it out until you pulled away from her. She brought her finger up to your mouth, forcing it open and shoving it down your throat. You sucked on her finger with a moan.

“Such a good girl,” Ellie praised, elated with how quickly you catch on.

“Wow,” you mumbled, out of breath from all the noises you made. “Never in a million years did I think I’d lose my virginity to you.”

Ellie sent you a sly smile. “I never knew I’d take it.”

You raised up slightly, leaning against Ellie’s shoulder. “Are you still going to be mean to me?”

Ellie sighed. “No, baby. That’s all over now.” 

“Good. Do I put my clothes on now?”

“Why do you have to ask for my permission?” Ellie questioned with a laugh.

You giggled. “Well, I like… asking you.”

“Well, then no. I think I want to fingerfuck you some more. Can you take that?”

You froze, looking up at her with a fucked out expression. You were exhausted but didn’t want your time with Ellie to end. “Mhm, I think so.”

Ellie leaned back a bit and grabbed you. “Come lay in my lap, baby. Ass up.”

You complied and laid down, arching your back in excitement. Ellie rubbed her hand over your ass, squeezing tightly as you moaned. “Tell me, did you pray for me?”

Before you could ask what she meant by that, she shoved two fingers into your dripping cunt. You yelped as she fucked you with them slow and hard. “That one time when you got mad at me for making fun of you, you said you’d pray for me. Did you?”

Ellie sped her movements up as she went deeper inside you.

“Fuck!” you yelled out, trembling and kicking your feet at the feeling.

“Answer me, pup, or I’ll stop,” Ellie threatened.

“Yes!”

“Yes what, baby?”

“Yes! God, yes, I prayed for you!”

Ellie went even faster as you got closer to cumming again. “Atta girl, such a sweet pup. Praying for a sinner like me.”

“Ellie! Fuck! I-I prayed for you everyday!” you babbled, unable to speak without getting interrupted by your own sounds of pleasure.

“Yeah? Told God how bad you wanted me? Told Him all your dirty thoughts, you filthy slut?”

You moaned louder, bucking your hips up towards Ellie . “Yes!”

“You’re gonna ask for forgiveness, aren’t you? Like the good Christian girl you are.”

“Mm, yes, Ellie,” you whined, your orgasm about to take over you.

“Then ask, baby, ask.”

“God, forgive me please,” you said in between moans as you finally came undone for her. The force of you cumming shook your entire body and made your eyes roll to the back of your head. You couldn’t help but to repeat Ellie’s name until you started to come down, your body almost collapsing onto her lap. 

“Good girl.”

Ellie helped you up onto your feet, your legs shaking. “Let me help you get dressed,” she offered.

As Ellie helped you into your clothes, you couldn’t help but feel awful. “Ellie? Did I… make God mad at me?”

Ellie stopped, placing her hands on your shoulders and staring deep into your eyes. “Who could be mad at an angel like you?”

You blushed, removing yourself from her grip and tugging your shirt over your head. You put your shoes on next and sighed, looking up at Ellie with a tired smile. “Do we say anything?”

Ellie shook her head no, quickly fixing your hair so it wasn’t obvious what happened. “Just say we talked and you forgave me. I had one hell of an apology,” she uttered with a goofy grin. You laughed softly.

“So, you’re not gonna ignore me, right?”

Ellie wrapped her arms around you for a second before stepping back, eyeing you up and down while heading towards the door. Your heart stung, wondering if maybe Ellie didn’t mean what she said before. 

“Come by tomorrow night,” said Ellie as she turned the knob. “I’ll fuck you so good that you won’t question me again.”

Ellie left you standing there, your mouth open in shock. You waited a couple minutes before heading downstairs to the party.

“Hey,” you heard Dina call out to you. She grabbed your hand and looked at you with concern. “I shouldn’t have said anything to Ellie. It just made her worse. I begged her not to talk to you but-”

“Dina,” you interrupted. “She explained herself and I explained myself. We’re all good.”

Dina looked surprised. “What? Really? You forgave her?”

You looked behind Dina to see Ellie back on the couch, staring at you with a grin as she puffed on her joint. You smiled at Dina and nodded. “Of course I forgave her. Her apology was genuine and…”

“What did she say?” Dina pressed on.

You shrugged. “I can’t remember everything she said but it was one hell of an apology.”

[heavenlymorals]

Biblical References in Both RDR games.

I love biblical references so much. When it comes to literature, it's probably my favorite type of symbolism. Like I genuinely get so happy when I connect things to the Bible which is what I'm going to do right now 😊😊 I also like the way that religion is incorporated into RDR as a whole, including the main characters' reaction to it.

So yup, here are just a few references or connections that I was able to make in no particular order.

Also, some of these are complete reaches and I'm aware of that, but fuck it, it's my blog and I do what I want 💪🏼

- The character and tragedy of Issac. In the Bible, Issac is the child of Abraham who is asked to be sacrificed by God by his father as a test of faith. God eventually intervenes to save Issac because he only wanted to test Abraham's faith. Dutch is shown as a God-like figure to the gang, as their devotion is to him. Arthur, indirectly, sacrifices Issac by not being there and by following what Dutch wanted. Arthur, Issac, and Dutch are parallels to Abraham, Issac, and God.

- Leviticus is the book that comes after the book of Exodus. After the gang's escape or exodus from Blackwater after the Blackwater massacre, they are met by Leviticus Cornwall, who becomes the next obstacle for the gang. After the gang's exodus, they get in trouble with Leviticus.

- The image of the deer and a mountain. Psalm 18:32-34 in the Bible says, "It is God who arms me with strength, and makes my way blameless? He makes my feet like deers' feet, and sets me upon my high places." In Arthur's condemnation of Dutch, Micah, and their evil, he becomes steady in his identity and beliefs, like a deer's feet on a mountain, which is where he dies in the end. W symbolism.

- The mission "Sodom? Back to Gomorrah." In the Bible, Sodom and Gomorrah were two cities that were so morally depraved and evil that God decided to destroy the both of them, saying that if there was even one good person in those cities, he'd spare them, but there weren't. In those missions, you also do two evil acts, going from one and then BACK to the other. You rob the bank and then go BACK to collect the debt from Edith Downes. So you finish one evil deed and to straight to the next. This can also show how morally bankrupt Arthur's apathy made him at this point in the game.

- Micah's guns say "Vengeance is hereby mine." This could be a reference to Roman's 12:19 "vengeance is mine sayeth the Lord." Micah's violent nature makes him take his anger out on the world.

- "Your father is seduced by him with the forked tongue. It's no use hoping." The blind prophet to Arthur. Pretty straight forward symbolism, it's a nod to the snake that seduced Eve, just like how Micah manipulates Dutch.

- Dutch walking away from Arthur when he dies and though he realizes his wrong doing and feels shame, his pride forbids him from apologizing or saying he was wrong. This can be a parallel to how Adam and Eve run away from God when they feel shame over believing in the snake, but their pride won't allow them to apologize to God, hence damning them like how Micah damned Dutch.

- There were twelve ACTIVE gang members before the Blackwater massacre. When I mean active, I mean gang members who are canonically consistent (so not uncle, Swanson, Strauss, or the girls) on going on jobs for the gang. Micah, Bill, Javier, John, Hosea, Arthur, Charles, Sean, Lenny, Josiah, Mac and Davey Callender. Christ had 12 disciples and Dutch is portrayed as a savior to the gang, or a Christ like figure. And would you look at that, there is a traitor in both groups of twelve (Micah and Judas).

- Both John and Arthur's graves have scripture from Jesus's sermon on the mountain (Matthew 5:1-12). John's is blessed are the peacemakers and Arthur's is blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness.

- The go back for the money ending. If you go back for the money and have low honor, you'll see that the camp is engulfed in flames as you try to get the money. The fight with Micah is brutal and you die faced down in the dark. This death is an allegory for going to either hell and purgatory as you choose a final evil act of leaving your brother to possibly die just so you can get money as an act of revenge. If you have high honor, you are still surrounded by flames, but you still have a chance at heaven given that you die facing up seeing the light one final time.

- The help John ending has similar connotations. If you have low honor, you die by gunshot and are shrouded in darkness, which can symbolize the absence of God's light and how Arthur's final act couldn't absolve the lack of guilt he feels for the rest of the actions that he KNOWS are evil (click here for a my interpretation of Arthur's morality). In high honor, though, you get to crawl to the mountain side and see the rising sun, symbolizing heaven, warmth, and a new purity.

- In low honor, the coyote goes down to a dark cave, representing damnation and the rejection of holy light. In high honor, the deer steps into a heavenly field of light. Love that so much to be honest.

- Just the very Catholic vibe of Arthur's redemption. Doing good deeds, feeling guilt, all that.

- John's new life is basically this: "Let him who stole steal no longer, but rather let him labor, working with his hands what is good, that he may have something to give him who has need." -Ephesians 4:28. John gives up his old life to be an honest laborer, a rancher, and a proper man.

- The Strange Man in RDR rides on a donkey, which is pretty interesting because Jesus Christ also made his grand entry on a donkey.

- Just the Strange Man in general to be honest. Some say he's God, others say he's the Devil, and others say he's Cain from the Bible, which is my personal favorite theory but whatever.

- Dutch's horse could be a reference to Revelations 6:8- "And I looked, and behold, a pale horse! And its rider's name was Death, and Hades followed him." Dutch's rash actions caused the death of the gang and RDR's incarnate of Hades or Hell was Micah, following him. Dutch is the only one, canonically, to have a pale horse.

- "Am I prepared for eternal damnation? Am I passed any kind of saving? Or is that just fairy tales?" Arthur in his journal. I love this line so much because of its very agnostic nature whilst still showing the Christian mindset of 1899 America. This line also shows that Arthur is canonically agnostic which is a yippee from me because it's like the only thing me and this man have in common lmao 😭

- "Bad news awaits you, sir. Sadly, sooner than you think. But beyond the news, paradise awaits. Paradise.." Blind Man Cassidy to Arthur. Sorry but I just love that. High honor Arthur lived such an awful life but he still has a chance at paradise and heaven? Love that so much.

- God (pun intended), I love biblical symbolism. Couldn't you tell?

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Marriage of Convenience Chapter 1

Summary:  Y/N’s father is gone, and he leaves it all to her.  But in 1880s Oregon, she can’t own land without a husband.  Under the threat of it all being taken away by a land hungry Sheriff, what’s a girl to do with no prospects?  Maybe one of the cowboys on the farm can help…

Here's chapter 1 of the new cowboy!Bucky story! I hope y'all like it (see what I did there?).

Warnings: smut, slight physical violence

Next chapter

Her father died on a rainy Tuesday morning.  She was suddenly alone in the world, the last of her family line.  Well, not completely alone.  There were 9 men on the farm that worked for her father, and now worked for her.  The problem was that this was 1880 in the state of Oregon, and therefore her inheriting and owning the land and being able to pay the men was now up for question.

After they buried him under his favorite Juniper tree amongst the others that lined their property, they all gathered together for a family meeting.

“Mis amores (my loves), thank you for your help today in Papa’s burial,” Y/N began, standing at the head of the long dining table in the main house.  The men were stationed in their usual spots, each of them in a state of sadness over the loss.  “I’d like to read his will, if you’ll let me,” she sighed, opening the folded piece of parchment.  

“Mi familia, thank you for all you have done to make this farm a livable and prosperous place on this side of the country.  I’m not a man of many words,” a rumble of laughter spread across the table, “so I won’t waste everyone’s time.  To my daughter, Y/N, I leave most of my money, the land and the main house to do with as she pleases,” Y/N sniffled as she tried to not let herself cry anymore.  One of the men, Bucky, sitting next to her, reached his hand out and rubbed her arm in comfort.  “To Bucky,” she gave him a quick smile and a glance, “I leave my most prized guns.  Y/N knows where they are.  Please keep the farm and my baby safe as you always have,” Bucky squeezed her arm.  “To Jorge, Pedro, and Oscar, I leave my horses Beauty, Wind Dixie and Tramp to do with as they please.  To Joaquin, I leave my Bible and my best hunting knife.  To Diego, Santiago, and Emiliano, I leave the oat field further down south as well as the pear tree farm so that they can have land to bring their family to from Guadalajara.”  The three brothers burst into tears at the generous gift, giving each other hugs then standing and giving Y/N hugs as well before sitting back down.  “To Luis,” Y/N paused as she held her hand out to the man who was like a second father to her on her other side, which he quickly took.  “I leave my cigars and my finest liquor, and thank him for introducing me to tequila all those years ago.  I also leave a collection of my books that have been sectioned off for you in the study.  I hope as Y/N teaches you how to read more that you will find great education and adventure in them.  For all the men, I have created stipend accounts in each of your names with the rest of my money.  You are free to empty them and leave, but I hope you will keep them and stay to help Y/N with the farm or at least until she can replace you.  The account should last you for most of the rest of your lives.  Thank you for your service, for your kindness, for your grace, for your compassion and your love to me and Y/N.  You are greatly loved and I will miss you all dearly.  Yours, Frank.”

Y/N didn’t read the next page out loud because it was just for her to read, which she had done earlier in private, and sat down as she finished reading.  She felt exhausted.  “I understand that in Oregon I do not actually have ownership over my father’s money, land, or the house unless I am married.  Therefore, I am asking something of you all that is wildly strange, but since I have no prospects, I am at a loss.  Would anyone of you, of course for the exception of those married or leaving for Mexico,” she winked at the brothers, “be willing to marry me?”

The men all stared at her with wide eyes.  

“Mija, you can’t be serious?” Luis scoffed.

“I’m deadly serious, Luis,” Y/N said.  “Unless I marry quickly, the local authorities will come down and take it all.  I’ve already been threatened by Sheriff Pierce.”

“What?  When did this happen?” Bucky piped up, his eyebrows furrowing.

“A few weeks ago, when Papa’s health declined suddenly and I went to get the doctor in town,” she sighed, remembering that horrible day.  “He made it very clear where he stands with women having rights around here and how he would love to take this land for his own.  He implied he would force me to marry him or lose everything,” she shuddered.

All the men suddenly were in a ruckus, yelling and swearing about the sheriff and inheritances and the law.  Bucky sat quietly as he thought over the situation, then watched Y/N carefully.  She let the others have their moment of upset.  She sat rigid in her chair, the picture of poise and propriety, the opposite of how she normally would be.  Obviously the entire predicament she found herself in was weighing heavily on her and she didn’t know how else to handle it than to put on a brave face and act like the lady her father always chastised her about being, rather than the farmer she turned out to be.

“Callate!” Luis suddenly yelled, overpowering the others.  They all quickly sat and calmed down.  “Y/N,” he turned to her.  He reached for her hand again, which she gladly gave.  “Are you sure there are no other options?  Anything in the law that could help?”

“I have no options,” Y/N said drearily, her eyes blinking rapidly so as not to let anymore tears fall.  “I am a woman.  What I want doesn’t matter.”

Luis held her hand in both of his, his sad eyes staring at their conjoined hands and nodding his head in understanding.  There were a few moments of silence and then…

“I’ll do it,” Bucky spoke.  Y/N’s head whipped back to him, her eyes wide and her mouth dropping open slightly.  “I’ll do it,” he leaned forward as he looked at her.  “I promised your father to always keep you and this land safe, so that’s what I’ll do.  We’ve all worked too hard and come too far to lose it all now,” the men all agreed.  “And you deserve a better marriage than to an old, awful man like Pierce,” he added.  “I can’t say I’m the perfect man by any means,” Bucky held his hand out to take her other hand, “but I will try to be the best husband, partner, and friend that I can be.”

Y/N’s eyes welled up with tears again, this time she let them fall as she squeezed his hand.  “Thank you,” she whispered.

“This is strange, but I think it’s the best option we have,” Luis agreed, making the others agree as well. 

Y/N grinned, freeing her hands from Luis and Bucky’s grasps to wipe her eyes.  “It’s settled then.  Bucky, we will go into town tomorrow and get that done and make sure everything is in your name before Pierce finds out Papa has passed,” Bucky nodded.  “As for the rest of you, let’s divide up your inheritances.”

As the day wore on and each man got his gift all that was left was Bucky.  He had been patrolling the perimeter as he normally did, helping with the animals when needed, and upon hearing the bell rode back in for dinner.  Y/N had laid out a spread for the men, a glass of her father’s favorite whiskey at each place setting in his honor.  When they had sat, said grace, and began to eat Y/N had let Bucky finish before pulling him aside.

She led him to her father’s study and closed the door behind them then walked to the wall that had his guns displayed.  “Buck,” she motioned to him to join her.  He walked to the wall, admiring all the different kinds of rifles and handguns he had.  “He wanted you to have these,” she gestured towards the rack along the left side of the display.

“All of these?” he asked incredulously.  “What am I gonna do with this many?”

Y/N laughed, “I don’t know.  Collect them, sell them, I don’t really care.  But he did want you to have something else of a more personal nature,” she walked over to one of the bookshelves, her fingers running along a stack until she found the title she wanted.  She pulled it off the shelf and brought it back to him.  Bucky eyed the book, not recognizing the title.  Y/N opened it, and he saw that it was actually a box made to look like a book to keep treasures safe.  Inside was a woman’s wedding ring, a man’s wedding band and a pocket watch.

“The second page of the will was mostly for me, with a few extra pieces for you,” she said quietly.  “These were my mother’s and father’s rings,” she explained.  “In the will he said how he always considered you to be the son he never got to have.”

Bucky felt a lump in his throat form at her words, his eyes suddenly feeling hot with unshed tears.  He gulped to try and relieve the ache in his chest as he watched Y/N pull the pocket watch out.

“This is for you,” she handed it to him gingerly.  “It’s made of the finest silver and gold that could be found along the East coast at the time when he purchased it.  He wanted you to have it to do with as you please.  He also said that the man to marry me would have his ring, and I would have my mother’s.”  She pulled the man’s wedding band out and held it out to him.  “I know that this is a marriage of convenience, that we may love each other in a sense, but that falling in love may take some time.  I just hope that we can create a happy marriage and maybe someday a happy family together, and work together to keep this land and our familia together as well.”

Bucky smiled softly at her.  You silly woman, he thought.  He had been in love with her for years at this point, almost from the moment he’d first set foot on the farm when her father first hired him as security.  He was a little bit older than her, so he just assumed anything like that would never happen.  But being out in these Oregon forests and farmlands far away from other towns made it hard to find someone worthwhile to court or marry.  Now he had a chance to love her, though he’d still have to be patient for her to catch up to him and his feelings.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he said, taking the ring and trying it on his left ring finger.  “Ah, it fits,” he said gleefully.  

“Oh good, I was worried,” Y/N giggled as she admired the ring on his hand.

“You should try yours,” he suggested, reaching for the ring in the box.  She let him take it out then held out her left hand to him.  He slid the ring onto her ring finger easily.  “Perfect fit,” he smiled, watching her.  Y/N gazed at her mother’s ring on her finger, the diamond shining in the firelight.  “Beautiful,” he breathed.

Y/N smiled and then looked back at him.  “Thank you, Bucky, for agreeing to this.  I know I’m no great beauty but–”

“What?” he asked incredulously.  Y/N looked shocked at his outburst.  “You don’t think you’re beautiful?”

“Oh, well…” she sputtered, unsure of what to say.  “I mean, I’m not ugly, I just–”

“Y/N, you are one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever laid my eyes on,” Bucky said so seriously it made her heart flip.  “Don’t ever think of yourself as anything less.  Yes I agreed to marry you because it will help keep the farm in your family, and keep us employed, but I also did it because I think you’re amazing, beautiful, kind, determined, and if I ever got the privilege to be married I would want it to be with you.”  Y/N let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding at his admission.  “I am honored to be your husband, do you understand me?”

Y/N nodded, her shock still evident on her face.  “I understand.”

“Good,” Bucky said with finality.  

They stared at each other, both of them realizing just how close they’d gotten during the conversation.  Y/N cleared her throat and took a subtle step back.  “Well, um…thank you, again,” she mumbled.  “I’m not very good with my words, but I hope you know that if I have to get married, I’m happy that it’s with you.”

Bucky smirked at her awkwardness.  “Well, I guess I’d better head out then.  Gotta get some sleep, it’s my wedding day tomorrow,” he said wryly.

Y/N snorted at his tone.  “Yes, I suppose I should get some rest as well.  It just so happens to be my wedding day tomorrow.”

Bucky hummed, deciding to try his luck and taking a step towards her.  “Does the groom-to-be get to have a goodnight kiss?”  

Y/N gave him a wide-eyed look as she fought a smile on her lips.  “Isn’t there some kind of bad luck for doing things with the bride-to-be the night before her wedding?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” he stepped closer, making her back up against the desk.

Y/N craned her neck as she stared up at him.  “I’ve never, um…kissed anyone before,” she breathed.

“That’s okay, sweetheart,” Bucky leaned his face closer, nuzzling his nose against her nose.

“Sweetheart?” Y/N questioned him, her hands catching herself against the desk before she lost her balance.

“Can I kiss you…sweetheart?” Bucky ghosted his nose along her cheek.  “Just to hold me over til tomorrow?”

Y/N huffed a laugh against his cheek.  “O-okay,” she stuttered.

Bucky smirked at her again, her nervousness making him feel a strange sense of excitement.  His lips skimmed her cheek until he hovered over her mouth.  Y/N’s eyes were darting from his lips to his eyes and back, her breathing becoming heavier.  Bucky finally pressed his lips against hers gently.  He didn’t push for anything further, keeping his hands to himself, just enjoying the moment that he finally got to do what he had always wanted to do with her.  Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut when his lips met hers, her lips moving softly against his after a moment of her freezing in place.  Bucky pulled away first, still hovering close to her face as her eyes slowly opened.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he whispered, giving her nose a quick peck before he backed away.

Y/N was still holding herself up against the desk, staring at him in disbelief.  “Goodnight, Bucky.”

Bucky smirked at her again then nodded his head as he walked away and out of the study.  He had to get the horses prepped and the wagon ready for tomorrow, then get washed up.  It was his wedding day, after all.

**picture is from Pinterest, A.I. generated, so no known "artist" or "creator"**

[ryusuisloveinterest]

I don’t like to read

I know Jason LOVES to read so I see a lot of Jason with an s/o who also likes reading. But what about the girlies who don’t? This honestly isn’t that good but here you go anyways!💗

You dont really like to read, at least novels or big books. Things like graphic novels are fine since you can look at pictures, but there are still occasions you don’t feel like reading those. You tried to get into series like Harry Potter, but your mind just starts wondering off. So, when you see your boyfriend Jason in bed reading a book bigger than the Bible you just stand there puzzled. “What’re you reading?” “War and Peace.” You sit under the covers. “You’re gonna read all of it?” He chuckles. “Yeah?” You really didn’t like reading, but you wanted to give it another try. After all, Jason has tried to do things you like to do that he doesn’t; like watching those annoying reality shows or learning to play tennis so you have an opponent/partner. So you went to the bookstore to see if they had one of his favorite books, Pride and Prejudice. After buying it you went home and began reading. “It is a truth universally acknowledged that…” seriously, this is what he read? This is so boring! And why do classical authors write this way? You keep reading, eyes fluttering, trying to figure out what’s going on. Man how long have you been on this page? You hear the door open. “Hey Princess do we still have earl grey tea? Been craving some all-“ Jason finds you almost asleep on the couch, the book barely in your hand. “Are you…reading Pride and Prejudice?” Your head pops up as you see your boyfriend towering over you, a small yet excited smile on his face. “Oh, yeah. It’s really good. The main girl…what’s her name, Emily?” “Elizabeth.” “Right Elizabeth. She’s like broke and wants a husband then can’t get one cause- um I don’t remember…but! She meets Mr. Darcy’s friend tried to marry her or something and…” Jason sits next to you and brings you close. His muscular arms wrap around you perfectly as if you were puzzle pieces meant to be together. You rest your head in his heart that was beating faster and faster by the second. “Thank you.” He whispers. “For?” “For trying to do this for me. I know you hate reading.” “Hate? Who said that?” “Your sister. And I can see it on your face when you have to read a paper.” You chuckle and blush. “Sorry, I really want to try something you like, especially since you always do so much for me.” With a smile Jason asks, “do you want me to read it to you?” You look up and smile. “I’d like that a lot.” 

[isabellehemlock]

Kat's Catholic Commentary - Part (I've lost track)

My focus for this episode will be on Lestat's speech in his parting letter to Louis.

The purpose behind the letter may vary depending on when it was written (before or after Lestat knew of Louis’ plan of betrayal).  However, my focus is on the language used - specifically “the veil” - and why my Catholic senses were tingling.

But first - the disclaimer:

This is purely a fan meta/theory.  Even when I talk about character motivations with some certainty, remember it's just my take, not a fact-based declaration.  This helps keep things brief rather than saying "in my opinion" before every other sentence.

All points and takes are valid - this is just one of them.  I'm exploring one potential aspect of Lestat and Louis' relationship, not the whole picture or even trying to suggest it as the main foundation.

Also, there are frank references to the Catholic Church, its history, practices, sacraments, and some Bible verses.  If at any point you need to take a step back for self-care, please do.  Your well-being comes first.

Before diving in, I’ll share why I see a potential for a secondary meaning behind it because I’d like to add some weight to my personal fan theory that Lestat is conscious of how faith is still an integral part of Louis’ identity and how he might use it (however the purpose of this, I’ll leave to the reader).

Several moments in the first season, and some from the books (spoilers ahead if you’d like to avoid events after IWTV), reference Lestat and Louis’ relationship and his faith (and especially with a context of Catholicism):

The entire monologue at the end of episode one as Lestat declares his feelings for Louis in front of the altar.

Lestat’s monologue of Saint Louis (both as an off hand reference in ep 1 and the expanded version of Ep 2 that ends with: “You’re challenge every sunset St. Louis, and I’d have it no other way.”)

After Louis asks about Antoinette in Ep 3, when Lestat is describing the need for various forms of pleasure for “anything that wards off the dungs of the everlasting road we walk” - pauses to point out Louis’ form of pleasure as “Pleasures of the Good Book by the fire for you.”

And then in Ep 6, when Lestat arrives to gift Louis something from his favorite bookshop: “‘The Book of Hours.’  Extremely rare, 15th century.” - the Book of Hours, is also known as the Liturgy of Hours, or Divine Office, used by both clergy, religious and laity alike for daily devotions on a rotating cycle for uniform prayer.

And from the books:

In IWTV, Louis’ reference to following Lestat as a kind of personal Jesus: 

I allowed myself to forget how totally I had fallen in love with Lestat’s iridescent eyes, that I’d sold my soul for a manycolored and luminescent thing, thinking that a highly reflective surface conveyed the power to walk on water. 

“What would Christ need have done to make me follow him like Matthew or Peter? Dress well, to begin with. And have a luxurious head of pampered yellow hair. 

Later, in Prince Lestat, when they are reunited, Louis says (from Lestat's POV): 

He leaned close to me, and he put his hand on my arm. “��‘Wither thou goest, I will go, and where thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy people shall be my people’; and because I have no other god and never will, you shall be my god.”*

* This quote Louis is saying is from the Book of Ruth: She answered, "Do not be against me, as if I would abandon you and go away; for wherever you will go, I will go, and where you will stay, I also will stay with you. Your people are my people, and your God is my God.” - Ruth 1:16 CPDV

I’ve also shared metas and commentary on Tumblr and Twitter about Louis and Lestat's relationship to faith and the little nods I’ve picked up here and there (more on that below).  But this isn’t intended as a comprehensive summary, just a soft recap to add context for anyone wondering, “how did she read that in this scene?”

Now, onto the main point!  For anyone needing a refresher, here’s the letter in full:

In the event that you are reading this, something dreadful has occurred.  Which is not my own death, but rather, the fact that we both now exist in two different worlds.  Do not waste your life seeking revenge on the person or persons who did this.  Do not give them the satisfaction of the hunt.  Let treachery eat away at them from within.  And you, you go carry on with your living.  Know only this, mon cher: you are the only being I trust, and whom I love, above and beyond myself.  All my love belongs to you.  You are its keeper.  A veil will now forever separate our union.  But it is a thin veil, and I’m always on the other side, face pressed up against your longing.

Setting aside the beautiful writing, the language used, and the sentiments declared (it fed my Words of Affirmation love language meter well), my second thought upon hearing “A veil will now forever separate our union.  But it is a thin veil, and I’m always on the other side, face pressed up against your longing.” was what my Catholic senses were tingling.

In a previous meta I discussed how I viewed the scene of Louis’ turning as a nod to the Sacrament of the Eucharist (though I can also see the other fan theory of the Sacrament of Matrimony).  This furthers my idea of Louis viewing Lestat as a kind of personal Jesus.  Given the examples above, I believe there might have been some intention behind Lestat’s words to reach Louis on a vulnerable level through his faith.

But why would former Catholic altar boy Louis catch that meaning, and what would it mean to him?

In the Catholic Church, the Eucharist is veiled in order to symbolize the mystery and sacredness of the Sacrament.  The veil represents the separation between the divine and the mortal, indicating that the true essence of the Eucharist (Christ's Body and Blood) is hidden under the appearance of bread and wine (and it’s a practice that dates back to early Christianity, where the veil also served to protect the Eucharist from desecration and to enhance the reverence of the faithful during Mass).

As Catholics, we believe that Jesus, at the Last Supper, instituted the Eucharist, when He said, “This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me” (Luke 22:19).  He also said, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you” (Luke 22:20).  They were declarations to emphasize the sacrificial nature of the Eucharist but also to serve as a message of hope - that there would be an intimate connection between Jesus and His followers, despite His physical absence after His death and resurrection - “And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age” (Matthew 28:20).  

Though death might separate the physical presence, the Eucharist provides a continuous, though veiled, connection with Christ.  This then allows the veil to symbolize hope and assurance that, while there may be a separation, it is thin, with the promise of a deeper, spiritual communion that transcends physical boundaries.

So, if Louis potentially viewed the Dark Gift as a kind of Eucharist that nourishes the soul, given to him through Lestat, then their spiritual interconnection and the nourishment it provided could continue.  His devotion to Lestat would not need to end.

I believe Lestat “I went to a monastery to become a priest” de Lioncourt, knew exactly what he was doing when he used those words to describe how interlinked they would remain.  

This furthered Louis’ (perhaps even subconscious) view of Lestat and Jesus - and himself as potentially Judas (meta here, and here), though I personally enjoy the view of Louis identifying with Mother Mary the most (visual reference and poem, art and another art piece here).

Whether intentional or not, or perhaps a completely different point that I read too much into (which can definitely be the case lol), it spoke to me on a deep level when I heard it.  I’d like to believe it did for Louis as well. 

[stuckinapril]

Do you have any poetry recommendations? The poem poll made me realize that I like. ONLY know Iraqi poets. Like the only non-Iraqi poet I can name off the top of my head is Robert Frost

i'm literally hooked on poetry. even on days where i can't sit down to read a book, i try to consume at least one poem a day bc it keeps me sane. it actually does. i recommend signing up to one poem a day newsletters--those have been a game changer for me. as for recommendations, my favorite poems change every week, but current faves (whose authors i regularly go back to/are a good starting point) would be:

elegy for my sadness - chen chen (Who invented the word / “ennui”? A sad Frenchman? / A centipede? They should’ve never / been born. They should’ve seen me / in Paris, a sad teenage / exchange student. I was so sad / & so teenaged, one day my host sister / gripped my hand hard & even harder / said, SOIS HEUREUX. / BE HAPPY. & miraculously, / I wasn’t sad anymore. / All I felt was the desire to slap my host sister. / See, I was angry in Paris, which is clearly / not allowed. One can be sad in Paris (I was) / & one can be in love in Paris (I was not), / but angry? Angry in Paris?")

a pity, we were such a good invention - yehuda amichal ( "A pity / We were such a good / And loving invention / An aeroplane made from a man and wife / Wings and everything / We hovered a little above the earth")

like a small cafe, that's love - mahmoud darwish ("I say to myself at last / Perhaps she who I was waiting for / was waiting for me, or was waiting for some other man / or was waiting for us, and did not find him/me.")

bible study - tony hoagland ("Who knows, this might be the last good night of summer / My broken nose is forming an idea of what’s for supper / Hard to believe that death is just around the corner / What kind of idiot would think he even had a destiny?")

mother and child - louise gluck ("Why do I suffer? Why am I ignorant? / Cells in a great darkness. Some machine made us; / it is your turn to address it, to go back asking / what am I for? What am I for?")

america, america - saadi youssef ("We are not hostages, America, / and your soldiers are not God's soldiers... / We are the poor ones, ours is the earth of the drowned gods, / the gods of bulls, / the gods of fires, / the gods of sorrows that intertwine clay and blood in a song... / We are the poor, ours is the god of the poor, / who emerges out of farmers' ribs, / hungry / and bright, / and raises heads up high...")

the duino elegies (seventh elegy respectively) - rainer maria rilke ("Not only the devotion of these unfolded forces, / not only the paths, not only the evening fields, / not only, after a late storm, the breathing freshness, / not only approaching sleep and a premonition, evenings... / also the nights! Also the high summer nights / also the stars, the stars of this Earth! / O to be dead at last and know them eternally, / all the stars: for how, how, how to forget them!")

the endlessness - ada limon ("How was i supposed to feel then? About moving in the world? How could I touch anything or anyone without the weight of all of time shifting through us?")

psalm - adonis ("Open my memory and study my face beneath its words, learn my alphabet. When you see foam weaving my flesh and stone flowing in my blood, you will see me. I am closed like a tree trunk, present and ungraspable like air. Thus I cannot surrender to you.")

the war works hard - dunya mikhail ("The war continues working, / day and night. / It inspires tyrants / to deliver long speeches / awards medals to generals / and themes to poets / it contributes/ to the industry / of artificial limbs / provides food for flies / adds pages to the history books / achieves equality / between killer and killed / teaches lovers to write letters / accustoms young women to waiting / fills the newspapers / with articles and pictures / builds new houses / for the orphans / invigorates the coffin makers / gives grave diggers / a pat on the back / and paints a smile on the leader's face.")

[witchersoldier]

To Whatever End

jj maybank x routledge!reader

SUMMARY: JJ loves you. But instead of just saying it, he reads your favorite books.

WARNINGS: (+16) kinda blasphemy but not really, reader reads sjm, guys forcing themselves on reader, drinking, rushed writing, not proof read (i just never do it) and that's all I guess. let me know if I missed something.

WORD COUNT: 1.9k

AUTHORS NOTE: this is my first jj fic, hope that's okay and not all that ooc. i used sarah j maas and her books bc they're just my favorite, if you don't like it just scroll down. english is not my mother tongue.

You can’t remember when you developed a passion for reading, it just happened. Now everywhere you go you carry a book with you, even if there’s absolutely no chance you’ll get to read it. Now, as for JJ, he absolutely remembers when he started to read books.

It was on a Friday last summer; everyone was gathered at the Chateau. John B., Pope and JJ were drinking at the porch while you, Kie and Sarah were down by the dock doing God knows what. When the sound of your laughter reached JJ’s ears he couldn’t help but gravitate towards you, pure admiration and curiosity guiding him. “Hey ladies. Just wanted to check if you still got everything you need down here? You know, drinks and snacks and- what’s that in your hand?” he asked, pointing to the huge book you held open, some phrases highlighted in a pastel red color. “I’m not surprised you don’t know what a book is.” Kiara bickered at the blonde, who scoffed and feigned offense, “I meant is this some kind of bible or some shit like that? It’s just I didn’t picture you as the religious type.” He offered the three girls an innocent smile. You’re one to always have a comeback at the tip of your tongue, but how could you say anything when JJ Maybank was looking down at you with such a pretty smile on his adorable face? “It’s not a bible, it’s fae-” Sarah brought you out of the trance as quickly as JJ put you in it. Was she really about to drop the ‘fae porn’ bomb on him like that? “It’s some shit like that, yeah” you smiled innocently at him, hoping he would just drop the subject. He squinted his eyes in an attempt to read the tittle of the book, but all he got was Sarah J. something and indistinguishable yellow letters. “We’re actually out of beer, will you bring us some?” Kiara asked a devilish smirk on her lips. JJ long forgot that’s the excuse he used to being there with you and not chatting with the guys. “I’m not your waitress, go get it yourself.” When he realized he blew his cover, there was no turning back. Sarah and Kie were already teasing him. “Well, then something else must have brought you here, right?”, “I think it was someone else, Kie.” Sarah nudged your shoulder, you pretended to be so deep in your book to notice the conversation. “More beers coming right up.” The blonde boy barely finished his sentence before sprinting back to where the guys sat.

He didn’t go back with your drinks, instead he sent John B., your brother.

•••

Later that night he unlocked his phone, googling the mysterious “Sarah J” he managed to read from your book earlier. And that’s how it started.

He read the A Court of Thorns and Roses book series. And read it quite fast, for someone who never held a book before. He would never admit it out loud, but he liked it. At first he was just curious about why you got all dodgy when he asked about the book-now he understood why-, but when he got through with the first one, he liked it. Liked to the point where he found himself sneaking into your room when nobody was home, just to see what else you had in your shelf. His eyes landed on the familiar Sarah J. Maas name, and he found a whole new book series. Throne of Glass. The series was huge. He grabbed the “Heir of Fire” one and stared flipping through the pages. Lots of highlighted texts in a color that match the cover, tabs neatly sticking out and some of your thoughts written on the pages. You were so passionate about this, he found it so endearing. JJ would give it a try. For you. And a little bit for him, too.

JJ was dropping hints your way, practically begging for you to catch up on what he’s been doing, but you never seemed to notice. Not when he said “you could rattle the stars, if only you dared” when you were worried about not being enough to get the job you wanted. Or even when he started calling you fireheart –because you reminded him of Aelin. Little did he now that your heart skipped a beat at the nickname.

The time he’s visibly caught your attention while quoting a book, the moment you knew what he was doing, was at a kegger.

You were dancing with Kie trying to enjoy the night, but you couldn’t stop looking at JJ, hoping that maybe this would be the day that he acted on you for real, not just the friendly flirting you were used to. Perhaps you should make the first move, after all he said you could rattle the stars, and you believed him dearly, so maybe you had a chance to rattle his heart. The only obstacle was the beauty he was talking to, looking too smiley for your liking. A drink. That’s what you needed. Then you could try and pour your heart out to him.

You were by the keg getting some more beer when you heard your name being called. Topper and Kelce. A blessing they were at least missing Rafe this time. The three of them always tried to have their way with you, but failing every time because your brother was always there to fight them away. Not tonight. Tonight he was with Sarah, and you were on your own.

Pretending not to hear them, you began walking to the opposite direction they were coming. “Hey Y/N, where are you going? The night is still young.” Exclaimed Topper, grabbing your wrist to stop you from going any further. Kelce came up behind you, his hand on your back pushing you to walk with him now. “Rafe’s moving the party back to his place, we would love it if you could join.” The way Kelce said that to you made you shiver in disgust and fear, Topper let go of your wrist and walked by your side, opposite to where his friend was. Your brain was running wild inside your head, trying to come up with a plan to get out of this situation. They weren’t holding you tight, so if you could just turn around between them fast enough and run back into the crowd, you’d be safe.

You kept walking with them for a few more seconds before making a run for it. And you managed to escape them, only to run into a hard chest. At first you thought it was Rafe, but then you heard his strong voice reverberating in his chest, words that had you gasping for air. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.” JJ looked into your eyes and you knew he was doing it to make sure you weren’t hurt; he would always search for answers in your eyes. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder protectively and in this moment you felt so safe, like nothing would ever get to you, he would not allow it. “Thank you for finding her for me.” He said softly, it was meant more for you to hear than for Kelce and Topper, who were standing there frustrated.

Before they could say anything or start a fight, you and JJ ran back to into the crowd. You were laughing now, as if the bad situation you were in just a few seconds ago never really happened. “Alright, Rhysand. Is there something you would like to tell me?”.

And JJ told you how he started reading after that day by the dock. You didn’t hide your surprise and didn’t hide how much joy he brought you with just a simple gesture.

Something changed since that day. You and JJ grew closer and closer. You’ve always been close to him, since he was your brother’s best friend, but still you felt like your relationship with him leveled up. And all your friends could see it too. So why can’t any of you make that final move? You felt stuck between the friend zone and a relationship. There was always those lingering touches, hugs that lasted too long, nights you two spent alone talking about your favorite character and couples, but you never talked about your feelings.

That changed the moment he decided to make the most reckless thing in his life.

•••

You and the other pogues -plus Topper, who you barely acknowledged the whole night-, just stole the cross from that train. You were running from the cops in Topper truck when JJ turned around on his bike to create a distraction. You felt your heart go with him as soon as the police car turned to chase him. “Turn the car around” you screamed to no one in particular. There was arguing going on around you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to make out what they were saying, until Topper suddenly turned around and begin racing towards JJ, towards you heart. You remained calm on the outside, but inside you were panicking, you felt like your whole body was shaking. There were so many voices screaming for you to keep focused, and then there was a loud crash, the car stopped. The whole world seemed to stop around you as you looked around to see JJ’s totaled bike, concrete blocks around it and the guy you fell in love with nowhere to be seen.

You jumped out and ran to the bike, desperately looking around. “Where’s JJ?” you pleaded with tears in your eyes. “Where is he?” pacing around, calling for him so lost in your own fear that you didn’t hear groans and footsteps until you were spun around by someone. By him. He looked like he fell off a cliff. He kind of did. JJ’s body was hurting all over, but what hurt most was seeing you crying looking so lost. “Fireheart, why do you cry?” He didn’t mean to quote one of the most heartbreaking scenes of a book in a moment like this, it just came to him naturally. After all, you are his fireheart and he can’t stand to see you cry. His words hit you straight in the heart, you couldn’t speak. So you just moved on automatic, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him like your life depended on it. JJ didn’t waste time and kissed you right back, bringing you closer by wrapping his sore arms around your waist. The kiss was the best of the both worlds. Sweet and caring, but filled with desire and a salty taste, coming from your tears still cascading down your cheeks. Breaking apart the kiss was the last thing you wanted right now, but you had to. “Don’t you ever do that again, Maybank. I thought I lost you before I even got the chance to have you” You tried to sound serious and mad, but you couldn’t, happiness filling your bones and sipping out in the form of smiles and soft touches on his hair, now all dusty.

“Don’t worry, I’d never leave you. I’m with you. To whatever end.” He said with that cheeky grin you adored. “I love you, J.” you gave him a quick kiss. “And I love you,” he seemed like he was about to say something else, but you shut him up with a snarky comment. “I swear, if you’re about to say ‘Thorns and all’ I’ll be the one throwing you off the next bridge”.

[artist-issues]

That’s cool that you love Twenty One Pilots (they’re one of my favorite bands, too). Quick question: How do you feel about the song Heathens?

Love it. It’s genius. It’s so good.

Musically, what is better than the shotgun-cocking sound that the guitar makes? Or the fact that the sound of the instrument vaguely sounds like the phrase “WATCH IT” that is being repeated over and over, so it sounds like you're getting shot by the words themselves. Like the warning in the lyrics isn't fast enough to save you from the consequences of needing that warning in the first place.

I don’t care at all that it’s in/was commissioned for “Suicide Squad.” I totally think Tyler Joseph is too contemplative and analytical to just write a theme song for characters he didn’t create. Plus, he can’t keep his hands off double-and-triple meanings, even when he’s writing original songs. So all of that to say, I don’t think the song is just basically about Suicide Squad.

But let’s talk about the concept that is in the song.

Can I just break it down this way? Can I just tell you what I would do if I were asked to write a song (nobody would ask me that, because I’m not a songwriter) for a movie where comic book villains were the main characters, and I knew that the movie would be playing on “people sympathizing with characters that are evil?”

I mean, seriously, some of you have asked me questions that get me thinking about the trend of idolizing bad guys. I think I can imagine pretty accurately what my thought process would be if someone asked me to write such a song.

I would think about my worldview. I might be a little uncomfortable, first-blush, at having to write a song that makes villains sound cool. But then I’d think about it. I’d think about what I believe; my knee-jerk response would (hopefully) be "what does the Bible say about villains? Definitely that they're bad, and bad guys are bad, not good to emulate, and they lose." But then as I thought deeper than that I'd realize what more the Bible says: that I am a villain. Or I was, apart from Christ.

Nasty and wicked, psycho and outcasted. I belong locked up. Apart from Him, apart from everything good and pure. But I'm not apart from Him. I still live on this planet and not in heaven, but nos that I’m in Him, what am I supposed to do about people who are not—people who are still “villains?”

Remember who I used to be. Because if I don’t remember who I used to be, I’ll start thinking I’m better than them and judge them and we’ll always be divided. But if I remember who I used to be, that I used to be a villain, I can get in there and tell them “I’m like you but here’s what’s different; I know Christ.”

Oh but you know what? I can’t say it like that. Or if I do, I should be prepared to be mauled by the villains. Because that’s what they do.

Like it’s in a pig’s makeup to roll in the mud, it’s in a villain’s nature to be villainous—especially when they expect you to strike first. I remember that nature because I used to have it.

So I have to be careful how I say it. I have to step carefully. I have to convince them that we have things in common—so that I can springboard off of that goodwill, that common ground, and tell the villains about the way out of being villainous. So they don't maul me before I can get the words out.

I genuinely believe that that’s where my Christian worldview would lead me, when looking for a direction to approach the task of “make a song about villains” from.

…And then Tyler Joseph of twenty one pilots writes:

All my friends are heathens take it slow

wait for them to ask you who you know

Please don’t make any sudden moves

You don’t know the half of the abuse

---

We don't deal with outsiders very well

They say newcomers have a certain smell

You have trust issues, not to mention

They say they can smell your intentions

You'll never know the freak show sitting next to you

You'll have some weird people sitting next to you

You'll think "How did I get here sitting next to you?"

---

I mean the easy read is to say, "heathens literally traditionally means 'people who aren't Christians.'" But it can also just carry the connotations of "irreverent, villainous people." So what I'm saying is, he runs the gamut. He's friends with the heathens, but to call them that and to (as the singer) address someone outside that group, he has to be a bridge between the two. Someone who is with the heathens, but is also no longer a heathen himself. And he has to warn the newcomer, who is not a heathen but is about to be among them, of a couple things.

First, be careful. Be careful how you move and what you say.

Second, notice the similarities between yourself and the heathens; you have trust issues and you're trying to figure out the intentions of everyone around you but you'll never be able to do that ("you'll never know.") Just like the heathens are: "they say newcomers have a certain smell." The key to completing your goal is to accept that your similarities, and it's actually not so strange to be sitting among them.

Third, what is your goal? Tyler only gives two hints about why this person the song is "talking" to might be in among the heathens at all. The first hint is "wait for them to ask you who you know." Why'd he say that?

Well one, on the surface, it sounds like you'd need to name-drop someone intimidating to impress criminals. But that doesn't explain why you should wait for them to ask you. So now comes the non-surface read of that lyric, the one that takes into account everything else Tyler's written about and said: wait for them to ask you about why you're there. About the God who makes you different.

Careful, don't come in swinging your sword. You might lop their heads off when you meant to save them. You might provoke them when you meant to bring peace. They've been abused. You're similar but you don't trust each other, and they don't trust your intentions. You can't just sledgehammer them with religious words; they won't understand. They'll associate it with the "abuse."

There's no other plausible way to read that.

You can try to say "it's about becoming a member of the twenty one pilots fandom," okay, but Tyler doesn't think the fandom is touchy about who joins. At least, he doesn't overtly think that. Overtly, he's claimed to be proud of the opposite—he's always quoting that one reviewer who said "your fanbase is the most inclusive clique I've ever seen." He loves the inclusivity. So he wouldn't write a song about a group of heathens who are hard to get in with and be a part of if he was talking about his fans, I don't think.

Now.

Second hint about why the person the songwriter is "speaking" to is in among the heathens; because that's actually the person's rightful place. "It looks like you might be one of us."

I think this is another layer of meaning. Not just "you were once dead," meaning you can still remember who you were before Christ and use that relatability to earn trust. But also, there's something else you have in common with heathens.

And this is where I think you could draw a more meta-line from a listener to twenty one pilots' music. You could go; "I really like this music. But maybe I don't just like it because I can relate to the hope. Maybe I also like it because there's more of me that relates to the struggle than I thought."

Even doubt. I think one of the odd things about Tyler's fans after Blurryface was that they were identifying so much with the struggles and the doubts and the darkness...but in the later eras, there isn't as clear an answer to the dark parts. So you get the vibe that he's noticing that the "brokenness" of his fan base is becoming the loudest part. That even people who came for the hope are also coming for the identifying-with-the-darkness—the bad parts.

[apomaro-mellow]

Part 3

"You guys really don’t have to do this.”

“Yes we do”, Robin and Eddie said in unison.

Every once in a while Steve wondered if he had a type and this was not helping things. But he knew he’d never be able to stop them, so he just threw his hands up and went into the kitchen to finish helping Ms. Henderson.

“I can’t believe you made that book club homemade brownies”, he said as he wrapped a plate in plastic. “I mean, after what Sheila said...”

“Oh I can’t afford to burn any bridges there”, Claudia said. “Or else I’ll have to go back to the women’s bible study group.”

They both shuddered at the thought.

“Besides”, she continued, “It won’t be all bad for long. I’m planning a coup.”

Steve’s eyes widened. He didn’t know when he became the type that thirsted after book club drama but that’s the kind of guy he was now. Before he could ask her to spill the details, Dustin called from the living room that they were starting. He returned to the living room while Claudia took her brownies and was out the door.

“Your mom is going to war, did you know that?”

“I know, I gave her the idea”, Dustin said while shuffling some index cards in his hands.

“I think you’ve got more important things to worry about now”, Robin said.

“Seconded”, Eddie said.

Eddie and Robin sat on the couch next to each other. Dustin had a whiteboard with both of their names, ready to be tallied up with scores. And a handful of question cards, custom made for the occasion.

“This is ridiculous”, Steve said, standing behind the couch and leaning forward, hoping to talk some sense into everyone.

“I think you’re forgetting about the strange correlation between relationships and this game”, Dustin said. “Ever since that first round at the cabin, you and Eddie got together, Mike and El broke up, and now Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle are in this weird, trio thing.”

“And while correlation doesn’t always equate to causation, this game seems a pretty decent measure for how well you know a person”, Robin said.

“And the stakes are too high to give this up”, Eddie said. He and Robin had been fighting over shotgun rights in the car as well as the prime real estate that was Steve’s lap.

Seeing an opportunity, Steve leaned in close to Eddie. “If I promise you a ‘good time’, will you give up the game?”

“You’re playing favorites again”, Robin complained.

Steve covered Eddie’s ears. “He’s just easier to bribe. You’re too pricey, Rob.”

“Hey, I heard that. You callin’ me cheap?”, Eddie accused.

“Can we get started with the game, please?”, Dustin brought them all back to the task at hand.

“Get ready to lose”, Robin started.

“Not on your life, Bucks.”

“Alright. First question: How does Steve spend his days off.”

“A jog, a big breakfast, then he spends the rest of the time lookin after you guys”, Eddie answered.

Robin looked at Steve incredulously. “You jog? On your days off? Steve, I think we might need a jock intervention.”

“It’s not just a jock thing. It’s a I can’t believe how many times I’ve had to run for my life thing.”

Dustin put down a tally for Eddie. “Next question: his go-to dancing song.”

“Take On Me!”, Robin nearly shouted.

Eddie raised a brow at Steve.

“It’s good head bopping music!”, he said defensively.

“Said the human bobblehead”, Robin teased.

“His worst date?”

They answered at the same time. “Lina Williams.”

Steve groaned. “I regret telling either of you now.”

“Who is Lina Williams?”, Dustin asked.

“Bad kisser.” “Chatterbox.” “Compulsive liar.” “Kind of a klepto.” “Won’t take a hint.” “But also never stops dropping them.” “Also a name dropper.” “Bad at head-”

“Okayokayokay”, Dustin stopped the duo’s back and forth. “That was more than I needed to know.”

The next few questions they both answered correctly as well. “Where is his grandma from?” “Describe his hair care routine.” “Favorite thing to cook?”

Steve looked at the scoreboard. They were still tied. He sat down between them and laid his arms against the back of the couch. “You know, I don’t see two competitors. I see two people who care about me very much and just want my attention.”

That made Robin pause. “When did I become the kind of girl who fought for Steve Harrington’s attention?”

Eddie stared into the distance. “Yeah...when did that happen?”

“Yeah, he kinda creeps into your heart, don’t he?” Dustin grinned. “Like a little stray.”

Robin nodded. “Like a little, wet stray.”

“Like a little, wet, sad stray.”

“Okay, feelin’ less loved here”, Steve said.

“Well let me give my stray a collar then”, Eddie smirked. “‘Cause I’m never lettin’ him go.” He leaned in the kiss Steve on the lips but then quickly went to his neck.

“Eddie!”, Steve protested in shock. “Eddie~”, he breathed out next, this one less of a protest.

Dustin covered his face and began voicing his own protests, as did Robin.

“We gotta have a rule for this, right?”, Robin said before removing herself from the couch.

“Yep”, Dustin said, still not uncovering his eyes. “We’re gonna bring it up the next time we have everyone. These two are not allowed within five feet of each other.”

“Dustin, make up your mind”, Eddie said when he came up for air. “Do you want me and Steve to get along? Or be apart?”

“This is like the wish you get from a genie. Or a monkey’s paw”, Dustin lamented.

“So are you two fine with calling it a draw?”, Steve asked.

Eddie and Robin shared a look.

“I call indefinite shotgun rights”, she said.

“Then that means his lap is reserved for me”, Eddie replied.

“Okay. Now that that’s settled”, Steve adjusted his position and Eddie immediately sat in his lap while Robin got comfortable at his side. “Dustin. Tell me about this book club coup.”

Dustin didn’t hesitate. “My mom’s gotten fed up with Sheila’s crap, right? And she’s not the only one. So she and like two other moms are going to...”

Steve didn’t know exactly when they’d all changed. Because there was definitely a time in his life where if you told him he’d be sitting in Dustin Henderson’s home, listening to the drama of middle aged moms, while cuddling up with a band geek and the school freak, he would’ve thought you were insane.

But somehow, someway, here he was. And there was no place he’d rather be.

END

Tag Team

@cassaloopa

@thefreakandthehair

@bidisastersworld

@eddiemunsonswife

@mixsethaddams

@lightwoodbanethings

@darkwitchoferie

@thebig-smoke

@captain-daryn

@hagbaby420

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@spectrum-spectre @archerwithmanybows @henderdads @menamesniall @bornonthesavage @grtwdsmwhr @vi-the-best-you-can   @kardinalkalamity @leather-and-freckles @resident-gay-bitch @goodolefashionedloverboi @snowstar2368 @alienace @martzja @fangirltofangod @saramelaniemoon @lexyvey @ape31 @gay-stranger-things @beautifully-useless @freddykicksasses

[jjungkookislife]

B, you know I love your drabble nights!

Member: Namjoon

Phrase: Are you flirting or starting a fight?

Jess <33

Flirt or Fight

pairing: bff!namjoon x f. reader

warnings: making out, erections, implied smut? just admire namjoon in a turtle neck okay?

"What are you going to do about it?" you ask.

Namjoon knows he shouldn't laugh. He promised he wouldn't, swore on the "best friend" bible, which was an old journal you used to pass back and forth in high school.

"Are you flirting or starting a fight?" Namjoon asks seriously worried for you.

"Namjoon!" you stomp your foot. "That's supposed to be sexy."

Namjoon tries his best to muffle his laughter, but he can't. He grips his stomach as he laughs, ignoring the ache.

"Oooh, I hate you," you huff, as you playfully smack his arm. "You're supposed to be helping!"

"Babe, nothing can help that. Fuck you mean, 'What are you going to do about it?' Are you the Karate Kid or some shit?"

"Namjoon!" you shout.

"Look, you asked me for an honest opinion," Namjoon reminds you. "And you shouldn't have because that was atrocious. How do you even get dick like that? I'd run the opposite way."

"Namjoon!"

"Your shit is sour, baby." Namjoon shrugs.

"Then what do you recommend, oh-wise-one?"

"Actual flirting for starters?" Joon shakes his head as he rolls up the sleeves of his black turtle neck.

"Flirt with me then," you huff.

Namjoon chuckles. "You wouldn't be able to handle it."

"Try me," you goad.

Namjoon rolls his eyes. Why were you so stubborn? Shouldn't you have grown out of it by now?

Namjoon steps closer to you, smiling with his dimples on display. He notes the way you swallow thickly.

He doesn't need to say anything as he looks down at you. His smile disarms you, head empty as you look into his dark eyes, forgetting everything you've ever known about him.

"I-I" you're not sure what you're trying to say. You're imagining things you haven't thought of in years...

What if you took him to bed? What if you made him yours? Marked him as so?

Namjoon's powerful gaze sinks into your very bones. You blink owlishly, your tongue like lead as you try to speak but he's too ethereal for you to respond.

Two of his fingers grip your chin, making you look up at him.

"You wouldn't be able to handle me flirting with you," he states seriously. He licks his lips as he maintains eye contact and you feel your heartbeat between your legs. You refuse to look away from him, afraid to give in but also willing to.

Namjoon can read you like his favorite book. Perks of being your best friend for a decade.

You lock your gaze on him, ignoring the thundering in your chest as he leans forward. His eyes flit to your lips then your eyes. The ball's in your court.

You kiss him, throwing caution to the wind.

Namjoon responds immediately, pushing you against the wall. He doesn't even think of your failed attempt at flirting. All that matters is your lips moving in sync with his, your leg hooked on his hips as his erection presses against you.

"Joon," you moan.

"Can't wait to feel you wrapped around my cock, baby." Namjoon grins as you melt beneath him.

[theinfernalsanctuary]

Do you have any good literature recommendations for Demonology? Ive been picking through an annotated Ars Goetia and, some what I understand, the Satanic Bible and the LaVeyan texts are more on the secular end.

It's just hard to get a grasp on where to start, especially as someone who falls more into the theistic end of things and prefers more esoteric diety work.

First things first, we're dropping the idea of "esoteric diety work". The condescending attitude that accompanies the use of that term, especially when asking for help, will never leave me in a position of wanting to help you.

Second, yes, if you're looking for works pertaining to the theistic side of Satanism, you're going to want to stay away from Lavey. My personal feelings on the man aside, the LaVeyan view on Satan is purely that he is a representation of opposition and not a diety into himself. That being said, reading through the Satanic Bible isn't necessarily a bad thing, it has quite a few core ideas and tenets that are good for applications to everyday life regardless of denomination.

Finally, the best book that the average person (I.e. outside of members of the clergy) will have access to regarding demonology is the Ars Goetia and more importantly The Lesser Key of Solomon that it comes from. It's unfortunate, but the Catholic church is hoarding a wealth of knowledge that is currently completely inaccessible to members of the general public, notably works on demons that are used for training for exorcisms and high status members of the clergy. All of that aside, I have a hard time recommending works on demonology outside of these ancient texts because people today refuse to do their research before speaking and publish works anyway that leave the reader with more questions than answers. Right now my personal favorite "cheat sheet" version of the Ars Goetia is the book The Goetia Devils by Rev. Cain, he claims in the beginning that that's not what it is but it works very well as a super stripped down (only the important bits and none of the thees and thous and even older English that make it a pain to read) version of the Ars Goetia and as of right now that's the only book other than the Lesser Key of Solomon itself that I can confidently recommend.

[hephaestn]

in nomine patris — priest billy hargrove/priest steve harrington. 5k. explicit read on ao3 | beta'd by @bigdumbbambieyes | for @harringrovekinktober

He liked the quietness of the late afternoons, the echo of his shoes against the marbled floors, the coolness that embraced him in the empty nave.

Steve was going to miss this place. It was no cathedral, not even a big church, but it was majestic enough—high, arched ceilings and large stained glass windows, imagery and paintings on almost every wall, and his favorite place of them all: the mighty altar.

He couldn’t believe it had been almost four years in this place; getting to know the town, its people, their secrets.

Steve had found faith at a young age. He felt lost in the world back then, without a tangible, real purpose, and God offered him just that. There was a peace in his chest he had never had before he’d become a man of faith—it fulfilled him, made him feel whole, like there had never been anything wrong with him.

As he rounded the altar on his way to his office, he heard a rumble coming from within. Steve frowned—altar boys weren’t coming in until much later.

He noticed most of the candles on the votive stand weren’t burning. Steve had always loved the smell of candle smoke but he didn’t remember putting them out. Perhaps his mind was elsewhere this afternoon, too preoccupied with the move.

Steve was surprised by the towering figure over his wooden desk. This had happened a few times in the past week, but it kept startling him.

Blue eyes looked up at him, eyebrows raised. “Afternoon, Steve. I was wondering, why do you have Mark 7:21 crossed out in your bible?”

Steve felt violated. No stranger should go through somebody else’s Bible, nor be bold enough to ask the owner such things. He huffed in annoyance and locked the door behind him.

“Good afternoon, Father William.”

Steve closed the gap between them and rested his hands on the desk, in front of his companion. He took his Bible away from William’s prying eyes and scanned the selected page.

“I’ve never liked that quote,” Steve affirmed.

A guttural agreement came out of William’s throat, which made Steve lock eyes with him from across the desk.

“Why’s that?” William asked as he straightened his back and crossed his bare forearms in front of his chest.

Steve took a deep breath in, skimming through the crossed words on the worn-out book.

“I do not think evil things come from within all the time. Sometimes an environment or choices taken in life decide for a person,” Steve explained calmly.

“So…” William bit the inside of his cheek. “You’re one of those people that believe psychopaths are created, not born?”

Steve frowned at the blunt words from the young man opposite of him. “No, I’m not saying that. Of course, some people are born with issues, what I meant is…” Steve fixed his eyes on the blonde’s smile, aware this was just pure entertainment for him. “You know what? Never mind.”

William chuckled. “No, please, go on.”

“We’re colleagues, fellow men of faith. We’re supposed to get along. I don’t know why you keep pushing my buttons like this.” Steve, closed Bible in hand, moved to the small bookshelf by the window and picked up his rosary.

“I’m pushing your buttons?”

There was amusement in William’s voice, it was excruciating how much he purposely got on Steve’s nerves. Steve was well aware the young man who was set to replace him found a weird joy in seeing him agitated.

“Have you thought of your first sermon yet? I’d like to read it before I leave, if that’s okay with you.”

William changed his weight from one foot to the other and looked elsewhere, away from Steve’s examining eyes.

“I’m still working on it. I may have it for tomorrow,” William muttered.

Steve was confused, and perhaps somewhat curious, as to why William kept putting off an important task like this one. He always seemed fine, amused and chatty—until Steve would bring up anything Church related.

“Good. Leave it on my desk whenever you’re done with it or email it to the Church’s email address.” Steve gave William a tight-lipped smile before he checked his watch. “Confession hour is about to start, I better get going.”

William offered Steve a small nod, his cheerful demeanor from earlier completely melted away. Steve worried for a second that he might’ve said something out of place but quickly shook the thought off as he exited the office.

*

Mrs. Hammond kept babbling and babbling about the sinfulness and depravity Mrs. Rowe had shown at the local fair. Apparently, Mrs. Rowe had drunk a bit too much and had started to flirt shamelessly with one of the fair guards. Steve tried his best to pay attention but he couldn’t contain a yawn or two.

“It’s simply revolting! Her husband, may he rest in peace, must be shaking in his grave with anger!”

Steve sighed. “Mrs. Hammond, please. We must be gentle to those around us. Mrs. Rowe has been through a lot, perhaps this was nothing more than a mistake, and what do we always say in mass about mistakes?”

He heard Mrs. Hammond mutter something to herself before she cleared her voice. “Mistakes lead us to a better self.”

“That’s right,” Steve said. “Gossiping is a sin, Mrs. Hammond. We need to be kind to those in our community.”

“I’m sorry, Father. I’m sorry for this and all my other sins,” Mrs. Hammond replied in a smaller voice.

“As work for this week, I commend you to seek Mrs. Rowe and offer her a friendly hand to rely on. And three Hail Marys before you leave Church today, Mrs. Hammond.”

“Yes, Father. Thank you, Father.”

Mrs. Hammond followed along with her Act of Contrition before receiving Steve’s absolution.

A couple of silent minutes went by after Mrs. Hammond left the confessionary. Steve looked at his watch; there wasn’t much time for Confession left, which he was thankful for. He liked helping people but it was also a toll on his mind to carry the secrets of an entire town.

There was a rumbling in the cubicle next to his; someone had entered for Confession. He wondered if it was Mr. Lochland, who had been sick the last couple of weeks.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been nine months since my last confession.”

Steve didn’t quite recognize the voice. It was someone younger, definitely not Mr. Lochland with his hoarse, throaty voice. This voice was smooth, velvety, and calm.

“Go on, son.”

“I’ve been suffering from impure thoughts, Father,” the young man whispered.

Steve made a small gesture of understanding to himself. “It is a frequent occurrence at young ages, son.”

The man cleared his voice. “I’m not so young, Father, and these thoughts…these thoughts have been consuming me for a week, they won’t let me sleep at night.”

Steve started to fidget with the rosary in his hands, the young man sounded concerned, far too preoccupied with these thoughts he kept mentioning.

“Why for a week, son? Has something changed in your life? Have you met someone who’s awakened these impure thoughts in you?” Steve wanted to know a way to provide counsel, a way to help somehow.

“I have, Father.”

Steve thought he knew that voice from somewhere, perhaps an occasional parishioner or someone he knew from town.

“These thoughts…they’re about another man,” the whispering voice continued.

Steve raised his eyebrows, not in judgment but in shock—he didn’t expect his last confession to go like this.

“That’s alright, son. In my parish there’s no discrimination against any type of love.” Steve tried to keep his voice calm and reassuring.

There was a small second of silence and then, “I want to kiss him, Father. Bite his bottom lip until he’s gasping for air.”

Steve was lost for words, his voice caught in his throat by the bluntness of the statement.

“He’s completely oblivious, Father. He’s oblivious to how every time I lay eyes on him I want nothing else but to strip him of his clothes and feel the warmth of his skin underneath my hands.” The voice grew lower, sultrier even.

Steve changed the way he was sitting in the small cubicle of the confessionary, seeking a comfort that wouldn’t be found.

“Father,” the voice whispered. “I need you to cure me, to wipe these thoughts from my mind. I can no longer have them. They’re burning. I’m burning.”

Steve gulped down the knot in his throat. “I’m not sure I can cure it, son. I can absolve you from these sinful thoughts, give you a penitence to complete, but you have to do the work by yourself.”

It was extremely hard to maintain his composure as he spoke but Steve was used to out of the ordinary talks—even if none of the previous ones he’d had throughout his life as a priest had gone this way.

“What kind of penitence, Father?”

“Well, you could do some communitarian work, I think that would get your mind occupied and away from these thoughts,” Steve explained with his usual calmness. “There’s a gardening group here at the Church, we tend the garden on Tuesdays.”

“I couldn’t do that, Father, for you see… he’s a regular of this Church, and being here, even if gardening, would turn me insane with lust. What if he’s there? Bending over some plants, with his bare arms dirtied up with soil?”

Steve sighed—a silent prayer to stop the young man from further explaining his thoughts.

But, Steve’s prayers weren’t heard.

“I’d want to take him right there and then, with our hot, sweaty bodies covered in dirt,” the voice kept getting lower. “Father, I want him like I’ve never wanted anyone before.”

Steve closed his eyes, crossing himself.

“Sometimes, during mass, I cannot help but think of him ripping my shirt off and having his way with me on the benches.”

There was a sudden waft of hot air swallowing Steve within the confessionary. He tried to loosen up the tightness around his neck only to find the resistance of the Roman collar against his fingers.

“I want to feel his thighs against mine, Father,” the voice grew closer, as if the young man was speaking right into Steve’s ear. “Pull his hair as he rides me.”

Steve wanted to say something, anything that would stop this, but he couldn’t. His pulse had accelerated and shivers kept running down his spine with every word said by the man.

“I want him crying and begging for more. I want to see hunger in his eyes, Father.”

Steve felt like he couldn’t breathe. Parts that had been asleep for a long time in him started to awaken. He reached out for the red curtain of the confessionary, seeking a way out.

But the man continued, “I’d take him right here in this confessional box, Father. Make him pant for air as I’m buried deep inside of him.”

Steve grasped the curtain and pulled it open with every bit of strength left in his shaking arms. He was agitated, his pulse loud in his ears.

“That’s quite enough!” Steve’s voice reverberated in the wide, empty navel. His hand tightly clutching his Bible and rosary.

He was panting, his stomach tied in a hundred thousand knots. He felt feverish, like this was all part of a bad dream. Steve didn’t even want to know who hid behind the other curtain, he just wanted this to be over.

“I would invite you to leave this Church, this is unacceptable behavior,” Steve requested in a shaky voice.

He turned his back to the confessional box, determined to go back to his office and pray the man at the other side of the wooden division would silently leave.

It was on Steve’s third step when he heard it; the other curtain of the confessionary sliding open. He squeezed his eyes tightly and carried on, marching at a quick pace towards the altar.

“Steve,” the voice called. Not soft and whispered like before within the small cubicle, it had authority to it, sharp and clear.

And Steve knew who it belonged to.

Steve turned swiftly. It couldn’t be. How?

How was William standing right behind him, next to the confessionary? Steve couldn’t grasp what was happening, his mind making up a thousand excuses for what was going on. Perhaps William was testing him, or—or it could be a prank! Something weird and blasphemous Californian priests would do to pass the time?

It had to be anything, anything other than William actually having these thoughts for a parishioner.

“Father William,” Steve stated.

William put his hands in the pockets of his black trousers as he took a step forward. “You look agitated, Steve.”

Steve snorted, irritated at the nerve of the blond.

“I should report you for whatever this was. I do not care if it was a prank,” he said as the blood in his veins bubbled with anger. “Or, if all you said is actually true, God forbid, you should be away from my parishioners.”

William laughed as he ran the tip of his tongue along his bottom teeth. “Your parishioners? Why should your big flock of elderly women be away from me? Because I’m gay?”

“I don’t care if you’re gay or not. You’re a man of faith! You shouldn’t be saying things like the ones you said in there!” Steve retaliated.

“Ephesians 4:25, Steve.” William took yet another step towards the brunette. “Therefore each of you must put off falsehood and speak truthfully to your neighbor, for we are all members of one body,” he quoted.

Steve was confused, he didn’t understand anything of what was going on. He just wanted his last day here to be a nice, quiet Saturday, giving mass, hearing the same old confessions.

William kept walking towards him as Steve’s mind struggled to find a reasonable answer for all of this.

“Tell me, Steve.” William’s voice got low again, like when he was confessing. “You’ve never had thoughts like those?”

Steve’s heart began to pound to a beat he had long forgotten, the short hair on his nape slowly turning damp with the sweat gathering there from the tension.

“Are you that much of a good boy?” William examined Steve’s eyes. “Are you, pretty boy?”

Steve moved his gaze away from William’s excruciating blue eyes. He felt seen, as if the blond could see right through him, read his mind somehow. Perhaps this was his ultimate test of Faith—and he wasn’t entirely sure he was going to pass it.

“Proverbs 24:26,” William whispered as his eyes traveled to the shape of Steve’s plump lips. “An honest answer is like a kiss on the lips.”

Steve felt like he was in a trance, like he couldn’t look away from the face merely one inch away from his. When he finally managed to snap out of it, his gaze traveled south to find William’s bare forearms there.

He had thought about those forearms—one too many times.

“I want you, Steve.”

When Steve looked up again he found William had stepped even closer, their mouths only a breath away from each other. Steve’s fingertips tingled as he held on tight to the Bible and the rosary that nestled against his chest. Doubtful and confused, he shook his head.

“Me?” Steve asked, his voice breaking at the end.

Steve’s mind was spinning, he couldn’t really process the fact that those things William had listed were about him, not when William was so close, with his hand slowly raising towards Steve’s face.

William cupped Steve’s cheek, to which the brunette could do nothing else but close his eyes at the warmth.

“Let me kiss you,” William muttered with a voice so quiet Steve prayed no Saint in the room could hear.

Steve opened his eyes to gaze at William’s mouth; the shape of it, the color of his lips.

In a courageous and stupid impulse, Steve drove his mouth to William’s, his arms still wrapped around his torso to hold the Holy objects against his core.

William moved his lips with ferocity once he was struck with the realization of what was happening, his lips making Steve’s prisoners of a quick and sloppy dance.

Steve felt a black hole swirling in his stomach. This black hole was hungry all of a sudden, it filled Steve with a need to devour the lips caught in between his. He wanted to be closer, feel the heat emanating from William’s body against his.

Unconsciously, Steve drove his hands to William’s hair, wanting nothing else but to touch him, feel him—but a loud thump made him jump, pulling away by a few steps from a breathless William.

Steve looked down to the marble floor, his Bible resting there, cold and forgotten even for a mere second in Steve’s existence. His rosary was still safe, tangled in between his fingers.

“Steve,” William called. “Look at me.”

He couldn’t look at him, not when his chest kept moving frantically as he tried to catch his breath.

Not when his morals were lying on the ground alongside his Bible.

“Look at me, Steve.”

William commanded and Steve obeyed, like a good little pilgrim. Big, concerned eyes quickly met icy blue.

“That’s it, baby.”

William bit his bottom lip as he spoke, hands back in his pockets. As he walked up to Steve, he kicked away the Bible lying on the floor without even looking at it.

“Anyone could see us, William,” Steve pleaded.

“Billy,” William said in that authoritative tone of his.

“What?” Steve asked in confusion as he watched the blond move closer and closer again. He clasped the rosary in his hand, the beads nailing into his skin.

“Call me Billy, baby.” William retrieved their previous position by cupping Steve’s cheek once more. “I closed the doors, we’re good.”

The next thing Steve felt was Billy’s mouth on his neck, wet and messy, kissing and biting as it moved up towards his ear. Steve’s belly kept feeling tighter and tighter, a pressure there he hadn’t felt since he was a teenage boy.

“Billy,” Steve gasped, closing his eyes at the ecstasy of Billy’s tongue swirling around his ear.

“Yeah, baby?” Billy’s voice was muffled against the hot skin underneath his mouth.

“We…” Steve was trying to concentrate on the words he wanted to say but his brain was muddled, consumed by the tingling feeling traveling through his every nerve. “We shouldn’t...”

Billy sunk his teeth into the crook of Steve’s neck, which instantly made the brunette moan louder than he would’ve wanted. The blond’s hands traveled to Steve’s black shirt, feeling the heat from his skin.

“We shouldn’t?” Billy asked as his mouth left wet kisses along Steve’s jaw.

Steve twisted his fingers into Billy’s blond curls, messy by his previous touch. The hanging beads of his rosary tingled against Billy’s neck.

Steve knew they shouldn’t, this was wrong, he was wrong, this was a sin. He was a sin. Steve had always known, since that one Halloween party when he was a freshman, the party during which he had first kissed a boy. Since then, he knew he was a sin, and he had done everything to make it right; to make himself right.

But, right there and then, with Billy’s tongue licking his lips, with the pit of fire building in his insides, he didn’t think it was much of a sin. Blinded by lust, by want and need, everything felt holy.

Steve tightened his fingers around Billy’s soft hair and pulled it. Billy’s eyes were quickly in his, blackened by desire. Steve could tell he had liked it and so he pulled once again until Billy’s neck was exposed. Steve devoured him, sucking, biting, and kissing every inch of skin under his hungry mouth. Billy’s faint whimpers only encouraged Steve more, who couldn’t help but move his mouth to the blond’s.

Billy’s lips parted as soon as he felt the warmth of Steve’s against his. Steve kissed so differently from him. Billy was quick, ferocious, starved even, in his kisses. Steve, however, was slow, careful, and sensual. So fucking hot. The way his tongue lapped against his lips as they kissed was making Billy harder than he could’ve ever imagined possible.

Steve felt a tingle run down his back with each moan Billy let out against his mouth. The sound echoed in the nave of the Church, making Steve’s head spin.

Out of breath, Billy pulled away and lowered his gaze as he began to undo the buttons of Steve’s shirt.

“I need to feel you,” Billy gasped. “Let me feel you.”

Steve watched as Billy unbuttoned his Saturday shirt. It was ungodly how much he craved Billy’s touch.

Billy smiled as his fingers traveled to the Clerical collar around Steve’s neck.

“I don’t think this suits you anymore, baby.”

Steve stared at Billy’s face as he removed the white plastic off of him. His stomach tied in a knot as he saw the tab fly away and fall onto the ground—near his forgotten Bible. There wasn’t much time for him to second guess his thoughts with Billy’s hot breath against his chest.

“Keep yours,” Steve breathed.

“Hmm?” Billy wondered, mind elsewhere.

“Your collar. Keep it.”

Billy met Steve’s eyes. “Fuck, baby. That’s kinky,” he said with a sly smile.

Steve giggled, feeling like a schoolboy, giddy and nervous to kiss his first crush. Billy went back to his chest, leaving a trail of damp kisses until he reached Steve’s nipple. He twisted his tongue around it, sending a sharp wave of electricity to every nerve in Steve’s body.

“Fuck,” Steve mumbled.

“We don’t curse in the house of the Lord, Father.”

Steve could feel Billy’s amused smile against his skin before he felt his teeth pressing against his hardened nipple. Steve felt a jolt of static run through his head, his eyes rolled back as he let his head fall back in a moan.

“Move,” Billy commanded all of a sudden, shaking Steve out of his pleasure-filled mind.

“What?” Steve asked, confused, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Move.”

Billy pushed Steve away until the brunette’s heels bumped into the small steps up to the altar. Steve’s mind was clouded by the sudden change, his bare chest moving to the beat of his irregular breath.

“Against the altar, come on, baby,” Billy said as he walked up to him.

Steve looked back, the beautiful marble altar behind him felt imposing. He didn’t really know how but he felt the inert object judging him for what he was doing, for what he was about to do. Checking his step, Steve climbed up to the altar, his eyes fixed on the Sacramental bread and wine he had prepared earlier.

He felt it then: the guilt, already bubbling in his stomach, ready to take over every cell in his being. But, Billy’s lips were faster, trailing the curve of Steve’s neck. Billy’s hands were larger, both ghosting over his chest. The pressure of Billy’s body against his back made the guilt fade away, disappearing into a cloud of smoke.

Billy spun him around, slowly, as he kept leaving kisses down his neck and chest. Steve rested his lower back against the cool white marble, gripping the edges as he felt Billy’s mouth nearing his black leather belt. He felt the rosary sleep through his fingers, heard how it collapsed on the ground. Steve didn’t care, not now.

Steve couldn’t really believe the sight below him, blue eyes and flushed cheeks looking up at him as Billy kneeled down in front of him.

“I’ll make you see God, baby,” Billy muttered, two of his fingers faintly tracing the shape of Steve’s bulge through the fabric.

Steve felt that touch like there was no barrier between them at all, made him pant in anticipation. The knot that had started to slowly build up in his belly was growing tighter, he wanted Billy—needed him.

Billy’s hands were eager as he undid Steve’s belt, his mouth leaving a wet trail of kisses on his chest. Steve’s vision was cloudy, fogged up by the need he had repressed for so many years, the want he had for Billy since he first saw him—a want he had obliterated from his thoughts in hopes it would go away.

Billy pulled down Steve’s trousers, the metal of his belt clinked against the floor as it fell. Billy’s breath caught in his throat—Steve looked like a Renaissance painting from where he stood, glistening chest and open-mouthed, a God. He felt a puncturing pain near his ribs that reminded him of the possibility this would be a one-time-only event, that he would never see Steve again after this, that the young priest would suddenly regain consciousness and see him for the monstrosity that he was.

A light touch ran through his curls, pulling him out of his thoughts. Billy hadn’t been aware of how his hands had begun shaking, of how he had instinctively closed his eyes at the pain.

“You’re okay?” Steve wondered with worry in his voice as his fingers caressed through Billy’s hair in a calming, soothing movement.

That alone could’ve brought Billy to tears, the warmth, the care that always emanated from Steve—that was what drew him to the brunette, what made him burn so much.

Steve lowered the hand on Billy’s hair until he was cupping his soft cheek, then, ever so slowly, he drew his thumb to Billy’s bottom lip, tracing the shape of it.

“I want you, too, Billy,” Steve confessed. “Ever since you knocked on my office door saying you were my replacement in the Church, I’ve wanted you.”

Billy couldn’t move his eyes away from Steve’s, those big chocolate ones of his that sparkled with the unshed tears that told Billy that what was being said was true.

Steve felt Billy’s teeth scrape against his fingertip, only to then pull Steve’s thumb into his mouth. Billy’s tongue felt like Paradise’s snake, quick and enticing, wrapping around his finger, drawing out moan after moan from Steve.

“Please,” Steve begged as he struggled for air.

Billy’s hands wormed their way into the sides of Steve’s briefs, grasping the skin on his hips, pulling him forward until his clothed bulge was pressed against Billy’s open mouth.

Steve gasped, his hands back on the white marble behind him, knuckles matching it from his tight grip. He could feel Billy’s hot breath against him, his tongue wetting the cloth of his briefs—it was too much.

Billy twisted his hands to grab the elastic of Steve’s underwear, pulling it down ever so slowly. Steve couldn’t help but let his head fall back; the feeling of the edge of his brief brushing against his hardness made his scalp tingle.

“Fuck,” Billy breathed, watching the artistry of Steve’s exposed neck in front of him.

Steve felt like he was gonna burst into flames, he hadn’t experienced desire in a very long time—perhaps ever, not like this, anyway.

His body convulsed the second Billy’s touch was on him. Steve’s eyes were closed but he very well could see the muscles on Billy’s forearm in his mind, flexing and moving as Billy’s hand moved on his sex.

Steve’s eyes shot open at the feeling of Billy’s tongue tracing the tip of his dick. He couldn’t help the moan that left his throat, echoing through the empty Church, the sound of his own cry of pleasure only made him harder.

“Billy,” Steve choked. “God, please.”

“Not God, baby,” Billy said, gulping as he moved his mouth downward, leaving a chaste kiss on Steve’s length. “Just me.”

Steve was getting impatient, clouded by the storm of lust that traveled through his body. He grabbed onto Billy’s hair with his right hand, his left hand still holding tight onto the altar.

Billy took the tug on his hair as a silent command and licked his way back up to the tip, twisting his tongue around it before pulling Steve into the warmth of his mouth.

Steve whimpered at the feeling of Billy’s wet mouth, at the way one of his hands clutched at Steve’s thigh as he shamelessly worked up and down his shaft.

Billy was sloppy, hungry for Steve in a way that reverberated against the carved and decorated walls. The acoustics of the Church enhanced everything, made Steve feel like this was part of a dream; one he wasn’t sure he wanted to wake up from. His hips moved involuntarily to the rhythm Billy had marked, soon after they were in sync.

Steve let go of Billy’s hair when a wave of pleasure threatened to overcome him, he wanted it to last, to savour every second of the sensation of Billy’s mouth on him. He attempted to hold on to the altar with both hands, accidentally knocking over the Sacramental wine.

“Shit.” Steve watched the liquid run its way down the marble surface, dyeing red the tablecloth that covered it.

The worry didn’t last long as Billy picked up the rhythm, his mouth closing tighter around Steve’s cock, one hand working at the base while the other massaged Steve’s thigh.

Steve’s eyes rolled back as he let his head fall backwards, his back arched against the cold marble. He could feel it, the waves of pleasure rushing through him. Something made him open his eyes then. Jesus, crucified, looked down on him upside down; Steve, a mere reflection of the man he served, hands spread out, head bent. But, Steve wasn’t bleeding, wasn’t dying—he felt more alive than ever, vibrant, electric.

Billy pulled him deeper and Steve felt himself collapse. The blond’s moans vibrated against his length, sending shivers through his spine.

“I’m gonna come,” Steve muttered, almost inaudible. “Fuck.”

That almost silent announcement led his body to tense up and as Billy’s hand tightened on his thigh, a lightning of pleasure bolted through him, leaving everything scorched in its path.

Steve couldn’t recall for how long his mind went into a state of emptiness and white noise but it was Billy’s lips that drove him out of it. He could taste himself in Billy’s tongue, which for some strange reason made him giggle against Billy’s open mouth.

“That was so hot, baby,” Billy said with a satisfied smile. “Did I make you see God?”

Steve kissed him back, soft and gentle. “You know, I think you might’ve,” he replied, amused.

Billy pulled away from Steve to stare at him with a mischievous smile on his face. As he did so, he noticed the spilled wine on the altar behind them.

“We made a mess,” Billy mentioned before he turned back to Steve’s face.

Steve chuckled. He felt ecstatic, his chest filled with a sort of happiness he hadn’t experienced before. Steve cupped Billy’s face as he kept on kissing him.

“Do you want to see God?” Steve purred against the blond’s lips.

Billy’s eyes twinkled. “Fuck, show me God, baby.”