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valent1neg0d · 3 months

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THINGS I WISH I KNEW WHEN I WAS GETTING STARTED WITH THE LAW OF ASSUMPTION (AS SOMEONE WHO HAS BEEN MANIFESTING FOR 5 YEARS)

1. the law of assumption is personal. considering how we have different sets of experiences, different environments, different upbringings, and even different languages, we have different assumptions.

because of this, we are affected by teachings and success stories differently. it's important to note this since a lot of manifestation coaches will teach you about the law in a way that worked for them (and the others they may have taught) but it's possible that their advice (even my own) may not be the best for you. even abdullah and neville goddard, two of the people who are known to start this discipline, may have ancient or varied belief systems and techniques. this is normal considering the world they lived in before is different from the world we live in now.

although, you should still read on abdullah and neville because they will teach you the basics and they will help you understand the foundations of the law.

as an example, you might manifest your dream career faster with simple affirmation techniques but a coach may have taught you to focus on visualization techniques.

even the idea that "dominant THOUGHTS manifest" or "what you BELIEVE in manifests" is entirely up to you.

note: notice how i said "may not be the best for you" instead of "may not work for you". any technique can, does, and will work.

how i learned this: when i was learning about the law, i mainly focused on neville's teachings because he was one of the most prominent figures in the practice. and though i liked his practical techniques (especially mental diet and inner conversations), there were some beliefs that i do not agree with e.g. divine timing, appointed hour, avoiding "does not" "is not" "will not".

when i was going through sammy ingrams' takes, she said that it's better to have concise affirmations/short list (non-verbatim) than a long list of 25+ affirmations. but going through affirmations without being specific about them doesn't personally resonate with me and that's just because i'm a detail-oriented person (also a writer).

what i can advise:

learn about different approaches

a. through scientific concepts. e.g. quantum physics, reticular activating system, cognitive reframing, cognitive behavioral therapy, the psychology of placebo effect, the psychology of affirmations, Baader-Meinhof phenomenon (a.k.a. the psychology of self-fulfilling prophecy)

b. through religious and/or spiritual concepts. e.g. passages from the Bible, passages from the Quran, deity work, spells and rituals

c. through self-development. e.g. identity-based habit

start the practice with an identity you like in the present or an identity that you resonate with (learning style, talents, interests, etc.)

examples:

-visual learner = vision boards

-loves writing = scripting

-words of affection love language = affirmations

take teachings with a grain of salt. do not limit yourself and do not allow other people to limit you. experiment with concepts, ideas, and techniques, and have fun with them.

2. techniques are only reminders. you are manifesting either by thinking, feeling, or acting out your desires. you are manifesting every second of the day either with your thoughts, emotions, or by embodying a state. you are only being intentional when you anchor techniques.

note: it is true that your dominant thoughts manifest. it is also true that what you believe in manifests, the same way that your inner knowing manifests. BUT these ideas are meant to empower you. they are meant to remind you that manifestation is as easy as thinking, feeling, acting, believing, understanding, deciding, etc. if an idea doesn't feel good to you, it doesn't have to be an ultimate truth you embrace and carry on with. this is the same with techniques.

what i can advise:

choose one technique and practice it for 7 to 21 days. it can be mental diet, affirmation tapes, sats, mind movies, etc. as long as you can persist with it. give it time. give it time. give it time. in other aspects of the world, you give change some time. when you're calcium deficient and you decide to drink calcium supplements, you realize that it's counterproductive to ask "why am i still calcium deficient?" as soon as you start your regimen because you know your body is changing with the supplement and you put your trust into it. after all, why would you choose a supplement you have no faith on? you just give it time.

note: you can still manifest changes to be instant. you can affirm "i am seeing results now", "results come immediately", "my manifestation is quick". the amount of time you're using a technique does not equate to the amount of time your results will come.

the reason why i encourage you to practice for maximum 21 days is so you can fully explore and master the technique you chose. with the abundance of topics and methods discussed in social media, switching and trying new things is tempting. now, there is nothing wrong with this. it's just that, you wouldn't be able to take a step back and reflect on what worked and what takes more effort when you change techniques every so often.

try a technique that is popularized in the media. a lot of the times, the reason why this technique gained traction is either because it's simple or because it has worked for a lot of people. now, here's the thing: if said technique wasn't for you, at least you can say "oh this is a tiktok/twitter/youtube/old/beginner technique, there are other techniques out there" and you can try another technique with less resistance. but, if it did work, then it did. congratulations.

you can invent your own. here are some techniques that i invented throughout the years.

a. "name is set and solid with the fact that..." - works amazing for sp, getting people to commit, getting people to pursue you

b. "okay! manifestation powers go brrr!" - funny but i do this when I'm spiraling; it also helps me surrender doubts and i think it's because it's so simple and unserious lmao

you can combine them. for example, you want to do sats but you cannot hold a vision for long, what you can do is montage photos or videos that is similar to the vision you want to manifest. you can also have affirmation tapes running in the background.

3. "concept" work can be such a banger. assumptions are basically the conception about the world, about yourself, about the people around you. hence, when you manifest and apply the law of assumption, you change or reinforce a conception.

these can be done through:

self-concept

what it is: your awareness about yourself; the way you perceive yourself.

how you can apply it: there are multiple ways to establish your self-concept but the best way, is to start reinforcing the universal truth: that you are inherently worthy. you deserve money and resources because you are worthy. you deserve love because you are worthy. you deserve ease because you are worthy.

other ways to grow your self-concept is celebrating the identities you have within yourself that you like e.g. that you are strong, you are disciplined, you are beautiful. be careful about strongly tying yourself into these identities though because these are not the reasons why you shall receive. again, you shall receive because you are inherently worthy.

why it works: by having a strong self-concept, you develop ease. you are less likely to rationalize or question the law or why you deserve the things you're asking for. and as you may think, rationalizing may be a form of resistance. questioning may be a form of resistance.

one of the ways i have seen this is when people receive incentives from work, instead of just receiving or saying "thank you", they say things like "what have i done to receive this?", sometimes completely rejecting this gift because of fear that they might lose something when they receive. this can be an example of a weak self-concept. consequently, the company starts questioning "did my employer really do enough to receive this?".

on the other hand, someone with a strong self-concept can take this incentive and buy the things they like because they know they deserve it. they can also take this incentive and say to themselves "oh it's because i worked hard these past few days". it's the knowing and confidence they have within themselves that everything around them has no other option but to recognize.

conception of other things (e.g. of love, of money, of a specific person)

you can work on your conception of other things the same way you work on your self-concept: choosing a narrative that is uplifting to you.

in case you have resistance to a specific object, you can also listen to people's success stories to start shifting to a more positive and desirable perception. one of the ways i do this is by going back to abdullah and neville's story. these two men lived at difficult times, through difficult eras, yet they manifested their desires. they managed to let go of the 3D.

4. practice some distance as you're starting. you were exposed to a different life before the law, it's only normal and human to have doubts or spiral once in a while. however, when you set distance on things that do not help you embody the state, you set distance on things that will feed your doubts and spiraling.

for example, if you're shifting to a state of wealth and you're affirming "i have 1,000 dollars". it's unhelpful and opposing to be constantly surrounded by someone else saying "you only have 10 dollars".

now, i do understand that not everyone can do this right away because of circumstances. but PLEASE do whatever you can to set this distance. find a voice to reinstate your truth.

a personal story, i am an asian girl living with a grandmother who was pessimistic about love because her two children (my mom and my aunt) struggled with it. because of this, she used to constantly remind me of how love is difficult. i didn't know this at the time, but this created a set of beliefs in my head. consequently, as a teenager, i only seeked and allowed love which was difficult because that was all i've ever known. that was all my assumption.

but around the pandemic, i went back to the countryside with my dad where i had a lot of time on my own. this was when i got deep into new-age spirituality and did shadow work. from here, i realized: this is not my assumption about love. before my parents broke up, my assumption was that love is easy. you only have to make the other person laugh. when i was busy in school and would spend most of the time at my friend's house, my assumption was that love is support and light. i started to get these epiphanies that a lot of my pessimistic perception was because of someone i was constantly surrounded with and that i have to build new assumptions.

but around august 2020, i have to go back to the city with my grandmom. i was afraid of the toll i might get into when i got back. however, because i already practiced distance and understood what are the assumptions that serve me, what are the assumptions that i want, i was more at peace. i listed down affirmations about myself, about love, about money, about being "deserving".

after this, every time she told me what love was, i can stop her and say no. i can tell her that it's not the universal truth, and certainly not mine. along the way, i started manifesting that she believes love is easy and supportive. i started manifesting that she believes i deserve love that is soft and tender.

then, when i got into my relationship, she was nothing but happy and supportive.

other ways i have practiced distance while manifesting:

unfollowing content creators who normalized hating men.

unfollowing content creators who were shady and negative about relationships.

unfriending highschool guy friends who do not make me feel safe about men.

unfriending relatives who make unnecessary comments about my looks, my studies, my relationship, and my earnings.

unfollowing girls who made me feel bad about also liking girls.

unfollowing manifestation gurus who romanticize struggles because "the more you struggle, the more you get blessed"

unfollowing manifestation gurus who say stuff like "if you want money, you have to take action to deserve it. not just manifesting"

now, you can totally manifest these people to change and be better, as long as it will make you feel good.

that's all i can share today (since this post is already getting long). i hope you learned a thing or two. thank you so much for reading. i love you and i appreciate you !

#law of assumption #loassumption #loa tumblr #loa blog #neville goddard #living in the end #loass #loassblog #manifestation #manifesting #affirmations #visualization #self concept

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kaisacobra · 3 months

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Second Best - Tara Carpenter

Summary: It used to be Tara and you against the world, but now you can't remember the last time she'd ever put you first.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, brief weed mention, alcohol, mentions of throwing up, angst

Word Count: 4.8k

a/n: Part two, anyone?

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4 (alternate ending)

Everybody knew that you would always be by Tara Carpenter's side. Her friends, her family, and even Tara herself. Especially Tara.

When the girl's sister left home without explanations shortly after their father, and when Christina Carpenter began what would become a long battle with alcoholism, you were there for the younger Carpenter. You held her in your arms as she cried, unsure of herself, confessing between sobs that she felt cursed, as everyone she loved eventually left.

You were already friends, of course, but from that moment on, you had made a powerful oath that almost felt like it had been signed in blood. You would never be like the others. You would never leave Tara alone.

She smiled at your promise and allowed you to wipe away her tears with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. It was such a small gesture, but just catching a glimpse of her dimples made you consider that promise like the words of the Bible. Little things about Tara always made your heart race and brightened your world. You eagerly awaited every day for a fleeting sight of the girl's smile, and a part of you dimmed on the days you didn't see it.

It was evident that you were in love with Tara, perhaps even more than that, as the feeling was so intense that it could hardly be described with words. However, your relationship with her was also driven by your devotion. You never made any mention of what you felt for her, too scared to even consider the idea of confessing your love and facing potential rejection, which could eventually lead to the downfall of such a perfect friendship. Yet, your love language was well expressed in the everyday actions you did for her.

It was very obvious, so much so that even Mindy had noticed. Your smart friend Mindy, who had noticed how you looked at Tara like a lost puppy and always catered to her wishes. Your observant friend Mindy, who had also noticed how Tara didn't seem to do even half of the same for you.

She talked to you about it with the best intentions, but still, you had to discuss it with Tara. How could you not? Tara was your best friend! Keeping something like that from her would be almost like a betrayal! And the young Carpenter girl obviously felt uncomfortable with Mindy's statement, finding it completely absurd.

"She must be jealous of us!" Tara said defensively, crossing her arms. Her hair gently moved to the side as she huffed. "Yeah! That's it. She probably just envies not having someone as close to her as we are."

You didn't mention how Mindy had a twin brother who literally was always with her because there was no need. Tara must be right, as usual. Instead, you just nodded in agreement and volunteered to make more popcorn for your movie night.

That doesn't mean the words of the Meeks-Martin girl simply vanished from your mind. Everybody knew that you would always be by Tara Carpenter's side, but would Tara Carpenter always be by your side?

I'm boreddd.

Wanna do something?

It was 11pm when Tara sent you this message, the notification ding echoing through the walls of your quiet and currently calm dorm room. You took your eyes off the book you were studying, and a sigh escaped your lips as you read the words on the notification bar. It was almost midnight, and even though the next day was a Saturday, you didn't feel like leaving the college dorm and taking 2 subways to get to the Carpenters' apartment.

Especially because things had been weird since the events in Woodsboro.

You looked around to avoid the phone screen, as if that would make the message disappear along with your dilemma. The room was dark, except for the lamp lit on your desk, and you had planned to relax and watch an interesting movie, taking advantage of the fact that your roommate had gone to some fraternity party.

But it was still Tara. Even after what happened, it was still Tara, and you could never say no to the girl.

Defeated by your own feelings, you picked up your phone and thought for a few seconds before typing something decent in response.

Sure. I'll be there in 30.

You barely had time to get up from the chair when someone started calling you, the saved contact name indicating that it was your best friend. With a sigh and a grimace, you answered, quickly putting the call on speaker and placing the phone on the table so you could get ready more quickly.

"Tara?" You called out as you searched for some nicer clothes in your wardrobe. "I just sent you a message, okay? I'll be there in 30."

"No! Don't come here!" The girl answered with an urgent tone that sparked your concern. Was something happening at the apartment? you thought. Before you could let go of the shirt in your hands to get the phone, she continued speaking. "I thought we could go out? There's a party happening near campus, a guy from my class invited me."

Feeling a bit more relieved now that you knew nothing was wrong, your brain caught onto what you well recognized as Tara's sheepish tone. Your "spidey sense" for trouble seemed to be buzzing when you thought of a specific detail. "Did Sam allow you to go? At this hour of the night? To a party?"

Since the massacre last year, the dynamics in everyone's normal lives had obviously undergone some changes, but perhaps the biggest of all was the role Sam had come to play in Tara's life, as the adult presence she had always needed. Unfortunately, the younger Carpenter didn't seem too thrilled about it.

It was clear that she was more than happy to have her older sister back; that wasn't the issue. The problem was that Tara had gotten used to essentially raising herself. She didn't have a curfew, nor did she have someone breathing down her neck about her grades; she simply made the best decisions for herself and enjoyed the freedom of not having anyone hold her accountable for anything.

You knew Tara well enough to understand that this was driving her crazy. She wanted to change, wanted to move forward and not have to look back and face the horrors she endured, but she also didn't want anything to change. You knew, more than anything, that Tara didn't want anything to have changed.

Maybe that's why she never brought up the things she had said.

The girl's voice on the other end of the line snapped you out of your thoughts. "She took a shift at a bar. If we go now, we can be back before she even notices I'm gone."

"I don't know, Tara," You scratched your neck, trying to convey your skepticism in your voice. "What if she finds out? She'll be furious, and God knows I'm terrified of your sister."

"Oh, come on. If anything happens, I'll be the only one she gets mad at. Besides, Sam loves you. I dare to say she loves you more than she loves me."

Despite Tara's playful tone when saying those words, you pondered their meaning. It was true that within your group of friends, Sam considered you the most responsible and felt a sense of gratitude for your efforts in protecting Tara while she was away. It was painful to admit, but perhaps it was true that Sam loved you more than Tara did.

Especially because Tara was the one who replaced you. Not Sam.

"Come on, please!" The Carpenter girl tried again. "It'll be fun! Mindy and Chad are meeting us there!"

"Oh." You paused, a bad feeling spreading through your chest. "Do they already know about the plan?"

Tara laughed, as if you had made a joke. "Of course. I talked to you last because I knew it would be harder to convince you."

A bitter taste lingered on your tongue. There was no reason for you to have thought that Tara might want you to accompany her to the party alone, but the truth was that you could never control your wishful thinking that maybe, one day, she could see you as something more than just a friend.

But, of course, you hadn't been Tara's first choice for anything in a long time.

Still, your irrational love made you choose Tara every time. "Okay. Send me the address."

With the call ended and a notification with the address of the party, you ruffled your hair in frustration and decided to focus on choosing at least a presentable outfit for a night filled with loud sounds, bright lights, questionable drinks, and even more questionable people.

Your eyes were fixed on options of shirts, pants, and dresses, but your mind seemed determined to remind you of the same thoughts that kept you awake at night. Why were you still subjecting yourself to this? Even after what happened last year?

You remembered it had started gradually. Tara and Amber's friendship. It used to be just conversations about common interests, gossip about annoying people at school, and the usual teenage life complaints. You were still Tara's best friend, still the person she sought at the end of the day.

Suddenly, it was taken away from you. Tara and Amber seemed to grow closer, and people started to see them as a single entity. Amber became included in everything you and your friends did, and Tara's presence became scarcer in your life as she had more and more commitments with the dark-haired girl.

You became a secondary thought for Tara, as if your strong friendship meant nothing. As if your promises meant nothing. When the two of them started a relationship, then you knew you had no chance of getting your Tara back.

Still, out of love and consideration for her, you decided to stay. You still had the same group of friends, anyway, and you didn't want the atmosphere to become awkward or any friendships to be broken. You continued to do your best for Tara even if she didn't know or even acknowledge you the way she once did.

Every now and then, you think about how it could have spared you a lot if you had distanced yourself at that moment.

With your chosen outfit and an immense desire to give up, you left home and began to make your way to the party location. It wasn't too far, so you could walk, but the dimly lit streets and the silence of the late hour left your nerves on edge.

Fear had always been a constant emotion in your life. Fear of people judging your sexuality, of Tara discovering what you felt for her, of Tara growing tired of you. Eventually, this fear escalated to the fear of being killed by a maniac who wanted to kill you and all your friends with a knife.

Oh, sweet memories.

The thump of some music booming from a speaker made your walk feel a little less lonely. You began to hear the sounds and see the lights of the party as you approached the house. There were people dancing on the sidewalk with bottles in hand, and others sitting on the front stairs, passing a joint from hand to hand and laughing at absolutely nothing.

You glanced through the open window, and a hint of panic struck you as you realized the immense crowd of people packed together. How the hell were you going to find your friends like this?

Taking a deep breath, you decided to get it over with and entered the house, looking around for at least one familiar face. You tried to make your way through the people shouting and dancing together, elbowing some and pushing others. No one seemed to care anyway, being more interested in enjoying the moment.

Fortunately, your salvation came in the form of Mindy Meeks-Martin, who spotted you from her place on the couch and raised her hand for you to see. You approached your friend and you could see that next to her was an unfamiliar girl. She had shoulder-length hair with platinum highlights at the tips, and a cute face. The two seemed to be sitting close to each other, but you decided not to comment on it. Mindy would tell you eventually if this was going to be something.

"I can't believe she actually convinced you to come," Your friend commented, raising the red plastic cup in her hand in a greeting, along with her trademark sarcastic smile. "Have a little self-respect, y/n."

"Ugh. You're annoying." You rolled your eyes and looked between the two girls sitting in front of you. "So... who are you?"

The unknown girl smiled kindly and waved. "Anika. Nice to meet you."

"She's from one of my classes," Mindy quickly explained, and you noticed her hand hovering over Anika's shoulder before giving a casual nod and starting to look around for a certain person.

Realizing your thoughts were elsewhere, the twin sighed and nodded her head in a direction. "She's in the kitchen. You know, you should have some fun before you start your babysitting duties."

You smiled and began to turn. "If I wanted to have fun, I wouldn't be here. You know that." With that, you gave a final wave to the two girls and headed to the place you could now identify as the kitchen.

Being in a fraternity house, you hadn't expected to find an organized and clean room in the midst of a party, but you also didn't expect it to be this bad. Plastic cups were scattered on the floor, spilling liquids you couldn't identify, some couples were kissing, including one that was making out on the countertop full of empty bottles and crushed chip bags.

The strong smell of alcohol, smoke, and even sweat irritated your nostrils, but at least the light was bright enough for you to see what was in front of you. This allowed you to witness the exact moment when a certain girl, no more than 150cm tall, ran out of the room with her hand covering her mouth.

Muttering a curse, you sprinted after her, praying that at least she could make it to the bathroom before throwing up. You knew how Tara was at parties. Weak with alcohol but stubborn enough to keep drinking even knowing she was pushing her limits.

You still remembered the first time this happened. Amber had thrown another one of her parties, and this time, Tara was determined to drink everything she could, claiming it would be fun. You had declined her request for you to do the same, arguing that someone needed to stay sober enough to make sure the house didn't catch fire, but in reality, you just wanted to make sure you could take care of Tara if necessary.

As predicted, she drank so much that she spent 20 minutes puking in the bathroom. She asked you a few times not to worry, that Amber would show up soon to take care of her, but the girl didn't appear until the end of the party. In the meantime, you took her place, holding Tara's hair back and getting water to prevent her from getting dehydrated.

You had always been there to take care of Tara, and yet...

The flashbacks from that day gave you a sense of déjà vu as you did the same thing, but at a different party, years later. One of your hands held Tara's hair in a ponytail while the other stroked the girl's back, trying to provide some comfort as she emptied her stomach into the toilet.

When she finished, you closed the lid and flushed, leaving the girl leaning against the wall as you went to get a tissue to wipe her face. You silently thanked the closed bathroom door for doing a good job of muffling the loud sounds from the living room, as you needed something quieter now.

With the tissue now in hand, you turned to look at Tara, and your heart skipped a beat. It was unfair and almost inhumane that the girl could still look like the statue of an angel even when sweaty and weak. Your eyes traced every feature of her face, from her closed eyes to the slightly open mouth. You knew Tara's face as if it were a map, but every time you looked at her again, you found a different kind of beauty, almost like an unexplored path.

You crouched down to be at eye level with her face and began to gently clean the dirty areas so delicately that some might think the girl was made of porcelain. She shifted a bit at your touch, and a hint of her dimple began to show as she murmured softly, "Thanks, Amber."

The words that sounded so sweet and vulnerable came out of Tara's mouth like projectiles that punched a hole in your chest. Your lips trembled, and tears began to threaten to fall down your face, causing you to close your eyes to contain the flow.

It still hurt. It still hurt to know that Tara kept choosing her even after everything.

It was painful enough when Tara was attacked, and you had to anxiously wait as she went in and out of surgeries with no prognosis in sight, especially a positive one. But everything that followed caused the worst pain you had ever felt in your life.

It would be much easier to blame Amber for everything that happened. She was the one responsible for filling Tara's head with lies and manipulation in a moment of vulnerability, talking about how you were suspicious for living near the Carpenter house and not hearing anything, how it was obvious to everyone that you were obsessed with Tara and maybe had finally gone crazy because you couldn't have her.

But you couldn't put all the blame on her when Tara was the one who got scared when you visited her alone in the hospital. You couldn't ignore that Tara was the one who looked into your eyes and told you to leave, saying she was afraid of you. Saying she would never feel the same way about you.

Tara only believed your words after everything was over, and Amber and Richie were dead in the hall of Stu Macher's old house. You never received an apology, but maybe the blame was yours for not demanding one. You were so focused on taking care of Tara, as always, that you just let it slide as if it hadn't happened.

But at midnight, when you can't sleep, you wonder what would happen if Tara could choose you as the killer instead of Amber. You're afraid of what the answer would be.

But, as always, you put yourself second and bite your lower lip hard to prevent yourself from crying. Creating more distance between you and Tara's face, crushing the tissue in your hands to stay centered, you uttered the words as gently as you could. "Y/n, Tara. It's y/n."

"Oh." Tara chuckled, as if she had made an innocent mistake and not just called you by the name of her deceased ex-girlfriend. "My bad."

My bad. That's all she said.

But you continued to clean Tara, even knowing that the most you would get the next day would be a thank you if she hadn't been drunk enough to forget everything.

Love could be a real leash sometimes, but maybe you were at fault for letting Tara hold it.

You had never felt so exhausted in your life.

As you watched your friends having fun at the Halloween party, Chad and Ethan dancing on the dance floor, Mindy and Anika, as always, sitting together on a couch, and Tara drinking her whatever-number-it-was drink, you felt as if an anchor was pulling you down and waiting for the right moment to bury you under the ground.

It was a constant and growing exhaustion within you since Woodsboro. Everything seemed stacked, and you hadn't even stopped to seek help, trying to juggle everything as if everything were fine, as if a part of you weren't dying day after day.

You were trying to stay strong. For yourself, for your studies, for your friends. For Tara. But, oh, how difficult it was.

Meanwhile, Tara danced freely with some stranger, drinking a bit more of whatever was in her plastic cup. Part of you wondered if she would ever notice that you needed her help, her support, even if it were just for friendship.

But then, you remember the unspoken apologies and realize that perhaps Tara doesn't know you as well as you know her. Most likely, she may not care enough to try to notice any change in your behavior, as long as it doesn't affect the way you treat her.

It was pathetic and humiliating that you kept coming back to her and treating her as the center of your world even though the feeling clearly wasn't mutual. But the love you felt for Tara consumed you like the most powerful drug in your system. It might not be healthy, but you needed her presence to calm down, needed her to look at you to breathe, needed to make her laugh to feel your heartbeat.

And every time she laughed at one of your terrible jokes or every time she leaned on you during a movie, it was as if all the bad things disappeared just for the tiny possibility that she might be opening her heart to you, so you could finally have a chance to make her happy.

Your cloudy thoughts made the party pass quickly, like a timelapse in a movie, and you realized you had been standing in the same place while everyone else was having fun around you. How fitting.

When you really started paying attention to your surroundings, it was already too late. Sam had entered and tased a guy in the balls, and Tara had stormed out of the house completely furious. You quickly followed Mindy and Anika outside, knowing that a fight was about to happen.

The street was chilly at that early hour of the morning, and you tried to suppress a shiver that ran through your body. Most of your friends had also left the house, and all of you could see the Carpenter sisters arguing a bit further ahead. Both were angry and yelling at each other, and you knew Sam was right, but this conversation would probably be better to have in a private setting, without the curious eyes of other people passing by on the sidewalk.

You already had enough problems in your daily life without needing another Twitter post calling Sam a crazy scene maker.

"Hey, I'll try to talk to them, okay?" You practically whispered to Mindy. "It's better to resolve this at home."

"Isn't it better not to get involved?" She whispered back, but you were already determined that this was the best solution, letting the advice go in one ear and out the other. As you approached the sisters with cautious steps, their voices gradually increased and became more aggressive.

Sam noticed you approaching them and pointed at you, which caused you some astonishment, making you slow your steps to grasp the situation. "If you won't listen to me, why can't you at least listen to y/n?! She's your best friend, isn't she? At least she knows you need therapy, not drowning your sorrows in alcohol!"

Your cheeks heated up at the comment, and you shifted uncomfortably in place. The entire street seemed to be looking at your group now, urging you to try again to end the argument at that moment. "Guys, maybe we-"

"Oh, I'm sure you wish I were more like y/n!" Tara shouted and turned to you with a dark look. She was still clearly intoxicated, and her wobbly posture was the biggest indicator of that, even though she tried to restrain herself by crossing her arms over the pirate costume.

She scrutinized you from head to toe with a malicious smile that sent chills down your spine. "Sweet little y/n. Pathetic and stuck in the same place all these years. Is that how you want me to be, Sam?"

The tone loaded with disdain, even slurred by the alcohol, felt like a stab to your heart, bringing some tears to your eyes. She's drunk, it doesn't mean anything, that's what you were trying to tell yourself.

But... Drunk people usually speak the hidden truths lurking in the depths of their minds, don´t they?

Still, Tara didn't seem satisfied with what she said. "You said I need therapy, Sam, but what about her, huh? All this time, and she does nothing but stick to me. That's bordering on obsession, isn't it?"

Obsession. Exactly what Amber used to say about what you felt for Tara.

The cold of the street and the overall situation clashed to determine who would control the tremors running through your body. Shame and humiliation left your ears hot and your head dizzy, as if you were about to faint and fall onto the freezing concrete sidewalk.

"Tara, that's enough." You heard Mindy's voice closer, or maybe it was farther away. Your sense of location seemed to blend and twist along with all the other senses. The sound of something shattering reached your ears, and it could be either a bottle or your own broken heart.

"Why? She'll always end up coming back anyway." The younger Carpenter murmured and staggered with unsteady steps until she got close enough for you to smell the cheap alcohol on her breath. You wanted to move, run away so she couldn't see the tears streaming down your cheeks, but Tara's gaze left you as petrified as Medusa's.

You swallowed hard as your eyes focused anywhere but on the girl in front of you as a last attempt to escape from this torment, but it wasn't enough to prevent Tara's words from rolling off her tongue like poison.

"You know you'll never be her, right?"

Sobs escaped your throat, and you no longer felt control over your body. Unfortunately, your reaction seemed to fuel something primal in Tara. "Why do you still try?! Do you know how hard it is to ignore your pleading eyes every time you see me?! As if I'm a damn monster just because I don't want to kiss you?! It exhausts me! You exhaust me!"

"I never asked you for anything. I just... I just love you." You whispered those words the best you could with a shaky voice and quivering lips. Looking at Tara used to be the best part of your day, but now it felt so painful that your insides seemed to be squeezed.

The girl flashed a mean smile, and, for the first time, the sight of her dimples made you ache.

"Then stop. You weren't my first choice back then, and you won't be my first choice now."

More sobs escaped you, and the whole world seemed overstimulating. Lights were too bright, sounds were unintelligible yet too loud, everything seemed to tremble and crumble at your feet, and you just wanted to curl up in a fetal position and beg for that pain in your chest to go away.

Someone pulled Tara away from you, and a gentle hand rested on your shoulder, but your eyes were too watery to identify the owner. Nothing made sense, and you didn't even know how you were still standing. A physical pain spread through your body like a disease, and Tara's words echoed in your head like a siren.

Without the strength to stay there any longer, you turned around and ran as fast as you could towards what you hoped was the direction of your dormitory. It was already late, and the streets were empty and dark, but you didn't care anymore. The faint sound of an aggressive conversation faded from your ears as you ran farther and farther away from everyone.

You had always been by Tara Carpenter's side.

But now? Now, you were tired of being her second best.

#scream #scream 2022 #scream vi #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter imagine #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #scream imagine #scream x reader

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studioghibelli · 3 months

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the body of christ - a joel miller x reader

summary: running from a past life full of alcohol, drugs, and sex, joel miller sought repentance through the priesthood. all was going fine and dandy, until one fateful day, you found yourself in his church. (rated explicit, 18+, mdni!)

warning: priest!joel, religious trauma, age gap ( unspecified college age/50s), actually quite a bit of fluff scattered throughout, inaccurate catholic terminology, mentions of the bible and religion (obvs lmfao), so much fucking smut (semi-public sex, slight exhibitionism, blowjob, pussy eating, dirty talk, overstimulation, slight mention of crying, unprotected sex, creampie, daddy kink, soft sir kink, soft dom!joel, sub!reader, slight mention of male masturbation, kind of guided fem masturbation??)

note: if you are deeply religious, i’d turn the other cheek to this. if catholic/religious conversations or themes disturb or trigger you, do me a favor and don’t attempt to read this. (respectfully) thanks! xx (as always this is not spellchecked bc bad bitches HATE spell checking. i'll do it eventually!! love u bitchez)

Joel remembers the first time that you walked into his church.

Bright, innocent eyes, full of light and curiosity. They traced over each painting on the wall, each portrait, gazed upon every pew and carving etched deep into the wood, fingers grazing over in amazement.

He remembers the look that flashed across your face when his eyes met your own, the way your jaw went slack with attraction and lips parted in surprise. He watched your eyes darken, full of something that bordered dangerously close to arousal, something that shouldn't be felt in the church.

Joel would be lying if he said he hadn't felt it, too.

That tug. That magnetic pull. That incessant nagging by something deeply instinctual and primal that had since laid dormant within the cage of his ribs. Something he had not felt since his thirties, when he was still taste testing all the pleasures life had to offer. Psychedelics, parties, women, liquor.

When he looked into your eyes, he felt that unsettling feeling of attraction, the unbearably strong kind that wouldn't leave his head. Not when he was in the confessional booth, not when he was preaching the Holy Book during Mass, not when he was passing out communion or coaching on-the-brink of divorce couples about the sacrament of marriage. Never. Never, ever.

And ever since that Sunday, that haunting, looming, awful Sunday, you spent every church service diligently listening to him.

The truth be told, you had struggled with your faith for as long as you could remember. The idea of a Big Man in the sky who oversaw and overheard everything was, well, frankly quite terrifying to you.

When you were younger, you were scared God could see you undressing, scared he could hear you singing in the shower, scared he could see you exploring your body, scared he could see you lusting after boys throughout middle school.

God scared you. That's what they always preach, right? The fear of God? That it’s normal, healthy, wanted.

Oh, you certainly feared Him. The fear soon grew into shame. Shameful about each and every decision you made.

You felt shame for not settling down, insisting instead upon going to college. You felt shame for masturbating, for not only reading your favorite pieces of erotica, but for enjoying them. You felt shameful for questioning Him, for doubting Him, for letting your mind wander.

This shame lead you straight to your local priest's office.

Joel Miller.

The first time you caught his eye, you were unsure of why a man who looked like him would ever even think of becoming a priest. He was beautiful. Rugged, masculine, and charming, there was nothing about him not to love. His brown eyes were big and round, full of rich soiled Earth and swirls of wooden umber. His lips were plush and they looked soft to the touch, perfectly nestled behind a thick moustache and a thin beard with patches of gray that made your mind buzz with excitement.

Joel Miller was the most attractive man you had ever laid eyes on, and on your search for a shame free life, you realized he was only contributing to that terrible, looming feeling.

How could he not be?

The night you first met him, you went back to your dorm and masturbated until the God damned cows came home. You must have orgasmed at least six times before you finally began snoring, lulled to sleep by the thought of his touch, what his cum would taste like, what his spit would feel like dripping down the valley of your breasts.

Oh, you craved him. You yearned for him, Jane Austen style. He was always on your mind, the thought of him lingering like a scented candle, wafting through the halls of memory in your mind.

That's how you found yourself, yet again, in his private office, hoping to seek solace from the painful prison shackles he had unknowingly burdened you with.

"Father?" You asked softly, staring at him. A pair of glasses rested on the bridge of his nose as he flipped through a book about something or another.

"Yes, Angel?'

Angel. He had always called you that. Joel gave you the nickname the first time you ever spoke, and it had followed you around like a ghost.

Angel. Angel. Angel.

Oh, how sweet it was, to think that you were his only Angel, that you were his chosen saint. Like the Renaissance portraits of the Virgin Mary, you wore the halo of his affection with pride.

"Um. Have you ever struggled with... uh, thoughts?"

Joel looked up at you behind the brim of his book, his dark eyes sparkling with the playful hint of amusement. "Well, yes. I do. In fact, I think quite often." He snickered, the Southern twang of his voice softly tugging at his syllables.

You felt your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. "N-No. I'm not talking about.... just any thoughts."

Father Miller hummed out, eyebrows furrowing together tightly as he set the leatherbound book down upon the mahogany desk. He stared at you, long, hard, as though he were searching the depths of his mind for what to say next.

"Care to elaborate any further?" Was all he asked. Your stomach clenched with nerves, and you were starting to wonder if you should have even brought it up.

You looked down at your lap, rolling the material of your skirt between your index and thumb. "Lust." You managed to croak out. "Do you struggle with it?"

"Honey, I'm a fuckin' man." The curse word made your neck snap up. You could already feel the familiar tinge of arousal searing its way through your belly, straight to your aching cunt. "Of course I feel lust. Is that what this is all about?"

You buried your face into your hands, groaning softly. "Father," you heard him hiss a soft breath of air between his lips, "I can't get away from it."

Joel reached his hand across the table, gently grabbing your wrist and pulling it away from your anxiety laden face. "Angel girl, look at me." His voice was hushed, gentle, uncharacteristically soft. "There ain't nothin' wrong with lust."

"But the Bible-"

"Fuck the Bible."

You couldn't help but widen your eyes at what he just said. Wasn't that sacrilegious? You gulped thickly, slowly nodding at his words.

"Do you know how many times the Bible has been translated?" He asked after a long moment of thick, palpable silence.

"How many?"

"The King James Bible alone has undergone 30,000 changes. It's been rewritten in so many different languages, surely loads of it has gotten lost in translation. It's just a fuckin' book. It's paper. Trees." His thumb gently swiped across your knuckles, and that's when you remembered he was holding your hand.

Father Miller was so warm. So, so, so warm. His rough palms scratched against your own in a way that made you shiver, and his fingers laced into yours perfectly.

His fingers.

You glanced down, examining his digits. They were thick and long, and you couldn't help but wonder how they would feel buried deep inside you, how they would taste dripping with the nectar of your arousal.

You swallowed again, garnering enough courage to look up and meet his steady gaze.

"If God is real, and I'm still not all too sure about that, I don't see how he'd let us have all these.... feelin's, if they weren't right."

"That makes sense." You murmured sincerely.

"I thought maybe turnin' to the cloth would help me discover somethin' about the world. But in truth, all its done is confuse me even more. Religion is such a God damned mind fuck, you know that?" Joel's eyes lit up at the sound of your giggles, and he couldn't help the feeling of excitement that erupted within his chest.

"I don't know if.... if I can get rid of all this shame." You finally admitted after a long moment of thinking. "That's what really upsets me. The shame. The-the guilt."

"Well, I can always help with that, Angel. Just say the word."

"Help me? How?"

Joel leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he inhaled a deep breath through a pair of flared nostrils. His eyes, dark and mysterious, swirling with something you had never seen within them, met your own. "Ever thought that maybe the reason you feel all that shame is because the sex you've been havin' ain't all that great? It's easy to lust, easy to get all horny lookin' at some stud on a magazine- but when you act upon it, well that's a whole 'nother issue. I bet you start worryin' about your eternal soul, whether you'll be sent straight to Hell. And I bet it's easy to feel guilty about all that shitty sex, it's easy to feel shame about wastin' a perfectly good chance of goin' to Heaven on some limp dicked little boy who don't know his hands from his feet. Am I right?"

You stared blankly, blinking rapidly and dumbfoundedly. How could he read you so well? Before you could speak, Joel started speaking again.

"But good sex? Well now... Darlin' that's an entirely different thing." The priest leaned forward, taking your hands inside of his own. Your faces were now inches apart, so close you could feel the heat of his breath fanning across your face.

You had never seen his features this close before. The faint creased lines of his forehead, the crows feet by his eyes- all of these little marks and scars, wrinkles and freckles, they made him even more handsome. Disgustingly handsome, actually, and it made you want to throw up.

Joel relished in the nerves which radiated off of you. He knew the affect he had on women, but he only cared about this so called affect he had on you. "I can make you doubt it all, Angel baby. I can fuck you so good, make you cum so hard, you'll start beggin' to go to Hell if it meant I'd be down there with you, pleasin' that little pussy of yours."

You felt dizzy, like you could genuinely pass out and fall off the chair at any moment.

How did you end up here?

Joel's index finger traced down your cheek until it reached your chin, where he grabbed it in his firm grip, guiding your gaze to meet his own. "Like I said. Just say the word, okay? My office is always open, my confessional booth is always waitin' for that pretty ass. You understand?"

"Y-Yes, father."

His eyes darkened once again, and you watched his adam’s apple bobble up and down as he swallowed. Joel stood, extending his hand as he walked you towards the door.

"Oh, and you have my number. I don't typically make house calls, but I'm more than happy to oblige you."

You were too flustered to speak, but you watched with precise eyes as he brought your small hand to his lips, pressing a searing kiss into the soft skin of your fingers.

"Have a good rest of your week, Angel."

That night, you came seven times to the thought of Joel Miller.

• • •

For two weeks you wondered if you should take him up on his offer. Univeristy work had flooded your life, making it rather difficult to do anything except go to classes, eat, and sleep. You hadn’t even had time to masturbate!

As the canvas of winter slowly started tearing, the lively chirps of Spring soon began bellowing through the air, replacing the gray clouds of February with the bright blue skies of March. That’s when you decided it was time to go and see Joel.

It was Tuesday. That meant he was working the Confessional.

Your legs were carrying you as your mind wandered with delicious thoughts of Father Miller, until you found yourself in front of the charcoal colored Cathedral, ornately designed and powerfully exuberant. You pushed open the thick wooden doors, etched with scenes of the Ascension and Crucifixion, before making your way to the Confession booth.

You slid quietly into the booth, the screen protecting your face from the person on the other side.

“Speak, my child. What do you wish to confess?” Father Miller asked in his most priestly, professional voice.

A sudden wave of confidence rushed over you. “Well, father, I’ve been a pretty bad girl.”

You heard him shifting in his seat, before a honeyed chuckle escaped from the back of his throat, gritty and intoxicating. “I was startin’ to think I scared you off, Angel.”

“Oh no, you never could. School just got in the way.” You explained softly, tracing shapes over the exposed skin of your thigh.

“What are you wearing?” He finally asked, and you began chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“A sage colored dress, a pretty strappy number. Stops in the middle of my thighs. You can see the lace of my bra, too.”

“Oh, how scandalous.” Joel snickered, feigning a sense of surprise. “I bet you look real pretty.”

“I can come over there if you want me to.”

“Oh yeah?” You could hear the smugness of his voice.

“Yeah.” You responded flirtatiously, words hot and thirsty.

“You stay over there for a few, get yourself ready for me.”

“What do you want me to do,” a breeze of bravery swirled over your chest, so you added: “Daddy?”

You heard the priest moan at the name. Through gritted teeth, he responded. “Spread those legs for me.” You did as Joel commanded, awaiting his next words. “Take off your panties and stuff them in your bra.” After a few beats, he spoke once again. “Have you done it?”

“Yes sir.” You responded cheekily, a giggle evident in your voice.

“Good girl. Touch your thighs, Angel. Brush your fingers over them, real light like.” As your nails swirled patterns into the sensitive skin on your legs, you shivered with delight.

“Now what?”

“Just keep doin’ that. Listen to my voice, darlin’. Just keep touchin’ those sexy thighs of yours.” Joel’s voice was like velvet to your ears, and you heard the zipper of his pants being pulled down.

Your breath hitched, pussy aching and sore.

“I know you’re gettin’ wet, know that little cunt is weepin’ for me.”

You moaned in response, wanting nothing more than to touch your swelling clit. “Y-yes.”

“Don’t worry, little Angel. Daddy’ll make that pussy feel real good. Do you want that?”

“P-please. Now. Please.” You were begging now, willing to do just about anything to feel his cock deep within your walls.

“Now, now.” Joel responded smugly, and you heard the movement of his arm, up and down and up and down, slowly pumping at the length of his hardened cock. You nearly wept at the thought. God, please, you just wanted to feel him. “Jacob served seven years just to see Rachel again. Surely that pussy can wait a few minutes, yeah?” You could hear the smugness dripping from his tongue, like venom on the fangs of a viper.

“Oh, shut up.” You grumbled.

“There there, now, pretty baby, don’t you worry. It will be well worth the teasin’ when I’m pumpin’ my cum in that little hole of yours.”

You hissed through your teeth in excitement, whimpering as your clit throbbed with the promise of his reward. “You promise?”

“Baby, ‘course I do. I’ve been waitin’ for a taste of your cum, you know. Since I first laid eyes on you.”

“Really?”

He chuckled at your naivety. “Oh yeah. Prettiest girl I ever laid eyes on, tha’s why I started callin’ you Angel, you know. Beauty like yours, well, that’s fuckin’ celestial.” You heard Joel grunt, no doubt from his fist wrapped around his length.

“Please.” You begged, thighs clenching together as you continued tracing lines in your skin. “Can I please move to your side?”

Joel thought for a moment, before he spoke. “Yes. Make it quick. Don’t want nobody seein’.”

You obeyed, adjusting the skirt of your dress before stepping out. The church was empty, except a few people praying before a statue of Jesus on the crucifix, backs turned to you. You slowly opened the door, finally face to face with him. You sucked in a breath of air as his appearance crashed over you, quickly shutting the door behind you.

His eyes met yours, hands dragging to your waist as he pulled you closer. Now you were standing before him. Joel leaned forward, placing his head to your chest, exposed by the low dip of your dress. You heard him inhale your perfume, before feeling his tongue flat between your breasts, licking a strip from there, to your neck, where he suckled gingerly on that sensitive spot right beneath your ear.

“God, been dreamin’ of this.” Joel whispered, kissing at your jawline softly, the scruff of his beard tickling against your skin.

“I have, too.” You admitted your secret as you grasped his shoulders, broad and muscular beneath your grip. Joel continued his assault on your neck, his lips trailing down to your collarbones, teeth gently digging into your skin, as his hands wandered down to your bare thighs, hiking your skirt up slowly. His fingers dug into the soft, supple skin beneath your ass, nails gently imprinting creases on your upper thighs.

Joel pulled away, slowly removing his hands. The corner of his mouth twitched, and he suddenly grabbed your chin, a smirk playing on his face.

“Kneel.” He commanded deeply, voice thick with seriousness.

You knelt before him, tilting your head up until you were faced to face with his throbbing cock, which he had ever so politely tucked back into his tightening boxers.

“You’ve been bad. You’ve sinned.” Joel explained, running his fingers through your hair. “It’s about time you seek repentance.”

You batted your eyelashes up at him, glossy lips parting. “And how should I go about doing that, Father?” Your feigned a sense of faux innocence with your words, doe eyes wide and sparkling for him.

“The Body of Christ, you see.” Joel hummed, moving your hand to his bulge. “To partake in the body and blood of christ, the Eucharist. To…. suck, and to swallow.” He smirked down at you, eyes glittering with mischief.

“Yes sir.” You purred, slowly pulling his underwear down, until his thick, angry cock popped out, gently slapping against his belly.

“Suck on it.” Joel ordered, hand pressing to the back of your head. You smiled, leaning forward.

The mushroom of his cock pressed against your lips, his salty precum mixing with your strawberry lipgloss. You opened your mouth, lips accommodating to the sheer width of his length as you took him gently into your mouth, tongue swirling around the tip. You felt him shiver beneath your movements, fingers knotting tighter into your locks.

That’s when you heard the door on the other side creak open. You went to pull away, eyes wide with fear, but Joel firmly kept you in place, beckoning you to continue on with your so called repentance.

You clenched your thighs at the nature of what was going on, head popping, taking as much as you could without gagging. You didn’t want to risk making any noise.

“Hello, father.” A feminine voice on the other side of the wall spoke, and Joel clenched his jaw, gazing down at you.

He didn’t look up when he finally spoke. “Welcome, my child.” Joel’s voice was solid, unwavering, there was absolutely no hint to his tone that could possibly give away what was going on. “What is it you wish to confess?”

The woman sighed a deep huff, and you heard what seemed to be a piece of paper being unfolded. “A lot.” She admitted.

“That’s okay. God is always forgiving.”

“Amen, father.” She agreed.

Joel thumbed your cheek gently, watching your lips wrap around his cock, up and down your head went, finally growing used to the size.

His cock was perfect. Thick, veined, just the right length. It was the biggest you had ever seen in person, but then again, your previous references weren’t much to brag about. You swirled your tongue around his dick, slowly pulling away until you were faced to face with it.

Joel watched as you leaned forward, tracing the underside with the tip of your tongue. He shuddered again.

“-And then I called the cashier at Publix an idiot for ringing in my chocolate milk twice. Oh, I feel awful about that. Jerry and I- you know Jerry, don’t you? My husband? Well, he and I got into a fight. And I was taking it out on this poor teenage girl-” As the parishioner continued her rant, you realized neither of you were really paying attention.

The priest’s eyes had been blown full black at the sight of you servicing his dick, enamored with the way your soft tongue looked pressed into his skin, swirling and tracing and tasting. Your nails were digging into his thighs, straight through the cloth of his trousers, but Joel didn’t mind one bit. In fact, he liked the added bit of pain, it only added to his pleasure.

“And finally, I yelled at my kids teacher. All week he worked on this project, and she has the gaul to give him a B-! As if, he was-”

You worked his length back and forth, his tip hitting dangerously close to the back of your throat. You felt his cock tightening, straining with the promise of an oncoming orgasm. Keeping the same pace, you licked and sucked, head bobbing as his free hand came up to rest on your head.

Spurts of hot cum painted your throat as Joel began speaking to the confessor, as though on cue. “Salvation is co-oming, my child. God will forgive you, he always does.” He hid it rather well, teeth gritting as his head was thrown back, nails gently scratching into your scalp as you milked him with your mouth.

“What should I do, father? How should I repent?” She asked worriedly.

“Uh, a few Hail Mary’s or something.”

Joel wasn’t really paying attention to her. He was looking down at you as you suckled the rest of his cum from the top of his dick, hand gently patting at your head of hair. His gaze was gentle, full of some sort of admiration as he watched you clean his cock up, tongue obediently lapping up every drop of his sperm.

“Is that- is that all, father?”

“Yes.” Joel responded curtly.

“Peace be with you.” She said, before you heard the door open.

“And with you.” Joel mumbled, a love sick grin spreading across his face. He swiped a dribble of his cum off the corner of your mouth, holding it to your lips. You slowly leaned forward, licking it off his skin before pulling away with a beaming smile. “C’mere.” He whispered, patting his lap.

You straddled him, hands moving to his shoulders, before crawling up to his curls, gently running through them. You eyed the gray in his chocolate colored hair, smiling at the salt and pepper locks. God, he really was so handsome.

Joel gently kissed your knuckles, arms wrapping around your waist.

There was a knock at the door, and he stiffened.

“Father Miller, there’s to be a meeting between the bishops in five minutes. We would like you to oversee it.” A man spoke through the door, and you leaned forward into his neck to stifle a groan.

You were practically leaking onto his lap, pussy sobbing at the thought of his touch.

“Please,” you whispered in his ear, fingernail tracing down the line of stubble on his jaw. “Make me cum.”

Joel’s hands grasped ahold of your ass, and you had to try your hardest to stifle your yelp. “I’ll be there soon.” Joel snapped, and you heard the figure jogging away. He turned to you, rubbing his nose into your soft cheek. “Angel girl, I swear on my life I’ll make you cum until you cry tonight. I swear it.” You leaned into the touch of his nose, nodding slowly.

You knew he was a man of his word.

“Okay.” You murmured, albeit dejectedly. You were so turned on your could barely think straight.

Joel’s ears perked as he looked at you. “I have an idea….”

• • •

You don’t know how he talked you into it, but as you curled beneath the wide desk in his office with your legs spread and dress pulled up to your belly, you listened in on the meeting.

Joel had given you three strict rules:

1) Rub your clit for the duration of the meeting.

2) Do not, under any circumstance, stop.

3) Do NOT cum!

And so you stared up at him as the bishops talked about upcoming projects and fairs, discussing how to spend the month of March doing charity work and putting on a Spring Festival. Every so often he would glance down with a satisfied grin tugging at his lips, soaking in the picture of you rubbing at your clit.

It was the first time Joel had ever seen your pussy. Soaking, sloppy, and a drool worthy shade of pink. Your clit was swollen, begging for his tongue, and the perfect inner lips of your pussy were clenching around- unfortunately- nothing.

Your wetness was dripping down on to the floor of his office, coating your thighs with slick as you stared at him, noticing the strained bulge against his black pants. You smiled at the thought of you being the one to make him feel that way. He had cum in your mouth. He had given you his number. He had told you he could help.

You.

You, you, you.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he cared for you. The thought made your face beam, a look that Joel did not miss, despite the conversation he was taking part in.

It felt as though he were purposefully dragging the meeting out. Asking questions, giving ideas, receiving a scripture here or there. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. He was right, however. Good things do indeed come to those who wait.

As time dragged on, it was becoming harder and harder to stifle your moans. You wanted to make noise for Joel. You wanted to whimper and mewl and beg and cry out for him. It was always for him, wasn’t it? You knew, he knew. All the pretty dresses, fixed up hair, perfect makeup- it was for him. In fact, deep down, you knew you hadn't been to church for the man in the sky for quite some time.

"Alright, it was a pleasure meetin’ with you all. I look forward to putting on the Spring Festival, I'll be in touch soon with the event info." Father Miller spoke professionally, calmly, as though you weren't half naked beneath his desk, touching yourself in front of him.

The door shut and locked the moment everyone had filed out, and his feet shuffled slowly towards where you sat. When your eyes met Joel's, a smile threatened the side of his mouth.

"Up, Angel. Sit on the edge of the desk for me."

You crawled out slowly, thighs slightly cramping up, before grabbing the hand he had offered and pulling yourself to your feet. You eased your ass onto the table, scooting back before spreading your legs, a shy grin falling to your face as he kept his hand tightly threaded with yours.

"Oh, honey. Look at this poor pussy. She needs me real bad, don't she?" He purred out his words with a saddened pair of eyes, sitting on his chair as he wheeled it forward, face to face with your soaking cunt. "Should I taste you?" His words were meant to tease you further, finger tracing over your inflated, tingling clit. "Should I make you feel better for being so nice and patient with me?"

"Please, daddy. Please."

Joel hummed in approval at your answer, leaning forward to wrap his lips around your pinkening bud. Before he even began sucking, you had thrown your hand over your mouth to stifle your moans, all at the simple moment of contact. He worked your little button slowly, gently sucking as his free hand ran up and down your thigh, gently giving it a squeeze as he lapped and licked.

You tangled your fingers in his curls, watching as he worked your clit masterfully, the tip of his tongue pressing gently, setting that bundle of nerves on fire perfectly.

Joel moved his palm beneath his chin, fingertips exploring the entrance of your pussy before he pushed his middle finger in straight to the hilt, searching for your G-Spot and finding it victoriously after a few short moments. You whimpered out at the first point of contact, drawing his head in closer by his hair as your hips grinded mindlessly, your back falling onto the desk. You had accidentally knocked a few things over, but admittedly neither of you cared, both wrapped up in your ecstasy as the priest worked on making you cum for him.

Joel moved his hand away from yours, instead opting to wrap it around your body, holding you tight and close to him as he ate you out. You already felt your orgasm approaching, climax chugging up that rollercoaster hill of emotion, right at the top before he added a second finger, pumping and thrusting up, right where Joel knew you needed him the most.

You groaned as he pulled away, no more contact on your clit. His umber eyes dragged up the length of your body, meeting your own. They sparkled with adoration. In that moment you were his purpose, his salvation, his religion. He worshiped the idol that was your body relentlessly, boundlessly, and knew he was done for for all eternity. If he were to burn because he fell in love with your body, so be it. Joel Miller would happily burn to have a taste of you.

His kissed your thigh, still fingering your tight cunt, eyes still locked with yours.

"You're so beautiful." He murmured, leaning forward and licking your clit slowly, tongue flat against it. He continued doing this, his eyes never leaving yours. You hadn't dared to look away, whimpering and brushing your digits through his hair as he kept up the slow, steady, perfect pace of movements. "I'm done for, you know. I'll never stop wantin' a tase of you."

You giggled breathlessly, nodding with his head cradled in your palms. "It's all yours."

"That's all I needed to hear, pretty Angel." Joel mumbled, going back to sucking on your clit as his eyes fluttered close.

That did it. The tightening string broke, your climax flooding over you as you chanted his name, grinding and bucking, body spasming with orgasmic pleasure as he kept his mouth firm on your body, continuing to lick and suck until he had lapped up every last drop of cum from your pussy. He pulled away, the lower half of his face glistening, and helped you sit up gently, hands moving to your waist as he stood up.

His cock was straining against his pants, and you cheekily grabbed the loop of his belt, bringing you close to him until his clothed bulge was pressed flush to your sensitive cunt. You shivered at the contact, gently pressing your hands on his broad, sturdy chest.

“Fuck me. Please. I need to feel you inside of me.” You whispered into his ear, pressing a gentle kiss to his lobe.

Joel nodded in response, pulling away to look at you. He gently cupped your face in his calloused hands, leaning towards your slightly open mouth. The curve of his sturdy nose gently pressed into your own, lips brushing yours as your breath hitched, chests now taut with one another. He had just eaten you to the best orgasm of your life, and now your hands shook with nerves as he began kissing you, sweetly and meaningfully. It felt like home. They melded together like iron, as though your mouths were made for each other, crafted by the hands of some ethereal power with the knowledge that, one day, you two would find the other.

He drew you in closer, deepening the kiss as your fingers fumbled with the zipper of his pants, freeing his cock from his boxers as it sprung out, gently hitting your bare knee. You giggled softly into his mouth, finally pulling away to eye level.

Joel grabbed your hips, lining himself up with the entrance of your cunt. His thumbs gently brushed your waist soothingly, and he let you take his cock in your hand as you guided the tip up and down the folds of your pussy, soon pressing it against your entrance. With his eyes on yours, he slowly pushed in, all the way until your clit was pressed to his stomach. He reached down, gently rubbing it, allowing you to acclimate to the sheer size of him.

"This okay?" He asked, voice gruff and raw.

"Oh, yes. It's perfect." You breathed out, throwing your arms around his neck.

Joel began to fuck you slow and deep, each time pulling all the way to the tip of his dick, before pushing himself back inside, until your clit was back against his belly. Your moans were music to his ears, guiding him like a siren song towards the ocean of your body, waves of pleasure blanketing over him as he fucked you.

Admittedly, Joel had not had sex for many years. He had no problem picking up women before the priesthood, but when he left school to become the head of a local church, he knew he had to keep himself in line. People would talk, he would be kicked out, and there would be nowhere for him to go. Ah, but for you? Well, he was willing to risk it all. You were everything he had ever dreamed for, and he wasn't going to let the time of your chance meeting ruin that.

Kind, understanding, intelligent- you were perfect, and Joel knew the moment he saw you, he would fall deeply in love with you. He had been holding off for months now, knowing that if he ever had the chance to fuck you, he would be done for, completely and totally for you. Fuck God, he didn't care about God. You were the one he wanted to worship, you were the one he wanted to sing songs for, read to, sacrifice for. You. You, you, you. You were his Heaven.

The priest was pulled from his thoughts at the sound of his name falling from your mouth, and when your eyes met, he shot you the hint of a smile.

"Thatt'a girl." He mumbled, holding you tightly. "Tha's a good girl, taking me so well. So fuckin' beautiful."

You moaned at his words, stomach tightening with the threat of your second orgasm as he continued rubbing your clit.

His cock was pounding harder now, walls fluttering and clenching against the veiny length of his dick as he fucked you like a devil. Beads of sweat were gathering at his temples, the lines of his forehead creased as he focused on you. You saw his dark eyes full of something you hadn't seen before, and if you were a foolish woman, you would say it was love.

You reached up and gently wiped the sweat away with your fingers, head falling back as his mouth latched on to your neck, suckling and marking you with proof of his devotion. You shivered as he hit against a sweet spot right beneath your ear, teeth gently digging in as he kissed and licked.

"Gonna cum soon." You murmured, nails digging into his shoulders as he continued taking you, balls slapping against your ass as he pounded, continuing the same pattern of movements that made you weak for him.

"Give it to me, honey. Cum on this cock, cum for me. Let me know who's makin' you feel this way." Joel's words were hot against your ear, his breath fanning your skin as his fingers skillfully worked your clit.

Your orgasm finally broke, but Joel didn't waver. He continued rubbing your clit despite your whimpers, fucking you harder until the only sound was his heavy breath and the slapping of skin, your moans of ecstasy hidden as you buried your face into his shoulder.

"F-fuck it's too much. Feels too good." You cried out, body shaking. Joel didn't stop, he continued rubbing you, setting something aflame within your body, pushing you towards the brink of becoming deliciously over stimulated.

"'Member how I said I was goin' to fuck you until you cried?" Joel's voice was more of a beasts than a man, deep and throaty in your ear. "I'm a man of my word, darlin'. I ain't quittin' 'till you're crying for me. You understand?"

You whimpered in response, nodding your head as he continued hitting deep within you, the tip of his cock finding your G-spot, the soft spongy part of you that made you shiver and shake. You were coming undone again, his middle finger relentless on your swelling, throbbing bud, pleasure bordering on pain as the priest before you kept taking you.

You felt your throat tightening at the feeling of his throbbing cock, until your vision went blurry, mind fuzzing at the world around you. All of your emotion came crashing down, the feeling of him rubbing your pussy, the length of his cock buried deep within your cunt.

You couldn't take it anymore.

When your third orgasm hit you, you couldn't stifle your noise. You screamed for him, head thrown back as your body spasmed. And this time, Joel did as he said- he made you cry. He watched your pretty eyes well up with tears, watching as they cascaded down your cheeks. He groaned at the sight, a beautiful portrait of pure, raw, animalistic ecstasy. Your chest was sticky with sweat, hair pressed into your forehead, and perfect eyes wet with tears.

He couldn't hold himself back. His fingers dug into your thighs as he leaned forward, attaching his mouth to yours as his own climax overtook him. Joel snarled and growled, hips jittering as his hot cum painted the walls of your cunt white. When his orgasm died down, and his mouth became much gentler on yours, you realized just how full you felt.

Full of him, full of cum, full of love.

Joel pulled away slowly, gently running his fingers down your face. "You okay?" His voice was soft, eyes sparkling down at you.

"I am, actually."

He knew you were being earnest.

You watched as he took some tissue and cleaned you up, holding on to your hands as he helped you balance yourself on the ground, knees shaking from the weight of your previous pleasure.

"There you go, good girl." Joel helped slide your panties up your legs, gently giving your ass a squeeze. He relished in the sweet sound of your giggle.

A moment of silence passed, before he took your hand. You looked up at him, and he knew now was his moment.

"Do you want to go grab some dinner?"

You had never said yes faster.

You always thought shame and guilt were integral parts of the religious experience. You always thought chastity and purity were the best ways to feel God.

But that was before Joel Miller. That was before he took your body and idolized it. That was before he pleasured you in ways no man had dared to do before. When your bodies danced as one, when your souls became tangled beneath the bed sheets, on the desk, in the confession booth, you weren't thinking of God, you weren't thinking of Heaven or Hell.

Oh, no.

You were thinking of Joel Miller, the man who you willingly and happily chose over the promise of eternal salvation. And there wasn't an ounce of shame present.

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tinyshe · 1 year

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#catholic #pray #prayer #rosary #saint #quote #saint quote #fulton sheen #read your bible every day #pray the rosary every day #pray for the living #pray for the dead #pray for the forgotten

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eyes-on-jesus · 4 months

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If you wanna be close to God, you need to start reading the bible every day. Start small, set a daily alarm on your phone, download the bible app, and read some plans in there, as well as reading the bible itself on there. Start in the new testament and just go. Some days will be cool, some days you won't feel anything, but it matters. It will change you, your character, your life, your thoughts, everything. Next thing you know you are buying a journaling bible and drawing, tabbing, highlighting, lettering, journaling. Every morning, spend time with God, pray, involve Him, talk to Him.

#christian faith #christianity #christian blog #jesus christ #jesussaves #christian quotes #bible study #godisgood #jesus

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baptismbaby · 7 months

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† 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.”

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freelancearsonist · 1 month

Text

Won't You Suffer for the Angels to Fly?

➔ Joel Miller x fem!Reader - 2k

➔ Joel finds religion in the last place he expected to--a preacher's daughter.

➔ Rated MA for pure blasphemy. a lot of religious imagery and defiling of holy places--please read at your own risk. unprotected p in v sex, creampie, squirting, fingering (f receiving), corruption kink, HEFTY age gap (r is early 20s [unspecified], joel is 56), reader uses feminine pronouns and has female anatomy [please let me know if i missed anything at all :)]

➔ this is for my mid to plus!sized readers :) you're beautiful and valid and i love you. this was written in basically one sitting after i binged mike flanagan's midnight mass in one night. thank you to my lovelies @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin and @shakespeareanwannabe for talking me through this <3 title is from "heaven only knows" by bob moses

The Bible teaches–at least according to what Joel was able to gleam from the Easter service–that everything happens for a reason. That every pelting raindrop in its descent from the sky, even before it lands heavy and dark in his hair or soaks the lush green landscape of Jackson, has a purpose.

He’s struggled a lot with purpose ever since hearing that existential crisis-inspiring sermon that Tommy had dragged him to.

In the preacher’s defense, it went over well with everyone else. So many people are lost nowadays, adrift in a world that doesn’t seem to have space for them. They need that hope, that reassurance that they’re here for a reason. That they’ve survived hell on earth not out of luck, but out of purpose. He pulled out the big gun that everyone needed to hear on one of the two days a year that everyone in Jackson has their ears open to him. It was tactful, and Joel has to acknowledge that. Your father is clever, if not cunning.

It’s a trait that you’ve learned directly from him, whether purposeful or not. But you sat right in the front row and nodded along to every word, accepting without thought or conflict that purpose is in every action, every reaction, every change of tide and every gust of wind.

And if everything has a purpose, your purpose must be to torture him.

You never have anything but a smile on your face for Joel. Joel, a man older than your own father, a man whose hands have broken every commandment that you hold so dear. A man that should know better than to let you get under his skin and infect his dreams.

He wonders what it would be like to hold someone so perfectly untainted in hands that have killed and destroyed and sinned. Hands that are strong, hands that are experienced, hands that are greedy. He’s certain he could teach you all about greed. He could make you beg, plead, sob for more and more and more until the only thought remaining in your pretty little head is how much you want to take from him. Until you become a glutton at the altar of his generosity.

And oh, how generous he could be once he had you begging. Minding your manners and asking nicely for what you need, of course, but he would never deny you anything you asked of him.

“Can I help you with that, Mr. Miller?” He hadn’t even noticed he was struggling–and he wouldn’t be, really, if he wasn’t so distracted. Putting new legs on a pew isn’t the issue after all; it’s the fact that you’re sitting there on the stairs that lead up to the altar and absentmindedly swinging your legs as if you’re taunting him. As if you understand that his resolve is slipping with every passing second he’s alone in this room with you.

“Joel.”

“Hmm?” You shift your posture to lean closer, and that skirt that’s already way too short to be worn by the pastor’s daughter, in a house of God of all places, rides just a little further up your deliciously full thighs.

How is he expected to work, to keep his mind on the job, when all he wants is to know what those thighs might feel like wrapped around his head?

He clears his throat and adjusts “You can call me Joel, sweetheart.”

He sees it, then. It’s so subtle, but it’s not imagined. You squirm at the pet name, at the raspy drawl of his voice, and it changes everything for him.

He sees in his mind the sweet girl, barely out of her teens, who sits in the front pew with a Bible in her lap. He sees the girl who sings so sweetly to the tune of every hymn. He sees the girl who’s so shy that she blushes every time she catches his gaze.

And then he sees everything underneath the act. He sees the girl who’s bold enough to wear a bright red dress to the Easter service. He sees the girl who makes eye contact with him across the dining hall every night to watch the way he reacts to her lips wrapped so tantalizingly smoothly around her spoon. He sees the girl who knew he would be alone in the chapel today–the girl who wore an easily accessible skirt just for the occasion.

You bookmark the page you’re on and set down the book you were reading, eyes fixated on him all the while. “Is there something I can help with, Joel?”

There certainly is, and it’s not the pew he’s supposed to be repairing.

He remembers, vaguely, hearing something about how God spares guilt from sinners when sin is necessary. It must be necessary to teach you a lesson, then–as you stride over and kneel beside him, your eyes heavy with anticipation and lashes fluttering, he doesn’t feel an ounce of guilt.

“Hasn’t your daddy taught you not to dress like this?” He takes the hem of your skirt idly in his hand, rubs the silky fabric between his thumb and forefinger. He’s not touching you, not really, but his hand is so achingly close. An inch or two, and he’d feel your warmth–those plush thighs that God created to rule over Joel Miller’s mind, body, and soul; ‘til death does he finally know peace, amen.

You shake your head and even manage to seem smug as you say, “No. He just teaches everyone else to resist temptation.”

“I’ve never been much good at that,” he murmurs.

He thinks that you know that. He thinks that you’re his crucible, his most important moral trial–that maybe, if he can turn you away now, he’s a good man.

Joel Miller is not a good man. His kiss is crushing. It’s hellfire, it’s brimstone, it’s everything you’ve been taught to fear your entire life. You melt into it so prettily, accepting your damnation with parted lips and eager eyes. A wanton moan gets caught in your throat when his hand slips further up your skirt.

No panties–in a place of worship, no less. He should bend you over his knee for this transgression, make sure you understand how filthy you are. But there’s hardly time for that now, not when he’s even more desperate than you are. And you are desperate–dripping down his fingers into the palm of his hand as your teeth leave perfect little indents in the plush skin of your bottom lip.

His free hand grips your chin firmly, guiding your eyes to his. He wants to see your depravity, the flickering embers of lust in your eyes as you come on his fingers and cry out for salvation from the all-consuming pleasure.

“Oh my God–”

His hand tightens around your jaw just the slightest bit in warning. “No, baby. You moan my name when I’m touchin’ you.”

And you do–thighs trembling, eyes watering, you cry out his name like a prayer as your cunt pulses and squeezes around his willing fingers.

There’s an unpracticed tremble to your hand as you reach to work open his belt, and it makes his cock throb under the confining material of his jeans.

You want every inch of his skin pressed against yours, so desperate for it that you’re nearly in tears when he pulls your fingers away from the buttons on his shirt. He’s not foolish–no one steps foot into this place during the week, but he knows better than to tempt God’s sense of humor. This has to be quick and contained, and you know it too; you picked your little skirt for exactly that reason.

He catches a glimpse of your glistening need as you settle over his thighs, and once again he battles to resist temptation. He whispers in your ear as you settle your chest against his and grind that fluttering, sensitive cunt along his length–promises himself more than you, really, that he’ll bury his face in your folds and drink from you next time. Next time–the promise makes you clench impossibly hard around nothing.

His eyes have never been quite as heavy as they are when you start to sink that dripping heat down his cock. Head tipped back, throat exposed, completely at your mercy. He has to force himself to look up at you–to worship the goddess enshrined on his altar, all his for the taking.

You bite into your lip nearly hard enough to draw blood as your hips settle against his, completely overwhelmed by the burning stretch of his size. He’s a challenge, certainly, but one that you are determined to overcome.

“Easy, baby girl,” he grumbles as you start to rock against him before you’re truly accommodated. His hands rest heavy on your hips–not anchoring, but encouraging. As wrong–as depraved–as this may be, he wants you to enjoy it without pain. “That’s right, nice and slow.”

It doesn’t stay that way, though; the desperation mounts to a boiling point until you’re bouncing fervently in his lap. It’s delicious, the way the thick head of him drags against something deep and sensitive within you. He guides you when your thighs start to burn, grip tightening enough to leave forbidden bruises in the soft flesh of your hips. His mouth presses to yours, breathing the oxygen straight from your lungs as he presses his hips up. There’s nothing you can do but take it, pliant in his hold, head rolling back to accommodate the wet drag of his mouth and the tickling scratch of his beard against your throat.

He feels it before you do–a subtle flutter as your cunt tries sucking him in even deeper. And maybe, if he was a good man, he’d lean away from it and have mercy on you. But he’s not a good man–he’s a greedy, wanton, desperate man. He angles his hips and thrusts as hard as he can, shoving you into your release with force.

You overflow with it; gushing over him like a flood, staining his hastily pushed down jeans and the floorboards beneath.

He pushes you onto your back like you’re weightless, adrenaline coursing as he starts to slam into you. It’s not polite or sweet or loving–he fucks into you and empties himself like an animal. He growls deep in his throat as his cock pulses within you, instructing you to “take it, baby girl” as if you’d consider anything less.

You don’t know where your release ends and his begins. All you know is his weight on top of you, his mouth on your jaw, the collective breathless pants that fill the room as you both come down together.

You’re not sure how long it is before he pulls out of your warmth with an actual whine, breath heavy against your neck where his face is so comfortably nestled.

And you start to laugh, because you wish you’d worn panties after all–you don’t know how you’re going to get home with the mess of cum that’s dripping down the curve of your ass.

He even chuckles with you, until he tears his eyes away from your blissed face and sees the cross hanging heavy on the far wall.

“Th-that…” he gulps. “That can’t happen again.”

“It can,” you assure him, and he supposes you’re right.

You keep your head down and your eyes to yourself on Sunday, even as you spot the barely-noticeable stain on the hardwood floor next to the newly-repaired pew on the right side of the aisle. It’s so faint that no one would notice it unless they were looking for it, but it’s glaringly obvious to you. You should be ashamed; you should be begging for forgiveness. But then you meet Joel’s watchful eyes, and the shame washes away. How can you feel guilty over an act of worship?

THE END

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