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

[schmope-is-dead]

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

[infamousbrad]

I warned you.

About 15 years ago, I had a minor moment of Internet fame when I wrote a lengthy essay series on LiveJournal called "Christians in the Hand of an Angry God." In it, I argued that right-wing evangelical "Christianity" was literally Satanic by scriptural standards, was literally the cult of anti-Christ that Jesus prophesied in Matthew 25:31-46, that they were literally worshiping a made-up guy with the same name to justify cruelty, just like Jesus predicted they would the week before the crucifixion.

And at least half of the people who read it and praised it called it excellent satire. They saw my point, thought I was onto something, but couldn't take seriously that I literally meant what I literally said.

"Do not commit the sin of empathy."

Jesus' prophesy that these people were coming was not especially miraculous, in hindsight. No philosophy or theological movement becomes a large organized church, let alone a majority faith of a nation, without needing rich people's money, and/or government funding, to pay for it all.

And rich people in general, and right-wing governments in general, get to be the way they are by believing that the poor and the down-trodden can never be shown anything but cruelty, should never be rewarded, or else they'll lose all motivation to obey, to work hard, to be good. (By contrast, they believe that the same thing would happen to rich, powerful, popular people if they were ever punished in any way, if they were ever anything but rewarded.)

And rich people and governments are not going to subsidize your church foundation funds, your church repair funds, et cetera if you tell them that they're evil. But someone definitely will come along and offer to take that money. The people who take that money and conform won't even all be lying psychopaths; if you truly believe that your organization matters, is doing irreplaceable good in the world, you'll sacrifice any principle of your faith to keep the bills paid, you'll look away from or excuse any sin. It's that or see it all shrink and crumble into irrelevance.

I've come to the conclusion that it may not actually be possible to be a good person while practicing the majority faith of the land you live in. Or, if it is possible, well, like the man said, "straight is the gate and narrow is the way, and few there be that find it."

The Episcopal Church has its own legacy of sin, they've long overlooked a laundry list of crimes to pay their own bills, so don't rush to congratulate a mainline bishop for preaching mainline Christianity or take too much pleasure from Trump and his fascist followers being surprised that that happened. But do remember this:

From the mid-1970s to the present, right-wing billionaires have poured a LOT of money into church expansion and maintenance conditional on them distorting the Bible's teachings to make it appear that Jesus was pro-fascist. "To deceive, if it were possible, the very elect." So when honest theologians tell you that this is literally anti-Christ, literally checks every box in the Bible's description of the future cult of anti-Christ, you need to hear us.

The modern book and movie image of "the Antichrist" was a well-funded propaganda campaign to distract you from the plain language of the scriptures. The biblical anti-Christ is not some socialist liberal peacenik. The biblical anti-Christ is everyone who tells you that Jesus wants you to be cruel to "the least of these, my brethren" so that they'll straighten up and fly right.

[allfortheslay25]

Bestie, your brain 👌👌👌 i love all of your aftg au's, mermaid and omegaverse especially. Any headcanons or other things you wish people would ask but haven't/generally be willing to share? Hope you're doing well 💜

Another au from the secret stash!

All for the Cult

I hid this one cuz I’m afraid it’d be controversial and up until this week, I hadn’t even shared it with my sister

I actually am writing a fic for it but the fic will not be published until it is completed. I don’t want to risk leaving it in the public on a hiatus so it’s safe with me until I can finish all the chapters

Basically instead of exy as the base of AFTG, it’s bastardized religion. Exy technically exists but instead of Tetsuji continuing Kayleigh and his pet project, he turns to forming a cult. Exy ends up being a dying sport no one really cares about unless it’s Kevin Day who still plays on the side of his true passion, communing with God.

Neil was a human sacrifice raised for slaughter until his mom took him and ran. Homeless and with no way out, Neil joins Wymack’s staff at his wayward home/church where junkies and sob stories go for their last second chance. No one actually has to pray to god or believe in the Bible’s teachings to work there as it is not a standard church and more like a theater than anything

The more kids Wymack recruits, the longer he gets to keep his church and program at the school

(Also side note but I was doing the comic of andreil but forgot my house looks like a Catholic Church threw up in it so I got awkward and couldn’t finish it)(oh and my sister renamed it all for the debauchery cuz she got to read the altar scene lol)

Key points and fun facts of this au:

- the Ravens are a cult cult instead of a sports cult

- Riko is obsessed with his holy trinity (perfect court)

- The Moriyamas are still a crime unit but Nathan is sort of a satanist on the side (Would like to say mass majority of satanists are not evil or bad, Nathan just is)

- Neil was born as a sacrifice. Mary took him and ran tho before the ritual

- The Foxes are ppl from broken pasts who work at Wymack’s church for scholarship/community service.

- Wymack’s church isn’t a standard catholic kind. He has his own unique spin on it so even those who aren’t religious can still work there. Campus students attend the services to watch the plays, hear the readings, listen to the choir, and some even use the confession box. Some even go to donate as the Foxes are connected to a bunch of charities

- Andrew is not a real priest. The cousins were apprentices for Luther for a couple years to get him off their backs. Because of his experience and eidetic memory, Wymack has Andrew do scripture readings and other tasks. In return, Andrew gets to be off the meds the entire time of mass

- the Foxes attend classes and work shifts at the church in their free time. If they flunk classes or skip church, their scholarship is revoked

- all of the Foxes live in the upstairs rooms above the church

- When Andrew first met Luther, Luther promised to take care of the Cass situation as long as Andrew gave God a try. Andrew only agreed to read the Bible and took Nicky’s since the Hemmicks were worried he’d vandalize a new one. Andrew thought it was a good read but mostly was humored by all of Nicky’s annotations

- Andrew doesn’t care about religion enough to hate it so he’s fine chilling around and hearing the preaching

- When Neil goes to the nest, he agrees to spend those weeks in Riko’s church where he’s ofc tortured. Riko no longer has the desire to sacrifice Neil as long as Neil joins his cult

- Renee holds a Bible study on Sunday evenings and Saturdays so weekends are Andrews days off

- Lots of their readings are done performatively with music, spoken word poetry, or with their own unique spins/translations of the text. (Every mass always starts with a disclaimer that what is being said/shown is their interpretation and not to be taken as the honest god given truth)

- whenever they raise enough money or supplies, the foxes celebrate by getting wasted; Wymack’s treat

- Betsy is still there for mandatory therapy sessions since the point of the scholarship is to rehabilitate troubled youth

- Abby is Wymack’s assistant but she also is a part time nurse

[multific]

From Strangers to Soulmates

Isaac x Reader

Summary: You were new in town, and barely even had time to get used to your new home when your parents told you that you would marry one of the boys in the village. 

The news came to you one evening, an arrangement sealed without your consent but with your future in mind. 

It was a shock, to say the least.

Isaac, they said, was the son of a nice man in town, a hard worker with a reputation for kindness. 

Your family spoke highly of Isaac, though you had never met, you doubted your parents met him for more than a couple minutes. 

You barely knew anybody, so, you knew better than to argue or say no.

When the day of the wedding arrived, you stood across from him in the church.

Isaac's warm smile eased your nerves. He was handsome and he looked kind.

Thank God.

“I know this is sudden,” he whispered softly as the priest recited his words, “but I promise to be a good husband to you.”

His sincerity surprised you, and you found yourself nodding with a smile across your face.

Married life with Isaac was nothing like the tales of hardship you had heard from others. 

Each morning, he woke early to tend to the small farm behind your home.

When you woke, he had already prepared breakfast as he greeted you, along with his cheerful humming.

One morning, as the rooster crowed, you stumbled into the kitchen to find Isaac already dressed, kneading dough with flour on his hands.

He glanced up and grinned. 

“Good morning, Love. Sleep well?”

“I wanted to prepare breakfast this morning,” you replied, leaning against the doorway. "But you were faster than me."

He chuckled, wiping his hands on a cloth before he placed a kiss against your temple. 

“Breakfast is almost ready. Go sit, I’ll bring it to you.”

He always insisted on taking care of you, though you often protested. When you brought him water or helped with chores, he thanked you with such genuine appreciation that your heart swelled.

Isaac was easy to love.

His kindness and sincerity made you feel at ease as you slowly began to fall in love.

In the evenings, after supper, the two of you often sat by the fire. 

Isaac would carve small wooden figures, birds, deer, and even a rabbit he once said was meant to be a cat.

“You’re teasing me,” you said, laughing as he handed it to you.

"What? It has... character.”

Despite your joy, you kept the carving on the mantle, just above the fireplace, treasuring every gift he gave because you knew he gave it from his heart.

On rainy nights, with the symphony of raindrops outside, he would read to you from the old Bible his mother had given him. 

His voice was steady and soothing, and though you weren’t particularly interested in his book, you loved the way his words filled the room.

As the weeks turned into months, the initial awkwardness between you faded. 

One evening, as you watched Isaac working by lantern light, you realized how much your feelings had grown.

“I never expected this,” you said softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

He looked up from his task, brow furrowed. 

“What do you mean?”

“To feel this way about you. To find happiness... love.”

Setting his tools aside, Isaac crossed the room and knelt before you, taking your hands in his. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been happier,” he admitted, his voice low and sincere. “You’ve made my life brighter than I ever imagined.”

You kissed him.

He took you to bed.

It was the first time you two had made love.

You finally became one.

That night, as you lay together beneath the blankets, he wrapped his arms around you. 

“I’ll spend every day making sure you’re happy. I love you.”

"I love you too."

And he did. 

From the quiet mornings to the laughter-filled evenings, Isaac’s love was constant, steady and unwavering.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[speaknow-sw]

«𝓢𝓾𝓰𝓪𝓻, 𝓘 𝓮𝓷𝓳𝓸𝔂 𝓵𝓲𝓯𝓮»

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

Word Count : 2.9k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[homelessnerd]

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

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

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

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

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

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

[candycandy00]

Character: Sukuna

AU setting: Church

spice level: NSFW

Mood: writers choice

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

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

Father Sukuna’s Discipline - A Sukuna x Reader Fanfic

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And?” he prompts. 

“And I messed up my reading of scripture.”

“Twice,” he adds. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y-yes,” you say. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he remains merciless. 

Thwack!

Thwack!

Thwack!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I… I don’t…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“F-for being so sinful!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[letmeoutofthebasementt]

How religious/Christian is skz?

Chan

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

Minho

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

Changbin

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

Hyunjin

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

Jisung

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

Felix

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

Seungmin

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

Jeongin

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

Would they date /marry someone who's not?

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

Minho: Yes. He himself isn’t. So.

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

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

Jisung: no. Again, that shame is there

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

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

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

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

Chan

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

Minho

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

Changbin

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

Hyunjin

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

Jisung

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

Felix

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

Seungmin

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

Jeongin

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

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Hiiiiiii! I hope you're still writing about Claude Frollo😓

If so, then can I request some smut with sub!Frollo x an experienced!fem!reader? (This is the first time for Frollo)

thank you in advance. I love your works.💗

Teach me lust

Frollo x prostitute!reader

warning : +18, smut, dom/sub undertones, implied age gap, kissing, blindfold, drinking alcohol, rosary use, no use of Y/n

Summary : Even a religious man like him had indulged in lust at some point before he vowed abstinence. Younger, more lustful, longing for a desire that was not his own, not full of insecurity...he wanted something leading. A memory as clear as the experience of the coins he gave her ringing, the flickering of candles and the rustling of fabric as he saw a naked woman in front of him for the first time. It seemed as if he had the deadly sin in front of him personally and he simply had to give himself to her.

info : Thanks for the request anon and I'm very sorry for the months of waiting but I really had no motivation for Frollo and now I have time. Have fun reading and thanks again for the request :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Didn't every man have a need for love? A need for lust, for devotion, for sex? Questions that went on in the minds of normal inhabitants of the city of Paris, questions from uneducated people who didn't know that abstinence and finding God was so much better.

Because faith and the Bible were the only things a man needed, he surrendered to lust, he was absorbed in it and nothing more...well, that's what the aspiring young judge thought too, his dark hair always peeking out from between books and steps whenever he was seen in the library, in the teaching areas of the church and in conversations with the archbishop.

His pointed nose buried in the books, the scent of ink and old parchments surrounded him with a hint of wine when he came out of a mass and had tasted and drunk the body of Christ...but now, for some time now, he smelled something sweet.

He had to take a detour on his way back in the evening because of work in his quarter, not through the baker's quarter with its pleasant smell as usual, no, he had to go through the sweet quarter, the corrupt quarter, the quarter of sins where one pub and brothel followed the next.

,,Do not raise your eyes and the Lord will guide you safely” he had muttered to himself as he looked at the cobblestones at his feet and he hoped to get out of here quickly.

But it was this sweet smell, like a garden of pretty roses, like a wine he wanted to taste, like something he wanted to touch, he wanted to feel it and a whistle finally made him stop and he looked up.

From the dark floor past the entrances to a higher window in the glow of candles he saw her, a look half in shadow, a smile and above all a bare upper body for a moment, ,,Good evening my sweet!” she called down to him, winking and covering her body with a robe again, hoping he would come to her.

He almost dropped his bag of books before he pulled his hood back over his face and ran, ran with warm cheeks, a racing heart and a sweet tingling sensation running through his loins I could see her, her breasts he thought his inner voice playing that brief moment over and over again.

It wouldn't let him go as he hurried into his house and locked the door as he washed his face with cold water and slipped into his nightshirt.

It was that night, that encounter that wouldn't let him go, that longing he had for hours in the dark, not daring to touch, knowing he should do it but the thought insulted him, ,,Were you soft?" he finally asked the question, his hands trying to reach for her body in the void.

He imagined how she felt, how she moved, what sounds she made and his mind filled with all kinds of imaginings. Imaginations that were unholy, that resembled hell, that were flashc but made him feel so warm.

But at the same time the shame burned within him he was a man of god soon he would be judge Claude Frollo and would finally be able to pursue his destiny of justice and now? Was lust so bad?

Everyone should have tasted the cup of seduction once to realize that he wasn't missing anything, God would tell him when he went too far, right?

It was after this, when a young inexperienced Frollo, not yet disillusioned with the world, made a decision that would guide him for the rest of his life, that the next day he barely paid attention to the archbishop's teaching because his mind was only on one thing, on someone, on the one thing he would get.

The sun would soon set and he paced nervously in his home, the small leather bundle in which he had coins rang whenever he counted the coins, telling himself that there were enough, ,,Is that right? Of course not...but if I get over it I will be reborn as a purified man” he mumbled, looking at the wooden image of Mary who assured him that he was doing the right thing.

That when he closed the door to his house and the sun had set, he pulled his hood over his face and set off in the direction of the quarter, it was the first time he used his own words of faith, that he twisted the holy word, that he used what he thought was right when his gaze was not on the ground of abstinence but on the sins of lust and gluttony.

The wine and beer seemed to flow from the bars, the moans and screams could be heard coming from the brothels and his eyes looked up to see her smile at him again, almost knowing he would come in to her as he walked into the brothel.

Inside, still reminiscent of a bar, there was less of the atmosphere of alcohol and instead it was the laughter of women snuggling up to men, he swallowed as he saw the dresses, the wide necklines, the skirts pulled up and the ankles exposed, Nothing but sin his inner voice still trying to stop him just turning back around and praying for his soul.

But when he looked up from the lower floor to the stairs he saw her, even in the crowd he could see her winking at him, a movement with her fingers making her move automatically.

He had to touch himself, he simply had to have her.... he had to feel her, he had to be free from the sin of temptation through her.

Frollo walked up the stairs, hood still on, following her past the doors behind which he heard the sounds of lust, sounds he dreamed at most, imagined when he wanted to touch himself just to pray for hours until he stopped having such thoughts.

The end of the corridor where her room was he crossed the threshold and closed the door, the sinful noises stopped and he took off his hood, his decision made with his thoughts, ,,So I see you've decided to come to me,” she said and smiled as he nodded for the moment, his voice still rooted to the spot.

He looked as lost as he felt and she poured cheap wine into two cups, ,,What do you call it...oh yes the blood of Christ” she laughed at him as she seemed to recognize him, his gaze falling down to him to notice that she could see the beads of his rosary.

He was truly unprepared, like an unbeliever who had yet to find faith, ,,Do you know me?” he dared to ask, his reputation was not yet known everywhere but here in the neighborhoods he was known quite well, to commit himself to the path of sin now could mean his end.

But she just grinned again, took another sip of the wine and gave him a cup herself, looking at him through eyes made up in such a way that he swallowed, his dry throat longing for something as he tasted the wine, ,,I know each of my customers as well as a mother knows her child,” she continued, walking slowly towards him.

The dark-haired man almost choked on the wine and tensed as he saw her hand run over her dress, which was tied tighter than necessary, the fabric exposing much more than it should and the blush rising to his cheeks as he looked at her bust.

She saw his gaze, knew this inexperience, but a man of god had her here before it made it more interesting, ,,You don't need to be ashamed, it shows us what we want even if god tells us no.” She tried to lean into his face and brushed a dark strand from his face as he leaned away, not wanting her touch to go that far.

She felt his heated skin, his rapid heartbeat and the look that tried not to linger on her, ,,Will it be enough?” he asked instead, suddenly pushing past her into the room, unconsciously or consciously blocking his way out and holding out a handful of coins to her.

Golden coins, it was so many that he could stay here with her for a whole week, God wasn't interested in her, in the trade of women who had no choice, so it wouldn't interest him to take anything more than necessary from the theologian.

Taking the coins elegantly but quickly, she let them disappear into the box before turning to her client, ,,You're all mine, my pretty angel," she purred, fingers swiftly undoing the laces of her dress with each step towards him, the fabric loosening and her naked body illuminated by the candles.

Downing the last of the wine in one gulp, he hesitantly reached out for her, making a surprised sound as he touched her hips, ,,Soft,” he uttered the word, making her laugh, a pretty laugh, a laugh he wanted to hear more often and a laugh that stopped when he suddenly felt her lips on his.

Her own hands running over his robe, gently pulling the dark fabric from his body as she engaged him in one of his first kisses, inexperience meeting experience, Frollo wanting to please her, wanting that feeling and gasping in surprise as he felt her bite his lip.

It was the first time he had mixed this pain with lust, the first time it burned into him, the possession, the pain, the lust, ,,Truly immaculate as the virgin herself” she whispered gently kissing her way down his neck and guiding him slowly towards the bed.

The pillows and blankets supported his fall and he gazed into her hair-framed face as she practically sat between his legs, ,,And...you?” he dared to ask, not knowing if he was insulting her and already feeling bad about it, but she was a prostitute not a saint.

A question that made her smile again and she grabbed his hand, kissed his fine fingers and finally placed them on her breast, ,,I am immaculate, stained, old, young, holy, unholy, a guiding voice or a yielding one...I am everything you want” she gave him the options and Frollo's fingers groped her breasts as if he was afraid of hurting her.

Still unsure at first, he added his other hand shortly afterwards and she let him grope her body; she hadn't had such an inexperienced client for a long time.

But he was sweet, he was holy, still in full bloom, not ruined by the man, a thought that made her sigh and his gaze went up to her, ,,Is it good?” he asked and she nodded closing her eyes trying to push her body slightly towards his and her fingers gripped his tighter, showing him that it was okay to squeeze harder.

He seemed almost more sickly than the children in the alleys, thin, hardly any real muscle on him, more like a statue, ,,A saint in my bed truly beautiful" she admitted again seeing his gaze avoid hers, his hands come away from her and she put them back against herself and pulled him into another kiss.

She felt him gradually relax at last and she reached for the piece of fabric tied to the bedpost, ,,Close your eyes,” she told him, almost immediately, and his quick relenting was cute, someone who was so up in society down here they were all the same.

Tying the piece of cloth tightly around his head, she gave him one last kiss on the tip of his nose before he lost his sight, lying beneath her, shivering and gasping with every slightest movement, not knowing if she was leaving him here or not.

Normally she would, she would leave her regular customers here and envy him but now, he was too sweet too sacred to deform like this, ,,Relax my angel” she ordered him nodding and looking at the younger man for a moment.

Pink cheeks, a rapidly rising chest, a heart that seemed to jump out of his chest and an excitement that slowly demanded attention, ,,You will soon feel faith in a completely different way,” she said as she reached for his rosary and took it from him.

The small silver cross hung in front of her, a brief moment of thinking wanted to take over her mind, she had hardly been able to decide for this life, but a customer was a customer no matter if holy or poor.

Concentrating back on her work, she took the cross in her hand and ran it carefully over his heated skin, ,,Does that feel good?” she asked whenever she saw him pressing against her, his hips trying to get some excitement, his point of shame slowly slipping away.

Stroking the cross over his heated skin, she let her hand stroke his cock again and again, always enough to elicit a whimper from the younger man, to show him how good the pleasure could feel, ,,Ple-Please...more” he finally conceded and she rewarded him with a kiss and let the cross move a little more firmly over his body.

The little red strands she kissed and ran over him turned him on more, the pain and lust now had him firmly in their grip and she stroked another strand of hair from his face, ,,Such a good boy” her praise made him moan and a smile crept onto her lips.

Such a simple praise with such a big effect, it was exactly this power that she loved, his hasty nod was rewarded with more touches and kisses and she smeared the first drops of pleasure on his belly

After a few moments, she put the rosary back on him, took the blindfold off, he blinked several times until he met her gaze.

He probably wanted to say something but only a whimper came out as he held on to her, she understood very well what he wanted, the dilated pupils and his hasty breathing she knew what he was asking for.

Stroking his cheek, she reached for the small bottle of oil, dabbed her fingers lightly with it and felt him press lightly against her again, ,,Shh, don't get impatient now,” she warned gently, but she saw him look at her apologetically, his hands clutching the blanket and he leaned his head back into the pillow.

He thought they would turn around and he would be on top as he knew it, but when she slid down on him after a moment he just said, ,,Relax," he moaned out loud as he felt her around him for the first time and thought he had completely fallen into sin, it felt so good.

A feeling that was so different than just pleasure, so much more than just divinity, ,,Mhhh good isn't it?” she asked him, moving just a little as his whole body seemed to shudder beneath her.

Rarely had she seen such an extreme reaction, but he was still handsome, still so handsome, and she slowly let her own pleasure take over, her gasps and whimpers slowly beginning to mingle with his moans.

Her hip movements gradually began to quicken she believed he would come at any moment if she rode him fully, grabbing at his hands which clutched convulsively at the blanket and pillows she placed them against her breasts again.

This time he instinctively grasped harder, wanted to feel her, got to feel her and she gave him more pleasure, gave him more to hear, gave him more praise which made him want to swing in rhythm with her, he had finally let go of the divinity and was completely addicted to her.

The rosary moved over his skin whenever the two bodies moved, the cool silver was pleasantly cool on his heated skin, a light film of sweat lay on the two bodies, candles made the shadows of the two tremble.

She moaned as he unintentionally nipped her nipple and she just murmured, ,,Good so sweet” to him as her own understanding became more and more lost in lust, but the thought between them that she was only allowing him all this only turned him on more.

But his thrusts slowly became faster, out of sync with her and she pushed his hands back onto the bed, not allowing him to touch her again and his whimpers were punished with a scratch as she traced the red stripes of the cross, his moans almost becoming a yelp as she leaned against him.

His plea barely intelligible came out in an unanswerable whimper and babble she only answered with a “come for me” she only knew to hold onto him one last time and bury his cry in a kiss.

The trembling of both bodies stopped after a few final movements, her own climax almost better than the money she got for such pleasure.

Savoring the moment, she slowly rose from him, heard his whimper as he lost her warmth and could only grin, ,,Now you're stained my pretty one,” she murmured to him and stroked a strand of hair from his face, seeing that he could almost not open his eyes but the small smile on his lips that he gave her said everything she needed to know.

She had seduced him on the path of lust, made him commit a mortal sin, had a new follower, she would become his saint but above all she had corrupted the future judge Claude Frollo into a whimpering, pleading pretty boy.

She had taught him lust and from now on she would do it whenever he came to see her.

Lust was so much stronger than faith...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[ghostchems]

sacred blasphemy - catholic priest!copia x f!oc

chapter one: blood!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

This has been a long time coming for the priest.

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

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

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

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

“Father Copia!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lowering the handkerchief, Copia leaned against the wall.

A strange day indeed.

[sunkissedliterarylightofchrist]

do you have any Bible study recs that could help me understand the Bible more?

Hate to be a bummer but I don’t really use Bible study stuff all that much really! I live with a highly educated theologian and any and all questions i have I bring to him. We have long, deep discussions about theology every week, sometimes every day. That IS my Bible study. And I know a lot about the Bible from him being my dad my whole life- by the time I was eight I could give you an entire Gospel message presentation (and actually personally understood it, even though I hadn’t personally chosen to commit my life to Him yet) and could tell you the contents of every book in the Bible, being able to tell the entire history of that book from creation to the early church (and then since he’s also a history nerd, lots more from then until modern times). And then since I have gotten saved, all of that exploded even more and I learned to apply my already-existing book smarts to a Holy Spirit-empowered personal deep passion for theology.

I say this not to try and flex, but to just show I’ve had an unusual Biblical education and in my day to day don’t really read Bible studies along with the Word, because from the studies I see many of those are for beginners and I just really do already know those things. So I don’t read them now. I’m not trying to be prideful at all, I’m just stating this fact.

So I really and truly don’t know what books and studies I would point beginners towards, I’m sorry. If it helps, I think that Timothy Keller was an incredible expositional preacher and author, CS Lewis was utterly incredible and Mere Christianity will deepen your faith, but a lot of the other scholars I use, like RC Sproul, aren’t the best when you’re first starting out, they are more ‘advanced’. You do have to have a familiarity with something like the book of Romans to pretty solid extent before you pull out his commentary on it. And in reading the Bible every day, I was just taught how to read the Bible when I was young, and what language it uses and a lot of historical context and what it means and all that… so I just truly don’t know how to teach that to someone else, or offer resources that would teach someone else to read this incredible book.

And all of this is a giant reason I want to go to seminary, actually. I need to know more. I do want to learn how to teach this and how to learn more myself that I don’t about the study of the Bible that you only can on that challenging of a level. I’m still learning so so much now, obviously, God constantly teaches me things all the time, but with where I’m at in my walk with Him, through the Word and in prayer He’s teaching me a lot more about myself and my flaws and what I need to work on as a person and having the Bible reflect that back at me, rather than what the Bible means in the first place.

[teawitch]

Classical Correspondences

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I don't want to use them.

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

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

I think personal correspondences would be stronger.

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

[banana-with-a-bow-tie]

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ephesians 6:19

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

Phil 4:6

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

Luke 18:7

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

Matthew 18:19-20

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

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

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

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

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

[veras1ne]

༉‧₊˚. “Devil in Disguise.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anakin, we have church tomorrow."

[faithfullyfound]

Don't Put God On Hold

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[minaloywhore]

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

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

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

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

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

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

st michaels golden-domed monestary

 the bibi-khanym mosque in Uzbekistan

the tomb of askia in gao, mali

machu picchu

the iron pagoda in Kaifeng, china

etc etc etc!!

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

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

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

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

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

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