#catholic religion

[tothecrucifieddeer]

Written 07/31/24 [POEM FOUR]

Sometimes in my dreams you pick my wings off slow and meticulous--like you are wiping dust from my moth back one particle at a time.

I am an angel and you make me naked one feather at a time.

Do you remember how I used to fly? Do you?

Naked before God, but in a different way, naked as a sign of trust, of love--

But you have made my body bare and bruised, crumpled up and sick, my hands don't know me now--

nails as my halo--blood as my song--you have made me this, you have, you have--

Worst of all you might be a new Messiah, angels sing your name--there is so much I love about you and I hate that--

Look at the gore you wrought! My bones turned to iron and hid by depression fat--I should burn you down. I love you--isn't it disgusting?

My hands, look at my hands! They're shaking, aching, desperate, needy--I knew you. Open wound of a man--soft, gentle, until no one was around;

burn me if you must, crush me into dust--angry like electrolemon lightning strikes. Do you hate me? I couldn't bear that--melt me back into glass globs--turn me to pure sand again.

Could you ever want me back? I'd let you rip me up all over again--

You know, it's all rigor mortise on the memory--raise the dead sweet boy,

I know you can. In the end, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

[mask131]

While I'm at it, because I just had a little beef with a fanatical Christian who couldn't believe I was born in a Christian setting because I had a pentagram as an icon (you see the kind of person)... [Edit: For more details they were a clearly antisemitic Orthodox person who, after refusing to believe I was anything else than Jew, atheist or a devil-worshiper, starting lashing out at me when I said I had a Catholic upbringing saying I was the cause of the crusades and the reason Hitler was alive, yada yada, you know the kind of crazy religious person]

So I decided to have a brief Christianity talk. Not much but just this:

If you ask me, yes, there is a Christian mythology, even though people do not like this term - because there is a bunch of Christian legends and Christian myths that form a Christian folklore and a set of Christian tales with distant, weak or inexistant links to ACTUAL Christian teachings, rites and the actual Christian religion.

And I do believe that folk-Christianity is a fascinating thing that deserves to exist alongside official, actual Christianity. Santa Muerte, and the local saint celebrations, and strange Christmas and Epiphany beliefs, and this story about God and Saint Peter getting drunk at a farmer's house, and the fairytale about Jesus and the Virgin Mary throwing the devil and his wife in an oven to save the girls they wanted to eat... Anyway, no matter how much one can try to destroy folk-Christianity it will always survive because it was centuries and centuries of rites and beliefs spread across several continents, and you can't destroy that easily.

The thing that many people do not get is that a lot of what is Christianity today was completely made up. There's not a lot of Christianity today that was originally in the Bible. There's a lot of Christianity as practiced by the first Christians that was lost. The dates and meanings of celebrations like Easter, All Hallows Day or Christmas kept changing all year long. Lots of saints were completely invented. Don't even get me started on the apocryphal Gospels!

This is why studying and understanding the history and evolution of a religion always allow one to be more understanding of what the religion currently is and what is actually an "option" in it. Religions never stayed the same thanks to times changing, scholarly debates, schisms dividing it into various branches, political and economical forces being at play, translations from one country to the next - and that's not just true for Christianity, but also for all other religions. Islam, Judaism, Buddhism... They all had their own evolution, they all are today very different from what they started as, and to better understand them one needs to learn of their past, what they were, what they still are, what they're not anymore. Heck, today there are talks in India of kicking out and banishing all Buddhists when the religion started there! But now, Buddhism's main nations are China and Japan, and its Indian roots almost entirely forgotten...

Fanatics usually fail to do this study of their own religion's history and evolution, because they imagine that the past was just always a carbon-copy of the present, and that their beliefs stayed unmovable monolith coming straight from God (or whatever principle they follow) instead of something that went through centuries of men and women and governments.

Just look at why and how Protestantism came to be. People realized the Church had added a lot of stuff that wasn't there when Christians first appeared, and decided to return to the "original" Christianity, rejecting all the added, invented stuff. Like the celibacy of priests: Christians priests married and had children in the first centuries following the Christ's death. And the only reason Catholic priests took a vow of celibacy and virginity was because of economic concerns with inheritance matters. Jesus never asked those that followed him to never have children or never marry or never have sex.

Or take the existence of Purgatory! Completely invented by the Church around the Middle-Ages, never spoke about by the Christ or part of the original Christian religion, then quickly removed a few centuries later as a non-existent, borderline heretical superstition, and that yet survived in folk-Christianity, and then in popular culture.

In conclusion, I would have to say that there is one book that made me realize a lot of things about religion as a whole, and that convinced me to go from Catholic-Christian to simply deist. Terry Pratchett's book "Small Gods", which exactly put into words my feelings about the world: there is a difference between religion and organized religion. There is a difference between belief and the organizations built around this belief, between faith and the hierarchy created around this faith. The Church is like a shell that was built around the turtle that is the faith/belief/god - and sometimes, when the shell becomes too big and too heavy or too unfit for the creature it hosts, it smothers, hurts and kills the faith/belief/god, until there is only the shell. And people stop referring to the turtle, and only speak and interact with the shell.

This is the perfect explanation of how Jesus only preached peace and love and friendship and forgiveness, and its priests later invented the Inquisition and caused the witch-hunts.

[twobrothersatwork]

Juan Gris (Spanish, 1887-1927) La Religieuse (1925)

[portraitsofsaints]

Saint Gaspar del Bufalo 1786 - 1837 Feast Day: January 2 Founder of the Society of the Precious Blood

As an infant Saint Gaspar del Bufalo suffered from an eye condition that threatened to blind him; he was cured in 1788 following prayers for the intervention of Saint Francis Xavier.  After the occupation of Rome by the French, on four separate occasions, Gaspar refused to take the oath of allegiance to Emperor Napoleon out of loyalty to the Pope and the Church. He was exiled and imprisoned due to these refusals.  After being liberated, he helped formally start the Missioners of the Precious Blood (C.P.P.S.) in 1815 at Giano dell’Umbria, Italy, a congregation devoted to preaching and to bring the sacraments back to war-torn Italy {website}

[tothecrucifieddeer]

**To the NOT-DEER or DOE-WOMAN outside my window (07-22-24 11:15 PM)**

I'm sorry okay, I'm sorry. Stop sending me the bugs. Get the bugs out of here. I'm tired of bugs. Stop torturing me. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Just leave me alone. Let me go to bed. Let me go to bed. Let me sleep. I didn't mean to hurt you or upset you. Okay? I know it can't be undone. I know that. I'm sorry.

Don't make me do anything. Don't ask me too. I'm trying to stay protected and keep others protected. I don't wanna have to go anywhere. I don't. I don't. Let me take care of myself. Let Messiah be. Okay? Let them be. Okay? Please Please. Whatever they did, they didn't mean for these to be the consequences. They did what they thought was right and I will not hurt them for you. I will not. Let it all be.

despite everything.

[thefoilguy]

Pieta by Michelangelo - Aluminum Foil Sculpture

[tothecrucifieddeer]

O9/02/24--Demands of Messiah, Doe, G-D, and B.D (Inverse Messiah)

The demands have been made for my flesh. To filet parts of myself. I'm not saying I'm gonna do it, but it's being asked of me. Please pray for me. I see Messiah (or Inverse) lurking around all the time. I'm tired. I'm scared. I'm having a hard time finding a priest to talk to. I'm trying very hard to manage my conditions and environments but I'm tired, so tired. I am back in my bed. But I have a small bag of animal bones (bought off of etsy) and salt in ziplocs against my window, which is also sealed shut. I say my rosary, I go to Mass. I am not in a state of Grace, but I'm trying to work on my courage to confess and ask for help. It is scary. Maybe it's just the disorders taking over or maybe I'm a bad person. Please pray for me. Please.

[tothecrucifieddeer]

**To The NOT DEER or DOE WOMAN in my lawn right now (07/22/24--10:55 PM)**

I just want to browse Tumblr in peace. I'm trying to do what you say. I'm trying. I'm trying. I know I messed up today. I know I did. Please. Stop. Stop. I can feel the fire burning under my skin. Please. Please. I'm trying to do what you are asking. I'm trying, really. Look at me--talking it out instead of screaming. Instead of crying. You asked for public acknowledgement and I'm giving it to you. I'm showing them how I've disagreed--it's on record. A public penance. Now please. Please stop stalking the house. Stop scratching. Screaming. Take the MANFLESH angels away and put them in the other dimension. I don't want to look at them and I don't want them staring at me. Please. Please. Please.

Golden Touch † Hand of Midas

— by Clayshaper

[texaschainsawmascara]

Sinéad O’Connor / ‘96 Tori Amos tour merch

[twobrothersatwork]

Guido Reni (Italian, 1575-1642) Saint Margaret Of Antioch

[ominouspositivity-or-else]

*The Eucharist is the body of Christ under the appearances of bread and wine.

**God is bound to these sacraments, meaning he always gives grace through them when they are done, but he is not bound by these sacraments, meaning that God can do literally whatever he wants and can of course go around them and provide grace in other ways.

***7 sacraments, listed: Baptism, Confirmation, Holy Eucharist, Confession, Anointing of the Sick, Holy Orders, and Matrimony.

Feel free to add nuance in the tags or talk about why you find the teachings strange! Let me know if there's anything utterly baffling that I didn't include!!!

Also please remember to be respectful!!! Not everyone knows theology like you might!!!

[tothecrucifieddeer]

**To the NOT-DEER or DOE WOMAN outside my bedroom (07/23/24 9:30 PM)**

I'm sorry I fell asleep last night--I stayed awake as long as I could stand it--I really did and I'm sorry I'm taking my meds. David warned me about that--he's never liked the meds; never liked what they do to him or to disobey you. I'm sorry we are trying we really are. I wish you'd stop haunting outside my door. I can feel you out there. Don't come in. Don't come in okay. Go back outside.

We didn't mean to make you angry. We love you. Don't you understand? You are our connection to God and Messiah and all we want is to be a good person and get to Heaven when we die. We want to do what we have to do to please you--but what you are asking is too dangerous! Is wrong! I don't want you to go away, but I want you to be nice again. I want you to tell them I love them! Please. Please.

Protect us DOE WOMAN--don't harm us. Please. Please. Please. And stop scratching. Stop screaming. Stop haunting. Please.

Corey Brickley

[greengoblinswifey]

You’re My Religion- Father Charlie Mayhew x Fem!Reader

summary— what begins as a confession turns into a heated encounter at the altar with your mother’s priest. they say god forgives all but after this, you’re not so sure.

warnings— EXPLICIT CONTENT. degrading kink, praise kink, daddy kink, priest kink, unprotected sex, creampie, face fucking, face slapping, spanking, spitting, blasphemy, gaslighting, mentions of hell, mentions of drugs.

a/n— written while listening to religion by lana del rey. this is longggg but worth it <3

You stepped into the dimly lit church, your heels echoing off the stone floor, drawing the eyes of everyone already seated. Your mother sat in the front, her lips pressed into a tight line, her eyes narrowed in disapproval as they roamed over your outfit, lacy, white, and far too revealing for the sanctity of the place.

You could feel the heat of judgmental stares as you made your way forward. A white garter peeked out from beneath the hem of your dress, resting against your thigh like a silent rebellion. It wasn’t just the dress; it was everything, your lateness, your attitude, your recent choices. Smoking behind the house had been the last straw for your mother, who was determined to have you confess your sins to Father Charlie Mayhew. You’d done worse but she hadn’t found out, might as well do as she asked.

Father Charlie stood at the altar, his presence imposing yet alluring. He was young for a priest, with sharp features softened by the flickering candlelight. His eyes briefly lingered on you as you approached, dark and inscrutable, before his expression returned to one of serene composure. His hands clasped in front of him, holding a Bible, as though the words inside it could shield him from whatever thoughts were swirling in his mind.

You slid into the pew beside your mother, her disapproval palpable. “You’re going to talk to him after the service,” she whispered sharply, not even glancing your way. "You will confess and make things right."

You barely heard her. Your attention was fixed on Father Charlie. Something about the way he looked at you, even for just a second, made your pulse quicken.

He stood at the pulpit, his voice echoing through the quiet church as he continued his sermon. The congregation sat in attention, but his eyes kept flickering toward the front row, toward you. You sat beside your mother, legs crossed, the lacy white dress slipping higher as you adjusted in your seat.

His words wavered for a moment, his gaze slipping to where your dress had risen, revealing more of your thigh. You could feel his eyes on you, feel the subtle heat of his attention even from across the room. A wicked thought crept into your mind, and slowly, carefully, you parted your legs, revealing the scarlet lace of your thong.

For a brief moment, Father Charlie’s voice faltered. His eyes caught the sinful glimpse of red beneath your dress, and he quickly looked away, clearing his throat. His fingers tightened around the Bible, knuckles white as if he was trying to anchor himself to its holiness.

He paused, then spoke, his tone harder now, deliberate. “We must be wary, brothers and sisters, of the dangers of lust, of temptation. Of the Jezebels who seek to lead good men astray with their wicked ways.” His words cut through the air like a blade, but his gaze briefly darted to you once more, betraying the battle raging beneath his composed exterior.

Your mother shifted beside you, her disapproving eyes narrowing as she looked over at you, suspicion flickering across her face. She didn’t know what you had done, not fully, but she felt something was wrong. The sermon had taken an oddly personal tone, and she wasn’t oblivious to it. You could feel her judgment creeping in, but it only fueled the excitement that stirred within you.

Father Charlie continued, though his words seemed to be more for himself now than the congregation. “We must resist. Resist the lure of sin, no matter how enticing it may appear. For we know that the path of temptation only leads to destruction.”

As he spoke, his eyes met yours again, and for a moment, it felt as though the entire room had disappeared. There was no congregation, no mother, no church. Only the two of you, caught in the tension that simmered between righteousness and desire.

As the sermon ended, Father Charlie closed his Bible, but the tension between you lingered in the air. You bit your lip, feeling his gaze burn into you even as he tried to avert his eyes. Throughout the sermon, you had kept your legs parted, teasing him, the red lace of your thong on full display. He’d stolen glances, his composure faltering more than once, but somehow he had managed to make it through. Now, with the service over, the real test was about to begin.

Your mother, determined to show her righteousness, practically dragged you over to him. Her hand clutched your arm as she led you to the front of the church, where Father Charlie stood, his posture stiff and his expression carefully neutral.

��Father,” your mother began, her voice stern, "this is my daughter Y/N. She’s been...not of God lately. I’ve begged for her to come here so she can cleanse herself, confess her sins, and find her way back to the Lord.”

Father Charlie’s eyes flicked to yours for a brief second before he straightened, clasping his hands together. “I understand,” he said, his voice smooth and steady, though there was an undercurrent of something else, something darker, in his tone.

“Since she found her way into church late,” your mother added, giving you a pointed look, “I trust she can find her way back home. Keep her as long as you need, Father, until you’re sure she’s, renewed.” Her eyes darted to your dress, her distaste clear, before she turned to leave.

As she walked away, you watched the door close behind her, leaving you alone with Father Charlie. He stood there, silent for a moment, before finally speaking. “Confession is a powerful thing,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “It requires honesty, humility. Are you ready to confess?”

You gave a slow, deliberate nod, your lips curling into a soft smile. “I think I have a lot to confess, Father.” Your voice was low, teasing, as you looked at him through your lashes.

His jaw tightened, but he motioned for you to follow him to the confessional booth. Once inside, he slid the screen between you, his silhouette barely visible through the latticework. “Speak, my child,” he said, the formality of his words clashing with the tension between you. “Confess your sins, so that you may be forgiven.”

You hesitated for a moment, then decided to push further, testing the boundaries. "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," you said, your voice soft and sultry. “I’ve been thinking wicked thoughts. Lustful thoughts.”

He was silent on the other side, but you could sense his tension, feel the weight of his conflicted desires.

“I’ve done things, drugs, other things,” you continued, your tone growing more seductive. “Things I shouldn’t. With people I shouldn’t.” You shifted in your seat, your legs parting slightly, knowing full well he could sense it even if he couldn’t see. “Sometimes, I just can’t help myself. The temptation is too strong.”

Father Charlie cleared his throat, clearly trying to maintain his composure. “Temptation is the Devil’s work," he said, though his voice wavered. "You must resist it.”

You bit your lip, leaning closer to the screen, your voice barely above a whisper. “But what if I don’t want to resist?”

There was silence. You could hear his breathing, shallow and uneven. His hand shifted, and you imagined him clenching his fists, fighting the very thing you were offering. “You must,” he finally said, though it sounded more like a command to himself than to you.

You leaned back in your seat, a mischievous smile on your lips. “But daddy, don’t you want to help me?”

His breath hitched, and you knew you had him. At the same time you both exited the booth, his face looking flushed as he did.

As the tension grew between you and Charlie, your fingers brushed lightly over his chest, feeling the warmth of his body beneath his clothes. You leaned in, close enough that your lips barely touched his ear. “Daddy,” you whispered, your voice filled with temptation, “I’ve been such a bad girl. A dirty sinner. Punish me. Give me a preview of eternal punishment.”

His breath caught at your words, his hand grabbed your hair as he pulled you back to face him, his eyes dark with restrained desire. “You don’t know what you're asking for,” he growled, though his grip on you betrayed his true thoughts.

You smiled up at him, your lips curling in a teasing smile. “I think I do,” you murmured, arching your back to press against him, your hand slipping around his neck as you pulled him even closer. “Right here, in front of the cross, I don’t care.”

Charlie’s eyes flicked toward the large cross behind you, but his gaze quickly returned to your lips, unable to resist the pull. “You’re going to hell,” he muttered, before gripping your waist firmly, lifting you onto the altar as if he couldn't control his actions any longer.

Your legs parted naturally, and you wrapped them around his waist, pulling him in as his lips finally crashed against yours. The kiss was intense, filled with the heat of everything you both had been holding back. His hands roamed over your body, but even as he touched you, he still kept control.

“You're such a bad girl,” he said between heated kisses, his voice low and commanding. “here, of all places.”

You grinned against his lips. “I wanted you,” you admitted breathlessly, “and I knew you couldn’t resist, I always get what I want.”

Charlie’s grip tightened, his hand moving to your throat in a possessive hold. “You need to learn some discipline,” he growled, pulling you closer. “And I’m the one to teach you.”

Your pulse raced as you felt his control over you grow. The cross behind you seemed to sway slightly, but all you could focus on was the fire between you. His hands were everywhere, and every touch made your breath catch, your desire building with each second.

“You wanted to be bad?” he whispered harshly against your ear, his voice filled with both heat and command. “Then you’ll have to take what comes with that.”

Before you could respond, the cross behind you shifted, tilting dangerously. You gasped, glancing back just in time to see it tumble forward, crashing to the ground. The loud thud echoed in the church, but neither of you moved, the sound only fueling the intensity between you.

With one final, wicked smirk, Charlie leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. “There’s no turning back now.”

He shoved you to your knees and you ripped your thong off, your fingers dipping to your sopping pussy as he rid himself of his robes and presented himself bare in front of you. “Suck this priest cock,” he demanded. Without waiting for a reply, his cock was sent into the back of your throat making you gag.

“That’s it little bitch,” he groaned, “take whatever the fuck I give you.”

You took him in, your mouth working around him, your cheeks hollowing as you surrendered to his brutal rhythm.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice thick with desire. “Just like that. You’re doing so well.” The way he spoke made you want to please him even more, and you found yourself pushing back against him, eager for more.

But then he pulled back, looking down at you with a mixture of pride and mischief. “I think you need a little discipline,” he said, the hint of a smirk on his lips. Before you could respond he grabbed your hair and pulled you over his knee as he sat at the altar, he then delivered a sharp smack to your ass, making you gasp.

“Did you like that?” he asked, watching you closely. You nodded, a thrill of excitement coursing through you. “I thought so,” he replied, his hand coming down again, the sound echoing in the church.

“Let’s see how many more you can take,” he taunted, giving you another hard spank, each one leaving a burning sensation behind. The mix of pleasure and pain made your head spin, and you found yourself craving more.

“Daddy,” you gasped, looking up at him with wide eyes. “I can take it. I want more.”

“Such a naughty whore,” he chuckled, the heat in his gaze intensifying. “But I’ll give you what you want. Just remember, you asked for it.”

He placed a kiss on your ass before his hard hand came down again, causing you to yelp. He chuckled darkly at the sounds you made before he gripped your jaw, making you open your mouth and spat inside. He continued his assault on your ass whispering darkly to you.

“This is what you like? Is this what whores like you enjoy? To be violated by their priest? Hmm?”

“Y-yes father,” you moaned, feeling his sharp hand come down again, you weren’t sure how much you could take but you didn’t want to let him know.

“Alright whore, back on my cock, make me cum and maybe I’ll give you what you so desperately desire.”

As you knelt at the altar, the irony of the moment didn’t escape you. Typically, this was a sacred space meant for prayer and reflection, a place where you sought forgiveness and guidance. But here you were, on your knees, not in a plea for redemption but in a silent prayer of your own worshipping the man who stood before you. Worshipping his big, thick, leaking cock. Thank God for him.

The flickering candlelight casted shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the way his lips curled into a smirk. You felt a thrill rush through you, knowing how wrong this was, yet wanting it more than anything.

“Look at you,” he said, his voice low and teasing. You got to work, spitting on his cock and taking him as deep as you could in your throat as tears left your eyes, as you did so he ripped your little dress off you making you gasp. The little sounds you made on his dick made him moan in pleasure. You continued sucking and not long after he held your head own as you gasped for air and came down your throat.

He clearly hadn’t released in a long time because there were still small ropes of his cum he pumped onto your face. With a smack, his hand came down across your cheek then he spat on you, making you stick your tongue out.

“Disgusting whore, you’re fucking filthy, sent from the devil himself.”

“Make me yours then,” you panted and Father Charlie smiled down on you.

With a swift motion, Charlie gripped your waist, bending you over the altar. The cool wood pressed against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat building within you. You felt exposed, your heart racing as you heard him move behind you.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “So willing to give yourself to me right here in God’s house. I wonder what He would think of this.”

You could barely focus on his words as anticipation coursed through you. “I don’t care,” you managed to reply, your voice breathless. “Just please, Father.”

He chuckled, positioning himself behind you, and for a moment, you felt the weight of the world pressing down on your shoulders. “You might need to repent after this,” he teased, his tone playful yet filled with raw desire. “But I’m sure God will forgive me for what I’m about to do, you, a fucking slut, not so much.”

You shivered, knowing this was all so wrong, yet feeling every bit of it was right for you. “Just take me,” you urged, your body craving his touch.

As he pushed into you, a loud gasp escaped your lips. The sensation was overwhelming, a mixture of pleasure and guilt flooding your senses. He was so deep inside your pussy, tearing you apart with a burning stretch. “Holy—” you started, but he interrupted.

“‘Thou shalt not commit fornication,’” he quoted, almost mockingly. “But we’re not fornicating, are we? We’re just, exploring.”

You could only moan in response, the feeling of him filling you pushing all thoughts of right and wrong from your mind. “Yes daddy,” you breathed, lost in the moment. “Just exploring.”

He began to move, his thrusts deep and steady. “You know, sometimes the line between sin and pleasure is blurred,” he murmured. “But I think we’re in good hands. God will forgive me, won’t He?”

“God can’t see us,” you managed to say between breaths, feeling yourself getting closer to the edge.

“Exactly,” he growled, picking up his pace. “And you’re going to come for me. Make it worth it, bitch.”

He slapped your ass harshly, making you moan and open your eyes to look at the holy water on the altar that fell to the ground and splashed on you. You could swear it burned your skin.

As the pleasure washed over you, the world around you faded, leaving only the sensation of Charlie’s body against yours. You felt yourself tightening around him, waves of ecstasy crashing through you until, with a final gasp, you came undone.

“God, you’re beautiful when you’re like this,” he praised, his voice thick with lust. He pulled out, letting you catch your breath for a moment before lifting you effortlessly. “Now, let’s take this to a more fitting spot.”

With that, he guided you toward the chair where the priest would usually sit, its authority mixed with your reckless abandon. He sat back, pulling you onto his lap in one smooth motion. The air was electric with anticipation, and you could see the flickering candles casting shadows around the room, the only witnesses to your sin.

“Get ready to worship,” he growled, guiding you down onto him. As you sank onto his length, a loud moan escaped your lips. The thrill of the position combined with the sinfulness of your surroundings sent a shiver down your spine.

“Look at you, taking me right here,” he said, gripping your hips. “You’re my little slut, aren’t you? Just my bitch to fuck.”

You nodded, feeling the words stir something deeper within you. “Yes, I’m yours,” you breathed, moving your hips to find your rhythm.

He thrusted up into you, each movement deliberate, as he leaned closer. “And you love it,” he stated with a smirk. “You love being my temptation, my little distraction. If God didn’t want me to be tempted, He wouldn’t have created you for me to enjoy. This tight, wet, leaking pussy for me to enjoy.”

With each thrust, the sensation built, and you felt the heat of his words mingle with the heat of your bodies. “You’re going to take all my cum inside you, aren’t you?” he commanded, his tone a mix of dominance and desire. “You want me to fill you up, to pump my cum into your tempting little pussy?”

“Yes, father,” you gasped, your body responding to his every word. The sensation of him filling you pushed you closer to the edge once more.

Just then, the cross above you trembled, tilting ominously before falling upside down. A collective gasp echoed in your mind, but you were too lost in your desire to care. The flickering candles burst into flames, sending wisps of smoke into the air as if the universe itself was reacting to your sinful act.

“Look at that,” he chuckled darkly, his thrusts relentless. “Even God can’t help but take notice of what we’re doing here.”

“Just don’t stop,” you urged, feeling the intensity build again and tears fell from your eyes. The mix of danger and pleasure was intoxicating.

“Never,” he promised, his eyes dark with lust. “I’m going to fill you up, and you’re going to remember this forever.”

With a few final powerful thrusts, he buried himself deep inside you, moaning your name as he released, filling you completely.

As the final waves of pleasure rolled through you, you both collapsed against each other, your bodies slick and exhausted. Breathing heavily, you felt the weight of the moment settle in. The reality of what just happened hung in the air, a mix of satisfaction and consequence.

Charlie pulled back slightly, his gaze locking onto yours, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. “You know this is all your fault, right?” he murmured, his tone both teasing and dark. “You tempted me, made me filthy.”

You shivered at the heat of his words, the intensity in his eyes igniting something deep within you. “I didn’t make you do anything,” you replied, a challenge in your voice. “You wanted this just as much as I did.”

He leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart. You made it impossible for me to resist. Look at you, so innocent yet so depraved.” His fingers traced your cheek, a contrast of softness against the edge of his words. “You walked into this church, dressed like a temptation itself, and now look where we are.”

His gaze flicked toward the now-upside-down cross, a symbol of your defiance. “You should be ashamed, everyone would chastise you if you said anything,” he continued, his voice lowering to a husky whisper. “But I know you’re not. You loved every second of it, just like I did.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words. “Maybe I did,” you admitted, unable to hide the thrill coursing through you.

Charlie straightened up, adjusting his posture, the authoritative presence returning. “Good. Remember that when you’re here alone, naked and exposed.” He smirked, taking a step back, his eyes dark with desire. “You think this is the last time I’ll see you? You’re wrong. You’re mine now. Your very being belongs to me. I am your God now.”

“You’re my religion,” you whispered.

With that, he turned, walking away toward the back of the church, leaving you breathless and alone. You stared at the cross, the flickering candles around it now extinguished, a stark reminder of the boundary you had crossed.

Naked and vulnerable, you felt a mix of fear and exhilaration wash over you. The reality of your actions hung heavy in the air, but the thrill of the moment lingered in your veins.

[zephyrchama]

It was dinnertime in the House of Lamentation. Conversation petered out as everyone focused on the hot food in front of them, leaving a quiet lull interrupted only by clinking silverware.

“I’ve always wanted a traditional church wedding,” you said, entirely unprompted.

The clinking came to a stop as the seven brothers processed what you had just said. They turned their eyes towards you.

Beelzebub was the first to break the silence despite his mouth full of food. “Huh?”

“I just always thought it would be nice. A quaint wedding in a nice little church. Maybe a chapel.”

Leviathan briefly choked on what he was chewing.

“Oh I totally get it!” Asmodeus empathized. “Rows of pews with white flowers, those high arched ceilings, the evening light of the human world sun shining on us through a beautiful stained glass window as we kiss? Oh!” He clutched his shoulders, “it gives me chills just imagining it!”

“Asmo, we can’t enter churches,” Satan stated matter-of-factly. The knife handle gripped in his fist started to bend.

“Hah!? What? Lucifer, is that true?” Mammon slammed his fork down and just about jumped out of his chair as he shouted at the oldest.

“Sit down, Mammon.” Lucifer rubbed his temple and tried to perform damage control before the inevitable headache set in. “What brought this on suddenly?” he asked you.

Keeping a straight face was immensely difficult but you pulled it off. “I was just thinking about weddings and stuff, y’know. It’d be nice. Ever since I was little I thought a church wed-”

Belphegor interjected with “You’re not even that religious.”

A flood of complaints washed over the table as everyone started loudly protesting.

“You… You’re not allowed to get married anywhere without me!” Leviathan shouted.

“Does it have to be a church? What about a restaurant instead?” Beel suggested, looking worried. “I know a lot of pretty ones.”

“We could build a mock church in a studio and get married there,” Asmo fantasized. “The stained glass could be you and me as cherubs, we can ask Luke to be the flower boy. He’d be so cute in a little tux!”

“You wouldn’t even need a ceremony with me,” Belphegor said. “If you really want one, we can have it outdoors under the stars.”

Satan’s knife was bent at a 90-degree angle. “What a stupid thing to say. Libraries are just as quiet and nice as churches. Probably. They sure suit you better than a church.” 

“The restaurants also have in-house catering,” Beel continued.

“That ain’t gonna happen!” Mammon bounced his knee, shaking the entire table as he lamented, “I ain’t lettin’ my human get married in some church! We can go anywhere you want! Anywhere else!”

”There’s a church in my game!” Leviathan gasped. He thought an in-game wedding would be just as good as a real one. “I can show you! We can go now! Lets make you a character!”

Lucifer cleared his throat once. Then twice. The third time was a warning that got lost amid all of the whining. “Enough,” he finally growled. The room went silent for him. “You’re not getting married in a church. End of discussion.”

“Oh.” Weird of him to decide that on his own, but you were at your limit. A wide grin had already spread across your face. “Yeah, ok. By the way this roast you made is delicious.”

[wormfood2001]

[tothecrucifieddeer]

** To the NOT-DEER, CRUCIFIED DEER, DOE WOMAN, and MANFLESH ANGELS surrounding my house and knocking at the window and scratching my bedroom door (07/23/24--10:40 PM) **

Please stop it. Please stop with these fucking signs. Cut it out. For fucks sake--I don't wanna piss you off. I know what you want--I can't do it. Okay--God demands, fuck it--I can't do it. I won't do it. Messiah is good and real, and I don't care what they've done, okay? I won't hurt them or myself or anyone. Okay? I'll do the little prayers and I'll bury them in the yard, and I will pray to the dead and will do what I can--but I won't hurt anyone. I promise. I won't. You'll have to kill me first.

STOP OVERTHINKING. IF

IT'S GOD'S WILL, IT'LL

HAPPEN AND NOTHING

WILL STOP IT.

IF IT'S NOT,

HE HAS A BETTER PLAN.

HAVE PEACE IN KNOWING THAT.