#i am not just joining a religion i am joining a people and i *love* the people

[shalom-iamcominghome]

What led you to decide conversion to Judaism was "for you"?

I'll preface this post by saying that you are, essentially, asking to open a Pandora's box - this is an inherently huge question to ask, and I only request that you keep this in mind when I talk about this. I'm completely open to this discussion, though! I am absolutely happy to talk about my journey because it is so deeply personal and fulfilling,

I was raised in a Lutheran family - I was baptized, but I was never really... required to go to church. We'd gone before, my dad and I, but I don't remember this because I was young. However, what I do remember is just not believing in any of it. I never truly believed in Jesus, I'd only said I did. Despite having little pressure put on me in a religious aspect, I'd always just assumed that I should please my family. I went to Jesus camp (a moniker for the religious camp I'd gone to a few times), and I went to a handful of confirmation classes. As I understand it, Lutherans practice confirmation in order to educate young adults about the religion, and by the end, the person decides if this is right for them. I dropped out completely, and honestly, it was simply due to "I believe none of this besides g-d."

Once I had consciously admitted to myself that I really could not reconcile my disbelief, I decided to disconnect completely from all forms of xtianity. I mostly kept to myself and didn't even interrogate my feelings about g-d or religion at all.

After a while, I realized that I truly knew nothing else besides xtianity. I always thought it was my duty as a person to learn about others to accept them. I started throwing myself into education about other religions. Now that I think about it, I think part of myself really did want to connect with something that felt right in my soul. For a while, I didn't find that. Once I started learning about what were the true basics of Judaism, I felt a strange and indescribable feeling, really for the first time ever.

My journey into Judaism really began on an intellectual level. I truly jived with what I was learning - I remember one of my big issues with xtianity was the idea of "spreading the Good News," or proselytizing. I think learning that about judaism was what made me realize that there was something out there that I could logically understand. I loved the cultural understanding of disagreement - that you can even disagree with g-d and not be sent to Hell For All Eternity. I loved that observing mitzvot wasn't really a strict dogma. It was a process we all undertake on some level. I'd say that the common attitude held in the xtain spaces I was exposed to all my life (that is - "all of this is strict dogma, and no questions are deemed acceptable.") really made me appreciate the intellectualism that judaism often fulfills. By nature, I want to disagree with others, explain, agree, and ultimately learn, and I loved the culture of education.

I'd say much of the emotional attachment I now have to judaism came later. There is only so much you can appreciate about judaism from the sidelines, and once I got involved in my community, I truly learned this. Much of my love for judaism is simple - it's everyday life, really.

I think what made me decide so soon that judaism was right is because I am trans. I am no stranger to this feeling, I just had never felt it about religion. It's a deep, soul-level understanding of belonging. It's a feeling you can never do justice to through word alone. I've felt this before, and I know this is a feeling that I cannot simply ignore. It's something you can only grab hold of and never let go. It is a primal understanding within your entire being - at least it is for me.

Because of this, there is so much that I have not touched upon here, but I think I've been rambling for long enough. Again, I welcome any and (almost) all questions that may be remaining. So much of my decision about judaism came down to exposing myself to conversion stories and thoughts about judaism from jews, and if there is a chance I might be even a little like that, I will always welcome it!

[fragglez]

my religion classmates contenue to annoy and piss me off lowkey cus please tell me why you decided to CHOOSE religion as a subject on the higher level if youre the most pessimistic person about religion who apparently hates everthing and everyone like if you hate religion so much why didnt you just finish it last year instead of taking it for a another year

[bunni-bun]

⚔️.

[mylight-png]

A while ago I was listening to Dara Horn's podcast relating to her book, People Love Dead Jews. Within this podcast she discussed the fact that Holocaust museums tend to center stories that highlight ways in which Jews were just like anyone else, putting secular Jews on a pedestal of sorts.

The podcast went on to make the point that we shouldn't have to be like them to be liked. A Jew in a kippah is just as worthy of being accepted as a Jew in a baseball cap, and to position one, the more assimilated one, as "better" is antisemitic.

This made me think of how movies and shows portray Jews, and I realized a similar pattern of idealizing assimilation is deeply prevalent.

There are two main ways Jews are portrayed in movies/shows that I've noticed that are problematic. (For a narrower scope I'll be discussing American media as I am more familiar with that than most other countries.)

The first kind of Jewish representation is the token Jew. This is the character that the viewer wouldn't even have known is Jewish had the show not casually mentioned them celebrating Hanukkah in passing. This is the character who is entirely the same as any other character. An example of this would be in Ginny and Georgia, where a few side characters are revealed to be Jewish. This reveal occurred only for the purpose of making a Hanukkah episode, and immediately one of the characters says the beginning words to most of our prayers, adding "bitch" at the end. This sort of absolutely blatant disrespect towards the words many of us wouldn't even speak fully in casual conversation is meant to indicate that it's okay to poke fun at our religion. (By the way, it isn't okay. Don't disrespect our religion, thanks.) (And no the actress wasn't Jewish.)

Then there's Ben Gross from Never Have I Ever, a similarly extremely assimilated Jewish character. Instead of making fun of Judaism, however, the show plays into Jewish stereotypes. Ben's dad is a wealthy influential lawyer who works with Hollywood. Come on, there's three in a row there. Ben himself is frequently made fun of for being very short (to an extent not befitting the actor's actual stature), and some of his mannerisms could be described as effeminate. All of these traits play into anti-Jewish stereotypes. The protagonist even says she wishes Ben was killed by Nazis and other than a scolding this isn't made to be the big deal that it is.

These sorts of characters are meant to show how Jews are "just like you!" and pokes cruel fun at the few remaining things that do occasionally set them apart. Yes, secular Jews exist, but the way these shows make fun of their Jewish identities is where the issue arises.

The second problematic representation is meant to make goyim feel good about being goyim. This is specifically done through how Judaism is portrayed in these movies.

A major example of this is the show Unorthodox, in which the plot centers a young girl trying to escape her very observant community. This show directly demonized the Jewish religion, making it appear inherently oppressive and twisted.

While some may argue that the show was merely trying to portray the social issues within the community, there are better ways to achieve this.

The book An Unorthodox Match takes on a similar task with a vastly different tone. The book centers a protagonist joining an equally observant community, but not for a moment does the book, author, or protagonist blame Judaism. The book is very clearly written by a Jew who loves Judaism, and yet it manages to highlight similar social issues to the show without blaming Judaism. In fact, Jewish traditions have a fair share of appreciation in the book!

This sort of media is meant to make the goyishe viewers be grateful they aren't part of those communities, but as a Jewish viewer I felt deeply uncomfortable with the positioning of religious Jews as a negative part of society. This media makes the characters seem like they have nothing at all in common with the goyim around them or the goyim watching the show. It's the polar opposite of the previous example.

The first example is showing Jews as "just like anyone else" until they aren't, while the second example portrays Jews as entirely other. Never have I seen an Orthodox Jewish character side by side with the non-Jewish characters in any other context than the Jewish character envying their non-Jewish peers.

Why is the choice either to be assimilated or othered? Why can we not have an observant Jewish character remind their friends that they can't hang out on Saturday, or maybe they bring their own kosher snacks? Maybe a Jewish character muttering a bracha over their food? Why not make being Jewish an important part of their character without making them self-loathe because of it?

Media almost only ever shows two extremes and neither of those extremes has a positive impact on the perception of Jews.

(There is also a pattern I've noticed with Jews and goyim being cast in Jewish roles and how that corresponds to the character, but that's probably another post for another time.)

[reginaldqueribundus]

the Sarek family is hilarious to me because you have so much drama in one place. there have got to be at least 3 like, holo-documentaries or whatever about them. how could you not?

you have Sarek, the patriarch: one of the UFP's top diplomats, who knocks up a Vulcan princess then goes “hrm I am ambassador to Earth therefore I should marry a human” and he does, upsetting all sorts of the worst kinds of people on his home planet and causing racist hate groups to try to blow him and his family up multiple times, and seems honestly more put out by his son joining Starfleet than his other son becoming Vulcan Moriarty

Amanda, the matriarch: an accomplished educator and quite possibly the only well-adjusted member of the family, but when her son Spock shows up on her doorstep after growing a beard, having a mental breakdown and apparently murdering several medical staff she still shrugs and hides him in the family mausoleum

Sybok: Amanda's stepson from the aforementioned princess fling, who becomes an antiestablishment criminal mastermind with an edgelord fake name, hooks up with a hot space pirate, finds religion, starts a cult, takes an entire colonial government hostage sparking a diplomatic incident involving three galactic superpowers, and hijacks a Starfleet ship to the galactic core to find the Vulcan Garden of Eden, where he dies fighting god in hand-to-hand combat

Michael, a traumatized human girl Sarek brings home from a work trip, who joins Starfleet, becomes their first-ever mutineer, goes to prison, saves the Federation from a war most people think is her fault and gets “killed” in a highly classified, very suspicious incident involving an experimental starship and a series of red lights that appeared across the galaxy like a divine omen (oh, and returns 900 years later to solve the dilithium crisis, kill the head of the Emerald Chain and save two entire star systems including her siblings' homeworld)

and last but not least Sarek & Amanda's one-of-a-kind hybrid baby. Spock, who gets accepted into the Vulcan Science Academy, tells them to go fuck themselves when they're racist about it, runs off to Starfleet instead, gets so famous his arranged marriage falls apart resulting in him publicly strangling his own captain to death except not really, steals the Federation flagship twice, invents time travel, saves the entire planet Earth, dies and comes back to life, goes into his dad's line of work and achieves peace with the freaking Klingons as his opening act, then after a long successful career suddenly dips to go do extremely dangerous underground activism on one of the most paranoid authoritarian worlds in the galaxy to unify the Romulans & Vulcans who've hated each other for over a thousand years — and he isn't around to see it but it eventually works. then he fucks off with the VSA's high-speed prototype ship full of the most dangerous substance known to science and gets sucked into a black hole of his own creation, never to be seen again. and this is just the stuff that's public knowledge!

then you dig into the novels where Sarek's ancestor basically makes out with Zefram Cochrane 5 seconds after meeting him and Amanda tells the press her husband has a huge cock

I love them

[genderqueerdykes]

had the unfortunate experience of having to talk to door-to-door christians attempting to get me to come to their church. normally i dont mind the conversations too much because they're normally solely about god or jesus which i can easily tune out due to never having been a religious person, but this guy decided to come for me personally.

he started by being dismissive. he told me he "knows there's a God because that's why my apartment was built, and that "someone" had to make and print the paintings on my walls."

my apartment was built by hard working humans. they're god? those paintings were painted by me. i'm god?

after that he called me a liar, a thief, and a murderer. no i am not joking. because he asked me if I've ever lied or stolen something even one time in my life, even as a child, i am still a liar and a thief to this day, in his logic. because i've said that i've hated or been mad at someone, he told me i'm a murderer. yes. a fucking murderer- but a murderer "of the heart".

you don't "KILL" someone even emotionally when you are angry at them. anger toward other humans is NORMAL AND NATURAL. YOU ARE NOT COMMITTING A CRIME BY BEING ANGRY OR DISLIKING SOMEONE. people are NOT forever branded by misdeeds- this is literally cancel culture before cancel culture. this dude attempted to religiously cancel me because i have emotions.

this dude genuinely feverishly believed in thought crimes.

he then decided to attack my appearance by saying "I see you're wearing women's clothes, and women's nails (he means press on nails), that's a sign that you're confused and don't know who you are."

just because you're confused about who i am doesn't mean i am. i'm happy, you're confused. i get that you can't figure out if it would be a sin to want to fuck me or not, but that doesn't mean that i'm confused.

if you've ever felt pressured to join a religion because of claims like this, please immediately shut that person out of your head instantly. this person is trying to attack you, make you feel weak, tiny and helpless, so you can go to them, the ones who "know the truth" for "help". please for the love of this beautiful green earth, when someone comes to your door like this, know that they are trying to brainwash you. religion is not the bad thing, here: religions with good teachings don't need to come to your door to literally attack your person in order to persuade you to join them. good religious practice doesn't involve fear mongering or making people feel like outcasts. your christian grandma who hands out water to the homeless isn't the problem. this is.

jesus would absolutely despise this behavior.

[etz-ashashiyot]

I'm sorry, but actually I'm not over that comment whining about how several of the JVP ritual, uh, practices and bastardization of Judaism are being excluded and how we can't police people's identities.

Actually yes we absolutely can.

[Rant incoming]

Listen, I hate exclusion, alright? Inclusion is always the answer when it comes to people knowing who they are. Every obnoxious identity policing thing in the queer community that has divided us and ripped apart communities has been cruel, counterproductive, given platform to bigots, a distraction from the real issues bearing down on us, and honestly just dumb as a box of rocks. Okay? Okay.

But Jewish identity works differently, because it isn't about YOU. Becoming Jewish is about taking on Jewish culture and religion, a closed ethnoreligious culture, through the narrow path consented to by the collective Jewish people. There IS a path, but it is a highly supervised one. Otherwise it's just appropriation and cultural theft; something Jews have been subjected to for millennia. And if you do legitimately convert you do so because you love the Jewish people - the whole Jewish people - and want passionately to be a Jew for its own sake. You want to join our nation-tribe. You want to join our family.

And the crazy thing to me, the thing that still blows my mind, is that this is allowed! Even after millennia of appropriation, oppression, violence, expulsions, and genocides, Am Yisrael still accepts genuine gerim. It would be so understandable if they had closed the path entirely and tried to shut out outsiders who might bring in danger on their heels even if they themselves were not dangerous.

But they didn't. We didn't. To me this is a miracle, a blessing, and sign of true faith and hope. It is a privilege to be here.

Yet in the same turn, you gotta respect the process! You can't just declare yourself a Jew simply because you feel like it — it doesn't work like that. You can't just declare yourself an Argentinian one morning either without becoming a citizen first, even if you have Argentinian ancestry. And sure, if you do have some of that ancestry, you are connected to the nation, but that's different from being given a vote y'know?

Using a totally unsupervised, totally unsanctioned, brand-new neo-pagan ritual to unilaterally declare your membership in a tribe does not make you one of us. If anything, it proves why you never will be.

Now! Let's assume for a moment that we are referring only to the provably halachic Jews whose connection and backgrounds are beyond reasonable questioning.

You can never really leave the tribe, but you absolutely can apostasize. Plenty of Jews do it. There are plenty of Jews who find that Judaism is not spiritually fulfilling for them but something else is, and they convert out. There are halachic Jews who have walked away from Judaism in order to practice any other number of religions: Christianity, Islam, Neo-paganism, Hinduism, etc.

That is their prerogative, but by doing so they turn away from their people in a serious way and cannot be said to be practicing Judaism. There is of course room for many different types of Jewish practice, but conversely, there are practices that are too far removed from Judaism to meaningfully be considered as such. Otherwise, it's no longer a coherent group identity. And because Judaism is a collective identity, that actually matters.

The Jews as a people have decided that worshipping gods that are not Hashem is not within the realm of Judaism, which is why messianic "Jews" are not practicing a valid form of Judaism even if they are halachicly Jewish and/or have Jewish ancestry. Worshipping Jesus makes you a Christian or at least adjacent. That is a hard boundary.

And yeah — if you change the basic meaning of holidays, if you bring in lots of practices that are brand new and have no halachic or even historical basis, are often highly individualistic, and would not be accepted as Judaism by the vast majority of Jews, then it absolutely falls outside it. If I started practicing a religion that made little icons of Muhammad to pray to once a day and celebrated my ingenuity with pork roast and a nice glass of wine, I don't get to say that I'm practicing Islam.

These people are doing the Jewish equivalent. It is something else entirely. Especially because so many of these practices spit in the face of major tenets of Judaism and go against Jewish values.

To treat it otherwise is to treat it as an absolutely meaningless aesthetic rather than a living breathing ethnoreligious tribe of people who get to decide our own community's boundaries and practices collectively.

And for the naysayers who still disrespect Judaism and Jewish identity and peoplehood so much that they think that they get to define Judaism more than actual rabbis? Look, we can't physically stop you from calling yourself Jewish, but by the same turn, YOU can't force US to recognize you as one of us. You can be mad, but that's the thing about group cultural identities — that cultural group gets to decide whether they claim you or not.

[To be clear: this is not about politics — there are plenty of Jewish non-Zionists and anti-Zionists who are 100% Jewish. This is about this one specific shitty organization and this particular type of behavior.]

[blingblong55]

Dear Father -John Price x F!Reader x Simon 'Ghost' Riley NSFW

A/N: If you're super religions and/or catholic...look away

Based on a request:

I am too sinning on this app so Ik that it isn't part of the list but what about a priest au? price and ghost having a threesome with a nun or sister (yk what I mean) its all innocent at first she helps around during mass and since both men cant break celibacy they try and stop the 'sinful' thoughts of sister/nun y/n one time they saw her curves and from then on after talking w the other they decided to corner her and fuck her ____ F!Reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, dub-con, hierophilia, threesome, priest!Price, priest!Ghost, spit roast, some degrading, nun/sister!reader unprotected!sex, oral!sex, P-in-V, priest au, nun/sister au ____

A/N: personally, I love the idea of getting fucked by a priest...especially by these two. Also inspired by many of the band Ghost songs

You walked the halls of the holy temple, rosemary in hand as you made your way to mass. "Sister," Father John greeted. "Hello Father, having a great evening?" You and him walk the hall together. "It has been a delightful one, sister. And how is your evening this fine day?" The Bible by his hand. "Oh mine has been pleasant," you smile a little. "Have you spoken with Father Simon?" You nod, "I have, he seems excited for this evening, I heard we will have a larger group this holy day." You comment. As you walk inside you see the children help set up the mantle on the altar, the bible and wine carefully set up as well. You sit in one of the chairs by the altar, Father Simon comes out to make sure the temple looks well for when the townspeople arrive. "Ah..sister R/N, how are you today?" the holy man spoke. "I'm fine father, and yourself?"

"Couldn't be happier, now remember sister, you must make sure not to let that little head of yours get lost when I give the sermon." He pats your head and makes his merry way upstairs where he changes into his attire. You walk towards the door, helping the townspeople in, all in their best attire for this day. The sign of the cross is all done by them as they walk into the temple. The rosemary in hand as mass began. You sat neatly by the altar, praying and listening to Simon. He gave a couple of jokes to the people attending, much of which people laughed. It was communion when you were in line and his finger touched your lip, and you opened it. "The body of Christ," the way he said it, so alluring to the thoughts you once had as a young woman of the church. "Amen," you respond and eat the bread. You go back to your seat and pray.

After mass, all the people left, the cleaning crew and townspeople, it was just Father John and Simon with you. You stayed on your knees, praying for all the people that attended. In the candle-lit room, the two priests joining you. Kneeling beside you and letting you stay between them. They held your hand, praying with you. Once it was over, they returned to their room. "Amen," you whisper and try and forget about the sinful thoughts both priests gave you. You walked back to your room until you heard some moans. It had to be some of the people you let sleep for shelter but as you were about to knock on the door of Father Price, Simon walked into the hallway. "Sister?" his voice like a whisper. "Father, I think I heard a noise-"

"Go to bed, R/N, we'll discuss this in the morning, good night," he walked back into his room and as you walked past Father John's room, the moans continued. Could he be sick? No, that can't be, he is a very healthy man. Once in your room, you prayed and got into your nightgown. By morning, you walked the halls again and made sure the kitchen and offices were clean and ready for the day. It was a Monday, meaning a few people would show up to confess. "Father John will do confessionals today," you informed. People of all backgrounds nodded in delight, ready to have their sins forgiven.

By the evening, you were approached by Simon. "Are you confessing today?" an innocent question with ulterior motives. "Yes, father." A simple and short response, one that began the entire evening. As the doors to the public closed and you walked into the confessional booth, you sat down. "What are your sins, child," Johns's voice so soft. A confession that was meant to stay in between the walls. "I've been having unholy thoughts," your voice so small and full of embarrassment. "About what or who, child?" He knew who this was, and an excited smirk appeared on his face. "About the priests in this church, I don't know how it got to this point, I'm sorry, Father." You look down, the rosemary on your hands, playing with the beads out of nerves. He knew what the evening had planned for the three of them.

"On your knees child, pray to be forgiven." Words that would later be repeated during the night. You did so, prayed and prayed, hoping for forgiveness. To break celibacy, something the church penalised their holy men. The oath to be devoted to the man up above was now broken to worship the temptress that roamed the halls, dressed as a holy woman. A succubus that knew she was their weakness, clothed in holy clothes, to be undressed and fucked like the whore she is and wants to be.

You in Simon's ear, crying and confessing to him too. "I'm sorry Father, I know this is wrong, I'm sorry I didn't mean to think of this." He shakes his head, a lying motion to be proven soon. John walks in, holy water in a bowl in his hand, rosemary on the other. He and Simon look at each other, their plan to work. "Get on your knees and beg for forgiveness," Simon demands. Your teary eyes are now filled with confusion but you don't question this, you get on your knees, and begin to pray until he stops you. Thumb under your chin, making you look up. "Not like that, sister, open your mouth, be a good girl," John says. You open your mouth, and a sense of newfound arousal finds its way to you. If the heavens spoke, this would be the beginning of a long overdue sin. Two priests, three sinners and a saint, all in one room, ready to corrupt the one thing that began to crack under the very same roof they spoke holy words. Both men spit in your mouth, "Swallow," Simon commands this time and you nod. Their zippers undone, their hair pulled, their cocks ready to be pleased by the mouth of a saint.

Your mouth and body are about to become their temple. John is the first to begin to stroke his cock in front of your face. Simon followed right after. Worshipping the very thing they had sworn to never do, a woman and the sexual desire they so have needed. Let me have you, the devils spoke in a whisper. Your mouth being teased by John's tip, all red and swollen, letting the innocent nun look up with such a good girl stare, it melted their hearts. "Suck on it," he tells you, your lips wrapped around his thick shaft. His hand is on your hair, pushing your head further in. You gag and cry, trying to hold in all the noise the room could not listen to. Simon can't take it any longer. "Pray for us, R/N," the young priest says. A prayer that will send you three over the edge on a bed made for one holy man. Simon pulled you away from John, placing you on the bed on all fours, Simon massaging your ass before taking your clothes off. The a need to have this, already leaving your panties soaked. It was true what they said, to worship is to be devoted and in this moment, they are devoted to your body and you to theirs.

You mewl when you feel Simon slap your now bare ass, your shirt ripped from you as John teases your face with kisses. Your tits slapped before he cups your face with aggression, "You're nothing but a fucking slut, you know that, R/N?" Before you could even respond he slaps your face and smirks. Simon's thick and veiny cock, blessed your walls, and as your cunt was already dripping from just the thought of getting fucked he chuckled. "Our little nun here seems to be eager for this," he tells John. The moans you let out as he hungrily fucked himself into you, were too sinful for such holy men to listen to. It was food in ways no one could understand. John's cock in your mouth, your throat trying its best to accommodate a man his size. Their trousers on the floor, your body the temple for such noises and sins. Your cunt spread open for Simon's size.

You begin to let out whimpers, something so small that you get punished for your pleasure is not of importance in this Your body, like it was possessed by fools gold, making these hungry men fight for every part of it. Their breathing is heavy as your body gets used over and over again. "Just like that, fucking take it," Simon stuttered as he has found pleasure he was forbidden to feel. John touched your body only when the holy water was on his hands as if he were to burn if he didn't touch the water before touching the devil herself. "You're nothing but a slut, aren't you, hm…say it…say it you bitch," John slapped your face and pulled his cock out to let you breathe. Between heavy panting, you responded, "I'm…a slut, Father." Your voice is hoarse, barely above a loud whisper.

"That's fucking right," he forces your mouth open and spits on it again. His cock back in your mouth that thins at his size. Simon can't help but slap your ass, wanting to mark it as his. If this was how you received forgiveness, then the more sins you must commit. The devil grins this night, for he has made this night turn from holy to his own little game. To taunt all believers and worshippers. It was a night of ritual, one to commence when all-powerful and mythical mysteries went to roam the earth. Some call it adultery, some call it fun. You played with black magic, getting daddied by men who were never dad. Giving you things you never once had. Simon's cock twitching, begging for release. You kept swallowing the pre-cum that leaked from Johns cock. John's breathing escapes in short ones, not being able to contain his orgasm for any longer. You know he is close, his cock twitches and you can feel how it is pulsating in your mouth.

He groans, head thrown back as he fills your mouth with his cum. His movements were desperate, your face flushed as he held you in place. Simon let his cock sink into your greedy body, his hands holding you as in his head, he too asked for forgivenes. Your walls clench around Simon, your breathing getting heavier. And although it was never intended, he knew that with each thrust he was getting you closer to heaven as well. John pulls out, forces you to swallow his cum and he grins when your mascara stained face looks up at him as his mate continues to fuck you. "You like that, don't you?" he whispers and kisses you as he bends. His face cupping yours. Wet kisses and groans filled the room. No longer sacred by definition.

Simon filled you with his sticky seed, his groans turned to moans when he felt your cunt pulsating, your walls milking him for all he is worth. It was perfect, he turned you into his personal fleshlight. You let out whimpers as he pulls out, your cunt abused and leaking the seed of a holy man. What a great use for a whore that desguises herself as a nun. You clit sensitive, the men laid you on your back and between them. A secret amongst three people, to be repeated but never spoken of. A sin that will carry for as long as time. The holy water John brought it, used to clean your sweat, tears and the cum that displayed on your body. The rosemary, used to hang from your neck as they kissed it all night long. Two priests, three sinners and one former saint, a corruption well done.

Tags: @ghostslillady @mothcelestial @greatstormcat @pippylaune @liyanahelena @anonymuslydumb @kit-kats06 @quaritchscupquake @lisa-takeshi @ash-tarte @arithestrawberry @agent-oaklahoma @murarl @downbadformaskedmen @iamnotfinedaddy @woncloudie @lilahbunny

[wintertidewater]

I like separatism, but I don’t practice it fully. After calling three different places to fix the A/C, I’m bound to just go with cheapest and fastest.

I ask, “do you have any female workers that can come out?” The man on the phone seemed flustered by my question. “My dog is aggressive towards men”. But no women work there. Except for the office. Which does employ women, he reassures me, as he stutters.

Clearly, I am the first to ask.

Separatism is psychologically freeing. Why not invest in each other? Anything a man can do, a woman can too. Maybe not every woman—many of us stay in our roles at least partially and this limits us—but enough women pave paths. I offer myself as proof.

But it’s far from convenient. Every day it becomes more difficult to band together… as our language is ripped from our tight hands. White knuckles. Desperation. “It didn’t used to be like this”.

Today the public sphere is online, owned by men and male ideology. Women cannot speak freely, despite the protected right to spew abuse that our male counterparts enjoy.

“We used to be matriarchal, earth-loving”. Can we go back? Is it that simple?

Perhaps if all women just meet on farms and regain independence… “Dependence fosters abuse”. Is a homestead and female community enough to escape it all?

It’s hard to say. How many of you follow through? Why not join one of the 50 or so women’s lands in the United States (where most of us reside)?

In the ’70s and ’80s, there were around 150 such communities in the US. Today, these lands are dying out. Many of the people running them are in their 70s or older. Within a decade, will these women and these lands still be here? We don’t know.

How did this happen? Is it just a cultural shift? Why does women’s culture seem so fragile and fleeting compared to others’? How are we surrounded by ancient male religions and centuries, if not millennia, of redundant male philosophy?

A large part of this has to with how culture is spread. There is a current success rate of 81-89% for political belief transmission from parents to teenagers. Men don’t live as long and yet they are more influential because they are experts at this. It’s why they’re all so desperate to have a partner. To have a “legacy”. It’s why men being unpartnered is considered a crisis.

By having children for free through women’s labor, yet remaining the highest family authority, men get to succeed in spreading their ideologies. Having two children is the baseline, enough to “replace” the parents. More is power. Either way, reproduction is used as a tool of ideological expansion.

To create change, we must ask who is having and teaching children. If over 4 out of 5 children are going to occupy the same political space as their parents, who are the women and men who are raising the future? Or more importantly, why is it not us?

Perhaps it’s worth considering that a woman’s land dedicated to fostering girls is the answer. To keep our rights, we must consider raising feminists. As of 2021, there were 191,037 girls in U.S. foster care. Why not have them be the future?

[unbidden-yidden-deactivated20240]

Okay so in the same vein as this post, I want to reality check the people who keep asking (yes I've been this person too, don't @ me) why oh why are Jews the only group leftists are willing to categorically deny self-determination to, and the reason is that most of them are tits deep in Christian supercessionism and don't even know it and have absolutely no desire to change that.

The reason they deny self-determination to Jews is the same reason that they would deny any claim to self-determination of, say, Mormons. If the Mormon church tried to claim Utah because it's the epicenter and birthplace of Mormonism [Edit: apparently the birthplace of Mormonism is western New York and not Utah whoops, but the point stands] and therefore they may as well have an indigenous claim to it, people with brains would rightfully lose their shit.

"But it's a culture too, not just a religion!"

So? Have you met any Mormons and spent time with them? They have their own culture.

"Okay but Jews are an ancient people!"

Please look at the batshit Mormon theological view of the Twelve Tribes and their attitudes towards Native Americans.

"Okay but our history is real!" Yep! These people don't know the first thing about Judaism and Jewish history and don't care.

The reality is that most westerners are hellbent on ignoring Jewish history and ethnoreligious identity because literally all of western civilization is built on Christian supercessionism. Even the people who leave Christianity and hate it (and "all religions") with a violent passion still refuse to engage in learning about Jewish cultural and ethnic history because you cannot do it without engaging the history and texts that they blame as the roots of Christianity and therefore they discredit all of it out of hand.

Obviously they're super fucking wrong about this. You, my fellow yid, and I, both know that. But unraveling the supercessionism means understanding their culpability in Jewish suffering and how they benefit from institutionalized antisemitism.

They are extremely unlikely to do that.

Why? Because if they unlearn Judaism as "just a religion" &/or "Christianity without Jesus" and begin to understand it as an indigenous Levantine group, they then have to reckon with the reality of how much Christianity has stolen from Jews and how much of their hatred for Jews is baked into their western goyische psyche by intentional Christian misunderstandings of Judaism.

Am Yisrael cannot to them be a real people with deep tribal roots and a strong culture, because then they would have to separate Judaism from Christianity and question their assumptions about us and our history.

"But Judaism accepts converts!"

Okay, as someone who "converted," I'm going to say no, not really, actually. Conversion is a convenient shorthand, but it's not accurate. Converting to Judaism means a mutually consensual adoption into the Tribe, after thorough vetting, at least a year of study and perseverance but probably more, and the main, primary promise that you make is about choosing to share the collective fate of the Jewish people. Yes, this adoption and naturalization is through the medium of the spiritual/religious aspect of Jewish identity, but it's way more than that. To be a Jew is to know that I might get stabbed on my walk to shul for being visibly Jewish, and to accept that possibility because the idea of not living as a Jew is worse. Gerim have to be ride or die because a serious chunk of Jewish history is on the "die" side of that equation. You have to be just a little bit nuts voluntarily take on that risk (reminder that I say this as a ger who is happily Jewish) and it must come from a place of profound love for and identification with the Jewish people. And once you join the family, that's it. You don't get to ever stop being a member of the family, even if you become estranged from it.

It's a people, with a deep history and culture, and anyone who joins it takes on both. Obviously your genetic makeup and ancestry don't change, but everything else does.

Understanding that major difference in Judaism in a serious way means that they would have to let go of their world view that their religion and culture are separate, that Christianity intentionally divorced faith from culture in order to acquire as many converts as possible, and then begin to understand how Christianity has shaped their understanding of culture, tradition, what religion is, ethics, and values. And they would have to then make an effort to separate their understanding of Judaism and what they think they know about us from Christianity, however they do or don't relate to it.

[tragedybunny]

Dance With Me Under the Diamonds, See Me Like Breath in the Cold - Astarion x F!Reader

I've been waiting to write this for some time. I'm absolutely thrilled with it and I hope you think it's beautiful.

Reader and Astarion have come a long way since that meeting on the beach. They've made it all the way to their wedding.

“Where in the hells is Gale?” Astarion fusses while fidgeting with the brocade crimson overcoat he’s wearing. “That man is always late.”

“He’ll be here Love,” you give him a small kiss on his cheek and take his hand, trying your best to keep things calm. "He's not even actually late yet."

“Still haven’t found patience to be a virtue I see,” Shadowheart strolls over to the two of you where you wait under an arbor of night-blooming jasmine, her arm hooked in Lae’zel’s.

“Would you expect any different,” Lae’zel adds a wide smile to her words, an attempt to make it clear she’s joking. The Githyanki has certainly seen her share of change since you met her, really hadn’t you all though?

“While I’m glad you two have finally developed a sense of humor, I’d rather not be the subject of it.” You can feel his agitation rising and it’s your turn to silently plead with the universe for Gale to hurry up.

“Perhaps he’s nervous,” Lae’zel turns to her partner, pretending Astarion isn’t right there fuming.

“I am not!” Before he gets any more worked up, they both pull the pair of you into a sudden embrace, leaving Astarion stuttering and you trying not to giggle at his expense.

“Congratulations you two, we’ll go mingle and pray for Gale’s safety if he’s any later,” The two of them join arms again and make their way back over to the crowd greeting an enthusiastic Mol and her gang of children that’s expanded beyond just the original tieflings. They’re becoming quite the criminal enterprise. There are so many people here, lives you’ve both touched. Originally you’d planned to just stay at your little house for the event, but when more requests to attend kept coming, you had to choose somewhere else. Duke Ravenguard had graciously offered you private use of Bloomridge Park.

“You are nervous, aren’t you,” you whisper mischievously and watch him try to hide it.

“Of course not, I managed to convince you to come this far, now it’s all formality,” your heart skips a beat when he smiles, the tips of fangs peeking out from under his lip. Smiles like that were all too rare when you first met him.

“I don’t recall needing much convincing.” Truthfully, you don’t remember what had brought the subject up, but Astarion had reminded you that it wasn’t a point, legally speaking, as neither of you technically existed.

“It doesn’t have to be in an official record anywhere, it’s just a promise we would make to one another. And we do know the perfect Cleric for a nighttime ceremony.” The way he’d just stood there for a moment you thought you'd said something wrong. Perhaps it was bringing up a Cleric and making it a sworn oath, he didn’t exactly have any love for religion. But then he was dropping to his knees, taking your hands in his, and begging you to be his wife. It was appropriately dramatic for him. And now, here you were, gathered with friends and found family, waiting on a late wizard.

“Brother!” Beside you, Astarion braces and a pale figure collides with him, embracing him tightly

“Hello Dal,” he gingerly returns her hug, as you notice Aurelia remaining a respectful distance behind them. “It’s good to see the both of you too,” he nods in Aurelia’s direction. His relationship with his “siblings” is complicated, but the horror they shared bonds them, and some of them have tried to make a family out of what is left to them. Dalyria seems to be the most persistent, she even had the two of you come visit their home in the Underdark.

“I’m so happy for you Astarion,” she finally releases him but leaves a hand on his arm fondly. “You’ll have to come visit again. I’ll even make Petras promise to behave.”

There’s turmoil in him only you can see, he would love to forget about anything that reminds him of Cazador, but the sisterly love Dal tries to give him is something he’s missed in his life. “At least it will be safer for him that way.”

“Stop,” she smiles and gives him a peck on the cheek. “We’ll talk more later.” As she walks away, Aurelia gives a stiff wave.

“His time is up, he's de-” A flash of light interrupts and when it fades two figures are standing amongst the crowd, a wizard you know well and one you briefly met.

“Sorry for the wait,” Gale begins awkwardly, trying to ignore Astarion’s considerable glare, “we were occupied in a bit of an undertaking…”

“But I am sure you will find the reasons most acceptable,” Elminster takes over, giving your floundering friend a reprieve.

Another flash of light as two more figures appear and you can't believe your eyes. Your heart leaps and you shout inadvertently. "Karlach! Wyll!" Without a second thought, you launch yourself at both of them, Astarion following along more reservedly.

"Steady on there, Soldier," Karlach pulls you into a smothering hug.

"How," you ask, smoothing the cream lace of your dress as she lets you go, still stunned she's outside Avernus without exploding.

"Wizards," Wyll smiles, glancing at Gale and Elminster. "We had to find a way back, there's no way we'd miss this."

"It won't hold forever, but we think we've got a way I can come back for visits. Until we get something permanent. Good news is Zariel's seemed distracted by something lately."

"I suppose overall this is an appropriate excuse for being late," Astarion finally relents.

"Aww, come on Fangs, don't be sour, it's your wedding." Karlach has a wicked gleam in her eye.

"Do not," but it's too late, the tiefling picks him up in a crushing hug. "I missed you too Karlach."

Tears suddenly start to form in your eyes, seeing them all together again, it was something you feared might never be. Wyll gives Asatrion a less brutal greeting and you turn to Elminster. "Thank you. You will stay right," it's the least you can do.

"Gale has assured me there are to be many culinary delights after, and of course, I've never seen a vampire spawn get married. So I believe I shall."

"Ah. I see Father made it," Wyll waves to Duke Ravengaurd who had been waiting a respectful distance away. "Best go see him, we'll catch up more after."

"You both better save a dance for me," Karlach calls over her shoulder, taking his arm, and kissing his temple.

"Tell me you have them," Astarion has fixed his attention back on Gale, and you rush to his side before he can begin another tirade.

"Worried I would eat them?" Gale has recovered himself from Astarion’s initial onslaught and is smiling brightly.

"Yes," your beloved is still in no mood for jokes.

"Honestly Astarion," you give him a look.

"Ugh, fine, I'll calm down. Once he hands them over." You're lost as to what Gale has that's so important considering the occasion.

"Never change my friend," he laughs and pulls a small box from a pocket on his robes and opens it gently. Inside there are two gold rings with small red stones set in them, you can feel the hum of magic in them.

“Sending Stones?” You glance at Astarion as he takes the box from Gale.

For a moment he seems almost shy about it. “I thought it would be nice if we were always able to speak to each other, no matter what. I know it’s not feasible to never be separated.” The two of you had spent almost every moment of the last couple of years in each other’s presence, but as Astarion continued to heal, he seemed more comfortable with time spent apart.

“You’re adorable, you know that,” your lips brush the tip of his nose, the gift is an incredibly sweet sentiment, and you’re so proud of how far he’s come.

Under the right circumstances, vampires actually can blush. “I..” he starts, sounding like he’s going to grouse about something, probably being called adorable in front of everyone, but stops. “I don’t know if I’ll ever understand why you think that my Love, after everything I’ve done.”

You reach up to brush his cheek and run a finger through his curls. “That wasn’t who you really are.”

“I take it, we're ready.” Isobel joins you under the arbor, eyes already fixed on the moon above, and you both nod in response. “Then let us begin,” her voice carries to the crowd and silence falls. “We come here, under Our Lady’s Light, to bless this couple and sanctify their bond.”

You honestly don’t remember many of Isobel’s words after that as Astarion takes your hand and you get lost in his soft, crimson eyes. Maybe it’s a bit terrible of you to ask Selune’s blessing and then not pay attention, but you think she can understand. “The rings,” Isobel prompts and Astarion retrieves them from his pocket, opening them so the Cleric can bless them. “May the Moonmaiden’s light ever guide your hearts toward each other.” A nearly imperceptible mote of silver light seems to land on them and lends the jewels in them an unearthly glow.

Astarion tenderly picks one up as you proffer your finger. Isobel had agreed to let you both speak your own vows, as long as they didn’t directly offend any of Selune’s teachings. You’d reassured Astarion every step of the way that you didn’t need it to be a sworn oath in front of clergy, but he’d oddly insisted, saying he wanted to swear himself to you to the fullest. “As long as it’s Isobel though, she’s the only trustworthy one.” Shadowheart was still figuring out how much religion she wanted in her life, though it seemed Selune was patient as she continued to have a Cleric's gifts.

The ring slips on your finger perfectly and your heart stutters, your vision getting watery again. You do the same for him in turn and you both entwine your hands, speaking in unison. “Unto thee, I vow, mine heart and home, mine life and love, for now, and all seasons. Let me never from thy side be parted, and unto thee, no evil do. Until, at last, my life shall leave me, this my beloved, is my pledge to you. So I do swear.”

“And so sworn before our Lady, I do pronounce thee wed.” The crowd behind you applauds, and you can barely see Astarion through the tears.

Lae’zel and Karlach are shouting raucously, “Kiss! Kiss!”

You start to lean forward and notice his eyes are just as wet as yours. “Hells, why did I agree to do this in public,” he laughs, dabbing his cheeks with the cuff of his sleeve.

“You couldn’t miss being the center of attention,” your laugh is lost in a happy sob. “Damn it, kiss me before I pass out or something.”

Softly, he pulls you in, lips finding yours. The chaste peck turns deeper, giving the crowd what they want judging by the noise. But then something unexpected happens, there’s the tinkle of mischievous laughter, as though a woman stands near to you. A voice that’s both honey-sweet but radiating power whispers in your ear, “congratulations my dear child,” and you feel a surge of fae-touched magic, reminding you of that day you took a different oath.

The kiss breaks and Astarion is staring at you, surprise clearing away his tears. “I know you.”

Everything goes numb in the rush of terror that follows, he’d learned some of who you were before the Nautiloid, but there was much still to tell. “Astarion I’m so-”

A slender finger is pressed to your lips. “Hush Love, tomorrow. And it changes nothing, I still love you with all my unbeating heart. Now let’s indulge everyone since they came all this way to celebrate us.”

The night is full of feasting, drinking, song, and dancing. The two of you mingle with old friends and those whom you met only briefly, the scents of a delectable feast wafting through the air. When the music starts, you share a waltz under the night sky, Astarion holding you close and whispering in your ear, “love you Sunlight.”

True to her word, Karlach insists on a dance with both of you, surprising you with her talent for it. “I’ve been teaching her,” Wyll looks over at her and Astarion lovingly from where he’s dancing with you. “Once you find a safe place to rest, Avernus can be a bit boring.”

You stumble across Lae’zel, angrily giving gold to Mol and her crew. “She lost a bet,” Mol says proudly.

“Oh really, and what sort of scam bet did you get her to agree to, my favorite tiny criminal” Astarion asks fondly. Mol comes to visit you sometimes and you’ve decided you’d rather not know what he’s been teaching her.

“She thought you might light on fire as soon as it got religious,” Mol laughs and scampers off.

Astarion pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’ve seen me in temples before.”

“Chk, but never swearing an oath.”

“She has a point,” you nudge him playfully.

“Oh you are going to pay for that later,” he leans in to nip at your neck, causing you to shiver.

Dawn nears much too soon and you can see some of his happiness evaporating. There still was no solution you’d found to let him live in the light. “We should go,” you whisper in his ear, “what’s a wedding without the wedding bed?” Ever so lightly, you let your tongue brush against his ear, a spot of divine torment for him you’ve found, and listen as he gasps softly.

“Indeed my Love,” his mood revives and the two of you make your good-byes, your friends having promised to clean up the aftermath of the night. A young woman you think you recognize passes you an open bottle of wine on the way out of the park, “a gift from summer’s best,” she says and it fills you with a strange sensation for a moment before Astarion’s mouth is on yours again.

Your house isn’t far from Bloomridge and the two of you stroll the streets in a blissful, dreamy state, wrapped in each other’s arms, sharing drinks from the wine that tastes of sweet berries and summer rains. Lights dance in the morning mists and everything feels transcendtly perfect as you ascend the steps to your home. Astarion pins against your front door, kissing you hungrily and letting his hands wander your body. “My wife,” he breathes against your skin as his lips travel down your neck.

Heat sparks inside you, ravenous for him. “My husband,” you sigh, lost in your love for him.

[vigilxnte-shit]

join the tuna team!

ever wanted to join a discord server full of people who share your love for one specific, depressed, hot martial artist with a lot of catholic guilt? do you have other interests such as baldur's gate 3 and musical theatre? if so, the tuna team is the place for you!

the tuna team began with the intention of a server where daredevil writers could unite to share our writing, beta read for each other, and just talk about our favorite blind lawyer/vigilante. since then, it has morphed into a place where we all talk to each other about our lives, share pictures of pets, and scream into the void about everything we love.

the tuna team welcomes anyone of any age (well, any age 18 and over), religion, gender, etc. etc. and we would love to have you! if you want to join, message me your discord username and i'll send you a friend request!

be advised that the server is 18+ and although we love charlie and his characters, we do NOT allow speculation on his personal life. we ask that anyone who joins be respectful of others' pronouns, identity, and boundaries- specifics on this are available upon request!

members of the tuna team:

here is a brief introduction to each current member of the tuna team! i am relatively new to interacting with the DD fandom (i've been a fan since 2022, but only just recently started talking with other fans online) and am frankly stunned that so many cool, talented, amazing writers who i look up to are in this server. everyone in here is inspiring and supportive, and contributes to the great vibe we have going in the server!

~~moderators~~

vienna @vigilxnte-shit: hi, as you may have noticed, this is me. i'm the owner of the server, i'm mostly here to write, talk about husband!matt, and send pictures of my cat, coconut.

brooklyn @jazerno: brooke is my irl best friend and roommate, as well as coconut's technical legal mother. brooke originally joined to be a moderator, but has since fallen for frank castle, as one tends to do.

mar @mar-thewriter: mar is a very good friend of mine who i met via another server of people i love. mar doesn't talk much here, but is a great moderator who i love dearly.

mads @madschiavelique: mads is the one who made our gorgeous get roles channel and is our coding genius. they are the ones to thank for

~~tunas~~

leg @a-leg-without-fear: leg is hysterical and our resident emoji artist. she has created all of our emoji in the server and also the lovely art featured above, as well as countless other fun works!

yuna @yarrystyleeza: yuna is the sweetest person you will ever meet and fun fact: tuna team comes from her name! yuna always has the best headcanons and her oc, madilyn, is DARLING.

sapph aka sunshine @sunflowersandsapphires: sapph is the mama of our server, she is sunshine incarnate and always has the best writing prompts + blesses our eyes with her pets!

hira aka robin @amphitrite-5: hira is a very soft and kind soul who regularly makes everyone's day with her kind words. she's also one of our best gamers and doesn't like to sleep (though really, none of us do)

via @zomtart: via is the #1 frank castle character defender and i have no choice but to respect that. they're hilarious and we love having them in the server!

i cant find mariam's tumblr: i was scrolling through mariam's messages and literally fighting the urge to laugh in the office. mariam is hysterical and our representative elektra fan.

eclipse @ecxlipse: eclipse is the baby of our server (i think) but has sent us plenty of gorgeous art and wonderful matt headcanons, and they always have the best contributions to our conversations!

crys @what-i-call-men: crys is responsible for several of the best, spiciest headcanons that have come about on the server. they also have sent the best photo of themselves wearing a DD mask.

zena @coxology101: zena is a busy bee and running her own server, but when we do hear from them, we get some of the best thoughts and BTS dardevil pictures.

ivy @catholicguiltboi: ivy is hysterical and has blessed is with photos of their son, yoshi (who i think is a lizard but i am not very smart).

pasta @pastafossa: my jaw dropped when i saw pasta wanted to join. they contribute so much laughter, many great ideas, and the best advice to the server and we are thrilled they're here.

sybil @gracethyomen: brooke and i have spent several nights since the server started laughing in our apartment over something sybil has said. they are genuinely one of the funniest people ever.

shiori @shiorimakibawrites: shiori has blessed us with some of the best matt thoughts time and time again. like pasta, their name is so recognizable to me that i was genuinely shocked when they asked to join, but i'm so grateful they did!

bella @bellaxgiornata: you'll be sick of hearing this but i genuinely could not believe bella wanted to join the server. in my eyes, she is like the taylor swift of the daredevil fandom (and for clarity's sake, that is the highest compliment i can give). in the server she constantly has the best ideas and is always so supportive of everything we all write.

lindsay @shouldbestudying41: much like bella, this is someone who i very much look up to and respect in the daredevil community. having her in the server is a blessing and they are insanely good at time management- i'm incredibly amazed by their ability to juggle so much at one time!

we also have a couple without blogs; aspen and paris. they are good irl friends of mine who don't say much, but are a joy to have in the server anyway :)

divider on top by @sister-lucifer

tuna team art by @a-leg-without-fear

[hoseoksluna]

A MILLION YEARS AGO | jhs

pairing: idol!boyfriend!hobi x f. reader 

genre: smut, fluff

word count: 4.6k

summary: when your faith in your healing wavers, hobi is there to go the extra mile for you.

taglist: join | playlist: million | cp: wattpad, ao3 | discord: join

warnings: near car accident, confusion in the body, iffy feelings towards an ex, seeing an ex for the first time in million years, being mistreated, religion, praying, oc smokes, hobi is the perfect boyfriend that i wish i had, oral sex (f. receiving), raw sexual intercourse.

note: i'm crying as i'm writing this because i'm so sad, but i promise this healed me more than i expected. as you know, i write little fics whenever something happens to me—and this is based off what happened yesterday. me and my cousin sat down at our smaller family event (not the one we had on friday, if you follow me on twitter), and she asked me if i were healed. and she told me about what she saw. i think it's meant to move me somewhere forward, otherwise i would've never got to see his face. i don't know. i hope you like this little fic, you know i had to write it out like i smoke out my feelings. i'm proud of this work in terms of the way it's written. think i kinda killed that. i love you guys. and i miss you, terribly. i love you.

side note: sorry for my vulnerability. a smaller side note: this is also for my baby @hoseokkie-caeks. i promised i would write a hobi one shot after berries, and here i am. <3 i love you, baby. miss you.

The night was dark. Too, too dark. 

I sensed it swathing my bones long before I glimpsed at something I should and shouldn’t have—or rather someone, to be proper. 

The trees remained unmoving, despite the summer breeze drifting through the macrocosm that unfolded with each and every footfall I shared with my beloved beside me. Hand in hand, we walked leisurely through streets that were prosaic until our energy imbued them with our intimate poetry. White swallowing, little by little, the dark. There was no one and everyone around us, but we didn’t see them; we merely saw each other, for we were in love and we deserved to be so. Hoseok after his hard, agonizing work regime and unfair treatment from his management and… the whole world essentially. Me after the way I had been treated, handled, tossed aside by the person I found inside the screen of a phone—inside a world that once used to be mine, but now is nothing but foreign. 

Million, million years ago. 

The stars were aligned just right, stringing together a shape of the wholeness and the throb of my heart, and we sat down to eat dinner with one of my closest friends that came to town—one me and Hoseok have settled in within the precious, year-long break that burst open in his work life. Hobi didn’t want to see people, at least not those who didn’t bear familiar faces, and I didn’t want to see the city, so it was the most fateful of compromises, most perfect of the kind that was naturally threaded between us; a conjoined idea that blinked within our brains at the same time. And the laughter that followed after we voiced it out at the same time, the long kiss that spread roots inside the pillows of our lips—to this day, it is a fond memory, or perhaps something beyond that, that embraces me at night before I enter the realm of dreamland, tugging me closer into the snug heat of Hoseok’s safe place that I regard his body to be. 

Though before we arrived, I gazed up at that constellation of me through the windscreen as Hoseok’s car began to make a strange noise that unnerved him. I prayed for its rightness to be true and I prayed for our safe travel, as short as it was. According to our previous plan, we were supposed to wait for my friend, Hyun-Ae, and her boyfriend, Do-hyun, outside of the restaurant because she had a strong yearning to jump into my arms upon seeing me. My excitement for that to happen ripped my eyes away from the nightly heavens, searching for her in the dimmed lights of the mutely lively building, in the shadowed greenery surrounding it, near the trees that didn’t move, yet my hair did. 

Strange, that dark energy. 

I hoped she was peeing somewhere, where the light doesn’t reach. She invariably had a tendency to chug everything she drank and her bladder paid for it each time—but this time, she wasn’t squatting by a bush. 

She almost didn’t get to me at all. 

A driver, merely minutes away from entering our town, nearly swerved wrongly into the traffic lane that Do-hyun was driving through, yanking away the stars from the canvas of the heavens. He had to pull over and take deep breaths in order to stabilize his mental state as the thought of almost getting in a car accident with her being in the passenger seat triggered his long-fought panic attack. And because the woods at the beginning of our secluded town doesn’t have any service, we waited for them for half an hour without any knowledge of their whereabouts. 

I bit my cuticles until they bled. Until Do-hyun’s lungs were lifted of its heaviness with Hyun-Ae’s help, his breathing evened out, and he was able to get behind the wheel and cross the distance. 

Upon hearing what obstacles stood before us, I didn’t understand it at first. Hyun-Ae’s yearning was gratified, we hugged until our necks ached and our arms quivered in our stifling, long-coming hug with her legs wrapped around me, ate the food we always ordered when we were together and not apart while she filled me in—but I didn’t perceive the darkness for what it was until that very last detail. 

One she wouldn’t provide until I promised her, a million times, that I was fully healed and ready to hear it. I didn’t know what she was about to uncoil, sitting beside me as she was, with her hands in her lap. But I should’ve known that those obstacles were put in our path for my preparation. 

Hyun-Ae hinted, before she began articulating her discovery, that it was about my ex-love. I stiffened a little, taken aback. I downed a shot of the spirits that we had left. And I was being tugged in two different directions, thrown to and fro, asked by the lawlessness of life to choose. 

Stay back and not go further—not let her tell me because Hobi doesn’t know the specifics about my last situationship. 

Ask her to hold my hand and give her the consent to proceed as my curiosity was piqued and my wound was healed, a million years ago. 

And in the short dwelling of the manhandling, my spirit of inquiry crowned, my fatal flaw. I chose the latter—because why would I not? I carry my heart in my chest for my beloved beside me proudly, for his waters mine with the fulfilling streams of his laughter and sound effects, gentleness and devotion. He has grown and nurtured monsteras within its past mutilated chambers—and the longer he cradled my life and made it his own, made it his endeared responsibility, the more healing flowers of wild, undomesticated origin bloomed against the verdure. The pair of us—Hobi, the elegant leaves with its perforation symbolizing the dimples above his mouth when he smiles; I, the chamomile that has the gift to make better, but everyone mistakes it for a daisy, tossing it aside. 

Everyone but Hobi, the worker who cultivated it in me. 

And caught in the snare of my pride, I wanted to know if my ex-love still remained in the exile of his emotional unavailability, fucking everything that walks on his solitary Pluto planet while I made love to the Sun three times a day, minimally. 

Hyun-Ae gripped my hand with her lukewarm, refreshing touch as she told me that he was dating someone, fundamentally poisoning the girl with his ways like he did to me. That she didn’t understand what I had seen in him as he looked worse than ever before, a characteristic of the unhallowed set deep within his eyes. My lungs refused to inhale any particles of air; they must’ve taken a break from their work in order to process, at their own time, the information that was given to them. The male who pretended to date me while I edged his planet for years, laboring myself in order to heal him with my prayers and words because I believed him after he said he loved me, but he needed to get right first. Needed to unload his baggage and bandage up the slashes across his heart from his previous relationship. 

All sweet nothing without an ounce of genuineness. He took pleasure from the way I stayed around while he hurt me again and again by entertaining other girls, my feet indented in the soft soil of the planet. It was a form of compensation for him. A some sort of merriment—and madness, unmitigated madness for me. 

I lost my mind, standing upon that edge. And I had to get off in order to find it again, my hands outstretched beyond me—held by the invisible fingers of God while he taught me how to walk again, how to walk in a gravity-filled space of greenery, the rainbows of colors, the rain and the sunlight like a baby. 

And I did. 

I walked until my feet stopped in front of Hobi’s.

At first, I felt a sheer wisp of happiness for the guy that he managed to make such an immense step in that direction, however it flickered in me for mere seconds, replaced by a doom of nothingness that began to swim in me. Heavy, heavy nothingness that felt cosmically peculiar—and my body urged me to go outside and smoke it away.  

But my mouth spoke first. 

Who is she? Show me. 

Hyun-Ae narrowed her chocolate pools at me, her brows furrowing until they darkened. Then, they flicked towards Hobi beside me and I followed her gaze—he was preoccupied with a heated conversation with Do-hyun and he didn’t hear a word shared between us. Hyun-Ae lowered her voice, nonetheless. 

So you could compare yourself to her? No fucking way. 

But I pushed. Driven by that nothingness in me, I desired to feel something. Hurt, pride—anything that would stir my body and give it what it asked. It was used to feeling great clouds of negative emotions in terms of the male, and now it was searching for it, in spite of the million years that have flown by since. And to shut me up and distract my mind from wanting the wrong things, she showed me a picture of him. 

And upon seeing that dark characteristic of his eyes, gone, hollow and dead from the laws and the ghosts of the Pluto planet, my stomach clenched and I averted my gaze. My body rejected him—I couldn’t look at him for more than two seconds. 

My good, smart body. 

I fell into quietness, more gravely than the one this town was weaved with. Hyun-Ae’s eyes returned to their original round size, softening on me, and I held her hand tighter. I needed, vehemently, to smoke the descending nothingness away, and when I asked her to go outside with me, Hobi reached the conclusion of his conversation. Wrapped his slender fingers around my arm, tender sound effects, only for my ear to hear, slinking inside as he rubbed his nose against the place right beside it. 

You wanna go smokie smokie? Hobi asked, gliding his fingers down my arm until he reached my wrist, the belly of his index tracing the blue and violet ‘V’ shape of my veins upon my left arm. 

He grounded me. 

I nodded, my smile natural, my love for him abounding, and Hyun-Ae encouraged me to go, gently slapping the side of my bum. And so I went, hand in hand, with him.

Our inherent, pristine characteristic. 

Hobi stole my lighter once I fished it out of my purse. He didn’t smoke, but whenever he joined me, he thought it gentlemanly and proper to light up my cigarette for me. It’s the least I can do, he had explained and I had kissed him so hard for it that he blushed. 

It’s what he does now, flicking his thumb upon the spark wheel until the small flame erupts and bathes us in a delicate, orange tint. I hold the cigarette steady between my lips with my two fingers and Hobi draws closer, appeasing my inner need. Waits for me to take that first drag before he prepares me for the rush of his enormous affection by heating the small of my back with his palm, rubbing the sensitive place. It’s something that I’ve learned he likes to do; take things slow so I open for him like a bud of flower. It gives him pleasure, the laboriousness of the process and the following harvesting, the dampness of my dew the evidence of his success.  

It’s extremely attractive because he does it more for my sake than for his own. 

He lets me take another drag, our visual connection a string stouter than the constellation up above, and I feel myself, nonvocally, giving over that heaviness of the nothingness with each exhale. I decompress and Hobi can see it, joining his other hand to my loins and dipping his head to my neck. He scatters tiny, weightless kisses upon that tenderness of me and I am lulled by his enticement, soothed and sleep-drunk, his pheromones and the cedarwood of his fragrance unfettering me. 

I want to take him to bed. 

And I tell him, innocently, with my hands that clenched the muscles of his arms rounding towards his pecs and lowering to his abdomen, the ivory smoke following my movement, but never touching him. Hobi knows this is my language of sensuality and his mouth parts as he feels the words. 

“We should go.” 

He lifts an arm and brushes a strand of hair away from my cheek, his fingers lingering upon the shell of my ear—his private obsession. His endeared eyes study my features for a fraction of time before he leans in and peppers a singular kiss to the button of my nose. “Why are you sad, muffin?” 

The trees towering behind him move in a daze at last, but it’s a blurred swaying motion that merely divulges to me that the obstacles, the preparation and the dark energy have been conquered. And it helps me to speak a little. 

“Hyun-Ae told me something I didn’t really expect to hear. Can I tell you on our way home?” 

Hobi nods, cradling my cheek, and I melt. 

“I can leave the car here and we can walk home. And in the morning, we can go grocery shopping in the city.” 

I liquefy in his hold and I finish the last of my cigarette, kissing him feverishly and reciprocating the kisses he left upon my neck, sinking our domesticity into the column of his throat while he holds me and I drip into the fullness of him. 

When we return to the restaurant, Do-hyun is by himself, informing us that Hyun-ae has gone to pee. The familiarity solidifies me and I sense upon me a moonlit energy of joy that cleanses me of the past. Hyun-ae perceives it long before I open my mouth and she jumps into my arms, telling me how she’s proud of me. We say our goodbyes, promise that we’ll see each other soon, and Hobi pays for the whole table, calming every inch of me. 

I pray as we watch them drive off. I pray for their safe travel into the city and I pray over our car. 

We walk through our miniature, unlit version of the city, breathing in the purity of the air, listening to the rustling of the leaves being fondled by the breeze. Hobi mimics the act of love, rubbing his thumb over my hand, and I feel at ease when I tell him about my first love, chain-smoking just to help me infuse poetry into my words. 

With each detail, I forget it has happened to me as I unattach myself from it, consider it an element of the past that no longer has anything to do with me. Hobi lets me speak, doesn’t interrupt me, though I notice that as I venture into the brutality of the pain I waded through, his teeth grit and his jaw clenched, the preceding flush of his cheeks withering and falling beneath his skin, pallidness blanketing it in ashen gray. And it pushes me further into my process of letting go and forgetting for another million years to come. 

He stops in the middle of the road once I finish the story. Gives me a mournful look that penetrates me so deeply that I mourn, too. His hands find my forearms, my shoulders and my clavicles. Prepare me for the treasure of the most sympathetic of hugs I have ever received in my life and I loosen up in his strong hold, bury my face in his black-clothed chest as his palm holds my head to him. And he kisses my crown, kisses my temple; strengthens me when he squeezes me until I can’t breathe and I grasp that he is cleansing the pollution of the monstera leaves and the chamomile petals. 

And then he begins to speak, dampening me with a fresh layer of hydration. 

“You had to walk through hell in order to find me and I shall spend my lifetime bringing heaven to you. I swear on my life, muffin,” he says, for the entirety of the peripheral corn fields and the trees to hear, as he cradles my face and makes me look at him. My vision blears as I regard him more as my savior than I ever have before, nodding my head in agreement as my eyelashes flutter, the finality of calmness settling down in me like we did in this town. “You’re mine. You were mine when you were with him, which is why fate didn’t allow him near you. Mine to find, mine to take care of, mine to love, kiss and dance with. Mine. You’re gonna keep blooming in my hands and you’re no longer gonna pray for him, you’d done enough of that already. You’re only gonna pray for yourself.” 

This, I disagree with, dissolving sugar personified. 

“No, I’m only gonna pray for you.” 

Hobi pouts, his mouth rounding downwards, and his thumbs rub my cheeks, smearing my makeup—and I don’t mind. It’s always been his to ruin. He presses his nose and forehead to mine, breathing with me as the breeze swishes past. I slip my hands beneath the hem of his T-shirt, needing to feel his skin, and Hobi sighs against me. Withdraws a tiny bit and steals the breath he gave me. 

“Teach me how to pray for you.” 

I’m so struck with awe, wonder and my genuine love for him that I cannot speak, my lung failing, though differently this time. They swell up with the essence of my feelings for him, my devotion and my besottedness that my eyes well up before I can halt their rivulets. No one has ever prayed for me, certainly not a male I loved and looked up to. I spent years having my empty prayers echoed back to me and now the love of my life, my eternal beloved one, asks me to teach him how to pray for me. 

Only the omnipotent Listener of my prayers could make this possible for me, and before I know it—my mouth gives my beloved the instructions, the contents of my knowledge that I learned along the trajectory of my somber, otherworldly life and then he’s whispering the voice of his heart into my ear. 

“Dear God, please give my muffin the strength not to be pulled back into the life she had before me. Make sure she’s not influenced by it either. Take her burdens and give them to me because I can bear them. Relieve her heart and make her happy. Use me to do it.” He withdraws and drags his thumbs across my eyelashes, asking me to open them and I do. Once he has my attention, he seeks my guidance. “What do I say now?” 

I huff a soft laugh, endeared. Kiss the edge of his hand. “Say thank you and amen.” 

Hobi grins and the Sun peeks through the night. “Thank you and amen.” 

My laughter gains volume and he wraps his lips around it, shushing me, kissing me madly, and I bury my fingertips into his short hair, reciprocating the different, different madness and expanding it. Weightlessness seizes me and I don’t feel my limbs, stupefaction firing me with enthusiasm and then tongues clash and the kiss gains a verve that forces me to collide my body with his and— 

And then we’re dancing. 

To a slow song he begins to hum with the deep raspiness of his voice. Our bodies are one, singular, intertwined as we move to the rhythm of our unified heart and I weep. 

I weep in my joy. I weep in my contentment—and I weep in my love for him. 

He touches my back all over, cupping my hair as if it was water, leading our bodies in the dance, and there’s no one around us, no cars coming, no animals to watch us—only the trees, the fields, the buzzing of cicadas and the breeze and the moon up above. And then he’s twirling me until I’m dizzy and my soft laughter reverberates through the spaciousness of the road that is ours at this very moment. And the Sun beams at me, my Sun, as he pulls me close and continues to dance with me. I feel the jealous shafts of the light of the moon digging into my back that I soon forget about because his lips pursue mine and I dwindle away into his magnetism. 

His hands, his pheromones and his cedarwood fragrance take me to his bed. 

And he’s feasting on me like the dessert he didn’t get to have at the restaurant, bent over as I am over the foot of the bed, my dress bunched in his fist over my loins and my panties pushed to the side. My hungry beloved, my parched Sun, nuzzling his face in my femininity while I drip my dew and moan his name for him. Sucking my clit, he keeps me hovering on the cusp of my orgasm and I tremble in my vulnerable position—face planted on the bedding while the lower half of my body is raised in the air for him. And once my throat begins to let out whimpers and incoherent pleas, he draws back, closes his body over mine until his lips explore my ear and there, there he teases me. 

“What was that, my little muffin?” 

I whine, grinding my ass into his groin, and he hums. It takes me back to his song and I apperceive that it is the only thing I ever want to be pulled back to. Reminiscent of it, his song is blackened by eroticism, by his enormous arousal, drenched by my dew and I need him. While I feel God, the Listener of my prayers, to be a glaring light in me, I need my beloved Hobi to be interwoven with it. 

“I want you inside me. Please, I need it,” I beg, twirling my hips against his hardness like he twirled me in the middle of the road and Hobi sucks in a breath, exhaling it in the form of a whimper and I stoop in my heady longing. 

Abruptly, he plops me onto my back and yanks my panties away. “I’m gonna marry you, you know that?” 

I can only whisper my overwhelming agreement, my bones and my muscles too overcome with elation to do anything else. I would marry him tomorrow if I could. Go grocery shopping with him in the morning, unload it at home, put on my white silky dress and go to church with him by midday. Spend the rest of the day celebrating our union in bed, round after round until we get so exhausted that we submit to slumber, dreaming of our wedding, reliving it. 

He takes off my dress, kisses my forehead, ruffles my hair around me, his thumb dragging across the skin beneath my lower lip as if he was fixing my smeared lipstick for the special day, getting me ready, and I change my mind. I would marry him right now if I could.  

And I tell him. 

“I would marry you right now.” 

His eyes wet, casting a glimmering light upon my naked form, and a paroxysm of his joy gushes out of him and onto me. Hobi tickles my tummy with butterfly kisses, holding me down with his strong hands that he soon pins above my head, leveling with me, my dew drying on his face—yet he still glistens. Glistens with a gleam of bliss that washes over me. 

“Then, let’s get married,” he murmurs, and seizes my lips with his own, kissing me so roughly that I instinctively open my legs for him, the heated pressure in between unbearable. And then he holds my wrists in one hand while the other unbuckles his pants, fisting his length and tugging on it. My favorite sight. He guides it to my sopping hollowness and with one hard thrust, that he knows I am wholly enraptured by each time, he sheathes himself inside me all the way, completing me. Rests at the delicate touch of our mounds. “I’m gonna fuck you like you deserve and then I’m gonna take you to church.” 

And he gives it to me. Doesn’t pull out fully, but pounds me into the mattress. One hand gripping my wrists together, the other my jaw—ascertaining that my attention doesn’t fluctuate but remain fixed on him, on the twists of his features, on the guttural moans, his pheromones and his fragrance that trickle out of him and dunk into me while I struggle to take it all. 

“Am I hurting you?” he whispers, kissing my cheek and breathing against it, slowing down his strokes that scramble my brain. The tip of his cock grazes my cervix and I lose, I lose my identity. 

My eyes flutter and he pries my mouth open with his thumb, providing me something to focus on as I intuitively suck on it, keeping my head afloat enough to answer. 

“No, it’s just too big.” 

Hobi hums, rewarding me with a peck on the mouth and the gradual speed of his thrusts. “You can take it, muffin. I know you can. You’ve shown me before.” 

The praise, the belief in me—it all crests in lowest part of my sexuality and again, I edge around the cusp of my orgasm. Beads of perspiration line his forehead, soaking his hairline and he’s a sight to die for, the final piece to the fulfillment of my release. Blush reddens his cheeks, his irises enlarged and digging into mine. He doesn’t falter, continuing with his fast rhythm and I moan out poetry lines that make him squeeze his eyes shut. 

“I’m gonna come for you.” 

He groans. “Uh-huh, come for me, muffin. Give it to me. Show me again how well you can come on my cock. Yes, yes—”

Pluto bursts and ceases to exist. I come so vehemently that my spine arches off the mattress, colliding into Hobi’s chest. I shun out all constellations, all planets, the entire universe collapsing under the weight and gravity of my orgasm and our own marble, green, yellow and white with no one around but us, is called to creation with the bloom of Hobi’s own climax. 

He stuffs me full, my hollowness and my mouth, kissing me so hard that I become dizzy all over again. Moans my pet name as he shoots out his ivory love for me, fucking into me sluggishly while the twitching of his cock enamors me even more. I swallow his voice, swallow his grunts and little curses. My iridescent, entranced spasms caused by his exuberance prolong until I don’t know where my head stands, where my legs are wrapped around or what body part of his my hands clench. 

My savior, my beloved, linked to me for all eternity. 

This must have been our wedding because I shall never be the same again, my mind and my heart swept clean and filled with brand new oxygen. I no longer remember what happened prior to our love-making and when I share that with him, Hobi is possessed with the need to do it all over again. 

And he does, a million times over, until he marries me in the church of our town, with Hyun-Ae and Do-hyun present, mine and his parents and his sister with Mickey. 

A wedding most perfectly extraterrestrial, on our own Hope planet, with nothing hurting, with no thoughts resurfacing. 

Me and my beloved, me and my savior, me and my Sun. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild ,  @jjk7k ,  @parkinglot-nights , @bethvar , @Sexytholland , @yoongibaybee , @crystaleah , @fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan , @euphoricmyth , @jungkoock , @cinmongirl , @hoseokkie-caeks , @kam9404 , @fr0ggieth1nk .

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[larcenywrites]

Hi English is not my first language, so sorry for the mistakes, but I could do a Kurt Wagner x reader, in which the reader follows the Wicca religion, or something linked to witchcraft, they are both in a relationship and I would like to see how their different beliefs would affect their relationship (already that Kurt is Catholic although I believe he has no prejudice in dating someone with a different religion I would like to see how this would affect their coexistence)

sorry for the writing errors

I have lots of thoughts about this that I can’t reflect in a single one shot, so for now I’ll do some headcanons! However, it would be interesting to parallel this with a spin on Kurt’s 2004 solo series! So I will probably do something with that :) Obviously, I can do research, but I am in no way knowledgeable about the practices nor those who practice wicca or witchcraft. I don’t want to generalize and say, like, “Kurt x witch reader”, but I’m not quite sure what else exactly to put :(

Nightcrawler with a Witch S/O

Headcanons

Warnings: aside from mentions of religion and witchcraft there’s nothing | I mean there’s some cute stuff here and there if it counts :)

⚜️ Kurt may be catholic, but his background is full of diverse people with different perspectives and practices!

⚜️ Scarlet Witch, his adopted mother, and his adopted sister all practice witchcraft, and he has a… well, decent enough relationship with all of them! But any of their spats have nothing to do with their way of life!

⚜️ He means well when he wants to drag you to mass Sunday morning. Really! He does! It’s something he’s done with every one of his friends by now, anyway, but it’s just that it’s a huge part of his life! He genuinely just wants you there! Sure, he can’t deny there’s always going to be some part of him that wants you to also be on some level of his own religion, but again, it’s from no place of ill will.

⚜️ After all, even though he has seen firsthand that this rule is relatively loose, I think it’s normal for someone in his belief system to worry whether their life partner will be able to join them in the afterlife :( He’s going to worry about it from time to time. He’s also definitely going to pray about it a lot. Take it in a sweet way— he just really cares about your love so much that he’s afraid it’ll have to end 🥲

⚜️ He also means well when he brings home various herbs and wildflowers he’s seen you use!! He probably even tries to make a cute little bouquet to present them! Obviously the source of said plants might not be ideal 😅 So maybe it’s time to expand a little garden! Plus, having a small garden if your preferred ingredients or offerings is a good way to teach him a thing or two in case he needs it (again), and he enjoys helping out in non-direct ways! Besides, gardening is a cute activity to do together 😘

⚜️ Speaking of which, while he’ll always be grounded in his faith, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t acknowledge everything around him! He’s seen demons and gods, magic and ghosts, heaven and… well, not hell, but you get the gist! So don’t worry, he knows well enough that not only what you do is real and powerful, but still a respectable craft. In fact, I’m sure he holds a deep respect especially if you tend to be one who thanks the Earth/ask permission for resources often. And you just might rub off on him! While he would be thanking God instead, it probably makes him more mindful of his everyday interactions with the environment 😌

⚜️ But because of his own beliefs, I’m sure certain practices or spells would make him nervous 😅 Because of this, if there’s a specific deity/god/goddess/etc you answer to/pray to that really clashes with his morals and beliefs, a relationship probably won’t last long.

⚜️ But just because some things make him nervous, it doesn’t mean he’s going to leave or anything. He might not partake in a tarot drawing or participate in certain things, but he still respects it and trusts you.

⚜️ But, uh, there might also be times when he’s literally in the next room holding the cross around his neck and praying aloud while you’re trying to do something 🤧 But this also works the other way around! Not only does it probably throw off either of your thoughts, but I’m sure it doesn’t help either of you when you both might be putting very different energy into the room rn 😅

⚜️ If for whatever reason you ever need something from him, like a bit of his fur, you probably have his permission already to just walk up to him with a pair of scissors! Even so, he usually asks billion questions 😒 So is it worth the hassle?

⚜️ While your beliefs and intentions may be different, you both might share quite a few daily rituals! Kurt won’t at all mind sharing the rug or the lawn with you if you meditate as often as he does. You both use it for similar reasons, really. It might even be both nice and interesting to have a conversation about any thoughts and experiences afterward 💙 Maybe, for once, you both found the answers you needed this morning and can share it :)

⚜️ But there are some other things he considers more “harmless,” so to speak that he does participate in. If you tend to journal things like dreams and daily experiences to cross reference later for any signs and such, he might do it too. Well- he’ll probably tell you his dreams or a reoccurrence he’s noticed (especially if it’s something that has been stressing him or maybe he’s just got a gut feeling he can’t explain) and see what you have to say about it! Just because you have different beliefs doesn’t mean he can’t find value in what you have studied and what you have to say!

⚜️ I’m sure many mornings he likes to drink teas with specific herbs and what they’re known for, and you might also partake in this! Of course, there’s probably much more intention behind the herbs you use, the way you prepare it, the way you stir it, but sometimes Kurt just likes to feel involved :)

⚜️ You don’t have to worry about him messing with any of your stuff! It’s probably out of both respect and paranoia, but he won’t mess with any alters or offerings or generally just the way you have your side of the room set up (though, probably after some gentle explaining here and there…)

⚜️ However, he may have a hard time with wanting to look at and touch any rocks and crystals… In a very respectful way, he just thinks they’re pretty and neat, okay? ;w; To be honest, get him one or two to have of his own that you think he needs when he’s stressed or when he’s out on missions. Kurt will carry them with him everywhere ❤️‍🩹 Because while he might not always believe that they carry this or that type of energy, he knows it means you care 🥰

[romana-after-dark]

Rooms on Fire: Stop Dragg'n My Heart Around

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist : MainTaglist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Madonna learns more about her role and the dynamics of the household.

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence.

Extra warnings for chapter: Anal, oral, love bombing, control

This is not meant to be a statement about religion, Christianity, or Catholicism, this is simply my take on a cult. I am a religious person. I understand that some of this may be very offensive to religious people so if you don't like thing like AHS Asylum or Black Mass, maybe consider not reading.

A/N: Every chapter will be named after a song from the spotify playlist. Dont forget to commen fitting songs!!

6.2k words

Support writers! Reblog and leave comments!

NEW OC: Faceclaim, Dev Patel

**************

There's people running 'round loose in the world Ain't got nothing better to do Than make a meal of some bright eyed kid You need someone looking after you~ Stop Dragg'n My Heart Around, Tom Petty and Stevie Nicks

You were the wife of deities. You were blessed, honored. Holy mother. The Madonna, and inside your womb the savior would grow. All four of them were Gods of different patronage, each with their own abilities and passions.

Francisco was the god of nature. He was the god of all that grew in the earth, the soil. the flowers. He was clairvoyant, but also had a gift of growth. Life. His prayers over you would solidify implantation after conception, keep you and your baby safe.

Benjamin was the sun god, god of celebration, and celebrate he did. Ben’s mood often controlled the weather. Most of the time, regular weather patterns took place, Benjamin’s emotions could change them, and he was prone to big emotions. That’s why him and Francisco worked so closely together. Weather and nature, working to keep the crops growing and the people safe.

William was all about duality, you were taught in catechism. God of war, God of medicine. He had the gift of healing, but also impeccable military prowess. This made for a powerful ally and feared enemy. William headed the military and security, but also watched over the medical care. 

And Pope, Divine Mothers only child. Pope had the gift of discernment and prophesy. He was incredibly intelligent, and with that came respect. He was not just born into this position, but born for it. God of family, god of passion. You felt that passion so clearly every time his eyes bore into you. He could no more hide it than he could his own beauty.

So why, with all this power surrounding you, did you feel so scared?

Everything just feels so confusing right now. You feel as if you can’t get your head on straight, like everything is whirling. You're married. You might be pregnant. Why was everything so… hard. When Pope waved your bloodied sheet around, he was soon joined by a whooping Ben who took part in the celebrations and dragged Francisco out with him. It was just you and Will.

Naked and shivering, suddenly cold on the cool tile of the altar without the heat of passion to warm you

“Just one minute, I’ll get you dressed once I’m done.” He says quietly, kneeling before you with a wet wipe, gently dapping at your swollen folds. “Damn, really did a number on yuh, huh?”

You don’t know how to respond, so you don’t.

“Well, I think this is as good as it’s gonna get.” Leaning over, he presses a kiss to the top of your puffy parts and gets up, helping you down with a hand. He slides the dress back over you. William was gentle as he caressed your cheek. “You did so good for us, princess.” His hand moved to your belly. “You’re a good girl, and soon you’ll be full with our baby, I just know it.”

You stand there in shock, unable to exactly form a reaction. The lights were too bright, it was too warm. There were too many flowers and incense and candles and oils… to much. You shut down and Will finishes dressing you: shoes, flower crown minus the ropes of vine. He stuffs your underwear in his pocket with a smile. “My little dividend.”

Jonah was outside the room, laying down on a bench with his cowboy hat pulled over his face.

“Wake up, old man” Will spoke with a bite you weren’t used to.

He mumbled under the hat. “I’m awake, damn. Just resting.”

William nudged you towards where he was standing. “Watch her for the rest of the cocktail hour, then bring her in for the entrance.”

Jonah frowned. “She ain’t going to the cocktail hour with you?”

“What’s the point? She can’t drink. She might be pregnant.”

“It’s her wedding.”

Will rolled his eyes. “She’ll have the wedding shit, this is more of a… stag party. Bachelor party sort of thing.”

You didn't know what that meant. You weren’t sure you wanted to.

“Whatever. I’ll watch her.”

“Yeah. You will.” Williams harsh glare softened as he turned to you, holding your face with both hands. “I’ll see you in an hour, my beautiful bride.”

When he left, Jonah mumbled something and began walking you down the long hall. The place was huge, absolutely massive. The worship chapple and sanctuary were attached to the house, originally built as a pool house but refurbished with the establishment of Delta. Divine Mother wanted her home attached to the sanctuary so she could go whenever she wanted, no matter the weather, so a hall was built on. In addition to the several bedrooms, living rooms and so on, there was a ballroom. This is where you would go after. For now, it seemed, you weren’t needed…

You wanted to go still. You were their wife, you wanted to meet the other members of Delta, you wanted to dance, to laugh, to smile with them… but the day's events left you tired, left you hurting, left you… confused. Why had they all left you so fast, save for Will?

“You alright, honey?” Jonah’s voice barely registers in your ear.

You don’t have it in you to answer, simply staring straight ahead as your breathing picks up speed.

“Hey, darl’n, hey.” He stops outside the kitchen. “What’s go’n on, you hurt?”

How do you even explain it, the panic rising up in you, the fear. Why were you scared? You were married to the gods, there was no safer position to be in. You were safe, protected… so why did you feel so on edge? Why was your head hurting, your heart racing, and why did you feel so used?

You stopped breathing before you realized it.

“Hey!” Jonah shook you, but your eyes felt glassy and unfocused. He pulled you through the swinging kitchen doors.

“Dad, what-” You hear Iris say and vaguely register a third person in the room. Iris stops what she’s doing and rushes to you. “What’s happening? What did you do?”

“Nothing! I got her after the ceremony and this just started!”

You were gasping for breath, the light and airy feeling in your head making everything a little blurring. Still, you register hands on your shoulders, calling your name. “You need to breath. HEY! You hear me? BREATH.”

But you can’t. The panic, all-consuming panic clawed at your throat and tightened your chest. Then, a hard slap.

*SMACK*

Iris slapped you, causing your body to gasp in shock. You took the opportunity to breathe in as much as you could get, and once the oxygen settled in, so did the clarity.

Dizzy, you stumble back and nearly topple over, but Jonah catches you. Careful, he sets you down in a chair. “Easy now, darl’n, breath, breath…” his arms were strong and safe around you, but Iris grabs your shoulders.

“Listen to me.” You look up to watch her, brown eyes fiery on yours. She commanded the room. “You need. To get it. Together. Those men out there-” She pointed vaguely out the door. “Are dangerous.”

“Iris…” Jonah whispers, but when her head whips towards him in anger, he backs off.

“You shut it, you don’t know jack shit about surviving here, especially as a woman.” Back to you. “I don’t care how you feel, I know you’ll probably fall in love because you’ve been so brainwashed, but I need you to understand this.” She leans in. “You need to get your shit together. You need to clean up, you need to get out there and charm the fucking dick off of every single person in that room. The only way you get through this is if you want a very thin line. Submissive but not weak. Obedient but not permissive. Have boundaries but keep them loose and never, ever, try to resist sex. This is no time to be weak.”

Her words barely made sense to you.

They weren’t dangerous. They LOVED YOU. You were their WIFE. But still, part of her words range true; you were the daughter of a traitor, a man who partook in an uprising that caused the death of the Divine Mother, and the other high up members would have their eye on you. You needed to make sure there was no reason to doubt your love for your husbands, nor your adoration of Divine Mother.

“Fuck,” Iris mutters something to the third figure in the room about ‘nothing there’ then stands up. “Jonah, go back to the dressing room and get the make-up and hair products.” It was only then you realized you had been crying, make-up running off your face. “Rey, I need you to help me in here.”

He was tall, about as tall as Jonah but not quite the Millers height. “What do you need?” He began to tie his dark curls back. Iris directed him on finishing the desserts while she took out all the food from the oven for the main dish.

When Jonah came back, Iris set to work redoing your face, making it look as if you never cried, never had a single scared thought. She fixed you up nice and pretty, then left you on the chair to wait for your entrance.

After everything was placed on carts to take out, Iris departed, with Jonah following behind shortly and instructing the other man to stay with you. Iris insists she doesn’t need a guard dog, but Jonah say something about not wanting her alone with ‘those drunk bastards’ if he can help it. You’re suddenly nervous, unsure about being alone with a man other than your husbands or Jonah, but you don’t have a choice.

“They’re a stressful pair to watch aren’t they?” The dark haired man says, pulling up a chair beside you. He turns it around, straddling it before sitting backwards and leaning his arms on the backrest.

You don’t want to be rude, so you give a shy smile without meeting his eye. “Are they… um… is uh…” You realize you don’t know Jonah’s last name, and are unsure how to properly address him to others. You don’t want to seem too familiar when you are a married woman now. “Mr. Jonah, is he Iris’s father? I heard her call him dad.”

He chuckles a bit, and you turn to look at him. With a better view, and clearer vision, you are able to take in his features. He’s handsome, but in a almost boyish way -although you doubt he’s younger than 30. Dark curls are still pulled back, but you’d estimate his hair falls about shoulder length, maybe shorter, as chunks are falling out. Strong nose, brown skin, and bright, brown eyes. Strangely jovial compared to Iris and Jonah.

“Yeah, kinda rare that happens. She’s um… well, they’d had… well I guess it’s not my place to say, but they’ve had some ups and downs. But yeah, she’s his daughter.” He extends a hand. “Reyansh Saha.”

You give him your name. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Saha.”

He laughs again, but it doesn’t feel like he’s laughing at you; it’s too good natured for that. “Just Rey is fine.”

“Oh, no, no I shouldn’t.” You try to protest.

“Ammayi” (my girl) He says with a glint in his eye. “No one here will understand you if you call me Mr. Saha, I promise you. You can call me Reyansh if that’s easier. Or, well, you can call me Mr. Saha if you’re uncomfortable of course” His tone is good natured, but clearly trying to ease you. You feel like a skittish animal, and he’s a good samaritan trying to coax you to some food.

You give a little nod. “Okay, yeah Reyansh works.”

*

You felt like you may have another panic attack.

Pope was on your right, holding your arm with William beside him. On your left arm was Benjamin; Francisco was fidgeting beside him.

“Baby.” Ben whispers to Francisco. “You gotta calm down, you're shaking…”

You watch as Pope turns abruptly at the nickname, but says nothing. Benjamin grabs Francisco's hand, squeezing it three times and giving him a little peck on the cheek before letting go. Francisco smiled, just a little.

You were making your grand entrance as husbands and wife, to the whole of Delta, to stand out on the balcony as the masses gathered below. Jonah instructed you on procedure. 

“This is the most dangerous point. I have the entire guard in the crowd, both noticeably armed and plain clothes, everyones been searched before entry and theres no reason to suspect a problem, but-” He turned to you. “Anything happens, a gun shot, something is thrown, a fight breaks out, I am grabbing you and we are going. Don’t argue, don’t worry about them-” He gestures to the men beside you. “My only concern will be to get you to safety. Your husbands are all armed and trained fighters, you are not. You have me, understood?”

There would be no need for concern. As you stepped out, leading your husbands in a v shape through the curtains, a stark hush fell upon the crowd. Thousands of people, thousands, here to see your husbands. Here to see them with their brand new bride, the mother of their child. You were humbled, truly, to be honored in such a way that the god’s dained you deserving. Cheers broke out, no doubt to the flag being raised- your bloodied sheets, signifying that you were indeed a virgin, and had been claimed in the name of the gods. The crowd was adoring; how beloved your husbands were to their people!

You focused your hearing not being all that far away, to try and pick out a word or two, and were surprised with the result.

“MADONNA! MADONNA! MADONNA”

They were cheering… for you.

The priestess stood off to the side, raising her arms to hush the crowd. 

“Hail Madonna, full of grace, blessed are you amongst women!”

Then, she kneeled.

Behind her, beginning with the front and sending a wave through the back, the entire mass of people knelt, chanting “Hail! Hail! Hail!”

To both your left and right, all four of your husbands bowed to you.

You were the holy mother. You were Madonna. You would bring about the savior and peace on earth. You were divine.

*

The party went swimmingly. Your new found confidence, it turns out, made speaking to strangers easier. You shouldn’t fear them for being a traitor's child, you shouldn’t feel their judgeful gaze. They should worship you. Not the same as Pope, William, Benjamin and Francisco, and certainly not Divine Mother, but you were blessed.

You never were far from William, Pope, or Benjamin, most moments of the evening were spent with their arms around your waist or holding your hand; you belonged to them.

Pope had pulled you to the dance floor, tender grasp keeping you close as he guided you through the violin music. 

“You are just… so beautiful” He whispered, clean shaven face up against your own. 

“Thank you.”

“You do understand how stunning you are, don’t you? Most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

You tuck your head in his neck, smelling his aftershave; or was it the liquor on his breath? You weren’t sure.

“It’s like you were made for me…”

A gentle kiss. “I was. I was made for you, by Divine Mother’s majesty.”

You could feel him smile at that, hands slowly trailing down your back. “That’s right, made just for me…”

You nuzzle against him, signing contently. He loved you, you were so, so loved… “Made for my husbands”

His smile dropped. When his hands grazed over your ass, he gripped it tight, painful, making you yelp. The noise and crass motion was sure to attract attention, and you turn to look.

Pope grabs your face, forcing you to look at him. “Don’t look at them, look at me. I am their god, they are nothing compared to us, what we do is none of their business. I could bend you over right now and if I told them to ignore it, to go about the party, they will. You understand me?”

You nod.

His fingers pinch your cheeks. “Your body was made for me, and it’s mine. Understood?” You realize now your mistake. You had said your husbands. Plural. You must have hurt his feelings when bringing the others into it, even if you meant well. You note that special times between you and Pope should remain exclusive. Don’t make him jealous.

“Made just for you” You push past the force of his hold to kiss him on the lips. “I belong to you.”

Popes body language relaxed, his plush lips smiling again as his grip softens. He runs his thumb over your lips. “So beautiful for me…”

*

As you spoke like old friends to a woman you’d never met in your life, Benjamin slid up to you. “‘Scuse me, darl’n, but may I steal my wife away for a few moments?”

The woman bowed her head and excused herself while Benjamin pulled you away.

It wasn’t long before you were out the ballroom, down a hall and into a small linen closet, his hands all over you; frantic, needy, a fully hard cock pressing against your skirt. This was to be expected, and you understood your role. At any time, day or night, busy or not, you were to be available to be filled.

He yanked at your skirt. “Yuh know,” Benjamin said between short pants of breath. “It was my brothers insistence that your dress have blue… he said that- mmphh- it was symbolic or some bullshit, but I think he just wanted his color on you.”

You weren’t entirely sure if that was true, but you didn’t want to make a committal answer so you attempt to kiss back, unsure of the movements still. “Mmm, Benjamin…”

“Call me Benny, darl'n.” He rucks up your skirt, only to find no underwear. He stops, blue eyes looking at you with a steely ferocity. “Will take your panties after he cleaned you up.”

Lie, your first instinct told you. He’s dangerous,lie. But he wasn’t dangerous. He was your husband. “Yes” You wanted him to touch you again, you liked the way he explored your body. 

His brows pursed together before growling, turning you around and bending you over a small folding table. “God damn him, and god damn Pope!” Benjamin grunted, making you scared as he flicked your dress up to your waste. “I should’ve had you first!” Ben spits onto your exposed asshole, shocking you a bit.

You try to turn around when you hear his belt being undone. “What-”

“Shhhh” He pushes you back down on the table, freeing his hard cock. You jump when he slides a finger into your tight ring of muscle. It doesn’t feel bad, but not necessarily good, either. He begins to pump, then adds a second finger and you gasp at the intrusion. “Making me fuck’n wait till last-” You hear him spit on his free hand, beginning to jerk himself off as he begins to scissor you open.

“Ben!”

“Relax, baby, I’m not Pope, I ain’t tryna tear you open, you’ve bleed enough for one day.” You swear you hear him chuckle. What is he doing? You were confused, but also beginning to sink into the feeling of him. “They always do this to me, they always make me wait, and wait and wait just because Frank’s Pope’s favorite and Will’s ugh, Will’s older- goddamn” He stops, lining up the tip of his cock to your asshole and spitting a few more times. He was going to fuck you there?! Ben folds over, encasing your body in his warmth as he whispers in your ear. “Not this time, your ass is mine.” With that, he thrust into you, splitting your hole open as you cried out.

He laughs. “Lot louder than when Pope took you huh?”

*

Jonah found William getting a glass of wine and sipping it while watching over the party.. “I gotta talk to you.”

William doesn’t even turn to look. “Fuck off, Hanson.” 

Will did not like Jonah, he knew. Their history prevented the same rapport that he had with Santiago, but never the less, he know Will was the one for this request.

“It’s about your precious Madonna.”

With that, Will turned.

*

Benny was insatiable, thrusting into you wildly and grunting with every movement. “So- fucking-tight-god!” He shouts and it takes everything in you not to cry… but that feeling was bubbling up again, despite the discomfort, but that discomfort was slowly slipping into something else.

The slightest moan escapes.

It seems then almost that Ben reminds you’re here, that he’s not fucking a hole in a wall and chuckles. “Oh, you like this, pretty girl? I can make it better, so much better.” He wraps a strong arm around you, toying with that sensitive spot that William was playing with earlier illiciating a much louder moan from your lips.

“God baby, thats it… gonna cum like this, darl’n? Gonna cum with a cock up your ass like the dirty girl I know you are? Yeah, yeah sure sounds like it…” He replies after your sounds of pleasure grow. “Under all this white, underneath that good girl act and that sweet little face, I knew, I just fucking KNEW your little virgin cunt was begging to get fucked, desperate for cock, huh?” His hips begin to falter, growing more sloppy. “Well now you got 4 cocks desperate to fill you up, to put our baby inside you first, fuck, you gonna be able to handle all that?

You can’t even reply, a mess of moans under his body. 

He grabs your hair, yanking you up to look at him. “ANSWER ME!”

“YES!” You scream, so close to spilling over but not quite there, needy and whimpering for him. “I can take it! I want it! I want you all, all the time!”

“I know, darl’n girl, I know, f-fuck, ugghh fuck!”

 Pulling out of your ass, you almost whine for him, whine for more, but he thrusts it into your pussy last minute. The intrusion sends you over, clamping down hard on him as he spills into you. “Yeaahh, that’s it, thats- oh my god, perfect little pussy- fuck!” When he finishes inside you, his warmth is all over you again, staying there for a moment with his cock plugged inside you. “Gotta make sure to cum inside your little pussy every time, no matter how good your ass or mouth feel. Can’t waste a drop.”

He caressing your arm as his body language softens, nuzzling his face into your hair. “So good, pretty girl. So fucking perfect.”

*

“She needs someone looking after her.” Jonah insists. “She’s just a kid.”

Will is dismissive, but behind his eyes hide curiosity. “That’s what you and security are for.”

Jonah signs. “Okay, listen, I’ll be honest here.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?”

“You ain’t fond of me, that’s a given. I get it. But let’s be clear.” Jonah drops his voice low. “Frank’s been mentally checked out all day. He don’t want nothing to do with this. Ben’s a -”

“Watch it.”

Jonah rephrased his next words. “He’s not gentle. He’s not careful, and when he’s high he flat out dangerous, and he buys into this whole delusion and so does Santiago. Santiago is worse, he’s delusional and can flip like a fucking switch. She needs someone to help her navigate them. That needs to be you.”

Will didn’t say anything, but from the way his brows were furrowed, Jonah new he planted a seed. 

“Look, here she comes with Ben, she’s fucking stumbling, Will. Go take care of your wife.”

*

It hurt.

It was hard to walk like this, but Ben’s arms were tight around you. You felt strangely safe like this, like he was going to be there from now on.

“What the hell did you do to her, Ben?”

“Relaaaaax” Ben waved off his brother. “She’s fine.”

Will didn’t buy it.

“Pope got her pussy, I got her ass.” He shrugged.

Disgust spread across his features. “You did anal? With no lube? Jesus Ben!”

“RELAX!” Ben raised his hands in defense. 

Will hushed him. “That’s enough for tonight, I’m taking you to bed.”

And that was that. Will’s arm replaced Ben’s and quickly guided you out the door again. Once out of sight, Will scooped you right out. “Ain’t having you walk like that, babygirl. ‘Slright, just rest.” And rest you did, clinging to him and laying your head on his firm chest. You felt like you were almost asleep when he laid you on the bed.

Like how he cared for you before, he cared again, undressing you with a gentle strength.

“Lay down, lemme make sure your okay.” The worry in his voice made your heart sing.

“I’m alright, I promise.” You whisper, but spread your legs anyway.

He tsks his tongue. “Poor little girl… you’re alright, but I know it must hurt, doesn’t it?”

You swallow thickly, nervous with his face so close to your core. “Um… it’s a little sore, I guess…” 

“I bet… but it wasn’t all bad, was it?”

“N-no, it wasn’t…”

“I can see that…” A thick finger swipes up your slit. “Got all wet, didn’t you? You sure are easy to work up…”

You shutter at the touch, a little achy but still desiring him. How could you not? How could you not want him when he spoke to you so low, so careful? When carried you and cleaned you and dressed you… he was perfect, fucking perfect.

“Poor little girl…” William spoke in a deeper tone, planting a kiss to your clit and making you whimper. “Gotta be at the beck and call for four men… that can’t be easy, but you’ve been taking it so well…” His fingers move up and down your folds, spreading your cum and the new slick trickling down.

“It’s, mmmm it’s my honor to be found worthy…” You sit up on your elbows, curious as to his actions.

“And worthy you are, Madonna.” His lips glazed over your flesh. “Bless are you, among women” His hand on your stomach. “and blessed is the fruit of your womb.” You watch William, knelt before you, hovering with his mouth open above your waiting mound.

You whisper, “Please”

He whispers equally soft. “As you wish.”

When William latched his mouth onto you, it’s unlike anything you’ve felt before, although you can’t say you’ve felt much. His mouth is hot, wet, messy as he licks you, tongue and lips moving in tandem, like a well practiced team with the sole purpose of reducing you to a whimpering mess.

“W-Will, oh that… oh my god-”

But he didn’t stop, latching his tongue to your clit as his fingers entered you, and despite the overstimulation of the day, compared to the large phalluses that had breached your core, his fingers merely provided pleasurable stimulation. His free-hand remained busy as well, taking your private moment to explore the rest of your body. You didn’t understand what pleasure he could find in your thighs, your stomach, or playing with your fingers, but you relished in his closeness, the emotional and physical and sexual intimacy compared to the coldness of the deflowering. 

But it had to happen this way, you thought as your hips bucked; William had begun swirling his tongue around your clit, causing a surge in pleasure. This afternoon was a ritual; systematic, calculated, precise. There was no room for intimacy, for love. But you’d seen it now. You’d seen it in the way Pope danced with you, in the way Ben caressed you after sex and praised you, the way Will touched you now… the only thing missing was Frankie.

It wasn’t long before Will had to gushing on his face, crying out his name in a hedonistic moan, a orgasm so blinding that the revelation that you existed to pleasure and be pleasured by these men until you were swollen with child seemed like a gift of godhood itself.

He pulled three more out of you before he was satisfied, making come on his face and fingers thrice before your final orgasm was only singled by an tired “Mmmmmmmph” and your contracting walls. Finally, he pulls back. You can’t see him, eyes too tired they won’t open, but you imagine his beard is glistening with the way he soaks you when he kisses you cheek.

When you’re situated in bed, where you can only assume is your room, you ask Will to stay, ask him to hold you while you fall asleep. He obliges.

You feel dwarfed in his grasp his body so large it makes you feel small, but also secure. You don’t have to be brave, you don’t have to be strong. You don’t have to think or to worry. Everything would be taken care of for you, you’d give birth to the savior and how many other children, and redeem your family name from your fathers betrayal. You would find redemption in this house, right alongside love, family, and maybe even friendship for the first time since you were twelve…

Everything was falling into place.

So why didn’t it seem like Francisco loved you?

*

Knock knock.

“Honey?”

Knock knock knock

“Honey you in there?”

Jonah. 

“One moment!”

You open your groggy eyes and take a look around the room, finding a luxurious, long, white robe on the dresser. You put it on, covering your nakedness, and timidly open the door.

“Yes?” Jonah stood before you, gun slung on his hip as usual.

He looks sympathetic. “Sorry to wake you, but Santiago wants to see you, I’m here to escort you.”

Hearing someone refer to Pope as his given name is jarring, but something about Jonah is just… very different. He seemed so serious when talking to you about safety, about making sure only his most trustworthy men watched you and how determined he seemed at the balcony… but it seemed he took everything else so unserious to him.

You didn’t like that he referred to your husband by his name, it was much too informal, but you cared about Jonah, so you don’t mention it.

After dressing, Jonah takes you down stairs. You’re thankful for him, the house is too big for you to know your way yet.

“How you feeling?” 

“About what?” You ask genuinely.

Jonah turns to you, a curious look on his face. “About… everything. Yesterday was a big day. A lot happened.”

Of course a lot happened. You were still leaking their cum. “Nothing that Divine Mother didn’t intend.” You say as if its obvious.

He sighs. “Right.”

Pope was waiting outside the door of the intended room. His smile grew when he saw you, walking over to place a hand on your cheek and kiss you. “Good morning, my beautiful wife.”

Wife… something so magical about that word.

Pope thanks Jonah and dismisses him, turning you to the doorway and opening it. “I have a surprise for you, bebita.”

When the door opens, you gasp as you’re led inside. Canvases fill the room as did papers, paints, pencils… 

“How… how did you know…” You whisper in awe, your heart swelling at the gesture. He loved you, he really loved you and wanted you to be happy here. You were so lucky, so lucky to be adored like this, to be adored by him especially. Pope had worked his way deep into your heart in a matter of days. He was everything to you now, he was your world. You belonged to him, every single inch of your heart, your body, your mind, your faith was him.

“I’m the god of love, I know what mi amada needs… I’ll always know.” He stands behind you, wrapping his arms around your body, the body that belongs to him, and kisses your neck. “I can’t wait to see what you paint, Madonna…” 

***************

PLEASE TELL ME UR THOUGHTS I THRIVE ON PRAISE

I feel like im doing ass at writing Ben here. I my normal fics on my main he's a consent king and so so so so soft so this is strange to me. BUT he can be tender and loving, dont you worry

SO, THE GENERAL CONCENSOUS IS YOU ALL WANNA FUCK JONAH. Lmfao, horny sluts. HE'S OUR FATHER FIGURE. Imagine having daddy issues. COULDNT BE ME (this is a joke lol)

But! Thoughts on Iris, and our new boy, Reyansh?

Not a super eventful chapter and i felt like Madonna have said like 10 words this whole fic but this has been the set up, now we can move forward! If you read TWW, LO was practically silent for the first few chapters.

Now they ceremony is done and she's married and already v attached and brainwashed.

How to keep up with the story!

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[shalom-iamcominghome]

So I've wanted to start the process of conversion for the longest time now, but what stops me is just being afraid of not having the right answers if that makes sense, when meeting with a rabbi to discuss conversion for example. How did you prepare for meeting your rabbi and what kind of things did they ask you? I have really bad social anxiety and I struggle with public speaking so thinking about this scares me so much. I love everything I've learned about Judaism and I'm positive I want to convert but this is the one thing holding me back :( and additionally how was your experience when first going to services at your synagogue and is there anything you needed to do to prepare for it? I struggle with new environments even though I'd love to start going so any advice helps, thank you so much if you do decide to answer <3

First of all, good shabbos!

On Questions:

Most of the questions I have found rabbis to ask on a first meeting are generally categorized under, "what are your goals?," "what is your background?," and "what are you currently doing in your everyday life?"

I have talked to a few rabbis now, and upon the first few meetings, they truly just want to understand where you're coming from, what's brought you to this point, and how your relationship with Judaism may work out.

I would encourage you to potentially write your story out - where did you grow up? Were there any influential Jewish figures or moments where you thought, "man, I want that!" or perhaps any awakenings in your previous religion which troubled you if that's applicable? I like to think of this period as though you're meeting a match-maker - they want to figure out who you are before matching you with something they know you'll fall in love with. In the beginning stages, they really won't ask the hard-hitting questions, especially because you are also supposed to see if you think that rabbi would fit in with your Judaism goals. The rabbis I met before settling on the one I am sponsored by currently were all incredibly kind, even if they had to reject me outright (because they were busy with other students they are working with, not because they were trying to be mean!). All of them, essentially, were ecstatic alongside me about Judaism, and they gave the impression like they want people to join am yisrael.

On First-Time Services:

My shul requires that people email first if they have never gone to services, and I have noticed this is a semi-common practice. Frankly, though, that was all I needed to do in order to start attending. I think all you would need to do is to show up in your best clothing, and depending on the movement you go to, you may need to be mindful of different practices. I already have a kippah, and my shul has a big box full of kippot you can borrow (which is common). If kippah-wearing is a goal you want to achieve in your Judaism, certainly feel free to wear one, but it may not be something you need to bring with you. Additionally, be mindful of where people sit - in my shul, we do mixed, informal seating (though we naturally have men and women sitting on "their" sides, which I didn't even notice at first), but some shuls may have more explicit expectations of men's and women's seating - it truly depends.

I also made it clear with everyone that I will not be going up to read from the Torah, since they call upon people semi-randomly (actually, we rely on a particular family in which all of the children make up all the shul's child demographic). I have read haftarah portions upon their request, and have read from portions of the Torah if we don't have a minyan (semi often occurrence), but they have never called upon me to go up officially.

Most of my experiences being a newcomer were of people asking a lot of questions. Many shuls don't have newcomers, especially in small towns or places with a limited number of Jewish presence. They've been very nice, inclusive, and genuine - in fact, I feel I am treated as a fellow Jew by them (in the sense that they hold me to the same expectations, want me to learn, and have always let me participate to the fullest extent that I am able to). I find that if they see how genuine you are, they are incredibly willing to help you, to support you, or to even turn potential mistakes into learning opportunities. This is the norm for everyone - we made the mistake once of saying the Shema at the wrong time, and we just turned it into an opportunity to do better. Judaism is a collaborative effort, and that's a hard lesson to learn sometimes, but I have found that once you're used to it, you truly start to get comfortable. This shul is my home, and so I want to put that effort in to making it beautiful. I enjoy cleaning up after our communal lunch because it's the most I can do without a kosher kitchen and being a student, and I love to learn from everyone, so I attend the classes they've created. You don't have to do anything big! Just do it with all your heart and might, and people will see the effort you make, and you'll go a long way