#kae don't even play w me I lacked enough self-preservation to submit a hozier paper--to my religion prof LMFAOOOOOO

[heartepub]

some totally not unhinged annotations below; so totally not unhinged to begin with this quote that I hunted down just to add here and set the tone

"To fall in love is to create a religion that has a fallible god." — Jorge Luis Borges

cw // religion obviously

that said .

Joshua Hong, of all people— a tattoo?  Unlikely. Impossible.

depending on how conservative your catholic circles run, the body is generally regarded as a "temple of god"—so defiling it w tattoos is already eyebrow-raising (tick one on the catholic guilt of mr hong jisoo)

“S’okay.” All humor is gone from his voice now. In its place— something low, something reverent. “Go ahead.”

reverent as the word choice here......ohhh you want me dead (love as making a sort of religion, etc)

“Why here?” you ask, pressing the pads of your fingers a little more firmly against his skin, as if emphasizing his choice of placement.  His breath stutters. His answer is quiet, muffled by his lips charting more kisses down the column of your neck. “Easy to hide,” he murmurs. “No one has to know.”  “No one has to know,” you echo.  You can feel the upward curve of his mouth as he moves over your collarbone. “Except you,” he says, saccharine sweet in his easy flirtation. 

I just . have many feelings about carrying over that thought of tattoos as defilement and christian boy hong jisoo "defiling" the skin closest to his beating heart, and entrusting that sight to you

(have my blasphemy, you are my religion now type shit)

“If I asked,” you say softly. “Would you give me your rib?” 

the scream I screamed at this line........FUCK!!!!!!

also just . really like how in this scene the rib idea (which is often used to justify women being subservient to men, ha) is kind of subverted by the act of asking and by extension making devotion/life/love etc freely given in turn ,, no longer simply about life/creation but of union

(hm idk if this makes sense LMAO I think this one is pulled out of my ass)

You, underneath a man who’s a pagan of the good times.

do not even play w me w this hozier reference—a man who is a pagan of the good times?!?!?!?!? to worship at the altar of love as paganism, to build a religion around something that one feels has more good than existing religion itself......

[on what it feels to be with joshua] Absolution. Heaven. Creation.

where's that fucking sappho quote that's like . in the crooks of your body I find my religion or smth,, hoooooly (< relevant exclamation)

Joshua’s teeth nip at your lower lip as he pulls away to breathe. His next words are spoken right against your mouth, like he can’t bear to part from you for too long. Like a part of him is already a part of you. 

I have not said it yet, but I also just find the setting of this being kissing/possibly sex outside of the text—kissing as involving breath, breath as in god breathing life into adam, joshua and you sharing breaths—so fucking delicious and right on the money of religious imagery here

"a part of him is already a part of you" THE RIBBBBBB — combining the imagery of the breath of life and the rib as the origin through which eve came about ,,,, I am unwell

“You are my apple of Eden,” he breathes. “And now I will live with the guilt.”

my apple of eden.......the temptation I would give up paradise for......[in my head I connected this also to francesca's discussion on being cast down together is no punishment at all if we are together]

hozier's discography is a masterclass in drawing parallels between worship of a god and devotion to a lover—in many ways a reclamation of love and sexuality that has been policed by powerful institutions such as religion.

christian boy hong jisoo......not necessarily said here but I imagine there is weight in devotion, some of it catholic guilt (ESPECIALLY IF YOU READ THIS AS GN READER, EVE IMAGERY NOTWITHSTANDING)

sorry for the incoherence goodnight .

worship in the bedroom 🍏 joshua x reader.

joshua believes there's no sweeter innocence than some gentle sin. that's why he got his tattoo, isn't it?

★ word count: 952 ★ genre/warnings: suggestive (no real smut), cussing/swearing. joshua has a tattoo, established relationship -ish, references to the bible's creation myth, inspired by hozier's from eden and take me to church. yes, a & i just wanted an excuse to think of christian boy hong jisoo. ★ footnotes: @chugging-antiseptic-dye & i are late to the joshua rib tattoo discourse, but better late than never. this one is for her— the giggle at my funeral, et cetera, et cetera. <3

You hadn’t believed it when you first heard about it. 

Joshua Hong, of all people— a tattoo? 

Unlikely. Impossible.

But now he’s pulling off his shirt, and you can’t even bring yourself to admire his toned abdomen. You’re far too distracted by the very thing you last expected to see on him. Holy shit, you think dazedly. They weren’t crazy. 

Joshua— who had gently shoved you back on to his bed, who had kissed you stupid before starting to undress— notices your dumbstruck expression. 

“Ah,” he says, the word coming out more like a laugh. His tone is edged with mirth as he sinks down onto the mattress, right by your feet. “Oops?” 

Despite your shock, you manage to shoot him a half-hearted glare. It only makes Joshua giggle.

“Forgot to mention it,” he chirps. 

“Yeah,” you mumble, still a bit breathless from his earlier kisses. “No kidding.” 

You know it’s stupid to be so stunned. People get tattoos all the time.

Joshua’s fingers wrap around your ankle. He gives you a gentle shake to snap you out of your thoughts, that infuriating smile still on his face. “Is it really so out of character for me?” 

You could lie. What’s the point, though? He would just clock you, maybe even punish you a little for trying to give him anything but the truth. 

“Just didn’t expect it,” you manage, which is technically true. 

He lets out a thoughtful hum before making his way up his bed. He hovers on top of you, his arms bracing himself on either side of you. By the time he’s done shifting upward, you can see the details of the inked artwork despite the dim light of his bedroom. 

“Better view,” he teases. 

You would probably threaten him with bodily harm if you weren’t so damn distracted. Tentatively, you raise your hand. 

Your fingers brush against the punctured skin. It’s not by any means a new tattoo. The dark ink is already a little faded, and Joshua doesn’t flinch like one might if it were fresh. 

But he does hold his breath. 

Joshua tenses above you, his eyes flicking to your hand. You pause. He shakes his head. 

“S’okay.” All humor is gone from his voice now. In its place— something low, something reverent. “Go ahead.”

With his permission, you begin to trace. 

Your touch ghosts over the delicate tattoo smack dab underneath his heart. It’s a rendition of a known piece of art. Outstretched hands with fingers barely touching. 

“The Creation of Adam,” you finally say. This time, it’s your turn to sound amused. 

Joshua at least looks pleased that you understood the reference. He gives you an affirming ‘mhm’ as he leans down to press a kiss to the side of your jaw.

“Now that,” he says against your skin, his tone matching yours, “is something you’d expect, hm?” 

The quip draws a laugh from you. Your free hand instinctively goes to entangle in his hair and you can feel him preen above you. Still, nothing seems to affect him as much as your absentminded plotting of his inked skin. 

You should let this topic drop, let Joshua take you like he’s probably dying to, but you can’t help the nagging queries. 

“Why here?” you ask, pressing the pads of your fingers a little more firmly against his skin, as if emphasizing his choice of placement. 

His breath stutters. His answer is quiet, muffled by his lips charting more kisses down the column of your neck. “Easy to hide,” he murmurs. “No one has to know.” 

“No one has to know,” you echo. 

You can feel the upward curve of his mouth as he moves over your collarbone. “Except you,” he says, saccharine sweet in his easy flirtation. 

Your eyes flutter close. Give in, your body screams. 

You can’t resist one last jab. 

“Shua.” 

“Mm?” 

You give his hair a gentle tug. He whines a bit, but he gets the message. He tilts his head up so he can meet your gaze. 

“What,” he asks flatly. His supposed annoyance is belied by the warmth in his honeyed eyes. The look of a man who will always indulge you.

“If I asked,” you say softly. “Would you give me your rib?” 

Oh. Oh. That gets him. You can see the way Joshua’s pupils dilate, the way his face flushes. 

And so the story goes— Eve, created from the rib of the first man. 

You, underneath a man who’s a pagan of the good times.

Joshua doesn’t answer at first. Not with words, anyway. 

Instead, he leans down to capture your lips. It’s the type of kiss that robs you of all rationale, and the press of his chest against yours does very little to help your case. You’re reduced to fleeting thoughts, to single words that can barely scratch the surface of what it feels like to be with Joshua. 

Absolution. Heaven. Creation. 

Joshua’s teeth nip at your lower lip as he pulls away to breathe. His next words are spoken right against your mouth, like he can’t bear to part from you for too long. Like a part of him is already a part of you. 

“You are my apple of Eden,” he breathes. “And now I will live with the guilt.” 

So the Lord God caused the man to fall into a deep sleep; and while he was sleeping, he took one of the man’s ribs and then closed up the place with flesh. Then the Lord God made a woman from the rib he had taken out of the man, and he brought her to the man... Adam and his wife were both naked, and they felt no shame. — Genesis 2:21-25