#Types of religious beads

[conjuremanj]

Spiritual Beads

They are used to count prayers, repetitions, chants, devotionals, and meditation. In some cases, each bead symbolizes a particular event or concept. Beads can be made into bracelet, necklaces use to decorate tool, rattles,bells or any scared object and made from all types of materials.

Catholic beads

Origin: The origin of prayer beads dates back to ancient history. Prayer beads have been used by different religions such as Hinduism, Buddhism, Islam, Sikhism, Bahá’í Faith, Shamanism and Christianity. Therefore, Christianity was not the first religion to adapt to this tradition. In fact, the Bible does not speak about prayer beads. Neither Jesus, not His disciples or the early church used prayer beads. So some religions like Judaism won't use them. On the other hand prayer beads can be used and made for prayer but also for devotees of a pacific Saint, Deity, Spirit, or Ansestors to help you connect to that spirit. There are a variety of different beads made for different spiritually so choose the one that best fit you in your practice.

Above are beads for pagan/wiccans and need use Buddhism.

In the Orisha/Lukumi Tradition, Elekes ☝️ are beaded necklaces in patterns and colors of the Orisha. Once an individual’s head is crowned to an Orisha, other adornments such as bracelets and necklace or constructed indicating the initiates head Orisha is worn indicates which Orisha you walk with or became a priest/ess of.

In Vodou these aren’t considered necklaces, even though they make look like necklace in those pictures which are called kolye, and translates to necklace there not worn as such. Kolye are the mark of an initiate; They're made for you when you enter the djevo (chamber) and how it's worn shows the type of initiation you had. What is on/in a kolye represents specific lwa as well as specific concepts and/or pwen specific to spirits.

It’s a pretty important thing to wear and it serves important purposes during initiation. (no matter what the internet tells you, in haitian vodou they don't wear a necklace like Orisha religions do, But in some cases in some regions of Haiti the kolye is worn as a necklace) Houngans during a ritual carry the machete and wearing their kolye that indicate he is a houngan asogwe, and a manbo carries a dwapo wears a kolye across her body, which says that she is a manbo asogwe (the highest initiatory rank in the religion) and the smaller kolye's worn around the neck says that a person is initiated, but is not a manbo asgowe.

[galacticlamps]

very minor thing I still definitely deserve a medal for:

being raised catholic, and now as an adult repeatedly falling in love with characters that fandoms like to declare catholic, but still managing to reject those headcanons because at heart I'm too much of a stickler for accurate analysis to get behind them when i know the person in question is really meant to be anglican/episcopalian/whatever other flavor of christian

i am being, as the poets say, so brave about it

[cringelordofchaos]

Appropriating my own culture 🧫

[washeduphazbin]

Adam NSFW Alphabet

Here ya go, ya filthy simps.

First time doing a nsfw alphabet so if it’s … bad I’m sorry. Lmk how to improve tho

--Minors DNI--

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

At the beginning of the relationship, I don't think this man knew what aftercare was; I mean, there's a reason Lilith left him. Let's be honest. It would take a learning curve and a lot of explaining from you about your needs after sex until he'd realize how important it really was.

Once he got the idea down, he'd be religious with it every time after sex, he'd ask, "What the fuck you needed to feel extra sexy."

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

What isn't his favorite body part? Toss up between Boobs, Ass, and Thighs, he loves them all. If you held a gun to his head, he'd say your boobs, big or small, he would NOT CARE. He wants them in his mouth.

Small boobie queens, he'd squeeze them like little stress balls when he's annoyed or anxious.

Big boobie queens, pillows. Need I say more. Calls them bazoingas unironically.

Type of guy to stand next to you talking to Lute and reach out and just squeeze your tits, letting out a HONK. Lute would roll her eyes with a snicker as you flushed, while Adam would look at you with the biggest shit-eating grin.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

This guy's cum is thick. milky and warm.

Beads at the tip when you turn him on and likes to cum deep inside you, filling you entirely or on your tits or ass.

Will stare hotly as both your cum spills out of you, as you whimper and whine, usually making him ready for round two.

When you suck him off, he enjoys watching it spill from your lips instead of you swallowing.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Adam has one main secret (idk if it qualifies as dirty) but enjoys genuine praise for things he feels proud of accomplishing. It's not like you praising him for exterminating sinners; it's just simple, innocent praise when he does something particularly sweet for you.

A big softie, but only in private and only to you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He's a fuckboy. Sorry, not sorry, he just is. HOWEVER, it doesn't mean he is a star at sex. He's decent at first, but there's a reason Lucifer stole two of his wives. His biggest gripe was he didn't want to reciprocate head, but you broke him off that relatively quick when you squeezed your thighs around his skull for the first time, practically double-killing him.

It was fuckin' hot.

You both have a lot to learn, but you learn together, and the sex is still angelic.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He has two:

He enjoys cowboy/girl because he's lazy and likes to watch your tits bounce in front of his face.

He also enjoys doggy style, so he can see your ass bounce as he pounds into you, biting your ass cheeks as he goes and slapping.

G = Goofy (are they more severe in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Goofy. He does not shut his mouth; he always has something to say as he's getting intimate with you. It's safe to say he never stops talking, which means he's very vocal about moans, whines, and grunts. It's safe to say he has no filter regarding you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Pretty basic, but the carpet matches the drapes. However, he could be better- groomed. It's safe to say he's definitely hairy, not just there but all over.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

Although Adam is definitely more goofy, as discussed earlier, I think sex is intimate and essential to him. While he can be silly, he works his ass and dick off to make sure it's the best sex you've ever had. Oddly enough, when he's alone with you and in a soft mood, he always romantically initiates sex.

Slow and sensual kisses lead to heated make-outs and biting before turning into more.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I think Adam is on the more hypersexual side of the spectrum if you see sex as a spectrum like I tend to. So, if you're not around for some reason, he will probably be cranking one out sometimes more than once a day. Honestly, even if you are around and you're not feeling sex at the moment, he'll pout, but ultimately, go watch whatever heavens' equivalent to porn.

(or videos he's recorded of the two of you ;) )

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

I think Adam would have three main kinks:

Breeding - "All of humanity came from this dick."

Mommy Kink - need I explain more? Dominant women are such a significant turn-on for him; one look when you're in Dommy Mommy mode, and he's on his knees.

Role-Play- If you don't think he'd make you cosplay and act like Sinner who is trying to redeem themselves just for him to role play fucking redemption into you, your opinion is just incorrect. Sorry.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere and Everywhere. He doesn't care; if people see good let them know you're both hot as fuck. They're probably green with envy.

His favorite place, though, is on his desk in his office. The thrill of getting caught lights a fire in him that can't be snuffed out without burying himself in your cunt.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

I feel like we discussed this one a lot, but I can add a few more. When you're mad at something Hell did or another resident of Heaven. Also, when defending him, think of the "He asked for no pickles" meme, but it's you asking for Adam.

Oh, and of course, you are in any type of lingerie, punk rock, or revealing clothing.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Piss, Poop, ya know the classics. He'd also never want to seriously hurt you, maybe a light slap here and there, maybe a little choking, but if he ever hurts you in the act, he's flaccid so quick and on you like a mother hen.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

As stated earlier, his preference is receiving; he loves the way you look between his thighs and his thick cock in your mouth. Drool and pre-cum leaking from your lips.

But he has gotten more open to giving and isn't...great, but you're teaching him how to work his tongue and fingers.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He sets a fast and rough pace, hits you deep in your canal, and kisses your cervix, almost like he's trying to hit your womb. He's a feral beast honestly once he starts fucking you and it'd take an act of God to get him to stop.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

All the time though not super preferred, He likes to tease you as much as he can before letting you cum, but most of the time you have sex, it's out of the house. It's a constant struggle to keep your hands off one another and, more often than not, sneak off for a quick fuck somewhere before rejoining a meeting, hangout or if Adam needs immediate stress relief.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

So long as it's not on his list of hard no's, I feel like Adam will try anything once if you ask. He's for sure a risk taker and wants you to challenge him with something new, but in the end prefers classic sex.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

He can last only two rounds, but they usually last. A very long time because he likes to be a little shit.

T = Toys (do they own toys or use them on a partner or themselves?)

He does not own toys, and if you have them and use them, he will absolutely be jealous of them and attempt to make you trash them. But if you say no, he'll respect it. Just be extremely salty.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh, he's a brat. It is so unfair that it will test you pretty much through the entire process. He enjoys seeing how much he can overstimulate and edge you before he finally fucks you raw.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

So fucking loud. God bless your neighbors if you have any. His groans and moans could shake the entire house, and your whines, whimpers, and pleas for 'harder' aren't any better.

He also laughs a lot.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

I think he loves to mark you up to prove to everyone that you are his and his alone. I think it would start with a shit ton of hickies, then a joke from Lute saying he should just collar you until he actually does. It's classy and elegant, matches his angelic robes, and has spikes.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

So I absolutely headcanon him with a dad bod (sorry, not sorry); I think he also has significant arm and chest hair and a particularly drool-worthy happy trail. He's squishy and you love it even though he can be a little insecure about it at times, you just tell him you love him no matter his shape or size.

He is your Teddy Bear.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

HYPERSEXUAL. HIGH. THIS MAN WANTS SOME FUCK.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Passes out quickly afterward and can't go more than two rounds max. Likes to sleep right after but has learned to check on you first before passing out on your tits or chest.

[bachibabe]

📂 ‧ ₊ ˚ — Lucky

hajime umemiya x f.reader

✰ ݁ ˖┊: wc: 1.2k

✰ ݁ ˖┊: content: nsfw, soft dom!umemiya, established relationship, pwp, breeding kink, soft sex!!!!!!, edging/teasing, ume has a big dick ://, pussy drunk!umemiya, praise, i just needed to talk about his breeding kink okay leave me alone, smut directly under cut, all chars are aged up.

18+ → minors / blank blogs dni

I just. I need a moment to talk about Umemiya’s breeding kink. I know it's just. It’s crazy man. Walk with me please

Umemiya is the type of guy to get so lost inside your pussy when he’s fucking himself into you. His brain can only focus on the way your walls are fluttering around him, the way they grip him so tight. Drawing him back in on every thrust. Practically pulling him deeper and deeper into your core. Until you’re all stretched out, taking his cock completely.

A feat in itself, honestly. Because it’s safe to say Umemiya… he’s big. Upsettingly so, really. So big you really didn’t think he was going to fit inside of your cute little pussy. He didn’t think so either– lying between your legs. Inspecting your lips. Almost making you feel embarrassed by his stare as he would lick at your entrance. Pout on his pretty lips.

“Ah baby~” He used to whine, “Do you really think she can take me? I mean… pretty girl already looks so stretched around just one of my fingers… I don’t want to hurt you, you know?”

It’s a good thing he’s broken you in now. So many hours prepping your puffy little cunt until it’s a little sore, tears beading up on your waterline. So many nights he teases you with just the head of his cock– bullying it into your entrance, not going further than just the tip even when you beg. Beg for him to fill you up, to stretch you just for him in a way you know only he can.

All because he knows what's best for you.

Or, maybe that’s just what he tells himself. Maybe he knows the second he’s finally able to bury his cock fully inside your warmth, knows that when he finally gets to feel your wet heat wrapped around him that he’s going to become entirely addicted.

And trust, when he finally does give in, he’s pussy drunk instantly. His mind drifting far off, stars floating in his vision. Only able to see your face. Only able to feel your body.

Stare you right in the eyes as his thrusts turn a bit sloppy, almost lazy. Savouring the feeling of you in any way he can. Your hips wrapped around his waist, his arms on either side of your head, propping his body up as he gives you that lazy smile. The smile he always gives when he’s about to drive you insane.

Because Umemiya, you see, he likes to play the long game. He likes to draw out pleasure, holding you just on the cusp of epiphany without ever letting you slip over the edge. Loves to bask in the glow of intimacy, creating a whole new genre of music to enjoy. Preens at the way you cling to his shoulder, holding him close.

Smiles because he knows you’ll never let him go.

Even when his thrusts are languid like this– each one slow, almost messy, but deliberate at the same time. His cock brushing against the spot inside of you that sees stars, so deep inside of you that he’s practically pressing against your cervix. Balls pressing against your ass as he pushes himself all the way inside, grinding slow circles into your whiny entrance. Just begging for him to get serious, begging for him to let you find your release.

Ah~ he wishes moments like this could just last forever~ Pretty girl on his bed, creaming around his cock. Looking so lost– but it’s okay. You don’t have to be. He’s right there to take care of you. He’ll always be right there to take care of you.

Fill you up over and over again to make you feel right. Make you feel loved, cared for.

Mmmm… and then his brain starts to drift off again. Too pussy drunk to really think about how dangerous his thoughts really may be. Too high to forget all about the birth control you take religiously.

How can he stop himself from dreaming of a future with you? Of a nice house in the same neighbourhood as his friends. Maybe by the beach so you can have Barbeques every night. Go swimming whenever you want. A family built between the two of you. How much he would love you every single day of his life.

Right, because with Umemiya, his need to breed you. His desires that start from deep in the root of his brain, spread all the way down to his fingertips, they don’t come from the need to claim. No, he already knows you're his. Knows you would never betray him.

No, those desires, the ones that have him burying his face in your neck. Have him finally giving in, picking up the speed of his hips. His thrusts melting you into a puddle of moans– your sanity so far out of reach you don’t even know if you want it back.

Those desires come from his love for you. His desire to be with you utterly and completely. To show the rest of the world the evidence of your love, the evidence of your devotion to one another.

Okay, and maybe they come from his inherent need to dote on you. To take care of you the same way you have him. Maybe just a little.

But that doesn’t matter anyway, nah, all that matters right now is you underneath him. Taking everything he has to give and more. Your neglected clit twitching as you come apart under him. Your back arching, nails digging into his shoulder blades. Coming undone from his cock alone.

Being so good– just so perfect for him.

It only drives him further, only giving you a second of reprise before he leans back from your form, pulling your hips onto his thighs. Takinging one of your legs and raising it high– placing it just right on his shoulder. Giving him the perfect angle to drive into you. The perfect angle to fill you up, breed you so full and pretty.

Imagining the way your walls will flutter once he finally pulls out, watching as his cum leaks from your fluttering hole. Knowing the second it does he’ll just take two fingers and push it back inside.

His good girl would never waste a drop, would she?

No, she wouldn’t. Not ever. Never for him. So why keep denying you of what he knows he you really want?

It only takes one look into your dazed eyes to have him falling apart after you. How can he not when you look at him like he’s hung the stars? Fucked out eyes half-lidded, pretty smile on your face that just looks so, so tired.

His hips fuck themselves as deep inside of you as he can go, his head rolling back, mouth parting in a silent ‘o’ as white fills up your walls. His lips find your ankle, kissing it gently as he thrusts into you slowly once more. Milking every last bit of cum from his cock. Making sure every last bit stays inside of you. The picture of love, of happiness right below him.

He doesn’t know how he got so lucky.

Anyway. Yeah. Umemiya breeding kink. Yeah.

© all rights reserved to bachibabe ; do not copy, plagiarise, or translate.

[pomefioredove]

Saw you took specific requests. Here's mine:

Jamil with a religious reader who gives him a protection talisman.

Fun fact, prayer beads are used in multiple religions as they help count prayers (Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, etc).

So let's say reader comes from a world where magic exists but it's exclusively on religious grounds. Meaning if you wanna do magic you gotta pray to the right god or make a deal with some form of mythological creature.

Reader knows that Jamil's is always in danger due to the constant assassination attempts on Kalim, so they make a set of prayer beads and ask a diety to bless it in order to protect their boyfriend (could be Allah, Indra, Shiva, Buddha, Susanoo, whichever). Jamil accepts it and heads back home appreciating the sentiment but not really believing.

Except any form of danger keeps getting thwarted. Drink/food he's trying is poisoned? Conveniently spills over/has a whole in the bottom. Accident happens? Conveniently pushed out of the way. Someone tries to hurt him/kill him? Struck by lightning and straight up dies.

Not even his own parents are safe. They try to slap him to "discipline him" then they get zapped (lightly tho).

you know!!! I love this prompt so much... I'm a religious studies major so this kinda stuff is so ^w^ to me I get so excited.

summary: giving jamil a protection spell type of post: short fic characters: jamil additional info: reader is gender neutral, the existence of religious beliefs in twst is. confusing. so we're keeping it vague, not proofread, reader is yuu

Perhaps it was because your world was still considered "magicless" by Twisted Wonderland standards, or perhaps Jamil was never superstitious to begin with.

Either way, he wasn't exactly as excited as you'd been hoping for.

"It's nice. Did you make it yourself?" he asks, inspecting the beads. "A bracelet?"

"Prayer beads, actually. And yes, I did,"

"It's well made. What's the purpose?"

You hesitate. The nature of religion in this world is still confusing to you, although you can surmise there's got to be some kind of belief system. It's best not touching on for now.

Besides, Jamil has never been much of a believer in higher powers. For good reason.

"For protection," you explain. "Not that I think you can't handle yourself. But I worry about you over break, you know..."

He's quiet for a moment, inspecting the gift in the palm of his hand. And then he tucks the beads away in his pocket and smiles.

"I'll keep them with me, then. Thank you,"

Even if he's not exactly keen on the idea that these things will make his life any less terrible, they're from you.

And so he keeps his promise, and tucks them away after you part.

By the time he's "home" (back in Kalim's family home) he's all but forgotten about the little blessing at the bottom of his pocket. Not that you can really blame him- "vacation" is more of a title than a reality when he's back.

The first incident happens not even a day after.

The al-Asim summer mansion is certainly nothing to scoff at. Though it's only one of many, this one in particular houses a large sum of physical treasures, line with gold and ivory, stuffed full of spices and all the makings of a feast that could feed thousands, a shining jewel of the desert.

Jamil is not all that impressed.

Especially when it comes to navigating such an ornate building on orders. The polished-to-perfection floors present a challenge when you're carrying three crates worth of grain to the kitchen on the lowest floor.

Damn these stairs.

Though Jamil may not be a religious man, he still asks whatever deity may be up there to smite the slippery spiral staircase he's descending.

His arms strain to uphold the weight of the boxes, and his legs strain to keep a good footing on one of the many long and elaborate and narrow servant passages designed specifically so that the unwanted workers of the family can slip by undetected.

Quiet, diligent, and he has to be quick, too. Kalim is expecting him for a game in one of the many lounges soon.

Another unfortunate "vacation". How he'd much rather be spending it with you...

For a brief moment, Jamil swears he can feel the beads in his pocket warm against him, reminding him of their presence.

And then he slips.

The crates free themselves from his careful grasp and tumble down the stairs, creaking and thudding but mercifully staying intact.

Jamil, however, isn't made of wood. He winces as he feels himself tilting forward- and then... somehow, a strong draft pushes him on his back.

He lands just shy of his tailbone, luckily not hurting anything, except for his pride.

What a turn of luck.

The next happens at dinner.

Jamil keeps his earlier blunder to himself. His pride is damaged enough as it is, after all, and so he tries his best to conceal how shaken up the experience left him by moving swiftly across the kitchen.

"We have a dish ready for you to test," someone shouts.

He sighs. How many more evenings of this will he have to endure?

Though, he reminds himself- this may always be his last.

The thought makes Jamil chuckle as he's handed a hot dish and a clean fork. He can only stop to smell the roses for so long, so there's no chance of savoring such an exquisitely prepared meal before he's off to another part of the kitchen.

Just as the fork digs into the food, the dish slips out of his hand and shatters on the kitchen floor. Everyone falls silent.

His eyes widen. "How- ugh. My apologies,"

Now this is just getting ridiculous. How clumsy can he get in one evening? He's usually much more careful...

"Look," the head chef says, the whole kitchen crowding around the food as it dissolves.

Jamil's stomach lurches. Cyanide. It has to be. If he'd eaten that dish right there and then...

The kitchen is swiftly cleared out, and he's sent back to the lounge.

it only gets stranger from there.

What Jamil initially wrote off as clumsiness and luck seems to become a pattern-

a flying arrow at the archery range just narrowly misses him when he bends down to fix his sandal.

The al-Asim family tiger (because of course they have one) chooses to toy with a visiting prince rather than him in the courtyard.

A strong draft pushes him on his rear end seconds before a sandbag falls from an under-construction part of the mansion.

He would call it fortune if he believed in such a thing.

By the end of the vacation, everyone is absolutely perplexed by his string of good luck. Jamil isn't unfamiliar with how dangerous his family's position in life is, and he's had his fair share of injuries as a result, but this time all he has to show for it is a slightly lesser sense of annoyance than usual.

It's only the end of the trip where he ponders (unfortunately aloud) about the string of coincidences, and the beads in his pocket.

Kalim goes on to babble about Jamil's "good luck charm" to anyone who will listen, much to his annoyance.

"Oh, I want one too! Can you ask them to make me one, too?" he says, folding his hands in a pleading motion. "It's so pretty!"

"It was a gift. But... I suppose I can ask..." he sighs, and then smiles to himself.

Of course you'll come up with some excuse to say no. Because, for once, this charm is all his.

[gamblersdoll]

can u write for gyomei again please😕 just headcanons of how he would be like when he likes a fellow hashira/ what he looks for in a partner!! Im feeding off of CRUMBS cuz gyomei is so underrated 😭😭 THANK U!

ngl i wasn’t paying attention to him much only to sanemi 🥲 but i analyzed him.

gyomei does not really have a type, despite what people say about him.

him meeting a new hashira and him having a schoolboy crush, hes always somewhere behind you. his tall physique giving scary dog privilege.

but its accidental. hes alot more sensitive with you, yet being a sensitive person already. hearing your story’s actually have him sobbing, yet, he doesnt pity you. he sees your strength.

he also loves the fact you werent scared of him, because he embodies the gentle giant.

hes just in love, he holds you as he can and also carries you.

signs he likes you: he relies on you most, your decisions make him whole. he shares his prayers. he prays around you and with you. he also does not mind you not being religious. he also gives you beads, hoping you find use or luck with them. piggyback rides!

his love language is words of affirmation and service. he finds stretching with you or massaging your body after a huge workload most intimate than sex.

he doesnt have much signs or doesnt have any “types.”

[romana-after-dark]

Room's on Fire: 6. End of the Innocence

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 wins over Frankie, but in the mean times upsets Jonah and Pope

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. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.

WARNINGS HAVE BEEN UPDATED!!!

Extra warnings for chapter: spit kink, non consensual voyerism, physical violence.

3.6k words

A/N: Some madonna POV, but we also get Jonah, Santi, and Frankie

Support writers! Reblog and leave comments!

"Oh, but I know a place where we can go Still untouched by men We'll sit and watch the clouds roll by And the tall grass waves in the wind You can lay your head back on the ground And let your hair fall all around me Offer up your best defense But this is the end This is the end of the innocence" ~End of the Innocence, Don Henley

“Fuck, Madonna…”  Francisco moaned under you, his massive cock filling you up again and again as you bounced on him. You had undone his belt and pant button, keeping his pants on but pulled his cock out. With your panties pulled off, you had sat on lap with his member stuffed inside you as you made out with him. Francisco was a tender, passionate lover, kissing you with all the love you’d been missing since Pope stopped kissing you at all. 

“I love you, Francisco…” You whisper to him, clutching his body to yours in desperation. You needed him to know how much he was adored and appreciated. He is your husband just as much as the others are, even if he ignored you for so long. You card your fingers through his hair and nibble on his lips, sucking the pouty lower one into your mouth and pulling. “My handsome man…”

Hands on his chest, you kiss him down, letting his head fall back on the grass and your hair cascade down around him. Francisco moans out a strained ‘Madonna…’ as his cock twitched inside you. You knew he preferred to be taken care of instead of in charge, you had noticed it in the way Pope fucked him. Whatever Francisco wanted, you were going to give it to him. Anything for him to love you the way you love him. Anything to have the love of all your husbands.

Pushing yourself up, you bounce on his cock as he runs his hands up your loose dress, feeling up your tender breasts and playing with your nipples. He tweaked them through the thin dress, rolling the hardened buds in his fingers until you cry out his name, sweat beading down your face in the warm sun. “Francisco!” You close your eyes tightly, your senses taking in him, him, him. He roughly squeezes a tit, and as your legs tire you fold down over him again to his beautiful mouth. You feel him spearing you, laying his claim really and truly for the time as he hit that spot inside you that made you dizzy.

“So beautiful, Madonna” He mutters against your ear, panting and whining for you and only you. He was so beautiful like this, comfortable and happy and turned on, paying attention to your body. “Gonna cum…” He whines, hips bucking as he chases his release. “Please, need to cum, need to cum so fucking bad.”

Tender, you kiss his forehead, sliding up and down his throbbing cock, wanting to get him off so fucking badly. “Cum for me, I’m right behind you, wanna feel you fill me.”

With a loud groan, Francisco pulsed inside you, filling you up with his warm seed. The thought of becoming pregnant out in this field after finally securing his love, your body swelling with the savior… you came on his cock, pussy gripping his softening member with your fingers digging into his skin. It was hard, it was blinding, your heart bursting with love for the man eveloping you in his arms. 

His cock still stuffed inside you, you rest your head on his shoulder. For the first time since the incubus, you fall asleep peacefully. Francisco would keep you safe, plugged up with his cum so it had no chance of leaving. You were going to get pregnant.

*

Fracisco woke to the sound of footsteps on the grass, and as he remembered him and Madonna’s compromising position he gasps awake.

“Oh shit- god dammit-” He see’s Jonah quickly turn around, grumbling and ruffling his hair, tucking his other hand in his jean pocket next to his holster.

Francisco’s pants were still fully on and your dress fell around you, so to Jonah it had only looked like you had fallen asleep cuddling. He must have realized that you were still implailed on him. The panties on the grass didn’t help. 

He felt you stir, but he caressed your hair and shushed you. You were so tired, the bags around your eyes getting clearer every day. You needed your rest. 

“It’s getting dark…” Jonah mumbles, clearly uncomfortable but trying to do his job. Frank didn’t mind Jonah, honestly. He did good work and especially he treated Madonna well. Frankie knew he has a fatherly presence, something Frankie didn’t long for the way Santi did, but he knew you needed. And Jonah needed someone to take care of since Iris rejected him. They didn’t even talk for the first three years of it all.

“Give us a few minutes” Frankie whispers to Jonah’s back. It was 20 minutes before he finally woke you, the pair of you having slept on the grass for 2 hours or so. He wanted to pocket your panties, but he didn’t want to have something someone might find. If Santi found it, his jealousy would be a problem for everyone involved. If Ben found them, he’d be hurt, thinking Frankie preferred Madonna. Did he love his wife? Yes… yes he thought he did. Who was he to reject this unconditional love from her? Yes, he loved his wife but he loved the man who was now his husband more. Benny before all else.

There was no way on this earth that Francisco was letting his wife, still wet and dripping with his cum, smelling of sex, in her pretty dress with Jonah of all people. Will would flip his fucking shit if he saw Madonna on his lap. So, she’d sit with him as they rode back.

Problem was, that smell of sex? That dripping, tight little hole that was all he could think about now? Her cute ass pressed against his crotch as she bounced on the horse? He wasn’t sure he could make it back to the house. His dick hardened against you, his arms pressing you close to him, he slide a hand up to touch your body. It’d been so long since he touched a woman’s body, preferring the company of Ben if he had a choice… and taking the love he could get from Santi if he couldn’t. He forgot how soft women were. Ben was rigid, safe, strong. His body was firm in a way that comforted Francisco. Santi was softer, sure. Santi’s legs and ass were thick with meat and his stomach a padding of stomach fat, but under it all was muscle still, joints and tissue and heft all boundled in the tight body of the would-be savior. Santi could never relax, his anger, his shame, his failings, the ever-present overcast of his mother never allowing him a moments peace. It wasn’t uncommon for Santiago to take Frankie in the sanctuary, Beatriz’s remains watching them as they consummate on the alter, not unlike Madonna, after reciting faux vows multiple times. Francisco had sworn his fidelity to Santi again and again in these private ceremonies… Francisco didn’t believe a word of Beatriz, her wishy-washy attitude of who the savior was when  her mood changed solidified that for francisco in his youth… but some days…

Some days Francisco wanted Ben to drag him into the sanctuary, he wanted Ben to bend him over the alter and claim him, to not belong to and be subject to the will of any Garcia again. To belong to Ben and only Ben and tell Santi to fuck of… But that wasn’t happening. The Millers were dying before Beatriz took them in, and Ben had worshiped the ground Beatriz and Santiago walked on, and if Frank were being completely honest, he did long Santi. He missed their boyhood together, before Santi’s soft mess was beat out of him and he stuff all his love for his brother until it folded in on himself, only let loose under the cover of night fucks and threesones and orgys.

Ben was a rock. Santiago was dynamite waiting to explode.

You? You were soft. And it didn't matter that Jonah was only a few feet away on his horse, Francisco was going to feel every inch of that softness. You wanted him? Out in the open, no secret? He'd have you out in the open.

“Francisco?” You whisper as he slips a hand under your dress, feeling your little clit through the cotton.

“I got you, just relax…” But you squirmed against him. There was nowhere to go, the trotting horse so far off the ground and his arm tight against your middle. “Relax.” He was more firm this time.

You stopped moving, but your body remained stiff. “But… Jonah.” You speak quietly so the other man doesn’t hear, but Francisco doesn’t care.

He tightens his grip, pressing down hard on your clit and rasps in your ear. “Relax.”

You have to bite on your cheeks to keep from whimpering, and Francisco doesn’t like that. He wants to hear your sounds again so he toys with your body, playing you like an instrument he is well practiced in. Your nipples are stiff and sensitive, making them easy prey to Francisco’s long fingers. How did he know your body so intimately already? His fingers working fast, Francisco is still ever-tender, kissing your mouth as you tilt your head to kiss him. You were a pretty girl, you deserved to be kissed, but right now he wanted to hear you so he opted to detach from your mouth and kiss down your neck, sucking a possessive hickey on you until he got what he wanted; a moan.

He saw Jonah tense and smiled against your delicate skin as you began to relax finally. You still were stifling your sounds, obviously not wanting the older man to hear you on the verge of cumming, but little noises were slipping out. Jonah grunted and kicked the horse, effectively riding ahead. His was missing out, the desperate, shuttering whimper as you came was music to Franicosco’s ears, cumming in his own pants once again.

*

Jonah’s face was burning. He didn’t want to hear that, he didn’t want to see what he saw. He didn’t want to know what she did with those four at all hours of the day outside of her not being harmed too badly. He has a duty to Marcus to keep her as safe as he could without rocking the boat too much. His duty to Iris came before all else. Now he was physically sick, and he was stuck with her trailing behind him. Francisco was putting the horses away, and obvious wet spot in his own pants sickening Jonah more, and had told Jonah to watch her.

Her voice was small. “Jon-”

“Don’t” He grunted, not wanting to talk. He needed to find Iris or Reyansh, he needed someone else to watch her. He needed to get away. 

“I’m sorr-”

Jonah whipped around to face her, keeping his distance.  His shame only grew when Jonah saw her eyes flick down to his pants. It was brief, only for a second and she didn’t see anything there but the fact you thought you might, the fact you had any suspicion that he might have gotten turned on by Frank’s display was humiliating.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“But I- I couldn’t hold it in. I was trying to be quiet but he-”

Jonah shut his eyes, not needing any more imagery and held up a hand. “Honey I can’t do this right now, okay? I’m not-” He sighs. “I’m not mad at you. I just can't be around you right now.” He saw your lip quiver, but Iris walked into the hall carrying a load of laundry on her hip. “Here.” He looked at Iris and gestured towards you. “I need you to watch her.”

 Iris scoffed at that. “You can’t just pawn her off on me when you’re bored of her.”

“I’m not pawning her off, I-”

Your voice was small but firm, slight wavering but determined to speak. “I’m not- I’m not a puppy who can’t be left alone for 5 minutes…” 

Jonah scrubs his face. “That’s not what I meant… I just mean-”

“I know what you mean,” She looked back and forth between him and Iris who was listening curiously. “But I’m not a child, I’m not a dog. I’m the Madonna and I don’t need to be babysat.”

“I know, I know, but they want someone with you at all times-”

“I’m twenty-two!” You suddenly raise your voice.

Jonah was done with this conversation, he couldn’t look at you without feeling sick right now. He turned to Iris. “Watch her, please?” and stormed off. He needed to find Frankie. He hears Iris sigh, then speak to you. 

“C’mon, you can help me and Rey with laundry.”

Rey must really love her if he was helping her do laundry. He'd seen his room... laundry was not a priority...

*

Jonah slammed Frank against the wall as he entered the house from the stables. At about the same height, Jonah had an inch on him but that didn’t mean much against Frank’s broad expanse. Jonah needed to posture if he was going to intimidate him, even if Frankie was the most timid of the 4. He needed to make sure that today did not repeat. “What the FUCK was that!”

Frankie’s eyes were wide, all his prior bravery and showmanship gone as Jonah pressed his forearm into his chest. Jonah’s hand was fisted in his shirt. “Nothing!”

“That girl has enough going on without you publicly humiliating her! Are you going to bring her to one of your sex parties next? Parade her around naked for everyone to see!”

“NO!”

“What the fuck happened to you! You were the good one, Frankie! After everything Beatriz put us through, you wanna do that to her too!”

When Frankie’s mouth opened to respond, hurt and guilt flittering across his face just as Jonah knew it would, Jonah was tossed to the ground and tackled. Before Jonah even had a chance to see who it was, his face being beaten by fists, he knew it was Ben.

“DON’T! FUCKING! TOUCH HIM!” The boy shouted, pounding Jonah’s face so hard he wondered if he’d cave it in. The thought didn’t seem so bad, but he couldn’t leave Iris and the girl. It wasn’t fair for Jonah to escape this hell he put Iris in.

It was Frankie that pulled Ben off him, eyes blue and crazed and flashing with anger, keeping his body protectively in front of his lover. They were a secret from Santi and the girl, both of them too oblivious to suspect, but the rest of the household knew. 

“Ben, stop, it’s fine”

“IT’S NOT FINE!” He screams, chest heaving in rage. Ben turns around to cup Ben’s cheek. “He doesn’t get to fucking touch you, baby.”

Frankie averted his eyes, body language stiff. It seemed he was okay compromising the girl’s dignity, putting her sexuality on display but was uncomfortable with Ben touting him. The reason, of course, was that Santi was a jealous god and Ben's possession could end his life, but the irony was still there.

The men left the hall, Frankie only looking back on where Jonah lay bleeding for a moment.

It was Rey that finally found him, Jonah too pained to get up on his own. His nose must be broken and everything ached, but the shame on Frankie’s face was enough. He made his point.

“Jonah! Shit!” Rey ran to him, and jonah forced himself to sit up lest the boy think he was dead.

“I’m fine, Rey.”

“Fucking bullshit, who did this? Was it Santi?”

He laughs. As if that man could get the jump on him without a knife or gun. Jonah could take him, he wasn’t the problem. The problem was the others. Ben, obviously, was a fucking force, and Will was a human mountain. Frankie was timid but don’t let that fool you, he’d seen the man take down forces.

The problem with Santi is the loyalty he garnered. Harming him meant the other 3 coming after him, and a majority of the commune. Delta would die for him, literally drinking the kool-aid if he asked. 

Jonah refused to go to the kitchen, knowing Iris and the girl would be there, so Rey took him to his room to clean him up.

“You probably shouldn’t sleep.” Rey says, icing his face. 

“I probably should drink either, but I'm gonna ask you to get me some whiskey.”

Rey chuckles and shakes his head, but gets the drink anyway. Jonah would just get his own.

Jonah mutters a thank you. “Please don’t tell Iris…” He sighs, knowing the answer to his request.

“You know I have to. Everyone else lies to her, she needs me to be honest.”

‘Everyone’ meant him. He hadn’t been a good father, he knew that. God, did he love her. Iris deserved better, he wanted to leave with her but there were no options. Everything around them had fallen apart, the other small communities around being so afraid of Delta they’d turn them in.

In the barren environment, Iris would die of exposer or be raped and killed by raiders within weeks, even with him and Rey protecting her. Not that she needed much protection, she was a skilled shot… which is why she wasn’t allowed a gun. Will kept careful eye on all the guns in Delta, Jonah himself only allowed his pistol during the day time, turning it in at night.

But Jonah hadn’t given up. He wouldn’t give up on getting Iris out until his last breath. If he could get the girl and Rey out too, he would, but Iris was the priority. 

*

The energy had shifted, and Santi noticed.

Santiago fucked into Frankie who he had flipped naked onto his stomach with Will having Madonna on her back. Frankie, who previously in these moments had focused on him or Ben was now eying her tits as they bounced in time to Will’s thrusts. He had kissed her, even, which hadn’t sat right with him. He tolerated it with Will or Ben, but her? She wasn’t for Frankie to love, she wasn’t for Frankie to be attracted to even. She was for Frankie and him to fill.

You were on the edge of an orgasm, but so was he, and as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t waste his godly essence on a barren hole. And he wanted to, god he wanted to. He wanted to cum so hard into his lover that Frankie swelled with child. Could it be possible? They were god, they were powerful… Maybe if he fulfilled his duty, maybe if he produced the savior with the whimpering girl impaled on his brother's dick, Mother would grant him this. If he had it his way, he’d have this child with Frankie only… but even now, even in his 30’s and the primary leader of Delta, a demi-god and son of the Holiest Mother on high, he could not control this.

With a strangled, pained groan, Santi pulled out of his most favored lover, shoving at Will as he stroked himself. Taking the hint, Will came inside you, kissing you deeply even as he pulled himself away to make room for their leader. As Santi angrily pounded your core, making your eyes roll back as he was the one to make you cum, not Will. He watches as your body writhes under him, Will’s cum coating his cock and spathering on his hips as it leaks out. Frankie joins Will in kissing you, your pleasured face chasing both their mouths until it was a blur of who was kissing who, the two mouths intertwining. 

Your moans grow louder again, chest heaving and back arching off the mattress and unable to kiss back as another orgasm began to eclipse you. That’s right, your pleasure was his. He controlled your body and what it felt, good or bad. Kneeling on either side of you, Will and Francisc straight and made out above, you sloppy and wet with Will shoving his large fingers into Frankie’s mouth. Santi wanted to cum, but his anger, his jealousy the white-hot fury that bubbled at his life-long inadequacy was holding him back. Will was practically throat fucking Frankie with his fingers, his left hand wrapped around his throat and Francisco’s whimpering moans gargled by his spit that dribbled down his chin and onto your breasts.

Pleasured sounds from your lips intensified when your hands went to your breasts, spreading the droll on your tits and playing with your nips with the slicked-up pads of your fingers. Despite fucking you, from where Santi knelt between your legs he felt on the outside of the scene, like he was the dildo and they were your porn, like he was being cucked in his own goddamn home.

Will pulled his fingers out, ordering Frankie to spit in her mouth. Santi watched in jealousy as you swallowed that part of him, quickly followed by Will’s own saliva. When Will went back to kissing Frankie, wet smacks of lips on lips, he used his dominant hand to jerk off Frankie's, throbbing, massive, uncut cock and the other shoving two fingers in your mouth. He wasn’t aggressive with you, merely giving you something to suck on as you came around Santi’s cock again. And then again. When Santiago watched Frank cum on your face, streak after streak of white liquid on your skin, Santiago couldn’t take it anymore. Angry, he reached out to fist Frank's brown curls and yank him towards him, lips crashing together. 

SLAM, SLAM, SLAM he thrust his hips into Madonna until she screamed a final orgasm with the help of Will's lips lapping at her nipples. As Santi came into your womb with fury, biting down on Frankie’s lips until he tasted blood. When it was done, he shoved Frankie to lay down where Santi joined him, lapping at the tangy blood and sucking on hip lip to draw more out. Will laid down by you, kissing you in a stark contrast. It was gentle and soft, making you smile. 

Santiago reached out repeatedly, scooping up the cum on your face and shoving it inside your sore, puffy pussy.

“Can’t be wasting a single drop, Frankie.”

WHAT ARE WE THINK WHAT ARE WE THINKING WHAT ARE WE THINKING

I don't know what came over me with that smut bro, I blacked out and wrote it. im on my period a lot is happening.

Oh Frankie.... c'mon dude, don't do Jonah like that :((((

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LOVE YOU ALL!

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[t4tgempearl]

hii,,,,, grace or holloway for the ask game,,<3

You get both! I'll make Holloway as a separate post and tag you :3 [ask game]

Grace:

favorite thing about them: I like how enthusiastic her character is!! She's so bouncy :]

least favorite thing about them: I don't know if there's much I dislike about her D: not in a "i think she's perfect" type of way, but I just acknowledge her flaws and quirks and see them as part of her and that's what makes her a well written character ^_^

favorite line: "She's bisexual and dead, where else would she be!"

brOTP: Her and Richie. I think their small interactions are fun, especially in workin's boys :]

OTP: Holyphone/Lautity :3 They live in my brain rent free

nOTP: Grace doesn't have that many (popular) ships, and I'm pretty alright with all of them. but maybe Grace & pete? (usually seen when it's a polycule with pete x steph x grace) I think they could both date Steph but they definitely wouldn't date each other

random headcanon: she makes bracelets! both with beads and with threads [and generally likes arts & crafts]

unpopular opinion: not sure how unpopular this is, and also it's a bit more about Grace's family than her specifically, but I think Grace's parents truly and genuinely love her. Yes they're religious, and the way they are religious may be harmful, but the Chasities as people love their daughter so much. Sure, things might change if she tells them she killed people, but I think they'd try to understand and wouldn't instantly turn against her.

song i associate with them: She Wants Me (To Be Loved), It's mostly associated with holyphone in my brain, but told from Grace's pov specifically

favorite picture of them:

[lacrymatoryao3]

First Time for Everything

One Shot Smut with Little Plot

Charles and Arthur awkwardly explore each other. Still working on my main fic, but also am on a Charthur jag.

1,557 Words (AO3 Link)

They needed somewhere private, but not in Saint Denis or even Rhodes. Those were still too close to Shady Belle and would risk the rest of the gang hearing rumors from locals. After hushed private discussions, they agreed to make a return to Valentine under the guise of having a robbery lead. Charles was the one to ride in first to get a room at the hotel. He wasn’t there during the shootout with Cornwall’s men, so the owner wouldn’t cause a commotion with him like he probably would with Arthur.

Arthur waited outside the town, on the side of an infrequently used trail that led to the Dakota River. He smoked two, maybe three cigarettes in a row to calm himself with his binoculars on the side of the hotel waiting for Charles’s sign from the window. As the sun set it arrived. From the upper floor in the room the owner always seemed to put people in, he saw the curtains be pulled back to block out the view of the street below.

He urged his horse forward and into Valentine. He pulled his hat down to make it harder to see his face, hoping no one remembered the great black Shire he was sitting upon. He hitched him beside Taima in front of the hotel and walked to the side of the building where there was an outside staircase to the top floor that avoided the lobby all together. Once he was in the hall the door to the room was on his immediate left. He took off his had and smoothed out his ash brown hair, taking a deep breath and lightly knocking on the door.

Charles answered with his long black hair still damp from his bath. No wonder he took so long. He put on fresher clothes, different from the weathered light blue with white dotted shirt he wore during the long and dusty ride, an outfit he started wearing when they arrived in the South. The one with the black trousers, a faded burgundy red overshirt that he only fastened at one bottom button, and a tanned leather vest that was embroidered with small colored beads in a tribal pattern in strips on both sides down the front.

Arthur just stood there, staring at the man in front of him as if he turned him into stone. He could only utter a strained and nervous “hey”.

“Hey,” Charles replied, a soft and equally clumsy smile breaking from his plump lips, “You, uh, should probably come in.”

Arthur nodded, hastily stepping over the threshold so Charles could close the door. He took off his hat and set it on a wooden chair next to a large standing mirror in the corner of the dimly lit room. His ragged satchel joined it, but not before he went into it and produced an unopened bottle of Kentucky Bourbon.

“I… Brought somethin’ for us.” Arthur said, waving the bottle to Charles.

Arthur opened the bottle and took a sip. The burn calmed the fluttering he had in his stomach, though his heart was still racing. He handed it to Charles, who also took one. They passed it back and forth until there was nothing left.

Charles set the bottle on the mantle of the fireplace. The flames caught his figure and created a blazing halo around his wide, strong, and athletic body. A golden glow washed over his dark skin. Despite having little belief in them, Arthur felt like he was looking upon an angel. His doubts possessed him like ghosts manifesting from the shadows. His heart began to race and get caught in his throat.

What if he embarrasses himself somehow? Neither of them knew what they were about to do. He had only been with women and he couldn’t even remember the last time – 5 years at least. In the world they lived in, two men lying together in the same way was seen as unnatural… An abomination to those religious type of fools.

Another thing was Arthur didn’t see himself anywhere near attractive. When he looked in the mirror all he saw was scars, blemishes where the sun he was almost always under kissed his skin, his crooked nose and chipped teeth from so many brawls, lines that set his scowls into the flesh, he still saw the stains of blood that he shed despite them being long washed away. If it came to that, would Charles even still be attracted to him when he shed his clothes?

It was only a moment that felt like an eternity, with both feeling apprehension and doubt, before Charles returned to him.

“You ready?” Charles asked, more bashfully than Arthur had ever heard from him.

“Yeah…” Arthur responded, “If you are, anyway. We don’t got to if you ain’t.”

“I think we’ll be okay.” Charles assured him, resting his large and shaky hands on Arthur’s waist. He pulled him closer, until their chests were crushed and they both could feel their pounding hearts.

Arthur nodded and breathed, “If you change your mind at any point durin’ this, tell me and we can stop…”

The air became thick as they gazed into each other’s eyes, their minds letting go of any preconceived notions they were taught by the world. Instinctually, their faces grew closer. At first their lips traced, savoring the sensation and heat of their breaths and bodies, until they pressed together. They tried to go slow, soft, building up the flame. It didn’t last very long. Arthur took Charles’s face in his hands, his thumb tracing the large scar that snaked along the right side of his face, kissing harder. He slipped his tongue into Charles’s mouth. He grasped Arthur tighter, greeting him with his own. Their faces burned with a hunger and passion neither of them expected to experience with another man.

With eager hands, Charles gently took hold of the kerchief around Arthur’s neck. He untied the knot and pulled it away, dropping it onto the floor. He unbuttoned his shirt, exposing his broad chest. Arthur let out a low grown as he felt Charles’s rough, calloused hands explore his hair covered flesh.

“I’ve always been jealous of you for this…” Charles muttered, circling the bare halo around Arthur’s nipples.

Arthur chuckled, his face and ears turning a bright red, “Ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

They became emboldened enough to fully undress and joined each other in the bed. In Arthur’s arms Charles felt so warm, his plush skin hiding the hard and well sculpted muscle underneath. It excited him more than he expected, his cock beginning to pulse as it swelled. He refrained from touching it, focusing on Charles instead. He pressed his mouth to an area behind his ear, working downward to his neck.

Charles never experienced such tenderness, such attentiveness to the most sensitive areas on his body. His breathing increased, Arthur’s coarse fingers messaging his breast. His head tilted back for a moment, his throat letting out a soft yet high pitched moan. The ache was becoming too intense to ignore. He reached down, taking hold of his own cock and started to slowly stroke it. He looked down and saw how hard they both were. Arthur’s was slightly longer, but incredibly thick. The skin was pulled taught away from head, which was almost purple at the edges. From the tip, a clear fluid wept in long tears that dropped onto the bedspread. Charles took one of Arthur’s hands, leading it downward to replace his own. In return he took Arthur’s. He looked deeply into his beautiful blue eyes, pupils blown in lust.

Charles filled Arthur’s hand. With each movement his shaft throbbed, eliciting a sigh or grunt from the man it was attached to. Christ… It was the most foreign and erotic thing Arthur encountered. It wasn’t enough. He took Charles’s ass and pulled him closer, until their sensitive members brushed. Arthur couldn’t close his fingers around them both. Their hips moved in rhythm, spreading Arthur’s precum until it covered their cocks and they slid against each other with ease.

Words became rendered useless. The only thing Arthur muttered between the two men’s moans was an often unused ‘fuck’.

Charles started to buck more in his grasp, panting with beads of sweat on his brow. His cock was constantly twitching, begging, desperate.

“Arthur…” Charles gasped, “Arthur, I’m going to-”

“Come for me, Charles. Let it go.” Arthur whispered. He was dangerously close too, fighting to keep it before he was ready.

A few more aggressive thrusts, then Charles tensed. His cock erupted, his seed splattering both of their stomachs. It was joined soon after by Arthur’s. He shook, riding the intensity of their orgasms until they were spent. Arthur let go, rolling onto his back and huffing to catch his breath.

They laid in a stupor for some time, paralyzed by blissful relief. Arthur got up to fetch the towel hanging off the washing stand. He wiped Charles off first before himself, throwing it across the room. He opened his arms and Charles rolled over to rest his head on Arthur’s chest, the two embracing.

“What did we tell Dutch we were goin’ out for?” Arthur asked drifting off into sleep.

“We’ll figure it out tomorrow.” Charles replied with a soft and tired laugh.

[didalexiabreakupwitholgayet]

are any of the Barca girls particularly religious? I am american (but am from a very catholic region of the country) and probably half of the uswnt are professed christians, and there was that whole thing with Korbin Albert being an idiot recently. is that the same in Spain? I know there is a bit of a difference because a majority of the uswnt players are protestant and that tends to lead to a more outward profession of faith compared to catholicism but I've seen some Barca girls cross themselves before entering the pitch.

this is a bit of a complicated answer because in my personal experience, religion in spain is just different than what it seems like to be in the united states. spain has this very long history (over a thousand years of catholicism), which has influenced the architecture, culture, history, food, and traditions. but most of my friends and relatives would be described as "cultural" catholic but not really true believers, if that makes sense? like crossing yourself or wearing a cross isn't that big a deal. it's almost like superstition or tradition.

similarly, semana santa (holy week) is a big deal in spain and you celebrate with your family and go to parades and events, but again, it seems more cultural and family tradition, rather than being super religious per se. in fact, this study from a few years ago says that 1/3 of spanish consider themselves atheists/agnostics now, with the youth being less religious than older generations.

when i see some american players, they have things like bible verses in their IG bios or will share religious quotes here and there. also, i was watching some of the american final four women's basketball clips on twitter and the coach started talking about god and god's plan! that is weird to me. i cannot imagine alexia, aitana, or the majority of spanish players reciting bible verses regularly or jona giving speeches about god.

alexia will cross herself before a match, but you are not going to find her at mass every sunday or counting rosary beads in her spare time or anything like that. oshoala also did a religious bow everytime she scored a goal, but i don't think she is super conservative muslim either.

i really cannot imagine a similar situation like korbin albert with the spanish players. maybe the closest will be athenea who seems like one of the most nationalistic players and has a problematic right-wing boyfriend. spain definitely has a problem with right wing, hyper nationalism fanatics and the misogynistic macho types, but i don't really see them using religion like donald trump or other american politicians do.

i guess it's all relative though because some of my scandi friends think spanish are way more religious than they are, so go figure! anyway, i think religion is very personal, so these are just my personal experiences and thoughts.

[gimmethosedaddymilkers]

Cardinal Sins and Other Desires

Okay, I know I have other requests that were submitted first, but I this weekend is a writing weekend because I need to decompress my mind and I wanna do something fun

But this one was requested by @cantchoosejust1 who offered a very interesting idea of Arthur and reader having to disguise themselves as a priest and a nun....and have some...interesting times. 

I-

The idea is so juicy I had no choice but to do it. 

This is my take on it but of course @cantchoosejust1​ if it doesn’t match your expectations I’d love to take another stab at it!

It’s also probably gonna be a bit of a longer read, so strap in!

So

With that being said 

Warnings!: NSFW, Uhhh religious type things but it’s sexy so like....if that offends you don’t read, arthur being delicious, female reader 

Tags!: @mrsarthurmorgan7 @kieropal @photo1030 @pcotarelo @6kaja9

Alright, that being said, everyone, hold onto your butts, let’s get this horny train rolling!

“Dutch, this has got to be your dumbest idea yet.” 

Arthur scoffs as he looks down at the ridiculous looking outfit that Hosea and Dutch have managed to just barely squeeze him into, his arms raised out to his sides. 

A set of Priest’s robes that match the Nun outfit you’re wearing, and you can’t help but agree with him, you feel absolutely idiotic wearing the long black robe with it’s white accents and hood. 

The black robe Arthur dons is plain, matching black buttons, and something similar to a miniature poncho rests against his shoulders, that signature white collar sits around his neck, but if it’d been a single size smaller he’d be choking. 

“I have to agree.” You sigh and look down at yourself, and at the rosary beads that Hosea had placed in your hand. “This is a stupid idea. The two of us couldn’t pass off as religious figures, are you kidding me? I couldn’t quote a single thing from the Bible.” 

Arthur snorts in agreement and puts his arms down to his sides, looking up at his two father figures with a grimace on his face. 

It was early evening, and Shady Belle seems far more inviting than going out into Saint Denis, into a Church of all places too. 

“The two of you need to look on the logical side of this!” Dutch crosses his arms and stares at the two of you, his nostrils flaring in annoyance. “That Church has money in it, I know it does. We got a decent tip on it, and this is the best way to get in there and get it without causing a huge scene.”

“Why us though?” You can’t help but let the question slip out of your mouth.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like working with Arthur, quite the opposite actually. Arthur was fantastic to work with, he got the job done right, and he got it done quick, usually, if he could. He was precise, and he was good at what he did. 

The only problem between the two of you working is that you were often distracted watching him work. It was obnoxiously attractive to watch him reload his gun in the middle of a gun fight, his back against his wall and the calmest look on his face, sometimes annoyance, but never fear. It was one of the best things about him.

That was about the only thing that ever-caused problems working with him.

That and the fact that the two of you tended to get along a little too well if you’re left alone for too long. 

In both of your defenses the two of you have been together for nearly two years now, so it was only natural that it happened. 

But, your question, it was more directed at why the two of you for THIS specific job.

If anyone was suited for this kind of job it was Mary-Beth, Karen, maybe even Hosea himself, but Arthur? You? 

Arthur wasn’t exactly known for his play acting, or for his subtly.

“Because, the two of you are the best we have, you’ll get the job done, and the two of you are the only ones without jobs set up right now.” Hosea chimes in and quietly he walks towards Arthur, adjusting a part of his costume. “You’ll know what to do.” 

“Arthur’s not exactly...” You swallow, trying to think of a nice way to say what you needed to. “He’s not really the stealthy type.” You finish.

“That’s why you’re going with him.” Hosea huffs. “We were told that there’s a stash of money in the basement of the church, as long as you and him can get there and get it that’s all that matters, if he goes to step out of line then you can step in and steer the situation right.” 

“Don’t I get a say in all this?” 

“No Arthur, you don’t.” 

“So why not just send me in by myself?” You furrow your brow and cross your own arms now. 

“Because you can’t pass as ‘Father Morgan’.” Dutch snorts. 

“Ugh....’Father Morgan’.” Arthur shakes his head and looks towards the road leading out of camp, his horse and yours stand next to each other, grazing at the grass nearby. 

“Come on you two! It’ll be fun, go out for drinks afterwards! Our treat!” Dutch moves closer to the younger man and claps his shoulder with a hand, shaking Arthur slightly with a huge smile on his face. “It’s just one job, I promise, no more outfits for you for a while after this one Arthur.” 

Arthur sighs and rolls his eyes, but swallows and nods before taking a step towards the horses. 

“C’mon Darlin’ let’s get this done with.” 

You roll your eyes as well but follow behind offering a bit of a timid wave to the two older outlaws, moving quickly to keep up with Arthur, who even in his new outfit seems to move much faster than you could. 

“This is ridiculous,” Arthur looks over his shoulder at you as the two of you reach your horses. “Look at this, look at me, I look stupid.”

You chuckle and smack his shoulder with the back of your hand as you mount up.

“You aren’t the only one Arthur, I look stupid in this get up too.” 

“Not as stupid as me, I’m surprised this damn thing hasn’t ripped yet,” He sighs and mounts his own horse, struggling slightly with the tightness around his arms. “They couldn’t find anything bigger than this?” 

“Apparently not,” You nod towards the road leading out. “Let’s get going cowboy, the sooner we get this done the sooner we can get out of these things.” 

“You’re right, I know.” 

He offers another sigh, but then turns to lead the two of you out of camp, setting off at a decent pace.

............

You lean your head against the side of Arthur’s bicep as the two of you lean around a wall, staring at the Church placed in a rather unfortunate location for the two of you.

It’s situated in nearly the center of attention, it’s not in an area that’s exactly easy for the two of you to sneak into it, the only way to go about it was to walk in with confidence that your disguises would work. ‘Stealth’ in the traditional sense wasn’t an option for the two of you two.

“Alright, so...” Arthur adjusts himself, standing a little straighter. “I guess we just walk in?” 

“I guess, try to seem Pious, straighten your back, look confident for once Arthur.” 

“Hey, I’m confident-” 

“Yeah when you’re drunk and when you’re robbing, just....Imagine you’re....”

You stop and huff, turning to face him as he stands against the wall of the building the two of you have hidden yourselves behind. 

“Play Dutch.” You finish.

“Play Dutch?” 

“You know, be....fuck Arthur just be obnoxious. Everything you do, pretend it was planned out, if you’re confident about it they won’t question a single thing.” 

“You think Dutch is obnoxious?” Arthur makes a sound that borders between a snort and a full laugh as he looks at you.

“Of course I do, but that’s not important right now.” You look back towards the church. “Just...Like I said be confident.” You reach up and gently move a lock of his hair behind his ear, it’s not too long, not enough seem out of place, but he definitely should have gotten it trimmed. 

“I know, it’s a mess.” He huffs and reaches up, covering your hand with his own. “Didn’t get the chance to stop and cut it with everythin’ goin’ on in camp. It’s gettin’ too long.” 

“Just keep it out of your face, you did good with your stubble, looks clean.” 

“Good, now, gimme a kiss before we do this.” 

You can’t help but smile at him, and offer him a quick kiss, which he makes longer as one of his hands grips your waist tightly when your lips make contact with his. 

He has a habit of deepening those kisses that you mean to be quick pecks, little messages of love that turn into something far more...promiscuous. 

You finally manage to pry yourself away from him, suppressing a laugh. 

“Arthur, come on, we’re gonna get caught, now go, I’ll follow.” 

“Alright, alright-” He starts to move away from you, but you grab his robe sleeve quickly.

“Sorry, don’t forget this.” 

You thrust a bible into his hand, and then give him a slight push. 

“Confidence Arthur!” 

“Alright, I got it, I got it, jus’ come on, you gotta come with me anyhow.” 

You wipe your hands on the front of your robes, feeling the palms of your hands get sweaty.

You stand a little straighter and follow after him as the two of you walk towards the church, trying to control the sudden set of nerves that have overcome your body. 

It’s late, the sun had set on the way into Saint Denis, in theory there shouldn’t be anyone in the church, or at least there shouldn’t be too many people in there. 

It was the middle of the week, there wasn’t a Sunday Service. 

Hopefully things would be easy for the two of you, as long as you could keep the charade up.

Nearing the church you could see two nuns talking to one another outside the front door, arms held in front of themselves, one hand over the other, and you quickly mimic the posture as the two of you continue. 

Luckily as you pass the two of them they do nothing but nod and smile at the two of you, which each of you return. 

As you pass through the doors you lean a little closer to Arthur, keeping your voice quiet.

“You’re doing great Arthur.” 

“I ain’t done anythin’ yet, that’s why.” 

You shake your head and swallow back the remark you want to say as you look down at the rosary in your hand. 

“Just look around, where’s the stairs to the basement in this place?”

“Don’t know, I ain’t ever been in here, I avoid the city and most religious places like the plague,” he whispers. “I’m surprised I ain’t burned up in flames yet.” 

You elbow him as subtly as you can.

“Shut up, if anything the both of us would be in flames by now if that myth was true.”

“Mhm...Awful crime, that premarital sex.”

“Arthur, I think it’s several other crimes that would cause us problems before that one.” 

“I guess you’re right, probably all the murder and robbin’.” 

“You think?” 

He offers a quiet chuckle, one of your favorite sounds, low and breathy, short and sweet. It’s cut off quickly as he looks to the left, seeing a door off to the side of the main room, away from the pews and podium.

“You think that leads down?”

“Don’t know, we’ll have to take a look.” You sigh and look around the room, it seems completely empty, at least from what you can see. “Let’s be quick about it.” 

“Right.” 

He leads you off towards the door, and as you reach it he opens it up, only to reveal a small closet that’s nearly empty, despite a broom in the corner and a few extra bibles on the top shelf.

“Damn, not it... We should look-” 

“Get in the closet!” 

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?” 

Your body is sparking with a sudden rush of anxiety, a sound from your right had sent it through you within a matter of seconds. Voices, is what it sounded like to you, quiet, but there.

“Just get in!” You shove him into the closet and follow after, closing the door in front of you.

The two of you are shrouded in darkness easily, and your body brushes against him, your back to his chest, and you listen as he grunts after hitting his head on the shelf.

“Jesus Y/N, the hell are you doin’?” He’s whispering, but there’s a familiar anger in his voice, well, perhaps its more annoyance.

“I’m sorry I panicked! I heard voices over by the pews...” 

“Well we’re dressed like this for a reason-” 

“We can’t get out of here now, they’ll wonder why we were crammed in here together.” 

“What, you’re sayin’ Priests don’t get freaky now and then?” 

“Arthur you know they don’t.” 

“It was sarcasm darlin’.” 

You take a shaky breath and Arthur’s arm snakes around your waist and he pulls you flush against his body.

“It’s alright Darlin’, we’re fine. What’s goin’ on with you tonight?” 

“I don’t know...something about a church, I feel like getting caught here is worse than getting caught in a bank.” You mumble.

“What, all that higher power nonsense?” 

“I don’t know, society does not take likely to thieves of the church.” 

“Darlin’ society don’t take a likin’ to any thieves I’m afraid.” 

You chuckle quietly and lean against him.

“You always know what to say, you know that?” 

“Mhm...I try...Now...you think you can take a peek out there, see if they’re gone?” 

You take a breath and do as he suggests, opening the door quietly and slowly, peeking your head out just barely. 

You listen, hardly moving, hardly breathing, until you realize you no longer hear anyone speaking.

“I think we’re good.” 

You step out of the closet and Arthur follows suit, and that’s when you see another door.

It’s straight across from the one that you just exited, and without another word to Arthur you head towards it, and pull it open, a feeling of relief flooding over you as you see stairs heading downwards.

“Good Girl...” Arthur’s voice is nearly a growl in your ear as he leans over your shoulder, he knows how that gets to you, he does, but in this instance you’re fairly certain he’s done it unintentionally.

He’s got a habit of making things attractive when he doesn’t mean to.

“Thanks Father.” 

“Don’t say that.” 

“Would you prefer Daddy?” 

“Not unless you wanna cause more problems for yourself Darlin’.” 

You chuckle and begin to head down the stairs, Arthur following you and closing the door quietly behind him.

The basement is dark, and almost damp feeling, you can’t see a damn thing and Arthur doesn’t have his trusty lantern with him.

“Well now what?” 

Arthur’s breath comes out warm against your shoulder and an arm wraps around your waist. 

“I don’t know, let me think.” He mutters. “I got my matches in my pocket.” 

“Your robes have pockets?”

“Course, yours don’t?” 

“No, it’s a fucking dress, so is yours I didn’t figure you’d have pockets.” 

“Please don’t refer to it as a dress, you’re ruinin’ my masculine reputation.” 

You roll your eyes but your hand finds its way to his thighs, patting along the robe in an attempt to find said matches

Of course he has matches on him, he can’t go more than an hour or two without a smoke. 

“Mhmm...careful, you’re gonna hit somethin’ else while you’re down there.” 

“Why the hell are you so horny right now, I’m not even wearing anything revealing-”

“Maybe I’ve been possessed, need some holy water...” 

“Arthur please, can we find the money?” 

“I’m sure we can, but I’m sure I’d be a lot more focused after...”

“Are you serious right now?” 

“Yeah, serious as a heart attack Sugar. Somethin’ about this place...somethin’ about that....the...shit...the idea of somethin’ like that in a place like this, a church...” He lowers his voice. “In public.....it’s doin’ somethin’ to me.” 

You know he means it, you can feel his hardness against your rear, you’ve been able to feel it since the closet, you just refused to say anything.

The basement seemed like the safest place, if you were going to do this.

Not only that but Arthur wasn’t the only one who had this sort of feeling.

The idea of being caught...It was exhilarating, and the idea of being dressed as a nun, yet committing such lewd acts...

You swallow, and grip the rosary in your fist fairly tightly.

“Possessed by the devil, not a demon.” You mutter.

“Maybe you should exorcise me....you are a nun after all.” 

You turn, and your eyes are finally adjusting to the darkness, you can see the look on Arthur’s face, the haze of red beginning to cover his cheeks.

“Maybe we need to fuck it out of you.” 

“Seems like it’s what he wants...” Arthur murmurs and his hands reach for your waist, and that’s when you catch him.

The rosary slips around his wrists easily, it’s a long beaded string with a cross on the end, longer than it needs to be, but long enough it works perfectly.

You know he can break out of this makeshift bondage easily, but he won’t, at least not on purpose.

He watches, his eyes hungry as you wrap the rosary around his wrists as many times as you can. 

“That’s new.” He snorts. 

“Maybe that demon will be more willing to leave with a cross on him...”

You have no idea what’s convinced you to slip fully into this sort of romanticized sort of scenario. You know he isn’t possessed, you don’t even believe in that kind of stuff, but....the idea that the only way to expel that ‘demon’ is to fuck it out of him...

It’s doing something to you. 

Luckily Arthur can catch on easily, and he follows your lead.

“Well, what the hell are you waitin’ for, you gonna fuck this demon, or are you gonna leave me tied?” 

Quietly, you step forwards, and unbutton the lower buttons of his robe, following after that his union suit which even in the dark you can see the outline of his dick pressed against his thigh.

His cock springs out the moment you get it unbuttoned, and without much of a thought you lick the tip of it, listening as Arthur sucks in through his teeth.

From there you move to the base of him, and lick along his shaft, moving towards the tip before taking him into your mouth fully, and that lovely voice of his comes tumbling out of his mouth in a groan.

He rests his tied hands against the back of your head, gently pushing his wrists against it in an attempt to partially guide you, gripping, or at least attempting to grip, at the hood of your robe.

“Fuck....I didn’t....shit I didn’t realize I was that...sensitive...right now.” He breathes out.

You hum against his skin as you bob your head, and again he lets a groan out.

You don’t do this long, and his dick comes out of your mouth with a satisfying pop.

“Nah, that....that ain’t fair-” 

“I said we’re gonna fuck it out of you Arthur, me sucking you off isn’t exactly a fucking.” 

He’s silent at your remark and watches in the dim light as you shuffle and manage to get your undergarments off.

He watches as you kick them to the side and then motion for him to near you.

He follows orders, the opposite of his usual dominating demeanor, but that’s going to change soon.

You simply turn around and face the wall nearest to you, placing your hands against it, and then arching your back out towards him.

“Oh....shit.” 

Arthur swallows, and it’s only a moment before his mind seems to be taken over.

His hands are still tied, but thanks to your earlier endeavor his dick is exposed, and all you have to do is pull up your skirt.

His arms come over your neck, his hands still confined, now settled against your collar bone as he manages to get his cock lined up with your slick.

He pushes into you roughly, enough to make you cry out, and from there he’s unable to move slowly.

His hips snap against yours, deeply, roughly, needily.

“Jesus Christ...” He huffs.

“He ain’t doing...much to help...you right now.” You manage to get out as your cheek rests against the wall, your body moving in tandem with Arthur’s, back and forth, your breasts grazing the wall.

“No...he ain’t....fuck....you sure you ain’t the devil?” 

You twitch your hips, moving against Arthur in an attempt to get a deeper angle.

“Maybe...” Your face is hot, your neck too.

You listen to the sounds he makes, each little grunt or groan pushing you forwards.

“This ain’t very....fuck....this ain’t very holy of you.” 

“Sometimes....you need different....solutions..” 

There’s a noise the sounds from upstairs, and suddenly Arthur’s hands are pressed against your mouth as he continues to rut into you. 

“Shhh....quiet Sugar...you don’t want us to be caught do you?” He whispers.

His thrusts get harder, and you bite down on his hand, the area you can get to, you think it’s the side of his thumb, doing your best not to hurt him, but it’s the only thing you can do to stop the moan building in your throat.

You love it when he’s rough with you, and this position, these clothes, getting caught now would only make things hotter.

You know exactly how Arthur would react, and a part of you hopes that someone will, but you know it’s for the best if they don’t.

“Fuck....’demons’....jesus...fuck...” Arthur’s attempt at another suave sentence fails as his hips smack yours again and again.

You lick his hand, leaving hot breath against his skin, and listen to him do his best to suppress a sound that rises to his throat.

“You tryna get us caught? For a Nun...you’re kinda....a slut...” He huffs out. 

“Yours Father Morgan...” The words are uttered against the side of his hand in a whisper, but he hears it and he swallows, trying again to keep his voice from raising.

“Please....Harder...” 

“Christ Woman, maybe you are possessed.” 

“Harder...” You plea again, pushing your hips back against his, roughly hoping he takes the hint, which you’re lucky and he does.

“You know....I...fuck...I could finish you...if I had my hands....” 

You offer a grunt in response and watch as he pulls his wrists apart and the beads scatter around the room, pinging against the floor in every direction.

His hands fly to their places almost like it’s instinct.

One against your throat and the other to your clit.

He circles it, matching up his speed with the thrusts against your ass.

“You thought you could keep me like that, but sorry Darlin’...I just couldn’t do it any longer.” 

His voice is breathy, and he leans forwards, kissing your neck, listening to the sounds that escape your mouth,.

He only stops when the sound of the basement door comes. 

He’s quick to move, his cock still buried inside you as he pulls you around the side of a wall.

No one would see you there, not unless they walked around.

He places a palm against your mouth and he leans his back against the wall, only to thrust upwards into you, slowly, making sure his body and yours wouldn’t make a sound.

“Someone down here? The church is closed for the night I’m afraid!” 

Arthur moves slowly, his hips still gently rocking against yours, it’s nearly torture, and you want to beg him to move faster, but to quell it you bite his palm, just as you’d done earlier.

“Hello? Anyone?” 

His dick pulls out gently, and he has to do his best to keep a groan in his throat.

“Must be hearing things.” 

The two of you listen as the person heads back up the stairs and the door closes.

You let out a deep breath and as soon as you do Arthur’s pace picks up.

He’s fast, thrusting into you with a speed that seems like he’ll die without feeling you clench against him.

His hand comes back to your neck and the other back to your clit.

He’s persistent, and after a moment you know why.

His hips begin to get erratic, the rhythm and speed are off, and his breathing against your neck gets hotter, they turn from deep breaths into panting.

“Sugar....you nearly there? Princess...I’m....soon.” 

You can’t do anything but nod, leaning your head against his shoulder as he keeps you moving.

The hand around your throat moves to cup your breast, squeezing it through the cloth.

“Love the way these bounce...” He mutters. “Even clothed it’s a sight...” 

“Arthur,” You close your eyes, your arm moving to come around his neck, the other slapped against the wall.

“Mhm....you’re almost there, I can hear it in your....fuck...in your voice.” 

It’s a few more of these hard fast thrusts and then suddenly there’s a warmth that fills you and you yourself come apart as Arthur’s fingers continue to circle your clit.

Arthur groans in your ear and puts his forehead against your shoulder, breathing deeply, trying to catch his breath.

You’re silent for a moment.

“You broke my rosary.” 

“Oh, like you were ever gonna use it after this.” 

“Maybe on you, back, back I say, may the power of Christ compel you-”

“Oh, you need more than Christ to compel me Darlin’.” 

You chuckle and the two of you manage to get untangled, not before Arthur whispers in your ear about the mess he’s made.

“Gonna have me all over you, hidin’ under that outfit of yours....you ain’t exactly the Virgin Mary are you...”

“Shut up Arthur, the ‘demon’ is supposed to be gone, let’s find that damn money and get out of here, I’ll let you do whatever you want with me when we get back to camp.”

“Good, not like you were gonna stop me anyhow.” 

[hiveswap]

I'd like to say that i'm not religious but i have facts abt it so @ fanartists using catholic symbolism, you should count the beads on those rosaries! They are tools for counting prayers, each type represents a different one. Theyre supposed to be divided into 5 sets of 10 separated by a larger bead. (or one further apart fron the others)

[mageofholyandraste]

emprise de la foi perdue

dragon age inquisition. female trevelyan x iron bull. set during emprise du lion quests. 904 words. content warning: mentions of blood and religious-type violence, as well as descriptions of wounds and scars.

Emprise du Lion, simply put, is fascinating. Valeria has always been fond of the cold, and the whole place is not only cold, but also magically cursed by corrupted lyrium and quite possibly the ghosts of its ancient elven inhabitants. Something in her tells her that the Maker would not approve - and truthfully, the red lyrium and the freezing cold do seem to have something unholy in them - but she can’t help but feel a little weirdly excited.

She prays the thought away at night, obviously. She recites the Chant dutifully, maybe half-way convinced that her presence and the words of the Chant would chase away whatever has these Orlesians and Inquisition agents in such a fright. Doubt hits her when she least expects it, when she’s this close to falling asleep. The presence of the Anchor is not the choice of the Maker, but of sheer fucking chance. She couldn’t take it, for a while. Her hands had become mortal and mundane yet again, even if they can cast magic.

She prays harder to chase it away. Bull watches her with his one eye, observant, without a response. She knows the whole Chant of Light is not something he’s convinced of, and it is not up to her to convert him. One night, he groans as he leans on one elbow, in the deep darkness of the night, and whispers to the background of the angry, whirling wind, “Teach me that chant of yours.” 

Valeria straightens and puts her hands on her folded knees. “You do not have to worship the Maker if you are not convinced, Bull.” 

“Listen, I’m not, but you are, and ever since that fucking Warden fortress, every other thing I see you do is pray.” He inches closer and bores his gaze into hers. “If the big guy won’t listen to his own prophet, maybe he’ll listen if a big, horned guy sends him the same questions too.”

She blinks. Her knees are getting cold. She’s momentarily ported back to the hard floors of her Circle’s chantry. That place had one Andraste more than their little tent in the ass end of nowhere. “He makes no distinction on the basis of race,” she says quietly. “Everyone can come to Him if they so desire.” 

“I’m not getting converted, boss,” he says. He sounds raw and secure, like a mountain. “Your faith is important to you. I wanna participate in what is important to you. I’m not gonna send any of this to my superiors anymore. It’s just you, me, the Maker and Andraste in this fucked up foursome tonight.”

Valeria’s eyes prickle. They talked at length about it, curled up on her bed after sex. He knows what it’s like to lose faith in something. If someone had asked her years ago if she knew she’d be sharing that experience with a Qunari spy, she’d have laughed. Nevertheless, she laughs a little. 

“Please do not refer to this as a foursome,” she says and repositions herself to be more on the bedroll. Bull catches it and pulls her arm. She falls forward and hair hits her face. She makes a confused frown.

“That chant say how you people should pray?”

“No.” 

“Then you’re not freezing your kneecaps off, Val. Lay down.” 

She looks at him through yellow strands of hair as she settles beneath her bedroll. Her hands grip her rosary, far too decorated for this tent, but as lavish as Her Holiness the Inquisitor deserves; she catches the distant glow of red lyrium on its glass beads as she raises her hands to rest them between her and Bull. 

The size difference of their respective hands never fails to surprise her. His hands are too warm on her cold skin - benefits of being an ice mage. He towers over her, broad and imposing, yet there’s nothing dangerous in the soft gleam of his eye, his wide, relaxed shoulders, his black horns. She’s since gotten used to seeing him without the eyepatch. The eye is gnarly, raw, unseeing, but Valeria doesn’t think it takes from his beauty. He is big and scarred, but his hands are gentle with her, and at one point he even leans down to kiss her. 

“What’s the words, boss?” Bull asks, settling. 

So she teaches him some of the Chant, and he repeats after her, and so sleep finds them like that, holding a rosary. Vivienne and Cassandra offer them smiles Valeria has no desire to try and unpack, especially Vivienne’s. She does feel more at peace, though. That is enough, for the time being.

It’s a demon, in the end. Andraste’s Chosen would never deal with a demon. And it ends its sorry existence like any other demon, dead and gone. Valeria almost wants to purify the whole Suledin Keep. And maybe she did, with bloody hands and a bloody staff. Adamant Fortress had almost destroyed her belief in her own divinity. 

But maybe she is as holy as she was before, except this new divinity requires a different price, takes on a different form. Valeria looks to the sky above Suledin Keep and makes the sign of the Chantry, hoping her Maker listens. 

If He does, He doesn’t answer. All she sees is the relentless shine of the winter sun through the motion that catches on the dried blood beneath her nails. But now she knows she need not pray alone. 

[slutisnotabadword]

I’m currently writing a Bamon fic that basically reimagines TVD, starting with them starting college and with Bonnie as the protagonist. And like I have SO many headcanons I’m gonna incorporate. A lot of them comes from the show but just elevated.

1. Bonnie

My lovely, mistreated Bonnie… boy do I have ideas for you. First of all, she’s going to have some good ass hairstyles. BLACK GIRL hairstyles. I think Bonnie loves to wear curly ponytails with decorated scarves, or like some long knotless braids. AHHH I have some ideas for her hair. But speaking of style, Bonnie loves the bohemian aesthetic. So, air of half tops, waist beads, long skirts, etc (go on Pinterest and type “bohemian black girl, and you’d see what I’m talking about). She wears alot of brown, green, beige and like golden colors. She wears red when she’s feeling spicy. Bonnie is also into candles, HEAVILY, and crystals. She’s not religious but spiritual. And for college, she’s majoring in dance and minoring in occult studies. Her favorite genre of dance is contemporary. And her favorite breakfast is cereal, and she’s most likely a vegetarian. Also I wanna change her background a bit. She actually grew up being raised by her mother and her grandmother. Her father left because he couldn’t or wouldn’t handle with their witch ancestry, when he found out.

2. Damon

Damon’s bisexual. That’s it, that’s the quote. But no seriously, I firmly believe that he is, and I stand by that. And also in my fic, Damon has this kind of… “punk rocker” aesthetic going. Imagine eyeliner, leather jackets with pins, ripped jeans, black and red color pallete. With that being said, he has a SICK fashion sense. He paints his own fingernails, mainly the color black. Another big thing about Damon is that he LOVES music. He is a music fanatic. He adores all the genres and can see the beauty in all of them, and he collects records. He also loves to play various of instruments. He has mastered the piano, the guitar, the violin and the trumpet and other shit too, and he loves to sing but he never sings infront of people. He loves to cook. Whenever he’s frustrated or gets startled, he swears in Italian. And speaking of Italian, Damon and Stefan’s were born in like the late 1400s or the early 1500s in Florence, Italy. And their family portrait was actually painted by the famous painter, Caravaggio. Damon didn’t come to America till the 1920s as he began to admire the American people’s party era.

3. Elena

She actually stays pretty much the same. However, Elena really likes Britney Spears so a lot of her outfits are inspired by her. She wears alot of dark colors, but you will see her in a pink matching tracksuit and a baby blue cropped top. Elena kind of takes every moment to show her belly button. Oh, and she loves cropped jackets. Veryyyyy Y2K going on here. Elena is trynna become a doctor but she’s also minoring in writing.

4. Caroline

I gotta be honest, I have no notes for Caroline cause I think her character in the show was written perfectly enough to be memorable and entertaining. However I think her aesthetic could be boosted up a notch to rest for her image. Caroline wears a lot of bubbly colors. Very bright but also soft color palette, so imagine a lot of soft pinks, blues, whites. She loves to wear plaid skirts and cardigans and sweaters. She’s trying to be a lawyer, which I fully expect from her. Think of Elle Woods without the hot pink.

5. Stefan

Stefan is good ol’ Stefan (except in my head, the version that I like). He’s very athletic, he gives very much sensitive gym bro. And he’s actually kind of passionate about all sports, and watches them regularly. That being said, he also loves writing, specifically poetry. So therefore he’s majoring in writing. Stefan first came to America, following his brother in the 20s. They were trying to make up with each other, and as Damon was trying to teach him how to feed as a normal vampire, it caused Stefan to be the ripper of something something. Basically in the show but different timelines. Oh and Stefan wears the color red and blue a lot, kind of patriotic of him lmao.

[origami-butterfly]

Uhhh headcanons about Oscar?

YAY AN OPPORTUNITY TO TALK ABOUT MY BELOVED!!! Uhhh... some of this has potential to be triggering? Maybe? Uh.. mentions of religious trauma and mentions of intrusive thoughts, so I'm putting it under a cut (also people are probably not that interested in my thoughts about this gayass priest)

- He's greyromantic and ace (and in love with Arthur, obviously)

- The way he shows his love is very similar to worship, because it's what he's been taught by priests growing up

- Adding onto that, his wires are crossed, meaning he mixes fear and love because the Catholic Church teaches that to love God is to fear him. (Also based on what he says in 36, I think the priests would be like that as well)

- Sometimes priests double as organists! I think Oscar would have some basic musical training, enough to play chords and a melody during worship (him and Arthur should duet...)

- Re: the previous one, I think he would've hated lessons, and hates playing in services because there's people around, but loved playing pieces he liked, by himself.

- He has coeliac disease. I don't know where I got this hc, it came to me in a vision. (My church solely uses gluten free bread so perhaps it cane from there)

- He wears glasses. Square frame ones specifically.

- The worst churches always tell young people right from the start, that they are imperfect and therefore unworthy of God's love, the only person who could be is Jesus, and given what we know about Father McKenna, I'm think Oscar would be raised that way, so he's constantly striving for perfection to the point of obsession.

- HOWEVER, he does not preach the same thing in his church! I think he's the type to try and fix the system from the inside, and teaches the young at his church that they are good enough for God, that he loves them even though they sin.

- He gets bad intrusive thoughts. Because Christianity (and Catholicism especially) is deeply obsessed with purity, he'd try to repress them more and it would only get worse. Maybe taking a hammer to father mckenna was the catalyst for them. (When he falls for Arthur, he's convinced it's an "evil thought" and believes repressing it would make it stop, he's convinced he's condemned to hell.)

- Oscar fiddles with his rosary beads when he thinks about Arthur, so to an outsider it looks like he's praying, but actually he's thinking about someone else... there's a link to the commandment "have no other gods but me" to be made here, but it's late and I can't think of it.

- He's soooo huggable, he loves physical contact.