#i love religious corruption >:)

[venic-of-paper]

Hineni, my Lord

The Hebrew word Hineni (הנני), means “Here I am!” but it is a statement more than a simple "Here!" It is a way of expressing readiness to give oneself, an offer of total availability. In the Book of Isaiah, the prophet eagerly responds to God's call: And I heard the voice of the Lord, saying, ‘Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?’ Then I said, ‘Here am I (hineni)! Send me.’ Isaiah 6:8 When God tested Abraham's faith, asking him to sacrifice his only son he answered. Some time later, God tested Abraham’s faith. “Abraham!” God called. “Yes,” he replied. “Hineni! (Here I am)”. Genesis 22:1, NLT. The phrase often appears in pivotal moments when profound change is about to take place in the lives of those responding to God.

The Lamb takes off their collar, offering their neck, bowing before the One Who Waits, ready to give their life for his freedom.

[vulturefare]

Corruption kink, but in the way of a priest slitting the throat of his favourite sacrificial lamb, enraptured as he watches the blood spill down its pretty white wool…

The desecration of what is sacred and pure, done in the name of love. A violent worship, a ravaging indulgence in the body and blood of something holy. Not sculpting subservience out of hand-warmed clay, but tearing apart something that’s never been touched… then putting the broken pieces back together to make something that needs you just as you need it❣️

[devildom-moss]

hi there :-) can you write a scenario for solomon + simeon ** separately ** waking up next to mc after their first time together and mc kind of sleepyhead and a little bit tired because she is/they (you can write for the gender you are comfortable with) are virgin?

I hope you will like it. Simeon's got a little angsty for a second there, but I softened it out.

Morning after the first time with sleepyhead MC (Simeon, Solomon)

(+18, Suggestive)

Simeon

Simeon fell asleep with his back to you, your arms wrapping around him and pulling him close. In truth, after you had both finished last night, shame and guilt had flooded his mind. He couldn’t face you after every indulgent thing he did to you – with you. It was hard for him understand that as much as he felt he had corrupted you, you had corrupted him too. If you hadn’t pulled him into you last night – if your hot, steady breath against his bare skin hadn’t grounded him all night – Simeon’s heart might have broken. Once he was certain you had fallen asleep, he whispered a prayer under his breath. A plea for forgiveness tainted the memory of your sweet face as you came for him.

Simeon stirred early in the morning. Thoughtlessly, he rolled over in your arms before fully opening his eyes. Even in the darkness of a Devildom morning, Simeon could see the outline of your body next to him. As his eyes adjusted, he was able to make out more of the features on your sleeping face. Your arm was still draped over his waist. Perhaps a decent night’s sleep was enough to soothe the guilt in his chest – or maybe the sight of your precious face had filled him with enough gratitude to displace that guilt. Either way, Simeon gently placed a hand on your face; the tips of his fingers barely grazing your skin. He ran his thumb along your slightly swollen lips. Maybe he had been too intense last night. Although you showed no signs of waking up, Simeon whispered, “thank you, MC.”

Your name left his lips like a prayer of his own. He adored you, and he adored that he was seeing something no one else had ever see before. All of the pleasure he felt with you the night before seemed to make you more gorgeous than even. Simeon had always thought your sleeping face was adorable, but this moment was special – so special, in fact, that he struggled between the desire to get up and make breakfast for you and the immobilizing need to keep watching you sleep.

Eventually, he compromised with himself and snuck out of bed to make you a cup of tea. That way you could make breakfast with him – or at the very least, he could make you exactly what you wanted. Simeon returned minutes later with an enchanted cup that kept beverages the perfect drinking temperature for up to a week filled with a floral black tea. He set the cup down on your side of the bed and climbed back into your arms. It was, unfortunately, enough to wake you up that time.

“Mm, angel?” you muttered.

“Good morning, love.” Simeon smiled at the way your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to open your eyes. “I made you tea – whenever you’re ready.”

“More sleep,” you murmured and pulled him against you, one eye still closed.

“Still tired?” Simeon laughed and wrapped his arms around you. Concern overcame him and he quietly asked, “did I wear you out that much during your first time? Was it too much?”

“No – was good. Just sleepy.”

“Just a few more minutes, then.” Simeon sighed and pet your head. “I’ll make you breakfast when you get up.”

“Waffles?” you mumbled the question out.

“Whatever you want.”

Solomon

The feeling of your icy hand accidentally grazing Solomon’s thigh in your sleep was enough to wake him up. He moaned, “don’t be unfair. Your hands are cold.”

When he opened his eyes, he was surprised to find you were still passed out. With a hint of magic, the dim orange glow of one of Solomon’s sconces suddenly illuminated that corner of the room so he could further inspect your face. A gentle poke to your cheek confirmed that you were, indeed, still sleeping. Solomon chuckled to himself, taking your cold hand in both of his hands. He pulled the blankets back over you. It was hard to tell if he had stolen the blankets in the middle of the night or if you had squirmed your way out of them on your own. You did seem further away from him this morning than you had been last night.

Memories of your lust-drunk voice calling out his names made Solomon shiver. You had made such beautiful noises. Knowing that he had been the first person to touch you like that and hear you filled him with a selfish joy. Maybe he should correct Mammon the next time he says that he was your first? Solomon stared at you longingly. Your body could be pressed against him, and you would still feel farther away than you were last night.

Solomon found himself craving your attention again. He crawled over you, and his impatience manifested in soft kisses along your neck. Even though he knew he should have let you sleep in, Solomon had only shared your first time together. He was eager to be your second and third and even fourth – as many times as you wanted him and his body. Maybe if that hadn’t been your first time, he might have been content to watch the steady rise and fall of your chest until you woke up on your own. A sweet moan left Solomon’s mouth and tickled your bare skin, waking you up.

“Finally awake?” Solomon teased through kisses.

“No,” you whined, “time for sleep.”

Solomon stopped kissing you and stared down at you with a smirk. You were so cute like this, but he wanted more than you could offer while half-asleep. “Even if I make you breakfast?”

“Big no.”

“Why not?” he chuckled.

“It’s not time to get up,” you muttered. You hadn’t opened your eyes once since getting up – let alone looked at a clock.

With a devious smirk, Solomon leaned close to your ear and whispered in a sultry voice, “I can’t say I agree. You already have me up.”

It was hard to miss the innuendo in the way he spoke, but you refused to open your eyes to check if he was actually hard or just joking. “Five more minutes?”

“I can last a lot longer than – oh you mean sleeping. Oops.” Solomon feigned confusion as some attempt at a joke before relenting. “Alright. Rest. I’ll go make you some coffee.”

“No. Stay.” You didn’t have to ask him twice. He’d be pleased to stay with you all morning if you wanted him too.

[fredthedemonpartner]

Extremely fucked up that instead of being a sad babygirl horror protagonist because of my childhood trauma I have to process it through “therapy” and “talking to people who care about me.”When I could be simply facing eldrich horrors or hungry gods that threaten my life and sanity.

[bestangelofall]

When Jason and Dick first fall into bed, it’s all haste and urgency and fire fueled by Dick narrowly escaping alive after a botched undercover operation.

Also, it’s not on a bed, but looking back, it was never going to be.

Jason’s on comms that night, in the Batcave only because Bruce’s away on League business while the others are… wherever they are. He honestly doesn’t care. It’s only Jason and Dick, working on something that Dick’s planned and put together, and sure, Dick resorted to asking for his help because it was his last option, probably, but it still makes him want to prove that he’s not always going lethal—not because he regrets that, never that, but because he just wants to prove them wrong. There’s maybe this… hope that if they just for once look at him, they’ll actually see him.

He’s not really holding his breath on that, but who knows, stranger shit has happened.

When Dick arrives right after having been made and having his cover compromised, there’s no fucking time to even consider going upstairs—not that Jason would have accepted, either way. One minute he’s shouting at Dick and condemning his recklessness, trying not to think how much that’s a Bruce move and whatever the fuck that means, and the next Dick’s all over him. His first instinct is thinking that they’re going to fight, which, fine, he likes that, but what happens is much, much sweeter.

Instead of punches or kicks, what he gets are Dick’s lips on his, a point of contact that sets him alight. It’s insane, almost surreal, and it takes his brain a few seconds to catch up.

Once a bat, always a bat—for better or worse, in Jason’s case, or in all of theirs, to be quite honest—and they don’t do shit like this, without planning ten steps ahead and scheming. Which means that either golden boy’s been thinking about this for a while, or that he’s not exactly in control now. Both ideas are exciting for different reasons, but he’s betting on the latter.

Jason gets it, is the thing. He gets wanting to feel something just to reassure himself that he’s alive. He gets that, and besides, Dick is the one person other than Bruce whose attention Jason went out of his way to get—not to the same extent, but still. So that’s why he doesn’t even think of doing anything else other than corresponding when Dick’s mouth finds his, when Dick’s hands reach beneath his t-shirt, when they stray lower.

It’s infuriating how goddamn good Dick is at this. A few touches of his hands and expertly applied bites that are also half-kisses have Jason singing in no time, spreading his legs and bucking against the other man without any sort of control to a point that should be embarrassing.

When Lucifer fell, he dragged with him a third of the angels. That’s the hysterical thought that passes through his mind when he feels Dick’s hard cock pressing against his thigh, the evidence that the whole thing is turning Dick on as much as Jason—and well, it certainly should, since it is Dick who initiated it.

The metaphor may not be completely adequate here, and Jason definitely doesn’t give a fuck about the proportions, because there’s only one of Bruce’s birdies that he cares about, but when Dick kisses him until they’re both breathless, presses him against the rough wall, the thrill of thinking that he’s corrupting Bruce’s golden boy is a delicious, dark thing.

In reality, he knows that Dick’s not a fucking saint, by anyone’s standards, but this is the person to whom he used to be compared and found lacking even before he died and came back a thing that maybe shouldn’t be—he’s not dumb to think that they would want him dead, per se, but when given the choice of never having him come back, Jason knows what they would all pick.

(It’s okay, he’d make the same choice.)

This is the first of the angels, the one they’re all shaped after, one way or another and whether or not they want to. And to know that he’s all hot for the one who was cast away, well, it does things to Jason. It has him dropping to his knees, looking up through his lashes and licking his lips with clear intent. This is something that Jason has never dreamed he could have, even in his wildest fantasies of a better and kinder world, and he wants to keep it, to reach beneath Dick’s ribs and make a place for himself there, drag Dick to hell with him, even if he knows the other man doesn’t deserve that, just so he’ll be less alone.

And Jason understands another thing about Dick: he’s ripe for it, really. For falling. He might not be a control freak at the level Bruce is, but he’s still reeling from having his own op botched, from having the carefully controlled environment and situation going haywire, and Jason knows how to use that to his favor, how to give Dick what he needs while taking a little bit for himself. Demons trade in souls, and, by the end of it, he’ll have Dick’s.

Fair is fair, right?

[manwrre]

give me ANY cult-y or hyper-religious harringrove fic and watch me lose my mind fr. esp if one of them isn’t human and is doing the corrupting or persuading the other into committing blasphemy?? like, imagine…

steve has lived in the village his entire life. it’s what’s been expected of him— what’s been expected of them all. in that same way that it was expected of his parents and his parents’ parents and their parents’ parents and the grapevine of those who came alongside and, before them.

they are never to leave.

never to ask questions.

never to disobey the village head. just pray and pray and pray.

to be good to one’s neighbor and to pray and pray and pray.

to exhibit both a sound mind and a clean heart and remember, you must praypraypraypraypray.

to work hard and abstain and refuse the temptation of anything and everything beyond the village boundaries.

because beyond the sweeping trees and green canopies, there was nothing good.

there was hell and starvation. there was sin and carnality and they were blessed to have been absolved for generations. they were blessed to be able to live on the land of god; to be the chosen few.

except, steve hasn’t felt blessed for quite a while now. in fact, he hasn’t felt anything but afraid.

afraid because the village is all that he has ever known. he’s bathed in every surrounding creek and has explored every clearing. he’s harvested in the spring and lends a hand, cooking all communal meals during the winter. he attends church and kisses his parents goodnight and smiles at the people he’s grown up with. he teaches the small group of kids who live within their community and he’s afraid

because something has been hunting them.

and steve may just be a measly teacher at the age of nineteen but he notices when the first boy goes missing.

a quiet child, by the name of daniel. twelve years old and always so friendly.

and at first, everyone assumes that he’s drowned or has been attacked by a wild animal. that is, until he’s found at the edge of the woods; perfectly whole but so very cold. gone to meet their maker.

so steve prays for their protection and safety—the entire village does and they believe it to be done

but a week later, henry is gone.

then emory,

little silas,

and now, will.

all into the woods, they’ve disappeared without a trace. only to be found days later, seemingly unharmed if not for the stillness of their chests.

and he has heard the stories, of course. he’s listened to the nursery rhymes and old wive’s tales about what evil has spilled into the trees surrounding their homes but now, he believes.

there’s something in the woods and it is taking people. there’s something in the woods and it will kill them all.

so when he decides that enough is enough and goes out looking for will, imagine his surprise when he stumbles upon someone else.

a boy.

pale-haired and blue eyed; his gaze too bright and his stance, much too relaxed for someone in the woods at night. steve’s certain he has never seen him before—he’s sure he would remember someone so golden and so pretty. and yet, the boy looks at him like they’re familiar. like, he knows him.

“i was beginning to think you’d never come.” the blond grins.

and steve swallows, suddenly; staring as the stranger’s lips stretch around a mouthful of too sharp, too raptorial teeth and thinks,

oh.

there’s something in the woods and he’s met it.

[fools-and-perverts2]

what's she praying about?

[monamipencil]

very motivated to write a dark romance (?) but not the ones involving guns. but the ones where a man of god betrays the almighty because what is a god to a woman's love?

and make her as a good daughter who thinks love is vulgar but little do they know that she yearns of love enough to bring tears to her eyes? and she's a corrupted little vixen.

and that's who he fell for.

(and make it gothic catholicism too)

inspired by these quotes, posts & pictures;

x | x | x | x | x | x | x | x | x | x | x | x | x | x | x | x | x

[don't be shy about which member i should write this with! leave a comment or an ask <3]

[demigodofhoolemere]

Me through most of Boom: Wow, this is a really solid dramatic episode.

Me when Moffat needlessly sprinkles in anti-faith sentiments without specifying that it’s blind faith in bad things that the Doctor doesn’t like, which makes it come off like the Doctor is just against religion generally:

[humaforever]

Claudine Frollo needs to start some scandals and commit some crimes.

[urlittledoggie]

corrupting a devoted priest with my sinful self.

or

getting corrupted by a tainted priest, him showing me the way the devil makes us.

[yellowymellon]

HE SO CUTE I NEED HIM AND ROBIN RN I CANT COPE

[dearest-valentine]

.

[tiny-huts]

I'm just.... Kind of tired of like a ton of fantasy worlds having like the gods are bad, every church is corrupt, faith means you're dumb and gullible plots. Like regardless of a ton of authors and such refusing to engage with how polytheism differs meaningfully from like... The fucking Catholic church.. it's just such a dismal way to think about things. Like I like fantasy for the hope and the sense of wonder and such..

[navree]

under the weather and re-reading his dark materials, never gonna understand how tf certain religious people get so mad at the critique of the organizations of religion in certain fictional works

[arrowpunk]

You know it kind of sucks to see discourse about whether or not me and people like me should exist. Like just the fact that it's even a question in the first place sucks.