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trashmouth-richie · 8 months ago

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eddie x reader

a follow up to this prompt by @rebelfell

2.6k

tw: angst, smut, minors fuck off pls teasing? is that a trigger idk.

“we need to talk.” the conversation we’ve been waiting for after you catch your best friend getting head finally unfolds

“We need to talk.”

Your blood ran cold, ice in your veins it was practically prickling your skin. The heat on your cheeks bloomed and your gut quaked at the sight of him, covered.

Play dumb! It’ll work!

“I , m-mean, now?— like right now? You have cum- company! a guest— we can talk later, yeah?”

The stuttering, calmly hands and the sweat gathered under your arms— you were a one woman walking circus, missing the clown nose.

“Why are you being so weird?” He leans into your doorframe, tattooed arms cross over his broad and glistening chest.

The flush still in his cheeks almost brought you to your knees, but it was the single flick of his tongue on his lips that had you melting and wishing he had licked your lips instead. Fuck.

“… besides, you already interrupted my guest, so she left—”

Your ears perk up at the mention of said whore leaving your apartment, and your eyelashes bat open, “she left? Why?”

Eddie huffs and puts his tongue in his cheek like he can’t believe you’re being so stupid.

“Cut the shit, okay? Will you just be an adult for a second?”

The smile on your lips falls and you take a step back towards your bed setting your keys down on the nightstand. The silence is anything but quiet. The energy was chaotic and shooting like daggers much like Eddie’s eyes into yours.

“Well?” he asks dramatically, raising his eyebrows to try to get you to speak.

Play dumb— it’s working!

“Well what?” you muse innocently.

“What the fuck was that?” Eddie spits, any softness he brought into this situation had fizzled—dead at the door.

“I—”

“Forget how to knock?”

“No—”

“Suuuure, you just thought you’d what? Barge in, ignoring our code?”

“I didn’t—-there was no hot water! You forgot to pay the water bill!”

“That’s not how water bills work.”

You stand stunned— mouth open to argue but nothing will even come out.

“It’s the water heater for this shitheap building that’s out— if you don’t believe that I paid the bill—call the water company yourself.”

“…oh.” your voice is small, quiet almost unheard.

“Wow, really great apology.”

“Oh relax! Just call her back and explain it was a mistake, who cares? She shouldn’t be so uptight.”

Eddie is fuming, blood rushing to his head as he tries not to yell out right. But fuck you were being so difficult.

“Ya know… I didn’t say shit when you had Harrington tied to your bed posts and you couldn’t undo the knots— did I? Nope—not a fucking word, I just cut him loose and acted like nothing ever happened!”

You wince, who knew knots were that hard to unlace?

“That was different!”

“Or the multiple times I caught the fuckin’ Chief slipping out of your room at 5 AM? I even bummed him a cigarette for his morning coffee!”

Your jaw hung to the floor, you didn’t know Eddie had any idea that you’d been sleeping with Hopper.

“So? What—we’re just airing out dirty laundry now?” you could be venomous too, your rattle sounding off ready to strike.

“How many months did you try gettin’ into Mary’s pants before you dumped her because she’s married to Jesus Christ her Lord & Savior? Her name is Mary for fucks sake! Not hard!”

His face pulls to anger, “don’t be a bitch!”

“And where’s Gareth? Never see him around anymore, maybe it’s because you ran over his d—.”

“That was an accident! I honked and he never moved!”

“He was deaf Eddie!” you yell back into his face, “or! How about the time I had to pick you up from the Hideout because you got so drunk you pissed your pants?”

“That was YOU!”

The two of you were standing nose to nose, shouting accusing each other of shit that didn’t even matter. Eddie had your back and you’d have his until the end. Cradle to the grave.

But this was different, you weren’t fighting like siblings or friends, you were both screaming as if you were in pain.

He’s the first to move, shaking his head and turning towards the door. when he speaks his voice is low, angry.

“When my door is shut don’t open it—turn your ass around and fuck off, got it?”

His words split your skin, vining through your body like sharp thorns. The hot spill of tears were welling in your eyes.

“Sorry to bother you, asshole— won’t happen again.”

He’s on the opposite side when you slam your door in his face. The rain brewed and stewed and finally was ready to fall from the clouds in your eyes.

Why were you acting like this?

Grabbing your keys you set to leave again, needing an escape so he couldn’t hear your wailing cries. But again— when you opened the door, he was still standing there, only this time he looked pissed.

“Move.”

He brushes you off as if he didn’t even hear you, “enough.”

“Eddie, get out of the way!”

“Do you know how many nights I listened to you fake it for this fuckheads?” How long

I’ve waited for you to admit it?”

He shuts your door behind him as he pushes his way inside.

“Admit what?”

“C’mon, baby— we haven’t been friends for a long time, not really.”

You’re confused and on the verge of tears, “what?!”

Eddie presses forward, head tilted down at you.

“Those douchebags you bring here can’t handle you the way I know you need…coming home to see their boots by the front door makes me absolutely despise you.”

“Who gives a shit? I trip over skanky high heels sometimes too.”

You were missing the point he was trying to make, way over your head.

“Never satisfied when they leave…that little vibrator in the top drawer is not as quiet as you think it is.”

You were throbbing, aching… how did he know?

He inches forward, and you double back towards the door.

“I—”

“Pretty little moans on your lips just minutes after they leave…‘m not stupid sweetheart, I know you do it on purpose— parading around the apartment in your little shorts, never wearing a bra… you’re a tease.”

He wasn’t right. He couldn’t be! Right?

“I hate you, Eddie.”

He stalks forward like a predator eyeing its prey, a stupid smirk on his face.

“No— No I don’t think you do. I think you’re so fucking wound up about me, jealous... It’s alright, I get it. I bury myself in bitches so you’ll get out of my head.”

He takes a ragged breath, his eyes pitch dark, and your back hits the door, he closes in around you, his arms on either side of your head.

“I fucking hate you, princess. I hate that it doesn’t work.. you’ve made me jealous for too fucking long.”

Your body was screaming, angel and devil on your shoulder dancing and holding hands rooting you on.

“H-how long?”

His hand falls to your chin, pulling down your bottom lip.

“Senior year. Hellfire. You laughed at one of Jeff’s stupid fucking jokes and my blood ran cold. I wanted you to look at me like you looked at him. That was just the first time I realized I wanted you.”

You shudder, fingers running along his chest, playing with the chain on his neck, “why not say anything?”

“Didn’t wanna ruin this.”

His lips nearly touch yours, he’s leaning in so close. And you don’t pull away.

“I think it’s pretty clear that our friendship is over, Eddie. I fucking hate you.”

“I hate you, too sweetheart.”

The tension is thick, spinning with bated breath and sexual desire.

“So, we hate each other?”

“Yep.” Eddie muses, angling your chin so he can see your neck.

“…and we aren’t friends?”

He nods silently, pressing his nose to your cheek, “seems to be that way.”

“You’ve ruined everything.”

“Good,” he all but whispers into your ear.

“..a perfectly good pair of underwear.”

His breath hitches in his throat, and he licks his lips. “Can’t have that.”

“No, not at all,” you tease, thumbing at your waistband and letting your shorts hit the floor.

He steps back to examine you with wide eyes, letting them narrow as he bites his lip, looking you dead in the eyes.

“I’m gonna fuck you exactly how you need to be fucked.”

Pulling him back into you by his chain necklace you ask centimeters from his lips, tasting the heat from his mouth, “what are you waiting for?”

He takes a deep breath, hovering his mouth over yours, “nothing, not anymore.”

His tongue hits you first, electric like an eel on your lips, his breath hot as fire. You moan out when his hands grip your ass, pulling you into him with such force you could have toppled over.

Eddie is loud too. Groaning with each swipe of your tongue against his.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted you for so long, baby.”

His dick is pressed into your middle, hard and kicking up as your hands reach into his hair, pulling you closer to him as if he were a rope and you were climbing a mountain.

He pulls you away from the door to get a quick slap to your ass. Rough and hard and you’re mewling, his rings stinging your skin.

Your lips close to his ear you whisper “Eddie… please.”

He pulls away after leaving a mark on your neck.

“You don’t have to beg, I’ll give you whatever you need, however many times you want it, honey.”

His fingers dip into your waistband around your hips as he slides your panties down to your thighs. “Let me see that cunt, show me what I did to you.”

You step out of your panties and he lowers himself to the floor on bent knees. “Jesus Christ, look how pretty she is, ‘m gonna eat this pussy till you cum all over my face.”

You nod dumbly, body on fire from his words, the lust of having his hands touch you in places he never had, places you dreamt he would, has your mind spinning.

His bangs tickle your inner thighs, breath fanning on your clit, thumbs spreading you open. He sucks in a breath, whistling low.

A single flick of his tongue— that’s all it takes for your eyes to roll, for your back to bend in an arch like you were being exorcized of hell’s worst demons. Your fingernails scratching into the door trying to anchor yourself from grinding on his face until his nose broke.

He spits, watching it drip down to your cunt, “don’t ask me to stop.”

Diving in, his tongue is everywhere. Lapping you up, sucking your clit into his mouth. Swirling around like you would while eating an ice cream cone. Your chest heaves and your thighs tremble as he hooks one over his shoulder pressing into him and he gently pushes it back into place, his eyes never leaving your body.

When it happens again, he shoves it down with force, nipping at one of your thighs, his lips shiny and wet he groans, “keep ‘em put.”

The tip of his middle finger pushes into you, and you squeak out a gasp, leaning forward off the door to take a look at him, and he nearly laughs, “jesus, you’re tight sweetheart, gonna need to work you up a bit.”

He smiles before attaching his mouth to your thigh, sucking a bruise as he fucks you with his fingers, adding a second that’s easier than the first. Your body rolls with his motions, pushing back against him and you know your orgasm is about to snap.

His tongue replaces his fingers and the heat in your stomach releases, untying the white knot and spilling over his lips as you scream out his name.

“Thatta girl, fuck look at you, Christ.”

Your eyes open, a strange drunk feeling taking over, as if you were high on a cloud and falling gracefully back to the earth. Opening to see the blackened eyes of the guy you’ve called your best friend for years, and if you would have known his tongue could do that, maybe you would have ruined this friendship a lot sooner.

“Fuck off Munson,” you mutter, out of breath as your foot gently sets on the ground.

“What?” he laughs.

“Just keeping the fact that you eat pussy better than the devil all to yourself huh? Selfish.”

His face splits into a grin laced with evil as he stands, licking his lips, “that’s not all I can do.”

He’s on you in a flash, hoising you up into his arms, and using the other to hastily shove his boxers down. “Can’t go back after this.”

“Oh this is the tipping point? Fucking is gonna ruin it not you just making going down on me?”

He rolls his eyes as he lines himself up with you, “what happened to that sweet girl I used to chase in the trailer park, huh?”

You reach around your legs and grab his thick cock and lightly sink down onto it the head barely pushing past your puffy lips, “fuck…met a boy who grew up and started selling weed out of his van, kind of an asshole, really big dick though.”

He thrusts up into you so hard you nearly see black, vision spotty from pleasure alone, you whine his name and he practically comes undone.

“Don’t.. shit… don’t do that, I won’t last. Those noises haunt me… been wanting to hear them.”

He holds you tight and fucks you slowly, dragging his cock at a ridiculously slow speed. Groaning when you suck him in deep, biting his neck.

“There it is, the noise that started this whole mess.”

He grins into you stupidly, “I’m glad you’re perverted plan worked, you little hussy.”

His hips move faster and your both whining, accompanied by the slapping of skin on skin. “Water heaters’ been out since last week, ‘m not stupid babe, you’re the one who called and asked.”

“Whoops— oh my goddd,” you squeal before you're panting like a dog and clawing his arms with your nails, he was splitting you wide open and you were near to tears.

The tears finally fall when Eddie bottoms out in your cunt, filling you up, grunting your name as he rests his forehead to your shoulder— completely spent.

His lips kiss your collar bone and you twirl a curl away from his face exhausted around his softening length.

“Princess,” he breathes, kissing life back into himself with the sweat from your skin, “if you wanted to fuck, you should have told me sooner, could have saved us a week of cold showers, y’know?”

You kissed his lips, letting him set you down on the bed so you could both lay back in a lazy post sex high, surrounded by your blankets.

“Well maybe you should have fixed it sooner, you are the maintenance manager of the building.”

Eddie grins and pins you onto the mattress, his hair falling into your face, his thumb sweeping over your cheeks to catch a rogue eyelash, “come with me to fix it?”

“Hmm..” fingers moving his hair behind his ear, “you gonna wear that slutty stained white tank top?”

“Slutty? Why, gonna seduce me in the boiler room?” his lips move down your neck and you whimper.

“Maybe…” you tease tickling his underarm, “so if I wouldn’t have barged into your room… what else would you have done?”

Eddie only smiles, thinking of his plan to “break” the air conditioner and hide your hoodies and blankets so you’d have to come to him for warmth.

“Let’s just say, you would have ended up as my girl one way or another.”

steve tied up in readers room

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#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson drabble #eddie drabble #eddie blurb #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson angst #stranger things

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appocalipse · 8 months ago

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summary: you were way too drunk last night and said some funny things...so, of course, steve had no other option but take you to his place to take care of you. :)

read part 1 here

˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷

Your head hurts.

Everything feels a little weird, in fact, but especially your head, spinning and throbbing and, when you try to pry your eyes open, the sudden harsh light streaming into the room feels like it's physically boring straight through your brain.

"Fuck," you whimper pitifully, eyes squeezing shut once more. Your ears are ringing, there's a coppery film lining the inside of your mouth and, for a terrible second, your stomach churns dangerously. "Fuck."

Someone hums somewhere near your right ear. A low, gravelly, vaguely amused sort of hum. There is absolutely nothing and no one alive on this green earth that would hum in that particular fashion except your best friend.

You peel your eyelids apart with great difficulty. When you tilt your head to the right, you see Steve sitting on the edge of the bed, gazing down at you with a soft look on his face.

Naturally, you proceed to freak the fuck out.

"Jesus Christ," you cry, scrambling backwards until you feel the back of your head slam against the headboard with a resounding thud. The dull throb in the back of your skull intensifies, and you have to fight back the urge to throw up. "Ow! Shit, I—What—what happened? Why are you in my—"

Hold on a second...this is not your room.

You cast an anxious, furtive glance around the unfamiliar setting of Steve Harrington's guest room. Panic floods your veins and has your heart hammering in your chest when you notice that you're clad in only one of his shirts and sweatpants that definitely don't belong to you.

Oh, Dear Lord.

Did something happen last night that you can't remember? Did something — oh, God, no.

Steve raises his eyebrows at you as though he can read your mind. "Relax. Nothing happened, relax, come back down," he coos gently, placing a placating hand on your arm. "And I...I didn't see anything, if that's what you're worried about. Nancy and Robin, uh...they helped you shower and get changed last night. Not me."

You cover your face with both hands, letting out a muffled groan as your memories come trickling back in. You don't remember every little detail from the previous night, but what you do remember is already more than enough to fill you with mortification and regret.

"...you said some pretty interesting things while you were drunk, though."

"Shut up," you mumble, peeking up at him through splayed fingers, "go away."

"Really, though," Steve continues, the teasing glint in his eyes a sure sign that he is very much enjoying your suffering, "who knew you found me so attractive?"

"Oh, Jesus," you mutter, groaning as you slide down to hide underneath the comforter, "where are my clothes? I want to leave now."

Steve snickers but makes no move to get up from his perch on the bed. You can hear the rustling of fabric, like he's adjusting his position as he waits for you to come out from under the blanket. "Clothes are in the wash, sorry," he says, sounding very much not sorry at all. "You, um, thought it was a good idea to lie down on the grass last night."

"Kill me now."

"Nope," he chirps, quite cheerfully so, "can't do that, because then who would watch Back to the Future with me tonight?"

You part the comforter just enough to peer up at him from beneath the thick layer of blanket.

"'Back to the Future'?" you echo, trying to ignore the fact that you feel a little lightheaded when Steve smiles down at you.

He looks nice. He always does, but even more so now for some reason — you're guessing it has something to do with the fact that you just woke up and haven't had the time to mentally prepare yourself for seeing him up close yet.

"Mmhmm. You up for it?"

"I'm pretty sure that my head is literally going to explode any time now."

It's really not that bad anymore, but Steve doesn't need to know that, does he?

He nods seriously in agreement. "Right, because you drank way more than you should've last night. Might have mentioned something about rules and...mhmm, what was it? Oh, yes, dying if I didn't let you touch my hair…?"

"No, I didn't."

"You really did," he tells you, leaning back on the heels of his palms, "but don't worry, it was cute."

"I am very much worried," you say miserably.

Steve lets out a quiet sigh and leans forward again, hands reaching out to tug the blanket down far enough to uncover your face completely. "Come on," he says, "do you need anything? Aspirin, maybe? Food? Water?"

You consider his offer, taking the time to mull it over while you avoid his gaze.

"Why did you bring me home with you?" you ask, curious despite yourself. "Why didn't you just take me home?"

"You, uh...really didn't want me to. Pretty much refused to let go of me all night."

"Steve."

"No, really!" he insists, holding both hands up in surrender. "It was like trying to pry a koala off a tree. You even asked—"

You let out a helpless moan of protest and turn away from him as much as you can, hiding your face in the pillow. Steve laughs, clearly delighted by the fact that he's managed to thoroughly embarrass you in less than ten minutes.

"You asked me if I—"

"I don't wanna know!"

"—would sleep in your bed with you."

"Nope," you whisper, your voice coming out a little garbled due to the way you've pressed your face into the pillows, "don't wanna hear it. Shut up, Steve, oh my God. Please."

"It was very adorable."

"I was drunk."

"Still. Cute."

You prop your head up on your elbow so that you can see him a little better, keeping the blanket held tightly around your shoulders as you do. "Sorry I called you. I don't even remember doing it, Tina just told me to and…sorry."

Steve looks down at his lap, shifting a little uncomfortably on the bed.

"I don't mind," he says, lifting his gaze up to meet yours briefly. "You said you missed me. At the party."

A dry, humorless chuckle leaves you and you cringe when the sudden motion sends a sharp pain lancing through your forehead. "Ow. Of course you would remember that," you say, cheeks heating up.

"Do you...remember everything?"

You blink, momentarily confused by the sudden change in conversation. "Everything?" you ask, more to buy yourself some time than anything else.

"You, um..." Steve trails off, clearly unsure of how to broach the topic with you, "you said I made you feel…stuff inside. That you felt stuff. Or something like that. Do you...remember saying that?"

You can practically feel all the color draining out of your face, leaving behind a blank canvas that hides none of your inner panic.

"Uh...no, no, I don't. Do you have a...I need to, um, use your bathroom, like, right now, if you don't mind."

Steve blinks. "Oh, okay. Sure. I bought you a toothbrush earlier, by the way. It's in the medicine cabinet if...if you want."

"Yep," you say, climbing out from under the blanket with as much dignity as you can muster (which is very little), "yep, okay, thanks. I'm...gonna go do that. Now. Okay, bye."

You spend a good five minutes inside the bathroom splashing water in your face while silently wishing for death to come claim you sooner rather than later. Then, you brush your teeth with the toothbrush Steve left out for you — which is totally not cute, it's not cute, why did he do that, ugh, damn him — before venturing out into the hall.

"Steve?"

"Kitchen," he calls out from somewhere at the bottom of the stairs, "you want pancakes?"

You hesitate.

The idea of staying to have breakfast alone with Steve Harrington seems oddly intimate after last night, a dangerous prospect that will undoubtedly lead to awkward small talk and more teasing. However, he did go out of his way to buy you a toothbrush this morning...

You swallow down the nervousness you feel and pad barefoot down the staircase into the foyer, following the sounds of clinking utensils and soft humming to the kitchen.

Steve looks up from his place at the stove when you appear in the doorway.

"Hey," he greets, giving you a quick once over. "How's your head?"

"Feels like there's a little person in there hitting it repeatedly with a little hammer," you admit, grimacing a little as you come further into the room and sit down at the island. "Thanks, by the way. For helping me out last night. And today. I really am sorry for...um, you know, that."

"'That'?"

You purse your lips and Steve grins.

"Yes, that," you mutter, swiveling your seat from left to right while you watch him attempt to read a recipe on the back of a box of pancake mix. "Drunk me is like, twice as embarrassing as sober me."

"Embarrassing isn't the word I'd use."

"Please," you scoff, "I was pathetic. I could barely walk by myself."

Steve glances back at you. "I didn't think you were pathetic."

You raise an eyebrow at him skeptically.

"Okay, maybe a little pathetic," he concedes with a little snort, "but mostly just…sweet."

"Sweet?"

"Yeah, sweet. Don't know if anyone's ever told you that before."

"Sweet," you say again, the headache suddenly no more than an afterthought. "That's how you'd describe me?"

Steve, apparently having given up on making sense out of the instructions on the back of the box, turns around to lean against the counter behind him and studies you with his arms folded loosely over his chest.

"Yes," he says, tilting his head to the side a little. "Not the word you expected me to say?"

There's something about the way he's looking at you. It's warm and piercing all at once, like he can see right through you. It makes it hard for you to breathe all of a sudden, hard for you to do anything but gape at him like a goldfish that's been pulled out of water.

"Uh, I'm...confused."

"Me too," he admits with a little huff of laughter. "I was thinking about what you said."

"About your hair?"

"No, well, yeah, but—" Steve pauses, dragging a hand down his face with a weary sigh. "Look, what you said to me yesterday, about the things I make you feel, I—"

"I said I'm sorry—"

"Don't apologize," Steve interrupts, shooting you an unamused look, "I'm trying to say something here, come on, give me a sec."

"Right. Sorry. Go on."

"You're not supposed to apologize for apologizing."

"I'm s—okay, right. Mouth shut."

Steve purses his lips to stifle his amusement at your antics. You fold your arms in front of your chest and keep your gaze fixed firmly on the marble countertop as you wait for him to continue.

"I, uh," he says, pushing himself away from the counter so that he can wander over to the other side of the kitchen, where you sit, "I feel things too, you know. With you."

"Oh."

"Yeah," Steve chuckles, scrubbing a hand across the back of his neck as he stops beside you, "'Oh'. Weird, right?"

You'd like to, but can't think of anything clever to say that would serve as a suitable response. You don't think Steve's looking for one, anyway, because he reaches out to tap his fingers lightly on the back of your hand, taking a seat on the stool next to yours.

"S'weird, 'cause I don't know if you meant what you said when you were drunk, or if it was just the alcohol talking, or what."

You shake your head quickly, and then wince because of the way the headache thuds behind your right eye.

"Robin says I'm an idiot and should stop being such a chicken," he continues, with a slight roll of his eyes. "And Eddie says if I don't 'shut up and tell you how I feel soon', he'll do it for me."

You nod, smiling despite your hangover. "Eddie's, uh, got a point, no?"

"Maybe," Steve allows, rubbing absently at the side of his neck.

He lets his hands slide down to the legs of your stool, fingers curling around the metal of each side. You don't quite understand what he's doing until he gives them a light tug, jerking you closer to him without warning.

You let out a little shriek of surprise as you reach up to clutch onto the first solid thing your hands find — his forearms.

"Ah! What—Steve!"

He's got an amused smile on his face, but his eyes are bright and nervous all at once. Steve pushes your stool even closer to him, until your knees knock against his own and he's forced to lean down to keep his eyes on you.

You hold his gaze steadily as he edges closer. "What are you doing?" you murmur, watching his eyes flit downward to track the movement of your tongue as it peeks out to wet your dry lips.

"Not sure yet," Steve hesitates when your lips are a hairsbreadth apart. He watches, half-dazed, half-entranced by the way you stare back at him, unblinking. "But I've got a theory."

"A theory?"

He lowers his head toward yours. You press your hands flat against the hard plane of his chest to steady yourself, fingers splaying over the soft material of his t-shirt as you curl them around the fabric. Steve exhales, and you can feel his breath on your skin, a soft tickle that raises the goosebumps all over your skin.

"Wanna hear it?"

You nod slowly, aware of the way his eyes darken as they trace your face. He's so close that you can make out the fine dusting of freckles and moles that litter his skin, the long fan of his lashes as they flutter to a close. If you moved even slightly, your lips would brush against his.

"What's your…your theory?" you whisper.

You can feel his heartbeat thudding in his chest as he releases his hold on your stool, lifts both hands up to cradle your face instead. He slides the tips of his fingers along the side of your neck, lets his thumb trace your jaw.

"I think," Steve says, and you can tell he's struggling to string two coherent words together when you feel his thumb quiver against your cheekbone. "I think that, uh, you're—Christ, I—"

His nose brushes against yours and you tilt your chin up instinctively, chasing the brief contact. You smirk. "Christ, you...?"

"Shut up," Steve huffs out a breathless laugh. "I'm getting to it."

"Are you?" you tease, wrapping your fingers around his wrist, your turn to pull him towards you gently.

Steve goes easily, moving his hand from your face to brace the back of your neck. "I think," he starts, eyes crinkling at the corners, "that I might be in love with you."

It's such an unforeseen, unexpected confession that your heart almost gives out in your chest.

You gape up at him, at his crooked grin, at his rosy cheeks. "You think?"

He blinks and then squints down at you like he can't decide whether he wants to be annoyed at your antics or kiss you. You hope for the latter, but he says, "What're you, a parrot?"

Shrugging, you're unable to keep your lips from quirking into a grin of your own. "Rude."

Steve's head falls forward and he rests his forehead against yours. You can feel his pulse thundering wildly against the hand you've pressed flat against his chest, and it makes you feel a little better about your own pounding heart.

"M'sorry."

You smooth a hand over his shirt and hook a finger under the neckline. "Forgiven," you tell him.

"Good," Steve says, nudging his nose against yours playfully.

You want to say something else, maybe tease him about his hair or something equally as inconsequential, but he doesn't let you. Instead, he leans down and closes the distance between you with a slow, tentative press of his lips to yours.

Now, Steve's mouth is soft and warm, and he kisses you like he's got all the time in the world. You shiver when he drags his fingers up the back of your neck, tangling them in your hair so that he can pull you closer yet.

You only pull back when the need to breathe becomes too urgent, giggling at the little noise of protest he lets out as you do. But Steve is nothing if not persistent, and he pulls you back in almost immediately, the movement so abrupt that you nearly topple backwards off the stool.

"Steve—I..." you manage to say, between your giggles and the heated press of his lips against yours. "I still...need to breathe, mister."

He huffs out a little laugh against the side of your neck, nips at the sensitive skin in retaliation. You squeal in delight and jab him playfully in the stomach, laughing as he recoils in mock agony.

"Stop laughing," Steve complains, the warmth of his own laughter tickling the underside of your chin when he nuzzles his nose into your neck once more, "come on, you're ruining the moment."

"Wait," you breathe, right before his lips meet yours again, "so...no pancakes, then?"

He drops his forehead against your shoulder and shakes with quiet laughter."You," Steve mumbles into the side of your neck, "are something else, you know that?"

You grin. "Apparently, you like that. Love that...no?"

You can feel him smile, the stretch of his lips curving against the skin of your shoulder.

"Apparently...yeah, I do. I do."

926 notes · View notes

lolapiastri · 9 months ago

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his sinful secret | p. gasly

warnings: smut, heavy religious imagery and themes, a sinful amount of dirty talk, like pierre cannot stfu, heavy degredation, everyone gets head, choking, a some praise, spitting, this is like actual filth maybe being ill makes me horny idk

author's note: i'm blaming this filth on the fact that i'm under the weather rn but jesus christ be fucking warned, she's a roller coaster

pierre prided himself in his religion. it was important to him, that belief in a higher power was the faith he needed to live the life he did. it seemed the driver life was one full of jealousy, gluttony and lust, but he was determined not to fall victim to the sins like so many before him.

so he payed his dues. he went to church whenever he had a free sunday, said a silent prayer for his friends and family every night, gave thanks to the lord before every meal as a token of appreciation.

his religion wasn’t a joke to him, it never would be. it was a belief that kept him sane, kept him in order, kept some sense of purpose and responsibility in his life. it wasn’t something that he would pick and choose whether to follow or not. he was all or nothing with his belief, and he chose all.

until he met you.

you were his sin personified, his dirty little secret. whenever you two were together all thoughts of his religion left his mind, as he now existed to serve you, to worship in between your thighs, listen to your moans as if they were gospel. it was like any holy thought left his mind the second your skin brushed over his.

he never wanted to give into the temptation. he saw you as a challenge, a sign to resist sin and stay thinking holy thoughts. but when you showed up at the club in a tight white dress, hair tumbling over your shoulders as your hips swayed provocatively to the music, he knew that nothing could stop him taking you home that night, and many a night after that.

which is how he ended up knocking on your flat at 9pm on a monday evening, the day after a tough race where he just felt useless. a double dnf for alpine followed by a race without points. he felt horrible, felt like a failure, and all the comfort that his producers and members could give him could never make him feel as good as you could.

the warm orange hues of a southern french sunset lit up your apartment as you swung open the door, the golden hour glow accenting the faint highlights in your hair. you were underdressed for pierre's standards, normally revealing yourself to him in a lacy set he bought for you, or sometimes even nothing, looking like a greek statue as you left nothing to the imagination.

today was different. you weren’t expecting him; you had no warning to any chain of events about to follow. so you opened the door to show yourself in a white linen shirt, almost certainly his, that was so large on you it was practically a dress, that you had been lounging around your flat in.

pierre didn’t care, however, thinking you were still as stunning as ever. the white made your tanned skin seem darker, and with a few buttons undone your cleavage was truly out on display, a teaser at what he would truly see later. a pair of large hoops hung in each ear, with a small chain around your neck with ‘10’ engraved on it finishing the look. he loved that necklace, a sign that you and him had some kind of connection, even if it was only through a piece of jewellery.

“you alright?” you asked, eyes scanning from head to toe. it was rare for pierre to show up without telling you, if he ever had. there was a silent agreement that he would let you know when he needed to release energy, to be in your presence, to succumb to the sinful energy you supposedly emitted.

he shook his head. “fucked the race yesterday. now wanna fuck you.”

and there it was. the switch that flicked where pierre ignored his religion, ignored the purity and goodness he was supposed to uphold, and you became the deity he worshipped.

his hands grabbed your face as he pulled you into a needy kiss, calloused fingertips rough against your smooth skin. the kiss held a thousand emotions: anger, upset, disappointment, lust, love, and enough passion to knock you back on your feet, needing the stability of pierre's hands to stay upright.

he always kissed you like it was his last on earth, like he may never get to do this again so he was going to savour every second of it. and he was so passionate - maybe because he was annoyed, maybe because he was stressed, or maybe because you were the only person who got to see this pierre. this raw, untamed, animalistic pierre who you adored seeing so much.

he slowly edged you back into your room, hips pushing against yours ever so slightly, enough to encourage your hips up against his, creating the tiniest bit of friction to ease the growing need between your thighs. you heard him shut the door behind you, never once taking his lips off of yours, befor his hands slid from your face to your neck.

you let out a quick gasp as he squeezed into your skin, feeling him smirk into the kiss as your breathing got shallower and shallower. he often did this. pushed your boundaries as far as he could push them. watched as your slowly cracked under the euphoric torture he performed on you.

he pulled back from you, letting out a chuckle as you chased his lips. he looked down, easily towering over you, a look of fake-pity etched all over his face.

“look so pretty with my hands wrapped around your neck, huh?” he asked, almost certainly a rhetorical question as he squeezed that slight bit harder, looking down at your thighs rubbing against each other, determined to find some relief from the ache in your core. “and you love it as well, love it when i choke you, when i treat you like a slut.”

his words went straight to your core, and you couldn’t rebute them without the lie showing all over your face. pierre eased up on your neck, hands now trailing down your body, over your rib cage, counting down with such an intent focus you would think it’s the first time he’s ever seen your body.

“wearing my shirt, must have missed me?” he asked, tone nonchalant but undertone the opposite. the agreement is that you don’t miss each other. you don’t have feeling for one another. you fuck. that’s it.

you took in a deep breath as one hand crawled under the white linen and felt the material of your underwear. lace, of course. pierre's favourite. you were aware of how his race went yesterday, and you were planning on sending him some photos to ease the pain. you did that often, when things weren’t going so well for him in the f1 world, a little pick me up in the form of barely lit lingerie pictures and videos of you moaning his name.

“never,” you teased, your hands rising over his shirt, pulling it off his body and exposing him in all his glory.

my god, was he stunning. you had never seen another man like him, one so broad and muscly yet slim and defined. his skin had grown darker in the past few weeks, undertone becoming more and more golden as his hair lightened under the european sun. he’d been keeping his hair long lately, and though you weren’t a fan at first, when you gripped it while he was your legs it was safe to say it grew on you. his eyes had a chill behind them, one only you were lucky enough to see, which told you that he had one hundred wonderful and wicked ideas to try out with you.

“white lace?” he questioned, having a peek under the shirt, the colour not normal for you. pierre liked navy, so that was what you normally wore, as well as black and red. he didn’t even know you owned a white set, and he had seen a lot of lingerie on you.

you hummed. “you like it?”

he loved it. loved the way the white material contrasted your skin, the way the quickly fading light bounced off it making you glow, the way he could already see the wetness collecting from your arousal. and most of all, he loved the way you looked angelic in it, look like the heavens yourself had sent you, because nothing you ever did was angelic. you were never angelic when you sucked him off, let him fuck you into oblivion, enjoyed being degraded and teased, and when you dressed the part, it somehow made everything more dirty for him.

“would love it more if you got on your knees.” the suggestion was an order, and of course you obeyed, sinking into the cold wooden floor of your bedroom and looking up at him with blinking eyes.

he looked majestic, light pouring out from the window behind him. and when he went to unbuckle his belt, your mouth already starting salivating in preparation, knowing what was coming. pierre must have been able to sense your eagerness, as he let out a wry chuckle looking down on you.

“always so fucking desperate for it, aren’t you?” all you could do was nod in response, leaning forward as mark slid his trousers down to pull his dick out from his boxers.

you were still in awe every time you saw his cock. sure, you’d been big dicks before, but pierre's was something in of itself. it was as majestic as his body was, and taken care of the same way.

you went to take it in your mouth, but pierre quickly tangled a hand in your hair and pulled you back, letting out a soft chuckle as a pout appeared on your lips.

“honestly, i don’t fuck you for two weeks and you forget all your manners. you think you just get to suck my cock? you think you’re worthy of that? dumb little girl.” his degrading words went straight to your core, you having to resist the urge to squeeze your thighs together as you looked up at him pleadingly.

“please, pierre,” his hand tilted your head up, nothing stopping your eyes from baring into his, seeing the devilish glint in his eye, “please.”

“please what? come on, good girls know how to beg properly,” he teased, watching down evilly as you whined at his harsh words.

you took in a deep breath. “please let me suck your cock, pierre.”

he nodded. “keep going.”

“please, just wanna make you feel good. please let me suck it, all i wanna do,” you were unravelling, slowly losing any previous willpower you had to resist his charm, diving headfirst into the depths of hell you two created together. it was a beautiful chaos, a place the two of you could completely unravel and just be morsels of sex and passion. “please, pierre, just want your cock in my mouth.”

“fuck, your such a whore for me. never seen such a lovely girl want cock so bad. but you’re not a lovely girl, are you?” you nodded, so desperate for him. “that’s right, baby, you’re a desperate little slut who’s only thought is dick, so why don’t you show me how much you love this one, yeah?”

his words would be the death of you. they were your bible, you would have done anything he asked you do when he was speaking in that deep, honey tone, french accent getting thicker and thicker as he lost himself in the moment. whatever he preached in church, said as he prayed, these were the opposite of that. these were the thoughts that hid in the back of his mind until he was around you, and then they were an unstoppable spew of sin and lust and as many other unholy emotions he could think of.

you sunk down on his cock as soon as you had permission, taking as much in as possible before starting to bob your head, swirling your tongue when you rose to the tip of his dick. he let out a deep groan when you choked around him, his length still too big even after a few months of sucking him off. his hand tightened around your scalp, guiding you up and down and up and down.

you pulled back to catch a breath, a string of saliva still attached to his dick, creating a link between you. pierre watched as you licked it up, before replacing your mouth his your hand, throwing his head back as your thumb rubbed over his tip.

“tell me how much you love this cock, baby,” he grunted, his words not surprising to you. when everything seemed to be going wrong in his life, pierre thrived on the praise of others. his parents, his mechanics, his engineers, and in this state you. any words that made him feel appreciated, needed, loved, he thrived on.

“love it so much, baby,” you panted, “so so much.”

and with that you started sucking again, still using your hand on everything you struggled to fit. his breaths got shallower and shallower as you kept going, feeling the muscles in his chest tensing as he got closer and closer to his high.

“look at you on your knees for me,” the hand in the back of your hair tilted your head towards the mirror you had in your bedroom, and the sight was one you were sure would be engraved in your memory for years to come.

it was like a renaissance pairing, the way the two of you looked. both glowing in the sunset light, sweating clinging loose strand of hair to your foreheads. pierre's mouth was hung open, defined abs clenched, looking completely gone with pleasure. your back was arched while on your knees, thighs clenched together as your mouth swallowed pierre down, tears slowly building in your eyes, threatening to break loose and paint your cheeks with mascara stained water.

��want me to finish in your mouth?” he groaned, obviously so near to the edge. but he always asked. no matter how intense anything was, pierre always asked.

you hummed in agreement around his cock, sending vibrations through the sensitive skin and bringing his orgasm that little bit closer. he took complete control now, fucking your face with sporadic, wild thrusts, before pulling back and waiting for the orgasm, your hand guiding him through it.

“open your mouth, baby,” he grunted, on the brink of the most sinful euphoria he could feel, “stick your tongue out for me- there you go. pretty little slut on her knees for me. never seen such a beautiful girl act like such a whore-”

and with that he came, covering your tongue and lips with his cum, groaning as he finally got the high he’d craved after the last two weeks. you carried him through it, keeping your mouth open until he’d completely finished.

“show me your tongue, baby,” he panted, a maniacal laugh appearing when you eagerly showed him your face. “god, you’re so good for me, you look so pretty covered in my cum, huh? go on, look at how messy you are for me.”

you turned you back to the mirror, and you got a proper look at how gone you were. your tongue was still out, eyes dazed over, nose to chin covered in pierre's cum, with your cheeks stained with mascara tears.

he pulled your head back, forcing you to look back up at him, before he leant over and spat in your mouth, the most sinful action of the night.

“swallow it up, yeah, there you go,” he almost whispered, and you did as he said, taking everything he had given you and the rest that he swiped in from your cheeks. “god, you’re always such a good girl for me.”

he was always softer after an orgasm, like he suddenly became aware of how harsh his words were, how you could easily take them the wrong way. you never did, but you appreciated the effort, and you appreciated him.

wait. no you didn’t.

“up you get, baby,” he cooed, helping you stand up and immediately wrapping your legs around his waist, carrying your through your flat like it was his own. he had spent so much time here it might as well have been.

he placed you down on the bed, letting you lean against the frame as he dimmed down the lights, leaving the room in a small, romantic glow. he finished undressing himself, before finally turning all of his attention to you.

this is where it became a sin.

see, pierre didn’t believe that pre-marital sex was a sin. well, whether or not it was he was more than happy to partake in it. what was a sin, however, was worshiping false deities. yet that’s exactly what he did to you.

after the agression you had just experienced, pierre knew it was time to turn his attention to in between your thighs, somewhere he could sit for hours and never get bored. it was a form of worship, how he treated you, one that he could never admit to the universe, a secret shared between the two of you.

his hands ran up your bare thighs, kneading them as his mouth followed, leaving a trail of wet, sloppy kisses along your skin. your legs spread automatically, a sigh of pleasure already coming from your mouth, just the motivation pierre needed to keep going.

"fuck, baby," he gasped, as one of his fingers stroked over your panties, feeling your sticky wetness caused from pierre's dirty words earlier, "fucking soaked for me, huh?"

"yes," you sighed as one of his fingers found your clit, making ever so light circles over the lace, "only for you, pierre."

"i know, baby, god you look so beautiful like this."

and he wasn't lying. with your back arched, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin, his shirt bunched up around your ribcage so he could see the rise of fall of your stomach as your breathing got shallower. he thought you were majestic, undenyable beauty, something to be worshipped.

so that's what he did.

he pulled your panties off and dived straight into your pussy, nose hitting your clit as his tongue worked wonders, lapping up the wetness and causing pornographic sounds to emit from your throat. god, was he good at eating you out, and when he added to fingers and curled them against that spot inside of you, you knew you were not lasting long.

"baby- oh my god, pierre- i'm gonna cum," you whined, hips bucking so much pierre had to use one of his arms to hold you in place.

pierre chuckled against your clit, the vibrations just bringing you closer to the edge. "yeah, i'm making you feel good."

"so good, pierre, so so so good."

and that was enough for him. sometimes he would make you beg, have you crying from the edging he would put you through, but he knew he was harsh earlier, and you had been so good your deserved to come.

"come for me then, baby," he grunted, fingers speeding up their pace, "come all over my fingers, make a mess of me, baby."

he words tipped you over the edge, the feeling of euphoria washing over you as pierre carried you through your high, breathing finally slowing down as pierre abandoned your pussy and staring leaving open mouthed kisses against the soft flesh of your thighs.

"think you can go once more for me?" he asked between kisses, and however tired you were you always wanted to please him, always wanted to make him feel good.

so you pulled him over you and braced yourself as he pushed inside of you, the stretch making you hear colours as his lips finally connected with yours for the second time that night, tongue exploring your mouth until he was fully inside of you.

"never gonna get over how good you feel wrapped around me, baby," he mumbled against your lips, pleasure evident on his face, "so fucking warm and wet, this pussy was made for me, wasn't it?"

you couldn't even respond, mouth stuck in an o-shape as he began to thrust in and out, his tip hitting your cervix as he picked up the pace.

"don't know what i would do without this cunt, think i would go insane not knowing this is always here for me, because it is, isn't it? this is my pussy."

pierre told himself he would hold back but he just couldn't help it, the feeling of being inside of you driving him crazy as his hips snapped against yours. only pierre's sinful words and the sound of skin against skin filled the room now, the feeling ever so dirty and sinful, just the way you both liked it.

"my fucking pussy to do whatever i want with, my playtoy, that's what you are, yeah?" he teased, and all you could do was whine in response as you grew closer and closer to your second orgasm.

"just a set of holes for me to use, aren't you? can't even speak because i'm fucking you so good, huh? just a cumdump for me, a slutty, pretty, cumdump. you want my cum, my pretty little whore?"

all you could do was nod, hoping that was enough for pierre right now. he chuckled, but you could tell he was close by the way his thrusts were growing irregular. and he could tell you were close by the way you clenched around him.

"you wanna cum? tell me who's making you feel this good."

you mustered up all the energy you had left to speak, hoping the words came out of your mouth. "you, pierre, only you can make me feel this good."

"tell me you belong to me," pierre didn't even know what he was saying at this point, the words leaving unconciously, his sinful desires becoming more and more evident in the world.

"i'm yours, pierre. every part of me is yours, i belong to you. god-"

"yeah, that's right, i'm your fucking god," he grunted, and that word, even though it's not what you meant, made both of you come undone together, a moan leaving both of your mouths as pierre collapsed against your chest, chests rising and falling as you attempted to calm down.

pierre pulled out, ever so gently, and knelt on the floor at the end of the bed, watching as some of his cum escaped from your swollen pussy. gently, he used his finger to scoop it up, and push it back into your cunt, before leaning back over to meet your lips in a kiss.

"thank you," he muttered, "for this. hope i wasn't too harsh."

you chuckled. "a little, but you know i like it. shit, though, i would have called you god sooner if i knew it would get that reaction."

with those words, pierre froze. those words should have never been said, should have never been put into the universe. it reminded pierre of his sin, of everything you tempted him towards. with no other option, he chose to escape your lustful allure, and made a mental note to pray tonight.

"gotta get back to the office, usami will be expecting me," pierre left one final kiss on your cheek before leaving.

you pouted, so many unspoken words floating on your tongue. stay. be mine. i love you. yet none of them were said, instead sending him a sad smile before grabbing your phone from your bedside table, just hoping deep down he felt the same way.

if only you knew you were just his sinful secret.

#f1 smut #formula one smut #formula 1 smut #formula 1 blurb #formula one imagine #formula 1 imagine #pierre gasly #pierre gasly smut #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly blurb #f1 imagine #f1 blurb #f1 x reader #f1 fic

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deadloverxx · 9 months ago

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subbot yan priest x domtop reader!!

cw: religion, religious guilt, internalised homophobia, obsession, and all of yandere shenanigans.

hands clutched in prayer, his desperate eyes drank in the figure of Christ before him. oh, the saviour would be really disappointed, seeing his server like this. lips coated in saliva and droplets of blood, skin ripped at the edges from the desperate bites. so dirty. and it's all a fault of some sinner, nonetheless. a devil in disguise, he was convinced. a span of Lucifer, sent to earth to tempt him into sin, like the devil did with Eve. the holy book did warn him the devil would look handsome... but he didn't expect him to look this handsome. where was his guardian angel? very immodest looking this sinner, Father thought, and felt something twitch beneath his vestment. obscenely mortifying. but why? Father shuddered at the thought, correct but otherwise impossible. he needed to hunt the sinner down. exorcise the evil that had plagued his mind once and for all.

the hunt began with surveying your interactions with others at the church. a local nearby, although an atheist, still talked to a lot of the priest's holy brothers and sisters. your smile, revealing a little bit of white, sharp tooth, drove him crazy, thighs rubbing against each other at the very sight of it as you talked to an acolyte under Father's watchful gaze. you glanced at him a few times, and every time he felt his heart throb, hands clutching the rosary in his pocket.

"forgive me, Father, for I have sinned..." he mumbled, knees pressed against the confessional's cold wooden floor. this was his third frequent confession, in which thought of you crawled their way into his mind. always too afraid of admitting it, but dreadfully ashamed of how in this time, which is supposed to be between him and God... you still found your way to plague his thoughts. "i have been having thoughts... thoughts of.. men." he breathed out, biting on his lip again. "i can't get him out of my head, that man..." seemingly not even waiting for the priest on the other end of the confessional's wall to respond, his breath hitched. "he has been in my mind for ages now, as i pray, as i eat, as i read the holy book... i'm afraid of God's wrath for it" and as he mutters the sets of prayers prescribed by his colleague, he can't help but think of himself on his knees, before you, praying between your legs with his wet, sinful mouth, as you moan in pleasure..

and when an acolyte of his brought him something you dropped on your way out - oh Lord... the little boy was being nice, bringing lost items of someone to his trusted adult to return. he nodded and thanked the boy with shaking hands clutching a hanky of yours, which was usually hanging from your left back pocket.

he was grateful, face buried in the piece of cloth which held your scent at night, sprawled across his bed, the robes off, shamefully letting his fingers thrust in and out of himself, drool running down his cheeks as he imagined your strong hands spreading his legs apart and ravaging him, eyes rolling at the back of his head as your name slipped past his lips like a prayer. and as his body shook with release, clear semen pooling on his stomach, he breathed in your scent again, contemplating how he would give it to you the following day, and try and spark up a conversation while he's at it...

#🌸🐇writing #drabble #male reader #x male reader #top male reader #bottom character #nsft #gay #male character x male reader #character x male reader #bottom male character #top reader

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lotsoflola · 11 months ago

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his sinful secret - l. mark

summary: being an idol is hard, but you're always there to help mark through it, offering yourself as his sinful secret... genre: fwb au warnings: smut, heavy religious imagery and themes, a sinful amount of dirty talk, like mark cannot stfu, heavy degredation, everyone gets head, choking, a some praise, spitting, this is like actual filth maybe being ill makes me horny idk word count: 4k author's note: i'm blaming this filth on the fact that i'm under the weather rn but jesus christ be fucking warned

mark prided himself in his religion. it was important to him, that belief in a higher power was the faith he needed to live the life he did. it seemed the idol life was one full of jealousy, gluttony and lust, but he was determined not to fall victim to the sins like so many before him.

until he met you.

which is how he ended up knocking on your flat at 9pm on a monday evening, the day after a tough recording session where he just seemed useless. he felt horrible, felt like a failure, and all the comfort that his producers and members could give him could never make him feel as good as you could.

the warm orange hues of a seoul sunset lit up your apartment as you swung open the door, the golden hour glow accenting the faint highlights in your hair. you were underdressed for mark's standards, normally revealing yourself to him in a lacy set he bought for you, or sometimes even nothing, looking like a greek statue as you left nothing to the imagination.

today was different. you weren’t expecting him; you had no warning to any chain of events about to follow. so you opened the door to show yourself in a white linen shirt, almost certainly mark's, that was so large on you it was practically a dress, that you had been lounging around your flat in.

mark didn’t care, however, thinking you were still as stunning as ever. the white made your tanned skin seem darker, and with a few buttons undone your cleavage was truly out on display, a teaser at what he would truly see later. a pair of large hoops hung in each ear, with a small chain around your neck with ‘m’ engraved on it finishing the look. he loved that necklace, a sign that you and him had some kind of connection, even if it was only through a piece of jewellery.

“you alright?” you asked, eyes scanning from head to toe. it was rare for mark to show up without telling you, if he ever had. there was a silent agreement that he would let you know when he needed to release energy, to be in your presence, to succumb to the sinful energy you supposedly emitted.

he shook his head. “fucked the recording yesterday. now wanna fuck you.”

and there it was. the switch that flicked where mark ignored his religion, ignored the purity and goodness he was supposed to uphold, and you became the deity he worshipped.

he always kissed you like it was his last on earth, like he may never get to do this again so he was going to savour every second of it. and he was so passionate - maybe because he was annoyed, maybe because he was stressed, or maybe because you were the only person who got to see this mark. this raw, untamed, animalistic mark who you adored seeing so much.

you let out a quick gasp as he squeezed into your skin, feeling him smirk into the kiss as your breathing got shallower and shallower. he often do this. pushed your boundaries as far as he could push them. watched as your slowly cracked under the euphoric torture he performed on you.

he pulled back from you, letting out a chuckle as you chased his lips. he looked down, easily towering over you, a look of fake-pity etched all over his face.

his words went straight to your core, and you couldn’t rebute them without the lie showing all over your face. mark eased up on your neck, hands now trailing down your body, over your rib cage, counting down with such an intent focus you would think it’s the first time he’s ever seen your body.

you took in a deep breath as one hand crawled under the white linen and felt the material of your underwear. lace, of course. mark's favourite. you were aware of how his recording went yesterday, and you were planning on sending him some photos to ease the pain. you did that often, when things weren’t going so well for him in the idol world, a little pick me up in the form of barely lit lingerie pictures and videos of you morning his name.

“never,” you teased, your hands rising over his shirt, pulling it off his body and exposing him in all his glory.

my god, was he stunning. you had never seen another man like him, one so broad and muscly yet slim and defined. his skin had grown darker in the past few weeks, undertone becoming more and more golden as his bleached hair lightened ever so slightly. he’d been keeping his hair long lately, and though you weren’t a fan at first, when you gripped it while he was your legs it was safe to say it grew on you. his eyes had a chill behind them, one only you were lucky enough to see, which told you that he had one hundred wonderful and wicked ideas to try out with you.

“white lace?” he questioned, having a peek under the shirt, the colour not normal for you. mark liked navy, so that was what you normally wore, as well as black and red. he didn’t even know you owned a white set, and he had seen a lot of lingerie on you.

you hummed. “you like it?”

“would love it more if you got on your knees.” the suggestion was an order, and of course you obeyed, sinking into the cold wooden floor of your living room and looking up at him with blinking eyes.

he looked majestic, light pouring out from the window behind him. and when he went to unbuckle his belt, your mouth already starting salivating in preparation, knowing what was coming. mark must have been able to sense your eagerness, as he let out a wry chuckle looking down on you.

“always so fucking desperate for it, aren’t you?” all you could do was nod in response, leaning forward as mark slid his trousers down to pull his dick out from his boxers.

you were still in awe every time you saw his cock. sure, you’d been big dicks before, but mark's was something in of itself. it was as majestic as his body was, and taken care of the same way.

you went to take it in your mouth, but mark quickly tangled a hand in your hair and pulled you back, letting out a soft chuckle as a pout appeared on your lips.

“please, mark,” his hand tilted your head up, nothing stopping your eyes from baring into his, seeing the devilish glint in his eye, “please.”

“please what? come on, good girls know how to beg properly,” he teased, watching down evilly as you whined at his harsh words.

you took in a deep breath. “please let me suck your cock, mark.”

he nodded. “keep going.”

his words would be the death of you. they were your bible, you would have done anything he asked you do when he was speaking in that deep, honey tone, canadian accent getting thicker and thicker as he lost himself in the moment. whatever he preached in church, said as he prayed, these were the opposite of that. these were the thoughts that hid in the back of his mind until he was around you, and then they were an unstoppable spew of sin and lust and as many other unholy emotions he could think of.

“tell me how much you love this cock, baby,” he grunted, his words not surprising to you. when everything seemed to be going wrong in his life, mark thrived on the praise of others. his parents, his members, his producers, and in this state you. any words that made him feel appreciated, needed, loved, he thrived on.

“love it so much, baby,” you panted, “so so much.”

“look at you on your knees for me,” the hand in the back of your hair tilted your head towards the mirror you had in your living room, and the sight was one you were sure would be engraved in your memory for years to come.

it was like a renaissance pairing, the way the two of you looked. both glowing in the sunset light, sweating clinging loose strand of hair to your foreheads. mark's mouth was hung open, defined abs clenched, looking completely gone with pleasure. your back was arched while on your knees, thighs clenched together as your mouth swallowed pierre down, tears slowly building in your eyes, threatening to break loose and paint your cheeks with mascara stained water.

“want me to finish in your mouth?” he groaned, obviously so near to the edge. but he always asked. no matter how intense anything was, mark always asked.

you turned you back to the mirror, and you got a proper look at how gone you were. your tongue was still out, eyes dazed over, nose to chin covered in mark's cum, with your cheeks stained with mascara tears.

he pulled your head back, forcing you to look back up at him, before he leant over and spat in your mouth, the most sinful action of the night.

wait. no you didn’t.

this is where it became a sin.

see, mark didn’t believe that pre-marital sex was a sin. well, whether or not it was he was more than happy to partake in it. what was a sin, however, was worshiping false deities. yet that’s exactly what he did to you.

after the agression you had just experienced, mark kenw it was time to turn his attention to in between your thighs, somehwre he could sit for hours and never get bored. it was a form of worship, how he treated you, one that he could never admit to the universe, a secret shared between the two of you.

"fuck, baby," he gasped, as one of his fingers stroked over your panties, feeling your sticky wetness caused from mark's dirty words earlier, "fucking soaked for me, huh?"

"yes," you sighed as one of his fingers found your clit, making ever so light circles over the lace, "only for you, mark."

"i know, baby, god you look so beautiful like this."

so that's what he did.

"baby- oh my god, mark- i'm gonna cum," you whined, hips bucking so much mark had to use one of his arms to hold you in place.

mark chuckled against your clit, the vibrations just bringing you closer to the edge. "yeah, i'm making you feel good."

"so good, mark, so so so good."

"come for me then, baby," he grunted, fingers speeding up their pace, "come all over my fingers, make a mess of me, baby."

he words tipped you over the edge, the feeling of euphoria washing over you as mark carried you through your high, breathing finally slowing down as mark abandoned your pussy and staring leaving open mouthed kisses against the soft flesh of your thighs.

"think you can go once more for me?" he asked between kisses, and however tired you were you always wanted to please him, always wanted to make him feel good.

"never gonna get over how good you feel wrapped around me, baby," he mumbled against your lips, pleasure evident on his face, "so fucking warm and wet, this pussy was made for me, wasn't it?"

you couldn't even respond, mouth stuck in an o-shape as he began to thrust in and out, his tip hitting your cervix as he picked up the pace.

"don't know what i would do without this cunt, think i would go insane not knowing this is always here for me, because it is, isn't it? this is my pussy."

mark told himself he would hold back but he just couldn't help it, the feeling of being inside of you driving him crazy as his hips snapped against yours. only mark's sinful words and the sound of skin against skin filled the room now, the feeling ever so dirty and sinful, just the way you both liked it.

"my fucking pussy to do whatever i want with, my playtoy, that's what you are, yeah?" he teased, and all you could do was whine in response as you grew closer and closer to your second orgasm.

"just a set of holes for me to use, aren't you? can't even speak because i'm fucking you so good, huh? just a cumdump for me, a slutty, pretty, cumdump. you want my cum, my pretty little whore?"

all you could do was nod, hoping that was enough for mark right now. he chuckled, but you could tell he was close by the way his thrusts were growing irregular. and he could tell you were close by the way you clenched around him.

"you wanna cum? tell me who's making you feel this good."

you mustered up all the energy you had left to speak, hoping the words came out of your mouth. "you, mark, only you can make me feel this good."

"tell me you belong to me," mark didn't even know what he was saying at this point, the words leaving unconciously, his sinful desires becoming more and more evident in the world.

"i'm yours, mark. every part of me is yours, i belong to you. god-"

"yeah, that's right, i'm your fucking god," he grunted, and that word, even though it's not what you meant, made both of you come undone together, a moan leaving both of your mouths as mark collapsed against your chest, chests rising and falling as you attempted to calm down.

mark pulled out, ever so gently, and knelt on the floor at the end of the bed, watching as some of his cum escaped from your swollen pussy. gently, he used his finger to scoop it up, and push it back into your cunt, before leaning back over to meet your lips in a kiss.

"thank you," he muttered, "for this. hope i wasn't too harsh."

you chuckled. "a little, but you know i like it. shit, though, i would have called you god sooner if i knew it would get that reaction."

with those words, mark froze. those words should have never been said, should have never been put inot the universe. it reminded mark of his sin, of everything you tempted him towards. with no other option, he chose to escape your lustful allure, and made a mental note to pray tonight.

"gotta get back to the dorms, manager will be expecting me," mark left one final kiss on your cheek before leaving.

if only you knew you were just his sinful secret.

#nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #nct smut #nct imagine #nct dream imagine #nct 127 imagine #mark lee smut #mark smut #mark lee imagine #mark lee x reader #nct x reader

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gravehags · 7 months ago

Text

unholy, unholy, unholy

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: EXPLICIT, MDNI

Tags: the ministry being the catholic church's evil twin, manipulation, masturbation, confession, copia lowkey being a desperate little sex freak my beloved

Words: 5,153

Summary: You really walked right into this, you tell yourself. You can't even be mad at Copia for suggesting it.

a/n: can't believe the last thing i wrote for these losers was at christmas...damn. anyway you know how i like my non-chronological shit so this takes place somewhere in between take me apart and satan baby. i'm not done making these two dance around their feelings just yet.

divider by @gothdaddyissues!

“Jesus fucking Christ Almighty.”

You slam your office door shut with your hip and Cardinal Copia turns to look at you from his seat.

“Need help?”

With a grunt and a shake of your head you walk past him and set the bag of food down on your desk, heaving a deep sigh.

“Had to go on a fucking scavenger hunt because the goddamn DoorDash driver left the bag with a maintenance worker, who gave it to one of Terzo’s ghouls, who left it in a stairwell for some reason…don’t ask me how I managed to find it because fuck if I know.”

Dramatically you flop into your desk chair and give your lunch companion a look as he begins to sort out your meals with a smile.

“You know you eh…take the Lord’s name in vain quite a bit for someone who wasn’t raised in religion.”

When he passes your container of Pad see ew to you, you grin.

“Ehhh you know, the perils of being raised in a predominantly Christian society. It’s funny, the first time I said ‘Jesus Christ’ I was maybe…I don’t know nine? Ten? And my mom tersely told me ‘don’t say that’ to which I replied ‘why not?’ I don’t think she knew how to answer that question in a way that would make me care, you know? I had gone all my little life not giving a shit about Jesus, why would I now?”

Copia chuckles and cracks open his own takeaway box.

“Ah cara, you continue to stray further and further from God’s light every day. Thank Sathanas for that, hmm?”

With a smile, you clink your soda can against his and dig into your meal.

“You ever think about how fascinating your religion is, Copia?”

You prop your feet up on your desk as Copia delicately picks noodles out of his box with chopsticks.

“Eh, how do you mean?”

“Like…you’re a Satanic cardinal. You’ve sworn your life to uphold the tenets of Satanism. You…we live at a massive complex dedicated to Satan. One of many complexes throughout the world, apparently. And yet, barely anyone knows of the Ministry’s existence. It’s wild, really.”

He makes a thoughtful noise as he chews on a particularly crunchy piece of bok choy.

“Ah, well,” he begins, setting his chopsticks down and reaching for the soda resting on the desk, “we’re trying to change that. In…subtle ways.”

“Mmm, the Ghost project.”

“Sì, the idea is we use Papa to spread our message through music - something that is accessible to many people.”

“With the hopes that you and your evil brethren can dominate the globe?” you say, scrunching your nose playfully and giving him a big wink.

“Something like that,” he smiles wryly.

“Well I’ve listened to some of the project’s music and I gotta say…big fan. I think your sinister subliminal messaging is working on me.”

“Oh?” he asks, setting down his food in order to cross his legs and give you a curious stare. “Tell me more, cara. Do I have a future sister of sin on my hands?”

You close your eyes and laugh, missing the hungry way the Cardinal watches the line of your throat as your head tilts back.

“Maybe…let’s just say I’m intrigued. How could I not be when I’m surrounded by it all the time?”

He nods, resting a gloved hand on his knee and straightening his cassock.

“Perhaps…”

You fix him with a look you know will make him lose his train of thought for a moment. Positively wicked.

“Perhaps…?”

“Perhaps,” he clears his throat, eyes darting away from yours, “you would like to attend one of our services?”

You nod gamely.

“Is a super cool and hip youth pastor going to tell me about the ways the Devil cares about me unconditionally?”

He rolls his eyes and fixes you with an unamused stare.

“Very funny, dolcezza. Would you prefer that I have you sit with Papa Nihil while he explains the history of the Emeritus bloodline?”

You balk. The wizened Papa had a distinct dislike of you for some odd reason. You often wonder how he manages to give you such dirty looks through his cloudy eyes. You didn’t particularly care, however, as you saw the way he constantly brushed off and mistreated Copia during staff meetings. Nihil irked you to no end, no matter how much Sister Imperator liked him.

“Alright, fine, sorry. I only jest to get a rise out of you, I know how important your religion is to you. And hey, anything that has the drama and aesthetics of the Catholic Church without all the guilt and trauma has my full attention. Please don’t be mad.”

He grunts but you see the way his mustache twitches as he fights back a smile. You flutter your eyelashes a little and in a moment of boldness, take your lower lip between your teeth. The way his mismatched eyes dart to your mouth and his jaw hangs open makes you giddy.

“I’m–,” his voice comes out as a hoarse rasp, “I forgive you, cara.”

“Thank you for absolving me of my sins, Your Eminence.”

He has to know you’re doing this on purpose at this point. You’re not sure what has gotten into you today but something about the way he stares at you now makes you want to grab him by his pellegrina and haul him over your desk for a sloppy kiss. There’s a heavy tension between the two of you, not for the first time, as if all one of you needs to do is take a step forward and all hell would break loose.

“So, you want me to go to a service? What like black mass? Unholy baptism? Virgin sacrifice?”

The spell is broken and briefly your swagger flickers, wondering if you’ve crossed a line.

“Eh, maybe someday but your statement about sin made me think…perhaps confession would be more suited to you?”

Now your jaw falls open and you can feel your cheeks light up as he watches you with a smirk toying at the corners of his mouth. The tables have turned and now you’re the one left speechless.

“O-oh?” you ask, voice a little higher than normal, “so if Catholic confession is about getting your sins forgiven, then Satanic confession is…having your sins…celebrated?”

“Corretto,” he says with a generous nod, “we’ll go through each one in ah…intimate detail.”

“We?” you squeak out, stomach dropping severely, “I hadn’t realized that you would be presiding.”

“Oh sì,” he says, the smirk on his face positively devilish, “although if you’d prefer someone else…”

“No,” you say just a little too quickly, your heart pounding, “I…I don’t know how much sinning I really get up to. I’ll probably bore you to tears.”

“You might be surprised, dolcezza,” Christ the nickname sounds devious on his lips right now, “What is it they say? ‘Still waters run deep’?”

Your laugh comes out just a little too loud and unnatural and you kick yourself.

“Ha…right. We…we should probably get back to this cataloging or Sister Imperator is going to publicly execute me.”

The rest of the afternoon proceeds normally, with the two of you diligently organizing the abbey’s collection of illuminated manuscripts. When you finally part, he gives you the date, time, and directions to the chapel where the confession booth is located.

“Cara,” he murmurs as you begin to walk away, “you don’t have to do this.”

You give him a half-smile and shake your head.

“I think it will be good for me,” you say, hands behind your back as you rock onto your heels, “and besides, how could I say no to spending an evening with you?”

You make sure not to turn away until you see the full breadth of his dazed expression and by the time your back is to him and you’re walking away, there’s a loopy grin on your face. It’s not til you turn the corner and reach the staircase to your quarters the full realization of what you’ve agreed to dawns upon you.

Oh fuck.

You don’t see Copia the next two days between his duties and your own and for that you’re extremely thankful. The date of your confession has arrived and you’re equal parts nauseated and exhilarated. Having never gone to confession of any sort before, you’re not entirely sure what to expect. You’re not ignorant - you’ve seen confession scenes in the media and have heard from friends raised in Catholicism - but what little you do know doesn’t assuage your anxiety. This was Satanic confession. A whole different beast. Your mind conjures images of blood rituals and sacrifices and being on your knees before Copia…his gloved hand tilting your chin upwards to look at him…

Christ Almighty, get your shit together.

You desperately try to, as you sternly told yourself, get your shit together but your mind is clouded the rest of your workday with positively sinful scenes of the two of you. You’re particularly fond of the one where he’s got you in his office, your skirt hiked up over your hips as you bend over his desk and he pushes himself inside you from behind. The thought of his voice in your head, calling you his sweet little nicknames as he fucks into you, makes you practically drip. The final two hours in your office are torture before you’re able to skitter back to your rooms. You’re not meeting with Copia for another few hours and you need to do something about the ache between your thighs. Impatiently, you fumble for the buttons on your blouse with one hand while pushing your skirt off with another. You must look a sight, ripping your bra off and flinging it somewhere on the floor, but all you can think about now is getting to your bed. You almost trip twice in the journey to your room, blindly stumbling over and flinging yourself on the mattress. What has gotten into you? You’ve been horny before, about Copia sure, but this? The way you’re practically whining when your hands meet your bare breasts? You feel positively feral.

“Copia,” you breathe, fingers pinching at your nipples. You imagine his hands on you, the way the leather would warm as he strokes your soft skin.

Dolcezza.

Fuck, you can hear it perfectly and it makes you sigh, one of your hands slowly sliding down your body to cup the heat of you. You’re sopping and time feels like it slows as you spread yourself open and slide two fingers against your engorged clit. All of your frantic rushing from earlier ceases as you twitch under your own touch, his name on your lips. You’re so sensitive right now it barely takes anything to bring you over the edge, but, you think as your orgasm wanes, it’s not quite enough. Taking a slow exhale in you slip your fingers lower and tease at your entrance. The digits glide in easily enough with the abundance of slick coming from you and languorously you begin to pump them in and out. Your eyes slide shut and you imagine it’s his dexterous fingers instead, curling inside you so you can feel every stitch and groove of his glove.

Cara mia, he’d murmur into your ear, so wet for me. So sweet for your Cardinal, eh? You honor me.

The whimpers crawling out of your mouth are getting more frequent and higher in pitch - you know you’re close. You bring your palm flat against yourself to push on your clit as your hips continue to make little circles, driving your fingers deeper in. Your hand is aching but it doesn’t stop you from pulling another orgasm out of yourself, chanting his name. Tears pool in your eyes and slide down your temples as you sob aloud and all of a sudden it’s too much. Your body spasms on the duvet, breath coming in harsh pants as you attempt to slow the thundering of your heart. It’s not the first time you’ve touched yourself to the thought of him, by any means, but something feels…different. More charged. You’re exhausted, bone tired as you try to organize your feelings. Reaching a hand up to rub your face you turn over and look at the clock.

5:32 PM

Your eyelids are heavy but you manage to lean over the side of your bed and locate your phone to set an alarm. Some sleep would do you good. Clear your head.

You don’t dream.

—------

Cazzo, cazzo, cazzo.

Copia paces back and forth in the small, dimly lit (romantically lit, some would say) chapel. The last sibling of the evening just left and now all that remains is…you. He barely heard what the siblings were telling him this evening, so anxious was he and caught up in the thought of you soon being in their position. More than once his vision went blurry as he imagined you a breath away, separated only by the decorative wooden screen.

He was so eager for you to walk through that door, now he’s not sure. With a heavy sigh through his nose he looks down at his watch.

6:58 PM

You’re always punctual and he counts on tonight being no different. Resigned to his fate, he shuffles over to the confession booth and opens the door, slotting himself inside. Shit, his ass hurts from the hard bench, why in fuck’s name had they not added a cushion to this side like there was on the other? He’s grumbling to himself in Italian when he hears the chapel door squeak open and firmly shut. Your soft footsteps approach - you must be wearing your sneakers and not your boots for the distinct clacking sound he usually hears from you has vanished. He sucks in a breath when he hears you open your side of the booth and quietly shut it. There’s a silence between the two of you so profound that when you finally speak he jumps.

“Hey. You’re in there right?”

He makes a loud, vague noise and sees your shoulders drop through the screen. He can’t get a read on your expression but the anxiety in the air has softened with your posture.

“Good evening,” he begins, a little stiffly. “Eh, welcome.”

You breathe out heavy through your nose.

“Copia, is this a good idea?”

He pauses and looks down to pull at a loose thread on his cuff.

“Are…are you nervous, cara?”

You let out a soft, self-deprecating laugh.

“Yeah, I’m fucking nervous! I’ve never even been to a regular confession let alone…this.”

“Well, we begin with the ceremonial bloodletting and–”

“Oh fuck off,” you grouse, flicking the screen that separates you. You fall silent after a moment.

“Cara, are you truly that anxious? Because we don’t have to do any–”

“I’m fine, Copia. Really. I don’t know why I'm so worked up. Fear of the unknown, I suppose,” you clear your throat and hears you crack your neck.

“Bene. Shall I go over the process with you? And remember this is a celebration. No shaming. No guilt. No wrong answers.”

You take a deep breath in and he sees you nod.

“I will start with the blessing and then we will go through the seven cardinal sins one by one. You may describe yours as briefly or lengthy as you like and we will venerate them. Once we have finished, I will close with a blessing. Then we will part. Nothing to be nervous about, eh? Are you ready?”

“Yes, please.”

“Very good,” he clears his throat and straightens his shoulders. “In nomine Padre, et Filio, et lo Spiritus Malum…we welcome this most sacred sinner into your embrace that she may revel in her transgressions against God.”

When he addresses you by name, he sees you jump.

“Let us begin with the Original Sin - pride.”

“Okay. Yeah. Pride.” There’s a few seconds of silence before he hears you softly curse. “Sorry, I should have made a list or something.”

“Take your time,” he says with a smile, simply content to be in your presence, “I have nowhere to be, cara. I am right here, ready when you are.”

He can see your eyelashes flutter as you look down and your cheeks bunch in a soft smile. Although mostly obscured, the sight still makes his heart soar. After a minute or so of silence you speak.

“Oh! Okay, uh pride. Well I was going to tell you about this anyway but…you know that little write-up I did of Satanic art in the time of the Counter-Reformation?”

“Naturalmente, it was superb.”

“Thank you. Well I thought it was too so I submitted it to a journal for publishing…and they accepted it.”

He can practically hear your grin and it makes him beam in return.

“Cara mia! Congratulazioni! You deserve nothing less! Although I hope you do not consider it a sin to rightfully celebrate an occasion such as this?”

You sigh.

“Ah, I don’t know. I may have bragged a bit too much to other people in the field. Felt a little too self-satisfied about it. So I think that would count, right?”

He scoffs.

“To Papa Frankie, maybe. To us it is a well-deserved acknowledgement of your hard work and something you have every right to be proud of. Dolcezza, even if you hesitate to celebrate yourself, know that I always will do so for you. Published in a journal, well done cara.”

He may not be able to see it in the low light of the confessional but he can picture your flushed cheeks perfectly in his mind.

“Anything else you would like to say on the matter?”

“No, that’s it.”

“Are you ready for the next?”

“Yes,” you say, with greater confidence, “let’s continue.”

“Onto the next. Envy.”

“Ah,” you seem to deflate a little and his brows knit together, “well about that. This…wow this is embarrassing.”

“No such thing as embarrassing at this moment. It’s a safe space, remember?”

“Right,” you huff, “okay well here it goes then. I see the sisters of sin every day walking around the corridors, working in the library, in the dining hall and…I envy them. I envy their bold confidence in their appearance and their sexuality.”

He’s silent for a moment, weighing whether or not he should say what he’s thinking. But you deserve to hear this.

“Confidence is not only represented by eh, wearing short skirts and high heels. I see you exude it every day when you’re bossing me around, no?”

You bark out a laugh and it lightens his heart.

“Truth be told,” he sighs, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “I’m not the best person to be taking advice on confidence from. But I know how to recognize it and I see it in you.”

“Thank you,” you murmur so softly he thinks he might have made it up, “can we move on?”

“Si,” he says before clearing his throat, “next one is wrath.”

He hears you suck in a breath through your teeth.

“Oh, I’ve got a good one for this. Well…not good. It wasn’t my best moment. But it definitely fits the bill.”

He makes a noise prompting you to continue.

“You know that new painting that Sister Imperator got at auction? The one of Lilith and Faust? It arrived last week and she asked me to oversee its unboxing. I told all the siblings working with me that once the box was open the painting was to be handled with archival gloves. I had to step out of the room for a second to talk to the head librarian and when I came back…not a glove to be found and the painting was halfway out of its crate. Copia I…I lost my shit. You know me I-I don’t get mad. But the fact that they had disregarded my instruction and got their bare fingers on that canvas, then acted ignorant about the whole thing…Christ, Copia I saw red. I don’t even remember half of what I yelled at them. I had to walk out before I did something I would regret. God, I already regretted raising my voice. I didn’t report them to Sister Imperator but she found out somehow…maybe the librarian? I don’t know what their punishment was but I haven’t seen them since. Copia, it was awful. I was awful.”

“With good reason,” he replies promptly, “they should have respected your authority as a professional in the field and by not doing so not only did they potentially damage Ministry property, but they also embarrassed themselves. Idioti. Though I would have liked to have seen you all riled up.” A confession of his own - Sathanas would he have loved to see you flying at them like a demon, your claws sharp and your words sharper. The thought sends a shiver of arousal down his spine and he takes a moment to gather himself before speaking again.

“Is that all you wish to say?”

“Yes. Can we please move on?”

“Very well. Next is sloth.”

You’re silent for a moment and his heart sinks, hoping you’re not dwelling too much on your last confession. He opens his mouth to speak but you beat him to it.

“Sloth, yeah. I, uh,” you let out a giggle and he’s relieved to hear it, “none of these can get me in trouble with Sister Imperator, right?”

“No,” he says slowly, a grin curling his lips, “this is just between us.”

“Okay good. Do you remember a couple weeks back when I texted you that I wasn’t coming in because I was having a migraine?”

“Sì…”

“I was lying,” the words blurt out of you in a rush but you sound almost gleeful about it, “I was so fucking tired and so cozy in bed and it was raining outside…I just couldn’t do it. Stayed under the covers all day watching Ghost Adventures.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he playfully chides, and he can see your shoulders shake with laughter, “Signorina I am stunned. Horrified, even–”

“Oh it’s not that bad.”

“Horrified…that you didn’t tell me so I could join you. I love those ghost hunting shows.”

Your laugh makes him smile in return, “Next time we’ll play hooky together, I promise.”

He sighs deeply. “Please. I could use it.”

“I know,” you murmur, “no one in this abbey works as hard as you do.”

“Grazie, tesoro. I appreciate your kindness.”

You make a warm noise of affirmation before speaking, “What’s next?”

“Gluttony.”

“Oh Christ,” you cringe, head falling forward, “Maybe…about a month ago? Primo came by my rooms and handed me a Tupperware container of brownies. Told me to eat one per sitting with a sweet old man smile on his face. I’m not an idiot, I heard what he grows in the abbey gardens but my God the stink that came off of these things. I knew I was about to get my shit rocked. So I ate my designated brownie and just puttered around, cleaning up the kitchen. All of a sudden, I’m flat on the floor in front of my fan having an out of body experience. I don’t know how long I was lying there for but by the time I hauled myself up I was so hungry I thought I was losing it. Went through a box of cereal, a sleeve of Ritz crackers, and the next thing I knew I was in the papas’ kitchen making a bag of popcorn. Don’t remember getting there and don’t remember coming back up to my rooms but the next morning I was tucked in bed. So weird.”

He chuckles nervously as if he wasn’t the one to find you wandering the kitchens stoned out of your gourd and put you there.

“Ha yes…weird. That’s…that’s all you remember?”

“Mmhmm. Talk about the devil’s lettuce. Was pissed I didn’t have any cereal the next morning, though.”

“Let’s move onto the next, hmm?” He’s a little louder than necessary but you don’t question his suspicious behavior.

“Yeah sure. Hit me.”

“Eh, greed.”

“Hmm,” you ponder and he hears the back of your head thunk against the wood of the booth. “Damn, this is a hard one.”

“It usually is, funnily enough. You can always skip it, if you like.”

“No, no, no,” you say, leaning forward, “I’m trying to get the full set, let me cook.”

That actually makes him laugh out loud. How he adores you so.

“Greed, greed, greed,” you mutter to yourself, “Ah…greed would include covetousness, yeah?”

“Mmm, is there something or perhaps…someone you have been coveting?”

It’s a leading question and he knows this as he hears your breath quicken. It’s at this point in his fantasies where you confess your adoration for him, where he flees the confines of his side of the booth to fall to his knees before you and worship you as Sathanas intended. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and he tastes the bitter tang of his paints which distracts him for a moment when he hears you say–

“Yes. There is someone.”

The silence is deafening between the two of you and his heart thuds against his ribcage, desperate for you reach over and tear it from his chest. He flexes his hands, the leather squeaking as the both of you sit with the words.

“O-oh?” he finally manages to stutter. He can see your eyes are shut and hears you loudly swallow.

“I, um,” you begin, “yeah. There is someone I’ve wanted for…a long time. I…I think he–I mean they–might reciprocate but…”

Tell her, you fool.

“Can we do the next one, actually?” your voice is so painfully soft and his stomach drops. She is doing you a kindness, his brain cruelly provides, by not telling you of who she truly wants. A sibling, perhaps. Or perhaps…one of your fratelli. The thought pains him so he nearly doubles over on himself as if being punched in the gut. Pride, envy, wrath, sloth, gluttony, greed.

Lust.

He’s startled by the sound of his own voice and you are too judging from the way you twitch. From his obscured view you look positively horrified, as if you had forgotten about this one.

“I haven’t been with anyone,” you blurt out, sounding both panicked and deeply embarrassed. He hardly recognizes his own voice as he responds with uncharacteristic calmness.

“Lustful acts…do not always have to involve another person.”

Now why the fuck would he say that? He can see your eyes widen and even in the dim light of the confessional he registers the violent blush on your cheeks.

“Oh I…oh.”

You raise a hand up to rub aggressively at your face, breathing deep.

“In that case, yes,” you finally say and his gut clenches, “I have indulged in the sin of lust.”

“A-about the person you covet?” He’s pushing it but he can’t help himself, can’t help the hope that simmers in his belly and makes his pants tighten.

“Mmm…mhmm,” you respond and you open your mouth to speak but hesitate. When you finally do, there’s a new tone to your voice - something low. Sensual.

“It’s…good. Fuck it’s good. When I think about them I-I go a little insane. I want them so fucking badly and it’s so easy to think about them and what they could do to me. What I would let them do to me.”

His fist flies to his mouth to stifle the whine that threatens to escape from him and his cock throbs underneath his cassock. He can feel your eyes on him, see your lips parted and it makes him lightheaded. Focus. Focus. Go over there and fuck her against this goddamned confessional. Focus.

“Sathanas bless you, tesoro,” he finally ekes out, his voice hoarse, “in celebrating your body a-and your desire you have made Him proud. Well done.”

A beat passes until you clear your throat. He thinks if he doesn’t tend to his dick soon he’s going to pass out.

“That’s all of them then, right? Got the full set?”

“Mmhmm. You can go if you like.”

“Didn’t you say there’s another blessing at the end?”

Satan damn your ability to vex him when he needs relief…and you…the most.

“Eh, yes. In nomine Padre, et Filio, e-et lo Spiritus Malum,” Cazzo what was the rest of it? “Ah…Sathanas bless this most sacred sinner for reveling in her transgressions against God. Nema.”

“Cool, well uh. Goodnight Copia. This has been…enlightening.”

“It certainly has,” he mutters under his breath, fingers itching to adjust his bulge. He’s not sure if you heard him or not because in an instant you’ve opened the booth and skittered down the nave to the door. He doesn’t breathe again until he hears you firmly shut it behind you and within seconds he’s fumbling for the hem of his cassock. He knows the likelihood that you were talking about him is slim but simply entertaining the thought that it could be has him unzipping his pants with vicious determination. When his cock finally, blessedly meets leather he could cry with relief. He knows he’s dribbling pre on himself but he doesn’t care - all that matters is the way you sounded confessing your lustful actions to him and how it drives his fist back and forth. Oh, how sweet you were. Tempting even when you weren’t trying to be. How he would revel in ruining you. The thought makes him double over, his unoccupied hand pressed against the wall of the booth in an attempt to stabilize himself. When he thinks of you eagerly spreading yourself open for him a broken moan escapes his lips, hips rutting upwards into his grip. What sweet little noises you would make - right there, Copia, please, that’s it - your body eager to yield to his touch.

“Dolcezza,” he grits out, “ragazza perfetta mia. S-so good–ah–for y-your Cardinal.”

His hand is a blur as it rockets along his shaft and he grunts into the silent chapel. He thinks of you looking up at him with that heart-shatteringly kind look on your face, your lips in a soft smile and he cries out, his seed painting his grucifix in desperate spurts. His mind is fuzzy but his hand doesn’t slow, determined to wrench every last drop out of himself until his head falls back and hits the wood of the booth. Groggily, he puts himself away and lowers his cassock before stumbling out of the confessional. His spend drips onto the stone floor but it matters little - surely it’s not the first that floor has seen. All of a sudden he’s exhausted - feeling every second of his five decades - as he blows out candle after candle. When his task is complete he trudges to the door and rests his forehead on the wood for a moment.

He thinks of your smile once more.

#cardinal copia #cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia x female reader #the band ghost #the band ghost fic #rachel writes

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nerdygaymormon · 3 months ago

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In response to the August 2024 updates to General Handbook: Serving in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, the Executive Committee of Affirmation: LGBTQ Mormons, Families & Friends released the following statement:

We mourn with our transgender siblings as we wrestle with the painful impact of recent policy changes and guidelines released by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. With over 45 years of providing support to LGBTQIA+ individuals who are current and former members of the Church, we know first-hand the pain that policies like this cause. We stand with our transgender siblings.

Rather than seek to better understand, include, and affirm transgender individuals who are also Latter-day Saints, leaders of the Church have opted to further restrict these members’ ability to participate. While these changes specifically impact individuals who have socially or medically transitioned, all are affected by the messages conveyed in these policies, which reject authentic experience and identity.

Prior to these updates, transgender members of the Church could expect their gender identities to be respected through the use of their chosen names, to participate in church meetings aligning with their gender identities, and to have some opportunities to be called to serve within the Church. The recent updates reduce the hope that the gender identities of transgender members will be respected, prohibit transgender members from church meetings aligning with their gender identities, restrict access to restrooms, and explicitly prohibit transgender members from serving in the Church as teachers or working with children.

Further, church policy now includes language that encourages detransitioning as the only pathway to reinstate full membership within the Church.

The Ninth Article of Faith of the Church states that “We believe all that God has revealed, all that He does now reveal, and we believe that He will yet reveal many great and important things pertaining to the Kingdom of God.” Modern revelation is a foundational belief of the Church. The claim of prophecy received today from the Lord’s anointed sets the Church apart from most Christian sects. However, in our view, the treatment of transgender individuals by those who claim the mantle of prophecy indicates that they, like Paul of old, “see through a glass, darkly” in this area. In that lack of clarity, leaders of the Church are co-opting ideologies of the world in promoting views of gender being restricted to that assigned at birth and in encouraging detransitioning.

We hope that God will yet reveal better for our transgender siblings.

Until then, Affirmation: LGBTQ Mormons, Families & Friends remains committed to creating worldwide communities of safety, love, and hope, fully inclusive and affirming of all sexual orientations, gender identities, beliefs, and relationships with the Church. We love you. We are here for you.

Fred Bowers, President Joel McDonald, Senior Vice President David Doyle, Vice President

#queerstake #affirmation

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thewordfortheday · 9 months ago

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Our Lord Jesus Christ commanded His disciples to “love one another,” because “by this all will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another” (John 13:34-35).

As a believer in Christ, your Heavenly Father says to you, "Be nice to your neighbour. . ." Our human tendency shouts, "No! I don't want to! He isn't treating me right. Still your Heavenly Father says, "Be kind to one another." In fact, He goes a step further to say, "Love one another as I have loved you." And when you ask, "Why?" He replies, "So others will see that you follow Me."

God-kind of love expects nothing in return. That was what Jesus showed to His disciples when He “poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet” That is the kind of love He displayed when He went to the cross for us.

The love of Christ in the lives of believers is what sets them apart from the world.

Today, look for someone to whom you can show such unselfish love.

#love of god #love your enemies #bible verse #daily devotional #christian quotes #bible quotes #inspiration #daily devotion #christian quote #christian life #scripture #bible

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cursecuelebre · 2 months ago

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Anglo Saxon Nine Herb Charm

Ancient charm that is rooted in Germanic paganism and witchcraft, it’s very helpful for those interested in herbalism, Folk magic, Germanic folk magic and paganism, or just simple herbal magic. It's said that it was taught by Woden or Odin (Norse) who is the god of healing. It’s in the form of a poem, a form of Galdor which is basically is incantation when reciting this poem you’re evoking these herbs. By how the poem is written the plants are spoken like another person or living thing with a conscious mind. It’s one of good sources of wortcunning or medicinal knowledge of herbs. The blog can be helpful for those who wishes to bond with these herbs this poem can really bring good insight.

Some points to take note in this poem, most of these herbs are to be used in a healing context against poison. The Saxons believed that diseases were caused by corruption of evil spirits, elf-shot, most commonly in form of “Worms” not worms we see today in the soil but more like dragons or serpents. “Nesso” is the Anglo Saxon term and Wyrm is High German where Worm derives from which means dragon. That to cast the “worms” out is essentially getting rid of the poison. When you find yourself reading Anglo Saxon charms with “Worm” that is what is being refer to. The number 9 is very sacred in Germanic paganism and witchcraft, also the use of christian elements is suppose to be there. In medieveal context of folk magic in general a common concept is to mix pagan deities with Christianity Woden and Christ is not uncommon in German folk magic to be seen together. The green is the herbs mentioned and after the poem I'll put what some of the herbs are in modern day in english. I should also note there is multiple translations but this version is what I'm most familiar with.

Traditionally to perform the ritual a witches would chant over the herbs and applied to the patient’s body then the witch would blow into the targets ear and mouth to get rid of the evil/harmful spirit.

Remember, mugwort, what you made known, What you arranged at the Great proclamation. You were called Una, the oldest of herbs, you have power against three and against thirty, you have power against poison and against infection, you have power against the loathsome foe roving through the land.

And you, Waybread, mother of herbs, Open from the east, mighty inside. over you chariots creaked, over you queens rode, over you brides cried out, over you bulls snorted. You withstood all of them, you dashed against them. May you likewise withstand poison and infection and the loathsome foe roving through the land.

'Stune' is the name of this herb, it grew on a stone, it stands up against poison, it dashes against poison *Nettle it is called, it attacks against poison, it drives out the hostile one, it casts out poison. This is the herb that fought against the serpent, it has power against poison, it has power against infection, it has power against the loathsome foe roving through the land. Put to flight now, attorlaðe (poison hater), the greater poisons, though you are the lesser, until he is cured of both.

Remember, Chamomile, what you made known, what you accomplished at Alorford, that never a man should lose his life from infection after Chamomile was prepared for his food.

This is the herb that is called Stinging Nettle. A seal sent it across the sea-right, a vexation to poison, a help to others. it stands against pain, it dashes against poison,

A worm came crawling, it killed nothing. For Woden took nine glory-twigs, he smote the the adder that it flew apart into nine parts. There the apple accomplished it against poison that she [the loathsome serpent] would never dwell in the house.

Chervil and fennel, two of much might, They were created by the wise Lord, holy in heaven as He hung. He set and sent them to the seven worlds, to the wretched and the fortunate, as a help to all. It stands against pain, it fights against poison, it avails against 3 and against 30, against foe´s hand and against noble scheming, against enchantment of vile creatures.

Now there nine herbs have power against nine evil spirits, against nine poisons and against nine infections: Against the red poison, against the foul poison, against the white poison, against the pale blue poison, against the yellow poison, against the green poison, against the black poison, against the blue poison, against the brown poison, against the crimson poison, against worm-blister, against water-blister, against thorn-blister, against thistle-blister, against ice-blister, against poison-blister,

If any poison comes flying from the east, or any from the north, [or any from the south,] or any from the west among the people. Christ stood over diseases of every kind.

I alone know a running stream, and the nine adders beware of it. May all the weeds spring up from their roots, the seas slip apart, all salt water, when I blow this poison from you

mucgwyrt - Mugwort

wegbrāde - Waybread - Plantain

Stune - Lamb Cress

Stiðe - Nettle

mægðe - Chamomile

wergulu - Stinging Nettle

æppel - Crab Apple

fille - Chervil

finule - Fennel

*Stiðe most likely means nettle as a type of plants that is used very broadly, whilst stinging nettle refers to the actual plant such as the leaves, stems, etc. Nettle can also mean the roots. Some translations have attorlaðe instead of Stiðe, but in my opinion it's talking about how nettle is perceived here attorlaðe means 'poison hater' link to Fumitory. Perhaps Fumitory to the Saxons was related to Nettle I'm not sure just a theory of mine. Most likely than not the fourth herb in the charm is Nettle in the board sense of the family of plants. Unless someone can give me a more insight on the translation, I be more than happy to be corrected.

I really hope this helps people and it may inspire others on the path and learning of Anglo Saxon culture and Traditions. :)

#paganism #witchcraft #norse paganism #anglo saxon #heathenry #norse witch #herbs #herbalism #wortcunning #folk magic #german folk magic #traditional witchcraft #anglo saxon paganism

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apollosunshineisdead · 5 months ago

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my favorite lyric or two from every will wood song

Everything is a Lot:

6up 5oh: "they shoulda fried me, I'll give ya PTSD!"

skeleton Appreciation Day: "give me all your LSD so i can feel my mind unweave again!"

front Street: "you said let loose, but now you're lost"

aikido!: "i told doctor tillis to prescribe an illness, but he said his schedule's filled with children with need Prozac, prilosec and lo-jack, triple-sec and lexapro"

white Knuckle Jerk: "i wonder how i woke up in the middle of my surgery, and i watched them botch my heart"

cover This Song!: "i'm just a little bit crazy 'bout you, just a little bit out of my mind"

Thermodynamic Lawyer: "so all that i see, absolute entropy as the chemical bounds fall apart"

red Moon: "the crescent rests, tethered to the west"

lysergide Daydream: "ooh, i wanna be on the picture on the postcard, pouring pitchers in the backyard by the garden we tend"

the First Step: "i lost count after 21 in the college crawl"

jimmy Mushrooms': "i think the truth is that everyone's wrong!"

Compound Fracture: "bienvenidos a la villa de arañas españas"

everything is a Lot: "night sky, i wonder why i am alive until i die / i find that at this size, no answer can be right"

destroy to Enjoy: "lao tzu, chaung tzu, yin-yang tattoos, FUCK your mystic wisdom! find your own way home from Bonnaroo!"

SELF-iSH:

self-: "i'll shake the apples from my family tree, so when the autumn comes to take the leaves..."

2012: "testing my hypothesis, never finding a theory!"

cotard's Solution: "rolling my third eye into the back, of my head and squinting through the black"

mr. Capgras: "eulogy or biography, i'm who i ought to be, and that is God to me"

the Song with 5 Names: "WHAT IS "IS"? WHAT IS "NOT"? WHAT IS "WHAT"? WHAT'S UP PARTY PEOPLE! WHAT? / WHY I WONDER WHY I'M NOT WHATEVER, WHAT THE FUCK!"

hand Me My Shovel: "looking up, i could say Heaven sent me! / hand me my shovel, i'm going in!"

dr. Sunshine is Dead: "i'm noone if i'm nowhere in between!"

-ish: "well at 27 will i see, that i was born to be the man i'll be?"

The Normal Album:

greetings from Mary Bell Township!: "so give me your half-life crisis / i can tell that you know where paradise is!"

(vampire) Culture: come on, drink that BLOOD! didn't they want your blood?

Love Me, normally: the Lord looked down, said, "hey, you're only mortal"

2econd 2ight 2eer: "my grip on the secrets' slippin' while i'm speakin' in tongues!"

laplace's Angel: "so if you wash your hands of where you've been until you flood the second floor / neatly fold your skeletons, but still can't shut the closet door"

i/Me/myself: "eating your prosthetic, meet your anesthetic"

...well, better than the Alternative: "she's gonna be a lot like me, but i don't wanna be at all like me"

outliars And Hyppocrates: "i am the shadows cast aside by gallows, and you, the red hot sky"

blackBoxWarrior - OKULTRA: "his ribcage was a hornet's nest, his palpitations set the beat!"

marsha, thankk you for the Dialects: "doctor, what's my prognosis if the studies show that / disease is in the eye of the beholder, tell me "so it goes!""

love, Me Normally: "is there nothing to fear, cuz shit's getting weird!"

memento Mori: "no need to fear cuz when it's Here you won't be alive / try not to think about it!"

Camp Here & There: Campfire Songs:

venetian Blind Man: "string on his finger, a tourniquet ring"

yes, to err is Human: "if you don't hate me, then reanimate me!"

your body, My Temple: "furthering the fever of your fervor for believing, I will"

when somebody Needs you: "fishing lure moon on a string for you, didn't you say you need space?"

"In Case I Make It,"

tomcat Disposables: "what's the moon made of? meet me there after i'm gone"

becoming The Lastnames: "weeding out the garden where the milestones gather moss"

Cicada Days: "here at the end of days, my god, what have I done? / christ, now it feels damn inhumane to get all i dreamed of"

euthanasia: "and every, everybody dies / fighting for their lives, just trying to survive"

falling Up: "airplane eclipses over spirals of math – would or could the impact kill me?"

that's Enough, let's get you Home: "but CO2 and fish tanks do enough to get you home"

um, it's Kind of a Lot: "sorry darling, please excuse my constant need to self-aggrandize!"

half-Decade Hangover: "but i can't make amends for things i can't remember"

vampire Reference in a Minor Key: "the seraphim on my shoulder, whispering "please don't turn your head""

you liked this: "Ten Red Flags that a Neurotypical Narcissist is Trauma Dump Gaslighting You into Sex-Negative Self-Abuse Emotional Labor and Internalised Reverse Racism Against Post-Modern Flat Earthers with Facts and Logic (Number Seven Will Destroy Your Family)"

the Main Character: "judge me by what my cover shows, author becomes beyond reproach"

Against the Kitchen Floor: "i'm not a good person, i'm barely a person at all"

Sex, Drugs, Rock 'n' Roll: "and i hate proving that i'm still human after all"

BFB's Blueberry Pie: " "

Willard!: "so gather 'round pandora's skinner's box, look through the one-way mirror / if you can see in shade's of grey, the colors are much clearer"

White Noise: "it begs the question just to tell you the answer!"

ICIMI outtakes:

misanthrapologist: "I hear your hear beating under the floorboards" and if i did, you deserved it: "that i really don't carе what you think or what you say, either that or I do way too much, oh well whatever, either way"

thank you for listening

#i mightve missed something but this is so incredibly long #sunshine silliness #will wood #wwatt #everything is a lot #eial #self ish #camp here and there campfire songs #the normal album #in case i make it #icimi

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rucbarthatbowtiesarecooldw · 2 months ago

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Saturday Morning Session

Conducting: President Henry B Eyring

Press Forward Saints

Sustaining Vote

I Will Follow God’s Plan

Elder Niel L Anderson

Faith + Hope + Charity

Sacred and Eternal Hopes

Confident Expectations

Hope brightens the darkened room so we can see the glorious future

Hope is a precious blessing

If you have faith, then you have hope – faith is the substance of hope

Joy comes in Jesus Christ as we triumph over the challenges in this mortal life

Alma 32:21 – or just all of Alma 32

Nothing can darken our hope as we believe and hold tightly to our covenants

Every righteous person can receive every blessing

“The joy we feel has little to do with the circumstances of our lives and everything to do with the focus of our lives.” President Nelson Oct 2016

His Joy is constant

As you trust in the Lord His peace will come

Our Hope is the Savior Jesus Christ, He is our Hope and our Triumph

President Emily Bell Freeman YW General President

In order for an ordinance to manifest the power of God in our lives it must be done with authority from the Son of God

We don’t just make covenant promises, we must keep them

Do you recognize how God’s power works within you? D&C 25

Women can fully access the gift of God’s power through priesthood ordiances

Emma was given revelation about how priesthood ordiances would work in her life

Who she was, and whose she was – her place in His Kingdom

Invited to walk the paths of virtue

You are an essential participant in the Restoration

Set apart to expand scriptures and exhort the church

Daughter in the Kingdom-> elect Lady -> Queen

The restoration and the Lord’s counsel to Emma will guide and bless us

We all get a chance to witness and use God’s power. 😁

Times we get to participate in the ordinances of the Gospel

Sacrament

Passing the threshold of the temple

Power of Godliness is manifest

Elder Karl D Hirst 70

He feels Heavenly Fathers love through the love he feels for his children

It’s wonderful that at times we can feel so fully and personally loved and noticed

If Nephi can call Jesus “His Jesus” we can call Him that too

God’s love is where we all overlap on the circles of the Venn diagram

What circumstances help you to feel God’s love?

We’re all Jesus’s favorite and we should all be our parents’ favorite, each of us.

Broken people, perfect love

However misshapen we might feel His arms are not shortened.

You are not beyond the reach of God’s love – He will never stop loving us

When you can’t feel God’s love, we shouldn’t consider the possibility that it’s because God has stopped loving us until after the mountains and hills have gone.

There are different ways of feeling and receiving divine love.

Looking at the starts

Feeling the rain on your skin, or a breeze

Music

Keeping a journal

Ask people you trust to share how they feel divine connection

If you could choose a place for you and Jesus to meet – He may have already found you there.

If you are waiting for Him to come, He may already be there within reach

Hold onto God’s love as effectively as a sieve full of water. When you share it, this can help you feel joy.

Joy is our purpose not the gift of our circumstances.

How Firm a Foundation

Elder Dale G Renlund

The story of Nobel and nitroglycerin turning it into dynamite

Undiminished explosive power

The Gospel provides powerful and transformative benefits for us

The combination of Christ’s Gospel, and the Church of Jesus Christ

The church is not a location or a building – it’s the people

The church is an instrument

Keeping our covenants provides us access to God and transforms us

The church is special only if it is built on His gospel.

The church enables access to God’s power because it’s authorized by Him to teach His gospel and offer His ordinances

Jesus Christ wants nothing more than for us to repent and come unto Him so He can sanctify us. He is relentless and unwavering.

Immerse yourself more fully in the church and the gospel – this is God’s dynamite and with it He will transform us

Elder David P. Homer 70

We have a loving Father in heaven who will care for us wherever we are no matter the circumstances

The boundaries between right and wrong are not for us to define – they were already established by God

While some things may depend on context, not everything does.

Don’t be surprised if our personal views are not initially in harmony with the teachings of God’s prophets. – in time you will receive more spiritual clarity

If we heed God’s word, we will receive more. If we ignore God’s counsel, we will receive less and less until we have none. This does not mean that God’s will is wrong, just that we have lost the capacity to understand it.

D&C 6:36

Look unto the Lord before acting; our faith will overcome our concerns.

Doubt your doubts before you doubt your faith.

Don’t let doubt stop us from seeing God’s divine gifts in our lives.

God loves us wherever we are, whoever we are. In any circumstance you can cry out to Him “oh God, help thou mine unbelief”.

The submission of one’s will, is one of the only uniquely personal things we have to bring to Christ

Our agency is not diminished by staying with Christ it is magnified.

We can be of good cheer as we trust Them more than anyone

Elder Gregorio E Casillas 70

What does our Heavenly Father desire from us?

It is crucial for us to learn to be disciples of Jesus Christ

He uses us to help bring His children to Him

Service shows us charity

Story of the mother who had had chemotherapy the day before and so did not have the energy to take care of her disabled son

Your spiritual abilities are unique and personal

Follow the impressions of the Spirit – God will bless your life, he will bless your family, he will bless his children that you encounter

We have the privilege to watch over people who need a helping hand, and embrace a feeling of comfort, or simply for us to be with them in silence

The Savior always reminds us as oft as we repent and seek forgiveness with real intent, we will be forgiven.

Get rid of destructive thinking. Keep hope!

Give someone hope enough to try once more ourselves.

Be the reason someone has hope in crappy situations

The Lord Jesus Christ is your savior and knows you personally

The Holy Spirit will revive us

God’s Gracious Love

President Dallin H Oaks

Come Follow Me

Following Christ is not a casual or an occasional practice

Obey what He defines as the great commandment in the Law: Love the Lord thy God with all they Heart, love thy neighbor

If you cut the string off a kite it will not fly. That string is our covenants – keeping them enables us to soar to celestial heights

Keep you connection to your celestial ties.

We covenant each Sabbath during the sacrament to always remember and keep His commandments

Faith, repentance, baptism, enduring, and becoming as a little child (trust the Lord)

Temporary commandments are for the needs of the Lords church to be set aside once the need has come to pass

Pioneers

While still in force these commandments are still to be obeyed

Law of Tithing

Needed re-emphasis

Proclamation to the Family needed re-emphasis recently

Avoid contention

Jesus’s doctrine is not one of contention

Matthew 5:44-45

Show unselfish love for all

Blessed are the peacemakers – true disciples of Jesus Christ are peacemakers

What are you going to choose? Contention or reconciliation?

Sermon on the Mount

Follow the golden rule

Love and do good to ALL

Does not mean to compromise our principles and priorities, but to STOP ATTACKING PEOPLE FOR THEIRS!!!!

Will you allow His voice to take priority above any other?

Let us seek to be holy like our Savior

While we advocate for our positions let us qualify for the blessings of Jesus Christ as peacemakers

Teach Me to Walk in the Light

#ldsconf #genconf #tumblrstake #general conference #church of jesus christ of latter day saints

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