#and by some miracle/deal with the devil/divine intervention | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sluttyten · 5 years ago

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craving you like the devil craves heaven

summary: you’re a succubus (a female demon that seduces men to death) and you task yourself with seducing someone difficult. enter mark lee, a priest with a vow of celibacy that he’s already struggling with. you think you’ll have some fun. (based off this message from an anon)

length: 8,622

warnings: religious themes, sacrilegious, corruption, demons, priests, oral sex, masturbation, sex

As a newly-made succubus, you wanted to impress your peers and superiors, and therefore decided to challenge yourself by making your first time special and big.

“A priest?” Your direct superior shook her head in disbelief. “Most would start with a regular mortal who is much, much more likely to succumb to sin. Are you sure you want to commit to seducing a priest? You realize they swear to be celibate, and typically they’re committed to destroying demons like you and I?”

You do realize all of those things, but you’re sure if you find the right one you can do it. Not all priests are perfectly perfect and holy.

All it took was a little bit of divine intervention (or rather you intervening in the divine), tapping into that holy line of mortal prayers. A little eavesdropping, careful listening, and at last you plucked the correct line, listening to the reverberating prayers of a holy man dealing with such sinful thoughts, praying for help in remaining faithful to the vows of the priesthood.

It was night in this place where the young priest was. Cool and dark, the air was damp and would surely make you shiver if you were mortal, but the cold didn’t affect a demon like you, nor did the mist as it clung to your eyelashes and the strands of your hair. You stood across the street from the rectory, standing in the shadow of a doorway, gazing up at the faint golden light of a window on the second floor of the holy man’s house.

You could still hear a whisper of his prayers.

“Lord, it’s me, Mark, your servant. I pray you give me the strength to resist these desires, the sinful thoughts.” He prays, and you can almost picture him kneeling with his hands folded before him, head bowed, and lips moving slightly as he repeats the words of Latin prayers.

You decide to study him.

That night you stand there on the street and watch the house, listening to his dreams, and catching glimpses of his neighbors’ dreams, as well as the other two priests who share the home with Mark. And in the morning you shift yourself to match the wall behind you, to continue your observations as the young priest rises and dresses and walks down the street to the church. You watch as he passes through the cemetery tucked behind the church, and he pauses at some of the headstones to straighten flowers or offer a prayer, and then he enters through a side door, and you stand outside, waiting.

Several hours later a crowd begins to arrive, passing inside through the large, ornate front doors, and soon after music swells, voices rise, and you hear the chanting of prayers upon prayers. You watch as Mark emerges from the church among his parishioners, as he smiles and talks and shakes hands with them.

You take special note of the way that his eyes repeatedly flick toward another human, near the same age as himself. You notice the way his eyes follow their movements, how he smiles when they meet his eye.

Ah, this one. That one is the source of the young priest’s sinful thoughts.

You observe as the crowd thins, disappearing from the front steps of the church until it is only the priest speaking to a mother and her toddler that keeps tugging on her hand and crying, and Mark tries his best to pay full attention to her, but the lovely human who has attracted his notice stands a few feet away, holding a folder in their hands.

Eventually as the bell tower above the church chimes the hour, Mark excuses himself from the mother, stating that he has an appointment to get to, and you watch with renewed interest as he leaves the mother and beckons the nervous-looking folder-wielding individual to step back into the church with him.

They pass through the nave of the church—their footsteps echoing up to the vaulted ceiling, through all the empty pews—and bow at the altar before stepping around to the side, and passing through a doorway tucked behind a statue of a saint. They shut themselves away in the priest’s office, and you listen eavesdrop from your hiding place across from the church, a safe distance from all the blessed holiness that would try to keep you out.

You can’t quite hear Mark’s thoughts, but bear enough to it, sensing the fluctuations in his emotions as the parishioner shows him the divorce file, and pleads with him to help them resolve the issues in their marriage to their spouse in a way that won’t end like this.

You can feel Mark’s tension, the conflict within himself. It’s his duty to help. But the desire he feels for this person sitting across from him.... it’s sinful, it goes against his vows.

That night you watch him walk back to the rectory after another mass, several meetings, a meal at the home of one of his parishioner’s. You listen as he prepares himself for bed, as he prays once more for the strength to get passed this way he feels because he knows it’s not right in the eyes of the church and God.

And that night, after Mark’s window has at last gone dark, after he’s fallen into dreams, you decide that your time for first contact has come.

Mark’s dreams are easy to intrude upon. The boundaries upon the rectory, blessed though they may be, are old and worn and leave several gaping holes for you to slip through and into his mind.

What you’re doing isn’t possession. That’s not in your repertoire.

In his dream, you take the form of Mark’s desire. You form the dream into what you require, setting up the scene as being back in his office, that desk between him and you, the future-divorcée’s file open on the desk.

Mark doesn’t notice a thing, he just slips right from his normal dreams into this one, picking up his lines without a skip.

“....and pray to the Lord. You and Alex can get through this. Counseling and prayer works miracles.” Mark says, and just as he’d done earlier in the day, he reaches across the desk and takes the hand sitting there atop the file.

Unlike earlier though, you’re in control of this dream. You’d felt Mark’s mind buzzing when his hand came in contact with the hand of his secret desire, so you turn that to your benefit now, making your first changes.

“I know it’s wrong,” you say in the voice of the divorcee, “But sometimes I think there’s no use saving the marriage. Alex feels one way about it, and I can understand that. Alex could fall in love with someone else and be happier and I want that for my spouse, of course I do. And if I could fall in love too....” Your look up at Mark sitting across from you, his hand still on yours, and the look on your face is one that you put as much want and lust into as you can.

Mark gulps. His fingers twitch against your hand. “Sometimes people fall in love with someone else. A peaceful resolution to a marriage, the dissolvement, annulment.... that can happen and both parties can remarry happily.”

He’s trying so hard, the poor thing. One look into his eyes and you can see the nervousness and excitement, the way his mind is rushing at this news that the person sitting before him might want to look for new love.

“Sometimes the person that we’re meant to be with is actually right in front of us.” You say.

Mark nods, swallows again. You test the waters, stroke your thumb over the back of his hand.

He jolts in his seat and stands, rubbing a hand over the top of his head as he paces over to a water disperser in the corner of the office, and he fills a small paper cup for himself, gulps it down. And you take this as your next opportunity to try to twist this dream to your advantage.

“Father Lee,” you step closer and closer, coming up right behind him.

His hand shakes as he fills the cup again, but before he can quite lift it to his lips, you curl your hand against his, and take the cup, bringing it to your lips and draining it while you look at him. He watches with his lips parted, eyes wide. Mark drinks too—drinks in every detail of you wearing his desire’s face and putting your lips where his had just been. You can hear his adorable thoughts—the innocent rush he gets from thinking that’s like an indirect kiss.

Things are moving too slow now, you can tell that even in a dream, even when you’re offering everything up for him to make the move, Mark won’t take the opportunity. He’s trying too hard to hold back, and you just want to seduce him.

So you push things ahead just a little bit, rearrange the dream to your liking, which is you sitting on the edge of the desk, leaning back on your hands with Mark’s hands on you. He’s got one hand tangled in your hair, the other on your waist, and the overwhelming sexual frustration you taste on his tongue as he kisses you is so fucking sweet.

Mark murmurs your name.

Well, not your name. But the name that belongs with this face. You press closer, kissing him back to make him shut up, to keep him distracted and enchanted by the lust of the dream.

But perhaps doing that pushes it too far.

Mark breaks away, gasping, “No, wait. I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Irritation flashes through you, and for a split second your true self shines through.

Mark’s eyes widen and he gasps, the whole dream fluctuates, shaking and tipping to the side, and then you’re ripped back to reality, just a monstrous succubi hiding in the space beneath his bed.

You hold still as Mark staggers to his feet. Bare feet brush across the floor, and you hear him slapping his face, pinching at his inner arms, and then you hear him murmuring prayers again.

“Father, I’m sorry for my sins. Please forgive me.” and “Father purge these demons from my mind.”

You wrap your arms around yourself under his bed and smile. You don’t plan to go anywhere.

Several more days pass and you let Mark be. You even return to Hell for a few days to update your supervisor on your progress, and while it’s not as much as you’d like, they are impressed with your target.

By the time you return to watch Mark again, he seems to have calmed down a bit from that naughty dream you’d given him. You return just in time for him to say his nighttime prayers, and once more you wait for him to fall asleep before you enter his space.

You bring yourself physically into the space—at first incorporeal, but then you manifest a tangible shape that you personally admire for all of your earthly adventures, and you settle in to do your work for the night.

Even with a real body, you’re still light as a breath of wind, so when you climb onto the bed and settle over Mark’s chest, he doesn’t stir. Nor does he do anything as you step into his dreams.

This time you observe the dreams for a moment.

You seem to be in a memory. Mark’s brother and himself when they were younger, riding bikes down a street that fades off into white nothingness at the edges, not that either of the two boys seem aware. The dream shifts naturally from that bike-ride to sitting in a car, the windows rolled down, a night breeze filling the interior and raking its fingers through Mark’s hair. There’s a girl sitting in the seat beside him, talking and smiling and dressed cute with a milkshake in one hand that she pauses her story every now-and-then to take a sip at. A girlfriend or a first love. When she reaches over and lays a casual hand on Mark’s thigh, he jumps a little. It’s close enough to what you need, so you grasp onto it and take control of the dream like you’re the one driving a car.

You wear the dream-girl’s face as easily as you’d worn the one in the last dream. You move her hand higher up his thigh.

Mark turns his head to the side with a sharp inhale, staring at you. And then you realize, startling even yourself, that he’s actually staring at you.

The dream ripples and you can feel it pulling away from you, Mark resisting your attempt to control the dream.

“Who are you?” His voice asks, but the Mark in the dream before you doesn’t move his mouth. The voice echoes and booms from all around you.

Abort. Fleeing a dream, tearing yourself from the web of his mind, abandoning your victim in a situation like this seems like the absolute most perfect idea.

But tragically, it seems impossible.

The dream closes in around you, squeezing tight as if holding you there. You grapple with Mark’s mind, and then suddenly the dream releases, Mark gasps awake, trying hard to suck in breaths against the new weight of you sitting on his chest, a succubi filled with the lust and dream-energy you’d been siphoning from him.

Before you can truly flee, dissolving back to your incorporeal form and slipping out into the free night, Mark’s hand closes around your wrist, and with a strength and agility you didn’t expect, he flips you under him, pinning your form to his bed. Trapping you between his warm body and the firm mattress.

“Who are you?” Mark hisses.

You let your true eyes shine through, hoping that the dimly glowing sulphuric color of them will frighten him into letting you go.

Instead, he reaches into his shirt and draws out a cross on a silver chain. You flinch back into the sheets as Mark asks the same question again.

“I’m here to help you.” You turn your gaze away from the cross, locking your eyes on his. “You’re so loud with your lustful thoughts, and I’m here to help you feel better, to tame your lusty sins.” You buck your hips up, pressing up against his hips.

Mark swallows hard. “I don’t know what you are or what you’re talking about.”

“Ah, so you don’t want to fuck that sexy, soon-to-be singleton you were dreaming about the other night?” You bring your hands up both of his arms until your fingertips are under the sleeves against his biceps. “Oh, Father Lee, don’t you know how sinful that is? What would your fellow priests think? What must He think?”

Mark’s jaw tightens, and he brings the cross closer to your skin. Your body tingles and burns.

“Let me up.” You tell him. He doesn’t budge. “I swear to all things evil, let me up or I’ll scream and moan, transform to look like your secret desire so when your Brothers came running in here all they’ll know is I’m moaning your name, and you’re....”

Mark moves.

“Demon.” He spits the word at you like an insult.

You sit up, fixing your hair, and you wink in his direction. “You got it.”

“Get out.”

“Hey.” You stand, raising your hands innocently. “You’re the one that summoned me here. I’m a succubus, and the amount of sexual frustration radiating off of you was too delicious to pass up.” You lean in and sniff at his neck, just to take the opportunity to make him uncomfortable because he’s cute like that. “I just want to help, to show you that you can still feel good, Mark. And anyway, is it breaking your vows if I was just trying to entice you in your dreams? It’s not real is it?”

Mark shakes his head, taking an unsteady step backwards. “Even thoughts are sins.”

You roll your eyes and sink back down onto the edge of his bed. “That’s such a modern misconception. Back in the early days of your faith, people weren’t quite so... prudish. They had sex, some even saw it as praising Him, thanking him for the goodness of it all. Some people still do, why do you think people scream His name during the throes of ecstasy?”

Mark blushes. “Stop it. I know what you’re doing.”

“I’m just trying to help.” You reply, leaning back on your hands and looking up at him. “You’re horny, I can feel that. You’re channeling all of your lust toward one unattainable person because they’re married, Mark. Not to mention, they call you Father Lee, which is very unsexy, might I add. But if you would just give in to your dreams, have a hot little dream of making out, getting down and dirty in your office, then that would give you a bit of satisfaction, right? Have a wet dream like you haven’t since you were a teenager? Or at the worst, wake up with a boner, take care of it yourself. You do jerk off still, don’t you, Father Lee?”

Mark frowns at you. “Shut up.”

“Is that a no?” You gasp, sitting up. “Seriously? But you’re still so young, you’ve got all of these hormones, this energy that you need to release. Even if you feel you can’t release it with someone else, do it yourself.”

Mark turns completely away from you then, but you can still see him reflected in the mirror across the room. “Get out.”

His tone is so dour, dark and serious, that you do get out. You flee into incorporeality, still able to observe the look on Mark’s face when he turns around a second later and sees you’re gone, can still see the shape of where you’d say on his bed. He runs his fingers through his hair, and then begins to whisper prayers to his God for forgiveness for his weakness.

You let a few more days pass before you return, scared that coming back too soon would cause too much damage. But several days, you think, gives him time to think more about what you’ve said. You do watch him though, you watch closer than you’d done before, and you see Mark clumsily try to touch himself, as if thinking about what you’d said, but he always pulls his hand away after a moment with a groan of frustration.

On the fifth night since you’d last appeared to him, Mark lingers in his office at the church, pouring over papers, notes from meetings, notices from the parish school. In the yellow half-light cast off by his desk lamp, Mark looks so much older and more tired than anyone should look at twenty-five.

“You need to do something to relax,” you tell him as you manifest right behind his seat, already rubbing at his tense shoulders.

Mark spins his chair around so quickly, he nearly falls out of it. His pupils expand with fear, his chest rising and falling with the surprised, panicked breaths you’d startled out of him.

“How are you in here?” He asks, his eyes darting around the room to the closed door and the latched windows. You know he’s thinking about how the doors of the church are locked (because he’d checked them earlier after the last service for the evening), and then you can see the switch flip in his mind as he starts thinking about how you’re a self-confessed demon currently standing on holy ground. “How are you here?”

You shrug and step around him, sitting on the edge of his desk and plucking a paper from the middle of one of the piles. “It’s easy to be here. I just feel all tingly in all the good places.” You wink at him.

Mark groans and punches the bridge of his nose. “Am I going crazy? Is that what this is? You’re a manifestation of my mental breakdown?”

“Absolutely not,” you laugh. “I’m real. See?”

You take his hand from his face and bring it down between your thighs, close enough that Mark can feel the heat radiating off your skin, but before you can actually make him touch any part of your body, Mark jerks his hand away. You sigh sadly and return your focus to the paper in your hand.

“So, marriage counseling going well for the unhappy couple?” You scan the document which is notes Mark had taken during the counseling session for his crush. “From the looks of it they have issues. The unresolvable kind. Alex just won’t put out, and your sweetheart has needs, huh? But you know all about that, don’t you, Mark?”

Mark snatches the paper out of your hands. “That’s a confidential document.”

You hold out your hand, and right before Mark’s eyes another page from his desk appears in your hand, and this time you read aloud. “When we first got married, we would have sex regularly. At least once a week, usually more.” You raise your eyes to look at Mark. He’s trying so hard not to blush; you wonder how he got through the session. The next few lines of the message are more whining about the current lack of a sex life, and then it’s gets into the sordid, juicy details that you feel certain Mark had struggled to copy down, but had done so for the specific intent of reliving the rush he felt hearing about the sex life of someone he desires.

So naturally you read that part aloud to him as well, and Mark just squirms in his seat. You look up at him and see that he’s definitely blushing, his hands folded as he stares down at them with such a forceful look of concentration, that you’re surprised they’ve not burst into flames. He’s so determined to ignore you, you can hear the prayers racing through his mind.

But when you toe off your shoes and bring a foot up into his lap, you’re amused to find a raging erection hiding there. Mark shudders as the sole of your foot caresses him. His hands untwist, and one moves to your calf, curling around it, but he doesn’t push you away. Not as you keep moving your foot over him like this. His eyelids flutter.

You don’t dare speak, just let the silence hang in the room as you rub Mark’s erection with your foot, his hand on your calf, the other clenching into a fist on the arm of his chair. His lips part, small sweet-sounding sighs falling free. His eyes close, head dropped back against the headrest of his fine leather seat, and his hips shift beneath your foot.

He looks beautiful like this, you think.

Half-lit by his lamp, blushing and glowing with list and finally-felt pleasure. Your body tingles with your own pleasure, the success of doing this.

Mark’s teeth catch his bottom lip, trapping a grunt within his lips. You press your toes to circle them at the tip of his erection, and Mark’s hips lift up, chasing the feeling, grinding against your foot. He sighs, soft moans and pretty sounds, and then at last, he whispers “oh God” and then shudders and slumps back in the chair.

You feel the wet heat beneath your heel, Mark’s cum filling his trousers.

Satisfied, you vanish before he can open his eyes.

You return the following night. This time Mark is in his room at the rectory, sitting up in bed. His eyes are closed as he leans against the wall, his bedsheets pooled in his lap, his hand resting there. He’s not touching himself, but you can tell that he’s challenging himself not to. He’s hard again, and the moment you present in the room, his eyes open as if he could feel the change in the air.

“Demon,” his eyes narrow. “What did you do to me last night?”

“Why? Did it feel good?” You smile. You don’t walk straight to his bed, though you know you’ll end up there. You walk to the closet, run your fingers over the hangers, you skim your fingers through the dust gathering on the books lining the shelf on his wall.

When Mark clears his throat, it’s then that you finally look at him. “Why are you here?”

“Because you need me.” You nod at his lap, wave your hand in a long gesture at his whole body. “I’m telling you, Mark, the energy coming off of you, it’s a wonder you don’t draw every succubus in Hell to come seduce you, drinking up all this juice you’ve got, I’ve never been so full.”

Mark’s eyes flash darkly, his eyes stuck on your face. “Well you had your fill last night right? I can’t believe.... I’ve prayed to the Lord for forgiveness so many times since last night I went to confession earlier today.”

“Oh did you?” A burst of excitement goes through you, and you hurry to sit on his bed, taking up his hand. “What did you tell them about me?”

Mark shakes your hand off. “I didn’t mention you. Why would I? They’d either think I’m losing my mind, which I’m still not convinced that I’m not, or they’d think that I’m just breaking my vows and having sex with someone. I just confessed that I lost my battle against lust and took care of myself.”

You tut at him disapprovingly, shaking your head as you say, “Lying in confession? Isn’t that an oxymoron? And a sin?”

Mark’s hands clench at the sheets. “I wasn’t lying really. Not if I believe that you’re a figment of my cracking mind.”

You smirk, and when you lean closer and lay a fingertip on Mark’s cheek, tracing along his cheekbone and then dropping to outline his lips, you whisper, “And do you believe that? Truly? That I’m just a figment of your imagination?”

“I don’t know what I believe,” Mark whispers hoarsely. “I don’t know if it’s better to think I’m doing this to myself or that there’s a demon taunting me.”

“Maybe I’m actually an angel in disguise, sent in answer to your prayers.” You shift onto your knees, and lean close to Mark’s face. You hold just an inch away from his lips. He goes almost cross-eyed trying to keep looking at you. “In which case, you should take advantage of this opportunity, no? Let me help you, enjoy it.”

Mark pulls his head back, closing his eyes tight as he drops his head back gently against the wall. “This is a sin. I’m a priest, I can’t be doing this.”

You roll your eyes and move.

Mark peers curiously, and almost fearfully, through a cracked eyelid when he feels your weight leave the bed. But a split second later you’ce settled completely in his lap. He goes stiff, murmuring prayers under his breath as well as something that sounds suspiciously like some sort of chant to banish you.

You stay firmly in your spot. “Why did you become a priest, Mark?”

Your question catches him off guard. His prayers cut off and he opens his eyes, looking directly at you. “What? Because I was called. I heard His voice calling me.”

“When?”

“The first time I was young. Fifteen, I think.” He looks up at the ceiling, remembering. “Again when I was eighteen. I entered the seminary at nineteen, studied until I was twenty three, when I became a deacon, and then I was ordained earlier this year. At twenty five.”

You shift your weight. “And you never doubted it? That this was what you wanted to do? That you wanted to swear yourself to celibacy? Never have sex, never allow yourself to experience pleasure? Tell me, Mark, are you a virgin?”

Mark’s blush returns, flooding his face with heat. “Why do you care?”

“Have you ever been touched by another person?” He stays silent, and you think about what you’ve observed in him. You think about him clumsily touching himself before giving up, about how easily he’d fallen apart under your touch the night before. “Have you ever touched yourself, Mark?”

You can feel how hard his heart pounds now, and in each loud beat you hear your answer.

“Cute. Little virginal priest.” You put your hands on either of his cheeks, turning his face so he has no choice but to look right at you. “Was last night your first orgasm?”

Mark breathes through his nose, holding your gaze, trying to steady his racing heart and mind. “Can you stop.”

“But aren’t you curious? Don’t you want to feel it again?” You drop your hands from his face. “I can give that to you again. I can make you feel even better, actually. If you let me, Mark, I can open up a whole new world to you.”

When his eyes close you can tell that he’s thinking about how to banish you, to send you back to hell. You find that very attractive, particularly when a muscle in his jaw flexes.

“Mark,” you whisper, and you lift a gentle hand to his neck, tracing a finger along a vein that stands out there. “Mark, what if I’m just a figment of your imagination? It’s not wrong then, is it? To want to feel good like you did last night? I can give that to you again, I can make you feel better. Just tell me yes.”

The silence buzzes in the room as you wait for him to speak or do anything.

“Yes,” Mark’s voice comes out shaky, hoarse. “Yes, okay. Just one more time.”

You move before he can decide to change his mind. Mark just takes steadying breaths as you sink down the bed, slipping beneath the covers, fitting between his thighs. He holds his breath when you tug down the waistband of the plaid flannel pants he’s wearing, when you touch his bare erection with your fingers, the tip of your tongue, your lips closing around him.

You’re not sure that he breathes until swallow around him, pushing to take more of his cock down your throat. Your body buzzes with the heat coming off of him, the energizing power of making him feel good.

Mark doesn’t touch you. He clenches his fingers in the bedsheets on either side of his hips as you give him his very first blowjob. You can’t help looking up at him as you do this; watching every look of pleasure and satisfaction cross his face, unrestrained. And when he moans, they’re soft moans, always conscious that you’re not alone together in this house of holy men, that there’s another priest just two doors down, an empty bathroom in between.

You keep sucking him off, taking him as deep into your mouth as you can when he blows his load for the first time.

Mark bites his knuckles to keep quiet. You pull off his erection, keeping your fingers on him, playing with him as he shudders through the last waves of pleasure.

“Look at that, would you? Felt good? How could that be a bad thing?” You drop a tender kiss to his tip, and then sit up, feeling very satisfied in yourself. “Do you want more?”

“More? No. I shouldn’t. I really, really shouldn’t.” He put his hands over his face, pinching at his nose. “Shit. What am I doing? You need to leave.”

You look at him with his face covered, his body on display to your eyes. “Well, if you want more, I’m sure you can look up a summoning ritual for me in one of your holy books, Father Mark. Call me.”

You stand up, and it’s not like you’re going to leave by the door, or anything, but you turn to look around his room one last time. You’re done here. You seduced the priest, drank energy from him, there’s nothing more to be done. You’ve enjoyed your first time, but you’re not going to do the full succubus job to this man, you’ve enjoyed him too much. You won’t drain him and leave him sick. You just hope you opened his eyes.

“Wait.” The young priest grabs your arm before you have the chance to disappear. “How do you expect me to summon you if I don’t know your name?” He says it lightly, almost joking, as if he’s still not sure that he can really take this seriously, this whole you being a seductive demon thing. But the look in his eyes is hopeful.

With a light touch to his chin, you lean in, and whisper your name in his ear.

Months pass in mortal time. You move on from the young priest, seducing many men and some women, draining a few of them dry until they’re just shells of their former selves. You’re currently seducing a wannabe actor, literally sitting on his dick, when you feel a tug inside you. It’s a strange feeling, nothing you’ve felt before, and it’s not pleasant at all.

You push at the man’s chest, the unpleasant feeling spreading through you. “I’ve got to go,” you tell him, and then you turn and vanish, following the strange feeling.

You find yourself in a strange room, a small bedroom.

“So you really never came back to me.” A voice says from behind you.

You spin around, noticing all at once the candles, and then right before you--

“Forgive me, Father. I thought you didn’t want more from me.” You reach out to Mark, standing right here before him for the first time in so long. You missed him. You missed teasing him.

“I didn’t expect you really wouldn’t come back.” Mark stands there just out of reach, his arms folded across his chest. And he looks so good, so handsome in a black button-down shirt and gray pressed slacks. But he’s barefoot and his hair is messy, adding a toned-down casual level to his attractiveness. He clears his throat and you look back up to his face as he says, “I had to make do without you around, you know.”

That piques your interest. “Oh? Did you finally learn to jerk off? Have you been touching yourself? Here in the priest house?”

Mark shakes his head. “Look around, does this look like my room there?”

No, actually. It doesn’t at all. And a quick look out the window shows that you’re in somewhere completely different.

“I left the priesthood,” Mark explains. “What you said, what you did to me, I realized that the priesthood wasn’t what was the best choice for me. I can still serve the Lord in other ways, other ways that will allow me to explore the side of me that you awakened.” And now Mark steps closer to you. At last, he reaches for your face, slipping his fingers into your hair. You practically purr at the contact with him. “I’ve been busy since you left me.”

“Oh?” You lean into his touch. “From priest to manwhore in just a few passes of the moon.”

Mark nods. “I tried to stay on that path for a little while, but I just couldn’t. I craved more, that same feeling you gave me.” He nibbles his bottom lip nervously for a second before admitting, “I actually slept with a woman before I decided to give up on the priesthood. I prayed for forgiveness afterwards, but it just felt like I fucked up too much on that one, so I decided to leave. I moved away, started over, slept around, but none of them touched me the way that you did. Nothing feels better than you.”

You shrug. “It’s part of the job description really. I’m a seductress. You think I’m not going to be the best you’ve ever had? Is that why you summoned me, you want more at last?”

“Demon, I want to make you a deal.” Mark caresses your cheek. “I am a man of faith, and you’ve steered me down some side path that I had absolutely no intention of going down. In the past, I didn’t know what to do with you, but I wanted you. Now, I still want you, but I know what I’m doing. I know about you. I did research about your kind while I was looking up how to summon you again. I want to make a deal.”

“A deal?” You pull back from him, breaking all contact. “Mark, what the hell. Don’t you know what making a deal with a demon means?”

He cuts you off with a shake of his head, dismissive. “I don’t care. I know the risk, but, fuck, I swear you got me addicted to you. Just a few hits, and I crave you.”

“Why would you want to make a deal with me? A binding pact?” You push at his chest and Mark takes a step back to balance. “Are you fucking stupid? You think I want your soul, Mark Lee? You had a good soul, a pure one. That’s why I left you and never looked back! Some things are too good starting out, and tarnishing them with my hands....” You look down at your hands, and you can see through the glamor you wear, down to your real form the ashen hell-burnt flesh.

Mark’s watching you when you look up at him. But he doesn’t look afraid, doesn’t look sad or sorry.

His eyes still burn with need.

“I don’t want your soul,” you tell him, “So I don’t want a deal.”

Mark takes another step back from you. “But I want you. So take the damned deal. Fuck me.”

“And what do you get out of it? You won’t get fame or fortune or health from this deal. You literally just get to fuck a demon until you die, so no, that’s not good enough.” If you were human you’d be sick to your stomach right now. What Mark’s offering you, if he were anyone else you would take the deal, but Mark Lee was a good man when you met him; he was cute and innocent, a pure soul that you wanted to protect so you left for his own good. You couldn’t make him pay the price of being with you.

No, Mark shakes his head in denial and desperation. He comes close to you again, standing just an inch away from you, close enough that both of you can feel each other, but not close enough that any part of you is actually touching.

“Just touch me, please.” Mark pleads. “I miss your touch. The way you made me feel, I’ve been chasing that high for months, and nothing compares. Please.”

You want to touch him. You really, really do.

With a groan of frustration, you cup Mark’s face in your hands. “I’m going to be the death of you,” you tell him in the moment before your lips meet his.

The kiss is absolutely intoxicating. Mark moans and wraps around you, moving backwards toward his bed, limbs tangling together as you both collapse onto his sheets. You pin him beneath you, kissing the air from his lungs, your fingers sliding down the front of his shirt, buttons falling open just at your touch. And when your fingertips move a bit lower, grazing the front of his pants, you find that he’s devastatingly hard.

He rolls his hips up against your hand, groaning into the kiss, whimpering delightfully when you squeeze his erection.

You sit up on him, and Mark follows, needy for your kiss. His mouth crashes against yours, sharp and hot. You push his shirt off his shoulders, and you let him roll you under him, your body nestled into his sheets as Mark unbuttons his fancy slacks, pushing them down enough that you can see his cock pop out.

You grab onto the edges of his pants, dragging him forward up your body, and you all but throw your mouth onto his cock.

Much like the last time, Mark seems caught off guard by the way you make him feel. He moans loudly, fingers knotting in your hair. But unlike the last time, he quickly recovers, seems to know what to do to get exactly what he wants, using his hands in your hair to direct your mouth.

When you can see it in his face that he’s enjoying this a bit too much, you pull off, using your hand on him instead, looking up at him as you jerk him off over your chest.

“Mmm, fuck,” Mark moans, a hand running over his chest and down his abs. “No one makes me feel this good. Not with anything they’ve done to me.” He thrusts forward into your hand. “I need to feel you around me.”

You nod. You want it too. You’re ready for him, and he’s clearly more than ready for you. Mark quickly disposes of his pants, climbing back on the bed, sinking in to kiss you again, and you fall into the kiss, more intoxicating than anything you’ve ever felt. With a hand to his chest, you press Mark onto his back, and you climb over him, straddling his thighs.

You don’t break the kiss, just reach down as you move forward to situate yourself over him. Teasing the head of his erection against your wet, dripping entrance, Mark whines, shifting his hips up eagerly. “Patience,” you murmur, and you leave his lips behind to kiss down his throat, down the center of his chest, and you glance up at him as you allow his tip to slide inside you just as you circle your tongue on one of his nipples.

He bucks up, wanting to bury himself inside you, but you’ve already pulled away again.

“Thought you said you’d know what to do now?” You ask, flicking your tongue over his pebbled nipple. “When are you going to prove that? Because from where I’m sitting--” you sit upright, right down on him so his erection is trapped between his abdomen and your wet heat, “--you’re still the innocent boy who doesn’t now how to fuck me.”

You’re not entirely sure how he does it, flipping from submissive boy trapped beneath you to you suddenly being on your back with Mark’s mouth ravaging your throat, and his cock rutting between your legs, still not inside you, but now it’s you who groans at the tease. His erection glides over your clit, and each time you feel a zip of pleasure.

You grip at his arms, fingers digging into muscle, and then Mark’s cock slips and on the next thrust, he fucks right into you.

Both of you moan as he sinks inside you, his teeth catch at your throat, instantly soothed again by his lips. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Mark mumbles the words against your skin. “You’re so soft, warm. Heavenly.” He buries his face in your neck, his entire body presses against yours--chest and hip, legs tangled together as he shallowly fucks into you while sucking at your throat.

This is intimate and strange and fascinating and fantastic. Your usual partners are just quick fucks that you feed off of their sexual energy and then you leave. It’s not intimate at all, no matter how many times you’d fucked them, there was no intimacy--rarely were attempts made by them, and never by you--but here you can’t get enough of this. You just want Mark closer until you can’t feel where your form ends and Mark begins.

Your fingernails scrape the back of his neck, twisting in his hair as you bring his busy lips from your throat to your lips, needing to satiate the hunger.

This is pure lust, addiction to him and his addiction to you.

You’re not even feeding off the sexual energy of this intercourse, just existing in the moment for the carnality of it all.

Mark’s thrusts grow bigger, deeper, more powerful, and you wrestle with him, letting him stay on top until suddenly you want him beneath you. You want to fuck him, to ride him, and that lasts for a bit until you’re on your belly pressed into the bed, Mark thrusting into you from behind with his lips against your cheek as he murmurs praises. There’s teeth and nails, Mark’s hair sticks to his forehead with sweat. He shivers in delight when you press him again beneath you, circling your hips on his cock, tracing your fingers over the raised pink lines from your nails down his chest.

He looks high, his pupils wide, his skin flushed, and he’s alive with a glowing energy that calls out to you, begging you to drink it in. But you don’t want that here. You just want this, to feel a part of this, to make him feel the best you can because experiencing sex like this with Mark where you’re not using your demon powers feels absolutely insane, makes you feel even better than when you do answer that call, and drink off the energy of your partner.

His hand snaps against your ass, and you realize you’ve just been sitting there, gazing down at him in admiration. “Move, baby.” And he does it again.

“Fuck, Mark. Do you go to confession and tell the priest that you dream about getting fucked by a demon like this?” You roll your hips, sinking forward until your lips are beside his ear. “Do you confess your sins. Forgive me, Father, but I let a demon into my life. She fucked me so good I stopped being a priest because her pussy is worth it.”

Mark moans.

“Forgive me, Father, but when I was a priest, she made me cum for her in the Church, on holy ground.” You squeeze around his cock, and he lets out a beautiful sound. “Mmm, forgive me, Mark, but I think no amount of confession will make up for sinning like this, loving every single thing we’re doing right now.”

“Holy--!” Mark’s voice cuts off as you sit up, curling your delicate fingers around his throat. His eyes roll back from the pleasure, and you just smile down at him, applying pressure to his throat and circling your other thumb around his nipple. He blinks and looks up at you, his mouth hanging open in soundless awe and appreciation, his eyes glowing with lust and something else. You just want to make him feel good.

You press forward, unable to hold back, needing to feel his lips on yours as you ride him, as you feel that pleasure seeping through your body, a warm silvery-golden glow as your toes curl and your body goes warm and light and fuzzy.

Mark’s hands are on you -- on your hips and your hands and in your hair and on your thighs, touching you all over, pressing you down as he bucks up into you, and then he’s cumming and it feels so good too, better than when the others have done it.

You keep kissing him, rolling your hips down on him, wanting to keep this feeling going. It’s one you’ve never truly felt before.

But eventually it must end, and you roll off to the side, and Mark follows, not wanting to let you get too far. He tucks his face against your neck, breath hot and damp on your skin, and his thigh slips comfortably between yours. You feel sticky and sweaty all over in places you didn’t know you could be sweaty, and you feel like you need to catch your breath.

Mark drops a singular tiny kiss to the center of your chest, and then he pulls back, his head resting on one side of the pillow, yours on the other, only a few bare inches between the tips of your noses. You’ve never been this close to a human before (on multiple levels) and you don’t pull back.

“I made a deal with a demon,” Mark whispers, and he uses a finger to brush back a section of sweaty hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “Or at least, I meant to. Don’t leave me.”

“Mark, I won’t kill you.” You tell him, absolutely refusing to let this go where he seems to carelessly want it to go.

His fingers tighten in your hair. “Then give it up. I want you. All the time. And it’s not just because you’re a succubus. I know that’s part of the enchantment, I completely understand that, but I know in a deeper place in my heart that I crave you in a way that’s separate from your crazy, mystical demon powers, okay? Give it up.”

You stare into his eyes, his wide and innocent and hopeful eyes. You want to do it for him. You want to give Mark whatever he asks for. But... “I can’t. This is who I am, I can’t just give up being a succubus. It’s what I was brought into existence to be.”

Mark shakes his head. “I refuse to believe that. You’re a demon, but what are demons except fallen angels.” His thumb strokes over your cheek. “And I see an angel when I look at you.”

You roll your eyes and push his hand away. You sit up, ready to leave his bed, to flee into the unknown from him. But Mark’s fingers circle tightly around your wrist.

“I know how to summon you, I’ll just bring you back,” he says.

“And if I asked you not to?” You flex your wrist, testing his hold. “If I told you that I truly wanted you to leave me alone. What then?”

Mark’s hand falls away and he closes his eyes, turning onto his back to face the ceiling. “I would leave you alone. I would wish I could have convinced you to stay. Because I can see that you want to be here as much as I want you to stay.” He opens his eyes, looking right at you. “You gave me your name before you left, you opened this path for me to find you again, so you must have wanted me to, right?”

Right.

“So stay. I’m a theological man, and I’ve done my research into demonology and the supernatural, into good and evil. You think you’re just a demon, but I think you’re an angel, and somewhere in between where you stand and where I stand is a happy medium, a place where you and I can have this--” he gestures between your two bare bodies in his bed “--without you being afraid of destroying my soul.”

This is absolutely ridiculous.

You want it more than you can explain.

“Make a deal with me, demon.” Mark says, taking your hand in his, guiding it to his chest. He presses your palm flat over his heartbeat. “Stay with me, and I’ll help you become the angel that I know you are.”

This story began with a demon set on destroying her sexual victims and with a priest certain of his fate as a celibate holy man, and now you’re here. Both of you have already come so far from where you began.

You take Mark’s hand, guiding it so his palm lays over where your heart would be.

“The deal is true.” You tell him, and Mark gazes into your eyes as he repeats those words back to you, and just like that a bond is formed, a pact made, and you sink down against him, pressing your cheek to his chest as his arms wrap around you.

And this time you stay.

a/n: oops, I knew as soon as I first read this message that it was probably going to end up as a drabble, but damn I didn’t think I’d make it this long lol

If you liked it please reblog, like, comment. If you’re into the corruption of religious figures thing, definitely also check out Righteous a 5-part series by the wonderful @skzctnightnight it’s not got demons but it does have seminarian student Mark being tempted by the reader and it’s very hot and good

#mark smut #mark lee #mark lee smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut

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yoongailrecs · 5 years ago

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Min Yoongi Fic Recs Masterlist

Note: If some links aren’t working, please feel free to send me a message! I’ll be adding more fics every weekend. Thanks and enjoy!

@bangtan-dreamland

One Shots

Rain - angst, a little fluff

“Yoongi spends too much time at the studio, leaving you to wake alone in your house all too often. But it’s okay. After all, it’s all too easy to notice the hints lying around- and the ring sitting hidden in the drawer the biggest clue of all.”

@chillingtae

One Shots

Baby Maker - fluff, smut

“Your husband is mildly surprised at your request when he arrives home from work, but it doesn’t take you long to convince him that a baby is just what you both need.”

@cinnaminsvga

One Shots

A Boy Like You - fluff

“for whenever you are feeling low, always remember that there is a boy you know who would lift the sky for you.

{or alternatively: Min Yoongi loves you, though he never says it. He’s always been a firm believer in that actions speak louder than any words ever could.}”

Churro Chumps - fluff, humor/crack

“Hey Y/N. If I’m 130 pounds and I eat 1.3 pounds of churros, does that make me 1% churro?” -Min Yoongi, 2017

{or alternatively: two idiots with their two functioning brain cells try to make a Christmas miracle}”

Neighborly Etiquette - fluff, slight angst

“Based on this prompt [x]. You and your boyfriend live across from Yoongi’s apartment, much to his chagrin. Your laughter and dancing and bed creaking were seriously annoying him, until it stops. Then, Yoongi finds himself knocking on your door. And no, he’s definitely not there to comfort you. No way.”

@dinoyoongi

One Shots

Home for Christmas - fluff, angst

“Accompanying Yoongi to Big Hit’s fancy holiday party, you take advantage of the open bar and spiked cider to help rid you of your homesickness. Who would have thought that your tolerance for bourbon was so low?”

@dovechim

One Shots

Tsundere - angst, smut

“according to the rumours, min yoongi is a bad apple- doesn’t take grades seriously, drinks as if he has two livers, a certified bad boy™. when you get paired up with him for a project, you’d never expect that someone like him would have a thing or two to teach you about life itself- and how it should be lived.”

Series

The Singularity Theory 01 | 02 | 03 - angst, fluff, smut

“in your last year of undergrad, you find out what a gloryhole is at the expense of your final year thesis. it’s a classic example of a psychology experiment that went way, way wrong.

but how were you to know that a certain min yoongi would be sticking his dick into your life?”

@floralseokjin

One Shots

;first and last and always - angst, fluff

“You and Yoongi broke up two months ago. It was mutual, you’re positive, but there’s one teeny tiny issue… You never told your parents, and now they’ve invited you back home for Christmas. Both of you. You can’t say no, but you also can’t bear to go alone, so you do the only thing you can think of, plead with Yoongi to come with you and pretend like everything’s okay…”

drabbles

Hold Me Tight - angst

“the end of a relationship comes slowly but suddenly”

@gossamie

One Shots

the things i said when i loved you. - fluff, angst, and a li’l humor

“listen to the past two years of your relationship with yoongi, as told in a series of voicemails.”

twelve minutes in tokyo. - angst, slight fluff

“Yoongi wakes up only to relive the same twelve minutes that ended in tragedy over again. He is quick to realize that this is the universe’s cruel way— or divine intervention— of deciding the fate of his relationship.”

@ggukieslovin

Drabble Requests

01 - fluff

“Hii! I'll fill your box 😂😂 So... making out with Yoongi and you're doing crazy with his marvelous tongue and he can't keep his hands off your bubble bum. Have fun ❤.”

@hiimbo

One Shots

siren - smut

“you’re willing to do anything to get out of having your license revoked after officer min catches you speeding for the third time this month.”

@hobidreams

Series

The Early Shift 01 | 02 | 03 - smut, angst, fluff

“your coworker yoongi is always infuriatingly late. except the one time he’s much too early.”

drabbles

@httpjeon

One Shots

Show - smut

“yoongi decides to show the boys how he makes his girl cum with his mouth alone”

the cockpile: love birds - smut, fluff

“being an adventurous couple has led you down a strange path of amateur pornography with your boyfriend Min Yoongi. you’re dubbed the Love Birds.”

@inkofyoongi

One Shots

Blow - smut, fluff

“Yoongi loves you, even if he’s never said it… but gestures sometimes speak louder than words.”

@itsamejin

Series

Goodbye 01 - angst

“Yoongi watched silently as you exited the car and out of his life, but he can’t help but feel a sense of panic at the thought of you leaving him for good.”

Leave Me 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 - angst

“He’s cheating and you’re aware. You just don’t know what to do about it.”

@jamaisjoons

One Shots

tongue tech - smut

“Yoongi turns you on with that tongue technology”

@jiminssizzles

One Shots

autumn leaves - angst, fluff

“the one where you and Yoongi are lighting fall-scented candles.”

first things first. - fluff, slight angst and crack

“Both Yoongi and Namjoon deserve you, but you can only pick one. What do you do when your bestfriend, Taehyung, put the matter in his own hands, leaving you with no choice but to just trust fate?”

if the world was ending - fluff, slight angst and crack

“The soulmate system works on your side of the world, only it activates after you turn 20 years old.”

Series

Track 2: Afterglow - angst, fluff, smut and a little crack

Part of the Taylor Swift Mixtape Series

“Gail just went to the BTS fanmeet with her bestfriend, Eunice, to see Namjoon. She did not expect that her boyfriend from Omegle will see her there – and that Omegle boyfriend is Min Yoongi.”

Sparks Fly - fluff, slight angst

“It’s Gail’s birthday in a few hours… What do you do, Yoongi?“

@jimlingss

One Shots

Primae Noctis - smut

“Marrying Jungkook is your greatest fortune, but before you can leave the land forever, you owe one last favour towards Lord Min. As the lord of the land, he has the right to deflower you and you will happily allow him to do so.”

Series

She’s Testosterone 01 | 02 | 03.1 | 03.2 - fluff, crack, smut

“Drop dead gorgeous, cute and sassy - you adore your best friend. But is there more beneath the surface? Who exactly is Min Yoonji?”

The Truth Between Us 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 - fluff, angst, drama

co-written by @gukyi

“a book deal should be the most exciting time of your life, but there seems to be a constant and omnipresent damper on your mood in the form of a certain min yoongi, who you would just cut out from your life, if he weren’t your editor. but then, the world shifts beneath your feet, and you begin to wonder if maybe you’ve always been looking at life from the wrong angle.”

@joonary

One Shots

the way to your heart - fluff, humor

“when your office christmas party’s secret santa gives you absolutely no context on what kind of gift he wants, you have no choice but to get to know him better.”

@joonbird

Series

Wildest Moments 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 - fluff, angst, smut

“Min Yoongi is forbidden territory. And although you both know better, the two of you just can’t seem to stay apart.”

@katobobato

One Shots

Teach Me - fluff

“In which you use learning a language as an excuse to tell Yoongi how much you love him.”

@knamjooned

One Shots

Time Skip - fluff, angst, thriller

“34D 14H 46M 57S. 55S. 40S. The soulclock seemed to be skipping numbers, counting down much faster than the other’s soulclocks were. As it began to skip minutes, Yoongi realized he needed to find you before time ran out.”

@minnpd

One Shots

Dancing With The Devil - smut

“At first, Yoongi was just another handsome face with a charming mouth, stroking your ego while you laughed at his terrible jokes and topped off his drink twice as much as you charged him for. It was fun to flirt with the customers, an exhilarating game of cat and mouse that never went beyond the doors of the club. Until Yoongi.”

@out-of-jams

One Shots

A Toast - smut, fluff

“Who cared that you had a whole wedding reception waiting for your arrival? Besides, did they really expect any less when your groom had shown up to the altar with newly dyed black hair and an undercut?”

Series

Cheers If You Agree 01 | 02 | 03 - fluff

“If it weren’t for the fact that he didn’t know who you were or even how to get into contact with you, Yoongi wouldn’t be posting all over Weverse for anyone to see. Not that he thought anyone would be smart enough to put the pieces of the puzzle together with how many people responded to his posts anyway.

Except you. He hoped you could.”

@personasintro

One Shots

Next Door - smut, fluff

“Your neighbor doesn’t respect your complaints about him being loud, but you don’t let it slide so easily.”

Stay High - smut, fluff, angst

“You’ve to stay high to keep your ex out of your mind when he comes back into your life.”

@ppersonna

One Shots

make me - smut, fluff

“an ordinary sleepover with your best friend turns into anything but ordinary, thanks to your ridiculously loud neighbors above you.”

the landlord - smut, fluff

“your air conditioner breaks right at the height of a recordbreaking heat wave. good thing your hot landlord, yoongi, knows how to attend to any needs you may have.”

@scriptaed

One Shots

behind closed doors - angst

“after falling for your already taken best friend, min yoongi, your confession results in a less than surprising fall out. three years later, you find yourself at your own wedding, except whom the last millisecond of each one of your heartbeats is beating for isn’t the groom; it’s him.”

it isn’t love. - heavy angst, fluff

“it all happened too fast. first, he held you in his arms in the couch of your living room, and next, he had packed all of his belongings and left you to an abandoned apartment without warning. now, he’s known as suga of bts and the only way you can cross paths with the renowned star once again is to win a date with his bandmate, kim namjoon.”

tell me that you love me. - angst

“sometimes letting go is the hardest thing to do - a cruel lesson that comes crashing on the both of you when the unexpected occurs: a mutual fall out of love.”

@searchingtae

One Shots

Morning Star - angst

“When Yoongi fell from heaven, he never once regretted the reasons leading up to his fall. What he does regret was bringing you into this.”

@softlyjiminie

One Shots

nine months from now - smut, angst, fluff

“this was not supposed to happen. this was never in the plan. a sudden, unexpected turn of events leads you into a world of baby bottles and baby grows, it just so happens that the cause of this mess is your boss…min yoongi.”

@sugalarity

Drabble Requests

01 - angst, fluff

“i'm not sure if you do requests, but can you please do a yoongi drabble that is a soulmate!au? something with shooky shooky keeps on playing in yn's head on repeat and yoongi is kinda annoyed because he hears it too. but for a twist, make it angst. 😂”

@thestorytellerofkpop

One Shots

In My Head - angst

“Yoongi is slowly distancing himself away from you, and you can’t help but fall victim to the insecurities in your mind as you can’t help but ask: why?”

@yeontanismypresident

Series

I’m Done 01 | 02 | 03 - fluff, angst,

no summary

@yoonia

One Shots

Undo - angst, smut

“You were his soulmate, that part he knew well. Until one day he didn’t want you anymore. He couldn’t, when all he could see from you was light and all he felt within himself was darkness. Your love has gone cold as he retreated from you, burying himself deep in the dark. But what happened when Yoongi had to watch you start over with somebody else, when Yoongi let his selfishness gain control on him of you.”

drabbles

Series/Drabble Request

Reflections 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 - angst

“Yoongi + “How could I ever forget about you" + Angst | for anon”

@yoongi-sugaglider

Series

Forget Me Not 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 - angst, fluff

“Yoongi + “How could I ever forget about you" + Angst | for anon”

#masterlist #m.list #mlist #yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi smut #yoongi fic #yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi fic recs #yoongi fic rec

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justjesusthoughts-blog · 8 years ago

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Evidence for God

There is overwhelming evidence that God not only exists, but that the words he gave us through the Bible are true and inspired by him. In the following, I will lay out some of the main points of evidence for God and Christianity, but I will still barely even scratch the surface. You will find that the more you look into evidence for God, the more you will discover.

Martyrs- When Jesus walked the earth, he gained many followers, and he even had 12 close ones called his "disciples" who followed him everywhere he went and learned from him. They, along with many others, including people who were not his followers, were with Jesus when he died. They witnessed him being nailed to a cross, they saw him take his last breath, they watched as the soldier stabbed him in his heart to make sure he was dead, and they buried him. Three days later, these same people watched in complete shock and awe as the same Jesus walked amongst them, performing miracles and showing off the holes in his hands, feet, and sides. Thousands of people who witnessed his death gave eyewitness accounts to the writers of the gospel that they saw Jesus with their own eyes just days after he was killed. Not only this, but most of his disciples, and many of his family members, friends, and followers were murdered later on because of their belief that Jesus was God in the flesh and that he came to bring forgiveness to anyone who would turn from their sinful ways and follow him. Even in the face of painful deaths, torture, ridicule, isolation, and excruciating pain, hundreds of people did not waver in their beliefs or take back what they had said. Think about this: if these people were lying, and just trying to trick people into believing something for their own gain, why would they die for it? There's no way all of them were crazy. The only explanation could be that they truly saw Jesus die, they saw him resurrected, and these things convinced them beyond a shadow of a doubt that everything Jesus had said was true. He was the son of God, and his message of forgiveness was so important that they would rather die than give up on telling people about it.

The Bible's Consistency- Have you ever played the game "telephone"? The game starts with one person whispering a word or phrase in the ear of the person next to them and then that person whispers it in the ear of the person next to them, and when you get to the end of the circle the last person tries to repeat the original word or phrase. After being passed around so many times, it is usually so twisted and changed that it hardly even matches the original. If the Bible was conceived from human minds, this is what you may expect it to be like. Inconsistent, with conflicting views and stories, which would make it completely unreliable. But this is in fact the opposite of what we see in the Bible. The Bible contains 66 different books, written by 40 different authors over the span of 1,500 years. It wasn't put together into one book until recently. As a result, many of the authors never read each other's books or even met each other. They all claim to have received their words from God. The Bible never once contradicts itself. Not. Once. Even different accounts of the same event may present different details of the same story, but they never disprove the other by contradicting the other. There is one common, unifying theme throughout: of God's vast power and greatness, and of his love for the people he created which ultimately results in him sending his own son to die to save us.

Prophecies: R.C. Sproul once said, "The very dimension of the shear fulfillment of prophecy in the Old Testament scriptures should be enough to convince anyone that we are dealing with a supernatural piece of literature... God himself has planted within the scriptures an internal consistency that bears witness that this is his Word." The Bible contains about 2,500 prophecies (predictions) about future events such as the life and death of Jesus Christ, the end times, and important historical events. The only prophecies that have not been fulfilled are the ones that are about the end of the world, about 500 of them. The other 2,000 have all been fulfilled to the letter. The Bible not only backs this up, but scores of other historical records as well. The odds of all of these prophecies being fulfilled by chance without any errors is less than 1 in 10 to the 2,000th power. So basically, the chance of these coming true by chance and not divine intervention is next to impossible. Here's an example:

Some 400 years before crucifixion was invented, both Israel's King David and the prophet Zechariah described the Messiah's (Jesus's) death in words that perfectly depict that mode of execution. Further, they said that the body would be pierced and that none of the bones would be broken, contrary to customary procedure in cases of crucifixion (Psalm 22 and 34:20; Zechariah 12:10). Again, historians and New Testament writers confirm the fulfillment: Jesus of Nazareth died on a Roman cross, and his extraordinarily quick death eliminated the need for the usual breaking of bones. A spear was thrust into his side to verify that he was, indeed, dead.

For examples of a few more of them, go to http://www.reasons.org/articles/articles/fulfilled-prophecy-evidence-for-the-reliability-of-the-bible.

You can also Google biblical prophecies and see examples of many others.

Jesus was who he said he was- The ex-atheist turned Christian C.S. Lewis once said, “I am trying here to prevent anyone saying the really foolish thing that people often say about Him: I’m ready to accept Jesus as a great moral teacher, but I don’t accept his claim to be God. That is the one thing we must not say. A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic — on the level with the man who says he is a poached egg — or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God, or else a madman or something worse. You can shut him up for a fool, you can spit at him and kill him as a demon or you can fall at his feet and call him Lord and God, but let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about his being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to.” One of the arguments for Jesus being the son of God and not just a great teacher is this: that the only three options for us to believe is that Jesus was either a liar, a lunatic, or he was who he said he was. Those are the only three options, considering that Christians and atheists alike cannot deny at least the existence of Jesus based on historical evidence. If he was a liar, he would not have been able to do the things he did. Eyewitnesses reported Jesus performing many miracles: healing people they had known their whole lives who were blind, deaf, and paralyzed, calming a storm, multiplying a few fish and a couple loaves of bread into enough to feed 10,000 people, and even bringing people back to life who had been dead for days. A liar also probably wouldn't allow himself to be tortured and die if he was just trying to trick people. Add to these the fact that he himself resurrected from the dead, and it's pretty easy to tell that he wasn't just trying to fool people into thinking he was God. Second, he could not be a lunatic. Thousands of people would not follow a lunatic or someone who was not what he said he was. Look at Jesus's words and you can see that what he says are not the rantings of a madman. He was intelligent, he was consistent in his teachings, and his teachings make sense in light of the person he claimed to be: God. Not only that but his followers later were tortured and died for what they believed. That many people just don’t die for the random teachings of a madman- what he said they believed to be true based on what they witnessed and saw in him.

History does not contradict the Bible, but reinforces it- The more historical records and artifacts that are found, the more confidence we find in the Bible being true. Nothing that has been found has contradicted the Bible, but agrees with what the Bible says. Not even atheists dispute the historical accuracy of the Bible. Here are just a few of many examples (again, you can find tons of examples just by googling):

-A common flood story: In Genesis, the Bible tells of a great flood that wiped out almost all of mankind and animals. This has been proven scientifically, and also historically. Other cultures, such as the Mesopotamians, the Greeks, and the Egyptians all have records of a great flood in primordial times. Even Native American cultures have legends about a great flood. The reality of a great flood occurring at this time is also now supported by fossil evidence.

-In Genesis, the story of the tower of Babel tells how in the beginning of the world, all the people spoke one language but God confused their language and created many others. Ancient Sumerian and Babylonian tablets have records of this event occurring.

-The Bible's records of the Kings who ruled in certain countries and times have been shown to be completely accurate. In addition, the Bible chronicles many battles, wars, and the downfalls of many civilizations which have likewise been recorded in other sources.

While this alone doesn't prove that the Bible was divinely inspired, it does add more depth to the reliability of the Bible. The more reliable we can find the Bible about historical things, the more we can count on the reliability of other things. For example, think about the story of the Boy Who Cried Wolf. He told the townspeople there was a wolf about to devour their sheep several times when there wasn't a wolf in sight. Then, when there was actually a wolf about to kill all their sheep, they did not believe him because he had lied so many times before. If the Bible was wrong about historical events, we would not be able to confidently say that it was right about other events, like the resurrection of Jesus from the dead, because people would be able to point to that and say, "Well it was wrong about this battle or this king's reign so how can we trust anything it says?" It's like if there was a weatherman who was accurate 100% of the time. Suppose he told us it was going to snow in Southern California in the middle of July. We might think that's crazy or outrageous, but if he had been right about other seemingly impossible predictions before, we would be more likely to believe him.

The Bible predicts many scientific findings YEARS before they were discovered- The Bible talks about many scientific things that were not discovered until centuries later. However, it does not predict even one thing that is inaccurate. Many other religions, books, and cultures have predicted future scientific discoveries but none with the accuracy of the Bible. If a human were to predict future scientific advancements you would expect that they would be wrong a lot, probably more times than they were right. But what we see with the accuracy of the Bible is exactly what you would expect if it were inspired by God himself- it contains no errors. Here are a few examples of many:

-The Bible says the earth is round; for years it was believed the earth was flat. Isaiah 40:22 says, "It is he who sits above the circle of the earth."

-The Bible says that the earth hangs in space: "He stretches out the north over empty space, He hangs the earth on nothing." -Job 26:7. It was widely believed at this time that the earth was supported by something. Other cultures believed the earth sat on the back of a turtle or an elephant, while others believed gods like Atlas held it up.

-Job 38:16 talks about "the springs of the sea." Until the 1970's, scientists believed the ocean was fed by rivers and rain. It wasn't until we were able to create the technology in the 70's to explores the depths of the ocean that we found out the ocean is fed by underground springs.

-Blood is the source of life and health: "For the life of the flesh is in the blood" (Leviticus 17:11), and "For the life of every creature is its blood, its blood its life" (Leviticus 17:14). At this time, people with all kinds of medical conditions were usually treated by being "bled" to get rid of whatever was infecting them and making them sick. Now we know that blood is essential for life and that we must have enough of it to stay alive and functioning.

-The Bible also contains many instructions to the ancient Hebrews about sanitary laws that were not discovered until much later. For example, God warns against drinking out of stagnant pools of water, which we now know cause diseases like cholera. He also instructs them to bury their feces and to bury it away from their camps. Soldiers were even dying in World War I due to keeping their waste too close to them, so the Bible was way ahead of its time in this. This also shows us that even when we may not understand God's commands or see the point in them, God sees the bigger picture and ultimately has our best interests at heart.

Personally, one of the most compelling aspects of Christianity is in the sheer complexity of our universe. If we were even a fraction of an inch closer to the sun, we would burn up. If we were a fraction of an inch further we would freeze. We are sitting on a ball, covered in 70% water with a core of magma and lava, spinning at thousands of miles an hour and yet we don't fall off. I see God in the beauty of nature and in the variety. There's caterpillars with their tiny little legs and their antennae for sensing and then there's massive elephants with trunks that act like an arm to reach to the tops of trees for food and to reach down to drink from pools of water. Then there's humans, the most complex and remarkable creatures of all. We have thousands of nerves for sensing the world around us, and we have more nerve endings in the places we need them like our hands. We have all these systems in place inside our bodies to maintain homeostasis like our blood buffering system. God could have created us like the plants to eat: he could have created us so that all we have to do is stand in the sun and get our energy. But he created all kinds of different foods for our enjoyment and creativity. He gave us feelings, which we aren't always thankful for but don't they make life worth living? That feeling you get when you see someone you love that you haven't seen in a while. That feeling you get on a still, quiet morning watching the sun rise before the rest of the world is up. That high you get when you do something daring, the peace you feel when you're in nature, the love you feel when you look at your kids or your spouse or your friends. God is present in everything around us. There's no way something this spectacular arrived out of nothing, and I think deep down we all know that. The problem of a God arises when we realize that the presence of an all-powerful, all-knowing, righteous, perfect God means that we have someone to answer to at the end of our lives. That we can't just live our lives the way we want to and get away with it in the end. But the good news is that God doesn't exist just to judge us or give us a bunch of rules to follow that we can never accomplish. God gives us rules to live by because he loves us. Think about it, if a parent let their child run around and play in a busy street all the time, the kid might love it. No rules, no one to answer to, just complete freedom. But that's not loving the child. If a parent truly loves their child they will set boundaries and tell them to play in safe areas because they don't want them to be hit by a passing car. Even if the child doesn't understand it, it is up to the parent to do what is best for the child because he or she loves their child. And it is up to the child to follow the rules because even if they don't understand the rules, they trust that a loving parent knows better than they do and that the rules their parent is setting is for their own good. In the same way, God sets rules for us. He tells us not to be jealous of those around us, because he knows jealousy is going to make us dissatisfied with our own lives and cause us to not be thankful for all the ways he has blessed us. He commands us to take care of the poor and the widows because he wants all his people to be taken care of. He commands us to love him with all our hearts, souls, and minds because he knows that ultimately, we can never be fully satisfied by anything but a relationship with him. And God doesn't expect us to be perfect either. He knows we will mess up, but lucky for us his forgiveness never runs out. He sent Jesus to die the death we deserve so that we can stand blameless and pure before him. He doesn't seek to take from us, but rather to give. He doesn't want to take our freedom from us, he wants to set us free from the weight of sin. He wants to provide us with the joy, peace, security, ultimate acceptance, and sense of purpose that we can only get from him. He only asks that we stop running from him and instead run to him, turning from our old selves so that he can make us new. He wants you so desperately, but he loves you so much that he gives you the free will to choose him for yourself.

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