Tumgik
#i don't care what the bible says
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
(Image description: two square images with rainbow gradient backgrounds, each image has bold white text with a black outline in the center. The text says 1) "separate church and state" and 2) "I don't care what the bible says".)
PlanCPills.org
AidAccess.org
HeyJane.co
INeedAnA.com
AbortionFunds.org
AbortionOnOurOwnTerms.org
2K notes · View notes
ranx · 2 years
Video
0 notes
Text
I've been reading Exodus lately and I've just gotten to the portions where God gives the first commands to the people via Moses (twice), and then goes on to give detailed instructions about the tabernacle and how it should be built, and I'm just... we think art is unimportant?? we think things only mean as much as their functionality?? we so easily fall into the trap of believing that beauty means nothing, that it's cheap and only worth whatever mindless distraction it brings, that it's barely more than a cheap sensual thrill, that buildings should just be practical and plain and cheap, that everything should be functional but ultimately disposable, that paintings and dresses and mugs and curtains and carpets are just pretty but have no real value, that beauty is fleeting and vain and therefore shouldn't be thought about too much, if even looked for at all... we fall into these traps so easily, and we forget that there are chapters upon chapters of painstakingly detailed plans to build one portable worship tent, and those plans have been handed down through thousands of years of human history, because beauty and art and skill in craft is important
#I have to go get ready for work now but I will come back to this#and don't even get me started on the parts about God calling specific craftsmen *by name*#he called them!! by name!!! he said 'this man is good at his job. he creates beautiful work. he will build my temple and make it beautiful'#and even more--God inspired him!!!! it was a calling of GOD for him to create beautiful carvings and tapestries and candlesticks!!!#look even if you're not jewish or christian or religious at all you have GOT to see what it means that all these incredibly detailed plans#for building this tent-temple are extremely important#because even if you don't believe in God and don't think that this is all significant bc he personally gave the instructions#and then helped preserve this record of them so we could still read them today#you do have to see how important they were to the people of that time who first wrote them down#and the extreme care that was taken to record all of those detail#AND the fact that it's been preserved for so long and we can still read all the care that was put into creating this incredible piece#of artwork and worship they made#gurt says stuff#I just. gahhfhhfj. I'm feeling emotional about chapters of the Bible that I can't even fully force myself to pay attention to#bc there's so MUCH and I'm bad at visualizing this stuff and I tend to zone out while listening to it#but the fact that it IS that much!!! that there SO MUCH DETAIL and it goes on for SO LONG that I even struggle to pay attention!!!#that this was THAT IMPORTANT to the people who wrote it and to God!!! as an artist and someone who has always cared about art#this means so much to me ok#christianity#bible verse#bible thoughts#exodus#art#theology
616 notes · View notes
Note
Why did God harden the Pharaoh’s? I’m in a Bible as Lit class and someone brought up “wouldn’t that be against free will,” and why did God let the Israelites stay it in slavery for so long. Why is God different in the Old Testament to the New Testament? I hope this doesn’t bother you, with all these questions
Okay, so there are several different questions here and I'm going to try to address them all. I'm sure I'll miss something somewhere, so other more knowledgeable friends feel free to add on. Follow-ups are also very much welcome.
First off, Bible as literature class! Yikes. I took a Bible as lit class for my English minor years ago and my experience was pretty much wall-to-wall frustration. It was mostly an exercise in coming up with the most transgressive reads on Scripture possible and that really upset me.
I hope that your experience is better than mine. However, assuming that the class is at a secular university, I'd still encourage you to be intentional about talking the things you cover in class over with knowledgeable Christians in your life. I certainly benefitted a lot from doing so, both in the sense that I got to vent a whole bunch and in that I got help contextualizing the secular perspectives within Christian scholarship.
That out of the way: The God of the Bible is the same in both the Old and New Testaments.
I do understand where you’re coming from. It’s not uncommon for people to find God kind of inscrutable in the OT when they're more used to reading the NT. I actually think that's a failure on the part of the contemporary church in the West; large swaths of the OT tend to be understudied among lay-Christians.
Systematic theology can help a lot here. I'm just going to hit a few really broad highlights, but I really can't recommend Wayne Grudem highly enough if you're interested in more in-depth reading. Lots of people start with Bible Doctrine, but my family happened to have a copy of his enormous Systematic Theology tome in the basement when I was in high school and I got a lot out of just poking through that a little at a time too. A few quick bullets though:
Across all the Biblical texts, God is love. He glories in kindness to his people, whether it's in the covenant with Abraham, the Exodus, the faithful ministry of the prophets, Christ's ministry/death/resurrection, or the promised coming of his kingdom.
God is holy; he gives the Law to the Israelites so that they can approach his holiness without fearing for their lives and he sent Jesus so that we can do the same. Both Isaiah and Peter react with fear and awe in the face of God's holiness.
God is just. By virtue of his holiness, he cannot allow sin to go unpunished. As modern westerners, we often chafe against this but has any of us experienced justice that was actually pure? Justice is a form of faithfulness, and the same God who sent his people into exile poured out his wrath on his own son in our place. He has promised that one day, every evil will face his perfect justice.
God is faithful. He keeps his Covenant with Abraham even unto the cross. In the OT he is faithful husband to an adulterous people. In the NT he tells us that when we are faithless, he remains faithful, for he cannot deny himself.
Lots of other characteristics but this answer is going to be long enough as it is. The only way to get a real sense for the continuity within the Bible is to read the whole Bible with an eye towards the continuity.
The reason that God is more approachable in the NT than the Old is that he became human. In the Incarnation, all of that holiness and justice and faithfulness and love that was God came to earth in our perfect likeness so that he could live beside us and die for us. God is certainly easier to approach in light of Christ's work, but he is utterly the same as he ever was. Read the Transfiguration and tell me that isn’t the God of Mount Sinai. Read John 1 and tell me it doesn’t remind you of the end of Job. Read the Gospels, Hebrews, and Revelation and play spot-the-OT-parallel. It's beautiful.
Why did God leave his people in slavery for so long? You could ask the same question about the Babylonian captivity and even about why Jesus waits to return and finally defeat Death. Why does he wait? Why let his people suffer?
Well. God is sovereign and he only permits evil to the extent that it ultimately accomplishes the very opposite of what it intends. Because the Israelites were slaves in Egypt, the Exodus was able to occur. The Exodus glorified God in extraordinary fashion, both among his own people and to the peoples of the ancient world. It was also a necessary type and precursor to Jesus's work on the cross. I don't think it's an overstatement to say that redemptive history rests on God's work in the Exodus, which is itself contingent on a period of slavery in Egypt.
“How long, O Lord” and “Come Lord Jesus” are the same sentiment in different words. We are still in exile, even now. We are chronologically exiled from the place where we belong, the New Jerusalem, and we mourn because we live in a fallen world in which sin and death can still hurt us. We can ask, just as the Prophets once asked, why God waits to vanquish the Enemy, extract suffering from the world, and restore our years that the locusts have eaten. And in each case (the slaves in Egypt, the Babylonian captivity, and the period of waiting for Jesus to return), the answer is that God does not fix it yet because He is doing something bigger!
Regarding Pharaoh's heart: this is basically a question of human nature. The easiest way that I can articulate it off the top of my head is using Augustine's fourfold state of man:
Prior to the fall, man was able either to sin or not to sin (posse peccare, posse non peccare)
The natural state of man after the fall is one in which he is unable not to sin (non posse non peccare). This was Pharaoh's state.
Following the work of Christ, regenerate man is able not to sin (posse non peccare)
In eternity, glorified man will be unable to sin (non posse peccare)
When we talk about man's will, we must acknowledge that our wills are subject to our nature. In other words, Pharaoh was a natural, fallen man. His nature was inherently sinful and his heart inherently hard.
What we've got here is sort of a "Jacob I have loved but Esau I have hated" situation. Pharaoh, in his natural state, had a hard heart and a natural enmity with God. God did not intervene to give him a heart of flesh. My people I have loved, but Pharaoh I have hated.
Not a perfect parallel, but I think it serves its purpose. The point is that God's sovereignty isn't in conflict with man's will, since our wills are a function of our natures. Man behaves however his nature inclines him to behave at any given time. We call this free will; however, God is entirely sovereign over all of it.
This is definitely a long, messy answer, but like I said, feel free to continue the conversation. I've got some biochem to work on, but I'm always happy to talk theology :)
#Secular Bible as lit classes really are a quagmire#mine was basically where I decided that I straight up do not care what non-Christians have to say about the Bible#(in the scholarship sense I mean)#if you don't have skin in the game then i couldn't care less what you think on authorship/characterization in genesis/weird subversive take#on ruth/Job being internally inconsistent/God's gender/the purpose of the parables/whatever other nonsense#sigh#and like. i had a good theological grounding to be able to push back on the BS nine times out of ten#my prof actually called me the most engaged student she'd ever taught which was pretty hilarious#but i was FURIOUS on behalf of the other Christians in the class who by and large had relatively shallow foundations as far as i could tell#like one girl was seriously doubting whether God was good when we did the prophets because of the way it was presented#i went to the prof's office hours one time to pick a fight (long story) and she told me that she's had numerous students over the years#that renounced their faith after taking her class#i spent the whole semester praying for all the names on the class roster#ugh i could rant about that class forever#meanwhile! no discussion of the ACTUAL literary merits of the Bible which are awesome!#the poetry the reoccurring motifs the deft use of metaphor the beautiful elevation of theology to art#i wanted to talk about that!#and that wasn't what the class was about#this was years ago and i'm still mad. sorry#maybe that'll be a separate post one of these days#ask me hard questions#only thou art holy
41 notes · View notes
Text
I want to talk about the hipocrisy of christian parents, specifically mine. Specifically mine relating to the story of my birth
See my mother couldn't get pregnant, every doctor she saw told her that she'd never be able to get pregnant and carry a baby to term, they offered her ivf treatment but even then there was a very small chance of her actually carrying to term. So, as she was raised in the church she did the only thing she could think of doing, she prayed, and prayed and prayed, after all it had worked for Hannah so why not for her. After a while she did get pregnant and 9 months later I was born, the only complication being that my lungs were underdeveloped, neither of us should have survived the pregnancy, doctors were stunned, by all accounts it was a miracle.
Yes, I was a miracle baby.
My parents told me this story many times growing up, and I really think they shouldn't have, this was a story better kept to themselves.
About 17 and a half ayears later I came out as trans, oh what I mistake that was. My parents did just about everthing short of throwing me out on the street. They actually threatened to do exactly that if I didn't immediately stop being trans. I didn't have anywhere to go and had nothing to live off without them, so I did the only thing I could, I went back into the closet. I became very depressed, I nearly killed myself.
And that's the hipocrisy, my parents wanted a child so badly, they believed my entire existence was a miracle, a gift from god, but then the second I wasn't what they wanted me to be they were ready to throw me away.
They would throw away their miracle child for being trans.
And that is incredibly fucked up. I thought they loved me, I thought nothing could ever change that, I thought they wanted me and would be happy to have me in whichever way I happen to exist, but alas, that was proven false as I was tossed away like a child tosses away a play thing they're disinterested in. That hurt, deeply, that caused a permanent rift between me and my parents, especially my mother. I can never really go back from that. Every conversation with them are now tainted, every "I love you" has a little asterisk at the end now.
123 notes · View notes
starrycat123-blog · 7 months
Text
is it just me or is "the bible says it's wrong" like the stupidest political argument ever? like literally the first amendment exists?? we have freedom of religion?? the government isn't supposed to be making choices in accordance with any particular religion.
I always see people respond to this dumb argument with "actually the bible doesn't say that just you" and that's cool too but why do I never see "even if the bible did say that queer people sucked or any number of other awful things that shouldn't matter because our government should not be making rules for people based on the bible"
5 notes · View notes
aeide-thea · 2 years
Text
the thing abt h*rry styles is like. i don't even personally like his music, and while i still haven't looked up the details of the latest nonsense it sure sounds like he said something dumb and unexaminedly homophobic and it's more than fair to critique that, but the way some people talk abt him sure is revealing wrt how agonizingly fucking narrowly they define queerness, and how viciously fucking snidely they want to police it!
#like—i'm not personally interested in making claims abt styles' sexuality in *any* direction#(pun not actually intended but.)#partially because i don't care#and partially bc quite frankly i think the level of entitlement wrt public figures' private lives is fucking. off the charts#we saw it with hashtag ownvoices and we see it with accusing real people of queerbaiting#actually ppl should be allowed to just. live their lives without yr desperately trying to shove them into one box or another#so you can decide whether you respect them or not#but like. when you make posts that are like. queerness is just abt who you fuck—#trans ppl see those posts. ppl who aren't getting laid see those posts. people who don't *want* to get laid see those posts.#i mean ultimately i guess if that's what queerness means then fuck queerness‚ i want radical acceptance#but also that definitely *isn't* what queerness means#anyway there's an extremely specific context here but also there's a whole pattern#of ppl being snide abt bisexuals and asexuals and 'transtrenders' and 'theyfabs' and ambiguously gnc ppl and it's just like. can you stop#the cishet normies in the bible belt hate *all* of us actually!#but like. also why is this conversation even *about* identity.#this whole idea that like. there are bigoted ppl and marginalized ppl and no overlap between the two is absolutely fucking wild to me#we all swim in a sea of toxic ideas and sometimes we regurgitate them and sometimes we even do it when they're poisonous to us personally!#someone saying something homophobic doesn't actually tell you whether they're straight#and if yr talking shit abt that‚ yr not talking abt the actual problem‚ which is the rhetoric in question and its implications#anyway. would truly *love* to get off this hill without dying but unfortunately. people keep charging up it
36 notes · View notes
qvincvnx · 1 year
Text
anyway. not ME seeing a random evangelical website claiming that 'eros' appears in the bible in the song of songs when that is patently untrue... something can be sexy and about sexual attraction without using the hellenic greek word for sexy... and that is in fact interesting even if it doesn't gel with your theology!
17 notes · View notes
thetriangletattoo · 9 months
Text
.
5 notes · View notes
coffeebanana · 1 year
Text
Every time I read classic books I feel this pressure to enjoy them, and I just...never do? I can appreciate why they're important or influential for their time, and I appreciate that they exist, but...I just don't enjoy the style? Like they tend to be very repetitive and they have a lot of scenes that frankly...don't do anything to move the story forwards. The kinds of things that today would get the story tossed aside by publishers. And obviously I'm not saying it is bad writing, because again--different time period. Different style. But I wish I could be completely comfortable saying I just don't enjoy those books. For me personally, reading them is often more effort than what I get out of them. And sometimes I will read them anyways because I want to understand references people make to them in other books or media, but at the end of the day they don't bring me joy like modern books or fanfiction do and I think that's okay.
#kayla rambles#i actually do think if i was reading them in a school setting i would enjoy it more#like. i like learning about what a book says about the people of the time period it was written in#but at the same time i hated being forced to analyze things for a grade#i liked learning the opinions other people had on it but i always had this idea in my head that i sucked at analysis--i still have that tbh#i shy away from trying to analyze things i DO enjoy because i just have this idea other people will do it better than me#and sometimes i just don't want to analyze things! which is also okay! but kasjdbsbjf i still feel like it's a shortcoming sometimes idk#and it's annoying i still can't get over this#like i know it basically stems from the fact it was easier for me to get an A in STEM classes while putting in minimal effort#and english--even though i did mostly get As--always felt like a struggle. it always felt like i was missing something crucial#but ironically when i took literature in grade 12--it was an elective class at my school--it was one of my fave classes ever#probably because my teacher was an atheist lesbian and i fucking adored her#she told us on like day 1 she was trying to read the bible so she could understand symbolism in other works better 😂#and she was frankly just a badass lmao#but she also taught it from the lens of what literature said about the people of the time#she brought history and linguistics into everything and she made it feel real#god if she could have taught me english class throughout high school maybe i wouldn't have cared as much about the grade
6 notes · View notes
fictionadventurer · 2 years
Text
.
#according to my weird dream last night#yet another in the growing genre of 'your home will be destroyed within hours so you need to take what you need and get out'#'yet somehow this destruction takes much longer than promised so it's this whole drawn-out process'#if i were faced with having to choose only a few of my books to take with me#the number one on the list would be regina doman's fairy tale novels#because they are central enough to my identity to feel necessary#and would be more difficult to replace#the other books i own fell into the category of 'i don't really care enough about them to mind not having them around'#(which mostly applies to the ones i haven't read yet)#or 'these are important but it would be extremely easy to find other used copies if necessary'#the other main book in consideration was my book that collects essays and poems and extracts from chesterton's work#for much the same reason--if i don't have this copy there's not much chance of finding a replacement#except even moreso in this case because if i had to i *could* buy full-price new copies of the ftn#but i wouldn't even know how to go about googling the chesterton book#there was an undefined understanding that i also planned to take books from my religious shelf but the dream hadn't gotten that far yet#if i had to guess my instinct says i'd go for my bible and theology of the body first#anyway it was a surprising bit of insight into my literary personality that came in a very odd way#and i'm kind of curious what books would be at the top of other people's 'rescue first in an emergency' list
15 notes · View notes
48787 · 20 days
Text
So, as it turns out, my capacity for tyranny is actually fuckin huge and I'm really fucking good at it
I have so many more things to put in my book now
Peace Through Tyranny will be real circa 2048 and it'll still be sued by fucking Hasbro
#yippie peace through tyranny!!#matrix visions#So many fuckin matrix of leadership and matrix of conquest visions it's fucking unreal#A few days ago woman came up to me and my latest victim and was like “So what's wrong with you two?”#and then she started talking about the Bible. So I matched her by happily talking about my Bible study and shit#And she got taken aback and asked “So why are you living a life of sin?” and without hesitation#“Sin? What sin? Do you see any sin on me?” dressed as the most obviously queer person imaginable with a mask and cap on blocking my smile#and most of my telling facial expressions. She looked me up and down for a moment and went “Oh. Oh I see.” and then started talking about#where she's from and before she got to the “we don't dress like that there” part i go “Oh cool#I've got family there!“ which wasn't a lie because lying is inefficient and asked where she was from in her own damn home state and she#just got flustered. Eventually she fled with a smile on her face and I don't know what the hell she saw when she said “I see”#Maybe she realized I wasn't gonna stop talking. Maybe she realized I knew what I was talking about. Maybe she remembered the golden rule!#But to be completely honest I think she just realized she literally couldn't tell what was in my pants and didn't want to risk#the ego damage of realizing “Damn I can't actually tell who is and isn't trans even though I keep saying I can”#Because if she called me a man I'd nod my head. If she called me a woman I'd nod my head. This shit ain't nothing to me man.#I'm just. So glad my friend who I was taking care of this for didn't turn around and show off the literally Satanic shit she was wearing#Anyway that was the most opely hostile interaction but imagine that stretched over the course of a week#And I made them all fucking smile. Gave em the Lucitron Razzledazzle. or whatever lol#The Matrix of Deception really fuckin did light my darkest hour I can tell you that much. The other 2 were giving so many visions too.#There was even plenty more to the lady I mentioned but god. I am so fuckin good at tyranny it's unreal#I am a MACHINE that turn REACTIONARIES into FAGGOT LOVERS#And I'm coming to a State near you!!#Thinking it's the “Gay Agenda” means you've already fallen for my literal communist plot
0 notes
im2tired4usernames · 5 months
Text
I want their fuckin freedom they have no chores no responsibility they can go out with their friends when ever they want for however long they want they can sleep in there bed all day they eat drink drive vehicles use the phone have a home with no bills no expenses they can spend their money on stupid things that bring them joy with no worry of the gas they burned in someone else's vehicle or if there's dinner at home they have no worries about laundry no worries about dishes no worries about the messes they make because they know I'll clean it up always I want to be viewed by my family and by my friends as someone who is an actual person with limits and boundaries and who has goals and dreams they'd like to accomplish in the day besides laundry for 16 people and not a tireless cleaning machine. I want to be able to rest and have hobbies I want to be able to do things with my partner and my friends again I want to be able to fuckin daydream and make up stories again for Christ sake I want to feel like a person and not a corpse forced into playing "tradwife" I want the freedom they all have while I'm in the background doin they're dishes.
#i don't mind helping with chores but it's the fact I'm the only one qnd i can get my four youngest to help me with bribes of sweets#but there's several adults living here who don't care that they make. more mess then a four year old#and could definitely start doin their own laundry#or take the trash out if it's full instead of cramming more into it so that the bag splits and is to heavy for me to lift#and I'm actually kinda strong like I've def lost a lot of energy n strength this year tbh but this bitch can lift pretty heavy boxes at work#and i split logs pretty regularly so im not the strongest gal by no means like of lord i had to carry my mother around everywhere#because she was a stubborn asshole who refused to use any mobility aids and then wanted to go shopping or go out and i had to just carry her#like i can carry an adult women but fuck if it didn't hurt me bad doin it and i had to stop several times to catch my breath#like I'm not super Strong but I'm not weak the trashbag cant weigh more then an adult#it takesn nothing to rinse a bowl out so your food don't turn into cement#or throw away the wrappers of your bandaids instead of tossing them on the floor#or wipe your shoes before you come in and track big chunks of dried mud and grass all over the home#my parents wanted 12 kids wnd our house to look like a magazine and they beat that mentality of the house must be clean as a whistle#because what if Jesus was to stop by we must have our home look so clean that we would be unashamed if jesus stopped#so clean we encourage him to look in cupboards and under the bed clean#i dont think that's a Bible verse but there was a biblical book that was all about having a home that was so clean constantly#just so you wouldn't be ashamed when Christ cand because cleanliness is closer to godliness#i really hate my mother like so much I'm glad i can finally say it I'm glad i don't have to work to earn her love or buy it#you shouldn't have to have to earn love especially from your parents I'm glad she can't constantly condemn me#i have nightmares about my mom condemning me or being smug n proud and ruining my life in the name of her cult#like throwing away all of my belongings and only having a bed a Bible some christan fiction four floor length Jean dresses baggy tshirts#also her giving my sister she favored a bunch of my organs since I'm broken anyhow and slowly dieing because i don't have a liver anymore#or her ruining my relationship and friendships because she didn't think they were godly enough so i have no one in my life except church#she tried to have an arranged marriage for me not a dream that happened#i know she loved me i hate that i think so low of her but her love felt like hate most of the time#i know she loved me though andni love her to I'm just glad i don't have to constantly hve to perform for her#i have so much garbage in my brain
1 note · View note
vroomvroomwee · 9 months
Text
Crowley is Lucifer
(Ok I know some of you don't believe this theory but I highly suggest you give this a quick read anyway. I tried to make it short and easy and I'll be going chronologically, from s1 all through s2)
- First, let's get this out of the way, Lucifer and Satan aren't neccesarilly the same person. Even in the show the devil that appeared in s1 has only ever been reffered to as Satan, not even once as Lucifer.
- In the bible Lucifer was the one to tempt Eve with the apple, and who do we know that does that in the show. Crowley is literally THE snake from Eden.
- An obvious one perhaps, but the red hair is also a giveaway
- In the bible Jesus was tempted by the devil for 30 days, in the show Crowley says "I showed him all the kingdoms of the world", so that's another role Lucifer has that Crowley had in the show
- It's well known (even mentioned in the Sandman) that Lucifer was the most beautiful of all angels, and our demon is played by no other than David Tennant
Now on to season 2 because there's a LOT to unpack here
- He litterally started the engine of the universe which was one of Lucifers roles
- He's the first to say "let there be light", which is pretty fucking huge since that is Gods line
- "I worked closely with upstairs on it" even in the first scene they're telling us Crowley is an angel of very very high rank
- He fell for asking questions, which is litterally what Lucifer fell for, for questioning God. This in and of itself should be a pretty big indicator. "I only ever asked questions"
- Shax: "a miracle of enourmous power only the mightiest of archangels can perform"
Crowley: "How do you know I didn't do it"
And Shax just... doesn't counter that. She looks even skeptical, as if it COULD be a possibility, unlike Uriel who says to Aziraphale don't excpect us to believe you did it. Shax litterally doesn't shut the option down which confirms Crowley has the power not only of an archangel but of the mightiest kind
- In the bookshop with Gabriel/Jim he says "I don't remember. It [gravity] seemed like a good idea when we were all talking about it"
- "You're welcome to come in, you might even spot an archangel" don't tell me this was Crowley just egging Shax on and not being sneaky
- The fact that he could sense the demons coming. "Somethings wrong""It's coming in waves", when Aziraphale couldn't. It could be a demon thing but we saw Sandalphon, an archangel of lower rank, in the first season mention "something smells evil" so obviously angels can sense demons too, they just have to be powerful enough. And keep in mind Sandalphon was already in the book shop for quite some time, Crowley sensed them even before they had arrived (he also sensed the hell hound who was some fucking miles away)
- The.fucking.folder. "You have to be a throne or dominion above" and this dude opens these clasified documents like it's nothing. If this isn't an indicator of his high position as an angel I don't know what is.
- He's worked with Saraqael, another very high ranking angel
- "I'm the only first order archangel in the room"... and the camera imediately pans to Crowley, and for anyone who's read the book and watched the show you know that rarely anything is coincidental
- When the Metatron says they can't lose another prince of heaven. This... this fucking line. So it's relatively well known that Gabriel and Lucifer are brothers, and if Gabriel is one of the princes of heaven I wonder who the other one could be. "Two princes of heaven". And the Metatrons words were very careful, he doesn't say lost as in heaven can't find him, he says it in the context that they won't be sending Gabriel to hell since they won't lose another prince to downstairs
- In the bookshop when no one can identify the Metatron he turns to Crowley who imediately recognises him. Now you have this dude, who's literally on top of the angel hierarchy and is responsible for running heaven and the connection to God themself, surrounded by archangels and a principality you spoke to face to face with just a few years ago and... none of them can tell who you are, the only one who does is the literal demon. That tells us that Crowley has not only seen him in this form, but has probably worked with the Metaron himself personally. "Always asking damn fool questions", 10 million angels and he remembers what this one particular angel was like 6000 years ago
- Crowley is also very reluctant to reveal his identity as an angel. Now if he were just an ordinary angel of no real significance he wouldn't have a problem revealing his name, but... if his name was one that's the literal representation of all evil in this world, then it is understandable he keeps it a secret, in fear he might scare Aziraphale away
- And I wanted to leave the best for last. So you remember in the book when Crowley has to sign his name to start Armaggedon, and Hastur tells him "no, your real name" after which he reluctantly writes it. Now in the book we never see him write anything, but in the show we see him write a sygil, something that looks very mich like an L. An L... A FUCKING L. And now I wonder how this theory didn't come up sooner.
(Also he can fucking stop time, like dafuq)
Edit:
- "Oh looky here it's Lucifer and the guys" we all thought he was talking about someone else, he's just refferencing things other angels have said about HIM. FUCK
- I keep seing people saying Crowleys memories were wiped because he couldn't remember Saraqael and Furfur. But I think people forget, demons lie. He's lying to make them think he's not that angel they worked with, that he's not Lucifer. (In season 1 we hear him a few times refferencing his life as an angel, so he does remember most of it)
- Also saying if the Raphael theory were true then as showrunners they would have mentioned him somewhere for those not that familiar with the bible (or don't read much fanfiction). The refferences for Crowleys past are so so vague that it would be too sudden and confusing if he were Raphael. But there is one name that everyone is familiar with, no matter who you are how old you are or where you're from, a name that needs no introduction.
Edit 2:
- Back to him being the most beautiful angel, I don't think it was ever quite explained how every single demon when they're in hell looks... awful, but Crowley doesn't. Beelzebub has the spores all over their face, Hastur the maggots and the sh-, Dagon the scales etc. But Crowley doesn't, not even when he's in hell, he's always just so, well, pretty.
- I saw a few people asking about how Lucifer started the rebellion and Crowley wouldn't do that. I think it's the same Crowley who wouldn't get stuck in traffic after creating the M25, or the same Crowley that wanted to call Aziraphale after bringing down the entire London network, "you told them you invented the spanish inquisition, and started the second world war""so the humans beat me to it that's not my fault", "so all this is your demonic work?""no, the humans thought it up themselves nothing to do with me"
- Also I think Satan's in charge of hell not Crowley the same way the Metatron's in charge of heaven and not Gabriel (and who can very easily demote angels if he so wishes)
Edit 3:
- like some of you pointed out Lucifer is also known/means Light-bringer. And Crowley was the first to say "let there be light."
- The file he opens with Muriel is Gabriels file, a class A archangel, so if he knows the password to that it means that either he's on the same level as Gabriel, or above him.
7K notes · View notes
slvttyplum · 2 months
Text
there’s a reason i make suguru so pervy, because that’s what he is. he’s a man who can’t hide his nasty desires when it comes to you; don't you want me to tell you about it?
about all the times he’s jerked off his dick to your pictures or just your voice in general, then smiles in your face like nothing happened.
that’s the type of man he is, he’s a disgusting percent that uses you to his nasty advantage, and he doesn’t feel bad about it at all.
he’s so sweet and goofy when it comes to literally anything else, but once he’s in your proximity, it’s like he’s lost his mind.
the only thing he can think about is you, but that’s normal, right? to think about your partner in a nasty light sometimes... but suguru just takes it too far sometimes.
some thoughts are just for your head, okay? they aren’t actually supposed to be conversations that you have, but he would, he would tell you all the nasty things he was thinking in that moment and all the nasty things he wanted to do with you.
once he saw that you weren’t repulsed by the series of words that weren’t written in the bible falling out of his mouth, they went into play.
to be honest, his perverted acts started off small. even though you weren’t repulsed by what he had to say, he still wanted to take things slow and make sure you were ready for what he had in store.
first, it started off with sexy costumes he wanted to see on you; make sure they were the same as what he imagined in his head, and what not; then it progressed to spanking you repeatedly until you belted out tears; the list goes on.
all you know is that after the fifth time of trying something that he wanted to do, you were on your knees with watery eyes, doing everything in his command.
he subtly slutted you out, and you didn’t even know it until you were in so deep. what a disgusting man he was.
suguru knew what he was, and he didn’t care, not one bit. you did this to him; you made his dick jump every time you spoke, you made him cum in his pants from just staring at him.
his sex drive was on 20 because of you, and if that meant he had to try all this nasty shit to satisfy himself when it came to you...
he would do it.
3K notes · View notes
holybibly · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
𝔇𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔲𝔰 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔩 | 𝔚𝔬𝔬𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔤 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯
𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: smut, Priests!AU
𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℭ𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 9,9k
𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: It is said: "The best way to get forgiveness for sins is to repent." Priest Wooyoung will tell you how to do this.
𝔚𝔄ℜ𝔑ℑ𝔑𝔊: Priest!Wooyoung, Hierophilia, church sex, religion kink, dirty talk, masturbation, humiliation, blow jobs, rough oral, power play. spanking, fingering, orgasm delay, overstimulation, dom/sub and more.
𝔄/𝔑: And so it is that I have come to please you with something wicked. I don't know why I get so inspired, but I don't care. My opinion is that Priest Wooyoung is hot as hell, that's all. There will probably be another work released this weekend, but I won't tell you what it is. Of course, the unholy hours are available as usual. It's time to repent for the sins, bunnies, and, as the saying goes, Hell's empty, all demons outside.
Tumblr media
You have never thought of yourself as a religious person, not under any circumstances whatsoever. You never knelt down in front of your bed, covered your eyes with trembling eyelids, and whispered softly, "Hail Mary,"  before you went to sleep in your cold and lonely bed. 
Never asking God's mercy and forgiveness, you were as far from faith and piety as you could be. The last time you had been to church was years ago, when you came to communion with one of your distant relatives.   The feeling was all too familiar, yet as alien as the shattered fragments of a mysterious dream you remembered having long ago. You walked slowly up the rain-slicked stone steps of your hometown's old church, as smooth and dreary as the weather today. The thin branches of the dead trees, devoid of the usual green foliage you knew wrapped around them at the beginning of each spring, reached up to the sky as if in prayer—brittle and outstretched—like the hands of a sinner. 
"What am I doing here?" You asked yourself as you wrapped yourself more tightly in your soft cashmere coat and let out a convulsive sigh.
You didn't know how to answer that, and you couldn't seem to find the right one. That place... it seemed to call your name, and you couldn't resist the mysterious magnetism. The church was old and gloomy—the kind of church that people do not tell you the most pleasant stories about. Your eyes wandered over the faded, dark boards and the pointed spire, topped by a crooked, spiky cross that looked almost sinister as the rain swirled around it. The place had an air of desolation about it, and for a moment, you wondered if it was haunted. 
It was the same church that your mother had gone to when she was a child, always dressed in her most beautiful clothes and with ribbons of silk woven into her hair. 
"Did this place always look as spooky as it does now?" you asked her once. 
The cold wind whipped through your long hair as you pushed open the heavy wooden doors of the church and made your way in. The rusty metal hinges sobbed pitifully at the sound of your action. The inside of the church was musty and smelled of incense, and visually, it was the same as millions of other churches: furnished with rows of wooden pews, with dusty Bibles lying in compartments attached to the backs of the pews. Narrow Gothic windows, decorated with the faces of sexless angels, stretched up to a vaulted ceiling.
There was no one there, which was what you would have expected, considering that there were only a few cars in the car park when you arrived here. You felt stupid for being here, completely unaware of what the purpose of your visit was in the first place.
The echo of your footsteps on the dark, faded midnight-blue velour floor was the only sound in the church. As you walked towards the back of the church, where the neatly decorated altar stood, your fingertips glided weightlessly along the cool edges of the old pews. Dark and full of suffering, the heavy crucifix hung over the altar like an unbearable sacred burden. There was a small confessional not too far from it.
One day, when you were a little girl, your grandparents took you to the church and insisted that you have a confession of your sins. Sitting behind the curtain, you felt so grown up; the small room seemed so much larger in comparison to your petite body. With your head bowed, you solemnly told the priest that you sometimes took a few extra biscuits when your mother wasn't looking, and he, in turn, instructed you to recite the Hail Mary a few times.
As you approached the confessional, you lazily tugged at the heavy velvet curtain, running your fingers over the faded fabric, which was worn in places. You wondered what sins you could repent of now; you didn't often reflect on what you'd done or seek forgiveness, at least not from an all-powerful divine being you weren't even sure existed. You opened the curtain and jumped at the sharp sound of metal rings as they scratched against the beam on which it was hung. The inside of the cabin was dark, and there was a smell of dust in it. You coughed and breathed in the small particles that stuck to your tongue in an unpleasant way.
"Hello, my dear."
You jumped at the slight echo of the soft, melodic voice that came from behind the metal bars of the confessional. Leaning against the door, you pressed a hand to your chest, feeling your fast heart pound. Squinting, you hoped to get a better look at the dark figure of the priest on the other side.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone was here." You said it quietly. "I... I was just lookin' around."
"You're new, right?" The voice was beautiful; with every vowel the person formed, you could hear some kind of melody, low and languid, almost seductive, and you suddenly realised that your hands were covered with goose bumps. Was the temperature in the little cabin any cooler than it was in the rest of the church? You couldn't be sure, but you found yourself unconsciously pulling the tails of your coat closer to your body.
Intrigued by the man on the other side of the small grate, you took a step further into the small room and looked around.
"Something like that."
"You don't come to places like this very often?" The voice made more of a statement than a question.
"No." You agreed with it. "I can't remember when I've been to church lately." You whispered in reply, so quietly that you could hardly be heard.
Silence fell between you, and, not quite understanding what you'd done, you reached out and pulled the curtain, shrouding yourself in darkness. Through the metal bars, you saw a slender man's figure and carefully sat down on the velvet bench.
"So why did you come here today, then?" The priest asked, although there was something in his tone of voice that told you that he already knew the answer, perhaps even better than you did. Was all this small talk a normal part of confession?
"I... I'm not really sure, just an instinct." You crumpled the soft fabric of your cloak between your fingers, growing more nervous with every second of the small talk between you and the mysterious priest.
"I understand, of course." He replied with a note of familiarity, as if he heard the same thing every day of his life.
Feeling even more insecure than before, you raised an eyebrow and shifted into the uncomfortable seat beneath you. There was something special about this priest, but you couldn't put your finger on what it was.
"Is something bothering you, dear?"
You bit your lower lip as you tried to process what he said. Was something gnawing at you? Was there something that was bothering you to such an extent that you were beginning to feel pangs of conscience? Deep down inside of you, in the depths of your mind, where you didn't dare to go?
"Maybe?" You finally managed to say it, but it sounded more like a question. Your whole body was on edge, and you couldn't understand why it was so. You weren't afraid, no, but there was definitely a sense of something out of the ordinary. Something that was forbidden.
"You've been doing a lot of thinking lately, haven't you?" The man asked you a question, and all of a sudden you found yourself with your eyes half closed in bliss as you enjoyed the silky texture of his voice. It sounded like an angel was singing, but with a dark undertone. "You have been asking yourself questions, perhaps even too alarming ones."
You nodded weakly in acknowledgement of his words; despite the barrier between you, he seemed to be aware of your silent response.
"You're afraid you're bad." He said simply, and you could almost swear that he was laughing at the last two words, there was a hint of mockery in the tone of his voice.
Hearing him say that made your mouth dry up and you coughed slightly, trying to clear your throat.
"Holy Father, what makes you say things like that?"
"Are not all of us afraid of something like this at some point in our lives? We are afraid of ourselves, afraid of our sinfulness."
There was a blink of confusion on your face, a complete bewilderment at the strange turn this conversation had taken. And yet, somehow, you felt compelled to go on and hear more.
His voice dropped to a hoarse, velvety whisper that sent waves of heat down the length of your spine and caused you to squirm in your seat. Was this how you were supposed to feel at this moment?
"Let me tell you a little secret, dearie."
"I-am I listening?" Your heartbeat quickened as a single streak of pale light fell on the man behind the small bars, and for a moment you saw a dark, fox-like eye.
"We are all bad men. Every single one of us."
A shiver ran down your entire body, and you could feel the stuffy air in the confessional getting hotter and hotter.
"Even you, dearest child." He moved closer to the mesh holes in the barrier that separated the two of you, and you could make out the shape of his lips, diabolically curved and full. "Especially you."
"F-Father…"
"Wooyoung." He fixed you. "My name is Wooyoung. "
You repeated his name softly, sliding your tongue over each letter; your voice was barely above a whisper, but you could hear the man inhale sharply as his name came out of your lips. His name was sinful and sweet, almost wicked, like a serpent that tempts you to do the most evil of deeds. This man cannot be a priest at all. But if he was not a priest, who was he then?"
"You are," he began, and you could almost feel the smirk on his beautiful lips as he spoke. "Very naughty girl.
Oh, my God. This wasn't really happening. Was it? No, he couldn't have meant it. He was a priest, for God's sake.
"And what is your suggestion that I should do about it?" You asked shyly, looking down at the palms of your hands, which were now covered in shallow marks from where your nails had dug themselves into the damp skin. You couldn't see Wooyoung, but you were sure that the look in his eyes would be nothing less than piercing and malicious. "Should I say the Hail Mary several times? Pray for atonement for what I have done? You haven't even told me why it is you think I'm a sinner."
He let out a dark, dry chuckle, and you heard a muffled sound as you guessed that the palms of his hands were making hard contact with his thighs.
"Shall I show you?"
"Show me what?" Your eyes narrowed and a strange sense of anticipation began to well up inside you.
"How do I have the knowledge that you are a sinner?"
You chewed on your lower lip in thought, and then you cleared your throat with a kind of self-assured finality.
"All right. But I'm beginning to think that you're a little overconfident." You added that last part in an attempt to lessen your sense of vulnerability in front of this man. You had doubts that anything would change, but something told you that you would need all the confidence you could have.
Hearing your words, his hand reached out and pressed against the grating metal, and he let out a low purr. Up close, you could see the prominent veins that ran down Wooyoung's slender hand, his long fingers adorned with a number of expensive rings, and you tried desperately to suppress a certain feeling that threatened to force itself upon you.
"Go on, touch; don't be afraid." He called to you, and you stretched out obediently, repeating what he said, carefully placing your fingertips on the grating's metal.
Instantly, your entire world was enveloped in a bright, unholy light, and with each turn of your head, you saw clear images of unspeakable darkness, depravity, and longing. You recognised them as your dreams, as fleeting thoughts that you tried to push away, as shadows that danced on the walls of your bedroom in the late hours of the night. All of these images had been ripped right out of your mind.
You jerked your hand away from him as if it had been burned, and you cried out in pity as tears streamed uncontrollably down your cheeks. You blinked and suddenly found yourself back in the dark confessional, multi-coloured spots dancing in front of your eyes as if they were mocking you and your mind.
"What the hell was that?" You wanted your voice to be aggressive and forceful, but the words sounded weak and pathetic as soon as they left your soft lips.
"You see?" The coldness in his voice burned like a fire within you.
"Those... those are not my thoughts." You murmured in fear as the confessional seemed to grow colder and colder by the second. "They were not in mine."
Were they?
Now you could see your own breath steaming, and in one quick, desperate movement, you rushed to the curtain, tore it aside, and stepped into the light. As soon as you were out of the stall, you slumped limply into the front pew of the church, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to figure out what the hell had just happened.
There was a rustling sound in the cabin before the door on the priest's side of the room opened slightly, and a man stepped out of the darkness—Wooyoung. He was of average height and was dressed entirely in black, like a second skin, with the exception of a crisp white collar. His black hair flowed like silk down to his sharp jaw line and framed the chiselled features of his face. With fierce dark eyes and full lips that curled into a wickedly seductive smile, he was handsome—beautifully handsome.
You should have been afraid of him after what he had just shown you. You should have turned around and run away and never looked back—away from this church and away from Wooyoung. As you have always sworn, you should have left your hometown forever.
But you didn't. The man in front of you, whose eyes seemed to have an even greater darkness in them, had completely hypnotised you.
"You are not the Holy Father." Your breath caught in your throat as he came closer. There was an unreadable expression on his handsome face as he looked down at you. "Who the hell are you?"
He smiled mischievously, and you saw something completely evil in his eyes.
"I am the man who is going to rid you of all of your sins." The sound of his voice was like sugar itself—hilariously sweet.
"W-what? Are you going to make me say my prayers?" At this, he laughed uncontrollably, vulgarly, and at the top of his voice.
"Oh, poor, sweet child." He said this in a drawl, dragging the toes of his immaculately polished black shoes along the floor and carefully folding his hands behind his back. "Absolutely not. I am going to make you repent for all of your sins."
He came to a halt just a few feet in front of you, tilted his head, and looked down at your body. There was a sense of nakedness and vulnerability under his piercing gaze. You felt completely helpless.
"Throughout your entire life, you have committed so many sins that it will take me a long time to get you to repent for them," he said. Wooyoung was talking about it as if it were the most common thing in the world.
"All right. But I'm beginning to think that you're a little overconfident." You added that last part in an attempt to lessen your sense of vulnerability in front of this man. You had doubts that anything would change, but something told you that you would need all the confidence you could have.
Hearing your words, his hand reached out and pressed against the grating metal, and he let out a low purr. Up close, you could see the prominent veins that ran down Wooyoung's slender hand, his long fingers adorned with a number of expensive rings, and you tried desperately to suppress a certain feeling that threatened to force itself upon you.
"Go on, touch; don't be afraid." He called to you, and you stretched out obediently, repeating what he said, carefully placing your fingertips on the grating's metal.
Instantly, your entire world was enveloped in a bright, unholy light, and with each turn of your head, you saw clear images of unspeakable darkness, depravity, and longing. You recognised them as your dreams, as fleeting thoughts that you tried to push away, as shadows that danced on the walls of your bedroom in the late hours of the night. All of these images had been ripped right out of your mind.
You jerked your hand away from him as if it had been burned, and you cried out in pity as tears streamed uncontrollably down your cheeks. You blinked and suddenly found yourself back in the dark confessional, multi-coloured spots dancing in front of your eyes as if they were mocking you and your mind.
"What the hell was that?" You wanted your voice to be aggressive and forceful, but the words sounded weak and pathetic as soon as they left your soft lips.
"You see?" The coldness in his voice burned like a fire within you.
"Those... those are not my thoughts." You murmured in fear as the confessional seemed to grow colder and colder by the second. "They were not in mine."
Were they?
Now you could see your own breath steaming, and in one quick, desperate movement, you rushed to the curtain, tore it aside, and stepped into the light. As soon as you were out of the stall, you slumped limply into the front pew of the church, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to figure out what the hell had just happened.
There was a rustling sound in the cabin before the door on the priest's side of the room opened slightly, and a man stepped out of the darkness—Wooyoung. He was of average height and was dressed entirely in black, like a second skin, with the exception of a crisp white collar. His black hair flowed like silk down to his sharp jaw line and framed the chiselled features of his face. With fierce dark eyes and full lips that curled into a wickedly seductive smile, he was handsome—beautifully handsome.
You should have been afraid of him after what he had just shown you. You should have turned around and run away and never looked back—away from this church and away from Wooyoung. As you have always sworn, you should have left your hometown forever.
But you didn't. The man in front of you, whose eyes seemed to have an even greater darkness in them, had completely hypnotised you.
"You are not the Holy Father." Your breath caught in your throat as he came closer. There was an unreadable expression on his handsome face as he looked down at you. "Who the hell are you?"
He smiled mischievously, and you saw something completely evil in his eyes.
"I am the man who is going to rid you of all of your sins." The sound of his voice was like sugar itself—hilariously sweet.
"W-what? Are you going to make me say my prayers?" At this, he laughed uncontrollably, vulgarly, and at the top of his voice.
"Oh, poor, sweet child." He said this in a drawl, dragging the toes of his immaculately polished black shoes along the floor and carefully folding his hands behind his back. "Absolutely not. I am going to make you repent for all of your sins."
He came to a halt just a few feet in front of you, tilted his head, and looked down at your body. There was a sense of nakedness and vulnerability under his piercing gaze. You felt completely helpless.
"Throughout your entire life, you have committed so many sins that it will take me a long time to get you to repent for them," he said. Wooyoung was talking about it as if it were the most common thing in the world.
"What if I have no desire for repentance?" You said it in a defiant tone. You wanted to be brave; you wanted to be strong and confident, but something deep down inside of you told you that Wooyoung was not the kind of person that you couldn't help but obey. His whole aura told you that if he wanted to, he would fold you up like an origami piece. But there was nothing you could do about it; you had to test the waters to see what would happen if you refused to bend to his will.
He looked at you so intently that you felt he wanted to eat you alive right then and there.
"But I have a feeling that's not the case, is it?" He said this as he ran the tips of his fingers along your jaw. You tensed as he touched you, feeling a cold shiver run down your spine as Wooyoung lazily ran his thumb over your lower lip. "I think you want to get on your knees before me, child. You wish to repent."
Your eyes widened at the sound of his words, and a smirk of arrogance spread across his perfect scarlet lips. Why haven't you fought back?
He leaned forward so that his gorgeous face was only inches away from yours. You squeezed your thighs together as warm wetness began to pool between them, realising he was even more beautiful up close, like sin itself.
"I could smell the sweetness of your cunt from the moment you walked into the church, you little slut." His voice dropped a couple of octaves, and you shivered at the feel of his hot breath on the skin of your body.
The vulgarity of his words made you gasp, but you couldn't deny how your mouth watered at the sound of his velvety voice saying the words 'cunt' and'slut'. God, he was doing something to you, but you were... You were attracted to it.
"I smelled that smell when you walked into the confessional, when you heard my voice, when you said my name." His eyes sparkled in a devilish way, trapping you in his gaze, and if you hadn't been so excited, you would have noticed the black shadows dancing along the edges of his irises.
He was speaking to you in an almost patronising manner now, and you froze in place as he pulled your lower lip down and gently ran his thumb along the inside of it until the pad of his finger was slick with your saliva.
"Wooyoung..." You exhaled, looking down at your hands, fidgeting aimlessly in your lap. Your cheeks were hot and flushed, and by the way Wooyoung looked at you, with a predatory hunger woven into the perfect features of his face, you could tell that your shyness was only turning him on even more.
"There's never been a girl in my life that has been so desperate for a fuck as you have. Your desires ... they are almost tangible." He was so close to you now that his hot lips touched the round of your cheek, sending a wave of electricity through your body as he spoke. "I have met many sinners in my life, as you can imagine."
"Are you going to punish me for that?" He raised an eyebrow before straightening up and looking down at you, seemingly completely satisfied with your answer. A majestic expression of all-encompassing power was frozen on his face as he spoke.
"No, darling, of course not. I wouldn't want to punish you, but I am going to make you repent. And the first sin you will have to do penance for will be lust." Wooyoung said, and you found yourself biting your lower lip at the commanding tone of his voice. "Stand up." He gave you the order.
You did as he asked you to, got up from your seat, and stood in front of the so-called priest. He moved around you in a circle, as if considering what to do with you, never allowing you to escape his dark gaze. His tongue stretched out to lick his plump lips in a sensual way; finally, he sat down on the spot where you had been a few seconds before and ran his hands over his muscular, thick thighs.
You were standing in front of him, completely at his mercy, your head bowed in respect as he looked at you like a predator from his seated position, your skin burning under the weight of his gaze. You could almost feel his eyes as they crawled over your body, peeling away layer after layer until they reached the very core of your soul.
"Get undressed." There was a metallic edge to Wooyoung's voice as he crossed his legs and leaned back, his long hair falling over his handsome face, making him even more vicious. "Now."
You opened your mouth to speak, words of protest hovering on the tip of your tongue, but you closed it immediately, realising that it was better not to protest. The feeling of submission came again, sharp and clear, and you quickly pulled off your cloak and threw it to the ground behind you. The soft fabric pooled on top of the midnight blue velour. Then your jumper and your jeans joined it, your hands shaking as you unbuttoned them and pulled them down to your hips.
As you shyly wrapped your arms around yourself, you suddenly realised that your nipples were hard and swollen and could be seen peeking out from under the thin white lace of your bra.
Wooyoung leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees and his sharp chin resting on his palms, before he glared at you.
"You have to undress completely, darling."
You nodded obediently, reached behind your back to unhook your bra, and with timid reluctance, pulled the lace straps off your shoulders. You lowered your eyes in shame and looked down at the floor, while Wooyoung kept his gaze fixed on you.
"In atoning for our sins." He began to speak softly, reaching out to your face and gently guiding your chin so that you looked up at him. "We do not have the luxury of being modest." Wooyoung patted your cheek in a condescending manner before he hooked his fingertips into the waistband of your panties, which were nothing more than a thin piece of white lace. He let out a sweet moan as he slowly pulled them off of you, inch by inch, revealing the smooth skin and the wet folds of your pussy.
You blushed as you watched him rub the lace between his fingers, and a thoughtful look came over his handsome face as he said.
"They're wet, darling." He finally said it in a sarcastic tone, his lips curling into a disgusted grin. "You really are a whore, aren't you? You walk around in wet panties and have depraved thoughts, and no less so than about a person who wears holy garments." Despite the roughness and harshness of his words, you could still see the mischievous gleam in his eyes. He tucked your panties into his trouser pocket.
"It's really pathetic, isn't it?" His tongue flicked over his plump lower lip until it was glistening with saliva, and a quick glance down at his crotch showed that he was hard. "You are so lucky that I am here to help you rid yourself of all the sins that you have committed, my child."
The humiliating nature of the situation was turning you on far more than you were prepared to admit. Your clit was throbbing with pain, so intense that it was beginning to distract you, and your thoughts were constantly wandering off in a thick, lustful haze.
"Show me how you touch yourself at night when you are alone with all those sordid thoughts. I want to see you give yourself over to sin." Wooyoung ordered you as he leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest in a casual manner. It was impossible to ignore his erection in this position, and your mouth fell open a little when you noticed just how massive the bulge was.
"Y-yes, sir." You whispered. Your mind was spinning with lust as you parted your legs slightly for easier access, your hand hesitantly touching the warm, soft flesh of your inner thighs, shuddering as you discovered the abundance of your juices running down it.
"Keep going, darling. Don't be shy." In response to his words, your fingers touched your neglected, throbbing clit, spreading a sticky, warm wetness and massaging it in slow, firm circles. You whimpered softly, partly from pleasure and partly from the thick humiliation that was blooming in your throat, to which Wooyoung only gave a wicked grin.
"Come on, we both know that you can do it better than that." He reproached you. "I'd like to see you fuck yourself, darling."
You swallowed hard and hesitantly let your fingers slide between the wet folds of your pussy. Your behaviour was beginning to irritate Wooyoung, and all the playfulness was gone in an instant, and a venomous bitterness appeared in his voice. With the silver of his rings digging uncomfortably into your skin, he reached out and wrapped his fingers around your wrist. His gaze was as intent and as dark as the night, and you shivered at the sight.
"Didn't you hear what I said? I said, fuck yourself."
It was such a rude and vulgar thing to say, especially coming from someone who was a priest, and it took your breath away. In obedience to his command, you immediately slid two fingers through the soft, wet folds and into your cunt. You let out a long moan as you felt your silky walls stretch around your fingers, and, trying to get more of the feeling, you began to move them back and forth. Trying desperately to keep your balance in this awkward position, your knees were getting weaker by the second, and you could feel yourself starting to orgasm.
"You don't expect me to believe that your slutty little cunt can only hold two fingers, do you?" Wooyoung mocked him, biting down on his plump lower lip with her perfect set of teeth. 
Gritting your teeth against the invasion, you sighed heavily and added another finger. The soft walls of your vagina squeezed your fingers like a velvet vice with every move you made. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push away the shame that was quickly engulfing you like the flames of hell. The wet, squelching sound of your fingers moving in and out of your pussy was nothing short of vulgar.
"Harder, show me all of it." Wooyoung's sharp command came out, and you did your best to obey, curling your fingers and rubbing them roughly against the small, spongy bundle of nerves inside you. You were breathing heavily, your forehead and neck glistening with sweat, and your lips red and swollen when Wooyoung finally told you to stop. It was cruel, the way he waited patiently and calculatedly until you were about to come, only to deny you, but you couldn't bring yourself to complain; it was your punishment after all.
Your fingers picked up the glistening wetness that flowed from your cunt, and as you looked at Wooyoung, you brought it to your mouth and wrapped your lips around your fingers, licking it and sucking every last drop of it.
He rose sharply from where he sat, shading you and towering over you like the very embodiment of God—or the Devil? Wooyoung wiped away the beads of sweat that had formed on your hairline, with a look of genuine affection on his handsome face. This tenderness did not last for long, however, and after a few seconds, he was back in his unrelenting position of authority.
"On your knees, dear." You did so without hesitation, your knees immediately touching the faded and discoloured velour.
"Look at you, stripped of all your dignity, on your knees, writhing in despair, like a bitch in heat. Aren't you a sight to see?"
You blinked slowly, looking up at him with a fawn's wide-eyed innocence, squeezing your legs together as another wave of excitement surged from your needy cunt. Wooyoung taunted you; there was no way he would show you mercy—you could see it in his eyes as he looked at you coldly, his pretty mouth pressed into a thin line.
"You have no pride, my dear, but you must still do penance for that, to be sure you will have forgiveness for that too." He lifted one foot and placed it on the seat of the bench, presenting you with a polished, expensive-looking shoe. "Clean it for me. With your mouth, my dear."
You raised an eyebrow at Wooyoung but didn't argue, for fear that he would punish you more severely and in more subtle ways if you didn't comply. His boot looked clean enough; not a single scuff could be seen on the shiny leather, and as you moved closer to the bench, you ran the tip of your tongue along the leather in an experimental way. It didn't taste like much, which was a relief to your anxiety, and soon you were flattening your tongue and licking the hard material as if your life depended on it.
"Good girl." He cooed, but there was very little in the way of kindness in that reassurance. As if you were nothing more than a pet, his hand stroked your hair. You were relieved when Wooyoung pulled away and removed his foot from the bench, shuddering at the thought of all the dirt you were putting in your mouth.
"Look at me, my darling."
Your eyes fell on the large bulge at the front of his dark, neatly pressed trousers, and you moved away from the bench so that you were now level with his crotch. A beam of red light shone through the stained glass behind him, reflecting off the black stone of his ring as Wooyoung ran his fingers over his belt. As he slowly unbuckled the belt, the church was silent, except for the faint jingle of the metal buckle. Your gaze lingered for a moment on the image of the Virgin Mary that stood in the corner of the church. Was there judgement in her eyes? Was there a sense of disgust? Her face was as divinely serene as ever, and you couldn't tell.
Too handsome to be a saint, he bowed his head towards you, long strands of black hair falling down to frame his face. Wooyoung unzipped his trousers, taking a moment for a lewd touch of his bulge before pulling out his hard cock. The head of his cock was wet and turgid; a thick drop of pre-cum rolled down its length, and you wanted to follow its movement with your tongue.
"What do you crave, huh?" He asked, hissing as his hand slid up and down the length of his thick cock.
"Do you crave something that can't be satisfied?" His words flowed in a rhythmic flow, and his tone was so soft that you could almost swear that he was singing to you. It was the voice of an angel that was calling out to you. "Do you take all that they give you, only to find that you're still starving to death?" You bobbed your head up and down, desperate and needy, and parted your lips as he rubbed the head over your lips, staining them with pre-cum, making them slick and shiny. You were giddy, stunned by the pure, erotic beauty of this man, this stranger, whom you had so willingly allowed to pollute you in this house of God.
"You're a greedy little animal, aren't you?" Wooyoung taunted you with a throaty grunt as he slapped his cock against your cheek. You kept your hands on your hips, waiting obediently for further instructions. You grew more and more restless by the second, not having his dick in your mouth or in your hand.
God, you were one hungry little thing, you really were.
From where you were on your knees, he looked ethereal, his full lips moulded into a perfect, sensual shape. It was fascinating to watch such a man let himself fall apart like that, his chest rising and falling and sweat forming on his forehead as he moved his hand over his thick cock.
He let out a low, guttural moan as he picked up the pace and came closer and closer to the edge, throwing his head back towards the vaulted ceiling. You were so turned on that you were sure your juices were already dripping onto the carpet beneath you, forming a small puddle, a dirty declaration of your desire. The unpleasant throbbing of your cunt only intensified as you witnessed Wooyoung's approach to orgasm, his breathing choked and ragged.
He looked down at you and licked his luscious, almost sinful, lips.
"Open your mouth, dear." As if you knew he wanted it, you parted your jaw and lowered your head to his cock. Wooyoung jerked his cock a few more times before he released a silky stream of hot, salty cum into your open mouth, an animalistic roar of pleasure escaping from his lips like music. "Don't even have a thought about swallowing."
You felt the thick stream of his cum begin to flow down your tongue and into the depths of your throat, but you ignored the instinctive urge to swallow. Wooyoung pulled his trousers back on, buckled his belt around his waist, and sat back down on the bench with a cold indifference. There was not a single trace left of the erotic image that you had seen just a minute ago.
He patted his muscular, thick thighs and looked at you defiantly, and you obediently walked over to him and sat down on his lap.
His warm thigh pressed against your cunt without pity as soon as you sat down, and you pressed against him desperately in pursuit of the pleasure he hadn't allowed you to have yet. At the same time, Wooyoung slapped your bare bottom with the palm of his hand.
"You have been impertinent to me, which means you have an anger that makes you want to sin. And that is one of my favourite sins, my dear. Wooyoung said as he put his hands on your hips to stop you from squirming on his leg. "To see all the terrible things people can do just because of a little anger is both fascinating and funny."
He lifted you slightly and placed you on his lap. You obeyed him without saying a word. He manipulated you like a doll, positioning you so that you were completely on top of him, your long hair falling in your face and your head tilted forward. You clenched your jaw as hard as you could, terrified of what would happen if you let a single drop of his sperm come out of your mouth. You winced and whimpered as he wedged his knee between your legs again, his hand brushing the tender junction of your ass and thigh.
"I can feel the rage burning deep inside you, my child." Wooyoung held your hands behind your back as he restrained you, tears welling in your eyes. He used his other hand to press down on your lower back and used his knee to press down on your wet cunt. You let out a scream, the piercing sound muffled by your closed lips. The texture of his cum seemed to get thicker the longer it remained on your tongue, and you had to clench your jaw tighter, praying that nothing would accidentally drip out. You couldn't afford to be disgusted by how bitter and cold it had become, coating your mouth with every slight movement you made.
"Isn't that so? Answer me, dear." He growled as he began to massage your ass so hard that you could feel his nails digging into your soft skin.
All you could manage was a pitiful "mmmm.".
"Angry, naughty girl." He said, his voice full of fake sympathy as he ran his fingertips along your thighs in preparation for what was to come. "We can't let this pass unnoticed, can we? You need to repent."
Without warning, he slapped your ass so hard you almost forgot the cum in your mouth. Your body jerked forward before he caught you and brought you back. He didn't give you any time to recover from the blow, as he landed a second one on the opposite side of your ass. Your eyes welled up with tears and concentration as you struggled to keep your mouth shut. Tears started streaming from your eyes down your flushed, hot cheeks as he hit you again with even more sadistic aggression than the first two times. Wooyoung continued his merciless assault, each blow harder than the last, until he landed a particularly hard blow that you were sure would leave a bloody handprint on your skin. The force of the blow was almost enough to bring you to a scream, and for a moment, your lips parted. A small stream of cum ran from the corner of your mouth and down the side of your chin.
You hoped that he hadn't noticed, but you realised that you were out of luck when he let go of your wrists and took a firm grip of your hair instead. As he leaned down to speak roughly into your ear, he dug his nails into the battered, red skin of your ass as he pulled your head back.
"I will have no choice but to extend your punishment if you make a mess, my dear." When he warned you, Wooyoung's voice was deep and quietly ominous, like the ocean on the brink of a storm. He waited for a nod of understanding from you before he let go of your hair and returned to his previous position, running the palm of his hand lovingly over the swollen expanse of your ass.
You closed your eyes and took deep, slow breaths as Wooyoung spanked you over and over again without stopping. You would probably have enjoyed the spanking if it hadn't been for the added responsibility of holding a tonne of cum in your mouthYou s you squirm under his touch. His knee was still pressed relentlessly against your cunt, and his trousers were no doubt slippery from your excitement, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through your body every time you jerked in response to another loud slap against your skin. The sound was almost deafening, echoing off the walls of the old church in a dull echo.
Your punishment turned Wooyoung on once more, his hard cock pressed against the side of your body.
"It's turning you on, you little bitch." The tone of his voice would have been venomous, but it still remained angelic in some way. "I shouldn't be surprised about that. It doesn't matter what kind of touch you have, is it? You're such a needy slut that even the most innocent of touches makes your cunt wet." He ran his fingers through the tangled hair at the back of your head and let out a mocking chuckle. "You can swallow now, darling."
You swallow the cold, sticky cum, gasping in relief as it slides down your throat, immediately following his request. You could still taste it on the inside of your mouth, a faint hint of savoury sweetness tickling your taste buds. After he had spent a few seconds stroking your battered bottom in gentle, soothing movements, he grabbed hold of your sides and lifted you up until you were back in a sitting position on the edge of his lap. For the second time that night, he unbuckled his belt, sliding his trousers and boxer shorts halfway down his hips and freeing his thick cock.
Your stomach churned at the sight of Wooyoung's big, thick cock, but you knew better than to give in to your dark desires. All you could think about was how much you wanted to feel it—to run your hand along its veiny member, to curl your lips around its warm, velvety length, to jump on it and take it so deep into your cunt until you were sure you could feel it deep inside your belly. Wooyoung was absolutely right: you didn't care how he touched you at all. You were longing to feel his touch in any way that was possible.
"Pampered little sluts like you are always too used to being given everything they want without having to lift a finger to get it." He said this as he used his thumb to massage the wet head of his cock. He lifted you up and guided you to straddle him, his hands gripping the soft curves of your hips. Your breath caught; you were so close to your desire that you could almost taste it on your tongue.
"Is that what you wanted, darling?" Wooyoung hummed sweetly as he wrapped his long fingers around your wrist and pressed your hand down onto his cock. Instinctively, you grabbed hold of it, sinking your teeth into your lower lip as you ran your fingers along the prominent veins that adorned the length of his cock.
"Yeah, Holy Father." You said it breathlessly. "God, yes. This is what I have been craving so much."
"You little whore, you ought to know better than to take the name of the Lord in vain in the presence of a priest." Wooyoung teased, and you could feel his hot, cinnamon-scented breath on the back of your neck. The pleasure rippled through your body.
"Please, Wooyoung, please, I want to repent." You came close to whimpering. Your hips jerked in Wooyoung's tight grip in search of some kind of relief, and he reached forward to hold you tightly.
"You must try harder, darling. I want to see you try to repent." He placed his hands on either side of you, and the corners of his sensual lips curled up slightly into a wicked grin as he leaned back against the bench and looked at you from under his half-closed eyelids. You leaned forward and held his cock upright by the base. Sitting up, you rubbed the flushed head along your soft, wet folds, pushing it past your entrance and stretching the small hole with his thick, hot cock. Your heart pounded in your chest, pounding against your ribs as you slid on top of him all at once. At the obviously intense pain of his thickness stretching your narrow, silky walls, tears streamed from your eyes.
"Dear Lord." You let out a loud moan and rolled your eyes back as he suddenly filled you to the brim. Wooyoung didn't move, maintaining a majestic coolness, but you could see him sucking his plump lower lip into his mouth when he could feel your pussy enveloping him, a soft hiss coming from the back of his throat.
"That's it, my darling." He praised you, not being able to control himself, and he began to knead your plump tits in his hands. You squealed and barely moved your hips, still trying to get used to the idea of having something so massive and so hot inside of you. "I want you to fuck yourself on my dick. Can you do that for me like a good girl?" he asked.
"Yeah, Holy Father." You replied breathlessly. You leaned over Wooyoung's shoulder and grabbed hold of the edge of the bench with both hands to prop yourself up. As you began to move slowly, up and down on his cock, Wooyoung pressed his mouth to your sensitive nipple and ran his tongue over it.
You were starting to sweat, but you continued to fuck yourself as ordered, gaining momentum with each thrust of your hips.
The lewd sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the empty church and mingled with the muffled, lascivious moans that escaped from your throat. You had never experienced ecstasy like this before, and you were not sure if you would ever be able to experience it again. You were insatiable, moving your hips in an almost painfully hard rhythm, your knuckles white from the force of your grip on the bench. The head of Wooyoung's cock reached your cervix, and you saw stars, unable to think of anything else but your inevitable orgasm and the devilishly beautiful man beneath you.
"Fuck, oh, fuck, Wooyoung, please..." You screamed out the words in an incoherent manner, completely consumed by the intense pleasure you were feeling. Wooyoung was a lot less eloquent than you and tried to control himself, but it was obvious that he was going crazy as well, judging by how hard he was pressing down on you. You could be sure that the marks that his hands had left on your body would be there for a long time to come.
He growled as he lifted his hips up towards you, and streams of tears began to run down your cheeks with renewed force. It hurt, but you loved the pain, you craved it, and you knew you wouldn't be able to forget it for weeks and weeks.
"I'm so close... oh fuck, I'm... I'm..." You let out a loud moan and threw your head back.
With that, he pushed you away from him with such force that you fell off his lap, your ass touching the cold velour carpet, his cock coming out of you just as you were about to come. You sobbed pitifully and looked up at Wooyoung with your eyes wide and glassy as he rose to his feet, his cock glistening with the wetness of your cunt.
"I don't think you're sincere enough in repenting; you're still full of sin, full of forbidden and dark desires, my dear." Wooyoung said it in a dismissive manner as he looked down at you. He leaned down and ran his long fingers through your hair, pulling you up until you were kneeling. "I know what you want, negligible girl. You want to cum. But unfortunately for you, today I'm the only one who can do it."
He mocked you, taking pleasure in the look of misery on your face as he forced your mouth open. He then shoved his cock into your mouth, letting you taste the arousal of your own as it covered him, and without any warning at all,, he began to fuck you in the face at a fast, merciless pace. Gagging on his cock and taking shallow breaths through your nose as he pushed down your throat, using your hair as a rein to guide your head, there was nothing you could do but take what was given to you. You felt his cock twitch, and then your nose was pressed against the smooth, hot skin of his pelvis, one hand holding you in place as warm ropes of cum shot down your throat. He released you and threw you on your side like a rag doll when he was sure you had drunk every last drop.
Too humiliated to look into the eyes of the gorgeous man who had brought you to this state, you began to sob, pulling your knees to your chest. There was no more holiness in Wooyoung than there was in the devil himself. Like the wolf in sheep's clothing, he wore a robe. At the moment, you were nothing more than a whimpering mess, bruised and humiliated, with a sore throat and trembling lips.
And yet somehow your cunt was throbbing and leaking, desperate for filling.
"Please, Wooyoung..." As the words left your lips, you felt numb and didn't even know how you could speak. "Please."
From where he was standing, he looked sinfully delicious, towering over you like a fallen angel dressed in black and sin as you lay on the floor, and you watched in disappointment as he tucked his dick back into his trousers. With what little strength you had left, you tugged at the hem of his trouser leg, and he tilted his head questioningly, a sensual smile crossing his plump lips at the sight of your hopeless state.
"Please. I don't know what you want me to repent for, but please.... Just... please. I'll do anything for you. Wooyoung..." You were on your knees, pressing your cheek against his thigh like a cat begging for food.
"What do you want, my child?" He asked in a voice that was patronising and majestic. He gently stroked your cheek with his thumb, wiping away some of the tears that had partially dried as he did so. "Wasn't that enough for you? Isn't it enough that my cock fills your mouth and your cunt? Are you going to ask me for more when I have already given you so much?"
You lowered your eyes in shame.
He grabbed you roughly by the shoulder and jerked you to your feet, throwing you onto the bench as he did so. Wooyoung licked his lips as he admired the sight of your naked body as it lay on the wooden bench, the angry red marks on your skin, and the blackened bruises that adorned your thighs.
"Do you want to cum? Is that what you want, you little slut?" Wooyoung asked you as he dropped to his knees and spread your thighs wide open. When you didn't answer, he smacked you hard on the inside of your thigh. "Answer me, bitch."
"Oh my God." You sighed, melting at the teasing sensation of the cold air of the wind on your hot and needy cunt as he spoke. "Y-yes Holy Father. That is what I want."
"Isn't it?" Wooyoung purred, holding your hips in place so that they would remain open for his pleasure. "I will be gracious to you, because that is what God commands us to be."
Suddenly, he lowered himself forward and buried his gorgeous face in your pussy, stroking vigorously between the folds of your pussy and collecting your sticky secretions on his tongue. You moaned wildly, one hand tangled in his black silk hair, reflexively rubbing your pussy all over his face. He wrapped his plump lips around your clit, sucking just enough to leave you stunned, and ran his tongue between your soft folds, swollen from his previous actions. Squirming helplessly under his ministrations, you cried out as he let go of one of your hips and slipped two long fingers inside you.
It was brutal—the way he moved his fingers inside you in a merciless way, his mouth working fervently over your clit. The edges of your vision became blurred, and soon you could feel the walls of your pussy beginning to contract, a sign that your climax was nearing.
"I... I... damn!" He flicked your head once more with the tip of his tongue, and then you came, throwing your head back in euphoria as you were consumed by your orgasm. Your cunt vibrated as Wooyoung laughed mockingly, and it was then that the whole situation became clear to you: you had been fucked, well and truly. He wasn't going to let you breathe; instead, he continued to play with your throbbing clit, a third finger thrusting into you with a dirty, lewd slurp.
"This is too much..." You whimpered as his tongue moved quickly around your sensitive clit, and his fingers spread you lightly as they went. You had no choice but to accept what he was giving you—the pleasure coursing through you so strongly that it became unbearable—but you were sure that was what he wanted—to punish you with what you craved so much.
He ran his fingers inside of you, guiding them so that they hit the deepest places that no one else had ever been able to reach. He twisted and turned them, brushing against something that was spongy and sensitive, and for a moment all you could see was white as you came for the second time. Just as you had feared, Wooyoung had no intention of stopping; now he was sucking on your clit with such passion that you could barely move, and you fell limply to the back of the bench, your legs twitching under his tight grip. He continued to push his fingers deep into you, your body shuddering weakly each time the tips of his fingers made contact with your cervix.
"Wooyoung, please stop." You begged, but all he did was laugh maliciously and spread his fingers out inside of you, stretching you even further. He pulled away from your clit with a loud pop, and you were on the verge of a sigh of relief until he removed his fingers from your core and replaced them with his sinful lips.
"N-no, that's too much, please!" Now you were sobbing openly as he lowered his head to lick the stripes between your folds, his thumb circling your defenceless clit, his long silken hair tickling the sore skin on your inner thighs.
Wooyoung sucked one of your labia into his mouth before he pushed himself deeper into your entrance and began to fuck you with his skilled, long tongue. You felt the familiar tightness in your stomach once more, and the muscles in your thighs clenched as he pinched your clit with two fingers. The coil in your stomach snapped without warning, and then you came, but this time everything was different: a wave of clear liquid burst from your overstimulated cunt and soaked Wooyoung's face and the front of his perfect shirt.
Eventually, he pulled himself away, his lips curling into a wicked grin as he looked down at the mess that you had made.
"You filthy little thing." He laughed as he wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and licked his wet fingers at the mess. "So, what do you think? Have you come to understand how you can repent of your sins?"
"Y-yes, Holy Father." You said you were clenching your legs in a protective manner in case he decided to go for another round.
"Good." He rose to his feet again, looking just as untouched as he had been the first time you had seen him, except for his hair, which was slightly dishevelled.
Your whole body was aching, from your sore ass to your swollen cunt, from your hips to your back. You were sure that for the next few weeks, Wooyoung would be the only thing on your mind.    "I will be waiting for your return, my child. I need to be sure that you have understood the righteous path and that you are living without sin. Do you understand me, dear?"
"Yes, Wooyoung, I am definitely going to come back to confess."
711 notes · View notes