#Faithe’s handiwork

[tears-that-heal]

Ephesians 2:10

[dwuerch-blog]

Real or an Illusion

Where in the world would you go to celebrate an anniversary? How about Boulder City, Nevada and seeing the Hoover Dam where it’s hot hot hot? But, when you have cousins who live there in a gorgeous home overlooking majestic mountains, the desert and Lake Mead, you welcome the blessing! Covered in sunscreen and being out in the desert’s hot, blistering sun, I can understand how seeing an oasis of…

[itsfarmerphil]

W8D4: Being outside of time and space, trusting God's handiwork.

Going into day 4 of week 8 and not seeing much movement, all I can do is trust in God. I know that His ways are better and higher than my ways and so I trust Him. His plans are for good and not for evil and so I trust Him. I know His timing is perfect and is my provider and so I trust Him. I consider the physical miracles He has and can perform being outside of time and space and am trying to…

[unviz]

We are wonderfully and thoughtfully made. Our existence has a purpose. We are intentionally created. It is not by accident or by chance that we exist or that we are where we are right now. He has prepared something for us. There is a purpose, a path, a plan, that the Lord has prepared for us before He breathe life unto us.

[nanaslutt]

entering zenin clan as toji's little trophy wife

contains: fem reader, established relationship, age gap (not specified), misogyny, naoya needs his own warning, voyeurism, masturbation, choking, rough sex, riding, dirty talk, cumming inside (toji has a vacectomy), Toji is a good husband, praise

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Your large husband Toji stood in front of you, fastening the fabric around the kimono he had bought you for the special occasion. He himself was adorned in a dark blue kimono, the white fabric of the jupan peeking out from underneath the neckline of his kimono. He was wearing a pair of traditional setta sandals, you had never seen him look so formal and old-fashioned in your life.

"People really still wear this stuff?" You asked, watching him tie the light pink fabric in a bow that would rest on your hipline. Toji kept his eyes on his hands, working carefully, "You're making it too obvious you're not from a sorcerer family." He said, looking up under his dark eyelashes at you once he finished prettying you up. He took a step back, keeping his hands on your waist as he smoothed his hands down the sides of your hips, admiring his handiwork. A whistle from his lips made you blush, smiling up at the older man.

"Beautiful." He said, stepping up to you once again he pressed you against his chest, gripping his hands on the small of your waist he leaned down and kissed you softly, humming against your lips before pulling away. "Thank you Toji." You said, making the scar on his lip bend as a smirk graced his handsome features. "The geezers you're about to meet don't take kindly to.. women, they're old fashioned so do your best to stay close to me, not that I plan to leave you alone with them." Toji shivered internally thinking about what they would do to a pretty thing like you if he let you alone, not that he didn't have full faith in your skills, he knew you were strong, but he also knew how strong his family was.

"I figured out the old-fashioned part by the clothes, I guess misogyny just comes with that territory." You said lightly, making him huff out a laugh. "Don't take their words too seriously, especially Naoya, he respects me so It's hard to know if he'll say anything, but he's notorious for having a big fucking mouth." You watched Toji's expression while he spoke, a vein popping out under the skin of his forehead. "Especially with the women. I don't know if there's a single maid he hasn't harassed in some way or another." He said, growing irritated at the thought of him trying something with his wife.

"I can take it." You said, the soft touch of your fingers tracing Toji's cheek snapping him out of his annoying daydream, bringing him back to reality, his eyes shutting as he sighed, leaning into your touch. "We're just there for me to introduce myself, then we never have to see them again, right?" You asked, smiling when he cracked open his eyes and nodded at you. "What's the worst that can happen in a couple hours?" You spoke reassuringly. "You don't know my family." He sighed, covering your hand with his, pressing it harder agaisnt his face. "I wish I didn't either." His animosity made you smirk, he was working himself up too much.

"How did they even find out we got married?" You asked, Toji's hand dropping from your own as he stepped away to grab his phone on the table behind him and call for a ride. "Who fucking knows, they're so creepy they probably know your blood type and the time you were born by now." He mumbled, holding his phone up to his ear as it rang, reaching one of the drivers for the Zenin clan. You came up behind him, running your hands up his back, relishing in the feeling of the soft fabric of his kimono, before reaching his shoulders and massaging his shoulder gently as he spoke curtly to the man on the other side of the phone.

—

The two of you stepped out of the car, Toji first, taking your hand in his as you slid out after him, thanking the driver before you interlaced your arm in his. You were greeted by a kind-looking maid, she looked to be about ten years older than Toji, she bowed when the two of you approached. "Right this way Zenin." She said, glancing at the two of you before she raised her tired body and started a trail into the main building of the Zenin house. Toji cringed at the use of his last name, you felt his bicep tense when she uttered the word. You looked up at him, watching the muscles in his jaw flex as he repeatedly clenched his teeth together.

"I should be the one nervous." You whispered, receiving a glance from your husband, the shadow of a smile gracing his lips before he averted his gaze back in front of him, his eyes darting around to the familiar walls of his miserable childhood. "Being here makes me feel sick is all." He said. You absorbed his words, nodding to yourself as you looked forward, watching the fabric of the older woman's kimono crinkle on her back as she walked.

Toji had told you about his childhood before, but only the once; it was a sore subject after all. You knew it was a very toxic and abusive environment to grow up in, especially for Toji, as he was one to form his own opinions and morals, not letting anyone other than himself influence that; which his family did not appreciate in the slightest. "Here you are, please enter at your own pace." The woman spoke, looking Toji directly in the eyes and squinting before she bowed and walked away, following the hallway back the way you had just come down, presumably to complete some mundane task.

"She knows you, huh?" You asked, squeezing your arm tightly against his as the two of you stood feet from the massive sliding wooden doors that separated you from the main room, where his family was currently residing; chatter and laughter could be heard muffled through the thick wood. "That old dinosaur." Toji laughed quietly. "She was in charge of my main academic classes, would smack my hands with a ruler when I got an answer wrong, shit hurt." He said, you watched him smile, recalling the memory.

"And you're smiling?" You said, tilting your head confused. "Old hag was the only one who actually looked out for me in this hell hole." He said, shaking away the memory before looking down at you. "You ready sweetheart?" Toji asked, staring into your eyes fondly. When you nodded he leaned forward, pressing his plush lips to the top of your head before pulling back and taking a step forward, slipping his fingers into the inverted door handle he slid the door open, the loud grating of the wood announcing your arrival.

Immediately all chatter in the room stopped and all eyes were on you, not Toji, you. The aura in the room was suffocating, only a couple seconds in the presence of these men, and you had understood why Toji was acting so uncomfortable. They were strong, incredibly so, you could feel it. A man with long dark shaggy hair leaned back on the couch, his legs spread as he caressed his chin looking you up and down. You felt shivers crawl down your spine from his perverted gaze alone; his aura wasn't as strong as the others.

Continuing your scan around the room, your eyes landed on a younger-looking man with blonde- almost green hair, a brown halo of hair around his head, he gave you an incredulous look, man spread on the couch much like the last man, he had his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze focused on your chest, thankfully covered by the Kimono; and yet you still felt so exposed under his gaze.

Some other unmemorable men were scattered in the room, an old man with a high ponytail, a teen with short spiky hair, and a handful of longer hair wrapped in bandages behind his neck. One man stood out from the rest though, in terms of the sheer cursed energy radiating off of him, making you shiver, every hair on your body standing at attention. A silver-haired man, twice Toji's age, sat on the floor on a fancy-looking pillow in the center of the room, a half-empty whiskey bottle in his hand, his lips dripping the liquid. The man burped vulgarly, making you suppress a wince at the shameless action.

As much as his face alone looked perfect for the bottom of your foot, you knew this was a man who was absolutely not to be messed with. You guessed this was Nobito, Toji's uncle. "Toji tightened his arm around yours, keeping his gaze in front of him as you looked up through your lashes at him; he could feel your anxiety and was trying to silently tell you he was right there. Nobito laughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he raised to his feet, taking long strides toward you and your husband.

He stopped in front of you, ignoring Toji's presence completely. "Bagged a cute little woman, Toji." He laughed, looking at you when he spoke. You maintained composure, keeping eye contact with the wrinkled man in front of you, his breath reeked of alcohol. "Too bad she doesn't know her place." A voice interrupted. Toji's eyes looked to the voice, his face staying unexpressed, making eye contact with the source of the noise, Naoya. "Who does she think she is? Dumb woman doesn't know she should walk behind a man?" He said, scoffing, a look of disgust plastered on his face.

"When you get a wife, feel free to treat her however you like," Toji responded, deadpanning. "Insult my wife again, I'll cut out your tongue." Toji's deep asserting voice made you shiver, a heat creeping over your face at how he had defended you without a second thought. Naoya presented a toothy grin to Toji, a vein in his forehead popping out in annoyance. Suddenly it was too hard to breathe. "Now now, ten years of radio silence from you, and this is how you want our reunion to start?" Nobito tsked, keeping his face in front of yours but darting his eyes to meet Toji's.

"Nice to meet you, sir." You said, bowing respectfully, looking up at the old man under your lashes. He smiled, taking a couple steps back from you. "She's polite~" Another voice resounded through the room- the teen with the rat tail had spoken. "At least she can do something right," Naoya mumbled under his breath, the bitter words not being missed by Toji. You quickly reacted, squeezing your fingers into his arm to warn him not to do anything stupid. His nostrils flared on his otherwise blank face, his chest rising in a deep breath before leveling out again.

Nobito walked back to his seat and picked up the bottle of whiskey, grabbing a glass from the table in front of him he poured a generous amount before sitting and pushing the drink in your direction on the table. All their eyes were on the two of you, waiting for you to sit. Usually, you would sit down first, Toji making sure you were comfortable before sitting down next to you. In this setting, however, you weren't sure this was the best idea.

Unlacing your arm with his, you gestured towards the table with your hands before holding them in front of you, looking up at Toji. He paused, looking down at you before he started for the couch, you followed hot on his trail. Naoya smiled at this, not being able to shake the feeling that he had some influence on your actions. Toji held his hand out for you before you sat down. Placing your hand in his larger one, you sat next to him, your thighs touching with the proximity. He continued to hold your hand, placing tangled hands on your thigh as he gripped his over yours, enveloping it completely.

You pressed your knees together tightly, not wanting to reveal even a centimeter of your skin to the men around you if you could help it. Toji picked up the glass in front of him, bringing the caramel-colored liquid up to his lips before he was stopped by a hand grabbing his wrist. The shaggy-haired man had grabbed Toji, tsking, "Thats for your pretty little wife." He smiled maliciously, Nobito grinned, watching the interaction. "She doesn't drink." Toji was quick to retort, pushing though the grip on his wrist he tipped the glass into his lips, tasting the bitter liquid on his tongue before swallowing.

"You keepin' her pure?" Naoya's grating voice once again spoke. Toji was right, the man constantly had something to say, and none of it was good. "She even old enough to drink? Fuck, did you snatch up a young one?" He laughed, the sound making you cringe. "I can drink, I just choose not to." You responded, making the blonde-haired man's smile immediately flush off of his face as his gaze dropped to yours. "Why is your wife speaking right now?" He asked, the question directed at Toji, but his eyes were on yours.

"Only speak when you're being spoken to, and even then, make sure what you have to say is meaningful," Naoya instructed. You looked visibly taken aback. Oh he wanted to die huh?Toji thought, the vein in his forehead showing itself from under the skin. He swore he was going to come back here and strangle the man to death in his sleep, and he would enjoy every last second of it. Who the fuck was he to speak to you like that?

“I don’t tell her what to do, and you sure as hell won’t as long as I live either.” Toji growled, his grip tightening against your thigh. "Naoya." Another voice cut in before things could escalate. The man with the ponytail prevented Naoya from digging his grave deeper. Toji's eyes were glued to his younger cousins, his heartbeat racing in his chest as he tried to calm himself down.

You had no idea how much self-restraint Toji really had. Whenever a man even looked in your general direction you had to physically pull him back on his metaphorical leash so he didn't kill him on the street. He took a large gulp of the liquid once more, he couldn't tell if the bitterness was easing the angst he was feeling or increasing it. Naoya lost the glaring battle with Toji, scoffing as he looked away. "How old are you, Naoya?" Toji spoke, holding the glass of half-empty liquor on his thigh, spreading his legs. "Twenty-six." He replied.

Toji laughed curtly, raising his eyebrows before he released your hand and wrapped his arm around the back of the couch. "Don't you think It's time you find a wife? Or you been havin' some trouble findin' a woman who you don't have to beat to act like your dog?" Toji spat, making the younger man fume across the room. A snicker could be heard from the teenager to your left. You had to fight back your own smile, you're pretty sure you would get smacked upside the head by Naoya himself if you did.

“How did the two of you meet, dollface?” The man with the dark shaggy hair questioned you. Toji could obviously see you looked visibly uncomfortable at the nickname the man had used, squirming in your seat before your opened your mouth to speak, “Me and Dollface met through a mutual friend.” Toji interrupted, making the weight on your shoulders lift and dissipate into the air.

“Your friend know anymore cute young things like your wife here?” The man spoke again, directing his question to Toji but looking at the expanse of your covered body, they all did that and you hated it. “None that would be interested in an old pervert like you.” Toji responded, trying his best to laugh through the situation so his fist didn’t end up through someone’s stomach by the end of this.

"So, do you come from a sorcerer family?" Nobito interjected, taking a swig from the whiskey bottle. The questions never seemed to stop coming from every direction in the room. "No sir, I'm the only sorcerer in my family." You responded a couple chuckles could be heard throughout the room at your response. Naoya almost burst a blood vessel keeping what he really wanted to say at bay. Sure, you had a nice figure, and a pretty little face to match—but you were arrogant and had too much of your own personality. Naoya had an an inkling your relationship wasn’t as traditional as you were playing it out to be.

Toji deserved to be with someone who listened to him, who didn’t speak out of turn, who could actually walk behind a man. You must’ve been good in bed for Toji to have put a ring on your finger with all those flaws, he presumed.

"She's a first-grade sorcerer before you open your pathetic mouths again." Toji defended. You pressed your thighs together. He was so stoic and serious, it aroused you to no end, and the way he wasn't afraid to show you off, fuck it was doing things to you. Some “Ooh’s~” echoed through the room.

"Pretty and useful." The old man with the ponytail spoke. You averted your gaze to some corner of the room when you saw some nods throughout the room. "She cooks and cleans too?" Someone teased, creating more chuckles to emanate throughout the room. Toji clenched his jaw in annoyance. If his family knew that he did most of the cooking, he was sure at least 5 of them would have an aneurysm in this very room. At least he could be left alone without fear of starvation while he doubted these grown men knew how to cook something as simple as rice.

"When are you having a child? She doesn't look pregnant now." Naoya blurted out confused, his words indicating that the only thing a wife was good for was having children. You couldn't help but feel too aware of your own body at his words, realizing you could actually be perceived, and were actively being so in this moment. You kept quiet, looking up at Toji, waiting for his answer to come. Truthfully, you wanted kids with him at some point, but you were still so young. The two of you had talked about it briefly, at decided you would revisit the topic in a few years.

Toji brought his hand to wrap around the back of your shoulders, rubbing the skin there before he spoke. "She's too young to have kids now, maybe a few years," Toji answered curtly. Naoya looked flabbergasted, leaning forward on his elbows he spoke exasperatedly, "What? Nonsense, there's no such thing as too young to have kids-" barf. "Her eggs are going to be dried up in a couple years." His lackluster knowledge of a woman's body amused you, once again suppressing a laugh as you pretended to scratch the tip of your nose, hiding your mouth from view.

Toji picked up on your amusement, smiling before he spoke. "What would you know about a woman's body?" He challenged, sliding his hand across your shoulders to drop back down to your thigh, squeezing the fat through the fabric, making you feel a heat between your thighs. Naoya's lip curled up in annoyance, keeping his eyes on Toji's. "Let's take a break, yeah?" Nobito spoke, his voice coming out slurred. "We have a room for the two of you, dinner will be ready soon, we can catch and learn more about your little wife more then, hm?" he said, the words phrased as a suggestion but you knew it wasn't that.

"After you baby," Toji said, nodding his head at you. You smoothed your hands over your thighs as you stood, standing, you bowed before the men as Toji stood with you. "Nice to meet.. most of you." You said, licking your lips to conceal your grin as you started for the door. Toji smirked, making eye contact with Naoya's obviously irritated face before he wrapped his arm around your waist, his hand resting right above your ass as he let you out of the room, sliding the door shut behind the two of you.

"Well, that sure went!" you said, looking up at him and smiling through a cringe, making him laugh at your unfinished sentence, he knew exactly what you meant. "What you said at the end got me all worked up," Toji said, grabbing a handful of your ass as he started walking toward his old bedroom. "Huh?" You asked, confused. "No one talks back to that shitty guy, shoulda seen his face when you said that shit." Toji laughed. You caught on, realizing he was referring to your indirect jab at the blond-haired man before you left.

"Didn't realize bullying your family was one of your kinks." You teased, stopping in front of the doorway when Toji slid the door to his room open, holding his arm out atop the frame for you to go under. "You kiddin? Think it's higher up than my love for titty-fucking'" Toji teased, grabbing your hips as he followed you into the room. He shut the door with one hand behind him, before pulling you against his chest and pressing his lips to yours. "Sorry about those fuckin' assholes." Toji apologized, kissing the corner of your eye.

"It's not you who should be apologizing." You giggled, holding his face in your hands. "Plus, the way you were standing me up for me in there got me all wet." You leaned and whispered against his lips. "Yeah?" His deep voice whispered back, his breath tickling your lips as he hovered his mouth an arm hairs length away from yours. "Wanna see for yourself?" You asked, dropping one of your hands from his face to grab his wrist and bring it between the slit of your Kimono, under the jupan, so his large fingers were directly touching your damp panties. “Wanna hear how loud you can be for me, show these old fucks how good you take my dick.” Toji whispered, finally closing the distance and pressing your lips together.

—

In the other room, the men had not yet dispersed. Talking amongst themselves, they still collectively hung around in the main room. "She's a bold woman I'll give her that." The old man with the ponytail spoke with his arms crossed over his chest. Naoya fumed in his seat, his nose crinkling in disgust as he replayed your words over in his head. "Nice to meet... some of you." the fucking audacity. He was the heir to the Zenin clan, did you not know that? Talking to him like he's some trash, dumb woman.

"The only thing good about that noisy woman is her ass, what the hell does Toji see in her?" Naoya spoke, making Nobito laugh as he took another swig from the whiskey bottle, holding it by the neck. "She has a nice face, and she's undoubtedly strong if even Toji was willing to praise her like that in front of Nobito." The teen said, shrugging his shoulders. Naoya tsked, crossing his arms over one another, staring at some corner of the room angrily.

The locker room talk about your body and other discussions about you and Toji continued for a couple minutes before their talk was interrupted by a loud sound shrieking through the walls. The men raised their eyebrows, stopping all conversation as they waited to hear the sound again. "Agh!!" There it was again, the loud sound being muffled by the walls that separated them from the source. "The hell is that?" Naoya spoke first, his voice cutting into the otherwise silent room.

"Shh." Nobito hushed, setting the bottle down he scanned his eyes around the walls, waiting to see where the sound was coming from. "Ah-ah-ah!" He tilted his ear towards the direction of the sound when the moans came more steadily, his head tipping in the direction of where you and Toji were staying. Naoya was growing frustrated, already annoyed that his dad had hushed him in front of everyone. "Toji- Fuck-" That was all they needed to hear. Nobito let out a hearty laugh, as he raised to his feet, whiskey bottle in hand as he started for the sliding door that would take him to the garden.

Naoya's face was plastered with a blush, did you just-? "Fucking under Nobito's roof after being absent for a decade, heh~" The shaggy-haired man laughed. "He's marking his territory, bastard," Nobito spoke before sliding the door shut behind him, lounging on the edge of the deck. He thought you were eye candy, sure, but he didn't want to hear his nephew fucking his wife in front of him, he would rather be the one doing the fucking.

Toji's growls could be heard through the walls as he fucked into you, the sound of an old bed creaking through the walls was not missed by Naoya's ears. "Even her voice is cute." One of the men spoke. Naoya couldn't take this torture anymore, with his face completely flushed, he rose to his feet, walking quickly out of the room. "It's disgusting." Naoya spit, sliding the big wooden door loudly behind him.

Some maids were in the hallway gossiping when he exited. Giggling and covering their faces as they listened to Toji absolutely ruin your shit. His face burning hot as he leaned against the door, he glanced up at the women, "What the hell do you think you're doing? Get back to work." Naoya hissed, the woman immediately dispursing to finish their chores. He sighed when they were out of sight, finally looking down at his Kimono, he noticed a tent had formed at his crotch, he looked at it in disgust, scrunching his face up as he made quick work to his room, which coincidentally neighbored Toji's.

--

"You like that baby? Like when I fuck your tight little cunt like this? Toji groaned, gripping your hips as he brought your ass back to meet his thrusts, fucking his cock into your g-spot with pinpoint precision. "Y-yes Toji- Love it- love it so much!" You groaned. He had you face down, ass up, and his hips were being so fucking mean. Mercilessly he pulled his cock almost completely out, before bulling the entirety of his girth into your tight pussy, loud squelches filling the room at how wet you were.

"Yeah you do, take my cock-" thrust "so" thrust "fucking" thrust "well-!" He grit through his teeth, his hips colliding with your ass and making the fat ripple. He had only pushed your kimono up, revealing your pussy to him, he himself had only pulled his cock out through the slit, making it easier for him to get inside you faster after he briefly stretched you out on his fingers. "You're so pretty baby, fuck- such a good fucking wife-" He groaned, making a point to say that last part extra loud.

He didn't feel like he had anything to prove to his family, he knew how good you were to him, and how in love the two of you were. He just wanted to make them jealous, they were all old, ugly, and wifeless or had shells of women on their arms after all. He saw how they looked at you, how they tried to look through your Kimono and get even a sliver of skin to feast their eyes upon. He wanted them to know they would never, in a million years, get the chance, so here he was, fucking his lively young wife, bubbly and full of personality, in their prison of a home.

"Wanna ride me, baby? Let em' hear how good you fuck me?" He asked, not letting up his assault on your pussy. You drooled and whined into the sheets, gripping your nails into the expensive cloth as your body jerked and slid across the sheets from his manhandling. Riding Toji was a rare feat, it got him so worked up. The angle at which your pussy sucked in his cock, how deep he got, always made him relinquish control unconsciously, which is why it was so rare he let you ride him.

You nodded into the sheets, your words getting slurred together when you mumbled out "yesyesyes" while he fucked you. Toji laughed, pulling out his cock he continued to jerk it slowly, spreading your juiced all over him before he plopped on the bed next to you, holding your outer hip to pull you towards him as he got comfortable against the sheets. With shaky legs, you slung them over Toji's hips, watching him still jerk his cock in his large hand as you situated your pussy to hover right over his fat tip.

"Sit down baby, fuck me." He said the smile your husband had on his face being controlled by lust and love together. His eyes immediately rolled to the back of his head when you sat down on his cock, his abs clenching and legs twitching as you eased his length into you. "Fuuuuck, that's good~" He groned, tipping his head back into the pillows as your pussy swallowed up his cock to the hilt. He could feel every bump and ridge of your cock, your warmth, how fucking tight you were in this position--he already felt himself going dumb.

"Fuck me baby, bounce on my fucking cock-" Toji begged, his hands coming to grip your hips and aid you the best he could in lifting you off his cock and slamming you back down on it. "God~ Toji, you're f-filling me up!" You whined, starting a quick pace on him, pressing your hands against his pecs for stability as you gound your clit against his pelvis every time his cock bottomed out inside you. Toji had his eyebrows scrunched together, his jaw dropped open as he moaned freely into the room, his moans overshadowing yours.

"Y-yeah? Feel my b-big cock fuckin' up 'ur guts?" Toji laughed through a deep whine, trying to watch his length disappear into your pussy when you sat down on it, but he was having a hard time keeping his eyes forward in their sockets. "Yes, Toji- fuck!" You cried out when one of his hands came down to rub his thumb against your clit. The added stimulation made you ride him harder as you chased your orgasm. He loved touching your clit not only because it made you feel good and he loved seeing your reactions to it, but also because your pussy tightened up like it was trying to constrict his cock when he did so.

His body jerked forward every time his dick slid inside you, his deep voice laughing through his arousal when you stopped your bouncing and instead ground against him. The movements made his cock rub against your sweet spot deep inside you. He watched your head tip back as your nails dug into his chest at how good you were feeling. "Choke me baby, cmon~" Toji begged quietly into the air, needing to feel your smaller hand squeeze around his neck when you came.

One of your hands slid up the expanse of his chest, traveling over the fabric of the Kimono as you splayed your fingers out along his neck, giving him a squeeze. The smirk on his face grew tenfold, a dopey grin spreading across his features. "Yesyesyes baby- yesss-" His words were slurred, his eyes rolling back every time his cock was forced against your walls from your incessant humping along his pelvis.

"Baby I'm gonna cum-" You spoke breathlessly, squeezing your hand tighter around his throat as you were brought closer and closer to your high. Toji was getting dizzy, not just from you choking him out, but from watching you shut your eyes and hump yourself on his dick, getting yourself off on him like he was some sex toy--and he fucking loved it. "Yeah- use me baby, use me, cum all over my dick baby please~" He groaned, his jaw falling open and closed like a fish out of water, his eyebrows scrunching shut as he watched your orgasm crash over you.

Your hand around his neck loosened when you came, your orgasm wracking through your body as you jerked and twitched on top of him, your hips losing their rhythm. That was Toji's sign to take over. He abandoned his thumb on your clit and brought his hand back up to join the other in grabbing your waist. He planted his feet on the bed and started pistoning his hips against your ass like a madman. He fucked you through your orgasm and into overstimulation as he brought himself to his own high.

He watched you grit your teeth and squeeze your eyebrows together, pushing through the painful pleasure. "Almost there baby- doin' so good letting me use you like this- fuck-" He praised, shaking his head agaisnt the sheets as he watched your body bounce limply on top of him. Toji was too fucked out to announce before he came, but you knew. His hips lost their rhythm, his voice got higher and higher in pitch before he stilled his hips against your ass.

He groaned hard as he felt the first ropes of his cum shoot inside your pussy. He shot his body up and wrapped his arms around your torso, hiding his face in your neck as he bit down hard against the skin there, letting your cunt milk his balls as his hips stuttered agaisnt you, his cock releasing all of his seed as deep as he could into you. "Fuuuck-" He groaned against your skin when he started coming down from his high.

You pulled your head back, grabbing his face between your hands you pressed your lips to his, breathing heavily against his lips as the two of you kissed passionately. You pulled away, smiling at his flushed face, "Probably sounded like we just made a baby." you giggled, wiping the sweaty strands of his hair from his forehead. "If they ever find out I got a vasectomy, they might have a heart attack," Toji smirked, making you giggle as he peppered kisses on your face. "So maybe we should." He added, dropping his kisses to your neck as the two of you embraced each other, his softening cock still snug in your walls.

In the room over, a fuming Naoya sat on the edge of his bed, his jerking slowing over his softening cock, covered in his own cum as he tried to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "Fucking... bitch.." He whispered into the room, covering his ashamed face with the back of his arm as he flopped back agaisnt his sheets.

—

The two of you spent another hour cleaning up and enjoying each other's company as you sat outside of Toji's room, your back against the wall of the sliding glass door, Toji sitting in front of you, your clothed feet in his hands as he massaged them softly, listening to you speak. "You ready to leave, princess?" He asked when the conversation died down. You sighed, "I wish your family weren't such assholes, food always tastes better when it's free." Your husband gigged as you retracted your legs, pulling on your sandals as the two of you stood to your feet.

"I'll take you out tonight, you look so pretty in this after all, it would be a waste to not enjoy you out like this," Toji said, walking up to you and holding your waist in his hands as he gave you a one-over. You smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips before the two of you made your way back inside to say your goodbyes to the men of the household.

Entering the same room you met them all in before, they were all in their respective places, even Naoya. They all looked over at the two of you as the doorway slid open, Toji's hand on your waist. "We won't be staying for dinner, it's been awful, as always," Toji smirked, looking around the room but spending a little extra time on Nobito and Naoya. You smiled in faux politeness, the bright red bite mark on your next standing out like a sore thumb when you tipped your head to the side. "You think you can just use my home as some sex hotel, and leave?" Nobito asked incredulously, raising en eyebrow at Toji before taking a large swig of the alcohol. You silently prayed he would die in this moment of alcohol poisoning.

Naoya's face was bright red as he stared at the pair of you in disgust, his observant eyes picking up the bruises across Toji's neck from you stranging him in bed. "Watch us." You replied, which made a proud Toji Zenin look down at you and smile. The two of you backed up and shut the door behind you, leaving quickly without another word.

[ace-and-the-rpg-horrors]

it is so important to me that within the very last scene Monty appears, he is spoken to with kindness. and by Charles, of all people.

because the only person that Monty seems to have regularly known is Esther, and she treats him with anything but kindness. it's very safe to assume that Monty has presumably spent the vast majority of his life being berated, attacked and neglected by her. there has never been a moment that showed Monty receiving any sort of gentleness or tenderness from her. when Esther does compliment him, it's only to do with how good-looking she made him as a human. and that's her own handiwork. Monty himself is never praised, never acknowledged, never seen for any of his own efforts to assist her. yet, she was quick to both see and act the second he messed up, and not even through fault of his own.

it's so incredibly touching that Monty is finally praised for his own actions when we part ways with him. and by the very person he dislikes so much. Monty bitterly resents Charles. he's not shy about it. Charles is not unaware of it. he isn't all that fond of Monty himself. and yet, Charles is the one to end things on a positive note. it should be ironic, but it isn't at all. it makes complete sense.

of course it's Charles that Monty shares this final moment of his with. Charles is not an idiot, so i'm certain he could somewhat tell that Monty is a victim of abuse. the victim of an abusive parent-like figure, no less. just like him. Charles is rightly furious at what Monty has done, but how could he truly hate him? when he knows full well what it's like to be so scared of the person who's meant to look after you? when he knows full well that horrible feeling of being trapped without any escape in sight? Charles has also experienced being treat in a disgusting, violent manner for no reason at all. he may not have been serving an impossible-to-please witch like Monty is, but no matter how athletic, hard-working or friendly he was, Charles could never escape his father's terrifying anger, all efforts of his rendered futile.

it's interesting that Charles doesn't seem all that shocked in this moment, to see Monty act against Esther. he's glad, but i don't reckon his expression is one of surprise? it's almost as if Charles already had some sort of faith in Monty, even though the crow has given him absolutely no reason to trust him, quite the opposite. but maybe that's not so strange. Monty is like Charles. Charles is the person who outright said that he's desperate for people like him to be right, to be good. we saw how devastated he was when Brad and Hunter were not.

so, these words from Charles must have mattered to Monty greatly. people who are abused, especially by those who are meant to look after them, such as their parents, can often be led to believe that their abuser's actions are somehow "justified," even if it's not a thought they're fully conscious of. Monty isn't entirely naïve, at least outwardly. he clearly isn't under the impression that Esther actually cares for him, considering how bitterly he speaks to her. but deep down, there must be a reason he still stays with Esther, because he isn't restrained physically. Monty's cage is unlocked, he's "free" to fly around as he pleases, even shown to go outside at one point. he doesn't fly away from her, though. and that may be because he unconsciously feels that he owes Esther his complete loyalty.

but this moment could have changed that. if Charles, who Monty doesn't like and isn't liked by in return, who Monty was impolite and passive-aggressive to can speak to him kindly - what right does Esther, who Monty tries to be helpful to, have to treat him with such cruelty? what right does she have to scream at him, to grab him, to mutilate him? when he's done nothing but be her loyal familiar, having only committed the sin of feeling too much for her liking, human feelings that she forced upon him?

this scene is towards the end of the show for us. but for Monty, maybe it's a turning point in his life.

[cherrynflowergarden]

જ⁀➴ this is why we can't have nice things || matt sturniolo

sturniolo masterlist taglist

the kitchen smelled of ginger and cinnamon as matt stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up, carefully squeezing icing onto a gingerbread wall. she was beside him, painstakingly placing little candy decorations in a neat line.

“alright, what’s the plan here?” matt asked, glancing at the pile of candy she insisted on using. “we’re making a cute little house,” she said, voice laced with determination. “it’s a gingerbread mansion with the amount of candy you bought, darling.” he teased, smirking as he popped a gumdrop into his mouth.

before she could respond, chris barged into the kitchen, a can of pepsi in hand. “yo, what are you guys doing? trying to win a baking competition or something?”

“trying to build a house,” matt replied, emphasizing trying as the roof he’d just placed slid off.

chris laughed, leaning against the counter. “you need my expert advice?” “not unless you want icing in your hair,” matt shot back playfully, though there was a serious glint in his eyes.

nick appeared next, his curiosity piqued by the commotion. “what’s going on? oh, this is gonna collapse in like two seconds.”

“it’s not collapsing,” she protested, glaring at him as she added a little green wreath to the front door. “it’s going to be perfect.”

nick raised an eyebrow. “define perfect.”

“nick, go away,” matt muttered, though he was grinning now, caught between annoyance and amusement.

nick didn’t leave, of course. instead, he grabbed a piece of gingerbread from the “extra” pile and started munching. “i’m just saying, this isn’t very structurally sound.”

chris grabbed the icing bag from matt. “i’ll show you how it’s done.”

ten minutes later, the kitchen was a disaster zone. icing was everywhere—on the counter, on the floor, and somehow even in nick’s hair. candy was scattered like confetti, and the gingerbread house was leaning precariously to one side.

chris stood back, proudly admiring his handiwork. “i think it adds character.”

“you mean chaos,” nick muttered, wiping icing off his sleeve on chris’ shirt to which the later yelled about.

matt sighed, looking at the mess with his hands on his hips. then he turned to his girlfriend, a smirk tugging at his lips. “at least it’s better than the one they’d make on their own.”

“definitely,” she agreed, laughing as she swiped some icing onto matt’s cheek. “hey!” he grabbed a handful of flour and dusted it over her head in retaliation, making her squeal. nick and chris watched the madness unfold, both shaking their heads.

“this is why we can’t have nice things.” chris said, grinning.

an; heh the title doesn't match at all but it's okay :3 it's 24 dec for me so enjoy this little christmas gift from meeeee i have more ideas and i might just post them :)

tags; @eirianna @thebasicbiatch @katamcauley @wxnyzie @lilmear-blog @vrlixlia @star-fuck-off @embonbon @idkversace @annawilk @r0nnsblog @weluvwbb @c1ydessturniolo @vintagebishx @maddie-bell @timmdmdm @happydiplomatshepherdspy-blog @crispycitrus @faith-f1 @escapentropy @florscons @carlossainzwho @luckylampzonkland @lewisroscoelove @mudryklover @rageshots @dontworryaboutit007 @chair-things @myangelbaby555 @sheesh1311 @f1lovely @silia1raf @blahbel668 @my-dinos-life-is-good @ssturniolo92 @lilly6110 @lou-larcher5 @arminluvrr @mxryxmfooty @gabri3la-sturns @bellsboops @f1-and-shiz @emely9274 @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @kayla-hearts4sturniolo @unx100to @strnlslut

@mattslovergirlie @sarakpalsd @sweetobservationface @shadowthesim @mattslolita @cupiidk1lls @urloveanaa @t1llysblog @meatball10 @fiowerbeds

[b1rds3ye]

Hi! Hello! I'm not sure if I can make a request, but if I can here's my request!

Can you do an LED mask reader who has a workshop underneath the base that the 141 doesn't know about (except Price, he approved it he just didn't tell the others, he didn't tell Shepherd too)

And when someone breaks something (like a gadget) they tell them to come to their workshop so they can fix it

It's okay if you don't do this! I just really like the idea :)

YES YES YES PLS THIS IS SO CUTE!! (Also PLEASE don't be afraid to invade my askbox, it's always open for brainrot, requests and the such~) Unfortunately I couldn't really incorporate the mask into this, just reader being a lil gremlin I hope that's okay 😭

The base has bunkers in case of an emergency and evacuation, but there are some passages and dead-ends that have become completely neglected. Price doesn't know how the hell you caught wind of those abandoned rooms but with his authority combined with Laswell's, they manage to allocate a space for you without the knowledge of any stuffy generals like Shepherd.

While it takes some months until anyone else in the 141 is invited to your underground workshop, they do know something is up. One minute you're around and then the next you've disappeared and unreachable (the first few weeks when you cleaned up the bunkers there was absolutely no signal underground). However they had enough faith in you and Price's lack of concern was signal enough to calm down.

It was only when Soap had come back from a mission, he could only groan in despair at his battered hardware. He's normally a clean demolitions expert, but a mission going south quicker than he could blink meant that his typical tools had succumbed to the explosions he set off. Unable to say no to Johnny's pout as he looked around at everyone like a kicked puppy, you eventually give him a reassuring pat on the back.

"See me downstairs, I'll fix it."

... what?

Johnny - as well as Gaz and Ghost who watched the exchange - just stare at you silently as you walk away. Downstairs? You mean the run down evacuation tunnels that are so run down and poorly maintained they're probably more of a death trap than whatever could be up above? But sure enough, you walk in the direction to one of the known entrances to the bunkers and they hastily chase after you (Price also following a little behind because he just knows this is going to be entertaining).

When they find you downstairs, even Price is in awe of what you've done with the place. It's filled with various forms of high-end tech. An impressive blend of both software running automatically on clean screens and gritty hardware that's sprawled across various workbenches and occasionally forgotten on the ground. There's only a singular hanging light at the center of the ceiling, but with a fresh bulb and the ambient light of all your other technology, the place is lit more than enough.

"Bloody hell..." Kyle pulls away from the rest of the 141 and joins you, his eyes following the curves and dips of a nearby piece of machinery he has never seen before but the general shape has him half convinced it's a bloody bomb.

"Like what you see?" You turn to the rest of the task force. You can't stop yourself from straightening your back in pride as the boys were clearly in awe of your handiwork.

"You were hiding this from us?" Simon asks. His voice always has a bite but you could tell that he was just stupefied, his question not just directed to you as he shoots a look to Price who stifles a smug smirk.

"We had some spare space," Price explains. "Thought it could use the renovation."

"Renovation? You rebuilt this from the ground up," Johnny exclaims, taking in the room as if it was a hidden hoard of treasures.

"Say, you'd let us pay you a visit down here, yeah?" Kyle turns back to you, eyes gleaming. The rest of the task force join in their own way. Johnny's nodding enthusiastically, John cocks an eyebrow at you, and even Simon tilts his head in curiosity, waiting for your next words.

"Hm..." you look away, bringing a finger to your chin and tapping it in contemplation. Eventually you let out a huff as you snatch Johnny's broken gear from his hands and start shooing them out. "I'll have to think about it. I'll get back to you in five to seven business days."

Johnny starts animatedly protesting but lets himself be pushed by you out of the door. Kyle laughs while Price hushes them all. Below all the commotion was an underlying understanding and agreement. You don't even need to say it aloud but they'll all certainly be crashing at your underground workshop and they were more than welcome to. In truth, as much as you loved having your private workshop, the only thing that could make it better was entrusting it with the dearest people in your lives.

Call of Duty Masterlist

[amalythea]

HIII ITS ME AGAIN MWAUAHHAHAHA

kaeya with prompts “stop moving, i'm almost done!” + “don't smile at me like that!”? maybe we're doing his makeup or something I'm a sucker for that

do your best to make me hate him too pls (I have faith that you will succeed, as always)

「 make-up 」

⤷ info: kaeya x gn!reader || fluff || wc: 450

⤷ warnings: kaeya teases reader, who is sitting on his lap

⤷ extra: HI HI IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG

“Stop moving, I’m almost done!” you huffed, the eyeliner pencil in your hand trembling slightly as Kaeya shifted beneath you.

He rested one arm lazily on the back of the chair, the other settling comfortably on your waist. His signature smirk tugged at his lips, and the glint in his eye betrayed his mischief. “I can’t help it when you’re sitting on my lap, darling. It’s hard to focus on anything else.”

You gave him a pointed look, leaning in closer to steady your hand. “Kaeya, if you don’t stay still, this will end in disaster, and I’m not fixing it.”

“Disaster?” he echoed, feigning offense. “You wound me. I trust your skills implicitly.”

Your sigh was sharp but fond, the warmth of his breath brushing your neck making it harder to concentrate. You steadied the pencil once more, your knees bracketing his hips as you tried to ignore the soft chuckle rumbling in his chest.

That chuckle turned into a full laugh when he caught sight of your determined expression. He grinned up at you, his single visible eye full of mirth.

And then, he smiled. That slow, lazy smile—the one that made your pulse quicken and your thoughts stutter.

“Don’t smile at me like that!” you snapped, your voice catching slightly as you pulled back to glare at him.

“Like what?” he asked, tilting his head, the very picture of innocence. Except for the hand on your waist, which tightened ever so slightly, pulling you an inch closer.

“Like you’re up to something,” you muttered, your cheeks warming. “And stop moving. I mean it this time.”

Kaeya sighed dramatically, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Fine, fine. I’m at your mercy.” He glanced up at you through his lashes. “Though, I must say, you look cute when you’re flustered.”

“Kaeya!”

He laughed again, the deep, velvety sound reverberating through you. But, to your surprise, he actually stayed still this time, letting you finish your work without further interruptions.

When you leaned back to inspect your handiwork, Kaeya shifted to catch a glimpse in the mirror. “Impressive,” he mused, dragging a finger along the edge of the eyeliner. “But do I look this good because of you, or do I naturally radiate charm?”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. “You’re lucky I like you.”

He grinned, his hands sliding to your waist as he held you firmly in place. “Lucky, am I? No, my dear, I’d say I’m blessed.”

Before you could protest, he leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. The smirk that followed was insufferable, but you couldn’t bring yourself to mind—not when it was Kaeya.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

@amalythea 2024. | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media.

[kwanisms]

🎄 Tales from Camp Holiday Special 07 🎄

«« previous | masterlist | next »»

➮ Joshua × fem!Reader wc: 9k summary: While helping set up for a Christmas special at his church, Joshua is reintroduced to Y/N who is offered to help him set up. While working, they reminisce and Joshua apologizes about everything that summer. genres/themes/au: angst, fluff, smut; holiday themes, religious undertones; non idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, mentions of pregnancy, religious themes, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist: @yoonguurt @wonw00t @aikisbbq @enhacolor @duchesskaren @sherituhhh @wonderfulshinee @gaebestie @drunk-on-dk @seokgyuu @salty-for-suga @aaniag @dnylwoo @1004luvangel join my taglists: main | TFC: Holiday Special closed! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: sorry this took so long lol i was stumped at where to take it, but managed to figure it out by moving a scene around. Joshua is always a subject that is fun to explore as every seems to see him pretty different. I love seeing what everyone comes up with for him. A reminder that the taglist for this series is now closed! Thank you so much for reading! If you liked this, please consider reblogging as it really helps out and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: protected sex (finally lmao. He has learned from his past), a lot of heavy petting & making out in a church backroom lmao, car sex, oral (m receiving), fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, choking kink, finger sucking, degradation, impact play (light slapping), slight exhibitionism, and I think that’s all of them! If I missed any, let me know!

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

Joshua wouldn’t say he was as deep in his faith as he used to be but he still attended church regularly. Less out of faith and more out of routine and a sense of community. So when the holidays rolls around, he inevitably ends up volunteering to help with the extra activities like the nativity play as well as teaching Sunday school. This year was no different.

Except that it was completely different.

��Can you hand me that hammer?” Joshua asked, pointing at the claw hammer sticking out of the tool box. Jeonghan huffed, bending down to pick it up and handing it over. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into helping you with this,” he grumbled, checking his watch.

Joshua looked up at his friend. “Impatient?” he asked with a smirk. Jeonghan narrowed his eyes. “I have work in an hour,” Jeonghan said, glancing around quickly before adding in an “asshole” under his breath, making Joshua laugh as he lined up the nail and started hammering it.

“This won’t take long,” he promised as he started hammering a second nail into the wood. “Besides, isn’t this fun?” Jeonghan eyed him suspiciously. “Not particularly, no,” Jeonghan answered before glancing around. “I feel… weird.” He looked up at the cross on the wall behind the stage they currently stood on. “Oh it’s not that bad,” Joshua snorted as he finished hammering the nails in.

He handed Jeonghan the hammer before starting to push the frame of the tiny stable over until it stood upright. “Hmm, not bad,” Jeonghan said, tilting his head to admire Joshua’s handiwork. “You’re like Jesus’ dad. A carpenter.” Joshua rolled his eyes, lightly smacking Jeonghan’s arm.

“You’re an idiot.”

“What?” Jeonghan hissed, holding his arm and looking more offended by the slap than the insult. “You even have the same name!” Joshua turned to give Jeonghan a bewildered stare. “You’re thinking of Joseph,” he said as he started to grab the brown cloth fabric and the upholstery staple gun. 

“Mary’s husband was Joseph. Joshua was a warrior who led Israel in the conquest of Canaan after the Exodus from Egypt.”

Jeonghan stared blankly at his friend. “I have no idea what any of those words mean.”

Joshua rolled his eyes, gesturing for Jeonghan to help him hold up the fabric backing of the stable. He started to staple it into place, making sure it was pulled taut over the frame. “He was essentially a military leader,” he explained further. Jeonghan’s lips parted in an O as he listened. 

“Good for him,” Jeonghan said as Joshua continued to staple the backing on. “Power to the people or whatever.” Joshua snorted again as he finished stapling. Jeonghan checked his watch again. “Look, I’d love to stay and talk to you about EXO but I have to leave now if I want to make it to work on time,” he said, starting to head for the steps. Joshua nodded.

“Of course. And thanks for your help,” he said as Jeonghan descended the steps. “Drive safe!” Jeonghan waved as he headed down the aisle and out the door into the lobby of the church.

Back on his own, Joshua was able to focus on the less taxing job of painting the stable. It wasn’t much, just some brown paint here and there but Joshua always went above and beyond.

“Looking good, Joshua!” a voice said, drawing his attention. Joshua looked up to find Father Y/L/N walking towards him, his wife in tow and one more familiar face. Yours.

Joshua felt a rush of blood to his head as he stood up straight, making him feel lightheaded. He hadn’t seen you since summer camp all those years ago. He’d tried, keep an eye out for you every year until he finally quit working there once he got his full time job.

Not one sign of you at the camp. He feared the worst when he didn’t see you again the next summer after your last… meeting. Upon returning to his cabin, Joshua remembered that the two of you hadn’t used a condom and knowing your father was a pastor, he probably didn’t allow you to take birth control.

It had really eaten away at Joshua.

Especially when he learned that you’d left the next morning citing a family emergency. And thus began Joshua’s months-long panic-stricken search but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to dig up any social media accounts under your name.

Not a single trace of you had been left behind for him to follow but here you were, years later and looking even more amazing and beautiful than the last day he’d seen you.

“Joshua, you remember my daughter, Y/N?” your father asked, placing a light hand on your back and gently pulling you forward. Joshua was rendered speechless. He’d never been speechless.

If Jeonghan was still here, he was certain he’d never hear the end of it. Joshua stared at you, stunned and silent longer than he should have because the next thing your father did was ask if he was okay.

Joshua shook himself mentally. ‘Get it together, you idiot!’

“Uh, yeah,” he finally stammered out, turning to look at you, meeting your gaze. “Hey, Y/N, how have you been?” He hesitated briefly, uncertain of how much physical contact was appropriate.

Should he shake your hand? Go in for a hug? What was allowed? Especially in front of your parents. Joshua had literally been inside you before but that was years ago. He settled for neither and instead gave you probably the most awkward wave he'd ever given in his life.

If your dad didn't think something was up before, he’d certainly be suspicious now. Whether or not he was, Joshua wouldn’t know as your father simply smiled, looking from you to Joshua and back.

“It’s been a while, Joshua,” you noted, not looking away from his face. Joshua swallowed nervously, hoping neither of your parents caught onto his increasingly bizarre behavior.

Either they were oblivious or just didn’t care as to why the usually calm.and collected Sunday school teacher was suddenly losing his cool and metaphorically shitting bricks.

“Yeah,” Joshua replied lamely. “Y/N’s been out of the country for work,” your mother suddenly piped up, sounding exceedingly proud of you. A shy smile graced your lips, reminding Joshua of the quiet demure young woman he’d met all those years ago.

Despite the smile, you certainly did not carry yourself the same way.

“Wow, that’s incredible,” Joshua said, looking away from your mother to meet your gaze. “She’s back in town, looking at apartments. Isn’t that right, dear?” Joshua could see a hint of amusement in your eyes.

“Something like that, mother,” you replied dryly. Before either of your parents could say anything more, you spoke again.

“I think I’d like to stay here and help set up,” you offered quickly. “You two go on ahead without me.” Your mother and father exchanged quick glances of surprise before your mother spoke.

“Are you sure, dear?” she asked. You nodded quickly, moving to stand beside Joshua. “It’ll give Joshua and I a chance to catch up.”

Your mother and father looked at one another one last time, Joshua holding his breath that they would just give in and say yes without trying to pry. He wasn’t ready for that conversation yet and he was certain he never would be.

Seemingly moved by your willingness to volunteer, your parents gave in without much resistance, cooing over how sweet you were to volunteer your own time to help out.

They told you they would be back later to pick you up and where to meet them before they both bid you and Joshua farewell.

Once left alone in your presence, Joshua suddenly had no idea what to do, how to act, or what to say so you took the lead, turning to face him. “So,” you started. “What’re you working on?”

Joshua employed your help in painting the stable. It wasn’t exactly riveting work and it left his mind free to wander. Neither of you made any attempt to fill the silence or bridge the glaringly obvious gap between you.

Time seemed to whizz by and yet it also appeared to stand still.

On top of that, he managed to knock over the can of paint.

It would seem he just couldn’t win today.

“Shiii-oot,” Joshua started to curse but caught himself, glancing at you. Upon hearing his half curse, you looked up at him with a bewildered look. “Shi-oot?” you asked, a note of amusement to your voice. Joshua stared at you blankly until you burst into laughter.

And what a sweet laugh it was. He didn’t realize how much he’d missed it until he heard it again.

“What the fuck is ‘shi-oot,’ Joshua?” you managed to wheeze.

A smile spread over Joshua’s face as he realized he’d been holding back and being so uptight for no reason.

Despite all that had changed, it was nice to see some things hadn’t changed at all. You shook your head, still chuckling as you grabbed a nearby rag and started to clean up the spilled paint.

“I’ll go grab a mop from the cleaning supply closet,” Joshua said, setting his brush down carefully and stepping over the spilled paint as you set the can upright.

The cleaning closet wasn’t far, just in the hall outside the nave. He grabbed the mop and a spray bottle of cleaning solution. Upon returning, he was surprised that you managed to get a bulk of the paint off the floor.

He walked over, spraying the spot generously. You got to your feet as Joshua waited for the chemicals in the solution to work. “I’m gonna go grab another can of paint,” you announced. Joshua leaned the mop against one of the benches. 

“I’ll come with you,” he replied, following your steps. “I have to let this stuff sit for a few minutes anyway.” While it was true the solution needed a few minutes for the chemicals to break down the materials in the paint, Joshua really wanted an excuse to spend more time with you. 

He should have known it was a bad idea. He should have foreseen what was going to happen considering your history the last time the two of you were alone together in a store room.

You weren’t sure who made the first move, but one minute you were trying to match paint, the next Joshua had you pinned against the wall, his thigh wedged between yours as his tongue explored your mouth, hands skimming over your body with practiced ease. 

“Fuck,” Joshua grunted as your hands tugged through his hair, pulling his head back slightly. “You still sound just as pretty as before,” he heard you murmur, your lips ghosting over the skin of his neck. “And you’re much more confident than before,” Joshua mused as you pulled back to look at him.

He pulled you in for another kiss, muffling your moans as you rolled your hips, grinding against his thigh.

‘What are you doing? You need to stop this! Remember last time?’

“Wait, wait,” Joshua said softly, pulling back to look at you. “Stop.” You looked up at him, confused as he held you still. “We can’t do this,” he stated, his voice slightly breathless. You felt a small tug at your heart. “Oh.” Your stomach started to sink as the gravity of his words settled. “I see.”

Sensing the shift in your demeanor, Joshua held you firm as you tried to turn and pull away from him. “That came out wrong,” he started quickly. “I meant, we can’t do this here,” he clarified. You looked back up to meet his gaze. “What?” you whispered.

Joshua’s hands moved up to cup your face. “Let me be perfectly clear,” he explained. “I want this. I want you,” he continued. “But not here.” Joshua looked around the backroom. “We’ve done this before,” he added. “I don’t want to do this again. I want to do things right with you.”

You stared back at him, searching and studying his face. When you came back here, following him, you had expected the same thing as before. The sexual tension had been high since being reintroduced.

As you stared back at Joshua, several questions ran through your head. ‘Has he felt this way since the last time? Has he been thinking about this since then? Did he want to pursue something more involved, possibly romantic with you? What was his end goal?’

“What are you saying?” you asked softly, resting your hands against his chest. You felt his thumb stroke your cheek tenderly, making you resist the urge to lean into his touch. “It means,” he started softly, looking into your eyes. “That I want more from this.”

Your heart skipped a beat, breath catching in your throat.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about that day,” Joshua continued. “To think about what we did, how it affected me, and even moreso, what happened after. I was sure that you had gotten pregnant,” he paused, gauging your reaction.

You said nothing, wanting him to finish his thoughts in their entirety before you spoke. Sensing this, Joshua continued his narrative.

“And that got me thinking. Had me thinking about the future, about what I want in life, and about you. I wondered where you ended up. Wondered what you were doing in your life. And the more I thought about the possibility that I had a kid out there, the more I started to accept it as reality.”

You shook your head quickly. “I’ve been on birth control since I was 16,” you explained. Joshua’s eyes widened in surprise. “You have?” he asked quickly to which you nodded. “Mainly for my endometriosis,” you added. “But the added not getting pregnant aspect has been nice, too.”

Joshua let out a soft laugh, shaking his head before he looked back up at you, hesitating before taking a deep breath. “Anyway, as fate would have it, you didn’t get pregnant. I don’t have a kid out in the world. And for some reason, that doesn’t bring me any relief. It almost makes me feel… sad.”

Your brows knitted together as he finished his sentence. ‘Sad?’ you wondered. ‘He wanted me to have his child?’

“Don’t get me wrong,” Joshua said suddenly. “I’m glad you didn’t have to put your life on hold to raise a child alone. I’m glad your life went on and you were able to do the things you always talked about,” he added with a smile. It wasn’t the usual smirk you’d always gotten from him. It was a kind and genuine smile.

A very rare one.

“It also means, if you wanted, we could start over.”

Your eyes widened. ‘Start Over?’

“I realize that things have definitely changed but if you’ll let me,” he continued. “I’d like to do things properly this time. Take you on a real date. Court you properly in a way that won’t make your dad hate me,” he added. You let out an unexpected chuckle.

“He doesn’t hate you,” you replied. “He has no idea what we got up to all those years ago.” Joshua felt relieved, feeling his body relax just a little more. “As for starting over,” you continued and Joshua tensed up again. ‘Here it goes,’ he told himself.

“I’d love to, actually.”

Joshua froze, staring at you unblinking for a few moments.

“Wait,” he said softly. “Really?” he asked. You nodded, letting out a giggle as the realization of your words dawned on him. “Oh, shit. Sorry,” he apologized quickly. “I'm just… honestly, I'm shocked. I thought for sure you'd turn me down!” You let out another giggle, watching his excitement rise.

“How does Saturday sound? We can go get coffee. Or go to a museum. Or a movie if you’d prefer that? Whatever you want to do!” You smiled as he rambled on, listing off idea after idea for a first date. You reached up, covering his mouth to cut his rambling off.

“Coffee and a museum sounds great.”

╾───────────────────⭒✧⭒──────────────────╼

You were able to help Joshua finish his projects and set them aside to dry for the rest of the day before the show the following day. Joshua got ready the next morning, a mix of nerves and tension. Not because of the show but because of seeing you again.

When you agreed to start over and go on a date with him, he’d been over the moon and riding that high the whole way home but upon waking the next morning, he was a ball of nerves.

He arrived early at the church, dressed in a nice pair of khakis and a navy blue suit jacket. He’d packed a pair of jeans to change into after the show to help take things down and keep his clothes nice and clean. Setting up was simply putting sets in place and making sure all the costumes and props were ready to go.

Joshua was mainly in charge of handing out programs, and making sure the ushers did their jobs escorting people to their seats. It wasn’t a hard job particularly, but most of the ushers were young teenage boys who liked to mess around. Not that Joshua blamed them. He was a teenage boy once. He understood.

The doors to the church opened at six pm, allowing for an hour for the guests and congregation to find their seats. It was an hour full of ‘welcome’ and ‘would you like a program?’ By the time the show was about to start, Joshua was internally cringing for sounding like a parrot the whole time.

As the last few of the guests trickled in, Joshua’s heart skipped a beat. You’d arrived with your parents and it was all he could do to not stare at you as you walked closer, chatting with your mother. Instead, he allowed himself to look quickly over your body, taking in the ensemble you’d chosen.

As you and your parents drew nearer, a genuine smile spread across his face unlike the one he’d been forcing earlier. “Ah, Joshua,” your father said upon noticing him. “How good to see you again.” You turned your head, gaze falling on Joshua and he could have sworn, he’d seen your eyes sweep over him quickly as well as the look you gave him. 

It made blood rush to his head and not the one with the smile on it.

“Good evening, Father Y/L/N. Mrs. Y/L/N,” Joshua said with a nod before his eyes fell on you. “Y/N,” he added with a smile. “Would you like a program?” one of the teenage boys to Joshua’s left asked, interrupting the moment as yours and Joshua’s eyes had been locked on one another.

“Yes, thank you,” your father answered, taking two from the boy and handing one to his wife. You looked back at Joshua, glancing at the programs in his hands. “Could I have one of those?” you asked softly. There was a tone to your voice. Almost like you were asking for something more than the program but all the same, Joshua nodded, handing one over to you.

“Enjoy the show,” he said as your parents started to head into the nave. “Thanks,” you replied, opening the program and glancing over it quickly before looking up at him. “See you after the show?” you asked, a hint of hope to your voice. Joshua nodded, heart skipping as a smile spread over your face.

“See you after the show, then,” you said softly before following your parents inside.

Joshua stood at the back of the nave, against the wall as the show started but he couldn’t focus on his students standing on stage and acting out the birth of Jesus. All he could focus on was you sitting three rows from the back, eyes forward as you watched with what anyone else would assume was rapt attention.

Joshua might have as well if he hadn’t caught you turning to gaze back at him before the lights dimmed.

The whole show, Joshua kept his eyes on you, watching every shift, every light chuckle, and the way you leaned over to whisper something to your mother. In the low lighting he could still see the way your lips pulled into a smile as you let out a soft laugh, covering your mouth with your hand.

He felt like he could look at you for hours but he’d never admit it for fear of sounding like a creep.

So he’d keep that to himself.

When the show finally ended, the lights came back on and the guests started to trickle out while the staff started to slowly clean up the stage. Joshua made a point of making sure to wish everyone a goodnight and a Merry Christmas.

Thankfully, you and your parents were among the few to remain behind, your father speaking to the other pastor. Joshua saw your head turn in his direction, watching you speak a few words to your mother before following the crowd in his direction.

He looked away quickly, continuing to say goodbye to the guests as they passed him. Moments later, you joined him. “Found you,” you said softly, making him chuckle. “Now what?” you asked. Joshua smiled, after turning from a guest.

“Now I have to help clean up,” Joshua answered. “Could I stay and help?” you asked suddenly.

Joshua’s eyes widened but before he could answer, another voice spoke up.

“You ready to head home, dear?” your mother asked, drawing your attention. You glanced over at Joshua quickly before speaking. “Actually, I think I'm going to stay behind and help clean up,” you replied, smiling at your parents. You noticed the way your father glanced at Joshua and back. 

“How will you get home?” he asked. Joshua looked at your parents.

“I can drop her off, if you’d like,” he offered. 

Your mother cooed at the kind gesture. “Oh, you don’t have to go out of your way to do that,” she started but Joshua shook his head. “I don’t mind at all,” he explained. “It’s not out of the way and it’s been a while since Y/N and I have seen one another. Could give us some more time to catch up while I drive her.”

Your mother smiled at him, throwing an unreadable glance your way before she turned to your father. “Y/N will be fine,” she started. “Let’s get home before the snow starts, dear.” Your father nodded and looked at you. “Don’t be too late,” he said softly. “We have plans in the morning.”

You nodded and waved them off as they exited the room before turning to Joshua. “You didn’t have to offer to drive me,” you said softly as you moved to stand beside him and help taking down the set. “It’s nothing,” Joshua replied. “Like I said, it gives us a chance to properly talk.”

The task of taking down the set wasn’t nearly as complex as putting it up and soon you were walking out of the church with Joshua, heading to his black sedan. He unlocked the door and opened it for you, only shutting it once you were safely inside before heading around to the driver’s side and getting in.

Joshua started the car, pulling out of his parking space and following the line of cars heading out of the parking lot, turning onto the road and following your directions towards your parents house. Small flurries had started to fall, collecting on the grass and starting to pile.

You chatted animatedly while Joshua drove, following your directions that led out of town to your parent’s farm. It wasn’t far out of the city but it was still a considerable distance from the town.

You glanced over to find Joshua looking at you before he looked back at the road, a slight smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “What?” you asked softly. He shook his head. “Nothing,” he replied. “I just like listening to you.” Your cheeks and the tips of your ears burned as you looked away.

Your heart was thudding in your chest, the tension from earlier in the supply room returning as you had both essentially cucked yourselves. You were still needy but you couldn’t tell if it was just your or if Joshua felt it too.

“Why do you keep staring at me like that?” Joshua asked softly, glancing at you and you shrugged. “I just like looking at you,” you replied. Joshua let out a chuckle, checking his rearview mirror and his smile fell instantly. “What the-?” he cut himself off. You noticed the flashing of red and blue lights from behind and your heart sank. ‘Are you serious?’ you wondered, turning in your seat to look out the back window.

Joshua slowed the car, pulling onto the shoulder before putting the car in park. He waited patiently as the cop car stopped behind him, lights still flashing as the officer got out of the vehicle and started heading towards the driver’s side window. Joshua rolled it down as the officer drew level.

“Evening, officer,” he said pleasantly. “What seems to be the problem?” The officer leaned down to look into the car and noticed you. “Where are you two headed?” he asked, directing his attention at you. “My parents’,” you answered. “They live outside the city on their farm.”

The officer turned his attention to Joshua. “The roads are starting to ice in places,” he explained. “Just warning everyone before something awful happens. You make sure to get where you’re going and soon,” he continued. Joshua nodded. “Are we free to go?” he asked to which the officer nodded.

“Just make sure to be careful.”

Joshua thanked the officer and waited for him to return to his vehicle before putting the car in drive and pulling off the shoulder as he sped back up to the normal speed for the highway. “Am I the only one that was shitting bricks back there?” he asked, a shocked laugh escaping him.

You shook your head. “No, I was kinda freaking out a little, too. I was wondering what we could have possibly done to warrant being pulled over.” Joshua nodded as he checked his rearview but the cop car was no longer in sight, nor were the flashing lights.

“I wasn’t speeding and I know for a fact that my tail lights work just fine,” he explained. “I almost thought it was going to be a sobriety check,” he continued. You nodded as he continued to drive, adrenaline coursing through your body. “Turn up here,” you voiced, pointing at the country road.

Joshua slowed, turning his blinker on and made the right turn onto the first of many country roads to get to your parents’ farm. He turned on his brights, illuminating the edges of the roads. The snow was coming down even heavier, blanketing the grass and starting to gather on the road.

“I’m going to have a time trying to get back home through this,” he whispered more to himself but you still heard him clearly. “Maybe my parents won’t mind if you stay the night in the guest room,” you replied. “I’m sure my mother would feel better if you stayed rather than go back into all of this.”

Joshua felt a stirring in his chest and stomach at the thought of spending the night at your parents’ house, so close to you and yet unable to have you. He had half a mind to turn back and head to his place instead but reminded himself he’d already told your parents he’d bring you home.

“I’m sure I’ll be okay,” he replied. You shook your head. “Just watch,” you said softly as you looked out the window. “She won’t let you leave and she’ll insist you stay in the guest room.”

“Wanna bet?” Joshua asked, looking at you and back at the road. “Okay,” you said quickly. “If I win, I get to pick where we go on our date,” you said, making him laugh. “And if I win?” he asked, glancing at you. “You can pick a time and place and do whatever you want to me.”

Joshua’s face burned and he hid his shock with a cough and clearing of his throat. “Alright,” he replied.

“You’re on.”

Suffice it to say, Joshua lost the bet instantly. As soon as he pulled up, Joshua insisted on walking you to the door to make sure you got up the steps safely. The door opened almost instantly and he was very quickly ushered inside by your father. Not long after, your mother appeared and began fussing.

Joshua tried to refuse but you had been right and your mother insisted he stay until morning. Joshua caught your eye and smiled, returning the same smile you were currently giving him.

“Show our guest to the guest bedroom, Y/N,” your mother said, drawing your attention. “Make sure he knows where the towels and extra linens are. And where the flashlight is just in case we lose power.”

You nodded to your mother to show you heard her instructed and beckoned Joshua to follow you through the hallway to the right. “The house is a true ranch style,” you explained as you passed a half bathroom. “Three bedrooms and two baths on this side,” you continued.

“This is the guest bedroom,” you said, stopping at a door and opening it, flipping the light on.

It wasn’t anything grand or spectacular. There was a queen size bed with light natural toned linens. The bedframe, dresser, two nightstands and bench at the end of the bed were part of the same set. Against the back wall at the head of the bed was a large picture window with curtains drawn mostly shut. To the right was a doorway into a dark room.

“Guest bathroom,” you explained, leading him over to it and turning on the light. It was a standard bathroom with a vanity and double sink, a separate room for the toilet and a shower tub combo with a glass rolling door.

“The towels are in here,” you explained, walking over to the sink and opening a lower cabinet door to reveal shelves stocked with towels. “There’s some generic shampoo, conditioner, and body wash in here,” you added, pointing to another cabinet door.

You turned off the light and ushered him back into the bedroom before leading him over to a door in the wall opposite the bathroom and slid it open to reveal a closet with built-in-shelves. “We keep the extra linens in here. Pillows, blankets, sheets, etcetera,” you said, showing him inside the closet.

You shut the door and walked back over to the door to the hallway.

Joshua walked over and peered into the hall for any sign of your parents. “And where’s your room?” he asked softly, grabbing you by the hips and pulling you closer. You jerked your head gesturing down the hall. “Last door,” you replied. Joshua glanced at the door and then back at you.

“And your parents?” he asked nervously. “Other side of the house is where the master suite is,” you answered. “So opposite sides.” Joshua’s brow raised and he offered a cheeky smile before letting go of you. “She get you all squared away?” your father asked with a smile. Joshua nodded.

“Yep, all set,” he answered. “Alright, we’ll we’re heading to bed,” he announced, leaning in to kiss the side of your head. “Don’t stay up too late,” he said, shooting the both of you a smile before he headed down the hall towards the living room.

“We should probably turn in as well,” you said softly. Joshua nodded, although he really didn’t want you to go to your room and be so far away from him but it’s not like it was another world. You were down the hall. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Even with the daylight, I’ll still have a drive ahead of me.”

Well, goodnight,” you said shyly, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek. As you pulled away, Joshua pulled you in for a proper kiss, nuzzling his nose against yours before letting you pull away again. “Goodnight, beautiful,” he murmured, smiling as you bit your bottom lip and turned to retreat to your bedroom.

He shut the door of the guest room and walked over to the bed, pulling back the sheets. He mentally cursed, forgetting to turn off the light and walked over, flipping the switch off and returning to the bed. He stripped himself of his pants, folding and setting them neatly on top of the dresser before climbing into the bed and pulling the covers up, sighing in relief to find the bed was actually pretty comfortable.

He wasn’t sure how much sleep he’d get, knowing you were just down the hall but he rolled onto his side, shutting his eyes and hoping exhaustion would catch up with him and that sleep would come soon.

You had changed into your sleep shirt, tossed your dirty clothes in the hamper and made your way to your bed, turning your light off on the way and climbing into your nest of blankets and pillows. Laying back against the pillows, arms crossed, you stared up at the ceiling and tried to focus on getting rid of the throbbing ache between your legs.

‘It was just a stupid kiss,’ you told yourself. ‘Why are you getting so worked up over a kiss?’

You rolled onto your side and tried to will yourself to sleep but the throbbing just made you press your thighs together to find some sort of relief only none would come. You were still tense and turned on from your encounter in the church back room with Joshua and your new panties were already sticking to you.

‘I guess I’ll just take them off!’

You shimmied out of your panties and tossed them in the direction of the hamper. You were settling back when you had a great idea. “No panties,” you murmured. “It just might work.”

You pulled back the covers and got out of bed, tiptoeing over to the door and opening it quietly. You hoped that Joshua was still awake. It hadn’t been that long but you were sure he was exhausted so he might have fallen asleep already. You crept down the hall, listening for any sound of your parents.

Upon reaching the door, you knocked lightly, calling Joshua’s name through the wood.

The first time, there was no answer so you tried again. This time you heard a muffled “yeah?” through the door and opened it. “Y/N?” Joshua asked through the dark. “Are you okay?” he asked, propping himself up. It was dark but you could still make out his silhouette from the built-in bathroom nightlight.

“Is everything oka- Y/N? Yah, what are you doing?” Joshua hissed as you shut the door and snuck over to the bed, pulling back the covers and climbing in. “We’re gonna get caught and then your dad is going to throw me out into the snow,” he continued as you snuggled up to him. “No he won’t” you whispered back.

Joshua opened his mouth to retort but you cut him off with a kiss, one that he immediately leaned into. “You created a problem,” you murmured against his lips, pulling him closer so his chest was flush with yours. “Problem?” Joshua asked in between your kisses.

“What kind of problem?”

You grabbed one of his hands, guiding it down between your thighs. Joshua’s eyes shot open as he realized you’d gotten into the bed without any shorts or underwear on. ‘Fuck.’

“Are you insane?” he hissed but you ignored him, pushing him onto his back as you climbed on top of him. “Y/N,” Joshua said, his voice low like it was a warning. You leaned over, taking his face in your hands as you kissed him. You felt his arms wrap around your back, holding you against him as he kissed you back. “If I get killed by your dad, I’m coming back to haunt your ass,” he murmured before sitting up.

You let out a soft giggle as he took your hands from his face and pushed you onto your back, hovering over you as his hips rested against yours. On instinct, you wrapped your legs around his waist, letting out a gasp as the cloth of his underwear brushed against you, giving you a minute amount of friction.

“If we’re going to do this,” Joshua said softly, one hand moving up to cup your cheek as he looked into your eyes. “You’re going to have to keep it down,” he continued, thumb stroking your cheek. “Can you do that for me, angel?” You nodded eagerly. “Yes,” you breathed out. “Of course. I promise.”

The moment the words left your lips, Joshua rolled over, pulling you on top of him, guiding your hips over his growing erection. You breathed out a soft moan, eyes fluttering shut as you followed his guidance. “Show me how bad you want it,” Joshua murmured, hands sliding from your hips up to your waist, pushing your sleep shirt up and glancing down at your naked lower half.

You grinded against him, leaving a trail of your arousal on his underwear. He’d have to wash them the minute he got home. “Hang on baby,” he murmured, halting your movements. You pouted at him as he chuckled, guiding you off his lap before he shimmied out of his underwear to avoid you soiling it any further.

“Come here,” he said softly, holding his hand out which you took eagerly, allowing him to guide you back on his lap, his half hard cock resting against his abdomen. “Sit down,” he instructed, his voice breathless as you did so, letting out a whimper before covering your mouth with your hand.

“Sorry, Shua,” you whispered, looking down at him. “Just feels so good.” Joshua reached up, cupping your cheek tenderly. “I know, sweetheart,” he murmured before taking your hips in his hands. “Come on now,” he urged. “Show me how badly you want my cock.”

You whined softly, grinding against him with renewed vigor, the heat of his cock against you driving you crazy. “Please, Shua,” you mumbled, trying to keep the volume of your voice down. “Please let me ride you. Wanna feel it inside me.”

Hearing your breathless voice whining for his cock almost made him break his resolve but he wanted to tease you just a bit longer. “No,” he replied, his fingers digging into your hips. “Keep going, baby girl. Show me just how bad you need it and then I’ll let you have it.”

You let out another whine, a little louder this time, grinding harder and feeling the underside of his cock drag through your slick folds against your clit. Your thighs shook from the sensation, fingers curling into the sheets on either side of Joshua’s head.

“That’s it,” he urged. “Keep going. Just like that.”

Joshua’s hands moved your hips faster, guiding you over his cock and pulling you against him at the same time. You let out a gasp, shuddering at the feeling, trying to fight against Joshua’s grip but failing as he pushed and pulled your hips, bucking up into you with a stifled groan.

“J-Josh,” you stammered, arms shaking as you struggled to keep yourself up. Sensing your arms were about to give out, Joshua sat up, rolling you over onto your back and pinning you under him as his hips rested against yours, settling between your thighs. “You know how hard it was for me to not pull over earlier into an empty lot and fuck you in the car?” he whispered, rolling his hips as his lips brushed against your jaw, nuzzling his nose against your cheek.

“How hard I was thinking about doing just that?”

You whimpered, holding back a moan as his cock continued to glide through your folds.

“About as hard as I am right now,” he continued. “Josh, please. I need you,” you whimpered softly, choking back a sob. Joshua lifted his head to take in the sight of your eyes shining with unshed tears, a pout on your lips. He moved a hand up to your cheek, cooing at you.

“Aww, poor baby. Feels so good?” he asked. You nodded, fighting back the urge to cry. “You’re so wet,” he murmured, rutting against you. “Bet I’d slip right in,” he continued. You nodded, babbling incoherent words between your pleas for him to fuck you.

“Shhh,” he whispered, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip, pausing as you parted your lips and allowed his thumb into your mouth, sucking on the tip. “God, I just wanna use that pretty mouth of yours so bad,” he murmured, watching your lips wrap around his knuckle.

He could feel your tongue against his thumb, swirling around it lazily.

“Is that okay?” he asked softly, making you open your eyes. “Can I use your mouth, beautiful?” His cock twitched against you when you nodded, eyes fluttering shut as he pulled his thumb from your mouth and pushed himself up. “Come here,” he murmured as he sat back against the headboard, helping you up and guided your hand to his cock now coated in your arousal.

You started stroking him languidly, making him choke back a moan. “Use your mouth, pretty,” he urged. “Show me what a slut you are for my cock.” No sooner than the words were out of his mouth, he had to bite down on his knuckles as you took him in your mouth, bobbing your head as you held the base of the shaft firmly. “F-fuck, baby,” he groaned.

“That’s it,” he encouraged you. “Take all of it like a good girl, I know you can.”

You moved your hand, sinking down until the tip of his cock reached the back of your throat. Joshua moved his hand to the back of your head, pushing down just a little more, letting out a shudder when you gagged around his cock. He let you back up for air, praising your efforts.

“Just like that, keep going.”

You wrapped your fingers around his cock, stroking it faster before spitting on the tip, making Joshua hiss. “Fuck,” he moaned, trying to keep the sound in the back of his throat. “When did you turn into such a dirty slut?” he asked, holding back another moan as you took him back in your mouth, sinking down all the way again. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten such sloppy head and watching you try and swallow him down was making it harder and harder to hold back his orgasm.

He was about to just fuck your mouth and be done with it when you pulled off, noticing his cock twitching. “Gonna cum?” you asked looking up at him. Joshua shook his head, grabbing your wrist. “Not yet,” he answered. “Come here.” He pulled you into a messy kiss, ignoring the salty taste of his precum on your tongue as he guided you onto your back.

Your thighs spread as he settled between them, leaning onto his side a little to open you up for him.

He brought two fingers to your mouth. “Open,” he instructed. You did as he said, taking his fingers in your mouth and coating them in your saliva. Joshua pulled them from your mouth, moving them down to your sex and rubbing them against your slick folds before pushing past them and teasing your slit.

You sighed as he pushed one finger in first, curling it carefully and pumping it in and out before adding the second. Once he was knuckles deep, he started curling his fingers against your walls, thumb brushing over your clit as he kept his gaze on your face.

You moaned softly, wrapping an arm around his neck and pulling him down to hide your face. “Feel good, baby?” he whispered in your ear. You nodded with a muffled whine. Joshua chuckled as he continued to finger you, stretching your walls as he scissored you open, prepping you to take his cock.

The tension had started when you were grinding on him but that had been localized to your clit. This tension was more. Your clit and inside your stomach like a rubber band being pulled back and increasing the tension. Soon you were going to snap. “Shua!” you gasped, thighs threatening to close and they would have had he not been leaning against on, pinning it to the mattress under his weight.

“You gonna come for me, pretty?” he asked softly. You nodded, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth to hide your moan. “That’s it,” he murmured. “Come for me.” Your back arched off the mattress as your orgasm drew closer and closer. “S-Shua,” you whined in hid neck.

Joshua pulled back to look down at you. “Open your eyes,” he ordered. Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his in the dark room and the smirk that spread over his face had yours burning. “Keep them open,” he urged. “Wanna watch you cum. Look at me when you cum,” he added.

You whined, walls fluttering around his fingers as your orgasm started to wash over you. Joshua held your gaze as his fingers fucked you through your first orgasm of the night. You whined, hips following his movements until you were begging him to stop.

Joshua let out a soft chuckle as he pulled his fingers out of your soaking cunt. “So pathetic and pretty when you cum,” he murmured, bringing his fingers coated in your essence to your lips. “Open for me,” he continued, sliding his fingers over your tongue when you parted your lips.

“Clean them for me.”

While your tongue lapped at his fingers, he pushed your sleep shirt up with his free hand, exposing your chest. “Fuck, I missed these,” he murmured, hand ghosting over your chest. He pulled his fingers from your lips, chucking when you pouted and whined for his fingers back.

“I promise you’ll get them back in a bit, baby. Let me take care of this first,” he murmured, tugging your shirt up and off when you finally sat up for him. His shirt was quick to join the pile of discarded clothes on the floor as he knelt between your thighs. “Shit, wait,” he said hesitating. “Do you have a condom?” he asked. You waved towards the guest bathroom, still coming down from your high.

Joshua climbed off the bed and snuck into the bathroom, opening the drawers as quietly as he could, finding an unopened box of condoms in the back of one of the drawers. ‘Jackpot,’ Joshua thought to himself as he carefully and quietly opened the box, placing it back in the drawer before shutting it and returning to you. He tore open the foil packet, pulling out the latex and carefully rolled it on.

Once securely on, he climbed back onto the bed, kneeling between your thighs and grabbing your hips to pull you against him. He took the base of his cock in his hand guiding the head to rub against your clit, making you whine in anticipation. Joshua spit into his hand and added it to the lubrication on the condom and rested the tip against your slit.

“You still with me, angel?” he asked, looking down at you. Your eyes opened to meet his and nodded. “I’m still here,” you replied. “Want you so bad, Shua,” you whined. Joshua fought the urge to laugh at how cute you were. “Open them a little more,” he said, tapping the inside of your thigh with his free hand. You spread your legs a little wider, groaning as you felt him start to push the head of his cock into you.

“Mmm, fuck,” Joshua swore under his breath. “So tight and warm,” he breathed out, easing his way in, gliding against your walls. Your thighs fell open wide as he bottomed out, letting all of him in. “Good girl,” he murmured, leaning over to press a kiss to your temple.

“Taking me so well.”

You gasped as he gave you a shallow thrust. “Sore?” he asked and you shook your head. “N-no,” you stuttered. “Feels so good. So full.” Joshua smirked against your skin, pulling back and giving you a singular thrust, relishing in the sound that escaped your lips and the way your walls clenched around him. “So. Fucking. Tight,” he hissed in between thrusts.

“But taking me so well. Like you’re my own personal slut,” he groaned, hips setting a steady pace as he thrust into you. “My own little fuck toy, right?” he asked. You nodded weakly. Joshua scoffed, fingers closing around your throat firmly but not so tight you couldn’t breathe.

“Answer me, you dirty little slut,” he growled. “Yes,” you gasped. Joshua raised a brow. “Yes what?” He slowed his hips, allowing you a moment to speak. “I’m your little fuck toy,” you whispered. He smirked, picking up the pace, his hips hitting your ass. “If only your father could see his little girl right now. Getting railed by the Sunday school teacher.”

You whined, your hands wrapping around his wrist as he held you down by the throat. Your walls fluttered around him and he chuckled softly. “Of course the little slut likes getting choked,” he scoffed. “Such a dirty whore,” he murmured. “Too bad you aren’t more of a brat,” he continued. “Would love to fuck the attitude out of you.”

“Shuh-Shua!” you whined. His pace quickened, releasing your throat and moving his hand up to your mouth. “Open,” he ordered. You obeyed immediately, welcoming his fingers in your mouth to shut you up. “Gonna fuck you for real now,” he muttered, his free hand moving up your stomach to your chest, squeezing and kneading.

“Should I turn you over and fuck your like the slut you are?”

You moaned against his fingers and Joshua chuckled lightly, pulling his fingers from your mouth before pulling out of you, giving your pussy a light slap when you whined in protest. “Turn over on your stomach,” he ordered. You rolled over, muffling a squeal as he grabbed your hips and lifted them, grabbing one of the pillows and folding it in half to place under your stomach.

Once he was satisfied, he guided the head of his cock back to your entrance, pushing into you with ease and taking both your hips in his hands. “Now you really need to be quiet,” he warned. You cried out into the sheets, muffling your moans and mewls as Joshua pounded into you from behind You were sure the sound of his skin hitting yours would wake your parents up but surprisingly, you didn’t hear a peep from them.

“Fuck,” Joshua groaned, hands sliding to squeeze your ass. “Next time I think I’d like to fuck your ass,” he growled, letting out a breathless laugh when your walls tightened around him. “Does my little cockslut want that? Want me to fuck your ass? Bet you’d even let me do it without a condom, wouldn’t you?”

You nodded fervently, keeping your face hidden in the sheets. “And I bet you’d let me fill you up. Just fill your ass with cum and turn you into my own personal cum dumpster. Wouldn’t you?” You nodded again, gasping as you felt his nails dig into the flesh of your ass.

“I’d fuck you so hard you would be able to sit or walk,” he groaned, hips faltering as his own orgasm drew closer. “Fuck, m’not gonna last much longer. You close, angel?” You whined in the sheets, begging him for more. “Touch yourself then, sweetheart. Do what sluts do and get yourself off. Cum on my cock like a good little slut.”

Your hand darted between your thighs, fingers finding your clit and working circles around it in time with Joshua’s thrusts. With each pass over your clit and drag of his cock against your walls, your orgasm drew near. The tension pooling in your abdomen snapped and you released, a gush of warm liquid rushing out of you as you came with a muffled cry.

Joshua wasn’t far behind, the spasming of your cunt pushing him over the edge and he leaned over your back, sinking his teeth into your shoulder as he emptied into the condom, hips riding out both your climaxes until he finally slowed to a stop.

After a couple moments, Joshua pulled from you, letting out a deep inhale as he pulled the condom off and tied it off before getting off the bed and disappearing into the bathroom. You could hear the faucet in the sink running before it shut off and Joshua returned with a wet washcloth, starting to wipe you down and clean you up.

Once he’d finally wiped the remnants of your release from your lips and thighs, he helped you put your shirt back on before pulling his and his underwear back on and settling under the covers with you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close.

Silence washed over you before he finally spoke. “So, this isn’t exactly the way I wanted things to go,” he murmured in your ear, pressing a kiss to your cheek and tugging your closer. “But I still really want to take you on a proper date.”

A smile spread across your face and you turned to look back at him, reaching up to cup his cheek. “I’d really like that,” you said softly. Joshua’s lips spread into a smile before he pressed a couple of chaste kisses to your lips. “But only if we can keep having mind-blowing sex afterwards,” you whispered, making him bite back a laugh.

“I think I can manage that, angel.”

ⓘ Graphics made by me. Content and support banners made using a template by cafekitsune. I do not allow reposts, translations, or continuations of my works. All writing and graphics are ©️ kwanisms.

[andy-15-07]

Easter Joy

masterlist ! pairing Drew Starkey x reader

SUMMARY: Rafe and his wife, Y/n with their daughter celebrate Easter.

Outer Banks Masterlist

The warm spring sun bathed the Cameron household in a golden glow as Rafe and Y/n prepared for their Easter celebration. Their daughter, Lily, bounced around the living room, her excitement palpable as she eagerly awaited the festivities to come.

"Mommy, Daddy, when are we gonna hunt for Easter eggs?" Lily asked, her eyes sparkling with anticipation as she tugged on Y/n's hand.

"Soon, sweetie," Y/n replied with a smile, ruffling Lily's hair affectionately. "We just need to finish getting everything ready first."

Rafe chuckled as he watched the exchange, his heart swelling with love for his wife and daughter. "Looks like someone's eager to get her hands on some chocolate," he remarked, his voice filled with amusement.

Lily grinned mischievously, her eyes lighting up at the mention of sweets. "You know it, Daddy," she said, flashing him a toothy grin.

As they finished their preparations, Rafe and Y/n ushered Lily outside to begin the Easter egg hunt. The backyard was adorned with colorful decorations, the air filled with the sweet scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers.

"Alright, Lily, are you ready to find some eggs?" Y/n asked, kneeling down to her daughter's level as they surveyed the garden.

Lily nodded enthusiastically, her eyes wide with excitement as she scanned the yard for hidden treasures. "I'm ready, Mommy!" she exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

With a laugh, Rafe and Y/n watched as Lily darted off into the garden, her laughter echoing in the crisp spring air. They followed close behind, their hearts filled with joy as they watched their daughter's excitement.

As Lily searched high and low for Easter eggs, Rafe and Y/n took a moment to soak in the beauty of the day. The sun cast long shadows across the garden, the sound of birdsong filling the air as they basked in the warmth of each other's company.

"This is perfect," Y/n said, her voice soft with emotion as she leaned into Rafe's side. "I couldn't ask for a better way to celebrate Easter."

Rafe nodded in agreement, his heart swelling with love for his wife and daughter. "I couldn't agree more," he replied, pressing a kiss to Y/n's forehead.

As they watched Lily race around the garden, her laughter ringing out like music, Rafe and Y/n felt a sense of gratitude wash over them. In that moment, surrounded by love and laughter, they knew that they were truly blessed.

As the afternoon wore on, Rafe and Y/n gathered with Lily to enjoy a festive Easter brunch. The table was adorned with an array of delicious treats, from fluffy pancakes to savory quiches and, of course, plenty of chocolate eggs.

As they feasted on the delicious spread, Rafe and Y/n couldn't help but marvel at the joy and laughter that filled the room. They shared stories and laughter, their hearts full of gratitude for the love and happiness that surrounded them.

After brunch, Rafe and Y/n led Lily in an Easter egg decorating activity, their hands covered in colorful paint as they laughed and joked with each other. Lily's face lit up with excitement as she carefully decorated each egg, her creativity on full display as she proudly showed off her handiwork.

As the day drew to a close, Rafe and Y/n gathered with Lily to reflect on the true meaning of Easter. They shared stories of faith and hope, their hearts filled with gratitude for the blessings they had received.

As they basked in the warmth of each other's company, Rafe and Y/n knew that they were surrounded by love and joy. And as they watched the sun set on another beautiful Easter day, they felt a sense of peace wash over them, knowing that their bond was unbreakable and their love was everlasting.

[kastlequill]

iii/v. unearth without a name: the parent forced to eat its young before it grows

pairing: keegan p russ x f!reader word count: 3.2k synopsis: the third time you hallucinate keegan tags: whumptober, psychological warfare, injury, electrocution, brainwashing, hallucinations, hurt no comfort, established relationship, ghost!reader, 4+1, no y/n warnings: canon-typical violence, torture ao3: read here ← prev | next →

III.

Things didn’t get much better from there. In fact, the torture only worsened. 

The passage of time remained a disorienting illusion at best, but you were certain that you’d been in this hellhole longer than the less-than-professional portion of your relationship with. . . 

With Keegan. 

It hurt to think about him. Well, it hurt to think about any of the Ghosts, men who you had seen as your crew, your family, but matters surrounding the sergeant in particular were infinitely more painful. They had each promised you one thing and one thing only: short of death, they would sooner lose a limb or two than abandon you. He, however, had gone a step further, all but vowing to follow you to the ends of the earth. 

Of course, Keegan hadn’t exactly said as much, for such a confessional manner of speaking was beyond his realm of expertise. Still, it was difficult to dispute the torch he carried for you when one took into account the way he slipped his treasured rations of dried jerky into your back pocket, or how he gave you his undivided attention both in the field and in the privacy of his own quarters. 

Anybody with a pair of workin’ eyes can puzzle you idiots out in five seconds flat , Merrick had said once. Makes the rest of us sick. Sick, I tell you. 

Unfortunately, reality was often disappointing. And you were starting to believe that the only person who’d ever been wholly honest about their intentions with you was Rorke. 

The day you first had this passing thought was the day you officially relinquished your already-slippery grip on sanity, mind finally at a loss. Because nobody of a sound mental state would consider their captor, interrogator, and torturer to be a pillar of truth or a beacon of honesty. Nevertheless, he wasn’t the one who had given you false hope, nor had he been the one to abandon you here, leaving you to waste away and rot. From the get-go, this monster of a man had detailed the exact terrors he would inflict upon you and then subsequently followed through on his words. 

A part of you—the worn-down, bone-weary, hollowed-out part of you—respected that. 

“Why don't we start the day off with a bang, hm?” Rorke strapped your wrists down to the arms of the wooden chair in which you currently sat. Giving a sharp tug, he tightened the restraints until a tingling numbness radiated throughout the meat of your fingers. “Get the blood flowin’, so to speak.”

In your peripheral, two Feds were hooking you up to some sort of death machine, which looked like an entanglement of wires and an array of dials. Malnourishment slowed your ability to assess and process new information, so you couldn’t muster the energy to investigate whatever damage they had planned for you. 

Resistance was futile; at this point, the pain was inevitable, and the suffering was unavoidable. You possessed no power, you had no leverage, and you were losing faith in your comrades fast. Combined, it was a sure recipe for disaster. Yet, you had no choice but to see all this chaos through until it’s likely-bloody conclusion. 

Rorke took a seat in a chair of his own, positioning himself just a few feet across from you. Close enough to intimidate, but not within kicking distance. To calm your racing heart, you focused your attention onto the deep scar that sliced his left brow and trailed the contours of his face before abruptly stopping at the edge of his jaw. 

Your sense of curiosity briefly flickered to life, and you wondered if it was the handiwork of another Ghost. Maybe Merrick, your methodical, war-horse of a captain? Or the Elias Walker, known to you only in the form of tales told by his remaining men?

Regardless, the image of the healed wound birthed in you a furious desire to bestow a matching mark on the unblemished side.   

“First order of business,” the ex-Ghost began. “The Walker boy. Logan. Is he back in it again, runnin’ amok with that sorry brother of his? Haven’t seen either of their ugly mugs in a while.”

During the previous winter, you’d learned some of the details surrounding Logan’s capture and escape, both of which had occurred prior to your recruitment. Keegan had always been pretty tight-lipped about the subject, usually dismissing it altogether by redirecting you to ask Logan personally. And so you had. 

What he divulged had sickened you to the core.

Although he wasn’t a big talker, Logan Walker had unveiled the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth in a series of short fragments over the course of several weeks. His recounts weren’t always delivered in chronological order, for he occasionally jumped around as trauma poured out of him like an unleashed dam. He had spoken of the isolation and the disorientation, of the physical beatings and the mental lashings. Of reliving his father’s death again and again, of the apparition of his brother shouldering him with the blame. 

The most harrowing part, however, had been the brainwashing. The manipulation of the mind and its contents, the rearrangement of orderly thoughts, beliefs, memories into a locked state of disorder. Forcing the self to become a foreign object in its own native vessel. You had thus far managed to avoid undergoing such disfiguration. Still, considering Logan’s experience mirrored yours almost exactly, it was safe to assume that you wouldn’t remain unscathed. But where his strength and sheer tenacity had foiled Rorke’s plans, you weren’t optimistic that you’d be able to replicate his success. 

Even so, no matter the evils lurking in your future, you scorned the prospect of willingly revealing any information that could be used to harm your teammates. Especially Logan. Dying would be less of a burden on your soul than condemning him to this hellscape for a second time. He’d already endured it once; to curse him twice would be beyond cruel. 

Perhaps you were a tad bit self-sacrificing. You ignored the bitter, unwelcome voice from within that questioned whether the Ghosts would do the same for you if the roles were reversed. 

Finally ready to reply, your head jerked to the left, then to the right. No.

A harsh exhale escaped his nostrils, like Rorke had expected the small defiance but was nonetheless disappointed. He snapped his fingers. 

“Wrong answer.”

To punctuate the detached statement, a sudden current of what could only be described as concentrated lightning flowed into you. Your nerves caught fire, and every single muscle housed inside of you responded by contracting painfully. The sensation caused your joints to lock, stunning you into submission. 

You felt your eyes roll back, but you willed them to refocus, threats all around. It was the sole method of motion still under your conscious control, for the rest of your body was seemingly trapped in an electric prison. However, when you glanced up at Rorke, a blurry figure to his left stole your attention instead. 

Brows furrowing, you blinked rapidly to wash away the hazy features you had grown to love, but the mirage of Keegan remained. You would’ve noticed the sharp sting of an injection, so, unlike the previous two instances, this particular hallucination hadn’t been induced by drugs. It was a break in the pattern. 

I’m going insane. Great. 

“I wouldn’t lie if I were you. We’ve got ways of verifying, y’see, so cut the shit.” A nasty, blood-curling grin spread across Rorke’s lips. His soulless vessel swelled with delight as he unleashed another cruel stream of words. “Those sons of bitches can’t be worth all this. You’re nothing to them. Nothing. They didn’t think twice ‘bout sendin’ you off to die an undignified death, alone, and yet you wanna protect them?”

He shook his head and clicked his tongue, the expression on his face morphing into a strange mix of disgust and pity. “What a damn waste.”

Another snap, another electric shock. Those two Federation technicians must have increased the number of amperes or the voltage, for this wave trumped the previous in its overwhelming intensity. 

God, you weren’t built for this. Sure, all the Ghosts had to undergo conditioning and interrogation training. But Merrick, Keegan, Hesh, and Logan had been navigating war and its unforgiving brutality for almost their entire lives. In contrast, you’d been a plain and ordinary civilian up until the moment Keegan dragged you out from beneath a pile of rubble not even three years ago. 

For your dauntless comrades, who had confronted and conquered Death many times over, a little electrocution was indeed light work. For you, however, it wasn’t so.

Perhaps an additional year of experience would’ve solidified this weakness into something ironclad. Keegan had been giving you private lessons after sunset in an attempt to speed the learning process along, but your capture had indefinitely suspended such sessions. Thus, here you would remain, unrefined and incomplete.

At present, clouding your vision with the view of your torturer was more preferable than seeing the resigned disappointment on your lover’s war-painted face.

“Y’know,” Rorke mused, “the Federation could use a soldier like you. Someone with your kind of loyalty.”

You temporarily forgot your vow of silence and gave a derisive snort. The loyalty you had for the Ghosts hadn’t been acquired through material means; no amount of promised money or power in the world had a chance of swaying you. Bonds born of bruises and blood were damn near impenetrable and immortal.  

That level of devotion couldn’t be fabricated or repurposed. 

“Now, now, there’s no need to look so sour.” He bared his teeth, donning a devilish smile. “We’ll have you singin’ a different tune soon enough.”

This is it, you thought. This is where things get ugly. 

As if the steaming pile of shit that Rorke had already dumped on you wasn’t bad enough. Still, objectively speaking, the brainwashing Logan had described would be leagues worse than even the most brutal torture you’d withstood yet. Because it wouldn’t just entail physical duress; your mental faculties would be taken hostage and subjected to radical change.

“We can do this the easy way, or the hard way,” he challenged, cocking a single brow. “Choice is yours. I’m partial to the hard way, myself.”

No answer left your lips, which was in and of itself an answer. One that elicited a sigh from Rorke and an eyebrow raise from Keegan.

“Hard way it is, then. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You steeled yourself for a third wave of electrocution, but nothing could mitigate the calamity brought on by the hot coils that cascaded down your spine and traveled outward to your limbs and digits. It lasted for several seconds, minutes, hours. An eternity. 

To what limits did Rorke intend to push your mind and body? A muddled sanity and crippled form would be of no use to him, surely. So what did he hope to gain?

Probably nothing special. Some people just want to watch the world burn, Keegan had told you at the beginning of your acquaintance, not long after explosives had free-fallen from the sky.

And Rorke fell squarely into that category.

“How d’you think this ends? In walks a Ghost or two, and then off into the sunset you go, happily ever after?” He sneered. “Like hell.”

The wave of his hand brought on another current of heat lightning, setting your skin aflame. You clenched every possible muscle in your jaw as he ducked down to meet your unfocused stare. Upon making contact, your fatigued eyes fluttered shut to replace the image of him with total darkness. 

A fruitless endeavor, really. The hatred carried by his gaze and the imposing outline of his figure were both irreparably ingrained into the very grooves and folds of your brain. 

But despite how he haunted your sleep and consumed much of your waking thoughts, Rorke had miraculously failed to eradicate your willpower in its entirety. Still, he had failed to isolate and exploit your Achilles’ heel; still, he was ignorant to the fact that the root of your motivations surpassed standard camaraderie. It would thus take more effort on his part than electric torture to excavate said root.

You were not yet at your breaking point. And you refused to allow today to be the day you finally cracked underneath his reign of terror. 

For a moment, the pit was silent. Then came the dreadful murmur of his long-awaited epiphany. 

“Ah, I see what this is,” Rorke said, tone giddy and ominous. “Tell me, who’s the lucky guy? Which one’s got you actin’ all stupid?” 

Your heart stopped. 

Fuck.  

“Can’t be the quiet Walker, he doesn’t seem the romantic type. And it can’t be his mouthy brother either, too busy tryin’ to avenge the death of his old man. Merrick, well, the fella don’t really swing that way, if y’catch my drift. So, by my count, that just leaves. . .”

Heedless of your wishes, your lidded stare flicked to Keegan’s impassive face. Rorke hadn’t the faintest clue about the subject of your hallucinations or even about the fact that you were currently hallucinating. Nevertheless, the break in eye contact was sufficient evidence to betray you.   

His gaze narrowed. “Bingo.”

You forced yourself to refocus on the non-imaginary man across from you, but the damage had been done.  

“Keegan P. Russ, you sly sonuva bitch,” he muttered. Rorke pursed his lips and whistled in approval. “How’d he win you over? Did he call you pretty, say you’re special? Was he your knight in shining armor?”

In truth, Keegan hadn’t even needed to lift a finger to successfully woo you. Caring for him was as easy as breathing, and it had come so naturally to you that, without him, you felt a bit like a fish out of water. You couldn’t attribute this evolution of your relationship to a singular, specific instance; rather, an aggregation of stolen moments and intimate gestures had resulted in a mutual desire for more. But, to prevent whatever was mounting between yourselves from jeopardizing the team dynamic, the two of you had agreed to take things slow. 

Maybe too slow, in retrospect. This hush-hush, test-run of a relationship had lasted a mere couple months, terminated prematurely by the man who was currently trying to fry your brain. Now your time was up, and much of Keegan would remain a mystery to you, forever undiscovered and unsolved. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret any of it. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to regret him. 

“Oh, this just keeps gettin’ better and better. I’m gonna have a whole lot of fun with you,” Rorke drawled, cracking his knuckles. A wave of apprehension washed over you, and he grinned at the horror that was surely etched into your face. “Don’t worry, I won’t kill our dear ol’ Russ.” 

Relief surged within you, rejuvenating some of our deadened spirit, but the feeling didn’t last long. Nothing remotely good ever did down here. 

“You will.”

Two little words, two little syllables shattered the illusion of Keegan, and with him went any remaining actionable hope. Try as you might, you were unable to reconjure his presence, incapable of reconstructing the facial features you had once loved to trace as he slept. Already, the pain had begun to distort his image in your mind’s eye, like how a digital photo album might be corrupted by malware. 

Perhaps it was for the best. Perhaps you should compartmentalize your memories of him, of the Ghosts, and of the resistance into tiny boxes, sealing them shut then storing them far, far away. Not just out of Rorke’s reach, but out of yours too.  

Because, ultimately, time was on the side of your enemies. Your body would erode first, followed by your sanity and ending with your soul; such was inevitable. Recognizing you were powerless to circumvent this fate, you instead sought to curate the information that would be revealed to Rorke once he finally penetrated your mental bastion. If you purged anything to do with the Ghosts from your memory bank, then the knowledge you possessed couldn’t be weaponized against them. 

The only way you could counteract Rorke’s plans was by forgetting the life you’d built alongside Keegan and the others. Even as you now sat tied up and riddled with convulsions, you were thinking about the four soldiers who had become your home, about how to protect them. Any strategizing you did was to discern a method of silent survival for their sake, not yours. Never yours.

You tried to stave off the bitterness that crept deeper into your heart. 

“Conserve your energy. You’ll be needin’ it for what I’ve got planned,” the older man advised, though his sinister chuckle contradicted any notion of good faith. The metal legs of his chair scraped against the ground as he pushed himself backwards and stood to his full height. “And it should go without saying—”

Rorke let the sentence break off and linger in the tense atmosphere. During these sessions, you’d learned that the older man had somewhat of a proclivity for theatrics. The ex-Ghost derived sick pleasure from randomly dropping bombs of intel on you to instigate a reaction, or from watching you struggle to persist in spite of the various mental and physical agonies he had inflicted. 

A true sadist.

“None of those sorry bastards are gonna barge in and save the day, so give that dream up already. You won’t be found. I mean, how’re they s'posed to find what they ain’t even lookin’ for?”

The sound of retreating footsteps meant Rorke had finally taken his leave, marking the conclusion of this interrogation. But, as the two remaining Feds prepared to conduct another bolt of electricity through your depreciating body, you knew that the prescribed torture had only just begun. 

You hung your head and stared unblinkingly at your bound wrists, at your traumatized fingers, still twitching from the aftershocks. Tremors born of fear, pain, rage. Rage at Rorke, at yourself. 

At Keegan. 

In a kinder world, perhaps Keegan would’ve been around to hold your hands in his, to soothe your scorched flesh with a gentle, mindless rub of his thumb. A fierce longing for him gripped your heart, yearning for that Keegan who could glean your emotional state at any given moment as informed by the mere hitch in your breath or the rhythm of your pulse. 

That Keegan, who let you crawl into his arms and steal his warmth on harsh winter nights, no questions asked. That Keegan, who caught the glazed-over look in your eyes whenever certain topics arose in conversation and thus tried to distract you by playing a game of I Spy, your favorite childhood pastime. That Keegan, who had once nearly broken a man’s wrist for daring to grab the collar of your shirt; he’d been the perfect picture of Death-incarnate, a fierce protector with his stone-cold warning and intimidating stare.

This Keegan, however, was all too different.

Because this Keegan did not come to your rescue. No, instead, he had left you here to die.

tbc.

[geminiagentgreen]

It is truly terrifying that suicidal thoughts and even tendencies are a thing we experience as humans, and the more I think about it the more I feel abhorred by it. Your life matters. You were made in flesh but your existence was and is overseen by an Almighty artist and scientist; you were made intentionally and with utmost care. You matter, your enemies matter, a human's life is a gift altogether, to the individual and to the world around them.

God loves you, and that you are here on this planet and that you are reading this tells me that the Lord Almighty wants an eternal relationship with you. In Christ Jesus, through His death and resurrection, are you saved from your sins and your life promised for eternal glory and joy. This life right here is a gift - even though the world is fallen - but it is also just a mere taste of what is to come, and through Jesus Christ that taste becomes sweet and wonderful.

While your salvation is not in your repentance - that is, your turning away from, doing a 180⁰ from, deciding against sin - of your sins alone, Jesus calls us to do, and to call upon His name to be saved, to give our lives over to Him so that we may receive a new life with Him. All of this is not a work to perform before Christ saves us, but rather a work that follows with and after.

If you made it this far, please read further from the Word of God directly: Ephesians 2: 1-10

Made Alive in Christ

¹ As for you, you were dead in your transgressions and sins, ² in which you used to live when you followed the ways of this world and of the ruler of the kingdom of the air, the spirit who is now at work in those who are disobedient. ³ All of us also lived among them at one time, gratifying the cravings of our flesh and following its desires and thoughts. Like the rest, we were by nature deserving of wrath. ⁴ But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, ⁵ made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved. ⁶ And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, ⁷ in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus. ⁸ For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— ⁹ not by works, so that no one can boast. ¹⁰ For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.

[kale-theteaqueen]

Leap of Faith, Chapter 2: March 1944

---

“I have decorum, Captain Garcia, I am a lady.”

“I’m sure you are, Mrs. Mandray.”

Cassian turned, lifting the tea pot and unceremoniously pouring its contents into a cup. The hot water splashed, burning his fingers.

“Shit.”

“Language,” she admonished, before she looked down at his handiwork. “What on Earth are you doing?”

He snorted, endeared. “Making tea, clearly?”

“Making tea-” Mrs. Mandray stuttered, stopped, and shook her head. “That’s not tea, Captain, that’s a crime. Move.”

---

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@blueunoias @authenticgaymer

[caliburn-not-calculator]

Someone explain to me what happened with this detective au to land me here. Uh, some fic of the boys?

Anyway, they are... well you'll see

Contains: Religious overtones (they're not subtle at all), religious guilt, dom/sub undertones (i mean they might as well also be overtones), fade to black, implied sexual content, but overall it's very soft

Rays of afternoon light streamed through the drawing room’s tall windows, spilling across the floors and furnishings in a luminous mosaic. They glinted off unlit candle sticks, turned the ash scattering the desks to gold mica, and shone in the whites of Maxim’s eyes. Tears gathered in the corners as he took it in. His pupils swallowed the grey of his iris despite the glare, eyes wide and staring, pointed upward into the beams that slipped past Veerle’s face. Though his shadow saved most of Maxim from the burn, his companion refused to spare his sight. Not to give him such mercy. No relief. But the discomfort served its purpose. Not a test or cruelty, but a distraction.

Something to blind him to the scrapping nudge of a shoe sole at his waistband, and the tense heat that grew beneath its gentle pressure.

Maxim knelt on the plush Persian rug before the hearth, legs aching with a familiar throb. Not that of war or injury, but reverence. A position long forgotten, long ignored, but now…

Now he sat with a steady and still absoluteness. Trust unflinching and something like devotion in the sigh of each drawn out breath. Some may have considered him a damned soul, perhaps some small facet of himself did too, but it was drowned beneath the honey of Veerle’s stare and quashed beneath the press of his scuffed Oxford shoe. A disciple, not damned.

He tilted his head back, the slice of sun slipping over his cheekbones, blistering his lips. A long steadying breath whispered through them. He did not shift, not to avoid the pain, nor to hasten whatever Veerle had planned for him, but kept still. The ache pulsed up his hips, but the only groan that slipped from him was forced up from his contracting muscles and lungs at the slight downward push of Veerle’s foot. His waistband dipped, the leather scraping through the hair dusting his navel.

Maxim couldn’t decide if he wanted him to keep moving down or turn his attention higher. If he wanted that steady pressure to hasten the pleasurable pangs between his thighs or if he might fracture in both unbearable guilt and bliss at being given it. Either way, it was not his choice to make. Not his burden to bear. All Maxim had to do was take what Veerle bestowed unto him. Whether friction or famine, climax or come down.

He would take it. He had to take it. Wanted to take it. To take the absolution offered by gentle hands and heavy eyes. For surely there could be no sin in such supplication.

There was something about the submission which felt more like prayer than service ever had. Perhaps it was simply that, for the first time in decades, he truly, utterly, meant it. Offered it. Depended upon it. Maxim had little faith left to spare, nothing more than brittle shards that cut his hands whenever he tried to grasp them, and they did nothing but hurt when held close or offered out.

But, Veerle… 

The flitting fire of his chatter, the sparks of his laughter, the low smoulder of his rare and ravenous rage, melted the points and edges away. He made the ache manageable, tangible, and burned himself so irrevocably into its form that there was no other it could now be given to. No other deserving of such handiwork. None but its sculptor.

Maxim raised one hand from where it had laid limp on his thigh and gingerly tugged at the cuff of Veerle’s pants. The faintest, slightest tug. Maybe meaningless, maybe a mistake, but also, potentially, a request. Asked for or not, his companion hummed, tightened his fingers in Maxim’s hair, and pressed the sole of his shoe flat to his stomach. He swayed back as far as he could at the pressure, a strangled gasp slipping from his awe drunk lungs as the heel dug dangerously low. The hem of his shirt was rucked up by the motion. Sunlight spilt molten over his stomach, the fabric brushing teasingly soft against over sensitive skin. He choked back another noise, only harsh breath falling from parted lips, brows furrowed in concentration.

If there was one thing Maxim excelled at, perhaps to a detrimental degree, it was restraint. Restraint and reserve. Careful and precisely maintained control. Though he had handed Veerle the reins, allowed him to direct and decide and devastate him in whatever manner he believed best, it was still his to maintain. But now he merely had to focus on stilling his shaking form, and complying with each motion made onto him. A task almost meditative in its methodology. There was no heart stuttering panic or head splintering confusion, only the surety that he needed not to do anything more than take.

Perhaps once the vulnerability may have been sickening, but all that was left as Veerle dragged the toe of his shoe over his abdominals, shirt bunching beneath his pectorals, was a wake of heat. Melting molten heat. The pressure which crept up his chest like a lava flow. With painstaking languidness it sank into his skin, ever deeper, until it joined the pool of untouched arousal. It was a rare occasion for Maxim to blush, but the red across his cheeks bloomed unhindered.

He swallowed as the rough sole found the base of his sternum, and metal clinked against Veerle’s shoe. Maxim tensed at the sound. His companion paused, tilting his head. The steadying hand he had in Maxim’s hair hesitated in its gentle caresses through the sun gilt strands. 

“Alright, my love?” He asked, his voice more breath than words, more manifestation than man.

It took most of Maxim’s mind to lift his tongue from the floor of his mouth and draw enough breath for words. “Quite. I uh… just do not remind me of it now.”

Veerle’s expression, soft as it was, lightened to something even sweeter. Lips upturned, worry lines nigh invisible in the warm shadow he was veiled with. He readjusted, setting his weight more toward Maxim’s heart, and away from the pendant now peaking from his raised shirt. His eyes slipped shut with an appreciative hum, and he sagged backwards, more than ready to fall from his aching knees. That worship as this did not always require such discipline, that it could be done just as well limp and reclined, dizzy and dazed, with prayer that wasn’t words, was more a blessing than he could have imagined.

“Well, in that case,” Veerle shifted, leaning his weight forward, shoe flat to Maxim’s chest, gentle enough to not immediately send him sprawling, “Let us get more comfortable, down you go.”

Veerle’s hand slipped from his hair as Maxim’s legs slid from beneath him. He barely caught himself with shaking arms as he was forced to the floor, his companion’s heel surely leaving an indent on his flushed skin. His grip around his ankle tightened, the heat of Veerle’s so distant through the fabric he held. Too distant. Too cold. Not nearly enough to brand as he wanted it to, though he dared not move even that small fraction of covering.

Whatever logical sliver of thought he still possessed understood that Veerle wouldn’t mind, not even slightly, but to touch his companion in a way that even approached how he touched him, to fathom undressing him, in being the one to reveal and revel in his bared skin, was a desecration he could not bear to perform. How much he longed to mattered not. Instead, he held tight, and let himself sink into the softness of the rug beneath him. Let himself gasp as the prized pressure crept high enough to nudge his chin up, and settle over his bared throat.

The sun warming his exposed skin was a poor replacement for the heated body he craved, but it was enough of a comfort to lose any remaining tension in his muscles. The prickling sensation of eyes flitting over him, though not nearly as stimulating as his companion’s touch, likewise satisfied his need for contact. His breath came in rushing rattles as his lungs were lovingly crushed.

Through lidded eyes he watched as Veerle went to speak, lips parting, chest rising with an intake of air, but nothing but a low groan escaping. His companion raised a hand to his face. Dainty fingers made more for dancing across pages and pens (and if Maxim were to be shamefully indulgent, over his chest and jaw and perhaps dipping between his lips) than the warless warfare he insisted on partaking in covered his mouth. He nibbled on his knuckles, an action something between thoughtful and nervous, but most certainly considering. Maxim let his head fall back against the rug, surrendering any of his remaining strength with a sigh.

Patience. That was all he needed now. Patience while Veerle enacted whatever design he’d no doubt painstakingly envisioned and would equally painstakingly enact. He brushed his thumb over the laces of the shoe pinning him, the rough threads calming in their intricate repetition. The sensation of eyes methodically passing over him did not fade. Nor did the ignored need Veerle had stirred up within him. But he merely closed his eyes, and focused on breathing.

Somewhere in the foggy depths of his thoughts, he remembered once comparing himself to one of his insectoid specimens. A mindless light lured creature, willingly flitting into flame, helpless to the unfathomable force that pinned it in its forever position. It was almost flattering to think of now, that Veerle saw him as something both beautiful and fascinating enough to keep, to study, to tend to. That he may want him in a manner similar to Maxim’s own desire, though surely less base and simplistic than his prior imaginings.

What consciousness had condensed was sent swirling formless once more, as the weight lifted, only to return tenfold. A breathy groan was forced from him as the careful pressure of a foot against his chest and shoulder turned to the digging press of a knee. Veerle knelt over him, one leg tucked against his side, the other resting atop his chest. He shifted, getting comfortable, the pads of his fingers slipping beneath his raised shirt to glide over his collarbones.

“I’m going to get rid of this, okay?” he asked, tugging gently at the fabric, voice a gentle disturbance upon Maxim's mind, like water rushing over loose sand.

He could only, and barely, nod in response.

“Thank you.”

The hands on his chest vanished, and he’d be lying if he said a displeased sound didn’t escape him at their loss, but a moment later they returned at his wrists. Carefully, Veerle guided his arms above his head so he could remove his shirt with ease. He whispered thanks and encouragement as he did, the softness at odds with the harsh press of his knee upon his chest. The fabric seemed to rustle and vanish, his thoughts too caught up elsewhere to process the moment of its loss. Only when Veerle took back his wrists and guided his hands down did he notice it was done, that what Veerle didn’t shadow was set feebly aflame by the sun. 

He startled as a soft texture met his palms, warmth radiating beneath them. His hands twitched. More by accident than purposeful action, he lightly squeezed what Veerle had given him. The narrow width and faint curve of his companion's hips were in his grasp. Hands covered his own, gently smoothing over his knuckles as he settled.

A faint sigh left Veerle at the pressure, and the weight upon Maxim momentarily vanished. It returned, more evenly distributed and crucially, lower on his body. Maxim maintained his hold on his companion, so he had at least some warning before he lowered himself to straddle his hips. He did not, however, have a warning for the smooth and sudden roll of his body. His fingers dug into Veerle’s flesh as he ground against him, tearing a sound from him he would have deemed unholy had any but Veerle invoked it. Though his belt had been removed and discarded some time ago, no move had been made to loosen his slacks. No buttons or ties undone. It had been a passing issue until then, as his companion set a slow and steady pace with the motions of his hips, the usually well tailored item started to become far too restrictive.

Palms settled upon his chest, Veerle’s fingers splayed wide over his feverish skin. With each breath Maxim inadvertently pressed up into the touch. If he breathed deeper, let his chest rise further in pursuit of some shadow of force from the cautious motions of Veerle’s explorations, then he hoped it went unnoticed.

Maxim couldn’t quash the urge to crack open his eyes and search for signs that Veerle may be as worked up as he was. The hope to see his sharp features or teasing smiles turned red and wanton one which far predated their more involved relationship. The image of him with lips parted in silent pleasure, bright eyes dark with need and face aflame was one Maxim had shamefully indulged himself with when he was too exhausted to stop himself. The thought that one day he may see it made the heat within him roil. The sight that met him was certainly no disappointment.

His companion gave him a shaky grin, crooked and creasing his eyes with yet impermanent laughter lines. Hair fell over his brow, coal dark strands loose and framing his face, and stress greyed streaks crowning him with silver. His clothes remained faintly rumpled as they were when they began. As neat as Veerle ever wore them, a few buttons undone and suspenders pulled over his narrow shoulders. Some part of Maxim considered grasping them, pulling down, forcing Veerle to finally meet his lips. The more sensible part acknowledged that moving his hands from his companion's hips was a feat beyond him.

“I, uh, don’t suppose you’ve ever been ridden before?” Veerle whispered with another roll of his hips, red blooming high on his cheeks and wide fluttering eyes painting far too sweet for all that he was doing.

Maxim failed to swallow his groan as the friction sent a pulse of pleasure coiling tight within him. The sweetness only unspooled him further, drawing out each thread of strength and will and weaving it through the loom of Veerle’s careful ministrations, into some new fragile tapestry. A picture wanton creature of his own design. 

“What?” He mumbled between shaking breaths, peering up through heavy lidded eyes and teeth clenched as Veerle slowed, but continued to make nigh imperceptible motions more teasing than stimulating.

“Well, that’s probably a no then. Don’t worry, my love.”

Veerle leaned forward, eyes soft crescents with his smile, glittering in the afternoon light like shattered stained glass. His shirt tickled Maxim’s bare chest, his breath caressing his jaw, the hands on his shoulders pressing with more force as he drew closer. A gentle kiss was placed upon his cheek, chapped lips lingering in its place.

“I’ll take you slow.”

[cjlouwho]

ive seen you talk kindly about your father, then read he was a conservative, trump voter. how can you like a man like that??

omg cause in the real world people are complicated and imperfect and not everything is done with vicious intentions.

my father was conservative, yes, but he also taught me the importance of voting. he knew we were opposites when it came to politics but he never tried to sway me in his direction, so I respected him enough to do the same. he drilled into my head how being able to vote was a right and a privilege and one I, especially as a woman, shouldn't take for granted.

he never said I couldn't do something because I was a woman. he just taught me how. I know how to do so much handiwork because of him. I know all about a multitude of sports because he answered my endless questions for years on end. we were the only two in the family who enjoyed football, so he'd take me to games and explain every single thing to me- never missed a beat. If there was ever a time a woman was belittled or told she couldn't do something, he made sure to let everyone know that women could do anything.

he was strong in his faith. never wavered, even during the worst of his cancer. he was a hard worker and a great listener. if I complained to my mom about work, she'd tell me, "well, get a new job. a better one with better pay," but she didn't listen to my problems. my dad listened and would offer advice if I needed it, or just listen if that's all I needed.

my dad was not a perfect man, but he was a good man. he loved me unconditionally. I will miss him for the rest of my life.