#The Lord is my Shepherd. <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[pinestripe37]

Once was lost, but now I'm Found

✝️Jesus-cember Day 3✝️

(Prompt: Once was lost, but now I'm Found)

+++++++

I once was lost But My Gracious God Sent His One Begotten Son to find my soul.

Lord Jesus came to Seek and Save the lost and now I'm found.

You chose to descend into the trench where I had fallen To lift me back Home with You, Sweet Savior God. Down into the deep to lead me out Up to Your Light.

My Lord left the garden, To come cross the desert, To find me in a dry and thirsty land: Where I trusted in man, tried to fend by myself and wilted. I once was blown like chaff in the harsh dusty wind, but God caught me, taught me to trust in Him. I used to be a lost and withered branch Found stranded in a barren foreign land. grafted graciously by God, I've been returned to the True Vine. Where I can heal, the place my leaves turn green and thrive. While I once was withering in the drought Living Water and Your Life poured out Refresh, restore, revive my heart.

Oh I once was lost… But Christ took on the Cross That I may look upon His Grace and see the Way… (…Be Saved.)

You gave up Your Life To take on and bear death; To reach down and bring me from the grave My sin had dug me.

You built a bridge across the chasm With Your own suffering; Then led me all the way across Gently guided with the Hand that bled for me… You never let me fall.

From vast sin that was unforgivable Ransomed in fullness through Your Blood. You paid the Price for my Redemption, in Your Love, In Adam I once was fallen, But in Christ now I am lifted up.

I once was lost but I'm Sought and Saved, Plucked from the grave, Lifted in Grace, Now I'm found.

How blessed I am to be here not there No longer sinking in death's grip or snared. Blind in the dark, Sin had me bound… I once was lost But with God I'm found.

Oh, I once was dying in the darkness, Now I'm living in God's Brilliant Light!

My Father found me midst the bleakness of the blizzard Lost in the coldness of this world, and frozen with rejection From deep snow drifts Christ's Warm Hands dug me out. He doesn't give as this cold world does, He gives Peace. Home in His Grace my rescued heart does thaw.

I once was living just for me, A lifestyle selfish and lonely; But now I'm drawn so close with God's Grace, Set free to walk in Love and fellowship! Embraced my purpose, and I've found: it's joyful. I once was lost, but now on good paths kindly Called.

I once was lost; adrift at sea. Horizons blurred with doubts of life's validity… But One who walks on water came to rescue me. Filled me with Faith, in His Embrace, My purpose is secure.

How often are we lost in darkness, Wandering aimless in the doubt? Where life seems void of meaning; hopeless questions start deceiving Due to blindness and the dark… Despaired, we struggle to get out, Is this gloom not what lostness feels like. Look to the True Light, to be found- Christ rescues all who call to Him You may be lost But you'll be found, The Savior brings us out to light!

I once was drowning in the dark illusion of abyss… In the deep of my despair. Lost in a sea of bitter tears Sin had me tangled and ensnared, it pulled me down. but God found me in my misery, Saw me and came to rescue me. O my Savior You broke each chain, and wiped each tear, and led me through to You.

I once was chained, Too snared to move. But Your Power broke off all iniquity, so I can breathe, I'm finally free To follow You.

You led me out of the dark woods Of the valley of the shadow of death Where I once was lost. Darkness surrounded my wandering form; Impending doom… Loomed. It was my sin that led me here. I left myself with no way home. And yet You left the ninety-nine You saved me just in time, Still called me Yours. I once was lost, But God has always cared.

I once was lost but Christ called me by name; And belonging to the Loving Shepherd I'm Saved, You're the One who Redeemed me.

For I once was like a lost sheep going astray, We've all been lost, every one, in our own way. But when the Lord Himself bore all our sins upon that tree… I have been now returned To the Shepherd, rightful Owner, Overseer of my soul.

As a Shepherd bravely climbs through piercing thorns to reach the sheep Christ wore those thorns to rescue me, a crown of my snares on my King.

Stream of light breaks through brambles; Lord Jesus! I'm found. With strong scarred Hands I'm caught -Caught by my Savior through His Cross!

With loving conviction You remove every briar, every lie. Where thorns of doubt and sin have torn me, You gently bind my wounds with faith In Your Care I'm finally safe. Carried Home in Your Embrace…

On my own I was so so lost But now each step with my Lord I walk. No longer lonely when all the way Your Gracious Spirit gently guides me.

Your rod and staff they comfort me; kept found in loving discipline. My life led out from chilling shadows to the sunlit narrow path. As long as I follow my Shepherd and Savior, I will never be lost again.

I once was lost in barren lands; Now safe and found In my Good Shepherd's Hands.

I once had starved, in scarcity. Restless, dissatisfied, unsure, and empty. But those who come to Christ shall never hunger, Those who believe shall never thirst again. I once ran dry But now my cup is filled to overflowing! I've found I find my Daily Bread in Faithful Hands.

On my own I would have died, But my life is found in Christ.

I once was lost, unseeing through the heavy fog of doubt But graciously, my God has led me out…

He brought me out from cold darkness Into the lovely warmth of Christ the Light.

Darkness once had me blind But Jesus opened my eyes. The beauty of love and of holiness unfolds in front of me… In Your Light I see Light! (Once was blind But now I see)

I once was lost But then I met Jesus He found me in the valley, He's all I've ever needed, …I'm Home. Never to be alone. (And never lost again for my Lord never loses His Own.)

I hear my Lord rejoice Over me with His Love; His treasure He has found. For I was dead and am in Him alive again I was lost and am now found.

Jesus you are Worthy to be praised! You're the only One who truly Saves! I was once dead in my trespasses But now I live in Your Amazing Grace.

I remember wandering on my own, lost and struggling to belong But now I'm His and now I'm Home. Living with my Lord Never alone, Found in His Love, Now I belong. Once wandered homeless But now I'm Home.

No longer lost, With my Gracious God I'm Safe and sound… Forever Found.

[fadeintoyou1993]

[pinestripe37]

"God makes me lie down in green pastures..." ~Psalm 23

[the-harvest-field]

God’s Love is a safe refuge

23 The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. 2 He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. 3 He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. 4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. 5 Thou preparest a table…

[covenofagatha]

hey soooooo if your requests are still open... what do you think about a pt. 3 with Father Agatha where she fucks reader on the altar with her strap (the church is empty)... like... and Agatha has reader recite the Rosary, and for every mystery completed reader gets an orgasm... and maybe Agatha has like a breeding kink sort of and says she wants to make reader the next virgin mary...

obviously if you want and feel comfortable with all this, i really truly love all your stories!!

Hooooooly shit this was insane i immediately had to write this

also the rosary is so long 😩

Forgive me, Father (part 3)

What the request said lol

Word count: 3200

Warnings: light bondage, religious sex, altar sex, fingering, oral, strap on, cum lube, breeding kink, spanking, dubcon, priest agatha is so corrupt, naive reader, think this is it

The next time you go to confession, you don’t even make it into the booth before Father Agatha intercepts you, almost like she’s been waiting. 

“Come back for more, angel?” She asks, sitting in a pew, facing the altar. You almost walked right by her without noticing. 

You look around the rest of the church. There’s no one else in sight. She taps the spot on the bench next to her and you sit. 

Just the close proximity makes your heart beat faster. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask. 

Father Agatha shrugs. “I like to sit in here when it’s empty and pray. Helps me connect with God, I can hear him better.” 

You frown and try to quiet your thoughts and your breathing to see if you can hear anything. “What is God saying right now?” If you had looked closer, you would’ve seen the smirk on her lips as you played right into her trap before she reset her face.

“Nothing good,” she sighs heavily and your eyes widen in fear. “Do you remember the Annunciation?” 

“Of course,” you answer with a nod. “When the angel Gabriel came down and told Mary that she was pregnant with Jesus because she had found favor with God.” You had strived to live a life as pure as Mary had, and thanks to Father Agatha, you feel like you’re on the right path.

She gives you a wry smile, her eyes still racked with seriousness. “And do you remember why God sent his only son down to us?” 

“To save us from sin,” you say immediately. The most noble sacrifice anyone could make. 

“And it worked for a while,” Father Agatha says sadly. “But now sin is running rampant again. However, God has an idea for how to stop it.” 

Your mouth falls open a little. You had no idea it was getting that bad out in the world. You make it your mission to help the priest, no matter what it takes. “What does He need? What can we do?” 

“Another vessel, for another child. A pure of heart maiden, just like Mary was,” she says, finally meeting your eyes. Your heart skips a beat. 

“Me? Carry God’s child? But–” 

She cuts you off. “Proverbs 3:5 says, ‘Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding.’ I know it may be scary, angel, but I am here to help. I will shepherd the child unto you, if you so wish to help God in this way.” 

You think for a moment, weighing your options. It has always been a dream to be a true steward of the Lord, and everyone has to do their part. You remember a verse from Psalms. “The Lord is my strength and my shield; in him my heart trusts, and I am helped; my heart exults, and with my song I give thanks to him,” you recite and Agatha smiles, very pleased. 

She stands up, brushing past you and walking up the stairs to the altar. You follow her. 

“How is this going to work?” You question. The Bible doesn’t go into specifics with Mary.

“Patience, angel,” Father Agatha says, pulling out the bread and wine of Christ for Communion and a rosary. “There are many things we will need to do in order to get you ready to take the child.” 

She holds up the wafer and you bow, holding out your hands. She doesn’t move, just raises an eyebrow. You stand there for a second, dumbfounded. 

“What are other ways you can take Communion?” She says, glancing down to the floor. A light clicks in your head and, for the third time in front of her, you drop to your knees. 

This time, you open your mouth and stick out your tongue, and she places the bread on it, holding eye contact. Her gaze burns into you and you can’t help but feel that same heat you always do with her. Once you swallow, she presses the chalice of wine to your lips and you let her pour some down your throat. 

The air is so charged around the two of you and you wonder if this is part of the ceremony. 

“Stand up,” she orders and you shoot to your feet. She flips you around and lifts you up so you’re sitting on the altar and you gasp. 

“I can’t be on this,” you protest but she shushes you. 

“It’s okay, angel,” she says soothingly, hands coming to rub your thighs. Her touch feels good and it momentarily makes you forget about your qualms. “God will allow it since he knows the burden you’re about to bear. Now, do you remember that special toy I used on you last time?” 

You nod, feeling the wetness in your underwear grow as you think back to that memory. The way it felt so big, the way it stretched you out, the way it felt when you orgasmed over it. 

Father Agatha is wearing pants today, you notice for the first time, and she unzips them to pull something out. 

Unlike the one from last time, which was purple, this one is skin colored and has two round things on the bottom. She squeezes the globes under the toy and a dribble of white liquid comes out from the tip. 

“What is that?” You ask in awe. You wonder what it would taste like. 

She swipes at the bead of moisture and holds it up so you can get a better look. “This is a different type of tool, one that can hold cum.” She says the new word slowly so you can remember it. “This is what’s going to go inside your little pussy, this is what’s going to fill you up with the new child of Christ.” 

For some reason, the thought of having the cum inside you makes you grow even hotter. “Okay,” you say earnestly. She chuckles at how ready you are. 

“Not quite yet, angel. Remember how we had to work up to it last time? We will need to do the same. But don’t fret. I’ll make it just as enjoyable.” 

She takes the rosary off the altar next to you and waits for you to hold out your arms. Instead of wrapping them around your hands the right way, she twists them around your wrists so you can’t move. A flare involuntarily courses through you at the thought of being bound. 

“Now, be a good girl, and complete your rosary. For each mystery, you’ll get a reward,” she says with a wink, and pulls you closer to the edge of the altar. You watch what she’s doing with bated breath and she bends down so her face is just a breath away from your pussy. 

She pushes up your skirt and slides your underwear to the side, and when her finger slides through your folds, you make the sign of the cross. 

“I believe in God, the Father Almighty,” you begin with the Apostles’ creed. When you get to the Our Father, the memory of you saying this while her fingers were warming you up last time hits you like a train. She finds your clit easily and rubs it, your voice jumping up an octave. 

You make it through that prayer and the three Hail Mary’s with little trouble while she continues just stroking up and down your pussy, feeling it get wetter under her fingertips. 

The Glory Be and the Fatima prayer also come out smoothly as Father Agatha is only teasing. 

You announce the first mystery, Annunciation, and you’re saying the Our Father again when she suddenly slides a finger into you, grinning at the way you gasp and tighten around it. 

She pumps it in and out lazily while you stutter through the rest of the prayer and then she pulls out. You feel empty and she tugs you off the altar and spins you around so that your ribs are pressing into it and your elbows rest on top, hands still tied tightly together by the chain.

This time, she tugs your skirt and underwear off and the cool church air makes you shiver. She grabs your buttcheeks and you gasp. 

“Did your parents spank you when you were a child?” She asks and for some reason, you feel yourself get even wetter at the promise her words hold. 

You nod. “Yes,” you whisper. 

“Do not withhold discipline from a child; if you strike him with a rod, he will not die. If you strike him with a rod, you will save his soul from Sheol,” she quotes. “We need to make sure your body is completely cleansed. You have ten Hail Mary’s, so for each one, I’ll give you a spank.” 

Your breath comes out in stutters and you feel like you’re about to pass out from overheating. The ache inside you is only getting worse. 

“Hail Mary, full of grace, the lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death, Amen.” 

She slaps you before you even have the time to brace yourself. 

The sound echoes throughout the empty church and you clasp your hands so hard that your knuckles turn white. 

“Hail Mary, full of grace,” you say again, eyes rolling to look up at the ceiling like you’re talking straight to God. 

Another spank. This time, your body rocks forward against the altar and it knocks the wind out of your lungs. 

“Hail Mary…” 

Spank. 

“Hail Mary…” 

Spank. 

“Hail Mary…”

Spank. 

“Hail Mary…” 

Spank. 

“Hail Mary…” 

Spank.

You still have three more to go and you’re a mess. 

The wetness between your legs has grown to a flood and is dripping down your legs. Your butt stings and the cold air works to soothe it, but every time you get a semblance of a relief, she hits you again. 

“Hail…Mary…” You take your time on the eighth, dragging it out over a minute to give yourself some time to breathe and recover. She chuckles evilly, rubbing your butt. 

Spank. 

On the ninth time, it doesn’t even feel like you’re saying real words anymore and you can barely register the pain anymore. 

Spank. 

When you finally choke out the tenth one, she hits both of your cheeks as hard as she can at the same time and you groan loudly. 

“Father Agatha,” you whimper and she soothes the aches with her palms. 

“You did so well, angel, so perfect for me. I promise that you are completely purified now and ready for pleasure. But before we get to that, let’s say the Glory Be and the Fatima prayer together.” 

She turns you around so you lock eyes with the priest and chant the two prayers and then you announce the second mystery, the Visitation, and start the Our Father. Father Agatha watches with a fond smile on your face and as you’re still speaking, she nudges your feet apart so your stance is wider. 

When you begin the ten Hail Mary’s again, she reaches down and slides two fingers inside you with no resistance at all because of how wet you are. 

You momentarily stop talking and the priest moans. 

“You’re so wet and warm around me, angel,” she mumbles quietly and you wish your hands weren’t tied together so you could reach out and touch her. 

You resume the prayer and she picks up her pace, twisting and curling, and your recitation is broken up with small gasps and whimpers. Instinctually, you raise your leg up and rest it around her and she chuckles. 

It was clearly the right thing to do because her fingers can somehow get deeper inside you and your head falls back. You’re clenching tighter and you’re getting close as you keep spitting out the words, having been on the edge for awhile since her spanking. 

“Ah ah,” she tuts, slowing down for a second. “You have four more. No orgasm until then.” You whine, pleading with your eyes, but she just smirks and raises a brow, waiting for you to continue. 

You say the words so fast it sounds like you’re auctioning off your soul to the highest bidder. 

And Father Agatha, of course, has won. 

She finally strokes your clit when you finish the tenth and you spasm all over her two fingers, hands pulling so tightly against the rosary that you think you might have indents tomorrow. 

She gently moves her fingers in and out while you finish up the second mystery with the Glory Be and the Fatima Prayer. 

When you’re announcing the third mystery, the Birth of Our Lord, she sinks down to her knees in front of you and you forget to speak. 

You shake your head, trying to figure out what she’s doing, when she lifts a leg up over her shoulder and leans close to your pussy to blow on it. 

Your hips jump and you almost fall, and she helps you rest your back against the altar for balance. 

“What are you doing?” You say in a hushed voice. 

“Say the prayers,” she orders and sucks gentle kisses into your inner thighs. Her mouth on that extremely sensitive place makes you keen as you start to say the Our Father again. But when you begin on the Hail Mary’s, her tongue slides through your folds and it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. 

A loud moan claws its way out of your throat and you manage to loosen the rosary around your wrists just enough so you can entangle your hands in her hair. You had no idea that someone could put their mouth on that part of you, but you want Father Agatha to stay there forever. 

She stops and nips at your thigh as a warning to keep going. It is so hard to keep your mind from completely blanking on the words with her hot tongue swirling your clit the way it is, but you somehow manage to make it through four quickly. 

You buck your hips without any sort of rhythm against her face, gasping out the words to the prayer. Her tongue dips into your pussy and strokes against your walls and you think you might die and ascend before God can put his baby in you. 

Like the last time, it’s clear that she won’t let you orgasm unless you finish the mystery, so you speed through again, pretty sure you miss chunks of the prayer at a time. 

Finally, you get to the tenth one, and when you’re almost done, she slides three fingers into you, curls them, and sucks on your clit roughly. 

You orgasm, absolutely drenching her face and fingers again. 

She moves your leg down and stands up, smearing her fingers across your face. 

“How was that?” She asks, smirking. 

“Oh my gosh, I didn’t even know something could feel that good,” you gush. 

And then she grabs the toy and drags it through your folds and you second guess that when she circles your clit with the tip. She presses down lightly and the pressure makes you squirm. 

“Are you ready for me to fill you up?” 

Your heart leaps, but really, you’d do anything to have her inside you again. Two orgasms hasn’t been enough to satiate you and you want to know what it’s like for her cum to be inside you. 

“Please, Father, fill me up.” The words sound dirty falling from your mouth but she just grins and flips you back around, putting you back into the same position as earlier. 

“Fourth mystery,” she demands and your head falls forward onto your chained arms as she pushes the tip in. Even though you are wet and stretched out, there’s still a slight burn. 

The Presentation. You announce it and say the Our Father while she ruts in and out of you, never going in further than the tip. 

You start on the Hail Mary’s and it takes her the entire first one to slide the entire way in. Your voice sounds strangled as you keep talking and she slowly starts to grind into you. 

When you get to the third one, she stops being gentle and begins roughly thrusting, your rips slamming against the altar again and again. She reaches a hand around to rub at your clit and you clench tightly on the toy. 

Father Agatha starts saying things while you keep reciting your prayers and she’s just loud enough to hear over your words. 

“Angel, you’re so perfect, stretched around my cock like this, can’t wait to fill you up, to breed you, watch my cum drip out of you, God you’re taking me so well, need to do this every day, can’t wait to breed you.” 

You don’t really know what she means when she says she wants to breed you, but just based on the way she sounds when she says it, like it’s making her feel as hot as you do, makes you even more wet. 

At this point, you don’t even know if you’re saying the right prayer but things just keep spilling out of your mouth and you go with it. You don’t know how many you’ve said or how many you have left, all you can think about is Father Agatha. 

“You’re so close, angel, just one more and then I’ll make you into the next Virgin Mary with my cum,” she grunts into your ear and you gasp out the words. 

“Amen,” you finally pant out, and you can feel her hand brush past you as she reaches down between her own legs, and the next thing you know, a warmth spreads through you. It triggers your own orgasm, feeling your walls being painted with her cum, and she gently thrusts in and out while you seize around her. “Did it work?” You ask weakly. 

Father Agatha strokes your hair as she says the Glory Be and the Fatima prayer herself. You realize that you forgot to say those after your second orgasm, but you can’t find it in you to care. Since you’re carrying God’s child, you don’t think He will either. 

“I’m going to stay inside you like this to keep the cum in while you say the fifth mystery. It’s called cockwarming. This way, we can try to let it take hold.” 

You nod and begin on the Finding in the Temple. Since she isn’t moving, you aren’t constantly distracted and you’re able to get through the Hail Mary’s without too much of a hassle, although the feeling of being full still is forefront on your mind. 

When you finish the rosary, she pulls out, turns you to face her, and you gasp at the feeling of her cum oozing out of you. 

“But, it was supposed to stay inside me!” You cry, watching in horror as it leaks out and down your legs. 

Father Agatha frowns and collects it with her fingers. “Something must have gone wrong,” she says and then looks up to meet your eyes. “Guess we’ll just have to try again.” 

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

hi i wrote a song for crowley in a warped sort of catholic hymn style

ELEIMON AEGOVOSKOS [Crowley's Hymn]

Kyrie eleison

Sinner, repenter, o lover of mine Take what you will, I lay at your shrine Hellfire, holy water alike Bring damnation, salvation, oh peace be mine Please be mine

Nightshade nightingale Challenger of God Sea that parted, hope that failed Loveless child of the Lord

Tempter so tempted, o starmaker’s smile Give what you will, an inch for a mile Your kindness, wrath, both so alike Bring violent seduction, so beautiful, vile O beautiful guileless guile

Haloed and hallowed, o hollowed outcry Pray to the ruins of your darling sky Now lovers and allies, or foes alike We are ruined, remade, or at least we try O at least we try 

Heaven and Hell, o my Fallen divine Equal in wrath, follow close behind Mercy, damnation, twin judgements alike On your knees, your judgement will not be so blind You have never been blind

Forgive me for being blind O forgive me for being blind

Dies irae

On your knees, your judgement Is not so blind You see as they see, you feel it in kind On your knees, your judgement  Is not so blind Your damnation has made you divine Your damnation has made you divine

Please forgive me And please be mine

Kyrie eleison

-Asmi

Notes: There are references to old poems and hymns here, including Kyrie eleison which in Greek means Lord have Mercy, roughly, and Dies irae, an old Latin poem about the Last Judgement or Judgement Day, when God decides who is saved and who is cast into eternal flames.

The line On your knees your judgement is not so blind refers to that one shot in Season 2 Episode 3, where rather than Aziraphale who stands and judges the poor bodysnatchers, Crowley sits next to them and understands. Because he is fallen, and on his knees, his judgement isn't as blind as Heaven's.

Hellfire, holy water alike bring salvation, damnation refers to a sentiment I believe Crowley expresses about how whether Hell ends the world or Heaven, it will be ended just the same.

Now lovers and allies, or foes alike refers to their arrangement, about how either they are allies and lovers, or at the very least foes who are very, very similar at heart.

Finally, the title, Eleimon Aegovoskos, is Greek for Merciful Goatherd. Yep, this is a reference to the Job storyline. Because of how Crowley saved the goats though Heaven and Hell said to destroy them, and also because of that one Biblical story about Abraham where he is ordered to sacrifice his son, but really there is a goat waiting to be sacrificed instead. Crowley spares even the goats from needless sacrifice. Hence Merciful Goatherd, similar to how God is a merciful shepherd (I believe, I'm not sure) because Crowley's damnation has made him divine. I'm not Christian and I don't know much about this, so I'm open to corrections :")

[g7art]

🕊️ The Lord is my Shepherd

-

✝️ Psalm 23:1–3 ✝️

"..The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake."

-

Love my work? A little gesture of appreciation goes a long way by purchasing it! Shop now.

[pinestripe37]

"The Lord is my Shepherd. I shall not want." ~ Psalm 23:1

What more could we ever want;

when belonging to a Gracious God?

[darkmajesty-xo]

Ready Player 1 ? - Shigaraki x reader

18+ MDNI | masturbation, praise , video chats, crack-humor

most would consider it unwise for a girl like you to be in these chat rooms due to the questionable discourse and rather infamous patrons, but girls just wanna have fun right ?

xoxo_|hisMC ✮: saw an old couple today, could be me and shig but he’s playing ☹️

user2345: i think you mean planning* as in planning world domination and torment of quirkless losers like you.

xoxo_|hisMC ✮: oh sweetheart you’ll never get any pussy if you keep acting like one

user3333: damn bro, you gonna take that ?

user2345: who gives a shit about some villain groupie ?

user2345: she keeps her mouth so full of cum that it’s starting to affect her whore brain.

user2345: do you really think the true leader of the new world would make time for some dumb cunt like you ?

xoxo_|hisMC ✮: there’s probably a higher chance of tomura shigaraki and i living happily ever after than there is of ANY woman even looking in your direction.

this was a normal friday night, you simping over shigaraki in the forums and clapping back at the misogynistic incels that hid behind their keyboards in their mothers’ basements. but there was one guy that always stood up for you whenever the idiots got too out of hand. he was also a moderator so he had no problems blocking them.

the two of you would dm off and on about life , thoughts on hero society, hobbies , etc. from your chats you gathered that he didn’t walk that straight and narrow but that didn’t mean much to you. he would sometimes tease your about your crush on shigaraki and your general taste in men.

finalboss: honestly, what kind of girl likes a criminal?; who knows what kind of twisted shit the guys into— you’re not even a villain.

xoxo_|hisMC ✮: you know nothing jon snow

finalboss: that reference just confirmed btw

xoxo_|hisMC ✮: i’ll have you know that my beloved is a certified otaku fantasy nerd.

finalboss: oh yeah ? and how’d you obtain such info ?

xoxo_|hisMC ✮: i run 3 stan accounts on twitter and i belong to a shiggy fan club 🥹

finalboss: 😃

finalboss: seek help

finalboss: 😃

xoxo_|hisMC ✮: you wound me ☹️

finalboss: i’ll just leave that too your Prince Charming lol

xoxo_|hisMC ✮: oh lord , did you see the footage of his latest attack ?

xoxo_|hisMC ✮: he was dressed like a whoreee 😩😩

xoxo_|hisMC ✮: tits just out for my viewing pleasure

xoxo_|hisMC ✮: shigaraki is my shepherd, he know what i want.

xoxo_|hisMC ✮: wanna suck on those sugar nips and call him mommy

finalboss: you get weirder and weirder every time we chat

xoxo_|hisMC ✮: that means we’re becoming besties ㅤ♡ ︎

finalboss: ♡ ︎

it was nice having someone to talk to about your secret obsession, it’s not like your “real life” friends would understand. the two of you had carved out your own little piece of the internet to goof around in. he never disclosed much information about himself and typically kept the conversations focused on you, but you still felt an undeniable bond to this faceless stranger.

then he ghosted you.

weeks went by without a word from your friend. he no longer defended you in the forums and he didn’t respond to any of your dms. you’d started to get worried that he may have been arrested or worse. and at the three month mark you’d finally given up hope that you’d ever hear from your friend again. but then the unexpected happened.

finalboss is requesting to video chat.

this was completely out of character but after months with no word, you were desperate to hear from your friend.

you were prepared to chew him him out for abandoning you. thinking of all the ways you could insult him while simultaneously expressing your need for his comfort and company. but your mind went blank when the grainy screen loaded into the pixelated image of your companion.

whispy tendrils fell from his bun, framing the sculpted planes of his handsome face. his lips were dry, slightly chapped, with the only lubrication being the sheen of saliva left by the slow drag of his tongue. bloodied eyes bore into your own leaving you breathless and dazed.

“hey bestie”

his voice was low and raspy, almost like a whisper. a deep rumbling that echoed in your ear drums. it was oddly hypnotic. he was absolutely mesmerizing.

tomura chuckled into the camera, showing flashes of perfectly white teeth. he leans back into the chair, a hand on the back of his neck showcasing a broad chest and toned abs.

“didn’t expect you to be this quiet, bestie. is my outfit not slutty enough for you ? i could always take these off…” his hand fell from his neck to rest and the waistband of his black jeans.

you remained speechless, eyes glued to the light dusting of hair below his belly button.

more laughter and shifting. now you were met with the glorious girth of shigaraki’s cock clenched tightly in his fist. the darkened tip oozed a sparkling trail of pre that spilled down his length. his thumb swiped the fluid to spread over his veiny member.

“c’mon , doll. don’t leave me hanging” he teased, squeezing his fist upwards to produce more pre. “i thought you wanted to be my ‘mc’ ? seems more like an npc if you ask me”.

“y-you’re him” you stammered, eyes following the slow drag of his fist. “you’re tomura shigaraki”.

“in the flesh” he teased, shooting a wink that went directly between your legs. “well kinda, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. sorry i’ve been away so long, but you’d wait forever for me won’t you , perfect girl ?”

your nod was automatic. robotic even. you’d moved closer to the screen, completely engrossed by his ministrations.

“anything for you beyon—shiggy”

you both laughed at that. he appreciated your humor, especially with all the drama in his day to day. even in def con simp mode and being ghosted didn’t stop you from being undeniably you. that’s probably why he was as obsessed with you as you were with him.

“i know we probably have alot to discuss but todays been kind of shitty and i’d really like to explore our final fantasies”.

you snorted, “that was really bad , shig”.

he shrugged, “i’m a villain, not a comedian, beloved. “now show me that perfect little pussy”.

[pinestripe37]

Amen! <333 ✝️

“I am the light of the world. He who follows Me shall not walk in darkness, but have the light of life.” ~Jesus' Words in John 8:12

“I am the bread of life. He who comes to Me shall never hunger, and he who believes in Me shall never thirst.” ~Jesus' Words in John 6:35

“I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd gives His life for the sheep.” ~Jesus' Words in John 10:11

Three of my favorite Scriptures; so so beautiful, delighting in the Blessing of Who He Is. 🙏

Jesus is the light of this dark world, the living bread for empty souls, and the good shepherd for His sheep.

Steven Lawson

[faeriefully]

C. S. Lewis is credited for popularizing the three Ls explanation for the logic of Christ’s divinity.

Taking the gospels and Christ’s own words, there are only three options. Christ is either a Liar, a Lunatic, or He is Lord of all (God incarnate).

Why is this the only logical conclusion?

Christ Himself claims to be God.

In the book of John we find many “I Am” statements made by Christ.

“He said to them, “You are from below; I am from above. You are of this world; I am not of this world. I told you that you would die in your sins, for unless you believe that I am he you will die in your sins.””

‭‭John‬ ‭8‬:‭23‬-‭24‬ ‭ESV‬‬

*note that the “he” is an addition for English translation. The Greek does not contain it. It is Ego Eimi: I Am that I Am.

—

“So the Jews said to him, “You are not yet fifty years old, and have you seen Abraham?” Jesus said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, before Abraham was, I Am.” So they picked up stones to throw at him, but Jesus hid himself and went out of the temple.”

‭‭John‬ ‭8‬:‭57‬-‭59‬ ‭ESV‬‬

—

“Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in me shall never thirst.”

‭‭John‬ ‭6‬:‭35‬ ‭ESV‬‬

—

These two, along with others “I Am” statements in the book of John, are constructed in the Greek as Ego Eimi.

“The Greek construction lying behind this phrase is very important. To emphasize the “I” in an “I am” statement, writers and speakers would use the construction ego eimi meaning “I, I myself, am.” This is done very rarely in the Bible but ego eimi is the construction we find behind every “I AM” statement in the gospel of John. Significantly, the ego eimi construction is also found in the Greek translation of Exodus 3:14 when God declares of Himself: “I AM WHO I AM.” Over and over again when Jesus utters these “I AM” statements, He is making reference to His own deity. No first century Jew who was trained in the Scriptures would have missed this.”

— R. C. Sproul

—

Why does this matter?

Because, if Jesus is claiming the name of God, claiming to be divine, to be able to forgive sins, then there is a lot of weight on the validity of his statements.

Jesus is claiming to be God.

This means:

He is either a liar— a blasphemer in which is was correct for the Jews to attempt to kill Him. It would also mean that He is not a “moral” teacher whose lessons should be obeyed. Nothing He says is of trustworthiness. He is an enemy of God. And we should not believe, obey, nor follow His teachings. He is incapable of forgiving sin. He is a sinner. He cannot provide righteousness on our behalf. He cannot atone for sin nor bear the wrath of God without perishing. He is temporal. He is dead. He offers no salvation.

Or

He is a lunatic. A madman who believed Himself to be God and a blasphemer. Nothing He says is of trustworthiness. In which, again, it is correct for the Jews to attempt to kill him. He is an enemy of God. And we should not believe, obey, nor follow His teachings. Again, he is a sinner, incapable of providing substitution or forgiveness. He is dead. He is temporal, unable to atone for anyone, not even himself. He offers no salvation for anyone.

OR

He is Lord.

He is telling the truth. He is the Bread of Life. He is the Light of the World. He is the great I Am. He is the good shepherd. He is the lamb slain before the foundation of the world— capable of forgiving sin, able to intercede for us. He is our comforter. He is our caretaker. He is perfect, incapable of sin, deceit, lies, or failure. He is infinite and eternal, capable to bear the wrath of God without perishing for all His people’s sins, present, past, and future.

He provides righteousness and salvation for all who place their trust in Him.

He is God, our savior.

—

If Jesus is not God, there is no salvation.

Listen to our Lord who calls you,

“All things have been handed over to me by my Father, and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him. Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.””

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭11‬:‭27‬-‭30‬ ‭ESV‬‬

-

Come. Repent. Cast your burdens and your sin upon Jesus, our God who can remove your iniquity and comfort your grief.

[blankfairy]

HOUSE VESGAR at the start of the DANCE OF DRAGONS.

House Vesgar is one of the few remaining Valyrian houses in Westeros. While the Targaryens rule the sunset skies and Velaryons the salt sea, the power of the Vesgars has always been rooted in blood.

Claiming ancestry from one of the first shepherds of Old Valyria, House Vesgar once stood at the peak of power. Known as one of the finest families of bloodmages in the Freehold, they served as archons of the Ānogrion, and were the lords of the penal colony of Gogossos. As the dragonlords tore and fought in streaks of flame across the ashen skies, the Vesgars stood grounded, twisting flesh and blood to their will. Their very own bodies came to be corrupted by their rotten magic. As Valyria sat on the cusp of total destruction, House Vesgar was governed by a set of triplets, dubbed the Painted Ladies for the wine stain birthmarks marring their faces: Arra, Jaera, and Aunna. Their younger half-brother, Aenar Targaryen, warned them of his daughter’s vision of the Doom of Valyria. Naught but three years before the Doom, the siblings gathered their wealth, families, and abundance of knowledge and tomes, and settled on Crackclaw Point, just north of Dragonstone. They deemed their keep, Arlior Ānogrion, ‘the new temple,’ and the town that grew to surround it came to be known as Chimera’s Nest for the three-headed sigil they took upon arriving on Westeros’ shores. The bloodmages found few friends in Westeros, despite their tedious effort to balance assimilation with protecting their heritage and legacy. Secretive, House Vesgar may be, but outwardly cruel is not one of them; they are courtly and respectful, far removed from the bold viciousness of their dragonriding cousins. Those of Vesgar blood often bear common Valyrian features: silver hair, purple eyes. Some are born with crimson irises, others as black as dragonglass or as white as smoke. A certain sharpness of face, body, and mind is typical; some have been animalistic in nature, with an insatiable hunger for knowledge… or whatever vice they can get their claws into. Rumors spread of the Vesgars’ tainted blood and bodies; curses for their meddling with the human form. Bestial minds, sharp teeth, pointed ears, slitted eyes, tails. Outsiders point at the gaps in their lineage and scorn them as twisted stock. House Vesgar's sigil is a black-and-gold chimera on a crimson field, and their words are "All Things Devour."

this one's been sitting in my drafts for a while, figured it was time to set it free :3

template [x]

[thewordfortheday]

Patience is truly one of those things I wish we didn't have to learn. Moses was lost in the wilderness into obscurity for almost four decades until the Lord appeared to him in a burning bush. He was almost 80 years old by then. I sometimes wonder if the vision God had given him was still alive in him or had it died down. All the while he was tending his flock, God was actually preparing him to shepherd His people and lead them out of captivity.

During the unassuming silent years, you may be wondering what is going on in my life. "Has God forgotten I exist?" What happened to the vision and promises He gave me?

For the revelation awaits an appointed time; it speaks of the end and will not prove false. Though it lingers, wait for it; it will certainly come and will not delay. Habakkuk 2:3

[lovers-tucked-into-a-quiet-cafe]

Chapter 3 [IKYLHT]

~5.3K Words | Series Masterlist | Prev | Next Chapter

-

The car coming to a sudden stop, your head snaps up from where you’d been watching Soap’s fingers drum along your knee. 

“Why’s he getting out?” You murmur, eyes tracking Graves movement. 

Alejandro steps out of the car, and you’re quick to unbuckle your seatbelt, Soap and Ghost promptly doing the same. 

“What’s this?”

“This is the immediate future. Step away from the gate.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“You’re crazy, this is my base.”

“It’s not a base. This is a sizable covert facility and I admire it. So I’m taking it. You boys have been relieved. Thank you for your service. Gun, up here.”

Snapping your head up, your brows furrow and you slide your hand over your holster slowly.

“Excuse me? I’m under no obligation to take orders from you, Graves.”

“You are a Gunnery Sergeant under the United States Marine Corps, I am the only one here you take orders from as of now.”

Planting your feet further into the ground, you brush your arm against Johnny’s and internally plead the look you’re sending Alejandro expresses your growing confusion. In your peripherals, you see Ghost’s hand rest on his holstered gun, watching you intently.

Alejandro takes a step forward with a shake of his head.

“I’ll say again, we don’t take orders from you.”

You watch as Graves moves closer, finger slowly inching closer to the trigger of his rifle.

“Didn’t Valeria say that? Now that makes me wonder what else I don't know about your affiliation with a drug-lord?”

“What the fuck did you just say to me, pendejo?”

“You’re out of line, Graves.”

He points a finger at Alejandro and Soap, “Don’t do that. Don’t… do that. No one needs to get hurt here.”

Ghost speaks from his spot near the side of the car.

“Are you threatening us?”

“Soldier, I don't make threats. I make guarantees. So let’s not do this. Gun. Here. Now. That’s an order.”

“Absolutely not.” You spit out.

“Soldier- considering past events, I do think it’s best you listen to the men in charge this time. Wouldn’t want a repeat scenario, would you?” He drawls.

It takes a minute before the dots connect in your head.

That motherfucker. That’s why he was taunting me. This was their plan for the entire damn mission.

“Are you fucking blackmailing me?” You hiss.

Turning and walking past you, Soap calls out, “I’m calling Shepherd.”

“General Shepherd sends his regards. He told me y'all wouldn't take this well.”

“He knows about this?”

“He's put me in command of this operation from here on out. So y'all need to stand down. It's time to let the pros finish this. And why the hell are we talking like this is some kind of negotiation? It's not. I've got my orders and now you have yours. So help me, Rabbit, if you don’t fall in this goddamn minute-”

“And who the fuck do you think you are, cabron? My men are inside!”

“I'm afraid not. Your men have been…detained.”

Watching his fist clench, you’re only able to graze your fingers over the back of Alejandro’s tac vest before he’s lunging at Graves.

You hit the ground as Alejandro’s hands are ziptied, two bullets whizzing past you and hitting the soldier Soap used as cover. You lunge at Graves, but fall back as a bullet lodges itself deep into your thigh. 

Soap manages to shoot the offending soldier, but is knocked back by Graves’ bullet to the shoulder. He rounds the front of the car and you take the opportunity to roll the dead soldier off of Soap as Ghost yells.

“Soap, get out of there!”

He pulls you up and moves to jump over the barricade, two soldiers following and shooting out. One clips you, hitting your tac vest and sending you back. Johnny turns, but you push him over the barricade.

“Go Johnny!”

He pulls your arm and calls out for you, only releasing when a new rain of gunfire breaches the barricade. The soldiers pass you, and you subconsciously thank Johnny for his accuracy as he hits one of the soldiers, allowing you to effectively plunge your knife into the other one.

You look back to see Ghost silently watching you. You gesture towards the barricade and raise your gun with the intent of covering him. You hear his low voice quietly call out.

“Go.”

You don’t move, watching something unrecognizable flash across his eyes. He nods once, and you nod back with a grimace before jumping over the barricade and sliding down the hill.

It isn’t until you’re exiting the thick brush of the forest, thigh burning and blood dripping down your leg, that you realize the bullet to your chest was lodged six centimeters into your comm box.

-

Letting out a low whistle, you knock your knuckles against the wall of the coffee shop and duck behind the counter when Johnny turns his gun on you.

“Jesus, Johnny, it’s me.”

Rushing over and pulling you into his chest, he speaks harshly.

“Why the fuck didn’t you answer comms, Bunny?”

Pulling back and moving a hand to the button, you hold it down and listen to the lack of voices or static.

“It’s busted.” You whisper, “I’m sorry I scared you.”

He pulls you back into him and kisses the crown of your head, murmuring lowly.

“It’s alright, Bun. It’s okay. How’d you find me?”

“Hitched a ride in the back of one of their cruisers. Crashed it when they’d realized I was there. Followed the path of knives here. Ghost’s, I’d imagine.” You chuckled. 

Letting out a smile, he gestures out the window towards the center of the town. 

“Meetin’ him at the church. Shouldn’t be much longer. We need a minute?” He gestures towards your wrapped thigh.

“No, I’m good. Restocked my medkit on the way here.”

“Atta girl, Bun.”

Reaching for the transmitter, he scopes out the narrow street and creeps out the back door. 

“Ghost, Rabbit’s found her way over. Comms are down, she’s stickin’ with me.”

You don’t get to hear his response, and instead choose to focus your attention on covering Soap’s back as he speaks to Ghost.

It isn’t until Johnny’s tone changes that your attention is grabbed.

“He’s sorry, you know.”

You give a noncommittal hum, brows furrowing in muted confusion.

“Who?”

“Ghost. Didn’t mean to bring it up. Gave him an earful for you, Bunny.”

Your frown only deepens, turning to your partner with a raised brow.

“What exactly did you tell him, Johnny?”

He shrugs, avoids your eyes and quickens his pace to remain a step ahead of you.

“John.”

“‘S not important, Bun.”

Sighing out, you push down the irritation that threatens to show itself. 

Airing out your past wasn’t worth the mere cease of Ghost’s accusations. Johnny would say whatever it took to ensure you weren’t being given a hard time, but he’d never expose your skeletons without good reason, and you trust him wholeheartedly.

So what went down while I was gone?

You can’t think about it much longer, and so you task yourself with finding the exfil vehicle as Soap covers Ghost’s hurried departure from the church.

Your loud whistle alerts them of your find, and you pull the man out of the driver's of the pickup seat as you yell out. 

“Ghost, you drive! We’ll cover you!”

Soap hopping in after Ghost, you only have a second to duck behind the car before bullets are piercing the air you’d just stood in. Reversing over the two men, you hear Ghost’s yells for you to get in as you maneuver into the truck bed, pounding your hand against the rear window loudly.

“I’m in! Drive!”

It’s a bumpy ride, and you almost listen to Soap’s demands for you to switch spots, but your paranoia wins you over and you resign to guarding the rear. Once the town’s far into the distance- not even a blip on the horizon- and the empty road loses its daylight, you allow yourself to answer Ghost through the now-broken rear window.

“Didn’t happen to pick up any of those knives I left, did you, Rabbit?”

You’re still irritated with him- more than irritated, actually- but you take his words as the olive branch you know they’re intended to be.

“No.”

Despite your efforts, your tone has him snapping his mouth shut, glancing towards Johnny who gives him a reassuring nod.

Sighing out, you let your head thunk against the window frame and you look up at the clear sky and all of its bright stars.

Dropping your tone into something soft, you let your voice ring out once more.

“Guess that makes us even then?”

Ghost takes a minute to respond, but when he does you hear the relief in his voice.

“Even then, Rabbit.”

You nod and allow yourself to wear the small smile threatening to spread across your face.

Might as well try.

“So… I was gone for a while. What’d I miss?”

Taking you by complete surprise, Ghost lets out a deep chuckle and you turn to watch Soap’s ears redden.

Well that’s interesting.

“Johnny was chattin’ my ear off about you, as always.”

“Oh? Care to indulge?”

“Negative, soldier.”

“Am I ever gonna know?”

“Mm, probably not.”

You throw your hands up with a light laugh, brushing aside shards of glass to squeeze through the window and into the makeshift seat between the two men.

“All good things, darling.” Ghost mumbles, and you glance over at Johnny.

His eyes are soft, and the small nod he gives is the most reassuring thing you’d gotten all week.

Sinking into the seat, you turn the radio onto the first station that gets a signal, crossing your arms and ignoring your brain’s incessant pestering with a sigh.

-

Soap wasn’t afraid of your past. He was there for most of it, and the parts he was absent from, he knew in great detail. You’d shared it with him, though at first he honestly hadn’t realized the significance in that statement. He isn’t a dumb man by any means. He knew these were details that’d been redacted from countless files, explanations to cases chalked up as ‘classified’. But in his own uncharacteristic insecurity, he’d assumed he wasn’t the only one you’d shared those details with. Yeah, it was a small group, he thought, but a group nonetheless. 

He hadn’t realized he was the sole member of that group until he’d come to visit you in the states after the Demon Dogs were shipped off to Urzikstan without you- when you took him to that cobweb-ridden apartment you still rented even after your parents death years ago. 

He hadn’t said a word, hadn’t touched you once, and yet you pulled yourself together enough to skim your fingers over the dusty decor you hadn’t had the heart to alter. 

He liked that about you. How you were able to balance on those wobbly legs all on your own, something he knows you could’ve done regardless if he was there or not, even if you hadn’t once attempted to enter that apartment without him.

You didn’t need him. You wanted him. 

Johnny wasn’t one that had a hard time with words, and he frequently thanked his parents and sisters for their role in that. He may not have known how to comfort you at that moment, but he did know how to talk.

He’d asked about the little things, like who was who in the picture frames and what kind of juice would leave such a dark stain in the worn carpet.

It was blood, and while he hadn’t had the nerve to ask, you’d graced him with the story anyways. He was grateful. You hadn’t always been a woman of many words, but he found himself content to sit back and wait for you to string the sentences together.

Hours later he’d ask more questions, ones more vulnerable than the last because he needed you to understand.

He wanted you, too.

He held you as the tears resurfaced, rubbing his hand along your back not as a way to dry your tears, but as a way to let you know he wanted to be your source of comfort. 

He took the keys from your shaking hands, locking the door and leading you into the rental car. He buckled your seatbelt when your hands were slow from the adrenaline crash, not because you couldn’t but as a way to show you just how much he cared about your safety, no matter how inconsequential the action seemed.

He unlocked the front door of your house, the one you’d paid off with the same cash you despised yourself for earning, and leaned down to help slip your shoes off. He notes the frames on the wall, glass encasing military medals, commemorative awards, and a single name tape. 

Highwater.

You hadn’t gone by that callsign since Victoria.

He angled his shoulders to block your view of the badge.

The frame is cracked towards the edge. He wonders if it’s purposeful. The rest of the house, save for the frame, was almost uncomfortably orderly. The personification of a military mindset. Sheets tucked in the corners, trinkets equal distance apart from each other on the mantle, not a single thing inoperable or in need of repair. 

It looked nothing like that apartment you’d been raised in. 

He knows that’s purposeful.

He carried you up the stairs, setting you gently on top of the sheets he knew you’d hate remaking the next morning with a promise he’d do them for you. 

He pulled the shirt over your torso, unclasping the military-issued bra you’d joked about outlawing a hundred times before, fingers careful not to brush against the raised lines covering the expanse of your back. 

He’d waited for your nod- a small, sheepish one- before skimming his hands over the scarred flesh. You can’t help but shake, a small sort of tremor he remembers you mentioning needing to get under control. You’d described the phantom pains, the familiar burn of leather reopening deep gashes, a pain you’d come to associate with that apartment. 

He takes in the tattoos- collarbone to wrist, sternum to stomach, more covering your legs under the cover of your pants- they’re so new to him it almost feels weird to see. He swears it was just days ago you were rolling up your sleeves to knead dough over holiday in his childhood home, skin clear of ink. 

In the same moment, as he skims his hands along the top of your arms, he realizes your skin hadn’t been so raised when he’d first met you, either. Victoria.

He gauges your reaction. The scars, both physically and mentally, were much fresher. You don’t flinch when he runs his hands over them. Not like you do the ones on your back. 

“I’ll be fine. Been through worse.” you’d said over the phone when the nurse unbandaged your arms all those months ago.

At the time, he’d chastised you for neglecting your health. Now, seeing the way the scars on your back raise far higher than the ones you’d received being tortured, he can’t help but picture adolescent you attempting to care for your own wounds in that apartment and realize you were right.

He kissed you then, a soft, slow sort of chaste kiss that didn’t have much energy behind it yet conveyed every single emotion he needed it to. He needed you to understand that he chose that gentle press of his lips against yours. 

This wasn’t an act spurred on by the heat of the moment. This wasn’t some decision he’d made lightly. No, while he may not have put much thought into it- the action instinctual- it was anything but half-baked.

He’d shimmied his clothes off then, helped you slide your cargo pants down and find warmth deep beneath the duvet. It wasn’t needed, as your combined body heat was enough to power a small sauna, but he knew the sheets provided a small sense of security in an already vulnerable environment.

He’d snaked an arm under your head, holding your body tight to his with the other and pressing another chaste kiss to your lips.

While he was glad the thin sheets provided you some modicum of safety, he wanted nothing more than to be the one to suffocate you in that safe feeling. He let his back face the door, despite it ringing every alarm bell in his military-trained brain, because it meant you wouldn’t be hearing those alarm bells yourself.

When you’d pressed your own kiss to his lips, heart racing with an unsubstantiated fear of disappointing him, he felt his eyes soften more than they ever had before, kissing you one last time before pulling you closer and closing his eyes.

While you hadn’t voiced it, he knew you were reeling from the pleasant shock of the situation. John MacTavish was not a man known for being gentle. He wasn’t harsh or cruel by any means, but he knew you’d heard the gossip. The women he’d brought back to base always left satisfied, but the chaste kisses and whispers of praise Johnny happily provided you with were not ever something those women got to see.

He needed you to understand that he wanted you. 

He’d felt your soft smile against his skin, listened for your heart rate to slow and your breathing to even. He didn’t stop the gentle caress of your back until you were long asleep, finally allowing the burning muscles in his arm to rest and falling asleep himself.

When he felt you stir awake that following morning, he’d made it his personal mission to make sure you felt every last bit of pleasure he felt every time he was around you. It was a thank you of sorts, for allowing him to comfort you in that vulnerable headspace, for trusting him with your entire being. 

He fondly recalls chuckling at you, when you’d murmured something about wanting him to feel good too. His smile was uncontrollably wide in that way that makes your cheeks hurt, and he was quick to remind you that he did feel good. He feels good when he knows you do too, and a couple of cold showers are more than worth it when it ensures you understand that his want for you runs far deeper than physical gratification. 

He’d finally given into your murmured pleas after four consecutive days of relentlessly spoiling you in every way he knew how, and after that, he’d been sure to spend the remainder of the week teaching you what true, unconditional love looked like as you paraded him around the local spots you’d frequented as a child. 

Despite the hours spent discussing your relationship- the need to keep it a secret while on base, the safety concerns of his family knowing, all the little agreements that made his heart want to shatter- the flight back to base wasn’t a dreaded one.

Because he knew- without a doubt- that you understood.

He wanted you.

-

“We’re here, darling.” Ghost speaks softly, patting your leg from where he stands outside the car.

You don’t remember arriving at the safehouse, nor do you remember Ghost or Soap exiting the rickety truck, and you blame the sleep deprivation with a grimace.

He takes your hand and gently leads you down the tall step, closing the door and positioning you between himself and Johnny, who’s eyes scan the building. You grab your discarded gun from the truck bed and motion for them to walk forward, turning and scanning the desert at your backs.

“Where are we?”

“Alejandro’s safehouse. Gave us the location just in case.”

“Why didn't he tell me?”

“It was need-to-know.”

“He told Rabbit?”

“She needed to know.”

“What if I needed to know?”

“Shh, Johnny.”

You continue your slow walk backwards, gun aimed out towards the dry brush.

“Pressure plate.”

“Alejandro rigged it.”

“Smart bastard.”

“There.”

Walking towards the open window carve-out, you scan the inside of the empty building.

“Too dark to see anything. You first, I’ll keep watch here.”

You appreciate Ghost's quick reflexes, even if it was only Rodolfo, as he covered Johnny in a way you couldn’t at the moment, the adrenaline crash and blood loss finally caching back up to you as you struggle to enter the safehouse.  

“Soap! Ghost! You’re alive!”

“Affirmative.”

Even more than his reflexes, you find yourself appreciating his big hands as they envelop your waist, pulling you through the small window with ease.

“You okay, Coneja?”

“I’m okay, Rudy. Glad to see you are, too.”

“Where were you guys?”

“On the run.”

“We were on the run. Ghost waited for us.” Soap answered, throwing a hand around your waist and shifting your weight into his arms.

“Of course, no?”

“No.” You answer with a grimace, your leg shooting pain up your spine, before Ghost quickly amends your answer.

“Yes. We’re a team. All of us. This happened on my watch and I'll need help to fix it. No one fights alone.”

“Why did Graves turn?” 

“We don't know.”

“Las Almas can corrupt anyone.”

“Not us.”

“Might have something to do Shepherd, Graves mentioned direct orders.” You speak quietly. 

You don’t bother mentioning Graves’ taunts and the fact that- besides Johnny- there was only one other person present that would ever think of calling you Victoria.

No, Laswell wouldn’t do that. She won’t even call me Highwater anymore- and that was an official callsign. If she was kind enough to follow that request, there was no way she’d… she couldn’t. No. She wouldn’t do that to me.

“For now, General Shepherd, Laswell, and anyone else outside this room is considered a hostile.”

“We need Alejandro back.”

“Graves is holding him here.” Rudy walks over and points to a small section of the map. 

“When do we leave?”

“Tomorrow, 0400. I’ve intercepted a message about a scheduled drop. We’ll need the distraction. For now, we wait. There are cots in the armory.”

“Where are you going?” You ask as he shoved items into his small pack. 

“There are a few things I need to do. People to check up on. We’ll reconvene in the morning.”

“Stay safe, hermano.”

“Rest up, amigos.” He claps his shoulder, turning back to you and Ghost, nodding once. 

“See you tomorrow, Rudy.”

You wait until you hear the rumble of the car’s engine slowly fade to silence before you whisper.

“I overheard Alejandro fretting about his mother. No doubt Rudy’s gone to check up on her.”

“He’s a good man.”

“That he is.” You affirm, limping over to the table and grabbing the small medkit Rudy had set aside for you.

Wincing as you unwrap the bandage, you pant as you try to gently detach your cargos from where the blood had bonded them to your skin.

Seeing his large figure in your peripherals, you look up as Ghost kneels in front of you, gently taking your thigh in his hand as he inspects the wound. You register the sound of Soap clearing off the table, the pair leaning you onto the edge of it.

Without a word, Ghost’s taking off his gloves, his hands reaching around your waist and lifting you onto the table before resuming their gentle prodding at your thigh.

“Gonna have to take your pants off, darling.” He speaks softly, already unlacing your boots.

You feel your cheeks warm as you look to Soap, who gives a feather light kiss to the crown of your head before taking the scissors and cutting around the torn fabric.

“It’s gonna hurt, Bunny. It’s real stuck on there.” He frowns, opening a bottled water and lightly pouring it over the wound.

It doesn’t budge, and you curse yourself, Graves, and the entire shadow team for not allowing you to properly take care of the wound hours ago.

Unbuckling and shimmying your pants down your hips, you nod and remind yourself to take deep breaths. You groan as Ghost slowly pulls the fabric down and over the wound. You feel the skin tear and sigh in relief when it’s over, Soap quick to press a wet cloth over the bleeding skin as Ghost pulls your pants over your ankles. 

You don’t mind the remaining coolness your rain-damp clothes provides as your leg supplies your body with enough heat to have you breaking a sweat. They’re quick to disinfect and dislodge the remnants of the bullet from your thigh, carefully bandaging it with a practiced preciseness. 

You feel the air shift and open your eyes to the wall that is Ghost’s chest. He fiddles with the bottom of your shirt, tugging slightly.

“Off, Rabbit.”

Your eyes widen and you snap your head to Johnny who nods with a soft smile. He lets Ghost speak for him, but takes his hand in yours and rubs his thumb over your knuckles soothingly.

“Your clothes are still damp. Don’t want you catching a cold, do we?” He speaks lowly. 

“I don’t- I’m not sure- I don’t think I can-”

Soap cuts off your quiet stammering with a kiss to the back of your hand.

“It’s okay, Bun. I’m right here.”

Watching his soft expression, your eyes water and you turn back to Ghost with a nod.

He’s slow in pulling your shirt off, and you hold back a gasp as the cool air hits each scar littering your back.

“Ghost?” You question with a whisper, eyes taking every last detail in as he pushes the balaclava to expose his strong jaw and full, pink lips.

“‘M here, darlin’.” He hums softly, leaning to press a kiss to your lips.

You lean into it, pressing one palm into his chest and using the other to steady yourself on the small desk.

He pulls away, moving to trail kisses along your jaw. Brain fuzzy, you don’t notice Johnny’s finished tending to your now rebandaged bicep. The sting of the antiseptic is somehow completely painless when paired with Ghost’s affection. Brain still half operating, you miss the way his shoulders shift as he leans forward to press a kiss to the scarred flesh towards the back of your neck. You stiffen, closed eyes screwing tighter as you force your hands not to shake.

You feel Johnny’s hands from behind you, one skimming along your chest as the other brushes your hair from your shoulder. He starts his own trail of kisses along the other side of your neck, speaking softly.

“‘S alright, Bun. We’ve got you.”

“Johnny?”

He hums noncommittally, still pressing light kisses against your neck and shoulder as he reaches forward to gently tug at Ghost’s belt. It pulls the three of you impossibly closer, and you take it upon yourself to remove the garment with a needy sigh.

You feel him move to kneel, but quickly catch his shirt in your hand and pull him back to your lips. You sigh between kisses, murmuring.

“Want you to fuck me, Ghost.”

You almost laugh at the way his lips part, eyes darting behind you to look at Soap. 

“Don’t look so worried, Fantasma. You think I haven’t seen the way Johnny’s eyes follow you? Take what you want, Ghost. We’re yours.” You quietly confess, tugging his shirt off with a low whine.

Soap laughs with a blush, shaking his head and shrugging.

“‘S why I love her.”

You giggle and lean back into Soap’s arms, turning your head to kiss him deeply before pushing Ghost's hips back and sliding off the table and onto your knees.

“Darling-”

“-Shh,” You cut him off, sliding his jeans down his thighs and palming him over his boxers. “Go ahead, give me a show.”

His cheeks redden, half hidden under the mask, and Soap is quick to pull him into a kiss.

You giggle quietly, tugging down his boxers and running your tongue along the length of his cock.

You hear him moan into Johnny’s mouth, your partner pulling back to bite marks along Ghost’s jaw, before settling on his knees next to you. He licks the base of Ghost’s cock as you kiss at his tip, hand settling over the areas you and Soap missed.

Ghost’s moans fill the air, one hand threading through your hair and the other settling over Johnny’s open jaw.

“Fuckin’ beautiful sight. Could stay like this forever.” He slurs, abs tightening and breath shuttering.

You laugh and settle your free hand on his thigh, caressing the area.

“So responsive, Ghost.” You tease with a smile.

You move forward, taking him into your mouth as Johnny shifts his attention to his heavy balls.

“S-Simon.”

You look up at him with wide eyes, noting in the back of your brain how Soap does the same.

“My name, darling. It’s Simon.” He sighs out, throwing his head back and tightening his grip on your hair.

You pull back, unable to control your wide smile and kiss his hip softly.

“So pretty, Simon.” You murmur against his skin.

You trail kisses up his chest, stopping to suck dark bruises onto his collarbones and the underside of his jaw. The area is red and purple from you and Johnny’s assault, but you can’t stop yourself. 

You feel Ghost’s abs tighten once more as Johnny raises his head.

“Let go for me, Simon.” He mumbles, hollowing his cheeks and pulling Ghost’s hips forward.

He came with a loud moan, dropping his head to your shoulder and panting with a chuckle.

You continue your soft kisses against his skin as Soap helps him redress, and you lean back against the desk with a smile. Johnny throws an arm around your shoulder and kisses the top of your head, laughing to himself.

“Wasn’t originally how Ghost pictured getting back in your good graces. Night was supposed to be about you, Bun.”

“Mm. You two can make it up to me once this is all over. What do you think, Si?”

He steadies his hand on the desk, softly kissing your cheek before pulling the balaclava back to its original place.

“I’ll save the date, darlin’. Come on, let’s get you into something dry.”

Slowly walking you to the armory, he sits you on a cot before turning to dig through a box of mens cargo pants. He hands a pair to Soap who gently tugs them up your legs, securing your belt over the too-large pair of trousers. Grabbing a dark shirt, he lifts your arms to slide it over your head, gently rubbing your back.

Johnny sets your boots in front of you, letting you slip them on and lace them in the weird pattern you swear is ten times more efficient. You’ve never minded sleeping in your boots, not on missions like these where preparedness is the difference between life and death, but you find yourself frowning at the realization that you were indeed still sleeping on a rickety cot in a desert safehouse.

Settling onto the cot, Johnny pulls you to lay on his chest, spreading his legs to accommodate for your wrapped thigh. The lights go out, and you hear Ghost’s quiet steps approach his cot.

Leaning over, you pull the cot closer to yours before settling back onto Johnny’s chest. His steps follow, and you hear him sink onto the cot with a sigh. You watch his eyes scan the dark room, and you frown knowing the man won’t be sleeping anytime soon.

“I don’t know what Johnny told you when I was off comms… but I’m glad he did.” You whisper, nuzzling your face into Johnny’s shirt.

“I am too, darling.”

“Goodnight, Simon.” 

“Goodnight, Rabbit.”

Listening to Johnny’s soft snores, you allow your tiredness to overcome you- eyes barely open as you shift your leg over, tapping your boot against Ghost’s, twice.

-

<3

[aniah-who]

In case you may have not known… the Valley of the Shadow of Death is also a literal place in Israel <3

Psalms 23:

1 The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

2 He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.

3 He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

5 Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

The Lord Is My Shepherd A Psalm of David.

1 The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. 2 He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. 3 He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

4 Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

5 You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. 6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. — Psalm 23 | English Standard Version (ESV) The Holy Bible, English Standard Version. ESV® Text Edition: 2016. Copyright © 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Cross References: Deuteronomy 20:1; 2 Samuel 22:19; Psalm 5:8; Psalm 16:5; Psalm 19:7; Psalm 25:7; Psalm 25:10; Psalm 36:8; Luke 7:46; John 10:11; Philippians 4:19; Revelation 7:17

Audio Bible Psalm 23 (ESV)

Notes: This psalm is a hymn that expresses a person's relationship with God, and how God's presence and guidance can provide comfort and strength.