#check yourselves for god’s sake

[c-rowlesblogs]

no, tumblr, I’m not interested in shocking, naked, bloodthirsty hate, but thanks anyway

[ferrstappen]

Everybody wants a taste l LN4

a/n: i am in an urgent need of writing ideas I've had for MONTHS so brace yourselves I guess?? also the title ofc is from pop anthem jealous by nick Jonas.

i am also very very very stressed waiting for the standing start.

pairing: Lando Norris x actress!reader

this is angst. and some tom holland after this poll results <3

summary: Lando had never been the jealous kind, but after seeing you with many co-stars, he reaches his limit. and his girlfriend doesn't like it.

No one would ever know Lando Norris' was reaching his limit as he stood on the sidelines of another press junket for his girlfriend's new movie: a coming of age movie that already was creating awards season buzz, and God was he proud of her, having witnessed the ten minute standing ovation she received during Cannes.

But of course the limelight wasn't only on her. No, it was on him.

Lando remembers when he was asked who he'd want to portray him if they ever did a biopic and he didn't hesitate: Tom Holland. There could be some similarities between the two, both British, chestnut curls, but now Lando's skin crawled just from hearing the name.

He had dealt with different co-stars during the almost two years of relationship; he'd seen her kiss them, fight with them, fall in love with them, but this was different, he never had to witness her naked skin pressed against someone else, placing her body on top of his, pretended noises he knew weren't real and authentic, but still, they were supposed to be just for him. All for the sake of making a point of her character being an adult now, some shit about an epiphany of being able to take control of her own life, make decisions about her body, and whatever the screenwriters wanted to portray.

And of course Lando didn't help himself.

user1: God has favorites, just check y/n having fake sex w tom holland and real sex w lando norris

user2: no but y/n and tom??? such a hot couple I NEED it to happen

user3: and what are you gonna do with lando and zendaya? lol user2: idc I just want y/n and tom to be a thing

And that was just the beginning, before the movie had even dropped, because the day of the premiere? Everything went wrong.

Sunny Los Angeles had welcomed you and Lando after landing from London, paparazzi eagerly waiting for the arrival at LAX, catching the perfect pictures of Lando placing you in front of him, holding your hand tightly and doing his best to shield your body from prying eyes who just wanted a couple of dollars.

Despite being jet lagged after spending a couple of days in your home in Monaco, there wasn't much time to catch a break because the moment the two of you set foot on the Beverly Hills Hotel, they barely let you take a shower before giving some nice, fluffy robes. Lando was first, out of nowhere two people were working on his hair while the other was applying some kind of serums and creams on his face, but he didn't care when it was time for another team to start working on you; Lando was mesmerized by the way your hair perfectly framed your face, the natural glow of your skin, the deep red of your lips.

"I don't like being so separated," Lando pouted, walking towards your seat, earning a giggle from you because he looked so funny and cozy with the big robe.

"There's not much we can do, baby. I can barely move," You searched for his eyes and that was when Lando got the idea. The hair stylists gasped when the racer sat down on the floor, circling his arms around one of your legs and resting his cheek on your thigh. "Oh, you're willing to be told off by the make up artists as well?" You asked him but your insides were dancing all over the place, your fingers quickly finding their place on his curls.

Neither of you noticed a Vogue photographer capturing the scene, with Lando's eyes closed and cheek smushed, with his arms secured around your leg, but neither realized representatives for Armani had walked in carrying Lando's tux and your body-hugging black velvet gown.

So far so good. A picture perfect young couple who loved each other very much and had photographers swooning by the way Lando fixes your earring and checks for lipstick on your teeth, and how you make sure his bow tie is leveled.

But then, they get to the red carpet.

It was an elegant affair, but still full of people and before he realized, the red carpet manager was separating you from him for an alone photo call before the one and only Tom Holland got there, cheerfully greeting you in front of the cameras, throwing a couple of jokes to make you laugh as he placed his hand on your back.

This was a nightmare, having to listen to people say how cute the two of you looked, a perfect on and off screen pair, chemistry on and off the screen, both your names already on the shortlist for the Oscars.

Lando's skin was starting to crawl, and it didn't help that he had to re watch the scenes haunting his mind, but this time it was out for the entire world to see, and it didn't take long for his latest instagram post to be flooded of vile comments.

when are you getting replaced by tom holland??

now tom holland can play you in movie and y/n plays herself, nothing changes lmao

lando control ur woman!!!

lucky man, she sounds so pretty I almost had to leave the theatre

lando honey you can leave her I'd never do that to you

And Lando knows he shouldn't, but when your hand reaches for his when the night ends, he pretends to look for his phone; when you try to fix a messy curl, he moves his head out of your reach.

and you know your boyfriend too well.

"Baby, are you okay?" You ask him once you reach the shared hotel room.

Lando lets out a dry chuckle, but too aware of his throat closing. "Why wouldn't I be?"

But you weren't having it, not today, not on your big day, not when you just wanted rest your head on his chest and fall asleep with his arms wrapped around your frame.

"I don't know, you tell me, you're the one acting weird,"

"I am not," Lando argued, trying to take deeper breath, but failing miserably.

"Okay Lando, whatever, I don't care. You can be selfish during a very important day for me for all I care,"

Those words struck a nerve: "Me? Selfish? Are you fucking kidding me?" Now you could see his cheeks flushing, maybe even his neck gaining some red color.

You wanted to be scared, to walk away and let him cool off any unwanted feeling or thought on his head, but you couldn't.

"No, I'm not. Please illustrate me as to what happened to put you in this insufferable mood," You argued back and watched as Lando's mouth opened and closed as he undid the cuffs from his shirt, threw the suit jacket on the leather sofa and threw away the bow tie, all in just a couple of seconds.

"Am I not allowed to be upset to watch him all over you, having to look at the both of you acting like the best of friends or lovers for all I care, and then have to watch on this fucking enormous screen how you kiss him and touch him," Lando spat the words as if they were venom; he could feel his throat closing

Your eyes widened in disbelief, your brain not processing Lando's words. "Lando, you are not making any sense. Are you listening to yourself?" You were careful not to raise your voice, knowing he wasn't in a clear space of mind, but you blood was running hot too after processing what he was implying.

"Yes, I am. (Y/N), baby, I'm tired of having to watch you making out with a different guy every a couple of months, it is so tiring, and I understand that this is your job, but..." Lando was about to continue but was stopped by you, messily taking off the heavy velvet dress and heels, putting on the first pair of jeans and oversized sweater you found. "What are you doing?"

"I don't want to listen to you anymore. You are ridiculous, Lando. You're talking about my job, my career, that I've worked my ass off, and never in a million years I thought you'd be telling me this bullshit! I'm not going to entertain this, so if you can't deal with this anymore, please let me know so that I can move on," this time your throat tightened, the last words coming out broken and choked, emotions fighting to make their way; from anger to utter sadness.

"Where are you going?" Lando didn't know if he was angry with you, disappointed in himself, maybe a mix of both as he watched you grab the Chanel black backpack.

"I don't know, but let me know if you can do this or what,"

You were sure those were the last words of the unforeseen argument, but as you were grabbing the card key of the room, Lando opened his mouth.

"Maybe you can go with Tom, everyone wants you two together anyway."

Of course he needed to get the last words.

[paradiseprincesss]

if there's a heaven, i'm near it - emmett x reader (drabble)

masterlist

notes: as promised, here is a smutty drabble of emmett (this is before the whole plot took place lol) also i promise i'm working on my other requests! i just wanted to write something for emmett <3

summary: you've been secretly dating your dads best friend for months, and now that your dad is on vacation - you guys have the house all to yourselves.

word count: 876 words

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, p in v, age gap (reader is in college and emmett is in his forties) established relationship, creampie, overall general adult content lol

you were currently sitting on your kitchen countertop with legs spread and emmett's fingers curling into your soaking cunt as you moaned his name over and over again.

"f-fuck," you moaned softly, "please-"

"you're so naughty," emmett said lowly, his voice giving you chills in the best way, "look at you. getting fingered on the kitchen counter like a little whore."

his sinfully hot but degrading words only caused you to get even wetter (like that was even possible), and you let out a bratty whine as he continued to fuck you on his fingers. emmett's skillful work with his hands only brought you closer and closer to the edge as your eyes rolled back, and he watched your body's every reaction.

your dad was out of town for the next week and a half, and he didn't want his only daughter to be alone all the time. it's not like you lived in a dangerous neighbourhood or that you weren't old enough - you were in college for gods sake, but you understood where your dad was coming from. he was just worried. so he asked emmett, his best friend of over two decades, to check in on you occassionally.

unbeknownst to your father - you'd been secretly dating his best friend for months in secret. you'd been crushing on emmett since before he was divorced, but you didn't act on those feelings. you were still in high school at the time, but now you were a grown woman. the two of you started dating after your second year of college, and things had been going great since then.

well, minus the fact that your dad still had no idea you were screwing his best friend in secret - but it was more than that. you two agreed that eventually you would break the news. but for now, keeping it a secret made it all the more thrilling.

you whined again as emmett suddenly slipped his fingers out of you right as you were about to cum, and he licked them clean. the act made you moan and whimper as his eyes locked on yours the entire time. swiftly, he worked on getting his belt buckle and pants off while you stared at his toned, muscular arms and that tattoo he had on his bicep. my god was it hot.

as he lined his thick, hard cock up with your entrance, you gave him a pout so that he'd get on with it - but the expression was wiped right off of your face as he pushed his cock into your dripping hole. you both moaned at the feeling of him inside of you, and once he had fully bottomed out, he stayed still for a moment.

"you good?" he asked softly, kissing down your jawline and your neck.

"m-mhm, you can move." you tell him, desperate to feel him fuck you stupid, even though the stretch to adjust to his size still stung a little.

he groaned as he started to move in and out of your wet cunt, your back arching at the feeling of his cock pounding into you. the marble of the countertop below you had your wetness dripping down all over it, and emmett had noticed.

"look how fucking wet you are," he growled, "jesus- fuck, such a tight pussy. so warm and wet, so tight."

"j-just, nngh, just for you, e-emmett." you moaned, throwing your head back as you gripped onto his shoulders for some sort of support.

"yeah?" he groaned, "just for me, princess?"

"y-yeah, f-uck!" you whimpered.

he was plowing you to the point where you knew your legs would be aching for days to come, but you didn't care - you were already too cockdrunk to think straight. his cock continued to ram your hole ruthlessly as your cunt tightened up around him.

"s'good," he tells you, holding your hips with a grip that would definitely bruise, "you feel so fucking good, princess."

"ugh, m'gonna cum!" you whimper, your walls fluttering around his cock as his own thrusts started to get sloppy.

"me too, princess," he groans, "fuuuuuck."

as he gave you a few more sloppy but deep thrusts, you continued to hold onto his shoulders tightly as you came undone around his cock. emmett's hands dug into your hips as his own hips stilled, filling you up with every drop of his cum.

the kitchen was quiet for a few moments before emmett pulled himself out of you, and his cum dripped out of your spent hole. as you felt his warm seed leak out of you, you bit your lip and watched him grab a kitchen towel to help you get cleaned up.

"you're so pretty," he hummed, "especially with my cum leaking out of you."

his words made you blush, and you looked away shyly. he laughed softly, tilting your head back to face him with his hands as he pulled you into a soft kiss. as the both of you pulled away, he looked at you with such love in his eyes.

"you're my girl," he said softly, helping you down from the counter, "always have been, always will be."

"love you, emmett." you say sweetly, as he wraps his arms around you.

"love you too, princess."

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@minedofmoria @strangeobsessed

[buckyalpine]

Hello! I have a request please! Loving the idea of bucky and reader having a relationship/hookup but not staying together. Then reader gets a new bf, but bucky catches her still wearing his own shirt to bed or something, and teases her about wishing they were still together etc. you decide how it ends 😈 have been listening to “smells like me” by Charlie Puth lately and can’t stop thinking about this scenario!!

18+

I love this and ofc this is going to have a happy fluffy ending but some angst and steaminess throughout because I am a sucker for this type of scenario. 

Some angst, jealousy, possessive horny Bucky, all the smut, Bucky's filthy mouth, needy sex, some cheating but i promise it adds to the spice okay? (plus the guy is a loser)

-

It was a mutual decision to break up. At least that’s what you both told yourselves. It started off as a mutual transaction; just hooking up and staying friends with benefits so nothing would get complicated. You and Bucky fucked like rabbits in every position and every surface imaginable. Things were great, until they weren’t.

You caught feelings. He kept his hidden. 

Bucky didn’t think he could do a relationship. You wanted more. 

He initiated the break up and while it hurt you, you both agreed it was for the best since you wanted different things. 

That was months ago. 

Moving on wasn’t easy but you weren’t going to waste your life away crying over someone who didn’t want you. You started dating again and eventually you found something relatively stable. Things were fine. Good. Bucky had avoided you completely after the break up but took a sudden interest in you again after he found out you were seeing someone. 

“So, you’re actually into this guy?” He raised an eyebrow, hanging around the kitchen, unable to contain his curiosity after he saw you arrive home from your date. He felt a drop of something deep in his chest, seeing you in a dress he had never seen before. His knuckles were nearly white, clenching his hands to his sides to keep himself in check but his jaw clenched hearing the click of your heels against the tile floor. 

All dressed up for some other man. 

“Mhm” You shrugged, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, avoiding eye contact with the super solider. You were over him. You were so over him. You had a boyfriend and you were over Bucky. You had to be. “Why else would I go out with him”

“He doesn’t seem like your type” Bucky sassed, hoping to mask the bubbling jealousy that continued to rise in his chest. 

“Oh, and you know what my type is?” You spat back, turning on your heel to glare at him. “You’re an expert on who I should date?” 

“I’m just saying” He took a few steps towards you, “I thought you had better standards” He knew what he was doing, biting his lip, watching your chest heave, the eyes that used to roll back from pleasure now throwing daggers at him. 

“Well I like him. Who I date isn’t any of your concern anyway James” Your nails dug into your palms, deciding against entertaining his shit any longer, holding your tongue back. Bucky felt something pang in his stomach watching the way your hips swayed as you stormed off to your room without looking back. 

****

Bucky couldn’t stand it. 

He figured you’d drop this guy eventually but it only got worse. 

You brought your boyfriend around the compound more.

He’d occasionally stay for movie night. 

Bucky would have to watch you cuddle up with him, the both of you going back to your room after for God knows what. He’d see the guy sitting in the living room, waiting for you to get ready for your dates. For fucks sake, he was even there at breakfast after he spent the night over. 

Every time your boyfriend did something, Bucky would mentally correct him. He could see your body tense whenever he put his arm around you; you liked being held securely and this guys arm dangled lightly behind your waist. He never gave you his full attention when you spoke, never remembered the little details about you. Bucky was sure he had caught him flirting with some of the other agents, holding himself back from punching him in the jaw. 

Fuck, he didn’t even kiss you properly. It was too hesitant, too gentle, Bucky knew how you loved to be kissed, how to make you weak in the knees. He would have ran his fingers through your hair, tugging it back, tilting your face up, to look at him. He would have cupped your cheeks, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other gently wrapped around your neck, his teeth gently nipping your lips. He wouldn’t have given a fuck about people being around, if you were his girl he would have-

No. Never mind. 

Your new boyfriend clearly didn’t know what he was doing anywhere. On more than one occasion, Tony had a shit eating grin on his face because Bucky had you screaming over the sound proof walls. 

Why the fuck were you with him when should have been with..

Someone else.

Though there was one other thing Bucky had noticed. One thing he made note of multiple times, his ego growing more every time it happened. 

You wandered down to the kitchen before bed to get a glass of water, stopping when your eyes landed on the brunette super solider, his sweats low on his hips, his upper body on full display after he left his hoodie in the gym. You decided to ignore him, grabbing a cup and filling it, your breath hitching hearing his low voice. 

“I thought that shirt looked familiar” He took a few steps towards you, noting the way you kept your eyes trained on your glass.  “You look comfy”

“I-

“You what” Bucky smirked, his eyes raking up and down your bare legs, cocking his head while you backed yourself against the counter. “What is it sweets”

“Nothing” you swallowed thickly, mentally scolding yourself for getting caught wearing his Henley to bed. You had no excuse, you had plenty of your own over sized t-shirts you could have worn but....

“Does your boyfriend know where you got that shirt, why you sleep with it almost every night” You couldn't bring yourself to speak, shaking your head, heart racing. “You know I noticed you wear it all the time, even when your snuggled up with him. You just can’t stop yourself can you, he’s not the same” 

He’s not you. 

“You still think about me, hm?” Bucky couldn't help himself, a part of him knowing he had no right to look at you like that, you had a boyfriend but his body was moving on its own, pressing you against the counter, his lips dropping to your ear. “Does he fuck like I can?”

“Bucky stop” You tried to ignore the shiver that ran through your body, his hips pressing against you, his erection digging into your hip. You bit your lip, trying to keep your hands from palming his chest, avoiding his eyes. 

“Tell me, does he touch you like I do?” He kept his hands to his sides but he couldn't help but rock his hips against you, his cock achingly hard, desperate for some relief. He let out a strained groan, precum starting to dampen his brief's. 

“Bucky-” You tried to push him away from you but he pressed himself against you harder, your back digging against the counter. “Stop” Your voice was a whimper, you knew you could have pushed him off if you wanted to...you should have...

“Does he make love to you like me, reach that spot that makes you scream?” His nose dragged along the column of your neck, his tongue gliding across your skin, filthy mouth unrelenting. 

“Does his cock fill you like mine does” 

No. 

“Does he nurse on your clit like I do, suck and kiss that sweet, pretty little nub of yours until his face is soaked with your cum? Does he lick and drink your sweetness like I do baby, does he get hard just off the way you taste?”

No. 

“Does he make himself cum on your bed from just rubbing himself on it when he’s between those thighs? Does he worship your body like I do princess, tell me, does he stroke his cock every night, moaning for you?”

No.

“Does he paint your body with cum, does it clean it off nice? Lick off every drop of the mess he makes like I do? You miss that, don’t you baby, you miss my hot cum on your body, you miss my warm tongue cleaning you up right afterwards? You miss it filling your pussy up and dripping onto the sheets, you miss the way I fuck it right back into you and have you suck if off my cock” 

You didn’t even realize you had parted your legs, letting his thigh press against your needy cunt, your hips rocking and grinding on him as he continued to lure you to him, he couldn't hold back any longer. 

“Look at you rubbing yourself on me princess, he doesn’t satisfy you does he?” You let out a broken moan, grinding on his thigh harder while gripping onto the counter, it was wrong, you knew it was wrong but it all felt so right. 

“I know he doesn’t, I know you still touch yourself thinking about me, these sweet little fingers-” He grabbed your hand, nipping your finger tips with his teeth, “-aren’t enough are they baby, his cock isn’t enough, you need mine, huh doll?” 

You tried to shake your head but you nodded instead, there was no point in lying now. Bucky growled, grabbing your hips, helping you rock yourself on him more. 

“Tell me you need my cock”

“I-I need-fuck-”

“Say it baby, tell me you need me to fill your pussy up”

“B-Bucky” Your thighs squeezed together around his, your body nearly trembling feeling his lips suck onto your neck. 

“That’s not what you call me, c’mon, say it”

“Daddy” 

“That’s it” He cooed, sliding his hands down your panties, finding your soaked cunt dripping for him, your body easily betraying you. “So wet for daddy already” He shoved his fingers up your needy cunt, crooking them to rub against your sweet spot making you bite down onto his bare shoulder to keep your screams down. 

“Tell daddy you want his fat cock baby”

“Wan’ it daddy” You nearly wailed at the stretch of his fingers alone, nothing compared to the feel of the cool metal scissoring and pumping in you, moving faster. Bucky could tell by the way you bit down harder, your nails digging into his skin, you were close. He pulled his fingers out, shoving them in his mouth instead, greedily sucking off your arousal. 

“MMmgh, God you’re so sweet- Fuck this” Bucky grabbed you, tossing you over his shoulder, taking you straight to his room and throwing you onto his bed. He got rid of his sweats and brief's within seconds, stripping you naked immediately after. He crawled on top of your body, parting your legs, his warm breath fanning your face. You whined at the feel of his length rutting against your core, a part of your brain screaming at you to stop. 

“Bucky, we can’t” You couldn't help but spread your legs further, bringing your thighs up. 

“Can’t what” His hand snaked down to line his cock up, rubbing the head onto your clit. 

“I-you know I can’t” You shook your head, panting as he pressed against it further, making you moan. 

“You don’t want it?” He nudged his tip against your clenching pussy, prodding against your entrance leaving you reeling. “Tell me”

“Bucky, please, I-” 

“Please what princess”

“We can’t, we can’t we can’t we-oh god, fuck, FUCKK” You threw your head back as he pushed his cock into your soaked pussy, not wasting any time, his hips snapping, pounding you into the mattress. Your legs wrapped around his waist, crying and chanting his name as his cock hit all the right spots, stretching you the way you craved. 

Bucky moaned into your neck, your pussy gripping onto him, puling him back in with each thrust, fluttering and clenching around him. 

“M’never letting you go again” Bucky grabbed your writs, pinning them against the bed above your head, pulling his knees up to fuck you deeper. “I need you” 

“Fuckkkk James” Tears streaked your face, the silky tip of his cock rubbing and stroking your sweet spot repeatedly, his balls slapping against your ass. 

“O-only I can make you moan like this” He picked his pace up, fucking you harder, sitting back on his heels and holding your legs apart. “Don’t think i didn’t hear you sweets, touching yourself thinking about me even when you were with him” 

He spat onto your clit, his thumb rubbing soft circles making your back arch in pleasure. 

“I touched myself to you too baby, thought about you every damn day with my cock in my fist. I missed you so bad, I wanted to fuck and make love to you, wanted every piece of you”

“Please-James”

Bucky got lost in the feeling of you, desperate to be as close as possible. He dropped your legs, falling on top of you and wrapping his arms around your body. He rolled you over so you were on top, holding you close while he thrusted up into you. 

“I’ll never let you go again y/n, you’re mine, you’re all fucking mine baby” 

“Don’t let me go James” You moaned into his neck, clinging onto his body while his cock throbbed, his pace growing sloppy. 

“No, look at me” His eyes were glassy, one hand cupping your face to make you look at him. “I love you, I fucking love you, please princess” He fucked you harder, his moans mixed with yours filling the room, your lips brushing against his. “Fuck- I love you” 

“I love you” You cried out, your pussy fluttering, the band in your belly about to snap. 

“Cum for me baby, c’mon, cum on my dick, make a mess on me, soak my cock and balls with your cum angel, give it to me”

“JAMES FUCK” Your orgasm ripped through your body, falling limp on him while he pounded up into you, your moans and screams bouncing off the walls. Bucky held you tighter, his cock twitching unable to hold back any more, his balls pulled tight to his body.  

“M’gonna cum” He moaned, desperately holding onto  you while you kissed him, swallowing his moans. “Oh fuck, m’gonna cum y/n” 

“Cum James, fill me up bubba” You cooed softly in his ear, kissing his temple while he let out a throatily groan, his body tensing, cock swelling. 

“FUCKK M’cumming so. fucking. hard for you baby, it’s all for you God-fuck-it’s all for you” His body stilled, his warm seed filling you till it dripped out. “Wanna be the only one to cum in you like this, you’re mine” He continued to rut into you, whining at the overstimulation, his cock still dribbling with cum “Can’t even stop cumming for you baby, fuck it won’t stop” He continued to moan and lightly thrust into you until he emptied his cock, the sheets damp from his load. 

You both laid in silence, giving each other soft kisses, his arms still secure around you, holding you close to his chest. You couldn't ignore the way your heart fluttered, you shouldn’t have been there, none of this should have happened and yet...

“Stay” 

You looked up at him while he brought you closer, kissing your forehead. 

“Please stay”

“Bucky, you didn’t want me until-

“I was a fucking idiot, I love you, baby please stay” His eyes were pleading with you, clinging onto you tighter. You knew you should have gone back to your room but for some reason this felt right. You melted into his embrace, letting him cuddle you. “You’re mine”

“Bucky, my boy-

“I want to be your boyfriend. Please. I’m sorry sweets, I shouldn’t have pushed you away, I-I want you to be mine” 

You thought for a moment, the way you couldn't pull yourself away from him, falling right into his embrace, not feeling anything for anyone else, all your feelings just for him.

“I’m yours” You mumbled against his skin, falling asleep in his bed, your heart finally back where it belonged. 

(and ofc you break up with your loser boyfriend after, cause he was useless anyway) 

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[4ndr3ax10]

Too late?

Male reader x Charlie Morningstar, full of angst (trigger warning violence, blood, unclear ending)

Masterlist

It's your last night at the hotel before the coming of Adam's attack; everybody is seemingly enjoying themselves at the pre-battle party, but you knew it was just a farce; everyone was scared sh*tless of what was coming tomorrow; no amount of alcohol or drugs could hide that.

But you were not paying attention to that; no, you were perfectly fine.

You were looking at your girlfriend Charlie, the axis upon which this whole ordeal spun around; she was so beautiful, she was so gentle, and by god, she was without a doubt the best thing to ever happen to you ever since Saint Peter failed to see your name in his book. You were more than happy to die tomorrow for her sake; nothing else really mattered to you other than to let her dream on.

And so the dreadful day of the battle came. You and all the others stared at the hole in the sky that was about to bring your death.

And death came.

Adam with all his exterminators nearly blocked the light of heaven as they came down in great numbers—more angels than any of you had ever seen.

The battle began. As Alastor shielded the hotel to trap the first wave of exterminators, you held your angelic spear with all your strength and charged into the fray, always making sure to keep an eye out for Charlie and the others, all staying within close distance of the rest of the family you somehow found in this hotel.

Adam smashed Alastor's shield to pieces, allowing the bulk of the army to hit you all with their full force.

But the worst was about to come as Adam quickly dealt with Alastor and was about to come down and mow you down. Before you could react, you saw Charlie going tomwards the top of the hotel with Razzle and Dazzle. You couldn't do anything but hope—hope that she somehow makes it out alive against that monster, but you knew she was about to be brutalized.

You ran into the hotel, hoping that the stairs were still intact to reach the top of the building.

By the time you reached the roof, it was already over. Adam's axe was in between Charlie's ribs, and the pool of blood underneath her was growing.

You saw red and ran like you never ran before; the light of your afterlife was just snuffed out, and Adam was about to pay.

Adam was just turning around, unaware of your presence when you charged at him with murderous intent. You aimed to try and debilitate him as soon as possible because you knew you only had a few moments before Adam decided to stop your attempt at vengeance.

But then down came the man himself, Lucifer Morningstar, who was just as furious as you were; now Adam knew he fucked up for real. In the same moment that Lucifer made himself present, you took advantage of your opponent's split second of distraction to stab him in the back with your spear; it didn't go all the way through, but enough to make him regret taking his eyes off of you.

Not even a second later, Lucifer flew at him at an immeasurable speed, taking Adam with him. It looked as if they had flown at least a mile, but you could clearly hear the punches of Lucifer hitting Adam's soon-to-be dead carcass.

As soon as that was dealt with, you turned back and ran to Charlie. Oh god, she's lost so much blood, you thought to yourselves. Adam's axe was still embedded in her ribcage; she was propped up against the concrete perimeter of the roof; her eyes were closed.

You tried to think of a way to help her, but just like the tears in your eyes were well on their way down your face, so were the thoughts that it may all be useless now.

You crouched down next to her, holding her now tepid hands in yours. You checked her pulse; oh, thank God she still had one.

Not long after Lucifer arrived, his arms were red up to the elbow. His face was unreadable as his eyes were pure red. You never had a good impression of him due to the fact that he despised sinners like you.

“She needs your help,” you managed to say through tears as you felt her pulse getting weaker and weaker...

[unsteady-calcium]

PLEASE EXPLAIN THE CRIMINAL MINDS BONES OVERLAP

OF COURSE!

Now, the fandom has many different favourites among the Squinterns. But my favourite is this guy:

Beautiful jack-of-all-trades, all around good guy, Wendell Bray 🙏 Arguably the only normal human being who has ever set foot on the forensic platform.

God bless.

But, despite him being my best friend, my pal. my homeboy, my rotten soldier. I find it almost impossible to wholeheartedly enjoy his episodes. That is because he unfortunately shares his face with this man:

Christ Salters, from Criminal Minds season 6 episode 7. I don't feel like listing his crimes due to the sheer number of trigger warnings I would have to put on this post, but you can of course check them out yourselves on the wiki.

But unsteady-calcium, you say. This was only one episode of Criminal Minds, a show which has been going for decades. Surely you can put it out of your mind for the sake of our sweet cheese, our good-time boy? Our golden-haired retriever?

No. Unfortunately I know his criminal minds episode better than the palm of my own hand. For one very simple reason.

Season 6 and 7 of Criminal Minds are the seasons which focus on Emily Prentiss' arc. And, as any self-respecting wlw I have of course watched every episode like a hundred times.

I wrote a CM fanfic set during those seasons which is like 40k but we dont need to talk about that

So, now, whenever my favourite squintern is on screen, I am cursed to remember that time he commited combine harvester-related serial killings in Indiana 🚜

It is my cross to bear. Thank you for the ask 🫡

[netherfeildren]

I am a lantern

A Fear of God story : Series Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC

Summary: Birdie realizes she’s pregnant. This takes place some time within the events of chapter 2 and 3 of Fear of God. 

Content Warnings: Established relationship; Fluff; Unprotected sex; Domestic kink; Oral sex; Discussions of menstruation; Mention of rough sex; Pregnancy; Internal angst

A/N: Surprise, surprise!! In honor of FoG reaching 15k hits on AO3 here’s the first of my planned extras for the FoG universe :) Thank you so much for all of your love and support 💗

Art is Psyche Weeping by Kink Y. Craft (2009)

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 7.3K

Read on AO3

“Here ya go, sweetheart.” He hands you the bowl of dinner he’d whipped up for the two of you. 

You’d taken to avoiding the mess hall recently, too attached to the cocoon you’d wrapped yourselves in together – always wanting to be alone, basking in each other’s presence, preparing meals for one another, and then going to bed together to feel each other’s skin and fuck until either of you was too exhausted to move. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, turning your face up to him for a kiss with your eyes still on the notes you’re reading. There was too much to do lately. The clinic was so busy and Connie had veritably checked out, only popping in once in a while, leaving the heavy lifting to you with Nancy’s assistance. You’re exhausted, a little overwhelmed, entirely terrified with a perpetual black cloud of self doubt and anxiety hovering over your head at all hours of the day. You aren’t prepared for this… you aren’t even a real doctor, for fuck’s sake. Not really — not in any terms that would’ve counted before. Just whatever semblance of one the apocalypse had chewed up and spit out – an entire community was way too much responsibility for you alone. You feel the backs of your eyes pinch. Your back aches and your head throbs and your stomach has been simmering on a low grade of nausea all day long, but you still have so much to go over.

-

When he walks out again, his own bowl in hand, you’re buried face down in your notes, aggressively loud sobs wracking your body. He stares at you for a second, brow pulled down low, and all you can do is look up at him and practically wail. 

Jesus, Birdie. He sighs, long and drawn out, he’s been waiting for this – had felt the storm brewing all evening. Something’s been bugging you or setting you off the past few days, and try as he might, he can’t figure out what the real problem is. He doesn’t want to ask outright just yet – he knows you’re stressed. Connie’s been pushing harder and harder to get you to agree to let him call it quits, and Joel knows you’re scared and stressed and feeling unnecessarily unsure of yourself. If you’d asked him, he thinks you’re ready for the responsibility – more than ready. No one would be able to take care of the community better than your kind and gentle hands and magnificent mind would. 

He sets his bowl down, you’ve not even touched yours, and if it weren’t for the tears, the two of you’d be having words right now about your irresponsible eating habits. He hates when you get so distracted you forget meals, fills him with an inordinate amount of stress. He just needs to know that you’re well fed and taken care of at all times, it’s as simple as that. “Alright, sweetheart. That’s enough.” He pulls your mess of papers and journals and books and your ugly, orange throw from your lap and sets it all gently on the table beside you – ignores your protests as he wraps one arm behind your back and another one under your knees. “You’re done for the night.” He pulls the book you’re trying to reach for out of your hands and scoops you up into his arms with a grunt. Damn knees. “You’re goin’ to bed. No more working tonight.” You wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder to continue your sobbing. 

“I– I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you hitch and hiccup. “I’m not finished,” you protest, “I have more to go over,” but your arms tighten around him, and he feels you mouth at the skin of his neck. Emotional and needy, recently. Hungry for his cock and his hands and his tongue at all hours of the day. Not that he was complaining, at all. But he did wonder what’d gotten into you. 

“You are for tonight,” he says softly, “You’re exhausted. Don’t tell me you’re not.”

“I’m not,” you grouch, stubborn and too adorable for your own good. His heart pinches a little. Your weight is so slight in his arms, carrying you up the stairs, just a little bird. He wonders, more often than not, how something so small can be so powerful, can terrify him so much, hold so much sway over his life, his very existence. It scares him enough to keep him away from you, as much as he can force himself, at least, even if he sees it for the lie within himself that it truly is. The two of you are practically living together at this point. As much as he feels like he needs to force himself to lie or pretend that this is still just sex, still just something to ease your individual loneliness, if he gives himself a moment to be really, really honest with himself, he knows what this truly is. 

But for now, for a little while longer at least, as long as he can stretch it out, he’ll swallow the truth of the two of you, swallow it down and pretend it’s less than what it is. That it isn’t absolutely everything.

He sets you down gently on his bed, the sheets still rumpled from when he’d fucked you this morning before he’d sent you off to work, shaky legs, leaking cunt and all. His favorite way to start the day. He helps you settle in, pulls off your leggings and his own thick socks he’d pulled over your cold feet earlier and tucks the covers in around you. He eyes the stack of books on the bedside table, a mix of his own historical fiction and westerns and the cracked and well loved spines of some of your medical texts and scientific journals  – wherever he turned his eye in his house, there were signs of you, signs of the way you’d settled into his life, become an intrinsic part of his existence. He wonders for a moment if he should go as far as taking them downstairs with him, but when he looks down at your sleepy, tear swollen eyes gazing up at him, he decides you’re probably too tired to disobey. 

“Sleep,” he says down at you with false severity. He’s sure he’s entirely transparent, and as you turn your face into his pillow he catches the quick quirk of your smile… yeah, definitely transparent. He hears your muffled yes, sir, as he turns to go back downstairs and tidy up the kitchen before he comes back to join you in bed.

When he makes it back upstairs, his abandoned dinner, scarfed down quickly, and the kitchen cleaned, of course, of course, the bedside lamp is on and your face is buried in one of your textbooks. You’re holding it so close to your face, the tip of your nose almost brushes it, and he scoffs, typical, at the sight of you, but when he looks down he takes in the entire lithe length of you stretched out across his bed. The t-shirt of his you’re wearing has ridden up over your ass so that your little, pink, polka dot panties are peeking up at him. The soft cotton has ridden up into the cleft of your ass so that the elastic digs into the lush swell of your bottom, and he feels his cock stir at the sight. 

Yeah… too adorable, too damn beautiful for your own good. Definitely… He’s going to lick and kiss and bite all of that gorgeous skin in a second.

“What’d I tell you, Birdie?”

“Just one second–” you mumble into the page, not even turning to look at him. He goes into the restroom to brush his teeth, listens to the sound of you turning the pages, one second his ass. If he didn’t forcibly take the book out of your hand and fuck you to sleep you’d never put the damn thing down. Joel supposes he can make the sacrifice.

He comes back out into the bedroom, pulling his shirt over the back of his head and shucking his jeans and boxers down his legs before kneeling behind you on the bed. He reaches for your panties, fuck– he really likes the polka dots, and you’ve still not put the damn book away as he pulls them down the smooth slopes of your legs, and buries his face in your cunt from behind. And finally, finally, he hears the thump of the book against the wooden boards of the floor and then your moan as he licks into your pussy, pulling you apart by the softness of your ass. You groan for him, throaty and drawn out as you arch your back to give him better access. 

“Yeah… that’s what I fuckin’ thought,” he says into your skin, licking a long, wet stripe from your clit all the way to the tight furl of your asshole. He’d taken you hard this morning, fucking your pussy almost brutally until he’d pulled out and pushed his way into your back hole to come in your ass. The two of you had been filthy lately. You’d been particularly insatiable, but you incited something in him that turned him into a fucking animal sometimes. You had the uncanny ability to crawl under his skin and make his blood boil and rage until the only thing that seemed to settle him was your come and your spit and your sweat in his mouth, covering every inch of his skin.

If he really thought about it, he knew he was obsessed with you. Obsession verging on something much more serious – verging on… No, not yet… He wouldn’t think of that yet. 

He pulls back to survey the blushing, flutter of your little hole. Fucking needy thing, he rumbles, but as he goes to push a single finger into your opening, he feels you wince and pull back slightly. Shit, he knew he’d been too rough this morning. He licks another wet swipe along the cleft of your ass. “You sore, baby?” All he gets is your muffled moan and a slight nod of your head, your face buried in the pillows as you hitch your hips higher, trying to tempt him, swaying your ass gently from side to side… like he’d said, needy. He anchors himself up on one arm, the other keeping you spread open while he lets a long string of spit trickle slowly from his pursed mouth, the thick glob covering your tight hole so that he can smear it into your skin. Joel, Joel – he hears you begging into the sheets. “Yeah… I got you, little bird. Don’t worry–” He bends his head again to bite at the crease where your asscheek meets the back of your thigh and then grips your hips to slowly roll you over.

Your eyes are hazy, glazed and wet when he takes in your flushed face. He crawls up the length of your body to lay beside you, slotting one arm under your head and the other wrapping around your thigh to bring it up over his hip. “N– no, Joel– I– I still want you to fuck me… I still wanna come,” you mewl, scratching at his shoulders and arms. Tiny little fingers digging into his skin to try and pull him into obedience. 

“Uh huh, I gotcha, baby… don’t worry. But I’m not gonna fuck you if you’re sore.” He slots his cock between your thighs, pressed up against your wet cleft and starts to slide through your sensitive folds. You shake and jitter in his arms, little hiccuping moans and whimpers every time the wide head bumps and catches against the swollen nub of your clit. 

Please, please, I can take it.

“My poor Birdie,” he coos, “I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.” The hand on your thigh sneaks back and around your bottom to slot between your thighs, pressing up on his sliding cock to apply greater pressure to your cunt. “How’s this, huh? Feel good?”

“Ungh, ah, ah ah…” So good, so good, you whisper, hot breath fanning over the underside of his chin. He feels the wet swipe of your tongue, your little teeth sinking into the edge of his jaw. “I don’t– I don’t know what’s wrong with me–” His tip catches at your tender opening and you jerk slightly in his arms, he fists the hand not between your legs in your hair to anchor you in place and presses his mouth to yours, a long, wet swipe behind the edge of your teeth. He can hear how wet you are as he picks up the pace of his thrusts, your moans and whimpers getting louder, more desperate. The sound of you is obscene, his own personal wet fucking dream.

 His dream girl… come to life. 

“That’s right, baby. Just like that – gonna come on my cock just like this. Didn’t I say I’d take care of you? Don’t I always take care of you just how you need?” You start to tremble even harder, your leg wrapped around him tightening at his waist so that your heel is pressed sharply into the base of his spine and he feels you jerk as he grinds the thick base of himself into your clit and you start to come. Mewling and keening his name, his good, beautiful girl. He slides his hand up your bottom and back, long, slow passes of his palm along your sweat damp spine to settle you. “That better?” he whispers into your hair. You shiver, and he feels the nod of your head as you mouth as his throat and chest. 

“Yes… thank you.” He pulls back to wrap his hand around your jaw, your bones feel so fragile beneath his strength – something delicate he’s been afforded the privilege of being able to touch with these violence soaked hands of his. He can’t think about how frightened you make him, not now, not when he has you beneath him like this, soft and sated and pliant – the sweetest fucking thing he’s ever laid eyes on in his life. He smushes your cheeks together and plants a soft kiss to your puckered mouth. “Beautiful girl.” All you do is burrow further into the covers, a soft sigh as you nuzzle your cheek into his palm. And so fine, he can admit it, right here and now. He fucking loves you, and it’ll probably be the thing to kill him in the end, this recalcitrance he’s forcing himself into. 

-

You stir awake in the middle of the night. He’s draped over you in his sleep, his face tucked into the warm crook of your neck, big hand palming the weight of your breast. He’s so big and muscular and heavy and you love the feel of his weight pressing you into the mattress. You wrap your arms around him, drag your fingers through his thick curls, and listen to the sound of his soft snores. 

Your entire body feels like one unending, tender bruise. Every sensation heightened, too sensitive, like a raw, exposed nerve. You don’t know what’s wrong with you lately, what’s gotten into you. You’re on the verge of overwhelmed tears, just from the feel of him, the sound of his soft breathing, overwhelmed by how much you love him, how much you want him. You’ve been on the verge of tears for days, the slightest thing setting you off. 

You lay there for a while holding him, sleep gone out the window in the night, abandoning you to wakefulness, but you realize that the reason you’d stirred awake is that you’re cramping low in your belly, a dull and chronic sort of pulse, deep in your womb. Shit, you need to get up and check if you’re bleeding. 

You shift out from under him slowly, slipping from beneath his heavy paw to slip into the restroom. He turns over in his sleep, arm thrown out over the space you’ve just vacated, as if he’s searching for you, even unconscious. As you move towards the restroom there’s another throbbing pulse low in your belly, like you’re carrying around a bruise in the shape of him inside of you. Everything feels extra tender – coiled tight. He’s been insatiable lately — more than his usual. He’d had you four times yesterday alone. Twice today, plus your fooling around before you’d gone to sleep. Your cunt is sore and puffy and soaking wet, even after he’d cleaned you up with a warm wash cloth before falling asleep. Sometimes it seems like you’re fucking a teenager instead of an old man with the stamina he’s got in him. You laugh quietly. 

But when you pull your underwear down to sit on the cold toilet basin, there’s nothing. Huh… you’d for sure thought the cramping meant you’d started your period. A slow simmering churning starts up in your gut, slowly, slowly starting a low boil. Maybe you’re starting soon, that’s why you’re cramping – it’s fine. You wipe and stand to wash your hands. Maybe dinner isn’t sitting right – but no… you’d barely eaten. So something you’d had before then. That’s probably why you’re so sensitive and on edge lately – you’re probably getting sick. You’d been nauseous the past few days, and there was that bout of vomiting the other day. You pull open one of his lavatory drawers, looking for the antacid tablets you know he hoards, when you’re met with the sight of your menstrual cup, sitting in the little plastic bin you keep it in. 

Shit.

Why is this over here? Since when has it been over here? Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. No, no, no.

You can’t remember the last time you’d used it. You try and count back the weeks – fuck, the months. Real panic starts to flutter and fizz in your belly.  When was the last time you’d had a period? Surely more than four weeks ago but … but if it’s been that long, if you’re remembering correctly… then… then, it’s been closer to two months by now. So that would mean… that means… you turn towards the door where Joel sleeps, unaware, on the other side as if you can see him through the thick wood. 

You feel your heart drop into your stomach, the rhythm of its beat ricocheting up to a concerning speed. Oh, God. Oh, God. How could you have been so careless – so distracted? How is this the first time you’re even thinking about this – even realizing it? But no… if you’re being honest, objective – you know you’ve only been waiting for something like this to happen – for months now. How could you not? When the two of you had never even pretended at being careful or responsible for preventing something like this. Oh, God – how are you going to tell him? What is he going to say? He’s going to be so angry. 

But a voice at the back of your mind whispers that you’re only telling yourself that – that you know it isn’t true – that you know he’d be not only happy, but overjoyed at the thought of a baby. But how could you really know for sure? When he’s always been firm in keeping that last sliver of distance between the two of you? Still after all these months – unable to admit the truth of what lived here, between the two of you. That this isn’t just sex – that the two of you are in love with each other. 

You lean against the sink for support, your shaky legs on the verge of collapse, and stare at yourself in the mirror. This puts your behavior of the last few days into better perspective. All the tears, the shaky stomach, feeling so sensitive – like a raw nerve all he needed to do was look at, breathe on, to provoke. If you really think about it, you’d been the instigator at the start of each of your encounters in the last few days. Seeking him out ravenously – hungry and desperate for his cock and his skin and his smell at every hour of the day. Weepy, swollen cunt – even when he wasn’t around to tempt you, and he’d left you satisfied, and yet, still wanting more, every single time. 

You step back out into the dark space of his bedroom. He’s on his back, one bulging arm thrown over his head. His mess of curls strewn across the surface of his pillow. You watch the rise and fall of his belly, his thick, strong waist, with the cadence of his breaths. Your womb twists with lust. 

Fuck, you’re probably pregnant with this man’s baby. How are you going to tell him?

You can make out the thick heft of his cock through the thin material of the sheets covering his waist, he’d not bothered to put anything else on again after he’d made you come, and it makes your mouth water and the place between your legs so achy. Your recent behavior is completely transparent now, you’d been so needy, insatiable, the only thing to settle you the heavy weight of his cock stretching you open and pounding deep into you. Fucking typical. He’d done this to you, and now he got to reap the rewards of you climbing onto his dick at all hours of the day. 

You roll your eyes at him in the dark as you slide back into bed beside him, running your palm over the flat of his belly. He clasps your hand with his in his sleep as he rolls over, pulling you along with him, wrapping your arm around himself and tucking it up by his neck so that you’re spooning him. He drapes his arm back over your hip and clutches your leg, tucking his fingers right at the place where your ass cheek meets your inner thigh and pulling your front further into his back – trying to get you as close as possible to him. You listen to his deep, sleepy rumble, and you bury your face between his warm back and the bed, the sheets smell like the both of you, sweet and musky – like your sex, your love making. You’ve made a baby together. Joel’s baby. The thought makes tears pool in your eyes and start a slow, silent stream down your face. Your insides clenching wantonly at the same time that your stomach flutters and heaves with nerves and panic. There are too many sensations spilling through your body all at the same time, and you think your frame starts to tremble, an uncontainable gasp slipping out because suddenly you feel his muscles snap awake, his rough voice saying your name sharp and worried. You wrap your arm tighter around him, digging your nails into the skin of his neck to stop him from turning over. You don’t want him to see you like this, you don’t want him to know, you don’t want him to be angry or worried or regretful.

 He’d never be any of those things, your heart whispers at your anxious mind. 

“Baby, what’s wrong? Why’re you crying?” he says into the dark room. You feel his muscles tense as he tries to escape your tight hold without being too rough.

“I don’t know–” you splutter into his back, your voice coming out muffled against his warm skin. “I’m– I’m emotional. I think I’m getting my period soon,” you lie. Lie, lie, fucking liar. You don’t think you’ll be getting that for a good, long while. 

He sighs, gripping your wrist firmly to pull your arm away for him so he can turn over to cradle you gently in his arms. The best place in the entire world. You cry harder. 

“C’mere, sweet girl,” he whispers against your hairline, pressing his soft mouth to your forehead, your temple. “It’s alright… no tears.” He pets at the nape of your neck. His voice is so deep, you feel the vibrations of it pass through his chest and rumble into your own, and it makes the tips of your breasts tighten into aching little knots. You wrap your arms around his neck to meld your chest tighter to his. You wish you could live inside of him the way he now lives inside of you. He’s left a piece of himself with you, eventually it’ll grow and the whole world will know how definitively you belong to him. You’ll be round and swollen and only his, only his. The thought makes your pussy clench. 

“Joel–” you tug as his curls, his beard, trying to pull his mouth down to yours. He rumbles deep in his chest, gives you his tongue. He’s being too slow, too gentle, you need him to fuck you hard, desperate – as desperate as you feel for him in this moment, to ground you and tame this panic surging up inside of you with his strong hands. 

“Kiss me – hug me,” you beg. 

“M’right here, Birdie.” He cards his hand through your hair, pulls your head back slightly, “Look at me – I’m right here with you.”

“More, more, please.” You lick at his mouth, drag your teeth down his chin.

He rolls you over to settle his hips between your spread legs. You can feel the searing hot brand of his hard cock against the inside of your thigh. He’s always hard for you. He’s always hard for you, and you’re always soft and wet and ready for him, and the two of you are perfect for each other. You were made for each other, and now you’ve made a baby together. “You need my cock again, little bird?”

You spread your legs wider, “Yes, yes – I always need you,” you whine. He wraps his hand around your throat and pauses to stare down at you for a second, his brow pulled down low. He bends his head slowly, his eyes never leaving yours as he presses his mouth to your own. You keep your eyes wide open also, looking between his dark eyes. His lashes are so long, the thick fringe of them fanning out so wide they cast a shadow across his cheekbones. The two of you are so close you can make out each individual lash, the little lines around his eyes – stress, before … but you hope, now, only from laughing too much, from being too happy. You always want him to be so, so happy he doesn’t know what to do with it all. You want him to be overwhelmed and submerged in so much ridiculous happiness. The two of you hold there for a moment, breathing into each other’s mouths. You love him so much it is a physical ache within you. 

He sits back slightly then, and lifts your thigh to press a soft kiss to the inside of your leg, then another to your belly, right over your womb, your heart swoops at that and you whimper, then another right to the top of your mound. The tip of his tongue peeking out to lap at your clit, just a little. 

Then he stretches over you again, giving you all his weight and reaches his hand down to pet the back of his knuckles along your slit, “Shit, fuckin’ wet and swollen, Birdie.”

“I want you so much,” you breath, eyes fluttering closed as he parts your puffy lips and pets at your clit. He starts up a gentle rhythm around your sensitive bundle of nerves that has you kicking your legs out impatiently around him for more. Why is he being so gentle and mean and soft? You need it hard, you need more. 

“Please, Joel, please, please, fuck me, please.” You can feel hot tears burning down the slopes of your cheeks. He’s going to think you’ve lost the fucking plot, crying and begging for his cock like this. He continues to be mean and horrible and pet softly at your clit, like a whisper over your raging, burning skin. 

“Settle down. Gonna give it to you how I see fit.”

“You’re so mean,” you kick out one leg, pathetically, at his side. The broad expanse of him has you spread so wide there’s no purchase to be found, all you can do is lie here and take it. He’s so horrible — look at him, he’s gone and knocked you up and now he won’t even fuck you how you need him to. You pout up at him, cry and mewl pathetically. “Please, harder, Joel.”

“Nuh-uh, said you were sore. Gotta be gentle with my soft, little cunt.”

“But you’re going to fuck me right?” you cry.

“Yeah, baby. Don’t worry,” he says softly, starts to circle his thumb at your tender entrance, pressing gentle pressure on it. You do your best to stifle your wince, shit, it’s not necessarily sore, just so, so sensitive. This is all his fault. You want to sink your teeth into his neck and bite him as hard as you can. Make him hurt and writhe the way he’s making you. He starts to slowly press a single finger inside. You’re so wet, dripping, the passage is smooth and slick. 

“Harder,” you beg.

“Quit.” You let out a frustrated moan. He starts to fuck you slowly just like that, a single finger, his thumb circling your clit in slow, measured circles. His finger is thick, but not enough, and you clench your inner muscles, trying to bear down on it. “Stop that,” he snaps. “Take it how I give it to you. Need you to relax, Birdie. What’s got you all twisted up in knots?”

“I don’t know,” liar, liar, liar, you whine, trying as hard as you can not to roll your hips, to stay still and settled like he wants you to, but there’s a goddamn forest fire raging inside of you, and having him so close, such a small part of him inside you, is only making it worse. He pulls his single finger out, circles his thumb around your entrance, back up to your clit, swipes up and down like a feather, then pressure to your entrance again, and he’s pushing two of his thick fingers inside of you now. Oh, thank God. Thank you, thank you, thank you. He starts to slide them in and out, a small crook of his fingers to pet at the soft, spongy spot inside of you. All the while he continues to circle your clit, and he bends his head to kiss at your mouth, your jaw, a soft bite to your clavicle that has you keening wantonly, then a swipe of his tongue to your jugular – you wish he’d bite you there, sink his teeth into your skin and drink. God, your thoughts are unhinged. You cannot, cannot deal with nine months of this, what the fuck. His mouth slides down to your breast, hot and wet, and he sucks hard on the aching tip, flicking his tongue back and forth slowly. His fingers haven’t paused their slow onslaught and at one particularly hard pull at your breast you suddenly feel everything in your pelvis go blindingly, white hot and tight and then loose and wet and you start to come on his fingers. Your hips rolling gently upwards to take more of him. He never goes harder, never faster, he just continues his gentle ministrations of you – playing you like his own personal little doll. You moan long and ragged, yeah, that’s it, just like that, he whispers into your hair. His words sliding through the strands like water. He guides you through the cresting waves of your orgasm, his touch becoming slower and softer as you throb on and on. Once the contractions of your muscles have slowed he pulls his fingers from your cunt, the wet suck, as loud and obscene as the thoughts in your head are, and then the burning hot head of his cock is there, slowly pushing into your still quivering flesh, so thick. 

“Gonna take my cock now, little bird.”

Yes, yes, please. Thank you. All you can do is sigh, hitch your knees higher up his sides, you hook one hand under the bend of one leg, opening yourself up for him as much as you physically can with all of his weight pressing down into you. 

He slides to the very end of you, letting you feel every throbbing inch and ridge as he goes as slow as everything else he’s done to you tonight. 

“Hard, Joel. Harder, please,” you beg again. His only response is a rumble of disapproval as he starts to thrust into you slow, but so fucking deep. You feel split wide open, he’s split you open and peered inside of you and decided to leave a piece of himself within, and he doesn’t even know it. And you decide in that instant that you’re not going to tell him – with the feel of him as deep inside of you as he can physically get, the knowledge that he’s even deeper than even he knows, you decide you’re not going to tell him until you’re absolutely forced to. It’s wrong, perhaps, or definitely, after all, he has a right to know also, it’s his baby too. But you just can’t. You can’t face the reality of this, his potential reaction, whether it be good or bad, right now, not for a while. You need time, time to gather your courage, your thoughts, your very skin around yourself, stitch yourself together and muster your strength and prepare for whatever outcome telling him might incite. 

“Not gonna give it to you harder, Birdie. Quit beggin’.”

“I don’t care– I don’t care, Joel, please.” You claw and scratch at him, but nothing you do prompts him to go harder. There’s a desperation, a wave of anxious fear surging up inside of you – the fear of him leaving you one day, of not wanting you anymore – when you know you’ll love him for the rest of your life. You are terrified of ending up alone, out in that dark forest again. 

“Quit.” He gathers both of your wrists in one of his strong hands, brings them above your head to lie limply above the pillows. Divested of all your strength and fight, you’re left only to lie beneath him and take all he chooses to give you. “Told you,” he grits as he rolls his hips in long, deep thrusts into yours, the bone of his pelvis grinding into your clit. “You’re gonna take it how I decide to give it to you. Only me – you’re mine, you’re mine, I decide.”

And fuck – if that doesn’t do something to you, if hearing those words don’t settle that coiling snake within you. You go soft and pliant and submissive at his words, spreading your legs as wide as you can and tilting your pelvis up so that he can drill into you as deep as possible, right to the place where your little secret is growing now. 

And he’s so gentle with you, so careful – even when he’s fucking you hard and savage the way you both like sometimes, he’s still careful to never hurt you more than you need him to. It makes you wonder at the violence it took him to become this gentle – to become so well acquainted with his own strength, his ability to maim, that he can now be so in control of it, handle you with such care. 

The weight of his thrusts changes suddenly. He slides a palm under your bottom to lift you up into his impaling cock, presses his knees further up under you to anchor you more firmly in his lap and pounds into you, the wide tip of his cock concentrated against the head of your cervix in blinding thrusts, and you’re so sensitive on the inside from what he’s done to you, from the change he’s wrought upon your body, that you start to come again. Toe curling waves of pleasure start at your womb and spiral out of your limbs in searing bolts of heat, your back arched tight as a bow string. Your inner muscles throb and clench around his still battering cock and you hear the guttural moan of your name spit from his mouth, and then the kick of his cock inside of you as he starts to come too. “Fucking Christ, take it all, Birdie – every last drop of my come. Need this pussy stuffed full of me – s’only way you behave, little girl.” 

All you can do is nod dumbly and take it, just like he said. 

He kisses and licks every inch of your body afterwards, eating up your slick and sweat and his own come with broad swipes of his tongue. You’d never imagined this sort of intimacy – it’s something that you hadn’t even thought possible. A sort of physical connectedness that belied the truth of your current situation – the things still hidden between the two of you. 

He lies beside you once he’s done eating his come out of your pussy, one last orgasm pulled gently from you with his mouth. His slick cock, soft now, pressed against your still flat belly as the two of you lay facing each other, hands tucked beneath your cheeks, legs tangled together, just taking each other in. 

You think you’re probably about two months along, give or take. It’ll still be a while before you start showing. You have time yet. 

You’re going to let yourself think about this now, only tonight, and then you’re going to push it from your mind until you can’t ignore the situation any longer. The reality of it is too terrifying to consider at length with everything else going on in your lives at the moment. 

What will he say? What will you do if you tell him your truth and he goes away from you? How will you survive something like that? But even as you ask yourself this, you know it’s unnecessary, for despite his capacity for violence, or his own fear or recalcitrance or hesitancy, despite the lies he tells himself and you about what this is, he is also good and honorable and loyal. Joel Miller is a good man. And he’d never abandon you or a child of his, but still, you’re afraid. 

So, no, you can’t focus on this now – you’ll push it from your mind until it becomes more pressing, unavoidable. There are other more important things to deal with now, other things to consider before you can think of yourself. 

You run a single finger over the thick line of his brow, against the fluttering of his lashes, down the strong slope of his nose. A baby. Joel’s baby. You hope they have his dark curls. 

You love him and you’re going to have his baby.

And you don’t have it in you to tell him either of these truths. 

“Go to sleep, little bird.” 

-

You sneak out the next morning. In the cold light of the new dawn, the truth you’re withholding is all the more terrifying. Fucking life changing. You slip out of his warm bed, the protective embrace of his strong arms, and shuffle around his room as quiet as you can for your clothes. Your shit is everywhere, strewn around his room and restroom. You need to go home, you need distance – space to think. You dig in a pile of clothes on the chair in the corner for your bra and tiptoe as quietly as you can to his bedside table to slip your books you need for today from between his own stack of novels. Once you’ve retrieved the texts you pause to look down at him, still sleeping. The fact that he can now rest so deeply like this, that he isn’t jerking awake at a hair triggers notice with the slightest sound or movement around him speaks so deeply to that part of you that wants nothing more than for him to be as happy as he can possibly be, safe and serene and never worried for anything ever again. 

Your greatest fear is that this news you now carry will disturb that peace, that serenity or happiness you so desperately want for him. So you sneak out of his home without waking him, head towards your own lonely house to change and wash up, you smell like his come, get the rest of your things for the day and then head to the clinic. You’ll shut this truth in a drawer for as long as you can, and once you can no longer hide it, once it becomes unavoidable, you’ll do your best to make sure he knows you never, never want him to feel obligated to you. Yes… you think, you’ll give him an out, it can be his decision. And even though the thought of that sends a searing, twisting pain to the space in your heart where you carry him, you think it’s the right thing anyways. He deserves to have a choice – when so much of his life has been forced upon him you always want to be the one place he can find choice in. 

He comes into the clinic a few hours later. You’ve just gotten done delivering a baby – real great day for that – when he walks through the front door. You’re finishing up your procedure note and you turn to see him stepping through your office door, a baggie from the mess hall clutched in his hand. 

“Hey… what’re you doing here?”

“Just thought I’d check in… brought you a scone.” He lifts up the offering of baked goods, gives you a crooked smile. God, your gut and your heart twist and flip at the same time. You turn back to face your mess of papers and notebooks, trying to take deep breaths to keep your tears at bay. This crying shit is really going to start being a problem soon. 

You feel him come up behind you, he sets down the baggie in front of you and braces one hand on the edge of your desk, the other passing over the crown of your head and down your ponytail to tug your head back gently. You look up at him from your angled position, and he frowns down at you. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. “Don’t like it when you sneak off in the mornings without telling me,” he grumbles down at you. 

“Sorry–” you breathe. He huffs at you, leans down to press his mouth to yours. 

“Still feeling funny?” 

You shake your head, still in his hold, but say “Yes,” at the same time. You’re all over the place. He sighs, letting go of your hair and coming down to a crouch beside you. You turn to face him in your seat, knees tucked between his spread thighs. 

He drags a gentle thumb over the soft skin beneath your eye, then up the slope of your cheekbone – that perpetual frown still present. He knows something’s wrong. He knows you. Keeping this from him is going to be so, so difficult. He’s going to tell something is wrong, different, off. Your only recourse is to pretend like you don’t know either. To entirely push this thing that you have no discernible idea how to deal with from your mind. As of this moment, it’s a non-reality. 

“What can I do?” he asks, so gentle, so concerned. 

You squeeze your eyes closed and shake your head. You can’t look at that look in his eyes right now, it’ll make you fall to pieces. You fold forward to press your face into his shoulder, turning your head to sniffle into his neck. “Nothing,” you mumble. “Just kiss me.” He slides his hand into your hair against your scalp and angles your head to press his mouth to yours, giving you exactly what you need. 

You may be unsure about so much, but the one thing you do know, without a doubt, is that this man will make a wonderful father. 

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

Special

Pairing: Dave York x virgin f!Reader

Rating: E (explicit smut, 18+ only) 

Word count: 7k

Warnings: large age gap, virgin!reader, first time sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, PIV sex (with a condom), possessive!Dave, ambiguous/dark ending

Summary: You’re part of the newest class of interns at the DIA. Told to either sink or swim, can you stay afloat long enough to get everyone’s coffee order right, deliver reports to the correct offices, and juggle the attentions of the gorgeous man in office 712, the only person at the DIA so far who’s given you the time of day?

A/N: I wanted to write first time sex with Dave York and this ended up going in a direction I did not expect! Dave is soft, but gets a little unhinged at the end, and the ending is ambiguously dark. I don’t use beta readers; instead I just send my friends increasingly unhinged screenshots with no warning or context to see how they react. Thank you to @leslie-lyman, @pedropascalx, @honestly-shite, and @radiowallet for dealing with my shenanigans, I love you all.

Masterlist

“First of all, let’s get one thing straight right now. You are not special. You think you were hot shit at Harvard? You’re worms here. The way the DIA vets their interns is simple: we throw you into the middle of the ocean. Some of you are gonna drown, that’s the point. The rest of you are gonna survive by crawling your way to the top of the pile and fighting to stay afloat.”

You try to keep your face neutral as the woman–who doesn’t look to be much older than you, but who clearly has a chip on her shoulder after surviving her own cutthroat internship at the DIA–introduces the new group of interns to their first day on the job. 

“You have questions about what to do, where to go? Fuck you! Figure it out. You–” she points at a young man beside you. “What’s your focus?”

“C-Counterintelligence,” he stammers. 

“Second floor, talk to Mike.”

“Who’s–”

“What did I just say?”

The man’s mouth snaps shut and he rushes away in the direction of the elevators. The woman sends several more interns scrambling in scattered directions, looking for their new offices for the next year. Finally, her finger lands on you.”

“You.”

You’re ready. “Cybersecurity,” you announce, keeping the waver out of your voice. 

“Oh.” She looks you up and down with a wrinkled nose. “That means you’re with me. Basement.”

You follow your guide down the stairs to a room at the end of the hallway. You look excitedly around the cramped room, where your fellow interns take up almost every available surface, typing furiously on laptops stacked on books or piles of paper. Everyone in the room is lucky to be here: all the tops of your classes in Ivy League schools, all considered prodigies in your fields, all with overblown expectations of yourselves before your careers even start. 

“Where’s my laptop?” you ask, eager to get started.

Your guide gives you a withering stare. “You can’t just arrive here on your first day and be top dog,” she says. “Everyone you see here has spent months earning their place doing the important work.”

“What am I going to be doing?” you ask warily.

“Coffee.”

“Coffee!?”

“Coffee. And–” she checks her watch, “–you’re late. Go up to conference room E403b and for God’s sake, take a notebook. You’re going to want to write it down.”

It takes you ages to find the conference room. You try first to look for it on your own, wandering the labyrinthian maze of offices and cubicles, trying to make sense of the naming convention on the doors. Finally, you have to ask a floor secretary, who looks at you like everyone seems to look at the interns at the DIA–with aggressive indifference.

The meeting is apparently in full swing when you enter, and you fight down the urge to grimace as conversations cut off in mid-sentence as every head in the room swivels to look at you. You hold up your little notebook and shake it slightly. 

“Coffee orders?”

Everyone speaks at once, of course, and you scribble furiously, trying to get it all down. Carmel latte, cappuccino, macchiato, americano–fuck, wait–which one of those was nonfat? It’s all the more difficult because you don’t know a single person’s name; you try to write down simple descriptions instead. Blondie. Guy with paisley tie. Hawkish nose. Thick glasses lady. Eventually, you look down at your writing. It’s chaos, of course.

“Thanks!” you squeak. “Be right back with your–uh, with the coffees!”

You run across the street to the nearest coffee shop, feeling more like a magazine editor’s PA than an Intelligence intern. All that’s missing is vague instructions to get various fashion designers on the phone. You juggle fourteen coffees on your way back, a delicate balancing act of cardboard trays and sloshing, hot liquid. 

By some miracle, you manage not to spill any on yourself when you reach the fourth floor again.

“Hi! Me again. Um–okay. So, americano… cold brew… iced latte…” you begin handing out the coffees, glancing down at your muddled cheat sheet in vain, trying to remember who had what.

"What's this?" the man with the hawkish nose asks, frowning down at the cup you’d placed in front of him. 

You look down at your hastily scribbled notes. 

"Uh, a… pumpkin spice latte?" 

The man's eyes narrow.

"That's mine," a woman to his left pipes up. “I’ve got your black coffee right here, Dave.”

The table is a flurry of movement as several other people switch drinks, correcting your apparently many mistakes. You want to sink into the floor–this isn’t what you’d signed up for in the slightest, and now this entire conference room thinks you’re a moron. 

“Thank you,” the man–Dave–says. “That will be all.”

You nod at the obvious dismissal, and retreat from the room. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

Thankfully, the rest of the day is spent organizing a massive filing cabinet by alphabetical order, and you don’t have to interact with anyone else for the rest of the day after such a major fuckup. You’re just finishing up the V’s when you hear the same woman from before call out your name, and you cringe inwardly. God, what now?

“More coffee?” you ask with a wry twist of your lip.

“Hilarious. Will you take these up to Mr. York? He’s on the seventh floor, wing C, office 712.” 

A stack of reports is thrust in your face, and you have to scramble not to let any of them go cascading to the floor around your feet.

You mutter the directions under your breath as you take the elevator up. York. Seventh Floor. C wing. 712. York. Seven. C. 712. 

You tap timidly on the office door. The occupant looks up, and you have to suppress the urge to turn around and run away. It’s the black coffee guy. The man who’d dismissed you after you handed nearly everyone the wrong cup. 

Dave York.

Dave appears to be on a conference call, but he holds out his hand, beckoning you in. Before he drops his arm again, he makes a ‘just one moment’ gesture as he finishes up the call, so you wait, awkwardly rocking back and forth on your heels as you stand just inside the doorway, listening to the conversation. 

“We were fortunate that a potentially serious nuclear incident did not happen,” someone on the computer says. “Next time, we may not be so lucky.”

“All we can do is monitor the situation,” Dave responds. “I want a report that we can submit to the hill by Wednesday at the latest.”

When the call ends, Dave closes his laptop and looks up at you expectantly. “What do you think?”

You blanch.  “Think? I–”

“The call. Zaporizhzhia. What do you think?” Dave folds his arms and looks up at you with a neutral, open expression. He’s the first person who’s really looked at you all day. The one thing you’ve learned is that interns do have one superpower: invisibility. Most people have looked right through you, as important and significant as an office potted plant. 

To add to your nervousness, the man is gorgeous, and you find yourself staring at his pursed lips and dark eyes for longer than strictly necessary.

“I don’t… I’m just delivering stuff,” you mumble. “I brought these, uh, reports I was supposed to–”

“Our intern program only takes the highest talent from the most prestigious schools,” Dave interrupts. “I don’t believe for a second that you came here to just fuck up some coffee orders and deliver reports.”

Your gaze drops down to the floor, embarrassed.

“What school did you go to?” 

“Brown,” you answer automatically. 

"What was your major?"

"Cybersecurity."

“Honors?”

“Highest.”

You peek up at Dave through your eyelashes. He’s smiling now, as if he finds you amusing. 

“And I’m guessing you didn’t fund your education by working at Starbucks,” he says sardonically. 

“I had a fellowship,” you mumble. 

Your answer makes Dave laugh out loud, but you don’t find the humor in the situation. You can't figure out if he's making fun of you or giving you a very back-handed pep talk. 

"So, Miss Brown," Dave says. "What do you think?"

“The–the reactors at the plant are shut down,” you start slowly, “but there’s a risk that the nuclear fuel could overheat if power supplies to the plant’s cooling systems are cut off. They’ve already been forced to operate on backup generators a number of times. The–uh–the shelling should be tantamount to the use of a weapon of mass destruction.”

Dave listens, nodding intermittently. When you’re finished speaking, he holds out his hands for the stack of reports. When you hand them to him, he drops them on the side of his desk.

“Thank you.”

Another dismissal.

You nod and make your way over to the door.

“Brown?” Dave calls out, making you turn.

“Sir?”

“You’re going to be treated like a doormat for the next twelve months, but you are not one. The most important thing you can do right now is to have some fucking teeth. Got it?”

The words may be harsh, but Dave’s eyes are warm, one corner of his mouth turned slightly upward.

You nod rapidly. “Yes, Sir. Thank you.”

The smile grows. “Chin up, kid.”

Kid.

You nod, and with a little sigh, you head back down to the crowded cave that serves as a home base and office space for all of the interns in the building. 

– – – – – – –

The next week there are more reports to deliver to office 712. And the next week. And the next. You wonder just how many deliveries the man gets, or if it just happens to be you every time. After the first day, Dave continues to make small talk with you–sometimes asking about work, sometimes discussing current events, or just remarking on the weather.

Dave York is off-limits, but you can’t help the way your heart starts to pound when he looks at you, or worse, when he talks to you. Sometimes you feel like he must be able to hear that telltale waver in your voice that indicates how incredibly flustered he makes you. You feel off-balance whenever he’s around; your words are more breathless, delivered at a higher pitch, and you can’t stop yourself from looking at him with wide eyes and parted lips whenever he says anything. He fascinates you. He’s just aloof enough to be mysterious, but personable enough to give the illusion of approachability. 

Dave asks you things. Your opinions on foreign affairs. Your approach to cybersecurity. Your desired career path in Intelligence. Your… your weekend plans? Captivated by the older man’s attentions, you tell him everything. Sometimes you want to slap yourself for not being able to shut the fuck up whenever you step foot in his office, but Dave listens so intently–or, at least, gives the impression of listening intently–that it’s hard to stop. You tell him your career aspirations, your future dreams, your opinion on blockchain, the fact that you had a disastrous blind date last weekend, everything. 

“Disastrous how?” Dave chuckles. 

You laugh. “Where do I begin? First, he shows up twenty minutes late, then he won’t stop talking about his ex and his investment portfolio…”

Dave makes an exaggerated gasp, making you giggle harder. “He–that’s not all–he insisted on ordering for the both of us, which would have been fine, except he ordered filet mignon for himself and a house salad for me.”

“Where the hell do you find people like this?” Dave asks with a grimace.

You shrug. “Tinder.”

Dave shudders. “Doesn’t sound worth it.”

“There’s really no other way to meet people my age,” you mumble. 

Dave’s head snaps up. “People your age?” he parrots.

“Yeah, I dunno. I mean, I wish I could skip to the part where everyone knows what they’re doing, but that’s just not how it works, right?” God, how you wish you could find someone who could show you everything you’ve been missing, everything you’ve wanted but was never really sure how to ask for–at least, not with the right person. There have been plenty of wrong people, and it never seemed like the right time with any of them. Of course, now, at twenty-three, you’re considered a late bloomer–and that narrows the field of potential first partners even further. No one seems to want to deal with someone as inexperienced as you. 

You shudder to think what that dipshit from last weekend would have said if you would have confessed just how inexperienced you really are…

“If you want someone who knows what they’re doing, it sounds like you’re looking in the wrong place,” Dave murmurs, and is it just your imagination, or has his voice gotten deeper, more husky?

You swallow. “Probably, Sir,” you mutter noncommittally. “I, uh–I have to go. I’m supposed to be taking meeting notes down on three.”

“Stay safe out there,” Dave says quietly. 

You can’t help but turn back as you reach the exit, giving Dave a small, shy smile as you leave. His dark eyes are piercing into yours, and you feel the burn of his gaze long after you’ve left the room. 

– – – – – – – – – 

You start staying in Dave’s office longer and longer after you deliver your reports. You always sit in one of the chairs opposite his desk–the left one, usually–and talk with wide-eyed enthusiasm for a half-hour or more, sometimes. You start talking about everything. Your family. His. You learn that he’s divorced and has two girls. You learn that he plays the piano, and that he almost always reads non-fiction, rather than novels. 

“Any more dates from hell?” Dave asks one afternoon with a wry grin.

You laugh. “The last guy put me off of Tinder for a while.”

“Good.” 

Your eyes snap up to meet Dave’s questioningly. 

“You can do better, you know that, right?” 

You shrug sheepishly. “Not like I haven’t been trying,” you grumble. “They all seem sweet online, and then they turn out to be jackasses.”

“Maybe it’s the online thing that’s the problem,” Dave suggests.

“Old man,” you tease. “That’s how people meet nowadays.”

“Is it,” Dave murmurs. 

“Mmhmm. Well–I’m gonna go, I’m supposed to be handing in some statistical analysis of supply chain cybersecurity risks by the end of the day,”  you say, popping out of your chair and heading for the exit. 

Your hand is on the doorknob when Dave speaks again. 

“I would treat you as you deserve,” he rasps under his breath. 

You freeze on the spot. Did he really just…? Slowly, you turn your head to look back at the desk. Dave’s gaze is downright predatory, with hooded eyes and a little half smile that seems as if it’s challenging you to act.

“S-Sir?”

“Think about it.”

– – – –

You do. 

You do little else but think of Dave’s words for days. I would treat you as you deserve. Think about it. You speculate wildly about what it would look like–whatever Dave thinks you deserve. You have little to go on–so little experience, that you can only call up steamy romances and movie scenes for examples. What would Dave York be like as a lover? Would he be rough? Gentle? Intense? The prospect of this man being your first… well, it’s daunting. Intimidating. 

But if the idea scares you so much, why have you been soaking through every pair of underwear since Dave said those words to you? 

Why does your heart skip a beat every time you deliver coffee to his meetings, his dark eyes burning into you as you pass paper cups around the conference table? 

Why do you touch yourself to the thought of him, late at night, your fingers a poor substitute for Dave's deft hands?

Dave, for all of his intense staring, doesn't bring the subject up again. You would think his silence on the matter is a mark of chivalry–you didn’t accept his advances, and now he’s backing down–but for the way the man looks at you like a treat to be devoured. It isn’t the look of someone who’s been turned down.

It’s the look of someone who’s waiting. 

You know–and Dave seems to know, too–that it’s a matter of time before you approach him again. He’s achingly polite every time you deliver anything to his office, asking about your day and listening intently to the answer, although the subject of your failed Tinder dates doesn’t come up again. If it had, there wouldn’t have been anything new to report–you’ve stopped responding to any messages, unable to entertain the idea of anyone else when the person you want the most is right in front of you.

Dave has ruined you for any other man, and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

– – – – – 

In the end, it takes two weeks. It would have only taken one, but you spend the second week gathering up the courage to say something to the man. Your mind is made up, but you drag your feet until Friday, when the tension inside your body is so great that you can finally stand it no longer.

You knock on Dave’s door that afternoon with empty hands. No reports. No coffee.

Dave, when he looks up to see you standing awkwardly in his doorway, seems to know exactly the reason you’re there. His eyes dance with equal parts amusement and desire when he says, “Shut the door.”

You do as he asks and take a few steps forward, not moving all the way inside and sitting down in one of the chairs opposite Dave’s desk as you usually do.

“Don’t lurk in the doorway, pretty girl. Come sit down.”

You give Dave a shaky smile and sink down into ‘your’ chair, nervously smoothing your skirt with your hands as you do. “You–you know why I’m here,” you say timidly.

“I do.” Dave nods, leaning back in his chair. “I need you to say it out loud, though.”

“I–I want–” you trail off. What is it that you want? You can’t think properly, the only thing you want is him, you want this man and all of his dark, intimidating energy and you want his attention and most of all, you want to know what he meant when he said he’d treat you as you deserve.

“What do you want,” Dave prompts when you don’t finish the sentence.

“You,” you whisper. “I just–you. That’s what I want.” 

Dave’s smile is wolfish. “I’m going to need you to be more specific.”

“I want you to show me exactly what you meant,” you say, tilting your chin up and growing bolder. “You told me to think about it, and I have.”

“You’ve thought about it?” Dave repeats, his smile widening.

“I’ve done nothing but think about it,” you admit quietly. 

“Did you touch yourself?”

“Did I–Dave!” you protest, aghast.

“Did you?”

Your heartbeat pulses in your ears, and you’re barely able to hear your own answer over the rush of blood to your face. 

“Yes.”

“Good,” Dave murmurs. “Good. I want you to come over tonight,” he says. “Give me your number. I’ll text you the address.”

You dictate it to him with your heart in your throat while Dave taps the numbers into his phone. A few moments later, your own device buzzes with a text. 

“There,” Dave says. “Seven o’clock. Don’t be late.”

– – – – – 

Your head is buzzing with anticipation for the rest of the day, and the feeling grows when you arrive back at your little studio apartment to get ready for tonight. You shower again, taking extra care to shave, and you pull on the sexiest lingerie that you own–a black lace thong and matching bra. You spend too much time dithering over what to wear–should you be casual? Sexy? Flirty? The address Dave had given you is in a neighborhood; it’s clearly his home. Should you still dress as if it’s a date? After some deliberation, you choose your favorite ‘date’ outfit–a maroon dress with off-the-shoulder sleeves and an enticingly short skirt. 

You can’t help but notice the difference in the way the two of you live, when your Uber pulls into Dave’s neighborhood. You live in the cheapest housing you could find–a drab, postage stamp of an apartment with peeling wallpaper and faulty electricity. Dave lives in a pretty white house with a generous yard and a garage. You try not to think about the fact that the man must be fifteen years older than you, or more. What does he want with you?

When you knock on his door and Dave’s eyes widen and darken at your outfit, you know you’ve made the right decision to dress up a little. He ushers you in with a warm hand at the small of your back–the first time he’s ever touched you, and your breath catches at the simple intimacy of the gesture. 

When you enter the house, you’re hit with the pleasant aroma of food, and you shoot Dave a questioning glance.

“Did you… make dinner?”

Dave chuckles. “Did you think I invited you here just to fuck you?”

“...Yes?”

Dave tsks. “I believe I said I’d treat you as you deserve,” he says simply, leading you into the kitchen. He hands you one of two already-poured glasses of white wine, letting his fingers brush yours as you accept it. 

Dinner is chicken alfredo, which is incredible, but your stomach is already full of butterflies, and you don’t eat as much as you usually would. The two of you chat easily, as you always do, although things on your end are a little quiet. It’s not that you’re nervous, it’s that–okay, yes, you are nervous. Not because you don’t want to lose your virginity tonight to Dave York, but because you just don’t know what to expect. Will it hurt? Will he hold you after? Will you cum? Will he care if you do? Would he want to touch you first, would he, would he, would he—? With so many questions swirling around in your head, is it any surprise you can’t get a word in edgewise?

Eventually, Dave clears the plates and stacks them gently in the sink. Not sure whether to follow him or not, you take the awkward middle ground, rising from your seat and taking a few steps forward, standing in the middle of the kitchen feeling silly. 

You needn’t have felt awkward in the slightest; Dave walks toward you with dark, hooded eyes and a predatory smirk. When he reaches you, he runs one finger tip across your bare shoulder. “You dressed up for me,” he remarks. 

Breathlessly, you nod. 

“Sweet thing,” Dave murmurs. His hand moves up to gently cup your cheek as he steps in closer until you can feel his body heat. Your eyes flutter shut reflexively as his lips draw near, his breath ghosting across your face as he descends.

It isn’t your first kiss, by any means, but it’s the first that makes you forget how to breathe. Dave's lips are gentle, but insistent, his mouth moving sensually against yours until your lips part of their own accord and Dave's tongue flicks out to taste you. 

Dave is apparently spurred on by the full-body shudder it causes, and his arms are suddenly around you, crushing you to him, as he delves into your mouth and takes what he wants. You give it all willingly, although your heart is hammering at the prospect of more to come.

Your hands clutch at Dave's shirt uselessly as he deepens the kiss. You're vaguely aware of the little whimpers you're making into his mouth, the gasps and sighs as he subtly changes the tilt of his head or teases your tongue with a playful lick of his own. 

Finally, when you're about to drown in your arousal, Dave breaks away and takes your hands in his, pulling you out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his bedroom. 

Dave kisses you again beside the massive bed, and this time, his hand slides up your bare thigh underneath your dress, causing you to shiver again. 

Dave chuckles. "Poor thing, you feel like you're about to fall over," he teases. He guides you down onto the bed, and your heartbeat reaches a crescendo.

Dave is on top of you, a low growl in his throat as he presses his length against your thigh. His hand slips underneath the material of your thong and he groans at the wetness he finds there, but the feeling of his hand on your labia is foreign and unfamiliar and suddenly your body stiffens, your eyes going wide with trepidation.

Dave pauses, his hand still inside your underwear. His eyebrows draw together, his lips pursing with confusion as he pulls back to look at you. 

“Why do you look so scared?” he asks, concerned.

Your mouth opens, but you can’t find the right words. You search Dave’s face, trying to think of something to say, but all you can think about is his finger resting on your parted folds, the first time anyone has ever touched you there, and you feel like you’re about to spontaneously combust.

“Tell me,” Dave insists.

“I… fuck, I’ve never done this before,” you mumble. 

Dave looks as if a bucket of ice water has been poured over his head. “Done what?”

“Any of it. I–I’ve never–”

Dave’s hand slips out of your underwear, his eyebrows knitting together as he takes in what you’re saying. “Nothing?” 

You press your lips together and shake your head. Oh God, this is it–the moment Dave realizes this isn’t what he thought it was, and you’re a girl playing pretend.

“Oh, honey,” Dave breathes. “Why didn’t you say anything before now?”

“I didn’t want to ruin it,” you say quietly. “I know I’m too old to be–you know–and I just wanted to get it over with, and–”

“Shh,” Dave commands. “It wouldn’t have ruined anything. I just would have done some things differently.”

“Like what?” you ask timidly. 

“Moved slower, for one,” Dave answers. “Savored you.”

“Oh,” you say dumbly. 

“And I will,” Dave promises darkly. “Savor you. Enjoy you thoroughly. I need you to tell me one thing, though.”

“Anything,” you agree.

“Do you really want this? Think about it. There’s no going back.”

You nod rapidly up and down. “I want it.”

Dave surges forward and captures your lips in a passionate kiss. “It will always be me,” he growls against your mouth. “I will ruin you for anyone else.”

You barely have the presence of mind to utter one final word.

“Please.”

Just as he’d said, Dave moves slower now. He divests you of your dress and bra, letting his fingers dance across your cleavage, circling closer and closer to your nipples until you’re squirming slightly on the bed, your breath coming out in little pants. When the tip of his finger just lightly touches one, you arch off the bed as if an electric shock had just coursed through you. You’ve never been this keyed up in your life.

Dave chuckles at your response, and you duck your head in embarrassment at first, but he grips your chin and tilts your head back up to meet his dark gaze.

"Don't do that," he chastises. "I want to see every little thing that I do to you."

His mouth engulfs one nipple and you sob out loud into the room. Oh God, it's hot and wet and you can somehow feel the way his tongue is licking at you all the way down into your pussy. 

"That's it," Dave encourages. "Fuck, you’re so responsive.”

You feel like your brain is melting. Dave is a real and heavy and delicious weight on top of you, his hands pulling pleasure from you that you’ve never felt in your life, and he’s barely even touched you yet. He lavishes attention on your nipples until you’re shaking, licking and sucking to find out what you like–and he discovers quickly that you like it when he flicks his tongue back and forth against the little bud by the way it makes your head tip back as you gasp loudly. 

“Take it,” Dave whispers. “That’s a good girl.” 

Eventually, he kisses a path down the sensitive, soft skin of your belly, making you squirm and giggle slightly. Dave chuckles darkly.

“Ticklish?”

You nod breathlessly. Dave nips softly at the little swell of your belly before moving down to the lacy fabric of your underwear and running his nose up and down the material. 

“Oh,” you exclaim. “Y-You don’t have to do that, that’s–”

“I really fucking want to,” Dave says. “I want to taste this sweet pussy and I want to feel it shake around my tongue when it cums for me.” He inhales deeply with half-lidded eyes, making a low noise in his throat at the smell of you. When he finally hooks his fingers underneath your waistband and starts to pull your panties down your legs, you think you might combust. 

"Has anyone ever done this before?" Dave asks.

"No."

Dave's lips curl into a wicked smile. "Beautiful girl," he rasps. "I'm going to fucking ruin you."

The first little kitten lick to your clit nearly makes you cum right then. You clench violently, and Dave chuckles, the low vibrations sending little shockwaves through your cunt. 

"Ohh, I'm going to enjoy this," Dave murmurs before he starts lapping at your pussy again. You're impossibly wet, so worked up that you can already feel the telltale heat crawling its way up your spine. 

You babble at the ceiling– "Dave–Dave, fuck, I can't–oh my God, this is–Dave!" The last cry of his name ends in a squeak as you shatter for him, clenching around his tongue and feeling, rather than hearing, his resulting groan.

When you come back to awareness, Dave is hovering over you, his dark eyes flitting over your face, watching you come down. 

“Taste yourself,” Dave rasps, his lips–shiny with your slick–too close to yours. “How fucking sweet you are.”

You nod, and Dave lowers his mouth to yours, his entire body pressing against you again–and you feel the hot, hard length of him against your thigh. His hand grasps your hip, his fingertips digging into your flesh, and you moan at the feeling, and at the unfamiliar taste of you on Dave’s tongue. 

Despite the orgasm, you still ache between your thighs, an emptiness that cannot be soothed by just Dave’s tongue. 

“Dave, I need–” 

“Shh, I know,” Dave murmurs. “I know.” His hand moves to the button of his pants, undoing it with one hand and shoving his pants down around his thighs before kicking them the rest of the way off. You stare at the way his erection strains against the tight material of his boxer briefs. When you hesitantly reach out and touch it, Dave hisses but doesn’t move, letting you explore at your own pace. It feels… big.

“Dave,” you begin, shaking your head slowly, “it’s not gonna fit. It’ll–”

Dave chuckles low in his throat. “I promise, it will.” “But what if it—hurts?” you squeak, growing timid again.  

Dave lowers himself again until the two of you are flush together. “Look at me,” he directs. “Look at my face. Would I ever hurt you?”

You search his face, but all you can find is blunt honesty. “No,” you whisper. 

“No,” Dave agrees. “No, and by the time I’m done with you, you’re going to be fucking gagging for it, pretty girl.”

He sucks his index finger into his mouth, coating it in his saliva, before slowly sliding it into your soaking cunt. 

“You’re gonna cum again like this,” Dave states frankly, “with my fingers and with my mouth, and I’m gonna make you so fucking wet that it’ll slide right in.”

He thrusts gently with one finger, watching your face, those dark, burning eyes sweeping over your expression and assessing your reaction. When you start chasing his finger, making little mewling sounds when it’s just not enough, Dave crawls back down your body and lathes his tongue over your clit for the second time that night as he adds a second finger. 

Just when you’re about to reach your peak again, Dave pulls back, reducing the friction and causing the feeling to retreat. You shoot him a questioning glance, but he simply smirks back, gradually giving you more until you feel it building back up, and then eases off. He repeats this little ebb and flow of pleasure, this little game of give and take, over and over and over until you’re panting and squirming and desperate to cum. 

“Dave–” you whine when the pleasure recedes again.

“One more time,” Dave promises. “You’re doing so well, sweet thing, being such a good girl for me.”

It’s as if Dave has the ultimate control over your pleasure–knowing how to make it rise and fall at his pleasing, and he does, fucking up against a spot you’ve never reached yourself while his tongue swirls around your clit until everything starts to tighten again, when he stops. 

“Dave!” 

“I said one more, didn’t I?” Dave protests. “Trust me, I’m gonna make you cum so fucking hard after working you up like this.”

He presses a gentle, feather-light kiss to the tip of your clit, his eyes dancing with amusement at your desperation. 

“Poor thing,” he goads, and his fingers start to rub insistently against you again. He sucks your clit into his mouth, gently flicking it with his tongue, and the spot inside you–you suddenly realize you feel like you’re about to–

“Dave–DaveDaveDave–shit, hang on, it–I’m gonna–”

He doesn’t withdraw in time, and something bursts inside you and splashes out around Dave’s fingers as you come apart again. You’ve never felt anything like this–it feels so fucking good but fuck, your face heats in embarrassment as you realize just how wet the sheets–and how wet Dave–is.

“Oh–oh no…” you mumble, but Dave is eagerly licking you clean with a deep groan, licking up into your cunt to chase the last droplets of the surprising deluge. 

“Dave, I–” you start to apologize, but Dave is on you again, kissing you passionately before you can utter another syllable. 

“My good fucking girl, so fucking sweet for me,” Dave murmurs against your lips. “Squirting all over me on her first time.”

“Please,” you beg him. “Please, I want more–”

Dave rolls off of you to rifle around in a drawer. He pulls out a condom and a small packet of something else, and you watch as he removes his underwear, heavy cock bobbing free between his legs, before rolling the condom on and opening the packet, drizzling the viscous fluid into his hand before coating his cock. He slides the same hand between your legs, coating you with the thick, slippery liquid. 

“It’ll be easier with lube,” Dave says by way of explanation. You expect him to crawl between your legs with you on your back, but instead he lies down beside you, urging you onto your side and pulling you flush against him so the two of you are spooning, instead.

“Just lay like this,” Dave murmurs into your ear, sending goosebumps to the surface of your skin. He grabs your top thigh and pulls your legs open, so that your top leg is splayed over Dave’s. His lips are still at your ear when you feel the thick tip of his cock sliding back and forth against your pussy, and your breath quickens even as your hips instinctively push back against him. 

“Shh, relax,” Dave soothes, and slowly starts to push in. 

“Oh–” you breathe, feeling him breaking you open for the first time. True to his word, it doesn’t hurt. It’s overwhelming, and somehow incredibly emotional, even though you’ve never really attributed any significance or meaning to your virginity, viewing it more as an inconvenience over the past couple of years. Still, the reality of Dave pressing inside of you feels profound in some way, and you think back to what he’d said earlier. 

“I’ll ruin you for anyone else.”

He might be right. At this moment, you aren’t sure if you’ll ever want anyone else. 

Dave pushes in inch by inch, taking it slow, paying attention to every little hitch in your breathing, until the two of you are completely joined. 

“Feel that?” Dave grits out, his voice sounding unusually strained. “Feel me?” 

You nod, breathless. 

“Tell me.”

“It feels–fuck, I feel so full.”

Dave’s hips flex experimentally, and you whimper pitifully. 

“Again,” you exhale. 

Dave obeys, giving you his cock with slow, deep thrusts, one arm banded around you, holding you flush against him and the other still gripping your inner thigh. You can feel every inch of him, heavy and thick inside of you. You never would have imagined that sex with Dave would be this sensual, this intimate. His breath is hot against the shell of your ear, his breaths getting heavier with effort and pleasure. His lips nip at your earlobe, then brush messily up and down the side of your neck. He finds a little spot just behind your ear that makes you shiver every time he passes it, and he sucks a mark into your skin there, making you moan pitifully. 

“That’s my girl,” Dave rasps against your skin. “My precious girl. I wanted this from the beginning, you know? That morning with the coffees, I pictured laying you down on that conference table and eating that pretty cunt until you begged me to stop.”

The dark timbre of his voice, the filthy words, and the drag of his cock along your walls all combine to make you a puddle in Dave’s arms. 

“Little did I know that I’d be the first to taste you,” Dave continues, his thrusts increasing in intensity as he speaks. “The first to make you come undone with my fingers, the first to feel how fucking tight and hot you are.”  

His hand slides up your inner thigh until his fingers strum at your clit. “I’m gonna make you cum around my cock and once I feel it squeezing me, I will never let you go, you understand? I’m going to make you mine, sweet girl. I’ll give you everything; ruin you for everyone else so you’ll never want anyone else. Say you’ll let me give you everything,” Dave commands, his voice deepening to a low growl.

“Y-Yes,” you breathe, stunned at the shift in tone. 

“Yes, what,” Dave leads.

“Yes, you can give me everything.”

“Good girl,” Dave coos. “I’ll treat you how you deserve. You won’t have to worry about anything; you’ll be my special girl. Won’t you?”

Dave’s possessive words are slightly unsettling, but the coil is tightening inside of you thanks to Dave’s deep thrusts and his fingers circling your clit, and you can’t find it in you to disagree as you start to reach the point of no return, the little moment of vertigo before the plunge. 

“Yes,” you gasp.

And you fall. 

– – – – – 

The first thing that comes to your awareness is something warm and damp between your legs. Your eyes blink open sluggishly and you turn your head to see Dave kneeling between your legs, wiping you gently clean with a washcloth. 

His cock is softening, resting inoffensively between his legs, no longer flushed and angry, and you tilt your head to the side thoughtfully as you watch him. 

Dave notices you looking, and he smiles.

"Did I hurt you?"

You smile and shake your head. "No."

"Good." Dave discards the cloth and joins you on the bed, folding you into his chest. 

"Is it always like this?" you ask softly. 

"It is with me," Dave answers frankly.

"Did–did you mean… all of the stuff you said? I mean–at the end?"

"Of course," Dave says. "You are my special girl, aren't you?"

"I–" you swallow. "Yes?”

"I'll give you everything," Dave promises. "You won't be an intern anymore, I'll see to that. I want you as an analyst on my team, working for me directly."

"Won't–won't people object to that?" you ask, aghast. 

"They wouldn't dare," Dave rumbles. "They don't go against me. And they won't go against you, either. You'll be mine, and that means you're off-limits. Wouldn’t you like that?”

You nod slowly in agreement. Would it be so wrong to let this man help you along in your career? Especially a man who’s so very attentive to you, who says that he’ll give you everything, who says sex with him is always this incredible. Wouldn’t it be akin to madness to say no to this?

“Perfect,” Dave says. “You’ll start on Monday. You won’t go down to that basement cave any more, you’ll work in my office. With me.”

“Oh,” you say, hardly able to believe what’s happening. “I–wow, Dave that’s really sudden–”

“Mmm,” Dave hums, nuzzling into your neck. “All the best for my special girl, hmm?”

You laugh disbelievingly. “Okay,” you giggle. “Yeah”

Dave chuckles too, deep in his throat. 

You glance at the old-fashioned alarm clock sitting on Dave’s bedside table. It’s nearly ten. You start to second guess yourself–would you be intruding if you stayed the tnight? Do people usually stay over after the first time, or do they leave? Why didn’t sitcoms prepare you for this moment? 

“Should–should I go home?” you ask, unsure of whether Dave wants you to stay.

“You think I’d kick you out after this?” Dave teases, his fingertips digging into your ribs to make you squeal ticklishly. “Silly girl. You’re staying right here.”

You nod. “Good,” you mumble. “‘Cause I’m feeling a little tired.”

“Go to sleep,” Dave says softly, kissing that little spot behind your ear that makes you shiver. 

Your eyelids are impossibly heavy, and you think you must fall asleep in a matter of minutes.

Just before you do, you think you hear Dave say one more thing. 

“My special girl, you are home.”

It was probably just your imagination.

[pascalscoffin]

Away From The Devil pt. IV

Full Pedro Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part V

Warning: Minors Go Away I Will Kick You In The Forehead. I just don’t want kiddos here. Yeah it’s all rewritten with the reader added in if ya don’t like it don’t read it. Reader is female and uses she/her pronouns. Reader is like 24, Joel is still 56 cause hot. Joel’s perpetually in denial. I guess the timeline is slightly different with this story to make time for bonds to form. Reader and Joel have a moment but Ellie does that thing kids do where they interrupt valuable dialogue.

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

Ellie had no clue what she was talking about. Joel does not have the “hots” for you. He doesn’t okay? So what if he caught himself admiring you a little more? The last woman he was close to was Tess and that was months ago. And Tess was beautiful, sure, but your beauty was.. different from Tess’, more youthful and soft, and you had the personality to match, a youthful love for everything, it made his chest tighten and his throat close up, it’d been a long time since he’d been around someone so optimistic and it was fucking with his head.

You were fucking with his head.

It’s been about a day since the attack from the Clicker, you had spent the first hour afterwards locked in the closest bathroom you could find, checking for bites or scratches of any kind. He’d had to send Ellie in to help just to get her off his back.

When the two of you came out he’d been more relieved than he’d care to admit when he learned you hadn’t been infected. He wondered if you were doing okay, physically it was obvious, but you were quieter than before and he found himself oddly missing the sound of you and Ellie joking with eachother.

Hed asked the two of you if you’d wanted to stop the night before but you and Ellie had just shook your heads and insisted on walking through the night. The walk, however had been silent, Joel walking ahead of you and Ellie. You both looked tired, your feet dragging while Ellie had a slight disconnected look on her face. He wished he could’ve got his hands on David himself, a meat cleaver to the face, no matter how many times, just didn’t seem like a fruitful punishment to him.

“We’ll stop tonight. Suns coming down, we’ll head back out when it rises.” Years of tormenting you and.. god knows how long of doing whatever the hell he’d done to Ellie. He belonged in the lowest pits of hell. “You need to sleep we’ve been walking too long, you’re both dead on your feet. I’ll catch us something to eat. Saw some squirrels running’ off that way.”

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

You looked towards the abandoned video store and then back at Joel and nodded in agreement. “Alright.” You mumbled, both of you too tired and hungry to object to stopping a second day in a row. Joel went in first to make sure it was safe, insisting you and Ellie were better off outside in case there was and he needed to get out fast, but also for the sake of neither one of you being over powered and eaten.

It wasn’t long after he went in that Joel poked his head out and motioned you and Ellie inside. “We’ll hole up in the back area,” He stepped back as the two of you stepped in. “Get some sleep and.. head out when the sun comes up. I’ll be back, you two stay in the back, be quiet. Don’t let yourselves get surprised.”

You nodded again and sighed. “Alright.” You headed into the back room with Ellie while Joel went to try and catch dinner. “Are you okay?” You looked over at her from where’d you been staring out the tiny window where you could just barely see Joel.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine.” You cleared your throat and turned around to face her, putting the newspaper back on the window. “.. okay.” Ellie squinted at you, suspicious. “Are you okay?” You asked her with a soft laugh, trying to get the spotlight off of you. “You’ve been quiet.”

Ellie sighed and shrugged a little as she sat down on the floor and leaned back against the wall, you sitting next to her. “I guess.” She shrugged. “What’s going on? Talk to me.” Ellie picked at her fingers a little. “… I’m immune.”

You widened your eyes and straightened up a little for a better look at her. “I’m immune I… a few months ago I… I was bitten… but I didn’t get sick.. and then I got bit again.” She said softly, rubbing at her arm before looking at you and tugging the sleeve up, showing you the healed bite marks as your eyes widened.

“That’s… that’s where we’re going.” She mumbled softly. “We’re going to find these guys called the fireflies… my bloods a cure.” You opened and closed your mouth before huffing and shaking your head. “W-what?”

You opened your eyes again and Ellie was looking at you with this hopeful, gleeful look on her face. “I just… you had to know, Joel didn’t want to tell you but… I knew you would understand, you understand, right?” Your eyes fell from Ellie’s face to the bite marks on her arm and swallowed thickly. “It’s… are they sure it’s gonna work..?”

Ellie nodded. “Yeah. Yeah Marlene- Marlene said they’ve been working on a cure for years so they know what to do and what to isolate and shit and once they run it through some fancy fucking machine it’ll be medicine.”

You looked up at her and laughed softly. “What the fuck..” you mumbled before laughing harder and hugging Ellie tightly. “You- I can’t-“

“You like Joel, right?” You blinked rapidly and pulled back to look at Ellie. “I- what? I thought we were talking about-“ Ellie shrugged. “I wanna talk about this now. Do you like Joel?” She raised a brow and you frowned deeply.

“Ellie-“ “so that’s a yes, then.” Ellie smirked and you sighed heavily as you shook your head. “Ellie- it’s not a yes.” “Well then that’s the yes.” You squinted at her as she tilted her head. “I’m not-“ “oh come on it’s not like he’s around to hear!”

You groaned and shifted a little before looking out towards the door just to make sure Joel wasn’t back yet before looking at Ellie. “… Joel is very attractive. There. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“I mean- pretty much, yeah.” Ellie grinned. “I fucking knew it.” She laughed and jumped up, stepping out of the room and peeking her head in. “You need to change your clothes.” She scrunched her nose up and you gaped at her.

“Wow. That’s rude. You’re rude.” You shook your head and stood up. “You’re changing next. Seriously. Then we’re making Joel change.” “Ooo-“ “oh my god, Ellie no. Please.” You laughed and shook your head as you tugged your shirt off and replaced it with a clean one.

“You wanna see Joel shirtlessssssss.” “I regret ever speaking to you.” You changed your jeans next and stepped out of the back room. “Go change you’re driving me insane.” “You’re just freaking out cause now I have ammo against you.” She smirked as she walked backwards into the room as you looked at her with wide eyes. “You wouldn’t.” “I don’t know… I might.” She disappeared around the corner and you shook your head.

Evil. She was evil.

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About fifteen minutes, with Ellie in the back area “still” changing into slightly cleaner clothes, you sat with Joel by the front while he made dinner. “.. that was pretty impressive yesterday.” You looked away from the cooking squirrel meat and at him instead. “.. thanks. I guess.” You laughed softly and looked back towards the small fire, just big enough to cook the squirrel.

“… she doin alright?” You blinked a little and looked towards the back and then at Joel. “… she’s doing about as good as you’d expect, I guess, she’s finding distractions but.. yknow it’s hard.. coming back from..” you frowned as you tried to think of the words. “I imagine.” You looked up, grateful he wasn’t waiting around for you to put something together.

“But she’s strong, resilient. Much more than myself so.. I think she’ll be alright.” “You’re pretty resilient.” Joel huffed beside you. “Had me on my ass.” “Oh god don’t you start too.” You laughed softly. “Ellie thinks it was the coolest thing in the world… I don’t have the heart to tell her I’m ninety percent sure it was just the adrenaline.” Joel chuckled softly and shook his head. “It was more than that. Self preservation is a very motivational thing. Add other people to the mix and usually it makes the urge stronger.” Joel shrugged like it was just a normal conversation.

“… i get the feeling you’re speaking from experience.” “Oh do you?” You laughed softly at Joel’s sarcastic tone and shrugged. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you bleeding.” You looked at him. “When you got to the town. You were hurt, looked pretty bad.. James came back earlier that day for Penicillin and left again…” your eyes trailed to where the blood had been, now covered with a new shirt that didn’t have a hole in it. “.. killed six guys while fighting off an infection. Sounds like a hell of a lot of self preservation.”

“I didn’t do that for me.” Joel looked at you and then towards the back area. “.. I did it for her.” He sighed and looked at the fire again. “… she saved my life out there. Stitched me up, got the medicine.. even tried leading em away.” You watched his jaw clench. “I even tried to get her to leave me there, just let me die and go back to my brother.” He sighed heavily. “Stubborn ass wouldn’t listen.” You laughed softly and nodded. “Makes sense. Doesn’t seem like the type to listen.” “She ain’t.”

You laughed a little harder this time, shaking your head. “At least you know she won’t leave you in a sticky spot.” Joel chuckled and nodded. “Yeah. She’s a reliable little brat.” You cleared your throat. “On that note I uh… wanted to say thank you for letting me come.” Joel looked at you and nodded slowly. “I know she didn’t give you much choice but.. you still had a say.. both times so.. thanks for letting me come and… extra thanks for letting me stay.” “Yeah.. you’re welcome.”

You and Joel sat like that for a moment, a few inches apart with your eyes locked onto each other’s. Before you could stop them your eyes fell to Joel’s lips, and you could’ve sworn you’d seen his do the same thing for just the briefest of seconds.

“Uh-uhm.” You jerked your head over when you heard Ellie clearing your throat and blinked a couple times before looking at her clean shirt, and then up at her shit eating grin. “Nice.” You motioned to the shirt, almost like you weren’t passive aggressively telling Ellie to bite you.

Joel cleared his throat and pulled the squirrel of the spit. “Just in time. Dinners ready.” He muttered, that momentary softness you felt in the air gone.

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

You’d stayed awake for a while that night, laid on your side with your eyes locked onto the wall in front of you, your hands pushed under your makeshift pillow. You could hear rustling over near the door to the room, where Joel’s sleeping bag was stationed so he could sleep and still wake up if someone tried to sneak up on you.

After a while you heard more shuffling and then you felt eyes boring into you, hesitantly, you turned your head towards the door and immediately locked eyes with Joel, who straightened up when he was caught but didn’t really stop looking at you.

You hesitated before slowly turning onto your other side, just laying there holding eye contact with Joel, swallowing thickly. Joel was a hard man to read, but if you looked hard enough you could’ve sworn you saw something there, something underneath those stoic eyes and down-pulled facial expression, something that made your stomach burn at the bottom.

Joel’s head tilted a little bit and his eyes squinted like he was trying to figure something out, and that burning in your stomach got hotter and pulled tighter, a barely visible smirk stretching across his features when you gripped the shirt/pillow under your head.

After a moment it all got too much, maybe you were imagining it, but even if you were you couldn’t let yourself continue to imagine it, so, with a final shift you pulled your sleeping bag up higher, all the way to your nose before closing your eyes and pretending to sleep until you finally managed to actually sleep, still feeling Joel’s eyes burning holes into you.

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

Taglist:

@romanarose @orcasoul

[jflemings]

(focusing on injury) okay i know the blurbs are normally jflem comforting reader, but how’s it going to be the other way around? like obviously there won’t be much you can do with certain injuries but letting her lay your legs across your lap while you massage them, kissing the bruises you see forming after a rough match etc 🥺🥺

she’d be stubborn at first, trying to tell you that it’s not as bad as it looks and that she’s fine. you would be able to tell that she’s lying for your sake because jessie is careful with any injury she gets, always coming off the pitch straight away when she thinks something’s wrong and then immediately gets herself checked by the medical staff. it’s the pained looks that she makes that gives her away.

when jessie comes home looking more tired than usual, you know you’re in for a sleepless night. she’d been playing away and you’d only been able to watch snippets of the game but you had seen her go down, you just didn’t realise how bad it was because she got back up and continued playing.

her foot is wrapped and she hobbles through the door with janine cringing as her bag hits the door.

“oh my god”

“i’m fine, it’s just a sprain”

“a bad one”

“thank you janine”

once she gets situated on the couch and you wave janine goodbye with a thank you, you turn around with your hands on your hips “you got back up after that fall”

“i thought i could keep playing” she reasons as she tries to stand

“jessie alexandra if you don’t sit your ass back down i’m going to tie you to the couch”

after that she’s pretty easy but still insists that she’s gonna be fine and that she just needs to stay off her foot for a little. you grab her some ice, a water and a cup of tea, a bag of vegetables chips that she likes and manhandle her so her back is to the armrest of the couch before sitting on the opposite side and putting her foot on your lap so that it’s elevated.

you massage her thighs and her calves as best you can whilst turning on the tv and putting on a doco the two of you had been meaning to watch, keeping an eye on her face to see if she’s in anymore visible pain.

the ice does what it can to help and she seems pretty content with the position the two of you have found yourselves in, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t at least try to do thing herself.

she’s smart about it though, always uses her crutches and is weary of doorframes and furniture so she doesn’t hit it. she sits on the counter as you cook dinner and only tries to do things herself when she thinks you’re too busy, to which you protest and tell her that you’re not too busy to help.

she doesn’t sleep very well the first night and gets up at midnight to go out to the couch so that she doesn’t wake you with her stirring. she puts on a lamp and cracks open her book to try to tire herself out before you awake and make her another cup of tea.

you manage to be able to work from home for the most part while she’s injured, much to jessie’s dismay, and continue to dote on her. it’s when she tries to get in the shower that the two of you get a bit stuck.

“it’ll be fine”

“i’ve never wished for a bath more than right now” you sigh as you help her take off her pants

you had chosen to stay in the bathroom with her whilst she has a shower incase she falls. she stands on one leg as she washes herself and does her best to balance all her weight on the one foot whilst trying to be as efficient as possible.

it goes fine for the most part but she does hit her knee when she gets out and then she almost trips herself over when trying to reach a towel as if you aren’t right there.

(it’s how the two of you figure out that jessie’s centre of gravity has taken a back seat until further notice)

you wrap her foot back up and allow her to get out of the bathroom on her crutches no problem, giving her some pain meds and some more ice before she clocks out on the couch for the afternoon.

the toughest thing for jessie besides not playing is definitely needing to rely on you for basic tasks in the beginning, she struggles a bit with sleeping the first couple days until the two of you figure out a position and sex isn’t even an option because she’s too tired half the time.

you don’t care though, you just love taking care of your girl

[lokiforever]

New teachers at School 🏫❤️

Professor Hiddleston x Reader

Summary : The reader is in high school whose favorite subjects are History and English. Though unluckily the teacher she got for both of them are ridiculous!

Cast :

Professor Hiddleston

Y/N Y/L/N

Y/B/F/N Carter

Surprise guest

Note

Professor Hiddleston and the surprise guest are like best friends.

Chapter 1

Third person POV

Today, the school will reopen after the summer break. For Y/N, school reopening means having to cope with to of her least favorite teacher - Professor Pratt . Who teaches two of her favorite subjects.

You were sitting beside your best friend and it was the 3rd class of the day, which means, History. The first two classes were amazing. The teachers were nice, no homework given, no overloading, nothing. So, you were in a good mood. That was until you checked the timetable. History. Shit. You looked at your best friend, hopelessly already annoyed, just by realizing that history means you have to cope with Chris Pratt. Your history /english teacher (unfortunately ).

Y/B/F/N : Come onn Y/N!!!!! For God's sake. It's just one goddamn class!!

Y/N : Why is it always, me?? I mean, why in the nine realms is the teacher of my favorite subject so damn annoying and a complete asshole?!!He's the worst!!! Argh!

Y/B/F/N : It's okay, dear. Everything would be fine. You know I also hate him as much as you do.....

Y/N : Yeah, hopefully *sigh*. Let's do this!

Y/B/F/N : That's my girl!! Let's go! ✌🏻

*both of you start chuckling *

You sit in one of the front desks, face down and covered with your hands. Suddenly, you hear some heavy footsteps. As you were sitting in the front you had to stand up as to show respect to the 'amazing' (not) teacher.

Still you didn't look up, just stood in your place. You could feel your bestie's eyes on you but you simply sighed.

Teacher : Good morning, class. Please, sit down.

Immediately your head snapped up. This voice couldn't belong to that jerk of a teacher, no. It sounded so calming, a perfect, british accent.

Looking up, you saw a devastatingly handsome man standing in front of you. He looked like as if his face was carved by the God himself. He was tall, above 6 ft. "Nope! It's not that dumbass" you thought. You exchanged glances with your best friend, confused about what this handsome man is doing here.

Teacher : I am Tom Hiddleston and I will be teaching you English and History from now. You can call me Mr. Hiddleston or Professor Hiddleston.

The man said with a friendly smile and nod. The whole class greeted this adonis. You were still a bit shocked, but extremely happy.

Professor H. : Would you all like to you introduce yourselves? I'm new here and thus, don't know any of you?!

Whole class : Sure!

Professor H. *pointing to a boy who was sitting at the corner *: We can start with you, young man.

The boy introduced himself and so did the rest of the class and now it was your turn.

Y/N : Hello, professor! My name is Y/N Y /L /N and my favorite subjects are History and English. I like to draw.

Professor H. : Oh, that's great!Hope you enjoy the classes. *smiles and you return the gesture *

The whole class was amazing, the way he spoke was so passionate and his sweet and polite nature was a cherry on top. You were really grateful to God for finally listening to your prayers and providing you a better teacher.

*A few months later *

You had established a friendly teacher - student relationship with your favorite professor, Professor Hiddleston. You were the best student of his class and he was proud of you.

That day you got the notice that the Headmistress is assigning a few students with the position of a teacher's assistant.

The next day, you and your best friend were called to the principal office.As you entered, you saw your principal, Professor Hiddleston and Mr. Jeon Jungkook, your science professor . Both you greeted them and stood there. God that man was looking so amazing that day (as always) Mr. Jungkook was also looking great, but he was your bestie's. Yup! you both had crushes on the two professors who were standing in front of you. (Y/N on Mr. Hiddleston and Y /B /F /N on Mr Jungkook.

Mr Hiddleston's dress

Mr Jungkook's dress

This 👇🏻is what you were wearing today

Principal : Y/N, you are assigned as a teacher's assistant to Mr. Hiddleston and Y/B/F/N, you to Mr. Jungkook

Y/N : Thank you so much for finding me able to help , ma'am . I assure you I'll do my best!

Y/B/F/N: Thank you very much, ma'am! I will do my best, I promise!

Principal : I know girls, that's the only reason why I chose you both!

*We smiled at each other *

Principal : You may go now and discuss the important things with your respective professors.

You and your best friend nodded in unison and went out of the office and waited there for the professors

Professor H. : Please come with me to my office, Miss Y/L/N. I want to discuss a few things with you related to the teacher - assistant thing.

Mr. Hiddleston said softly, with a smile

Y/N : Sure, Professor Hiddleston!

Mr. Jungkook : And you with me, Miss Carter.

He also smiled

Y/B/F/N: Of course, Mr Jungkook

*In Professor Hiddleston's office *

Y/N : Thank you so much, Professor Hiddleston for finding me able to help you 😊😊

Professor H. : For the first thing , just call me Tom outside the class. And for another .............

****************************

Should I make part 2??!!!!!!

Hope you guys like it! 💗💗💗

Tagging @holdmytesseract

[puppyluver256]

[Image Descriptions: Two nearly identical images. Both feature a feminine person with light skin and short brown hair, seen from the back. They are wearing a purple t-shirt and blue denim pants. They have both their hands up in front of them, the middle finger of each extended. Beyond them is the depiction of the abrahamic god yahweh (or allah, or any number of other names) used in the Shin Megami Tensei franchise, specifically as seen in SMT4 Apocalypse, taking on the form of several identical floating heads of the same old man, seemingly made of gold and all scowling at the person blatantly insulting it while in its presence. Text on the image reads as follows:

"It cast its creation to ruin for the crime of wanting to know." "It drowned countless innocents in a vain attempt to rid them of evils it had made." "It demanded a father sacrifice his son. It ruined a man's life for the sake of a personal gamble." "It ordained and commanded the taking of slaves, the violation of women, and the abuse of children." "It murdered its own son before it could even be bothered to forgive anyone of the wrongs it so selfishly perceived to be done against it." "Those of certain groups claim that one day, every knee shall bow before this monster. Were it to be real, I shall not bow. I shall stand firm and tall before the tyrant of the skies, in opposition of all its evil couched in the language of the good, and present to it a salute befitting my fury at its indignant entitlement."

The second image removes the text, allowing the illustration behind to be seen completely unobscured.

End ID.]

-----

I'm having very strong feelings about religions' insistence--specifically christianity, as that's my experience--that people follow its rules whether or not they genuinely believe it. I'm especially having strong feelings about the specific god shared by three major religions, even if they want to pretend there's enough distinction between their views on it to make it count as different between them.

So to everyone who would ever say people like me will have no choice but to bow to their god after I'm dead and literally can't do or experience anything, this one's for you. I hope it gets you just as angry as it makes me to see kids get roped into this near-endless cycle of needless guilt and coercion. And for those of you who are like me and are frustrated with the secular world being bent so far by these zealots as it reaches the breaking point of potential theocracy coming to ill-earned power in the more influential nations, I hope this inspires you to speaking out for yourselves.

...and yes, this is SMT yahweh, it's the best visual representation of this asshole for the point I'm making and it also makes it easier to make the image composition as a whole more visually appealing when I can just copy-paste the same angy head over and over again.

💖🐶 Check out my pinned post for ways to support my artwork, among other things! 🐶💖

~Likes are appreciated, but reblogs are preferred as they let more people see my artwork! If you have something to say, feel free to give feedback in tags/comments/replies as well!~

My persona and artwork © PuppyLuver Studios This particular visualization of yahweh, the abrahamic god, is property of ATLUS, but yahweh is a public domain character so anyone can do whatever the hell they want with it. No matter what the people in its book club say.

[lisafranknstein]

i have fucked myself over massively. i wanted an easy last semester. so i took a jterm course. that i thought would be easy. it feels physically impossible to finish in 4 weeks. theres 10 modules. 2 full length novels to read hours upon hours of lectures and assignments and assigned films to watch. what and where is the enjoyment of reading and watching films if it is like THIS ? it's ridiculous. this will be the first time (despite the many professors ive disliked) that i give ANY course negative feedback. and the feedback will be negative. ill tell you that much.

this was only done so that i could take 3 credits next semester instead of the usual 4. i have had this planned for months now. and today. TODAY. a week before the payment is due they tell me i need to take at least 3.75 credits to get the financial aid amount they have been telling me i will get. i check what it is now?. A THOUSAND DOLLARS MORE. so i go back and i add .75 worth of credits. fuck my whole schedule up. all 5 days of the week. fucking 8 am classes . go FUCK yourselves. thank god im graduating because they also sent an email about a 4% tuition increase for the 24-25 school year.

i have also decided that since i am graduating. and not going to grad school. i will cool it. for my own sake. i am not stressing about this jterm class. despite how the whole first paragraph i wrote went. i have seen much stupider people try much less than i have and get a grade much too similar for what any stress is worth. everyone involved in these situations can GO FUCK THEMSELVES !!!!!!! myself included

[sunkissedwind]

I think some people have way too much of an issue with "sweet" and "kind" being the trademarks of a woman's personality. You cannot look me in the eye and call a smart, rational, emotional, curious woman "boring" and say she has no personality just because you don't value softness and empathy. If it were a man, you'd be head over heels. You'd immediately assume he has a rich inner life, has overcome struggles and hardships to be this kind man you see before you. But when it's a woman, it's never enough. She's either a pick me girl or a manic pixie dream girl or has "no personality". Please just check yourselves, for God's sake.

[piperslovebot]

Can I please have a Gwikki (Gwen x Nikki) + number 16 teasing kisses on every bit of visible skin drabble please?

P.S.: This’ll also be in my TAOTG fic. So, don’t read if you hate spoilers.

Gwen and Nikki were currently in the storage closet in the dance studio. Gwen was wearing a scotch dress and leather jacket. Her hair was down and in boxer braids. Nikki was wearing a peach ombré dress with her hair down. They were making out for the past few minutes. Nikki’s hands were on Gwen’s hips while Gwen ran her hands through Nikki’s hair.

Gwen began to kiss Nikki’s neck and every bit of her exposed skin, making Nikki moan in the process. “I missed you.” Nikki exhaled. Gwen kissed her on the lips and smiled. “I missed you too. Geometry was pretty lame.” Nikki chuckled and wrapped her arms around Gwen’s neck. “It’s pretty fun when you give it chance Gwen. The angles, the kinds of triangles, the…” She giggled when she noticed the bored expression on Gwen’s face.

She kissed Gwen briefly and then grabbed her snack. Gwen proceeded to grab hers too. “It’s sucks that we have to sneak around though. The only time we can even hang out in public is when Leia’s around.” Leia was the only one around them that actually knew about them dating. Even though, for the sake for preventing drama and judgement, they were keeping their relationship a secret, the couple was tired of hiding their relationship around everyone.

Nikki sighed and clasped their hands together. “Tell me about it. I wish Nate wasn’t so keen on us getting back together when it’ll never happen.” Gwen chuckled, “Yeah, he keeps making plans about ‘winning you back’.” Nikki scoffed, “He’ll never give up, will he?” Gwen shook his head. “You know what, forget Nate. Let’s do something else.” Nikki grinned, “What do you have in mind?” Gwen pulled her into a kiss, keeping her arms around Nikki’s waist.

The door opened all of a sudden. “Oh my god!” The couple split away, shocked to find Betsy standing right there. They smiled embarrassingly. “I-I was just here to g-grab the xylophone.” Nikki and Gwen moved aside so Betsy can grab it. “So I take it, you guys worked things out?” Betsy asked, referring to her talk with Gwen a few weeks ago.

Gwen and Nikki nodded, “Yeah.” Betsy raised a brow, “Does anyone…” They both shook their heads. “Only Leia. And she’s in Chicago at the moment.” Gwen answered. “We’re just trying to protect ourselves and our relationship.” Nikki explained. Gwen sighed, “I do kinda wish we didn’t have to sneak around though.” Nikki nodded, “Yeah, me too. It would be nice to be around people and not have to hide our relationship.” Betsy raised an eyebrow, “Why are you guys feel like you need protect yourselves?”

“We just don’t want anyone to go on and tell us that what we’re doing is a mistake.” Gwen explained. “We overheard Mrs.Burkhart-Hyde talking to Mr.Forman about how everyone reacted to her relationship with Mr.Hyde and we just don’t want that to happen to us.” Nikki added. Nate would probably do something stupid, Ozzie would sit back and enjoy the drama, and Jay might take Nate’s side.

Betsy nodded, “That makes sense. But you are going to tell them, right? I mean, the rest of the gang. Because you guys said yourselves that you are unhappy with hiding your relationship.” Gwen sighed, “We’re still trying to work that out. You’re not gonna tell anyone, right?” Betsy shook her head, “Secret’s safe with me. But if you guys do wanna hang around with other people, me and Kris have been planning to heading out sometime later. You guys can join if you want.”

Gwen nodded, “Really?” Betsy chuckled, “Yeah.” Nikki nodded, “Thank you.” The bell rang all of a sudden. “I’ve gotta head to class. But I’ll see you around.” Betsy walked out the room, leaving Gwen and Nikki alone. The rest of the gang came in at that moment. “Guys, check it out! The cafeteria is serving ice cream!” Jay exclaimed. Nate made a sound, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea Jay. I mean, me and Nikki are broken up and I can tell how upset she is. Us being around each other, outside, isn’t the best idea.”

Everyone just rolled their eyes. “Let’s go.” Gwen answered, annoyed with her brother. She walked out, Nikki following her in the process. Jay and Nate walked with the girls. Ozzie noticed the way Gwen and Nikki looked when they all came in a few minutes back. And now, the way Gwen and Nikki were smiling at each other.

Something was up.

[yhwhrulz]

Worthy Brief - July 15, 2024

Shaping and reshaping politics!

1 Peter 2:13-17 Submit yourselves to every ordinance of man for the Lord's sake: whether it be to the king, as supreme; Or unto governors, as unto them that are sent by him for the punishment of evildoers, and for the praise of them that do well. For so is the will of God, that with well doing ye may put to silence the ignorance of foolish men: As free, and not using your liberty for a cloak of maliciousness, but as the servants of God. Honor all men. Love the brotherhood. Fear God. Honor the king.

For a season, I worked in Washington, D.C., for one of America's largest Christian political organizations. Sometimes I saw how politics could get ugly and, more often than not, how it changed people -- not for the better…but usually for the worse!

As I observed the network and social media coverage over the weekend regarding the attempted assassination of former U.S. President Donald Trump, I was struck by the highly charged political atmosphere—it's the worst I've ever seen. The level of outrageous attacks happening across the country feels almost surreal. Sadly, I believe these attacks will likely intensify in the days to come. Despite this, I find reasons to be encouraged. Often, what is meant for destruction can be transformed into opportunities for testimony and victorious proclamation!

Let me give you an example: during the period of history known as "the Enlightenment," the "enlightened" philosopher Voltaire proclaimed that within twenty-five years, the Bible would be forgotten and Christianity would be a thing of the past. Forty years after he died in 1778, Voltaire's house was purchased and used to print Bibles and other Christian literature. Such is the irony of one man's prophetic folly. His own house became God's platform for proclaiming the message that Voltaire despised. Watching the current election process in America, without mentioning names, I suggest we may again witness such an irony.

don't let the political season shape you for the worse, with bitterness, mockery, sarcasm, rancor, etc… -- but rather, transform the political landscape by who you are -- a king and a priest of the Most High! Be a confident, respectful, and quietly shining beacon of light in this dark (political) world, and continue to pray for the Lord's guiding hand upon the leaders who face the tremendous responsibilities and challenges ahead!

Your family in the Lord with much agape love,

George, Baht Rivka, Obadiah and Elianna (Missouri) (Charleston, SC)

Editor's Note: During this war, we have been live blogging throughout the day -- sometimes minute by minute on our Telegram channel. - https://t.me/worthywatch/ Be sure to check it out!

Editor's Note: We are planning our summer Tour so if you would like us to minister at your congregation, home fellowship, or Israel focused event, be sure to let us know ASAP. You can send an email to george [ @ ] worthyministries.com for more information.