#mark soldiers of Christ

[deweybertolini]

Scarred for Life

As you will hear in this week’s PODCAST, five for the price of one! Five profoundly personal portraits, all yours for investing a few precious minutes as you listen! Enjoy, and be encouraged!!! Thank you for listening, and for sharing this message!!! Please remember that depending upon your web browser and connection speed, it may take up to 60 seconds for this podcast to begin to play. God…

[drshermaines-wisdomnuggets]

"ARE YOU A GOOD SOLDIER?"

2 Timothy 2:1-4, “So you, my son, be strong (strengthened inwardly) in the grace (spiritual blessing) that is [to be found only] in Christ Jesus. And the [instructions] which you have heard from me along with many witnesses, transmit and entrust [as a deposit] to reliable and faithful men who will be competent and qualified to teach others also.  Take [with me] your share of the…

[xyziiix]

𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐑 - 𝐉.𝐏 𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓

Captain John Price X Female!Reader

Warnings: SMUT! (P in V, fingering, spit kink - Price spitting in readers mouth 🫣, unprotected sex, hints of a breeding kink?) PRICE IS A NASTY MF - implied secret relationship, language, mention of violence, mentions of guns, description of bullet wound, hint at Ghost being a peeping Tom @ the end, reader is described as a woman!!!!

Small summary: after a mission not going as smooth as planned, yourself and the boys had no choice but to hunker down in a safe house while you stitch up Soap - him taking a nasty bullet wound to the thigh - the heat is overwhelming and anticipation bubbling as you weren’t sure if you were entirely safe, the only thing that could take your mind off of it was your Captain’s lingering eyes, promiscuous and completely unprofessional thoughts racing through his mind about you.

!not proof read!

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ!�� Sergeant Mactavish exclaims, his head thrown back as a pained groan rumbles from his chest - his accent thicker as he complains.

“Hold still, Soap.” You reply - your voice coming out stern as you focus on pulling the bullet out of his thigh, your breath wavering as you tried to concentrate - pushing away the panic and anxiety you were feeling at seeing your friend injured. Luckily, the bullet hadn’t gone deep - and as far as you could tell - it hadn’t hit an artery. “Almost out.” You added, trying to get him to calm down.

“Stay calm, Sergeant.” A low - gravelly voice filled the clouded room, your Captain stood behind the groaning Scot, a hand placed on his shoulder to ground him as well as keep him still in order for you to work easier.

The house you were holed up in - though you could barely call it a house - was in the butt-fuck middle of nowhere - not another sign of life in sight as all that surrounded you was sand and heat. The scorching sun blared through the single glass-pane window, lighting the room enough to your satisfaction - and if you looked over to the ray of sun, you could actually see the abundance of dust floating in the air. It was safe to say you were surprised when you learned this was a marked safe house and not some deserted shack in the middle of the urzikstan desert.

You were kneeled on the chalky ground, your knees aching from the concrete floor as Soap sat above you in the rickety chair, the furniture groaning in protest at the agitated soldiers weight. You hands worked fast - managing to remove the bullet from the surface of his flesh and immediately going to disinfect it.

“Shite!” He hissed, the wound burning as you pressed a antisept-soaked cotton pad to the open area, cutting him an apologetic look as his neck strained - teeth bared at the stinging pain shooting through his nerves.

After a few minutes of you working swiftly and silently - save for the few ‘sorry’s’ when you see the Sergeant wince when you push the needle through his flesh in order to close the wound - you managed to successfully stitch him up, sighing as you lean back slightly, the strain in your back and the cramp in your hands pushed aside as you observe your work - wanting to be extra sure your teammate was taken care of. After wrapping gauze around his thigh, Gaz and Ghost move over to Soap - wrapping his arms around their shoulders as they guide him to stand.

“You go and lie down, okay? You need to rest that leg so you don’t tear the stitches.” You order softly, rising to your feet - feeling your knees pop from the benumbed feeling of kneeling for so long.

“Aye.” Johnny grunts, exhaustion taking over his usually lively self as he looks to you, “I owe you big time, lass.” He says gratefully, casting you an appreciative and tired smile before he’s moving out of the room with the other two - Ghost mumbling something to about not being so reckless, his cold demeanour failing to mask his genuine worry for Soap.

You let out groan of relief as you take a seat at the rustic table, your whole body aching as you tried to relax as best as you could in the beaten down chair.

“You alright, love?” Price asks you - and for a moment, you’d forgotten he was still in the room with you - stood over by the window he’d pried open, a cigar in his hand as he looked over to you. He’d barely spoken a word since the mission had gone south, and as much as you wanted to ask if he was okay, you knew it was best not to pry for the moment - understanding that a lot of stress and emotions were weighed on his shoulders.

“Yeah.” You responded, a hand coming to rub and knead at the back of your neck - attempting to unwind the knot that has formed there. You felt uncomfortably warm, having removed your vest a while ago - leaving you in a simple tank top, though it did little to relieve your skin - the air almost impossibly humid.

Price surveyed you, bringing the thick cigar to his lips, relishing in the smoke burning his throat and lungs as he took you in. A light sheen of perspiration was layered on your skin - collecting between your breasts that gave the illusion that your skin was glowing, your once-neat updo having loosened, your hair falling more loosely and wild, and stray, defiant strands of hair stuck to your damp skin. Price had been silently replaying the events of before in his head - what he could’ve done to prevent it; to prevent Soap getting shot, and to prevent you being put in danger. But, seeing you now - looking as ravishing as you did, helped to take his mind away from his own self-doubt for a beat.

You reluctantly stood, having looked at the scattered medical supplies on the table and floor long enough - hoping that if you glared at it hard enough it would magically be cleaned up and put back to where it was supposed to be. You began slowly picking up pieces of gauze, rolls of surgical suture and various other supplies before placing them back into the first aid box, lost in your own thoughts as you stayed contently silent.

You felt his presence before he reached for you, he smells of ash, and a lingering acrid taste of a cigar burns your tongue. His aura is intrusive, but it’s never uncomfortable. Two calloused, large hands place themselves on the outside of your arms, pressing his hard body to yours - his chest to your back as his familiar, warm lips press onto the heated skin of your neck - the juncture of where your neck and shoulder meets.

“John…” you breathe, eyes flickering over to the open doorway - painfully reminded that you weren’t alone in the house, and if either of your teammates walked in, the first thing they would see is how your Captain is practically trapping your body to the dust-covered table with his own.

“Hm?” He hums back to you, the vibrations crawling from his chest and settling into the sensitive skin of your neck. He was doing it on purpose. Acting nonchalant about the compromising position that you could be caught red-handed in at any moment. “I love hearin’ y’say my name.” He murmurs against your skin, one of his sizeable hands placing itself on your midsection - effectively pushing you back and closer to him, also chipping away at your resolve as you fought back to not sink into the feeling of him. Your skin grew impossibly hotter, the weak feeling in your thighs becoming known as you were silently glad you were being held up between the table and John - certain your already exhausted legs would collapse - you had to stifle a gasp when you felt the light graze of teeth under your jaw, the wiry stubble of his goatee scratching across your delicate skin - your Captain continued his onslaught on your neck, nearly groaning at the taste of salt on your skin.

“They could catch us.” You remind him, breathlessly.

“They could.” He agrees, though he made no move to step away from you.

It was a dangerous game you were both playing. It’s not important how your dalliance with your Captain started - it being a long story of what started as lingering looks and intrusive thoughts as you distantly admired one another - knowing the consequences of what would happen if you were to act on your feelings. You could lose your job, and John would be punished greater than you - being kicked off the team and risking being stripped of his rank. Yet, it seemed he cared little for the consequences when one night - he’d shown up to your room in the barracks, telling you that you both needed to talk - a long overdue conversation - which actually led to him fucking you senseless on your single bed. You both agreed afterwards that you needed to keep whatever this was quiet - John promising you he’d find a way to make it not result in backlash when others learned about your relationship, and in the last few months - you were both in your own content little bubble outside of work, spending most of your time from deployment with him in his apartment in London.

Panic flashes across your face as you hear footsteps descending the stairs, each step groaning and creaking from heavy combat boots, Price then stepped away from you - going back to his place by the window to resume smoking his cigar, acting as if he hadn’t just left you a flustered mess. Gaz was who appeared, not taking any notice of the red dusting your cheeks and the nonplus stature you had while you remained stood by the table.

“He’s passed out.” Gaz interjected the atmosphere - unaware of the previous state you and the Captain were in, Price nodded briefly at Garrick, the end of his cigar burning orange embers for a second as he took a pull of the smoke. You also nodded at his words - shaking yourself out of it as your unsteady hands moved to close the first aid box. Gaz took a seat at the table - the seat previously occupied by Soap - as another set of heavier footsteps came down the staircase, the skull faced Lieutenant appearing, silent as he joined the table. You glanced over to Price, who casually watched out of the window. “It’s bloody boiling in here.” Garrick comments, tugging at the collar of his shirt. Ghost lets out a grumble of agreement, a gloved hand readjusting his mask slightly. You busy yourself, now having regained your composure as you silently took the box in your hands - walking out of the room to go and put it back with the other supplies. Price’s cerulean eyes flicking over to you, watching you leave the room.

It was a few hours later, daylight had burned and it grew darker. The air finally getting cooler and giving your body some relief. You had just finished checking up on Soap - him finally feeling more like himself, joking and putting on his charm as usual. It was a relief to see him act like himself, as well as that his wound hadn’t shown any signs of infection. The stairs creaked under your feet as you left Johnny to rest and descended to the ground floor. Glancing into the living room to see Gaz had made himself comfortable on the worn down sofa, and was already passed out. Simon was no where to be seen - and you guessed he was either outside on watch or he’d just found himself a private area for the night, understanding that he prefers his own company sometimes.

You snatched a pillow from the armchair in the living room - unfortunately, the only bed that was actually inhabitable; was occupied by an injured Soap. You would’ve slept in the living room, but Gaz’s snoring was already doing your head in. You moved to the more open room - where the flimsy dining table was. You went to the other end of the room, laying the pillow on the hard ground and lying down. The pillow gave your head some relief, but the hardwood floor dug unmercifully into your already aching back.

You sighed, staring up at the ceiling, observing the parts where the paint had chipped. You laid there for a moment, hands resting on your stomach as you enjoyed the peace and quiet - yet it also put you on edge; you could hear a pin drop it was that silent.

You decided to shut your eyes, disappointed to feel not even an ounce of sleep behind your eyes, you let out another frustrated sigh - scrunching your brows as you tried to will yourself to get some rest.

When you heard the quiet shuffling of boots moving towards you, your breath slowed - already knowing who it was as you felt him settle on the ground beside you, a strong arm slithering around your stomach and gently pulled you to him until your back met his hard chest.

“What are you doing?” You asked, your voice sounding stern - though, you could both hear the smile in it.

“Wha’s it look like i’m doin’?” Price asked rhetorically, his voice low and gravelly - his accent mixing his words to a perfect melody as it vibrated against your ear. You felt his stubble prickling the back of your neck as he placed a single, wet kiss there - a shiver rolling down your spine.

“Not here.” You sighed reluctantly, even having him lay next to you was risky - as well as that it was effectively arousing you like a bitch in heat. It’s been so long - too long - since you’d felt him, having been on this mission for weeks now and not having an ounce of privacy between you.

“Was only wantin’ a cuddle, love.” He responded with a raspy chuckle, his voice having a teasing edge to it as his arm flexed around your torso slightly - pulling you closer to him until there was practically no space between your bodies. “-unless…” he trailed off, his arm around your torso slowly moving south, his fingers dancing along the slit of exposed skin where your top ended and your pants begun.

“They’ll hear us.” You say, your voice growing breathless as you tried to remind him - as well as yourself - looking down to try and watch his fingers in the dark - only being able to make out darker shapes as you felt his finger tease under the waistband of your pants - trailing along the sensitive skin of you abdomen.

“We’ll be quiet.” He says, his liquid voice soothing you as he nestles his head in the crook of your neck - also looking down to watch his hands work as they slowly begin to pop the buttons of your pants open.

You don’t reply, breath bated as you feel your pants grow loose on your hips and leisurely pushed down to your thighs - feeling your skin being exposed to the air.

He lets out a hum against your neck, adjusting his head to softy suck at the thin skin of your jugular - feeling your breath hitch as his warm, large hand slides further down, slipping under the cotton fabric of your underwear and cupping your pussy, feeling how hot, puffy and slick you were under his palm.

“Oh, sweetheart..” He groaned, his voice barely above a whisper as he leans more over you to get a better look at your face, a smug smirk pulling his lips and goatee up as his hand wedges itself between your closed thighs - flexing his wrist to essentially grind his hand against your neglected cunt. “How long ya been like this? All wet for me?” He asked lowly - though he knew you were too focused on not crying out to answer him. His pride grew as he felt your hips begin to rock on their own accord, grinding into his palm as well as brushing your arse against his clothed cock. “Soaked… and I haven’t even put my fingers in you yet.” He practically growls against your neck - his voice reverberating through your entire body, his touch feeling electric.

“John…” you breathe a quiet whine, and he feels his chest swell as he could already hear the pleading edge in your voice, his cock throbbing in the confines of his pants.

“Tell me to stop.” He breathes, his hand pressing up against you - feeling your slick stick to his palm. He let out a low, gravelly breath as he felt how hot and wet you were. He doesn’t wait for you to respond - because he knows you won’t. He knows you won’t tell him to stop.

And you know it too.

You hear the metal of his zipper being pulled, the noise joining the soundtrack of your heavy breathing. The hand still buried inside of your underwear shifts, spreading your slick over your puffy clit, sending small jolts through your body. When you hear a quiet, strangled groan from behind you, you turn to look over your shoulder.

Price was still laying on his side behind you, his pants being pulled down enough so that his cock was free. You watched in awe as he slowly fisted his dick, pumping himself languidly as his other hand was still buried inside of your underwear - a calloused thumb circling your bud of nerves while you felt two of his thick fingers tease at your quivering, drooling entrance.

You thankfully didn’t need to whine and beg - mostly because John was growing just as desperate as you were. His thick fingers sank into you, stretching you more than your own fingers could, you let out a soft hiss as your hips squirmed a little.

“Be quiet.” Price orders, his tone authoritative yet dripping with lust, he began slowly dragging his fingers in an out of you - scissoring you open to get you ready for his cock. His chin rested on your shoulder again as he watched you squirm and bite your lip in an attempt to keep quiet, his voice a breath of air against your ear - “so fuckin’ tight.”

His other hand released its hold on his cock, lifting to cup your jaw and turn you to face him. He pried your bottom lip from under your teeth with his thumb before he planted his lips on yours - letting out a long exhale through his nose as he relished the taste of you. His fingers moving a little faster as your quiet noises fell onto his tongue.

He pulled back a moment later, his face hovering above yours. You could only just see his face in the dark, his lips parted as he took in your expression.

“Open.”

Like the good girl you were, you did as you were told, your lips parting and your tongue peeking out invitingly. He let out a small groan of approval before he spat into your mouth. You took what he gave you, whimpering a little as you swallowed. His fingers pulled out of you then, leaving you feeling empty. A protest was on the tip of your tongue before you felt him use his booted foot to push your pants the rest of the way down your legs, and you quickly kicked them off your ankles, the sound of fabric hitting the floor filling the room for a beat.

One of his thighs wriggled between your legs, pushing your legs open as he melded against you. Wasting no time in gathering your slick with the flushed tip of his cock before he pushed into you. Pressing your lips together again as you both groaned from the stretch of his cock slowly filling you.

“So fuckin’ tight…” he groaned again, his voice barely above a whisper as his head fell onto your shoulder - his cock throbbing between your hot, constricting walls. “Like you were made for me, love.” He added with a breathless chuckle, slowly rocking his hips until he was fully buried into you.

“John-“ you gasped as he bottomed out, your body already writhing beside him, your chest rising and falling with shallower breaths.

At the sound of your noises unintentionally upping in volume, his free hand came to clasp around your mouth - muffling the little whimpers threatening to escape. “I know…” he cooed against your ear in a whisper. “Got to be quiet for me sweetheart, don’t want to others to catch us — to catch me filling you up like this.” He breathed, his own breathing quickening as he began to rock his hips in hard, shallow thrusts.

The moan that escaped was trapped into his palm, your legs already quivering as his cock dragged against every spot inside of you it seemed only he could find. You weakly rocked back against him, hearing his hot breath fan against your ear as it seemed he was also trying to stay quiet.

“Not gonna last long, love.” He says honestly. You too were already feeling the beginnings of shock waves indicating an incoming orgasm. It’d been such a long few weeks since he’d been able to fuck you. “Need you to come around my cock before I can fill you up.” He growls, the hand not muffling your mouth reached down to fan across your clit - your body immediately tensing, your cunt practically strangling his cock.

His pelvis kept hitting your arse in slow but hard thrusts, rocking your body with him as his chest remained glued to your back. One of his hands cupping your breasts through your shirt while the other was down to where you were joined together - touching your clit in tight circles. His face pressed into your neck, his goatee burning your skin deliciously. Your teeth trapped your bottom lip between them - forcing yourself to muffle your noses - almost to the point you could taste copper in your mouth.

It felt like the knot in your stomach was tightening by the minute, your body shuddering and your thighs tensing as they were forced open by his own muscled thighs.

“M’gonna come-“ you moan quietly, spurring him on as he let a low groan into your neck. He picked up his pace a little, nearly rolling you onto the side with the force of his thrusts, his fingers began smacking tapping at your throbbing clit, his cock piercing you open as his thrust grow sloppy. His hot tongue laved over the think skin of your neck - the sensitive spot just under your neck that he knew would have you trembling.

About several seconds later it happened. Your abdomen coiling taught as you felt heat and desire crash through you, your lips parting in a silent moan as you stiffened for a moment - your pussy quivering around him as you came.

He continued to fuck you through it, his eyes glued to your face as he watched your expression contort with euphoria. He let out a low and breathy groan when he felt you tighten around him. “That’s right, love… make a mess on me-“ he encouraged, his gravelly voice whispering into your ear as he held you to him.

He wasn’t that far behind you, grunting curses and profanities into your ear about filling you up as his hips met yours with one final, hard thrust, before he was spilling his hot come into you. His body shuddering beside you as he panted into your neck again.

You let out a quiet, weak moan as you felt warmth of his spend bloom inside of you. You both stayed there for a few minutes, catching your breaths as you felt sweat dancing over your skin - your pussy still pulsing around his softening cock from the aftershocks of such an intense orgasm.

“Fuckin’ hell..” he breathed — his voice trailing to a soft chuckle as he slowly pulled his lax cock out of you, gently shushing you when you whined at the loss. “So good f’me, always such a good girl…” he praises, kissing around your ear as he whispers sweet nothings to you.

As your captain coddled you and cleaned you up, you were both blissfully unaware of the ogling eyes from the shadows, the moonlight shining through the window giving a glimmer of light to reflect against the cool surface of the skull mask…

A/N: hope everyone enjoyed! Sorry it took so long to get out been a lil busy. I couldn’t resist adding the little mention of Ghost in the end — I LOVE reading those fics and head cannons of Ghost x you x Price.

Ooo maybe I should write a Ghost x reader x Price??? Lmk!!

[the-muppet-joker]

could you elaborate on your choices for the 4 horsemen for the ponies? i’m deeply curious about your wisdom and insight

Very well.

Famine = Luna

Both are black horses

When Nightmare Moon takes over, there is no sun. Crops cannot grow under these conditions. Her reign is a reign of famine and no harvest.

Additionally, in the episode Cutie Re-Mark, it is shown that under Nightmare Moon's domain, Timberwolves roam free. While they are not directly tied to famine, they have symbolism regarding Harvest as they are known to howl at the first zap apple and attack those who try to harvest them if they are nearby, hindering people's ability to gather fruit.

War = Cadance

Naturally, a pony red with the blood of those slain in war is generally not marketable to little girls, who are unfamiliar with bloodlust and afraid of violence. They settled for a close second: pink.

She is the princess of love. Are you familiar with the phrase "all is fair in love and war?" Wars are acts of passion and bloodshed. Passion? Blood? Both symbolically related to the Heart. And what is her cutie mark as well as the sacred object that gives power to her kingdom? The Crystal Heart.

The Crystal Kingdom, Cadance's kingdom, is frequently under threat of was throughout the series. Queen Crysalis and the Changelings. Sombra. Again, in the episode Cutie Re-Mark, we see a timeline im which Sombra had won. And what is the state of Equestria? A mirror fucking image of how other countries in real life are affected by war. We literally have soldiers Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash and we see Apple Jack working tirelessly to ship out apple mush to feed soldiers for the war effort. This parallel is so clear and frankly I could go on.

Conquest = Celestia

Yes I know the image says strife. I wanted the pictures to be in a consistant style and they used the word strife but it says conquest in the Bible. Anyways, they are both white horses.

I mean. Do I need to spell it out? Celestia is an imperialist. She spreads her and her nation's influence and ideology as far as she is able. Cadance is installed as the leader of the Crystal Empire under her direction. They have conflict with the changelings, so they promote a leader more sympathetic to their nation. The school of friendship? Teaching other species the way to act and behave? Are non-ponies unfamiliar with friendship? Propoganda. And she is the Princess of the Sun. THE SUN. NEVER. SETS. ON. EQUESTRIA'S. EMPIRE. Sound familiar?

Do not make an enemy of Celestia or you will be punished and then brainwashed into submission. Luna? The moon. Discord? Stone. Sombra? Tirek? The list goes on. Again, I feel this is a clear parallel that needs little explanation.

Death = Twilight Sparkle

Indeed this is the most subtle connection. After all, she is not even close to the right color. She is purple! No relation to death whatsoever........ right? WRONG. In the Catholic faith, the calandar is divided into different seasons with associated colors. Purple is the color of death and mourning; priests will exclusively wear purple robes for mass during Lent to symbolize Christ's suffering and death on the cross.

Twilight has a very important role as she and her friends are the bearers of the elements of harmony, with Twilight in the lead. The power of this clearly escalates throughout the series, as the mane six progress from turning Discord to stone to completely destroying Sombra after he is initially resurrected. We watch them become a force that could take away anyone's life force, Twilight especially. And let's not forget the form the elements later take. The tree of harmony. Reminiscent of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, from which humanity committed its first sin and thus were kicked out of Eden, gaining the ability to die.

Twilight will outlive all of her friends. As an allicorn, she is immortal. We see in the last episode that she is in her prime while all of her friends are elderly. How can one be a Princess of Friendship if she sees all her friends to the ends of their lives like a benevolent Reaper? After so many years of standing at the deathbeds of loved ones, she will feel detatched from others. A Princess of Death.

And yes Flurryheart is the fifth Princess but she is a clear allagory for the Antichrist so I did not include her

[soullessdianthus]

Pervy!Rudy pls? I don’t see much for him but godddddd I need it

A/N: JESUS FUCKIN' CHRIST, you can't imagine how loud I screamed and kicked my feet, when I saw this request! I like Rudy so much, he deserves more attention! For sure will write for him more! Some headcanons and a little story at the end!

Warnings: perverted mind, but Rudy is a possessive softie, nsfw (masturbation, scent kink, touching under the table, some dirty convos in Spanish?, inappropriate dry humping to warm reader)

✧°. Rudy is very aware of his perversion. He knows he shouldn’t imagine doing anything deviant with you or it shouldn’t make his manhood painfully hard. He was way beyond that age of sudden boner because of a girl. 

✧°. But since you had been transferred by your superior to be stationed with Los Vaqueros, Rodolfo couldn’t keep his eyes or thoughts off of you. Somehow every interaction with you became exciting, intoxicating even, making his heartbeat go faster. 

✧°. Especially in the evenings that were lonely, when everything slowly quietens down, soldiers going back to their dorms after a long day. Perv!Rudy would lie in his bed, staring at the ceiling or trying to focus on a book, but the uncontrollable desire forces him to recall your last interaction with him, when one of his palms sneak under the hem of sweatpants onto his throbbing dick. Rodolfo just needed to get rid of that tension and fantasies of you were the only solution! :(

✧°. He could picture your face really well, the sound of your voice and laughter. Also those whimpers or heavy breathing while on a mission that caused you to be so exhausted. 

✧°. Perv!Rudy would like to make you tired in a different way though. He would show you how beautiful you are and how good care he would take of something that was completely his. 

✧°. Your person had become a sort of one, big fantasy of his, since your presence brought him comfort on a daily basis. You were so kind and sweet to him – sitting with him and Alejandro in the canteen, politely listening to their stories or tacky jokes.

✧°. At some point Rodolfo offered to teach you Spanish. Of course you knew some, but weren’t fluent and it might come handy while being in Mexico with them. Obviously he suggested such a deal to spend more time with you. 

✧°. And not long after, you two were walking everywhere together. If not interrupted by Alejandro, of course.

✧°. “Quiero agarrar tu culo, chiquita. [sp.: I want to grab your ass, little girl]”

✧°. “You want to… my… sorry, what? I don’t know those words, Rudy.”

✧°. “Don’t worry. You will.” 

✧°. He tried to be sneaky about his dirty remarks, but Rodolfo missed the point in time, when you began understanding conversations in Spanish. He noticed only when he said something similar again and your cheeks flushed bright pink. But it was just a silly joke, right? 

✧°. Perv!Rudy was hypnotized with your smell – he couldn’t determine if it was a detergent you washed your clothes with or a body wash that cleansed your soft, smooth skin from the dirt. If he only got a chance to stand close to you, he would discreetly inhale the scent of your hair. 

✧°. Perhaps, when he was standing right behind you, correcting your posture as you aimed forward at the shooting range, his head leaning over your shoulder to devour the sweet scent of yours.

✧°. And it got him thinking, what would your pussy smell like? What would your juices taste like on his tongue? Divine for sure. <3

✧°. Perv!Rudy would be strong on “marking his territory”. If you ever mentioned that you were cold near him, he would give you his hoodie without hesitation or doubt. The sight of you in the oversized clothing — a belonging of his, drenched with his scent and sweat would make Perv!Rudy go feral.  

✧°. Due to his hospitality and kindness it didn’t take long before you fully trusted the sergeant major. You didn’t mind his touches, even when he kept his hand over your shoulder or back almost all the time. His touch was warm and gentle. Always. 

✧°. You weren’t uncomfortable even when he began to playfully squeeze the plush of your thigh under the canteen’s table like it was his stress ball. 

✧°. Because Rodolfo is a thigh man, you cannot convince me otherwise. If you ever happen to wear thigh socks around him, he would pass out from euphoria.

✧°. One time, he saw a basket filled with your clean clothes and a certain pair of panties caught his attention. You left the laundry room for a moment as one of your friends pulled you out for some gossip. Perv!Rudy hesitated for a while before he snapped those panties from the clothes pile and tucked them into his pants’ pocket. 

✧°. Later that evening he would inspect the cotton material, pouring between his fingers, before wrapping it around his pulsating and leaking shaft. Rodolfo would pump hips into his own fist, thinking what you would look like, sitting here beside him and helping Rudy with his aching erection. :( 

✧°. He needed your help so badly – your innocent looking eyes glued to his face, waiting for further instructions on how to satisfy Sergeant Parra by stroking his thick, meaty shaft. 

✧°. Lately, while a mission went very, very wrong – you found yourself and Rudy being taken down the river by its stream. You managed to pull yourself and Rodolfo out of the agitated waters. 

✧°. Your clothes were soaked, tightly fitting to your feminine figure and the loud gasps you took for air – it was the first thing Rudy registered after you pulled him out of the river. He felt your hand pressed against his chest as you coughed out some water. 

✧°. Perv!Rudy was more than grateful and he couldn’t wait until there was a possibility to show how much he appreciated it. Sergeant found an abandoned cabin in the nearby woods – it was your camp for the night, as the dusk had fallen. 

And, oh no! Your walkie talkies were destroyed by the water! You had to wait until the rescue team would find you!

You were walking back and forth between one wall and another, trying to warm up. Every piece of clothing you and Rudy had on was drenched, the chilly air of the night only worsened the feeling of cold. 

A strong shiver shook your body and arms entangled around your torso, while his gaze was stuck on your trembling form. He was getting worried. 

━ We should take those clothes off and let them dry. ━ Rodolfo was older than you and therefore more experienced in crises like this. You knew he was right, but somehow hesitated for a moment, before removing your tactical vest.

━ Yeah, but wouldn’t it be… um, weird? 

You expressed your worries, you didn’t want to make anyone feel uncomfortable! Just as you placed the gun holster and vest on the old, dusty table, next to his gear and weapon, the sergeant stepped closer. 

━ ¿Por qué? ━ Rudy asked, before pulling your long sleeved shirt through your head as you obediently raised your hands in the air. It took every inch of his willpower not to roam over your exposed chest with his palm. ━ If we go in the hypothermia, we’ll be dead in the morning. Nothing weird here, chiquita. 

He was right, the nights in Mexico during winter were cold and you just got out of the river. You had no extra clothes and starting a fire was off the table. 

Both of you continued stripping until all you had left was your underwear. Out of curiosity you took a look at his almost bare form, only his boxers covering some flesh. Rodolfo gathered some old blankets he found in the abandoned cabin and placed them on the floor.

Meanwhile you felt helpless – there was nothing more to do to warm yourself up. Your only option here was a walking radiator in front of you, your comrade Sergeant Parra. You stalked his movements as he moved through the room, placing blankets down. And before you knew, he was reaching his hand in your direction.

━ Ven aquí [sp.: Come here]. ━ Rudy slid himself under the big blanket, before inviting you to join. 

You didn’t hesitate for long, before laying down next to Rodolfo. You turned your back to him and grabbed the edge of the blanket, trying to keep the warm within its space. 

A little gasp escaped your mouth, when Rudy wrapped his bulky arm around your waist and pulled you into his muscular chest. His stomach was tightly clinging to the small of your back, his head almost leaning over your shoulder. The short hairs all over his thighs tickled your own limbs. 

━ You’re shaking. ━ He noticed with a worry audible in his voice. With your body pressed to his, he could feel each spasm of a muscle that indicated your early stage of hypothermia. 

━ I-It’s okay, I will w-warm up in a mi-minute. 

You were the textbook example of a woman with low blood pressure and freezing cold hands. You were almost always cold, but in a situation like this it only meant troubles – you couldn’t warm up properly. 

━ Shit, we got to do something about his, no? Don’t want you to freeze here, chica.  

Rudy’s arm that was entangled around your waist, reached down to the hem of his boxers. He took out his cock and began stroking it just like he liked it. Like he always did when thinking of you. 

━ R-Rudy, what are you…

━ Shhh ━ Rodolfo silenced you, his cheek resting a little higher than your temple ━ trust me on this one. 

When the sergeant finally was hard and aroused enough, he placed his cock between your soft thighs, so high up it clung tightly to your clothed pussy. You shifted slightly, but Rudy placed his hand on your hip, keeping you in one place.

He began slowly rolling his hips, sliding between your clenched thighs. His erect cock was almost pushing between your folds to rest between them.

━ R-Rudy, mhm. ━ You whimpered as the warmth of arousal slowly began spreading through your cold body. 

━ It feels better, yes? ━ Rodolfo asked, proud of himself and thanking the God for creating such circumstances where he could finally make you his girl. You only nodded weakly. ━ I need you to tell me, how does it feel now?

━ I-It feels g-good.

Rudy released your hip as it didn’t seem you would wriggle away now. He sneaked a hand through your hip and pubic bone to slightly pull the material of your panties to the side. Only then he could continue rubbing against your bare core, sliding easily due to your arousal. 

The tip of his cock was repeatedly teasing your swollen clit with the firm thrust of his hips. You let Rodolfo gently rock your body in a suitable rhythm. 

━ That’s right, just relax, bonita. Let me warm you up. 

Only when Rudy praised you, you managed to relax, feeling each limb more heavy and slack. His arm entangled around your waist again, the man’s palm making its way under the bra you were wearing. He wanted to play with your pretty breasts, that were tempting him for so long. 

You began to mewl and moan, when suddenly approaching your sweet climax. Your hand reached backwards to grab Rodolfo’s short hair, his heavy panting audible in your ear. 

With each thrust he kept slapping his front against your plump bum. Once he even released your breast to slap your jiggling ass and admire the red mark in the shape of his hand.

━ Rodo-oh-lfo! I’m gonna… ━ you squeezed your eyes shut, before any tears could escape them. Your little whimpers became almost pathetic ━  please. 

━ Good girl, come on, come on. You can do this. 

With a few more thrust against your sensitive nub with his throbbing cock, you felt the strong wave of ecstasy washing over you, causing the back of your head to dig into Rodolfo’s shoulder. 

Soon after you, he followed and reached sweet orgasm too – his length spasming and spurting cum onto your cunny and thighs. 

When you both began to calm down after sharing a sexual high, he turned you around to make you face him. Rudy couldn’t stop admiring your flustered face, lips slightly swollen and red. He traced their outline with his thumb, before peppering your cute face with kisses. 

Rodolfo kept your body flush to his, so no body warmth would waste as he kept praising you for being a good girl for him. He would watch over you while the side of your face sank into his chest muscles and you drifted off to sleep. 

Now, when you were properly heated, he didn’t have to worry about you getting yourself into hypothermia.

[pinkslaystation]

Ghost of A Connection

Ghost and Staff!Reader

In which you work at the nearest store at base, Ghost being your least favourite and unfortunately, most frequent, customer. Is there a connection there, or is it in his head? yALL - all these COD stories on tumblr got me hyped! So here I am tryna catch some clout ;) Be warned, this is possibly a very inaccurate version of military life, but then again, it's just a story. Word Count: 2.5k

Man, post-graduate life is hard.

Graduating top of your cohort of nearly 300 students in your masters degree within Psychology was impressive. Saving enough money from shadowing your senior Psychology professor and moving out to your apartment was impressive. Owing your own car was impressive.

What wasn't impressive though, was nearly hitting the 6 month mark of unemployment.

So here you are, stuck calling all your classmates for any open roles. You're so desperate at this point, you'd go for anything!

"Hey, Mahir! I know we didn't quite end of good terms...um-you know...when you asked for the mid-terms answers last year, and I- um...left you on delivered, and you had to retake the exams...but um, I hear you started working at the University as a Researcher and you're looking for a assistant? Well gee, don't forget how smart I a-"

Disconnected.

"Yooo, Josephine, it's me! From the Psychopathology group project! Yeah, I'm sorry I shouted at you for not doing your part on the project, and filing a complaint against you, haha...although, like, come on, it's your fault - you're 25, not a 5 year old bab-"

Blocked.

Wow. You were not liked.

So one evening, when you were on the phone to your childhood friend, Jordan Biggs, and had managed to slip out how desperately broke you were, he kindly offered a potential role at his workplace.

"Shop keeper? What, like a convenience store?" Remind me where you work again? Aren't you in the navy? What stores are you talking about?" You rambled, I mean a possible job - finally?!

On the line, Jordan chuckles, "Slow your roll, man. I've been been with the army for around 3 years now, I'm currently on a mission but we'll be home soon. Our base has a shop, that sells, you know, tactical gear-"

"GUNS?!" You interrupted.

Jordan laughs, then in shushed by, what you assume to be his teammate, "No, not any weapons. Just, tactical gear, MREs, bits and pieces of uniform. Sometimes you might be asked to clean the base, set up rooms for meetings. And ooh my favourite - work at the canteen. We serve the country, you serve us food." Jordan explains.

So you complied.

I mean, yeah, your degree isn't being utilised, but we're in a cost of living crisis, for Christ's sake.

And here you are, clad in a plain dark grey fleece, and straight black trousers, trying to look as professional as possible.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your first day was silent. You found that you lived only 30 minutes away from the base, so you didn't struggle with the early shifts, working almost full days at the base, with a surprising decent salary.

You learnt you had replaced the previous worker, Katherine, a grumpy senior who quit, being fed up with the stench of these sweaty unkempt soldiers, and their rowdy behaviour after missions.

You also met your staff at the base, being the youngest one there gave you no surprise, with most your colleagues being double your age. You liked it. It was quiet, having met a few of the soldiers.

Your role was relatively simple. Consisting of various tasks such as ordering enough food to satisfy the recruits, more training equipment, when a recruit seemed to damage one. All in all, you were satisfied, especially when the first pay day rolled in.

You also noted that your colleagues, without fail, always seem to talk about a specific group of soldiers, such as Friday evening, when you all found yourself eating an early dinner.

"Soap is so sweet! He's always so generous when we talks to me, although I can't lie, I don't know what the fuck he says half the time." Your colleague rambles, shoving a spoon full of Friday's roast dinner into his mouth.

Another agreed, "Nothing beats the dilf of a man - Captain John Price. I may be chewing steak but that ain't the meat I want in my mouth, if you get what I mean-"

You choked, "Margaret, you're married with grand-kids, lord."

After a quiet but much needed conversation, you learnt about the most well-known team within the base, Task Force One-Four-One, lead by Captain John Price, forming of Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish, Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick, and the one you were most curious about - Simon 'Ghost' Riley.

"But like, why Ghost? If he's close to this Soap dude, why not call yourself Shampoo or something?"

Your colleagues laughed at your naivety glancing at each other.

"My dear, I don't dare to call him anything other than Lieutenant. He's entered a 10 metre radius of mine, and I've already pissed myself." One stated.

"I've heard he threatened to attack Katherine, just because she overcharged him, long story short, she quit." Another replied.

It seemed you didn't understand how feared Ghost really was...

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time you all had finished dinner, the staff split up, some going back to the canteen to prepare dinners for the soldiers finishing training, some going to clean up the barracks, and you found yourself going back to your designated shop.

Aah, this is peaceful. You mumbled, drinking your hot chocolate, whilst sorting out all the army boots on display.

As the clock strikes 10 p.m. though, the silence is broken and you hear a stampede of soldiers, once you assume had come back from a month long mission. The majority of them, from what you'd heard, sprinted to the canteen to rid themselves of their strictly MRE diet, and finally eat some home cooked food, whilst others ran off to their freshly cleaned barracks to get some well-deserved sleep.

Your little shop also seemed to be quite busy, a long queue waiting to buy water bottles, bandages, blankets, you name it. From nearby chatter from the tired soldiers, it seems most of the teams had arrived back from Afghanistan, a successful mission with no death and a few minor injuries.

An hour goes by and the queue dies down to around 6 people, with one at the till: Jordan.

"So a water bottle, that would be £1.50, payin- my God, Jordan?" You smiled, getting in front of the counter and pulling into a hug. He smelt like dusty and you joked that 1 bottle of water wouldn't suffice to rinse him of the smell.

"I haven't seen you in forever, it's been like 6 months? How's the job been treating you?" He enquiries, placing a kiss against your forehead. By now, the nearly empty shop turns to face the both of you, many assuming the situation to be a couple reuniting.

You and Jordan continue to catch up on everything - his mission, your job...Margaret's obsession with which positions she can take Captain Price in...

"Bro, she was going so in depth into the many ways she can contort her waist for, what she calls, the Price penis?!" You pull your most fake-disgusted face, as Jordan cackles loudly.

But his laugh falls short as a deep scruffy voice interrupts him-

"The only thing being wasted right now, is my time. Hurry the fuck up and pay for your shit. You act like we have all the time in the fucking world."

You jump slightly at the harsh words, although this is a military base, you should be used to this foul language.

"My guy, she said waist, not waste-" Jordan begins, before straightening his back and realising who he was talking to.

He turns around to face the man's voice, his back now turned to you, obstructing your view of the unknown soldier.

"Lie-Lieutenant. My apologies! Lemme grab this water and get out of your way," Jordan nervously chuckles, you can't see who he's talking to, but you can tell this was a man of higher authority, given how Jordan stutters. "Ooh, I see what you wanted to buy! Gloves, nice, socks, cool, Coc-Coco pops?!"

"My fucking God Biggs, the only thing big about you is your stupidity and your pussy attitude, grab your shit and go. Stop holding the fucking line, mate." The male's British accent is so prominent with every word enunciated, and you wish to never run into this stranger again.

"Sir!" Jordan turns to you, handing you a fiver and awkwardly side hugging you, "Have fun with this jerk wad." He whispers into your hair, before running out the shop, his water bottle still on the counter.

"Jordan your bottle-"

Holy shit.

After Jordan moves, your eyes feast before you, revealing a godly 225 lb man, standing at an impressive 1.89 metres, dressed in his dark and intimidating casual attire, his face hidden behind a skeleton mask, his piercing eyes squinted and penetrating into your shorter frame, his biceps bulging out of his sweatshirt, his shoulders broad, his trousers failing to hold his impressive bulg-

"Are you going to continue gawking at me like a fuckin' donkey or should I not pay for this shit?" He huffs out in disappointment.

Rude. Plain rude. Sexy...but rude.

Now you know why Jordan couldn't move a muscle when faced with this guy. Putting 2 to 2 together, you clocked. The way other soldiers left the shop as he entered. The way one look from him gets them to shut up so quickly. The skeleton mask-

This is Ghost.

"We- I- Um-" What the hell? Why can't you form a damn sentence?

"I- I- I don't give a damn. My shit, here." He mocks you, slamming his items on the counter. By now, the other customers have scurried off in fear. It's now you and Ghost in the shop.

You nod, humming a yes, eyebrows furrowing at his unkind words.

The next few moments are followed by near silence, the only sounds being the scanning of the items and your quickening breath. His foot begins tapping rapidly, as sign that you're taking to long.

It's uncomfortabl-

"The old hag before you's gone then."

Yes, Ghost, she is. And if you keep acting like this, I will be too. You grunt a response, unable to find the right words.

"£28.50" You say curtly, after a while. He hums in response, pulling his wallet to pay.

You watch him nervously, you did not expect to see one of the most respected soldiers in front of you so soon. Someone so handsome, someone so fucking sexy, but someone so fucking bitchy...

Oh. You said that last bit out loud.

Ghost pauses his actions, his head slowly craning upwards, his gaze drinking you in.

Your eyes meet his, quickly looking back at the counter, unable to meet his furrowed but amused glare.

"'m so bitchy, but you seem to love it, sweetheart. So red, like you're fucking in love with me or something." He scowls, slapping a £20 note on the counter.

"Maybe next time stopping droolin' over other men when you have your own cunt of a boyfriend." He mutters, before taking his shit and leaving. You don't fail to catch the smirk in his voice, as he exits your shop, loud footsteps booming behind him.

Oh my god.

You were at a loss of words. You were also at a loss of £8.50.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Jordy, you don't fuckin' get it! Dickhead left the place, without paying the full fucking price, mind you." Frustration was evident in your voice.

"Bitchy and broke," Jordan snickers.

"And the audacity to call you my boyfriend? Bye." You huff in annoyance, whilst Jordan chokes on his spit. If anything, he was a like a brother to you!

A week has gone by since that first encounter and your conversations with Jordan at the shop, when he passes by, always seem to end up at the topic of Ghost. The way he glares at you as you walk past him in the corridors. The way he sees you struggling when you carry boxes upon boxes- oh he won't help you, by the way. When you ask, he simply scoffs, "You're getting paid and you don't even want to do your job?"

Since that day, you've met all of the Task Force members. Price was as Margaret mentioned, sexy. Soap, comical, Gaz, kind-hearted, Ghost...yeah, he's there.

"But you don't get it man, he's so big- like over 6 foot! And those eyes- man those eyes. So condescending...but so hot..." you continue.

"Damn Margaret wannabe, we get it." Jordan jokes, drinking his can coke - which he didn't pay for. You'll tell him later.

As you both converse, loud footsteps enter the store.

Ghost. Again.

Did I mention he's been in here every day since the first time?

8 a.m. sharp, the moment you clock in for your shift, and 10 p.m. on the dot. Fucker's so annoying, he'll stay around the shopfloor, lazily looking at the various protein bars, even after you state the shop is already 10 minutes past closing.

But you don't mind. His silently stares at you, as if trying to remember the exact location of every beauty spot on your face, the consequent reddening of your cheeks, the slight touches of his rough callous fingers brushing against your own. All this unspoken tension, leads to your every thought being consumed by Simon Riley.

And when he enters the shop, wow. Buys the most random unnecessary shit ever. You notice how he walks in and purchases his singular Coco Pops cereal bar, day after day. This man isn't sick of them?

I mean, come o-

"Your obsession with me is flattering." He states.

Oh, forgot to mention, he's still an asshole. But at least after rehearsing to yourself in the mirror, you can actually speak up for yourself.

"Guh- buh- we- u-" Fuck's sake.

But he actually laughs this time. A loud imploding chuckle exits his mouth, and you actually smile a little at this unfamiliar emotion.

You can't tell what his face is doing under the mask, but his voice suggests a small smile rests on his face, but it soon disappears before he coughs awkwardly.

"Your boyfriend's in the infirmary by the way." He looks away, emphasising boyfriend a little too roughly.

You stare in confusion. Boyfriend? He picks up on this.

"Biggs. Rolled his ankle or some shit. Dunno why he can't just man it up. I've had worse injuries." He mumbles, smiling under his mark slightly, assuming Jordan isn't in fact your boyfriend.

Your eyes widen, "Jordy? Wha-who-how?"

"He-" But before he can answer your question, you're running out the shop to the infirmary, stealing a snack from the shelf for Jordan.

You fail to notice that you'd left a dejected Ghost at the counter, who'd picked up 2 coco pops instead of 1 this time, his smile faltering, as he planned to give you the 2nd, as a token of apology for his impolite behaviour.

In the end, he realised he'd been holding onto a ghost of a connection, overshadowed by the presence of another man.

He winces, being left alone at the till, hoping to actually strike up a conversation with you, as he gathers his (unpaid) belongings and walks out the door, off to shout at any rando that dares get in his way.

yALL its 2.30 a.m. and i'm craving coco pops-

[rodolfoparras]

angels I hope you do get better there !! sprinkling some of the smut here to help you feel better, AGAIN INSPIRED BY YOUR PERVERT PRICE DRABBLES CUZ BY LORD I'm boutta yeet myself across time and space (help me AAA)

You've been working in the Task Force 141 team for awhile now— having given a chance to unveil yourself at the field with skills you've honed over the years is such a wonderful feeling. You find yourself fortunate to be working with some of the most finest, open-minded people over there, and recently work, the missions have been rougher around the edges. It's nothing you can't handle of. Except for one: the captain himself, John Price.

Now, you find him fascinating— the man is THE brilliant man, having lead through the plans with precision and professionalism, his tactics and skills are handy by time. One of the many reason you've come to respect and admire the male. But little do you know that Price is.. rather infatuated with you. Do you even notice how he always sticks to you whenever you both training or practice shooting together? How your clothes always seems to disappear whenever Price had come by to drink whiskey with you? How he'd always crossed his legs together whenever you're with him?

You do notice Price started to wear a throat mic when the heli is taking the team towards the location, and how some of the wiring bits are all tangled up.

"Hey, Cap, need help with that?" You gestures towards the item, and he looked confused as he tries to check it with his hand. "Here let me help."

Did you know that he purposely fuck it up so he can get your hands around him? Once he saw Graves (he rather not mentioned that name) wore it when they worked together before, immediately the idea of it resembling a collar made him blush, and with how your big hands almsot wrapped around his throat, fuck does he wishes you can punish him for being a bad, horny dog.

Want to know something that's even more dangerous? He's wearing a cage of your favourite colour. Little cute one, pushing his big cock to the smallest size. Hey, it helps by covering his erection, and while before he didn't think he could get it up again, just the voice of you booming through the base and teaching the recruits, is enough to make him hard and fuck himself on his finger (How convenient that his office window has the direct view of the training ground) Did he take the cage off? No, the only time he did was to pissed and god, he's getting hard again at the thought of how your piss would taste like. Bitterness from the coffee or the sweetness of your desserts?

The only time you almost catch him is when you had to ask for the report of the recent mission, and before you could knock on his room door, (he's nowhere by the office or anywhere else at the base) you can hear some sort of noise— oh,you're not that daft to not know.

"F— Fuck Daddy! I can't, you're too big.." You fucking hate how that nickname earned a twitch from your cock, and how you shouldn't be listening in, whoever Price is with not of your concern. "Have no mercy one me.."

The sounds of skin slapping skin is enough for you to palm your hardening cock under your cargo pants, looking around to see if there's any soldiers passing by. That is until you heard a title, your title. With your name.

"Yes, yes, put me in my place! I'm your toy, AH! Use me, mark me.." God the filth of that mouth..

The moment he screamed daddy again, you had accidentally spilled all over your boxer and rushes towards your room.

He does noticed how you kept getting flustered around him the day after, clueless to your eardrops act, but he does love how his object of obsession keep crossing his legs as he does now. Oh the tension, Price rather love that and he thinks he's gonna play the pervert captain role for MUCH longer.

-🪂 anon

I AM GOING TO GO FUCKING INSSANE JESUS CHRIST HONEY BEE????:;!: I GENUINELY DONT KNOW WHAT TO SAY TO THIS EXCEPT FOR THE FSCT THAT OTS THE HOTTESR THINH IVE READ??? Let me reeead this a couple of times before I speak more in it there’s genuinely so many parts of this that I need to just soak up for a good moment

[astr0-physcs]

Jesus Christ that Reiner and Jean fix was so good, could you write for a female Reader too? Thanks!!!

yes!! i'm so glad you liked it <3

mission(ary)

-Reiner Braun x Jean Kirschstien x f!Reader

-WC: 5k

-Warnings!:

Threesome, nipple play, oral, (F and M receiving) unprotected sex, praise, degradation

-A/N!

vvv happy that ppl want both versions! Thank you nonnie <3

The sun rose over the horizon bathing the cadets in a golden glow. Every morning started this way, all the cadets lined up, waiting for their orders. Captain Levi stood before them, the rising sun to his back. You stood next to Sasha, you both were standing shoulders back, fist over heart, eyes forward towards the Captain. Finally he broke the silence that had fallen over the group.

"Marco, you are heading into the Trost district with Sasha to make a supply run. There is a shipment under Commander Erwin's name”

The cadets gave a quick nod, not moving from their place in line.

“Alright. Mikasa, you will look after the horses.” One more quick nod.

“Annie, Bertolt, and Armin. Refill the gas chambers for ODM equipment.” Everyone nods in agreement.

"Eren." A beat of silence.

"Yes, Captain?" he responded, shifting slightly.

“Cleaning duty.”

A look of pain appeared on Eren's face. Nevertheless he agreed. A few people in the group snickered.

Caption Levi went on to the next assignment.

"Y/N, Jean, Reiner, Ewrin’s office. Special task for you.”

You swallow, uneasy. Typically, such missions required venturing outside the walls. The Captain moves on when you give him a nod. The recruits scatter when the Caption allows them to.

Reiner and Jean move from the other side of the line to you. A shadow fell over you from the two big men. Together you and the other two men walked to Ewrin’s office in pending silence.

You take the initiative to knock on the door and Erwin's calls for you to enter.

"Cadets," he utters from his desk. You approach his desk with Jean and Reiner on your tail.

"Take a seat." He gestures toward the chairs in front of his desk. With some hesitation, you take a seat, followed by the other two soldiers.

"You have been given a scouting assignment by Captain Levi and myself." Ewrin said, laying a roughly drawn map out on his orderly desk.

"You will leave at noon and end up here in the forest,” Erwin said, pointing to a marked spot on the map. “ Then you will need to be back here by noon tomorrow. You will then take note of where the nearest titan is. Also, you will need to get your supplies from the cadets who are in charge of the ODM gear.”

You give a respectful nod.

“I wish you cadets luck.” Ewrin said, getting to his feet and giving the cadets the salute.

The three of you quickly rise to your feet and return his salute.

Together, you exclaim, "Thank you, Commander, Sir!"

Silently, the three of you leave his office and head towards the gear room. You didn't know Jean and Reiner as well as you wanted to, and they were uncomfortable with each other. To put it mildly, it was awkward. The entrance to the gear room was opened by the three of you.

"Hey-"

"Armin, my friend!" Jean said, walking confidently towards the blonde.

Startled, Armin looked up, and dropped the gas canister he was holding. The sound of the metal hitting the hardwood floor echo off the stone walls. The room had been a dining room and was quite big. A large wood table and many wooden chairs that matched the dark oak of the table were set aside in the corner to make room for the gear supplies. A large chandelier hung from the middle of the ceiling. This was still the only other source of light for the room, although it was covered in spiderwebs. Levi hasn't found it yet. Now the room was filled with ODM gear and shelves of grappling hook holsters. Armin recovered quickly, and picked up the runaway gas can.

“Armin, stop dropping stuff.” Said Annie from the other side of the room, where she was inserting some ODM. Armin nervously laughed and placed the gas into the gear. You and Reiner stepped into the room.

“Hi, Armin.” You say joining Jean in front of the small blonde man, sitting on the ground. He smiles back at you.

“Hey. What are you doing here? I thought you were talking to Commander Erwin?”

You nod. “Yeah, we were-”

“Yeah we did. Told us to go scouting.” Jean interrupted, rolling his eyes. “We need ODM gear.”

You glare at Jean, before turning back to Armin and saying “Can we please get ODM gear?”

"Oh, yes, definitely. Let me get you set up.” He looked anxiously at Annie and Bertolt, who were talking with Reiner.

"H-Hey Annie,can you help me get them ready?” He asked, getting to his feet.

Annie nodded once in agreement before walking over to the back to fetch the gear suits. Bertolt followed after a brief conversation with Reiner, and the blond returned to you and Jean.

"Thank you Armin." You called after him. Annie and Bertholdt return with three sets of suits and give one to each of you. You slide on the leather and tighten the straps until the outfit fits tightly around your waist. Annie and Armin grab the gas canisters, while Bertolt takes the grappling hook holders.

They move around you three, attaching the hefty metal to your waistbands. "Alright. You are all set. Good luck." Armin offers you a tentative smile. You give him a kind smile back. Jean taps your shoulder and you guys exit the building.

Mikasa stood outside with three horses, well equipped for the journey. You walk up to your horse, her name is Hope. She was a deep brown horse with a long black mane. Mikasa had gotten the saddles on all the horses and packed the bags on the side with food, water, tents, and other survival gear. You did a quick check of everything to make sure nothing was missing. The other two did the same checks as Mikasa watched on.

"Thank you." Reiner spoke, once he had checked everything and patted his house a bit. Mikasa nodded and reached up for her scarf. You turn to pet the horse, and Levi approaches you.

“I believe Erwin has already informed you, but you three are going to go to the border outside the walls and mark the location of the nearest titan. You are to return by noon tomorrow. Understood?”

The three of you saluted to Levi. “Yes Captain!”

He nods in acknowledgment. “Good luck cadets.” The Captain turns away and you relax your stance. Hopping up into the horse's saddle, you pet the horse and turn around to secure your equipment. Mikasa stood nearby, hand in her scarf. Jean turned around and said goodbye, and you and Reiner waved. Whipping the reins of the horse, you turn around and follow Jean to the exit of camp.

The ride to Wall Maria wasn't unbearable. You and Jean made some commentary, with quick inputs from Reiner.

“Okay, now that we're outside the safety of camp, everyone needs to keep an eye out for titans. We can't let our guard down.” Jean says

Reiner sighs. “ Jean, we get it. You don't need to remind us about the titans.”

You giggle and roll your eyes playfully. “Seriously, it's like you're trying to scare us”

Jean huffs. “Just tryna make sure everyone is alert, that's all.”

“Says the guy who can't keep his eyes off somebody's body for five minutes…” You mumble, smirking slightly. Jean whips his head around at you. “The fuck you'd just say to me?”

“Guys please. Can we just stick to the job-?” Reiner sighs.

“At least when I speak, I have important things to say. You just yap yap yap.” Jean shoots back.

You shake your head. “Jean, you're making this worse by arguing.”

“You're the one who started it!”

You hide the smirk threatening to appear. “Hey, I'm just saying what we're all thinking here.”

Reiner now turns to the two of you. “Can we not take things personally and focus on the mission here?”

“And why don't you mind your business? Not your fight here, pal.” Jean glares at Reiner, who side eyes him back.

“Jean, calm down. You're acting dumb right now.”

“I'm perfectly calm!” Jean shouts not so calmly.

You giggle. “Yeah keep telling yourself that, tough guy…”

Jean opened his mouth to speak, but in that moment, Reiners horse reared up, clearly spooked. Reiner yelped and slid off the horse and onto the ground. The horse bolted and Reiner groaned, shaking the mud off of his uniform.

Jean lets out a snort and the two of you burst into laughter, doubling over at the sight.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up you two…” Reiner grumbled, but a small smile appeared on his face. He wipes off the mud that got onto his clothes, and sighs.

“Let's go get your horse.” You say, still laughing.

The poor horse was off near one of the damaged houses, munching on grass. You and Jean grin as Reiner goes and tries to calm the horse. You notice how softly he pets the horse's nose and sighs softly. The animal nudges the blonde's hand a little and his smile returns softly.

Once Reiner hops back onto the horse again, the rest of the traveling was smooth sailing. Jean made quips at you, you argued back and Reiner tried to mediate, but gave up about halfway through.

The sky turned a milky orange hue with few clouds by the time the three of you made it to the designated camp site. You lead your horse to the nearby forest, with a small stream nearby for the animals to drink from. The cover of the forest protected you from being seen by the massive Titans. Reiner grabs the tent from his horse and lays it out on the forest floor.

“Alright. Who wants to help put up the tent and who wants to search for wood?” Reiner asks, standing up from where he was kneeling next to the tent.

“I'll go! I'm a very good wood finder.” Jean said confidently, hands on his hips.

“I'm sure you are…” You snickered. Jean glared at you.

“Ha ha, very funny.”

Your smirk widened. Glancing over to Reiner, your smile turns from devilish to slightly confused. Reiner appeared also confused, his dark hazel eyes flickering between the two of you.

“Reiner?”

“I don't get it.” He says bluntly. Jean grins wide.

“Looks like you're up!” He says, harshly patting your shoulder. His touch lingered a little too long, but it's not like you noticed, too busy being flushed with embarrassment at explaining the joke.

“S-so. Um. Y’know how sometimes people refer to… to dick-”

“Stop. I am sick of dick jokes.” Reiner held up his hand, his face twisting into annoyance and disgust. “You two have made so many dick jokes I wonder if your own dicks are a joke.”

You and Jean furrowed your eyebrows. “Hey!” you spoke simultaneously, then glared at each other.

“I bet you're right about Jean. I mean, the taller the man, the smaller the dick.”

Jean looked appalled. “Where in the world did you learn that?”

“A textbook,” you shrugged. “Maybe you would know that information if you decided to give reading a try.”

“Oh, you little-” Jean started forward, but Reiner braced an arm against his chest.

“ Jean, you're making yourself look stupid again. Go get firewood before it gets dark and you trip over yourself.”

Jean rolls his eyes dramatically. “Oh, for fucks sake…” He mutters. You impishly grin and he flips you off.

“Jean.” Reiner says. Jean groans and trudges off into the forest. You giggle and turn back to Reiner.

“Alright, you get to help me put up this tent.” He kneels down next to the camouflage tent. You lean down next to him and he hands you part of the tent, spreading the tent on the clearing. Reiner grabs metal stakes and poles, setting up the tent with ease and practice. You smile at him warmly, but miss the way his ears go red.

The sun began to dip into the mountains, casting a deep sienna color across the forest. Clouds turn a watery hue of pink and red, the forest beginning to cool down. Jean came back with wood, and set them down unceremoniously. He grinned at you and Reiner, placing his hands on his hips.

"Wood!" he exclaims. You nod.

"Very good observation, Jean." You say as if you were talking to a toddler.

He drops his hands and glares at you.

"Hey, set up the fire, why don't you?" Reiner interrupts, preventing Jean from opening his mouth to argue. Jean scoffs, so you stick your tongue out at him. You walk over to your horse and grab your knife and matches. Walking back to the small fire ring you had already created while Jean was getting firewood, you kneeled down and slipped the wood using your knife, then gathered the small slithers into a teepee shape. Looking around the fire ring, you found pine needles and dead leaves, the perfect heat starter. You grab as many as you can and place them inside your little wood teepee.

You strike a match and place it inside the teepee and watch as the dead pine needles and leaves go up in flames and burn quickly. As the wood you placed began to burn you added more until you had a good sized fire.

You squat down next to the fire and wrap your arms around your knees.

“What time do you think we should get up to mark the titans location?” Jean asks behind you. You don't turn, enjoying the warmth of the fire against your skin.

“Dawn. The cloud coverage will be good for us.” Reiner answers. The blond comes into your vision and sits next to you. “Nice fire you've made.”

You smile. “Thanks, Reiner.” He smiles back at you.

“Hey, I got that wood, yknow!” Jean marches in front of you, fists clenched by his sides. You glance up with a smirk.

“Yeah sure, but who lit the match and cut the branches after you oh so graciously dumped them here?” Jeans mouth opened like a fish out of water. He glanced around, trying to think of something else to say.

“W-Well… That, that may be true, but…” the brunette stammers. You raise your eyebrows. “But..? But what, Jean?”

Jean narrows his eyes, still trying to counter you. Finally, he shuts his eyes and sits down, irritated. You giggle softly, and Reiner smiles softly.

“Let's get dinner ready.” Reiner stood up and grabbed some prepackaged food from his bag. He tossed Jean a package, while gently handing yours to your outstretched hands. He then hands you a pot to boil the water. Once the water gets to a boil, you tear open the food and pour the hot water in, then you pour the water into the other boys packs too. Once it cooks and cools you enjoy the chicken and rice.

Finished with your meal, you hum happily. “Not bad for a prepackaged meal!”

Jean hums next to you, and you glance over. His eyes sparkle, the orange firelight dancing in his irises. He was looking at you like you were the only moment that mattered right now. Questions bubbled up in your chest, and you opened your mouth to speak. Reiner coughed, and you weren't sure it was coincidental. You catch his eye, and shut your mouth in shock. Reiners icy gaze was narrowed sharply. You shift your confused gaze back to Jean, who was still looking at you gently, orange firelight flickering in his eyes. He seemed to catch on to the tension Reiner was causing, but remained silent. The only sound that was emanating was the flickering of fire and the snapping of heated wood.

Reiner finally spoke, his voice thick and intense. “Did you want to say something?”

You reeled back, slightly stunned at his tone. Blinking, you shake your head no. His gaze doesn't shift, and you feel like a deer caught in headlights. After a heartbeat, Reiner slowly looks away from you. Your heart beat in your chest and you take a deep breath. Turning back to Jean, you notice that the brunette’s eyes haven't moved off of your face. Your cheeks heat up softly and you clear your throat.

“We should get ready for bed.” Reiner spoke again, spooking you. You look at him again, expecting a cold sharp gaze again. His blue eyes were softer than before, but he held your gaze with the same intensity.

“Yeah, yeah. You're right.” You say, standing up and brushing off the crumbs on your lap. Jean stands too, his focus still on you. Reiner watches you as you move around the fire, cleaning up after yourself. Then you put out the fire, making sure every spark was out. You move to your horses, who are sitting softly on the grass. You grab the sleeping bag that Mikasa provided and turn to Jean. “Where do you wanna sleep?”

“You're sleeping in the middle.” Reiners gruff voice called. You turn around, looking at him.

“Me or Jean?”

“You.” He said bluntly, his gaze focused on the supplies on his horse. You blink.

“That works for me.” Jean says calmly. You turn back to him. “Oh, alright. I'll go set up.” You walk to the tent and kneel down, entering inside. You roll out your bag and unzip it, waiting for Jean and Reiner. The blonde opens the tent and enters, making prolonged eye contact with you. You swallow nervously and glance away. Jean follows suit, entering the tent and smiling at you. The blonde rolls out his bag on your right, while Jean sets his things down on your left.

You begin unpacking your things, and notice both male gaze as you do so. Blush runs to your cheeks, but you don't look at either of them.

You set everything you needed to out for the night, and glance silently at your comrade. His gaze had fallen to the floor, the soft pink dusting his cheeks making him appear more genuine than before, when you two were arguing. He opens his mouth and closes it, like he was gathering the courage to say something.

“Good night.” Was the words that came out of his mouth. You smile softly. “Night Jean.” Turning to Reiner you repeat yourself. “Night, Reiner.”

Good night, Y/N.” he mumbled, his back already facing you. You lay down in your bag, not bothering to zip it up all the way on either side. Your eyes turned up to the tent ceiling. The heat of the dying fire radiated into the tent, and your heartbeat slowed.

You hear Jean turning around next to you, and you're suddenly aware of how cramped this tent actually is. His leg kicks out gently from the bag and sneaks into yours. You brush it off as an accident, dismissing the electric feeling that sparked through your body.

But then you felt his chest against your back. Your eyes shoot open. Gently, you try to shove him off and back into his own bag, but his calloused hands wrap around your waist.

“Jean…?” You whisper. Jean doesn't make a sound, instead pulling you closer. His breath was warm against your neck, and you shudder softly. His body curves against yours, cradling you with no escape.

“Jean-” You whisper again, but his thumb presses against your pink lips, silently shushing you. Your mind reels at how close he is, and how hot his fingertips seem to be. His other hand begins roaming down your body, slipping up your shirt and gently caressing your abdomen.

Finally, Jean speaks. His voice is rough and thick with lust.

“Tell me to stop, baby.”

Your cheeks heat up. Your body was reacting to the brunette’s wandering hands, shuddering and relaxing in his heat. You let your eyes shut, losing yourself in his hold. His hand on your abdomen reached higher and higher, until the pad of his finger was circling your nipple. A small, barely audible wine leaves your throat and Jean smirks against your nape. The hand on your lips slowly snuck down to your neck, holding you possessively. You whine again, and Jean pinches your nipple. You gasp and arch slightly, your ass pressing into his pelvis. He groans and nips your skin softly. Suddenly, he raises your tan shirt up to your collarbones, exposing your perky tits to the night air. You gasp again, slightly louder this time. Jeans' strong hand coaxes your neck to fall onto his shoulder, pressing your back into a perfect arch. You bite your lip and Jean begins groping your tit. Another noise, a whine, escapes your mouth. Jean pressed his mouth against your neck, sucking. Your body writhes, your dick slowly getting harder.

“Jean…” You choked out a whisper.

“Yes, baby?” He spoke slowly in return.

Abruptly, Reiner turned over to you, hazel eyes sharp.

“Could you keep-” His voice stops short at the sight of you, back pressed into an arch and chest exposed. “What…?” His voice lost its irritated edge, softening at the erotic scene laid out before him.

Embarrassment floods your body, your face turning red. You try to curl out of the arch Jean has you pressed in, but a solid bite on your neck makes you stop.

“Fuck…!” You squeak out, hands trying to cover your body. Jean takes his fingers off your boob and smacks your hand away.

“Jean, wait…” You plead softly.

“I think somebody likes the show. You wanna show off for him?” He murmurs in your ear.

He lets you tilt your head enough to look at Reiner. The blonde was watching intently, mouth slightly agape. His blue eyes were hazed over slightly, and his cheeks were flushed pink. You suddenly felt very self conscious about your chest being exposed, but Jean pulled you back into the arch he had you in. His fingers ghost over your nipple again, before tugging harshly. You squeal, your hips rutting softly against nothing.

“You want a taste?” Jean asked, loudly enough for Reiner to hear. Jean twists your neck softly and presses a kiss to your lips. He breaks away, then slots his mouth between yours. His tongue wrapped around yours, and he bites your lip, tugging it before pulling away.

Reiner shifts again, not knowing what to do with his body. Jean slides his mouth down your neck again, lightly biting and kissing your heated skin.

“Can I…?” Reiner said softly, his breath bated. Jean releases your neck so you can look at him with half lidded eyes. You nod, biting your lip. “Y-yea…” You moan again and Jean tugs your nipple again. Reiner breathes out softly and moves a hand tentatively to your other tit. He pinches it softly and you whine.

“Do…do you like that?” Reiner breathes.

You open your mouth to respond, but it ends up as a high pitched moan. Jean tugged on your tit harshly.

“Course she does. I mean, just listen to the way she moans.” He says, holding your nipple out for a minute before relaxing it. “Give it a try.”

Reiner swallows, fingers still resting on your chest. He gives a tug, and your hips jerk in the air. Breathy moans escape you, no longer trying to stay quiet. Reiner shifts his body closer, and leans down. He looks up at you, carnal desire threatening to take over. He presses his mouth to your tit and bites gently. An erotic whine erupts from your mouth, and your hips jerk. Everything was so hot, you could barely stand it. Your hand goes out to palm Jean through his pants and he groans quietly.

“Want these off, baby?” He whispers into your neck.

“Yes, fuck-! Y-yes, please…” You whine. Jean snickers.

“Such a good girl. How could I possibly refuse?” Jean’s hand on your chest slid down to his pants, undoing the zipper and sliding them down.

You could feel every movement, his body pressed right against you.

“You too, pretty girl.” He whispered. Reiner moved his hand to the boob Jean had abandoned, and gave it a harsher squeeze. You moan again and whine and the blonde’s tongue swirled around the sensitive tit.

Jean slid his hand down your pants, undoing the zipper and sliding off the restraining material. Your body shudders, now being nearly completely exposed to the night air. Your thighs shuddered, pussy dripping slick. Reiner suddenly left your chest and slid up to you.

“Sit up.” He said bluntly. Jean let go of your body so you could slide out of the sleeping bag. You gave Reiner a hazy quizzical look, but your confusion disappeared when he sat up too, grabbed your waist, and spun you around, back to his chest. Reiner pulled your shirt over your arms and head, then pressed you against his body. His hands go back to tugging your chest and you throw your head back, unable to silence your moans.

Jean smirks and places himself in between your legs.

“Open up, baby.” He said, then gently spread your legs apart.

Your pussy made a slick sound as Jean pried your folds open.

“Damn, fuckin’ gorgeous clit youve got.” Jean whistled lowly.

“Th- Thank- ah-! Thank you…!” You spoke in between whines. Jean pushed in a slender finger, pumping in and out, eliciting a pornographic moan from you. Your hips stuttered, trying desperately to fuck yourself in Jean’s hand.

Reiner leaned down to your ear.

“Desperate, are we? Such a slut…” He muttered. His words went straight to your clit, and your body jerked. Jean pressed the flat of his tongue against the bundle of nerves and a string of whines fell from your lips. You nearly arched off on Reiner as Jean pressed his tongue inside your clenching hole. Your clit pulsed hotly against Jean’s nose, meeting your lust filled eyes.

“W-wait, gonna-” You try to warn, before Jean sucks harshly at the same time Reiner pinches your nipples. Hot cum exploded in the brunette's mouth, and you nearly screamed. Jean swallowed and smirked, before rising up to make out with you.

“Taste yourself.” He said before sliding his mouth against yours. Bitter cum flooded your taste buds, but you were too fucked to care. Jean broke away and gently pried your body off on Reiner.

“Ass up, slutty.” Jean said with a smile. His hand presses you into a perfect arch, your tight holes displayed for Reiner.

“Shake your ass.” Jean said again, and you wiggle your ass gently. Reiner smacked it hard, and you jolted forward with the force. Jean pressed his cock to your lips, smirking. “Be a good girl and return the favor, hm?”

You open your mouth, letting your tongue roll out. Reiner pressed his precum slicked cock against your pussy lips and you whined. He shoves himself in, and you fall onto Jean with a breathy whine. You could nearly feel the blonde in your throat, if it weren't for the actual dick reaching your esophagus. Your eyes roll back as the pleasure, your hole gushing again.

“Gooood fuckin’ girl. Tight hole you've got.” Reiner groans.

Jean’s wolfish grin returns again. “You a virgin, honey?”

You nod softly, tears falling down your cheeks as you gag on Jean. He barks a laugh and thrusts down your throat. You choke and gag, spit running down your chin. Reiner grabs your hips and begins pistoning into you.

“Fuck, fuck fuck…” The blonde muttered as he hammered into your G-spot repeatedly. Jean leans back, the force of Reiner’s thrusts enough to move you on his dick. You nearly lose yourself in the pleasure, feeling their dicks twitch with each thrust and gag. Your pussy spurts all over again, your hole clenching around Reiner.

Jean coos at you.

“Doing such a good job. ‘I'm gonna cum down your throat, alright?” You don't hear him, the sound of Reiner behind you too loud and graphic.

“Fuck, close, baby. Lemme cum inside, okay?” Reiner says, and slaps you on the ass again when you don't respond. You jolt forward and whine hoarsely in agreement. Reiner twitches once, twice, before he buries himself to the hilt inside you. He pressed you to the base of Jean, who threw his head back and moaned as he came in your mouth. You suck him clean as he stares at you, panting hard.

Jean grabs your head and gently pulls you off his dick, smiling at your fucked out expression. Reiner pulls out and wipes his dick on your ass poorly before tucking himself back into his pants. You collapse, exhausted. Jean laughs fondly, and you pass out right there.

The last thing you remember is big hands shifting you back into your sleeping bag, the soft sound of the zipper and two kisses pressed against your forehead.

The next morning you woke to sunlight. You blinked, and immediately jolted out of bed. You thought you had missed your only task, marking down the Titans. You wince as you try to move, your pussy and stomach throbbing. Suddenly, the tent unzipped and Jean poked his head in.

“Hey, sleepyhead. Don't worry, we marked down the Titan’s location.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, nearly plopping down back into your bag.

“Did you get enough beauty sleep?” Jean asks.

“Yeah, no thanks to you two. My whole body hurts. How the fuck am I supposed to ride back to camp?” you complain.

Jean rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Figure it out yourself. I'm not the one who got fucked dumb last night.”

You glare at him. “Yeah cuz you get no hoes. Literally bitchless.”

Jean gasped. “You mother-”

“Good morning, Y/N. I hope you slept alright.” Reiner shoved Jean out of the way, who yelped. You smile. “I did, thank you.” Reiner smiled back.

“Good. We're packing up now. If you need a cushion, I can give you my cape.” Reiner offered, glancing away.

“Kiss ass…” Jean muttered from outside the tent.

[artandthebible]

The Arrest of Christ

Artist: Hans Holbein the Elder (German, 1460-1524)

Date: 1501

Medium: Oil on Spruce Wood

Collection: Städel Museum, Frankfurt, Germany

The Arrest of Christ

The arrest of Jesus is described in multiple Bible passages, including: Matthew 26:47-56: An armed crowd sent by the chief priests and elders arrests Jesus. Judas, one of Jesus's disciples, betrays him by kissing him.

John 18:1-12: Jewish police and Roman soldiers arrest Jesus in a garden. Jesus overpowers the forces with the name of God.

Luke 22:39-53: Jesus is arrested in Gethsemane. The arrest of Jesus is described in all four Gospels, but only Matthew and Mark name the location as Gethsemane

[wishfuldivine]

PT. 5 of GhostSoapGaz, where Ghoap are always going on dates and keep bringing Gaz with them because they love him, but he doesn't know.

Gaz woke up to the biggest headache and even a bigger pain on his lower back. His head was buzzing with white-noise as he groaned loudly at the incoming headache.

He tried moving but found it impossible. With every time he'd move, a sharp pain shot up his entire body that made him stop.

'Jesus christ..'

His eyes scanned the room as he moved to sit down despite the intense pain. His mind was in a blank for a moment. The hungover mixed with the grogginess blurred his mind. And the headache didn't help one bit.

"Need a hand?" A very American accented voice said.

He lift his head up and his eyes widened at the very handsome man standing at the end of the bed with a tray in his hands. On the tray, there are two pills and a glass of water.

"Affirmitive."

Was all he replied and the other handsome man moved to the side of the bed where he's sitting at and gave him the two pills.

On cue, Gaz accepted the pills and the glass of water. He swallowed them down and mumbled a soft thanks before scooting back to rest against the headboard.

"I'm Alex. Pleasure to meet you."

Gaz looked at him for a moment. Alex was a really handsome man. His blue eyes, sharp nose, facial hair and jesus, that ashy blonde hair. Pure perfection.

"Kyle. But you can call me Gaz."

The beautiful smile on Alex's face was charming. His eyes showed nothing but sweetness and humbleness. The type that would see someone with pure love and adoration.

'What did I get myself into?'

Meanwhile, back at the base, Soap was pacing around in the living room, worried and frustrated. Yesterday, they noticed the absence of a certain sergeant. Which meant that he never came back home. Ever since Gaz had hung up on him, he was very worried but didn't want to push.

Gaz wasn't the type to actually hang up on anyone unless an emergency or absolutely necessary. He would, more importantly, never stay out. Being the elite soldiers, reeking of far greater responsibilities, he took that very seriously.

So, to find his room empty, was very worrying yet frustrating. He wished they knew where he was.

"Bloody Christ, sit your ass down, Soap!" The loud booming voice of Ghost resonated within the common room.

"Shut it, Ghost!"

Ghost only rolled his eyes and leaned back on the couch. Yes, he did find it strange about their other sergeant not coming home last night. Yes, he did worry and by a lot. Yes, he wished he knew where he went. And yes, he was dying to go out there and look for him. But right now, it was ideal. Not when Gaz clearly wasn't in a good headspace.

"I swear if he doesn't get his ass he-"

The sound of the door opening cut him off, and they both turned towards the entrance.

Ghost immediately stood up from where he was sitting and Soap only stared. There at the door, was Gaz. But not the typical quiet and very decent looking. No. Gaz had marks on his neck, his clothes was a little disordered and he was avoiding them.

"Where were you?"

Gaz tensed up and he looked the other way. His wrecked emotions came back full force. His heart began to race as Soap took step closer when he didn't answer.

"Where the bloody hell were you, Kyle?"

Gaz looked at Soap and then at Ghost before looking back at the man in front of him. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times not knowing how to even start. HIs guilt began to eat him alive even if there was absolutely no reason to.

Soap had enough of the silence and his patience had ran out. He gripped Gaz's arms tightly and stared at him with frustration.

"Kyle, where were you!?"

"None of your business!"

A very tensed silence overtook the entirety of the common room after Gaz's outburst. No one said a thing. That was until Gaz pulled his arms back aggressively to get out of Soap's strong grip and then went to his room without so much of another word or looking back. Leaving behind two very surprised men.

[meetinginsamarra]

mayprompts2024, #25 intuition

White Pony Tattoo - Part Five (intuition)

Sherlock took a sip of his tea and John felt a wave of jealousy for the teacup that was embraced by this perfect cupid’s bow of Sherlock’s lips. Sherlock swallowed and John mirrored the movement subconsciously, fascinated by Sherlock’s bobbing Adam’s apple.

He’s far too beautiful to concentrate, John sighed internally, how will I even survive getting tattooed by him, with his hands all over me? Well, all over my arm at least. But he will be so close. I’ve never met a person who at the same time is such a seductive menace and an annoying dick. Seems like he’s just my type, dear me.

“So,” Sherlock stood up again, unable to contain his excited energy about explaining his deduction, “how did I know?”

“I’m all ears, oh great Meastro.”

Sherlock flashed John an amused smile.

“When I first saw you, you had pulled off your jumper and were looking with disdain at the Virgin Mary tattoo on your upper arm. It sports the face of a real woman, your ex-wife apparently because of the marks on your ringfinger where your wedding band had been. Ergo she left and betrayed you and you’ll be divorced soon and want to eradicate every memory of her.”

“Okay, I get this. But the soldier? Getting shot and surviving in Afghanistan?”

“Your whole stance and demeanour screamed ‘military’. You still cut your own hair in short military style. Scar tissue on your shoulder peeked out under your vest. You’re not shy about showing off your naked arms but hate the scar. I’ve done a lot of research on skin and also cover-ups. I know a gunshot wound when I see one, one that got severely infected by bacteria and you survived sepsis. The skin is badly healed, so a quick emergency job. There are tiny spots of sun damage on the skin of your neck, they are fading but still visible. Ergo, you’ve been in a hot country with a war going on and got shot not very long ago where the British have fought, so soldier in Afghanistan or Iraq.”

“Amazing!”

“You think so?”

“Sure. What about the doctor part? Intuition?”

Sherlock snorted. “No. I don’t deal in intuition. I knew you were a doctor already, even before we talked about achieving perfection in our respective trades.”

“How so?”

“The position of getting shot in your back while you were kneeling. Exit wound is on chest, causing an intermittant tremor in your hand. You hate the scar tissue on your shoulder, you conceal it as it insults your ideals as a doctor. Only a doctor would have scrutinized my frontroom for cleanliness like you did. You saw the flyers about proper hygiene and skin care after getting a tattoo. You appreciated the skin care products I sell in this shelf here, obviously acquainted with them and knowing they’re the best you can get.

Also, a doctor because it’s the only logical reason why you should have been kneeling and bent over in such an unusual angle, so helping a comrade wounded in action. You wouldn’t have been distracted otherwise and missed the shooter because you automatically scanned the shop for any possible dangers when you entered and subconsciously stand at attention when you have to face a perilous task…”

“Perilous task as in getting you to tattoo me?” John intterrupted with a grin.

“Obviously, do keep up, John! You loved being a soldier and wanted the happy memory erasing the one of your ex-wife. You’re attracted to dangerous situations and people, they make you feel alive. Final conclusion, you wanted a soldier in full combat gear for a cover-up.”

“Holy Christ, you’re spot-on.”

Sherlock beamed, not hiding being very satisfied with himself.

“And are you?” John continued.

“What?”

“Dangerous to me?”

“Of course, I am. Firstly, I’ll come at you with a loaded gun…”

“…a tattoo gun…”

“…that still can cause a lot of pain and damage to your skin if wielded incorrectly.”

“I’ll give you that. And secondly?” John asked and took a sip out of his cup.

“Secondly, you find me dangerously attractive.”

John spat some tea onto the coffee table.

+++++

tagging some people @totallysilvergirl @peageetibbs @lisbeth-kk  @raina-at @calaisreno

[phantomlifes]

cinnamon girl with robin buckley pls!!🤎

you woke up to the sound of robin tossing and turning in her sleep. groggily, you wiped the tiredness from your eyes and looked at her. you knew she had nightmares. you knew all of it, in fact. she’s never been very good at keeping secrets, and she had spilled everything to you when you started dating because she thought you deserved to know. you knew that she was drugged and interrogated by russian soldiers, stuck in an alternate dimension and strangled by the monsters lurking within it. all of it sounded like the absurdist movies you two would watch over and over, but the tears coating her blue eyes told you it was real. very real. and she’s a very bad liar, anyway.

she started to talk in her sleep. little whimpers of “don’t touch him” and “please don’t hurt me.” made your heart shatter to pieces. you placed your hand on her shoulder and pushed at it as gently as you could.

“babygirl..” you whispered, hoping you wouldn’t have to resort to waking her up harshly. “babygirl, it’s me.” she opened her eyes with a silent gasp, looking at you and you could immediately see the relief wash over her face. she sat up slowly.

“i’m sorry.” she said hoarsely, blinking tears out of her eyes. “bad dream.” she wiped her face, moving her bangs off of her brows.

“was it the mall again?” you rubbed her shoulder.

she nodded with a sigh. “it always is.” you started to launch yourself off the bed into the routine you’ve made, calling steve so robin can hear he’s okay, grabbing movies and tea so she could relax, but she grabbed your wrist before you could leave.

“not tonight.” she shook her head with a half smile. “it’s okay, babe. just stay with me.” she pulled you back down on to the bed and you landed on top of her. “oh, hello…” she crooned, wiggling her eyebrows.

“robin, i’m serious!” you retorted through a laugh, rolling off of her, but staying nearby. you lightly stroked her arm with the tips of your fingers. “what do you want then? we could talk about it, or-“

“i want you to distract me.” she looked back at you. “i want to replace this feeling…i don’t want to just…placate it, i don’t know!” she started to ramble. you forgot that stroking her arm was one of many of her niche turn ons.

“robin….” you looked at her quizzically. “are you asking me to fuck you to sleep?” you asked, barely above a whisper, even though you were the only two in the room.

she giggled. “get back on top of me, woman!” and god, the sound of her laughter, you could never say no to it. you straddled her waist, grabbing her chin delicately and leaning down to kiss her. innocent, but passionate. full of promises. it only accelerated when robin reached around and squeezed your ass. you pulled back with a gasp. “you’re gonna pay for that.” you tried to sound sexy and threatening, but her smile was too contagious.

“yes, please…” she chuckled, and then yelped when you sucked a hickey into her neck. “i have work tomorrow!”

you pulled away from her neck with a shrug. “guess you’re just gonna have to call in sick.” you leaned back down and kissed the mark you left, down her neck as your fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her sweatpants. you touched her through her underwear, and chuckled a bit. “how are you wet already? i thought i was in for a night of serious work…” you teased as you delicately dipped a finger inside of her. she wrapped her arms around your neck, arching her back into you.

“because…jesus christ, babe…” she was interrupted by you finding her sweet spot with ease, every time. she groaned at the feeling of you two fingers deep, with your thumb pressing circles onto her clit. she nipped at your ear. “you’re really fucking hot when you take care of me, you know that?” she smiled. “you go into this super sexy mother bear protector mode-“

“are you seriously comparing me to a bear while i’m inside of you?” you raised an eyebrow, picking up the pace of your fingers pumping in and out. she clung to you, her fingernails digging into your shoulders.

“in a good way.” she answered breathlessly. “i’m gonna-“

“i know babe, i’ve got you.” you told her, looking into those blue eyes and wanting to give her everything. “i always got you.”

she reached her release and squeezed your arms, trying to catch her breath. you kissed her cheek and rolled off of her, brushing the sweat off of her forehead. when you were grabbing washcloths from the bedside drawer, she pulled you underneath her. “jesus christ, robin!” you squealed. “you have, like, horny strength.”

“only time i’m ever athletic.” she grabbed your cheek and kissed you deeply, ready to take care of you now.

[locuas642]

Carlo's death did not just take happiness away from Geppetto's life, with the bombs falling and hitting the church, that marked the death of joy and happiness for Italy.

In the flashback, what we see is not just a Geppetto who was happy, but a town that was welcoming, warm. A place where a kid could run freely and people would just laugh and smile. with Vibrant colors and streets filled with people.

With the bombs and the rise of fascism, the town becomes colder, more somber. The people are more wary and don't trust anyone. The church, which before had greeted Geppetto with joy and happy to let him work at his pace, is now eager to codnemn, to angrily ask why their Christ is still unfinished. The streets are empty, except for people who are afraid of their own shadow

And then we see a circus, a place kids love and are excited to see. And are excited to see the magic puppet that walks on it's own with no strings and who dances and sings

And eventually the circus is reduced solely to that one act.

and that act eventually becomes propaganda for the glory of Mussolini's Italy.

And even the kids, happy as they are, eventually get thrown to the youth camp, where they are trained to become killers. Soldiers to eventually die fighting the enemy. Until you believe your very life exists for the sake of being useful to your authoritarian ruler.

Fascism kills. Not just people, but it kills joy itself

[kings-highway]

consider this: Soldier, Poet, King by The Oh Hellos, but as the main trouble-makers of Paranormality.

"There will come a soldier who carries a mighty sword. / He will tear your city down." -> "Daichi is not one of us - the bigeneric children born of alien experimentation are like parasites on this planet, they can cast their eyes onto the yokai without belief in them, forcing them to exist without purpose, to live in uncertain circumstances."

Perhaps not a sword, but certainly his nature - his inability to let sleeping dogs lie. Every time Oikawa called on him, Daichi unwittingly answered each time as though he were a soldier following the orders of his commander. When let loose, he did not stop his hunt. He stuck his nose in the dirt and kept sniffing out the drugs buried in a dealer's backyard (metaphorically speaking). Mixing that quality with his poisonous DNA seeping into the very fabric of the supernatural universe, the product is a man who can crumble towers with each footfall, who can make the citizens tremble at the end of his bayonet.

"There will come a poet whose weapon is his word. / He will slay with his tongue." -> "That is the unfortunate burden that we both must carry as believers - there would be no power in your belief if you were able to see it so easily, would there?"

His belief in Daichi's alien heritage, or at the very least, his belief that Daichi's father was up to something shady, is what, essentially, made Daichi an alien. If he had never been told, never been given the inkling of an idea that he is anything but human, then he wouldn't have had to deal with the adverse effects of seeing yokai. Oikawa believed in his ability to perceive, so Daichi did. Oikawa believed that being a monster does not make you monstrous, that the name of the woman who died by her husband's hand is her maiden name, not the one of her murderer. He can destroy and create worlds with words in his mind, with words spoken aloud.

"There will come a ruler whose brow is laid in thorn. / Smeared with oil like David's boy." -> "Sinistrals are not inherently magic but ones born and bred from bloodlines of power and superstition have innate…"

He cannot perceive the yokai. In fact, he barely even believes in them. Yet, he is the only one who can innately physically affect them before they touch him. With Daichi, he can see them. He doesn't know how to lay his hands on them before they've already gotten ahold of him. Using your sinistral hand can be learned, but Ushijima's ability is innate. He is strong in his ancestral power. He is marked with centuries of superstition, a bloodline capable of bringing the yokai to heel. His arm can move as a separate part of him. The very oil of the yokai is smeared into his skin, his veins, his bones, to the neurons connecting to his brain.

these are not set in stone, i think, considering i could also make a sound argument for all three of them in every position, such as both oikawa and daichi in the ruler spot, and ushijima as the solider. and so on and so forth. but, this is what i'm going to go with and submit. i fear i cannot consume media normally. will i be back in the future? maybe. just wanted to leave you with this, and should you have any thoughts, of course i'd love to hear them.

(obviously i know this song is about jesus christ. but it is something to be said that when these three came together, the bigener, the believer, and the sinistral, they tore the city down, as the last line of the song would go.)

I am CRYING.

dear readers, in case you haven't been following along @mania-sama has been waging psychological warfare against me for a few weeks and I'm pretty sure it's punishment for making them enjoy an DaiOi fic

this has killed me. is it possible you understand the themes and motifs of these characters more than i do? absolutely. fuck you. Also, deeply impressed that you put Ushijima up there, because he initially was slated to be the third metaphorical heavy hitter of the story but I decided to bench him for a bit and instead he will be back in a sequal to develope what the sinistrality hand meant. BUT FU K YOU BECAUSE YOU'VE SPOILED IT. HOW DID YOU NAIL IT 100% ON A SUBJECT I BARELY FUCKING TOUCHED. YOU GOT IT. ABLE TO TOUCH THE YOKAI BEFORE THEY TOUCH HIM. SATURATED IN THEIR OILS. IM CHEWING ON YOU MANIA. IM CHEWING ON YOU SO HARD. DO YOU FEEL THESE TEETH GNAWING? MMMHMMMM TASTY MANIA MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH.

Anyways I love you thanks for this I have to go back to work and be normal for another 5 hours now.

EVERYONE should read this. If you read Paranormality: its accurate. You know that. Enjoy the extra. IF YOU HAVENT this is the best goddamn endorsement of the story I could have written.

[landwriter]

1589 got me feeling&rambling and I'm so sorry beforehand that I can't keep it short and simple, as would probably befit the thing. Feel free to ignore if not interesting to you, still you are the one that comes to mind when thinking about Hob being morally grey.

That scene is always so painful to watch, mostly because Hob is behaving like such a sorry fool. He has really decked himself out to impress his stranger and misses the mark so dramatically.

(Whereas Dream seemingly has not held back either - I mean it's easily his hottest look, you can't tell me he didn't mean to make a lasting impression. So much disappointment on both sides.)

Cringe Hob as part of the dark Hob spectrum, his self-importance/selfishness showing - of course it's not pure fun to watch, but I'm always so fascinated by that flicker of pain (foreshadowing shame) that comes right to the surface in all his put on show, just before he orders the lamb. The contrast makes for a very intense moment, imo. And I am wondering, has he really left all of this behind by 1889? Or is he simply more smooth by that time (that's what I'm getting from the show) ? In fanfics his flaws are mostly depicted as minor or serving a good end in modern times, he is always such a goodie by then (and I love him, of course). But can we imagine just a trace of more questionable/offputting Hob in the mix (if only on impulse) - to be clear, I have no idea how that would work. Or should we just be grateful that that lies behind him (it certainly makes for a much more likeable character and a nicer love story)?

(me force feeding myself more of the horrible stuff I just wanted to avoid looking at)

It's a beautiful contrast: opulence and insecurity. Success and asking still for validation. I have Thoughts on each meeting (please send me asks about them) - ostensibly the very first fannish thing I did for this show, and also in my adult life, was rewatch the meetings and pause constantly and take - oh holy Christ over 4,000 words of notes.

I propose Hob is not acting like a sorry fool. Sure, some bits are clearly played for comedy. Hob is selfish, self-important, and given to hedonism. He is concerned primarily with his own comfort and the personal pleasures of life. But I blame 1589 pretty solidly on Dream. In 1489, after being asked what his experience is like, he answers Dream with an inarticulate statement spoken by a true person who just Digs The Experience of Experiencing: it's 'fucking brilliant' and 'all changing'. Dream asks how, Hob literally looks around the room like a student who forgot an essay was due, and names chimneys and playing cards. Handkerchiefs. Simple things - still sensual things - but simple ones. Certainly no sociopolitical discourse here. What will you people think of next, says Dream, deeply sarcastic and visibly disinterested. And Dream also asks him: but what is Hob doing with his time? This, too, he is under-prepared to answer. Soldiering, banditry, bit of printing press work. Hardly enough to impress this supernatural lord, and Hob can tell.

When he is granted, explicitly, another 100 years by Dream, it is not only a relief, but I think a part of Hob squares its jaw in that moment and says: I'll show him - I'll show him what I can do in a century, I'll earn his pleased regard. Not necessarily because he's even, you know, madly in love at this point, but because he's in it for the living, does not intrinsically have great ambitions, but does have someone who has a) seemingly granted him this greatest gift and b) is unimpressed with what he's doing with it. And he's lost everyone he knew. Dream is now his oldest acquaintance, and wouldn't it be nice if he liked Hob?

He knows only the language of what impresses other men, and this is what he achieves. But to Dream, both Hob's socially-valued successes and his deeply personal ones are terrifically uninteresting. They are not New Dreams To Spur The Minds Of Men. There is no new story in a man seeking fortune and having a wife and a child he loves. He is ancient as the first dreaming thing, and he is Bored. He is, in fact, soured on this meeting from the outset, when he says "Hello, Hob," which on my watch struck me, apparently, as extremely bizarre and of having a real air of Hob being In Trouble. (The only other times Dream says his name are at the first, looming and omniscient, and in 1789, - 'I suggest you find yourself a different line of business, Robert Gadling'. He does not say it at their modern meeting.)

I mean - how would you impress someone? Someone who was interested in your deeds? Putting on a nice little dinner and catching them up on your life, talking about your family, seems a decent enough shout. It's not like you can ask him about his life, he won't offer information when asked and only sometimes will correct you if you venture your own guesses. (see also: 1889 foreshadowing) Hob is feeling proud and triumphant, feeling like he's come far. He is obviously a bit obnoxious about it, but I do think Dream shows off his flaws far more in 1589 than Hob does.

Hob's greatest sin, here, is trying to be liked. His greatest regret is almost certainly not the spread he put on, but the moment he was really, truly, earnest - not underscored even by a subsequent joke - the moment he declaims that this is what he had imagined Heaven to be like (safe enough to walk the streets; good food; good wine) - Life is so rich, he says - and Dream looks away to listen to Will Shaxberd, and we watch real time as Hob's expression collapses. He had leaned forward nearly out of his chair in enthusiasm, and now he shrinks back, reminded again of the dangers of earnestness: being alone in it. Being ignored. Better to make a joke of things, which is why he tells so many around Dream, especially after being more open - it's clearly a matter of habit. (It is also, incidentally, absolutely unappealing to Dream, who really and truly looks at him for the first time in 1689, when he is stripped of the social niceties of men and reigns nothing in.) He eats. He frets. He has had another century, and he has failed to impress the stranger.

The worst moment, I think, is that Dream does not renew their compact. He does not ask Hob if he still wishes to live, and Hob does not get the opportunity to say "Oh, yes." He was given this gift for one reason: the stranger was curious about his experiences. Does the stranger seem still curious about him now? I wonder, honestly, if Hob thought he would see another meeting.

Has he really left that all behind by 1889? No - you hear it in his own words, 'People are almost always better than you think they are.' - the earnesty, and then the joke - 'Not me, though, still the same as ever.' Except it's not really a joke, is it? Hob is saying to Dream, I know you don't think much of me, well, I don't pretend to think much of myself. He still wants Dream's validation, of course, he's just trying to earn it differently. (It goes poorly.) He's smoother, but also more frustrated, more fed up, more hungry for knowledge of his stranger; and I think that's such an interesting point in time for him. I think he leaves little behind, and what he does leave behind, he dreams of. He's changed so much and so little, and I think you could really go in whatever direction you want depicting that and be convincing.

I can't speak to the fanon on Hob's flaws because I don't read nearly as much as I wish I could. While I don't personally think 1589 Hob was actually that questionable or offputting - at least no more than most people would be in that situation - I would love to see a modern fic where has the same flaws he's always had, where they come up maybe different than they would have several centuries ago, but they absolutely exist, it does have plot consequences. Bonus points if he is not being offputting for the purposes of rescuing Dream from the fishbowl - if his flaws exist independent of his relationship with Dream altogether. Bonus bonus points if Hob is the one whose character development needs to be developed and Dream is in a better place than he is. If anyone has fic recs feel free to drop them in the comments!

P.S. 1589 Dream, wow, yes, for sure. 10/10 would babble and get walked out on

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Jesus Rises!

1 In the end of the sabbath, as it began to dawn toward the first day of the week, came Mary Magdalene and the other Mary to see the sepulchre.

2 And, behold, there was a great earthquake: for the angel of the Lord descended from heaven, and came and rolled back the stone from the door, and sat upon it.

3 His countenance was like lightning, and his raiment white as snow:

4 And for fear of him the keepers did shake, and became as dead men.

5 And the angel answered and said unto the women, Fear not ye: for I know that ye seek Jesus, which was crucified.

6 He is not here: for he is risen, as he said. Come, see the place where the Lord lay.

7 And go quickly, and tell his disciples that he is risen from the dead; and, behold, he goeth before you into Galilee; there shall ye see him: lo, I have told you.

8 And they departed quickly from the sepulchre with fear and great joy; and did run to bring his disciples word.

9 And as they went to tell his disciples, behold, Jesus met them, saying, All hail. And they came and held him by the feet, and worshipped him.

10 Then said Jesus unto them, Be not afraid: go tell my brethren that they go into Galilee, and there shall they see me.

11 Now when they were going, behold, some of the watch came into the city, and shewed unto the chief priests all the things that were done.

12 And when they were assembled with the elders, and had taken counsel, they gave large money unto the soldiers,

13 Saying, Say ye, His disciples came by night, and stole him away while we slept.

14 And if this come to the governor's ears, we will persuade him, and secure you.

15 So they took the money, and did as they were taught: and this saying is commonly reported among the Jews until this day.

16 Then the eleven disciples went away into Galilee, into a mountain where Jesus had appointed them.

17 And when they saw him, they worshipped him: but some doubted.

18 And Jesus came and spake unto them, saying, All power is given unto me in heaven and in earth.

19 Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost:

20 Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world. Amen. — Matthew 28 | King James Version (KJV) The King James Version Bible is in the public domain Cross References: Proverbs 8:15; Isaiah 9:6; Jeremiah 26:2; Daniel 7:9; Daniel 10:6; Matthew 9:31; Matthew 12:14; Matthew 12:40; Matthew 14:27; Matthew 16:21; Matthew 23:7; Matthew 26:32; Matthew 27:2; Matthew 27:8; Matthew 27:56 Matthew 27:60-61; Matthew 27:65-66; Mark 1:45; Mark 14:28; Mark 15:41; Mark 16:4; Mark 16:7; Mark 16:11; Luke 24:47; John 20:14; John 20:17; Acts 1:2-3; Acts 1:8; Acts 18:10; Revelation 1:17

Matthew 28 Bible Commentary - Matthew Henry (concise)

Key Passages in Matthew 28

1. Christ's resurrection is declared by an angel to the women. 9. He himself appears unto them. 11. The chief priests pay the soldiers to say that he was stolen out of his tomb. 16. Christ appears to his disciples, 18. and sends them to baptize and teach all nations.