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fdelopera · 6 months

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I’m Christian but want to challenge what I’ve been taught after seeing your posts about the Old Testament having cut up the Torah to fit a different narrative. Today I was taught that the Hebrew word Elohim is the noun for God as plural and therefore evidence of the holy Trinity and Jesus & Holy Spirit been there at creation. Is that what the word Elohim actually means? Because I don’t want to be party to the Jewish faith, language and culture being butchered by blindly trusting what I was told

Hi Anon.

NOPE! The reason G-d is sometimes called Elohim in the Tanakh is because during the First Temple period (circa 1000 – 587 BCE), many of the ancestors of the Jewish people in the Northern and Southern Kingdoms practiced polytheism.

(A reminder that the Tanakh is the Hebrew bible, and is NOT the same as the “Old Testament” in Christian bibles. Tanakh is an acronym, and stands for Torah [Instruction], Nevi’im [Prophets], Ketuvim [Writings].)

Elohim is the plural form of Eloah (G-d), and these are some of the names of G-d in Judaism. Elohim literally means “Gods” (plural).

El was the head G-d of the Northern Kingdom’s pantheon, and the Southern Kingdom of Judah incorporated El into their worship as one of the many names of G-d.

The name Elohim is a vestige of that polytheistic past.

Judaism transitioned from monolatry (worshiping one G-d without denying the existence of others) to true monotheism in the years during and directly after the Babylonian exile (597 – 538 BCE). That is largely when the Torah was edited into the form that we have today. In order to fight back against assimilation into polytheistic Babylonian society, the Jews who were held captive in Babylon consolidated all gods into one G-d. Shema Yisrael Adonai eloheinu Adonai ehad. “Hear O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One.”

So Elohim being a plural word for “Gods” has absolutely nothing to do with the idea of the Holy Trinity in Christianity.

Especially because Christians are monotheists. My understanding of the Holy Trinity (please forgive me if this is incorrect) is that Christians believe that the Holy Trinity is three persons in one Godhead. Certainly, the Holy Trinity is not “three Gods” — that would be blasphemy.

(My sincere apologies to the Catholics who just read this last sentence and involuntarily cringed about the Protestants who’ve said this. I’m so sorry! I’m just trying to show that it’s a fallacy to say that the Holy Trinity somehow comes from “Elohim.”)

But there's something else here, too. Something that as a Jew, makes me uneasy about the people who are telling you these things about Elohim and the Holy Trinity.

Suggesting that Christian beliefs like the Holy Trinity can somehow be "found" in the Tanakh is antisemitic.

This is part of “supersession theory.” This antisemitic theory suggests that Christianity is somehow the "true successor" to Second Temple Judaism, which is false.

Modern Rabbinic Judaism is the true successor to Second Temple Judaism. Period.

Christianity began as an apocalyptic Jewish mystery cult in the 1st century CE, in reaction to Roman rule. One of the tactics that the Romans used to subdue the people they ruled over was a “divide and conquer” strategy, which sowed division and factionalization in the population. The Romans knew that it was easier to control a country from the outside if the people inside were at each other’s throats.

Jesus led one of many breakaway Jewish sects at the time. The Jewish people of Qumran (possibly Essenes), whose Tanakh was the “Dead Sea Scrolls,” were another sect.

Please remember that the Tanakh was compiled in the form that we have today over 500 years before Jesus lived. Some of the texts in the Tanakh were passed down orally for maybe a thousand years before that, and texts like the Song of Deborah in the Book of Judges (in the Tanakh, that’s in the Nevi’im) were first written down in Archaic Biblical Hebrew during the First Temple Period.

There is absolutely nothing of Jesus or Christianity in the Tanakh, and there is nothing in the Tanakh that in any way predicts Christianity.

Also, Christians shouldn’t use Judaism in any way to try to “legitimize” Christianity. Christianity was an offshoot of 1st century Judaism, which then incorporated a lot of Roman Pagan influence. It is its own valid religion, in all its forms and denominations.

But trying to use the Hebrew bible to give extra credence to ideas like the Holy Trinity is antisemitic.

It is a tactic used by Christian sects that want to delegitimize Judaism as a religion by claiming that Christianity was somehow “planted” in the Tanakh over 2500 years ago.

This line of thinking has led Christians to mass murder Jews in wave after wave of antisemitic violence over the last nearly 2000 years, because our continued existence as Jews challenges the notion that Christians are the “true” successors of Temple Judaism.

Again, the only successor of Temple Judaism is Rabbinic Judaism, aka Modern Judaism.

This line of thinking has also gotten Christians to force Jews to convert en masse throughout the ages. If Christians can get Jews to all convert to Christianity, then they don’t have to deal with the existential challenge to this core misapprehension about the “true” successor to Temple Judaism.

And even today, many Christians still believe that they should try to force Jews to “bend the knee” to Jesus. When I was a young teenager, a preacher who was a parent at the school I went to got me and two other Jewish students to get in his car after a field trip. After he had trapped us in his car, he spent the next two hours trying to get us to convert to Christianity. It was later explained to me that some Christians believe they get extra “points” for converting Jews. And I’m sure he viewed this act of religious and spiritual violence as something he could brag about to his congregation on Sunday.

Trying to get Jews to convert is antisemitic and misguided, and it ignores all the rich and beautiful history of Jewish practice.

We Jews in diaspora in America and Europe have a forced immersion in Christian culture. It is everywhere around us, so we learn a lot about Christianity through osmosis. Many Jews also study early Christianity because Christianity exists as a separate religion within our Jewish history.

But I don’t see a lot of Christians studying Jewish history. Even though studying Jewish history would give you a wealth of understanding and context for your own religious traditions.

So, all of this is to say, I encourage you to study Jewish history and Jewish religious practice. Without an understanding of the thousands of years of Jewish history, it is easy to completely misinterpret the Christian bible, not to mention the Hebrew bible as well.

#judaism #jumblr #jewblr #jewish history #as a jew i never thought i'd be explaining the bible to christians but here we are!#i hope i've answered your question!#i know that a lot of jews will already know most of the jewish history i've shared but just in case i'm putting this in the jumblr tag #antisemitism tw

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cawnecny · 1 year

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Hey now, you're an all-star!

Players assignments for the 2023 all-star skills competition have been announced!

ASG2023

#nhl all star game #nhl all star 2023 #asg 2023 #nhl #nhl all star game 2023 #idk what else to tag haha #not tagging the players theres too many #hardest shot #fastest skater #tendy tandem #breakaway challenge #pitch n puck #splash shot #accuracy shooting #asg23

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purepastrnak · 1 year

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David Pastrnak as "Happy Gilmore" at the NHL All Star Games Breakaway Challenge 2.3.23

#bruins lb #nhl asg 2023 #asg lb #david pastrnak #breakaway challenge #video #nhl asg #2/3/23

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estapa-edwards · 19 days

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BROTHERS BEST FRIEND - D.MERCER

paring: dawson mercer x fem! reader

word count:3.7k

requested? no

warnings: use of y/n.

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From the moment I first laid eyes on Dawson Mercer, I knew he was something special. It wasn’t just the way he moved on the ice, gliding effortlessly as he weaved through the opposition, or the precision with which he handled the puck, making it seem like an extension of himself. No, it was something deeper, something that tugged at my heartstrings and made my cheeks flush every time our paths crossed – which, as the sister of one of his teammates, happened more often than I’d care to admit.

In a household where hockey reigned supreme, with my brother Jack Hughes as the star center for the New Jersey Devils, and my other brothers Luke and Quinn also lighting up the ice, I was well-acquainted with the fervor and passion the sport inspired. Yet, nothing could have prepared me for the unexpected crush I found myself developing on one of Jack’s teammates, Dawson Mercer.

Being around the team, attending games, and cheering from the stands was a routine part of my life. It was during one of these games that I first felt that indescribable connection with Dawson. I was watching from the VIP box, my eyes darting across the ice, following Jack’s every move, when Dawson stole the puck and made an incredible breakaway. The crowd erupted into cheers, and as Dawson skated past our box, our eyes met for a fleeting moment. That was all it took. My heart skipped a beat, and I was hooked.

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After the game, I found myself mingling with the players at a local hotspot they frequented. Dawson, still flushed from the excitement of the game, made his way over to me.

"Hey, Y/N," he greeted with a playful smirk. "Enjoying the game?"

I grinned, trying to hide my blush. "Oh, you mean that amazing breakaway you had? Yeah, it was alright," I teased, feigning indifference.

Dawson chuckled, leaning in closer. "Just alright? I was hoping for a standing ovation."

Rolling my eyes playfully, I responded, "Well, maybe next time. You'll have to give me something even more spectacular to cheer about."

Dawson's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Challenge accepted," he whispered, his breath warm against my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

The flirty exchange left me with butterflies in my stomach and a smile on my face, realizing that my crush on Dawson Mercer was more than just a passing infatuation.

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Over the next few weeks, I found myself looking for any excuse to be around Dawson. Whether it was attending team practices, hanging out in the locker room, or joining the boys for post-game celebrations, I was there, soaking in his presence like a sun-deprived flower. Each interaction, however brief, only intensified my feelings for him.

I would often find myself arriving early to practices, lingering near the rinkside to watch Dawson and the team warm up. The way he moved on the ice was mesmerizing, his every stride and shot exuding confidence and skill. I would cheer him on from the sidelines, our eyes meeting occasionally, sending a thrill through me every time.

Hanging out in the locker room was another opportunity for me to be near Dawson. While I respected the team's space and tried not to intrude too much, I enjoyed the casual banter and camaraderie that flowed freely among the players. Dawson would often catch my eye and flash me a smile or make a playful comment, making my heart race with excitement.

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The post-game celebrations were perhaps my favorite part. There was something exhilarating about being in the midst of the team's jubilation, sharing in their victories and witnessing the bond between the players. Dawson would always make an effort to include me in the celebrations, whether it was sharing a drink, introducing me to his teammates, or simply engaging in light-hearted conversation. Each moment spent together, no matter how fleeting, felt special and significant.

One evening, as I was preparing to leave the arena after a game, Dawson approached me with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Hey, Y/N, the team is having a little get-together tonight to celebrate the win. Would you like to come?" he asked, his voice laced with a playful tone.

Caught off guard by the invitation but thrilled at the prospect of spending more time with Dawson outside of the usual hockey environment, I replied, "Sure, I'd love to!"

"Great! It's at Alex's place. I'll pick you up around 8?" he suggested, his smile widening.

"Sounds perfect," I said, trying to maintain my composure despite the butterflies that had suddenly taken flight in my stomach.

Later that evening, I found myself eagerly awaiting Dawson's arrival. When he pulled up outside my apartment, I was struck by how handsome he looked in his casual attire, a stark contrast to his hockey gear. He flashed me a charming smile as I climbed into the passenger seat.

"You look amazing, Y/N," he complimented, his eyes lingering on me a moment longer than necessary.

"Thank you, Dawson," I blushed, feeling a warmth spread through me at his words.

As we drove to the party, the atmosphere in the car was charged with anticipation. Dawson reached over to turn up the radio, and soon we were both singing along to the catchy tune, our laughter filling the confined space.

Upon arriving at Alex's lavish apartment, we were greeted by the lively sounds of music and laughter. The place was packed with players and their friends, all in high spirits and eager to continue the night's celebrations.

Dawson took my hand, guiding me through the crowded room with ease. "Come on, let's grab a drink," he suggested, leading me to the makeshift bar set up in the corner of the living room.

As we waited for our drinks, Dawson leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a seductive whisper. "You know, Y/N, I've been looking forward to tonight. It's not every day I get to take such a beautiful date to a party."

I felt my cheeks heat up at his flirty remark, but I couldn't help but smile at his boldness. "Well, I'm glad I could be your plus one tonight," I replied, my voice tinged with playful sarcasm.

Dawson grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Trust me, the pleasure is all mine."

Throughout the night, Dawson's attentiveness never wavered. He introduced me to his teammates, always keeping a protective hand on my waist or back, subtly claiming me as his. We danced, laughed, and shared whispered secrets, the undeniable chemistry between us growing stronger with each passing moment.

As the party began to wind down, Dawson pulled me aside, his expression sincere. "I had a great time tonight, Y/N. Thank you for coming."

I smiled, feeling a rush of warmth and affection for the man standing before me. "The pleasure was all mine, Dawson." With that, he leaned down, capturing my lips in a gentle yet passionate kiss.

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The morning after the party, I mustered up the courage to address the kiss with Dawson. As I approached him in the kitchen, he was busy making coffee, seemingly unaware of my presence.

"Dawson, can we talk about last night?" I began, my voice hesitant.

He looked up, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What about last night?"

Caught off guard by his response, I stammered, "You know, the kiss... between us?"

A look of genuine surprise crossed Dawson's face, as if he had completely forgotten about our intimate moment. "Oh, that? I thought we were just caught up in the moment, celebrating the win," he replied casually, stirring his coffee as if discussing the weather.

The awkwardness of the situation hit me like a ton of bricks. I felt embarrassed and foolish for assuming the kiss meant something more to him.

"So, you're saying it didn't mean anything to you?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady despite the sinking feeling in my stomach.

Dawson looked up, seemingly realizing the gravity of the situation. "No, Y/N, that's not what I meant," he said, his voice softening. "I just... I didn't want to assume anything and make things awkward between us."

Feeling embarrassed and wishing I hadn't brought it up, I quickly responded, "You know what, never mind. Forget I even said anything," I said, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Dawson's expression was a mix of confusion and concern. "Y/N, please don't say that. I didn't mean to dismiss our kiss. It meant something to me, too."

I shook my head, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. "It's fine, Dawson. Let's just forget it happened," I said, trying to sound casual despite the turmoil inside me.

Dawson reached out, gently placing a hand on my arm. "Y/N, I care about you, and I don't want to brush this aside. Let's talk about it, really talk about it."

But I couldn't bear to discuss it any further. "Maybe some other time," I mumbled, pulling away and fleeing the room, leaving Dawson standing there.

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A few days later, I found myself at the practice rink with Jack, watching the Devils go through their drills. I had tried to put the awkward encounter with Dawson behind me, but the lingering tension between us was hard to ignore. As I stood by the boards, cheering for Jack and the team, I couldn't help but notice Dawson's distant demeanor.

During a break in the practice, Jack skated over to me, his brow furrowed in concern. "Hey, is everything okay between you and Dawson?" he asked quietly, so as not to be overheard by the other players.

I hesitated for a moment, trying to hide the turmoil I was feeling. "Yeah, everything's okay. What do you mean?" I replied, attempting to sound casual and dismissive.

Jack looked at me skeptically, clearly not buying my nonchalant demeanor. "He's been acting weird lately. Did something happen?"

I shrugged, trying to maintain my indifferent facade. "How should I know? We don't even talk," I replied dismissively, masking the hurt and confusion I felt inside.

Jack frowned, clearly concerned. "That's not like Dawson. I'll talk to him and find out what's going on."

"Please, Jack, no, it's nothing," I insisted, trying to downplay the situation and avoid making a bigger deal out of it.

Jack looked at me skeptically, hesitating for a moment before finally nodding. "Alright, if you say so. But if there's anything going on, you know you can talk to me, right?"

I nodded gratefully, appreciating Jack's concern and support. "I know, Jack. Thanks."

As I watched Dawson from the sidelines for the rest of the practice, I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that something was amiss between us. Every time I glanced his way, I noticed he was staring back at me, his gaze intense and filled with a mixture of regret and longing. Despite my attempts to brush it off and maintain a sense of normalcy, the lingering awkwardness and distance between us were impossible to ignore.

It seemed as though he was trying to communicate something without words, his eyes searching mine for understanding and connection.

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As the practice came to an end, I started gathering my things, ready to head home. Just as I was about to leave the rink, Dawson suddenly rushed over to me, determination evident in his stride. Jack, sensing the gravity of the moment, gave me a knowing look before skating away.

"I'll let you two deal with it," Jack called out, his voice filled with understanding.

My heart raced as Dawson approached, the tension between us palpable. I looked up at him, searching his eyes for any sign of clarity or explanation.

"Y/N, we need to talk," Dawson began, his voice earnest and slightly shaky. "I know I've been distant lately, and I'm sorry. I didn't handle the situation well, and I regret that."

"Dawson, I really don't want to talk about this," I said, my voice tinged with frustration and disappointment. The uncertainty and awkwardness of the situation had taken its toll on me, and I wasn't sure if I was ready to address it just yet.

Dawson looked taken aback, his face reflecting a mixture of regret and determination. "Y/N, please-"

"No, it's over, really. Just let it go," I interrupted, cutting him off, my voice firm as I turned around to leave.

Before I could fully turn away, Dawson reached out and gently grabbed my arm, halting my movement. His touch was gentle yet firm, his eyes pleading with me to reconsider.

"Y/N, please don't walk away like this," he said, his voice filled with desperation. "I know I messed up, but I want to make it right. I care about you, and I don't want to lose you over a misunderstanding."

I hesitated, torn between my desire to escape the awkwardness and the lingering feelings I had for him. I looked into his eyes, searching for sincerity and a hint of the connection we once shared.

"Dawson, I-" I began, but he cut me off, his voice earnest as he began to speak from the heart.

"Y/N, I love the way you laugh, the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you're passionate about," Dawson started, his voice trembling with emotion. "I love how caring and supportive you are, always putting others before yourself. I love the way you challenge me, pushing me to be a better person and player. I love your smile, the way it brightens up even the darkest days. And most importantly, I love the way you make me feel when I'm with you - god, I can't even put it into words."

He took a deep breath, looking deeply into my eyes, his voice soft yet filled with conviction. "Y/N, I love you."

"You love me?" I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper, the weight of his confession sinking in. The depth of his feelings for me was both overwhelming and comforting, and I felt a mixture of joy, relief, and uncertainty.

Dawson nodded, his eyes never leaving mine, his expression sincere and vulnerable. "Yes, Y/N, I do. I've been struggling with how to express this to you, and I'm sorry for the confusion and the distance I've put between us."

I took a moment to process his words, my heart racing as I grappled with my own feelings for him. Despite the recent misunderstandings and awkwardness, I couldn't deny the deep connection and affection I had for Dawson.

"Dawson, I need time to sort out my feelings," I said softly, my voice filled with a mix of hope and uncertainty. "The way things have been lately, it's been confusing and overwhelming. I need to figure out what's best for both of us."

Dawson nodded, releasing my arm and taking a step back, his face etched with a mix of regret and understanding. "I understand, Y/N. Take all the time you need. Just know that I'll be here, hoping we can find a way back to each other. "

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Back at our apartment, the familiar comfort of home did little to ease the turmoil swirling inside me. I had been trying to avoid the topic, hoping to find clarity on my own, but as the days passed, the weight of the situation became too much to bear. Jack, sensing my distress, approached me in the living room where I was lost in thought.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Jack asked, his brow furrowed with concern as he took in my tear-streaked face.

I tried to brush it off, forcing a weak smile. "I'm fine, Jack, just tired."

Jack didn't buy it, sitting down beside me and gently placing a hand on my shoulder. "Y/N, you can talk to me. What's going on?"

Unable to hold back any longer, I broke down, the floodgates opening as I poured out my feelings and confusion about Dawson and our complicated relationship. "Jack, I don't know what to do. I care about Dawson so much, and I thought he felt the same way, but everything has been so confusing lately. He confessed his feelings for me, and I want to believe him, but the way he's been acting... I just don't know anymore."

Jack listened patiently, his presence a comforting anchor as I struggled to make sense of my emotions. When I finished, he wrapped his arms around me, offering silent support and understanding.

"Y/N, relationships are complicated, especially when they involve someone close to you," Jack began, his voice gentle and reassuring. "But you deserve clarity and honesty, especially from someone you care about. Have you talked to Dawson about how you feel?"

I shook my head, wiping away my tears. "I tried, but every time I bring it up, it becomes so awkward and uncomfortable. I don't know how to fix this, Jack."

Jack pulled back, looking me in the eyes with a determined expression. "Then maybe it's time for a heart-to-heart conversation with Dawson. You both need to be honest with each other and clear the air. Whether it leads to a deeper connection or the realization that you're better off as friends, you owe it to yourselves to communicate openly and honestly."

I nodded, feeling a renewed sense of determination. "You're right, Jack. I need to talk to Dawson and sort this out, one way or another."

Jack smiled, squeezing my shoulder reassuringly. "I'm here for you, Y/N, no matter what happens. Just remember, you deserve happiness and clarity in your relationships."

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The atmosphere in the Prudential Center was electric, the tension palpable as the New Jersey Devils faced off against their rivals. I was watching from the stands, my heart pounding with every play, every hit, every save. As the game progressed, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off with Dawson. He seemed more agitated than usual, his gameplay erratic and tense.

Midway through the second period, the tension reached a boiling point. Dawson got into a heated altercation with an opposing player, exchanging words and shoves before throwing a punch. The referees quickly intervened, but it was too late. Dawson was assessed a major penalty and ejected from the game, leaving his teammates to finish the game without him.

Feeling a mix of frustration and concern, I made my way to the locker room, hoping to talk to Dawson and offer some support. As I entered, I could hear the distant roar of the crowd and the muffled voices of the players outside, celebrating their hard-fought victory.

Dawson was sitting alone in the corner of the locker room, his head in his hands, his posture defeated and desolate. He looked up as I approached, his expression closed off and distant.

"Dawson, are you okay?" I asked softly, trying to keep my voice steady despite the worry and confusion swirling inside me.

Dawson sighed, avoiding my gaze as he replied, "I'm fine, Y/N. Just not in the mood to talk right now."

I took a deep breath, steeling myself as I sat down beside him, determined to break through his walls and offer the support he clearly needed, whether he wanted it or not.

"Dawson, I know you're upset about the game, but shutting me out isn't going to make things better," I said gently, reaching out to place a comforting hand on his arm. "I care about you, and I want to be here for you, especially when things get tough."

Dawson looked at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger and vulnerability. "Y/N, I appreciate your concern, but right now, I just need some space. I don't want to drag you into this mess."

I shook my head, refusing to back down, my voice firm yet caring. "Dawson, we're in this together, whether you like it or not. We need to communicate and support each other, especially when things get tough. Please, let me be here for you."

Dawson sighed, his defenses slowly crumbling as he looked into my eyes, the weight of his emotions evident in his gaze. After a moment of silence, he finally nodded, his voice soft and defeated. "Okay, Y/N. I'm sorry for pushing you away. I'm just frustrated and disappointed with how things turned out."

I reached out, pulling him into a comforting embrace, feeling the tension in his body slowly ease as he allowed himself to lean into the support and understanding I was offering.

"It's okay, Dawson," I whispered, holding him close. Dawson pulled back slightly, his eyes filled with guilt and regret. "Y/N, I feel like shit. I shouldn't have lied to you," he said, his voice heavy with remorse.

I looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and pain reflected in them. Taking a deep breath, I gently cupped his face, forcing him to meet my gaze.

"It's okay," I reassured him softly, trying to ease the burden of his guilt. "Let's not focus on that right now. We'll work through it, together."

Dawson nodded, his shoulders sagging with relief as he leaned into my touch, grateful for the understanding and forgiveness I was offering.

"Thank you, Y/N," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "I don't know what I would do without you."

Moved by his vulnerability and sincerity, I closed the distance between us, placing a gentle hand on his cheek as I leaned in, our lips meeting in a soft, tender kiss.

"I'm sorry too, Dawson," I whispered as we pulled apart, our foreheads resting against each other, the weight of our recent misunderstandings and emotions hanging between us. "I shouldn't have overreacted like I did."

Dawson looked into my eyes, his gaze filled with warmth and understanding. "It's okay, Y/N," he whispered back, his voice soft and reassuring.

Feeling a surge of emotion and clarity, I took a deep breath, my voice trembling with sincerity. "I love you, Dawson."

Dawson's eyes widened momentarily, a look of surprise and overwhelming emotion crossing his face before it softened into a genuine, heartfelt smile. "I love you too, Y/N," he replied, his voice filled with love and conviction.

As we sat there, our hands entwined, the weight of our recent challenges and misunderstandings lifted, replaced by a renewed sense of connection, understanding, and love. We had navigated through the storm together, and now, we were ready to face the future, committed to each other, stronger and more united than before.

#dawson mercer #dawson mercer x reader #nhl x reader #new jersey devils #nj devils #njd

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angelwithdemonictendencies · 1 year

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he’s everything i could ever want; in my dreams he has sharper teeth.

am34 x reader: what mitch doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

(warnings: blasphemous filth, unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), no choking (jk of course there’s choking), hair pulling (guttural growling noise), fingering, marking (don’t tell anyone, but i personally find hickeys gross. i’d let quinn though. irrelevant. c’mon, let’ get back on track), degradation, whining and whimpering like a motherfucker, praise, cheating (guys i’m serious don’t cheat on your partners. i know i made it sound so hot but don’t do it. even your lame boyfriend doesn’t deserve it). please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)

a/n: please be kind. i didn’t check for typos. jesus christ it took a long ass time to get to the meat and potatoes here (the sex. the meat and potatoes is the sex). tried to make the plot worth it, let me know if it sucks. not for mitch (consider it a punishment for that embarrassment of an allstar breakaway challenge). i wish auston “calls his girl angel” matthews wasn’t injured. counting down the days until his return like in the phineas and ferb theme song. sorry everyone, but am34 is for sure a great guy until his friend’s fiance wears a short skirt. anyways, see the author’s note at the end for an announcement. gif is not mine. enjoy.

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in your opinion, auston had been doing a haphazard job of trying to hide his attraction towards you, considering you were engaged to his best friend.

maybe he just wasn’t trying to hide it.

you couldn’t really remember exactly when it had started. when you would catch his gaze lingering especially long during a greeting glance. when you began to notice how just how often he would pass behind you in a crowded room, place a broad hand on your waist as he squeezed past.

“‘scuse me, angel,” he would say into your hair. you hated yourself for the way you would shiver. the place his hand had been always felt like it was burned into you like a brand.

you were surprised mitch hadn’t noticed.

mitch, the doting fiance, the kindest partner, the person you truly wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

you just wish he wasn’t as sweet, as kind, as (it killed you to think it) bland as he was in bed. you hadn’t had a truly satisfying orgasm in much too long. your body could only take so much temptation.

and tonight, auston was being unfairly tempting. you went to give mitch a good luck kiss before he went into the locker room, as you always did. “good luck, mitchie!” you said with a bright smile, gently pressing your lips to his.

“thanks, sweetheart,” he said after you had both pulled away, “i’ll see you after.”

he walked into the locker room, and you turned to make your way to your seat. and you would have, if you hadn’t walked straight into auston’s chest. his low laugh was little more than a grumble as he steadied you with a hand on your hip.

“better watch where you’re going, angel,” he said, “don’t want to run into trouble, now, do you?”

you scoured your stunned mind, looking for a coherent thought. you cleared your throat, pulled away, put on your most convincing, neutral smile. “sorry, auston,” you said.

he smirked, clicked his tongue.

“i’ll see you tonight?” you asked politely, “you’re coming to our place after, right?” you were referring to the post game parties you and mitch always threw for the team.

“oh, i don’t know,” he said, voice growing gravelly, “do you want me to?”

you gulped, nodded. “mitchie always loves when you come-”

“i didn’t ask if mitch wanted me there.” you rocked back and forth on your feet. “i asked if you did.” he awaited your response, the picture of patience.

you cleared your throat again. “i would like you to be there, yes,” you all but squeaked.

“then i’ll be there, angel,” he said. “now, go on. you’ll want a good seat for tonight.”

you didn’t know quite what he meant until the game.

from your seat, you could fully appreciate auston’s performance. all three goals worth. you so badly tried to focus on mitch, and and he did great, but auston was undeniable.

and, worse, every goal of his gave way to a different celebration, all of which made your skin start to crawl with desire. after his last goal, he had the gall to look right at you and smirk. you uncrossed and crossed your legs, appalled at the fact that you were growing wet. you just waited for the game to be over.

finally, it was, and you all but tackled mitch in congratulations, trying to rid your mind of auston.

it didn’t work. at home, party in full swing, you were having a hard time focusing, swirling your drink around as you sat on the arm of mitch’s chair. “gonna get another drink,” you muttered before making your way down to the basement, where you stored all the alcohol you liked. you were bent over a cooler when you felt him behind you.

“what’s wrong, angel?” auston asked. you bolted upright, shut the cooler, found him close enough to touch.

“nothing’s wrong, auston,” you managed to bite out, “c’mon, let’s go back upstairs.” you didn’t trust yourself.

he made that clicking noise that made you shiver. “see, i would angel, if i thought that’s what you really wanted.”

he raised an arm and rested in on the wall above your head. you retreated, leaned back, found yourself boxed in.

“that is what i want,” you whispered. no one believed you.

“yeah?” he asked, leaning forward. “then why do you blush whenever you see me?” he ran a ran along your cheekbone, watched a pink tint bloom there. you didn’t answer. “why do you clench your legs together when i touch you?” silence. “why are you soaked right now, angel?”

you whimpered.

“and don’t say it’s for mitchie, because only brats lie.” he brushed a strand of hair from your face. “and you’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

you nodded before you knew what you were doing, the most you could muster, and that was enough for him to duck down and claim your lips in a forceful kiss. you moaned into his mouth, wrapped your hands around his neck. he kissed you deeper, harder, before lowering his mouth down to suck and nip at your jaw, then your neck.

“n-no marks,” you stuttered. “he’ll see.”

his chest rumbled in a laugh, he sucked harder. “you know what?” he rasped into your collarbone, “don’t think i care too much about that.”

you whined in protest. “aw, poor angel,” he said, voice dripping in false sympathy. “how about this, hm?” he brought a hand down and pushed a thick finger inside you. “if i fucked you, would you feel better?” he moved his finger in and out.

you gasped, scratched your nails along the back of his neck, grasping for support. he tsked, moved the hand above your head to your throat, forced you to look at him. “answer me, angel.”

“yes,” you choked out. “want you to fuck me, auston, please.”

“good girl,” he hummed, then abruptly flipped you around so that you faced the wall, your hands bracing the impact. you heard the rustle of clothes before his thumb returned to your clit, making your chest slump against the wall.

still absorbed in the feeling of his fingers, you cried out when he first thrust into you, made you glad music was playing so loudly upstairs.

he groaned so loudly that you reached a hand back to cover this mouth, quickly tearing them away when he nipped at your fingers.

“what, angel?” he asked, stretching you out hard and deep, “don’t want them to hear?” he gave a particularly forceful thrust, savored the way you moaned. “don’t want mitchie to hear his best girl getting fucked how she deserves?”

you clenched at his words. one hand still working on your clit, he again brought a hand to your throat and squeezed, dragged your head back to look at him. “maybe you’re just not his, then, hm?” you whimpered, overcome with sensation.

“he doesn’t fuck you like i can, yeah?” he continued, his voice the only thing you could focus on. you shook your head and pressed your hips back against him, groaned at the new angle. you let him hold your neck up, melted into his support.

“he can’t,” you gasped, “only you, auston.”

“what would mitchie say if he saw you like this, hm?” he grunted. “his sweetheart falling apart on my cock?”

you reached a hand behind his neck and grasped a handful of his hair. he hissed, pulled your head up, made your back arch farther.

“gonna cum, auston,” you said, barely hearing your own voice.

“yeah, angel?” he said, through clenched teeth, hitting that spot inside of you, making you see stars. “cum, then. look at me.” he quickly rubbed his whole palm back and forth across your clit. “be a good girl and cum on my cock.”

his words sent you over the edge. your legs shook as he groaned deeply and spilled inside of you, holding your body up as you collapsed against his massive frame.

you existed in a blissful afterglow for a few moments, chests heaving. you enjoyed the weight of his body against your back. he kissed a spot behind your ear. “did so well for me, pretty girl.” he said.

the moment was broken when you heard the basement door open. you froze.

“you down there, sweetheart?” mitch’s voice called down the stairs.

you bit your lip, felt auston smirk into your neck. “yeah, mitchie,” you called, willing steadiness into your voice. “be right up!”

“‘kay!” he replied. “seen matty at all?”

you eyes widened. “your sweetheart was just showing me your new renovation down here,” auston interjected. “we’re coming back up.”

“sounds good!” mitch’s cheery voice responded. you exhaled as you heard his footsteps carry him away.

you tore yourself from auston, leaving the heat of his body behind you, began to get dressed in a hurry.

taking a deep, stabilizing breath, you began to climb the stairs back up to the party.

“angel?” you could hear the arrogance in his voice as you turned around with reluctance. “you want everyone to know how good you are for me, hm?” he nodded down to your exposed chest, littered with marks he had made. your eyes widened, terrified.

“relax,” he said, an air of humor in his tone. he tossed you a zip-up, which you immediately put on. “those marks are just for you.” his eyes burned. “every time you look in the mirror, i want you to remember what it feels like to cum on my cock.”

despite yourself, you licked your lips, making his smirk deepen.

“now, c’mon, angel,” he said, “mitchie’s waiting.”

fin.

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