#God's Inner Sanctuary

[sat-neteru]

I sat down for less than an hour to release what no longer serves me, to surrender, to feel and let go. Now I‘m so tired, but shadow work does that and it is necessary.

At the very beginning I lit a candle for Inpw, and also for Usir. But I wrote a small prayer for Inpw specifically, asking him to be my witness and to support this transformation. He did. But it was not enough.

The person I wanted to cut ties with (not for the first time) kept clawing their way back in again and again. They were in such agony and despair. But it is not my burden to carry. Their pain belongs to them, as does mine to me. It can be very difficult to tell the difference between one’s own issues and that of other’s, but by now I know. Honesty is the key to figuring it out and the beauty of energy work is that you do not ever have to share it with another soul, if you don’t want to. In that space I allow myself to be as vulnerable as nowhere else.

No matter how much I mess up, the neteru do not forsake me. I am human and whatever I do is part of my journey, serves as a lesson and is worthy of acknowledgement. They might get upset and their message might be harsh, but they are not cruel. They want me to learn and grow and I am thankful for that.

Inpw reminded me today to keep my focus on myself and not get lost on the outside, to not let myself be distracted.

Sobek protected me and did not interfere when Ammit appeared to finally remove the energy of that person. After that it became more peaceful.

Life can get so hard when people cling to you and blame you for their suffering.

It can be a pain in the ass and sometimes it just pisses me off. That’s when I know that my wounded maiden is taking over and I’m not embodying my inner mother. The wounded maiden is the one raging and shouting and blaming. There’s no peace to be found through her. So I sit with her. I let her rage and shout and blame. Inpw was our witness today and I am thankful for that. I am also thankful for Sobek and Ammit and their support.

Now I feel raw and open. Now the healing can begin.

[lovelybucky1]

Nectar- Tommy Shelby x Reader

warnings: AFAB!reader, f receiving oral sex, fingering, mentions of masturbation, blasphemy kink, church sex, heavy religious themes, corruption kink, dirty talk, canon typical violence

masterlist

The church is quiet like it always is at this hour. The pews empty of parishioners, the confessionals vacant, and the lights dim. The priest and almost everyone in the neighborhood have long been in bed. You, however, were wide awake.

You’ve been working in the church since you were a girl, per your family’s wishes. It’s mostly charity work: caring for the sick, poor, orphans, and others in need. You also spend a fair amount of time working inside the church, cleaning and whatnot. It is fulfilling work, but it doesn’t offer much in terms of pay, so you don’t have much of a space to call your own. That is why you spend your nights in the empty church, alone save for the conversations you have with God.

Since you spend so much time in the church, you’re pretty familiar with the congregation. It’s not often you see a new face unless a new family moves to the city. When you heard the heavy oak doors open, you were expecting a devout Catholic in crisis, not the notorious crime boss, Tommy Shelby.

You watch from the first pew near the altar as he walks down the aisle toward you. His hat and coat are wet from the rain, and once he takes a seat a few rows behind you, he takes them off. You’re confused, wondering what he could be doing in your church in the middle of the night. Part of you feels nervous, knowing that danger never follows far behind a Peaky Blinder.

“Good evening, Mr. Shelby,” you decide to speak up, voice kind and sweet as always.

Tommy’s eyes flick to you, but his expression is unreadable. “I’m not dead yet, eh?” he says. You look closer at him and in the dim light, you can just make out the dried blood splattered on his face.

So maybe it isn’t a good evening. Nevertheless, he has come to a church and he is allowed sanctuary here. You make your way over to where he sits and you stand at the end of the row, obviously looking hesitant if his glance is anything to go by.

“Do you mind if I sit?” you ask. Instead of a response, he cocks his head to the side in a way that you’re interpreting as go ahead. You sit down, pressing your knees together to make yourself as small as possible. There is about a foot of space between the two of you, but even still, the proximity to him is overwhelming.

As the two of you sit in silence, your mind starts to wander. You know his Aunt Polly is Catholic; she frequents the church, though she never attends the services. You’ve overheard her prayers before, and you understand why she prefers to pray in private.

“Are you Catholic, Mr. Shelby?”

Your desire for conversation seems to surprise him. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye before he goes back to looking straight ahead at the altar. It takes him a few moments to respond, and you can see the inner battle on his face as he decides how to answer.

“No,” he says.

“I see. Your Aunt is, though. I see her nearly every day.”

“And she’s a fool for it.” The bitter tone he takes only gives you more questions.

“I take it you don’t believe in God?”

“You’re quite inquisitive,” he says, shooting you a look. “God abandoned me long ago.”

You sigh. Many of the men held the same sentiment after they came back from the war. The horrors they experienced in France, the death and destruction took the fear of God away from these men. Now, all they fear is each other.

“It’s never too late to find him again,” you offer. Tommy lets out a dry, humorless chuckle in response. “You can still be saved.”

“I’m past the point of saving. I’ve got a spot in hell waiting for me.”

You frown at that. “God is all about forgiveness. God will even forgive men like you as long as you accept him.”

“What’s the point in asking forgiveness if I don’t indent on stopping?” he asks, leaning back in his seat, making himself look more intimidating. “And what do you mean, men like me?”

As if someone dumped a bucket of ice water on you, you immediately realize your mistake.

“I didn’t mean to offend you, sir. I just meant men in your… line of work,” you say, trying to backtrack.

“And what line of work is that?”

Tommy is sitting up now, leaning just slightly closer to you. Now that he is fully facing you, you can see the blood on his face, but by the lack of injuries he has, you’re suspecting it’s not his. His gaze is piercing as he stares into your eyes, smirking as he waits for you to respond.

“I-I don’t know.” With a small, satisfied smirk, Tommy leans back again. “I’m just saying, sir, you haven’t strayed too far from God’s light.”

That makes him chuckle again. “I see. So all I have to do is absolve myself, right? Confess my sins and I’ll be God’s child once again?”

He’s toying with you now. He wants to see if you are devoted enough to your God that you’d try to convince the biggest sinner in the city to become a religious man.

“That’s right,” you smile softly, still hesitant from your previous slip-up.

“Can I confess to you?” he asks.

“I’m not the priest-”

“I want to do this now. I want to find God.” His voice is so earnest that you believe him.

“Okay,” you agree. It’s about confessing to God, the person doesn’t matter. “We can go to the confessionals.” You begin to stand, but he stops you by grabbing your wrist.

“That’s far too formal, don’t you think? We can do it right here,” he says, the faintest look of mischief in his eyes.

You nod and sit back down, folding your hands onto your lap. Tommy slides off the bench and sinks to his knees on the floor, hands clasped in front of him.

“Bless me, for I have sinned,” he begins, looking into your eyes. “It’s been many years since my last confession. In my time away I’ve done many bad things, terrible things, that make me ashamed to look in the mirror. I’ve lied, stolen, scammed, and gambled. I live a life of deceit and greed, and I’ve found great success in doing so, but those are not the sins that weigh heaviest on me.”

You watch him intently as he speaks, your eyes tracing every word his mouth forms. Your heart begins to beat quicker in your chest; the idea that you’re getting access to information only meant for God makes you feel guilty, but it’s also exciting in a strange way.

“I’ve taken many lives. During the war, I was ordered to, but I continued once I came home. I’ve killed in every way imaginable. Shot in the head, slitting their throat, hanging, drowning, burning, suffocating. I’ve had men ripped apart for betraying me, and I did not feel remorse. I watched these men suffer as my men tortured them. I laughed as they pleaded for God to save them.”

Tommy doesn’t look as remorseful as most do when they’re confessing their terrible sins. He almost looks proud, like he’s bragging about them to you as you squirm under his gaze. The graphic descriptions he’s offering make you uncomfortable like your skin is too tight on your bones. Like he’s corrupting you just by having you listen to his tales.

There is a blaze behind his light blue eyes that captivate as much as they scare you. They bore into your soul and peel back the layers, revealing all of your inner thoughts. It makes you want to run away screaming, to pray for God to rid this world of the devil in front of you but you’re stuck, frozen in front of him as he confesses.

Tommy takes a breath as if what he is going to say next brings him great shame. As if he hasn’t already confessed the worst sins man could commit.

“Perhaps worst of all, I lust. I lust after women and I envy men with beautiful wives to the point I take them for myself. I’ve had many married women in my bed, as well as hers. I fuck whores too, but only the pretty ones. And they can’t be cheap, because those women can’t keep a secret. I don’t only fuck them in the bed. I’ve fucked in my office, my car, and my pub. It doesn’t matter who these women are, but once I have my sights set on them, I am determined to get what I want.”

The confessions about his sex life shock you. Of course, you know people have pre-marital sex and affairs are common, but you’ve spent your life in the church. You don’t hear of these things frequently, and you feel bashful because of his vulgar words. Tommy holds eye contact with you as he speaks, though you find it difficult to meet his eyes.

Your body betrays you now; you’re unsure how to react. You should be scared, you are scared. There is a murderer less than two feet from you, splattered with someone else’s blood. However, he has a soothing, gentle voice, kind eyes, and a soft smile. It’s hard to believe that the man on his knees praying to God is a monster, but you find it harder to believe that there is a heat growing between your thighs from his confessions.

The vivid images of Tommy with some faceless woman play in your mind. You imagine the way he’d look lost in pleasure, carefree and blissful. You imagine how his rough hands, which are currently clasped together, would feel on your skin. You imagine how his voice would sound in your ear, how his lips would feel as he whispers.

Your heartbeat picks up in your chest, a physical reaction from the fantasies. Your skin feels hot, burning with shame as you pray that Tommy doesn’t notice your current state.

“And finally, I’d like forgiveness for lusting after the church girl who was stupid enough to think she could show me the light,” he says, hands now dropped at his side and gaze predatory.

Entranced by his words, you didn’t notice how close he had leaned in, now only inches from your face. Your breath hitches in your throat and for a split-second, you think you see Tommy’s eyes on your lips.

“Sir?” you ask, voice no more than a squeak.

“I appreciate your efforts, dear, but I sold my soul many years ago.”

Tommy’s eyes are sharp and his grin is wide as he leans closer to you. He has lured you into his trap and you fell for it like a fool. Now, helpless and trapped, he is going to swallow you whole. Your heartbeat throbs in your ears, almost downing out his sweet, deep voice.

Tommy places his hands on your knees, and even through the fabric of your skirt, you can feel the coolness of his skin. The touch, although not sexual in nature, electrifies you. A shiver runs down your spine and Tommy must notice if the slight smirk is anything to go by.

“Are you alright?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“Yes,” you choke out.

“Would you mind helping me?”

You furrow your brow, now much more hesitant to do anything for him. Your heart is still hammering in your chest and you’re certain you are trembling slightly.

“With what?” you manage to ask. Somehow, even on his knees below you, Tommy makes you feel small.

“I need something new to worship,” he says.

Tommy slides his hands down your claves until he reaches the hem of your dress, which he then pushes up to reveal your stockinged legs. He gently guides your knees apart and you allow him until you feel too exposed. You resist against him and he looks up at you with a questioning look.

“I-I can’t,” you say.

“You can lie to yourself, you can lie to God, but you can’t lie to me,” Tommy says, grasp still from on your knees but no longer pushing. “You want this.”

You look away, over your left shoulder as you try to hold onto any of the values you held before Tommy entered the church. You’re saving yourself for marriage, and even worse, you hadn’t formally met Tommy before tonight. There’s no love, no future, between the two of you. It goes against everything you have been taught since you were a girl, but he is appealing to the primal side of you. The side of you that slips your fingers underneath your nightgown after you say your nightly prayers. The side of you that allows your eyes to linger on the men in the chuch during service, even as their wives and children sit beside them.

Tommy is not putting the thoughts of sin in your head, he is simply tempting you to act upon the urges you have felt for years.

“You’re the devil,” you whisper.

“And you’re the fuckin’ Virgin Mary,” he counters. “You spend all your life worrying about what’s going to happen when you die. How about I show you what it’s like to live, eh?”

You set your jaw, trying to save a bit of your dignity before you give the man on the floor permission to debase you. You squeeze your eyes shut and nod your head, but that is not enough for Tommy.

“I need to hear you say it.”

You wonder if he is really concerned with how much you want this, or if this is just another power move. You swallow thickly and resolve yourself to the reality of the situation: if you want anything from the devil with the silver tongue, you’ll have to play his game.

“I want it.”

You’re Eve, and you have just been tempted to take a bite out of the apple by the snake.

With a wicked grin, Tommy presses a kiss to the inside of your knee and, embarrassingly, the contact makes you jolt. He removes your shoes, unbuckling them quickly and with ease, then placing them underneath the pew. His hands reach up your skirt to grab ahold of the top of your stocking. He gently rolls them down your smooth leg and pulls it off your foot before turning his attention to the other one.

It is unnecessary for him to undress you like this, especially when your stockings wouldn’t be an obstacle. There is something about being unusually bare in a church that makes you ache with guilt, and Tommy must know that. He seems like he knows everything.

He bunches the skirt around your upper thighs and he spreads your legs farther. This time, you don’t resist. You swear you see his mouth water when he catches a glimpse of your white knickers, pristine and perfect like a good girl should wear.

“What a precious little thing you are,” he grins.

Tommy ducks his head and drags his nose along your inner thigh until he reaches your clothed mound. He presses his face between your legs and takes a long, slow inhale like he’s smoking a cigarette. His fingers press firmly into your legs and you’re certain you will have bruises left behind. You should be upset about that but truthfully, you’ve longed for something like this.

Tommy’s fingers find the edge of your panties and gently push them to the side, exposing your pussy to the church air. Your breath hitches in your throat and you watch as he stares shamelessly at you. He swipes his finger through your folds to gather your wetness on his fingertip. He brings his hand back to show your desire glistening in the dim light.

“What’s all this?” he asks smugly.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you huff.

“Oh love, I’m not making fun. I think it’s sweet how worked up you got over nothin’.”

Tommy leans in again and his hot breath fans over your cunt, which now feels cool from being in the open. You shiver with anticipation as he nears, and your body jolts when his tongue makes contact with you. It’s a light, barely there touch but it sends an electric shock through you and elicits an embarrassing moan.

You hear him chuckle, but he doesn’t stop or say anything else. He licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit, then back down. Your hands twitch at your sides, fighting back the urge to grab him, not wanting to show how much you’re enjoying his torture. He knows, of course.

He works you up slowly, not giving too much attention to one spot, not making you too sensitive. You keep your attention focused on him, watching intently as he pleasures you. You don’t even feel the sting of his nails digging into your thighs when he sucks on your clit.

“Sir, please, this is wrong,” you try to reason, but your broken, airy voice sends a different message. You don’t want him to stop, you’d probably cry if he did, but it’s still wrong. It’s still a sin.

You hold on tightly to the edge of the wooden bench to ground yourself so you don’t get lost in the pleasure. Part of you realizes how ridiculous this situation is: a notorious gangster eating out an innocent little church girl. Another part of you couldn’t give less of a shit and just wants to cum.

“Mr. Shelby, please,” you whine. It’s unclear if you’re begging for more or to stop, but Tommy doesn’t seem to care either way. He’s going to give you what he wants and nothing more, nothing less.

He slides two fingers into your soaking cunt and curls them against that spot deep inside of you that makes your toes curl. He fucks you with his fingers and works your clit with his tongue, and you feel yourself nearing the edge faster than you ever have before.

You build up to your peak, and after a particularly harsh suck to your clit, you begin to cum. Your orgasm shutters through you, making your legs twitch on his shoulders. You let out an unintelligible whine as you grip the bench. Despite having cum, Tommy doesn’t let up on his assault. He continues to suck on your over sensitive clit until you’re shrieking and pushing his head away.

He chuckles and sits back on his heels, looking at you with a glistening face. He makes a show of pushing up his sleeve and wiping his face with the back of his hand. You want to close your legs to stop the cool air from hitting your sensitive cunt, but he is still in the way, keeping you exposed.

“Nectar of the gods in there,” he smirks, glancing down at your soaked pussy.

Without another word, he stands up. He picks up his hat and coat, and begins to walk down the aisle, leaving you alone.

“Wait,” you say, voice echoing in the church. He stops and turns around, eyebrow raised. “That’s it?”

“What more do you want?” he asks.

“What about you?”

Tommy chuckles. “Such a generous soul. I’ll take care of it myself, love. You just get to prayin’. We did a lot of sinning you have to repent for.”

You sigh and nod. “Will I see you again?”

“If I decide to become a priest,” he says with a smirk before turning on his heel and continuing out the door.

You know Tommy Shelby will never turn to priesthood, but you do have a feeling he’s found something in the church worth coming back for.

my inbox is open for requests!

[tanuki-kimono]

Cw: We are going to talk here about periods, and sex education in the past. Read this note according to your own sensibilities :)

How women dealt with periods during Edo period, article by shunga enthousiast Shungirl who made a paper pad following instructions found in makura bunko 枕文庫 - ie ancient sex books illustrated with erotic ukiyoe.

One of such makura bunko is 渓斎英泉 Keisai Eisen's 閨中紀聞-枕文庫, first published in 1822. It details Chinese remedies recipes for menstrual pains and irregularities, give tips about sex, and information about menstruations and pregnancy. From a modern point of view, some beliefs are outdated, but it was then such a bestseller it went through several reeditions.

Several words were apparently in use during Edo era to designates menstrual period: keisui 経水, gekkei 月経, tsukiyaku 月水, etc.

When girls went throught their first period, their females relatives or nannies would taught them how to deal with them. One method was to use paper as sanitary products (please note people without easy access to paper probably dealt with periods differently).

__________ 御馬 paper pads

Sanitary pads, such as the one recreated above by Shungirl, were then called mima 御馬 (probably as a pun on true "mima" which were then fine horses own by noblemen, or attached to sanctuaries as mounts for gods etc) or simply ouma お馬 ("honorable" horse).

Ouma were made from inexpensive recycled paper called Asakusagami 浅草紙. Sheets were folded 8 times, tied with twisted paper strings (koyori 紙縒), and then wrapped with another layer of folded paper. It was secured once again with paper strings.

Part of the strings could be left long so to tie around the waist, or/and pad was hold into place by wearing fundoshi 褌 loincloth (which would also help prevent leaking on inner tights).

Asakusagami quality was low (it was also used as toilet paper) so paper pads had to be changed often, meaning you had to fold quite a lot of them to go through your period!

Shungirl folded the pad above following instructions found in the book 実娯教絵抄, which provided several other "models":

__________ 詰め紙 paper tampons

Another method for dealing with periods were tampon-like paper bundles which were inserted into the vagina, the 詰め紙 (tsumeshi? I am not sure of the reading).

This method may have first appeared in red-light districts (?). Beside its use for periods, prostitutes also used those tampons as method of contraception (OP has an interesting article on this subject).

By the end of Edo period and into Meiji, paper tampons were widely used even by women who were not prostitutes - despite voices branding this method as unsanitary.

__________ About girls' coming of age rites

Menarche (first period) was an important milestone for girls, and was celebrated as such via specific rites (shochō o iwau 初潮を祝). Those differed a lot from places to places, and also depended on social status.

Celebrations would concern close family, but often spread to wider community who could received for example a festive meal (sekihan 赤飯) for the occasion (some Edo era senryû poems stress how mortifying this publicity could be!).

Interestingly, some traditions were also pretty sweet: in some places, mothers would sew 3 stiches into their daughter's underskirt (koshimaki 腰巻き) as a good luck charm, hoping their periods would last only 3 days <3

Those rites were part of coming of age traditions (seijoshiki 成女式) which marked the start of a young woman adulthood. Another example is the blackening of teeth (ohaguro お歯黒) which usually started around 16-17 years old.

Celebrating menarche publicly was a way of advertising that the girl was no longer a child and would "soon" be a bride. Yet, if menarche often took place around 13-14 years old, in reality it was somehow unusual to have girls married so soon!

Before marriage, especially in non-noble/samurai families, young women often started their sexual life via flings or yobai 夜這い ("night crawling" ie pseudo-secret nighttime encounters) before any wedding actually took place.

[readychilledwine]

Fours Company - Part 1

Everything is below the cut because this is just pretty much going to turn into porn. -Minors DNI

Summary - After hearing about Lyria and Azriel's agreement and arrangement with Feyre and Rhys, Nesta and Cassian are desperate for a taste.

Warnings - its long.. Smut. Fingering. Choking. Dom/sub dynamics. Fxf briefly, mxfxfxm dynamics play. Cassian is a switch. Subspace. Voyeurism. Degradation and praise. Free use mentioned.

A/N - I plead the 5th. Part 2 will be up soon. Also, peep "Slow Hand" link in my masterlist to learn about our dearest Lyria Vanserra.

Word count- Over 4k

Update:

Part 2

Lyria stretched her sore fingers, silently praising the Mother that her appointments were all finished for the day, and that she had opted to take a night off.

She loved Velaris, truly she did, and she was beyond thankful and blessed Rhysand had brought her here after her father had publicly disowned her Under the Mountain. 

He had purchased her that very night to protect her, bringing her into the small sanctuary his chambers would become for the two of them down there. She cannot freely touch you anymore. You are safe here, he had held her against his chest, allowing her to cry and be angry.

She had nothing to repay him with, but a gift that the Cauldron, Mother, and love of research had bestowed on her. And the second night she spent in Rhysand's chambers, she had spent it working every ounce of tension the High Lord held out of his body. It became their routine. She'd play the part of his eye candy, never to be marked or touched by another, and she'd repay him by ensuring he was at least out of physical pain and discomfort.

Maybe that was why she was suddenly the most popular massage therapist in the city. Who wouldn't want to pay for the time of the female the High Lord and Lady, along with their Inner Circle, all go to and rave about so loudly in public? She loved Velaris, she reminded herself again, and Gods did she love money and all the expensive things that came with it.

It had been the massage on Lucien that did her in tonight. Her poor older brother was not even a client or booked, but she had found the knot while stretching his neck trying to help with a headache he'd told her he had for days. She'd asked him to lay down and worked his back, shoulders, and neck until it finally came out. It had taken 2 hours. 2 hours on top of the 15 massages she had already given today. 

But she didn't regret it, she didn't regret a single thing as he thanked her and placed a soft kiss on her temple, promising her treats from every court he could manage to get to. 

She didn't even regret it now as she rubbed the cream Madja had made into her own skin, eyes fluttering shut as the pain relieving ointment worked its magic as she slid her hands under a heat pack. 

She could have slept like that, curled up in her soft bed, hands being warmed and relaxed as she used her magic to create the sounds of a forest in her dimmed room, but a knock on her door pulled her from the sleepy blissful state. 

She got up, knowing if it was a knock this late, it was a member of the Inner Circle, and she'd never deny them, no matter how tired or aching her hands were. 

Cassian was leaned against the door frame and she moved to welcome him in, immediately noting the casual sweatpants and t-shirt he wore. "Foxling," he said casually, taking a seat on the new couch Azriel had insisted on purchasing. 

"General," her tone was questioning. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" She didn't miss the twitch in Cassian's lip. Mentally noting it for later when Azriel would get here.

She watched him lean forward, eyes locked on her. "Nesta and I know about the situation with you, Azriel, Rhys, and Feyre." Heat filled Lyria's body as she nodded, immediately feeling a flush hit her face. "We want a similar one." 

"You're very blunt tonight, Cassian." Lyria refused to meet his eyes. The discussion of the agreement with Rhys and Feyre had been done with Azriel present as Rhys approached you. "I would be more comfortable with my mate here."

Cassian smirked again as if he had prepared for that answer. "Azriel is currently in discussion with Nesta. I said "similar", little fox, not the same." He watched as she bit her lip. "We know you and Feyre swap. Rhys takes you out, plays with you with no actual sex, then goes home to his pretty little wife and family to fuck her brains out. Azriel takes Fey out, plays with her, and comes back here to rearrange your pretty little body. Nesta and I don't want to swap or to court. We just solely want to fuck you two. Whenever we'd like, wherever we'd like. With or without our mates involved. Do you understand what I'm asking for, doll?"

Her breath stilled in her throat and she nodded. "I would need to talk to Azriel." Cassian stood, coming over to her and backing her into the wall. "I can tell you right now, he's already agreed. He has conditions, just like he had with Rhysand." His arms came up, caging her between him and the wall. "The first of which is I do not get to be daddy, or sir, or show possession of you, and that's fine. The second is you had to offer submission willingly without him pressing you." 

She nodded, they were similar rules to the ones he had with Rhysand. "I still need to talk to him before I agree." 

"I know, princess," he was ranging pet names with her, she quickly figured out. Trying to see which one his brothers had not taken to ensure he had his own name for her. That one struck, he scent her arousal immediately. Cassian leaned forward, his mouth near the soft shell of her ear. "Don't make me wait too long, Lyria. I'll see you tomorrow for our session." 

He pulled away from her, walking out the door with a soft goodnight. Once the door clicked shut, Lyria sunk against the wall, arousal flooding her mind. Her hand quickly found her heart, feeling it beating erratically as she took long deep breaths. 

She had not noticed her mate appear until he was in front of her, ripping her leggings down and the tank top from her body. 

Azriel quickly sunk two fingers into her soaking wet heat, making her back arch as he rested his forehead against hers. "I got you, babygirl." 

He began pulling her apart. Lowering her completely to the floor. His hand found her throat as he pulled his fingers in and out of her the way she liked. "Does the idea of having Cassian inside of you turn you on, Lyria? Hmm?" He smirked as she whined, back arching as shadows began to play with her nipples and hold her hands down. "Or is it knowing Nesta wants to lick this pretty pink cunt until she's drowning that has you pent up?" 

Lyria felt heat filling her body again as shock set in. Cassian had not even mentioned the possibility of Nesta touching her. Of gorgeous, gorgeous Nesta with her long hair buried between Lyria's legs. "Oh?" Azriel teased, slowing his fingers down. "Did Cassian not mention Nesta wants you, babygirl? Did he not mention how Nesta has started buying toys to fuck you with?" Azriel felt feral as he watched her writhing on the ground. "I can see it now. Cassian and I sat in chairs with whiskey in hand, watching Nesta dominate you while my shadows hold you down and keep you vulnerable to her every whim and wish. Her making you cum again and again and again until your squirting and begging for a break." He could feel his cock struggling, aching to be freed from his pants.

"Or imagine this for me," his fingers picked up pace again, hitting the spongy part of her walls and making her cry out. "Me with you naked in my lap, only letting you cum when Nesta thinks Cassian is being good enough. Or her forcing him to eat you out while I fuck her and he can only listen." 

The deep growl in his voice had her tightening around his fingers. He groaned listening to the wetness of his fingers inside of her. "So delicous, babygirl. Making such a fucking mess on the floor. Should I make you lick it up while I fuck you? Do you want daddy to fuck you?"

Lyria nodded desperately, "Please daddy, Gods please!" 

Azriel wasted no time, ripping his own clothing at the seams. He flipped her to her hands and knees and buried himself deep inside on his mate. He pushed her head down to where a small puddle of her slick had pooled on the floor. "Clean it, little whore."

He fucked her brutally. Holding her head down and watching as she licked her arousal and essence up. He immediately looked to find his and her high as quickly as possible after Ness had riled him up, whispering in his ear all the things she wanted to do to Lyria. All the things Azriel would now be stroking his own cock picturing until they came to life.

Lyria was just as desperate. The tension between her and Cassian had built when she was teaching him how to dance. She was attracted to the male, his hands, his thighs. She was attracted to Nesta. Her aura, her body, her quick wit. Her mind snapped back to her mate as that coil began to threaten to pop, but she knew better. She knew better than to cum without his permission. "Daddy, can I cum please?" His hand found her throat again, growling in appreciation for her submission. 

"Cum on my cock, babygirl." She soaked him, screaming his name, chanting it over and over like a mantra as she milked him. He fell over the edge quickly after she did, collapsing onto his forearms on top of her. 

The room was filled with the sound of their labored breathing and with the scent of sex. She opened the windows using her magic, knowing she'd have to air out her home before clients came tomorrow.

Azriel pulled out of her, falling to his back while pulling her on top of him. "You are under no obligation to say yes, Lyria." He stated as his hands began to run through her hair. He kissed the top of her head. "Your hands have been hurting today, I felt it through the bond." 

Lyria nodded, lifting her hand that hadn't tangled itself in Azriel's dark hair. "I might need to take a week off," she admitted softly. "It's just so hard to say no. I've been working with anywhere from 8 to 15 clients a day depending how much time they book."

Azriel hummed, his chest almost vibrating with the deep sound. "Maybe we could go to Dawn for a week. Rhys has a cabin there near a river. Whenever my hands start to bother me, I go there and lay in the river."

"Cold therapy?" Azriel nodded at the question, admiring his mate's intelligence once again. "Do you want to?"

Azriel knew it was a double question. He looked at her, raising a brow. "Of course I'd love to sit naked with you in a river." 

She shook her head, smiling. "Do you want to have an arrangement with Nesta and Cassian?"

He had already brought it up to Rhys and Feyre after talking to Nesta. The two of them did not care. They were as eager to share Lyria and Azriel's love and devotion with Cassian and Nesta as they were to take it for themselves. They just wanted a rotation and schedule worked out between the 6 of you to ensure Rhys still got his time with Lyria and Feyre her time with Azriel. An easy task in all honesty. "I am not against the idea. But it is your comfort level, my spark." He kissed her lips before moving to stand up with her and carry her to the bedroom. "Just let Cassian know tomorrow what you decided or if you need more time."

-

Lyria prepared the room for Cassian, her last client of the day. She switched to the custom table she had made for him and Azriel a few months ago, heating it with her magic before adding on the soft coverings and lighting Cassian's favorite candles that he said reminded her of a rainstorm in the mountains. She created that atmosphere with her powers and then waited.

She had Cassian for 2 hours. He had booked a longer session knowing that this would be his first massage since coming home from a 4 week trip the training camps. She had been working with Madja on a special oil and lotion for massages and was excited to use it for the first time on Cassian, knowing the general was open to anything when she had his muscles bending to her every will.

It was made with a certain herb she and Madja kept quiet from Rhysand due to its taboo nature. It had been shown time and time again by countless healers to aid in stopping inflammation, provide pain relief, and it's a wonderful moisturizer, but for some reason a certain High Lord, her father, refused to see use in allowing easy access and regulation to it despite seeing how it had saved Spring's economic state.

A knock pulled her from her thoughts of Beron's stupidity and went to the door, opening it for Cassian with a smile. 

"Hello gorgeous," he smirked at her, "what do you have planned for me today?"

She lead Cassian down the hall. "I was thinking we'd do a deep tissue with hot stone mixed in since it's been awhile. I have you down for 2 hours and if we need longer, that's totally fine since you are my last one for today." 

Cassian was thrilled with the idea. Silently thanking the Mother that Lyria always seemed to know what her clients needed. "Sounds good, princess. Azriel said you had a new oil you wanted to use today?"

Lyria nodded and bit her lip. "You can say no," he nodded and raised his brows. "It's made with mirthroot. You won't get high from it, but it has so many benefits to the muscle system regarding swelling, inflammation-"

"Princess, I've been using mirthroot off and on since before you were born. I am perfectly fine with you testing it on me. So would Rhys and Azriel."

He smiled as she squealed and bounced in place. "I'll let you get comfy then! You can pick which side we start on or if you just want to do your back today!" He watched her practically skip from the room with a small smile and shook his head. 

He laid on his stomach, covering himself as he got comfortable. He had hoped she'd be willing to focus on his back, but knew from Azriel her hands had been killing her the past 2 or 3 days. Rhys wanted to take Lyria on a little vacation, all three couples, as did Azriel. Rhys was hoping on that vacation he'd be able to convince her to cut herself back to 5 to 8 clients a day with a few days off throughout the week instead of just evenings off. They, as selfishly and selflessly as possible, did not want her to have to stop her little business. 

Rhys has spent years trying to find a massage therapist as skilled as she is. He'd have to spent a millenia trying to replace her. 

She re-entered the room, dimming the fae lights. "Just your back today then?" 

"Yes please." 

Lyria knew Cassian was asleep 30 minutes into the massage, he always was. He has told her once it was that special time during the week where he could just focus on himself, on his body, his spirit. It was his self care time, and that had always been a high compliment for her. She worked his shoulders, feeling knots she had previously gotten out trying to form again and sighed as she realized she needed a better angle to get them out. 

The professional line between her and all of the Inner Circle had blurred when Azriel and her were officially known as a couple. She was given liberties and consent with their bodies and with them topics of discussion with her. She climbed on Cassian's back, not fully setting her weight into him, to dig as gently as she could into the spot between his wings that was getting tense again. 

All three of the males had this problem. It was just worse for Cassian for some reason. It was an area the two of them focused on intensely in their sessions, sometimes to where Cassian told the female she was a tiny torturess and terrorist. "Cassian," she stroked his back lightly to wake him.

"Oh top of me already, princess? Could have at least let me roll over." His deep voice was laced with sleep causing it to be slightly gritty. "It's back, isn't it?" 

"Mmmhmm," she confirmed while rubbing his back. "If I get it now, it won't be as bad as if we wait again." 

He groaned, wings falling in a little temper tantrum, "Fine. Just, get it over with. My safeword is pineapple." 

She laughed as she got started. "Does Nesta make you use your safeword a lot?"

Cassian chuckled below her. "No. Your mate used to though when he, Rhys, and I all used to fuck around." They both tensed at the quiet confession. "I didn't tell you that."

"Oh yes you did." Lyria dug into the knot, rolling her elbow in it. "Tell me Cassian."

He let out a slightly pained moan, "We used to bring a single female back to Rhysand's mom's cabin and take turns with her or fuck her two at a time with the third brother shoved down her throat. If it was just one at a time, while one of us was enjoying the fairer sex, the other two would be enjoying each other."

"Oh?" Lyria was blushing. "And they enjoyed this?"

Cassian would have looked back at her offended if her elbow wasn't currently dug into the sole source of his discomfort the past few weeks. "Lyria, I have never failed to make a female cum at least twice in all my sexual interactions. Of course they enjoyed it." She released the hold in Cassian, rubbing the area gently again to feel where the knot had broken into small pieces. "Azriel used to be rougher than I think he is with you. Especially with Rhys and I because he knew we could take it."

"I've told him to stop holding back," she confessed. "I figured he wanted more."

She mentally cursed herself as her hand made contact with the leathery membrane of Cassian's wing as she reached for the oil. "Lyria," Cassian growled in warning. 

"I'm sorry I-" She couldn't respond quickly enough, Cassian had somehow found a way to turn with her on top of him, setting her down directly on his hips and holding her there with his hands. "It was an accident, I swear."

Cassian's eyes were animalistic as he studied her. "I need your answer now." 

Her hands had fallen to his chest, her eyes had gone wide. "Lyria. I was told I do not get to come home until you say yes. Give me your answer now so I can argue with you and change your mind if I have to."

The word fell from her mouth with hesitation. "Yes." Cassian's head fell back as he groaned, gripping her hips tighter. "What are the rules?"

"Only that we have to keep the bonds open." Cassian was eager to start playing with Lyria immediately. He began to grind her core against his hard length with a groan. "Azriel already told me if you agreed I could have fun with you today. Nesta just wanted me to tug the bond twice if you agreed so she could come watch."

"I don't know if I want to do anything today. This is supposed to be me massaging you and taking care of your body." Cassian smirked. Her words said no, but the faint wetness he could feel from her said yes. 

"Are you sure? I can roll back over, princess. We can plan an official start date and sit down. Or I can give you a fun quick ride. Your choice."

"I'd like talking to Nesta first more." She hadn't even gotten to see Nesta yet to speak to her friend about this agreement. She understood why. The dynamic between her and Azriel was clear as day. That daddy babygirl dynamic showed them the control he had over her sexually. "I want to talk to Nesta first." 

Cassian smiled and nodding. His respect for the youngest Vanserra grew, as did his adoration of her, at the respect she was giving his mate. His Ness. "Then let's get this wrapped up so I can fly you to the house, princess." 

-

The flight to the House of Wind of the fastest she had ever taken. Cassian strolled in the doors, still carrying her. "Ness, I'm home momma!" He walked through the entryway, smiling as he got to the living room. "And I brought a snack."

Lyria waved at her friend, laughing as Nesta began to snicker. "The snack's mate is upstairs in his room. You should leave her here with me and go get him." Cassian set her on the sofa opposite to Ness before bounding up the stairs.

For the 3rd time in under 24 hours, Lyria was under the gaze of a predator waiting to make her it's next meal. Ness moved to the sofa with her. Almost cornering her between the arm of the furniture and her own body. "Don't you just look," Nesta paused, looking her over, breathing in the faded scent of her arousal. "Tasty today?"

She tucked a long red strand of hair behind Lyria's pointed ear. "I've missed you." 

"I missed you too," Lyria admitted. "I wanted to talk." She became distracted quickly as Nesta trailed a long finger down the column of her neck. She raised a perfect arched brow waiting for her to continue. "About the arrangement."

Nesta's eyes sparkled with something Lyria instantly realized was arousal. "What's there to discuss? You are free use for Cassian, Azriel, and I. The bonds stay open at all times." 

"What about boundaries?"

"Do you have boundaries, pretty girl?" Nesta began to kiss her throat. "Anything you don't want us to do, you just say the word and we stop." Cassian and Azriel had come back downstairs. Sitting across from them and watching as Nesta kissed up and down her neck, nipping along the way. "What's her safe word, Azriel?"

Her mate was smirking, shirtless in his sweatpants as he leaned back. "It's a color system. Green is good, yellow is slow down, orange for when she needs praise to continue, red for stop completely." 

Lyria knew she was drenched at this point. Falling into that safe place and haze she always did with Azriel. "Fuck," her mate groaned as sensed it down the bond. "Free use, Nesta." He reminded the oldest sister.

Her hands were squeezing Lyria's breasts, playing with her peaked nipples through the fabric. "Cassian, undress my toy for me."

"Yes, mistress." Cassian pulled Lyria up, forcing her back against his chest. He had started to lift her shirt until Nesta tutted.

"Rip them off of her. She made us wait. She doesn't get fully gentle." Lyria whimpered as Cassian grabbed the tanktop she was wearing and tore it, then her bra, pulling the fabric from her body. "Just the seam of her leggings, they're wet enough." Nesta commanded as she removed her dress. Cassian's hand trailed from her collarbones down, stopping to pinch both of her nipples and making moan. Nesta was bare on the couch, legs spread wide as she began playing with herself. 

Lyria gasped as Cassian reached her soaked core through her leggings. Both hands tore the ruined fabric with easy. "Play with her but don't let her cum. I want her punished for making us wait." 

"Of course, mistress." Cassian forced her into his lap on the chair, forcing her legs to be spread wide for Nesta to watch. 

"What a pretty pussy, Azriel. No wonder you've kept her to yourself." Lyria watched as her mate moved behind her and Cassian.

"You were given an order, general. Do not disobey your mistress. We do not want to have to punish both of you." Cassian's calloused fingers immediately found Lyria's folds, gathering her wetness before circling her clit and making her moan out. "Good boy," Azriel praised. His hand found Lyria's chin, ripping her gaze away from him and forcing her to watch Nesta. "She's been dripping like that for you for several days, Lyria." His mate whimpered. Drool forming as she saw Ness gather her own juices and squeeze her breasts with the other hand. "I expect you to lick her clean when she's done with you, babygirl. Do you understand?" Cassian chose that moment to push a single thick finger into her, making her cry out and wiggle against him.

Azriel watched, a smirk building on his face as he realized slowly they may get to truly punish Lyria. "One," Azriel began to count. Cassian curled a finger into her gspot, and Nesta picked up speed with her own teasing touches. "Two," Lyria's brain was screaming for her to say "yes daddy," but she was too lost in the feeling of Cassian pushing in a second finger, stretching her cunt. "Three," Nesta's smirk had grown feral, her moans picking up as she grew excited about them getting taken to Azriel's dungeon. "Last warning, babygirl. Four," Cassian curled his fingers again, stopping any thoughts she had other than moan and panting. "You asked of this, baby. Remember that." 

Azriel walked to Nesta, darkness surrounding them first as Cassian chuckled behind her, his fingers still playing in her sloppy cunt. "I can't wait to see you, dripping, chained, and bruised by my mate." He whispered as he kissed her neck. "Be a good girl and cum for me. Cum on my hand, princess." His palm pressed down on her bundle of nerves and she screamed Cassian's name. He groaned at how tight she became, at how her sweet cunt milked his fingers as her release coated his hand. 

He took his fingers from her drenched core, raising them to her mouth. "And you've broken two rules." A deep timber came from behind them and Lyria stiffened her eyes going wide as Cassian pushed his fingers into her mouth and gagged her. "I hope you mentally prepared for this, angel." And darkness surrounded them.

[alexsoenomel]

Seven Minutes In Heaven Ruined (Dean Winchester x Reader Smut)

Summary: You and Dean are horny and Sam doesn't know how to knock.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: oral female and male receiving

Word count: 1.2k

Note: This is an old one. I made it readable because teenage me didn't know how to words.

Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)  

After finishing the last case you realized two things.

One, you were tired as fuck.

And two, you were hungry as fuck.

After a warm shower you put on one of Dean’s flannels, and went to the kitchen to make yourself dinner. Your sweet tooth was craving blueberry pancakes. While you were making the pancake mix, you felt arms around your waist pulling you closer. 

“Hey, sweetheart!” He said, and kissed your cheek.

“Hi handsome.” You smiled. You haven’t seen Dean in almost a week. He was pretty sick with a fever, so you and Sam went without him on a hunt in San Francisco – vampires, your favorite. He needed to sit this one out, even though he protested like a damn child saying he was fine while not being able to stand. When you got back he was asleep in his room so you didn’t want to interrupt whatever he was dreaming about. 

 “How are you feeling?” 

“A lot better now that you are here.” He said leaving small kisses on your neck. You tilted your head giving him more access. His kisses would always make you shiver. “I missed you.” 

“Missed you too, handsome. Are you hungry? I’m making pancakes.” 

“I am hungry.” Dean’s hand went on your inner thigh until it reached your panties slowly rubbing you, making you sigh. Cheeky bastard – you thought. “But I don’t want pancakes.” He whispered into your ear. "I love when you wear my clothes.”

“Sleeping.” 

You tried to mix flour, eggs and whatever else that was in there but the urge for Dean’s touch grew and you suddenly had another need to fulfill. You turned around to face him, putting your arms around his neck.

“Where’s Sam?” He asked. 

“Good.”  He lifted your chin, forcing you to look at him, making you blush. You pulled his shirt only craving the softness of his lips on yours.  Seven long days without him felt like an eternity, especially at night – he was your home, your habit and your sanctuary. You kissed him softly and soon enough he deepened the kiss making you moan. When he stole the last breath from your lungs you broke away, resting your forehead on his. 

“Bedroom?” You smiled. 

“Hell yeah.”

His clothes hit the floor in seconds. Seven days without each other turned you into horny teenagers. He was only in his boxers laying on the bed looking at you, admiring the view and wondering how the hell he got so lucky.  You climbed on top of him as he slowly started to undo your shirt – taking his sweet time savoring you. Infatuated by you, Dean’s eyes spoke louder than words and in that very moment you only existed for him. You kissed him like it was the end of the world, and funny thing was, at one point it was actually the end of the world, so nothing mattered anyways. The world could be burning and you wouldn’t care.

Once he exposed you completely, we flipped you over and you were now completely under his control. His hands could kill and yet he was so gentle with you, trying not to break you, even though you wouldn’t mind being broken by him from time to time.

“Dean, don’t tease.” You sigh. 

Dean consumed you in every way there was. His lips needed to touch you, to feel you and you were desperate to feel him on your skin. Starting from your neck he kissed you, sucking and slightly biting, leaving light bruises all over. He then moved his lips lower and lower.

You became inpatient, needy and a little bit frustrated. His kisses had you under his spell but you wanted more. He kissed you through your black panties a few times, driving you mad.

You could feel him smirking while resting his lips on the fabric of your soaking underwear. 

“Dean!” You blissfully moaned. “ Oh my god!” 

“Just a little bit. “ He smirked and then took off your panties. You lifted your legs as he did it. His face went between your legs yet again and now you could only feel his warm tongue on your already wet cunt.

You closed your eyes, surrendering completely.  

“Shhhh we don’t want to wake up my brother, don’t we sweetheart?”

“No, but you’re going to kill me.” 

The wet sounds of your cunt filled the room as he added one finger first, pumping in and out slowly before adding another. He was aware you were addicted to his thick fingers, always so needy and desperate to have them in your pussy or in your mouth. You gripped the bed sheets as your breaths became heavy, feeling your climax deep in the lower part of your stomach. Before Dean it would take you ages to cum, and you always thought maybe the problem was you and not the other person you were sleeping with. After Dean, you realized that was bullshit and you just had a shitty taste in picking partners. 

His name was like a prayer you were reciting over and over again until you couldn’t take it anymore. The orgasm took over your body completely as you screamed his name one last time before his hand violently covered your mouth. 

He got up, face shining from your juices with a smile on his face.

“You’re crazy. Sam’s going to hear you!” 

“You are so…” You said, trying to catch your breath. 

“Amazing?” He laughed. 

“And full of yourself Winchester.” You rolled your eyes, still painting.

“Oh well thank you.” Dean said moving next to you. 

“Where is the damn condom?” Dean asked, searching through the drawer of his night stand. You giggled. The man never assumed or expected you to return the favor. Your pleasure was far more important than his own and taking care of you was his job and duty. You loved that about him, you loved being taken care of, but you also loved making him fall apart under you.  

“Dean?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Come here.” 

He turned to face you. “Huh?” 

You kissed him. “My turn.” Dean bit his lip as you rubbed him through his boxers. 

“S-shit!” He moaned. “Baby!”

You placed light kisses all over his body before your lips reached the hem of his underwear. You took them off, drooling over his already hard cock. You licked the tip a few times as Dean groaned.

You smiled loving the effect you had on him and then took him in your mouth as much as you could. 

His heaven didn’t last long because Sam decided to interrupt the pure bliss of having Dean’s cock in your mouth...yet again.

“Hey Dean can you- AH CRAP.” He said and immediately turned his back allowing you two to cover yourself.  “I’m sorry.”

“Fuck not again.” You laughed.

You jumped under the covers with Dean. “SAMMY I SWEAR I’M GONNA KILL YOU!”  

“I’m sorry.” Sammy said awkwardly, still refusing to turn around. “But I found us a case.” 

“I thought you were sleeping.” You said. 

“I couldn’t….you were…a little bit…..loud.” 

“So you heard her making happy noises IN MY ROOM and you still decided to come in?! WITHOUT KNOCKING? AGAIN?” 

“After 10 minutes I thought…you were…finished.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I will wait in the living room.” He then slammed the door. 

“I will kill him.” Dean said and got off the bed. 

“Wait.” You said pulling his arm. “He can wait. I’m not done with you!”

“I love you. “ Dean said and kissed you again.

[brewed-pangolin]

What would soaps downtime be? Like who is soap when he's not in 141 mode?

A million apologies for this taking so long. I went on a super long rant about this but eventually turned that into its own post.

This is just Soap in his regular civilian life.

A bit of NSFW? Of course.

Soap outside of the 141 is both still the same man yet wholly different altogether.

He's a military man through and through, so he still appreciates a certain level of control and structure even when he sheds the Kevlar for a more comfortable civilian outfit.

It takes Soap a few days to pull his psyche out of the usual 'bump and grind' of being a soldier. He breaks this cycle by recharging in the simplest way possible. Sleep.

And when I say sleep, I mean sleep.

Dead to the world. Borderline comatose. (Brought on by massive amounts of Trazadone because, y'know, nightmares)

And after a few days of restful hibernation, he'll quickly pack up in preparation for his next necessity: escapism.

Soap finds himself, his true self, deep in the wilderness. Away from the world of responsibility and within the rejuvenation of fresh air and nature.

He'll spend a few days out in the wilds and come back with a fresh mind and a clear conscience. And that's when this man truly shines in his natural form.

Soap is a man with a very busy mind, so don't expect him to sit around while on leave. In fact, you should make a list of things he needs to fix. He'll love it.

Leaking faucet? Done. Need your oil changed? Already putting it on the floor jack. Hell, you wanna remodel the whole kitchen? He's already got a sledgehammer in hand ready for the first swing.

Point is, keep him busy. Send him on errands and keep him focused on anything else rather than you because oh my God your body needs to recover from the endless fucking he puts you through.

Soap is a man who aims to please and make up for lost time. This means the moment his mind is clear, it's laser focused on bending you over as many times as possible.

He actually doesn't care how you both do it. As long as he can bury himself in the sanctuary that is your wet pussy, he's happy.

Christian the entire house. Fuck in the 4Runner. Embrace your inner animals and let him mark his territory in the woods as he growls so loudly that you think there's a bear inside the tent.

Let him fill you. As many times as possible. He needs it before being pulled away into the line of fire once more. Needs it to remind him of the salvation he has to come home to. (In more ways than one).

You're one of the few outside the 141 that have seen him break. Head buried in your chest, arms wrapped like a vice around you as he sobs. Incoherent mumbles of the hell he's been through, and all you do is soothe him in this moment of pure emotion and vulnerability.

You remain strong for him. A beacon in a world of darkness and grazed bullets as he loses himself in your tender and affectionate embrace.

These moments are few and far between. Still, when they read their heads, you give him the time he requires to heal the mental scars to become whole again.

Of course, he enjoys times at the pub with his fellow soldiers. Throwing back a few pints, reminiscing over war stories and close calls within the familiar walls of their treasured tavern. It builds comradery. Strengthens the bond of the brotherhood outside the line of fire.

And gives them the mental break they need in the ease of civilian life before being thrusted back into the perpetual grinder that is being a soldier.

[uravitsy]

‘BLESSED BE THE FRUIT’ RYOMEN SUKUNA

summary. sukuna finally answers your prayers, ready to give you anything you desire for just a small price in return. ☆

warnings. breedingkink!trueform!sukuna (though he doesn’t have two dicks in this ???), virgin!fem!reader, dirty talk, rough/forceful sex, talk of pregnancy, biblical references, a bit of mythology (?), angst if you squint, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, porn with plot, tw!coercion, you and sukuna are fucking in a temple, this is kinda long and barely edited

a/n. this was loosely inspired by eurydice and hades, if you know you know. i enjoyed diving deeper into some darker topics and exploring sukuna with a breeding kink.

Cloaked in the dim glow of candlelight, you knelt before a modest altar adorned with symbols of the underworld. Your eyes, reflecting a blend of sorrow and determination, were fixed upon an ancient relic representing Sukuna, god of the realm below. With clasped hands and a voice filled with quiet strength, you uttered fervent prayers, seeking solace and sanctuary within the hidden temple. The flickering shadows danced in rhythm to your whispered pleas, creating an atmosphere of otherworldly reverence.

“Please," you whispered, lowering your head beneath the flickering candlelight, the shadows emphasizing the pain in your eyes. "Hear my prayer, Lord Sukuna. Bathe me in all your glory and breathe life into my every desire."

Dealing with the gods was dangerous, a fact you were well aware of, but what other choice did you have? In a world where women were mere possessions, you refused to succumb to a fate of being bartered off like livestock. Each day, you faced the prospect of being presented to suitors—elderly men whose former wives had long since died. It was a fate you couldn't accept. You aspired for more than to become someone's wife; you desired to etch your name into history, to be remembered for more than just a marital tie.

Frustrated by societal expectations, you turned to Lord Sukuna, a deity with a tale that resonated with your own struggles. The legends spoke of his fall from grace, a narrative both pitied and condemned.

"Grant me freedom, the freedom to shape my own destiny, and I shall offer you my body and soul," you implored, slowly disrobing despite the inner warning that this was a dangerous gamble.

As the storm outside intensified, a deafening roar of thunder filled the temple. Startled, you leaped from the cold stone floor as a serpent came before you, its scales brushing against your bare skin. Panic set in, and you screamed, frantically kicking the reptile away.

Your realization of your actions heightened as you hastily covered your exposed body with the silk gown. Ready to leave the temple in disappointment, a chilling voice stopped you in your tracks.

"I come to answer your prayers," the tall figure announced, and as you turned to look, it became apparent he was no ordinary man. With multiple eyes and a visage both unsettling and captivating, it was clear before he spoke that this was Lord Sukuna. Though you recognized him from forbidden stories and images, seeing him in person left you awestruck. The deity towered over you, his appearance more otherworldly than any depiction you had encountered.

"And yet you kick me upon first glance," he snarled, and you dropped to your knees in a bow, pleading for forgiveness.

Yet, Sukuna's response was not what you expected. Swiftly, he materialized behind you, his voice close to your ear, taunting and chilling. As you nervously explained your choice to invoke him, he laughed dismissively, questioning the value of mortal offerings. The encounter with the King of Curses had just begun, leaving you on edge and uncertain of the consequences of your plea.

"Please forgive me, my lord," you uttered, head still bowed, as you sensed Sukuna leaning in closer, his breath brushing against your ear. "I-"

"You, you, you," Sukuna mocked, his tone dripping with disdain. "It's always something you mortals want. I came from my duties to answer your cries for freedom. Was not giving you humans free will enough?"

"I don't have free will or control of my own life," you confessed, glancing over your shoulder to meet Sukuna's gaze. "That is why I called upon you."

With an amused expression, Sukuna suggested drastic solutions, his words making you uneasy. "You could run away, or better yet, kill yourself and give your soul fully to me." You looked down, unable to deny the truth in his words. "Oh, but you won't do that, will you? You mortals always want everything but won't give anything in return."

In response, you steeled yourself, determined to offer what you could. "I can offer you my body and my soul," you declared, a glint of determination in your eyes. "That is all I have to offer."

Sukuna, ancient and seemingly indifferent, stretched his arms with a chuckle. "I am older than the Earth and the Sun itself. I have countless souls and have slept with goddesses.” He tapped his chin with a shake of his head, “No, no, I'm going to need something… more. Something that will weigh on your heart."

Your frown deepened, "Then what do you want?"

"A sacrifice," Sukuna replied, his voice holding a mysterious gravity, leaving you to contemplate the implications of the request. The encounter with the god took a dark turn as the demand for a sacrifice hinted at the potential cost of seeking divine intervention. The weight of your decision began to settle in, and the true nature of the pact you were considering became clearer.

"Sacrifice?" you repeated, the word hanging in the air, leaving you breathless. The realization hit you hard – you were in way over your head. Gambling with the Gods always came with a hefty price.

Sukuna grinned wickedly down at you before revealing his unsettling request. "I am in need of a woman, a woman to carry something very special to me." His fingertips danced across your back, sending a shiver down your spine. "For I need to taint a virgin to birth my son."

The weight of his words sank in, and you instinctively brought your hand to your stomach. "My firstborn child?" Your words echoed in your ears.

"That child would belong to the Gods, to me. It wouldn't be yours," Sukuna explained coldly.

"But I would carry him as my own."

"You'd be nothing but a mere vessel," Sukuna pressed his hand against yours, his black nails digging into your skin. "Do this one task, and I shall ravish you in wealth and power."

The internal struggle reflected in your expression, but Sukuna cut off your thoughts. "I don't have all day, (y/n)." His touch sent shudders through you. Sukuna laughed, his gaze roving over your body as if you were nothing but a piece of meat. "Do you accept?"

Caught in the web of your own desires, you hesitated. Sukuna, the King of Curses, already knew your answer before you spoke it. Your words were trapped in your throat as he continued undressing you. The silk gown you were being discarded, pooling around your ankles. The vulnerability of the moment made it clear how little agency you truly had.

"I accept," you finally whispered, turning around in his arms, ready to submit yourself to him. "I will give you a son."

Little did you know the depths of the consequences this pact would unleash. As you willingly embraced the bargain, you couldn't fathom the entanglement of your fate with the God of death. The journey ahead would prove more treacherous than you could have ever imagined, and the true cost of your decision was yet to unfold.

“Then let’s get to the fun part shall we?”

You had to admit that this wasn’t how you imagined losing your virginity. You thought it would be the traditional way, on your wedding night against a plush feathered stuff bed but clearly the universe had other plans for you. Your body felt as if it was on fire under Sukuna’s gaze, your legs spread apart for him to see you and all your naked glory.

“Look at you, so ripe and ready to be plucked,” Sukuna grins, “I should warn you that I am not the gentle type.”

“I can handle you,” You tell him with a new found confidence.

“Oh?” Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt his long slender fingers glide up along your wet folds, “Don’t get too cocky, little lamb.”

You winced in slight pain, his finger entering you up to his knuckles. Sukuna didn’t even give you time to adjust before he started fucking you with his finger, a glob of spit leaving his mouth and on to your naked cunt to get you more lubricated and to make the dry feeling less uncomfortable.

Once his finger could slide into you with ease he added another, his eyes never leaving your face so he could watch your every expression. You tried to bite back your moan, not wanting him to know that that pain you felt now turned into something that was pleasurable. It started off as a faint feeling inside your lower abdomen but it grew, and it had your legs shaking slightly from ecstasy, “Lord S-Sukuna..”

“What was that?” Sukuna pretended not to hear you, “I can’t hear you over the lewd sounds your pussy is making, dove, you got to speak up.”

“Ah!” You tossed your head back at the sudden feeling of Sukuna’s warm tongue on your pussy, it was long and felt a little rough but its warmth had you become a quivering mess. It was all a new sensation, something that the books don’t tell you— that sex can actually feel better if you had a somewhat relationship with the person you’re being intimate with. It was different with you though because you hardly knew Sukuna and yet it was if you’ve known him for years.

“Sukuna..” you moaned his name, the sound bouncing off the temple walls. That pit of pleasure only growing, something that was foreign and seemed forbidden to chase, “I—This feeling—Ah!”

“What a cute virgin you are,” Sukuna’s tongue was exceptionally long as he toyed with your clit, teasing the bundle of nerves as he spoke, “You’re the perfect woman to be filled with my cum.”

“M’gonna..” your legs began to tremble at the pleasure, your chest rising and falling as that wave inside you intensified. You were now being fucked with three fingers, Sukuna enjoyed the sight of your pussy sucking his large fingers in as if your body was specifically made for him, his own cock hardening underneath his kimono.

That wave inside you crashed, your orgasm falling over you, leaving your body involuntarily shaking at that overwhelming feeling of pleasure. Sukuna helped you through your release, his fingers quickly replaced by his thick cock that he slowly moved up and down your soaked folds, teasingly rubbing his swollen tip along your clit.

Your eyes widened at his size, you were sure that he was half the size of your arm. It was intimidating to say the least but what did you expect from one of the Gods? “You’re so big..”

“Aren’t you observant?” Sukuna teased, before taking ahold your legs in his large hands, with a snap of his fingers he materialized a pillow to rest beneath you, giving you a bit more comfort than the stone floor. You thought the gesture was sweet, making you realize that just maybe there was something warm brewing inside his cold, black heart.

Though those thoughts quickly faded as you watched him press your legs forward, your knees against your chest. You were fully exposed to him and unable to move, his fingertips dug into your soft plush thighs with such force you were sure it would leave a mark come morning.

“Now open up for me.” without warning, Sukuna thrusted inside you to the hilt, kissing your cervix with the tip of his cock. To say that you felt as though you were splitting in two was an understatement. It felt as though something ripped inside you, the pain was so instant that you tried to struggle away from his grasp but to no avail. Tears fell from your eyes as you bit down on your bottom lip so harshly to the point where it drew blood. Sukuna was your only source of leverage as he began to pound you against the temple floor. The sound of his balls slapping against your ass and your muffled moans was tuned out by the roaring storm still ensuing outside.

“Look at that little dove,” Sukuna groans at the sight of your small frame taking in his large cock, the thin trail of blood sliding down his veiny length almost sending him into a frenzy, “You aren’t a virgin anymore.”

“Sukuna…please..” Sukuna felt pity for you, for he knew this was no easy task, sleeping with a God— especially since he could be so cruel. To ease the pain, Sukuna opened his mouth on his stomach so his tongue could be free, lapping at your sensitive bundle of nerves yet again as he moved his other two free hands to fondle at your breast, pinching and tugging at your nipples to invoke more pleasure than pain. He knew his goal succeeded when your whimpers quickly turned into soft moans, your glossy eyes looking up at him with such reckless abandon.

“Is that better? I feel you clenching around my cock,” When you didn’t answer right away, Sukuna snaked his fingers in your hair, roughly pulling on the strands to toss your head back and expose your neck to him, “Answer me.”

“It’s s’good,” His cock pistoling inside you had your mind scrambled, eyes rolling further back into your head in pleasure.

“Ah, fuck.” Sukuna was enjoying this, enjoying this a bit too much. It had been a least a thousand years since he had sex with a mortal. He forgot how cute they could be, how fragile they are, “That’s it, take my cock, you like being fucked now don’t you? I bet after this a simple man won’t ever be able to satisfy you.”

You quickly found Sukuna’s fingers in your mouth to stop you from making any more noises. You moan around his cold digits, sucking and gliding your tongue along his fingers as if your life depended on it. Sukuna let out a string of profanities, retracting his hips before plunging himself right back into your greedy cunt; groaning softly at the sight of you quivering under his touch.

Sukuna’s hips continuously collided with yours, over and over with a lewd squelch coming from each forceful slam. You whimpered out his name like a soft prayer. Your drool slipping out of the corner of your mouth and down your chin. The pleasure that racked through you had your whole body shaking against his Sukuna’s death grip, you were unable to move, your role was to simply lie there and take whatever he was giving you with no complaints.

Sukuna kept you pinned to the floor, your legs pinned against you so you could watch as his large cock disappeared inside you. You couldn’t believe that it would barely fit before and now you were taking him like a champ, all of him.

"Look at you, taking my cock so well.”

Another orgasm came over you— making you toss your head back with a loud moan as Sukuna continued to thrusts into your tight velvety walls. You didn’t noticed he had flipped you over until you felt you cheek press against the floor and his large tongue attacked your sensitive pussy yet again.

“Oh my god, s-sukuna..” Your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head at the feeling of him fucking you with his tongue. It felt warm, so warm and inviting that you couldn’t stop your own hips from moving back to meet his sinful ministrations, “Yes..”

“You’re quite enticing for a virgin,” Sukuna licked his lips after he was done eating you out like a man starved. Using two of his free hands, he parted your ass cheeks, spreading you wide open for him so he could easily slide his dick in once again. You winced from the pain, this angle making him just go slightly deeper to the point where you felt a slight budge in your lower abdomen. It has you limp, completely powerless against the King of Curses as he used you like a simple toy, “Why, you’re nothing but a slobbish mess. Is my dick that good, dove? You want me to keep fucking this pussy, don’t you?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” You were crumbling, his name falling off your lips incoherently as he fucked you into another orgasm.

“You ready to take my cum?” Sukuna grunted, feeling his own release nearly reaching its peak. The God sat back against the temple steps, pulling you with him so you were in his lap, your feet on either side of his thighs as his large hands bounced you on his cock with such force it had your mind spiraling. You don’t know which hand it was but one of them found its way to your throat as he fucked you ruthlessly while the others held onto your thighs, forcing you to be still while he pounded up into you, his swollen balls slapping against your ass in the most sinful way, “C’mon woman, tell me you want it,” You shuddered at the feeling of his tongue against your ear, his voice in a cruel whisper.

“I want it.” Your back was against his chest and head on his shoulder as you began to move on your own accord, not even realizing that Sukuna loosened his grip on you.

Sukuna grinned wide, his eyes glinting with mischief. He knew that once he filled your womb you would be bound to him forever, an invisible contract sealing your fate as the mother to his child. You were his now, he owned you in more ways than one— that is what happens when you make a deal with the devil himself.

“I can’t hear you,” He teased, hands moving to cup your full breasts as his sharp teeth grazed your neck.

“I want it!”

“How badly?”

“So, so bad please…cum inside me, Lord Sukuna.”

With those words Sukuna painted your walls white with his load of cum, burying into you to the hilt to ensure that not a single drop would be spilled. You went limp against him, eventually passing out from exhaustion. Sukuna's laughter echoed, a sinister symphony as he gently traced circles on your stomach, foretelling the emergence of his heir.

The King of Curses, now bound by an unsettling promise, sought to give you a life bathed in opulence and liberation—a reward for your courageous surrender, offering both body and mind to bear the weight of his lineage.

Your destinies were now intertwined, a complex tapestry of sacrifice and anticipation. The promise of new life echoes in the air. In nine months on a full moon such as this, a child will enter the world, bearing the legacy of Sukuna. Amidst the shadows of power and ambition, your role is pivotal—a linchpin in a grand design. Sukuna's excitement resonates, not just for his prince, but for a future that hinges on your connection. The gravity of your intertwined fates, a force impossible to escape, draws you deeper into the intricate dance of destiny.

URAVITSY 2024

[puranami]

✿ Omelette - The Morning After ✿

A/N: I did leave the original with a point to start a follow up if the mood struck, and people have been showing interest, so here we are... doing our best __φ(．．✿)

Summary: The morning after Sanji found you cooking an omelette in your underwear at an ungodly hour, you are no longer overtired and must deal with the fallout.

Content: Despite the scenario - it's all SFW and fluffy like dem eggs were. Even more pining with a nice side dish of denial, G/N reader ✿

(Part 1) - (Part 3)

"Oh my god..."

You cringe into your pillow, unsure of how you are supposed to face the day, and especially Sanji, after last night's omelette fuelled shenanigans. The entire thing had felt like a dream, and you would have gone on with the rest of your life believing that's what it was were it not for one glaring issue.

Sanji's nightshirt.

It was still comfortably wrapped around you, still with that sweet and musky scent that had enveloped you as you finally managed to sleep, and you couldn't help nuzzling into the sleeves with a contented sigh.

"No! Stop that!" you shouted internally, forcing yourself up in your hammock. "You do not have feelings for him, he does not have feelings for you; he was just being a good friend lending you his shirt because you were a dumbass who forgot to put on pants!"

You felt your chest tighten somewhat at your inner monologue. Maybe you did have a tiny bit of a crush, truly miniscule really, nothing to get yourself worked up about. You let out another small sigh, starting to fiddle with the top button, knowing you had to take it off and return it.

But you just couldn't bring yourself to.

Surely it'd be okay to hang onto it a little longer, right? It would be bad manners to hand back a dirty shirt, so you should definitely wash it first at the very least. And since you aren't due to do your laundry for a couple more days; maybe you can wear it at night in the meantime?

You let out an audible groan, flopping back down onto your pillow face first, hardly able to believe your own thoughts.

"Why am I being so weird about this?" The cycle of cringing into your pillow begins again.

A sudden knock at your door surprises you, and you nearly fall out of your hammock. The door opens a crack, not enough to see in or out of, and a familiar voice greets you.

"Just wanted to check in, darling, you're missing breakfast, and if you don't get there soon," Sanji trails off, not needing to elaborate on the eating habits of your captain. He gives you a moment to respond, but you can't find any of your words; you needed more time to overthink about how you were going to talk to him! You pull your blanket up over your head in a poor attempt to hide from the situation.

Thinking you were still asleep, and knowing that you were properly covered thanks to his actions during the night, he opens the door further and peeks his head in.

"Darling?"

He lets out a little laugh seeing your blanket covered form still in your hammock. Letting himself into the room fully he makes his way over to your little sanctuary, unaware of the utter panic contained within, before crouching down beside you. A gentle hand rocks you ever so slightly in an attempt to rouse you from your assumed slumber.

"It's time to wake up, love," he almost whispers.

You instinctively groan at the pet name, mentally cursing yourself for it immediately after - you can't pretend to be asleep anymore now. Resigning yourself to your fate, you slowly pull the blanket down a little, at least enough to look at him.

"Good morning, sunshine!" He beams, always happy for any time in your presence. "You're going to miss breakfast."

God damn this radiance in human form. You take a stabilising breath before reluctantly sitting up, allowing your blanket to fall down to your waist. Sanji couldn't help the cheeky little smirk that graced his face upon seeing his nightshirt; you could have easily taken it off once you got back to your quarters, but here it still was.

"What's the face for?" You grumble, poking his forehead and lightly pushing him back. Sanji giggled as he lost his balance, deciding it best to sit beside you instead of crouching. He leaned his arms on the side of the hammock and looked up at your pouting face, smiling at how cute you were.

"Comfy, sweet?" The amusement in his voice was painfully apparent as he gave the collar of the shirt a playful tug.

Burying your face into sleeve covered hands to hide the blush you felt forming, you let out an exasperated sigh, falling onto your back while muttering various curses, causing Sanji to let out a hearty laugh. As much as he was enjoying how flustered you were, he was cautious about pushing things too far; he wanted to win your affections, and too much teasing may undermine that for him. He gently pats the top of your head, making you jump slightly from the unexpected touch.

"You know, if you want to keep a hold of it, I wouldn't mind." You pull your hands down to look at him, eyes wide while still covering the lower half of your face. It was like he could see right through you, like he had heard your earlier thoughts about keeping it, at least for a couple more nights. What witchcraft was this!

"W-what? No! I..." you finally manage to blurt out, sitting up once more. Time to attempt some damage control and deny everything! "I appreciate that you were just helping me out, a-and I was gonna wash it before giving it back!" Sanji had taken to leaning on one of his hands, a lazy smile on his face, endlessly amused by this whole thing. He's never actually seen you in this state before - you're usually so composed.

"It's alright, love, I have other shirts," he shrugs. Throughout this entire exchange, you hadn't reacted to any of his terms of endearment like you usually do.

Maybe it was time to try his luck.

"You wear it much better than I do, anyway." Sanji flashes you a flirty wink, and you feel your resolve starting to crumble. In a last ditch attempt to salvage your carefully crafted aloof image you throw your blanket over him.

"Stop looking at me with your dumb face!"

The man is unfazed.

Giggling like an idiot he flips the blanket back over the hammock, keeping his hands up afterwards in surrender.

"Alright, alright, I yield." He lifts himself off of the floor, patting down the back of his suit trousers. "Breakfast has probably been demolished by now, so when you're ready, come to the kitchen, and I'll make something special for you." He graces you with one last signature golden smile, before heading out, pausing at your door momentarily.

"How does an omelette sound, love?" He can't help snickering, and your face flushes deep red.

"Out!!" You yell as you throw your pillow at him, which he easily bats away while laughing. Once he was gone and the door was shut you cursed; it felt like your heart was trying to escape the confines of your body, and the intensity was overwhelming.

You refused to admit it, but you were down bad for this beautiful menace.

To be continued? Oh no! Welp, looks like the oneshot I initially started with has turned into a little series :3c I really enjoy writing Sanji, can you tell?

[lokisgoodgirl]

Final Bids: Love Wins [Avenger!Loki x Fem.Reader]

Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection A link to my (new) Masterlist is HERE Summary: (20) A loved-up Loki has a surprise or two for you in his chambers. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Hostile Fluff. Language. Biker! Loki 'fit cameo. (w/c 3.8k)

You and Loki hadn't stop kissing from the moment the elevator closed to the moment it slid open on the sixty-fifth floor. You had run out the main doors of the event suite with the stares of bemused looking spectators following you, the crowd parting. There was no looking back as Loki’s fingers grasped your own, knitted tightly.

He was still bare-chested, the button of his trousers still undone. Hair was wild, cheeks hot, smiles wide as cat-calls and ringing shouts of ‘finally’ followed far beyond the lavish foyer.

Your searching hands clawed at his naked back as he pressed you against the glass wall of the lift. Floor disappeared below, winding higher as you moaned into his open mouth.

“Come on…” he muttered, eyes flashing with mischief before yanking you out the open elevator doors and around the corner towards his rooms. His sanctuary. He strode ahead, making you teeter on your heels as you tried in vain to keep up. With an impatient growl, he spun - lifting you effortlessly around his hips. You gasped, a giggle escaping as his features retained their set determination. “You were taking too long. As usual. ” he growled, taking several more strides before slamming your back against his front door.

Loki’s hand at your back blanketed the impact as his lips ravenously enveloped your own. The god’s tongue swept inside your mouth, a mewl sneaking from your throat as you turned to messy putty beneath his possessive wiles. Somewhere, there was a low beep. The door fell open. Loki stumbled inside, holding you steady with one strong arm. His tongue never left your mouth as you groaned against him, his furiously hard cock pressing eagerly against your inner thigh. Reluctantly, he lowered you the floor, spinning you gently to face the room beyond the entryway. You gaped, taking in the lavish dark furnishings you had only imagined as you touched yourself beneath your bedsheets in the dead of night. Thick velvet curtains hung closed against the windows; green, of course. The scent of rich mahogany filled the air, shy curls of smoke wafting from dozens of candles set on the bookshelves which lined the living room. A fireplace that you were entirely sure wasn't to code suddenly roared to life in the corner. To your right, you could just see a sliver of a majestic bed-frame through the crack of a door. Looking back to the room at hand, you suddenly realised you had company. Of sorts. Nine mannequins were placed in a semi-circle at the far corner of the room, giving them the look of some sort of macabre council. Loki’s warm breath fanned your ear as he stooped to speak, noting your interest. “Do they bring back fond memories, darling?” he purred, making you shiver. The wetsuit, the biker ensemble, the kilt, the fencing pants, the captain’s uniform, the slutty caftan, the Tudor king, the wolf fur, the holy vestments – they were all here. “I thought you would appreciate a reminder of our journey together on this auspicious occasion.” he whispered slowly, measuring your reaction. You giggled, throwing a glance over your shoulder before moving towards them to investigate. “What would you have done with these if I’d not...you know, done what I did downstairs?” “Burn them, obviously.” “Obviously.” you replied dryly, pinching the edges of the wetsuit and running your fingers down thoughtfully. It feels like so long ago. “Although I was quietly confident that my masterplan would yield fruit.” he smirked, perching elegantly on the armrest of hi sofa. “Master-plan...” you scoffed derisively, gravitas quashed by the unshakeable grin stretched across your face. “Keep telling yourself that, Laufeyson.” Minutes passed as you inspected each piece while Loki watched in silence, a gentle smile on his lips.

“I thought I would allow you a choice of attire for us to consummate our truce.” he said, slowly rising and circling behind as you paused in front of the ravaged kilt hanging on its holder. "Truce? How romantic." you murmured sarcastically, hearing the tap of his dress shoes against the mahogany floor. The mannequins were an exact replica of Loki’s frame, you realised, running your hand down the rough woollen sash. You shivered, remembered the sight of his war-stained features surfacing between your spread thighs on the wet battlements. Loki’s hips pressed against your ass, his hard stomach moulding to the shape of your spine as he loomed behind you. “Can’t you see which one I’d choose, the whole mindreading-whatever-it-is?” you said absent-mindedly, snapping a long strap of the fencing pants for effect. Loki chuckled. “Oh, that." Loki drawled. "With some difficulty, I fashioned an enchantment so that I cannot see too deeply. I have cut myself off, as it were. It is only an aura of your mood that I have access to – and nothing to be done about that. Unless your love for me wanes, of course.” You turned, unable to disguise your shock. “What?! Since when?” Loki's features twisted in an apologetic grimace. “At the faire...I began to delve too deeply. I knew that you did not approve, I felt...guilty." He paused, surprised at his own revelation. "Was I wrong?” he added, brows slanted. “No I just…” you started sheepishly, biting your lip. Your eyes widened. “But some of the things you said in Rome, the little comments, the-” “About you wanting me, you mean?” Loki scoffed gently. He shook his head. “Any fool could see that, darling. My brother, for one.” You turned away, closing you eyes as you tried to process how unbearably in love with him you were. It felt like your heart would burst from your chest. He really is full of surprises. “You could have told me.” you said with a feigned air of annoyance, fingering the intricate embroidery of the sheer caftan. “And lose my advantage in our little tirades? I think not, Agent.” Loki purred, eyes burning with mischief. “Besides, I do not need magical abilities to read you.” You could feel his soundless approach, the warmth of his bare chest inches from your back. “Now choose, please.” he whispered, a wandering hand slipping around your waist. Your palm slid up his cheekbone from behind, pressing him against the crook of your neck. “I don’t need a costume, Loki” you whispered, turning. “I just need you.” The god chuckled into your hair. “Are you sure they didn’t help pave the way to your heart? I thought it would be...romantic.” You rolled your eyes. “Well they didn’t hurt.” You ran your eyes down the white captain’s uniform pressed neatly against its mannequin. “But really…” you said, sliding your palm over Loki’s shoulders. “I just want you, Loki. All of you.” The god’s brow furrowed, a bob in his throat as his mind fought to catch up. “I see.” he managed to say, catching on his tongue. There was a pause, as Loki’s stare searched yours. “Is it really so hard to believe?” you said, cupping his jaw. “That I love you?” Loki nodded once, his gaze lowered, lashes spread in a perfect fan against his skin.

“Why?” you whispered, knowing the answer. But it seemed important that he say it. He swallowed.

“You must understand I have never been most people’s favourite person. In this realm or any other. ” he said bitterly, avoiding your eyes as he twirled a strand of your hair around his finger. “Anyone’s favourite person, in truth. To be loved. It is rather a strange concept to me.” His eyeline staggered upwards, reluctantly meeting your gaze. “But I am trying.” “I know. I’m sorry about all the red stuff – the dress was an accident but the bra and the g-string I didn’t know-” Loki’s finger pressed to your lips. “Do not apologise.” he murmured. “Just promise me that you shall not lie with him when you tire of me.” You couldn’t help the gasp of laughter that erupted against his finger. “Tire of you?” you choked. “I don’t think that’s likely.” Loki raised an eyebrow, making your features straighten. “But I promise, I will not…” you wrinkled your nose, “...lie with Thor.” The god nodded regally, accepting your pledge. The tips of his cheekbones had flushed palest pink. “I love you.” you said softly, capturing his fingers as they brushed your collarbone. “I love you.” he replied with a shy smile. His voice was rich and warm, the tenor sinking into your soul like salve. “But it is more than that…” he added mysteriously, his tone deepening. You felt the familiar zing of arousal between your thighs, the eroticism of his power building in earnest. “I have burned for you, every cell of my being yearning uncontrollably since the moment you first cut me with that sharp tongue.” he murmured, sweeping hair from your neck. “It is a need, an obsession. And the obsession of a god is not easily swayed. I hope you are prepared for that.” His parted lips danced across your shoulder, as your hands slid beneath his armpits and between the muscled blades. “I could not bear to think that you would never be mine-” he growled, “not after all the times before, and never like this...never as-” “-Real.” you gasped, as he placed a gentle bite on the curve of your neck, a deep moan filling the space. “Real.” he echoed quietly, before placing a soothing kiss on the mark he had left. “I could not bear it.” His eyes met with yours, glassy with emotion. “I thought...that the only way to harvest the passion I desperately craved from you was-” “-by being an asshole?” you postured, raising your brows. Loki smiled sheepishly. “You gave as good as you got, darling.” he murmured, his hand beginning to toy with the zip of your dress. “Better, some might say.” you gasped, feeling the tug of your seams coming loose. “In your dreams, Agent.” Loki whispered, as your dress pooled around your ankles. “And besides…” he quipped, walking you backwards through the living room towards the king bed next door. “One cannot accuse us of being predictable.” “Perish the thought.” you said, as the back of your knees hit the firm mattress. Loki lowered his chin to his chest, the fire in his eyes that burned right before he fucked you smouldering with new intensity. “My love…” he hummed, possessively sliding his hands over your ass and squeezing. “My love.” you responded with a gasping groan, the curve of your lips cresting each vowel like a breaking wave. “Choose one.” he growled, a ragged moan vibrating in his chest as he slipped his hand inside your panties. “I must insist. For old times sake.”

Your eyes flickered to the row of mannequins just visible outside the door. “The b-biker…” you stammered, as Loki’s digits began to play lazily against your soaking slit. “Mmm” he hummed, knowingly. “I’m sure the garments for that particular ensemble isn’t the only thing you desire from it, my love?” My love. You would never tire of those words from his lips. You could feel heat rising in your cheeks as Loki’s suit trousers began to turn to scuffed black denim beneath your touch. The fingers digging into his back suddenly had a thin layer of fabric between his flesh and yours; the scent of old oil wafting from the cotton. Cool, heavy metal swung against your chest as he shoved you playfully back onto the bed, watching as a familiar vintage leather jacket unfurled over his torso. The god chuckled, seeing your legs widen as you drew your feet onto the mattress; sinking into the thick crispness of his duvet. He ran a hand through his hair, a trail of seidr rendering it wild. Your breath skipped as you saw the outline of the deep scar through his eyebrow form, ink flourishing on both sets of his knuckles. C.H.A.O.S. You shuddered, ass clenching. The crossed daggers flourished in all their glory over his heart, the edges faded as old tattoos do. Loki’s fingers toyed teasingly with the buckle of the studded belt, hanging sluttishly around his hips. “Do you want me to be a bad boy, Agent?” he growled, untamed hair falling in waves against his sharp cheekbones. “You’re always a bad boy.” you purred, making Loki wink before he cleared his throat. “Well, I better not disappoint then.” he postured, sinking into character as he lowered himself on top of you. The leather creaked against his biceps as he braced, the stretch making you clench as he descended on your mouth in a mess of teeth and tongue. You thrust upwards, the thin fabric of your wet gusset colliding with his belt buckle. Loki chuckled, scooping you upwards. He knelt on the bed, ass resting on his worn combat boots; shifting so only one of his denim-clad thighs sat between your spread legs. “Use me.” he rumbled, lowering his chin as he began to rock your hips back and forth. Friction made delicate skin sizzle as he set your pussy alight, every whimper met with enthusiastic sighs of pleasure and praise. “That’s it, darling…” he groaned as you grasped at his hard cock beneath the tight denim. Searching.

He was a mess of adulation, words unsaid for too long spilling from his lips with every flame of climax blossoming in your belly. “I’m for your pleasure, now.” he gasped, gyrating his hips as you rocked against his thigh. “Always...take it. Take i-it, my love. It’s y-yours. I’m..f-fuck, I’m yours.” Your nails dug into the leather covering his shoulders, marking the soft material as you came undone against him. “Loki...y-yes..uhhh” you moaned into his open mouth as he gazed up at you, rough ebony curls thrown back. One of your hands fell to his chest, catching on the loop of the pendant hanging against his heart. The slicing angle of Loki’s jaw was poised, lips parted. His eyes were wide, brow creased as you came with a grateful cry of his name. He continued to guide your hips back and forth while your grip tightened and then relaxed. You burrowed your face in the curve of his neck, noting the musk of Croatian alcohol and smoky bars that still clung there. “I do so love watching you cum…” he murmured shyly, as you began to pull wantonly at his belt buckle. “Well I love watching you cum” you said, pressing your lips together in a coy smile. “So I guess that works out, doesn’t it?” Loki’s hand ran through your hair, tugging your head back before he placed a messy suck to the pulse point. “Mine.” he growled breathily, as your fingers raced to undo his belt. “Leave it…” he muttered, making your hands fly to his leather jacket, forcing it roughly over his shoulders. It fell to the floor with a soft thud, the low thump of his combat boots hitting the floorboards making your whole body shiver. He shuffled backwards, standing at the foot of the bed.

“Are you ready, love?” he muttered seductively. You nodded, your feral desire barely contained as you bounced on your knees. Instinctively your fingers rubbed his violently hard cock through the rough denim, feeling for metal. The god hissed as your fingers caught against the tip. "Oh, it's there." Loki purred knowingly, whipping the belt from its holster and slowly rolling down the zip. You licked your lips, seeing the majesty of his pierced cock bob into view. Wordlessly you leant forwards, sucking the moist head of his manhood against your tongue with a calculated swirl. You tugged the silver barbell, flicking. Loki whimpered, steadying himself against the bedpost. “F-fuckk, darling…” he gasped quietly. “I shall n-never be prepared for that.”

The metal balls of his piecing were cool against the heat of your mouth, rolling them against your searching tongue as he groaned above you. A metallic taste rose against the warmth of his sweetness, the god's musk swirling intoxicatingly against the sharp tang of steel. Saliva leaked out the sides of the join, letting it coat his cock as you slid back and forth, sucking gently. Your lips tightened, the stroke of your hand against his thick, slippery shaft making his hips jolt. “Won’t l-last l-long…gods-” he rasped, gently winding the hand not steadying him into your hair.

Your own whoreish moans burned deep in your eardrums, mouth stuffed with his girth as you felt him begin to tremble. “D-don’t stop…” he panted, as you increased your pace. “Do you w-want me to cum in your...fuckkk-your mouth, p-precious one?” Loki stammered with difficulty, his breath catching as his hips began to tremble. You groaned enthusiastically, vibrations making his balls tighten. You heard a low crack of wood, Loki’s grip making the wooden bedpost split beneath it. A thundering moan ripped from above, hot cum flooding your tongue; dripping down your throat as you swallowed against the tip of his thick cock.

You released him with a messy pop, tugging once more at the piercing while gazing up at the dishevelled god with pure love. His bliss-drunk eyes lazily searched your face, hovering on the slick of his delicious cum coating your lips. He licked his own. “We can do the rest later, don’t worry.” you cooed, sitting up on your knees as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Loki chuckled, delicate skin creasing at the corners of his eyes. “Ah! About that-” he smouldered, before falling forwards and pinning you beneath him on the bed. “Gods have a very short refractory period. I’m delighted to inform you that we can fuck endlessly, if that is your desire.” There was a mischievous glint in his eye as he watched your jaw drop.

“You mean all this time we could have done it twice?” “More than twice, darling.” he jibed, feigning offence. “But to be frank, typically the mood had been ruined by one of your mid-coital insults by that point.” “My insults?!” you huffed, feeling his cock growing hard again against your thigh. Loki kissed you deeply, making your back arch as you felt the tingle of his seidr evaporate the rest of his biker clothes. He slid a finger through your folds, moaning appreciatively. “Wet, warm...perfect.” he muttered, curls grazing against your cheeks. You felt the metal balls of his piercing on the wide tip nudge against your entrance, the coolness tingling against your heat. Twin moans filled the air as he squeezed himself past the tight opening, Loki’s eyes rolling back before they fluttered closed. He bottomed out with a low pant of pleasure, a final thrust of his hips making the metal spheres tug against your deepest walls. The metal stud fastened to Loki’s pubic mound pulled gently against your clit, every slow roll of his hips making you rock into him. “Loki...f-fuck, I’d f-forgotten-oh god..oh g-god.” you panted, as his knees widened on the bed. The base of his flat stomach was pressed to your own, the thick veins running along his biceps bulging as he thrust into you in mind-altering waves. “Let yourself go, my love...there is no limit anymore. Not with us.” he praised, as your fingertips sank into the taut muscle of his ass. Effortlessly, Loki raised himself from his forearms; angling his hips so only the tip of his cock remained inside your wet cunt. “Loki...please” you begged, squirming beneath him. He smirked, beginning to make small thrusts against your g-spot. Your head slid back against the pillow, back arching. “Fuck-Loki...y-yess oh-god.” It caressed the swollen spot inside you, tingling with the urge to burst while the piercing rubbed on either side. It was heaven. “Cum for me, lov-ve.” he murmured, his voice breaking on the final syllable. Your hands fell back against the pillows, fingers curling around the antique brass railings of his bed-frame. Loki growled through shallow pants, his large palms cupping the joint of your hips as he guided you back and forth on his mighty cock. “C-come in me, Loki…” you whined, chin pointed to the ceiling as every muscle in your body screamed for release. "Own me, you fucking own me."

You were a writhing mess of pure sex, every swing of his hair; every harsh exhale of air from his throat a primal cacophony of lust and love. Both of your moans grew louder, the slap of his balls against your skin driving you over the edge as he unravelled. There was a sudden rush, a burning thrill of flooding climax as Loki’s shallow pants of praise blossomed to a thundering roar. The groan of his name from your throat was primal; threatening to shake his books from their shelves.

The god's breaths slowed, melting against you in a wet kiss before rolling to the side. His head hit the pillow with a muted thump. “Have I ever told you, that you're the best fuck I’ve ever had?” he panted. “No, I don’t think you mentioned it.” you quipped, resting your chin on his heaving chest. “That would be too complimentary, you were too busy trying to make my life hell.” Loki rolled his eyes with a smirk, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “As I said on our first tryst, darling...indifference is the true insult.” He squeezed you tighter, before the amused smile faded. “There is one more past outfit I must show you.” he said tentatively, before frowning. “Return to you, actually.”

You sat up, propped on your elbows. “Oh?” you muttered, raising an eyebrow. “Although I have made one notable alteration.” he added, raising a hand and waving it gracefully in the air. A bright shimmer appeared at the foot of the bed, rolling downwards to reveal silken fabric fluttering suspended in the air. “Oh my god…” you whispered, eyes wide. The red dress that Loki had ripped with his hands and teeth from your body while he fucked you to oblivion in a jealous rage the night of the shareholder’s party swayed in front of you. Loki flicked his fingers, making it dance in the air.

It was immaculate, even by his standards of repair. Except now, it was a rich emerald green. “Loki-” you started, feeling a lump in your throat. Gently, his fingers tipped your chin to face him. “You have made me a better man, Agent.” he said slowly, enunciating every word. “Are you sure about that? I’m not sure Clint would agree. Or Amanda, actually.” you smirked, placing a kiss on the tip of his nose. “And enough with the ‘Agent’, you know how much it annoys me.” Loki laughed softly, sighing as he stretched his naked legs across the sheets. “Ah, so you heard about Barton.”

You let your eyes wander up his endless limbs, admiring the curve and dip of each perfectly carved muscle. “He put in a complaint with Tony.” you said, making Loki nodded sagely, lips pursed. The fact that Tony had, of course, told everyone, did not need to be stated to be understood. There was a pause. "And by the way, where is Thor getting a spare two million from to pay for you?" Loki smirked, rolling towards you with a fist propped innocently beneath his temple. "He's been putting off offers for a raunchy photoshoot with a well-known underwear brand for years, darling. I wouldn't worry." "Sorry, what was that you were saying about being a better man?" you goaded, holding back a laugh. “Well, our misplaced animosity may not have been the smoothest path to encouraging a reformation of my admittedly devilish character-” Loki said thoughtfully, nestling his nose against the tip of your cheekbone. “-but your love might.” You swung a leg over his hips, enjoying the exaggerated oof he released as you settled your core to his stomach. Your palm cupped his face, smoothing the silk of his jaw with your thumb. Loki tilted his head, raven curls a mess of tangles against the white pillowcase. “You’ll still always manage to irritate me, you know.” you said, as a smile played at Loki’s lips. "Just because I love you, doesn't mean I'm going to go easy on you." In a flash, Loki had you on your back, giggling beneath him as the warm comfort of his solid frame pressed to yours. “Likewise, my love-' he sighed happily against your sex mussed hair. He placed a firm kiss on your temple, thumb pushing back strands of damp hair from your forehead. “-And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

A/N - Thank you SO SO MUCH for coming with me on this journey. What started with a humble slutty wetsuit has blossomed into our beloved arsey, impossible Loki and stubborn Agent and I hope you're as happy with this ending as I am :) There will be a lil Epilogue (coming soon) Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection

Tags @gigglingtigger @meowmeow-motherfucker @muddyorbsblr @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @coldnique @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @wheredafandomat @vbecker10 @imalovernotahater @thomase1 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @123forgottherest @peacefulpianist @maple-seed @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @infinitystoner @goblingirlsarah @ozymdias @peaches1958 @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @sidepartskinnyjeans @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @goddessofwonderland @smolvenger @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman

[attichaos]

Rune Meanings

These are a few keywords and themes for rune symbols along with their modern alphabet equivalents.

*longer read*

Ansuz - Message, A

God, Ancestors, Revelation, Signs, Visions, Insight, Message, Knowledge, Communication

Berkana - Birch, B

Earth Mother, Birth, Fertility, Growth, Renewal, New beginnings, Creation, New projects, Creativity

Kaunaz - Torch, C/K/Q

Fire, Knowledge, Enlightenment, Comprehension, Insight, Illumination, Calling, Purpose, Idea

Dagaz - Dawn, D

Intuition, Light Within, Day, Awakening, Consciousness, Clarity, Hope, Balance, Growth, New cycles

Ehwaz - Horse, E

Twin Gods, Relationships, Progress, Movement, Harmony, Trust, Loyalty, Friendship, Assistance, Duality, Animal instincts

Fehu - Wealth, F

Wealth, Mother Rune, Abundance, Luck, Hope, Prosperity, Fortune

Gebo - Gift, G

Divine Interaction, Generosity, Partnership, Gifts, Talents, Charity, Service, Assistance, Luck, Fortune

Hagalaz - Hail (as in the type of weather), H

Transformation, Egg of Life, Destruction, Natural wrath, Uncontrolled forces, Testing, Change, External input

Isa - Ice, I

Cosmic Coherence, Suspension, Delay, Stillness, Frustration, Blocks, Pause, Waiting

Jera - Harvest, J

Earth, Right Action, Year, conclusion, Life cycle, Endings and beginnings, Abundance, Learnings, Growth

Laguz - Lake, L

Fertilty, Living Renewal, Water, Intuition, Imagination, Healing, Dreams, Mysteries, Insight, Instinct, Knowing

Mannaz - Man, M

Divine Union Manifestation, Humanity, Collective, Mortality, Community, Relationships, Morals, Values

Nauthiz - Neccesity, N

Needs, Friction, Shadow, Restriction, Disagreements, Resistance, Survival, Lacking

Othila - Heritage, O

Genetics, Legacy, inheritance, Spiritual growth, Abundance, Values, Contribution

Peorth - Destiny, P

Divination, Luck, Primal law, Fate, Mysteries, Occult, Feminine fertility, Chance, Fortune, Mysticism, Unknown

Raido - Journey, R

Solar Chariot, Rhythm, Progress, Movement, Evolution, Perspective, Journey, Travel

Sowulo - Sun, S

Thunderbolt, Wheel of Power, Success, Vitality, Inspiration, Justice, Success, Joy, Happiness, Abundance

Teiwaz - Victory, T

Masculine Gods, Warrior Rune, Leadership, Rationality, Honour, Bravery, Courage, Strength, Perseverance, Endurance

Uruz - Power, U

Primal Creative Force, Gateway, Strength, Endurance, Health, Courage, Vigour, Vitality, Force, Perseverance

Wunjo - Joy, V/W

Kinship, Heritage, Joy, Pleasure, Feast, Celebration, Comfort, Belonging, Community, Success, Festivities

Thurisaz - Thor, X, th

Protection, Polarity, Regeneration, Defence, Challenge, Danger, Attack, Strength

Eiwaz - Yew, Y

Tree of Life, Dreaming, Magic, Connection, Inspiration, Endurance, Sacred knowledge, Protection, Life cycles, Divinity

Algiz - Elk, Z

Divine Protection, Sanctuary, Protection, Guardian, Awakening, Courage, Defence, Instincts

Inguz - Fertility, NG

True Love, Music, Harmony, Fertility, Virility, Inner growth, Virtue, Peace, Harmony

Merry meet,

Atti <3

[wakandamama]

Monday

In anticipation for me watching season 2 of the Bear 🐻😈. This is another smut continuation of Routine, that I may or maynot add more too. Enjoy fellow Chefkissers👩🏿‍🍳🧑🏼‍🍳 if you know me, I had to get my fav couple rn, car fucking.

“Carm…Carmy please.” she pleads, the damn near echo in the car. Her thighs clenching over his hand again. Carmy has to bite his lips in, hard. His dick achy at the sounds she makes at this point. The sound is fucking obscene, slick and wet as he forces his hand out the grip of her thighs. Her whimper at the loss of him is whiny and upset.

“Seriously?” She pants, all hot and bothered. Her eyes promising revenge for him stringing her along like that while in traffic.

____________

The way Sydney can’t get the obscene and lite salt taste of Carmy’s dick out of her mind is insane, it contemplates her to join her father at evening prayer tonight. If it wasn’t for the fact that she was currently pretending to reorganize her locker as she waits for him to finish the books, she’d be dosing herself in blessed oil as she entered the sanctuary. Right now, she could only thank God that Richie’s little girl had another dance recital so his smart mouth was out of the restaurant first. Carmy’s crude play-cousin was starting to linger too long for them to be safe from prying.

It is easier to wave off Tina as she has to get home to make dinner for her family. It was easier to excuse her lingering to Marcus as he’s been packing himself into mixing bowls and the oven lately. But Richie? The man was a tick with the capabilities to talk and apparently a bloodhound with how he commented about the smell of sex in the air lately. Sydney blames Carmy’s inability to relax unless he’s in her pussy or marinating a brisket.

She is drawn from her pondering by Carmy’s hand swiping over the smalls of her back. She glances at him when he opens his own locker and tosses in his apron. She closes her own when Carmy starts to trade his no-slips for his worn nikes. 

“Good day, chef?” he asks while he bends over to tie his shoe. Sydney is practically licking the lingering memory of the velvety feel of girth in her mouth. 

“It was. Richie was only half- annoying today. Glad he jetted out for the recital. Marcus made me this orange cream puff sampler thingy. He’s getting better. It wasn’t too sweet, flaky, the cream wasn’t gritty at all. Was a perfect bust in my mouth.” she teases. Carmy gives a little huffing laugh when he stands back up. He grabs his jacket, leans in close to her ear as he thread his arms through. 

“I can put something better in there.” He rasps to her. She chuckles, he smirks at it and softly bumps her shoulder  He follows right behind her, only pausing to put a step between them to turn out the lights. They get to his car, he is cute but swift to open her door and close it behind her before going around the front. 

The two take off, both letting out sighs of annoyance at the standstill of traffic they hit within 4 minutes of the 12 minute ride to his place. Carmy settles back in his seat one hand impatiently grips and un-grips the steering wheel and the other rests on his thigh. Sydney peels off her jacket, then pops her button until the cleavage of her breast just peaked out. Carmy bites his lip as he spies the perks of her dark nipples under her white tee. 

“We have to stop hanging back so late. Get a frickin life.” She mentions. He hums and gives a short nod to it. Sydney grabs the hand resting on his thigh as they creep forward in traffic. She inspects his short and bitten nails, yet his fingers clean and callous but dry. She didn’t like how dry it was. 

She rests his hand on her thigh and grins as he starts to massages the inner meat of it. She tucks it close to her lap as she reaches down and grabs lotion out of her bag. Carmy gives her an amused side glance as she squirts a bit of aquaphor into her own palms then starts to massage and rub it into his hand. 

“Having fun there?” he asks and Sydney hums.

“You gotta take care of your hands better, Carmy. I like them.” She tells him and he blushes as she starts to kiss over his knuckle tattoos. He shifts as he feels her tongue to trace the letters, and her lips kiss off the joints. 

“Syd…” he breathes softly, she grins and settles his hand back to her lap. She lives for the bright blush on his face, the way he nervously licks his lips and looks over the traffic in front of them.

“They are nice hands.” she comments when she sits back. He hums and clears his throat and Sydney’s moans a bit as he starts to play his hand under her shirt.

“Y’know I’m ambidextrous right?” he comments and Sydney raises an eyebrow.

“Forreal?” She asks and he nods. 

“Yeah, can do two things at once. Pretty good at it,” he tells her. Sure enough, using only one hand he undoes the button of her jeans. She gasps as sinks his hand into her pants then smoothly one arm turns the steering wheel with the other. 

“Oh...” Sydney breathes. She is forced to buck up over his fingers at his deliberate hard stop on the brakes for the next red light. She wraps her hands around his arm. Pressing the limb between her breasts, her eyes low and full of lusty excitement. Goosebumps prickle Carmy’s skin at the feel of her as he shifts her panties aside and starts to massages into the folds of her wet pussy. Snapping shiverings fucks over Sydney when Carmy press her clit to meet his palm as two of his nimble fingers sink further into her. 

“Fuck Syd, were you this damn needy all day? You’re fuckin sopping,” he hisses out. His own bulge appeared at the filthy moans puffing out of Sydney’s mouth with each backward pump of his slickening hand.

“Oh god, Carm-”

“Woulda bent you over the sink-”

“Shut the fuck up! Sh-shut..damn, righ-right there Carmen,” Sydney stutters.

Sydney clutches his arm closer, drawing him further into her, he slips another finger in. He licks his lips like a starving man when he looks down. The small glimpse of Sydney’s thigh opens to the air is glistening, her white panties are fucking transparent from how wet he has her. 

The fact that his own tattered hand was causing such a mess gets him rock hard. Her thighs snap down to squeeze his hand still, she’s trembling, her window slightly foggy from her horny gasps. Carmy flushes hard when she starts to dig her nails into his bicep with one sweet lay over her clit with his middle finger. Her pinky nail pierces a crest shape into the head of the ink angel on his arm as she muffles another curse into her curtain of braids.

“Aye-aye, none of that Syd. You want me in there. Shit! The fuckin’ nails-” He swears. He pinches her thigh making her yelp over her moan and spread apart again. She buck in time with his coaxing fingers now, whimpering when he becomes distracted in the light turning green and some fucking SUV honking behind them. Her hips chase his hand, as he eases up on pumping two digits into her in order to turn on his street. 

“Carm…Carmy please.” she pleads, the damn near echo in the car. Her thighs clenching over his hand again.  Carmy has to bite his lips in, hard. His dick achy at the sounds she makes at this point. The sound is fucking obscene, slick and wet as he forces his hand out the grip of her thighs. Her whimper at the loss of him is whiny and upset.

“Seriously?” She pants, all hot and bothered. Her eyes promising revenge for him stringing her along like that while in traffic. 

“Hold on, I just got to get us parked.” he offers in a flighty tone, he shifts in his seat. His pussy wet hand dragging at his belt to better settle his hard on. He faces them into the dead end behind his building. Private but nosy as fuck with the sound of the city.

It doesn’t fucking matter. 

The car is barely turned off before Camry jacks his seat back and undoes his belt. Sydney watches as he wipes her wetness over his nose and mouth, then slips his jeans down. His dick springs out. Sydney knew it was fucking insane to think of, but Carmy’s dick was just so, him . 

It wasn’t too long, but god it was fucking thick! Tan-ish, veiny and curved to the left.

Sydney shimies her jeans and panties down then climbs over the center console. Carmy helps her to his lap, staddling over his hips with her knees and she shivers as his dick lays overtop her pussy lips. He hisses when she grabs down and start to line the shaft up to her slit.

Both of them moaning in unison as he sinks her fully onto him. He grips her hip tightly and wraps his other arm around her back to push her closer. He buries his face in her chest, teeth biting on her tender breast as she gives a yelp that melts into a moan of his name. Her braids slap his shoulder as her head bows down and she start to ride him. He pumps up into her, strong arms sweaty and steady as the window fogs from their stamina. 

The seat creaks from the stress. The stanch fabric of his shirt barely saves him from her nails raking into the back of his shoulder. Her hands rack back up into the back of his head, gripping his hair. He winces and bounces her shallowly at it. She's learned he likes that pain, he gives it back with a echoing smack to her ass in rythm to the rocking of the car.  She sucks bruises onto the back of his neck to leave her mark instead. The idea of her leaving a mark on him, him red and sneaky trying to hide it around the kitchen the next day, it makes her pussy clench around him. He hitches with a hiss at the pleasure. 

"C'mon Syd, c'mon baby." He pants into her cleavage. He looks up at her with those piercing blues full of lust. He aches to cum in her. He tightly squeezes the meat of her ass to hold himself strong. He wanted to drag this fuck out. Sydney sighs, lips popping off his skin as she sinks to a sit to rest. Her thighs achy and pussy full. She moans into his face from it. 

The both just breath for a moment, her hands playing through the back of his hair making his eyes flutter. Carmy smoothly brushes his hand up her thigh, then between their laps. Syd gasp and slacks back against the steering wheel, lightly tapping the horn with the action. He used his fingers to massage her clit, keeping her wired up.

"Fuck you, Carmern." She stutters, she grips his hair so hard, she pinches the top of his ear. He hiss and drives forward, they smash into another kiss. Smacking French kisses, Carmy relishes in the taste of throaty moan and near-whine of his name Sydney release as she cums. Carmy wishes he could season everything destined to touch his tongue again with the taste of her lust. He wants her to cum again so he can feel it, he's greedy like that.

Sydney shakes over Carmy as her O rushes over her. Her head rests on his shoulder from it,  her braids splaying over the both of them. She puffs a laugh of disbelief at how wet his hand is when he takes it from her pussy. She feels it as he re-settles His hand to her hip.

"I'm achin' Syd, you gotta move" He says tightly. Sydney groans loudly. He rubs at her thigh impatiently, urging her to move before he burst and they do even more things they regret. 

"Then move me." She snaps and Carmy huffs. She swallows as he does so, lifing her with his hips before re gripping her hip and lifing her off his dick. The both shiver at the loss of connection and he half-sits her on his car console. She slumps back to the passenger seat fumbling to put her pants back on as he palms his dick a few times, before sliding up his own pants. 

The both walk wobbly to his apartment building, eager for more. Carmy barely close the door before Sydney is on her knees, unbuttoning his jeans. 

Taglists for the Moots🥰:

@blowmymbackout @kdoxkeic @godsfiercest @pantherxrogers @gingerylangylang1979 @beauspot @soufcakmistress

[kidney9-9]

Bad Day - Tom Holland

Hi guys, hope you enjoy this little blurb of Tom Holland taking care of Reader after a bad day at work!

Tom Holland x Reader [Fluff and Smut] Warnings: Smut, oral fem receiving, cursing Word Count: 780

-

When you got home, you were exhausted. The last few days at work have been horrible for you. The only sanctuary you got was from being at home and relaxing but the last few days, ever since you’ve been getting home, you’ve been going straight to bed. You needed something a little more to relax now.

That’s what Tom noticed too.

So, he decided to do his best and help you out. He lowered the lights a bit, so you didn’t get a headache from the blinding lights, made your favorite foods, and bought a few of your favorite snacks, and rented out your favorite movie.

“Hey baby, sit down and relax, I’ll make you some food.” Tom spoke up once you walked into the kitchen. Your eyes softened and you nodded back to him.

“Hi, thank you…” You trailed off, tired from your day. You slowly walked to the couch and sunk into the cushions, moaning out loud from the comfort. Tom chuckled from the kitchen when he heard that but felt back for you.

He brought out some food including some of your favorite snacks to the living room and turned on the television. Then he set the DVD player on and put in your favorite movie, noticing you practically had fallen asleep on the couch. He chuckled at that and quietly sat back on the couch and poked you awake.

“I made you some food and put on your favorite movie if you’d like. It’s okay if you want to go back to sleep though.” He whispered into your ear. You shifted in your seat and woke up, smiling softly at him.

“You’re the best.” You mumbled back to him and laid your head on his shoulder. After a few minutes into the movie started, you started to eat some of the food, groaning about how good it was.

Tom smiled back at you, happy that he was able to make you feel relaxed.

He had an idea that could make you relax even more though.

-

“Hey babe, I can make you feel even better if you know what I mean.” He brought it up, nonchalantly. You instantly looked at him with wide eyes.

“Oh really? You would do that for me?” You asked.

“Of course, I would, come here I’ll do it right now.” He laughed, causing you to roll your eyes at him.

“Oh, hush, I should have known you were joking.” You huffed out, making him shake his head at you. He was serious about it. He stood up in front of you and pulled your pants off abruptly, making you gape at him then he pulled your panties off, snaping you out of your shock.

“Tom! Oh god, you were actually serious?” You laughed loudly in surprise. He nodded back at you with raised eyebrows, then he bent down on his knees, spreading your legs open.

“Yeah, I am.” He replied.

And with that, he leaned down while you continued to look at him and the screen with wide surprised eyes. He kissed your inner thighs, each with an equal number of kisses and he slowly started to lick them, massaging you with his hands as well.

“Oh, fuck.” You whimpered as he slid his tongue to your pussy. He lapped his tongue over your pussy over and over again, then circled around your clit. You slid your hands into his hair, pulling him tighter against your pussy.

He gripped your thigh hard with one hand and licked you aggressively, making you moan loudly. He started to thrust one finger into your vagina quickly, surprising you and making you gasp his name.

“Tom…Tom! I’m so close already.” You cried out, grasping his hair in your hands harder.

He hummed against you, causing a choked-out moan to fall out of your mouth. “God, you taste so good.” He groaned, sucking in your clit, making you even closer to your orgasm, and you cried out again at his actions.

He pumped in another finger and that did it for you, pushing you over your edge and causing you to orgasm. You fell quickly into your orgasm, gasping out his name over and over again as he continued to pump into you and lick your clit harshly.

He reluctantly pulled away after he licked all of the cum away. He sighed as he pulled away and looked up at you, smiling when he saw that dazed out fucked look on your face. He waited a few moments for you to come back as he slowly smoothed a hand over your thighs, going back and forth.

“That was fucking good.” You finally spoke up, murmuring it. He chuckled softly.

“Then let’s go again, right?”

[serpentpatrol]

⚔️Martian/Plutonic: Fearlessness to Face Death/Struggles and Come Back Empowered⚔️

🔎Discretion: consider zodiac signs, aspects, and placements in a birth chart as a map of the soul, it gives you direction on how to recognize its influence or impact within you, as the saying goes: "the stars impels; they don't compel". These observations also depends on degrees, houses, aspects to planets and mostly the free will of the person. Your birth chart gives you information about the pattern of how your energy plays out in the universe but in the end it's your own free will which is the one that decides on how to manage the energy.

🎶 Angel Sanctuary OST 《Rociel - Inorganic Angel》 *play the music to feel the vibe of Martian Plutonic energy 🩸🔥⚔️*

🩸There is something about the principles that the spartan soldiers upholds that I really admire and this movie titled 300 is based on real spartan soldiers and it's about how King Leonidas strategizes to defeat his enemies. He followed his own method when he killed the big wolf by leading the enemy to a smaller corner. It's similar to the movie titled Revenant, the main character, was nearly being killed by a bear, left to die by his comrades, and he had to survive in the wild forest alone, he was dying, but that isolation in the state of dying transformed him and as if was being resurrected back to life. He was then targeting his enemy to exact his revenge from what the enemy had done to him, and it made that enemy scared. There's a quote from the main character, "He's afraid, he knows I have come so far to find him". This is a tactical terror that scared enemies, people thought the person was dead, but he survived as if he was being revived back by the God of Death, this is very martian or plutonic. When a martian/plutonian person being thrown into danger, it won't easily defeat them, they will take it as a challenge and it ignites the inner beast to tackle that challenge. Martian energy is about aggression, reaching goals through strategized actions, tactical methods, modus operandi, how we behave when we are angry or when we want to handle things or solving problems, how we express our motivation or inner drives. While Plutonic energy is about death and rebirth process of transformation, something that might kill or obliterate you only make you even stronger and empowered, depicted precisely in the myth of Phoenix which resurrected itself and rose above its own ashes after death. I truly admire these militaristic survival themes, be it through movie scenes, animes, fictional or historical novels or books, even games that tell stories about the journey of the soul against death, when you are ready to die, you live, but when you are blind to death, you experience transformation through it. (Another example of Martian/Plutonic themes in movies are Deadpool, Taken (all sequels), Sicario, Dont Breathe 1 & 2)

(watch the video here where King Leonidas must defeat the big wolf in the wilderness as part of his initiation to become the man of Sparta). 👇🏻🐺

🩸Having Martian and Plutonic placements combined and aspecting to eachother could really create an empowering energy that the person will always carry within them in their lifetime, it is not a calm harmonious energy, its energy is similar to war zones, chaos. In Greek Mythology, the planet Mars symbolized God Ares, the God of War and planet Pluto symbolized God Hades, the God of Underworld. These two planets combination would be majorly related to themes of life that change the person through chaos, exposure of transformative events or encounters, power struggles, conflicts, wars, things happening around them that would drive them to activate the survivalist primal instinct just to survive from the attacks or triggers. Anyone who has this placement probably had experienced unfairness, or they became the target of unscrupulous judgement or treatments because when this energy is dormant within them it is somehow attracting things around them to trigger and activate the mars-pluto energy. Sometimes attracting abuse to them or the person themselves becomes the abuser if they still have not enough strength yet to control, contain and manage this enormous primal energy within, its uncontrollable! Themes of near death experience could also be present where the person survived from accidents or encountered dangerous events. Or the person somehow has this big energy which can destroy things around them or even be destructive to others with or without intention. Having this energy feels like dealing an unexpected war or being present in a constant battlefield.

🩸If this energy could be controlled and the person understood on how to manage the energy, it could then be used more properly for leadership, the beastly instinct transmuted and be used to help others who are weak, afflicted or underdogs or could even be used to defend some belief systems or good moral principles, become a professional focused surgeon who could perform meticulous physical operation for a patient, etc. It all depends on which house the mars and pluto are placed in, that can represent specific life themes playing out in the person's life event. Mars and Pluto combined is symbolic to represent fearless resilient warrior archetype who protects, defends, is a fierce executor, courageously thrives when life circumstances gets tougher and extreme, is alert in emergency circumstances.

🩸Every person who has this aspect should take care of how they express themselves because this is a powerful combination which cannot be taken lightly. The person could easily lose control, causing accidents or destructions and the power of that inner dragon could drag him to a state of powerlessness when facing those out of control circumstances. So, by doing positive healthy activities, it could help the person to tame that inner dragon and made it stable, the activities that can transmute this energy to a more productive rather than destructive way would be highly recommended: martial art, artistic expressions through painting/music/fashion, meditation, sports, intensely dive deep to learn topics or subjects which later be internalized, spiritual pursuits, defend helpless fellow human beings, animals, or a cause.

🩸These people may seem gentle or not revealing any power in their expression or it could be the opposite where these people exudes steel-like presence, leader vibe, militaristic primal energy. Nevertheless, they will encounter challenging and intense experiences that could transform them to be more refined and sharp in their awareness to the darkness or chaos of the world (depends on the aspects and house influence), they are resilient souls, having sophisticated mentality like a military war general or just have a very empowered spirit.

🩸Individuals with prominent Mars-Pluto aspects have to learn on taming their own inner beast/inner dragon in a way like what Jordan Peterson had taught and said: "Those who have swords and know how to use them but keep them sheathed will inherit the world. You should be a monster, an absolute monster. And then you should learn how to control it." It is the same analogy with this quote: "It's better to be a warrior in a garden than a gardener in a war"; emphasizes the necessity to have consciousness, alert, and well prepared over the surroundings both in peace and chaos. While in peace you sharpened/trained your sword/weapon/instinct, so then in battle you could apply what you have learned or practiced. By doing this, you wouldn't let the destructive instinct take control over you but instead you are in control of that instinct. This made you more empowered because you could understand the chaos of the world and could pass through the calamity, so you wouldn't make yourself the victim which led to your own demise/self-annihilation.

©SerpentPatrol

[yoga-onion]

Legends and myths about trees

Celtic beliefs in trees (16)

D for Duir (Royal Oak) - June 10th - July 17th

“June Tree - 7th month of the Celtic Tree Calendar (Ref)”

metal: gold; Gemstone: diamond; Gender: male; Patrons: Dagda, Esus, Taranis, Artemis, Zeus, Jupiter, Thor; Symbols: strength + patience, generosity + protection, justice + nobility, honesty + courage

The oak was the most revered tree of the Celts, with a tall, round, stout trunk that is thick and round, spreading out like a crown. They grew into huge, imposing trees and lived long lives, so they became objects of worship for the Celts, who wished to live forever. 

Another reason for their worship was their high level of usefulness. It was used for housing and furniture. The round table around which the knights of King Arthur's Round Table were surrounded was made of one solid piece of oak wood. Merlin the Wizard used magic in the oak forests and his magic wand was made from the finest oak branch. The ancients also believed that with the help of acorns, they could come into contact with the gods who ruled the natural world.

The bark was used for tanning, dyes and medicinal purposes and had a wide range of uses. Oak wood was also used for coffins to hold the remains of the dead and was associated with the afterlife. Oak acorns were a favourite food of pigs in ancient times and helped in the mass rearing of pigs. Oak trees, as well as the mistletoe that inhabits them, were a factor in oak worship. Because it was believed to have fertility and reproductive benefits, a ceremony was held on the sixth day of every month in the lunar calendar to reap the mistletoe by the druids (Ref2).

The oak woodland was revered as a sanctuary by the Celts and was called Nemeton. Druidic rituals were held under the oak trees of this Nemeton. There is evidence of the presence of many Nemetons in continental Gallia (the ancient name for the ancient Celtic settlements).

The oak tree, imbued with energy, power and vitality, represents divinity in nature as a gateway to the inner world, a passage to the Kingdom of God, and communicates its divine will to us in the company of the gods.

木にまつわる伝説・神話

ケルト人の樹木の信仰 (16)

D for Duir (Royal Oak) - 6月10日～7月17日

『6月の木〜 ケルトの木の暦（参照）の第7月』

金属: 金; 宝石: ダイヤモンド; 性: 男性; 守護神: ダクダ、エスス、タラニス、アルテミス、ゼウス、ユピテル、トール; シンボル: 力＋忍耐、寛容＋保護、正義＋高貴さ、正直＋勇気

オークはケルト人が最も崇拝した樹木で、背が高く，丸々としてどっしりとした幹は太くて丸く、冠のようにこんもり広がっている。堂々とした巨木に成長し、長生きすることから、永遠に生きたいと願うケルト人の信仰の対象となった。

崇拝されたもう一つの理由は、その有用性が高かったことである。住居や家具などに使われた。アーサー王の円卓の騎士たちが囲んだ丸テーブルは、１枚のがっしりとしたオークの木でできていた。英国では、アーサー王とともに、オークは魔法の守護者とされていた。魔法使いのマーリンはオークの森で魔法を使い、魔法の杖はオークの最上の枝でつくられていた。また、昔の人々はどんぐりの力を借りれば、自然界を支配する神々と接触できると信じていた。

樹皮は皮なめし、染料、薬用などに用いられ、用途は広かった。オーク材は死者の遺骸を入れる棺桶にも使用され、死後の世界とも関わりがあった。オークの実、どんぐりは古代には豚の好物で、豚の大量飼育にも役立った。オークの木だけでなく、オークの木に宿るヤドリギも、オーク崇拝の一因であった。多産と繁殖をもたらす効果があると信じられたことから、ドルイド（参照2）の手でヤドリギを刈り取る儀式が陰暦で毎月６日に行われた。

オークの森林はケルト人にとって聖域として��められ、ネメートンと呼ばれた。ドルイドの祭式はこのネメートンのオークの木の下で行われた。大陸のガリア(古代ケルト人の居住地の古称)にはネメートンが多く存在した証拠が残っている。

エネルギーと、力と、活力をそなえるオークの木は、内なる世界への入り口、神の国への通り道として、自然界における神性を表し、神々との間にあって私たちに神意を伝えている。

[kcwriter-blog]

An Argument in Favor of Solas as the Family Dog

It’s been posited, sometimes facetiously, that Solas was the “family dog” in his younger days. It’s a theory I have been kicking around for a while. If I’m right (and I’m probably not) Solas as the equivalent to the family dog makes a lot of sense – especially when it comes to what he has done in the past and what he plans to do in the future.

My theory is based on the number and positioning of the many Fen’Harel statues found throughout Thedas and in some of the places our Inquisitor travels to in Trespasser. There’s also the odd role wolves seem to play in Elven cuture. Finally, there is Solas’ personality. More under the cut.

We see statues of wolves all over the place but generally they are found in front of ancient Elvhen sites. There are statues at the Temple of Mythal, the Temple of Dirthamon and the grove in Crestwood. I also recently found one near Ghilan’nain’s grove. We see a lot of wolf statues in the Dales (we will get to the Emerald Knight companion thing, presently). Given that Fen’Harel was a rebel in ancient times and the equivalent of the Dalish devil in current day Thedas, what gives? Why all the statues? At the very least they should have been destroyed when he rebelled. It doesn’t make sense.

Let’s look at the positioning of the statues. Invariably we see a reclining wolf placed outside what we’ll call the inner sanctuary. That is, they are always at the front before you go into the place you would pray or make your offerings. It’s not a stretch to believe these statues are guarding the temples. We also see wolf statues placed all over the Vir Dirthara. That’s an even weirder place to see them because Solas implies that he isn’t called Fen’Harel until after his rebellion – so why a statue and why one in a guardian position? We do see howling wolves sometimes. They are mostly seen decorating eluvians. Again, they seem to be guarding or protecting something.

Moving along, we learn about the wolf companions the Emerald Knights have. This is also odd. Why wolves? Fen’Harel is theoretically a Trickster God and responsible for locking up the other gods. Usually, when a culture equates a god with negative attributes, people are wary around the animal representing it. Not in this case. These are guardian wolves and there are statues of them all over the Dales. I don’t think all the statues are of wolf companions. Many of the wolf statues are carved into mountainsides and they are gigantic. It would take a long time to create those without magic. And let’s not forget the statues we see underneath waterfalls in Watcher’s Reach and the Exalted Plains. They should be worn away by the water but aren’t. Watcher’s Reach is an old Elven ruin. Magic presumably keeps them from being worn down. Why? Because Fen’Harel is guarding the Dales.

Fen’Harel as guardian can also be seen in Dalish practice. A statue of Fen’Harel is always placed outside the camp to guard against demons. Given that he is thought of as practically a demon himself, this is again, weird behavior.

The stories we hear about him in Masked Empire are also interesting, particularly the Slow Arrow. In it, a village is beset by a monster. The other gods refuse to help so they turn to Fen’Harel. He answers their prayers by showing up. He realizes he can’t defeat the monster. He is then presented with a hard choice. He can attempt to kill it, even though he knows he will probably die and if that happens so will everyone in the village, or he can do something clever and save some of them. So, he launches the slow arrow. The monster comes, kills the adults but dies before it can kill the children. This is in keeping with Solas’ fairly pragmatic personality. It also, illustrates that Fen’Harel, out of all the gods, even Mythal is always willing to come to the aid of the People.

So, what can we make of this? I believe Fen’Harel was and still is tasked with protecting the People. In a sense he fulfills the position of an Aavar hold beast. How did this happen? I’m not sure. Mythal could have called him out of the Fade with the purpose of protecting the People during the war with the Titans. His spirit could have been bound to a giant wolf. In the Deep Roads there is a codex that indicates depictions of Mythal were found alongside those of Fen’Harel. We know spirits can be reborn. If the giant wolf fell in battle, it might have been reborn and placed in an Elvhen body. Was it a body of it’s own or did it share a body in a similar fashion to Anders and Justice?

Solas as guardian of the People fits in other ways. If he wasn’t one of the Evanuris, he would have been part of the inner circle. He has some very nice castles and talks about missing court intrigue. He had status. If he wasn’t one of the Evanuris, serving as their gurad dog would give him that status

Also, in the library, the spirits replay the final days of the elves when the Veil goes up. They are shocked that Fen’Harel would do something like this. Why? He’s been rebelling for a while so why the surprise? Maybe because he’s supposed to protect The People, not hurt them.

What could have happened? As the Evanuris became more corrupt they began hurting the People. They enslaved them, used them for experiments, hunted them and sacrificed them. If your purpose is to protect the People, what do you as a spirit do?

We see how Cole is diverted from his purpose as a spirit of Compassion into a spirit who performs mercy killings. He’s not the exact opposite of Compassion but he isn’t fulfilling his purpose either. A spirit with a body seems to be more complex. It’s not so binary. If Solas was a bound spirit, the only way to protect his charges might be to do what he did.

Fast-forward to the present day. He wakes up, sees how his people are treated and feels duty-bound to do what he can to save them. In this case by tearing down the Veil. It could be seen as a compulsion.

I’ve probably missed a ton of other evidence but in my opinion, all signs point to Solas at one time being the Protector of the People whose purpose was then twisted. I’d be interested in knowing what other people think. 

[eloquentreverie]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐂𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐈𝐧

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: husband ! andy barber x wife! female reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: When your mother dies after suffering from Alzheimer's disease, you struggle to cope with the pain.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 & 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 18+ content. grief, angst, depression, loss of a loved one, andy being a perfect husband ( yes, that's a warning), once again. smut, p in v sex, vaginal fingering, angst with a happy ending, sad/grief sex, mentions of Alzheimer's disease, angst but fluff at the end. Mentions of God, fucking in a church. (oops.), mentions of alcohol.

𝐚/𝐧: This poor man! I always get hella muse for angst fics when it comes to him. One day I'm gonna write the fluffiest romantic fic with him but, today is not that day. lol. This fic is very self-indulgent and the inspo is from personal aspects of my life so I'm excited to share it with you guys.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.1k +

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐈𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑

When the storms of life batter me, be the hand that I hold. When I have nothing else left.

She knew this moment was inevitable. From the very beginning, she had seen the signs, and over time, they had only grown more pronounced. Y/N could still hear the echoes of Andy's voice in her mind, offering comforting words. "You did everything you could, babe." But those words couldn't alleviate the ache in her heart or the invisible weight that seemed to press down on her ribcage, slowly suffocating her.

Tears streamed down her face, starting from the inner corners of her eyes and burning as they made their way down her cheeks. She sought solace in the sanctuary of her bed, hiding beneath the plush covers made of Egyptian cotton. Sleep became her refuge, a temporary escape from the harsh reality she was facing. She desperately wanted to believe that this wasn't real, that it wasn't happening. Just when she thought she could catch her breath, the respite was shattered by the memory of the phone call from the care center.

"Andy, stop!" Y/N giggled as he playfully showered her face with kisses, their bodies cozily intertwined on the couch. "Mmm. Only if you give me one more kiss," he teased, a mischievous smirk adorning his face. Their lips were about to meet when her phone rudely interrupted the moment. Glancing at the caller ID, she sighed, recognizing the number from the care center where her mother was currently residing.

In an instant, her demeanor changed. Her shoulders slumped, and the once radiant smile faded away. Taking a deep breath, she felt the soothing touch of her husband's warm hand massaging her back. Andy had witnessed the gradual decline in her mother's health, so a part of him was not entirely surprised. But as he saw her body tense up and tears welling up in her eyes, he didn't need to ask. He already knew.

The words echo in her ears, "I'm sorry to inform you. But your mother passed away last night."

She mouthed a small, tearful thank you, her voice already cracking, before placing her phone down on the coffee table in front of them. Taking a deep breath, she felt her chest tighten with a sense of dread that washed over her. Unable to hold back any longer, she broke down, her hands instinctively covering her face as tears streamed down.

Andy immediately enveloped her in his arms, pulling her close and holding her tightly against him. Resting his head against hers, he provided a comforting presence as she cried into his chest. Her body shook with sobs, and warm tears soaked her face. It all felt unreal. Her mother had passed away, and she hadn't even had the chance to say goodbye, too consumed by her life with Andy.

"It's my fault, Andy. I should have visited her. I should have been a better daughter," she wailed, her cries echoing through the room. Andy shook his head, gently pulling her away from his chest to look her in the eyes.

"No, no, no, no, Y/N. No, sweetheart. You are an amazing daughter. You're an amazing person. And I know your mom thought that too," he reassured her, his voice filled with love and understanding.

More tears welled up in her eyes as she shook her head. "No, no. She died alone and probably scared. I should have been there. I should have..." Her voice trailed off, and she abruptly stood up, running into the bedroom as more tears threatened to spill down her cheeks.

Her husband quickly followed her, stepping into their bedroom and finding her leaning against the bedpost. Tears blurred her vision as she spoke, her voice filled with anguish. "I can't do this, Andy. I can't face her. I can't." She sobbed uncontrollably as he slowly approached her, reaching out to gently wipe away her tears.

"Yes, you can. And I'll be right there with you. Every step of the way, babe," he reassured her, pressing a tender kiss on her forehead, a promise of unwavering support and love.

The next morning was consumed by the somber task of planning a funeral and making arrangements for her mother's final farewell. Y/N anxiously sat by the phone, waiting for a call back from the funeral director she had spoken to earlier in the day. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled slowly, running her hands through her hair, trying to gather her thoughts amidst the whirlwind of emotions.

Everything else seemed to blur together - the funeral planning, the drive to the funeral home, and the day of the funeral itself. Andy noticed the profound change in her demeanor, the quietness and distance that had settled upon her.

He understood the immense pain she was enduring, as they both grappled with their grief. The most difficult part was verifying her mother's body and informing friends and family of the funeral date. While she could notify most of them through social media or text, having to engage in phone conversations with some was almost unbearable. Hearing them share cherished memories only intensified the ache in her heart. She knew it was their way of grieving and bidding farewell, but it did little to alleviate her own anguish.

To make matters worse, her husband had to witness her breakdown multiple times, offering solace as she wept. She was consumed by anger, guilt, and a sense of selfishness. How could she have let her mother down, even in her state of deteriorating mental health? After what felt like an eternity of making calls and notifications online, she finally joined her father and husband, sinking down onto a bench with a heavy sigh. Andy and her dad didn't miss her weariness.

"How are you holding up, angel?" her father asked, gently stroking her hair. Y/N looked up at her husband, finding comfort in his soft, reassuring smile, which she gratefully returned. "Not so great. But, I'm hanging in there, I suppose. How about you, Dad?" She posed the question, her lip caught between her teeth, her worry evident.

He smiled, giving a small shrug. "Oh, I'm alright. We can only move forward, one step at a time. God called your mom, and he had his reasons. It could have been cancer or something far worse. He called her home, and we can't continue to torment ourselves over this. It's not what she would have wanted.”

Her hands paused in mid-air, hovering over the boxes filled with her mother's belongings. The weight of guilt still clung to her, dragging her down into a sea of remorse. Thoughts of what could have been haunted her, tormenting her with images of her mother's final moments, alone in that cold hospice bed. She closed her eyes tightly, squeezing the bridge of her nose in an attempt to alleviate the pain that threatened to overwhelm her.

"Let's go home, honey. All of us," he said, extending his hand to her. Y/N's trembling hand reached out and clasped his, and a wave of relief washed over her. She released a long-held breath, feeling a glimmer of solace in Andy's presence. As her father and husband made their way to the car, she was overcome by an overwhelming sense of guilt. She couldn't help but wonder if there was something, anything, she could have done differently. Was there a chance she could have been there for her mother in her final moments?

Her legs shook beneath her, and goosebumps prickled on her skin as she grappled with the weight of her emotions. Andy's hand enclosed hers, offering a measure of comfort that calmed her nerves, if only slightly. He guided her towards the car, understanding the turmoil that churned within her.

When they arrived at their home, her husband unlocked the door and led Y/N and her father into the warm embrace of their sanctuary. Without hesitation, she shrugged off her coat and tossed it onto the waiting coat rack. But as she glanced around the room, a strong urge to unpack and organize everything overcame her. She felt the need to keep herself busy, to distract herself from the turmoil within her heart.

Andy's concerned gaze met hers, and he gently asked, "What're you doing, sweetie?" His expression reflected his worry, longing to understand her actions.

She took a deep breath, her shoulders sagging under the weight of her conflicting emotions. "I... I was going to unpack. I thought it would help me keep my mind off things," she admitted, her voice tinged with a mixture of exhaustion and determination.

Andy's concern softened his features, and he placed his hands on her shoulders, offering her support. "I understand that you want to stay busy, but right now, you need to focus on taking care of yourself. Unpacking can wait. Allow yourself time to rest and heal," he advised, his voice filled with love and compassion.

She sighed, feeling torn between her need to distract herself and the necessity of confronting her grief. She knew deep down that Andy was right, that she needed to prioritize her own well-being during this painful time. With a nod, she yielded to his guidance, allowing him to lead her away from the boxes and towards a moment of respite in their home.

Andy's heart ached as he witnessed her anguish, her tears falling freely down her cheeks. He longed to ease her pain, to mend her broken spirit. Without hesitation, he rushed to her side, his arms encircling her trembling form. He murmured soothingly, his voice a gentle lullaby, as he rocked her back and forth, as if cradling their unborn child. His fingertips traced comforting circles between her shoulder blades, offering solace in his touch.

She bit her bottom lip. She wanted to leave it all there. "I can't believe what a failure of a daughter I am, Andy. A good daughter wouldn't have left her mom's last minutes being some sort of empty hospital room!" Tears started falling from Y/N's cheeks again.

"Oh no, honey, shhhhhh," he whispered softly, trying to calm her sobs. The weight of her words, filled with self-doubt and guilt, struck him deeply. He knew the depths of her heartache, the torment of feeling like she had failed as a daughter. He wiped away her tears with the sleeve of his shirt, his own tears threatening to spill.

"There's always going to be that feeling of guilt in you," Andy spoke gently, his voice carrying a mix of empathy and understanding. She looked up at him, her eyes searching for reassurance and validation. Cupping her face in his hands, he met her gaze with unwavering sincerity. "But I know deep down, she knew how much you loved her. You did what you believed was best, and even if she couldn't express it in those last moments, I know your mom loved you more than words can say.”

His voice quivered slightly, tears welling up in his own eyes, but he remained resolute, keeping their connection unbroken. Her bottom lip found solace between her teeth, a sign that she was trying to hold back her tears. She nodded, finding solace in his words, burying her face back into the nape of his neck.

As she managed to calm herself, her breathing shaky but steady, Andy's tears began to fall silently down his cheeks. Still, he held her tightly in his arms, his love and support unwavering. He brought his lips close to hers, placing a tender kiss upon them, a gesture of comfort and affection.

She pulled away slightly, her eyes searching his face as she cupped his cheek. "Don't you cry too? Please?" she whispered, her thumbs gently wiping away the tears that streaked his cheeks. His lips formed a tight-lipped smile, his hands moving down her arms to envelop her hands with his own.

"Hey, can you excuse us? I want to talk to my wife alone," Andy interjected, a hint of playfulness in his tone. She couldn't help but smile at his words, appreciating his effort to lighten the mood. Her father chuckled softly, understanding the need for privacy. "Nothing dirty, sir. Or raunchy. Promise," Andy added, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Y/N's father snickered, his laughter a bittersweet mix of emotions. "Okay, I'll leave you two young kids alone," he said, his voice tinged with a touch of sadness. But before he made his exit, she placed her hand on her father's shoulder, her expression filled with gratitude and understanding. "You don't need to keep walking on eggshells around me, Dad," she reassured him, her voice filled with warmth. Her father returned her smile, tears still glistening in his eyes. "I know you've been strong all day. Stronger than any other girl I know. You look exhausted. Please go lie down. Take a break.”

Her father's concern touched her heart, knowing that he worried for her well-being amidst the overwhelming grief. She nodded, her voice choked with emotion. "Okay, Dad." She gave him a sad, tight-lipped smile before making her way up the stairs and into their shared bedroom.

She sat on the edge of the bed, the weight of her emotions pressing upon her. She kicked off her shoes, and began to undress, her mind swirling with thoughts and uncertainties. The bottled-up grief threatened to consume her. She wondered if a small nap and a hot bath would provide some respite, or if the lack of sleep and constant nightmares would further exacerbate her pain.

Lost in her thoughts, she was caught off guard when Andy entered the room. He sat beside her, his presence a comforting anchor in the midst of her turmoil. His hands gently took hold of hers, his eyes locked onto hers with unwavering love and concern. "How are you feeling, honey?" Andy asked, his voice filled with tenderness.

Her eyebrows raised, and she realized that amidst her own pain, she hadn't taken the time to consider how Andy was coping with their loss. She hesitated for a moment before speaking up again. "Andy," she began, her voice filled with a mix of vulnerability and curiosity. "How are you holding up?” He froze. He wanted to break down, to cry, scream, yell. But seeing her already vulnerable, the thought of sharing his emotions in that moment. She didn't need to deal with any of his bullshit on top of everything else.

Her voice trembled as she cut Andy off, her desperation evident. "Please tell me," she pleaded, her eyes searching his for answers. "Please, I want to know."

There was a moment of silence, filled with the weight of their shared grief, before Andy found his voice. "This really sucks," he finally spoke, his words heavy with the raw truth of their situation.

Y/N remained quiet, waiting for him to elaborate, to offer some semblance of understanding. "This fucking sucks. And that's okay," he continued, his tone filled with a mix of resignation and acceptance.

She nodded, her expression unwavering, as she processed his words. It wasn't the response she had hoped for, nor was it the answer she had sought. But in that moment, they both realized that there were no right words or perfect explanations for the pain they were experiencing. They were navigating uncharted territory, and all they had was their love for each other to guide them through.

"I'm sorry, Andy," Her voice wavered with a mix of guilt and sorrow. "I've been so consumed by my own depression that I haven't thought to ask how you're feeling during all of this." She sighed, her gaze falling to their entwined hands, seeking solace in their connection.

Andy's eyes softened, filled with understanding and empathy. "Babe, no, don't do that," he reassured her, his voice gentle yet firm. "Don't beat yourself up over how you think you should have felt or acted. Everyone deals with grief and depression in their own ways. Sometimes, our reactions are different, and that's okay." He gently placed his hand over hers, offering comfort and reassurance.

Tears welled in the corners of her eyes, a mix of sadness and guilt washing over her. She had already shed so many tears in the past weeks, yet they still managed to haunt her, carrying the weight of her emotions. Guilt for missing her mother, for mourning her absence, and guilt for feeling relieved that her mother was no longer suffering in that cold hospice room, alone.

Andy interrupted her self-loathing, his finger gently lifting her chin, redirecting her gaze to meet his. Her glossy eyes locked with his, and he moved his finger from her chin to caress the side of her face, a tender smile gracing his lips. "Remember our vows?" he asked softly, his voice filled with love and conviction.

Tears blurred her vision as her chin trembled, but a bittersweet smile found its way to her lips as she reminisced. "In sickness and in health, for better or worse, 'til death do us part," she whispered, her voice filled with the weight of their commitment.

Andy nodded, pulling her closer into his embrace, seeking solace in their shared strength. "What we have now could be so much worse," he murmured, his voice filled with gratitude and love. "And the fact that we've managed to make it here, through all that we've faced, just further proves to me that what we have is real. It's forever.”

She chuckled sadly, tears streaming down her face, as she shook her head in disbelief. Her eyes met Andy's once again, a mixture of sorrow and love reflected in her gaze. "You've always been so optimistic," she managed to laugh softly, her voice tinged with sadness. She reached up to wipe the tears from her cheeks, a bittersweet smile playing on her lips. "That's one of the things I love about you, Andy.”

He beamed at her, pulling her even closer as they embraced, seeking solace in each other's presence. Andy buried his head in Y/N's neck, giving her a tender squeeze, before whispering, "I love you, so, so much.”

They sat in silence, wrapped in the warmth of their embrace, until she decided it was time to retire to bed. She stood up, pulling the covers back and sliding herself under them. Andy had already changed into more comfortable clothes, lying next to her on his back. The feeling of the soft mattress beneath his body eased some of the tension that had built up within him.

She bit her lower lip, her knees pressed together as she pondered her thoughts. "How do you do it?" she whispered, her gaze fixed on Andy's face as he smiled warmly at her. She inched closer, tracing her fingertip lightly along his bare chest. "

How do you stay so... optimistic all the time?" Her voice remained low as she rested her head on his shoulder, their fingers intertwined. The desire for physical intimacy welled up within her, a craving for connection and solace in his embrace.

"Because of you," he replied simply, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to her hairline. His fingers danced lightly up the back of her arm, causing a shiver to run down her spine as she moved her body closer to his. She tilted her head up, her eyes pleading and searching. Andy understood what she yearned for, what she needed. He wanted to ensure she was ready, that they were both in the same place emotionally.

He brought his hand up to stroke the side of her face, his thumb wiping away a stray tear that had escaped her eye. Meeting her gaze, he silently asked for permission. She nodded, her heart filled with longing. Andy shifted his position, hovering over her, propping himself up on his elbow as he leaned down, his lips gently brushing against hers.

"Andy, take away the pain. Please?" she whispered, her eyes locked onto his, filled with a mixture of vulnerability and desire.

Andy couldn't deny her request, not at this moment, not when she looked at him with such longing and trust. "Of course," he murmured, his voice filled with love and devotion.

And with that, his lips crushed against hers as she eagerly accepted them. She parted her lips as his tongue slipped inside, their tongues massaging each other, desperate for contact. Andy moved his hand down, sliding her panties off as his lips trailed her neck. Y/N let out a small whimper, Andy's lips pressing kisses to the area right below her ear.

"So beautiful.”

His hand slid down between her legs, his fingertips brushing against her already swollen clit, making her shudder. Her hips bucked slightly at the touch. Andy's thumb began circling her clit as his middle finger teased her entrance. His lips trailed down her throat before returning back to her mouth, capturing them in a passionate kiss. He pushed his finger into her wet pussy, and she moaned into his mouth.

He broke their kiss and pulled his finger out before bringing them to his lips, sucking them clean of Y/N's juices. His tongue danced along her bottom lip and Y/N pulled away, giving Andy room to continue his path. His mouth closed over her left nipple, biting lightly. She moaned louder this time, Andy's hand caressing her breast before his lips moved on, repeating the same movements to her right breast, eliciting a gasp from her.

He sucked gently before releasing her nipple, pulling away as her heart sped. His fingertips brushed against her sides lightly as she watched him. His blue eyes connected with hers, smirking slightly.

She gasped again, his fingers entering her slick channel, her juices dripping onto his fingers. He pressed his mouth against her inner thigh, tasting her for the first time in ages before lapping her clit teasingly with his tongue, his fingers moving deeper. Her eyes fluttered shut at the contact, Andy's tongue circling her clit, his fingers moving faster, her body arching. He sucked on her clit, sending shock waves through her body as she moaned, her walls fluttering around his fingers. She came hard.

As he pulled his fingers from her entrance, Andy pressed his mouth against hers passionately once again, their tongues massaging against each other again. She moaned when his hardened cock grazed the inside of her thigh, Andy positioning himself at her entrance, her hands gently tangling in his hair. She nodded, encouraging him to continue.

As he slid himself inside her, they moaned together, wrapping her arms around his shoulders,and pressing her face against his. He was filling her completely. He kissed her forehead tenderly, then her cheek. His blue eyes were glossy.

"Y/N.." He whispered softly, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

His mouth returned to hers, passionately and with need, slowly pumping in and out. Andy could hear her panting, his heart pounding harder, their bodies moving together as if they were made for one. He broke their kiss again, moaning slightly. He cupped her face, locking eyes with her again.

"I-Fuck, hun!" He cried out, as he felt the pressure building inside him again, thrusting deeper in slow rhythmic beats. She bit down on her bottom lip, desperately trying to quiet her moans.

"Shh. We have to be quiet, remember?" she whispered, her hand caressing the side of his cheek. Andy groaned softly against her as he continued pumping inside her. "I know. It's just...You feel so good…"

He quickened his pace again, moaning against her neck, his breath hot on her skin as he buried himself to the hilt. She came quickly, moaning Andy's name and her walls contracted around him. He could feel himself exploding and his hot seed fill her cunt.

As they rode out their orgasms together, his lips sought hers, pressing against her forcefully as their bodies stilled and her muscles relaxed. Andy collapsed beside her on his back with a small 'oof,' still catching his breath. She curled herself against his side, resting her head on his chest with a smile, letting the wave of post-orgasmic bliss wash over them.

Andy tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead.

"Thank you," Y/N mumbled, barely conscious as sleep overcame her. Andy pulled her body into his, spooning her. He knew how much she needed this. To feel loved. To know that he was always there for her. And no matter what, no matter what happened or what would happen, he would be.

He sighed, planting a small kiss on her temple before wrapping an arm around her waist. "Sleep, honey. I'm right here, Y/N. Always." Andy whispered reassuringly, a small smile forming on his lips, his arms and body curling into her as she drifted into a peaceful sleep.

The next few days became a blur, and as the reception began after the funeral, she wasted no time in seeking solace in alcohol. She had felt like a slave to her emotions for far too long, but not today, not at her mother's funeral. She would drown her pain with drinking, numbing herself to the overwhelming grief.

Secluded in one of the empty rooms of the church, she hid away from the other guests. Her bloodshot eyes widened when she heard the door open, revealing Andy on the other side. Sniffling, she wiped her nose with the back of her hand, her cheeks stained with tears.

"I'm sorry, I know I should be out there," Andy said as he sat down on the pew beside her. "But I wanted to see how you were doing.”

She sniffled again, wiping her cheeks, shaking her head as fresh tears threatened to spill over. She lifted her glass, the red wine inside almost depleted.

"I just can't feel anything right now, Andy," she said, her voice cracking slightly as she took another large gulp from her glass. "I just need something. I need..." She paused, her hand covering her mouth to stifle another sob.

Andy could see the profound sadness and defeat etched on his wife's face. He scooted closer, leaning his forehead against her own, seeking to offer whatever comfort he could.

"Baby," Andy whispered, his voice filled with love and compassion. "I wish I could take away your pain. I wish I could alleviate all of your suffering..." He moved his hand to gently cup her face, feeling the wetness of her tears against his warm skin.

"I love you more than anything." His thumb brushed away another stray tear from her cheek as he leaned in, pressing his lips gently against hers, allowing the kiss to linger for a moment before pulling away. Her breathing became heavy, and Andy knew that she needed this moment, this shared connection amidst the somberness of the funeral.

She kissed him back harder, tears still stinging her eyes and she swallowed them down before Andy broke their kiss. He pulled his arms around her, holding her tightly in his arms. His heartbeat quickened, his hand moving down to caress her inner thigh, shivering under his touch as he moved his palm under her dress and along her slit, she moaned softly as his finger slid inside her, thrusting slowly.

Andy's fingers gently rubbed her swollen clit as he leaned over Y/N against her inner thigh, causing another moan from her again. "Let me make you feel better. Let me make you forget, even if it's just for a moment," he mumbled against the shell of her ear. She nodded again weakly, Andy continuing his motions as she leaned in close, moaning loudly when he slipped a second finger inside her, moving faster.

He began kissing every inch of her skin as he pressed a third finger inside her slick pussy, bucking her hips up to meet Andy's fingers as they began moving faster again. She moaned loudly again with need when Andy's fingers slid in and out of her as his thumb rubbed small circles against her clit. He licked his lips before bringing them to the shell of her ear, biting it lightly as she let another loud moan escape her again. Andy rubbed harder as she squirmed slightly, her hips rising more.

"Oh god!”

"Shhh, baby," he whispered, causing another shiver before he kissed her hungrily, in an effort to quiet her moans. Andy continued stroking her as he pushed his finger deeper until she exploded around him, covering his fingers with her juices. When he removed his hand, she grabbed his face, crushing her mouth onto his lips before pulling away reluctantly and looking deep into his blue eyes as they sparkled under the sunlight peering through the window.

"Andy I..." she breathed out as more tears came streaming down her face, which she quickly tried to hide. He wiped her cheeks with his fingers lovingly before placing small kisses all over them.

He then pulled away as she lifted the back of her dress to clean herself slightly off before settling back into a comforting cuddle with him. Her face was streaked with tears, but a sense of peace seemed to wash over her. Her hand ran slowly across Andy's chest and neck, her touch gentle and soothing, before she brought her lips against his, kissing him deeply as the rest of the world melted away.

Even after the funeral, the pain seemed relentless, refusing to subside. Most days, Y/N stayed confined to the bedroom or distanced herself from Andy. She found herself pushing him away, a behavior she had vowed never to indulge in. Yet, here she was, sulking in bed, the ache in her heart growing with each passing moment. Initially, she had thought that drowning her sorrows in alcohol would help, but it only made her feel more miserable.

She longed for her mother, and no amount of anything could fill the void left by her absence. Andy's efforts, no matter how earnest, couldn't seem to mend her pain. In some ways, Y/N even resented him for it, for his inability to take away her anguish.

At times, she questioned whether she was deserving of love. After all, Andy had other responsibilities to attend to. But deep down, there wasn't a day when she didn't yearn for his presence, wishing he could help restore a sense of normalcy to her shattered world.

The ache persisted within her chest, but this time, it felt different. Andy would be returning home from work soon, and she couldn't quite grasp how she should feel. Intimacy between them had been absent for weeks, following their recent argument which often culminated in her seeking solace through alcohol-induced sleep.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she stared off into space, her mind lost in a sea of memories. Tears welled in her eyes, but she fought hard to keep them from spilling over. The front door swung open and shut with a loud thud, marking Andy's arrival. His familiar figure emerged through the hallway and into their shared room, freezing momentarily in the doorframe. She couldn't tear her gaze away from him, even as he stepped closer.

"Honey... I know you're going through a difficult time, and I understand. I struggle sometimes to provide you with the comfort you need, and it hurts me just as much as it hurts you," Andy began, his voice filled with sincerity. "Y/N, I want you to trust me."

Andy paused for a moment, allowing his words to sink in. She opened her mouth to respond, but Andy pressed on, not wanting to leave any thought unfinished.

"I want you to trust me," he continued earnestly. "I want you to know that everything I have ever done is out of love for you. I have always strived to protect you, provide for you, be there for you, comfort you, listen to you, support you, make love to you, and hold you through all your emotions, whether you're sad, happy, or even scared... even when you're angry. I have done all of that and more, and I will continue to do so."

She blinked back tears, her eyes watering as Andy moved closer, placing his hands gently on her hips. She looked down, unable to meet his gaze.

"I love you so incredibly much," Andy confessed, his voice filled with raw emotion. "If there was a way to make your pain easier, I would do it without hesitation. I would sacrifice anything because I cannot bear the thought of losing you. It would destroy me from the inside out, and if that were to happen... I think I would go mad, because that's how deeply I love and care for you. I know there have been doubts lately, and it hurts me to see you in such pain. Your pain is my pain, Y/N... I just want my wife back."

She couldn't hold back her tears any longer, and she began crying uncontrollably. The tears streamed down her face, and Andy pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her tightly. She buried her face into his chest, clinging onto him for support.

Her tears flowed freely as Andy tenderly placed his finger under her chin, gently lifting her face to meet his gaze. Their eyes locked, and he leaned in, softly pressing his lips against hers, kissing away each tear that ran down her cheeks. His warm breath against her skin provided a comforting solace. They stayed in that embrace for what felt like an eternity.

Finally, she looked up, her eyes gazing into Andy's once again. For the first time in months, she let go of her tears, feeling a sense of release and acceptance wash over her.

She sniffled, her voice filled with remorse. "I've been a terrible person, a terrible wife. My grief has consumed me to the point where I've been pushing you away since the funeral. It's all still a blur, but I remember the hurtful things I said, and... I do love you, Andy. Even though I haven't been showing it well at all." Her gaze dropped to their intertwined hands as she confessed her shortcomings. "But... I'm still struggling so much with my mom's loss. And I've been taking it out on you... And for that, I'm truly sorry."

She squeezed Andy's hands and brought them to her face, lifting her eyes to meet his gentle gaze as he smiled softly. She wiped away her tears before speaking again. "I'm sorry..."

Her face buried in his chest once more, she continued to sob, the tears flowing freely. Andy ran his hand soothingly over her hair, resting his head atop hers. With each tear that fell, he tenderly wiped it away with his thumb, placing soft kisses on her cheeks. Y/N continued to cry, her emotions overwhelming her, until she pulled back slightly, resting her cheek against Andy's chest once again. She closed her eyes, finding solace in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

"I forgive you," Andy assured her, pulling her face close and leaning down to kiss her forehead softly and slowly. She accepted his forgiveness with grace, allowing more tears to fall as he comforted her.

"I will always forgive you, honey. I will never leave you, no matter what. Even if you tried, it wouldn't be enough to make me go away. Because I love you with all my heart and my whole life. And if you let me, I'll spend the rest of my life showing you just how much I love you and making sure you feel as comfortable and loved as possible. Always."

He spoke softly, his voice filled with love and understanding, as he placed her hands against his heart with his own strong hands. He smiled warmly down at her, and she returned the smile, albeit with a hint of sadness.

"You deserve all the love and support in the world," Andy whispered, his words filled with sincerity. She leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, and he responded with a slow and tender kiss of his own. The connection between them felt comforting and reassuring.

She then took Andy's head between her palms, pulling him close against her, and pressed her forehead against his. Andy wrapped his strong arms protectively around her, holding her tightly. In that moment, they found solace and strength in each other's embrace, knowing that their love would help them navigate through the challenges they faced.

divider credit: @.saradika