#deliciious

[beautifulrelaxingplace]

[leathfaic]

there is a lot of “soap's happy attitude is a mask he hides behind” or interpretations where he is still kinda naive and hasn’t become jaded by the world yet.

personally tho (and this can work with him hiding a lot of pain) i like to think he chose his happiness and attitude. there is no way price would have recruited a wide-eyed soldier for the 141, he needs people who know their shit and innocence can get you killed fast with their job.

no soap is fully aware of the realities of his occupation, not as jaded as ghost is for sure, but he knows whats up.

he also might carry a shit ton of pain with him, hell the way i hc him he’s gay and in the army which alone is trying to say the least, he’s probably from a catholic background (as he’s from Glasgow) which also generally means a “fun” time growing up as a gay person.

so soap seeing the world around him as it is, and still choosing not to become spiteful, instead doing what he thinks is best and to be kind, positive and loyal  despite all that he sees, experienced and grew up with is such a powerful move on his part. 

it’s absolutely the kind of attitude a man would need to approach the ghost with a smile and bump to the shoulder committed to “get a win”

it’s exactly the kind of man that could break ghost out of his shell too.

[leuchtsichel]

exorcist flynn from @megoomy's berseria au!! i love his design 🥹

[valicolea]

ARONIA Delicii

[mature-for-me]

Deliciious

[helaelaemond]

To See God

Pairing: Osferth x female reader

Word count: 3.4k

Summary: You met Osferth in the tavern last night and eventually he took you to his room. He didn't kiss you, he barely touched you, but he looked at you all night like he never wanted anybody more. You wake up in his bed to find him watching you between turning pages of his book. You need him to give in to his desires - and he does. Look up Song of Solomon 7:1-2, 6-12 for the translation of what Osferth is seducing you with in Latin. Cunnilingus, penetrative sex.

Content warning(s): erotic Bible study, first time together, misuse of the Song of Solomon

Rating: E

Requests open

Thank you @arcielee for your help with Osferth <3

The sun is coming through the window in a dreamy haze, and you slowly feel yourself returning from sleep. Under your head is a soft feather pillow, and over your body are warm blankets of wool and fur. It's a strange bed that you've not been in before, and it takes a moment for you to remember where you are.

"Good morning, my lady."

In front of the window, your new friend sits with a book in his lap, and a gentle smile on his face.

"You need not call me that, Osferth," you say sleepily, rubbing your eyes. "I am no lady."

"You are a fine lady to me." He turns the page of his book, and bites his lip as he smiles at you. There is that look in his eye that was there last night - like he wants to see you, to touch you. And God knows you want to touch him. When you had tried to push his leather tunic off last night, he had stopped you with such a pained expression that you wanted to run and hide - until he told you that he wanted to, but that he shouldn't. That he should like to know you better.

And so you stayed up talking long into the night. You lay down by his side and he allowed you to gently touch his face. He had closed his eyes when you did. He told you his name, his father's name, his life as a king's bastard. A no one, he said, until he came to Uhtred's service. You told him of your life, of the loss of your land and your search for a new home in a new place, and he had listened. He had really listened. That had meant more than any kiss.

But now you have woken with a hunger. There is heat between your legs just from the way he's looking at you.

"What are you reading?" you ask. You nestle down into the warm bed and watch how his long fingers run along the edge of it.

"Quid videbis in Sulamiten nisi choros castrorum quam pulchri sunt gressus tui in calciamentis filia principis iunctura feminum tuorum sicut monilia quae fabricata sunt manu artificis." His voice is warm and soft, just like his bed. You don't understand many words at all, but the tempo of the Latin is familiar to you. You notice his cheeks begin to flush as he reads. "Duo ubera tua sicut duo hinuli gemelli capreae."

"What does it mean?" you ask.

"It's, er..." He trails off, and he grips the book so hard his knuckles turn white. "It's from the Song of Solomon."

"I don't know that part of the Bible very well," you admit. "Will you show me?"

Osferth hesitates, as if held back by a great secret that he cannot bear to face, but then he smiles and gets up. He sits on the bed next to you, and puts the book between you. The words mean nothing to you on the page - no one in your family could read, and you can't. Still. It looks pretty, and you run your finger down the lines that are a mystery to you. "Read some more for me?"

"Perhaps something else, my-"

"I like the sound of this, Osferth."

There is something very satisfying in the way his face softens when you say his name. He nods. "Alright. Ah, where was I? Quam pulchra es et quam decora carissima in deliciis."

"In deliciis," you repeat slowly, smiling. "Delicious?"

He chuckles. "Almost. Delights."

"Oh, you're reading about delights? What kind of delights?"

He shifts slightly, and glances at you. You smile encouragingly. You move closer to him and run your hand further down the page until it rests next to his. If you concentrate, you can feel the heat rolling off his hand, and you can almost imagine what it's like to touch his skin. It makes breathing a little more difficult.

"About delights of... of a... oh, I shouldn't be reading this."

"Why not? Is it not part of the Holy Book?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"Then is it not divine, what you speak of?"

He smiles and looks down. His hand moves up the edge of the book slightly, and the tip of his forefinger touches yours. It is the smallest touch, yet suddenly it feels like the centre of everything. The whole world exists where your hand touches his.

"Yes," he breathes. His smile is frozen, and the rest of him seems to be, too. "I suppose it is."

"Osferth."

"My lady?"

"What does it mean?"

The breath he lets out is shaky. He turns his head to look at you, and you're all too aware of how close you are now. You want him so badly you could weep. He is so gentle, so sweet, and behind his soft gaze is a passion that you can see burn in him. He bites his lip, and his eyes drop to your mouth. "How fair and pleasant art thou, o love, for delights."

Hesitantly, he moves his finger over yours, and then his hand covers yours and turns it over. With such a delicate touch, he strokes gentle patterns onto your palm, and it's almost impossible to think of anything else. You scarcely recall how to breathe. "Is the writer talking of the Lord?"

Osferth tilts his head slightly and leans closer. You can taste his breath on your lips, you can feel the warmth of his body in what little distance remains between you. "No," he murmurs. "Of his lover."

"I didn't know they talked about that in the Bible." Your eyes close. Fire has ripped through you. You burn for him, for him, for him.

"I think it's in a woman that man can see the true face of God."

"You believe women hold that power?" You curl your fingers around his, and when he intertwines them, a soft sigh escapes you.

"I think you might, my lady."

His name is a prayer on your lips. "Osferth."

The first kiss he leaves on your skin is against your cheek. His lips are warm, gentle, undemanding. You have been kissed on the cheek before, but it never felt like this. Your head drops to the side in a silent invitation and it is one that he takes. He moves his mouth along your jaw, finding its place on your neck, and he lets go of your hand only to sweep your hair from your shoulder. When his kisses trail up to your ear, you let out a soft sigh again.

"My lady," he breathes against it. "I... don't know how to ask..."

You turn your head and open your eyes just enough to see him. Pretty is his face, shining are his eyes. You are so close that you can see every little freckle, every long eyelash; how wonderful he is to behold. And he is practically begging. "Just say the words."

"My lady, might we... can we...?"

"Say it. Please?"

Another kiss is pressed to your cheek and this time you can feel the way he smiles, and he asks quietly, "can we be together?"

There are barely enough wits left to you to tease him, but you try. "Are we not together now?"

He chuckles lowly. "I want to share... I want to worship you with my body, my lady."

A noise somewhere between a groan and a laugh escapes you, and you turn your head blindly in search for him. After what feels like a lifetime, he grants you his kiss on your lips; the world ceases to exist.

It is all you have been yearning for, this kiss from Osferth. His thin lips press against yours and he parts them, gently slipping his tongue against yours. The hand on your shoulder slips down to your waist, and you run your fingers along his sharp jaw. He shifts closer at your touch, and the kiss deepens. Quiet noises sound in the back of his throat, indications of his scarcely-held back need. When you pull his lower lip between yours and suck for a moment, his fingers dig into your waist.

Between you, the Bible is almost knocked to the floor and he starts. Abruptly, he pulls away and grabs it before it can fall from the bed, and he takes it carefully into his hands. "One moment."

You watch as he walks with it back to his window seat, and it makes you smile to see the care with which he rests it on the bench. There is a reverence in everything that he does. Even when he looks back at you with wanton need, there is a devotion in his face. It makes you blush; it makes you feel your heartbeat between your legs.

"Wait," you say quietly when he steps towards you again. His brow furrows in slight confusion, but you smile reassuringly. "It's alright. Just... wait."

You are still in your clothes from last night: a simple linen dress, copper in colour underneath a grey cover. Loose ties hold them closed - until suddenly they don't. Kneeling on Osferth's bed, you loosen the garments and one by one, you take them off, until you are bare in the morning light.

He looks at you like a man at prayer, full of wonder and awe. "I... you... oh, my-"

"Osferth," you soothe softly. "I would see you. Please?"

There is only a moment's hesitation before he follows your lead. You watch with tension in your belly as he pulls off his long wool habit, and it's just a linen shift beneath. There are hints of his lean body beneath, but when he removes that, too, you realise how little your imagination could do him justice.

Years with the great Uhtred have hardened his lithe body, and though his skin is pale, his muscles are defined, and you can see the shadows they cast across his skin. He stands a little self-consciously for a moment, hands clasped in front of him, but then you hold out your own hand in a silent call, and he comes with a smile. He holds your hand and you admire him for a moment, from his deep eyes to his half-hard cock that presses against his thigh, to the thick hair on his head.

"You're beautiful," you whisper. That makes him blush deeper than anything else before.

"I am nothing compared to you."

"No," you reply. You pull him closer, and he stands in front of the bed where you kneel. It almost makes you the same height as him like this. "There is no need for comparison, Osferth. You are beautiful."

For a moment, he hesitates. But then his face breaks into a smile wider than any he's shown you before. "I meant what I said, my lady. I would... I would worship you, if you allow it."

You look him in the eye as you take his hand and you press it between your legs. His eyes darken when he feels how wet and warm you are. "Allow it?" you echo quietly. "Osferth, feel how desperately I need you. It is not a question of allowing."

After you let go of his hand, his fingers slowly caress your folds, gently pressing just enough to make your thighs tense slightly. "Is it a question of anything?"

You swallow and shake your head. "There is no question at all. I need you. Please."

That is the final drop that makes the dam break. Whatever resolve in him was left to be slow and steady is lost, and suddenly his kiss is deep. His mouth crashes against yours in a kiss that is possessive, adoring, desperate. His teeth clink against yours before his tongue presses into your mouth, and then suddenly he draws yours into his and sucks needily. You scarcely have time to moan in delight before he presses you to lie back on the bed.

You had expected that you would need to guide him through this, for he seems so reserved. After all, he spent all of last night ensuring there was proper distance between you. Yet now he needs you, but he needs no direction. In a strong grip, he pins your hands above your head, and then his tongue is licking a long line from your jaw down to your chest. You can't keep your hands up for long, and the moment he sinks his lips over your breast, they are in his hair.

"Oh!"

He sucks on your nipple and swirls his tongue around it as long fingers find its twin, tweaking and teasing it in rhythm with his mouth.

"Osferth!"

He looks up when you sigh his name, and you meet his gaze. It is impossible to understand how good it feels to look down and meet his eyes with your breast in his mouth. When he realses it, you let out a soft whine of frustration, but it is only so he can lavish attention on your other breast. He works your nipple perfectly and it makes your eyes roll back into your head, it's so good.

When you rake your fingers over his scalp, his groans, and you can feel the vibrations in your ribs. You do it again, and so does he. Where on God's green Earth has a fallen monk learned what women like?

As if he can hear your thoughts, his attention turns south. Hot kisses lead him from the slopes of your chest and down your stomach, marking him as yours at every inch. Fingers find their way back to your cunt, and he runs them back and forth over your folds. With a light touch, he even carefully scrapes his nails, and you squirm at the contact. It's nowhere near enough to hurt - just enough to promise.

"I want to..."

He is kneeling between your legs now, and his cock is flushed and hard against his stomach. You mouth waters at the thought of what you want to do to it, but his fingers are pressing against your core and there aren't enough sensible words left in your head to ask.

"I want to kiss you here," he finishes breathlessly. There is a lovely flush over his chest and up his neck.

"Where?" you pant. As if you don't know.

He pushes his fingers against your wet cunt and drags them up to your clit, a spot that lovers in the past have never really cared to find. Yet he runs circles around it like it's nothing. It makes your spine curl. "Here."

"Please!"

He sinks to the floor and pulls you by the legs to the edge of the mattress so they're hanging off, and he kneels in front of you. You feel so exposed and so bare like this, but it's good, it's so good, because he's here and he's taking care of you and-

"Oh, God!"

His lips are hungry against you. He kisses and nips and sucks with more eagerness than he had at your breast, and he searches to find a rhythm that makes you sigh. When two fingers press inside of you, you grant him noises of delight, and you tilt your hips up slightly. Yes, there, just there, you think.

His other hand rushes up your body and finds one of your nipples again, and you groan. He quickly teases it between two fingers, and then rolls it gently between his finger and thumb, all while the other hand fucks you steadily, and his mouth devours you.

You have barely had a chance to even touch him by the time your first orgasm comes crashing over you. It's sudden and overwhelming, and you cry out his name, God's name, again and again. Your voice is strained and high and you gasp for breath, and without thinking, you pull his hand up and take his fingers into his mouth to suck.

When you look down at him, he is gazing back at you, and his lips and chin and cheeks are wet. He's panting, too.

"Take me," you beg around his fingers, nodding. If he doesn't fill you with his cock soon, you will sob. He is hesitant until you suck on his fingers again, and then his resolve is once more broken. With one hand guiding him in, he sinks slowly into you until his pelvis presses against your slick body.

He is less giving with his noises than you are. "Oh-"

"Louder," you beg. "Let me hear you, Osferth."

Breathlessly, he laughs. He is standing at the foot of the bed now, looming over you like a long-forgotten god claiming his prize. He leans down as he sets a steady pace, and he kisses you. You taste the rich saltiness of yourself on his tongue, and it makes you moan again. He presses his tongue deep into your mouth, as his cock does the same in your cunt. He's claiming you, worshipping you.

"Am I hurting you?" he asks between rough kisses.

"No," you reassure him, and your legs wrap around his waist to illustrate how much it doesn't hurt. "It's good. You feel so good, Osferth."

He smiles. It seems that even when he's fucking you, it's the tender words you offer him that make him blush the deepest. When he arches down to suck on your nipple again, his soft hair falls over his face and brushes your skin. It feels so good. You grasp his arms to try to ground yourself, but you're too far gone.

"Ah, my lady, I-"

"Yes, don't stop!"

"I can't, I'm- I'm-!"

Pleasure is quickly mounting in you as his thrusts get sharper and faster and they make you shake on the bed.

"Your hand!" you beg him, and he needs no further instruction than that. Where his mouth had found a sacrament, his hand now returns. He rubs circles around your clit as he fucks you harder and quicker. His face is tight with the effort, his gasps heavy with every short breath. "Osferth!"

You come crashing a second time, this time around his pretty cock, and every muscle in your body feels like it's spasming. Even as you fly high, you feel him pull out, and he doubles over the bed. Through half-closed eyes, you watch as he fucks his hand faster than he could ever fuck you, and whether it's the aftershocks of your intense orgasm, or it's the sight of him touching himself, you shiver and twitch. With his eyes fixed on your chest, he spills onto the bedsheets. His mouth is open in a silent shout, and his eyes squeeze shut.

Only when the hot, white ribbons have stopped leaking from his cock does Osferth finally let himself go. You watch as he pants and runs his hand over his balls, massaging what is left of the tension away. You smile slightly, and hold out your hand for him.

"My sweet, come lay with me."

He avoids your gaze, and as he straightens up, he looks around. "Forgive me, my lady, I must-"

He hurries to a chest of clothes and strips of cloth, and he begins wiping himself clean. You watch without the capability to have much thought about it, as you're still reeling from the orgasms he gave you. Osferth pulls his linen under-tunic back on, and part of you mourns the loss of the sight of him.

"Osferth?"

He doesn't look at you, and instead he bustles around the room doing... well, you're not sure what.

"Osferth!" Your shout makes him look at you with a start, but you're smiling. You hold out your hand to call him back to you. "Come here. Please?"

"I must-'"

"You must lay down with me, and you must hold me."

There is some tension in his face, but you still smile and beckon him over.

"Don't hide from me," you say quietly when at last he takes his place next to you. You smooth away the worry lines from his forehead with a tender touch. "Why do you try?"

He swallows. "I do not mean to. It is... guilt, perhaps."

"Why do you feel guilty, Osferth?"

"For many reasons, but I'm trying not to."

You smile, and as you stroke his hair, he begins to relax against you. "Did you see Him?"

"See who?"

"The face of God, like you said?"

Osferth smiles widely, and buries his face into your neck. "Yes, my lady, I did. I saw Him in you. And when you cried my name, I think that was Heaven itself."

"In deliciis," you murmur, threading your hand through his hair.

He chuckles quietly again. "In delight, my lady. My delight."

[darkk-academic]

Tease

[Part I] [Part II] [Part III] [Part IV] [Part V]

[Morpheus x F!Reader]

Summary : You and Morpheus have a delicious confrontation which you follow by retribution.

Warning : Spice. Self-love(Explicit).

"You are back."

And so, the prey walks in.

"You asked for me," at your silence, he adds.

Nonchalant, continuing to apply kohl, you don't spare him a glance.

"Wait a moment, dulce deliciis," you tell him.

Through the mirror, you see him startle.

Game on.

Putting the kohl down, you give yourself a once-over.

The smokey eyes and crimson lips, and the scant black satin that wraps around your body.

Don't fuck this up, you tell yourself.

Breathing deeply, you straighten your spine and turn.

Willing your racing heart to slow as you finally get a look at him, after three months.

Adorning his familiar all black attire, hair a mess, slightly pouting lips, and darkened blue eyes that stare at you with barely concealed want—

And oh, the distance does make the heart grow fonder.

Sauntering towards him with an extra sway to your hips, internally rejoicing at his look and what that means.

That he's still yours.

"Morpheus," you whisper once closer. Hand coming up to rest on his chest. "How I've missed you."

"Have you?"

"Mhm." Hand sneaking underneath his coat, diminishes the distance between his bare skin and yours.

"I thought you'd abandoned the dreaming."

Concealing the surprise his words bring, you peer up at him, quirking a brow. "You remember my dream? Yes?"

Brows furrowing, he nods. "Yes."

Fingers turning to run circles on his t-shirt, you hum. "And you remember the design I painted on you?"

Silence.

"... Yes."

"And I take it, you know the meaning behind the symbols?"

His eyes scan your face. "I do."

You smile, razor-sharp. "Tell me, what they mean?"

He turns rigid, lips pursuing, eyes flashing with equal parts curiosity and confusion and a hint of hope.

Yet, he stays quiet.

Hand stilling, you let your nails dig into the thin layer of his t-shirt. "Tell me," you demand.

He clears his throat, licking his lips—

Don't do that.

Your nails dig just a bit deeper.

"Serch Bythol is Celtic, symbolising everlasting love—" Inhaling sharply, his gaze darts around the room. "While Ivy denotes devotion, fidelity—"

"Then why would you think I'd abandoned you?" You cut him off, voice deceptively saccharine. "Hmm?"

He's silent, head turned away from you—

And that simply wouldn't do.

Gripping his jaw between your thumb and fingers, you yank his face in your direction.

"Something caught your tongue?" You ask, referring to a certain unwelcomed guest. "But that couldn't be it, right? Considering I haven't captured it, and if not me, then who could?"

Morpheus is thrown off by your rather bold actions, it's apparent, although he's doing an impressive job at hiding it.

"Pardon me, seeing you after such long time has caught me by surprise," he says. Once again recomposed.

"Oh?" Letting go of his jaw, your hand curls around his neck. "Surprised, huh? Tell me, did you miss me?"

"Your absence has been felt by all of the Dreaming—"

"That's not what I asked," you hiss. Stepping closer, front brushing against his. "Have you missed me?"

Your other hand goes to join the one playing with his hair, at his nape.

"I have indeed missed you, I confess."

"Hmm." Gazing into his eyes, you lean into him. "But have you ached for me?"

His hands, that'd been dangling useless by his sides, rise to hold your waist and pull your hips against his.

Oh.

"Do you deem this aching, enough?" He questions, voice hoarse.

Biting down on your lip, you breathe deeply. Control. Control. Control.

"I see," you rasp. Fingers twining with his hair, tug, earning a soft gasp. "Have you spent every second, every moment devoted to me?"

"I saw you in the reflecting windows of the throne room, in the empty corridors all I heard was your laughter." Face lowering, his nose grazes yours. "In the shadows of my chambers all I felt was your heat as your phantom touches brought the fervour thrumming under my skin to the surface."

Heat pools low in your belly at his confession.

"What I wouldn't give to kiss you until your lips are bruised," you whisper.

His eyes drop to your lips. "What stops you?"

Thessaly.

Mouth turning sour at the reminder, you centre yourself.

Pulling away from him a bit, your hand trails up to his cheek, proceeding to go down in a slow, featherlight, descent—touching his lips, the hollow of his throat before curling around his t-shirt.

Gripping tight, you start to move backwards, tugging him along as you do.

Leaving him to stand, you sit down on your bed, legs down.

Morpheus starts to move towards you, holding your hand up, you stop his approach.

"Love is a sacrament that should be taken kneeling, Morpheus."

"I do not understand what you are asking of me."

You smile. "I'm asking you to kneel before me."

His expression turns baffled. "It does not befit one such as I to kneel," he states. Lips turning down.

Holding his eyes, you remove the satin slip off in one go to reveal your bare form. "Alright."

Breath hitching, he makes to take a step—

"Don't you dare," you command, curt.

He freezes in place.

Spreading your knees, fingers skimming the lines of your neck, you gaze up at Morpheus through hooded eyes.

"Kneel and I will let you come closer."

He hesitates for a few seconds and then—

Then he drops to his knees, eyes fixated on your exposed skin.

Oh, wow.

You stamp down a hysterical laugh.

He starts inching closer, again.

In a flash, you stop his approach by placing the tip of your feet on his chest. "Nuh huh, you don't get to touch me. Watch."

Leaning back against your hand, the feet pushing at Morpheus's chest rises up to settle on his shoulder. You hold his eyes as your other hand drifts down, slipping into the only article of clothing you wear.

He gasps, arms falling onto his knees, clenching his jeans.

Finding the most sensitive bundle of nerves, you let out a shuddering breath, half a moan.

His hand moves up—

"You touch me and I stop," you rasp. Daring him to try.

"Please." His whole countenance is desperate, but no.

You're set in your resolve. "No."

His hands fall back. Eyes closing as if agonised before fixing on you again.

Head falling back, you sigh and moan with no restraint as you work on yourself.

"Tell me, Morpheus," you whisper, "will you do anything I ask?"

"Yes," is his quick response.

He watches your fingers move, hunger evident in his eyes, breathing raggedly.

The feel of his eyes on you causes the heat coiling in your belly to tighten.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Do you want to touch me, Morpheus?"

"Yes." He leans forward.

Your fingers speed up.

"Say, Domine non sum dignus." Heart racing, you try to find a semblance of clarity.

"I…"

Your fingers still, and you stifle a frustrated whimper.

"Are you worthy of your Lord?" Beyond himself in intoxicated want, he shakes his head. "No? Then say it."

"Domine non sum dignus," he repeats, voice deep and husky.

Your fingers pick where they left off, the sensitivity causing your breath to hitch.

"You want to prove yourself worthy?"

He nods, transfixed.

"You'll have to do something for me," you speak through pants.

"Yes."

Pace quickening you buck into your hand, and he—

He whines, eyes meeting yours, pupils blown wide and dark.

Muscles clenching and releasing repeatedly, light explodes behind your eyelids, throwing your head back, you moan as you fall over the edge.

It takes a few moments for you to come to yourself and once you do—

Feet coming down his shoulder, you bend yourself forward, stained hand caressing his lips.

"You will do anything I ask?"

"Yes," Morpheus chokes out.

His lips part, welcoming as you push your fingers into his mouth. Groaning low in his throat.

Trying hard not to focus on the way his tongue—

"Cast Thessaly out of the Dreaming."

And then you're leaving him dumbfounded on the floor of your bedroom.

Two thoughts in your mind :

I need a shower, the coldest shower and—

I win.

•••

"Well…sorry to be the bearer of shit news, caw! But Shaper, that bitch hasn't left."

Your grip on the book you've been reading tightens. "What!?" You exclaim.

The sound of a throat clearing comes. Lucienne.

"What?" You whisper.

"Uh huh, boss has sent you this." He lifts his feet—claw, showing a piece of wrapped parchment. "Caw! Like I'm some damn pigeon."

Taking off the letter, you unfold it.

'I cannot ask for her to leave after extending an invitation, it would be most discourteous of me should I do so. Please accept my apology for not complying with your rather irrational demand.

Your Lord.'

What a coward.

You tear it into shreds.

Silence.

"Um… Shaper?" Matthew speaks up, "There's something you should know."

You raise a brow, prompting him to speak.

"It's about your connection to the Dreaming…"

•••

Shades of coral, vermilion and amber spill across the blue canvas of the sky. Cold breeze blows in soft waves, carrying the scent of aromatic flowers along with the melodious chirps of birds as it rustles the leaves in its wake.

On the high balcony from where most of the Dreaming is visible, you sit on a plush chair—accompanied by Matthew who's perching on the railing—a cup of tea in hand.

In the serene atmosphere, you both gaze down at the most fascinating scene.

Vines encircling Thessaly's ankles are dragging her around, this way and that, round and round, as a door builds itself a few feet away at a slow pace.

Her friends are shouting and following her, but it appears they can't quite catch up to them.

"So…" Matthew drawls, laughter in his voice, "no complaints because I'm thoroughly enjoying this, but caw! How long until you speed up the door?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," you reply. Smirking.

"Ah! Of course, I was just kidding," Matthew says, following your lead. "What about Boss?" He whispers.

"It so happens he's very busy, there's some trouble that needs to be sorted," you answer. "All the way to the other side."

Matthew breaks down in chortles. "Shaper! Look!"

Glancing down, you bite your lip.

The vines have taken the shape of a human, and are dangling Thessaly upside down, facing the door.

Bye bye, witch bitch—

Oh no, that's an insult of the witches.

Bye bye, bitch.

The vines land a hard kick on her back that sends her out the door.

Out the Dreaming.

In a blink, both the vines and the door disappear.

You take a sip of your tea.

•••

"It has come to my attention that one of our guests was escorted out of the Dreaming in the most unsuitable manner."

"Were they? Well, damn."

Tilting your head to the side, your eyes wander around the throne room, sparing the Lord sitting on his throne no glance.

"Do you truly have nothing else to say on this matter?" He questions.

It's not really a question, though, no. A statement. A warning.

"Sucks for them, I guess," you drawl out, nonchalant.

"Is it to be believed that you had no hand in this? Will you still not confess, after having been caught in your folly?"

Your lips quirk up. "I haven't a clue what you're talking about."

"Your impudence knows no bounds," he snaps. "Perhaps a punishment—"

Eyes snapping to meet his, narrow. "Enough."

His mouth shuts in surprise.

Walking up the stairs, you inhale sharply, squaring your shoulders. "The only one getting a punishment in this room will be you."

"Pardon?"

Coming to a stop in front of him, you put your palm on the throne, next to his head with a slam, the other hand rests on the handle, effectively caging him in.

"I'm quite done with you being an ass," you state.

"I—"

"Not a word when I am talking." You glare down at him. "Tell me, Morpheus, are you such a fucking slave to your paranoia, to your fear that I'll abandon you, that you'll just what?" Brows knitting, your voice lowers. "Find someone else?"

Something akin to guilt flashes behind his eyes. "I…that is," unable to find words, he looks at you helplessly.

"If you can't even find it in yourself to trust m—"

"I do," he professes, softly, "I do trust you."

"Then how come she was here?"

"It was rather thoughtless of me—"

"Do you want me?" You demand.

"You are well aware that I do," he replies with no hesitation.

"And you know what those designs meant?" You ask, referring to the symbols you drew for the party.

"I do. And I confess—" His stare pierces into your eyes. "—Your feelings are very much shared."

"Good." You nod. "You should know, I don't take well to people coming after what I consider mine—"

"Am I yours, then?"

"Indeed." You lean into him, nose grazing his. "Mine, entirely and comple—"

His lips crash against yours.

Momentarily sending you off balance as he stands abruptly, your fingers curl into his lapels for support.

And then you descend.

Reciprocating the kiss with harsh intensity, hands abandoning his coat in favour of delving into those messy hair of his.

Body pressing to yours, his fingers dig into your waist, he bites down on your lips.

Retaliating by tugging at his hair roughly, you take advantage of his gasp, sliding your tongue in, demanding, possessive, you dominate the kiss.

Pulling back once the need for oxygen makes itself known, forehead touching, you both take shallow breaths, chest heaving.

"You lost."

"I lost," he agrees, "Will you have me now?"

"Be certain," you warn. "You won't be able to return to your duties after."

"I am more than capable of satisfying your needs, I assure you."

Oh.

He thinks you have doubts about how much time he'll take to get you to…

"Oh, love," you breathe out, huffing a laugh.

"What?" He frowns. Confused.

"You misunderstand me," you answer.

Hand trailing down, your fingers wrap around his throat.

"By the time I'm through with you, you'll be a crying mess."

………………………………………………………………………

A/N :

Apologies if it's not well written.

I know I said smut but, like, went every shade of crimson writing this considering have never written anything like this before so...yeah.

"Dulce deliciis." Is latin, meaning— "Sweet Delicacy."

"Love is a sacrament that should be taken kneeling, and Domine non sum dignus should be on the lips and in the hearts of those who receive it." Is a quote by Oscar Wilde. "Domine non sum dignus." Is latin too, meaning— "Lord, I'm not worthy."

Hope you guys enjoyed this.

Thankyou! ❤️

Tags : @withoutyouimsaskia, @chantzmar, @tiredlattes

[gt-is-the-best]

How they met {Kai x Kori}

(Implied past vore)

The underworld was a land where demons lived, imps,orcs and all you can imagine if a human were to enter...they wouldn't make it out alive especially since...they were a demons deliciy.

It was night-time in the underworld. Kai was wondering the red skyed street of the gothic like city, all he felt today was boredom he wanted to talk to someone other than the evil kind of his type, all they do is talk about humans and how they enjoy their suffering. Kai always wondered what humans were like despitehearing about them, are they dangerous? Or perhaps small vulnerable beings who can never survive the world.

A little shop caught his eye, he did need some ingredients for potions and formulas so he walked in to take a look around.

Meanwhile there was someone in the shop, trapped and alone....her name is kori, she'd been recently hunted along with other tinies(which is what demons call humans since they're small)....who meet the dark fate of being pets or ingredients....or worse...food, she tried escaping but could never get past the glass she was caged in...like a weak mouse. Kai caught koris eyes, she looked in utter fear since...she was the only tiny left in the shop.

She hid behind a log in her cage hoping he won't notice her....but he did.

Kai looked seeing her hide, An Imp shopkeeper took notice and smirked "so you want her? She's the last one so I'd take her before someone else does~" he said in a evilish voice.

Kai looked into the cage, koris eyes widened as he took notice of her...she felt all her nerves sprawl out in her body, she couldn't help but tremble at the sight of his red orbs.

"Hm...I'll take her" he said in a menacing way so the Imp isn't suspicious.

The Imp smiled with glee "Ok that will be 15 gems" he had a greedy look in his eyes.

Kai raised a brow with a sigh "fine you gluttoned basturd" he gave the Imp 15 gems and watched him open the cage and pull poor kori out of her hiding place throwing her into a box and handing it to kai.

"Do enjoy her while you can, it'd only a one time opportunity~" he said watching kai leave with kori.

*later at kais house*

Kai locked the door of his house and gently placed the box on a counter opening it.

"Hey its oki little one...you can come out" he said softly waiting for her to come out, Kori hesitated but crawled out, she looked up trembling as the giant man was hovering above her looking at her. He saw how terrified she looked which made his gaze soften "Hey...I wont hurt you little one its ok..." he said quietly as he didn't want to scare her more than she already is.

Kori could somehow believe he is nice, if he wasn't he would've eaten her by now "y-you won't hurt me Mr demon will you?" She stuttered still feeling on edge.

Kai giggled "aw no dearie it's oki, I won't hurt you let alone discomfort you...the reason I bought you is because I felt pity for you but...I'd like a friend...if you don't mind that is?" He said with a happy look.

Koris eyes lit up, she has never heard of a demon being this kind and shy so she smiled and held his finger with her tiny hand "sure that would be nice, I'd like that" she said knowing she'll be ok here.

@smol-lucy

[kit-just-kit]

🎁 - David here 😏

Gift meme

"I know you have a sweet tooth and also, a very refind palate. So, here is the 'All of us' box from Dark Sugars - Vodka Orange truffles, Mango pipettes, Coconut Rum liquers, Chery kirschs, Pink Champagne and White chocolate truffles........plus a few others that I forget right now. No matter because I'm sure they're all deliciious, just like you!".

@daslanv

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Duties toward Believers

1 Do not sharply rebuke (to strike/smite upon in a vulnerable place with sharp, insensitive even brutal words, latin-increpaveris-rebuke-roots are reprimand/complain) an elder (presbytero), but rather entreat (latin-obsecra-exhort root is acquiescent) him like as a father; younger men (latin- iuvenes like juveniles) as brothers; 2 elder women (presbyteras) as mothers; younger women as sisters (latin-sorores like sorority), in all purity (hagneia is related to word for holy).

3 Honor (price, fix a value, assign value, latin-honora-honor) widows who are truly widows; 4 And if any widow has children or grandchildren (descendents, latin-nepotes-grandchildren the “nep” may have been KJV misconstrued as nephews), let them learn first to be devout (show piety towards, revere) to their own house and give back reciprocity (exchange, return, requital, recompense) to parents (latin-parentibus-parents, greek-progonos-born before-ancestors including grandparents and forefathers); for this is gladly accepted (gladly welcomed/accepted because pleasing/pleasant, latin-acceptum-acceptable) in the sight of God. 5 And she that is truly a widow and left alone (greek root-monoo-only-solitary-desolate, latin-desolata-desolate root is waste), has her hope upon God and continues in heart-felt petitions (-of her need/lack) and prayers night and day. 6 However, she indulging in luxurious prodigality (living in self-indulgence, living extravagantly/luxuriously/riotously/wastefulness/unneeded surplus, latin-deliciis-deliciously root is offense) while living is dead. 7 And command these things so that they should be without reproach (never caught doing wrong, not apprehended/found wrong when censured). 8 Now if anyone does not provide for (foresee, think/plan before) his own, especially (mostly, most of all) his household (of his family, latin-domesticorum-domestic), has denied (refused, said no, disowned, repudiated, contradicted) the faith and is worse (more severe, latin-deterior-worse like deteriorated) than an unbeliever.

9 Do not let a widow less than sixty years old, being (having become, latin-fuerit-been, having been?) the wife of one man, be enrolled (entered on the list, registered), 10 Being borne witness to in good works: If she has brought up children, if she warmly receives strangers/guests (entertains guests, shows hospitality to foreigners/strangers/new/guests), if she has washed the saints’ feet, if she has rendered aid to the oppressively afflicted (tribulated, distressed), if she has followed after (attended, accompanied- latin-subministravit-assisted like sub-ministered) every good work. 11 However, refuse (beg off) younger widows; for when they might have grown wanton against (to run riot, wanton-roving;frolicsome;loose; playing without restraint;negligence of restraint-- root of greek here means living luxuriously-living in sensual, lustful behavior-wanton luxury, feel sensual desires in disregard of, latin- luxuriatae-revel roots are luxury/wanton) Christ, they wish (will, desire) to marry, 12 Incurring condemnation (greek-krima, latin-damnationem) because they have abandoned (un-placed, annulled, made void, done away with) their first faith. 13 And at the same time they learn to be idle (non-working, lazy, thoughtless, inactive, latin-otiosae-grinders roots are idle/leisure), going around (make a circuit) house to house; and are not only idle, but rather also babblers (prating, boiling over, talking foolishly, latin-verbosae-wordy) and busybodies (over-doing, worked all around, spending excessive time/effort where it does not belong or should not happen, latin- curiosae-busybodies root is curious), speaking things not being necessary/proper. 14 Therefore, I want the younger ones to marry, to bear children, to manage their homes, to give no occasion (latin-occasionem) to the opposing in favor of reproach (abuse, reviling, railing, insulting words that demoralize). 15 For some have already turned aside after Satan. 16 If any believing woman has widows (dependent widows), let her render fitting aid to them and let the church not be burdened (weighed down), so that it might render fitting aid (sufficient aid/relief) to the truly [needy] widows.

17 Let the well presiding elders (presbyteroi) be counted worthy of double (two-fold, latin-duplici-double like duplicated) value (valuing, a price, honor), especially those laboring exhaustively hard in the word and the teaching. 18 For the Scripture says, “You will muzzle an ox (cow, bull) treading out grain” and “The workman is worthy is of his wages (latin-mercede-reward).” 19 Do not openly receive (admit, warmly welcome, receive from close beside, receive openly, welcoming with personal interest, latin-recipere-receive) an accusation (latin-accusationem) against an elder (presbyterou), except it be upon two or three witnesses (upon the accusation of 2-3, testimony is not is the greek here). 20 However, those sinning in the sight of all, expose (rebuke, reprove, convict, convince with solid compelling evidence especially to expose/prove wrong, latin-argue-rebuke roots are argument/objection), so that the remainder might have fear.

21 I thoroughly testify in the sight of God and Christ Jesus and the elect angels, so that you should keep (guard, watch, observe-latin-custodias root is custody) these things apart from prejudice (latin-praeiudicio- root is bias), doing nothing from out of partiality (greek-prosklisis- pros klino- being inclined towards, latin-partem declinando- declining in part). 22 Lay hands hastily (speedily, quickly) on no one, nor share (participate, fellowship, partake) in the sins of others; Keep (guard, latin-custodi like custody) yourself pure.

23 No longer drink water, but rather make use of a little (few, small, brief) wine (oino) because of your stomach (greek-stomachon, latin-stomachum, stoma refers to the mouth) and your frequent (latin-frequentes) ailments (weaknesses, frailties, latin-infirmitates).

24 The sins of some men are plainly evident beforehand, going before (preceding) them unto judgment; however of some they follow close after (latin-subsequuntur-follow like come subsequent). 25 Likewise also the good works [of some] are plainly evident beforehand, and those otherwise not being able to be concealed (hid, latin-abscondi-hid like absconded). — 1 Timothy 5 | Literal Emphasis Translation (LET) The Literal Emphasis Bible is in the public domain. Cross References: Genesis 2:17; Genesis 43:24; Leviticus 19:13; Leviticus 19:32; Deuteronomy 17:6; Psalm 50:18; Proverbs 7:11; Matthew 4:10; Luke 2:36-37; Acts 6:1; Acts 11:30; Romans 3:7; 1 Corinthians 6:6; Ephesians 6:2; Philippians 2:15; 1 Timothy 3:8; 1 Timothy 6:1; 2 Timothy 2:14; 2 Timothy 4:1-2; Revelation 14:13; Revelation 18:3; Revelation 18:7; Revelation 18:9

[juicycrabbucharest]

Delicii Marine în Fiecare Muscătură !

🦐🦞🦀 La Juicy Crab credem că mâncarea nu este doar despre hrănire ci și despre crearea unei experiențe . 

Conceptul nostru a devenit un succes în rândul clienților , care se bucură de aspectul interactiv de a împărtăși o masă delicioasă cu prietenii și familia .

[misterady]

După un grătar cu delicii la fel de îmbietoare ca micii, cârnații și carnea suculentă, nimic nu se compară cu o bere răcoritoare. Dar ce [...]

[kit-just-kit]

Liam Neeson? Doesn't he sound as though as though he's going to put you in the back of a van?

Asks!

"Not to me! I think he sounds absolutely deliciious. In fact, I blush just thinking about it.......".

[mireilledemargaux]

Bine ai venit la Mireille de Margaux - Culmea Delicatelor Raw Vegane!

Ești în căutarea unor delicii dulci care să îți încânte simțurile, dar să fie prietenoase cu sănătatea și stilul tău de viață? Bine ai venit în universul nostru plin de rafinament culinar și pasiune pentru nutriție!

La Mireille de Margaux, credem cu tărie că fiecare gustare merită să fie o experiență delicioasă și nutritivă. Cu ani de experiență în arta culinară și un angajament profund față de ingredientele de cea mai înaltă calitate, ne-am dedicat să creăm prăjituri raw vegane unice, cu dragoste și atenție la fiecare detaliu.

Ce ne diferențiază? E simplu:

1. Prăjituri Fără Zahăr: Fără compromisuri în ceea ce privește gustul, oferim o gamă variată de prăjituri care nu conțin zahăr adăugat. Perfecte pentru cei care caută un răsfăț fără regret.

2. Alimentație Eco-friendly: Suntem pasionați de un stil de viață eco-friendly și sustenabil. De aceea, toate produsele noastre sunt create cu ingrediente ecologice, fără aditivi artificiali sau conservanți.

3. Prietenoase cu Diverse Sensibilități Alimentare: Ne adresăm cu drag iubitorilor de dulce care au diverse sensibilități alimentare, inclusiv persoanelor diabetice și celor care suferă de boala Lyme Borelioza. Fiecare prăjitură este gândită pentru a fi o opțiune delicioasă și sigură pentru toți clienții noștri.

Indiferent dacă ești în căutarea unei gustări rapide sau a unei prăjituri deosebit de rafinate pentru ocazii speciale, la Mireille de Margaux vei găsi mereu ceva pe placul tău.

Descoperă bucuria gustului autentic și a sănătății în fiecare mușcătură! Explorează gama noastră de prăjituri raw vegane și bucură-te de o experiență dulce fără egal.

Pentru comenzi și detalii suplimentare, te invităm să ne vizitezi online sau să ne contactezi direct. Suntem aici pentru a transforma fiecare moment dulce într-o experiență memorabilă!

[venimro]

Delicii decadente: explorați colecția de ciocolată vegană Venim Ro

Răsfățați-vă fără vinovăție cu colecția noastră delicioasă ciocolată vegană de la Venim Ro! Crește-ți experiența gustativă cu ingrediente din surse etice, preparate în delicii delicioase. De la ciocolată neagră bogată la delicii cremoase, fiecare mușcătură este o sărbătoare a durabilității și a compasiunii. Savurați aromele somptuoase știind că susțineți un brand dedicat conștiinței de mediu. Răsfățați-vă sau bucurați-vă pe cineva drag cu răsfățul perfect fără vinovăție. Explorează gama noastră atrăgătoare și lasă-ți papilele gustative să danseze de bucurie.

[juicycrabbucharest]

Delicii Marine în Fiecare Muscătură !

🔝 Ia-ți o pauză de masă și vino să guști din bunătățile care îți înseninează ziua , la JUICY CRAB 🐙

☎️ 0743 900 400