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devilfic · 1 year

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GMMMMM!!!!! I was hoping you could write a battinson x reader about their wedding? Maybe something just super soft and fluffy, WE LACK BATTINSON WEDDING CONTENT

❝wedding headcanons with bruce wayne❞

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: fluff, established relationship, marriage, mention of alcohol. words: 2k.

oh ABSOLUTELY

alright, walk with me

I’m imagining that bruce is a bit older if he’s getting married because. let’s be honest. getting this man to settle down right now would be like wrangling a hellhound

not because he doesn’t fantasize about it. trust me, he has, but you really are in a polygamous relationship with gotham during your first few years together LMAO

I think bruce had an idea of what his wedding would be like when he was younger

probably a small, traditional wedding. something that his parents had

but at some point, when bruce becomes conscious of his position in society (and just how many people are gonna wanna come to this thing), he figures out it’s probably gonna be a big deal

bruce... does not like that

I don’t think that he has a problem with a big wedding, but he does know if he has one, he’s going to have to adhere to the social rules of the upper echelon

and that means inviting people he doesn’t particularly Like

again, he does not like that

but the thing abt these social rules is that if you tell him you’re not comfortable, if you tell him you don’t like someone, if you tell him you don’t want someone there, he won’t give a FUCK about their feelings

bruce does not care about the fanfare. this day is for you and him as far as he’s concerned

this is also why I think during the planning stage he’d be the kind of husband to just hand you his wallet and tell you to go ape shit

but he’s not that kind of guy. he isn’t some disinterested husband just pawning off all the hard work onto you because he doesn’t want to do anything

it’s like I said, he only cares about you

if you want to go great gatsby and throw the party of the year? go crazy!

if you want something on an island beach? he’ll bring sunglasses!

if you want to walk up to the courthouse, pay for your marriage license, and take him to bed right after? do you, babey. or him. in this case

I think the only thing bruce would have any strong feelings about is the color scheme

I’m sorry, you know he’s going to want a lot of dark, gothic elements

he will feel so out of place if you guys did anything outside of his color palette LMAO

he’s not afraid of getting fancy, he just needs things to be on Brand

that being said, I think he would really like if you had the wedding in a cathedral

I mean the acoustics with a choir singing as you walk down the aisle would just be heavenly

I’m just picturing the cathedral in the movie with white roses and ivy everywhere!! the sun streaming in through the windows!!! the choir on either side of the altar singing so beautifully while bruce watches you approach that he can’t help but start crying!!! ahhhhH!!!

I also saw a couple do this and thought it was really sweet

so instead of doing the whole not seeing each other before the wedding thing, the couple dressed each other the day of

just imagining the intimacy of slowly waking up the morning of the wedding in bed with bruce, letting him stroke your back as you lay on his chest

you’re both a little nervous but all that comes out in giggles and silly jokes to calm each other down

then taking a shower together, washing bruce’s hair for him, getting distracted because he starts kissing down your back and oh how time flies

sharing breakfast that you both made in your underwear because alfred took dick and left you two the house for the weekend because I’d also like to imagine that at this point, robin is part of the family

(and is enjoying his weekend with grandpa alfred. and definitely hasn’t learned any alarming offensive tactics since he’s been away)

bruce putting on a record and dancing with you in the living room to “practice” for later

helping each other into your clothes, brushing hair out of the way and reminding the other where they left their shoes/earrings/cologne

bruce driving you to the cathedral and only parting ways so that you can hurry in the back door because the front is PACKED with paparazzi

alfred is bruce’s best man and is just smug as a bastard when he notices bruce’s little ticks that he’s starting to get nervous

dick is the ringbearer because of COURSE he is

I just love the idea of little dick grayson whispering “I got your six, batman 😎” when he comes up to the altar and bruce has to cough over him because there are like. several people in the vicinity that do not! know that!

he’s got his hair gelled back to high heaven with a cute little suit on that he definitely wasn’t bribed to wear by alfred that morning

I also don’t think dressing you before the wedding diminishes the impact of seeing you walk down the aisle

I think that your morning together would only solidify just how many mornings you two would have from now on, and it would make him emotional knowing that this is just the beginning?? that he can actually call you his in a whole new way???

bruce’s vows... he’s so emotional about them.

he’s asked for help from literally everyone he knows, especially selina because she has such a way with words

vows are kinda tricky for bruce because to him, he wants to just be saying this to you. he doesn’t want to entertain anyone else

how is he supposed to summarize how deeply you move him—how eternally bound he is to you in body and soul—in a way that doesn’t feel like he’s putting on a show for the audience? he doesn’t care about any of that. all he cares about is you

he keeps falling into the trap of “they know how much I love them, don’t they?”

but one thing selina tells him to do is just try writing for you, then

just sit down and word vomit. even if it’s silly, even if you already know it, even if it’s embarrassing

and one night he finds you asleep in bed with a book on your chest, clearly having fallen asleep on accident with just the lamplight illuminating you

at first, he drops into the chair beside the bed and just sits and watches you for a few moments. your book rising and falling with every breath, your body half snuggled into the sheets, the little noises you make as you dream

but then his eyes start welling up and it’s like. all those words just come flowing out of him

he grabs his journal and is frantically writing everything down, not worried about making sense. he just wants to say what he’s thinking before it escapes him

maybe at some point, you wake up to find him furiously jotting everything down and you ask what he’s writing about

and he kinda panics because he doesn’t want you to see exactly what he’s writing

it’s all a mess! it’s ugly! not pretty or articulate or clean at all

and it’s not like he’s never a mess before you. you’ve seen every part of him: the good, the bad, the ugly. you’ve never turned away before

it’s just that sometimes... he hesitates

but before he can think of an excuse, you smile and slip out of bed

lean over him and kiss his forehead

“must be important, I’ll leave you to it. how ‘bout I make us something warm to drink?”

and the hesitation melts away

he doesn’t end up telling you. he closes his journal and tucks it on the nightstand and knows that you would never look, never break his trust like that, but if you saw what he said... he wouldn’t mind

when you come back, you two crawl into bed with warm tea and fall asleep together this time

I like to think that he once met up with selina on a rooftop so he could run his draft by her askjsdkjf

selina is a BRUTAL editor but she’s really good at it

and eventually she approves of his last draft and he’s like. yippee!! I’m free!! worst fucking experience of my life!!!

he’s fiiiiiine selina’s not that mean

but it was hard!!

and when you’re both at that altar and he admits his vows aren’t very long, it’s not a surprise to anyone that bruce “man of few words” wayne struggled with what to say

but that’s not it

because if they really knew bruce, they’d know that no matter how little he says, he means every word.

and there’s this one line that sort of encompasses a promise he’d made to himself long ago and now is making to you. out loud

“you’re a good thing that I don’t think I deserve, but I want to. so I am and will continue to make sure that I am a man that does. for the rest of our life.”

and all those years of never letting himself enjoy a good thing are unspoken between the two of you, your wedding a testament to his change of heart

it’s also just kind of cemented when he says “our life”. you really aren’t getting rid of him, now

NOW THE RECEPTION

I saw this on pinterest and I just. I think it would be so beautiful

a reception in a greenhouse!! surrounded by plants and candlelight!!

at night!!

this would be the more intimate gathering with just family and friends

if I may. be a Twihard for like TWO seconds

consider: flightless bird, american mouth for your first dance

I think it would be so nice... it’s a really pretty song.... ok moving on

I don’t think bruce would be very interested in. um. certain reception traditions but again, man will do whatever you ask him to

if you happen to be wearing garters and want to do a garter toss. I suppose he will participate.

right after sending out a signal that bricks every phone within a 200 mile radius

BUT TOASTS

man is all red in the face from laughing so hard, you’ve never seen him have this much fun with more than two people in the room

the toast is a lot less put together when it’s his turn, I think bruce is just so full of love and comfort being surrounded by people he knows well that he has an easier go of it

he doesn’t drink since he’s not a fan of alcohol, but you know he’s fuckin up a bottle of sparkling cider

if you choose to drink, he will be happy to escort you throughout the night

can see drunk you asking him to help you into a bathroom stall and he’s just standing there in the doorway making sure you don’t slip and fall into the toilet

at some point though, he WILL replace ur drinks with shirley temples

he’s not trying to cramp ur style but like. alfred will take a picture if you vomit and he will put it in the family photo album and show it every year on your anniversary and if you try to destroy it you will find he has made an infinite number of copies

by the end of the night, you’re both back at home helping each other out of your clothes in the same lazy way as you did the morning of the wedding

brushing your teeth together in the sink, washing each other’s faces, slipping into more comfortable clothes

by the time you both collapse into bed, bruce is so full of. love! and light. he’s still got a smile on his face that he’s had since the beginning of the night and it’s so different

you’ll crawl onto his chest and ask him if he’s happy, if he got everything he could have wanted out of today

he’ll press a kiss to your minty lips, still smiling like a fool, “I got to marry you, didn’t I?”

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @moonlightreader649 @geekyfer @thescarletfang

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne scenarios #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne headcanons #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne fluff #batman x reader #batman scenarios #batman imagine #batman headcanons #batman fic #batman fluff #the batman #battinson x reader #battinson #dc #mjwrites

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lemmetreatya · 1 year

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For a Time Such As This — Onyankopon x fem!reader

dk how i feel about this but i reallllly wanted to show the true dawg some love so please enjoy 🥺🫶🏾 !!

content: v fluffy and domestic, soft, drug use, weed mention, smut, m!pen, mating press, pillowtalk, failed proposal trope

As you shuffle through the door, the relief of finally being home washed over you. The aroma of cooking food whafts through your nose and you’re suddenly reminded that your last meal was at lunch.

Shucking off your shoes, you call out the supposed cooker, almost on autopilot.

“Ony?”

No answer.

You take off your jacket and place your bag on the short cupboard in the entrance before trying a more sweeter approach.

“Yanyans?”

There was definitely cluttering noises coming from within the kitchen so you know he was around. Although you had to suspect whether he was ignoring you on purpose or simply unable to hear you.

With a frown, you push your way through the house before opening the door to the kitchen and stepping in.

“Onyankopon!”

“Babe?”

The man turned to look at you with no ill intention but the smile on his face indicated he was smiling or laughing at something before hand. Besides him, you realise he was watching a show on his phone that was propped up onto a stand.

Shaking your head in disbelief, you confront him.

“You don’t hear me calling you?”

“What, just now?” He glances your direction before focusing back onto the food.

“Back when I came in. I was calling you and everything.”

You start to walk further into the kitchen to inspect what he was making. As you look over his naked shoulder, you notice he’s just poured a blended vegetable mix into the stew.

Automatically Onyankopon wraps an arm around your waist as he uses his other hand to stir the simmering food. He lightly shakes his head before he’s planting a clean kiss to your temple.

“Oh, no. I didn’t hear you then. Sorry, shawty.”

With your mood instantly softened you pout at the man’s words. You were no longer mad but you definitely weren’t pleased with the petname he used.

“I told you to stop calling me thaaaat.” You whine. “You make me sound like I’m a side piece or something.”

Onyankopon’s attitude is calm as he focuses his eye on the food. He stirs the spoon a few times before answering you although his attention is undivided.

“Baby, you know that’s not true and you know I don’t mean it like that either.”

The top of your head brushes against his cheek as you lay your head onto his bare shoulder. With a pout, your hand comes up to idly play at the golden dangle chain that hangs around his neck and sits just above his heart. It has your initials on it.

“Yeah but that’s what you and your lil friends used to call me back when you were all tryna distract me from focusing on my books.”

You let the chain drop back onto the man’s bare chest as you briefly reminisce about the days prior to you and Onyankopon dating.

Despite what most people experience, the last year of university for you was a fun time.

Although hearing you reference back to his unrulier days, Onyankopon makes a low hum of a sound. Laying the stirring spoon onto a rest and then turning the heat down, your boyfriend now has free hands to hold your waist with.

“Listen. When I put a rock on those pretty fingers you still gon’ be my shawty. When you take my last name at that altar, you stiiill gonna be my shawty. When you have kids running round your legs that look like a mash of the both of us, you still gon’ be my shawty, nothing gon’ change that.”

Licking his lips, the man has a smooth expression on his face as he looks down over you.

You on the other hand have a frown on your face but it’s inevitably weak because the smirk that’s welling up is a much more prominent expression. Ducking your head, you could feel the back of your neck and chest heat up.

“Wha’ you mean ‘when you put a rock’? What, you thinking of proposing?”

Onyankopon’s hands knead at your hips and suddenly his voice is much more lower and intimate.

“You want me to?”

“Well, yeah eventually.” You say with a shrug but as soon as you do, Onyankopon’s kneeling down with a mischievous expression.

“Want me to propose now?”

With a wild laugh, you’re shaking your head — already trying to pull the man back up straight.

“Ony, No! Stop, get up!”

“But you wanted me to propose so I’m getting on my knees, no?”

Onyankopons laughing with you but you can see that he’s trying his best to be serious. But right now wasn’t a time for being surprised with a fake proposal. This was something you actually wanted him to do in real and good steed.

With a pout, you continue to pull the man upwards.

“No! Stop it, you’re scaring me. If you propose now, I’ll break up with you.”

Onyankopon hears the seriousness in your voice and instantly decides against upsetting you any further.

“Okay, okay! I’m up.” The residues of laughter is still on his lips but there’s a slight alter in the air.

You realise the power move you played in threatening to leave him was a shitty thing to say but you genuinely felt that was the only way to have stopped him. With your eyes cast to the bubbling food, you apologise.

“I’m sorry, that was wrong of me. I shouldn’t have said that.”

As understanding as ever, Onyankopons shaking his head. The smile on his face is still present as his arms curl around you to bring you in for a close embrace.

“No, you’re fine, boo.”

Burying your head into Onyankopon’s bare chest is far easier than looking at him and you wonder if that makes you a bad person for thinking so.

As he reaches over to pick up the spoon, your boyfriend holds you in one arm before stirring the pot with the other.

“So it’s a no to proposing?” He says in a tone that reads like its a question but instead sounds like a statement.

And you knew it was coming because Onyankopon’s never one to leave an idea or concept half baked. You keep your head against his chest as you answer him because you’d rather he take your words for what they are than for what your face did.

“Not a no, just…make sure you plan it. I don’t want you doing no will-you-marry-me-but-I-have-no-ring-yet bullshit.” you mumble.

“Ah, I hear you.”

Onyankopon laughs off your comment with an understanding nod but he’s so scared that you can feel his heart rate increase.

Because he agrees, proposing to you with no ring would be a rookie move. Especially since it shows a lack of thinking through which was entirely not his style and neither his thing. But if Onyankopon did propose to you then and there, he would have a ring ready to offer you because he could feel it heavily weigh against his trouser pocket.

“I noticed her hands still bare.”

The statement comes to Onyankopon from Jean as the two sit outside on the terrace of Sasha and Niccolos yard. They were in the midst of rotating a blunt between them, but then Connie joined and somehow made the spliff too soggy to share and so the both of them were sitting on mild buzz rather than a high.

Shrugging, Onyankopon takes a swig from the bottle of malted drink within his hand.

“It is what it is.” He muses but the words make Jean lean out from his chair.

“What, she say no?”

“No, I just didn’t do it.”

Jean’s eyes are now wider than before as he gives the man a sideways look.

“You backed out?”

“Nah, man. It’s not like that. It just wasn’t the right moment.” Onyankopon ran a hand down his face. “I dunno I messed up the timing or some shit. It’s harder than it looks.”

Jean lets out a low whistle as he sits back into his seat. It may have not been him in the situation but he could sympathise the man’s dilemma. His eyes draw onwards through the glass of the balcony door of the living room that allows him to look on at the gathering of his close friends.

His eyes are disassociated but he still asks Onyankopon the next question.

“You think she’s opposed to the idea?”

Onyankopon makes a sound of disagreement before he properly answers.

“She wants to get married but she made an off comment talking ‘bout making sure I plan shit. I guess I’m just overthinking how she’d want to be proposed to because that moment was planned.”

“Maybe she wants an audience?”

Your boyfriend shrugged.

“I dunno. She’s not really an audience typa person but you never know.”

Nodding towards the inside, Jean offers an alternative.

“Well, what better time than now? You’re surrounded by people you both admire and I’m sure everyones just itching for something live to happen.”

Onyankopon considers Jean’s words but he’s not yet sold. He may not know exactly how you want to be proposed to but he knows you weren’t an attention seeker in that sense. He takes another drink of his bottle before laying it on the table besides him.

Why did this have to be so hard?

Seeing as he was contemplatively quiet, Jean probes again.

“You might as well go find her in there and do it. You got it on you, right?”

“Got what on you?”

Both men turn towards you who seemed to have suddenly come outside from in. Onyankopon is glad to see you but he almost jumps out from his skin in shock.

“Babe!”

With a sweet smile you close the door behind you before coming to sit on top of your boyfriend’s lap. Like clockwork, one of his arms are wrapping round your waist but he was anything but calm as he could feel his heart beat up his throat.

“Hey Jean!”

You politely acknowledge and the man nods at you in reply before leaning back with both of his hands wrapped around each other and his lips folded. You wrap your own arm around Onyankopon’s neck before speaking down at him.

“What were the two of you talking ‘bout? Anything juicy?”

Onyankopon looks up at you tentatively before he’s glancing over at Jean but then Jeans looking just as googly eyed as he makes small nods of affirmation back in Onyankopon’s direction.

You notice the exchange and only lightly laugh at the awkward notion between them before your attentions drawn back to your boyfriend who’s softly grappling at your waist.

“You know I really love you, right?” He says up at you and you nod with a smile.

“Yeaaah?”

Onyankopon slightly gulps before he glances towards Jean who’s lifting his hips up to retrieve his phone from his pocket. Your boyfriend then looks up at you again and he can sense his heart welling with emotions.

“And that I really do wanna spend forever with you. Like, the rest-of-my-days type forever.”

“Ony, what’s going on? What is this?” You try and ask but the man continues going, his grip on you tighter.

“And I’m guessing you feel the same because despite everything, you’ve stuck by me and always wanted to better our lives together and you know I have mad respect for that shit.”

“I— yes, of course but—“

“Babe, just let me finish.”

Onyankopon’s softly laughing but his eyes seem glassy as his spare hand pats the right side of his trousers. With an unsure glance, you watch as the man pats around into his pockets.

“This reason I’m asking alladis is because—“

“Ahhhh!”

A curdling scream comes from inside the house and halts everything that was going on. Even with the doors closed it’s heard and instantly you get up from Onyankopon’s lap to inspect it.

“What’s happening, what’s happening?” You say as you open the door.

As her back was to you, Hitch turns round to face you with a giddy expression. In her hand was a small black and white squared sonogram.

“Sashas pregnant!”

Both Jean and Onyankopon lurch forwards in their seats at the news.

“Oh, shit!”

With a squeal of your own, you rush inside to go and congratulate the expecting couple.

An air of relief leaves Onyankopon’s mouth but he’s still as equally as excited. If anything, he welcomes the distraction, seeing as if he didn’t, it’d just be the weighing of another failed proposal on his mind.

The soft panting of love sounds within the room as your boyfriend tenderly surges himself in and out of you.

“Shit, Ony…” You moan with a squeeze, seeing as your body was folded in half and your anklet was dangling by your ears.

The man continues surging forwards, his face screwed into a fix of concentration as he focuses on the frothy white rings that sit at the base of his dick.

“I love you so much.”

He says with a grunt and he plants a fumbled yet chaste kiss to your lips.

Onyankopon was hitting all the right places but it was as if no moans could be enough to express how whole you felt with him filling you up. All you could seek to do was cover your eyes with your arm, your ajar mouth pressing out throaty sounds in conjunction with Onyankopon’s thrusts.

But your boyfriend wasn’t appeased with you hiding your face from him. If anything he loved watching you up close, deep into your soul as he brought you to your pinnacle.

It’s because of you why he believes soul ties are real because he’s certain no matter the quality of any other pussy, none could beat yours.

“Look a’me.”

He says with a grumble, and you only reply with a defiant whine.

Onyankopon continues powerhousing himself in and out of you as he takes your arm by the wrist and gently pulls it away.

“I wanna…see you.”

Reluctantly you let him have his way but upon revealing yourself to him, Onyankopon keens forwards. He tries his best, concerning he’s still fucking you vigorously but your boyfriend chastely kisses the tears that have stained your cheeks.

His chest pangs at the thought that you’d try to hide your venerability away from him.

“You okay?” He pants whilst his forehead taps yours.

You nod, albeit you let out a winded moan and instead let your head fall against the pillow.

“S’too big.”

Onyankopon breathily grins at the sideways compliment but there’s suddenly a certain boldness in him that wells up from deep inside. As his strokes become more fierce, the man feels the urge to pour out the subtleties of his heart.

“I can’t wait to marry you.”

He says into your eyes as he hovers over you and for once, you keep his gaze. However, in only suspecting his words as sex talk, you don’t take it to heed.

“Can’t wait for you to officially be mine. Me yours. Make you my Ride or Die.” He moans.

Onyankopon’s strokes become more prominent and your arms are guiding around his neck. You pull him in closer so that you could sloppily kiss his lips and you swear there and then that you could feel something different switch in him.

“L’ve you too, yans.” You say against him, but from his gaze you can see he means what he speaks.

Onyankopon is staring at you so vividly, a look you’ve never seen him posses before and his next words instantly make so much sense.

“M-marry me, shawty.”

He mumbles and despite the cheesiness of it all, you can’t help but find yourself nodding.

“You meant what you said back then?”

Your voice was small, almost too small to hear.

But you know Onyankopon heard it regarding he slightly stiffened from beneath you as you lay on top of his chest. He contemplated playing dumb but he was too tired of going round in the endless circles.

“About asking you to marry me?” He clarifies.

“Mm.”

“Yeah. Hunnid percent.”

The TV was on, some show about super strong men doing extreme sports but it wasn’t entertaining you right now. As far as you were concerned, your boyfriend has asked for your hand in marriage and had now reconfirmed his words post-sex. Believe it or not, this was far more important.

With raised eyebrows, you look him up and down.

“Really? With no ring, Ony?”

The man makes a small ‘ah’ noise before leaning over and opening his second to last bedside drawer. His hand shuffles around the drawer space but soon enough, he pulls out the velvet box hes been carrying with him.

You sit up with a gasp as the man shows you the slim gleaming ring. Even whilst proposing to you, lying down buttnaked underneath the bed covers, he still found a way to seem so calm.

“I wanted to do it super cool but...I’m sorry. I know I should have planned it and everything — and at one point I did! — but shit hadn’t gone right and…yeah, I just couldn’t hold it in, I had to ask you then.”

Taking the box with a face of bewilderment, your jaw hangs. You inspect the jewellery in all it’s worth.

“No way…when d’you get this?”

Onyankopon lays his hands behind his head as he looks up at you with adoration.

“Had it for ages. Been planning it for way longer.”

You hold the ring towards the light coming from the TV and watch it twinkle. An overwhelming feeling takes over you and with a pout, you look over at the man.

“Ony…” You look like you’re about to cry and the man can only lowly chuckle. His hand however comes to endearingly rub at your side.

“Ay, don’t get all sappy on me now.”

“I’m not.”

You say, as a sniff leaves your nose and you hand the ring back to the man. The man gives you a slightly concerned look, thinking you’re denying his advances but you’re quick to reiterate you’re reasoning.

“Put it on for me.” Your words are mumbled as you offer the man your hand.

Onyankopon is quick to remove the silver band from the hold of the box to then slowly slide it onto your finger. His eyes are in deep concentration as he holds his breath, hoping it’ll fit but alas, the ring is a perfect size and it snuggly sits at the base of your index.

Once the rings on, you let out a happy sniff as your eyes admire the jewellery. The man runs a thumb over your knuckles as he stares at you lovingly.

“You like it, shawty?”

Despite your previous unfondness of the petname, you can’t help but feel a wave of nostalgia wash over you at the use of it. This moment had been a long time coming and despite not thinking it’d ever look like this, you’re content with how it panned out.

“I love it.” You muse as you twinkle your fingers within the palm of your fiancé’s hand.

Onyankopon whispers ‘and I love you’ before before lightly pressing his lips against your hand and the sparkling ring.

You couldn’t help but agree more.

#onyankopon x reader #onyankopon #omyankopon x black reader #aot x black reader #aot x reader #aot x reader smut #attack on titan x reader smut #attack on titan

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doodle-pops · 27 days

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Feanor Walking You Down The Aisle

Request: Hello, Mina darling, can I please request some small headcanons about asking Feänor to walk you down the aisle? The reader is marrying one of his sons (unmentioned) and she has no family in her life to do it, so she asks Feänor? Thank you for considering, darling. - Anon

A/N: This was fun to write! Thanks for requesting this!

◈ Growing up without a stable family in your life left you with no one. Not once had you ever felt welcomed or a part of the community until you met one of the Princes of the Noldor. A son of the Crown Prince Fëanáro fell in love with you without questioning your background at all.

◈ His family did all that they could to make you feel welcome, not to mention his brothers ensuring that you were a victim of all their daily bullying and antics to make you feel even more like family.

◈ His mother pitied and loved you tremendously, wanting nothing more than to take you in immediately. Nerdanel was ecstatic when she learnt of the betrothment news, meaning that you were about to become an official family. However, there was just one issue at hand, a lack of a father to walk you down the aisle and give you away to your husband.

◈ The only stable male figure in your life was your betrothed’s father and you were unsure if he would be willing to walk down the aisle and give you away to his son. Not once were you on the receiving end of his temper or ill-manners a few people had spoken about, so it seemed all well to make the request.

◈ You’re nervous about the request, so you ask your betrothal if he could arrange a brunch or tea for all three of you to meet as the wedding is approaching. There, you sat, appearing like a bag of jitters before Feanor who was confused at your uneasiness.

◈ In the beginning, everything was running smoothly at the behest of your beloved. Aware of your nerves, he took over and got the conversation rolling between him and his father, occasionally including you at certain times appropriate to throw the question out there.

◈ But you’re unable to for the greater part of the conversation. So Feanor interjects, aware that you have something on your mind and requests if he should depart to give you and his son alone time to deal with the matter.

◈ At his thoughtfulness, your words tumbled out your mouth before you even knew it, and there you confessed your wish to have him walk you down the aisle as your father.

◈ On Feanor’s end, he was appalled that you would have considered him so high in your eyes to fulfil that offer. Being seen not only as your father-in-law but as an actual fatherly figure makes him forego considering and directly accepting.

◈ He ignores the fact that you blurted it out in a vomit of random syllables and removes himself from his chair to usher you into a stance. He is gentle and soft as he celebrates your request with a fatherly embrace and soft words that put him into a chokehold.

◈ “You have brought great joy to me onya. It would be foolish of me to reject your wonderful offer.”

◈ On your big day, any nerves that you had were all washed away by Feanor’s presence at your side as he stood at the end of the aisle bequeathing courage and reassurance that he won’t let you fall or slip up. “It is a father’s job to never let his child fall.”

◈ Your entire wedding ceremony passes in bliss as Feanor takes his time to guide you down the aisle, he even offers his handkerchief to you when you teared up at the altar. During the entire ceremony, he sits patiently with a smile at the memory of walking you down the aisle as his child.

◈ Furthermore, to sink it in that you consider him as a father figure, for the father-daughter dance, you request that he join you on the floor to share that moment with you.

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @sakurayaxd @involuntaryspasms @aconstructofamind @ladyenchanted @mcwentfandomtraveling @addaigio @lamemaster @stormchaser819

#feanor x reader #feanor x platonic!reader #feanor x daugther!reader #feanor headcanon #feanor imagine #feanor scenario #silmarillion headcanons #silmarillion imagine #silmarillion x reader #middle earth x reader #middle earth imagine #middle earth headcanon #house of feanor #feanorians #x reader fluff #x reader insert #silmarillion #doodlepops writings ✨

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beatingdrumspouringwine · 3 months

Text

Personal Dionysian Ritual

This is the ritual form I use for my Sunday worship (or, in this case, first-day-of-Anthesteria worship). I think this may hit closer to Catholic or Christian formats than historic Greek pagan ritual formats, at least if the book Hellenic Polytheism - Household Worship is to be believed. But this format is just a bit easier on me in terms of supplies, time, and ability to keep it semi-covert. I don't have the ability to light fires in my current space, but when I do, I usually include a prayer to Hestia at the beginning and end.

Dionysian Ritual (for Sundays) (Usually) (It's not set in stone)

Approach the altar or worship space. With you, there must be:

A bowl or other vessel filled with water (can be small).

Optionally, you may have:

Wine

Barley

Sea salt

Divination tools (I prefer tarot, or Sappho/Homeromanteions when I can get my hands on it).

A candle or other source of heat/light/incense (smells, basically)

Place the bowl of water either in front of your statue of Dionysos, or, if no statue is available, in a central spot in your space of worship. The wine and extra supplies may be placed anywhere else. Begin:

Orphic Hymn to Dionysos (Apostolos N. Athanassakis translation) I call upon loud-roaring and reveling Dionysos, primeval, two-natured, Thrice-born, Bacchic Lord, savage, ineffable, two-horned and two-shaped. Ivy-covered, bull-faced, warlike, howling, pure, You take raw flesh, You have triennial feasts, wrapped in foliage, decked in grape clusters. Resourceful Eubouleus, immortal God sired by Zeus when He mated with Persephone in unspeakable union, Harken to my voice, O blessed one, and with your fair-girdled nurses, Breathe on me in spirit of perfect kindness.

After the Orphic hymn, consecrate the bowl of water to make khernips. You may add salt if desired.

Dionysian Khernips Prayer (In between each verse of the Khernips Prayer, I move from just having the bowl on the altar, to holding the sides of the bowl, to holding the bowl up for the last verse.)

After the Khernips Prayer, I pray to Hagios as I actually ritually wash myself with the newly made khernips.

Hagios (For every verse of Hagios, I start with washing my face, then move to washing my hands, and finally sprinkle khernips on my feet, especially if I'm planning on dancing. This isn't actual washing, but more like lightly splashing water on the different parts of me that I wash.)

After Hagios, if there is wine, then I consecrate that, which I'll link my prayer for below. If there isn't, then I libate clean water (will be writing a prayer for that at some point soon), and move on to the next part of the ritual.

Wine Consecration to Dionysos (From the part where I say "This is the gift that..." through to "on the slopes of Mount Kithairon", I raise the wine towards my statue Dionysos as though toasting Him, which is inspired by art showing Maenads serving Dionysos wine.)

After the wine consecration, I pour out a libation of wine to Dionysos while praying my prayer to Dionysos Theoinos:

Theoinos

After the prayer to Theoinos, whatever happens next is up to you. If I'm doing any divination, I'll say a prayer to Dionysos Mantis before going ahead with it. Otherwise, I may dance, or talk about my day, or simply do prayer after prayer after prayer until I've kind of exhausted my talking point. Since most of my rituals are done at night, however, the consistent part is frequently the end, which is my second prayer to Dionysos Nyktelios:

Nyktelios II

And there you have it! I definitely finished this a bit later than I was planning, but that's okay - I got it out, and that's all that matters! I hope everyone has a good night and a beautiful Anthesteria, and that this was helpful to some degree :)

#dionysian #dionysos #dionysus #hellenic polytheism #hellenic polytheist #dionysos deity #dionysus deity #hellenic pagan #hellenic gods #hellenism #paganblr #helpol #pagan rituals #ritual #anthesteria

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gurokiitty · 22 days

Note

Three words here me out:

Strade

Wedding

Angst

a/n: i'm listening, anon !! 👂 👂 👂 ren is here too becoz why not

JUST THE THREE OF US

{ strade x ren hana x f! reader }

word count: 1.4k

warnings/tags: angst, forced "marriage", physical and psychological abuse, tongue mutilation, blood, forced intimacy (kissing), may be kinda ooc for strade?

As the morning dawned, a single ray of light sneaked through the boarded-up window, casting a thin strip of illumination across the dusty floor. It travelled slowly, like a silent, ethereal intruder in the otherwise shadowed space. You watched it crawl up to your legs, highlighting the bruises and scars marking your skin, as well as the bandages wrapped around your foot— a mocking beacon of faint hope in the dim room.

Beside you, Ren sat stiffly. His usual poise was marred by anxiety, evident by the way his ears flattened against his head each time his gaze darted to the heavy door.

Soon, the sound of footsteps approached and the door creaked open. Strade entered with a twisted smile, holding two garments. For you, a faded white dress— obviously a thrift store find— yet it held a semblance of what could have been a bride’s traditional attire. For Ren, one of Strade's old suits, dusty and unworn.

"Time to get ready," he announced, his voice echoing slightly in the cramped space. "Don’t take too long. We wouldn’t want to keep the big day waiting." His smile widened as he tossed the garments onto the bed, pausing briefly at the doorway to give one last look before turning to leave.

As the door clicked shut behind him, you exchanged a brief, fraught glance with Ren, his eyes mirroring your turmoil. The preparations were mechanical; the simple acts of bathing and dressing became an attempt to maintain a shred of normalcy.

In the small bathroom, you sat in the tub and cleaned yourself carefully below the neck. Each stroke on your skin felt like an attempt to erase the gruelling memories of the past days. The water ran pink, mingling dust and sweat with blood— a stark reminder of the reality you couldn't completely wash away.

The ordeal felt more surreal as you dried yourself and slipped the dress over your head. It hung loose on your frame, the soft material grazing your skin in unfamiliar, almost comforting touches. You looked into the fogged mirror, wiping away the condensation to see yourself. Your reflection was simple yet transformative, and for a fleeting moment, you recognized a shadow of the person you once were.

Stepping back into the room, you noticed Ren standing before a full-length mirror, smoothing his hair. He turned his head slightly as you approached, his suit hanging loosely on his frame. The mismatched fit would have been almost comical if not for the gravity of the situation. You caught his eye through the mirror and his ears perked up slightly.

His gaze lingered before he forced a smile and turned to adjust the collar of his ill-fitting suit. "It doesn't quite feel like a celebration, does it?"

You approached him slowly, the fabric of the white dress whispering against the floor. "No, but we'll get through this. Just like we've gotten through everything else." You replied, your voice steadier than you felt.

"I know we will. It's just..." His voice trailed off as he met your eyes in the mirror again, searching for an assurance neither of you could truly provide.

You reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder, feeling the coarse fabric under your fingertips. "We'll find a way out. Together." It was a promise, a thin thread of hope you both clung to, even as doubt whispered in the back of your minds.

The ceremony that awaited you was nothing short of a macabre performance, orchestrated by Strade for his twisted enjoyment. As you descended the stairs, the ceremonial charade Strade had set up in the living room revealed itself. A crude altar stood at the end, draped in an old tablecloth and surrounded by a few flickering candles.

Strade's presence, polished yet sinister in a crisp, red suit, only heightened the surrealism of the moment. His hair was neatly styled, transforming him into a figure vastly different from the one you knew. Yet, as the candlelight danced across his face, it illuminated his familiar smile while he puffed on a cigar; the smoke curling around him like a visible sneer.

"You two clean up nice," he mused, a sinister melody in his voice. "My beautiful bride and my handsome groom, all dolled up for our big day." His smirk widened as he exhaled, the cigar's scent mingling with the stale air.

Then, Strade stepped forward, positioning himself by the makeshift altar. "Let’s begin, shall we?" He said, taking the cigar between his fingers and clearing his throat.

“Während manche sagen, dass es zwei braucht, um eine Ehe zu schließen, / While some say it takes two to make a marriage,” he began, "Wir drei sind ein Leben lang verbunden. / The three of us are bound together for a lifetime."

His smile twisted further as he concluded in a chilling tone, "In life and death, our fates are forever intertwined."

As you stood there, facing Strade in his unnervingly handsome guise, a mixture of dread and despair settled heavily in your stomach. His eyes, sharp and calculating, skimmed over you and Ren, taking in every detail of your forced readiness.

“Now let's get to the good part, huh?” his voice dropped to a husky whisper as he closed the distance between you; his movements poised yet predatory. He reached out suddenly, gripping your chin with a firmness that made your heart skip.

“A little token to commemorate our day,” he murmured before his lips pressed briefly against yours. His touch was cold, his fingers clamping your jaw as he pulled away.

Before you could react, Strade's hand moved to your mouth, prying it open, his fingers pressing against your lips. Dread washed over you as he withdrew a small knife from his suit pocket. The sheen of the blade caught the flickering candlelight as he unsheathed it, his eyes never leaving yours. You could feel Ren's gaze burning into you, a silent plea for mercy mirrored in his expression.

Strade's grip on your chin tightened as he brought the blade closer to your trembling lips, positioning it at the center of your tongue. Without hesitation, he made a long, deliberate cut down the median sulcus, the cold steel slicing through the soft flesh. Pain seared through you as blood began to pool in your mouth, spilling down your chin in thick rivulets, and staining the white of your dress.

You could hear Ren's sharp intake of breath, his own fate mirrored in the cruel twist of Strade's lips. The room seemed to spin, the weight of your shared agony pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket.

Strade then turned to Ren, who had watched the ordeal with horror etched deeply into his features. Ren’s attempts to protest were muffled by Strade’s swift and brutal actions, repeating the gruesome act. The immediate flow of blood now tied your pains together in the most visceral way possible.

With a monstrous grin, he forced you and Ren to face each other, pushing you two into a proximity that felt both intrusive and intimate. "Now, kiss," he commanded, his voice low.

You reached up, your hands trembling as they framed Ren's face, your thumbs brushing against his cheeks. You could feel his muscles tense under your touch.

Reluctantly, painfully, you leaned towards him, the coppery taste of blood mingling as your lips met. The kiss was soft at first, almost hesitant, but you pressed closer and your wounded tongues touched. The pain sparked again, more intensely, as you both stifled a groan. Blood mixed with saliva, creating a bond that was as real as it was enforced, painting your lips and trickling down in a slow, warm drip that met the front of your dress.

You could feel Ren's breath hitch, his hands coming up to rest hesitantly on your hips, his touch light, as if afraid to cause more pain— or perhaps more connection. The kiss deepened slightly, not out of desire but out of a desperate need to find solace in your shared suffering.

“This is what binds us together,” Strade remarked, “Not just some vows or rings, but blood, pain, and fear. You two are mine, in every way that counts.”

Finally, you pulled away, and the string of blood that had connected you broke, leaving only a sticky residue on your lips.

#i may write another but with an actual wedding with just strade n the reader #maybe some yandere strade??#hmmm 🧐#sorry if this was boring anon :"3 #i tried to make it interesting with the bloody smooching #btd strade #btd ren #ykmet strade #btd x reader #ren hana x reader #strade x reader #anon requests

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gauloiseblue · 1 month

Text

For though I am a sinner / You call me to your table.

(König × Reader)

[May contain: heavy religious imagery, obsessive behavior, murder]

Credit to @rainlovesyou12

When he was six, he witnessed the rite of communion for the first time. As his brother approached the altar, the priest announced, “Behold the Lamb of God, behold him who takes away the sins of the world. Blessed are those called to the supper of the Lamb.”

His brother whispered a few words he couldn't catch, before he stepped forward to receive bread and wine.

He didn't understand what the ritual was, or what the purpose of it was. But he looked up and saw that his parents smiled, almost too proudly.

At eight, the church adversely taught him about it.

He was crying, screaming, as his parents dragged him to the altar. The priest's eyes were cold, as he spoke the same verse his brother received. When he resisted, his mother yanked him by his arm and forced him to look into her eyes. She was angry, and it's a loose word for what she exhibited that day.

When he stood in front of the table, tear-streaked, and trembling, the priest took a piece of the bread, and offered it to him. With his hands clasped, he muttered, "Lord I am not worthy"

That morning, he retched up the blood and the body of Christ.

He wiped off his mouth, as he lifted his head from the toilet bowl. The sour taste of the wine still lingered in the back of his tongue, and he bent down to wash his mouth with running water.

He didn't understand the joy of union with God through communion. It was dreadful to think that, by consuming a part of Christ, one could lead a salvation. But why would you take a part of someone else when all your life you never knew him?

His mother loved Him, and she loved Him more than her own son. She visited the church day and night, recited her praises in front of the wooden cross, where the statue of Christ watched upon her, cold and motionless. His father was a stern man, and he'd remind him of all-seeing God, who'd always watch him from above every time he misbehaved. They believed in salvation, and they believed in sins. For the only people who's versed in God's orders were them.

Rejecting a body of Christ might’ve put a curse on him, as he's blind to the doctrines his parents taught. Turning your gaze from your mother when she talked was a sin, but looking away when the priest took a young boy into a room wasn't a sin. Yet his brother understood it, and he had no choice but to obey.

And he tried, he tried to be good. But it's never enough in his parents' eyes.

It wasn't until he's old enough, that he had the courage to leave the house. Carrying all of his belongings, and all of his sins.

He rejected God as he rejected His salvation, but then again, he had rejected Him the moment he spat out the bread and wine. Without the eye of God upon him, he's freed from the sanctions. No more Hail Mary or Our Father prayers, just him and his conscience.

He relished in his freedom, venturing outside the tiny box he once called home. It's easier to live without the fear of God. In his line of work, he couldn't afford to worry, even just for a second. His parents might be horrified to find out that their son had abandoned the way to heaven, but he's content, content with the way he lived.

Yet it only lasted for long, before he saw Him in every face.

When he stood in the war, with his hands bloodied and bodies by his feet, he often mused on the possibility that they were once a child of God. Did they swallow His flesh, when the priest placed a part of Him on their tongue? Did they feel at peace, after knowing that the blood of Him would lead them to salvation? And would he, as an apostate, burn in endless fire after killing many of His lambs?

Sometimes he stared at his ceiling, wondering if the omniscient one was looking at him through the pale light.

They said God is present in every lights

In every ray of the sun,

In every glow of the moon,

Yet the darkness still creeps

From the long shadow

The light creates

He received a new contract the next morning that required him to fly across the ocean. He accepted it, without knowing what was in store for him.

Between the light and the dark

There's a boundary where

The dark would collide

With the whiteness of the light

Leaving a gray line

Where two forces

Dance in eternal war

Right after the touchdown, the chopper came to a sudden halt. He snapped out of his thoughts, as he looked out the window and saw the base from afar.

When he stepped out of the aircraft, he was greeted by a blinding light, before it all died down once he winced. As his vision adjusted, he noticed two figures approached him. One's stone-cold face, and the other one wore a striking white uniform, that he almost mistook them as something else.

The new commander was a stern man, the common kind that one could find everywhere in the military. But his eyes wandered to a rare sight beside him.

You greeted him with a smile, something that he's not quite used to. You held a clipboard in your hand, and he could tell that your job was closely tied to the item. The commander noticed his attention and cleared his throat.

"This is (Name), she'll help you move to your room. Meet me at the office when you're done."

And so, he followed after you.

You were warm, and polite. You made small talk with him without prying too much, and he found himself relaxed in your presence.

When he had stored his things away, you took him to the office, where the commander had waited for him.

The briefing was short, since he had read the files on the way here. But one thing that struck him was the silence from the man when he brought up the secretary.

Once, he was told that anything outside the contract is none of his business, but he couldn't help but be curious. Why the lack of response? What was it about you, that he was reluctant to share?

It didn't take long before he found the nature of your relationship with him.

Alas, the sun has to set

And the dark would triumph

As the shadows march

Towards the horizon

Till this day, he can't find the reason why someone like you would hand your life to a man as cold as him. Even when the answers are already splayed out on the table. It's not hard to piece them together when soldiers' tongues were loose, he just had to say a word, and they'd immediately take the bait.

When the world is shrouded

By the darkness and black

Could the Almighty

Blame humans

For turning blind?

When he saw you sitting in the kitchen, alone, with your head hung low, he found himself inexplicably drawn to you. He laughed at himself when the thought of comforting you crossed his mind, but what kind of human he was, if he didn't feel any sympathy for you?

It's an open secret that you had a loveless marriage, and yet, you stayed with him, despite of the rage that your husband showed that morning.

He'd understand if you wished to throw out your frustration to him, but when you saw him by the table, you offered him a tired smile.

After all,

Humanity

Would always be

Lost

Without its shepherd

"Why didn't you leave him?"

Your face stayed the same despite of the intrusive question, since it's nothing you never heard before.

"Because I chose it that way." You mused, "I don't think you'd understand. I owe him my life. I wouldn't be here if it's not because of him." You told him as you looked at him in the eyes, "Without him, I am nothing."

And he was silent. Silent as he turned, and left you behind. Though he wore a mask, he knew that you saw him. You saw through his false front.

That day, he dreamt of his mother. Her voice echoed, as she chanted her praise at the altar. The devotion in her eyes, the adoration for the Savior whom she owed her life to, awakened the ghastly side of him.

Your devoutness evoked the memory of his own past, ripping his earth open, as the molten rock poured into the land. An ugly jealousy, for something he could never had.

Sentiment.

Something that the commander deemed as unnecessary.

He felt his eyes darkened whenever he witnessed the man's apathy, but his heart would scream at the slightest affection his commander showed to you.

He'd carry this envy until the day of the big Ops.

While Adam bore the title

Of the first Sinner

It was Cain who was the truest,

The most hideous Sinner

For he killed not to survive

But to satisfy his envy

The soldiers were briefed on the possibility of death, or imprisonment due to their carelessness. The commander shouted that it's not an ordinary mission, and everyone is responsible for their own safety.

A sentence that'd become his own doom.

When they infiltrated the enemy base, he knew the possibility of the enemy having bombs planted on each floor. Not to slow them down, but to bury them to the ground.

It wasn't his negligence if he didn't warn his commander about it.

He wasn't an advisor after all.

By the time they discovered the explosives, it was already too late.

He was with the commander when the whole buildings shook, with cracks began to form on the walls. He yelled at the man to follow him, as they made their way out of the room.

As they raced towards the window, a heavy rubble fell through the ceiling, onto the commander's leg. He cried in pain, as the protruding steel dug into his flesh.

"König—" He called out when he stood there, unmoving.

He could've saved him—he should've, but he chose to remain still.

"König." The man looked at him, as suspicion dripped from his voice. Seeing him in that state caused a vile feeling to rose from his chest, as he bared his teeth into a grin.

"Should've said your safety is my business."

His commander's eyes widened, and his jaw tightened into an angry snarl. "Which side is it that you work for?"

"No one."

The man screamed his name when he turned, before a sickening crack filled the room.

He got out just as the building collapsed behind him, swallowing the lives of unfortunate men who were still inside.

The main objective of the mission was reached, but what greeted them at the base was silence. There were no cheers or pats on the back, just a heavy silence.

Many soldiers were injured, and the infirmary wasn't prepared to handle that many. Which pushed the other staff to be one-night medics, and you were no exception.

He only suffered a minor injury, so he could only watch you run in and out of the room from afar.

Of course, the pleasure was short-lived

Since his hatred for his brother

Had nowhere to go anymore

When he found you the next day, with your food untouched, and tears stained your cheeks, he felt his heart squeezed with remorse.

He approached you, as if you were a lone figure—whom, he could confess to and repent—at the confessional. He'd recite the Holy Mary prayers for a thousand years, if that's what it takes for him to be forgiven by you.

But when you looked at him, your lips formed a small smile—the same smile that you gave to him back then, before he pried into your privacy.

"Have you eaten?" You asked him, and he almost ripped out his skin, so you'd see the sins that were carved into his bones. "Come, sit with me."

You took a small bread from the basket and carried it close to his hand, before placing the bun into his palm.

And he understood. He understood the utterance one had to say at the God's table, when they received the Holy supper.

When he brought the bread to his lips, he muttered the soundless words he couldn't deliver,

"Lord, I am unworthy."

#A/N: this is a re-upload bc I deleted the original one #cod #call of duty #cod mw2 #konig x reader #könig x reader #könig cod #religious trauma #the algorithm somehow didn't pick this up. maybe it's bc I posted it in the reblog? idk

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hyperfixat · 1 year

Text

hai i never posted this on tumblr but simeon enjoyers rejoice a little hurt comfort with my favorite angel!! ~1k words

Diavolo is so foolish, Simeon couldn’t help but think for the nth time as he watches you flinch away from the demons passing you in the grand hallways of RAD. Humans are fragile. You’re bound to get hurt with all those vile creatures around, no matter the trust he places in Lucifer to keep you safe.

You’re a lamb to slaughter, a poor, helpless thing, waiting to be snatched up.

He can’t let you get hurt, so he takes to becoming your guardian. Mammon does an alright job protecting you, but a little divine intervention never hurts, no?

Making sure to place little blessings on you here or there, encouraging Luke to do so as well. Finding excuses to hang out with you, it’s a safety measure.

Blessings turned into wards, wards strong enough to make lesser demons burn at your mere touch. You, sweet thing, none the wiser; never the wiser.

Simeon turned to his days of study in the Celestial Realm, trying ever so hard to remember stronger and stronger wards and enchantments for you. Silly human, you need to stay safe. What these demons would do to you if given the chance… his heart aches for you.

Solomon, an ever diligent housemate — is hardly human at this point, really, was it even fair for him to be one of the only two human reps? — is helpful, he has his fair share of old spell books and ancient scrolls.

Simeon spends sleepless nights working on making the perfect protection spell for you. One that would ward any demon away, any foul human, only angels and those pure of heart should even be able to be in your presence.

Perhaps his gentle intentions have picked up an intensity he hadn’t foreseen, maybe his urge to protect you has turned into a need. But truly it was your fault. A clumsy creature, one that is hopelessly defenseless, in the den of darkness.

Angels don’t get angry, Simeon can’t remember a time he’s ever felt anger. Intense sadness, sure he’d mourned Lucifer’s fall; the brothers’ fall. But never anger, not until today.

How could such monsters hold such bitterness inside, that makes them prey on pretty things like you? It makes him sick.

Your pretty skin marred with tiny nicks and bruises from the rough way the demons handled you, tear stains on your cheeks, making your eyes glimmer in more than just sadness. Seeing you in pain hurt. Poor human….

Divine power flows through his body, disintegrating the scum that dare lay a hand on you. The wards on you, you sprawled out on the altar, tainted by dark magic, should have held. Your attackers must have been planning this for a while, whatever evil ritual they had been planning, oh, his heart.

Surely demons, middle classed demons, should know better, know an angel’s claim when they see one. Lost souls need to repent.

They burn into nothingness, bodies going into the beyond and souls going to the place where they’ll get what they deserve.

How could he neglect you, dear one. Simeon bundles you into his arms, his white robes staining with dirt and blood marks. Nothing a good run through the washing machine can’t fix.

“Oh, MC,” Simeon coos down at you in empathy. “Poor dear, let me get you home.”

You sniffle pathetically in his arms, clinging to the warmth that radiates from him. His heart is pounding hard, an emotion he’s never felt before filling him as he takes in the ashes around the two of you.

Sinners.

Your eyes are hazy and he knows you’re probably not quite in the moment with him. For the best, probably, for this torture to not be etched into your memories.

With a kiss on your head he opens a door, an angelic gateway, to Purgatory Hall. Solomon jumps to his feet, startled off of the couch, approaching the two of you, taking in your ragdolled figure in Simeon’s arms.

“What happened?”

“Demons,” Simeon hisses the vile word. “I should have insisted they not leave without me finishing my spell.” Bitter words leave his mouth quickly. He huffs heavily. “My heart….”

Solomon follows Simeon quietly to his room, watching him place you tenderly on his mattress. Simeon tears the zipper of your jacket in his haste to remove it.

“Shoot,” he murmurs. He opens the front of your jacket, winces at the cuts littering your chest. Large hands on your fragile chest, warm magic leaking into you, stitching your skin back together. Healing magic taxes him, but Simeon has to heal you. His heart can’t stand seeing you all messed.

“Solomon, you’ll help me with this blessing, right?”

“Sure, what do you need me to do?”

You wake up feeling so warm, tucked into soft, fluffy clouds. A content sigh leaves you and you turn your face into your pillow. Where had you fallen asleep…? When for that matter?

The last thing you remember, gosh, the last thing you remember was walking home from RAD. That’s it. When did you get home?

A yawn escapes you as you push up, blinking around — was this Simeon’s room? Bleary eyes take a couple of hard blinks to clear. Next to you the covers shift and, oh!

Simeon stirs from sleep with a soft smile, “you ‘wake?”

“When ‘id I get here?” You question, words thick with sleep.

“Oh,” Simeon is much more awake now, sitting up next to you. “You don’t remember?” Sadness weaves into his voice.

“Did something happen?”

“You were hurt. I found you, being used as a sacrificial lamb, poor dear.” Simeon cups your face with his bare hands. Leaning his forehead onto your own as he finishes.

“Sacrifice? What?” You furrow your brow, mind racing to fill in the gap of time missing from your mind. The beginnings of fear trickled into your mind.

“Mean, mean demons. I’ll keep you safe, heart..” Simeon vows, pulling you into the safety of his arms. You don’t fight as he holds you tight in his embrace.

You know he means it, he’s been nothing but kindness incarnate. Simeon would keep you nice and sound as long as you’re by his side. And with that you melt into him.

#verified hyperfixat post #obey me #obey me simeon #simeon x reader #om! simeon #simeon x mc #obey me simeon x reader #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me side characters #ao3 repost

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sunshinemoonsposts · 10 months

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Wedding in Greece !

Thank you for the support!♥️, hope u like this one as well. Do like and repost ,if u find it nice!

Word count- 1157.

In the beautiful island of Santorini, Greece, the sun painted the sky with hues of pink and orange as the beautiful destination wedding of Harry Styles and Y/N unfolded. . It was a dream come true for the couple, who had grown up together, weathered life's storms, and finally found their way back to each other, ready to embark on a new chapter as husband and wife. The iconic white-washed buildings perched on the cliffs providing a stunning backdrop for their special day.

As the intimate gathering of family and close friends gathered at a luxurious villa overlooking the sea, anticipation filled the air. The guests found their seats,they were greeted with the fragrance of blooming bougainvillea and the soft melody of harp music floating through the air. The atmosphere was filled with anticipation and love, as everyone eagerly awaited the moment when Harry and Y/N would exchange their vows.

Y/N looked resplendent in a timeless and elegant ivory gown, adorned with delicate lace and intricate embroidery that shimmered in the sunlight.

Her heart pounded with excitement and nerves, but she knew that walking down the aisle towards Harry, her best friend turned soulmate, was a dream come true.

Meanwhile, Harry looked every bit the dashing groom in a tailored black tuxedo, a simple white rose boutonniere adding a touch of sophistication. As he stood at the altar, his heart beat with excitement and nerves, knowing that he was about to marry the love of his life.

The gentle strumming of a guitar signaled the start of the ceremony, and Y/N took a deep breath before taking her first step. She emerged from behind the arch, her eyes locked with Harry's.

As she walked towards him, the memories of their journey together flashed before her eyes - the laughter, the shared dreams, the unwavering support - all leading to this moment where their love would be forever sealed.

Harry's heart swelled with emotion as he watched Y/N approach him. Her smile was pure and infectious, just like the day they had met as children. It was a smile that had brightened his life through every challenge they faced together.

Finally reaching the altar, Y/N's father lovingly placed her hand in Harry's. The couple exchanged a tender look, their eyes reflecting the love and excitement that they felt for one another.

The ceremony began the atmosphere was charged with emotion. The soft sound of waves crashing against the cliff below created a soothing backdrop as Harry and Y/N exchanged heartfelt vows, promising to cherish and support each other through all of life's joys and challenges.

"I promise to stand by your side through the highs and the lows," Harry vowed, his voice filled with sincerity. "To love you unconditionally, to cherish every moment with you, and to be your partner in every adventure life brings , and to make you laugh every day for the rest of our lives."

Y/N's voice trembled with emotion as she looked into his eyes. "You have been my best friend, my rock, and my constant source of love and support since we were kids. Today, I stand here in front of our loved ones, promising to love you with all my heart, for all the days of my life. I promise to be your constant, your biggest fan, and your home. I promise to love you fiercely and to hold your hand through every twist and turn. I am forever yours, Harry."

As the officiant declared them husband and wife,The newlyweds shared a passionate kiss, sealing their vows with a moment of pure love.

The audience erupted into applause and cheers, the joyous celebration of love echoing across the island.

As the newlyweds and their guests moved to the reception venue, the festivities truly began. The setting was nothing short of magical, with long tables adorned with olive branches, flickering candles, and floral arrangements in soft hues of pink and white. The warm Mediterranean breeze carried the scent of delicious Greek cuisine, tantalizing the senses.

Beautifully decorated reception area overlooking the sea.

Underneath a canopy adorned with fairy lights and flowers, Harry and Y/N shared their first dance. The world seemed to fade away as they swayed to the music, wrapped in each other's arms. It was a dance that spoke volumes of the love they shared, a love that had grown from childhood friendship into an unbreakable bond.

The evening was filled with laughter, music, and dancing.

Harry took to the stage with his bandmates, performing a heartfelt song he had written for Y/N, leaving not a single dry eye in the audience. It was a moment of pure magic, a testament to their deep and abiding love for each other.

Throughout the night, heartfelt toasts were made, memories were shared, and laughter filled the air. Friends from their childhood, family members, and fellow musicians all raised a glass to the couple, celebrating the love that had brought them together and the journey that lay ahead.

Amidst the festivities, Harry and Y/N stole precious moments together, retreating to the terrace to gaze at the star-filled sky. They reflected on their journey, grateful for every twist and turn that had led them to this beautiful moment.

"We did it," Y/N whispered, her head resting on Harry's shoulder.

He chuckled softly, his arms wrapped protectively around her. "We did, my love. And I couldn't have asked for a better partner to share this journey with."

"It's been quite a journey, hasn't it?" Y/N said, her voice filled with contentment.

Harry smiled, pulling her close. "It truly has, but every moment led us here. To this day, to this place, to this love."

In that moment, they both knew that they were meant to be. Their love was a force of nature, enduring and ever-growing, just like the ocean that stretched out before them.

And there, under the starlit sky, they danced to a melody that only they could hear, a dance of two souls entwined in love, a love that had stood the test of time and would continue to grow and flourish for all the years to come.

As the night drew to a close, the couple said their farewells to their loved ones, feeling the overwhelming warmth of the love and support that surrounded them. With the promise of a lifetime of love and happiness ahead, Harry and Y/N set off on a new adventure, hand in hand, hearts entwined, and a love that would last a lifetime.

In the end, it wasn't just a wedding in Greece; it was the celebration of a love that had spanned a lifetime, a love that had been there from the beginning and would be there until the end. Harry Styles and Y/N had found their forever in each other, and in that moment, they knew that the rest of their lives would be an extraordinary journey of love and happiness, hand in hand, heart in heart, forevermore.

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bupia · 11 months

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Eternal - Terzo x Fem!Reader

Summary: The things in your life were not going as you wanted to. You found yourself overwhelmed by a sense of hopelessness, immersed in a state of despair and uncertainty, you decided to give prayer a chance, entirely unaware of what life had prepared for you.

Words: 3.723

Warnings: SMUT (fingering; unprotected sex; dirty talk) | Italian swearing | Swearing | This is a fluff that escalates to smut!

You left your house with a resolve in your heart, determined to find solace within the embrace of a sacred space. Your eyes scanned the surroundings, searching for the first church, chapel, or any place that resonated with a sense of holiness. Spotting a church in the distance, you hastened towards its entrance, double-checking that no one else was around. Privacy was essential for the vulnerability of your prayers.

You approached the open front door of the church, and carefully ventured inside, ensuring the coast was clear. With a sense of liberation, you decided to do whatever you needed to do. Instead of venturing too close to the altar, you opted for one of the back benches, where you knelt down and brought your hands together in a heartfelt prayer. The quiet sanctuary enveloped you, allowing you to find solace and seek guidance in this sacred moment.

As you closed your eyes and whispered your heartfelt plea, a soft voice interrupted the silence from behind you. Startled, you turned around to find a man standing there, his eyes filled with warmth.

"Praying to God, bambina?" his words, lingered in the air.

A wave of emotions washed over you, leaving you feeling a mixture of surprise, relief, and a hint of vulnerability. The unexpected presence of someone in the church caught you off guard, as you had taken precautions to ensure the space was empty before entering.

You took a moment to collect yourself, "In my own way, I suppose. I just needed some guidance, some light." Your voice steadying as you replied.

He reached out, extending one of his gloved hands towards you. You eagerly grabbed hold of it, rising up from your kneeling position. The touch of his hand was gentle and reassuring, offering a sense of comfort and support in that moment.

"Sometimes, bambina, the answers we seek are closer than we think," he said softly, his voice carrying a hint of wisdom. "Perhaps, in finding each other, we've found a source of light." He brought your hand close to his lips, pressing a kiss on the back of it. "The mass is almost ready to begin, don't you want to stay?"

"I appreciate the offer," you began, leaving his hand, "but I'm not the religious type. I believe that answers can be found in various ways, even outside the walls of this church."

He nodded understandingly, you gave him a gentle smile and made your way to the front door of the church. However, before you could make your way towards the exit, he reached out and gently grasped your arm, his touch urging you to stay.

"Could you at least wait outside for me?" he asked earnestly. "There's something I'd like to share with you, something that might offer a different perspective. It won't take long."

Although you never saw this man before, he had a charm that were really persuasive. You wanted to tell him "no" but at the same time, you wanted to stay and wait for him. And that was what you did, with a soft smile, you nodded in agreement.

Little did you know, that in making the decision to wait for him outside the church, you would make a change in your life. After all, life, it seemed, had a way of proving us wrong when we least expected it. When the church doors swung open, you caught a glimpse of him stepping out, his eyes searching for you. And there it was—the most radiant smile you had ever seen.

You still remember the talk you two had on that day. Thee memory of your conversation with him flooded back, leaving a lasting imprint on your heart. His undivided attention, the way he listened intently to every word you spoke, made you feel seen and understood in a way you had never experienced before. When he came with the revelation that he was the leader of the mass, a sense of shock washed over you. He didn't fit the stereotypical image of a church leader, and the realization that he held such a position in a Satanic context left you momentarily trembling. Despite the initial surprise, you couldn't deny the magnetism he exuded, the way he made you feel seen and valued, and from that day forward, you found yourself attending the Sunday masses regularly.

Falling in love with him came effortlessly, as natural as the rhythm of your own breath. The depth of your connection grew with each passing week, fueled by shared experiences and profound conversations. There was an undeniable chemistry between you two, but as your heart grew more entangled in the web of love, a lingering question remained: Did him feel the same way?

Then, on a day that felt like any other, something shifted. As the final chords of the mass reverberated, the congregation began to disperse, leaving you and him standing face to face, he stepped forward, and his lips met yours in a gentle, passionate kiss. And at that moment, doubts and fears dissipated.

Honestly, Love was a word and a feeling that had forever eluded your complete understanding. Countless songs, quotes, books, movies, and TV shows tried to capture its essence, but it remained elusive, slipping through your fingers like an ethereal mist. However, the concept of an unbreakable bond between two individuals, as described by Madame de Stäel in her book, Corinne, or Italy: "Love is the emblem of eternity; it confounds all notion of time; effaces all memory of a beginning, all fear of an end." Though it seemed fantastical, you couldn't help but be drawn to the idea, wondering if such an all-encompassing love truly existed.

It wasn't that you didn't believe in love. Of course, you did. But the idea of a love that transcended time, that existed beyond the limitations of mortal existence, was something you doubted. The kind of love that could make time slip away, erase the memory of how it all began, and alleviate the fear of its eventual conclusion seemed like a mere fantasy.

As you spent more and more time with him, your comprehension of love expanded and deepened, it transcended the limits of mere existence, creating a bond that defied the conventional boundaries of time and space. You began to comprehend the true nature of love and its ability to surpass the constraints of time and mortality. The realization crashed over you like a tidal wave, you couldn't help but feel a profound sense of foolishness for ever doubting the existence of such an extraordinary love, the kind that only the most passionate souls could fathom.

The sheer depth of your disbelief, once an unyielding conviction, now appeared like a relic of a bygone era. It felt as if a veil had been lifted, exposing a whole new realm of emotions and connections that were previously unimaginable. The intensity of your bond with him shattered all preconceived notions, leaving no space for doubt or skepticism to linger.

Love swept you both off your feet, and in no time, you found yourselves deeply in love, inseparable from one another. It didn't take long for you to make the leap and move in together, creating a cozy and shared space where your love could flourish.

Now, as you nestled together on the bed, the comforting warmth of Terzo's presence enveloped you like a cozy blanket on a chilly morning. His arm held you close, radiating a comforting heat that made you feel safe and loved to the core. Turning your body to face him, you rested your forehead gently against his collarbone, closing your eyes, taking a deep breath, inhaling deeply, savoring the comforting scent that enveloped you—a unique blend of warmth, comfort, and love. You enveloped him, wrapping your arms around him with a firm and loving hold, letting out a sigh.

A gentle chuckle slipped from Terzo's lips, coaxing your eyes open. "Are you already awake, cara?" he murmured, his eyes fluttering open lazily.

A tender smile graced your lips as you noticed the slight huskiness in his voice. "Yes, but it's too early. You can go back to sleep."

He shook his head, a playful glint in his eyes. "And miss these precious moments with you before I have to leave? No, grazie, amore mio."

"Are you sure? I don't want to disrupt your rest," you started, but he interrupted you, gently planting a sweet kiss on your lips, leaving you momentarily breathless.

You couldn't help but giggle as Terzo playfully showered you with kisses, his lips trailing a path of affection across your face. "I don't usually enjoy waking up early, but for you, I'm more than willing to make an exception, cara." His hand, delicately, caressed your back pulling you closer to him, pressing your bodies closer. "And I wouldn't miss these precious early hours with you for anything in the world," he whispered, biting his lower lip.

He held your chin, tilting your head in his direction. Terzo's lips met yours in a passionate kiss, igniting a fervor that consumed you both. His lips danced upon yours, exploring every curve and contour with an intoxicating hunger, leaving nips on your lips. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. Your mouths moved in perfect harmony, a synchronized dance of desire and longing. Lips parted, allowing tongues to intertwine in a passionate embrace. His hands roamed over your body, caressing your skin with feather-light touches.

He pulled back, taking a moment to admire the vision before him. Your eyes were closed, a slight smile playing at the corners of your mouth. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your breathing shallow.

"Sembri così bellissima in questo momento." He whispered against your lips, kissing them softly. He cupped your face in his hand, "ti amo, cara." His word sent shivers down your spine, causing goose bumps to appear in your body.

"I love... you too," you replied breathlessly.

His hand found its way from your back to your breast, kneading it through the thin material of your nightie. A gasp escaped your lips as he brushed his thumb over your nipple, hearing his mischievous giggle. His hand slid to your waist, reaching for your thighs, pulling your leg to rest on his waist, pressing you tightly against him. Your body arched into him as he pulled you closer, pressing his hardness against your core.

His lips collided again on yours, sliding his tongue between your lips, tasting the sweetness of your mouth. You moaned softly into his mouth as he sucked your tongue inside, licking it slowly, teasingly. His hand slid up under your nightie, pulling it higher, exposing your breasts to to the cool air. He lowered his head, taking one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking gently, flicking his tongue across it. Your hips began to grind against him, grinding yourself against him.

His hand slid down your body, slipping beneath the fabric of your panties, caressing your wetness. "You're so wet for me..." Terzo's fingers explored your delicate folds, "I want you so bad..." he whispered in a voice filled with longing.

A soft whimper escaped your lips as he skillfully teased you, his fingers delicately tracing circles around your sensitive clit. The sensations overwhelmed you, causing your hips to instinctively grind against his hand, seeking more of the exquisite pleasure he offered. With a gentle glide, his fingers slipped inside you, effortlessly navigating your tight and wet depths.

His fingers moved in and out of you, pumping in and out of you, faster and faster. Your hips keep rocking against his hand, while you gasped as they plugged deeper into you, filling you completely. He thrust his fingers inside and out of you, matching the rhythm of your hips. As he felt your body begin to convulse, tightening around his fingers, he continues to pump them inside of you. Your moans grew louder, and your body tightened even more around his fingers.

"Please," you begged, "please take me... I need you inside me..."

He leaned forward kissing you passionately, moving in and out of you, keeping you on the edge. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the climax, your body shaking uncontrollably. He slowed his pace, wanting to make it last longer. Your body shook hard as he pulled out his fingers from inside of you, bringing then to his mouth, sucking them clean.

He let out a grunt, "you feel so good." He took a deep breath, closing his eyes, biting down on his lips,"tastes so good." He opened his eyes again with a look of pure ecstasy.

He rolled over onto his back, pulling you with him. "I want you to ride me, mia cara. I want to see you fucking yourself on my cock." He said, looking at you with an almost evil smile.

You returned his smile, positioning yourself in anticipation. Your hands instinctively found their way to the waistband of his sweatpants, deftly pulling them down to his knees. As the fabric slid away, his throbbing member was unveiled. The sight made your heart skip a beat, of course you were already used to the view, but his thickness always looked like it would split you in two. You moved your hand up and down the shaft, feeling the heat emanating from it. You ran your tongue across your bottom lip, as you sat up, rubbing your wetness on his length, teasing him, moaning softly.

He grabbed your hips tightly, "are you going to tease me now?" he asked, his voice sounding like gravel.

"No," you replied. "I'm going to fuck you." You positioned yourself above his hardness, placing the tip of his member against your entrance, gently pushing against it, trying to get it into you.

He groaned loudly, "slowly," he instructed.

You felt it slide in just slightly, making you moan loudly. You push harder, leaving your walls stretching around him, as you felt him enter you. You tried to push yourself onto him, but he held you in the place.

"Don't move." He commanded. You nodded looking into his eyes.

He started thrusting himself into you, making sure that every inch of his length was inside of you. You closed your eyes enjoying the feeling of being filled completely, tightening around him. He began to pick up speed, your legs shaking under you. He reached and grab both of your breasts, squeezing them softly.

"Terz-Oh!" You screamed out. "So good! Fuck!"

"You like my cock?" he asked, his voice low.

A wordless affirmation escaped your lips as you nodded, your mouth slightly agape in a silent moan.

His movements intensified, slamming into you with an increased force. "Then, tell me how much you love my cock, cara," he urged.

His thrusts continued with a fervent rhythm, hitting that perfect spot inside you that ignited waves of pleasure. In a swift motion, he sat up on the bed, his grip on your hair becoming firmer as he pulled your head back, exposing the delicate curve of your neck. A surge of primal desire consumed him as he sank his teeth into your exposed flesh.

In the heat of the moment, pleasure coursing through your veins, you couldn't help but cry out in ecstasy. "I love your cock. It feels so good!"

He released his grip on your hair, his hand gently settling on your back, providing a sense of support and stability. "Brava ragazza! Cazzo! You're still so tight," he exclaimed, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and desire.

Sensing the need for restraint, he slowed his pace, his hand tenderly cupping your face. "You're not allowed to come just yet," he whispered, a teasing edge in his voice. "You must wait until I give you permission."

You nodded in agreement, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you both caught your breath. You started to move your hips, up and down on his length, feeling it slide in and out of you. He was still holding you on your back, you could feel with each move him getting harder inside of you. He didn't say anything, he kept looking into your eyes, watching you.

He pulled you off for a second, with a devilish smile on his lips. "Forgot how to talk, mia cara? You know I work with words."

You shake your head breathless. "Y- Yes!" you stammer, "your cock feels amazing inside of me."

"Does it, amore?" he pushed you down onto it again.

Your arched your back at the feeling of him moving inside of you, you could feel yourself getting wetter, you felt him start to push himself deeper inside of you, making you gasp. You could feel him going deeper and deeper inside of you.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes!" you moaned, biting your lip. "I'm so close, please don't stop!" You begged, grinding your hips in the same rhythm of his thrusts inside of you.

The more he thrust, the tighter your walls got around him. You were getting close to cumming. You could feel your juices flowing from within you to his member. It was almost too much, you were going to come any second now.

With a gentle motion, he withdrew from you, shifting his position to lie you down on the bed, your back resting against the soft sheets. Your legs automatically squeezed together, trembling, making you arch your back. The anticipation built as he positioned himself between your legs, spreading them apart with care and intention, creating a space for him to reenter you.

"Tell me what you want." He said running his hands on your inner thighs, causing you to shiver by his touch.

"I want to cum, Terzo. Please, make me cum, let me cum."

You rolled your eyes as he guided his shaft back into you, his grip on your waist tightened, establishing a firm connection. The rhythm of his thrusts quickened, filling you with an intensifying wave of pleasure. With each movement, he gazed down at you, a smile of satisfaction and desire playing on his lips.

Your legs wrapped around his body, pulling him closer. "You like that?" A deep growl escaped his lips as he maintained the pace, his eyes fixed on you with a mix of desire and admiration. "You look absolutely beautiful when I fuck you, cara," he murmured in a voice laced with passion.

You nod frantically, unable to speak. He starts to move faster, harder. His face contorts, his eyes closed. He leaned in closer, his lips finding one of your sensitive nipples, playfully biting down, causing a delightful mixture of pleasure and a gasp to escape your lips. Your hands instinctively grasped the pillow behind your head, holding on as his teeth found their way to your other nipple, sending waves of ecstasy coursing through your body. The sensation made you squirm, a delightful blend of pleasure and desire enveloping you in an intoxicating embrace.

"Sì, cara, sì. Scream for me!" he whispered close to your ear. "Per l'amor di Satana, you feel so good."

His lips found yours, kissing you deeply. His tongue entered your mouth, dancing with yours. Your hands found their way to his chest, caressing his skin. He moaned, breaking away from your kiss. He kissed down your neck, moaning close to your ear.

"Cara, I'm going to cum soon," he whispered on your ear. "Cum for me, cum on my cock." One of his hands left your waist going to your clit, rubbing if fast.

You nod, your eyes glazed over with lust. You can feel his body tensing up, he's getting close. Your legs shaking with his touch, stimulating your clit on the same rhythm he pounds inside of you. You bite your lip, your breathing becoming shallow. You can feel your orgasm building up inside of you, biting your lips, you let your walls contracting hard around his shaft.

"Oh yes, please, please," you whispered, trying to hold back your climax.

"I love when you beg for me, mia cara." He whispered, sucking your earlobe, his hand still rubbing your clit. "Cum for me, cum for me now!" He commands, his voice growing louder.

You cry out, your body convulsing as he continued to rub your clit, making sure you lose control. You feel your orgasm rush over you, your muscles twitching around his length. He grunts, straightening up. His movements becoming erratic, letting your name escape his lips, he pulls out of you, his shaft covered in your juice. He starts to stroke his hardness fast, moaning loudly.

"I'm going to cum, amore, cazzo!" His voice, hoarse with desire, reverberated through the room as he reached his climax, releasing himself onto your belly. The echoes of his passionate moans filled the air.

Terzo fell onto you, his body pressing against yours. As his weight settled upon you, your hands instinctively found their way to his hair, fingers tangling within the locks. You held him close, weaving through his hair, the touch acted as a soothing caress, a tender gesture of affection that reflected the depth of your connection. As you caught your breath, the weight of Terzo's body against yours offered a comforting presence. The rise and fall of his chest matched your own.

As you gazed into each other's eyes, a knowing smile formed on your lips. He reached for the nearby sheets, pulling them over both of your bodies. Terzo's body gently rolled to the side, his arm encircling your waist, drawing you closer to him.

You nestled into the curve of his body, finding solace in his embrace. "I guess we can go back to sleep a little bit more before you have to go." You whispered.

His touch grew tender as he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his voice laced with affection. "Sì, I guess you're right," he murmured. "Ti amo..." he whispered, closing his eyes.

With a smile on your lips, you nuzzled your face against his chest. "I love you too..." You closed your eyes, surrendering to the serenity of the moment. The gentle rise and fall of his chest against your head, lulled you into a state of peacefulness. With this moment of tenderness and love, you both surrendered to the sweet embrace of sleep.

Grammar ⸻

Bambina - Girl Cara - Dear No, grazie, amore mio - No, thank you, my love Sembri così bellissima in questo momento - You look so beautiful right now Ti amo - I love you Brava ragazza - Good girl Cazzo - Fuck Sì, cara, sì - Yes, dear, yes Per l'amor di Santana - For the love of Satan

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that-cunning-witch · 10 months

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this is probably a very dumb question so im sorry in advance: but for praying to the Gods, is making khernip & the barley stuff absolutely necessary? is it vital? istg ill do more research but right now im just very confused haha

Here's the interesting thing: khernips and its use in modern Hellenic Polytheism isn't entirely "correct" (I don't like using this term in this context but I cannot for the life of me think of a better term atm).

Fel the Blithe explains this very well in their Purification & Cleanliness video, but I'll give the general gist here.

Khernips/lustral water was indeed a thing, just not how we view it. We tend to think of it as either burning something and extinguishing it in clean water while saying a prayer, or alternatively gathering sea water or making salt ("sea") water by adding salt to clean water. But the reality is that historians and archaeologists can't come to an agreement due to insufficient evidence as to what this water was for absolute certainty.

One source talks about khernips as we know it but even then the passage itself is iffy. Greek Religion by Walter Burkhert is viewed as a generally good source by most in the helpol community. I haven't fully read it yet so I cannot give my own opinion on it. But, here is what he had to say about lustral water:

"There is no consecration of the water, but often it must be drawn from a particular source... Occasionally, the water must be fetched from further afield, from an ever-flowing spring or from the always powerful sea... The purifying power of fire is joined to the power of water when a log is taken from the altar fire dipped in water and used to sprinkle the sanctuary, altar and participants."

Is this universal? Is this just from one city or temple? Was this the norm or only for a specific ritual or festival? Who knows!

So, what does this mean today? This doesn't negate khernips as we know it as invalid. After all, it is technically historical. However, we can't say for certain that it was the common person's method of cleansing before prayer, ritual, offering, etc. all across Ancient Greece.

Another method of cleansing one's self via water is spring water or water from a flowing river. In Ancient Greece, it was expected of one to cleanse, pray, and give an offering to the god presiding over the river that the person is about to cross. And they cleansed themselves with the water from the river.

Keep in mind that times were different. The concept of clean water was very different to us now. In today's time, clean water is a given and typically easily accessible (there are, of course, exceptions, but in comparison to hundreds of years ago, it's safe to make this general statement).

All of this to say, taking a shower, washing your hands in tap water, or splashing your face with it can be and is just as cleansing as khernips/lustral water because technically it is lustral water. If we're defining lustral water as clean water, then yeah, tap water from the sink or filtered water from a water dispenser is absolutely lustral and therefore spiritually cleansing!

But as for its use, cleansing yourself is typically a requirement before approaching the gods. Of course, there are exceptions, both modern and historical. There are plenty of mythos that show someone in desperate times praying without doing the proper ritual of the time (cleansing, offering, etc.). But overall, it is considered vital to be clean before the gods.

However, I don't really know what you're referring to when you say "barley stuff". Are you talking about Zeos Ktesios and the corresponding vase/container?

TLDR: "is making khernips absolutely neccessary?" is kind of two questions: is khernips itself necessary and is making a cleansing water to cleanse with before approaching the gods necessary. No to the first, yes to the second. But "making" a cleansing water is as easy as collecting tap water or filtered water. Whenever I'm about to approach the gods, I cleanse my hands with water (just water usually) before putting some of the water on my face as well. Hope this helped, anon!

#ask #anon #helpol #hellenic polytheism #hellenic polytheist #hellenic paganism #pagan #paganblr #witch #witchcraft #magic #witchblr #khernips #lustral water

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wackapedia · 11 months

Text

A Space For Two

Osferth x Westerosi!Reader Plot: no plot just vibes Y/n wakes up in a strange place and meets Osferth Warnings: mentions of Harrenhal fire and vague descriptions of Osferth’s death, an attempt at deep conversations. Wordcount: 1,563

The last thing you remembered was Harrenhal. A busy day was spent preparing the house for Ser Lyonel and his son as they returned to their family seat. There were rumours about a dishonorable dismissal by the king; you weren't sure about them as you'd only heard the gossip in passing. Much running around was involved that day as you had to dust the tapestries, make the beds, light the fireplace in the quarters, make sure there was wine in the master's chamber, and manage to be in the courtyard by the time the entourage arrived. The second your head hit your straw pillow, you were out like a light. Exhaustion caught up, and sleep took over. And then there was some commotion, a strong, foul odor, and then it all stopped when you woke up.

You were standing in the middle of an impossibly green hill. There was nothing else around you except your immediate surroundings, consisting of that green hill and a small wooden building with a tower attached to it. It was as bright as daytime, but you couldn't tell the time because you couldn't locate the sun. The field was wide, but somehow it felt cramped because the sky and everything that wasn't the land or the chapel were all just white. As if this little patch of earth were swathed in a gentle sheet like a newborn babe. The place shouldn't feel right. There were no other sounds except for your breathing. No wind, no birds; the evergreen grass didn't even rustle. It didn't make any sense at all, but somehow there's peace in your heart. You stood still, watching and waiting for any other movement, until you decided to enter the wooden chapel. The door was left slightly ajar. It creaked when you pried it open, and you were surprised to see it was clean. Not a single speck of dust or a blade of grass on the steps. You feared you were alone. There were wood sculptures on the altar. They seem to be gods that you didn't recognize. A nailed man, a sorrowful woman, and another man bearing a book. There were also silverware and various tomes there, and you didn't recognize any of them. Fear was starting to gnaw at your insides, and the sharp noise of a blood rush made your breathing quicken. Light footsteps resound in the hollow room. You turn to see someone enter from the doors behind you. Peace washes over you like a cold bath on a warm summer's day when his face comes into focus. "Lady?" A man clothed in what seems to be a septon's robes approaches. His eyes were kind. Something tells you he's the reason you're here. And with that thought, you smile. Recognition seems to click as Osferth smiles as well. He's not sure why, but he feels in his heart that he knows you. Maybe from his life before he came here. She introduces herself, just stating her name, and immediately Osferth understands. "I am Osferth." His name is all too familiar. "I know." ------------------------ "Where are we, Osferth?" You ask, leisurely walking down the hill, feeling the cool grass on your feet. Your hands are warm and comfortable in his much larger ones. "I don't know, Purgatory, perhaps." He answers lowly. Hmm, that doesn't sound familiar to you. "How far is that from Harrenhal?" Osferth laughs, amused at your naivety about his faith. You continued walking for what felt like hours in a direction away from the chapel on the hill. For some reason, the distance between where you stood and the chapel remains the same. There is a kind of divination involved in this realm, but you sense that it isn't malevolent. Osferth gasps beside you. He looks at the plain white atmosphere, which is turning darker. It must be nighttime now. "What's going on?" You interrogate. "The sun seems to be setting.." He continues to marvel at the sky, which is quickly dimming. "Where even is the sun?" You chuckle, marveling at his innocent amazement. "It has always been bright as day since I came here. This is the first sunset I've seen since." Oh. No wonder he's so amazed. There is a silver glow that doesn't seem to come from a specific place, but it imitates a moonlight glow, casting a beautiful glow on Osferth. Nighttime happens for the first time in this realm, and it happened on the day you arrived here. Your presence fit like a puzzle piece, like a final ingredient to a dish. "How long have you been here, Osferth?" You were lying on the grass, snuggled next to him. He couldn't seem to tear his eyes from the makeshift night sky of this realm. "Couldn't tell," He shrugs. "What do you do all day?" You pick on your nails while his arm crosses over yours. "I pray, I take a walk, and I sleep." He laughs at the absurdity of it all. "I'm sure you've noticed, but we never get hungry here!" You laugh along with him. You've certainly noticed. You tried to think of a dish from home that you would miss, but nothing came to mind. You must've fallen asleep at some point because Osferth gently wakes you, telling you that it's already sunrise. The white light came the same way it went out, and you still couldn't tell where it came from. ------------ "Do you believe your god is here?" You ask. It was later in the day, you found him sitting on the frontmost pew of the chapel. "He's everywhere." Osferth answers solemnly. "Are you talking about the nailed god?" You nod your head to the carved figure on the altar. Osferth shouldn't find it funny, but he laughs anyway. "Which faith do you follow?" He asks after making a gesture with his hand on his forehead and so forth. His question gives you pause. "There are several faiths where I'm from. There are the Seven, The old gods, but I think the Red god is the most powerful one." Osferth looks puzzled. He was expecting something familiar, like the faith of the Danes, but he is clueless. ----------- "What do you remember? From your life before here..." He asks you during the second sunset. You were both sitting on the topmost floor of the chapel's tower, furs and linen surrounding you. You tell him of your life in Harrenhal, the gossip of Ser Harwin's liaison with the princess Rhaenyra, how her dragon would fly over your Riverrun, and you wonder how flying would feel like. Osferth is amazed by your tale. "How about you? Do you remember?" You were careful in wording your question, not wanting to insinuate that this was some sort of life after death. You wanted to view it as an extension, a do-over, of the tragedy that you were still trying to understand. He was quiet for a while, and you felt his body stiffen next to you. "I remember being really scared..." He answers solemnly. "I was holding on to a friend, perhaps a brother, and then nothing, and then here." He speaks slowly, trying to piece back his memories. ----------------- Most nights, you slept in the tower. You found that Osferth's warm little cot was your favorite place on this eternal chapel hill. One day, when Osferth was in his morning prayers, you snooped around the large chest tucked in one corner of the room, just next to the oaken pole vaulting the ceiling. He mentioned that normally, chapels like these hold large bells to signal the townspeople for prayers. You carefully open the heavy trunk, finding it almost empty. Nothing else was inside except for a large sword and a tunic made of heavy chain. The sword seemed too heavy for you, so you opted to pick up the chainmail. You raised it up to the window to see it clearly under the pale daylight. One side of the tunic was pierced, and the area around it was still caked with dried blood. Osferth must've wanted to wash it, but there was no water here. Did this belong to him? Does he still feel the hot, searing pain- And suddenly, it all came back to you. Fire. There was so much fire. Everything was burning; your friends were screaming and violently knocking against the doors, bolted from the outside. There was too much pain, the heat, and the smoke choking your lungs- The memory somehow fizzles away from your head when the chainmail slips from your hands. You look down on the dress you were wearing, the only one you've ever worn since getting here. It was the dress you were wearing that night in the fire. It still smelled a bit like smoke. Osferth climbs up the stairs and sees you with his chainmail. He quietly picks it up and puts it back in the chest. You were expecting him to be mad at you, but a smile was present on his beautiful lips. His hands card through your hair, somehow knowing there are unpleasant memories in your head trying to break free. He must've felt it before when he first came here. He was alone. "Would you like to take a walk? The weather is beautiful today." He gently offers The weather is the exact same every single day. "Yes, please." You told him anyway. --------------------- A/N: They live in a terrarium 🥺 I really don’t have thoughts about this pls let me know what u think and a reblog would be great too! luv u all 💚

#Osferth x reader #osferth the last kingdom #osferth #the last kingdom

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starryrain · 14 days

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blood of the damned

a short story in which a prostitute in victorian england faces her guilt.

The air held a bleak, stagnant dampness that could only be found and felt in the filth-lined streets of London. Mary gritted her teeth, gasping for that damp air, and finally receiving it when the hand around her neck loosened and the man above her stilled, before pulling his trousers up and buckling his belt. With a curse, he wrenched himself off of her.

“Filthy woman,” he spat, and Mary could only raise her eyebrows. The men could call her filthy all they liked, but they kept returning for more. Pulling down her skirts wordlessly, she held out her hand expectantly, gazing at her client through half-lidded eyes. With a roll of his own eyes and a sneer, the rich man dropped three coins in her palm. Three heavy coins. Biting the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from being excited upon receiving three whole pounds, Mary only got to her feet.

“I’m a woman of class, sir,” she said, ignoring his scoff. “Surely you don’t think that three pounds is enough to keep me from telling your wife about your weekly visits?” She asked her question with a honeyed voice and a sweet smile. It worked, like always, and the man, who was now pale faced in worry, dropped another two coins in her hand, before walking away haughtily. Mary let her smile drop, and carefully placed the five pounds in a small sack that she kept on her at all times, and turned away, letting her feet take a familiar path. The money was a large sum for someone like her, but even so, she was considered a ‘higher quality’ prostitute. But that didn’t lessen the sin. Trying to force the force the sweat of countless men off of her by standing in the breeze, Mary felt yet another wave of disgust wash over her. The cross that hung from her neck was warm, burning her for her sin. Who was she, a prostitute, to call herself a woman of faith? Every day, every hour, men bought her, her body, for their own pleasure, and yet she was the one left with a guilt that haunted her constantly. Even her name felt like God shaming her. Mary’s namesake, Mother Mary, the picture of innocence and free of sin, rivalling the defiled, unholy prostitute selling herself on the streets of London. If she were a man, it wouldn’t matter. A man could do whatever he pleased, with no judgement from society. God forbid a woman tries to make her own way in the world. But Mary didn’t feel as if she deserved any of it, none of the money that men handed to her in scorn. It was at times like this, walking to church, that she felt farthest from God. Her body, bruised by the rough hands of her clients. How could God love her then when she was everything that He preached against? Although she knew that He was supposed to love her no matter what, it didn’t feel like it. Otherwise, she would’ve been born into another life, a life of nobles and finery. Not a life of debauchery, filth and burning tears. Either way, it didn’t matter to Mary. She was too far gone now.

The smell of cheap alcohol and sweat protruded from the buildings that she passed by, and she continued walking, her back straightened and her nose upturned. If she wasn’t any better than the people around her, she could at least pretend to be. Ignoring the leers and prying gazes from the men who sat slumped against walls, she walked inside the corridors of the church, her footsteps halting and slowing, as if the hallowed ground itself was urging her to leave. At last, she let her tears fall onto the altar that she approached. Holding her hands over the bright, burning candles to give herself some warmth, she gazed at the ornate knife next to the bowl of offerings. Mary sighed, returning to her thoughts as she sat down, her skirts bunching around her. Dreams of another distorted reality came to her, a world in which she could commit to her faith without the shame, a world in which she didn’t hate the sight of herself, a world in which she didn’t feel a lurch of nausea every time she saw the silhouette of a man. She yearned for that life. She yearned for a life where she sat in the lap of luxury, content. But Mary also knew that even in that life, she wouldn’t be content. She wouldn’t be content in any life; that was her one true sin. Standing up again, Mary placed the five pounds in the bowl of offerings and wrapped her hand around the beautiful hilt of the knife. She could atone for her sins in death, at least.

The blood came swift and surely, and the peace arrived soon after.

tags: @her-midas-touch @daydream-of-a-wallflower @silence-between-seconds @rainsleeper @sadgaychamelion

#writing #writers on tumblr #short story #storytelling #story writing #pretty words #creative writing

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howlingday · 1 year

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Idea for the Arc spirits would it be too much if he could summon everyone from the Arc hall like the ghost army from the lord of the rings.

Worthy Judge History

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Papa Arc: Again!

Jaune: Hah! (Swings sword, Bashes shield)

Papa Arc: Breathe, Jaune! Breathe!

Jaune: (Inhales, Stabs and jabs)

Papa Arc: You're not dancing, you're fighting! Stay grounded!

Jaune: (Panting, Swings slow)

Papa Arc: ARROW!

Jaune: (Turns, Punched in the mouth) MM!

Papa Arc: You okay, Jaune?

Jaune: Mm! (Shakes head, Stands up) Yeah... (Panting) I'll... I'll live.

Papa Arc: Of course you will. This is just training. Once you're out there, it'll more different than these dummies. (Picks up) Thanks again for chopping up the hay. Makes feeding a lot easier.

Jaune: Y-Yeah... No... No problem.

Papa Arc: Alright, that's enough for now. Go on inside and wash up.

Jaune: O... Okay, Dad. (Sheathes his sword, Walks away)

Papa Arc: (Gathering hay, Wind howls) Mm... (Looks up, Sees storm clouds) 'Bout time...

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

Mama Arc: Jaune, could you come here, please?

Jaune: Okay, Mom.

Mama Arc: Jaune, would you like to pray with me tonight?

Jaune: Pray? Like, to the ancestors?

Mama Arc: Yes, dear. Your father and I have never tried to push this on you or your sisters before, and you are free to say no to us now as well.

Jaune: Um, I don't know if I really should. (Scratches head) I mean, I don't want to make you or the spirits angry.

Mama Arc: (Chuckles) It takes a lot to make the spirits angry, especially if you are an Arc communing with the Arc ancestors.

Jaune: Mm... Okay. Uh, when are we praying?

Mama Arc: Very soon, Jaune. Just bring yourself as you are, Jaune.

Jaune: Okay, Mom.

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

Jaune stepped into the Arc Hall, which was dark save for the candlelight at the far end of the long room. The soft scent of very calming lavender wafted around the room. Before the altar, lighting the scented candles, was his mother. Her long, white robe with golden trimmings hung off her slender arm as she held the lighting stick. As he approached, she blew out the flame and set it against the rim of the brazier.

"Jaune, could you fetch me the knife?" His mother asked. Off to the side, a large bladed knife sat beneath one of the candles. Taking the knife in hand, he delivered it to her. "Thank you." With a swift, but controlled swing, she lopped off the end of the lighting stick. The smouldering end fell into the center, and the hall illuminated with a blinding light. Jaune covered his eyes with his arms, letting out a soft grunt at the sudden flash. "Yes, that takes some getting used to. Keep your eyes closed until you've adjusted to the light."

Jaune did as he was told and held his eyes shut. The sting of the flash began to dull as the darkness seemed to soothe his aching eyes. Soon, he felt only the slightest tingle dancing along his lids. He turned away, feeling the heat of the crackling flame to his back, and he slowly opened his eyes. A line of candles greeted his view, the tiny, flickers of fire seemed to vibrate rather than dance as chaotic as their larger brother.

"Are you ready, Jaune?"

"Yes, Mom." He took his place by his mother's side, and echoed her movements until he was on his knees before the smoking altar. Lavender continued to fill his nostrils, calming his nerves. His mother began to pray.

"O ancestors who watch us, hear us."

"Bless us once more with your guidance."

"Bless us once more with your aegis."

"Bless us once more with your kindness."

"This until we join you in the Ever-After."

"Blessings be."

"Uh, b-blessings be." Jaune parroted. He barely attended these rituals of prayer, and was left clueless as what to do. He cracked open an eye to observe his mother, who was still kneeling. She must have been silently giving her prayers to his ancestors.

'Jaune.'

A voice echoed. It was distant, like a whisper in the wind.

'Jaune?' The voice became clearer, but was still distant. They sounded familiar.

'Jaune? Can you hear me?'

Jaune was staring face to face with the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her hair was long, held back in ponytail, and was that of the red leaves in autumn. Her eyes danced with a life well lived, well loved, and gleamed like the grass in the Mistrali springs near Xion in his youth. Save for her bronze tiara and neckguard, replaced with a thin red veil and a red dress, she was as breathtaking as the day he lost her. 'Hello, again.' Hot tears fell from his eyes.

"I-"

'It's okay, Jaune.' She smiled. 'I'm happy, because now I can watch you live the life I never could. Now go. You know where.'

'Never foget: I love you, Jaune.'

'Jaune.'

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

Mama Arc: JAUNE!

Jaune: (Gasps, Panting)

Mama Arc: It's okay, Jaune! Just breathe!

Jaune: (Deep breaths, Looks around) W-What...

Mama Arc: You passed out. I might have used too much lavender. I'm so used to it by now that I sometimes forget to put in a smaller amount.

Jaune: I... I saw Pyrrha...

Mama Arc: Jaune...

Jaune: She... She told me... She said I would know where I need to go.

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

Jaune: I... I guess this is good-bye.

Papa Arc: Pah! More like, "See you next time!" Whenever that is.

Jaune: Yeah. (Hugs him) I'll see you, uh, when I see you, I guess.

Papa Arc: Yup. Love ya, Jaune.

Jaune: Love you, too, Dad.

Mama Arc: (Hugs him) Please, be safe out there, okay?

Jaune: I will, Mom. I love you.

Mama Arc: I love you, too. Do your best.

Jaune: I will, Mom. I'll try to visit longer next time.

Papa Arc: Or shorter, if you want.

Mama Arc: Nicholas!

Jaune: I'll be back. I promise.

Papa Arc: Arc's word?

Jaune: Arc's word. (Leaves)

Papa Arc: ...And you're sure of what he said about that night?

Mama Arc: Yes, I'm certain. What does it mean?

Papa Arc: It means our boy is protected. He's growing into a man, and with the strength of a woman aiding him, who knows how much?

Mama Arc: Is that normal? For someone not an Arc to become a part of the Arc family?

Papa Arc: To be honest, I don't think normal suits Jaune at all.

Jaune: Okay, was it station B or station C? (Watches leaves twirl around boarding post) Hm... Station C it is! (Walks away)

Pyrrha: (Smiling at him)

#rwby #arc hall #papa arc #jaune arc #mama arc #arkos

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