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oohnoniall · 3 years

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The Lantsov Emerald [Kaz Brekker x OC] - Chapter Two (Kaz)

Warnings: cursing

Chapter One

He never made mistakes. Never went into a situation that he wasn't fully aware of. Yet, somehow, he had managed to fuck this up before it had even begun. Inej would never let him hear the end of it should she find out. He didn't plan to have anyone ever find out that he had messed this up.

How in the hell was he supposed to have researched the royal family's voices? He hadn't thought they'd come in any sort of contact with any of them. Everyone knew the youngest son had been shipped out, running from the rumors of being a bastard. Not much was known about the princess beyond her golden hair and the engagement. The engagement that no one thought would work.

It was lucky that Kaz had known that much.

She hadn't seemed upset about his mistake. It would probably not stand out in her mind for long. Or perhaps it would. The second this job was over, she would know exactly who had done it. Well, she would know a false name and a false accent. He had never been an actor, had never thought of it. But he had put on an accent that held no trace of Ketterdam, the city had morphed him all those years ago and hadn't released its hold since.

Well, Pekka hadn't.

He scowled to himself for thinking about any of this. It was not the time nor the place to worry about this. If he worried about nearly getting caught for a split-second delay, he would never get through the rest of the plan.

Kaz schooled his face into neutrality, not quite calm but not quite any other emotion. A perfect mask to wear in order to blend into his surroundings and the people that wanted to be seen. The people who cared nothing for the second army but for the king and his approval.

Saints it was annoying to be around these types of people. They were worse than the lowlife thugs he had made into his weapons. These people knew that their money, their influence allowed them power over people. A power that did not get punished.

He didn't care about them, didn't care that they ruined everything for the people who had not been born into that privilege. His focus was on something else entirely. Making damn sure every rat in the Barrel knew just who he was and just what he was going to do to all of them.

He walked into two men, causing one to spill wine on him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" The one who had spilled his wine yelled at him. His eyes were bloodshot, enough to let Kaz know that he had already helped himself to several cups. Just as he had hoped.

"My apologies," Kaz allowed his face to burn, hating every second when he acted like a fool. "I was just-"

"Just acting a fool." The other stated with a slight smirk.

"You can't be here in that," the first told him with a snarl. "Go down to the laundry and get a fresh uniform." He motioned to a corridor just to the left, which would lead down to the barracks and just where he needed to be.

Kaz nodded quickly, turning on his heel and marching down the corridor as though he were an embarrassed soldier. Besides running into the princess, it seemed as though everything were going according to plan.

Just as it always did.

Kaz Brekker had made a living on making plans, on being one step ahead of everyone and everything. He would not be caught unawares by anything. Not if he could help it. He would have to get smarter while he was in this damned palace. While there were unknown variables.

Normally the unknown did not bother him. But that princess had left him unnerved. What in the hell had she meant when she had said she'd see him on the training field? That didn't sit right with him.

Why would a princess be around a training field? Or guards besides the obvious reasons? Yet, she seemed shocked that she hadn't known him. That could lead to danger. Perhaps he would have to find her again, lie again. Although that also seemed to be a mistake.

Focus, he heard Jordie's voice in his head, in the depths of his very soul. Don't worry about her, worry about the job.

He didn't know if it was what his brother would have actually said. Part of him knew there would have been laughter, teasing. His brother would have been so glad that Kaz had gotten spooked by something, something that was not a magic trick or a mechanical dog. That or he would be told off for thinking about anything other than their business, that daydreaming had gotten them into enough trouble.

Trouble always seemed to follow Kaz Brekker. A dark cloud hanging over an even darker boy.

He shoved his thoughts, his hopes, and his fears as far down as he possibly could. Past the knots in his stomach and the thought that they wouldn't get away with this. That they would never get away with this. He shoved that down as he stepped into the laundry room.

It was empty. Everyone at the winter fete or taking the opportunity to just go off and do whatever they pleased for once. Everywhere was like the Barrel if one looked hard enough. People just seemed more inclined to wait until dark in places that were not Ketterdam.

He grabbed two more sets of uniforms, one that would be big enough for Inej and another for the Conductor. He knew that Jesper would be well on his way to getting their ride out of there.

At least he hoped so. Jesper had a tendency to do whatever he wished. There was nothing reliable about him. Nothing that they could do to keep him from being reckless, to keep him from doing anything to still his hands.

It was enough to make Kaz sick to his stomach. And yet, there was no better shot in Kerch. Perhaps not in any of the known lands. For that reason alone, he could not be allowed to leave Kaz's side. Even if he could be the most annoying person that he had ever had the pleasure, or displeasure at times, of meeting.

He tried not to think of this, instead focusing on keeping himself silent. It wasn't as hard as one would assume. He'd always had a way of stepping quietly, even in his boots. He knew the value of being silent.

Even if he'd never be as good as his wraith.

As he headed back up the steps, he found himself missing his cane. It was a luxury that he sometimes could not afford to have. He hated that he had any sort of weakness. It was something that others could use against him. He had once worried how he would spin it to his advantage. He had worried for about thirty seconds before realizing what a good mask it was. No one expected much from the boy with a cane.

It had helped him rise so quickly. Helped him gain the title of Dirty Hands. It was better that way. To be feared. No one would ever be able to take that away from him.

Unless he kept making these stupid mistakes.

"Is it my size?" Inej whispered to him as she slipped over to his hiding spot, quiet as the wraith she had been named for.

"Of course it's your size," he stated as he shoved the uniform into her hands. "I know your size. I wouldn't make that mistake."

"I can't be sure of that. Not after last time," her eyes sparkled with mirth as she spoke. He had to try very hard not to roll his eyes.

"Yes, well," he grumbled once before she was off without another word. He didn't want to know just how she did that. Sneaking up on him once had been enough for him.

Kaz didn't like to be taken by surprise. He didn't like it when people got the best of him. It reminded him too much of Jordie, of what Pekka had done to the two of them. He had no chance in hell to keep himself sane if those memories kept resurfacing. Even if they did fuel the rage that burned inside of his heart.

That rage kept him alive, kept him building and building his empire. He would run the Barrel. He'd run Ketterdam. It was only a matter of time. Then he would take his revenge and make Pekka Rollins regret the day he had ever crossed him. The day he had taken Jordie.

He shoved it down, shoved that fire as far down as he possibly could as he handed off the other uniform. He didn't care about what the Conductor wanted during all this. He already knew that the man could not be trusted. It was a good thing that he didn't trust anybody.

Not even the Crows that he had brought with him. Anyone could be bought, anyone could be holding secrets.

He certainly was.

Kaz headed back up the steps, the warm light washing over his features and causing them to appear less striking. His cheekbones were not as sharp in this lighting, softer and more innocent. It was almost humorous how much a simple light could turn him from a monster into who he truly was.

A seventeen-year-old boy who had lost all his hope.

He did not contemplate the ways the light lit his face as he moved to blend in with the other guards. He hung back, in a long hallway where people were milling about and laughing over stupid jokes as they watched either the Grisha or the few couples that had braved the dance floor.

She was on the dance floor, her arm draped around a man who looked a few years older than her. The coloring of his hair and the way he was murmuring words that made her nose scrunch almost imperceptibly made it obvious who he was. His theory was only proven once they turned. The medals pinned to his chest and the nose that matched hers were stronger hints to who he was.

Crown Prince Vasily Lantsov.

He was far too close to Kaz for any sort of comfort but he couldn't leave. He was supposed to be a guard. Someone who was supposed to keep the royal family safe. If he dared turn his back on the two in his eyesight, it would have looked rather strange.

But that didn't mean he couldn't spy on them. Maybe there would be something of use in their dance floor conversations.

Slowly, he made his way just outside of the doorway. He would have gone in had Inej not been lingering on the other side. Presumably listening as well, or just waiting to see the woman who had been proclaimed a miracle.

He didn't understand how she could believe in her Saints. How she could believe that anyone had ever cared about them. They had been dealt a hand that was beyond anything one of the Saints could have salvaged. It was a wonder they had managed to live this long. Yet, she still believed. He heard her whisper prayers as she touched her knives, each named for one of the Saints. He didn't say anything. As long as she did what she needed to.

"Really, Annie," the nickname suited her although it was obvious by the very slight twitch of her left eyebrow that she didn't enjoy it. "I gave you clear instructions."

"I wanted to dance," he could barely hear her words, spoken so softly that they floated in the rosemary-scented air. "Nikki wouldn't have minded."

"Nikolai," the venom in his voice could not be hidden by the soft tone, "wasn't instructed to watch over you."

"No, he did it because he wished to."

"Annie, please," his eyes had softened. Kaz wondered how often they had this conversation. There was tension among the royal family. Tension that seemed no one in the world could see. They weren't watching close enough.

"Don't patronize me, Vassy," she looked him in the eyes. Something that he doubted many did to the would-be-king. It was something that he did not think many could get away from it. "I'm a grown woman. I can take care of myself."

"You shouldn't be able to. Nikolai never should have allowed you to learn any of it."

"It is not his fault." The way she spoke cemented the idea in Kaz's mind that Nikolai Lantsov was the greatest of the three siblings. A sister would not look at her eldest brother with fire in her eyes otherwise. Unless they had a very different relationship than he was used to.

"Fjerda will not allow you to do this, you know?" Vasily kept his expression neutral but Kaz could see the exhaustion in his eyes.

"No, but at least I will be able to protect myself." The fire had dwindled, replaced by something else. Something that was not quite fear but not quite anything else either. It was wrong. It wasn't something that he expected to see during a royal celebration. Not something that he ever expected to see in a royal's eyes.

The dance ended, Anastasia giving her brother a respectful curtsey before she made her way to the dais. Her head was held high, he could see small, sparkling gemstones in her braids. She walked with purpose, knowing her way in the world like she had never once questioned it. Like she had never worried a day in her life about a damn thing.

The hushed conversation was the only proof that something was hidden there. Something that he would never in his life find out. He did not know how he felt about that.

The not knowing was worrisome for Kaz. He had no reason to care about it. But it was information. Information that he could potentially use for some reason or another. Information that could lead to him running Ketterdam, to crushing Pekka Rollins. Even if he was unsure how that was possible.

He tried to push this from his mind, tried to keep from worrying about anything other than Alina Starkov. They had a job to do. One that would risk losing Inej, losing the Crow Club, losing everything that had ever mattered to him. He wouldn't let the Barrel ruin him. He had made that mistake once already.

He tried not to think of the princess. But even he could not stop noticing how she walked to her mother's side. It was as though gravity held no hold on her. She walked and danced as though her feet floated in the air. How would she compare to the Wraith if given the right tools?

No one would ever live up to Inej or her standard. He had no need on anyone else who walked on the air, especially not someone who could not blend into a crowd.

Besides, it wasn't like he could entice a princess to join his crew. Nor would he want to. These thoughts were just his mind's way of refocusing, of getting ready for the mayhem that was more than likely going to start sooner or later. Not even one of his plans could go perfectly. Although, he did have a better track record than most.

The doors opened, the Darkling finally gracing them with his presence. A smile graced the man's features, causing a pit of unease to grow in Kaz's stomach. There was something about that smile that told a story he did not quite like. Ruthless betrayal lived within the Darkling. He would have never seen the signs had it not lived within him as well.

"Moi tsar," the Darkling bowed before the king. He nodded his head once to the other members of the royal family, his eyes going to Vasily more than once.

The king nodded to his great general, a look of pride in his eyes. A man with power and no clue what was happening in his country. It was a wonder that anything ever got done in Ravka.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the Darkling turned then to the crowd, that same smile on his face. "Too long has the Fold separated us from our brothers on the west. Too long have we lived in fear because of it."

The crowd murmured their assent as he motioned to the doorway to Kaz's left. A woman stepped through it. With dark hair and an almost shy smile, Alina Starkov did not seem to be anything remarkable.

Draped in a black and gold kefta, she painted the picture of a glorious summoner. One who could rival the royal women on the dais. She stepped to her own small stage, Kaz noticed how the Darkling helped her step upon it.

They had not counted on how close the Darkling and his newest treasure would have become. He should have thought of that. There had been so much revealed in that one touch that he worried he would have to fight the whole Second Army to get to Alina. It was not something he looked forward to.

"Alina Starkov," The Darkling spoke as his shadows took over the room.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up. His fingers itched for his cane. The steady weight of it would keep him steady, keep him from wanting to run in terror as the darkness surrounded him. He had never been afraid of the dark. But this was unnatural. It felt similar to something but he could not figure out what. That alone made him wonder about what in the hell this General Kirigin was hiding.

"Lead us out of the darkness," his voice was everywhere and yet nowhere at the same time. He could hear Inej whispering prayers to the Saints under her breath.

A bright light shone from Alina Starkov. The Sun Summoner brought a ball of light into the middle of the room, lighting them all in washes of what looked and felt like bright sunshine. The shadows fled from it, scurrying on back to their master.

He didn't buy it for a second. He was certain there was a trick that he just could not see. Kaz had a hard time believing in Saints. He had a harder time believing in miracles. This woman couldn't be one of them. She couldn't be anything more than a lie. All of them were. Every single person in that room was nothing more than a lie.

Still, as the rest of the room began to fall to their knees and mutter the words 'Sankta Alina', Kaz found himself bending his knee and murmuring along with them. If only to keep up appearances.

He chanced a glance toward the royal family. The king and queen remained in their thrones but their children had both fallen to their knees. The princess seemed to be glowing in the Sun Summoner's light, her eyes bright with fervor for the Saint that would reunite their country.

It seemed as though even the royal family believed in false idols.

A cruel smile lit the Darkling's face as his shadows retreated. The smile of a man who had won. Kaz had seen it on several members of the Merchant Council, on several gang leaders in the Barrel. He had worn that smile himself. But seeing it in this room ... It meant something bigger than anything he could ever dream of was coming. He only hoped he and his Crows would be out of there before the real trouble came calling.

He watched as the general led his weapon off of the dais and out of the room. Inej gave him an imperceptible nod, the two beginning to trail him with two other guards. The ones they were replacing had been easy enough to knock out and replace. Ravka needed better trained guards, better trained people. It was no wonder the country was falling apart at the seams.

The plan had been to follow them as far as Alina's private chambers. But this was not the case. A man was brought past them, one that caught Alina's eye. Her brow furrowed and the Darkling had the others hurry her along while he went after the man. Kaz would have continued to follow after the Sun Summoner, but Kirigin had nodded his head towards him.

Fuck.

He motioned with his left hand for Inej to stick to the plan. He kept his spine straight as he followed the general, trying to ignore the hammering in his chest. There was nothing he could do but hope and pray that this went well. He didn't know who to pray to but he would.

He stood far enough back that he could not hear what was said between the Darkling and the man who was being held by the shoulder. He could, however, tell it was nothing good. Nothing that would bring peace.

"Take him. Don't let her see," his voice was velvety soft as he spoke, sending a warning straight through Kaz. He knew not to trust silk and honey.

"Of course," the other guard said.

Kaz waited as long as he possibly could before he broke off without suspicion. He headed towards the meeting point, knowing that Inej would have grabbed the girl if she could. However, as he began to rush an alarm sounded from somewhere.

They had been caught.

#six of crows #grishaverse #shadow and bone #kaz brekker #kaz x oc #kaz x princess #kaz steals an emerald #ana x kaz #mobster x princess #nikolai lantsov #vasily lantsov #anastasia lantsov #lantsov emerald #lantsov oc #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #grisha netflix #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone fanfiction

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thehierophage · 3 years

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Holy Day Meditation for 4/10/21 e.v. - The Feast for the Third Day of the Writing of the Book of the Law

April 10, 2021 æ.v. Dies Saturnii,

☉︎ 20° ♈︎ : ☽︎ 4° ♈︎ : ♄ : Ⅴⅴⅰⅰ

Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.

The Feast for the Third Day of the Writing of the Book of the Law, The Greater Feast of Saint Swinburne, The Day of Aleph, The Day of the Fool

Hebrew Letter: Aleph

Numerical Value as Letter: 1

Numerical Value as Word: 111/831 (Aleph+Lamed+Peh / Aleph+Lamed+Peh [fin.]) or 117/837 (Aleph+Lamed+Vav+Peh / Aleph+Lamed+Vav+Peh [fin.])

Meaning: Ox.

Thoth Card: The Fool (Atu 0)

Alternate Title: The Spirit of Aethyr.

Image:

Correspondences:

Tree of Life Path Association: Key 11 - Chokmah to Kether (from Sephira 2-1)

Astrological Sign: -

Element: Air

Egyptian Godforms: Hoor-pa-kraat, Mout, Shu, Tefnut

Geomantic Figure: Those of Airy Triplicity

Gemstones: Topaz, Chalcedony

Perfumes: Galbanum, Pinus, Gum Arabic, Mastic, Anise and all fresh odors.

Plants: Aspen, Peppermint, Lime, Linden, Pennyroyal

Animals: Eagle, Man (Cherub of Air), Ox

Colors:

King Scale – Bright pale yellow

Queen Scale – Sky blue

Prince Scale – Blue emerald green

Princess Scale – Emerald, flecked gold

The Secret Instruction of the Master:

Know Naught! All ways are lawful to Innocence. Pure folly is the Key to Initiation. Silence breaks into Rapture. Be neither man nor woman, but both in one. Be silent, Babe in the Egg of Blue, that thou mayest grow to bear the Lance and Graal! Wander alone, and sing! In the King's Palace his daughter awaits thee.

Mnemonic:

Truth, laughter, lust: Wine's Holy Fool! Veil rent, Lewd madness is sublime enlightenment.

Recommended Text for Meditation:

Liber AL vel Legis sub figura CCXX, Cap. 3

The Book of the Law Liber AL vel Legis sub figura CCXX

as delivered by XCIII = 418 to DCLXVI

III

1. Abrahadabra; the reward of Ra Hoor Khut.

2. There is division hither homeward; there is a word not known. Spelling is defunct; all is not aught. Beware! Hold! Raise the spell of Ra-Hoor-Khuit!

3. Now let it be first understood that I am a god of War and of Vengeance. I shall deal hardly with them.

4. Choose ye an island!

5. Fortify it!

6. Dung it about with enginery of war!

7. I will give you a war-engine.

8. With it ye shall smite the peoples; and none shall stand before you.

9. Lurk! Withdraw! Upon them! this is the Law of the Battle of Conquest: thus shall my worship be about my secret house.

10. Get the stele of revealing itself; set it in thy secret temple -- and that temple is already aright disposed -- & it shall be your Kiblah for ever. It shall not fade, but miraculous colour shall come back to it day after day. Close it in locked glass for a proof to the world.

11. This shall be your only proof. I forbid argument. Conquer! That is enough. I will make easy to you the abstruction from the ill-ordered house in the Victorious City. Thou shalt thyself convey it with worship, o prophet, though thou likest it not. Thou shalt have danger & trouble. Ra-Hoor-Khu is with thee. Worship me with fire & blood; worship me with swords & with spears. Let the woman be girt with a sword before me: let blood flow to my name. Trample down the Heathen; be upon them, o warrior, I will give you of their flesh to eat!

12. Sacrifice cattle, little and big: after a child.

13. But not now.

14. Ye shall see that hour, o blessed Beast, and thou the Scarlet Concubine of his desire!

15. Ye shall be sad thereof.

16. Deem not too eagerly to catch the promises; fear not to undergo the curses. Ye, even ye, know not this meaning all.

17. Fear not at all; fear neither men nor Fates, nor gods, nor anything. Money fear not, nor laughter of the folk folly, nor any other power in heaven or upon the earth or under the earth. Nu is your refuge as Hadit your light; and I am the strength, force, vigour, of your arms.

18. Mercy let be off; damn them who pity! Kill and torture; spare not; be upon them!

19. That stele they shall call the Abomination of Desolation; count well its name, & it shall be to you as 718.

20. Why? Because of the fall of Because, that he is not there again.

21. Set up my image in the East: thou shalt buy thee an image which I will show thee, especial, not unlike the one thou knowest. And it shall be suddenly easy for thee to do this.

22. The other images group around me to support me: let all be worshipped, for they shall cluster to exalt me. I am the visible object of worship; the others are secret; for the Beast & his Bride are they: and for the winners of the Ordeal x. What is this? Thou shalt know.

23. For perfume mix meal & honey & thick leavings of red wine: then oil of Abramelin and olive oil, and afterward soften & smooth down with rich fresh blood.

24. The best blood is of the moon, monthly: then the fresh blood of a child, or dropping from the host of heaven: then of enemies; then of the priest or of the worshippers: last of some beast, no matter what.

25. This burn: of this make cakes & eat unto me. This hath also another use; let it be laid before me, and kept thick with perfumes of your orison: it shall become full of beetles as it were and creeping things sacred unto me.

26. These slay, naming your enemies; & they shall fall before you.

27. Also these shall breed lust & power of lust in you at the eating thereof.

28. Also ye shall be strong in war.

29. Moreover, be they long kept, it is better; for they swell with my force. All before me.

30. My altar is of open brass work: burn thereon in silver or gold!

31. There cometh a rich man from the West who shall pour his gold upon thee.

32. From gold forge steel!

33. Be ready to fly or to smite!

34. But your holy place shall be untouched throughout the centuries: though with fire and sword it be burnt down & shattered, yet an invisible house there standeth, and shall stand until the fall of the Great Equinox; when Hrumachis shall arise and the double-wanded one assume my throne and place. Another prophet shall arise, and bring fresh fever from the skies; another woman shall awakethe lust & worship of the Snake; another soul of God and beast shall mingle in the globed priest; another sacrifice shall stain the tomb; another king shall reign; and blessing no longer be poured To the Hawk-headed mystical Lord!

35. The half of the word of Heru-ra-ha, called Hoor-pa-kraat and Ra-Hoor-Khut.

36. Then said the prophet unto the God:

37. I adore thee in the song -- I am the Lord of Thebes, and I The inspired forth-speaker of Mentu; For me unveils the veiled sky, The self-slain Ankh-af-na-khonsu Whose words are truth. I invoke, I greet Thy presence, O Ra-Hoor-Khuit!

Unity uttermost showed! I adore the might of Thy breath, Supreme and terrible God, Who makest the gods and death To tremble before Thee: -- I, I adore thee!

Appear on the throne of Ra! Open the ways of the Khu! Lighten the ways of the Ka! The ways of the Khabs run through To stir me or still me! Aum! let it fill me!

38. So that thy light is in me; & its red flame is as a sword in my hand to push thy order. There is a secret door that I shall make to establish thy way in all the quarters, (these are the adorations, as thou hast written), as it is said:

The light is mine; its rays consume Me: I have made a secret door Into the House of Ra and Tum, Of Khephra and of Ahathoor. I am thy Theban, O Mentu, The prophet Ankh-af-na-khonsu!

By Bes-na-Maut my breast I beat; By wise Ta-Nech I weave my spell. Show thy star-splendour, O Nuit! Bid me within thine House to dwell, O winged snake of light, Hadit! Abide with me, Ra-Hoor-Khuit!

39. All this and a book to say how thou didst come hither and a reproduction of this ink and paper for ever -- for in it is the word secret & not only in the English -- and thy comment upon this the Book of the Law shall be printed beautifully in red ink and black upon beautiful paper made by hand; and to each man and woman that thou meetest, were it but to dine or to drink at them, it is the Law to give. Then they shall chance to abide in this bliss or no; it is no odds. Do this quickly!

40. But the work of the comment? That is easy; and Hadit burning in thy heart shall make swift and secure thy pen.

41. Establish at thy Kaaba a clerk-house: all must be done well and with business way.

42. The ordeals thou shalt oversee thyself, save only the blind ones. Refuse none, but thou shalt know & destroy the traitors. I am Ra-Hoor-Khuit; and I am powerful to protect my servant. Success is thy proof: argue not; convert not; talk not over much! Them that seek to entrap thee, to overthrow thee, them attack without pity or quarter; & destroy them utterly. Swift as a trodden serpent turn and strike! Be thou yet deadlier than he! Drag down their souls to awful torment: laugh at their fear: spit upon them!

43. Let the Scarlet Woman beware! If pity and compassion and tenderness visit her heart; if she leave my work to toy with old sweetnesses; then shall my vengeance be known. I will slay me her child: I will alienate her heart: I will cast her out from men: as a shrinking and despised harlot shall she crawl through dusk wet streets, and die cold and an-hungered.

44. But let her raise herself in pride! Let her follow me in my way! Let her work the work of wickedness! Let her kill her heart! Let her be loud and adulterous! Let her be covered with jewels, and rich garments, and let her be shameless before all men!

45. Then will I lift her to pinnacles of power: then will I breed from her a child mightier than all the kings of the earth. I will fill her with joy: with my force shall she see & strike at the worship of Nu: she shall achieve Hadit.

46. I am the warrior Lord of the Forties: the Eighties cower before me, & are abased. I will bring you to victory & joy: I will be at your arms in battle & ye shall delight to slay. Success is your proof; courage is your armour; go on, go on, in my strength; & ye shall turn not back for any!

47. This book shall be translated into all tongues: but always with the original in the writing of the Beast; for in the chance shape of the letters and their position to one another: in these are mysteries that no Beast shall divine. Let him not seek to try: but one cometh after him, whence I say not, who shall discover the Key of it all. Then this line drawn is a key: then this circle squared in its failure is a key also. And Abrahadabra. It shall be his child & that strangely. Let him not seek after this; for thereby alone can he fall from it.

48. Now this mystery of the letters is done, and I want to go on to the holier place.

49. I am in a secret fourfold word, the blasphemy against all gods of men.

50. Curse them! Curse them! Curse them!

51. With my Hawk's head I peck at the eyes of Jesus as he hangs upon the cross.

52. I flap my wings in the face of Mohammed & blind him.

53. With my claws I tear out the flesh of the Indian and the Buddhist, Mongol and Din.

54. Bahlasti! Ompehda! I spit on your crapulous creeds.

55. Let Mary inviolate be torn upon wheels: for her sake let all chaste women be utterly despised among you!

56. Also for beauty's sake and love's!

57. Despise also all cowards; professional soldiers who dare not fight, but play; all fools despise!

58. But the keen and the proud, the royal and the lofty; ye are brothers!

59. As brothers fight ye!

60. There is no law beyond Do what thou wilt.

61. There is an end of the word of the God enthroned in Ra's seat, lightening the girders of the soul.

62. To Me do ye reverence! to me come ye through tribulation of ordeal, which is bliss.

63. The fool readeth this Book of the Law, and its comment; & he understandeth it not.

64. Let him come through the first ordeal, & it will be to him as silver.

65. Through the second, gold.

66. Through the third, stones of precious water.

67. Through the fourth, ultimate sparks of the intimate fire.

68. Yet to all it shall seem beautiful. Its enemies who say not so, are mere liars.

69. There is success.

70. I am the Hawk-Headed Lord of Silence & of Strength; my nemyss shrouds the night-blue sky.

71. Hail! ye twin warriors about the pillars of the world! for your time is nigh at hand.

72. I am the Lord of the Double Wand of Power; the wand of the Force of Coph Nia--but my left hand is empty, for I have crushed an Universe; & nought remains.

73. Paste the sheets from right to left and from top to bottom: then behold!

74. There is a splendour in my name hidden and glorious, as the sun of midnight is ever the son.

75. The ending of the words is the Word Abrahadabra.

The Book of the Law is Written

and Concealed.

Aum. Ha.

Love is the law, love under will.

#Thelema #thelemic holy season #Tarot

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butterfly--empress · 4 years

Text

Crazy MLB Thoughts...

Or shit I would sort of want to see but after watching Seasons 2 and 3 doubt highly will happen nor do I trust the writers to be substantially confident in making a cohesive story that doesn’t fall at the rails.

The fact that they seem to like making Miraculous Ladybug Episodic when it really should be a Serialize show, tells me all I need to know to NOT but much faith in what they do.

But I’ve been surprised before but...GREAT DOUBT (I’m trying really hard not to tl:dfr the essay about my...gripes with MLB on a whole because writing that...we’ll be here all day. ALL DAY)

anyways moving on;

1. Adrien and Felix are either step siblings or identical twins and someone lying about who’s the real baby daddy/baby momma and both sisters are in on it.

2. Both sisters are in on EVERYTHING...and prob share everything and Gabe is none the wiser. Don’t make that face at me fam, Ya’ll come up with very interesting poly ships...DON’T @ ME! XD

Look at their fucking Maiden Name; without some translation; Vanily? If that shit don’t sound too damn close to Villain IDKWTF does! XD

But seriously, the name has various meanings which all boil down to, deceit and moral ambiguity. I don’t put nothing passed nobody.

I seen what the animators were doing; trying to paint Amelie in Black while Emilie is dressed in White. See, that symbolism of trying to make me think Amelie is a bad twin to Emilie’s good twin because of how Gabe sees her. But I like to think the reality is more of the opposite if...IF Emilie’s really a big bad.

3a. Emilie is more antagonistic than Gabriel but actually loves her son and husband.

3b. Emilie could also just be full calculating evil and all of Adrien’s ‘memories’ of his loving mother could be of his Aunt Amelie instead...

4. The whole ass episode of Felix had me like: I watched one too many damn K-Dramas to know that anytime rich families act like this around each other; it usually involves birth secrets and the fact that someone was getting it on with the ‘wrong’ somebody...or the right somebody.

Look, all I’m saying is, Gabe is def the father and most likely the father of Felix but Adrien could...maybe...actually...be...Amelie’s kid for some unfounded reason and no one’s saying anything about it. (no way in the 7 HELLS do cousins look identical like that unless the creators just felt spiteful for some reason and rehashed a scraped character design...)

Don’t look at me like that Fam! I cannot be the only one who thought there were a lot of secrets not being shared/said in this episode! If ya’ll can theorized about Sentimonsters, I can theorized about Agreste/Graham de Vanily family drama.

5. Audrey and Tomoe might have a bitter rivalry/partnership/something with Emilie and Gabriel. I feel like something happened for Tomoe to be all; ‘I don’t need friends, they’re a disappointment’.

6. Fam! Ya’ll have got to chill with the ‘Character X is a Sentimonster theories’, come on that’s weak writing fam. FAM we’re better than this!

7. Marinette will finally get to tone down on her crush/obsession for Adrien WITHOUT having to be with *coughusecough* Luka.

8. Adrien as Chat Noir will finally get to tone down on his crush/obsession for Ladybug WITHOUT having to with *coughusecough* Kagami because she vaguely makes him think about Ladybug....Yea I said it.

I believe Adrien only tries to move on with Kagami because she’s the closest thing that reminds him of his Idealistic view of Ladybug and not really for Kagami herself. which isn’t fair to Kagami...jfc I said I was NOT going to tl:dfr this post....ahh too fucking late now!

Sure, Adrien admires her but I don’t think he really truly likes the girl in that way. Out of Order Episodes or not, that boy can’t go 5 mins without going nuts over his precious M’Lady. XD

9. I just rather there NOT be this extra baggage of a love triangle and I just would like for ONCE to get through a season without feeling 2nd hand embarrassment over the cringy shit Marinette does to get Adrien’s attention.

Before you try to go ham on me LadyNoir/Adrinette/Marichat/Ladrien (GODDAMN THIS FUCKING OTP) shippers hear me out: I am not saying I don’t want the love square..THE ORIGINAL LOVE SQUARE OF really two loves in like/lust/future love unknowingly with each other to end.

I WILL FUCKING GO DOWN TO THE DEPTHS OF HELL FOR THIS SHIP!

But I do want less cringe, there’s so much I can take of Marinette learns not to be petty and seems to grow up a bit for the NEXT damn episode to reset like that shit didn’t happen....boi..i’m about to rant about the writing...

10. EPISODES WILL NOT BE SHOWN OUT OF ORDER!!

11. EPISODES WILL NOT BE SHOWN OUT OF ORDER!!

12. Season 4 will be consistent with it’s plot driven story and continuity...we can only pray.

13. When old Gabby Moth gets redeemed (not if but when...hey i’m trying to be marginally realistic here) the story for it, isn’t weak asf and doesn’t feel forced. Even though its going to feel forced...unless Emilie really does turn out to be that bad bitch and shows she cares more for power over her family and dismisses Gabriel...only for him to wisen up that his wife really isn’t a saint and realize too late that Nathalie was always there for him...FUCK I just made myself sad..I’m sad....

14. Astruc is really being a troll and Chloe actually gets a redemption...maybe too much to ask for?

15. Meanwhile Lila FUCKING Rossi can eat ass I don’t like that hoe.

16a. Marinette will not try to carry the huge/sudden burden of being the guardian...(yea..THANKS FU FOR THAT BTW...*coughshitguardianmentormotherfuc...coughs*) ah Mari will not try to carry this heavy ass burden on her lonesome and actually lets those she chooses to give Miraculous too, KEEP THEM THIS TIME...ya know..so it’s more convenient for them to help her and Chat Noir when they need assistance. While she maybe the Guardian, she will allow Chat Noir to share her burden with her.

16b. Chat Noir will play more of an equal role alongside Ladybug and not be kept in the dark. ISTG RN; if Mari, after telling Fu she doesn’t want to keep anything from the guy that is supposed to be her number 1 partner...in the fucking dark...this whole ass website is going to feel my wrath for days on in.

no more of this ‘pushing Chat Noir to the sidelines and keeping him in the dark’ more than Hawkmoth trying to use their trust for each other against them, distrust and lies is the fastest way for him or some other big bad to win.

Also I just REALLY want the gang to keep their miraculous.

17. Probably going to get flack for this but I really want to see Chloe/Luka happen or at least some form of interaction between them.

I don’t mind the Lukagami Ship but it rly feels like a forced pair the spares to sideline them away from Adrienette and I rly can’t see it. I mean I can but I think Chloe/Luka would make for something more interesting.

18. Felix NOT becoming a big bad, because wow do we really need ALL of Adrien’s fam being coo-coo for coca puffs?? especially if Emilie is as worse than her husband

19 the other side characters get to actually develop.

20...Was there something else??? Probably but I’m tired and can’t think outside of really wanting a kind and just Emilie Fucking Agreste and also wanting the Bitch Mother of all mothers from hell Emilie FUCKING Agreste, while also wanting a lil of both.

And now unable to decide WHICH Emilie Fucking Agreste to write about in my two AUs because where at first i wanted sweet innocent Emilie fucking Agreste, now I want cunning, ambitious gets what she wants behind a sweet demeanor, you’ll never see her striking, Emilie Fucking Agreste!

While good!Emilie Agreste would be simple and easy to write for...my mind is going; palace politics is just so much better when everyone is backstabbing everyone! Just like historical dramas! only not everyone dies! XD

#miraculous ladybug #emilie agreste #marinette dupen chang #gabriel agreste #adrien agreste #some thoughts #with a side of rant

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stusbunker · 5 years

Text

Featuring: MoC!Dean x Demon!reader, Original Female Character, Castiel, Charlie, Crowley, Rowena

Summary: Our reader’s back and there’s gonna be trouble! Charlie brings back the Book of the Damned and CC asks Castiel for something he doesn’t want to give.

Warnings: This is super long, possession, show level violence, rough sex, face fucking, oral sex (male and female), hair pulling, dirty talk, dub!con smut.

Series Masterlist

*^*

March 30, 2015

Munich, Germany

The city was old, streets wrapping around buildings at harsh angles and in varying stone. But that was what you needed, age, wisdom, answers. At your sendoff, Crowley had given you a name, occupation, and a proverbial pat on the head. You didn’t know why you complied so easily; until you heard the first peal of laughter from a stranger on the sidewalk. Humanity. To be surrounded by life was worth the mission. Language and social niceties came back quickly, adjusting from vessel to vessel as you navigated the foreign byways.

It was easy to forget your time with Dean here; to imagine yourself something newly minted in this different world. The power you found during your initial escape in that lonesome field painted with bull’s blood, was nothing compared to the possibility of redemption. It taunted and teased you with that naïve hope only Crowley’s goading could coax from your battered mind. He hadn’t mentioned your previous time running his errands, nor the Winchesters, but he didn’t have to. He had your number, and once you started stacking the clues together; you had his.

The shop was warded to the nines, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t watch from the café across the street. You handed the server a fifty Euro banknote and asked to be left alone, freeing your table for the lunch hour and beyond. Hell, the teacher of eternal patience had left you with nothing to do but absorb and endure. So, you did what you knew; you waited. Eventually, the shopkeepers eased from the side door, their business hours long faded into the setting sun.

They each cast a hasty glamour once they spotted you. Too late; you had their scent now. Carefully you rounded the building the opposite way they had headed, the alleys were dark and narrow so much more inconvenient for the humans you tailed. Their hurried footfalls remained unmasked, up and over the next embankment. You didn’t flinch as they separated, trying to confuse you further. They only managed to spread their magic too thin and soon you had gained on the rasping breaths of the one that had decided to go north.

“I’m not after you, you know. I’m looking for someone else,” you said in blunt German.

“I know who you work for,” the rough voice answered in accented English.

“Then you know it is easier to give me the information than wait for the consequences.”

His middle-aged face appeared as he dropped his last barrier from your shining black eyes. He pushed off the brick wall and squared his stance, hands dangling and fingers working in distracting movements. You pulled the handgun from your waistband and met his bluff. No one expects a cowboy duel in the Fatherland, but nothing about your afterlife made sense.

“You want to draw a little more attention to yourself there? Bullets don’t scare me, demon,” he spat out the last word as if he was some holy man, some saint worthy of a judgement.

“Witch killing bullets might slow you down a tick though, yeah? Witch.” You said it how it felt best on your tongue. You spoke over your shoulder to the one who had rounded back, failing to trap you, “thanks for joining us. All I need is for one of you to talk and then we can all go home. Easy peasy.”

“What does it want?” The one still hidden from sight demanded from the one staring down the barrel of your gun.

“Information,” you answered evenly.

“On who?”

The man shook his head at his partner; the name in your head reaped more fear in the witch than Crowley. The silent conversation dragged between them and you decided incentive was necessary at this point. If Crowley’s reputation wasn’t enough, enforcement needed to make up for it. You pulled the hammer back and aimed.

“Alright, alright, what do you need to know?”

“Give me everything you have on Rowena MacLeod.”

*^*^*^*^

April 1, 2015

Inside Man

If Dean was avoiding CC, then he was. If CC was avoiding him, he had no idea. It was almost too easy to be with her in the quiet library or even the cavernous garage, now. Maybe it was the non-human thing, but Dean didn’t really notice her anymore. A chameleon in any room, there, only when she wanted to make her presence known, otherwise she had become as peripheral as furniture. So, it was with the same regard as to a bookcase that Dean called Rudy, begging to be his back up on a case. Sam had his mime movie thing and Dean had his cabin fever. Bupkis it was.

He slipped into the driver’s seat and headed to nowhere in particular, the purples and greens of twilight kept at bay with Baby’s headlights. Dean needed something normal, something expected, something as easy as his hands on the wheel and his cassettes in the deck. This was where he belonged, where he was himself and how he could make sense of things. Now with what the Mark and the world had done to him, he needed it more than ever. Without Sam’s constant vigilance and CC’s over accommodating methods; Dean needed to feel like Dean again, even if it was just for the forty-mile drive to a douche filled sports’ bar.

He switched to the radio about twenty minutes down the road, letting a familiar snare walk and bass line fill the car. He started singing along, drumming his fingers on the downbeats. Dean let himself sink into the music, the carefree joy of belting out crescendo after crescendo. His voice cracked on a lyric and he stopped to swallow as it all hit him. He missed her. He fucking missed the demon. He finished the song, words hitting him harder on the other side. He ignored the tightness in his chest and the shake to his hands. Thinking it made it real and the reality of longing for something, someone like that made his stomach pitch. But it wasn’t disgust, it was grief.

Dean yanked his thoughts out of the depths and brought them back to surface survival as he pulled into the parking lot. The faux neon signs reflected on the Impala’s freshly waxed hood. The meager groups were congregated around the pool tables and Dean decided to try his luck.

A few beers and a pool hustle later; Dean realized he should have stayed in for the night. Rowena had set a pack of rabid frat boys on him and he had to reign in every ounce of his control to stop from gutting them all.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dean had the tiny woman pinned to the bar after her spell failed to even give him a nosebleed.

“Saving my son!”

Dean’s confusion was dwarfed only by his surprise. “Your son?”

“Crowley,” she challenged him, adding another shock to the moment.

“Crowley Crowley?!”

“My son is a king! A god, or he would be if you didn’t—You snap your fingers and he comes running like a wee lapdog.”

Dean started to back away, missing whatever blame he held in this scenario. “Lady I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a good influence on him. That’s why you need to die!”

“Well, sorry your little light show didn’t work,” Dean held her fast, he wasn’t going to underestimate her now.

“Oh, I’ll try again,” she whispered the promise that sent a chill down his spine.

“What, you think I’m just gonna let you walk outta here?” Dean matched her menacing smirk.

“I think, you’re a hero. You could have killed those men, but you didn’t. Because they’re innocent.” She winks at him then, taunting him even with the knife to her very pale throat. “Cuz, you’re the good guy and you want them to live. But the spell I cast will DEVOUR them from the inside out, just like it did that girl.” She knew exactly how to use her powers and wiles against him. “I’m the only that can save them. What’s it going to be, HERO?”

Dean recoiled, releasing Rowena as he stepped back to allow her the chance to reverse the damage she had caused. “Fix ‘em up and go.”

“So civil, aren’t you?”

“Lady, I think I’m being the, bigger person here? You did just try and kill me.”

“Well, bigger isn’t always stronger, is it? Brains are a muscle you might want to, strengthen?”

Dean rolled his eyes behind her back. Lithely, Rowena whispered into each of the dude bro’s ears, pulling hexbags from their pockets.

Another bar, another drink with another MacLeod

“Who’s the liar now?” Crowley looked at Dean a little too knowingly. Dean scoffed and took a drink. “She says I’ve gone soft.”

Dean chuckled, because damn if the red head isn’t right, “you have. What? Yeah, maybe it’s all the human blood that Sammy pumped into you, you know? Maybe it’s, uh, I don’t know. I don’t know. But the old Crowley, he would have come in here with hell hounds and demons and he would have blown the roof off the joint. Now? You didn’t want to fight. You wanted to talk. And maybe I’ve changed too. Here I am playing Dr. Phil to the King of Hell. Never saw that coming.”

“Maybe we’re getting old,” Crowley waxed mortally.

“Never saw that coming either,” Dean agreed.

Dean let go with Crowley, explaining the backbone of who he is and how he had made it this far. Family. Then he shoved the piss poor example of a mother Crowley was clinging to, back into the demon’s face. “Does that sound like your mother?”

Crowley knew better, but he was feeling generous. Dean had become his Achilles’ heel after all. “You know I may have seen it coming. Might have had someone digging up all her years of indiscretions since I’d last seen her.”

“Well, good, can’t be too careful,” Dean takes the last pull from his glass, smacking his lips together.

“She’s kind of a wildcard, but I think she’ll get the job done. Who knows, maybe it’s just me getting soft. But I do love an underdog,” Crowley’s eye sparkled back at Dean as the suspicion creeped through the man’s features.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Dunno,” Crowley stood. “Just, uh, let me know if you want her number? Might be worth the dime.” With little segue, he vanished. Dean groaned and slid Crowley’s drink over, holding back the fruit and ice before taking the leftovers as payment for not offing the guy’s mom.

April 16, 2015

Book of the Damned

The Bunker after the Cabin

“Whoa,” CC muttered just as she felt Castiel arrive. She looked across the War Room table to Sam who just walked in from whatever he had stashed in his room. “We’ve got company.”

“Hello, Sam, CC.” Castiel joined them, filling in the details of their plan to get information out of Metatron on the Mark behind Dean’s back. Castiel explained in guilt-laden detail how his original grace had been restored. CC felt an ease in the Angel’s eyes that she hadn’t noticed before. Sam did his best to placate Cas, while CC started guessing how a being like Metatron on the loose was going to come back to bite them all in the ass. A stone started to worry in her gut over the words of a never forgotten dream.

“You did the right thing. That book needed to be destroyed,” Castiel’s reassurance brought CC back to the present. “We will find another way, Sam.”

The creaking of the entry door turned everyone’s head skyward.

“We’re back bitches!” Charlie’s spunky return continued to brighten the mood as the evening moved forward with genuine ease in the air. CC never saw Dean smile as much as he did when the red head was around. Something about her tenacity and unabashed nerdiness brought out the teddy bear in him, which CC liked to see, even from a distance. The hacker had become part of the family in a way she never had, despite living with them for this long. Thoughts of a lonely childhood and her looming solitary eternity caused CC to call an early night, leaving only a weary Sam to notice her exit.

April 18, 2015

Manhattan, KS

A summons.

Though the hope had betrayingly crossed your mind, more than once, you never thought he would actually do it. Now that you stood before Dean Winchester once more, you weren’t sure if it was to kill you properly or to fuck you senseless. His glare was that gloriously intense. You welcomed either outcome, if it was at his hand.

“You rang?” You smirked in greeting, hoping the vessel was moderately appealing. The timing of the spell didn’t really give you many options, she was a petite Latina in her early forties, though her genetics hid her age well. You weren’t in the Bunker, but what appeared to be the storage area of an old basement. Mildew and old masonry evident as you gathered any detail that held potential of his intentions. Secrecy abound; you were very much alone.

“Y/N?” Dean didn’t break eye contact, his voice cracking as your eyes misted at his acknowledgement. You only nodded, the emotion of seeing him again began to break through.

“I wasn’t sure you remembered,” a whispered confession.

Dean looked down, shame falling over his usually steadfast features, “Yeah, well I had to do some digging.”

“So, you still don’t know who I am?” Realization knocking you down a peg once more. Geez, drag a girl across the world and you still can’t put the pieces together, some great love he was. And yet he was, damnit.

“I don’t think I know anyone the way I know you.” Dean chided himself, biting at his lip and tsking his tongue. He stepped closer, eyes searching yours. You unconsciously mirrored his movements, taking you to the rim of the red spray paint on the cellar floor.

“I suppose that is the best I could ask for.” Your arms longed to be around him, to feel the weight of him against you, to feel his heart beat. You didn’t know what he wanted from you, but you knew it was your last chance at honesty. You answered his call and raised him with your shared history.

A heavy breath escaped your chest and you let your eyes go black. “I first met you, centuries ago. Before I was a Demon and before you were the infamous Dean Winchester. When you were just some kid who sold his soul for his much more promising brother. Before you knew of your destinies and long before you gave Heaven and Hell the finger.”

Dean’s shoulders straightened, one hand in his pocket as his head cocked with mild amusement.

“I remember the first day Alastair strapped you to his table, the way you screamed and challenged him. I still heard it some nights back home: your voice in agony and me powerless to stop him just outside the door to his favorite torture room.” You began to pace inside the trap, working through the memories both cherished and painful.

“How long did he leave you there?” Dean asked, arms crossed over his chest now, brow furrowed.

“I was left outside your sessions until the day you took the deal,” you stepped forward as he shook his head in disbelief. “I heard him, every day, ask you and I heard you every day, even after hours of anguish, refuse. I begged him for the same opportunity, but I wasn’t special. I wasn’t you. And then I finally saw you face-to-face.”

“The First Seal.” Dean closed his eyes as it all came crashing back and into focus.

“I never blamed you,” your voice fell, hand raised trying to comfort him. He stood just beyond the barrier of his own devising. “Of course, I would have done the same, had I been given the chance. But it wasn’t until your Castiel rescued you, did I feel Alastair’s final torment.”

“Just stop, okay?!” Dean pleaded suddenly; he thumbed the Mark of Cain which seemed to be throbbing over all of the blood he had shed in Hell. The hunger that threatened his humanity once more. You flinched at his words, your stories had brought you back to that vulnerable human soul who had witnessed her schoolgirl crush and torturer ripped from her plane of existence. “You’ve only ever seen the worst of me. Why didn’t you just kill me?”

He kept his eyes down, but you saw how perplexed he felt; you were not a predictable demon and bless him for trying to understand. Your face softened, the endearment you felt catching him off guard. “I was just getting to that part, dumbass. Love. Alastair’s final torment for me was an unwavering and unrequited love, for you.”

“We had very different experiences with Alastair.” Dean’s face broke into a smile, the slight blush on his features. He was such a dork, it hurt to watch him like this.

“Yeah, well, according to Crowley, it wasn’t Alastair at all. He wasn’t ‘that sophisticated with the emotional aspects of the job’.” You shrugged.

“He has a point,” Dean relaxed, walking a bit as you continued to speak.

“Where’s Chloe?” You asked nervously, “And Sam?”

“Chloe? She’s still kicking ‘round the Bunker, but, well, too much water under the bridge.”

“That’s our girl.” You knew she would move beyond this ordeal better than most, yet somehow you still worried for her wellbeing, even after she extradited you. Fucking symbiotic relationships.

“And Sam’s fine. Ornery and trying too hard to make me listen to reason–”

“A lost cause if there ever was one.” You teased, Dean smirked, toeing the line that separated you.

“I’m done fighting the Mark, Y/N.” Dean let out a heavy sigh. “I’m not strong enough, either I go hermit-style like Cain for as long as I can, and people die. Or I just give in.”

“That seems a very narrow list of solutions to a very new problem.”

Dean’s whole torso twitched at your candor, “Well, the Book of the Damned was our last lead and that’s toast. Anything you’d like to share with the class?”

You stepped closer; tips of your pointed shoes frozen against the magical wall of the Devil’s Trap. “I’m what you would call an ‘entry-level demon’. I got out on sheer dumb luck the first time, Dean. They don’t share the great mysteries with the cesspool. Honestly, I think Crowley has been honest with you about the Mark since you became his trusty Knight in Shining Plaid.”

“Yeah, well, worth a shot.” Dean tried and fell just below gracious. He was truly desperate. It carved at you to see him so defeated.

“Is that the only thing you wanted from me?” The pain you couldn’t hide from your words, returned to you in his aching glance.

“It’s not like that.” Dean swallowed. “You know it’s—”

“It’s better left unsaid.” You nodded, trying for the stiff upper lip, sniffling against his stubbornness. “But tell me something else?”

Dean head shot up, waiting for your next question.

“If you’re done, if you’re giving in to the Mark. Why the trap? Afraid I’d get out or just afraid I’d touch you? And you’d really turn? If there’s really nothing to lose, why don’t you—”

Then he was kissing you, Dean Winchester had stepped inside your cage and welcomed your darkness as if it was his only salvation. Though you couldn’t save him; you needed to show him everything words were unable to convey. How you wished he could see how perfect in his imperfection he was, how his self-sacrifice never ceased to take your breath away, how with just the sound of his voice you could withstand a hundred years in the Pit. How much he was loved and needed and how he deserved so much more than a worthless hell-spawned wretch could offer him.

The height difference sent you spinning, he was everywhere, broad shoulders and strong hands, clutching at your now smaller body. The danger Dean accepted by stepping into the circle gave you a rush, your core tightening as he deepened the kiss. Suddenly, you were weightless, he lifted you up, your legs quickly opening to lock around his waist and before you knew it you had tugged open half the buttons of his shirt. When you pulled the tee shirt up from where your thighs had pinned it to his sides, Dean broke the kiss, with heavy breaths he rested his forehead against yours. It had been years since you had tasted him and never with this tongue, but somehow, he still knew how to kiss you.

*^*

Dean could have stayed in that moment forever; the oasis of Y/N’s arms was something he hadn’t known he had missed until he found his way back home. Her hands were now delicate and soft, her legs shorter and waist impossibly narrow, but she still moved the same, with Y/N it felt right. His cock twitched against both his jeans and her impossibly sheer leggings. She rolled her hips against the movement, causing him to groan before leaving a fierce trail of nibbles down her jaw, her skin spiced and smooth beneath his chapped lips.

*^*

The heat growing in your belly intensified as Dean’s mouth wandered lower, his teeth tearing at the lowcut top, you pulled down the shirt and lace covered bra, freeing your aching nipples for his hungered mouth. Balancing one hand tightly on your back, Dean’s free hand kneaded your left breast before teasing the puckered flesh with the warmth of his tongue. You clamped down against the emptiness inside, overwhelmed with each affection Dean gave you.

You grinded harder against him, whimpering, letting your hands snake through his hair, your fake nails digging in as he switched to the opposite tit, pulling that nipple between his straight teeth. He watched you grow needier beneath his every touch, the desire in his eyes making you more desperate. You pulled yourself up, flush against him as you worked off his shirt. The anti-possession tattoo utterly elementary compared to the ancient curse on his arm.

You took over, your kiss demanding his submission as he backed you against the invisible concave wall. The barrier, though intangible was strong, and you used it to rest against as you slid down Dean’s body to remove the clothing restricting you from taking him fully. You wiggled the trim hips from the thin material, tossing the drenched lace to the side among the bunched pant legs. Dean had kicked off his boots, thumbing his shorts and jeans off with a swift dip. He was simply gorgeous, solid and bowlegged, but stunning all the same. Lust battled the emotional appreciation of his nudity and all too soon you were sinking to your knees. Tiny fingers raked up his calves and over his sturdy quads, heavy lashes fluttering over your cheeks as you waited for his impatience to get the best of him. Your face so close you could smell the tang of his heavy balls, eyes lingering on the drop of want leaking from his menacing tip.

Every inch of him seemed larger than before, perspective was in the eye of the beholder and for this vessel Dean’s cock was downright intimidating. The trim legs held you up, the abundant chest brushed against his leg as you silently dared him to make the next move. His hand came down hard on the crown of your head, thick fingers lacing in the dense black locks, he slid through until yanking at the nape of your neck. As he snapped your head up your mouth opened automatically from the jarring tug. In his other hand Dean fisted himself, “You don’t get to tease me, or I’ll send you back. You understand?”

You nodded, tears forming from the intensity of his grip on the base of your neck.

“Sorry?” Dean tilted his head, dramatically inviting you to speak up.

“Yes. Yes, Dean, I understand.”

He sucked air through his teeth, green eyes darkening as he released his hold on your hair, his rough thumb dragged down your jaw to circle lazily around your pouting lips. Instinctively, you licked them before he paused. “No teeth, Y/N. I know that was you and I mean it.”

“Whatever, you liked it,” you hissed before taking him into your smart mouth. Dean’s hand fell away from the base of his shaft as you worked him deeper and deeper with each test of this mouth. The lips were fuller, plush against the veiny length of him. He repeatedly tucked your hair back, keeping your face on full display as you sucked and mewled over him. As your tongue lapped from underneath, your core clenched, once again, over nothing. The gagging girth of him quickly made you lightheaded.

“You want it so bad you’re gonna choke on it, aren’t cha?” Dean crooned down at you as you looked back up at him, his fat bottom lip clenched between his perfectly white teeth. You slid back to lock eyes with him completely, delicate fingers massaged his balls as he called out into the night. “That’s it, that’s my dirty little demon slut. Hmmm,” Dean huffed and suddenly the Mark took over. His massive hands planted themselves on either side of your fragile skull and suddenly he was thrusting back into you. His dick deepened to puncturing your throat, your stomach rolled, saliva building as he growled with the fierce snap of his hips.

The pressure on your temples increased alongside his speed, delicious and terrifying. Then you began to cough, Dean finally slowed, which allowed you to swallow against the thick mucus that had gathered in your esophagus, tender and stretched wide. You dragged her nails back down his legs before letting him go with an audible pop. Then Dean did the hottest thing you had ever seen, he crouched with those damned bowlegs, lowering his pulsing cock to the generous cleavage in front of you. In a frantic whimper, you tugged your breasts apart for him, tips of your fingers teasing the dark areolas before holding the fleshy globes tight against his spit-slicked cock. Once again, his strong digits weaved into your hair as he fucked your tits. His every muscle worked to dominate you, the Mark of Cain ragged against his pale forearm, his abdomen tense behind the soft layer his other vices supplied, all overloading your senses with his power, his lust for you and just how far you would push each other.

You teased the ruddy head of his cock with the tip of your tongue, his salty juices seeping out to aid in the rough friction. Your nipples ached as your pussy sopped with emptiness.

“On you back, Y/N. I need to eat some of that before I am done with you.” Dean growled, tugging as his cock as he tried to step back from the brink. “Fucking smell you from here, you know that?”

You didn’t reply, just slowly sat back on your bare ass, the cold floor sent shockwaves through your overheated thighs and straight to your folds. Your nipples puckered impossibly smaller. Dean spread out his large shirt behind you, before leaving a tantalizing kiss on your shoulder. Then his lips took over, he sucked and nibbled and decimated the teak colored skin. When his hot breath hovered over your nipples you thought you were going to cum on the spot. Each sensation barreled into the next, your legs were shaking by the time Dean spread your knees wide.

“Now this view, Y/N? I have got to hand it to you, hmmmm, nice choice,” Dean’s eyes glinted as his thick tongue found your swollen bud. It gave a dizzying jostle before licking broad strokes up and down your lips. Spreading you wide, Dean gathered your juices with his skilled fingers. You half laughed and half moaned when, at long last, your trembling cunt earned its fill. Dean’s fingers worked into you as he sucked gently on your bursting clit.

“Is it sweet enough,” you teased back, watching him lavish you, drunk on your sex. His scruff shown with your arousal, his whiskers adding roughness along your tender apex, further blurring the lines of pain and pleasure.

“You know what’s the most messed up part?” Dean whispered, sliding back to watch his fingers disappear inside you. “I don’t know this chick and I don’t care. I am just fucking you. Not Chloe, not anyone else. Right now, it’s only us. And I should care and I’m sure I am going to hate myself tomorrow. But that feeling of not caring?”

“I’d call it freedom. Best kind of bittersweet.” You sighed, reaching up to stroke his temple. His closed his eyes and you finally saw how bone-tired he was.

“I hate being this scared, Y/N. It’s not who I am.” His fingers never stopped; his mouth ghosted over every sensitive crease as if the act alone was penance for his confession.

“Dean?” Your voice hitched.

“Yeah?” Dean placed tiny pecks along the inside of your thigh, his voice impressively soft.

“I really need to cum. You make me feel so good, but I can’t—” you broke off into a gasp as he added a third finger inside you, his tongue pressed wide and forceful against you. You didn’t know if it was his admission or the added effort once you begged for it, but less than two minutes later and your climax overcame you. Waves of heat flooded your system as everything contracted. Then the break and you fell: unwinding with the stuttering pulses. Dean pulled you through it, his fingers’ pace slowed in calculated increments. Just as he slipped from your clutches, he made sure to nuzzle your mound before easing up to his knees.

With a tempered swat at your knee, you caught his drift, rolling completely over you rocked back to give him another angle to admire. You arched your back and shimmied your shoulders to stretch out the tension that had settled as you braced for your orgasm. You couldn’t see him, but you knew Dean was centering himself behind you, his damp fingers coating his length as it returned to its full glory. You squared yourself, knees below hips and shoulders over splayed palms, ready for whatever he would give you.

Dean nudged your knees farther apart, causing your upper half to lower onto your elbows, the cold stone floor stiff beneath your thin joints. Ass bared and ready. “I want you to tell me, who I am.”

“Deeeeeeeeannnnnnn.” You keened as he stretched you open, even his fingers couldn’t prepare you for the heavy steel of his cock.

“And?” he slowly rolled his hips, barely hitting that secret spot, as if by accident. He was fucking vindictive.

“Dean fucking Winchester.”

“That’s more like it, Y/N.” Dean built up his rhythm.

“Hunter.” You mewed.

“What else?”

“Mark Bearer?”

“And?” His teeth were clenched now, the words strained and menacing.

“Knight of Hell!” You screamed as he smacked your ass, pounding into you with constant shallow thrusts.

“Who am I?”

“The Righteous Man!”

Dean growled at the old title, the darkness of the Mark at war with his true nature: protector of the innocent. As his other hand connected with the opposite cheek you tensed, unsure of what else he wanted to hear.

“Michael’s Sword!” your voice was high and whiny as everything that was holding you upright began to weaken. He took both of your hips in his palms now, dragging out of you slowly before popping his pelvis back in, forcing you to press back into him or crash to the floor. He hummed in appreciation as he spread you wider from behind, his thumb pressed against your puckered hole, adding to the building pressure throughout your core.

“That’s mine, just like this pussy is mine. You hear that, Y/N? You’re mine.”

“Always have been,” you replied plainly without even registering what it all meant. “My Seal Breaker.”

Dean liked that one, because he raised one knee up and began to work you over again. You tossed your head back to watch him over your shoulder, bending nearly in half. He was breath-taking, his mouth open and panting, skin dewy and tense, uncountable scars and freckles randomly yet perfectly placed to outline this impossible man.

“Come on, baby, let me see you,” Dean coaxed, your eyes burst open, the inkwell pools staring back at him as he thrust harder into your luscious depths. “Hmmm, Y/N, you know how good you feel? So. Fucking. Sweet.”

“Better than her?” You half-whispered, half-begged.

“Every ti–.” Dean broke off on a moan, your body pulling him as deep as it could, and suddenly you crested again, muscles spasming as a howl escaped your mouth. Dean gave you only two beats before slamming back into you with wild abandon, reveling in the tightness and the added slick. The slap of his balls against your clit and his strong hips against your firm ass an erotic symphony.

“Fuck! I’m gonna cum so hard in that borrowed pussy, you want that?”

“God, yes, Dean. Fill this tiny little thing up,” You whined, tugging at your nipple as Dean began to add an extra roll of his hips between his thrusts. Damn, he knew just how to move, your channel quaked against him, another orgasm looming just out of reach. Dean slid one hand from your waist to palm the small bubble of one ass cheek, fingertips digging so deeply they’d leave marks in the morning. He brushed your g-spot over and over again, everything was vibrating, but it grew too loud. As soon as you felt the next wave approaching Dean froze, spilling inside your wanton cunt. Hot, thick and delicious Dean’s cum slipped from your lower lips as he eased his spent cock from your shaking walls.

He wouldn’t stop touching you, his hand on your hip as you slid down to curl on your side. He let his breathing regulate as he perched back on his heels, his well-built body on full display, the base of his multicolored pleasure trail glistened with both of your juices. His mouth a perfect pink “O” as he blew out a chilling stream against your lolling breasts. You groaned and rolled back up to all fours, biting his delicious thigh as you snaked up his body to steal another kiss. His arms encased you, pulling you in a painfully tight squeeze, the Mark of Cain, hotter than the rest of him, pressed against the lower curve of your ribcage.

He nestled his nose against yours with a satisfied hum, “Now, THAT, was not something I never thought I would do.” Gesturing to the sigils beneath your bodies.

You laughed, “Come on, not even when you were the demon?”

“Okay, maybe once, but Sam was in the room, no way he was getting a free show.” Dean winked down at you, which you eye-rolled away, letting the black slip away for effect. This was it: you felt the inevitable end approaching like a derailed train. You couldn’t look away or sidestep the onslaught, you just had to let it happen. If Dean would let go of the brakes, it would all be over soon.

“Do you know what you’re going to do?” You asked softly, letting your hand rest just below his tattoo, head against his collar bone.

He shook his head, “Not a clue, but I had to see you again, in whatever way I could.”

“Well, you could have come to me,” you teased, “I’m pretty sure Knights get all access passes.”

“I’d much rather come in or on you, sweetheart.” He grinned, what an ass. You shoved him away playfully, setting these carefree moments to memory. Even if you were both shit at coping, but professional at bullshit, at slapping on a mask for everyone else’s benefit. Well, Dean the later at least. You didn’t care much for anyone other than yourself, him and CC, if you were being honest. Which you weren’t.

“I don’t think I could handle if you went back, you deserve better than Crowley’s crap-dom.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I can’t die then.” He kissed you gently. “And won’t be going on another karaoke tour anytime soon.” There were so many things you wanted to say and none of them sounded like what he needed to hear. So, you sat there in silence, naked and blissed out upon the grimy floor of a forgotten warehouse in Dean’s arms.

***

He had fallen asleep, with his flannel as a pillow and his jeans thrown back on, unzipped and rumpled, he snored lazily at your side. It was some surrealist painting unraveled, he was raw and clammy with every spare patch of skin reaching across fictitious distance between you. He grumbled senselessly as you watched him, the vessel’s pleas growing with each passing minute. You kept your exploits from her, but she still knew she wasn’t safe there. The wrongness of losing perspective fostered the alarm churning inside your shared head. You savored every second you spent watching Dean dream, which was all the more precious because it was brief. Fleeting as a heartbeat, gone as quick as a wink. Nothing gold can stay.

Once the awe of it all wore down into undeserved contentment, she pushed harder and your willingness to ignore her thinned. You had work to do, a King to please and a vessel to free. You may have been a demon, but you weren’t cruel. CC had taught you how to be honest, even when it cost you everything. You wouldn’t look him in the eye and offer a true goodbye. You didn’t want to hurt him, and you couldn’t bear it if he wasn’t as pained as you.

Which is why you left like a thief in the night. The trap meticulously scratched through with the switchblade Dean always kept on him. Hastily, you left a note, prying a strip of vellum from the spell book he had used. Sam would have a bitchfit about it later, that you were certain. You couldn’t just disappear after experiencing an ecstasy of his choosing. Dean deserved more than you could offer, but you muddled through. With an air of melancholy that would make a Victorian widow proud, you staggered away on feet too swollen to be shoved back into her tiny boots.

*^*^*

When Dean woke up, everything hurt: his pride especially.

He hadn’t planned beyond summoning and facing her, but once he was inside her vessel with her; Dean had found what had been missing all those months. Dean saw his mirrored half: damned and deceitful, surely, but beautiful and blossoming all the same. He started to laugh when he fully came to, a deep belly laugh that brought tears to his eyes. Here he was, left half naked in a devil’s trap and somehow felt like he was the one doing the walk of shame. Either way, they both were. Figured.

He started gathering his spell materials as his phone went off.

“Dude, where are you?!”

“I had an errand, Sam. I’ll be home before noon.” Dean plucked a folded piece of paper from the middle of the old grimoire he had stolen from the Bunker’s collection.

“Everything alright?”

“I haven’t killed anybody, if that’s what you mean.” Dean read the note carefully before tucking it into his breast pocket, phone pinched between his shoulder and ear.

“That’s not what I— You know what, forget it. I’ll see you when you get back.”

“Not if I see you first,” Dean replied ad nauseum.

Sam barked a forced laugh. “Nice.”

“Yeah, well, you too.” The brothers both hung up, allowing Dean to finish clearing the basement of everything but the mangled sigils ringed in red. Before Dean started the Impala’s engine, he pulled out the thin scrap and reread the words she had left him.

Dean-

I’m sorry to do this like this, but this one needs to get back to her life. I’m still on a job in Europe for the time being, but thanks for the one-night vacation. You were, as always, incredible. I hope you know you can call me; whichever way works best, anytime. Just, don’t do anything stupid. O.k.?

Always yours,

May 1, 2015

After Angel Heart

If Castiel had known Chloe Collins her entire life, perhaps he wouldn’t have been surprised by her request. Maybe, if he had known her without a demon’s influencing their entire history; she would have built up to this massive deceit with more finesse. Though angels were known best for being direct, unless one considered Lucifer and Gabriel, of course. Every way he regretted their tumultuous past; it still didn’t make answering her any easier.

“No.” Castiel glared at CC like she had suggested he trade the trench coat for Bermuda shorts.

“Castiel, please? This is really important and now that you’re fully you, you can show me how.” CC hated asking for favors, especially of the Angel, but this had gone too far.

“I don’t understand why you think I would do such a thing.”

“Because it is for their safety, Castiel. Sam and Dean are in danger with this hanging over us. We ALL are in danger from the truth getting out.” CC moved further from the backdoor of the Impala, drawing Cas out of earshot.

“Why?”

“Because, ‘Heaven’s eyes will never be far from you now and the minions of Hell will seek you out as a fortress against the light.’” She huffed in exasperation, eyes locking onto his impossible blues as the warning resonated between them.

“Whose words are those?”

“Mine, or my granddad’s, I don’t know. I had to make a choice to comeback from being comatose, Cas. I chose to live with the knowledge of my birth, of what and who I am. So now; I am a target. Dean doesn’t need another cross to bear, his plate is full. And Sam? Sam’s already walking on thin ice.” She stopped before she could expose every dirty secret she had learned from her months of hiding.

“Why are you only telling me this now?”

“Claire. You did the right thing, even if it hurt like a sonofabitch.” CC gave him an impressed eyebrow as he took what she said as the compliment she intended.

“You trust me?” Cas looked at his hands then back to CC, who’s own were tucked into her back pockets.

“Us Heaven rejects need to stick together, right?” Her smile pulled one out of him.

“If I agree to this, when would we even be able to do it?”

“As soon as possible. I need to get back at it, especially with the Steins still out there.”

“And you’re sure this is the only way to ensure Sam and Dean’s safety?”

“Fuck no. This is the only way to ensure Sam and Dean’s blood isn’t on my hands. Those assholes don’t do safe, you know that.”

Castiel nodded into a shrug, still playing at considering her offer.

She stepped forward, dropping a heavy hand onto his shoulder. “I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t care about them, Cas.”

He noted her repeated use of his nickname from Dean and the physical contact that they had never shared before. “Alright, I’ll do it. I’ll erase the knowledge of your lineage from Sam and Dean’s memories.”

“And Charlie’s,” CC added.

“And Charlie’s, of course.”

“I can’t thank you enough.” CC reached her opposite hand out and shook Castiel’s hand, solidifying their agreement. Cas took her hand and her anxiety in his, sensing she needed the peace of mind as much as she needed the escape.

*^*^*^*

Next Chapter: Finale: Just One of the Many

#known series #moc!dean #dean winchester fanfic #dark fic #demon!reader #dean winchester smut #moc!dean x reader #spn dark fanfic #spn fanfic #spn fanfic series

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hunnybadgerv · 7 years

Text

Coffee | Saints Row | Violaceous Fury

Summary: A simple morning cup of coffee becomes so much richer.

a/n: Been working on this prompt literally longer than I even know. I do know that it was started for a request for morning sex for Troy and Furia, which after a moment of study I found was sent to me by @chyrstis in … I’m so sorry … November 2014. I guess this just goes to show that patience pays off … and that I can be slow as hell with a prompt.

Links: AO3 | FFnet

Coffee

Troy leaned in the doorway, sipping his coffee as he let his eyes skim her form. At first, he thought she was still sleeping, then she moved. Her hips rolled upward and it didn't matter that there was barely any light in the room. He could feel his smile bloom as her hips raised a little higher. That's when her head bowed a little more and he caught the curve of her mouth. He took another sip of coffee before setting the cup down. Crawling across the bed he placed kisses up the back of her leg that stuck out from beneath the sheet.

"I didn't mean to wake you up," he mumbled against her curve of her ass just before he bit it.

Furia shrieked and giggled, pulling away for a moment, before Troy wrapped his arm around her waist and did it again. Her hand found his hair this time and gave it a gentle tug as her laughter bubbled louder. Troy acquiesced, covering her body with his own. His hearty chuckle echoed against the soft curve of her long neck.

"You didn't. It was the coffee," she giggled, turning toward him.

He planted kisses over her shoulder and up her neck as he settled against her. "You should have said something. I'd have brought you a cup."

"Oh, I think this is much better than coffee." Her fingers teased through his hair and she leaned up to peck the tip of his nose.

Troy smiled, harboring a similar sentiment. “Oh really?” He slid his hand over her hip. "And just what might this be?" he asked, his hand moved to trace her bare arm, grazing the cap of her shoulder as his fingers moved toward her neck.

"You’re a clever man, I think you can figure out exactly what this is." Furia tipped her head in that seductive way of hers, her lips moving with each calculated syllable, knowing he would read every word upon them. “Of course, for most people the first clue would have been the naked woman shimmying beneath their sheets.”

Troy agreed. For most people, that would be a clue. “But you’re not most people,” he said. His fingers traced the column of her neck and down her chest, they moved to dip between her breasts, taking the sheet with them. “And I’ve learned it is dangerous to make assumptions with you.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” she replied with a smirk that was equal parts rapacious and playful.

“I know,” he taunted, his hand moving to cup her breast in a way that placed her nipple on display. They both glanced at it; he only barely caught that shift in her attention when he looked back up at her. It drew his smile wider and his body shifted against hers with the sheet still between them.

The deliberate nature of his movements kept her silent attention. The corner of her mouth twitching when his tongue peeked out. Her lips opened in a cavernous moan as he dragged the flat of his tongue over her bared flesh. It was one thing he’d figured out fast—her sensitivity and how much she liked to be touched, teased.

Of course, she also wasn’t beyond pay back. Furia always gave as good as she got, be it in a fight or in bed. Her hands tightened in his hair as his singular attention continued.

“Troy,” she all but whimpered when he tugged the sheet away from her left breast as well. They both knew the same treatment awaited it. And as needy as the rumble in her throat might seem, he didn’t rush, even with the faint lines of light peeking through the blinds.

When they were together it felt like the whole world stopped. Even if he knew it wasn’t true. With her he hated rushing, he preferred to bask in every reaction she gave up so wantonly. Though even he, in his reverence, was no stranger to the half-dressed quickie on his desk, in her car, or the other countless places it sometimes happened between them.

The second time she called his name it was a plea, a request. He lifted his chin, letting the whiskers of his goatee tickle the flesh he’d sucked to a sensitive peak. She patted the bed beside her, adding a soft, sweet, “Please.”

As he moved, she lazily rolled onto her side, pressing her back against his bare chest. He smiled against her shoulder and grazed her skin with his teeth before planting a kiss there.

Turnabout, he thought when her hips rolled against his. Then her hand draped over the one that rested upon her waist. Her head turned, and in an awkward exchange their lips met while she guided his hand between her thighs. She didn’t need to say what she wanted, nor did he need to be told.

The darkness cradled them, magnifying every soft moan from her lips. Vanilla permeated his senses, paired with the musk of her. The ache in his groin pulsed as she arched back against him and her hips bucking against both his hand and his cock. His name on her lips made him wanton; he pressed against her—fingers and hips rocking against her as he bit into her shoulder.

She called out, a mix of pleasure and maybe a shred of pain at the bite. “Troy.” Her voice already quieter, though it quivered in the same way the muscles of her back did against his chest. “Dios. Te deseo,” she breathed, her lips turning toward him again.

He seized them; his kiss deep and greedy as she rode out her orgasm. “You’ll have to try that one again, beautiful,” he told her with a hint of laughter in his voice. He loved how she forgot he was one of the few guys in the gang that didn’t know Spanish, which he saw more and more as a terrible oversight on his part.

When she moved again, he leaned up a hair. With no hint of pretense, her leg draped over his waist. Her hands skimmed along his ribs in a touch that would have been ticklish if he weren’t so keyed up. Sharp teeth dragged along his Adam’s apple until she tilted her head and blinked up at him. “I want you,” she said, doing far more than merely translating her words. Plump lips brushed against his like satin. “I want to feel you inside me,” she purred, kissing his cheek.

“Christ,” Troy breathed, staring at her. His words cut short by a low groan as one of her hands dove into his pants.

“What?” she asked. Her tone reached for a feigned innocence it would never reach

Her touch—warm, soft, and so damn tempting—distracted him a moment. He sealed their lips once more, thrusting into her grip, but he broke the kiss quickly. Her teasing threatened to push him past that haze of wantonness with far too much ease.

With great reluctance, he pushed himself away from her and onto his knees as he leaned for the bedside table. He yanked open the drawer, perhaps a little too hard because it almost flew across the floor. Her one hand kept up the teasing, while the other deftly slip his pajama pants over his hips.

“Damn,” he said, hips rocking into her smooth stroke. Once he removed the condom from the package, his weight shifted.

“Well, hurry next time,” she taunted as her hand slid down his shaft and cupped his balls. Troy rolled the latex on with a low growl hanging in his throat. At the rate she was going he wondered if she wanted him to finish quickly.

One of her hands snaked up his chest and abruptly pushed him backwards. There was still a hunger in her eyes as she crawled up his body, biting at his bare chest. Her mouth closed over a nipple as she straddled his body. The soft suck gave way to the slow scrape of her teeth. He hissed sharply and pulled her mouth to his, which was when she sank down on him quickly.

"I love that sound," Furia cooed when Troy broke their kiss with a deep moan.

He grinned at her, pulling her closer to drop light kisses on her chest. "You keep this up and you'll hear it more."

So, she did precisely that, rolling her hips against him. Furia seemed intent to entice him. Leaning up, her body moved like a ripple on the surface of a pond. Every inch of her shifted against him and her hands flexed against his chest as she rode him. The sight of her above him, dark tousled waves framing her face and skimming her breasts with every roll of her lithe body.

He watched her every move. Studied the shape of her mouth with every sound she made. Teased her skin to exquisite result, then as he approached the precipice of his own orgasm he gripped her hips.

“Sol,” he said quietly.

Her eyes met his. It wasn’t the usual challenge, more like assurance. Her body rocked hard against his, welcoming the erratic upward snap of his hips; then the rutting took on a manic quality—her exquisite face froze in a silent scream. When the tension building him snapped like a rubber band wound tight, Troy’s body moved with similar abandon as she collapsed against his chest, breathless and spent.

They lay there, unmoving, in one another’s embrace. “So much better than coffee,” Troy agreed, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Furia’s laughter vibrated through him, then she sat up. “Told you so,” she teased, both her hands brushing his cheeks as she placed a soft, but content kiss upon his lips. “But like coffee, one cup is just enough. Two is decadent,” she warned before she shifted.

Troy watched her as she disappeared into the darkness of his room, the part beyond the bed. The bright assault of the bathroom light blinded him before he heard the click of the door closing and gentle swishing whisper of the shower. He stared at the bare hint of shadows moving in the sliver of light at the bottom of the door, considering joining her even as he knew where it might well lead.

Neither of their phones were ringing off the hook yet. There might be a few more minutes for them to claim together before the inevitable separation began anew. He never knew how long it would be before they were together again. Sometimes it could be the very next night, then there were the weeks where they’d both be drowning in responsibilities and emergencies that kept them apart far too long.

Part of him hated this cloak and dagger aspect of their relationship, but she had just as many reasons to keep it under wraps as he had. Though he hated it, he knew there wasn’t any other way. At least, not yet.

#Saints Row #Saints Row Fanfiction #Badger Scribbles #Soledad Amaranta Guerrero #Troy Bradshaw #Coffee #Violaceous Fury #Clearly I'm procrastinating from outling #by fucking writing and revising other fic #what the hell is wrong with me #chrystis #Thanks for the prompt #sorry it took 3 fucking years to fill

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thehierophage · 4 years

Text

Holy Day Meditation for April 10, 2020 æ.v., The Feast for the Third Day of the Writing of the Book of the Law

April 10, 2020 æ.v. Dies Solis, Sol 21° Aries, Luna 25° Scorpio An Vvi æ.n.

Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.

The Feast for the Third Day of the Writing of the Book of the Law, The Greater Feast of Saint Swinburne, The Day of Aleph, The Day of the Fool

Hebrew Letter: Aleph

Numerical Value as Letter: 1

Numerical Value as Word: 111/831 (Aleph+Lamed+Peh / Aleph+Lamed+Peh [fin.]) or 117/837 (Aleph+Lamed+Vav+Peh / Aleph+Lamed+Vav+Peh [fin.])

Meaning: Ox.

Thoth Card: The Fool (Atu 0)

Alternate Title: The Spirit of Aethyr.

Image:

Correspondences:

Tree of Life Path Association: Key 11 - Chokmah to Kether (from Sephira 2-1)

Astrological Sign: -

Element: Air

Egyptian Godforms: Hoor-pa-kraat, Mout, Shu, Tefnut

Geomantic Figure: Those of Airy Triplicity

Gemstones: Topaz, Chalcedony

Perfumes: Galbanum,Pinus, Gum Arabic, Mastic, Anise and all fresh odors.

Plants: Aspen, Peppermint, Lime, Linden, Pennyroyal

Animals: Eagle, Man (Cherub of Air), Ox

Colors:

King Scale – Bright pale yellow

Queen Scale – Sky blue

Prince Scale – Blue emerald green

Princess Scale – Emerald, flecked gold

The Secret Instruction of the Master:

Mnemonic:

Truth, laughter, lust: Wine's Holy Fool! Veil rent,

Lewd madness is sublime enlightenment.

Liber Arcanorum Verse:

0. A, the heart of IAO, dwelleth in ecstasy in the secret place of the thunders. Between Asar and Asi he abideth in joy.

Genius of the House of Mercury:

Aعu-iao-uعa

Genius of the Prison of the Qliphoth:

Amprodias