ecstasy dreams

Sundays

request: Can you do a Chris Evans x reader that takes place on a Sunday morning? It can be cute but it can also be explicit

pairing: chris evans x reader

word count: 1870

warnings: smut, oral (female receiving) plus chris calling you babygirl

Originally posted by sensualkisses

Sunlight peeked through the thin veil of the curtains and light illuminated your skin in the dewy morning, Chris’ eyes stayed focused on your curves his fingers skimming lightly over the exposed flesh. He swore he saw a halo over your head as the light washed over you making you look more ethereal than ever. His fingers stopped at the curve of your back, his eyes locked on the newly bruised skin of your hips. Chris thought back to the night before and he smiled in bliss, nights with you were truly euphoric and last night was no exception.

Chris found his lips pressed to the shiny purple bruises showing adoration for them as well as you, his lips travelled southwards until they found the warmth of your equally as bruised thighs. Last night was intense and Chris wanted to show you the love he couldn’t last night when he was caught in the throes of passions. His soft lips pressed softly against your thigh, the small action setting off sparks in you – he always had that effect on you. Your eyes fluttered open just as a moan slipped past your lips as Chris’s calloused hands coaxed open your thighs and he groaned in appreciation at the sight he was met with.

Keep reading

I am an excitable person who only understands life lyrically, musically, in whom feelings are much stronger than reason. I am so thirsty for the marvelous that only the marvelous has power over me. Anything I cannot transform into something marvelous, I let go. Reality doesn’t impress me. I only believe in intoxication, in ecstasy, and when ordinary life shackles me, I escape, one way or another.
—  Anais Nin.
The true Sabbat is simultaneously a state of Dreaming-consciousness and an extradimensional locus where the convocation of the living and the dead occurs and the Great Return which leads to a new becoming is achieved. The celebrants of the Sabbat gather in the twilit forests and the mist-shrouded meadows of Elphame and through the averse formulae of the infinite return, deliberately ‘go backwards’ to that which lies behind all phenomena and consciousness, the ineffable source of all creation glyphed in the Witch-Mysteries by the Cauldron and the Cavern.

This mystical self-reversion or initiatic regression to the root of All is synonymous with the Horned God’s law of Misrule. It provides the inner metaphysic of ritual reversal, symbolised by the Backwards Prayer, the Widdershins Dance, and the black tapers and ceremonial inversions characteristic of the Sabbat-Rite. All these infer the way of initiatic return and self-reversal to the ground and matrix of primeval unity which is the true state of Sabbatic ecstasy.

…The Dream-Sabbat is the supreme rite of the Witches, a total actualisation of the Great Mystery - all restrictions and bonds are overcome there. The separations between god, human and beast dissolve in a polymorphous inferno of extasis, the secret rapture of inner Witchdom. Thus the Sabbat is a dream, a dream of such potency that the profane world seems pallid and unreal by comparison. To enter into this sacred world of paradaisal night-revels requires consummate agility of the Dream-Body and the employment of techniques to sidestep and diminish the hold of profane perceptual conditioning, enabling the leap or flight to the ‘Other Side’ to be effected.
—  Nigel Jackson, Masks of Misrule

What are you doing here?
What do you want?
Is it music?
We can play music.
But you want more.
You want something & someone new.
Am I right?
Of course I am.
I know what you want.
You want ecstasy
Desire & dreams.
Things not exactly what they seem.
I lead you this way, he pulls that way.
I’m not singing to an imaginary girl.
I’m talking to you, my self.
Let’s recreate the world.
The palace of conception is burning.

Look. See it burn.
Bask in the warm hot coals.

You’re too young to be old
You don’t need to be told
You want to see things as they are.
You know exactly what I do
Everything.