#perfume sir he os

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Love Game 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your fiance suggests incorporating roleplay in the bedroom to keep the spark alive, but playing pretend turns out to be all too real.

Characters: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen

Note: I did this because I could.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

'You ready?' 

A tingle accompanies the text. Your stomach tosses and turns at the thought. You think you're ready. As ready as you can be. It's all so new to you. 

You hover your finger over the automated reply suggested by the OS. You tap on 'yes', too shaky to type it yourself. You're not scared, just nervous. 

When Andy first brought up the idea, you laughed. It was so absurd. Silly really. 

You remember how the look he gave you was like hands on your throat. The hurt with an edge of agitation strangled away your laughter. You apologised and asked him if you heard him right. Then he explained and it made sense. Kind of. 

'If we're going to get married, we need to keep the flame alive,' your fiance said as you stirred the contents of a pan with a spatula. 'Trust me, I know. A dead bedroom can kill everything else.' 

You frown at the memory. You hate when he mentions his first wife. He's engaged to you now. You're not her. Besides, things are pretty good. That's why you laughed. There was nothing bland to spice up. At least, you hadn't thought so. 

'You know the plan?' He texts. Always thorough, if not persistent. 

'I think' you type as you squeeze your phone tighter then think better of the reply. You backspace. Remember the plan. 'Yes, sir.' 

You blow out between your lip and put the phone on the counter. You look in the mirror and pick up the bottle of moisturizer, smearing it over your face. Half the day you've spent prepping yourself. Everything has to be perfect. Andy is always certain of that. 

You snap the cap shut and peruse the rest of the basket. He thought of everything. New soaps, wax, perfume, and all sorts of goodies. You didn't need it all but he insisted. 

Everything about Andy Barber is pristine and tidy. His house not least of his carefully curated existence. So it is that you often feel as if you don't quite fit it, even when he tells you the opposite. 

Your phone vibes and you look down at the screen as the notification flashes, 'good girl.' 

Your lashes bat and you giggle thinly. You've never done anything like this. You struggle to get a precise grip on the tweezers and have to still your hand with the other. This is wild! 

You rub your thighs together and strike hotter the flame of your anticipation. As much as the whole thing has you uncertain, it has you alight. You steady yourself and lean into the mirror, just a few stray hairs. It shouldn't matter, it'll be dark, right? 

Your phone goes again. You pull back and glance down. You trade the tweezers for the cell and press your lips together. 

'Did you find your surprise?' 

You look up and search your expression. Surprise? You lower your brow and peer around the bathroom. There's more? 

'Bedroom' his next message comes bluntly. 

You chew your lip and leave the mirror behind. You go down to the main bedroom and ease through the door. The room still smells of his cologne. The whole place is drenched in him, meanwhile most people wouldn't guess at a glance that you lived there too. 

You see it on the bed. White silk and lace. The lingerie is sheer enough that you may as well forego it. You near and touch the scalloped hem. You know it must be expensive, funny how so little fabric can be worth so much. 

You step back and take a picture. You send it to Andy and wait, your thumb between your teeth. He replies. 

'Put it on.' 

His blunt orders add to the thrum coursing through you already. It seems he's already in character. You need to get yourself together and do your part. 

'Yes, sir.' 

You set the phone on the corner of the mattress and trade your bathroom for the lingerie. The thong, while high-waisted has you on full display. Not ass, no crotch, just lace straps that trim your thighs and bottom. The top is an open teddy with cups that do nothing to censor your pert nipples. Just wearing it sends a thrill through you. 

You take the phone and return to the bathroom. You use the full-length mirror to frame your reflection with the lens. You snap a few pics and sift through for the best one. You hesitate before you tap the little arrow. You're a mess of paranoia and lust; you shouldn't send photos like this and yet you can't help yourself. 

You wait for his reply. Wait and wait and wait. You have to stop yourself from staring at the phone, knowing that your hyperfocus will only slow time. You cross to the counter and place the phone near the edge. 

Your attention is drawn to the sheer fabric acrosd your chest. You can't suppress the moan that leaks from you. You can feel how excited you already are but your eagerness might just get in the way of the whole thing. 

You sigh and the buzz draws you back from your anxiety. You read the message, almost disappointed. 

'Midnight.' 

That's it. That's all he has to say. Was the pic not good enough? Is this part of the roleplay? You don't know. 

As ever, Andy has you guessing at what he really wants. Hopefully this time, you get it right. 

💕

10:47pm. You’re wired. You’re trying to settle down. You have freshly laundered bedding and a glass of wine; all the perfect ingredients to lull you to sleep. That’s all you need to do. Fall asleep. 

Yet knowing what’s coming won’t let your mind stop. Ugh, your heart is racing again. You need to finish the wine. You push yourself up and have another gulp. You lay in the glow of your phone, a Get Ready With Me playing on low volume. Usually this all works. 

Not tonight. You’re too buzzy. Too frazzled. Too eager! 

You empty the glass and lay back down. You were generous, filling the wide body of the glass to the halfway point. At least two regular glasses worth.  

Your head meets the pillow and you start to feel it. The acidic burn spreads through your veins and you sink into the soft sheets. You turn your head to watch the small screen of your phone, vision slowly hazing as the contoured woman applies her lip liner expertly. 

Your eyelids cling and start to itch. Your heady is swishy, your tummy too, and your limbs weaken. It’s working. You try not to think too much about it, not wanting to counteract the alcohol with your self-awareness. 

You roll onto your side and drift into a half-conscious daze. Your brain swirls and your blood burns hot. Your breathing slows and piques only when your rouse, glancing at your phone as a new video plays. The time stamps into your vision; 11:25. 

You curl your shoulders inward, more tired than anxious now, and slip back into your tipsy stupour. The screen is just a glow on the other side of your eyelids and the audio a scratch in your ears. It fades beneath the even ebb and flow of your quiet snores. 

As the light fades out and the sound dwindles to nothing but the still of night, you wake again. Your eyes open to the darkness. You’re alone. Confused. 

You feel around on the bed for your phone. It must have timed out or the battery died. You don’t find it. Instead, your wrist is trapped in a strong grip and dragged away from the duvet. You gasp and remember what’s going on. It’s starting. He’s there. 

“Ah, ah,” comes the grizzled tut as your other arm is seized and your hands are brought together above your head. 

Andy’s shadowy figure straddles you, pinning you to the mattress as you squirm. You let out a squeak and he hushes you. You still and arch your back, trying to push your chest up. 

“Please, who are you?” You whine, doing your best to play into the scenario. “Please, my husband will be home soon--” 

He shushes you again, holding your wrists together as he leans back to reach behind him. You can hardly see through the dark and your foggy tipsiness. The curtains have been drawn, obscuring the room to fuzzy lines and pulsing shadows. 

He hooks something around your arm; a leather cuff, then secures your other wrist. He keeps your arms up and reaches behind the mattress. He attaches the wring between the cuffs to some unseen hook. Where did that come from? 

You writhe as he stares down at you. You squint back at him, trying to see through the dim. Something feels off. He’s so quiet and forceful. It must be part of the roleplay but it just doesn’t feel like him. He feels like a stranger. 

He backs off of you, peeling back the duvet to drop it on the floor. He prowls along the foot of the bed and you kick your feet, whimpering as you strain against the cuffs. You keep forgetting it’s a game. You have to play your part too. 

“Please, don’t hurt me,” you beg. 

There’s no answer. Andy continues to pace, back and forth, back and forth. He's really transformed. Where he would usually have his hands on his hips, he has them folded behind him, shoulders squared, his steps lighter. 

He stops and lets out a willowy rasp. He unzips his jacket, slipping off the sleeves slowly, deliberately. You lift your head as you try to see him clearer. Did he change? He must have dressed up too. 

Then he pulls his shirt over his head and huffs out again, a growl catching in his throat. He drops the shirt with his jacket and the duvet. Andy never leaves a garment outside the closet or hamper but this isn’t Andy, remember? This is an intruder! And you’re the helpless housewife. 

You nearly moan at the thought. Something about it is so hot even if it makes you a bit squidgy too. You tug again on your wrists as you hear his zipper slice through the din. 

“Please--” you beg. 

He kicks the footboard and the loud bang silences you. You can’t help the pathetic noise that trickles from your tongue and you swallow. He’s doing good. It feels so real. 

He continues to undress. Your heartbeat picks up as you wait for him to really start. He bends to pick something up then climbs over the footboard onto the bed. For a moment, you wince. His silhouette is slimmer. Or seems so. The difference is so minuscule it might be your wine-laced brain playing tricks. 

He catches your kicking feet and pushes your legs wide. He trails his hands up them, a piece of fabric tickling beneath his left palm, and firmly hooks them around him as he moves between them. He stops at your pelvis, his rigid length hovering over you. He stretches the black cloth across your eyes, blotting out what little sight you have. He knots the band behind your head and you gasp. 

He traces along your cheeks and your jawline, as if he can see you through the dark, as if he’s learning you by touch. His fingertips dance down your throat and across your shoulders. You feel fragile as he toys with the strap of the lingerie and feels along the flimsy cups, circling his thumbs around your nipples as they pebble beneath the sheer silk. 

He gropes you and growls. The noise is guttural and raw. It flutters into your core and has you twitching. He pushes his knees against your cunt, moving so the friction flurries in your clit. You babble and raise your chest, hungry for his touch. 

He flicks your nipples and his hands crawl onward, down your torso, doting on the soft flesh of your stomach, and framing your hips as he draws back on his knees. He snarls and bends over you, bowing as he grips you tightly. His nails dig into your skin and you whine as you feel his hot breath against your folds. 

He nuzzles along the edges of the panties, growling as he does, squeezing your harder, then at once, buries his nose in your cunt. He wiggles his head and drags the tip of his nose up over your clit and swipes his tongue up to further set you aflame. You moan and curve your back, planting your heels as you urge him on. 

He delves into you, lapping and licking, suckling and swirling. His arm reaches up and he kneads your chest, blindly pulling the lingerie under one tis. He pinches as you cry out and he rolls your clit between his teeth. You puff out shallow breaths, swept up in the sensations. 

This is so different. Unlike he’s ever been before. He’s almost feral in how he touches you, how he feels you, how it seems he wants to consume you. There’s something else different, something strange you can’t place.  

Did he shave? You can’t tell, It must be the wine. His cheeks feel bare against your thighs and yet you swear you feel that scratchy tickle against your cunt. You don’t think about it; it’s all too much to focus. 

You squeal as you cum, spasming into his face as he drinks up your orgasm. You’re heaving and hollow as he doesn’t let up. He laps at you until you’re begging him to stop. Until you’re quaking, nearly sobbing in overwrought pleasure. Until you have a second, a third, and a fourth. 

Your slickness smears over his face and across your thighs. As he parts, his breath is humid, and you can smell the sweet scent of your release. You shiver as he raises himself up and the bed jostles. He snarls and slaps your thighs, squeezing until you whimper. 

He shifts and slides a hand under your leg. He flips you onto your stomach so your arms twist and your face is buried in the pillow. You pant into the linen as he smacks your ass with both hands and growls as he fondles you. You murmur as his touch sends tendrils down your legs and up your back. 

He grips your hips once more and raises your ass. Oh my god. It’s only a few times you’ve done it like this, often Andy prefers you on your back. He says he likes to see you.  

He pulls you back against him, his length resting between your cheeks as he bends over you. He inhales the scent of your hair and snarls against your crown. He reaches down to feel between your legs, spreading your swollen cunt as he angles his hips. 

His tip slips down and he uses his fingertips to guide it to your entrance. You’re so wet he slips right in. He sounds just as surprised as he gasps. He sinks into your limit and you whine. He retracts his arm, hooking it around your neck, and thrusts. 

You squeal as he buries himself even deeper. He does it again; harder. It hurts. You croak and press your chin down into his arm. You feel a ripple of fear. His chest feels... bare. Andy has that trim of fur that you like to play with. Maybe he got rid of it? For the roleplay? 

He snaps his hips again, staying deep before slowly rearing back. He pauses, then bucks again. The impact of his pelvis on your ass is painful and he’s hitting your cervix. 

“Ow, Andy--” 

“Quiet,” he grits in a deep sneer and brings his other hand up to smother your mouth. 

He leans his weight on you, your neck and shoulders aching from the angle of your spine. He dips into you again, again, again. Each pause between grows shorter as he tilts into a full rut. The entire bed shakes with his motion. 

You squeeze your eyes shut and curl your fingers into your palms, the cuffs slowing your circulation. You huff into his hand as he continues his rampant fucking, skin slapping, bones aching. Harder, deeper, faster, until you’re delirious. 

“What’s your husband going to think when he comes home to his wife being fucked like a slut?” He rasps and nibbles your ear, “huh? How’s he gonna compare to this, baby? Your husband can’t fuck like me can he?”  

He taunts and you cringe. You don’t like it anymore. It’s not fun. You don’t want him to be this man. To be this rough and rude. You want him to be Andy. You try to say his name again but only taste the salt of his palm. 

“Keep your mouth shut, slut,” he sinks into his limit and stays there, his voice echoing in your head. His tone is just... off. “I’m not done with you yet.” 

[literally-just-there]

⋆ 💖 ⋆‧°𖦹｡⋆ Self Insert OC ⋆｡𖦹°‧⋆ 💖 ⋆

.𖥔 ݁ ˖⟡⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓🌻.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Seeker

She ended up in a cursed city with amnesia and a weird magic map, but she got cool powers and a found family so things are going pretty fine.

⋆ 💖 ⋆‧°𖦹｡⋆ Romantic F/Os ⋆｡𖦹°‧⋆ 💖 ⋆

⋅ 《•🔍⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓ The Informant

Together with Seeker, they are either two lovestruck idiots or the smartest, most unstoppable force of nature, there is no in-between.

🎱༄〰𓆩☆𓆪❀˖° Amber Lewis

A fellow investigator and an absolute badass who radiates confidence, she teaches Seeker how to play chess and pool and they both have fun during it.

⋆ 💖 ⋆‧°𖦹｡⋆ Familial F/Os ⋆｡𖦹°‧⋆ 💖 ⋆

⊹˚₊‧◇•┈┈┈┈୨⋅🪞⋅ Helen

A mother to Seeker, and to basically everyone in the city. Part-time mayor's assistant, full-time sweetie and badass.

🪁❀--*ੈ--✩‧₊˚ Benjamin Rosewell

Did Seeker adopt him or did he adopt Seeker ? Who knows... What is for certain is that intelligence and lack of impulse control brought them together.

▪︎ ⋅ ⋆༺જ⚔️𓆩✧𓆪 Colonel Hammerstrike

Seeker's supportive dad, a feminist who also lacks impulse control, teaches her how to use guns and forbids swearing.

⋅ 《•✺…˚ ༘ 🎩 ೀ⋆｡𖤓˚ Felix Smallcat

Seeker's Tired Dad ™, who needs a hug because he is doing his best, also he teaches her how to paint and ride a bike.

.₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧🏛.⁂⤶.·͙*̩̩͙❞ Sir William Hoggarth

Seeker's grandpa who gets excited about archeology and will hit you with an authentic medieval sword if you dare attack his museum.

𖦹༄☸꒰ ⚓ ꒱ؘ ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟCaptain Wang Wei

Seeker's awesome uncle who teaches her sea shanties, how to maneuver a boat and how to not get scammed. Also, he wants regular updates on her love life.

―✧˖° 🏵 °˖𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪°˖✧ Gordon Byron

A sibling to Seeker, who (half) chose to deal with the romantic bohemian guy who flees responsibility, and to be a therapist specialized in mommy issues.

❀*‧｡*:･✮𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ Lady Charlotte Livingstone

Seeker's spoiled and spirited little sister, who has an intense love for pink and helping people.

✧˚ ༘ 🎭)◞ ｡⋆｡˚✮𓍢ִ໋ Clyde Templeton

He is Seeker's little brother even though he is older because he got an arc and she had to tick him off, and now she is extremely proud of him.

⋆ 💖 ⋆‧°𖦹｡⋆ Platonic F/Os ⋆｡𖦹°‧⋆ 💖 ⋆

༺｡° .ᘛ𓆩💗𓆪ᘚ. Anna Sherwood

Seeker's absolute best friend, both are Dedicated ™ to their jobs, and both would throw their moral compasses out the window to protect the ones they love.

💐⋆˙⟡⋆˙˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ⚱ Adrian Bloom

Since they are both amnesiacs, they kind of naturally gravitated towards each other. He makes her exclusive new perfumes, she teaches him puns.

₊˚⊹✧˚ ༘📚⋆｡˚;༊𖦹｡⋆ Amelia Anders

An absolute sweetheart. Seeker and her are basically co-parenting Ben and other kids. They bonded over their love for reading and mutual fear of the dark.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･💡⁺˚⋆｡°✮₊ The Inventor

An absolute cinnamon roll who will propel Darkwood in the 30th century when the outside world is still in the 19th century. Seeker does not mind if things explode or get stuck to the wall because science!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺ ⚒️.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Robert Smith (The Blacksmith)

No sir, Seeker is not bored or annoyed by your lengthy explanations of what it is you are doing in your work in the slightest. Yes sir, she and the Informant are in love and idiots about it. Please proceed with the explanations and the shipping.

✩♬ ₊˚.🩰⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧⋅ The Dancer

She is the best, most passionate and most patient dance teacher ever. She always makes sure Seeker and the Informant are paired up during lessons, then she proudly admires her good work at balls.

⛧°。 ⋆༺☾🕯𖦹⋅ Agnes the Witch

Seeker is like 'I could defeat you if needed but you teach me a lot of stuff and you are a cool person actually so it would suck to not have you around' and Agnes is like 'you are the only decent sign of intelligent life around these parts and also I have never met a more selfless person but please don't think too much of what I just said'.

⋆ 💖 ⋆‧°𖦹｡⋆ Fictional Enemies ⋆｡𖦹°‧⋆ 💖 ⋆

⋆✮⋆༄ʚ🗝ɞ°｡ ⋆⸜ 𖦹 The Man in the Mask

Between 'cool motive, still multiples cases of kidnapping and assault' and 'he ensured Delacroix would not become mayor, he got standards'.

˙˖°✩‧ --⋆｡⊹˚꩜‧₊˚⚜️ Lord Carl Delacroix

Seeker wishes for his absurdingly expensive tea to be cold, and for him to accidentally cut off his moustache because he tried to frame the Informant and because he is an asshole in general.

[soluniversal]

Perfume Prestige Sir He Os | Eros Versace Hombre

Perfume Prestige Sir He Os | Eros Versace Hombre

El amor, la pasión, la belleza y el deseo son los conceptos clave detrás de esta fragancia inspirada en Eros Versace. Interpreta lo sublime masculino a través de un aura luminosa con una combinación intensa, vibrante y brillante de hojas de menta fresca, ralladura de limón italiano y manzana verde. Una sensualidad adictiva acentuada por notas orientales, intrigantes y envolventes como frijoles…

[pamphletstoinspire]

THE HOLY GOSPEL OF JESUS CHRIST, ACCORDING TO ST. John, FROM THE LATIN VULGATE BIBLE

Chapter 20

PREFACE.

St. John, the evangelist, a native of Bathsaida, in Galilee, was the son of Zebedee and Salome. He was by profession a fisherman. Our Lord gave to John, and to James, his brother, the surname of Boanerges, or, sons of thunder; most probably for their great zeal, and for their soliciting permission to call fire from heaven to destroy the city of the Samaritans, who refused to receive their Master. St. John is supposed to have been called to the apostleship younger than any of the other apostles, not being more than twenty-five or twenty-six years old. The Fathers teach that he never married. Our Lord had for him a particular regard, of which he gave the most marked proofs at the moment of his expiring on the cross, by intrusting to his care his virgin Mother. He is the only one of the apostles that did not leave his divine Master in his passion and death. In the reign of Domitian, he was conveyed to Rome, and thrown into a caldron of boiling oil, from which he came out unhurt. He was afterwards banished to the island of Patmos, where he wrote his book of Revelations; In his gospel, St. John omits very many leading facts and circumstances mentioned by the other three evangelists, supposing his readers sufficiently instructed in points which his silence approved. It is universally agreed, that St. John had seen and approved of the other three gospels.

Chapter 20

Christ's resurrection, and manifestation to his disciples.

1 And on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene cometh in the morning, it being yet dark, to the sepulchre; and she saw the stone taken away from the sepulchre.

Notes & Commentary:

Ver. 1. As our Saviour had been interred in great haste, the holy women who had before accompanied Jesus in all his journeys, brought perfumes to embalm his sacred body again, in a manner more proper, than Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea had been able to do before. St. John makes mention of Mary Magdalene only, because it was his intention to give a particular relation of all that she did: but we learn from the other evangelists, that there were three holy women at the sepulchre together, viz. Mary Magdalene, Mary, the mother of James, and Salome. (Calmet) --- This was on the first day of the week, the morrow of the sabbath. (Bible de Vence) --- Christ rose again, leaving the stone and seals still lying on the sepulchre. But as this was to be believed by others also, after the resurrection, the tomb was opened, and thus the belief of what had taken place, propagated. This it was that struck Magdalene; for as soon as she saw the stone rolled from the sepulchre, without entering, or even looking into it, she immediately ran, in the ardour of her affection, to carry the news to the disciples. (St. Chrysostom, hom. lxxxiv. in Joan.)

2 She ran, therefore, and cometh to Simon Peter, and to the other disciple whom Jesus loved, and saith to them; They have taken away the Lord out of the sepulchre, and we know not where they have laid him.

Ver. 2. No explanation given.

3 Peter, therefore, went out, and that other disciple, and they came to the sepulchre.

Ver. 3. No explanation given.

4 And they both ran together, and that other disciple out-ran Peter, and came first to the sepulchre.

Ver. 4. No explanation given.

5 And when he stooped down, he saw the linen cloths lying; but yet he went not in.

Ver. 5. He saw the linen cloths lying. St. Chrysostom takes notice, that Christ's body being buried with myrrh, the linen would stick as fast to the body as pitch, so that it would be impossible to steal, or take away the body without the linen cloths. (Witham)

6 Then cometh Simon Peter, following him, and went into the sepulchre, and saw the linen cloths lying,

Ver. 6. No explanation given.

7 And the napkin, that had been about his head, not lying with the linen cloths, but apart, wrapt up into one place.

Ver. 7. No explanation given.

8 Then that other disciple also went in, who came first to the sepulchre; and he saw, and believed.

Ver. 8. He saw and believed. He did not yet believe that Jesus was risen from the dead, because he was still ignorant that he was to rise from the dead. For although the apostles had so often heard their divine Master speak in the most plain terms of his resurrection, still being so much accustomed to parables, they did not understand, and imagined something else was meant by these words. (St. Augustine, tract. 120. in Joan.)

9 For as yet they knew not the Scripture, that he must rise again from the dead.

Ver. 9. No explanation given.

10 The disciples therefore went away again to their home.

Ver. 10. No explanation given.

11 But Mary stood without at the sepulchre, weeping. Whilst she was then weeping, she stooped down, and looked into the sepulchre:

Ver. 11. No explanation given.

12 And she saw two Angels in white, sitting, one at the head, and one at the feet, where the body of Jesus had been laid.

Ver. 12. No explanation given.

13 They say to her; Woman, why weepest thou? She saith to them; Because they have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid him.

Ver. 13. No explanation given.

14 When she had said this, she turned herself back, and saw Jesus standing: and she knew not that it was Jesus.

Ver. 14. It may be asked, why Magdalene, after putting the question to the angels, turns round, without waiting for the answer. No doubt, as soon as she had spoken, the heavenly messengers perceived their Lord behind Mary, and by their looks and actions, gave her to understand that they beheld their Lord. This caused her immediately to look behind her. (St. Chrysostom, hom. lxxxv. in Joan.)

15 Jesus saith to her; Woman, why weepest thou? whom seekest thou? She thinking that it was the gardener, saith to him; Sir, if thou hast taken him away, tell me where thou hast laid him: and I will take him away.

Ver. 15. If thou hast taken him away. Thinking him, as the evangelist remarks, to be the gardener, how comes it, that without saying whom she sought, she asks if he had taken him away? Because such was the ardour of her love, that she could not imagine any one could think of any other but him, of whom her own mind was so full. (St. Gregory, hom. xxv. in Evan.)

16 Jesus saith to her; Mary. She turning, saith to him; Rabboni, (that is to say, Master).

Ver. 16. Jesus saith to her, Mary. Magdalene, now in grief and tears, knew not Jesus, till he called upon her by her name, and with his usual voice: then with joy, she cried out, Rabboni, Master. And Jesus saith to her, touch me not, &c. The meaning of which words seems to be: I am not yet leaving thee, nor ascending to the Father, so that thou mayest have time enough to embrace my feet afterwards; now go to my disciples, &c. (Witham) --- Magdalene, having inquired where he had placed him, appears to have turned towards the angels, to inquire the cause of the awe and reverence she had observed in them. Upon this, Jesus calls upon her by name, and she, turning again towards him, discovers him by his voice. (St. Chrysostom, hom. lxxxv. in Joan.)

17 Jesus saith to her; Do not touch me, for I have not yet ascended to my Father: but go to my brethren, and say to them; I ascend to my Father and to your Father, to my God and your God.

Ver. 17. I will not leave you again; be not in a hurry to touch me; you shall all have this pleasure. I will remain with you some time, before my ascension. Announce my resurrection to my apostles. You shall see me again. This is the interpretation most modern commentators put upon this place. Others suppose, that Magdalene imagined he was risen from the dead to live with men as before, like Lazarus. He addresses these words to her to disabuse her of this notion. (Calmet)

18 Mary Magdalene cometh, and telleth the disciples; I have seen the Lord, and these things he said to me.

Ver. 18. No explanation given.

19 Now when it was late that same day, the first of the week, and the doors were shut, where the disciples were gathered together for fear of the Jews: Jesus came and stood in the midst, and said to them; Peace be to you.

Ver. 19. And the doors were[1] shut, or being shut; and remaining still shut, his glorified body entered by penetration through the doors, as he did at his resurrection. Maldonatus takes notice, that Calvin was the first that denied this, against the belief of all the ancient Fathers and interpreters, who call this a miracle of divine power. (Witham) --- The same power which could bring Christ's whole body, entire in all its dimensions, through the doors, can, without the least question, make the same body really present in the sacrament; though both the one and the other be above our comprehension. (Challoner) --- Therefore it is a want of faith to limit the power of Christ, by the ordinary rules of place, and to deny that he can be in the blessed Sacrament, and on so many altars as he pleaseth. We do not still join with the Ubiquists or Brentiani, who, quite contrary to the Zuinglians, maintain, that the humanity of Jesus Christ is in every place where his divinity is. This is contrary to faith. (Bristow)

Note:

Ver. 19. 29. Cum fores essent clausæ: januis clausis, ton thuron kekleismenon. See St. Ambrose, in Psal. cxviii.; St. Augustine, tract. 121. in Joan. De Agone Christiano, chap. 24. 4. 6. p. 257. Epist. ad Volusianum. t. 3. p. 405, where he says, demus Deum aliquid posse, quod nos fateamur investigare non posse. In talibus rebus tota ratio facti est potentia facientis. See St. Cyril on this place, lib. xii. p. 1092, 1103, and 1107. St. Chrysostom, hom. lxxxv. p. 315. Lat. Ed. and hom. lxxxvii. Ed. Ben. p. 520, to gar outo lepton kai kouphon os kekleismenon eiselthein ton thuron. &c. See St. Jerome, ad Eustochium in Epitaph. Paulæ. t. 4. p. 685. and lib. i. cont. Jovin. t. 4. p. 178; St. Leo, serm. i. de Resurr.; St. Epiphanius, her. lxiv. p. 593. Ed. Petav. &c.

20 And when he had said this, he shewed them his hands, and his side. The disciples, therefore, were glad, when they saw the Lord.

Ver. 20. No explanation given.

21 He said therefore to them again; Peace be to you. As the Father hath sent me, I also send you.

Ver. 21. As the Father hath sent me. The word mission, when applied to our Saviour Christ, sometimes signifies his eternal procession from the Father, and sometimes his mission, as he was sent into the world to become man, and the Redeemer of mankind: the first mission agrees with him, as the eternal Son of God; the second, as man, or as both God and man. The mission which Christ here gives his apostles, is like this latter mission, with this great difference, that graces and divine gifts were bestowed on Christ, even as man, without measure: and the apostles had a much lesser share in both these missions. See St. Augustine, lib. iv. de Trin. chap. xix. xx. tom. 4. p. 829. and seq. (Witham) --- Jesus Christ here shews his commission, and so giveth power to his apostles to forgive sins, as when he gave them commission to preach and baptize throughout the world, he made mention of his own power. Hence, whosoever denies the apostles, and their successors, the right of preaching, baptizing, and remitting sins, must consequently deny that Christ, as man, had the power to do the same. St. Cyprian, in the 3rd century, ep. lxxiii. says: "for the Lord, in the first place, gave to St. Peter, on whom he built his Church, super quem ædificavit Ecclesiam, the power that what he loosed on earth, should be loosed also in heaven. And after his resurrection, he speaks also to his apostles, saying, as the Father sent me, &c. whose sins you shall forgive," &c. Why, on this occasion, passing over the other apostles, does Jesus Christ address Peter alone? Because he was the mouth, and chief of the apostles. (St. Chrysostom, de Sacerd. lib. ii. chap. 1.)

22 When he had said this, he breathed on them, and he said to them: Receive ye the Holy Ghost:

Ver. 22. Receive ye the Holy Ghost. It was said, (John vii. 39.) that the Spirit was not yet given, because Jesus was not glorified. The sense must needs be, that the holy Spirit was not given in that solemn manner, nor with so large an effusion of spiritual gifts and graces, till the day of Pentecost, after Christ's ascension: but the just, at all times, from the beginning of the world, were sanctified by the grace of the Holy Ghost, as no doubt the apostles were, before this time. Now at this present, he gave them the power of forgiving sins. (Witham) --- Some say, that our Saviour did not then confer the Holy Ghost on his disciples, but only prepared them for the receiving of the Holy Ghost. But surely we may understand, that even then they received some portion of spiritual grace, the power, not indeed of raising the dead, and working other miracles, but of forgiving sins. (St. Chrysostom, hom. lxxxv. in Joan.) --- St. Cyril of Alexandria, speaking of the remission of sins, promised in this text, asks, "How then, or why, did Christ impart to his disciples a power, which belongs to the divinity alone? It seemed good to him, that they, who had within themselves his divine Spirit, should likewise possess the power of forgiving sins, and of retaining such as they judged expedient; that Holy Spirit, according to his good pleasure, forgiving and retaining, through the ministry of men." (In Joan. lib. xii. chap. 1.)

23 Whose sins you shall forgive, they are forgiven them: and whose you shall retain, they are retained.

Ver. 23. Whose sins you shall forgive,[2] &c. These words clearly express the power of forgiving sins, which, as God, he gave to his apostles, and to their successors, bishops and priests, to forgive sins in his name, as his ministers, and instruments, even though they are sinners themselves. For in this, they act not by their own power, nor in their own name, but in the name of God, who as the principal cause, always remitteth sins. This is generally allowed to be done by God's ministers in the sacrament of baptism, as to the remission of original sin; and the Catholic Church has always held the same of God's ministers, in the sacrament of penance. (See the Protestant Common Prayer Book, in the Visitation of the Sick.) --- Whose sins you shall retain, they are retained: by which we see, that to priests is given a power to be exercised, not only by forgiving, but also by retaining; not only by absolving and loosing, but also by binding, by refusing, or deferring absolution, according to the dispositions that are found in sinners, when they accuse themselves of their sins. From hence must needs follow an obligation on the sinner's part, to declare, and confess their sins in particular, to the ministers of God, who are appointed the spiritual judges, and physicians of their souls. A judge must know the cause, and a physician the distemper: the one to pronounce a just sentence, the other to prescribe suitable remedies. (Witham) --- See here the commission, stamped by the broad seal of heaven, by virtue of which, the pastors of Christ's Church absolve repenting sinners upon their confession. (Challoner)

Note:

Ver. 23. Whose sins you shall forgive, &c. See St. Cyril, lib. xii. in Joan. p. 1101, metanoousi sugginoskontes. St. Chrysostom, hom. lxxxvi. p. 517. nov. Ed., Magna est sacerdotum dignitas, quorum remiseritis peccata, &c. See also lib. iii. de sacerd. t. 1. p. 383. nov. Ed. Ibid., noli esse incredulus, sed fidelis, kai me ginou apistos, alla pistos.

24 Now Thomas, one of the twelve, who is called Didymus, was not with them when Jesus came.

Ver. 24. Thomas ... was not with them. Yet no doubt the like power of forgiving sins was given to him, either at this time or afterwards. See St. Cyril. (Witham)

25 The other disciples, therefore, said to him; We have seen the Lord. But he said to them; Unless I shall see in his hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the place of the nails, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.

Ver. 25. I will not believe. St. Cyril thinks, that the grief and trouble St. Thomas was under, might partly excuse his want of belief: however, we may take notice with St. Gregory, the his backwardness in believing, was permitted for the good of Christians in general, that thereby they might be more convinced of Christ's resurrection. (Witham) --- The doubts of St. Thomas are of greater advantage to the strengthening of our faith, than the ready belief of the rest of the apostles. For when he proceeded to touch, to assure his faith, our minds, laying aside every, even the least doubt, are firmly established in faith. (St. Gregory the Great)

26 And after eight days, his disciples were again within, and Thomas with them. Jesus cometh, the doors being shut, and stood in the midst, and said; Peace be to you.

Ver. 26. No explanation given.

27 Then he saith to Thomas; Put in thy finger hither, and see my hands, and bring hither thy hand, and put it into my side: and be not incredulous, but faithful.

Ver. 27. Put in thy finger hither. Christ, to shew he knew all things, made use of the very same words in which St. Thomas had expressed his incredulous dispositions. Our blessed Redeemer would have the mark of the spear, and the prints of the nails to remain in his glorified body, to convince them it was the same body: and that they might be for ever marks of his victory and triumph over sin and the devil. The evangelist does not say, that St. Thomas went and touched Christ's body, though it is very probable he did as he was ordered. But how could a body that entered in, when the doors were shut, be felt, or be palpable? St. Chrysostom[2] answers, that Christ at that time permitted his body to be palpable, and to resist another body, to induce St. Thomas to believe the resurrection; and that when he pleased, his body could not be felt. In like manner, his body was either visible or invisible, as he had a will it should be. In fine, he could eat in their sight, though he stood not in need of any nourishment. See St. Augustine.

Be not incredulous, but faithful. In the Greek, be not an unbeliever, but a believer. --- My Lord, and my God; that is, I confess thee to be my Lord, and my God; and with the Greek article, to be him, that is, the Lord, and the God. (Witham)

28 Thomas answered, and said to him; My Lord, and my God.

Ver. 28. No explanation given.

29 Jesus saith to him; Because thou hast seen me, Thomas, thou hast believed: blessed are they that have not seen, and have believed.

Ver. 29. No explanation given. See note on verse 19 as it also applies to verse 29.

30 Many other signs also did Jesus in the sight of his disciples, which are not written in this book.

Ver. 30. No explanation given.

31 But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God: and that believing you may have life in his name.

Ver. 31. No explanation given.

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