#I think you should get to play around with darker themes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tadpolesonalgae · 8 months ago

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Two-Faced[***]

Dark!Rhys x reader

a/n: Honestly I’ve tried to edit this so many times I can no longer tell if I like it or not? Also this is a prequel to Desk Pet and goes along with that universe but can be read on its own 🧡💛

warnings: non-con, shadow play(?), bdsm themes, suggested breeding kink, smut, overstimulation, somnophilia, suggested dacryphilia(?), a little peak into Rhys’ mind at the end

word count: 8,875

-Desk Pet- -Play-Mate-

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You glance into the mirror, readjusting how the thin golden chain hangs around your neck, the small pendant sitting pretty between your breasts.

Easing in a deep breath, you check everything else is appropriately placed, nothing revealing too much skin, no fabric dipping where it shouldn’t, everything neatly wrapped up. You could swear you can see how your heart pulses in your chest in the reflection, a slight shudder passing beneath your flesh as you think ahead to what might unfold.

The deep purple gown settles comfortably over your body, dark and velvety, the neckline modest without being conservative, the hem of the skirts brushing just shy of your feet, sleeves that run down to your wrists, locked in matching golden chains, slim and elegant. Your lips are painted darker than usual to match the purple of your dress, with small golden pins keeping some strands of hair in place. Is it too much?

Dining with a High Lord… Even if you’re friendly, you don’t want to suggest something you can’t give, nor flirt where you can’t fulfil.

In the recent months, you know you haven’t been imagining the intensity in his eyes, how they sweep so deliciously over you, slowly, under the guise of polite appreciation. But there’s nothing polite about the way he looks at you. How it sets your skin on fire, pulse spiking with the slightest curve of his mouth. How your breath hitches whenever his skin brushes yours, fingers grazing your waist to guide you someplace—gentle dominance that makes your body flush with heat. Even at the faintest hint of his scent, you’d found yourself seeking out his gaze, as if sharing in a forbidden fantasy together.

Maybe it’s your fault for letting it get too far. Letting it escalate without consideration for how high he might truly be able to take you. He certainly isn’t the only male in your life. You hadn’t even realised how far things had gone with Rhys until the male you’d been seeing casually had brought it up, and you’d felt a tug of guilt in your gut. The two of you weren’t together exactly, but it definitely wasn’t just sex. There was too much emotional intimacy for it to be such a black-and-white situation. Emotions bleeding over where they should have been kept in line.

A triptych of knocks are landed to your door, gentle but firm, and you tear your gaze away from your reflection—attractive as it is, you shouldn’t keep him waiting.

Easing in a breath, you open the door, pulse spiking as you take him in, raising your chin to meet his violet gaze.

On the wooden deck of your house, stood beneath the warm faelight to illuminate the entranceway, he dominates the space, your attention zeroing in on his figure, dressed immaculately as usual, shirt revealing a peak at the appetisingly tan skin beneath, a suggestion of ink peering over the hem of the linen.

“Rhysand,” you greet with a smile, opening the door wider, previous worries forgotten as he takes up your attention whole. “Rhysand?” He drawls, brow quirking in amusement as he leans forward, and you step into his invitation. “Have I done something to irritate you?” He muses beside your ear, bodies pressed a little closer than appropriate as your arms wrap over his shoulders. His palm splays between your shoulder blades, pressing you deeper into his sturdy heat, spine arching under his direction. “You show up dressed as you are—I thought you said this was a casual dinner,” you smile as you pull away, arms still wrapped around one another.

Violet eyes sweep across your features, the skin between your shoulder-blades tingling beneath his broad palm, and that intensity burns down into you. “You look like this for casual dinners?” He replies, lips curving with amusement. “I look like this for my High Lord,” you reply, rolling your eyes playfully, stepping out of his hold, already missing his heat. “Will you tell me where we’re going to dine? Or are you going to insist on keeping it a secret until the last second?”

“The last second might be a bit of a stretch,” he chuckles, offering you his arm, “but I know how you like surprises, so perhaps arrangements can be made.”

“You could winnow us there with ease,” you muse lightly, linking your arm with his, door closing at your back as he guides you down the steps leading into your front garden, then out into the street.

Violet eyes flick over you, your skin tightening beneath his open attention, meeting his gaze. “A lady deserves preparation,” he replies, heat fluttering in your lower abdomen at the sonorous drawl. “I’m sure you’d still succeed with the surprise element regardless,” you laugh, lips warm from the smile. “I suppose I could always blindfold you?” He suggests, and you gently elbow him, rolling your eyes again, trying to quell the traitorous heat that’s unspooling in the pit of your stomach. “I’d trip up and break something,” you counter fondly, swiftly averting you gaze so he won’t be able to somehow read your emotions. The attraction that always seems to become much more prominent in his presence. More pertinent, and palpable.

“I could direct you,” he replies lightly, a curve to his soft mouth, “I like to think I’m fairly good at giving instructions.”

“You’re practiced at giving orders. There’s a difference,” you counter, unable to help the smile on your lips—that’s undoubtedly shining in your eyes. “Besides, I don’t trust myself in heels.”

“You certainly picked a tricky pair,” he admits, glancing down to the thin golden strings wrapped around your ankles, disappearing beneath your dress. “I’m sure I’ll be regretting that by the end of the night,” you sigh, taking care to avoid any uneven surfaces. “If you need a reprieve, feel free to say,” he chuckles lowly, guiding you down another street, and you silently admire how seamlessly he blends in with the inky darkness of his court. “I’d be more than happy to sweep you off your feet, if needed.”

————

You’d been surprised when he’d taken you not to a pre-established restaurant but to a house he’d recently purchased by the riverside—for ample view of the Sidra, he’d explained, when you’d asked why he’d picked that part of the city.

He’d guided you in, as he usually does when you’re out together, a hand kept lightly against your lower back to keep you steady, especially when passing over cobbles. You’d noticed how his touch had smoothly migrated from lightly brushing against your skin on the way into the house, to settling securely around your waist once away from the public, a response of equal parts concern and satisfaction humming in your chest. It’s hard to keep your head when he singles you out so obviously—like there’s something special about you in particular. Something he can only find in you. How are you supposed to resist a male who makes you feel so treasured?

“You certainly succeeded with surprising me,” you smile, leaning back in your chair, content with the meal—mansaf, with goat’s meat. “I didn’t know you could cook like that?” You muse, meeting his gaze across the cozy table, tucked away in an alcove on the library he’s slowly filling up, tall windows to your right, providing a clear view of the Sidra, rooftops shadowed under the night’s sky. His smile isn’t as full as you’d hoped, instead seeming quieter than usual. “I don’t have much time to indulge anymore,” he answers, and you straighten in your seat. “It would be nice, to pursue my own interests. From time to time.”

Your expression softens as you watch him from across the table—he makes it easy to forget the things he’s withstood. It’s easy to speak with him, to be around him.

“I appreciate you finding the time to do so tonight,” you say quietly, briefly glancing down at your empty plate before returning your gaze to his. “It was delicious.” His eyes twinkle, and a small smile makes its way onto your mouth at the familiar gleam. “I’m glad you thought so,” he admits, “it’s been a while.”

“If this is how you are out of practice, it might be for the better you don’t have more time on your hands. You’d run people out of business,” you say quietly.

There’s a pause that passes between you, and you feel yourself being pulled in, already so thoroughly snared by his riptides you haven’t noticed you’ve been pulled under.

“I know it isn’t much,” you say lowly, a little roughly, pushing up from your seat to walk to his side. “But you deserve the time to indulge in your own interests, Rhys. To be able to enjoy life like the people you devote yourself to protecting do.” Violet eyes lift to yours, swirling and depthless, pulling you further down. “You’ve mentioned what that time was like,” you manage quietly, voice thick with emotion, at all he’s sacrificed to keep Velaris safe. To keep his people safe. “I can’t even imagine what it was like,” you murmur, hand resting gently on his shoulder, hoping you aren’t overstepping.

It isn’t often he talks about what had been done to him, what he’d been forced to do, but when he does…you listen. Take in every word, let him know you hear him, at the very least. That he has someone he can share his life with, someone he can come to when he’s alone, and know you’ll be there.

“You’re out now,” you whisper, “you made it.”

“I’m in pieces,” he murmurs, expression neutral despite the sadness of the admission.

“It’s okay to be in pieces, Rhys,” you reply, stepping into him when he shifts to face you, his hand coming to rest atop your own, fingers dancing to your wrist, wrapping over your forearm carefully. As if afraid to break you, too. “You’re allowed to grieve yourself, after what happened.”

His fingers tighten a little around your wrist, then he’s smoothly standing from his chair, though you don’t step back, keeping together as his hand slowly settles on your waist.

“I don’t think…” he trails off, voice breathy and hushed, and you hold him a little tighter, free palm settling on his upper arm. His throat rolls, and he pulls you the barest bit closer, bodies connecting as heat is shared and swapped, scents pushing together. “I don’t think I’m the same as I was before,” he admits quietly, violet eyes pinning you to the floor, touch pressing into your skin. “That’s okay,” you whisper, “time changes people. It’s okay to shift in essence.”

“No. Not like that,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your own, your hand brushing against his jaw, his palms wrapping tighter around you, growing more assured in their hold, like you’re becoming a part of him. “I can’t stand it,” he admits, brow pressing to your own, his eyes shut, a troubled expression on his beautiful features. “I can’t stand it anymore.”

You peer up at him, now cupping his face in both your hands, leaning into him. “What is it?” You ask softly, “you can tell me. I want to know what’s troubling you.” Violet eyes open slightly, darkened by his lashes as he looks down at you, brows furrowed in what looks like indecision. Or regret. But then it’s gone in a flash, easing out into something more calm, and familiar. “I want to be happy,” he confesses quietly, words brushing over your mouth so tenderly. “I don’t want to be alone again. How I was.”

“You aren’t alone,” you murmur, thumb brushing his cheek. “You have your family, you’re back with them again—you’re back here again. You survived.” But he shakes his head, and you push slightly closer, letting him know whatever he wants, he can confess to you. You’ll be there for him if he needs.

“I can’t stand not having it anymore,” he breathes, hold tightening on you, voice deeper, rougher, than before. “I should be happy, shouldn’t I?”

Your brows pull together, curving as you nod, wanting nothing more than to comfort him, slotting yourself into the familiar lines of his body. “Everyone deserves to be happy,” you whisper, heart aching, “even if they don’t believe so.” You swallow, feeling hot beneath his gaze, but refusing to step away, not when this is the most vulnerable he’s ever allowed himself to be with you. “If you…” you swallow again, eyes darting away briefly before returning to his. “If you know what you want…” You trail off, bewitched by the swirling intensity of his gaze. Your breath catches, aware of how close you are, how intimate the embrace has become. “…you should have it, Rhys.”

He exhales heavily, relief loosening the tension in his body, then he’s leaning forward, mouth opening over yours.

You freeze, not having expected the bold action, but quickly melt beneath his touch, all previous thought fading to nothing as his lips slant over yours, soft and hot, and his hands are moving across the planes of your body, strengthening as you’re pulled impossibly closer. He’s a really good kisser.

His tongue flicks out, and you start, reeling from his pace, but he’s gently turning you around, mouth still sealed against your own as he pushes you into the wall, hips against your own while his arm wraps tight around your waist, other hand settling over the nape of your neck that’s so small in comparison. Your palms stutter as they shift, unsure where to place them, having been swept off your feet, caught with your guard down. You hadn’t realised just how intense the attraction had become—for either of you.

Rhys makes a hungry sound from the back of his throat, and your insides flutter, spine arching into him, breasts pressing fully against his chest—but you need to slow down. You hadn’t planned on any of this unfolding so rapidly, had intended to be wary of his advances, of the mutual lust binding you together. It’s dominating; overpowering, mind-warping to struggle against, but you have enough sense to know acting on this desire will only confuse things. Mixing tender affection with the sharpened blades of lust never ends well.

“Rhys,” you murmur, pulling away enough to get his name out, but his mouth seals over your own again, and you fight to not be dragged under by hunger, by your desire to follow in his motions. This isn’t something you can rush, if you want it to work. Your hands tangle in his hair, tugging him back firmly, heat warming your cheeks. “Rhys, we—”

His hands leave your body, roughly gripping your wrists and shoving them back against the wall, hips keeping you pinned in place as he devours you, prying your mouth open with embarrassing ease, arousal making it hard to resist. His tongue stokes over your own, and a heady feeling rushes your veins, need pounding in your blood, losing grip fast as he sinks his claws into you.

Rhys pulls away from you, and you open your mouth to tell him to stop, but he’s dipping lower, attacking your neck as his canines flash, the kisses rapidly descending into untamed bites and claiming slashes of teeth against soft, unmarked skin. You gasp as he bites, putting his mark into your body, startled by your own enjoyment, how arousal is swiftly rising to meet him, as much as you’re trying to pull away. “Rhys…” you pant, struggling half-heartedly beneath his touch, enjoying how his strength dominates you, a display of power so brutal and fundamental something warms in your chest.

He releases your wrists in favour of roughly gripping your skirts, almost tearing them as they’re shoved up your thighs, making way for him as he grips you tight, hoisting you up so your legs wrap around his hips—allowing him to press against your centre, purple fabric pooled around your waist. Instinctively your arms fly over his shoulders, and then his mouth is reclaiming your own, a flashing frenzy of tongue and teeth that knocks you clean off your feet, heart pounding from the assault on your senses, the ticklish pleasure still tingling across the erogenous skin at your throat.

Your fingers shakily tangle in his hair, and he snarls into the kiss, canines scraping over your lower lip before crushing back against your mouth, the damper on his power waring thinner, and thinner, pressure straining on your bones as you tremble. He’s never come this close to removing it completely around you, and it’s terrifying, your heart pounding in your chest, pulse spiking as you begin to get an understanding of what kind of beast you’ve been taunting.

“Rhys!” You gasp as his hand palms over your breast, grinding between your thighs as he again dips down to your throat, feeling your heightened pulse beneath his teeth. Tongue darting out to taste you.

Your hands stutter over him, torn between trying to pull him away and to tug him closer, to take more of him, startled by the ferocious hunger he’s subjecting you to, and the starvation it’s bringing forth in your own body.

His fingers effortlessly slide beneath your dress, but when they brush the golden string that’s clinging to your right hip, it’s like a bucket of icy water has been speared into your bloodstream. Your palms slam down against his shoulders, leveraging yourself against the wall as you shove at him enough to push him away by an inch or two, allowing your legs to unlock from his hips, standing on your own shaky feet again, nearly collapsing thanks to the sharply-angled heels.

“Rhys, stop,” you demand breathlessly, hands flat against his powerful chest, able to feel how his magic thrums dangerously around you, beating in time with his pulse in deadly waves. “Slow down,” you breathe, gazing up into intensely dark violet, practically plunging into icy indigo, his features turning glacial as he looks down at you, caged in, your cheeks warmed from arousal. He steps closer, crowding your space, and you tense up, abruptly aware of how that lethal strength could just as easily be used against you rather than with you.

“What is it?” He drawls, the tone having hairs rising on the back of your neck in warning, a long lost sense rising from the recesses of your mind to scream its horror at the creature before you, steadily emerging from beautifully carved skin. “I…Rhys, I’m not sure about this,” you answer honestly, hands trembling over his chest, trying to even out your breaths. “I’m sorry,” you fumble, “it’s all happening so quickly—I didn’t expect anything to happen tonight.”

“Is that why you’re wearing these?” He asks lowly, and you stiffen as his fingers brush over your hip, now covered again by your dress, but you know he’s talking about your underwear, how it matches the gold of your jewellery, complimenting the regal purple of your gown.

“I—…that was for me,” you mumble, flushing, shying away from the pressure within his gaze, how his attention crushes down upon you. “So I’d feel more confident around you.”

“Confident?” He remarks lowly, roughly, the slow drag of the word tingling down your spine. “So you always wear something matching whenever you feel unsure?” You falter, glancing away, hands lowering a little but remaining against him, anxious to keep him at bay for the moment. “I’m sorry if I misled you,” you manage, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “But I…if you’re only after sex, I can’t give you that.”

“You’d give more?” He asks breathlessly, pushing closer despite how you try to keep him away. “With someone else, I could manage a one-time thing,” you whisper, “but with you…”

A deep noise rumbles in his chest, male satisfaction resounding through you as your insides flutter, his hands coming to brace themselves on the wall, either side of your hips as he leans down, mere inches separating you. “You want something serious?” He asks quietly, roughly, and you nod, tilting your head to better see him.

His lips curve at the edges, pleased with your reply. “Then come with me,” he murmurs beside your ear, and your breaths stutter as his arousal wraps around you, stark and heady. His hand wraps around your wrist, making to take you elsewhere, but you pull against his hold. “I need you to slow down,” you manage firmly, getting stable footing on the ground—relatively stable, anyway.

“You were so eager a second ago,” he muses, the sonorous drawl returning, his eyes dark and deadly, able to scent your own arousal by now. He doesn’t release your wrist. “I’m allowed to change my mind,” you say firmly, lightly trying to pull away but to no avail. Either he doesn’t get the hint, or…you swallow thickly.

Violet eyes glint, a curve tilting the edges of his mouth. “And what have you changed your mind to?” He asks smoothly, as if indulging a child’s whim.

“I think a lot has happened tonight, and I want to go home and sleep on it,” you say, aware of how his touch is making your skin tingle. A strange weariness creeping over you, eyelids beginning to weigh as the adrenaline wares off.

A sadness flickers in his violet eyes, before it’s vanished, and he shakes his head. “I can’t stand it a moment longer,” he breathes, firmly pulling you into his body, knowing you’re unable to resist. His palm settles on your lower back, and you press your own hand to his chest in protest. “Rhys. Stop messing around,” you say, peering up at him, meeting hungry, dark eyes. “This isn’t funny. Let me go.”

“Lovely, little lamb,” he breathes, angling you so he can peer down at you, and you can feel the evidence of his arousal pressing intrusively into your middle. “You think I would joke when it comes to you?” He asks gently, violet eyes sweeping over you, and you shrink away, the ravenous lust making your legs feel weak. “I can hardly breathe right around you,” he whispers, “I ache for you. To feel you. To touch you. Don’t deny me for a second longer.”

Your lips part in shock, unable to formulate a response, and his eyes glint with approval, before he’s turning, forcefully dragging you from the room, hand shackled around your wrist as you try to struggle against him, to rip yourself from his hold, but he refuses to budge. You might as well be fighting against iron for how much give he allows.

“Rhys,” you call sharply, tugging away. “Rhysand!” You try grabbing onto a banister, but he’s too strong, and your hold slips away, heels practically clawing lines into the floorboards as you try to lean against him, to counterweight his force—to no avail. “Rhys let me go,” you bark, surging forward abruptly in attempt to knock into him, but he’s been trained as a warrior since birth, and has no difficulty in remaining stable.

“Stop struggling,” he demands lowly, piercing violet pinning you to the floor, and you’re utterly helpless as he effortlessly puts you over his shoulder, sweeping you off your feet with devastating ease. You start kicking, slamming your fists against his back, aiming either side of his spine as you scream at him to put you down, trying to dig your nails into his skin, to rip through his clothes to scratch and slice at him.

You recoil into yourself when his palm connects with your hind, body going taut as you freeze, horror and terror paralysing you, and he chuckles lowly. “Like that?” He asks, voice deeper, and your stomach drops when he reaches a bedroom, able to watch as the door clicks shut.

“Rhys,” you whisper, fear pounding through your veins. “Rhys, put me down.”

Panic roils in your gut as you’re roughly thrown down from his shoulder, knees pressing together as you land on the softness of his mattress, crisp sheets rustling as you try to squirm away from him, pushing further up the bed. “Rhys— Rhys listen to me,” you try, but he ignores you, looming like a nightmare as he grips your ankle, dragging you back toward him.

“Relax,” he muses, fingers biting into your skin as he pushes the deep purple of your dress higher, until you’re certain he’ll be able to see the gold material clinging between your thighs, presented with a perfect view between your legs. “You’ll feel good. You know you’ll feel good.”

“Rhys, fuck off!” You bark, voice shaking with terror, pressure building behind your eyes. “You can’t fucking do this. Just because she did it to you doesn’t mean you have the right to inflict it on other people.”

He snarls lowly at that, pinning you down in an instant, easily slotting between your thighs, his powerful body keeping you where he wants with ease. “I thought you cared, huh? I thought you were eager to be with me. What happened to that, hm?”

“You’re sick, Rhys,” you hiss, “this is sick. You’re fucking insane.”

“It’s okay to be a little insane,” he drawls, mimicking your earlier words of comfort, given in attempts to help him, but in doing so dooming yourself. “It’s more than a little,” you hiss, teeth flashing as you try to kick him off you, but he’s pressing himself flush between your thighs, leaving you without a hope in hell.

“I deserve to be happy, don’t I?” He murmurs so softly over your mouth, and in any other context your heart would have broken at the question—that he would even have to ask. But, “not at my expense, Rhys,” you hiss, heat warming behind your eyes. “Not at our expense.”

“I’m not sacrificing us,” he counters quietly, hand coming up to grip your jaw. “I’m joining us together.” He rolls his hips against yours, feeling him against your sex, how the pressure grinds over your clit, deliciously traitorous heat gathering in response, and you’re utterly helpless as his lips curve into a slight grin, sadism gleaming from deep within his violent gaze.

“I don’t want to join with you,” you spit back, trying to push him away, but darkness gathers on his bed, keeping your wrists bound to the mattress as he lowers his mouth to your throat, kissing and biting his way down your skin, painting a pathway of bruises while his hands glide up your thighs, catching beneath the material of your dress. His lips brush the hem of its neckline, and then he’s smoothly pulling it away, leaving you practically bare.

Your High Lord pulls back, tan skin flushed, pupils dilated with dizzying hunger as he gazes down at his prey, the golden fabric clinging to your hips as you squirm, ankles wrapped in that gilded string, keeping your heels in place, the elegant little chains decorating your wrists, settling around your throat. He groans lowly, rough palms splaying over your waist, resting there gently as he rolls his hips against you, into you, taking his time pulling you apart. Savouring your struggle.

“You were desperate for it minutes ago,” he drawls lowly, right palm raising over your stomach, the pads of his fingers brushing with a feather-light touch upward, starting from your lower abdomen, gliding slowly to your sternum, pleased to feel how your breath hitches beneath his touch. “You’ll be desperate again soon enough.”

“Go to hell, Rhys,” you manage, lip curling back to showcase sharp canines—a set he’d gladly allow to pierce his skin. The only set he’d allow to mark him ever again. “This isn’t fucking okay.”

“No, it isn’t,” he breathes, and your throat rolls heavily as his fingers begin the slow, torturous descent back down your body, trailing over your abdomen, stroking down over the golden fabric, running lightly over your centre. “It’s better.”

Heat flushes your skin as his rough palms grip the underside of your thighs, just above your knees, raising your legs up and out of the way, pressing them close to your torso so he has more room. Callouses drag against your skin, a reminder of his strength, the warrior that’s concealed beneath his finely tailored exterior. He is the embodiment of power.

“Rhys, stop,” you breathe as he settles at the edge of the bed, violet eyes hungrily licking over your clothed sex. You squirm, trying to shift your hips, but his lips brush over your abdomen, and then his teeth are clasping the band of your underwear. He gazes up at you intently, slowly dragging it back—tauntingly; teasingly—until he releases it to snap back against your skin.

“Rhys…” you murmur shakily, the understanding finally beginning to dawn across you that he might go through with it. “Rhys, please. You’re better than this.” Violet gleams with ravenous hunger, dark and starved, and he presses forward, mouth a breath’s width from your sex. “Shall I show you how much better I can be?”

You swallow thickly beneath that look, but manage to nod your head. If you can just get him to pull away, to remove the bonds of your wrists…

Your lips part in a sharp gasp, writhing beneath him as he presses his face between your legs, violet eyes closing as he takes in his own heaven, submerging himself in your scent, your heat. You try to buck away from him, to get further from his mouth, but it only serves to make you more aware of how he’s invading, though his grip has lessened on your thighs.

He exhales heavily, contentedly, shifting between your legs and your muscles coil tense, nails piercing your palms as his nose brushes against… Your toes curl, thighs trying to press together, to ward him away, but he keeps you spread apart effortlessly.

Eventually he pulls back, violet eyes glued to your clothed sex as his fingers hook in the golden strings lacing over your hips, slowly pulling them away. His gaze practically glows, pupils dilating as he peels away the wet material, shame and humiliation burning hot in your gut. Eyes flick up to you, and you force yourself to meet them, to not yield and look away—to not admit defeat. “You’re wet,” he breathes lowly, roughly, depthless hunger swirling in the pits of his pupils. “That means nothing,” you hiss, trying to writhe away from him, fearing what practices his mind will conjure. “I think it means quite a lot more than that, darling,” he breathes, pulling your underwear away completely, then pressing it back to your heat.

You inhale sharply as his fingers run up over you, slow but firm strokes, circling your entrance through the golden fabric, and your pulse spikes. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing now?” You snap, voice shaking with fear, darkness now banding around beneath your knees to keep them apart as he stands, peeling your underwear away. Embarrassment flushes your skin when you catch their gleam, how thoroughly soaked they are.

Rhys’s cruel mouth curves, and you writhe on his bed, trying to turn away as he pushes the wet material between your lips, long fingers prying them apart. Your tongue recoils, trying to pull away, but his grin widens, a pleasured sound coming from deep within his chest as he feels you struggle. “Do you taste good?” He asks lowly, fingers stroking over your tongue, “like having that in your mouth? I bet you’re only getting wetter by the second,” he breathes, pupils fully dilated.

You release a sound that should be disgusted, but comes out as more of a whimper. His breath catches at the noise, able to see how his cock is straining against his trousers but he leaves himself unattended—for now.

He returns between your legs, and a noise between a whimper and a snarl rips from your throat, heat flaring across your skin as he licks up your centre, broad palms keeping your thighs absolutely open for him to indulge.

“Rhys,” you panic, feeling pressure build behind your eyes, managing to spit out the fabric that had been gagging you. “Rhys please. Please stop. We can— We can figure something out—”

His tongue swipes over your clit, making you jolt and squirm, trying desperately to thrash against his hold but it’s like being chained up, his grip stricter than iron as he applies himself, suckling at the impossibly sensitive part effortlessly, as if he’s familiar with how your body works. As if he knows already exactly where to touch, suck, and fuck to have you drooling dumb.

Breaths pant from your lips, hips wiggling as one hand trails down your thigh, and you know exactly what he’s planning to do with those long, dexterous fingers of his…exactly how they’ll feel inside of you, how they’ll know where to push and rub at to have you dripping onto his knuckles.

“You want me to stop?” He breathes lowly, roughly, thumbing at your entrance, liking how you tighten around nothing as if eager to invite him in. “You know I could make you feel like an immortal,” he growls, mouth prone to attach your clit with his tongue and teeth should you try to rebuke him. “I could take you higher…further than anyone’s ever taken you before.”

“I don’t fucking want it,” you hiss, lip curled as heat wets your eyes, trying to blink away the hot tears in favour of sending him a look of pure hatred.

Rhys blinks his violet eyes, then smiles, pulling away.

“Give me five minutes?” He muses lowly, a starving glint in his gaze, darkened and scheming. You snarl, then inhale sharply when the darkness releases you, completely freeing you. Immediately you sit upright, pulling your legs together, but refusing to cower before him—keeping your hands at your sides, gripping the sheets to prevent yourself from recoiling physically.

“You don’t deserve a single second of my time,” you spit, blinking away the tears as you snarl. “I regret how much I’ve already spent on you.”

“Not even a single second?” He laughs, hands sliding calmly into the pockets of his finely tailored trouser, perfectly encapsulating the raw power contained within his body. “I’m not sure if I can take you there in an instant without hurting you somewhere,” he drawls almost apologetically, but his violet eyes spark. “But if that’s all you’ll give me…” he murmurs, softer than a breath.

Your breathing pattern spikes, heat flushing intently beneath his gaze. Talons swiftly enter your mind, and you’re utterly helpless as your body starts to tremble, terrifying heat swelling with such ferocity your vision goes tilted, muscles feeling like custard as you fall back into the bed. Your spine arches on its own, toes curling eyes squeezing shut as he plies the orgasm from your body, easing out your pleasure while he stands at the foot of the bed, idly licking at the pad of his thumb that had prodded against your entrance.

Your lips part as it intensifies, and you scramble, thrashing in the bed, a choked noise erupting from your chest as you feel the high in your entire body, like there are hands touching, feeling all across your body, tongues lapping over your nipples, sets of teeth biting at your throat, lips sealing over your clit as fingers pump and curl inside of you.

The scream rises swiftly, limbs trembling violently as sweat is forced through your skin from the abrupt intensity, the orgasm absolutely devastating as you lose all control of yourself, moaning unabashedly as those feelings are drawn out—as Rhysand draws them out. His fingers the ones inside of you, his teeth piercing your skin, his tongue circling your clit.

“Do you want it to stop,” he muses, unable to help licking his lips at the obscene sight before him, the scent of it filtrating into his blood, rushing straight to his cock, hot and heavy between his legs.

The words jumble and melt across your mind, splashing like melted butter into your head, and struggle—for what? For more? For more.

He chuckles lowly, and you scream as he forces you through a second one, having it break like the surf across jagged rocks, arousal dripping down your thighs, webbing between your legs as you try to press them together only for the darkness to spread you apart. Definitely more than wet enough to fill a shot glass or two.

You pant heavily. Ragged, gasping breaths as wild heat ravishes your skin, pleasure bursting at the seams of your body, a perfectly ripe fruit dripping with flavour, ready to break beneath the slightest pressure from a set of sharp, piercing canines the second they graze your skin. And Rhysand is more than happy to bite.

Your eyes are squeezed shut tight, so you can only feel the mattress dip as he prowls up onto the bed, pinning you down, caging you effortlessly between his powerful, ruining arms.

The High Lord allows your orgasm to wash away slowly, bringing you back to the plane of reality he’s on, your skin hot and dewy from the intense pleasure he’s forced you full of. Your lids flutter, eyes struggling to lock onto his as violet pierces into you, doing nothing to hide the deep-rooted hunger that’s tearing him apart. He moves lazily, with the leisure one can move with when they’re in no rush, yet you can sense that undercurrent, the riptide within him that you’ve been caught in, at last dawning on you. The only other tell aside from his actions and confessions, is the strain in his jaw, wound tight as he gazes down at you, eyes so dark they’re closer to being entirely black as shadow and darkness writhes around you in a great, slithering mass, tangling with you on the bed.

“I think you’re more than ready now,” he whispers, the words dragging like gravel across bare, sensitive skin. “Are you ready?”

Tears spill down your cheeks, so turned around you feel entirely out of control. All you can remember is the sizzling burn of pleasure, the electrifying tingle of heat as it sears through your thighs, making your body feel weightless, like you’re above the clouds and bathing in starlight…starlight that’s hot and wet, that trickles down the naked planes of your body…that slips and slides where your fingers drag through it…that tastes like power and possession…laced through with iridescent violet…

A rough laugh drags from the High Lord’s throat, sensing your pleasure-induced daze, facing not even an ounce of resistance as he gently flips you over on the bed, the side of your face pressing into the soft fullness of one of the pillows, saliva pooling inside your cheek, drooling out onto the cotton as he pushes your thighs apart.

He curses lowly, eyeing the mess between your thighs, wanting more than anything to pull you to the edge of his bed, or flip you around again so you’re spread out on top of him, suspended in the air for him to play with and touch. So he can kiss, lick, bite wherever on your body he likes, so he can press his face between your legs, so he can take his time learning the pace you most like his tongue circling your clit, the pressure to apply that will most swiftly lead you to orgasm, the spots inside of you he should rub against if he wants you to soak him.

But he doesn’t. He’s waited too long.

Besides, after tonight, he can do whatever he pleases; you’ll be his. If he wants to dangle you from the ceiling while exploring your skin, if he wants to bind you to his bed while he kisses up your thighs, if he wants to seat you in his lap while he strokes his tongue against your own…he can. The thought has him growling lowly, dark power writhing beneath his skin, aching to manifest with talons and large, spanning wings, to allow proper canines to slide from his upper lip and his skin to become dark and leathery; to yield to his baser side.

You make a soft sound in the back of your throat, confused but aroused, and his cock twitches between his legs in response. Trailing a hand up the path of your spine, darkness gathers your wrists in a light coil, bringing them to cross at your back, and he swallows thickly at the imagery. Unable to entirely help himself, having only ever witnessed these events within fantasy, the darkness wraps itself also beneath your shins, raising them from the bed until your calves are pressing to the backs of your thighs, legs bent at the knee.

Breathing deeply, he pulls himself free, noting the slight tremors that run through your body, shuddering lightly from the aftershocks of pleasure, trembling beneath the beast who’s got you at his mercy. So out of it you can hardly understand what’s happening, reduced to a panting, drooling mess. A groan of pleasure rasps from his chest, guiding his tip to your entrance, and slowly…slowly easing in.

Your breaths stutter, small noises whimpering from your lips as your lids flutter with confusion, and he applies a light pressure to the base of your spine, having you curve lightly beneath him as he goes in…and in…and in. His breath fans against the nape of your neck, lips skimming the shell of your ear, and tears spill from your eyes, unable to help as you cry, unable to understand why after having had your mind so thoroughly toyed with.

Rhysand shifts, his forearm banding beneath your stomach to raise you up onto shaky knees, legs still bound while your face presses into the pillow, allowing him to press the entirety of himself inside, his hips meeting the backs of your thighs, at last finding home for that last inch he couldn’t fit into you when you were on your front. You whimper at the stretch, the fullness, the strange pleasure from having no space left inside of you. His lips press to the bare skin of the top of your shoulder, skimming the thin golden chain that remains loosely around your throat.

“So good,” he whispers beside you ear, voice shuddering as he presses his face to the crook of your shoulder, inhaling the thickness of your scent—he could come from that alone, from how you’re squeezing him, the pliancy of your body. “I knew you’d fit me perfectly, and feel how right I was.”

He shifts his weight, and your toes curl lightly, squirming beneath the pleasure, and Rhys can sense it will be a struggle to move, to gather the energy to bring a greater pleasure to both of you. It feels so good as it is, he almost doesn’t want to move, to simply bask in the wet heat of your cunt, the lost familiarity of your scent, the way your body slots so perfectly beneath his own.

You’re struggling internally, grappling for consciousness but overwhelmed by the pleasure he’s forcing into you. You can feel everything that’s happening, feel every thick inch of him that he’s pushed into you, yet can hardly even lift a finger to stop it, tears growing larger as they quietly wet the cotton of the pillow.

“Gods, you were fucking made for me,” he breathes roughly, sounding almost pained as he hoarsely whispers the confession of thought, and it has enough disgust gathering in the pit of your stomach to push you to the forefront of your mind, resurfacing and gasping for breath as you tense, awareness coursing through your blood, suddenly so acutely aware of every place you’re pressed together, every intimate touch of bare skin, and you try to recoil, to squirm away from him.

“Rhys get off me,” you hiss lowly, crying harder as you try to free yourself, but his shadows hold tight, keeping your wrapped up beneath him, physically unable to push him away or to claw at him as you would like to. Your cheek presses into the pillow, neck straining from the uncomfortable angle, the weight being pushed onto your shoulders from the position, and your gaze meets with dominating, depthless violet. You try to thrash, try to writhe away, but you can manage little more than a shift of your hips with the way he’s holding you.

“Aware again?” He murmurs softly, holding you a little tighter, pulling his hips back by a few inches, just to let you really feel as he presses back inside, cock touching against a sensitive spot that has a quiet sob escaping from your throat. “You were enjoying it so much,” he whispers cruelly, like a malevolent spirit urging you toward evil, silently goading and encouraging you away from the good, and instead forward into the bad. “Relax,” he muses besides your ear, your spine unwillingly arching as a shiver ghosts up your back.

Words of hate, of fury and disgust sit ready on your tongue, but he pulls his hips back again, and the breath you take is one you would breathe down before being dragged under a river’s icy surface. One you would take, knowing it might be your last.

He pulls out to his tip, then roughly pushes back in, pushing you into the pillow, and all sense is knocked from your head.

All sense from his, too.

A low growl rumbles through his chest, constraints dissolving to dust and ash as discipline crumbles like sand, disintegrating into nothing as both his hands roughly grip your hips, pulling back to slam into you. Deep, rough, thorough strokes that have his cock hitting spots inside of you, drool slipping over your lips as he fucks the protests out of your mind—fucks the moans from your mouth.

Your vision changes, unable to understand anything you’re seeing through the pure haze of pleasure, unable to take anymore after the two he’d forced through you without having to so much as trace the pad of his finger over your clit. And now he’s pounding into you, knocking the breath from your lungs, filling you up all the while you’re bound and tied, shackled and caged beneath him. For him to use as he pleases.

Tingling heat coils in the pit of your belly, and you’re not sure whether you would prefer the gathering orgasm to be of your own making or his. Whether you would rather it be your body naturally responding to his cruel, dominating pleasure, or for his daemati hands to have slipped into your mind again, fingers easing the puppet-strings to move in the correct formation to have the high rising so swiftly. You hardly have the capacity to consider the thought before it’s banished from your mind, darkness widening the stance of your knees on the mattress so they can twine between your legs, pushing and rubbing at your clit, slick and precum having mixed together, dripping down, slowly making you gleam with arousal that the darkness now uses to catapult you into the orgasm. Shoving you mercilessly into the boiling tempest of pleasure, holding your head below the raging waters so as to drown you in euphoria, to having it fill your lungs and burn at your eyes as it passes through your body.

Rhysand feels you trembling, crying out as you flutter and squeeze him, finding his own high with yours, canines flashing in a barely restrained snarl, teeth biting down into the appetising slope of your shoulder. He feels it as he spills inside of you, hot spurts of cum releasing from him directly into your cunt, and he continues bucking his hips to keep it all pressed deep inside, sloppily grinding against you until your body has ceased its shudders and you’re panting quietly, tears still dripping down your cheeks, nails having bitten deep into your palms but he doubts you’re at all aware of the pain in the moment.

The High Lord curses lowly, breathless as he pulls out of you, seeing how he’s coated in your arousal, wrapped in the evidence of your orgasm, a fresh wave of pleasure having soaked him in your slick, slightly creamy from his cum mixing in. He groans lowly, canine finding place in the corner of his lip as he bites lightly, stroking himself experimentally, then gritting his teeth from sensitivity.

Rhysand glances down at you, ass still kept in the air, trembling; unable to move yet from his shadows, and at once the hunger is renewed, grip tightening on himself as he hardens again. Arousal gathers within him, and he moves almost without thinking, guiding himself back to your entrance, despite how you cry as you feel him begin to push back in, forgetting you will be about to endure a fourth orgasm in less than quarter of an hour, while he is only starting on his second.

You cry out as he firmly presses back in, once again shoving the air from your lungs, and you flinch as the heel of his palm presses hard against the nape of your neck, thumb to one side while his fingers settle on the other, chaining you to the bed by your throat, and allowing him to… You swallow thickly, but struggle with his weight leaning on you.

“Rhys…” you rasp, panic setting in, realising what differences this will make; knowing you can’t take it. “Rhys… Rhys…!” You struggle frantically, arms tugging at the restraints as you try everything you can think of: thrashing against the bonds of your wrists, trying to rock your body side to side to turn over, using all your trembling strength to try and pull your legs free… “Rhys, please…Rhys listen—listen to me,” you cry, fingers moving as if trying to scratch him.

He pays you no mind, grip hardening on the nape of your neck as he pushes in, finding his pace again, following his own instincts this time, the feeling of your orgasm on his cock, how you’d fluttered around him…he’s undone.

Your breath turns more ragged, heart pounding as he increases the pace, feeling inside as it becomes rougher, more feral, more unrestrained, the damper of his power clean off as darkness sprawls across the bed. The rhythm becomes punishing, brutal bucks of his hips, and you nearly scream as he takes advantage of the position, putting his weight behind each thrust, pinning you down by your neck, fucking you into his bed with a conviction that’s obsessive.

Nails dig into your palms, muscles going taut as darkness presses to your clit, rubbing in mean, tight circles, far too harsh for how sensitive you are, thighs shaking with the cruel stimulation. You’re utterly helpless to the way your spine curves, how your toes curl, how you tighten around him with how good it feels—being so roughly treated, pleasure being so mercilessly infused into your body.

And this time, you know he’s tampering with your mind.

You scream as you come again, cock driving into you over and over until your voice gives out, his hips bucking into you in a way that has you forgetting the circumstances, silently begging for it not to end, to not let the pleasure slip away.

A dark grin curves his hellish mouth, daemati fingers effortlessly plucking on the puppet-strings, dragging the high out just as you’d silently prayed for.

But a mind can only take so much tampering. The High Lord knows this, had warned you about it himself before he’d pulled the first two from you. Yet in his haze, caught in his hunger, all he hears are your pleas, and his own mind is helpless to give more and more and more.

It’s only after he’s flipped you over, fucked you full, and sealed his mouth against your own that he realises you’ve passed out, mind exhausted from his relentless ministrations. He doesn’t want to stop, but he knows he can’t continue.

Gazing down at your body, head tipped to the side, your eyes already slightly puffy from crying, he feels a slight ache within his chest. He’s old enough to recognise regret when it appears, the cloying heaviness of guilt that’s so difficult to shake.

He brushes hair from your cheek, wet with saliva, and his thumb traces the curve beneath your lower lip, regaining his breath as he quietly looks over you. You’ll need to rest, to recuperate after the night. As much as he wants to keep you in his own bed, it will only make more damage, and he’s caused enough for the time being. Anymore and he might struggle to fix it.

As it is, he allows himself a few more minutes, leaning over your pliant body, brow pressing to your own as he cups your jaw. He supposes it’s a prayer of his own, though he can’t guess what to.

He’s not sure he wants to pray to something that would listen to him.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria

rhys taglist: @azrielshadows1nger

#dark!rhys #dark!rhys x reader #dark!rhys smut #dark!rhys x reader smut #dark!rhysand smut #dark!rhysand x reader #desk pet series

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fancyperfectionsweets · 4 days ago

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Ketu (South Node) in synastry 🏚️

The last time I did an astrology observation, a lot of people were curious about South Node synastry. I'm making a seperate post about it. Please keep in mind that the house themes also play a role here so check them too.

☀️ Ketu-Sun synastry: This synastry is where the Ketu person reprsents a darker emotional side of the sun. They do and speak what the sun wants to say. The sun person usually holds back on these words because it'll be "socially unacceptable". The non-chalance of ketu attracts sun. Very similar to sun-ascendant aspect. The connection feels fated. However, the sun is the one creating this effect on the ketu person. The ketu person can feel truly understood.

🌜Ketu-moon aspects: you know the on and off couple? The one that dates around but ends up together after all? Or where they say that the other one is never off their mind because the person feels like "home"? Yep, that's what this synastry is. The ketu person just unlocks a portion of "home" and "comfort" in moon's head and it's absolutely bonkers from there. This synastry can also prove painful if the ketu person doesn't reciprocate because why are you making the moon feel things when you don't want to keep her??

🗣️ Mercury-ketu in synastry: this is more tricky but if "you just always know how to say the right words" was a synastry, this would be it. I have this with my boyfriend and he's literally the most comforting person ever 🥺. He knows what to say at the right time even though he's super blunt. For some reason, I just cannot find fault in his words. Also, a good placement if your turn on is dirty talk.

🧨 Mars-Ketu synastry: how do I explain this synastry when the only thing i can think of is "I'll beat the crap out of you". And no, ketu isn't feeling this way here. Mars is. Even in harmonious relationships, the Mars person can feel this urge to tussle with ketu. Rile ketu up for a reaction. The ketu person could be just minding their business while the mars person is sitting there thinking "hmm, can I get a rise out of this mf?" 😂😂.

Now this synastry can go either way. It can be 1) I'm going to make him/her so mad, they'd wanna spank me harder today 😈 or 2) yeah, I WANT to pick up a fight just cause 🙂🔪. Be careful. The second one can get toxic pretty soon.

💅 Venus-ketu synastry: this one I talked about previously. Venus-ketu is the most "I was fated to meet this person" placement ever. Ketu activates venus like nothing. House themes matter here a lot, btw. Because venus will activate according to the house theme. I had a ketu-venus synastry with a friend and she used to just pop up in my dreams randomly. I have a 12th house Venus. 12th house is the house of the hidden: dreams, alternate reality, spirituality. It was annoying because why you hijacking my dreams to love you harder?? 🤨

🔮 Jupiter-ketu synastry: has anyone told you that you're lucky for them? You probably had this conjunction with them. The ketu person not only feels fated but feels "lucky" to jupiter. Jupiter wants to keep ketu in their life because they just make things feel mystical and magical (for the better, of course). This placement can breed obsession from jupiter's end if they aren't careful.

🪐 Saturn-ketu: unpopular opinion but to me, this spells as a long term connection indicator. And no, I don't mean positive. Since Saturn is a "slow" planet, it takes a bit of time for it to get activated in any dynamic. However, once it does, it can sort of create a push and pull. The saturn might look to "dominate" ketu in this aspect. For example, if you have this conjunction in the 2nd house, Saturn person may think that you're too idealistic and don't care about your savings and then try to "guide" you. The ketu person though, might see saturn as too intense and want to show saturn how being anxious about savings has it's downsides. This relationship does have the potential to grow but in my personal opinion, this placement should be aspected with other positive synastries because it can effect long term themes of the relationship.

👹 Ketu-ketu synastry: This is the "I get why you're like this" synastry. I have this with my best friend and her habits make sense to me somehow? Even her "I just did it cause" things make sense to me. This is a very ride or die placement. I love this more with friends though cause you can go through periods of detachment and still fall back to the same place like nothing changed.

🌀 Pluto-ketu: the pluto person is left thinking"why did I like you almost instantly? What is this magic?". The ketu person could be openly intimidated and interested in pluto. However, pluto's first instinct is to be attracted and then left questioning as to why. Ketu isn't their type exactly so why do I feel this way? Could be so cute if they take time to get to know each other and then start the relationship.

👯 Ketu-Rahu synastry: "why are you so obsessed with me?" Placement. Lol. This is like meeting one of those people who you don't understand why they like you? You just don't get it as the ketu person. Rahu has their set of reasons. But the ketu person is always secretly thinking. I mean.. I don't see your point? Ketu can also feel bad about this at times. However, once you push through, ketu can actually have aspects it likes about Rahu and keep it around for the "vibes".

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femdomlieeh · 1 year ago

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Pink Blush (m)

First time Sub!Haechan ✧ Secretly Dom!Reader

WC—1.8 k

THEMES—new relationship ✧ nsfw fluff (?) ✧ borderline smut

WARNING—punishment ✧ teasing (m!g) ✧ masturbation (m) ✧ use of handcuffs & strap on ✧ praise ✧ light degradation ✧ pet names "mommy", "channie", "bad boy"✧ mentions of gender stereotypes (ew), safe words & (future) pegging

NOW PLAYING—Tattoo ✧ Loreen

[A/N.] old xiumin (exo) version

When this post gets 100 votes I’ll publish a stray kids group reaction chapter👍

M.LISTS—nct 127 ✧ dream ✧ latest updates ✧ wp version

✧ ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ✧ ੈ ✧

"Come on~! Show me~!" Haechan whined in your ear for the umpteenth time today.

Like all the previous times, you answered no.

Yesterday your boyfriend had found out that you had a mommy kink and liked being dominant in the bed (You had left a wattpad tab open on our shared laptop because you were apparently too tired to click on the cross), and, although that should've been something positive, you didn't want him to know.

On a daily basis, he already got critique for being younger (looking younger) than his partner, and being too 'feminine' and 'cutesy' – so, to want him to submit to you and make him match other people's perception of him was selfish and thus something you refused to do.

The theory of genders having specific power roles was something you'd always been opposed to, as you do not believe a gender determines a level of power. Truthfully, you couldn't care less if your boyfriend wanted to break gender stereotypes or not — damn, he could wear 'girly' clothes and/or put make up on if he wanted to — but you did care about what he thought of himself.

He didn't like it when people commented on how much younger he looked than he was. He didn't like it when people described him as feminine instead of masculine. He didn't like it when people [excluding you and some of his friends] called him cute. He didn't think that having any of those characteristics was wrong; he just didn't want people to call him those things.

"Please?" He attempted to lure you in with his gleaming puppy eyes – which usually worked – but that method didn't work this time around, because the great amount of vexation he had brought to you today had made you fully resistant to his cuteness.

"No, I don't want to hurt you," you answered with a blank face, trying your best to find a seemingly interesting movie on Netflix, that you hadn't already seen, so your boyfriend could give up his dumb quest. It was a little confusing why he wanted to try these types of thing with you, knowing how he felt about being belittled by others.

"I thought you said that we should always be honest with each other and always be ourselves," he argued, making a valid point since you had said those words from the start of your relationship.

"But I also said I never wanted us to hurt each other," you retorted in defense, feeling more and more irritated by the second.

Leaning and sinking down a little bit on the sofa, Haechan wanted to be more comfortable as he knew this conversation would be long. Chewing on the strings of his pink hoodie, he looked at and studied you; frown, annoyed sighs, hard grip on the remote, darker lips from biting on them – everything pointed at you being mad, and thus rather sensitive.

Then a bulb lit above his head.

"But what if I like it when you hurt me?"

You turned your head to his side. There it was. Exactly what he wanted to see. An expression on your face that told him that if he continued this route, he would get fucked. Whether it was literally or metaphorically, he wanted to find out.

"I'm leaving," you announced and stood up as quickly as the short sentence ended. You had to leave, because Haechan was pushing your buttons and you knew that if you stayed for longer you could end up doing what you had been trying to avoid since he had found out about the femdom part of you.

His face changed from calm puppy to clingy puppy with separation anxiety, scared of its owner leaving. This was not the reaction he had tried to get from you. He stood up and followed your fast steps to the bedroom. As soon as he saw you throw one of your biggest bags onto the floor, followed up by some clothing pieces, he felt his blood freeze. Were you leaving as in leaving the relationship?

"Why are you packing?" he asked, scared of your answer.

"I'm going to Irene's. I can't stay with you when you're making me crazy like this." What you said was true; you were sure he'd crack your patience and make you go full sadist on him if you stayed in the same room as him for another minute – or even worse: another hour or whole night.

He felt relieved that you weren't breaking up with him over a silly argument, but he still didn't want you to stay over at your friend's when you both knew that it would be smarter to solve the tension instead.

"Stay with me," he pleaded lowly, sensing he didn't have many other options than pleading and hoping it'd be persuasive enough for you to stay with him.

"We need a night without each to calm down and have an adult discussion, alright?" you tried to explain, grabbing your now-fully-packed bag, and heading to the door to continue your journey to your awesome best friend.

When Haechan didn't talk back, you turned away from the doorway and to the bed to see why he was being quiet and not protesting some more like he usually would. He was looking you in the eyes as he pulled the hoodie off his torso and threw it your way. You caught it in your hand. Proceeding, he pulled down his pants, making sure he did it slowly enough to send you signals that he wasn't planning on putting on his PJs.

As he stood in only his boxers in front of you, a new bulb lit up above his head – and this one was even brighter than the last one – maybe he did have more options than to plead and strip.

With a smirk he sat down on the foot of the bed, maintaining eye contact, and pulled down his boxers to reveal his hard cock. You were speechless when he had stripped down to almost full nudity, but what shocked you the most was that just speaking to him disrespectfully had turned him on.

The moment he started touching his cock and moaning like a bitch, you realized that he had purposely been naughty so you could punish him. He had whined in you ear all day, stripped and masturbated when you wanted to leave because he wanted this; he wanted to be punished.

So, you decided to do it.

You dropped the bag and went to your wardrobe, taking out a box you'd kept secret from Haechan. He looked your way curiously, analyzing your reaction while still stroking his cock rudely. Damn, he hoped you were doing something femdom related.

"Safeword?" you asked, examining the nostalgic box of memory-making apparatuses, trying to decide which ones you wanted to use to make memories tonight.

"Sun," he answered, smiling at the victory; he was going to get fucked literally.

"I hope you understand that I'm going to have to punish you for being such a naughty boy."

"Yes, Mommy," he said oh so naturally.

You looked back at him after he said the last word, watching him lay down on the bed, boxers in a random corner of the room. He seemed experienced or like he'd had a fantasy about calling you that word for a while, no stutter, and thankfully that made it easier for you decide on which toys to use on him.

"Naughty boys don't deserve to touch Mommy," you turned to him with a pair of pink, fluffy handcuffs. He blushed a little, not expecting the object you chose to punish him with to be so adorable. Did he seriously think that was all you were going to use as punishment when he'd riled you up like this?

How cute.

Walking slowly to him, you threw the cuffs onto the bed beside his legs and startled him a bit at the suddenness of the action. He had teased you, and you wanted to make sure he'd feel teased as well – and what better way to do that than to use one of his biggest weaknesses against him? Smirking, you pulled off your shirt, leaving your upper body in only a bra – a pink one. He had always liked that color – though he denied it since it wasn't manly to like pink.

You climbed on top of his body and took the cuffs in your hands again, getting ready to restrain him. He was breathing heavily, getting aroused by your body above his, and especially by your boobs that were clad in such a lovely color. Although he liked the bra, he would've loved to see your boobs without anything covering them.

"Hold your arms up for me, Channie," you ordered, to which he listened to instantly. He held them up against the bed frame, assuming you were going to cuff him to it. But he was wrong. You didn't want him to predict his punishment; you wanted everything to be a surprise that not even his fantasy could come close to.

Instead of cuffing his wrists to the frame of the bed, you cuffed them to nothing. Yes, nothing. It may sound boring to restrain your partner to nothing, but it was the opposite; restraining him to air meant that he still could choose to disobey you further by bringing his arms down. "You're going to keep your arms here, and if you at any point put them down and touch me it'll add to your punishment, understood?"

"Yes, Mommy."

"Oh, don't act like a good boy all of a sudden. You're getting punished for a reason, Haechannie," you scoffed lightly, feeling soft from the sweetness that seemed to ooze naturally whether he tried to or not.

"But I am a good boy," he pouted, adding to the cuteness you adored so much.

"Only if you can manage this punishment, but until then you're a bad boy," you explained and turned back to the box to grab the last part of the punishment. He continued pouting, until he saw the object you took out: a strap on. After removing your pants, you put the fake dick on and adjusted it to your hips.

The strap wasn't bigger than the average dick as you didn't know how used he was to having dildos shoved up his ass – and even though you wanted to hurt him, you were still cautious over how harsh you were with him. He was your squishy Haechannie after all.

"You ready, Channie?" you asked as you crawled back to him, searching his face for any uncertainty. His big eyes and toothy smile hinted at him anticipating what you were about to do, but you still wanted a verbal answer as you wanted to make sure he was OK with being pegged.

He nodded quickly, "Yes, Mommy, I'm always ready for you."

✧ ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ✧ ੈ ✧

❝ Violins playin' and the angels cryin'

When the stars align, then I'll be there

No, I don't care about them all

'Cause all I want is to be loved

And all I care about is you

You're stuck on me like a tattoo

No, I don't care about the pain

I'll walk through fire and through rain

Just to get closer to you

You're stuck on me like a tattoo ❞

—lorine zineb noka talhaoui; 2023

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 3 months ago

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Why do you think The Arcana always leads towards “ Killing the bad guy “ is wrong?

Because if you kill Lucio in Muriel route & Kill the devil in the Nadia route ( and I’m not 100% sure but I think you can kill Tasya in Portia reversed route ) you get the reversed route.

Do you think because it was a game +12 and up?

Do you think maybe they wanted to push that “ Killing is not the way there’s always another option “ route?

Do you think they were trying to do the “ If I kill you I’ll be just as bad “ trope?

Or something else entirely

Moving on from that, Do you think these should be considered reversed routes? Is Muriel killing Lucio justified after what he put him through? Same with Portia and Nadia? Do you think the punishments each antagonist and/or villain gets in the game is justified/deserved?

Just something I had in my head :)

-🥥

Hey coconut anon! My answer essay is under the cut xD

Honestly, it's hard to say. The second three routes get a little ... gentler, as far as downplaying darker themes, when you compare them to the first three. In Muriel's upright route, you end up defeating the Devil with festival games, while in Asra's upright route, you purposefully lead Lucio to an icy lake so he can drown, only to watch him get devoured by eldritch horrors. Death of the antagonist doesn't necessarily seem to be the deciding factor of reversed vs upright.

The theme that the two different types of endings do revolve around is growth vs stasis, with a particular focus on community. If you consistently pick decisions that challenge and empower your LI to face their shortcomings, you're headed towards an upright ending. If you consistently pick decisions that coddle or enable your LI's flawed tendencies and/or a poor relationship dynamic, you're headed towards a reversed ending. (e.g. Julian caving to self-sacrificing tendencies vs letting others fight next to him, Asra choosing the path of least resistance and isolating vs uncomfortably confronting evil, Nadia choosing control vs letting others help her, Muriel isolating and surviving vs forming community and pushing for happiness, etc, etc)

Killing plays into that as far as making a choice that doesn't give the LI room to grow. For Muriel specifically, it harkens back to his time as a gladiator and turns him back into the person he's spent so long trying to forget. Meanwhile, Lucio's death in Asra's upright ending is the result of him refusing to run away from their problems anymore, developing the courage to confront the person who's caused so much pain head on instead. Meanwhile in Nadia's route, killing the Devil has less to do with murderous intent and more to do with her choice to take all power and decisions and control on herself, rather than depend on others.

I will say in the last three routes, there's a much bigger emphasis on avoiding killing and keeping things a little more lighthearted, but that appears to have more to do with a change in the context the project was happening in than the intentions of the authors themselves. Hope this helps, friend!

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana game

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theresattrpgforthat · 3 months ago

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Alright, I have a weird one. Are there any TTRPGS that revolve around Coral? That, or have coral as an important element of the game?

Oh my gosh my ask box apparently ate this for MONTHS and finally decided to spit this back. Let's see what we've got!

THEME: Coral

Descent into Midnight, by Rich Howard, Taylor LaBresh, and Richard Kreutz-Landry.

At its heart, Descent into Midnight (DiM) is a game about community, family, and hope. It's a tabletop roleplaying game that takes place in a technologically advanced aquatic civilization whose culture has never been touched by humanity. Bioengineering and psionic, or mental, powers allow the strange and varied species to communicate and interact with their surroundings no matter their physiology.

In the game, players take on the roles of guardians, defending their community from a physical, emotional, and even existential threat. The game focuses on the relationships between the guardians, the inhabitants they protect, and their internal struggles and dreams in the face of a corruption that threatens to change their world.

You can play as whatever you like in Descent in to Midnight, including fish, plants, even abstract concepts - so a shelf of coral isn’t really that much of a stretch. The playbooks (yes, playbooks, this is a PbtA game) are centred more about your personality, and what you look like is secondary. The game is designed to take a turn for the darker before it pushes towards hope, so I think your game experience will be different depending on whether this is a one-shot or a long-form campaign.

Delve Deeper, by Maik.

A complete new game of under-oceanic adventuring and exploration.

Play as intelligent oceanic folks such as the cephaliin octopoids, the crustaciin crab-folk and the fish-like merfolk and explore the coral reefs, open seas and abyssal trenches in search for adventure, pearls and treasure.

You don’t play as coral in this game, but you’re certainly exploring it! Taking nods from games such as Troika!, Electric Bastionland, and Brave Zenith, this game feels solidly inside the OSR camp, but with a special love for the wacky and weird. If you want to have a particular connection to the coral reefs, you’ll likely want to play as a Merfolk, who build cities from the coral and rule as a matriarchal society. This game is full of lore, but not extensively so - it’s only 33 pages long in total. But I think you’ll probably come away from reading Delve Deeper with a pretty strong sense of what this underwater kingdom is like.

Reefs of Despair, by Zaftikat

You are a sea anemone, stuck firm in an ocean that will soon be inhospitable to you. Grapple with climate change as you explore fatalism and ennui.

Sea anemones aren’t coral but they’re kind of close right?

Now this game is neat. It uses popcorn as a resolution mechanic - how cool is that? You have to pop the popcorn in a stove-top vessel, rather than a microwave, because you have to count how many popcorn kernels pop at first pop - the more there are, the better your outcome. Apart from that, your character has two stats: Ennui and Fatalism. These stats rise and fall similar to the way stats raise and fall in Honey Heist - with a similar outcome if you get too high or too low, by ending the game. There’s also a third end state for what happens once you’ve popped all the kernels, but I’ll leave that one for folks who decide to download this game and read it.

The game also is donating proceeds to the Coral Restoration Foundation, so in a roundabout way, I guess it was about coral all along.

Other Games You Should Check Out

Bones Deep, by Technical Grimoire. (You should really check this one out.)

#coral #ocean #underwater #tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #game recommendations #indie ttrpg #y'know I often worry that I won't be able to find a game that fits what the person is looking for #and yet #I just found THREE games that work for this prompt #do you know how fucking proud of myself I am right now

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dongslinger--420 · 8 months ago

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Escape From LA: How BoJack Horseman deconstructs the sitcom

A LOT of BoJack's characterisation is based on the fact that he sees life as a sitcom. You can't separate BoJack the show nor BoJack the character from sitcoms. So much of the show is based on deconstructing sitcom tropes, and that BoJack thinks that the sitcom solution will work in his life. Take that episode in season 1 where Diane and PB are getting married: BoJack keeps trying to create increasingly complicated situations to sabotage their marriage because he has a crush on Diane, because that's what would happen in a sitcom. But none of them actually work. Diane and PB get married anyway because, why wouldn't they? And the episode ends with Todd telling BoJack that he should just give up.

The sitcom thing is played for laughs to varying degrees throughout the show, with Escape From LA being one example that is exclusively played for drama. The entire episode is set up like an episode of a 90s sitcom: BoJack is extremely close with Penny and involved in her life, there are characters with quirks and catchphrases, BoJack does his stupid BoJack dance at the dance, BoJack acts as the "cool grown up friend" to all of Penny's friends, the New Mexico leitmotif plays throughout the episode as a scene transition, the bjhm theme song is replaced by an 80s sitcom parody of a theme called "Kyle And The Kids".

But the thing about all of this is that the show isn't a sitcom, and everything I just listed has a real life consequence.

Much like bjhm itself does, at the start of the episode the show plays this sitcom subversion for laughs. Pete Repeat has an extremely stupid character quirk both in and out of the context of the story, and he never fucking says anything twice! Because that's stupid! BoJack's stupid dance gets him boo'd off the dance floor because realistically why would a group of teenagers do a 51yo man dance. Kyle And The Kids is immediately followed by a joke about Penny's younger brother Trip having an unprompted erection, which would crucially never happen in an 80s sitcom because, although normal, is not family friendly by any stretch of the imagination.

The rest of my points, however, are subverted in a darker way. BoJack's closeness with Penny means that he knows a lot about her life, and the scene where they go through their plan on what to do also has Charlotte in the room, who has no idea what they're talking about, showing us that this is not a normal level of what an adult knows (there's more to say about this one but I'll get to it later). BoJack acting as the "cool grown up friend" involves giving teenagers bourbon (bearing in mind these kids have only ever drunk beer), and eventually one of them gets alcohol poisoning and ends up going to the hospital. And every time the New Mexico leitmotif is used in the following seasons (i.e. every time New Mexico is mentioned), it is used as something to haunt BoJack. It's the equivalent of having an extremely dirty and terrible association with the Hannah Montana music.

It's difficult to decipher exactly what stereotypical role BoJack is supposed to be taking in this hypothetical episode of Kyle And The Kids, or whatever you want to call it. I think he's supposed to be taking the role of "father". "Father" is the role that he played on Horsin Around. "Father" is what he (at least originally) wanted to be in relation to Penny. "Father" is something that he has one frame of reference for: The Horse.

There is a line in Sabrina's Christmas Wish where Olivia is complaining about the boy she's talking to, and The Horse offers to take her to the dance. The funny thing about this line is that it's not at all out of place in Horsin Around, because it's normal for sitcom parents to have that level of involvement with their children. In fact, they have to, in a narrative context, because it's a dom com, and you have to have the characters interact with each other because that's just how stories work. However, it is out of place in Escape From LA, purely because we have Charlotte as a frame of reference. Charlotte and Penny are very close, and are shown to be very close throughout all of their appearances. But Charlotte is reacting to the conversation with comments like "who are these people?" because she's still Penny's mother at the end of the day. I would say I'm close with my mum and I've never given her that much information about my crushes (it took me half of my one relationship to even tell her that I was in a relationship). And because of this distinction, Penny doesn't see BoJack as a parental figure. She sees him as a friend, which is why she falls in love with him later on.

The interesting thing about this episode is that because it's so sitcommy by design, it's extremely easy to root for BoJack on your first watch. Because the "father" or the "cool adult/uncle/whatever" role in a sitcom is one that's known, and the father in the sitcom would never do anything wrong. Especially considering the background information we have that Charlotte is the one who got away. We, at least to a degree, expect BoJack to actually end up with Charlotte at the end of the episode. When BoJack says things like "you look just like your mother", on our first watch of the episode we connect that to his want to be Penny's father, because that's also BoJack's intention. But then everything gets shattered, both in and out of universe, when Charlotte rejects BoJack. Because suddenly, both we and BoJack are supposed to deal with the fact that, actually, why would she have an affair with Kyle? What information do we have that she and Kyle are not happily married?* This is not a sitcom. So then, BoJack starts to panic. He starts to think irrationally, as this illusion he has been creating for himself for 3 months and/or 29 years starts to crumble. He starts to see Penny, not as a daughter, but as the next best option to being with Charlotte, the next best option to keep living this lie he keeps telling himself.

Sure, it seems like shock value the first time you watch it. Because it's a subversion. It's not what you expect by definition. But then after you rewatch the episode, you can't unsee it. Everything is recontextualised. It's no longer a sitcom.

Escape From LA is my second favourite penultimate episode in the entire show. Other than being one of the biggest parts of the show that wasn't spoilt for me, it's so beautifully constructed and subtle and genius that it remains gripping every time, and I love noticing a new thing about it every time.

*For this very reason, Kyle's lack of appearances and an active role in this episode is genius.

#bojack horseman #bjhm #here's the 1k word essay #bojack the horse #charlotte carson #penny carson #horsin around #bjhm analysis #bjhm s2 #bjhm s1 #escape from la

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mauvewalker · 2 years ago

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You know one thing I’ve noticed being parroted around a lot are about how ‘sweet’ the strong boys are, just repeating what the protagonist Rhaenrya views her sons as she has stated it within the show herself. (Which is fine as people are entitled to their own opinions). I suppose it doesn’t help with the way the team black boys have been casted, younger actors & an actual teen matching the character’s age, looking all cherub/innocent like with the awkward hairstyles emphasises their youthful ages & the framing by show is heavily in the favour of the blacks.

Compare this to the team green boys Aemond and Aegon (both phenomenal actors perfectly cast to portray them) but considering Aemond is supposed to be a teen what 16 or 19? (the show-runners can’t seem to do basic maths, lol) however, as an audience member subconsciously Aemond is viewed as an adult & treated/judged as such with his actions. Again the negative framing by the show of him in manipulating the GA perceptions of the teams, I’m really surprised they didn’t play a villainous theme tune as like with Darth Vader every time he appeared on screen but I think that would have been a-bit too obvious, lmao. It’s not like the camera framework & Aemond’s get up in black, heavy smirking in the background isn’t already doing so.

Anyways having watched the show, I happen to be believe that they are not these sweet harmless little princes, in particular, Jace hides a much darker personality, imo. For instance, in the courtyard back at Kingslanding with Luke he says “it doesn’t matter what they think” so on the surface you could argue oh how sweet he is trying to comfort his brother but shows his self-entitlement in viewing the other lords/people as beneath them & we know Rhaenrya has told him “you are a Targaryen that’s all that matters” so it has been instilled in him this belief in the Targaryen exceptionalism being closer to gods than men because of their dragons. Also, that line mirrors young Rhaenrya with “their wants are of no consequence” about the small folk again showing self-entitlement & an attitude that would make them poor future leaders.

Jace having this belief instilled in him, I feel it would explain why they all picked on Aemond because whilst Aemond may be a legitimate true-born prince who was undeniably a Targaryen with the Valyrian looks, what didn’t he have? A dragon!! so Jace with his inferiority complex/issues & superiority complex combined, knowing he was a bastard targets/bullies Aemond unfairly for this (for being what he should have been if he was fathered by Laenor) to make Aemond feel bad, inferior & inadequate like him, which they were successful in.

As we saw this made Aemond risk his life attempting to claim a dragon with helaena saying “he did it again” (hinting that Aemond at 10-12 risked himself numerous times) and it was shown twice with his failed attempt with dreamfyre & his successful attempt with vhagar. As Rhaenyra has instilled in him being a Targaryen is the most important BS & the biggest symbolism of this is having a dragon. So, when Aemond finally claims a dragon, Jace is now unable to see or convince himself as better than or being more Targaryen than Aemond.

Hence, his anger when they all jumped him 4v1 beating him & when Aemond was managing to defend himself & calls them for what he is “a bastard” Jace’s rage comes out, not because he thought Aemond was going to kill Luke with a rock as he had lowered his hand holding it. It was Aemond saying “lord strong” which made him pull out the knife & slashing with the intent to kill him. Again Aemond managed to defend himself & the knife dropped on the floor, so obviously Aemond lifts the rock up again to use as a deterrent as there is now also a knife bought in the fight. The strong boys shared a glance & threw sand in his face blinding him & Luke slashed his eye.

We all know what happened after, they didn’t get punished for it, viserys sided with them reaffirming his favouritism & threatening to remove tongues for questioning their legitimacy. Rhaenyra didn’t care to discipline them for it, thus, reaffirming their self-entitlement that they are correct in their behaviours & did nothing wrong.

Another example of Jace self-entitlement, inferiority complex & bullying behaviour was during the toast speech. It was Aegon who pissed him off & some with an optimistic view would argue his toast was trying to bury the hatchet with “fond memories of our youth”, however, he was looking at Aemond with a slight smirk knowing full well it may have been fun for him it was not for Aemond- he was targeting him again when it was Aegon who bothered him & Aemond was minding his own business. The reason for this? Because he is comfortable to be looking down/belittling/bullying Aemond.

Again, with the dance with helaena, some would argue how chivalrous of Jace for feeling sorry for Heleana being alone but it was to piss off both Aegon & Aemond. Moving on, with the speech & then Luke laughing at the pig, Aemond loses his temper, rightly so. As all he was trying to do during the dinner was ignore them, both Jace & Luke have triggered him with the past, so he gives the infamous strong speech, to push back & give them a taste of their own medicine.

Jace is the one who then loses his temper & his first typical reaction when he does?? is to be physically violent & throws the first punch & which side does he purposely target?? Aemond’s blind/injured & vulnerable side of his face. The punch was laughable, Aemond didn’t even spill his drink & with one push was thrown down. Exactly like his younger behaviour showing no growth, he get back up & during this altercation, Luke had tried to join to gang up on Aemond again. So both brothers are unable to take the heat that they dish out & fight fairly 1 to 1, but, really what could’ve Luke have really done, lmao.

They should of known when they saw Aemond earlier that day in the courtyard training. At the time, it’s clear both strong boys didn’t know it was him (with the typical targaryen blonde hair they maybe could of mistaken him for Aegon) & were super impressed with his prowess/skill, before he turned around with the eyepatch & their faces said it all, like ‘oh shit’ & then soured that the person who they perceived weaker/beneath them during childhood is a skilled swordsman, unlike them. Another thing that Aemond has/is that the strong boys don’t to add to Jace’s list, alongside having both of a mix of a inferiority complex & superiority complex, a ‘sweet prince’ he is not.

#Hotd #hotd critical #anti team black #Anti jacaerys strong #Anti jacaerys #anti rhaenyra targaryen #aemond targaryen #pro aemond targaryen #pro team green #anti viserys i targaryen #anti lucerys velaryon #anti lucerys strong

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callmekenya · 5 months ago

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Pairings: Uma x m!Y/n

Warnings: Contains mild violence, blood, intense emotional themes, and complex relationships. Suitable for mature teens and adults.

_________________________________________

The sun was setting over the Isle of the Lost, casting long shadows across the dilapidated buildings and trash-strewn streets. In a dimly lit room aboard Uma's ship, Y/n, son of Eris, sat reading an ancient tome on chaos magic. The sudden burst of the door flying open barely fazed him as Uma stormed in, her eyes alight with excitement and a touch of malice.

"Y/n! You won't believe what's happened," Uma exclaimed, her braids swinging as she paced the small cabin. "Mal and her little gang are back on the Isle. And get this – they brought Prince Ben with them!"

Y/n's eyebrow arched slightly as he closed his book. "Is that so? How... interesting." His voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of something darker. "I assume you have plans for this fortuitous turn of events?"

Uma's grin was sharp as a shark's. "Oh, you know me so well. I've already sent Harry and Gil to bring our royal visitor to us. But Y/n..." Her voice softened slightly, a hint of vulnerability showing through her tough exterior. "What about Mal? Are you going to try to win her back?"

Y/n sat up straighter, his golden eyes fixed on Uma. "And why would I do that, Uma? Do you think she deserves my attention after everything?"

Uma opened her mouth, then closed it again, unsure how to respond. Y/n stood, crossing the room in a few smooth strides. He took Uma's hand in his, his touch gentle despite the calluses from years of wielding weapons.

"Uma," he said softly, "you should know by now. You have me, all of me. There's no need for jealousy or doubt."

Uma's breath caught in her throat. "Y/n, I..."

Before she could finish, Y/n pulled a dagger from his belt. The blade glinted in the low light as he made a swift cut across his palm, then did the same to Uma's hand. She didn't flinch, her eyes locked on his face.

"With this blood, I bind us," Y/n intoned, pressing their bleeding palms together. "Our lives, our souls, united as one. Do you accept this bond, Uma?"

Uma's voice was barely a whisper. "I do."

A faint glow surrounded their joined hands, and Uma gasped as she felt a surge of power flow through her. When it faded, Y/n cupped her face in his hands and placed a tender kiss on her forehead.

"Now and always," he murmured, before turning and walking away, leaving Uma to process what had just occurred.

Meanwhile, in Ursula's Fish and Chips shop, chaos reigned. Mal had burst in, her eyes glowing green with barely contained fury.

"Where is he, Uma?" Mal demanded, magic crackling around her fists.

Uma lounged against the counter, a smirk playing on her lips. "Who, your precious little king? Oh, he's safe... for now."

Mal lunged forward, but Uma was ready. The two girls clashed in a flurry of fists and magic, their battle destroying tables and sending patrons fleeing.

"You've gotten soft in Auradon, Mal," Uma taunted as she dodged a blast of green energy. "Forgotten how we do things on the Isle?"

Mal snarled, her pixie heritage giving her enhanced speed and agility. "I haven't forgotten anything, Uma. Including how to take you down!"

The fight intensified, both girls drawing blood and leaving scorch marks on the walls. Just as Mal was about to land a devastating blow, a sudden pulse of energy sent her flying backwards. She crashed into the wall, her head ringing from the impact.

As Mal struggled to her feet, she saw Uma surrounded by a shimmering aura of power. Uma's eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in triumph.

"Well, well," Uma purred. "Looks like I've got a guardian angel. Or should I say, a guardian chaos god?"

Mal's heart clenched as realization dawned. "Y/n," she whispered.

Uma's grin was vicious. "That's right, Mal. He's with me now. And if you want to see your precious Ben alive again, you'll bring me Fairy Godmother's wand."

Mal's jaw tightened. "Fine. But this isn't over, Uma."

As Mal turned to leave, Uma couldn't resist one final jab. "Oh, and Mal? Y/n sends his regards. We've gotten quite... close."

Mal paused, her back to Uma. "Is that so? Well, you might want to ask yourself, Uma – if he's so devoted to you, why does he always come running when I'm in danger?" With that parting shot, Mal stalked out of the shop.

Y/n's hideout was a testament to his parentage – a swirling mix of order and chaos, beautiful and terrifying all at once. When Mal and her friends entered, they found him lounging on a throne-like chair, idly toying with a ball of crackling energy.

"Well, if it isn't the prodigal daughter of evil," Y/n drawled, his eyes fixed on Mal. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Mal stepped forward, her chin raised defiantly. "Cut the act, Y/n. What's this I hear about you and Uma?"

Y/n's laugh was cold and bitter. "Act? Oh, Mal. You're the one who's been acting. Playing at being good, pretending you belong in Auradon. At least I know who and what I am."

He stood, moving closer to Mal. In one swift motion, he snatched the necklace from around her neck – the one he had given her long ago.

"You don't need this anymore," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Uma deserves everything I can give her. My love, my loyalty, my devotion. She's never tried to change me or leave me behind."

Mal's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Y/n, please. This isn't you. Uma's using you, can't you see that?"

Y/n's expression hardened. "No, Mal. For the first time, I see clearly. Now go. Try to save your king. But remember – the Isle always wins in the end."

As Mal and her friends left, Evie placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?" she asked softly.

Mal squared her shoulders. "I have to be. We have a wand to fake and a king to save."

On Uma's ship, Y/n watched as she paced back and forth, muttering to herself. "Uma," he called out, concern lacing his voice. "What's troubling you?"

Uma stopped, turning to face him. "It's what Mal said. About you always coming when she's in danger. Is... is that true?"

Y/n sighed, pulling Uma close. "Come with me," he said, leading her to her cabin. Once inside, he retrieved a dusty tome from a hidden compartment.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked, opening the book to a specific page. Uma shook her head.

"This," Y/n explained, "is a record of ancient rituals and bonds. The blood-sharing we did? It's more than just a symbolic gesture. For beings like us – demigods, children of chaos – it's as binding as any marriage. More so, even. Our souls are literally entwined now, Uma."

Uma's eyes widened. "So when you saved me during the fight with Mal..."

Y/n nodded. "I felt your danger. Our bond called me to protect you. It has nothing to do with Mal, and everything to do with us."

Uma's face softened, a rare vulnerability showing through. "Y/n, I..."

Before she could finish, Harry burst into the cabin. "They're back!" he announced. "With the wand!"

The confrontation on the dock was tense. Mal held out the fake wand, her eyes never leaving Uma's face.

"The wand for Ben," she said firmly.

Uma reached for it, but Y/n's hand on her arm stopped her. "Be careful," he murmured. "Remember what we discussed about Fae magic."

Uma nodded, then took the wand. She waved it, expecting a surge of power. When nothing happened, her face contorted with rage.

"You lied!" she snarled, lunging at Mal.

Y/n caught her, holding her back. "Uma, stop. This isn't the way."

As chaos erupted around them, Y/n locked eyes with Mal over Uma's head. For a moment, something passed between them – regret, understanding, a hint of the connection they once shared. Then the moment was gone, and the battle raged on.

The Cotillion was in full swing when Ben arrived with Uma on his arm. The shocked gasps of the attendees were music to Uma's ears as Ben declared his love for her.

But the triumph was short-lived. Mal's true love's kiss broke the spell, and Uma found herself backed into a corner. With a cry of rage and pain, she leapt into the sea, the magic of her mother's shell transforming her into a magnificent, terrifying cecaelia.

As Mal transformed into a dragon to meet her, Uma felt a surge of power flow through her. Y/n's gift, their bond, giving her strength. The battle was fierce, water against fire, tentacles against wings.

In the end, it was Ben who stopped the fight. As Uma swam away, her heart heavy with defeat, she knew where she was going – back to the one person who truly understood her.

Y/n stood on the shore of the Isle, his eyes scanning the horizon. When he saw Uma emerge from the waves, her octopus form melting away, he opened his arms without a word.

Uma collapsed against him, her body shaking with silent sobs. Y/n held her close, stroking her hair.

"It's okay," he murmured. "You're home now. We'll find another way, Uma. I promise you, one day, we'll have the freedom you dream of. Together."

Uma looked up at him, her eyes shining with a mix of tears and determination. "Promise?"

Y/n smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I swear it on the chaos that runs through our veins. You and me, Uma. Always."

As they stood there, the sun setting behind them, Y/n and Uma knew that this was just the beginning of their story. The Isle of the Lost might be their prison for now, but with their combined power and cunning, it was only a matter of time before they rewrote the rules of their world.

After all, in chaos, there was always opportunity. And they were nothing if not masters of chaos.

#male reader #x y/n #y/n #masterlist #descendants masterlist #evie descendants #queen mal #uma descendants #uma x reader

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rookinthecrownest · 2 months ago

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Discussion about romances + expectations under the cut (I'd put it as like..mildly critical, but also coming from a place of understanding?). As usual, will tag as such so you don't have to engage/read on if you don't wish to. I always invite open discussion, just keep it respectful (as I will endeavour to do so myself).

This is going to be a bit of a ramble, so I apologize if my thoughts are not clearly laid out like they should be.

I think I've found the reason why I (and maybe others), feel that the romances in Veilguard feel a bit... idk, hollow, at times (not BAD!!! just feeling like there could be MORE). And that's because of the trap of expectations. I may also be speaking completely for myself here.

Anyway, let's rewind to 2014.

Be me, 10 years ago. You're not really a gamer, but indulge in action RPG's casually.

See a commercial for this hot new game coming out called Dragon Age: Inquisition. Be intrigued by the character designs, but know nothing about the world. Come to find out it's part of a trilogy. So naturally, you buy the first two games and play through them before playing the third.

Be amazed, and completely hooked on the characters, the lore, the world, the darker elements and themes. It becomes your favourite game series of all time.

But you had no idea that you could romance any of the companions going into the experience. And man, does it fundamentally rewire your brain chemistry to fall in love with cRPG and get ridiculously attached to your Warden/Hawke/Inquisitor.

So, you romance Alistair first because he's funny as hell, and has a really interesting story/character arc. Then you romance Zevran, and love that too - he's charming and suave and awkward and funny. Then you go onto DA2 and romance Fenris and Anders, and each of those romances pack their own emotional gut punches. Then it's finally time for DAI, and predictably, you go for Solas (a veritable slow burn that spans TWO games), Cullen, and partially (I never finished those playthroughs lol) Blackwall and Dorian.

I had no idea you could romance companions going into these games. It was a pleasant surprise! It always felt like an important part of the story, while not overshadowing the main plot. There was enough material in the codexes, the cutscenes, and party banter to make each romance feel complete and whole and awesome and nuanced.

And then, like some of you I suspect, I read an article that touted Veilguard as "The Most Romantic Bioware Game Yet", and I thought - "Wow, if they're saying this then the romances must be something else", given the quality of the previous romances you've experienced in these games!

But you get to the game - and while you're having fun, it definitely leans more into the ARPG style where romances feel a bit more pushed to the side in order to tell a certain story than the traditional Bioware/Larian RPG experience you've come to love.

Which is fine! Again, once I stopped thinking of Veilguard as a classic Bioware CRPG, and more like GOW/The Witcher, I found I was able to appreciate it a lot more for what it is. Things have to Happen A Certain Way for the narrative to work, and that's not a bad thing. DA2 was similar - it was a harrowing, personal tragedy about the Hawke family and their struggle to survive in Kirkwall.

Just like DA2, there are aspects of Veilguard that make me glad things happened the way they did. I'm not mad that Rook has so much dialogue without a ton of player input and you can't 'be evil' - because the game doesn't make sense if you can. At its core, Veilguard's narrative is centered around Regret, after all - you can't have an evil protagonist running around because Solas' Regret prison would never work (evil people don't generally tend to regret their actions...)!

Now, if you're expecting a long-winded, fully researched academic breakdown of every romance I'm sorry but that ain't happening tonight lol. This is not based in any fact, this is all opinion.

I can't quite put my finger on it, but sometimes it feels like the romances in this game (and I say this with the biggest grain of salt as I've only done Emmrich and Lucanis' - and am going through Neve's now), are just missing....something, to take them from good to great.

I loved Emmrich's romance. I thought it was very well done. I think a lot of people would agree it's one of the stronger ones in the game - doubly so if you play as a Mourn Watch Rook (you get a TON of MW specific lines going this route, it's great). His side romance with Strife if you don't get together is very cute, I enjoyed it. But as superbly well done as it was, somehow, I wouldn't even put it in my top 4 Bioware romances.

With Lucanis' romance - whatever my hangups may be about how it was handled, certain parts of his romance were done excellently (even better than some of the previous Bioware romances, I'd say). You can read more about my thoughts on his romance here which is why I'm not going into detail about it. Unlike Emmrich's, I would put it in my top 4 because I fell in love with the character that much (both in the game but really, I've loved him since Tevinter Nights), and I've grown very attached to my first Rook and him as a pairing. I've seen others share a similar sentiment on here (and I hate to say it but I agree) - sometimes it feels like I fell in love with Rookanis despite the way it was handled, not because of it. I can't say that for many other romances. While it's been fun to think up a lot of HC/write fics/make art about those abandoned concept sketches and parts where I felt the game could have showed us more of their dynamic, I can't help but feel like his (and other) romances would have immensely benefited from even 1 or 2 extra small scenes to flesh it out a bit more if they weren't going to let us freely talk to our companions.

The issue with the romances might also have something to do with the pacing of the game itself. I think Act 2 is where the pacing goes a bit awry, before picking back up in Act 3 (which is great, I love it).

Sometimes I also felt that there was a little too much reliance on codex entries and party banter to tell the story of the romance rather than showing it explicitly through cutscenes. I think that's what makes the romances feel a bit truncated at times, compared to the previous entries? Some of the romance-specific party banter was so good, it probably deserved its own cutscene. But it's also highly dependent on the party you have, and it's easy to miss/not trigger. I remember absolutely living for the cutscenes in the first three entries and I can't explain why I feel like, subjectively speaking, Veilguard just has less romance content (this may not be objective reality - I haven't compared the amount of romance specific content head to head with other games).

I also couldn't tell you why I feel DA2 doesn't suffer the same problems as DATV in terms of romance interaction - because you can't freely talk to your companions in that game either. Yet somehow, it always felt like I was getting enough of them to not notice that. I do miss being able to chat my LI's ear off and ask them questions about their life/their views/etc. like I could in DAO and DAI. I think it's a shame we can't because the companions in DATV are SO interesting. I want to ask them all a billion questions about their lives/stories/etc even if they're not my love interest. The party banter in this game is immaculate but being able to talk to them individually about this stuff would've been SO nice. I feel that I've missed out on SO MUCH of these characters just because I didn't have two of them in my party at the same time!

Anyway, I need to wrap this up.

In closing, perhaps, if I hadn't read that article about how it was going to be Bioware's most romantic game ... maybe I wouldn't feel this way? I think it sent my expectations through the stratosphere, and that's no one's fault but my own. Not Bioware, not EA, mine.

I know that this game's development cycle was a unique sort of hell that the other games didn't suffer. To go from Joplin -> Morrison -> Veilguard. To have so many of the original staff leave the team when Joplin got scrapped. To have to pivot from Live Service and then back to single person RPG. More lay-offs. It's a miracle this game got made. I'm happy I can sit around thinking about it. And I hope its successful enough that we get DA5 so we can all sit around dissecting that in 5-10 yrs time.

Don't get me wrong - I enjoy the Veilguard romances for what they are. I'm enjoying them more I play and discover additional banter/codex/etc that I missed the first time around. Like any Bioware romance, there are spots where they hit their stride, and spots where they falter a bit. When they hit their stride they knock it out of the fucking park. But when they falter, you can really feel it. Romance is hard to write! And you'll never fully please everyone.

But a small part of me wishes I'd gone in blind, and checked my own expectations a bit.

Maybe you agree, maybe you don't. Tell me about it. What was your experience with the romances? Did you also read that article and get your expectations up?

I hope this makes sense.

Kind regards good fandom folks,

Keep the discussion respectful. And please don't use this post as an excuse to just blatantly hate on the game.

-Rookie

#datv critical #bioware critical #datv #lucanis dellamorte #neve gallus #emmrich volkarin #rook #as always i'd love to know your opinions #if you feel the same #if you feel differently #if differently #just keep it respectful #rookie rambles #datv spoilers

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portraitsofguilt · 2 years ago

Note

I’m absolutely in love with your theme and think we should talk abt Jill rn.

So if you wouldn’t mind me requesting a Jill smut and you could just surprise me… 👀👀

✮ — BACK OF THE HELICOPTER ; jill valentine

SYNOPSIS . . . ( happening right after the end of resident evil 3 remake ) raccoon city is now just piles of ashes and the further the helicopter gets jill’s pent-up stress over what happened is tipping her over the edge. she can’t keep her hands to herself, so much for keeping it professional until things cool down. MINORS DNI. . . afab reader, nsfw ! — lowercase writing intended, carlos is in his own world, jill is pushing every boundary that exists, public sex, fingering, usage of pet names, finger sucking, mouth stuffing,

wc ; 1,58 k

MOSS' NOTES . . . okay look, just roll with this because this is the peak moss wants to climb up to with every fic, so hope you enjoy this kylie !!! we are all just whores for jill, a couple of sluts 🤭

you sat on the other side of the helicopter, giving space for jill to recover from the loss of her town and the blast that ended it all. carlos asked something from her but you couldn’t understand it as your attention was on your girlfriend, following her eyes and observing how her fingers fiddled around with wet wipes, cleaning them slowly. you rubbed your knuckles as you watched her, suddenly having the urge to reach out for her and shake her out of her trance but you got anxious halfway, pulling your arm back to your sides.

“can you give me one more?” she didn’t look at you as she requested, she just continued to stare out of the window while her hand was pushing you to take the dirty one and change it out for a clean one. you nodded as you reached for the box of wet wipes before handing it to her and she took it from you, but her other hand came up to grasp your other hand.

she finally looked at you, her pupils jumping back and forth between constricting and dilating as the whites of her eyes became darker, deep wine blood vessels popping. “scoot over, i’ll help you get cleaned.” her tone was insisting alongside her grasp and you couldn’t say no, so you nodded your head as you unbuckled yourself and shifted to sit next to her.

“we are gonna settle down for a while,” jill started as she took the box from you, pulled out a wipe, and started to clean your cheek. “let you take a clean break while i make my plan, okay?” she took a split moment to take a glance at your whole face before her focus fell back on the blood and dirt under your eyes. you nodded, setting your hands on your lap, letting jill talk while getting comfortable in the otherwise hard and itchy seat you sat in.

the silence was eating you as she tidied your face up, angling your face as she pleased to check if there was anything that she left on you. “alright, can you help me now?” jill asked, letting go of you and throwing the dirty wipes onto the floor of the aircraft, handing you the box. “sure.” you took it without protest, taking a couple of wipes out and moved closer to her, and began to take care of the filth on her face.

once again the tight room and the quiet were killing you, the buzzing of the helicopter being a horrible background noise. you took a deep breath as you pulled away, and gulped when jill’s arm snaked around your waist and brought you closer to herself.

“this whole thing was… nerve-racking,” she murmurs, her head falling onto your shoulder while the hand that wrapped around your waist slipped down to your hip, her fingers digging under your pants’ buckle. you nodded, taking in a shaky breath, “the matter is that it’s o-over.” you stuttered, your eyes jumping back and forth between her hand and her face as she clumsily starts undoing the buckle.

you cleared your throat, pushing yourself further up on the seat, “are you sure this is a g-good idea?” you mumble when she loosens your belt, now having free access to the button of your pants. she chuckles against your skin, her fingers playing around before undoing the pin and pushing the two rims apart. she caresses the underside of your belly, moving closer to you as she does so before her hand glide between your underwear and pants.

“you don’t have to worry this guy is…” she trailed off, her other hand coming to push some hair out of the way that was covering your ear. her head’s weight disappears from your shoulder, her hot breath hitting the shell of your ear, following up her previous sentence, “in over his head, he will never notice.”

she might have been right and as of the moment, you couldn’t even argue otherwise with her, not when her fingers were rubbing up against your clothed clit. your breath hitches as she starts moving her hand, the familiar feeling of pleasure tensing up in your stomach as she plays with you. “fuck, jill, d-don’t tease m-me, please.” you exhale, shakily so as one of your hands grips into the edge of the seat while the other lands on jill’s thigh, gripping so hard your knuckles turn white.

it was embarrassing how excited you were from only just a little, from the mere thought of jill’s fingers inside of you. even the slightest of touches alarmed your nerves, your brain shooting a lightning-like signal right to your core when her lips ghosted on the thin skin of your neck. you could feel it, your arousal trickling out of your aching hole as she touched you

“can you keep quiet for me, hm, sweet girl?” she asks as her fingers climb under your panties, collecting your pooling wetness and teasing your eager entrance. your head hangs, trying to gather your words and not let the special attention that your girlfriend was providing you let you slip. “y-yes! no, n-no…” you shake your head in defeat, there was no way you could keep your moans to a minimum or at least be quiet.

“it’s alright, just open your mouth,” she cooed, her other hand coming up under your chin and offering up two of her fingers. without protesting you open your mouth, letting her fingers settle on your tongue before closing your lips. “there you go, keep them nice and warm, bite if you have to.” she hums, without warning pushing her finger inside of you and close following with a second. you slip down on your seat, your hip bucking up into her palm when she starts to pump her finger in and out of you with a slow, tortuous pace.

the squelching sounds are barely covered by the loud noise the helicopter makes and thank god for jill’s fingers stuffed into your mouth, muffling your lewd sounds. you breathe in and out through your nose, sucking the digits inside of your mouth as much as possible to try to relieve some of the pressure you were feeling from the pressure building up in you.

“jill…” you whined, your hips lifting off of the seat as she added another finger. “i’m g-gonna come, s-stop….” you whimpered, trying to mumble around her fingers but it only came out as incoherent noises, which jill seems to find hilarious because she chuckled lowly.

“what was that? i’m sorry, sweetheart, what did you say?” jill asked as her thumb continued to rub circles against your clit.

you panted, your body wracked with shivers at the sensation of her fingernails scratching against the sensitive flesh on your sex. “w-wait, j-jill…” you begged, tugging at the material of her pants. she didn't reply, squeezing harder on your clit as you felt an intense heat rushing through your entire body.

your arms came up to wrap around her neck, pulling her closer as you tried to press your pelvis against her hand, but she just kept going, keeping her pace slow until finally, finally, she gave you the release that you needed, arching your back as you cried out with your name.

you collapsed back against the seat as your body went limp, releasing all the tension in you as the orgasm passed through you and it felt like you haven't had one in years. you felt her fingers withdraw from you as she pulled away from you, leaning against the cold metal of the helicopter. a low whine escaped your throat as you curled up against the seat, not wanting to move an inch.

your breathing was still heavy as you struggled to calm yourself down, your body sore as hell after your release. your heart started to beat faster and faster in your chest as you felt jill’s gaze on you, but you refused to look up. "you did real good, just amazing baby." she mutters as she glances at her fingers, playing with your sticky heat covering it, stretching and watching it fall like a spider web heavy with water, comparing it with her other fingers that were in your mouth.

"oh my fucking god," you whispered, wiping your forehead as you tried to get yourself together. "did we really just did this?" you asked, a smirk making its way back on her face as she leaned back to sit next to you. "not like you didn't like it..." she mocks you as she opens her mouth wider, putting her fingers in one by one, cleaning them off with her tongue.

you scoff and roll your eyes, pulling your legs up and resting your cheek on your knee as you watched your girlfriend lick herself clean.

you knew she was teasing you but it doesn't make you feel better as your cheeks turned into a bright red shade of blush. she giggled behind her hand, her smile growing wider as she looked at you, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "you know…" she trailed, her voice trailing off as you slowly raised your gaze up towards her and you froze, watching her stare intensely at your lips before dropping her gaze down to your lips.

"uh...?" you breathed out, feeling completely lost at what she was going to do.

“you will have to pay me back, later, i don't take no for an answer."

#📼 › moss tapes #resident evil x reader #resident evil x reader smut #resident evil 3 x reader #resident evil jill x reader #resident evil jill x reader smut #resident evil smut #jill valentine x reader #jill valentine x reader smut #resident evil jill valentine x reader #resident evil jill valentine x reader smut #jill valentine smut

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l1ndseyper3z · 29 days ago

Note

Hi there! Could you please write a dead poets society fic for Neil x Todd (anderperry) where they’re on a date and they’re playfully flirting/flustering each other? I think they’re neat.

Hey! They are neat, so thanks for the request. I hope you don't mind me making this slightly Christmas-themed, I'm just in the spirit !! I know it's short but I hope you enjoy it.

~ Regular Nights ~

Ship: Neil Perry X Todd Anderson (Anderperry)

Fandom: Dead Poets Society (1989)

Requested?: Yes!

Warnings: Sex references/implications ig? idk this is just very fluffy! I suppose you could consider this a modern AU as obviously a gay couple sadly couldn't go on a date in public during the 50s but apart from that it isn't laid on at all so the choice is yours

Dates had become something normal for Neil and Todd. At least once a month, always on a Saturday night, a play followed by food at the pair's favourite out-of-the-way diner. This was the set routine, it worked and they stuck to it. Today was no different.

"How did you not like it?! The way the lead portrayed Malvolio was near perfect!" With no hurry, Neil whined as the two walked, hand in hand along the snow-covered street.

"I dunno... it wasn't anything to do with the actors, the actual play was just boring." Todd chuckled as he pushed open the door to their regular end to a date night. One difference, this time the small building was decorated with warm white Christmas lights.

The pair walked inside, wiping their feet on the door mat to ensure they didn't walk snow all through the place. As Neil led Todd to "their" table in the corner, he sighed dramatically. "I can't believe I have a boyfriend who can't appreciate the beauty of Twelfth Night!"

"I'd rather appreciate your beauty," Todd uttered, almost too casually, especially for him. Neil's face flushed a warm tone of pink, juxtaposing the cool pale the cold rendered him.

Todd chuckled at his boyfriend's rapidly reddening face but chose not to torment him any more. Not just yet, anyway.

"Stop laughing! You know I'll get you back later tonight anyways" Neil retorted with a suggestive smirk. He was glad they could have back-and-forths like this. When the pair met, he was scared to say anything that could even slightly hurt his feelings. Now, they'd learnt each other's limits.

As Todd caught wind of what Neil was implying and a similar warm blush crept upon his cheeks, the darker-haired boy slipped up from his seat and headed over to the counter. He didn't even need to ask what Todd wanted, he just knew. It was the little things like this that made him fall more and more in love with Neil every day.

As he came back to the table, Todd pulled out his wallet. "How much?" he questioned with little emotion laced through his voice as he flicked through the notes, preparing to give the assumed amount.

Neil calmly rejected the other boy's money. "Nothing, you paid last time, remember?"

"So? I'm still loaded from my birthday cause my parents finally got the hint I didn't want the same desk set for the third year in a row"

Neil chuckled. "Seriously, babe, it's my turn to pay" He pushed the wallet away. "If anything I should be paying for the pretty company I've been graced with". Todd's face flushed pink again, this time deeper.

"You know calling me pretty makes me awkward.."

"That's exactly why I do it." Neil cooly retorted

Todd decided he wanted to carry on this little game the two had been playing. He grabbed Neil's hand, lifted it up to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss on the back of his hand. Neil's confident demeanour dropped at once.

"So cocky till you're not" Todd teased with a gentle voice. He could actually be quite sassy around those he was comfortable with, it just took time to get to that stage.

"Whatever" Neil muttered with a mock scowl, although there was no malice in his tone. The two smiled at each other and dug into their food. These regular nights were comfortable. These regular nights were simple. These regular nights were the best things that had ever happened to the boys. No matter how basic, they wouldn't change them for the world.

#dead poets society #dps #dps boys #dps fandom #dps headcanons #dead poets society fandom #neil perry #todd anderson #dead poets fanfic #dead poets aesthetic #dead poets fandom

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slay00ryu · 2 months ago

Note

Reader x Ronin, alternate ‘good’ ending where instead of kissing or stabbing Ronin the reader decides to stab themself as a form of dedication to Ronin? He said he wanted a body, and they were more than willing for him to get their heart (literally)

I fear this may be too dark, so please ignore it if you don’t feel comfortable with it ❤️ I understand themes like this can be uncomfortable to write !!

Submitting Your Aorta to The Devil.

☪︎ ･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･❂

Trigger Warnings

Gore

Blood

Su1c1d3

Spoilers for Ronin ending

Obsession

Ronin™

6 tws? Hah, that's a devilish number...

☪︎ ･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･❂

This was the day.

The day on which you would meet your beloved Devil. Oh that man who drove you absolutely crazy. The man who made a fool out of you with words alone.

Now here you are, in front of the purgatory, dressed up for that special occasion in your favourite clothes. You put your hand to your heart, the organ was beating so loud, the sound was ringing in your ears.

You took a deep breath to calm you excitement before you stepped into the damned alley. There was gore splattered all over the walls, grafity hidden behind blood and guts, body parts laying on the ground like regular trash. Most people would throw up at such sight, but you my love are far from being like most people, your morality is gone at least most of it.

No normal person would stay in that server and dance with the devil just to end up wrapped around his fingers.

Ronin took his sweet time shaping you into whatever your current form was. He was your muse, but you were his canvas. The canvas he had complete control over...

You didn't have to wait long for him to arrive. You heard the sound of heavy steps from behind and a quiet chuckle, chuckle you know oh so well.

"So we meet!" He said, his voice excited and amused. You turned around and scoffed at his shit-eating grin.

"Always the devil Ronin Beaufort."

"Aren't you a pleasure?" He chuckled at your answer and walked up to you dangerously close. "Gotta say, seein' you in person makes me feel some type of way. An' I wonder how you feel about, well..." He paused and pinned you to the wall.

Mouth close to your ear, hot breath against the sensitive skin of your neck. Oh how beautiful your devilish lover is. You felt the blush creep onto your cheeks, your breath hitching in your throat.

"Do you like me now, darlin'?" His voice dark, full of mystery and fascination, The closure makes the butterflies in your stomach fight to rip it open and fly out of your body in a bloody massacre.

"I do." You replied without any hesitation. Why lie? The devil knows you too well anyway.

"Oh, to speak the truth, the truth, anything but the truth!" Ronin's eyes are full of confidence, and something else, something way darker that is buried deeper, deep enough so unwanted eyes won't see. "Write me a love note, darlin'?" He asked in mocking amusement.

"I know your name , I could end up." Lie. Of course you wouldn't end him. Your lungs are filled with him, your brain can think only of him. You could never call the police on him.

"Hah! Coulda, woulda, shoulda." He started, looking deep into you eyes. "You could end me, you should end me, but would'ja end me?" His whispers filled your ears, caused you to shiver under his gaze.

"..." You didn't answer, didn't have to. It was the devil's speech after all.

"I don't think so! Where are the boys in blue? Why is it jus' us in my favourite gruesome alley? Why is that even after knowing who I am, you still wanna see me?" He paused, moved his mouth closer to your ear. "Some might say you're obsessed, even."

You took a deep calming breath. You couldn't just play his way now, could you?

"Why did you invite me to the server?" You asked in the most collected voice you could get out of your vocal cords.

"I did it for you. You were starving, so i gave you instability. You wanted inspiration, so i became your muse. You wanted love, darlin', so I gave you love. Isn't it everything you ever wanted?" The sound of his voice made your whole body boil. You wanted to do so many things right now. But you needed to listen to him, his words were like some sacred speech that was the most important moment in your entire life.

"I think you always knew. C'mon, why didn't you leave? Call the cops? There were so many... opportunities." Another pause. "If I may... I think you're a little too in love." He sounded like he had the greatest time of his life, just fucking with your head like he always did.

He gave you a new form, a new way of life. Ronin made you feel alive again. Oh but how could you thank him for that? What would satisfy the Devil?

"I told you baby. I'm your little wish fulfilment. I'm what you dream of. Isn't this a story for the ages?" He smirked. "C'mon! Tell me what you want. Do you hate me? Do you love me? Are you gonna kill me? I've got a knife right here. Or are you kissing me, darling? How much do you feel?" These words were what you needed.

Ronin has told you so many times about taking your aorta. He used his threat of slicing your throat open as love confessions. He wanted a body. So why don't you give him what he wants?

You smiled sweetly, innocently even.

You slowly moved you body closer to his, brushing you lips against his. But before Ronin could kiss you back, you snatched the knife away from him and without any second thought you stuck the knife deep into your chest, but far from the heart to avoid the most important muscle.

Ronin backed away in surprise, watching with wide opened eyes as blood splattered around your chest, turning your clothes dark red. He held you by firmly by your waist, shock in his eyes.

"What the hell Y/N?" He asked, voice shaken.

"You wanted a body Ronin, so I am offering my own as a proof of how crazy I am for you. Claim my aorta, steal it while I am still conscious." You had to take deep breaths, mixed with coughs while you spoke.

Ronin's expression was a mix of shock, love, fascination and a small amount of despair.

He chuckled darkly and kissed you hungrily, after all it was the last kiss you will ever share.

"Your wish is my command, darlin'. I will claim your aorta, steal it beating and hot." He whispered against your lips and you could feel him cutting you deeper with the knife, making it easier for him to take what was being gifted to him as a form of sacrifice for his love,

As your mind was somewhere between reality and death you could feel Ronin's skilled hands move inside of your chest, the sound of breaking bone and tore flesh was like the finest song for your sick romance. Ronin's hands were stained with your blood, it looked like every piece of your body wanted to be connected to Ronin to leave a stain on him forever.

Before you took your final breath and Ronin took what he wanted from the depths of your chest, he placed a kiss to your forehead and whispered against your hair.

"Thank you for this wonderful gift, my twisted fallen angel." And with that your heart was kept safe between the devil's fingers, where it was from the very beginning and your lifeless body was gently laid down in the centre of the purgatory.

Oh, what a beautiful love declaration it was.

#killer chat #killer chat ronin #gender neutral reader #cw: gore #tw blood

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lovetaroandtaemin · 2 months ago

Text

Kinktober 2024

Day 31: Sex with a demon

Kim Dongyoung x Reader Word Count: 3,771 Genre: Fluffy smut with a hint of angst Rating: Explicit THIS FIC IS NSFW, MINORS DNI! Summary: On a lonely Halloween, Y/N is messing around with a spellbook that she inherited from her grandmother. When she actually summons a demon, the chemistry between them is undeniable. As rules are broken, Y/N and Doyoung have a Halloween they'll never forget. Warnings: DOYOUNG IS A LITERAL DEMON, Y'ALL. THIS IS YOUR MONSTERFUCKING WARNING. Use of the title "sir," biting, hickies, oral (male and female recieving), unprotected sex, the tiniest bit of dumbification, creampie, praise kink, a tiny bit of arguing, brief mentions of death, religious themes. If you think I missed a warning, please let me know! A/N: Alright y'all I know that this fic is probably corny as hell (pun intended), but I still had a lot of fun writing it. I hope you guys have enjoyed reading all of the fics I've written for Kinktober as much as I have enjoyed writing all of them. If you liked the stuff I've written this month, I hope you stick around to see what else I write now that Kinktober is over! Happy Halloween y'all, and be safe however you choose to celebrate.

Taglist: @unlikelysublimekryptonite

Fic is under the cut.

You should have known it would be a bad idea to open the book you found in your basement. It had been your grandmother’s, and she left it to you in her will. You had no idea what it was for when you received it, but you still held onto it for sentimental value. Now that you were looking at it, you realized that it was a spell book. Since your grandmother had an interest in the supernatural and was a practicing witch, you should have known that something weird would happen if you decided to mess around with the book.

It was Halloween when you got the sudden urge to do just that. You were alone in your apartment, uninterested in parties or costumes. The book’s cover said, “A Guide to the Magical,” and it honestly freaked you out a little bit, as interesting as it was. As you flipped through its pages, you grew increasingly unsettled. You found instructions for a variety of magic, from love potions to incantations that could change the color of your hair. What really caught your attention, however, was the section on summoning various entities.

When you got to the chapter on specifically summoning demons, you knew that it was a bad idea to actually try it. Your grandmother had spent most of your formative years warning you that messing with the demonic would only lead to trouble. However, you were bored and wanted to know what would happen if you actually tried. You’d never believed in your grandmother’s stories, so you were sure that nothing would happen. However, your grandmother’s warnings still played in your head.

When you were a kid, being warned not to do something never actually stopped you from doing what you wanted. As an adult, you were no different. So, when you stumbled on a page with a simple incantation to summon a lower demon, you let your curiosity get the better of you. You lit a candle like the page suggested, then found a comfortable spot in your living room and dramatically read the incantation as it was written. Was the dramatic reading overkill? Of course it was. Was it still fun? Absolutely.

You stopped laughing, however, when a figure appeared in the middle of your living room. He was tall, with dark hair and darker eyes, and he had the kind of energy that both drew you in and made you want to run away. He was also clearly frustrated with you, staring at you with an anger that you had never seen from another person before. However, the long, twisted horns and flame-red skin made it very obvious that whoever was standing in front of you was not like any person you’d previously met.

You were snapped out of your thoughts by a voice saying, “What do you want?”

“I’m sorry, I had no clue that would actually work, I was just bored and-”

“Are you serious? You summoned a demon just because you were bored?”

“I didn’t know that reading some stupid book would actually summon a demon, Jesus!” The demon hissed when he heard the name, and you stifled a laugh.

“Oh, so you think this is just some big joke?”

“No, I just- “

“Just what? Wanted to do a summoning ritual to show your friends that you’re cool?”

“Look around. Do you see any friends?”

“Touche. Then why am I here? What do you want?”

“I was just reading from a book I inherited for fun. I didn’t think that I would actually summon a demon. I was missing my grandmother, and I wanted to read a bit from the book she left me” you said, mumbling the last part.

The demon softened when he heard your explanation. He was so used to being summoned for petty reasons, like revenge on an ex or a cheap scare at a party, your explanation touched him. You were clearly just trying to feel closer to someone that you’d lost and have a bit of fun at home by yourself. He took a deep breath, and said, “I’m Doyoung, what’s your name?”

“You can call me (N/N),” you replied, suddenly remembering your grandmother’s advice to never give your real name to a supernatural being.

“(N/N),” he whispered, testing the name. “It has a nice ring to it.”

“Thank you.” There was a moment of silence before you added, “So, how do I send you back?”

“Back where?”

“Well, wherever I summoned you from. Hell?”

“Oh, there’s instructions for that at the bottom of the page. I could stay, though, if you want. You seem like you could use the company.”

“I’m sure you have much more important things to do.”

“Not really, I’m not exactly high and mighty as far as demons go.”

“Well, you seem pretty badass to me.”

“Thanks,” he said, hoping you couldn’t tell that your words affected him. Doyoung hated to admit it, but he already liked you. He knew that it was frowned upon for demons to fraternize with humans before they went to Hell, but when it came to you, he didn’t care.

You also hated to admit it, but you appreciated that Doyoung stayed and kept you company. You had missed your grandmother a lot, and you didn’t really have anyone in your life that you could talk to about it. Chatting with Doyoung about whatever came to mind while you gave him various human foods and drinks to try for the first time made you happier than you’d been in a long time.

His favorite thing that you offered to let him try was the wine you had been keeping in your cabinet for a special occasion. He would never tell another soul this, but he thought that human wine was better than what was widely available in Hell. You were careful, not letting him drink too much and not drinking too much yourself, but it did make both of you loosen up a little bit as you continued talking.

An hour or so passed, and you were flirting shamelessly with Doyoung. It started innocently; with a comment you made about how pretty his eyes are. He responded by telling you that everything about you was pretty. You smiled at his words, hoping that the effect he was having on you wasn’t obvious.

The flirting between you and Doyoung did not stay innocent as the night went on. Part of it was the effects of the wine, but a larger part of it was that Doyoung was incredibly attractive, even though you two weren’t the same species. He had a voice that should have belonged to an angel, and his eyes stared into your soul with every word you said to him. You wanted him, even though you knew it was a bad idea. Eventually, you decided to ask, “So, when it comes to down there, does it look the same for a demon?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Like your dick. Does it look like a human’s?”

“I’m not really sure, I’ve never seen a human’s,” he said with a laugh, oblivious to what you were really asking.

“Can I find out?”

“What?”

“I want to find out.”

“Find out what?” You stared at him expectantly, hoping he would figure out the intent behind your words. Instead, he asked, “What? Why are you staring at me?”

“I’m asking if I can see your dick because I want to have sex with you.”

Doyoung’s eyes widened at your admission, though he wasn’t opposed to the idea. He knew that he would get in trouble for having relations with a human since he wasn’t an incubus, but he didn’t care. He wanted you, and he while he was surprised, he was also excited that you wanted him in the same way.

Once the initial shock wore off, he asked, “Can I kiss you?” You nodded, and he hesitantly brought his lips to yours. Once he felt you, however, all of the hesitation went away. His arms found their way to your waist, pulling you closer while you wrapped your arms around his neck. The way he held you against him made it easy to feel a familiar bulge in his pants, and you had to admit that it made you ever-so-slightly uneasy. He was much bigger than any man you’d previously been with, but to be fair, he was nothing like the men you’d previously been with.

One of Doyoung’s hands made its way to your ass and squeezed, and a small moan left your mouth. When he heard it, he pulled away and asked, “Having fun, baby?” with a mischievous smile on his face. You nodded in response, and he said, “If you’re not gonna use your words, I’m gonna stop. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

The use of the title surprised Doyoung, but he didn’t really mind it. He wouldn’t have minded anything that you called him in the moment, just because you were the one saying it. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was the fact that he knew he wasn’t supposed to be doing this, or maybe it was the fact that you were one of the most beautiful beings he’d ever seen. It could have even been a combination of all three, but being with you was more addicting than any drug he’d ever tried.

Doyoung was snapped out of his thoughts by your arms wrapping around his neck as you said, “Sir?”

“What is it, angel?” The nickname sent a shiver down your spine, and you went quiet. Dissatisfied with your silence, he asked again, “What do you need?”

“Can we take this to my room?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. I think we’ll be a lot more comfortable there.”

“Then lead the way, angel.”

You moved your arms from Doyoung’s neck just long enough to grab his hand and lead him to your bedroom. Once you were there, he pinned you to your bed and attached his lips to your neck. He kissed and bit every inch of skin he could reach, loving the moans that left your mouth as he marked you. You could feel his teeth on you, and you knew that he was biting you hard enough to leave hickeys, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

Doyoung pulled away from your neck just long enough to pull your shirt over your head and find that you weren’t wearing a bra. He looked up at you with what you could only describe as hunger, and you sheepishly explained that you weren’t exactly expecting company for the night. He laughed a little bit at your comment before giving your breasts the same treatment that he gave your neck, biting and kissing every bit of skin he could. When he was satisfied with the marks on your chest, he continued kissing his way down your torso until he was between your legs.

When Doyoung looked up at you from between your legs, you bit your lip and said, “Please?”

“Please what, angel?”

“Please touch me, sir.”

That was all Doyoung needed to hear to continue. He removed the rest of your clothes and carefully pushed your legs apart. He spent what felt like an eternity just kissing your inner thighs before moving to where you wanted him the most and gently sucking on your clit. The moans that left your mouth were straight up sinful, and he loved it. Hearing and seeing your reactions to the pleasure he was giving you made him wonder why it was so heavily frowned upon for humans and demons to have relations. How could something so beautiful be wrong?

When Doyoung continued to tease your clit, it only made you want him more. You tried to ask him for more, but you were already so lost in pleasure you could barely speak. He laughed at your fucked-out state, amused by the fact that it seemingly took so little for humans to become aroused. At the same time, however, he found himself just as turned on, and he desperately wanted to fuck you. It amazed Doyoung that as you found yourself lost in pleasure, he found himself lost in you.

Just when you felt like you couldn’t take anymore, Doyoung slowly inserted two of his long fingers into you while he continued to suck on your clit. He thrusted them in and out in a way that told you that he knew what he was doing, regardless of whether he’d had sex with a human before. You wanted to ask him how many other demons he’d been with, but you knew that no matter what number he said it would be disappointing. You mentally cursed yourself in that moment for feeling attracted to him, considering you couldn’t actually be together beyond tonight. You really wanted to blame it on the alcohol you’d had, but you didn’t have it in you to lie to yourself anymore.

Before you could think about it any longer, you felt a familiar knot in your stomach starting to tighten. With a whine, you asked, “Sir, I’m close. Can I please cum?”

“Give me one good reason as to why I should let you.”

“I’ve been good for you, haven’t I? I just wanna cum for you, sir. Please?”

Doyoung pretended to think for a moment before he said, “Go ahead, angel. Let go for me.”

As soon as you had his permission, you came undone around Doyoung’s fingers and tongue with a scream. He continued gently fucking you through your release until overstimulation took hold and your moans of pleasure became whimpers of pain. Only then did he move from between your legs and stand up, allowing you to catch your breath.

It must not have taken long for you to recover from your orgasm, because before Doyoung could even process what was happening, you stood up and dropped to your knees in front of him. He was shocked at your eagerness, to say the least. When you were settled on the floor, you looked up at him and asked, “Can I, sir?” Of course, he said yes. Who was he to deny you?

You made quick work of removing the pesky clothes that covered Doyoung’s bottom half. When you saw his cock though, you couldn’t help but stop and stare. He was bigger than anyone you’d previously been with, and for a moment you wondered if you would be able to take him when you inevitably went further than a blowjob. That was a worry for later on, though. For now, though, you carefully started to take him into your mouth.

Doyoung was amazed by how your mouth felt around him. You started out slowly, but once you got more comfortable, you moved faster. As you bobbed your head up and down on his cock, using your hands to stimulate what you couldn’t fit in your mouth, he could barely contain himself. In his mind, this was what Heaven felt like.

You found yourself enjoying yourself almost as much as Doyoung when you had his cock in your mouth. He had a voice that made the butterflies in your stomach worse with every groan and whine, and the way he gently thrusted into your mouth made your head spin. While you enjoyed getting him off with your mouth, all you could think about was how badly you wanted his cock in your pussy.

When you swirled your tongue around his tip, he moaned louder than you were expecting and said, “Fuck, angel. Do that again.” You happily did as you were told, loving the sounds that came from the demon’s mouth as you pleasured him.

It didn’t take much longer before Doyoung’s movements got sloppier as he warned you that he was close. With one more well-timed swirl of your tongue, you felt him still as he came in your mouth. When you were absolutely sure that he was done, you pulled your mouth off of him and swallowed. As he caught his breath, he couldn’t help but think that you looked incredibly sexy when you looked up at him after swallowing his cum.

The moment you stood up, Doyoung pulled you close and kissed you. You knew that it wasn’t smart, but you found yourself getting addicted to how his lips felt on yours. If the moans that slipped out of his mouth were any indication, he was feeling the same way. As he made out with you, you felt the same arousal from before building between your legs. When the feeling was too much to bear, you pulled away and said, “Please fuck me, sir. Want you inside me.”

“Are you sure you can take it, angel?”

“I’m sure. Just fuck me, please.”

Without any further hesitation, Doyoung pinned you to your bed and whispered, “You’re so cute when you beg, angel.”

After he found a comfortable position on top of you, Doyoung removed his shirt before he carefully aligned his tip with your entrance. You were so busy admiring his body, you almost didn’t notice when he pushed his cock into you. You did notice, however, wincing at the intrusion and holding onto him for dear life as you adjusted to how he felt inside of you. While the stretch of his cock inside of you was painful, you were also desperate for him to fuck you, so it was a welcome pain.

When you gave him the green light to start moving, he started slowly, despite how badly he wanted to pound you into the mattress. He still thought you felt incredible around him, however, despite the fact that he wasn’t fucking you as hard as he wanted to.

As you adjusted to his size, you found yourself loving the way Doyoung’s cock stretched you out. He gradually increased his pace, and you swore you could see stars. It wasn’t long before the only thing you could think about was his cock. Doyoung could see you losing yourself in pleasure, and he’d be lying if he said that seeing a human so fucked out all because of him wasn’t a huge boost to his ego.

“You’re taking me so well, angel. I know it hurt at first, but it feels good now, right?”

“Feels so fucking good, sir. Never want you to stop fucking me.”

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl for me.”

You adored the gentle praise that came from Doyoung’s lips as he pounded you into your mattress. You wanted to tell him in more detail how he felt inside of you, but you could barely form coherent thoughts. The only thing on your mind was him. If you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t sure if you would ever want to go back to having sex with the men that you met in your daily life after getting fucked by a demon.

Before you knew it, the knot in your stomach started to tighten again. Desperate for another release, you asked, “I’m close, sir. Can I please cum?”

“Not yet, angel. Just hold on a little bit longer for me.” You wanted to complain, but with the way Doyoung fucked you, you really didn’t want to give him a reason to stop. Besides, it wasn’t much longer before he said, “Fuck, I’m close, angel. Cum with me.”

Within seconds, you came undone around Doyoung’s cock. The way you squeezed around him was the last little push he needed, and he came inside of you with a loud groan. You wanted to be concerned, but you were honestly too overwhelmed by pleasure to care about the consequences at this point. He grabbed your chin and made you look at him as you came down from your high, and you felt like you were in a trance as he looked into your eyes and told you how good you were for him.

When he was absolutely certain that you were ok, Doyoung carefully pulled out of you and helped you to clean up and get dressed. Once you were both fully clothed again, you asked him if he could stay with you for just a little bit longer. He would have to leave soon, but he happily spared the little bit of time that he had left before he had to get back to his regular duties.

You and Doyoung cuddled in your bed for what felt like hours, but it was probably closer to a few minutes. While he held you close, the two of you talked about whatever little things came to mind. You wanted to ask him to stay with you forever, but you knew that he would have to go back to Hell at some point. Besides, with the way your life was going and the choices you’d made so far, you knew that you would probably see him there when you died.

When the time came for you to send Doyoung back to Hell, it was difficult to hold back the tears in your eyes. All you’d wanted was a friend that you could talk to about how much you’d missed your grandmother. Now that you finally had someone that you could talk to, and someone that gave you the best sex you’d ever had, he had to leave after just a few hours. Regardless, you knew he had to go home, so you started the spell to send him back.

As the last word left your lips, Doyoung kissed you one more time. You wanted to ask him how you could speak to him again before he disappeared for good, but when you finished the spell, you were alone in your apartment once again. For the rest of the night, you wondered what you could do to guarantee that a lonely Halloween wouldn’t be the last time that you saw him. In a moment of what you could only describe as desperation and carelessness, you decided the best place to look was your grandmother’s book.

When you found a page that explained in detail how to summon a specific demon, a sigh of relief left your body. You could see the demon that you had sort of grown to love whenever you wanted. Sure, it probably wasn’t wise to summon and have sex with a demon, but you didn’t think that it had turned out too badly. Regardless of what had happened and how you felt about it, however, it was sure to be a Halloween that you would remember for the rest of your life.

Thank you for reading! Kinktober was a really fun challenge for me. I've never done something like it before, and honestly I'm proud of myself for pulling it off. If you'd like to see what else I've posted this month, you can find my Kinktober masterlist here. If you'd like to read one of my non-Kinktober works, you can find my general masterlist here. If you'd like to see what I'm going to be working on now that Kinktober is over, you can find my upcoming works here. If none of that interests you, or there's something specific you'd like to see, send a request via asks or dms!

Thank you again for reading. Happy Halloween, everyone!

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