#In search of the lost goddesses

[ofgreatart]

'this term of great art, which seems to me to be necessary to qualify Proust.' (Robert-Ernst Curtius)

Marcel Proust: "I became aware of the tangible reality of Wagner's work again when I revisited these insistent and fleeting themes that visit an act, only to depart and return, sometimes distant, drowsy, almost detached, yet at other times, while remaining vague, so urgent and so close, so internal, so organic, so visceral that it seems less a reprise of a motif than of a neuralgia." (French text)

Photo: Kristen Stewart reads Marcel Proust

Robert-Ernst Curtius: "What did we experience at our first encounter with Proust's books? The sudden surprise of touching something unknown; of feeling a new substance whose structure eluded us. We felt disoriented and compelled to engage in a mode of expression for which none of the habits of our mind were prepared. Strange encounter. Initially bewildered, then intrigued, and finally captivated, we soon found ourselves drawn in by a mysterious allure. Barely having entered this unexplored territory, we were charmed, then conquered, and something of our most intimate life was changed. Like Ulysses' companions in the land of the Lotus-eaters, we had tasted a fruit that made us forget the past of our mind and removed the desire to return to our former nourishment. Intoxicated by our discovery, we couldn't distinguish whether it was a new form of art or a new plan of life that was presenting itself to us. But upon regaining our composure, retracing the path through analysis, we recognized this very impossibility of distinguishing between aesthetic emotion and the upheaval of our entire being as the infallible sign of the revelation of a great work of art.

I would like to give full significance to this term of great art, which seems to me to be necessary to qualify Proust. Certainly, there is no lack of fine, engaging, and powerful works in contemporary production. But do almost all of them not seem to have their starting point in transmitted literary forms—either continuing them or taking them in the opposite direction, which is just another way of depending on them? But alongside this production grafted onto earlier literature, the steady growth of which would be sufficient to attest to its somewhat secondary quality, there are few works that arise as if outside the literary concerns of the time; they do not seem called upon by the "moment" or motivated by an artistic movement; they differ profoundly from usual literature but without any sense of a desire to differ. These works, which do not depend so much on literature as literature will not depend on them, born from the original effort of a powerful mind focused on life itself, are the ones I was thinking of when using the term great art.

In Marcel Proust's work, the creative power presents a spectacle all the more admirable in that it has been exercised upon the richest literary and intellectual culture, which, in a less powerful mind, could have posed an obstacle to such a fresh realization by either paralyzing it or leading it astray into delightful yet bookish alexandrines. Proust's art, instead of being hindered by the treasures of his literary memory, manages instead to highlight them or, furthermore, to render them anew to us. He knows how to blend spontaneous life with the entire inheritance of the past. In handling it, he maintains direct and immediate contact with the elusively fleeting material from which our life is woven. Proust presents himself to it with a sensitivity that seems untouched by any prior contact—otherwise, how would it succeed in capturing nuances of reality that had previously eluded us? The slightest layer of transmitted experience or habit that would have intervened between them and the receiving apparatus would have acted as a barrier, preventing them from being inscribed there. But this sensitivity is accompanied by a mind nourished by the richest and most diverse tradition—and one that lives in familiarity with Ruskin as well as Saint-Simon. It is from the encounter of two things that seem to exclude each other— the most freshly spontaneous sensitivity and the most culturally laden intelligence— (but which, in him, by penetrating each other, mutually lend support) that Proust's art derives its new and moving beauty.

In a more general sense, the profound originality of the great artist who has just passed away is revealed in this, that attitudes of the mind that we are accustomed to consider as distinct penetrate each other in him to the point of forming a homogeneous whole. Intelligence does not merely overlay emotion but becomes one with it. Feeling and analysis do not appear as two opposed terms between which a relationship can be established. Art will be life, and vice versa. Lastly, thought in Proust never gives the impression of being a foreign and external element. One can consider separately in his work psychology, poetry, science, observation, emotion. But it will always involve an artificial isolation that distorts the truth. All these elements that analysis attempts to separate form in him not a mixture, not even a fusion, but the blossoming of an identical, primordial, and indivisible experience. By pushing the analysis further, I believe one would be led to understand this profound unity that is perceived beneath the delightful complexity of his work as the externalization of the creative impulse from which it originates. His art arises from this unified and total vision that constitutes the life of the mind at its principle and in its fullness. In Proust, I can never dissociate beauty from truth. The profound and purifying emotion suggested by the evocation of the mysteries of life; the intimate contentment caused by highlighting the infinitely small aspects of our existence; the happiness felt in the revelation of its unsuspected richness; the introduction to a deeper inner life—these are the gifts we receive from Proust's art, but bathed in the same atmosphere and melted into a single harmony.

It is a new era in the history of the great French novel that begins with Proust. Solely to better delineate his originality and without aiming at a judgment at this moment, which is one of homage to a great deceased, one can nevertheless say that he surpasses Flaubert in intelligence as he surpasses Balzac in literary qualities and Stendhal in the understanding of life and beauty. Therefore, he must be regarded as the founder of a realm that he shares with no other.

To our intelligence as well as to our admiration, he imposes himself as a master among the greatest.

He is among the three or four names in contemporary French literature that are already or will be European names. Rooted in the most authentic French soil, he nevertheless far exceeds the boundaries that some seem eager to set for the French spirit. He has expanded the domain of the human soul; he has embellished all our lives. Allied with the great classical lineage of his homeland, he has nevertheless strayed from the confines of a too timid classicism. He has given himself free rein without conforming to a pre-established aesthetic. Here again, he has shown himself to be a creator. With the freedom permitted by mastery, he has annexed to the French tradition domains hitherto left fallow.

Emerging at a time when intellectual Germany was turning away from manifestations of the French spirit to focus more exclusively on its own heritage, he made us feel once again—speaking on behalf of a few, until others may come to know and offer their testimony—that today, as in the past, there are treasures common to the nations of our divided and troubled Europe."

ROBERT-ERNST CURTIUS

Tribute to Marcel Proust, La Nouvelle Revue Française, 1923

VIDEO:

'He who this love into my heart had breathed, whose will had placed the Wälsung at my side, true only to him, thy word did I defy.'

(German: 'Der diese Liebe mir in's Herz gehaucht, dem Willen, der dem Wälsung mich gesellt, ihm innig vertraut, trotzt' ich deinem Gebot.')

Brünnhilde: Gwyneth Jones Wotan: Donald McIntyre Die Walküre The Ring of the Nibelung (Der Ring des Nibelungen) Bayreuth 1979, Patrice Chéreau / Pierre Boulez

Photo: Kristen Stewart reads Marcel Proust (On the Road, Walter Salles)

[autolenaphilia]

Edit: as hoshi9zoe pointed out, the original version of this post needlessly berated other transfems like Jennifer Coates, for which I do apologize, and I have toned it down in this edited version. The original version survives in reblogs.

Some months ago, I was searching through this transandrobro blog to see if they posted a callout of me, and i found this reblog, which I couldn't really write about for months, because what do I even write. I recently wayback machined it for posterity, and I guess this is my attempt to write a post about it.

It's saint-dyke himself, the coiner of transandrophobia, saying that the infamous (at least for me) article "I am a transwoman. I'm in the closet. I'm not coming out" is what made him coin the fucking word. It's literally bolded and underlined: "Reading this article is what made me coin “transandrophobia”.

The reason I put off writing this post is that reading that article makes me feel like i'm drinking poison. And it is poison, make no mistake, it's internalized transmisogyny brainworms dripping out of the writer's brain and onto the page.

It's a justification for why the author, known by pseudonym Jennifer Coates, doesn't want to transition, despite knowing she is a trans woman. And it's the exact kind of internalized transmisogyny that keeps trans women in repression and not transitioning. "I'm not going to pass, i'm forever going to be an ugly freak who will at best be humored by other women, the closet is uncomfortable but at least it's safe"

It's the same exact bullshit a lot of represssed trans women tell themselves because it's what society tells us about trans women, that we are freakish parodies of women, that we will never pass, and if we don't pass we have failed and are ugly freaks. It's all to scare us into staying in the closet and make others hate and fear us. Transmisogyny permeates our society, and the majority, maybe all transfems will absorb and internalize some of it.

Coates says that it all is just applicable to her, but again so many transfems believe this shit before transitioning and realizing it's a pack of lies. If this bullshit was in any way valid, a lot of trans women shouldn't transition, because before we actually transition many of us believe it word for word. And "it's only true for me" is how we justify it to ourselves. We tend to be way harsher on ourselves than others. This kind of self-hating transfem tends to think: "Other trans women are beautiful graceful goddesses, earthly manifestations of the divine feminine, always destined to be women, while I'm an ugly forever male ogre who just has a fetish."

It's all bullshit, it's poison, it's internalized transmisogyny.

And the rest of the article is bullshit too. It is not some insightful mediation on gender as some people say, it's the author confusing and mixing up actual transmisogyny with an imagined problem of misandry. She does this because she has gone full repression mode, and decided she has no other choice to live as a man, so her dysphoria and experiences of transmisogyny are actually men's problems.

It's a bad article, excusable because as Coatas points out, it's "essentially a diary entry." that was meant to be a way to "vent frustration" and she "did not intend for anyone else to actually read it." It is clearly not the product of a healthy mind.

I hope the author sometime in the past seven years eventually did transition, and that for whatever reason she didn't want to publicly repudiate her own article. Maybe she lost access to the medium account so she can't delete it.

Far worse than the article itself is the response to it. I've seen it passed around as some insightful commentary on gender by the "feminists are too mean to men, misandry is real" crowd. I have argued against this before. And other people have made insightful comments about it.

And learning that saint-dyke claiming that he was inspired to coin the word "transandrophobia" because of this article is the cherry on top of this shitcake of transmisogyny. For my thoughts on "transandrophobia" theory and how transmisogynistic it is, see here.

Of course, Saint-dyke absolutely could be bullshitting here. Claiming that Coates's article is what inspired him to coin the word might be a lie to claim that transandrophobia theory is not transmisogynistic because it came from listening to trans women.

This is why "listen to trans women" doesn't work. Because TME people will always choose a trans woman who confirms their prejudices. Blair White has made an entire career out of this. And Coates article is popular because it says that misandry is real and trans women's issues are partly caused by it, misgendering herself and other trans women.

And it's popular for another reason. Coates has thoroughly internalized transmisogyny, and thus her article presents a trans woman that is exactly as transmisogynistic patriarchal society wants her to be. She is suffering, but ultimately accepts her assigned role. She truly believes that her biological sex dooms her to forever be male. She literally "manages her dysphoria by means other than transition" as conversion therapy advocates want us to do. She never makes an social claim on womanhood by actually transitioning, so she doesn't invade the sacred women's spaces. Yet she performs the role of woman perfectly by serving men, by defending them from supposed feminist misandry. And she fulfils the ritualistic role that the rhetorical figure of "trans women" sometimes serves in progressive spaces, of giving a blessing to TME people's pre-existing views and actions, all while actual flesh-and-blood trans women are destroyed by those same deeply transmisogynistic spaces. This time it's a blessing for the same "misandry is real" soft-MRA bullshit that has infested the online left and created the transandrophobia crowd.

That is why this article and the positive response makes me sick, makes me feel like i'm drinking poison. This is what its fans want trans women to be like. I'm acutely aware this kind of self-denial is exactly what transmisogyny wants from me and tried to indoctrinate me into doing it. And I want none of it. I want to live, I want to be a woman.

[emacrow]

The High Infinite realm king is missing and all of realities started to blurred in his absence while a Fright knights Quad are looking for their king.

It started during the time of Salam night of Halloween where the veil was at it's thinnest as Halloween Fright Knight was doing his job capturing the evil and dangerous creatures of the night, senting evils ghosts, demons, spirits and ghouls to the nightmare, hellish realm with his sword.

Once his duty was done as he was making sure on his checklist on his scroll because he refused to use those thing call Cell-phone as The rebirth Pharoah suggested to him.

And come back to report his duty was finished to find that The Throne broken and the king missing, and what seem to be ransacked with scorched walls here and there.

His grip on his green scroll loosen as it dropped to the green glowing ground, being stained by the splattered of ecto mixed red blood was on the purple tilted floor.

The High King was missing which mean the Infinite realm has lost it's very core.. which mean realities itself will soon collapse as very dimensions collides instead of staying in their balance places.

Meanwhile metropolis, gotham and even altantian was experience trouble as people were running/swimming and screaming from a the literal rifts and tears of the sky and ground, each having a alternate dimension of some sort.

One having literal pony verison of themselves with unicorns, alicorns and Pegasus.

There was one where serial killer are chasing poor victim and feeding them to some claw like being.

Another with literal hell with fire, demons and dead people screaming in torture.

And many other dimensions started to blurred in the seams like a mismatch blanket being sewed in terribly wrong by a amateur. Ghosts, mythic, supernatural beings, biblically accurate angels and monsters of unholy natures were popping left and right, here and there.

The justice league were in the middle of the meeting with John Constantine who was looking like he saw the very end of his life with how pale he was.

From what John Constantine knows that even every demons, Gods and Goddesses of death themselves were all searching as well for the High Infinite realm king... especially considering he was their boss that keep their dimensions stable and running in the first place. They do not like that some of their subjects were escaping in this particular dimension due to the literal dimension tears.

And what is on everyone's minds was, Where is Danny Phantom?!?

[blackdollette]

"heard that you like the bad girls." | spencer reid

video games. - lana del rey

⊹₊⋆ synopsis: when the black cat meets the golden retriever.

fill out the taglist form!

female!reader x spencer

word count: 1.2k

contents: opposites attract, spencer being a sweetheart, fluff, not proofread

it had to have been a cruel joke played by the universe when you and spencer were assigned to work on a job together.

your interactions with him had never gone past glancing at him as he passed by or blankly nodding at the factoids he spat at 100 words per minute. he was a self-proclaimed genius, equipped with intelligence that many could only aspire to obtain. so it didn’t make sense to you why it was always as if his IQ got slashed in half whenever he spoke to you.

spencer was a sophisticated individual, particular about everything from the way he carried himself to how each chestnut-brown strand of his hair was laid. while you were the polar opposite. you went with the wind, going wherever the night took you. your attire consisted of dark colours and you put minimal effort into making yourself look professional, though you suppressed your style just a little to help it meet the nonexistent workplace requirements. even with your lack of interactions, spencer could tell you had a bold personality. and he longs to search and explore every part of it.

the first step he took in getting to know you was offering to give you a ride to work. as usual, you were running late. he’d said that he’d be at your place by 7:30 and you watched the long arm of the clock tick to 7:29. you slipped on your dark brown sweater, letting it rest on top of your pleated black skirt. you hastily put on your dark tights, finishing off the look with your black doc martens. you looked at yourself in the mirror, making sure you didn’t look as crazy as you felt you were going.

as the clock hit 7:30 the doorbell chimed, perfectly on cue. you quickly grabbed your bag, dashing down the stairs until you reached the front door, seeing spencer through the lens of the peephole. you let out a soft breath, taking in the 6 feet of elegance that awaited you on the other side of the door. the bright morning sub made his hair appear to be made of one million pure gold threads, his eyes turning into soft pools of honey.

with a deep breath, you opened the door, greeting him with a warm smile. he met your eyes with warm eyes and the softest smile you’d ever seen. he stared at you, not saying anything for a good moment until you cleared your throat to catch his attention. he ran a hand through his hair, blinking himself out of his smitten daze.

he couldn’t get over how much he wanted to know about you. you were attractive in a frustratingly effortless way, like you just so happened to roll out of bed looking like a goddess. he had gotten lost in your gaze again, finally coming to his senses after another long minute. “g-good morning.” you laughed softly as he stammered. “morning, doc.” you teased, never having bothered using such formalities before.

he went to extend a hand toward you before thinking that he was moving too fast. “shall we? my car’s in your driveway.” you nodded, walking out the door and shutting it behind you, making sure to lock it as you and he strolled over to his car. he opened the door for you and you hopped in, slightly flattered by his chivalrous gesture. he got into the driver’s seat next to you, stealing a quick glance in your direction as you buckled up his seat belt. he’d never been able to take his eyes off of you, but the feeling got even more intense when you were this close, your scent filling his nostrils. he started up the car, pulling out of your driveway.

you yawned, rubbing your eyes as he began to drive down your street. he raised an eyebrow. “tired?” you nodded. he began to speak again, his eyes lighting up in the way that they usually did whenever he went off on irrelevant tangents. “for optimum health and function, the average adult requires around 7-9 hours of sleep to function properly during the day. but studies show that 60% of women fall short of that goal.”

you laughed a little, amazed by how quickly he could pull the facts out of his head. he pulled out of your street, driving in the opposite direction of the workplace. “how about we head down to that coffee place across from your house? i saw it when i was coming earlier.” and he absorbed knowledge like a sponge. you smiled. “yeah, that’d be great. thank you, spencer.”

you could’ve sworn you heard him squeal when you called him by his name. you pulled out your mirror, fixing up your hair as he pulled into the parking lot. “i’ll be back in a minute, okay?” he walked into the cafe before you could respond. and he hadn’t even taken your order. you were willing to bet a large sum of money that he’d draw an assumption on how you liked your coffee. you took it black, no cream and no sugar. but no guy had ever guessed that right.

you flipped through the radio channels, searching for something good to play. you assumed that you’d be waiting for him for a while. but he walked out of the shop before you could even settle on something to play. he hopped back into the car, holding two large coffees in his hand. your eyes were wide. “that was quick.” he nodded. “i ordered ahead of time. i had a feeling you wouldn’t be used to heading to work this early.”

you rolled your eyes, accepting the cup he held out to you with a smile on your face. you took a slow sip of the drink, eyes growing with surprise as you tasted the familiar, bitter mixture. he was watching you with a stupid little grin on his face. “no cream and no sugar, right?” your eyebrows inched up on your forehead. “how’d you know that?” he shrugged, putting the keys back into the ignition. “i see you everyday. it’d be a shame if i didn’t know how you took your coffee.”

you felt a sizzling sensation spreading in your cheeks. you turned away slightly, watching the atmosphere change as he drove away. the car fell silent, something you’d never expect from spencer. then he opened his mouth to speak again. “h-hey, i’ve been meaning to ask you something…” you tilted your head to the side, curious at what he had to say. he took a deep breath, trying not to sound as awkward as he knew he was. “all this work stuff is pretty hectic, like all the time. but you seem… i-i dunno. you always listen to what i have to say and never act like i bore you. s-so… i was wondering if you’d like to try out that new restaurant that opened after work…?” 

he regretted asking as soon as the word came out, but you were grinning from ear to ear as you heard him speak like a normal, nervous guy instead of the genius he was. “you asking me out on a date, spencer?” he swallowed hard, quickly looking over at you. “i guess you could put it that way…” you stayed quiet, watching as he squirmed in his seat. you found that you liked getting him all riled up. you lifted up in your seat a little and pecked him on the cheek, his face immediately flushing with crimson. “pick me up at 7:30. don’t be late.” 

you and him both laughed at the irony of that statement.

author's note: i need to rewatch criminal minds. i've completely forgotten everything about it

[galebrainrot2024]

GalexYou Pep-Talk

Summary: Pre-relationship yearn alert! This is a BIG yearn. Thank you @orangekittyenergy for the idea! Gale goes to seek you out (gender neutral) after a long day. Mutual pining, angst, fluff. Word Ct. 1.4 k

Master List | Read on Ao3

After the merriment and bustle of the night wore away and gave into the doldrums of sleep, Gale flicked his gaze around camp searching for you. You slipped away and although he expected you to return, the emptiness in your absence haunted him. 

He sat outside of his tent, then stood, pacing with book in hand. He wasn’t worried. Not necessarily. You had been traveling for a few weeks together now and you had a certain levels of tenacity it seemed even gods and devils refused to trifle with. 

It was just that he had grown accustomed to your company post-dinner and campfire camaraderie and felt a pang of remorse in your absence. The night air too quiet without the soft hum of your laughter. Sometimes, he would read aloud to you, other times you would both get lost in conversation, and sometimes would sit in utter silence. It intrigued and terrified him, that you sought out his private company despite the others being starved for your attention. 

It was quite flattering and made him want to rip out the persistent thrum in his heart. He couldn’t indulge in such frivolities and would cause far less suffering to not humor the feelings at all. The orb’s ever looming threat didn’t allow Gale to succumb to whatever emotions festered in his gullet. At least, not consciously. 

His mind began down the treacherous path of ‘what ifs.’ It was a game, like lance board, Gale was excellent at. As the moon greeted the stars, Gale’s anxiety intensified, his mind whirling with options. It had to have been a least an hour you’d been gone, longer than you’d take for bathing - not that he knew exactly how long that was! It was just something he happened to notice. Coincidentally. 

The foreign thrum of desire stirred and the thick hair on his arms stood straight up as he wondered if you were bathing. If you allowed the water to kiss your supple skin, to know your secrets. Gale shook his head, embarrassed and felt his face redden. Keep it together. They could be dead and you’re fantasizing over their wet body? You should be ashamed of yourself. 

Gale expected you to traverse through the trees any moment, prepared to feel ridiculous at his worrying. Why did he care? It’s not as if there was anything more than friendship between you two, at least from your end. He had to repeat this to himself to be convinced. 

When he overheard Astarion ask Shadowheart if she’d seen you, Gale felt the whispers of envy touch his heart and decided he spent enough time wasted, musing over your whereabouts when you could be lost, or worse besides. 

He couldn’t tolerate the sudden pain that gripped him with that ‘what if,’ and he walked into the brushes to find you. 

*** 

Relief roiled through him at the sight of you, despite your disheveled appearance. Gale’s breath caught in his throat and he stopped, gripped when he looked upon you in the pale moonlight. Your eyes were red and swollen, it seemed like you’d been crying. He felt his knees buckle and he cleared his throat, so not to startle you. 

You whipped your head around and Gale’s lips parted when he saw crimson blossom across your cheeks as you wiped away the streaks with the back of your hand. “Oh, I um.. how long have you been standing there?” 

“Not long, I assure you,” Gale’s voice was tender, quiet. He held up both of his hands at waist level, palms facing up and smiled at you. “May I join you?” 

You hesitated for a moment and Gale panicked that he’d made the wrong move, said the wrong thing and of course he had already messed up any chance he might have because he was so pathetically out of practice. You’d think a man who bedded a goddess would have a bit more self confidence in his seductive prowess, but being shunned and cast out by your former omnipotent lover does a number on one’s self esteem. 

When you nodded, he tumbled off the cliff and the orb revolted as it mingled with the rush of adrenaline and rapture he felt from the simple gesture. One nod. To Gale, it was everything. He felt welcomed into your world, elated you’d allow him to offer support. You didn’t have to, and yet you did. 

Gale joined you on the boulder that was nestled in the thicket, the soft buzz of nighttime harmonizing with his unsteady breath. “Hm… I know that look,” Gale said, gazing at how your lips curved. “And a clear mind does not eviscerate flowers quite like this.” He fingered a petal and gestured at the flowers and stems, all petals plucked intentionally from their root. “A nervous habit, no doubt.” 

You sighed and his heart swelled, “I just don’t know what I’m doing. Every lead ends up in either more unanswered questions or unhelpful ends.” You groan and grip your chest, your breath coming in unevenly. “I’m exhausted,” as your head fell into your hands Gale, without thinking, rested a hand on your upper back and stroked your hair behind your shoulder.  

“Ah, heavy is the head that wears the crown.” Gale felt warmth pulse through him as you laughed, whether genuinely or out of pity he wasn’t to know. He wasn’t sure he cared. “For the record, you have pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes most skillfully. You’ve shown remarkable courage and determination and, I’m confident the others would agree, many of us would not be so fortunate to still be alive if not for you. You must know that.” He rubbed his fingers in small circles along your upper back. When he became conscious of what he was doing he pulled back, ashamed and nervous by the electricity that seemed to flow between his skin and yours although barred by cloth. You whined a little and Gale cocked his brows, “What?” 

You turned and as your gaze locked with Gale he drowned. Oh. He was jolted by the flash of profound need and emotion that coiled through him. Every part of him felt aflame and he worried that it was his end, that the orb was at last collapsing in on itself. Yet, as he remained next to you in the thickening silence, he realized it wasn’t the orb at all. When you spoke, Gale thought surely this was the moment he was becoming a mindflayer, a wicked dream to lull one as they succumbed to the parasite. “I.. .can you do that again?” 

“Gladly.” Gale shyly returned his fingers to your back and as you leaned into his touch, Gale knew it was not longer a matter of if, but when. As you leaned farther, you almost rested in his shoulder and his throat closed. He swallowed hard and tried to steady his body and mind, every cell quaking with anticipation and overstimulation. 

He inhaled. Temptation. You smelled like rain or fresh cut grass. You smelled like home. It was when you leaned into him, he was certain he forgot how to formulate a thought. Your head nestled against his neck and your side pressed into his. He wondered if the quaking was from your body or his. He dared not move, frozen as if Tara had fallen asleep on his lap. 

The pain that coursed from Gale’s chest through his veins was almost enough to send Gale back to camp. The undue excitement made the orb restless. Agitated. He was both grateful and nostalgic when you pulled away and sat up. “Thank you, for that. Let’s get back to camp. I don’t want the others to worry.” You smiled at Gale and it seared into the crevices of his mind, a look he would capture a thousand more times and it would never sate him. You gave his hand a squeeze and then stood, offering your hand to Gale’s with a cheeky grin. “Here, I’d hate for you too put too much strain on those creaky knees of yours.” 

Gale’s hearty laugh took him by surprise and he took your hand and stood with a grunt. “A wizard is useless without his knees, shame on you for poking fun at their fragility.” Gale chased the feeling of you, of this closeness and realized that, even before his isolation he had never met a person quite like you. Gale would have stood there in stunned desire forever had you not taken his hand to guide him forward, the movement breaking the trance and he pulled his sweaty palm from yours, embarrassed. He wiped them on his shirt and followed you back, his heart and head swimming with the idea of kissing you. 

[taintandviolent]

Devil's Favours - James March x Reader

summary & wordcount: 4.9K! originally chosen as the party favour for James' Devil's Night celebration, reader is quickly snatched away by James March, who would rather have his own fun with her than let the others kill her.

w a r n i n g s: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT! dark fic, dub-con, slight non-con, conflicted reader, sexual confusion, mild gore & blood, graphic descriptions, violence, aggression, bodily fluids, mentions of other real serial killers, smut, rough sex,overstimulation, body worship (reader with greek goddess body type), murder, reader death.

a/n: sorry for this, I'm mentally unwell. not beta read, so if it's horrid and clunky, I'm sorry!!! also, I think this is the last taglist I'll be doing, RIP. It's just such a pain in the rear end, and half the time, it doesn't even work.

full fic & taglist under cut!↓ / ao3 link here! /

After a long day of travelling, sleep was the only thing on your mind. That said, you were in desperate need of a bath, something relaxing. This was, afterall, a vacation. You twisted the ceramic knob on the hot water, and stuck your hand under it. With a hiss, you withdrew your hand – usually, water took a minute to reach temperature. This one? Scalding hot within a few seconds. Dangerously so. You twisted the knob on the cold side, evening them out until they’d reached a less skin-melting combination, and shed your clothes. You’d only been in there for thirty minutes or so before someone began rapping their knuckles against your door. Persistently. Very persistently.

“Just a minute!” you called from the bathroom, hoping your voice travelled. You reached for one of the towels – meticulously embroidered with the hotel’s logo – and wrapped it hurriedly around your torso. “Hang on!” 

Quickly rummaging around in your suitcase and swearing under your breath that you had packed more, you searched for something to wear. Feeling pressured and running out of time, you settled on a cream coloured silk slip. Hardly modest with your plenteous figure, but the knocking continued and that seemed more important than decency. You hurried to the door, yanking it open with an air of annoyance. The vexation melted away when you were met with a man who looked more like he belonged on a silver screen than he did standing in front of you.

“Good evening.” He said, dipping his head down in a courteous display.

“…Can I help you?”

His lips stayed together, but curved into a subtle smirk. Though it was an unintentional pick; he’d chosen well; your delectable form was as if it was carved by Gods themselves. The look in your eyes told him that you were so alive, so vivacious that any bloodshed that would happen would be akin to art. His eyes were immediately lost on you, exploring your body and face with a fervid fascination. Feeling exposed, you pulled at the silken straps, bringing the neckline of the nightgown higher up on your body. Your cleavage protested, the fabric puckering across the voluminosity of your breasts. 

All this time, he’d been silent, and you arched an expectant brow, wondering just what it was that you were to help him with. This man was… peculiar. From his fancy dressage to the articulate, over-pronounced way he spoke, his idiosyncrasies both alarmed and fascinated you. 

“Indeed,” he affirmed. He’d made his decision; you were the one for the night. And he’d have you, whether you came willingly or not.

“My name is James March — I’m the owner of this impressive hotel in which you now stand.” He paused, expectantly as if that was enough for you to throw your arms up and consent to whatever he was asking. When you didn’t, he added: “I need you to come with me. Urgently.”

You squinted, scanning his motivations. A warm, gentle smile stretched across his lips, framed by his pencil thin mustache. His hand rose, fingers uncurling in front of you. There was something unnervingly come-hither about his gaze. Would he have introduced himself with malicious intentions? Surely not — that could lead to identifying him later on. But he could’ve given you a fake name, perhaps…

Unable to resist his passé seduction and against (likely) better judgement, your hand floated up into his, resting delicately against his palm. His fingers closed around yours, lingering a moment before guiding you out of your room, allowing the heavy door to swing shut behind you. He began leading you briskly down the hallway.

“I forgot my key, wait I –” 

“Worry not, my dear. We’ll have another made for you, should you need it.” 

Should I need it? You thought. Why wouldn’t I need it? Of course I’ll need my key, I’m walking down the hallway in nothing but a nightgown. 

You trodded barefoot down the halls, listening to the sounds as you passed them. The hotel, you noticed, creaked and breathed with a life of its own. Whether the rooms were occupied wasn’t known, but they sounded as if they were.  

As soon as you two got to a door, only a few down from your own, he reached for the handle and instantly, as soon as he did; something felt wrong. Something felt… sinister and the feeling took over like a gelatinous sludge. You tried to yank your hand away but James sternly jerked you the opposite way — back towards him. With a throaty growl, he wrapped both arms around your torso, holding you fast in a steel grip so that try as you might, you couldn’t dislodge yourself from his grasp. His strength proved too much for your feeble, sleepy muscles.

After shouldering the door open, James carried you inside. In a moment of panicked clarity, you tried to peek around and identify anything you could. The stern way that his hand was plastered on your forehead, holding it against his shoulder, you could really only see the ornate ceiling above you.

You took a deep breath, fighting back the tears that burned at the corners of your eyes. This was it. You’d gone this far in life without being mugged, raped, or killed… today was the day it would change. Your track record would end. Abruptly. Terrifyingly. Your chest shuddered with an uneven, hysterical breath. At least he was handsome. No, shut up. That’s not the kind of thought you want to be thinking. 

Suddenly, your body dropped forward and you were spun around harshly, his grip still tight on the fleshy meat of your arms. Then, as though he was a lover and not your soon-to-be-murderer, he eased your back against a wooden chair with one hand, delicately, suddenly concerned with hurting you, like you were some kind of easily-bruised fruit.

“Good girl, sit there.”

At his praising words, your core twinged, tightening. No, no. Stop it. Clenching your teeth, you quashed the thought before it went any further.

His right hand snatched something from a nearby table before holding it proudly, stretching it out for you to see; rope. Unconsciously, your head began shaking back and forth. As the realisation sunk in, your heart rate picked up, thudding against your ribcage.

“N-no, no… no please.”

With the rope still in hand, James got to one knee in a familiar pose. His lightless eyes floated up to yours, staring into them deeply. Now in front of you, his cock twitched within his trousers, a carnal instinct tugging like an incessant child. He brushed the pads of his fingers along the smooth curves of your knees, your calves, your ankles… 

Damn. You – obviously – were a woman with needs, so his feather-light touch awoke something deep within your core again. This time though, it didn’t take you reversing the arousal. The shiny tip of his shoe knocked your feet apart, lining them up with the legs of the chair. She clenched harder.

“What are you doing?” You asked, tensely. “What the fuck are you doing?”

He paused to answer, straightening up. “Securing you, my dear. A struggle is inevitable.”

“What!? Inevitable for what?!”

He didn’t answer. Hastily working, his large but nimble hands wrapped the rope around the smallest part of your ankles, knotting the rope against the chair. Your wrists came next, and those were tied much tighter; the fibres of the rope ground against your soft skin, already causing a burning friction.

With a sudden, powerful pull at the bindings, testing their security, James was finished. He was confident in his knotting, you wouldn’t get away. Humming to himself, he dragged the chair through an archway, into another, much larger room. You were facing a table – it was ornately set with a large contraption in the middle. You recognised it as an absinthe fountain, the bright green liquid in the container seemed to glow. You didn’t want to be a part of whatever this was, even as attractive as that man was.

“Please,” you begged. “Please, I just… I want to go back to my room. Let me go.”

“Let you go?” James echoed in a mockingly high tone. He seemed offended that you’d even desire such a thing. It was a pleasure — a privilege — to be invited to his dinners. “No…. You’re staying with me. Right here.”

He pat your thigh  before moving to the head of the table. For the first time since you’d been brought in, you took a moment to look around, to take in your surroundings instead of him. Immediately, you whimpered in disbelief — met with such a visual that you almost immediately thought you were hallucinating. You blinked away the tears and sniffed, pressing your lips tightly together. 

It was truly bone-chilling to see all of the worst eyes on you. The eyes that had seen the most foul crimes and atrocities in human history were now looking at you; the bound beauty with her sweat-soaked strands of hair stuck to your forehead and fear in your eyes. John Wayne Gacy, Richard Ramirez, Jeffrey Dahmer….

“She’s shakin’ like a god damn leaf!” Aileen Wuornos howled, before finishing off the rest of her beer. She slammed it on the table, the clatter made you jump. She doesn’t want me, you thought. I’m not her enemy. Still, you knew that you’d been sat at a table full of people — true monsters — who even if they didn’t want to kill you, they’d take great pleasure in watching you writhe in agony as the others stole your last breath from your lungs.

Though they were all equally terrifying, you were most horrified by Richard. He sat directly next to James, picking absently at his nails. His sunken, snake eyes followed every move you made; watching you with a hunger that made your skin crawl. Considering the circumstances, it was laughable to say that one made you feel unsafer than the others — but he did. Logically, how he preyed upon women must’ve played into your distaste for him. He held your gaze, peering into your thoughts with a vicious lack of consent, as he behaved with every woman he came in contact with. Finally, he spoke.

“I’ve waited long enough, Jimmy — can we kill her?” He said, sucking something out of his rotting teeth. He made a move as though he was going to get up.

You snapped your head to James, brows knit together in pleading. The visual surprised you. He, like the rest of the dinner party, had been staring at you, but instead of the feral, blood hungry gaze you expected, his eyes had gone glassy. He sucked his cheeks in, deep in thought. Beneath the dark fabric of his dress pants, heat blanketed his groin. You captivated him; the way your precious little eyes flitted back and forth in terror like a deer, the way your pulse thrummed in your neck, beating like a drum. He wanted you for his own — and only his own. Keeping his motives hidden, James stood up, smoothing out the fabric of his suit jacket. 

“No,” he crooned. “No, we can’t. I’m afraid I’ve had a change of heart… this one… belongs to me.”

You jerked your head in confusion, while grumbles of disappointment bounced off the walls. Ramirez said something sickening and Gacy let out a horrible, guttural chuckle. You strained against the rope, somehow trying to put more distance between you and them. James sliced his hand through the air to silence them both.

“Miss Wuornos,” he abruptly purred. “Go find us a dashing young man keen to join our party!”

“Ohohoh…. Lil’ ol’ me? Find a man? I’m gonna’ be frolickin’ in the fuckin’ daisy fields with this one. Be back!”

“Pl-please.” You begged. Your lips parted, allowing desperate promises to fall from between them. You wouldn’t tell anyone, you’d never come back here, you wouldn’t remember anything, you promised, you would never speak a word of this to anyone… You looked to James, who regarded you affectionately, but patronisingly, his lower lip jutted out in a faux-pout. He’d heard all this before, and it was of no concern to him. He’d made up his mind. It was his god damned birthday and he was going to have you all to himself.

Your begging fell on seemingly deaf ears, nobody bothered to entertain you. Your teary, burning eyes flitted to Ramirez, who was smiling his ugly, decaying smile at you, leaning forward in his seat. “I dunno’, she promises, Jimmy… maybe we should let her go.”

You shivered, grinding your wrists against the rope. Anger blanketed you. “Fuck off, weirdo.”

“Who you callin’ weirdo, bitch?”

“YOU!” You barked, straining. “I can smell your rancid breath from here. Had to kill all those women just because none of them would ever come within ten fucking feet of you!”

“Now, now… manners. She’s a lively one, isn’t she?” His mouth bent in a proud smirk, James looked to Richard, who was still bristling from the comment. He really wanted to kill you. Delighted at the fact that James had seemingly given you immunity, you wiggled happily in your chair, fighting the urge to stick your tongue out. You didn’t want to test him, though, and so you remained silent, watching instead. 

Silence was broken as the door opened. With a little thrashing, almost as desperate as your own had been, Aileen shoved a man — couldn’t have been more than 30 — inside. It didn’t take her long to find someone. In fact, it was like she opened the door, spotted him meandering by and dragged him back inside.

The guy noticed you first. Second, he noticed that you were tied to the chair so tightly that red marks on your wrists and ankles had begun to develop. Thirdly, he noticed the others, his eyes drifting slowly and visibly disturbed by who sat at the table. 

“Woah… what the fuck is this?” He asked.

“A good fuckin’ time is what it is.” One of them said. You didn’t care which. Blisteringly hot tears streamed down your face, stinging your cheeks. What were the stages of grief? You felt like you were cycling through them in rapid succession.

“Fucking let me go!” You howled, thrashing your torso back and forth, which did little to relieve anything. With a distressed expression plastered upon his face, the guy looked from you to the other guests and back, before nervously putting his hands up, taking one step back towards the door. “Hey, is she okay?”

“N—!“ James was suddenly behind you, cupping his hand over your mouth, pressing the tips of his fingers hard into your cheek flesh. His lips moved quickly, whispering hotly into your ear. “Hush now, don’t spoil the surprise for him. Let him find out on his own.”

“She’s fine, the hors d’oeuvres didn’t agree with her.” Aileen barked, towing the guy towards the table. She shoved him down into the only unoccupied seat.

“Dinner… is served.” James said. 

In unison, they all stood up. The sound of the chair legs scraping against the floor echoed in your head. Like syncronised swimmers, they all descended upon him, armed with whatever weapon they’d chosen. You hadn’t known the guy, but he had enough sympathy for you to make you cry at what was happening to him. He’d had a life, family… feelings. None of which mattered to him anymore, or perhaps that’s exactly what he was thinking about. Perhaps your entire life really did flash before your eyes before you died. 

You let out a scream that burned on its way out. It ached and tore and ripped its way up your windpipe as the shrill, bloodcurdling sound filled the room. It was louder than his, and louder than the sounds that were currently coming from the gaping, gargling hole in his throat.

Gacy moved from his side, allowing you a brief glimpse. Torn flesh hung from his shoulders and blood had almost completely covered the front of his body. You closed your eyes and turned your head away, rolling your lips inward and biting down. It was fucked up, and you weren't going to absorb any more of it.

“Sweet dreams, my little pet.” James said, in front of you. You turned your head towards the sound, but were met with blackness. 

A dull throbbing on the side of your head was what eventually pulled you awake, forcing your cinder-block weighted lids to peel apart. You looked around; an odd, minimally decorated room. Dark. Your head wobbled as you turned it left, then right, met with the same visual — your arms suspended high above your head, and rope again, at your wrists. You licked your lips and tasted metal. In your blurred vision, you noticed red flecked along your breasts. The ache on the side of your head was more than just an ache, it seemed.

Your consciousness ebbed, fading in and out. Sleep was comforting, the idea of it cradling you in its arms like a baby. You wanted so badly to sleep… just for a moment. Somewhere inside, you heard authoritative voices, advising against sleep. Concussions… sleep… sleep is bad… keep the individual conscious. And so you fought against the cool, towering shadow, turning your head away from nothing in particular. You couldn’t hear anything outside of your own laboured breathing, and the creak of the rope every time you decided to move. Nothing. Not even the muted voices of the monsters. 

Time meant nothing, you lost track of how long you’d been hanging there when you’d finally heard the creak of a heavy door. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly before wrenching them open. You weren’t sure if the crushing weight you felt was the looming weight of death as it shrouded you, or merely the physical strain of your body being suspended for hours. You knew people could eventually die from suspension. Their lungs caved in or something. The tips of your toes barely touched the floor, your big toe grazing the cold, concrete floor every time your body swayed softly.

With your head hanging between your shoulders, your muscles quivered as you lifted it, just in time to see the door in front of you shut. James, standing in front of it, reached for a black leather apron that hung on a hook. Before slipping it over his head, he flashed you a charming smile, pleased to see that you hadn’t expired yet. Reaching behind him to tie it around his waist, he approached you. The light from the wall sconces reflected against the fabric dully.

“Ah, there you are.” He crooned. 

You intended a scream, but could do nothing but whimper. You swallowed repeatedly, a feeble attempt to wet your dried out throat. James drug a single finger along your soft jawline, trailing it down your neck, and along your collarbone. You were drenched in sweat, streaks of it descending your face and neck.

The sudden ferocity in which he gripped your face made it sting, his thumb and forefinger digging into the bone of your jaw. He quirked a brow. You opened your mouth and although your throat was already raw, you finally screamed. You screamed again, angrily, and held his cold, black gaze. Your ragged shrieks filled the room over and over again as you tried, desperately, to wrench your hands free from the ropes.

Regrettable, James thought as his soulless eyes hungrily took in your form as it quivered and thrashed around. You were built like a Greek goddess, soft curves in all the right places, begging to be touched, worshipped.

“Aaaah,” He exhaled, frustratedly.  “You’re almost too pretty to kill.”

“Then — DON’T! Fucking let me GO! AaaarhhhH!” You yanked at the ropes again, thrashing around until a deep pain in your shoulder began to burn. You cried out, letting your body go slack. 

With a deep breath, you mustered up all your strength again, finding every drop of it within your tired body, and leaned forward to scream directly in his face. The result? He was wholly unphased by your screams. If anything, it seemed like he enjoyed them. Each one sounded a little more desperate than the last, and it only fuelled him further.

You decide to try a new, last-ditch tactic. Sore mouth contorting into a scowl, you gathered a mouthful of saliva and blood, hot and irony on your tongue and lunged forward, spitting it at him. The glob hit him square in the face, dripping slowly down towards his jaw.

“What, is it hard to focus?” You croaked. Your words were slurred, messy with the pain of the head wound.  “Didn’t think you’d want to fuck me as bad as you do, huh?”

James’ dark eyes narrowed, the muscles underneath twitching faintly. He had in fact picked you, and therefore had to accept all of your fiery little quips as they came – but that one… that one had caught him off guard. 

“You…” You narrowed your eyes, the fibres of the rope squeaking as you leaned towards him, your lips inches from his face. “…want to fuck me so bad, you can’t think. Look at you. You think your apron hides it?”

With brows raised, James glanced at his groin. Had he really been betrayed by his own body, so early on? Though he felt the warmth and stiffness increasing between his legs, there was no visual indication. James calmly brought his hand to his face, collecting the bloodied spit on his fingertips. With a reticent gaze, he brought them down between your legs, harshly knuckling the nightgown out of the way.

He smeared them roughly on your cunt. Your own fluids. The ones that you had just spit at him. Not only that, but he proceeded to tease your sensitive nerves with his fingers, pulling a confused gasp from your throat. Part of you had been bluffing, you weren’t entirely sure that he had wanted you —

James pulled back an inch to look at you again. Aside from your luscious body, your complexion was mottled with exhaustion, lips dry with fear, hair frazzled and bloody on one side. To him, it was a horrific sculpture of divinity. One that he had created in such little time with such little effort. The perfect, ample curves of your breasts were dotted with crimson, having dripped from the gash on your head. They jiggled delicately with each desolate shake you gave.

With his free hand, he took hold of your round, plush hips, his thumb working the softness like dough. He swung you towards him, pressing the pillowy tops of your thighs to his groin. Quickly, he identified a growing obsession with your body.

He loved it. All of it. In fact, he hadn’t seen a body as marvellously breathtaking as yours since his wife’s. Of course, it had been many years since he’d seen hers in any such manner, so the flames that licked at his desire were deprived, hungry ones. His mouth found yours, lips crushing against yours. His tongue, hot and strong, slipped in and beckoned yours to engage in an erotic dance.

He pulled your body closer, pressing it tightly against his. Though constricted by his trousers, you felt the bulging heat beneath his apron, and rubbed your thigh against it, teasing him. He groaned deeply in response, bucking his hips against you to force friction. After a few moments, James broke the kiss, panting heavily over your tender, swollen lips.

“Pl-please… don’t kill me… please…”

The back of his hand whipped across your mouth, hitting you so hard that the world sparkled when you opened your eyes again. Your face burned with the contact.

“Enough of that now! Say it again, and I’ll do just that!”

The harshness in his voice stunned you. Up until that point, he’d been using his syrupy, serenading voice — the one he had used to charm you into coming with him. Now, he bellowed, an unexpected violence. Silence hung heavy between you as he waited, baited you to beg for life once more. You didn’t speak again, but your sobs continued. 

Finally, his hand dropped between your legs again. Your clit ached, burned with the way his fingers fondled it, but he didn’t stop. Your poor, exhausted body trembled beneath his touch, doing all it could to express arousal. Salty droplets streamed from your hairline into your eyes, stinging as they absorbed.

“Would you rather die?” he asked, suddenly. 

“Wh-what? N-no… I d-don’t want to die…”

“That’s not what I meant, my little ember. I meant… would you rather die than be pleasured? I, of course, can arrange that.”  

You hesitated a moment, but finally, shook your head. 

At this thoughtful confession, James angled forward, plunging a single finger inside of you, past the knuckle. The digit wiggled inside of you briefly, before sliding back out slowly. He held it up for you both to see. “Oh,” he growled.  

His finger was generously coated in clear slick. Your body had betrayed you. 

Wordlessly, he untied the apron, tossing it carelessly to the side – it hit the floor with a heavy flop. Then, those same nimble fingers began unbuttoning and unzipping, until they gripped his rigidness, pumping it slowly for further stimulation. His chest heaved with wanton, desiring breaths as he stared at you, hanging there, with your warm, ample body for his taking. James lined his dick up with your leaking slit, and pulled you harshly onto his cock, showing no mercy for how exhausted your body was. 

Your cunt swallowed his cock whole, hungrily and desperately. His head fell back between his shoulders, a throaty groan coming from his open mouth. He began thrusting, slow at first. The ease of thrusting fascinated him; your body hung limp on the ropes and all James had to do was tug you forward, tug you in the direction he wanted you to go. 

“You know, I’ve never taken a woman like this before - suspended in the air,” he said, breathily. “Exquisite.” 

You mewled in response, snot dripping from your nose. 

Soon, the room was filled with wet, slick thrusting and the thudding sound of his torso as it met yours. You came repeatedly, coating his thick, pale cock in fluids you didn’t even know your body could make. At one point, during a particularly vicious thrusting, a warm, watery liquid splashed down over your thighs. You screamed like he was killing you, though he felt better than any man you’d ever been with, pleasuring you in ways that left you feeling breathless.

Still, your body persisted with its aches. So far, you’d been successful in appealing to his sexual nature, and decided to try again.

“….please…. Let me down… I’ll… d-do anything you wa—

Suddenly, he backed up, pulling the head from your cunt with a slick pop. You panted; fragile, pitiful breaths, barely enough energy to lift your gaze. With his rigid cock bouncing in front of him, James untied your hands, allowing your heavy, enervated body to fall into his arms. You couldn’t help but cry into his shoulder as he carried you to some sort of surface, laying you carefully down atop it. Some streak of mercy had captured him, and you mouthed words of gratitude. Your entire body buzzed with relief, your muscles aching in a funny, tingling way.

James wasted no time in fucking you again; the tip was nearly scarlet, hungry for release. His hand compressed on your soft stomach, pressing down into it to increase the pressure of his cock as it drove deeper and deeper inside of you.

“You know how this ends, my dear.” When he spoke, it sounded far away. But you did. You knew. There was never any end to this besides the one that you’d envisioned fearfully. He leaned to the side, retrieving a small, but very, very sharp blade from a nearby metal table. You watched numbly as James lifted the knife above your neck.

His hips pumped rhythmically, bringing you both closer to the fiery edge of ecstasy. Pulsing veins massaging your silklike insides, and another orgasm galloped towards you. Your body quivered, cold sweats taking over. 

James whipped the knife across your perfectly warm neck, and instinctively, your hands went to the laceration. Bright crimson gushed out from the spaces between your fingers, and you felt a gushy warmth press against your digits. The inner workings of your throat, you realized. The gore of your own body, pressing back against you in its heat. James laid one hand over yours, seemingly just to feel the blood as it spurted. With a deep, guttural moan, his cock twitched inside you just before it released, coating your insides.

She gasped, a wet gurgle. The light left her eyes, gradually, but beautifully. The pulses of blood eventually ebbed to a dull trickle. As his thrusts slowed, he expelled a long sigh – killing both excited him and depressed him. On one hand; it brought exhilaration, delight and sheer unadulterated arousal. On the other however, you only truly got to do it once. Certainly, you could kill a ghost a million times over, but the effect wasn’t the same.

For a moment, James’ expression contorted into one of regret; when you returned in your new spectral form, you’d likely not want to spend time with him. Yet another woman who loathed his presence roaming the hallways, avoiding him. But perhaps, he still wouldn’t mind having you stuck with him for all eternity, if only to gaze upon your perfect form whenever you’d let him. With matching wounds, at that. A true romantic.

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @garykingz / @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @tatesdisasterofalover / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @enchanting-evan / @yesdevineruler / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @demxnicprxncess / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @babygorewhore / @quickandsilvers / @tatelangdonsweater / @ifeeltoofuckingmuch / @howtobesasha / @randominstake / @throwinginmythai / @slvt4jamesmarch / @poltoreveur / @feefymo / @evpeters87 / @lacucarachapisser / @stveharringtn / @fear-is-truth

[daughterofyore]

George and the Pond.

King George x f!reader

[[Queen Charlotte (Netflix)]]

category; heavy smut, fluff, angst (lil bit)

wc; 2,249

music inspired;- apocalypse

a/n:: George has a manic episode by the pond, you manage to calm him and he’s so thankful for you he fucks you to show it :)

TW!: NSFW, George porphyria episode (Venus), heavy smut, breeding kink, Good ol fast sex

Venus begged George to find her. She pleaded with him to search, to save her. She was his one true love. She needed him! He ran through the palace grounds, in the distance behind him there was a cacophony of shouts, someone begging for him to turn around. It was Venus’ ex lovers, surely. They didn’t understand the love they shared, the adoration of their coupling. Her beautiful, pale skin and blemished face. Glowing like a fading star against the ebony blanket of the night sky. An infinite amount of white blazing stars surrounding her like a halo in all her glory. Oh, how he longed to be by her side. How he dared to get closer to her. He needed to feel her glow upon his skin, so without a moments hesitation he ripped his clothes from his skin. Silk pyjamas made of the finest lapis lazuli blue discarded into the mud of the pond. He raised his arms to her, crying for her to join him on this mortal plane. For the goddess of love to bless him with her prowess. He could feel her compassionate deposition seep into his very pores, touching his bare, sculpted body. Casting shadows along the dips and ridges of his muscles.

“George!” You cried out to him, watching as he bared his body to the entire garden. Reynolds raced ahead of you, reaching before you could. You were still adorned in your glittering evening gown. Made of a deep fiery scarlet, as if it was made of the last embers of a great fire. Silver lining cascaded down its centre and bodice, elaborate lace adorning the contrasting peachy cream underskirt. It flew around you as you gathered the skirt into your arms, heels clicking off the cobbles and then sinking into the finely kept lawns. You stumbled and struggled to reach your husband, you could see his eyes glistening as he stared at the planet Venus. He cried of his love to her, his devotion. How is it I don’t receive that love? You scoffed, a moment of clarity as you were still unsure as to why he acted this way. You had suspected it for some time now, his comings and goings from Kew. The secrecy surrounding him and the protectiveness of not only Reynolds but his mother too.

Your voice was like an arrow through the fog, piercing the hazy clouds in his peripherals. Venus seemed to fade into the background as he spun to look at you. You weren’t Venus, you were you. Shining brighter than she ever could. As he watched you approach, the sparkles glittering from your dress enraptured him. He felt himself falling in your direction, before a voice called him to turn around. Venus, competitive as always. She challenged you for his attention. He laughed incredulously, how lucky was he to be fought over by the Goddess of Love and her rival? Reynolds stood at his side, begging helplessly for him to return to the castle. He gathered his clothes in his hand, looking at him with a pleading gaze. Continuously he requested for the King to go inside, tried to reason with him. You knew you had never seen this before but maybe, just maybe he would recognise you.

You reached his side, letting go of your dress. It fell on his feet and pressed into his calves. He turned to you, eyes wide, hyperventilating. “You won-“ He whispered looking at you, as if it was the first time he truly saw you. He turned towards the sky, laughing. “You lost Venus! Imagine that!” He returned to face you but upon seeing your worried expression, his celebrations halted. “How come you are not happy? You have won, have you not?”

“George, it’s time we go inside now.”

“What, why? The night is beautiful we-“

“George, Venus has lost this game but I would prefer to celebrate with you indoors.” He stood very still for a moment, dark brows scrunching together as he tried to concentrate and discern exactly what you were implying. His brain felt jumbled, mixed and confused. Like he wasn’t allowed to understand, as if there was a black alabaster wall separating from the here and there.

“I wish to stay here. Let’s celebrate here.” You paused and gazed at him, studying him carefully. You spun to Reynolds.

“Cover the windows and leave his clothes here. Ensure nobody enters these grounds or can see us.” Reynolds pressed his lips into a thin line before muttering a ‘Yes, your majesty.’ He left, grabbing Brimsley by the elbow and guiding him indoors. You turned back to George, your husband. Your king. You rested a gentle hand on his chest, and he stilled. He sucked in a devastating shaky breath before raising his arms to hold your shoulders.

“You, you saw- oh, wife I- oh I am so sorry.” His eyes began to water, a new clarity crossing them. His face slackened, now an evident frown replacing his once maniacal smile. You hushed him, gently guiding him to your chest as you snaked comforting arms around him. You held him in your embrace, rubbing soothing circles on his back as he let silent sobs escape him. He sniffled, clutching onto the fabric of your dress as he eventually sunk to his knees. “My dear I am so sorry, I am sorry I have avoided you. That I have tried to hide I-“ He couldn’t get his words out but you put a comforting hand on his head. Intertwining your fingers with his brown locks, you gently massaged his scalp.

“Do not apologise George. I understand you. I am here for you. Come, let us lie and look at the stars together.” You smiled at him, holding his hand and laying on the lawn. He tentatively lay beside you, he finally noticed his nakedness and his hands rushed to cover himself. You once again shushed him, grabbing the many layers of your skirts and draping them across his waist. “No need to worry about what I have seen before darling.” You chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. He smiled, sucking in a breath after as he looked to the sky.

“I could be married to a pompous wench right now, who wouldn’t give a damn about me. Who would run in the opposite direction if she saw what I did tonight..” he turned his head, gazing at you. You met his eyes and smiled. “Yet you stay, you lie with me. Why?”

“I believe I see myself in you. Trapped, misunderstood.” You took a shivering breath. “Sometimes all we need is a little kindness and a show of stability. I wish to be that for you.” His eyes began to glaze, he sucked in his bottom lip as it began to quiver.

He turned on his side, a new light coming to his eyes. Slowly he raised a leg to bend at an angle across your thighs. Bracing himself on an elbow he gazed at you. His face inches from you. “I do not know what I have done to deserve a woman such as you.” Slowly he lowered his lips to yours, kissing you softly. You reciprocated it, lips merely mingling before he slipped his tongue across them, asking for entry. You obliged, parting your lips as his tongue slipped by. He licked the bottom of your teeth, before dancing around your tongue with his. He sucked on your lip, biting it gently and sucking the sting away. You gasped, a hand travelling up his side. You could feel his muscles shiver at your touch, he manoeuvred over you, straddling your hips. His cock pressed against your stomach, hardening. His hands travelled up your sides before reaching your breasts. They were secured behind the corset of your evening gown, yet he managed to push a hand down its front and grope one. He massaged it in his hand, loving the mass and softness of it. His kiss deepened, he peppered them along your jaw and to your collarbone. Reaching your cleavage he looked at you mischievously, recalling his hand and replacing its absence with long, sensuous licks across the top of your breasts. His tongue travelled over them, then between. He licked up from your cleavage to your throat, to your lips. Kissing you again before he backed down, grabbing your skirts.

“And I you, my queen.”

You were breathing heavy, barely able to control the growing heat intensifying between your legs. A steady throb as it begged for attention. Your core tightening in angst of what was to come. This was what your wedding night should’ve been, but you didn’t care. This, this was better. Laying on the cool grass beneath a bright moon and stars that reflected off of a still pond. This was bliss. George hiked your skirts up, laying them across your midriff. He bowed down again, grabbing your pantyhose and pulling them down to expose bare thighs. He looked at you over the mound of skirts, smirking. “Are you alright my love, may I continue?” You nod, breath escaping you. You peered up at the stars between the foliage of the cherry blossom tree. George dipped his head between your thighs, gently pushing them apart. He kissed and nipped at the sensitive skin, licking the sting away again once more.

Agonisingly slow he made his way to your centre, licking over the underwear covering you. He raised a hand, rubbing a finger between your folds and feeling the wetness seep the fabric. He grinned, pushing a finger into you and watching you arch your back. He kept the underwear on, watching you squirm as he teased you. Ever so slowly he retracted the finger, dragging it up and pressing it to your clit. Your juices soaked the fabric now, it clung to your very shape. You jolted at the contact, the pressure on your clit making you pull away. He grabbed your left leg, putting it over his shoulder and gripping your thigh to hold you in place. He spread you with a knee, continuously exploring you over the whimsy barrier of your panties. You moaned, trying to move but he held you firmly in place. “Are you ready wife? Ready for me to take you?” You nod feverishly, his ministrations have built a fiery ache in your core. Begging for his attention. Your cunt wept as it pleaded for him to enter it, to give it attention. George smirked, gently taking your hands and pulling you up. He stepped behind you and made short work of the lace up your back. He quickly pulled the dress off, then the undergarments until finally you were bare before him. He smiled, standing back and admiring you. “My beautiful wife, in all her glory.” His eyes were ravenous, without a moments hesitation he was back between your legs. He kneeled, grabbing your hips he hoisted you into an awkward position, your legs dangled above his shoulders while you lay only on your shoulders and head. He held you in his grip, his lips placing tender kisses across your cunt. He licked, slow as of tasting your every essence. His tongue slipped into you, to which he began to lick inside you. He left it begging for more and turned his attention to your clit again. It throbbed for him, and he knew it did. He wrapped an arm around your leg, balancing your ass against his chest as he spread you with two fingers. He began to taste you, sucking on your clit. He nipped it, sucking it better straight after. You squirmed in his grasp but he still held you firmly, refusing to let you move. He lapped at your pussy like a thirsty dog, drinking you up. He turned his attention back to your clit, sucking intensely on it. You moaned, cried out his name. He seemed to only grow more excited and you could feel his length pressing into the small of your back. He sucked, and sucked, and sucked until finally the growing tension ruptured. You screamed his name, yet he continued to suck and lick you through the orgasm. You were trembling at the end, and he lay you down, kissing your stomach. He looked up at you as you threaded fingers through his hair. “I’m going to put a baby in you, my queen.” He smirked and you swore it nearly undid you again. He sat back on his knees, his cock long and hard as it stood. He grabbed your hips, pulling you towards him. He grabbed his dick, rubbing it’s tip along your slit. He pressed a firm hand down on your stomach as he slowly pushed his way in without any warning. You stretched, moaning around him. His sheer size pushing you close to ecstasy.

Once he was in he let loose a shivering sigh, looking back to you. “Are you alright my love?” You nodded, placing a hand on his as it pressed into your stomach. He could feel the faint mass of his cock in you, it turned him on even more. Slowly, he pulled out and pushed back in again. Keeping a slow and steady rhythm till you had adjusted. Once he could feel you relax, he began to pound into you. Growing in intensity. Gasps of air escapes him each time he fucks you. You were a moaning mess, barely able to breathe. Your breasts bounced up and down at the ferocity he pounded into you. His balls clapped off your ass, sounding through the garden. You felt like you were in heaven. He looked up at you and grabbed one of your breasts, squeezing it. He pinched your nipple, pulling it slightly as he fucked you. You were in ecstasy. Every inch of your being burning, yearning for his touch. He grabbed your hips, spinning you around to be on all fours as he stayed inside you. He gripped your hips and continued his merciless fucking. “George! Oh fuck George-“ You screamed for him, moaning his name.

“I’m going to cum inside you pretty queen-“ He moaned your name, deep and guttural. “And watch you grow with our child, our heir.” You cried out for him again, and it was all he needed to slam himself into without mercy, he reached a hand around you, rubbing your clit with no remorse. It was so intense you couldn’t think straight.

“George I- George I’m going to cum!”

“Do it, do it for me my queen. Do it together.” He moaned above you, continuing his ministrations. The pair of you cried out, heads thrown back in ecstasy. You orgasmed, and he spilled his seed into you. It’s warmth spreading through your core. He stayed in you for a moment, breathing deeply. You were gasping for air below him. Eventually he slid out, pulling you down to lay beside him. He held you close, running a lazy hand up and down your side.

“My beautiful Queen, fucked by the garden pond.”

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

A Goddess - Rafe Cameron One Shot

+18 Minor DNI

CollegeHockey!Rafe x Curvy!Reader

⭐ republished ⭐

+18 Minor DNI

🪄 warnings: SMUT, drinking, swearing, soft dom Rafe, oral (male receiving), oral (female receiving), rough oral, praise kink, unprotected p in v, creampie, and spanking.

📖 ask: Ok, hear me out: a group of beautiful girls and their gorgeous curvier friend, night out at a bar. Guys hitting on all of them but the curvy goddess. Rafe notices and decides to approach her. She's sassy vibes, he's soft Dom vibes.

✨“Nah… M’gonna stop you right there. ‘Cause you said, ‘Anything I’d like.’ Don’t be goin’ back on your word, princess.” ✨

3.2 K

Rafe’s POV:

“Jesus, Rafey. Losin’ your touch, baby?” Kelce snickers as he nabs my freshly cracked White Claw off the bar top.

“Uh, yeah. Two more White Claws and a shot of Tito’s on his tab, sweetheart,” I call to the bartender, firing her a wink. She shakes her head and smiles, draining the liquor in a glass passing two more drinks my way.

“Thanks for the liquor, baby.” Kelsey rolls his eyes and scoffs. “And, no. To answer your question, I haven’t lost shit.”

“Well, you usually got a girl or two by now…”

“I don’t need to try as hard as you, Kelc. Don’t worry about me. You could learn a thing or two? Been watchin’ your game all night. It’s rough.”

“By all means, King Cameron, show me how it’s done,” he mocks. I quickly down my shot, chasing it with a seltzer.

Kelce snakes through the thick crowd of college students bellied up at the bar, a packed dance floor in the center. I can’t help but laugh at my group, fawning over yet another variety pack of copy-and-paste girls. They’re beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but it’s the same shit every weekend. Kelce struts over to the last of the bunch, leaving me to break away; what a shame.

I walk toward the bar, leaning back into it as I stare into the crowd. ”A vodka cranberry. Please.“ I hear a soft voice come from my left. “Thank you.” That same girl hums as I look down in her direction, watching as she scribbles her name across the tab, passing it back. That’s a pretty name.

Her beautiful eyes flick to mine. A sweet smile falls on her plump lips. My eyes fall, lashes fluttering as I try my best to hide what an actual fuckin’ dog I truly am, but, my god… She’s a fucking goddess. Her cleavage is tied with a pretty little bow in the middle of her dress. Fuck me. I feel my cock twitch, eyes slamming shut; cheeks reddening in embarrassment. I’m too ashamed to even look back in her eyes for how long I’ve ogled her.

My gaze moves to hers again, still met with that same smile but a cocked brow this time. “You okay?” She chuckles.

“Mhmm…” I grunt. That’s it. That’s all I got.

“Alright… Have a nice night,” she giggles lightly before turning away, dress moving with her. The thin material hits just below her perfect ass, leaving her legs on display. Her dress shifts on her round hips as she moves, her ass recoiling with each step making my eyes roll back.

And, then, she stops just a few feet away. Joining my crowd, one of the girls hugs her. Another, leaning in to whisper something that makes her laugh. She lifts the drink that she bought, surrounded by a group of fuckin’ boys who should have bought it for her. A girl like that doesn’t need to do that shit. Not one of them is making a move. I hang back, watching her a little as she sips her little drink.

The petite blonde Kelce was talking to gives him a fake laugh and a nod, stepping away; Kelc, obviously struck out with her. His head is instantly on a swivel, looking around the group for another, matching eyes hers briefly before searching for the next. Kelce buries his White Claw before doubling back in her direction. Hell no. I walk toward the two of them, intercepting his efforts; shoving him away lazily. Her beautiful eyes widen in surprise as she looks back up at me.

Reader’s POV:

”Uhh… Hi again. Are you lookin’ for Alexis? She just went to the bathroom-“

”Who?“ He furrows his brow, the most delicious smile spreading on his lips as he steps even closer.

”Alexis. Sorry, these guys seemed to know her.“ You twirl your finger, gesturing to the men gathered around.

“Nah. Never met her. What’s your name?”

“Umm, Y/n,” you chuckle nervously as you look up at him. He’s gorgeous, even in the dim bar; light hair, light eyes, muscular… Holy shit. You reach out your hand, resting it on his chest as you lean closer. “I’m just visiting. What’s your name?”

He bites his lip, looking down, eyeing the contact between you. He draws a little breath, his arm wrapping around your body, resting on the small of your back. “I’m Rafe.”

“Rafe Cameron?”

“Yeah. Oh, shit. What did I do?” He winces.

“Horrible things,” you tease, tapping your hand on his chest. “No. I remember your name from the hockey game.” He gives you an open-mouthed smile, drawing you even closer. “You were in the penalty box a lot.”

“What? Me?” He asks with an exaggerated tone, pointing at himself. “Never.” Rafe’s eyes trail your body again, just like they did when you got your drink; when you weren’t sure if he was interested or just lost in a drunken daze. “You’re stunning, by the way,” he rasps.

Your cheeks warm up, butterflies swirling in your stomach at his compliment, finding yourself a little too stunned to speak. You lift your drink to your lips, taking a sip as you try to center yourself. ”Thank you.“

“It’s almost last call. Did you wanna get outta here?” He asks.

“Well – I. Umm… I should wait for these girls.”

“Eh. They come to our house every weekend, sweetheart. It’s up to you. And, if I’m somehow wrong… And hell freezes over. I’ll get you home safe. I swear. Scouts honor.”

“They come to your house every weekend, and you didn’t know Alexis?” You question as you guide your gaze to your gorgeous best friend. You feel his finger hook under your chin, directing your eyes back to his.

“Not my type.”

“This better, y/n?” Rafe asks as he pulls you in a little closer for warmth. His strong arms wrap around your body, chest pressed against your back as you wait for the Uber. You take in his rich cologne, the warmth of his cheek so close to yours.

“Perfect,” you hum.

“So, you’re just here for the weekend?” He asks; chills fan across your body as his breath hits your neck, just a slight gravel in his voice making you powerless.

“Just to visit. I’m comin’ next semester, so I thought I should check it out.”

“No fuckin’ way,” he asks excitedly, turning you to face his chest instead. “You’re comin’ here? Well, shit. We can do this every weekend. Huh?”

“This? And, what is ‘this,’ Rafe?” You ask in a breathy tone. His broad palms move a little lower, just a hair.

”Anythin’ you’ll let me.“ You give him a little nod, letting him know he can go a little further. ”Words, princess.“

”You can do whatever you’d like, Rafe.“

A devilish smirk tugs on his lips. Rafe is more than satisfied with your answer as his hands rest on your ass. ”You’re gonna let me do whatever I want? You sure?“

“I mean, unless you don’t wa-” He steals your teasing words off your tongue, kissing you deeply. His hands shift to the back of your neck, pulling you nearer. Rafe slows down slightly, lips parted, letting you slip your tongue inside, rolling slowly. You scratch your nails through his dark blonde buzz cut, making him moan against your lips.

”Anything you’d like,“ you whisper again, feeling his smile spread along your lips.

The two of you are breathing heavily already, panting into your kiss, his lips on yours before you can even reach his bedroom. He pins you against the wall, lips locked on your neck as you pinch the buttons of his shirt, drawing them open, revealing more skin as you go.

Rafe leads you into his bedroom, throwing the door shut. His rough hands work up your arms, thumbs brushing your straps off your shoulders. Your dress slips to the floor, making him draw back fast. “Y/n, fuck,” he groans as his hands instantly caress your curves.

He snaps the lace at your hip, tugging at it impatiently as the other squeezes your tit. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he smiles, extending a finger for you to twirl under. “Look at this ass, baby. Shittt,” he moans as he cracks your skin, making you giggle delightedly.

“Thank you.” You slip the shirt off Rafe’s broad shoulders, tracing his tanned chest, working your way down as you take in his perfect physique. There’s not an ounce of self-consciousness, not with how he’s looking at you. You run your nails lightly through the ripples of his abs, tracing his v-lines, slipping just under the elastic of his boxers.

Rafe loops his fingers around your delicate lace thong, drawing it down to the floor, snagging it quickly before lofting it onto his dresser. ”Keepin’ those. Yeah?“

“M’kay.”

“Collateral. I expect you’ll come and take them back when you visit me. Yeah?”

“Okay… I mean. Yeah. Of course,” You giggle, nipping at your bottom lip. You grab his belt, drawing it open. Rafe pulls them off his hips as your lips meet his neck, sucking roughly.

You move lower, licking along his collarbone. His abs flex as you pass over them, dropping to your knees. “Shit, y/n,” he breathes. Your eyes widen as you take him in. White, skin-tight boxer briefs bunched up slightly on his thighs. His shaft and head stick out the bottom, strangled in cotton, leaking from the tip, dripping slightly down his inner thigh, aching to be freed.

You lean in, gaze locked on his as you glide your tongue along the mess. “Holy shit,” he whispers, yanking at the elastic, craving more. You tease him further: massaging his precum into his swollen tip as he watches on, dick pulsing with each brush of your finger.

You draw his boxers low, cock, swinging free, standing straight. “Fuck me, Rafe,” you whimper, taking a grip on his dick, rock-hard in your hands, feeling your cunt throb. He lets out a drawn-out moan as you wrap your lips around his mushroom tip, watching as his eyes shut softly.

“Mmm… Yes, baby,” he praises. You can taste him on your tongue; salty, just a hint of sweetness. Rafe’s fingers instantly reach for you, tangling into your hair. He follows your guide as you work his dick inch by inch, pushing yourself to see how much of him you can get. His warm tip kisses the back of your throat. You can feel the blood pumping in his cock.

You sweep your tongue along the bottom, feeling every ridge and vein. “Fuck, y/n. So fuckin’ good. Feel so good,” he mumbles, the pleasure in his voice making your eyes roll back. You fuck his aching cock deep into your throat, vision clouding as tears gather in your eyes. Blinking your sights, you feel warm tears roll down your cheeks, making Rafe smile. “Good girl,” he groans. “Look at you. Shit.” Rafe’s hips jostle, the muscles in his thighs tightening under your hands.

Popping off his cock you kiss his tip before opening your mouth wide, slapping his dick against your tongue. “Use me,” you whisper warmly, taking him back into your mouth as you grip his wrists; Rafe’s fingers are already twisted in your hair.

“Where have you been, pretty girl?” He grunts. “So fuckin’ perfect.” Rafe pitches his hips, dick driving into your throat, taking you by surprise. You relax your throat as he picks up pace. The squelching of spit, groans, and muffled moans fill the room as he ruts deep. You gag on his cock, making his eyebrows furrow. “Gonna cum. Gonna fill that pretty mouth. You ready, baby? You gonna – You gonna be a good girl and swallow it all for me?”

Rafe’s head tosses back as he praises your name; that same taste amplified as his cum coats your throat. You drop your hands, gripping his ass, feeling his muscles pulse. “Holy shit, y/n,” he gasps, wiping a glaze of sweat off his forehead as he looks down at you in awe. You draw off his cock nice and slow.

“Good?” You pant through a smirk.

Rafe picks you up effortlessly, wrapping your legs around his waist as he moves you to the bed. ”Good?“ He snickers at the ridiculousness of your question. ”Not even close, angel,“ he mumbles as he leans in for a kiss. ”M’serious. Alright? Not waitin’ ’til next semester. You’re visitin’ me. You can suck my cock just like that, baby girl, and I can taste this sweet fuckin’ pussy whenever I’d like. Alright?“

”Yeah?“

”Mhmm… You’re gonna ride my face. How does that sound?“

Your stomach sinks at his request. ”Rafe… I don’t kn-“

“Nah… M’gonna stop you right there. ‘Cause you said, ‘Anything I’d like.’ Don’t be goin’ back on your word, princess.”

“It’s just-”

“I mean, unless you don’t wa-” You steal his teasing words off his tongue this time, kissing him deeply. Rafe chest presses into yours, craving you closer.

He lays down on the bed, beckoning you. Rafe touches you softly, brushing his hands up your legs; his lips connect to your inner thigh, sending shivers down your spine. ”You ever done this before?“ He asks. ”Or am I the first?“

”You’re the first,“ you whisper, looking down at him nervously.

”A virgin. Huh? You’re gonna love it. Alright? Grab the headboard, y/n,“ he smiles. ”C’mon.“ You feel his warm breath against your pussy, making you weak already. ”C’mon,“ he growls again in playfully tone, pulling you down.

”Fuck, Rafe,“ you pant longingly as you feel his warm tongue, licking up your silk to your clit. He moans against your cunt; the vibrations are electrifying; your sensitivity, at an all-time high.

”Mmm, you taste so fucking good, Y/n,“ he moans, locking tightly onto your clit. Rafe sucks and holds you in his mouth, using his tongue to flick. Your thighs instantly start to quiver. He grips your body, guiding you to rock back and forth. ”Sit, baby,“ he pants, hungrily.

”Rafe…“

”Sit.“ He slaps you roughly on the meat of your thigh, overpowering you; burying himself in your pussy.

”Oh… Just – Just like that,“ you moan; bringing your hands up, squeezing your breasts tightly. You feel your orgasm in reach. ”Rafe, do I cum like this?“ You pant frantically. He doesn’t answer, continuing to please you. You cry out as his finger slips into your entrance; his ringed digit gives you a little extra friction. The combination of both is absolutely euphoric. His mouth and hands play together beautifully; jolts of pleasure spur through your body as you grind your hips. Rafe increases his pace, moving at an unforgiving tempo. The sloppy sounds of your cunt, heard through the room as well.

”Rafe,“ you whimper, breathlessly; your pleasure about to bubble over. “I’m gonna… Oh my god,” you scream in pleasure. Rafe runs circles on your clit as you ride out your orgasm.

”God, you’re so beautiful, baby,“ he gasps as he sits up against the headboard. ”You taste so sweet. That feels good, princess?“ He asks as he brushes a few stray tears off your cheek.

”So fucking good,“ you barely manage to speak between breaths.

“Good, baby. Can’t believe that was your first time…” You can hear the genuine surprise in his tone, boosting your confidence even more. Rafe relaxes into the headboard, biting back a smile as you reach your hands behind your back, unclasping your bra, letting it fall onto his lap.

”Perfect fuckin’ tits,“ he hums. You toss your head back as he kisses you roughly, pressing your breasts together, licking a line in between. He locks down on your nipple; swirling, flicking, and nipping your pebbled flesh. Rafe runs his tongue along his bottom lip, his eyelids hooded. ”Mmm… Can I fuck you, princess?“ He gives you a hopeful smile as his eyes continue to roam your body.

”How do you want me?“

He looks down, eyeing his cock between your thick thighs. His gaze returns to yours; a smirk spreads on his lips. “Just like this, baby girl.” He seizes his dick in his hand, leaning back slightly. You bite your lip, giving him a little nod.

You drop down slightly, your wetness transferring to his cockhead. “Fuck me.” He lets out a loud groan; eyes, rolling back. Your lips meet his neck, kissing him roughly, licking and nibbling his skin. Reaching around your back, you skim Rafe’s tip with your fingers; he lets out a deep groan.

You press him toward you, guiding him to your heat. Rafe takes a handle on the plush of your hips, pressing you down. Your knees widen on the sheet as you work lower, pressure building between your thighs as he starts to stretch you out. ”Fuck, Rafe,“ you whine. Letting out a sharp breath. You look down, watching as you take the last of him.

”Are you okay, y/n?“ He whispers. There’s a fire in his eyes. Rafe, fully aware of his size. You can tell he’s taking satisfaction in asking you so sweetly as he splits you in two.

”M’okay,“ you whimper. Rafe smiles wickedly in reply.

”Good. I’m not gonna last long. This pussy feels too fucking good.“ He chuckles weakly.

You start rolling your body slowly, mewling softly into his mouth as you adjust to him. Your hands move up his tight stomach, resting on his chest. Grinding and winding gradually, you press your hands against him; tilting your body away slightly. Rafe watches carefully as you work him in and out of your wet pussy; hands inching up your stomach, past your rib cage, massaging your breasts. His tongue meets your nipple; fingers delighting the other.

Rafe takes you in his arms, shifting the two of you lower on the bed. You sink a little deeper on his cock; inhaling sharply when he lays flat. He lets out a lusty chuckle as you release a drawn-out moan. ”You like that? Not too much?“ He taunts.

A wide smile spreads on your lips as you toe the line between ache and bliss. ”Just right.“

“This body was made for me, I swear,” he mumbles. “Bounce for me, baby.” You start to push on the mattress, breasts moving with you as your skin slaps against Rafe’s lap. “Holy shit,” Rafe huffs through his kiss-swollen lips; hooded eyes fighting to stay open as he takes you in. Rafe slips his hands around to your ass, spanking one cheek, then the next. Causing your pussy to tense with each slap.

“Mmm… You gonna cum for me, princess?” He croons as his hand, rests against your pelvis; thumb circling your clit. The added contact makes you lose your rhythm. Rafe fucks up into you, holding you in place as he continues to stroke, fighting back his pleasure; but, it’s too much.

“Gonna cum,” he mumbles.

“Cum inside me, Rafe,” you whisper. ”M’on the pill. It’s alright.“

”That what you want?“ He asks with a lust-laced tone.

“Cum in me.”

Rafe reaches for you, wrapping his arms around your body, taking you quickly to your back. He spreads your thighs wide. Your breath escapes your chest when he plunges himself back in; his fingers greet your clit. Your legs start to quake, jagged breaths as he starts pounding you into the soft mattress. “Oh Rafe...” You cry in pleasure as you gush around his cock.

“Gonna cum in this perfect fuckin’ pussy,” he breathes, voice wavering. “Mmm… Fuck, y/n,” he groans; gripping your hips in his hands, eyes rolling into the back of his skull as his cock throbs; heavy loads of cum buried deep. Rafe expels a deep breath, his mouth connecting with yours the next moment.

He pulls out, making you reach for a breath; as he watches your share release drip out of your puffy pussy onto his sheets. The emptiness is comforted by Rafe’s hand on you again, fingers swirling through the wetness, stuffing it back inside.

Sex hangs heavy in the air; your bodies, tangled in sheets. Rafe cups your face in his hand, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. “Tell me you’re free tomorrow?”

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

One really tiny but really flavourful detail in BG3 for me is one of the steps in the "Find the Nightsong" quest. The quest in itself is a big fave of mine, not just because of its buildup and dramatic twist and the fact that it deals with my personal favourite character, but also because of the way it winds through all three acts of this immense game. Here, though, I want to highlight a small and relatively early portion of it.

Initially, when you are sent after the mysterious and much sought-after relic called the Nightsong - classic adventurer stuff, really, there's even a wizard in a tower who'll pay you for it - all you have to go on are rumours that it is hidden in an old Selûnite temple in the region you happened to crash in. And sure enough, you explore the cool temple ruins, maybe you do a little puzzle-solving to open a sealed moon-themed door leading to a passage deep below - or you get into the Underdark via one of the other routes available. In any case, once there, you find the tragically doomed underground outpost some of the temple's residents tried to establish, as well as several records of their final hours. But there are no signs of the Nightsong or anything related to it ever being there at all. At that point you have no more info to go on, and your quest journal updates to say so:

Explore the Underdark. The trail goes cold in the Underdark. Where is the Nightsong?

Except... there is something here. And that something is a book - not an ancient record, but a recent publication: This tome appears fairly new-printed; it can't be more than a decade or two old, the item description says. But above all, it is very conspicuously and prominently placed at the foot of the large statue of Selûne that dominates the remnants of the outpost (and that, as part of its defenses, shoots rather deadly magical moonlight beams until you disable it).

The book is called "In Search of the Nightsong". It is marked as a quest item and it is there purely to provide you with a lead and to bridge the gap until the next bit of insight into the Nightsong you will get (which is at this point probably quite a ways away in Act 2, other than the possible tidbit around Nere and the collapsed bridge as you approach one possible end of Act 1). You are absolutely meant to find it and read it.

Fascinating that such a seemingly valuable object has proven so difficult to track down. Indeed, treasure-hunters the realm over have travelled to the Sword Coast with one goal in mind: To find the Nightsong. Yet each by each they have failed, indicating dead ends, rebuffs, or else disappearing altogether. My latest enquiry was with a half-orc named Graly, who insisted he'd come as close as possible to the relic as one may go without forfeiting his or her life. He indicated that the object is not, as most reports indicate, in the Selûnite fort adjacent to the river Chionthar. It is, in fact, held in an old Sharran fortress somewhere in the environs of Moonrise Towers. However, Graly reported that some kind of potent shadow prevents one from approaching where this fortress might be.

In fact, your next quest journal update comes from going into your inventory and reading the book:

Find the Sharran Temple. We found a book that told of a secret Sharran temple that contains the Nightsong. It is hidden underground, somewhere near Moonrise Towers.

How did this recently-published book end up sitting there, just waiting for you to read it, in the sealed, long-abandoned outpost, beset on all sides by unfriendly crowds of goblins, drow, minotaurs, a spectator, you name it? And why is this cool to me? Well, it's a bit meta, but it turns out that Selûne, She Who Guides, goddess of, among other things, questers, seekers, navigators, and the lost finding their path, has more than earned her title. And indeed, here we see that both in gameplay and in lore, Selûne guides.

In this particular case, though you don't know that yet, she's guiding you, both the character and the player, to hopefully save her long-lost daughter.

[bunnybrews]

the predator, the prey and the hunter- sylus x reader (slight mc x reader)

genre : angst, slight yandere, suggestive

syn : betrayal isn't something sylus takes lightly, specially when it comes from his bunny.

cw : non-mc! reader, abduction, violence, hair pulling, choking, usage of nicknames (dove, bunny, love, doll, etc.), mention of slapping, slight yandere behaviour.

wc : 2,961

you were nothing but a low ranking member of onychinus, so receiving a mission of such importance was extremely rare and yet here you were, babysitting the hunter who had recently been abducted by your master.

you watched in wonder as the hunter moved around, seemingly searching for an exit. there was a certain grace she carried which enamoured you.

she had everything you wanted, she was everything you wanted to be. brave, kind, strong willed and above all, she belonged to the place of your dreams, linkon city.

you had always wanted to go to linkon, to see the sun, to feel its rays hit your body and fill you with a deep sense of joy and warmth just like all those books described.

but alas, some dreams can never be fulfilled. your fate had already been decided when you took birth in a small shady cabin in the N109 zone to a mother who had a terminal illness and a father who was barely there due to his duties as an onychinus member.

you remember being barely fourteen when the news of your father dying during a mission reached you home. your mother had cried and sobbed all day while you just sat there, unable to bring yourself to cry over a man who you barely saw.

your mother followed your father's footsteps just a year later. her illness finally taking what was left of her.

just a day after your mother's death, the leader of onychinus had personally visited your small shack, offering you a place in his mansion and a position in his syndicate.

though you had nothing against him personally, infact, you held a certain amount of respect for him, yet this was not what you wanted. you didn't want to be part of a criminal organisation, no, you wanted to leave.

you wanted to fulfil the dreams you saw as a young child, to experience the stories your mother often read to you, you wanted to escape the dark alleys of N109 zone and flee to linkon.

yet you weren't dumb enough to refuse his offer. you knew that doing so would ensure a rather painful death. hence, you agreed.

and here you were now, staring at the hunter as if she was some goddess who had just descended from the high heavens.

the stars in your eyes were painfully visible to everyone, including the hunter. she could see the curiosity and naivety that lingered in your eyes. as much as it bothered her, she knew tricking and using you would be her only way to escape this hell.

your eyes lit up as you saw the hunter take a seat next to you on the sofa before you quickly looked away, trying to school your expressions back to neutral.

though before you got the chance to do so, a hand was placed on your thigh making you snap your head towards the hunter who was currently smiling down at you.

the fact that the hunter was a few inches taller than you was made evident when you had to crane your head up to look into her eyes.

they were green like the protocores you saw being transported in and out of the mansion and so so shiny! you were basically lost in their vibrancy.

a gentle squeeze to your thigh brought you out of your musing as a chuckle left the hunter's pretty lips.

“what's your name?” it was a simple question but the voice that left her lips had you in a trance, one that was broken by another squeeze to your thigh.

“i- i can't tell you my name. sorry!”

you were quick to remember your training and lessons, making sure to not reveal anything.

“why though? its just a name, its not like i'm going to report you to the hunters or something”

“umm yeah but master told us to not reveal anything about ourselves to anyone. he says that it could lead us into a lot of trouble. i'm really sorry but i can't go against his orders”

the hunter huffed in annoyance as she realised that she won't be finding any answers from the girl anytime soon. she had to change her approach.

“no no, you don't need to apologise. its my fault for asking. it's just that i've been trapped here for so long and you are the first person who hasn't been rude to me, i was just trying to get to know you more i guess, i'm sorry.”

her voice was softer now, hints of sadness and pain wafting through it. you couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for the girl sitting next to you, your heart melting a little at the frown on her face.

“i understand, it must have been hard for you, not having anyone to talk to. while i may not be able to share anything valuable with you, i'll be more than happy to indulge in a conversation!”

a smirk graced the hunter's lips for a second, the innocent dove had just entered the cage set up for her. she almost scoffed at your naivety. you don't belong here in this hell, she would have to make sure to take you with her when she finally finds a way out.

“how about we play 20 questions? we'll be able to get to know each other better this way without revealing any crucial details about ourselves and you can just skip the questions which you feel are too imposing.”

the hunter's plan was perfect. a game of 20 questions was her best shot at gathering whatever information she could under the guise of getting to know each other.

“that sounds so fun! we can do that!”

“alright, i'll start. why did you join onychinus?”

she watched as you tensed up, an air of uncomfort forming around you. sensing your unease, she decided to tread carefully and changed up the question.

“nevermind, you don't have to answer that. hmm, well…how about…what is something that you really want to do or really want to achieve?”

the hunter knew that this was a risky gamble yet the gleam that took over your eyes at the question reassured her. your voice was soft as you shyly answered while playing with your hands.

“i've always wanted to see the sun. i've heard lots of stories about it, my mom used to read them to me before bed! i just wanna see it with my own eyes. anyways, its my turn to ask you a question now!”

she nodded at you, motioning you to ask away.

“how does the sun feel like? does it feel good when you walk in the sunlight? is it just like the stories or does it hurt and irritate you?”

“it's even better than the stories. walking in the sunlight feels like you are being embraced by warmth itself. it's really magical.”

hook, line and sinker! the trap had already been set into place, all she needed to do now was to lure you out and judging by the look of amazement in your eyes, she could tell that she was already halfway there.

“alright, it seems to be my turn now. if you really want to see the sun so badly, then why are you still here in this damned place?”

she observed the way you lowered you head slightly and chewed on your bottom lip. she sighed as her hopes of getting an answer out of you diminished.

“uh well, i can't just leave. master won't allow it.”

“why? does he not give you any freedom to do as you wish? has he trapped you here as well?”

“it's not like that! i am allowed to roam around the zone all i want but i can't leave. it's against the rules. also, even if i was allowed to leave the zone, its not like i could ever step into linkon without being hunted down and charged for my association with onychinus.”

the frown tugging at your lips quickly lifted as a warm hand was placed under your jaw, gently lifting your face up.

“i can help you. i know someone who can make up a fake identity for you, no one will be able to recognize you!”

you sighed against her palm turning your face slightly so that your cheek was resting against her palm instead of your jaw.

“what's a fake identity gonna do when i can't even leave the zone? i told you, i'm not allowed to leave”

“then let's run away. run away with me and we'll go to linkon. let me help you. help me so i can help you.”

she felt the way you tensed up and drew back from her, a gasp leaving your lips. the hesitation was visible in your eyes, but there was something else too.

“y-you shouldn't be saying things like that out loud! master will be so angry if he heard you. he'll lock you up and kill me for even talking about such things if he heard this.

“will you please stop thinking about your master for a second and instead think about yourself for once! what about you? what about your wants? your desires? are you really just going to give all your dreams up like that? is this what you want? to keep living in this slump until you grow old and die one day without even seeing the sunlight? is that what you want, huh?”

her words jabbed at a wound that had always been present in your heart. you don't want this. you don't want to grow old here and die without seeing the sunlight, just like your parents did. you don't want the same fate as them.

the hunter smirked as she watched the flame she had ignited swallow you whole. the sweet sound of your resolve crumbling was audible to her. she could see your hesitation being replaced with determination.

“but how? how are you going to take me to linkon when you yourself are trapped here?”

“this, my love, is where you enter the plan. you will get me out of here, and as repayment, i'll get you a new identity and citizenship in linkon.”

“but how would i be able to help you? if i knew how to escape this place successfully, don't you think i would have used that tactic to flee already?”

“you may not know how to escape the N109 zone but i'm sure you know how to exit this mansion. all you have to do is get me out of here and leave the rest to me. don't worry your pretty little head too much by overthinking, doll. just lead me out of here, and i'll take you with me to the place of your dreams.”

she held out her hand to you, patiently waiting for you to accept her offer. it didn't surprise her a bit when your soft hand found its way into hers, fingers intertwined together.

you quickly stood up, taking the hunter with you as you used your key to open the door, leading the both of you towards the hallway which you knew would open into a secret exit.

the both of you dashed towards the exit hand in hand until a black mist suddenly pushed you both back forcefully, making you crash into the nearest wall.

before you could even open your mouth to let out a whine, a pair of blood red eyes captured your gaze. he found out.

you glanced at the hunter when the sound of someone choking and wheezing started filling the room. you could see the black mist tightly coiled around her neck, squeezing the life out of her.

if this is how he punished the girl who he had abducted because she owned something that was necessary for his plan, you didn't even want to find out how he would punish you, a low ranking employee.

all you could do was shut your eyes tightly and await the punishment that you were sure was going to come your way.

the feeling of a bruising grip on your jaw was all that you felt before you were pushed aside, your body hitting the floor as you finally opened your eyes to see your master stalking towards the hunter.

the choking noises subsided as the grip of his evol loosened. you watched as he touched the hunter's hair before roughly pulling them, making her look into his eyes.

“were you really dumb enough to believe that you could escape me, huh? you really thought you could plot against me in my own home and i won’t find you? i must commend you though, you may not be the smartest tool in the shed, but you are an excellent manipulator or maybe my dumb little bunny is just too stupid, falling for your silly tricks”

just as the last sentence left his lips, he turned towards you. the trembles in your body increased as the distance between you and your master decreased.

you felt his evol coil around yourself as you were brought to your feet, body immobilised and held in place by his evol.

tears started leaking out of your eyes as you awaited your fate. a whimper escaping your trembling lips as a hand reached up towards your face. you expected a slap but instead were greeted by his rough calloused fingers wiping your tears.

“my stupid bunny, always managing to find a way to amuse me. did you really think that i would let you leave? so dumb. what am i going to do with you? should i lock you up in a room just like her, take all your freedom away? or should i punish you, show you what happens to naughty little bunnies when they disobey their masters? tell me bunny, which one do you prefer?

you knew it was a trick question and yet you shook your head wildly. glancing up at your master with tears still streaming down your eyes as soft sobs left your lips, you could see the disappointment in his eyes.

the knowledge that you were the reason for the disappointment made your sobs increase in both volume and velocity. your body trembling badly under the hold of his evol.

seeing your pitiful condition, the hunter couldn't help but blame herself, the sight of you tear stained face making her lose her temper and rebel against the energy holding her in place.

“step away from her you monster! she had no part in this!”

sylus snapped his head towards the hunter, eyes narrowing in annoyance as she fought for you as if you were hers to protect.

it was obvious that the hunter had taken a liking to you and this filled the red eyed man with fury. the thought of the hunter liking you was sending his brain into an overdrive.

he had to prove his ownership over you. needed to prove his ownership over you. if he was going to have to take you in front of the damned hunter to prove that you were his then so be it.

he used his evol to pull you towards himself, a hand snaking down to your waist as he pulled you closer until your back was resting against his chest.

“tch, you see miss hunter, that's where you are wrong. she did have a part in this, a huge part if i say so myself.”

his grip tightened over you as his other hand went to your face, turning it to an angle so that you were staring into his eyes once again.

“she should have known better than to fall for your antics. she should've been smarter and most importantly, she should've remembered who she belongs to”

with that he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. the kiss was anything but gentle. his teeth pulled at your lower lip, tongue swirled around yours, lips moved against yours at a bruising pace, all while you stood there like a statue.

he pulled away from you after sometime of sucking the life straight out of your mouth. his eyes briefly finding yours before they moved to the hunter who had her jaw clenched and anger flared at the sight.

he watched in amusement as she thrashed around his evol, trying to escape the bruising grip before looking down at you once again.

you were still staring up at him with your glossy lips parted and your eyes widened in horror. at that moment you looked like the textbook definition of adorable if he may say so himself.

he used the hand holding your face to gently push a strand of stray hair behind your ear before leaning down to whisper in your ear, his voice low but loud enough for both you and the hunter to hear.

“i think i finally figured you punishment out bunny. you've been such a naughty girl lately. do you know what happens to naughty girls? they get fucked roughly by their masters. im not that cruel though, so i'll make your punishment a little easier for you. since you've taken such a liking to miss hunter over there, i'll make sure she stays with you, watching you while i fuck the life out of you. you would like that, won't you bunny?

you were suddenly pushed onto your knees and the hand which was previously holding you now rested on your head.

cautiously, you peeked up at the hunter hoping to find a sign of reassurance in her eyes but to your shock, her eyes, just like your master's, were glazed with lust.

oh heavens, tonight was definitely going to be a long and tiring one for you.

[v3nusxsky]

So I'm asking as me as not anon only because I'm sure you know it's me from my comment, but also still want to be anon after this paragraph (if that makes sense) ❤️

I literally am obsessed with your writing, it is so freaking good I could just curl up and re read everything you've posted (and I may have done that, ngl) especially for Larissa. That woman has an absolute chokehold on me.

Is there any chance you could do a lactation/breeding/mommy/shapeshifting dick with dom Larissa and sub r, and can the r be a short masc with short hair?

You are amazing in every way and lovely beyond compare!

Breed me mommy 18+

*authors note~ wrote this with a massive headache after my first long distance drive so I apologise if it’s bad! This is for all my people who have massive crushes on Larissa Weems coupled with a huge breeding kink. On my knees for the 6 foot 3 goddess Larissa Weems*

Trigger warnings~ breeding kink, lactation kink, mommy kink, shapeshifting cock and ability to lactate, dom Larissa/ sub masc, dirty talk, oral sex, praise kink, soft dominant, thigh riding, slight choking, missionary, doggy, oral fixation, hints of emotional sub after the act

Prompt~ see ask^^^

•••••••Banner is coming soon•••••••••

It was your idea to watch The Devil Wears Prada with your lover Larissa Weems. Your intent was to create a calming atmosphere for her after a long stressful day. A nice meal, some cuddles while you watch the film and then head to bed together. Peaceful. Happy. It started all going to plan, your beautiful candlelight dinner that just so happened to be the exact favourite dish of your lover. The wine was plentiful and the conversation flowed effortlessly.

“I’ll take good care of you. I promise” you murmured to the principal as she delicately folded her long legs to sit on the sofa with you before patting her hardly clothed thigh twice. A silent command. “Let mommy hold you tonight darling” she whispered before shifting your pliant body onto her lap and pressing play on the already set up film.

It all started innocently. Her slender fingers trailing over your clothed arms, legs and stomach. Every time you’d tilt your head to catch her obvious teasing acts she would be laser focused on the screen. But slowly Larissa had more on her mind. She couldn’t help but press her ruby lips to the column of your throat as you chuckled. The way your pulse beat against her gentle kisses caused her to smile in your skin. It’s just never been easy for her to keep her hands for herself when you’re in the same room as she is. Let alone sat on her lap, so innocently nibbling on your lip as you fought to concentrate. She’d be your undoing, that much she knew, but how much of her obvious teasing you could take wasn’t.

It wasn’t long before you began to absentmindedly search to find purchase on Larissa’s wrists and guide them where you desperately needed them. Only she wasn’t done yet, pulling her hands from you as you whined unhappily. “Behave darling” she tutted as if you were a disobedient puppy, “Mommys trying to watch this.”

How long was this damn film? You couldn’t help but curse yourself for not picking a shorter film. So just about the half way point you snapped, turning yourself around in her lap to attack her lips with desperate sloppy kisses. Instantly, she reciprocated with just the right amount of enthusiasm to subconsciously encourage your growing arousal. Before you knew it, you were tugging at the pins holding her beautiful in place as your hips began to grind downward. “God darling, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted you to be a mess in my lap. Such a sweet thing for me” she praised happily before moving her hands to grip your hips hard enough to leave marks.

Larissa was known for her passion and patience. But here and now she was most definitely not a patient woman. As soon as your arousal began to seep through your shorts onto her stockings she lost control. Effortlessly scooping you up into her arms, carrying you into your shared room as your lips battled for a dominance you didn’t truly want. Being tossed around by your older lover was something you’d never get bored of. The way she tossed you on the bed like you weighed no more than a pillow was such a turn on.

Squirming on the bed you allowed Larissa to strip you bare minus your sports bra, knowing how it helped you feel more masculine in these moments before stepping back and admiring your beautiful self. Subconsciously, you began to curl up into yourself, effectively hiding your body from her only to be reprimanded, “don’t be embarrassed darling. God you turn me on so much my love. I just need to be inside you now. To touch you now. Can mommy touch you? Please baby?” You stuttered in mild shock “I-inside me?” You’ve spoke about your future and likes/ dislikes and what you would like to explore together, and apparently tonight was the night for her to try and shift. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to watch you be a good slut and take mommys cock. Every. Single. Inch.”

“Please mommy, just touch me please I don’t care how” you whimpered reaching out to pull her to you and free her from her dress. Her beautiful tits on display along with a now very generous member trying to strain from her lace panties. “You wanna help take this off darling? They are rather uncomfortable” she mumbled before stealing a couple of kisses that lingered a touch too long. Eagerly manoeuvring your body closer to her and your shaky hands reached to her waist to tug at the lace and accidentally resulted in tearing it from the shifters body. “That was so fucking hot darling” she gasped as you tried to wriggle closer.

“Wanna taste mommy” doe eyes looked up at the principal and you tried to tug her new appendage closer to your mouth. Her manicured hand helped guide her shaft to your awaiting lips. “I’ll be gentle love, remember you can tap out” was all she managed to get out before you happily sucked the head of her cock into your mouth. It took some adjusting and working to find a rhythm. It was taking all her restraint to not harshly fuck into your warmth. If this was how your sweet mouth felt then your other hole would be heavenly. With a tug to your hair she pulled you off her dick with a little whine of protest coming from you. Clearly this would be something she needs to work on her stamina for.

“Your turn darling” she murmured before pushing you back on the bed and attacking your body with nips and kisses. “Wann feel you inside me please mommy” you pleaded innocently. “I don’t want to hurt you love” she started only to be cut off with your frantic begging, “I want you to fuck me mommy. Please. Please let me feel you.”

“I’ll be gentle” she stated as a matter of fact before lining herself up with your soaking cunt and slowly pushing in. There was a sting in some places and a stretch in others but when she sunk into you to the hilt you couldn’t help the ungodly loud moan that ripped itself from your throat. “You sound so pretty darling, tell me when I can move” Larissa murmured using the height difference to her advantage to smother your neck in pretty little marks. Hers.

“Move, please god mommy move” you whined encouraging her to finally give you what you wanted. The first few thrusts of her hips were slow and gentle. Experimental. Loving how snug you wrapped around her. The feeling of her cock stroking your inner walls was most definitely become addictive. “Fuck, darling we have to change positions. You’re gonna make me cum” Larissa groaned trying to convince herself to pull out of your warmth.

It was now you were thanking whatever god existed that your lover could shift her anatomy, meaning she could lift you whenever she felt like. “On your knees” she gravely whispered, her fingers gripping tightly into your hips as she helped you position yourself. Like a starving woman she immediately began to work herself into your pussy and picking up her pace and accuracy of her thrusts. Getting the angle just right to hit your G spot.

“Want to cum in you darling. Let mommy cum inside your pretty pussy darling? Oh god you’d look so beautiful all swollen and pregnant for me. Please darling I won’t last too long if you keep squeezing me like that” she moaned without thinking. “Mommy please, please, I need more. Please want to feel it mommy. Want to be mommy’s forever” you mewled, your hands clawing at any skin you could reach as she pleaded you to come with her. To be so good for her and take all her cum. Stilling with the sheer amount of sticky goods that were filling your womb up to the brim as your walls spasamed around her dick, milking her of everything she was offering.

It was in the blissful moments where Larissa had shifted her anatomy back to normal and gathered you into her embrace, that you began to process what she’d said. “Mommy?” You muttered still thick in your subspace, “do you really want to have a baby with me?” Silence was all that filled the room before she pressed a sweet kiss to your head and replied honestly, “of course my darling. I love you so much and would love to start a family with you if you want to? I didn’t realise just how much I’d want to get you pregnant until that moment. God, you’d be the best mother in the world. In fact you would look so gorgeous pregnant that I might just have to keep you pregnant forever.” Little did Larissa know that night you spent crying and planning to try for a family, that she’d already succeeded on the first baby.

“I love you so much darling” she mumbled as you finally settled down for the night, your fuzzy head resting on her bare breasts. You couldn’t help but tease her perky nipples by blowing cool air on them before sucking them into your lips on instinct. “Mine” you mumbled contentedly as your light suckling continued. “All yours baby, all yours. Just your mommy darling” she reassured running her hands through your short hair and scratching soothingly at your scalp until your suckles stopped. Indicating you’d finally sipped off to sleep.

Word count~ 1594

[misswynters]

Surrender

Aeron Bracken x fem!reader

[warnings: mdni (18+), kissing, oral (f receiving)

[note | pls don’t just like, reblog & give me feedback. i don’t want to get shadowbanned

similar | As the Tides Turn | Weirwood Whispers

The night was cloaked in a heavy silence, the kind that amplified every heartbeat, every breath. The flickering light from the fireplace cast long shadows across the stone walls, painting the room in a warm, intimate glow. You stood by the window, looking out into the night, lost in thought. The door creaked open behind you, and you turned to see Aeron Bracken standing there, his eyes dark with unspoken longing.

"Aeron," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the crackling fire.

He crossed the room in a few swift strides, closing the distance between you. Without a word, he cupped your face in his hands, his touch gentle but desperate. His eyes searched yours for a moment, seeking permission, and then his lips were on yours. The kiss was fervent, filled with a hunger that had been building for what felt like an eternity.

Aeron's lips trailed from your mouth to your cheeks, planting soft, lingering kisses. Each touch was a silent promise, a testament to the depth of his feelings.

He kissed his way down your jawline, to your neck, his breath warm against your skin. You could feel the desperation in every kiss, the way his hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer.

He continued his descent, his lips brushing over your collarbone, down to your chest. Each kiss ignited a fire within you, spreading warmth through your body. Aeron's hands moved to your sides, his fingers tracing the contours of your body as he kissed his way down to your stomach. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of tenderness and raw desire.

When he reached your stomach, he paused, looking up at you with a mix of devotion and longing. "May i?" he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Your hands tangled in his hair, urging him on. Aeron's kisses became more urgent, more insistent, as he moved lower. His breath was hot against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. He kissed your thighs with need as he continued upwards, towards your core. His mouth working with a rough, desperate intensity that left you breathless. His touch was everything you had ever needed, his kisses igniting a passion that consumed you both. You lost yourself in him, in the feeling of his lips on your skin, his hands holding you as if he never wanted to let go.

Aeron made you lean against the table as he kissed your inner thighs. He grabbed one of your legs to hike it up on his shoulder for a better angle. With need, he started to devour you completely. Wasting no time he began to kiss your core. As the moment continued, he began to be more messier. The desperate man was bullying his tongue inside you, making you very sensitive after a short while. His cool lips continuously sucked on your sweet spot, causing you to arch your back as you pressed his face between your things. Aeron couldn’t stop now. Not when he has the entire night to make you feel like a goddess.

banner: @cafekitsune

[lady-charinette]

The lucid moments of Queen Charlotte & King George:

they sometimes hide from the heavens under the bed and George asks how their kingdom is doing. Charlotte quietly confesses how sometimes, the world seems to close in on her too & she feels like she might just hide from the heavens forever. George cradles her hand whispers lovingly:"You've always been the stronger one of us." Charlotte:"Only because you gave me half of your strength."

George sometimes escapes his confinement and bursts into meetings, but he's lucid. Charlotte is momentarily stunned, but relaxes when George speaks normally with the higher members of the ton. She smiles and watches her husband, the king, attend to his duties. In these little moments, she feels like the paintings didn't have to add George in later, she feels like he was there all along for the still sitting.

George still goes to the fields, he's old now, but he can pick at the weeds and plant some vegetables at least. Brimsely swore he would always attend to Her Majesty the Queen, but whenever her husband is outside, he temporarily serves the King, on orders of Her Majesty. Brimsely knows the Queen trusts him above all to protect her king in Reynold's place

George sometimes draws her, draws her face, his artistic skill curiously weakens when he's of sound mind, but Charlotte doesn't seem too offended when she spies her likeness on their wall. She smiles brighter than the sun

They reminiscent of their youth together, George remarks on the make of Charlotte's dresses, they look just like they had when they were younger. Charlotte is too prideful to admit she still orders these dresses to be made because it's the only thing of George she can have with her everyday to keep her grounde

Amelia's passing wounded everyone deeply, George had still been lucid enough to have learned of it, which ultimately crumbled the pieces of his sanity over time. His lucid moments grew fewer and farther in between and Charlotte felt like she had not only lost a daughter, but her husband as well

George has his observatory in his residence at Kew, and sometimes when he gazes at the stars and searches for a glimpse of Venus, his clarity returns with full force. In those moments, he quickly writes down whatever thoughts flood his clear mind, to not forget them, forget that deep down in his madness, there is still a man. Charlotte occasionally visits his observatory and she always checks his journals for new notes. Little things he intended to remember. The names of all their children and their birthdays. Thoughts of Charlotte and how much he misses her. Most of them speak of Venus, how much he loves and adores her. The Queen learned early on that Venus has quite a few names. The Great Star. Goddess of Love. Charlotte. Lottie. And sometimes, his Queen.

"Tell me, Lottie, how are the gardens?". She smiles, "In full bloom, my dear.". There was an uncharacteristically but not unfamiliar grin on the king's face. "And tell me... how is your garden?" Charlotte laughed, spying the mischievous twinkle in her husband's eye. "It definitely could use some tending. Some watering. Some fierce plowing." Brimsely knew better than anyone to immediately send the guards and attendants away once the Queen hitched up her skirts and moved over to sit on the King's lap.

"I'm sorry, my dear Lottie." George spoke softly into their quiet bedroom. Charlotte tried to discern his expression through the darkness. "Whatever for, George?". George sighed deeply, "For not giving you as much comfort and support as you do for me, once my mind wanders again.". Charlotte can only hold her husband close to her and kiss his forehead, whispering softly into his thinning hair. "You do give me comfort, my dear. So much."

George often has nightmares during the night, whenever he calls for his attendants, more often than not, it's his wife that hurries to his bedside. She always manages to quench his demons. He's heard the whispers in the halls, about how cruel and cold his queen was. But not to him. To him, she was soft and warm. Oh, so warm.

At the birth of their last child, George worries for Charlotte's health and urges her to not have anymore babies. She tries to argue with him, but George snaps:"We have enough heirs! I know what it is that you try to do, I know my...my madness may pass down to any one of our children, but if I were to lose you while you give birth to another child madness shall consume us all! What shall I do mad with fourteen children to care for instead of enjoying the moments I have left with you by my side?"

George sometimes reads manuscripts of the love stories between older kings and their queens, he sometimes forgets them and discovers them anew, but he always remembers what each of these stories lacked to him. None of these love stories could come close to describe the endless well of love he harbors for his wife, in madness and in sanity.

Charlotte finds reading poems to be a waste of her time, but she keeps the small, crumpled pieces of papers very close to her heart. The handwriting is not always neat, not always eligible, but she knew them all by heart anyway. Even though he may not be physically near her, Charlotte knew she was never alone in ruling their kingdom with George's heartfelt poems tucked safely into the sleeves of her dress.

They sometimes run into each-other in the kitchen at night, it's always a fright at first, Charlotte doesn't know if George is in his right mind, but he always quells her fears with a boyish smile. "Fancy meeting you here, my queen. Care for some of the best pudding in all of Britain?" Charlotte smiles, her eyes misty. "Oh, you old fool. You'll upset your stomach if you continue eating pudding every night.". George caressed her cheek. "That never stopped you before, has it?" Charlotte sighed. "Oh, just give me that spoon."

Sometimes, in his calm state of mind, George wonders if his body subconsciously enters into madness on purpose. Not to drive him mad, no, a much simpler reason. Sometimes, George wonders if he falls back into madness because he knows if he does, Charlotte would always come to visit and spend time with him. Somewhere in the deepest corners of his mind, George doesn't mind being called the Mad King if it meant spending time with his dear wife.

Charlotte is Queen during the day, but when she visits George at night, she turns young again, the ache in her bones recedes and she's just a simple maiden with her farmer. Just Charlotte. Just George. Just them.

[stagnation-if]

You blink languidly, and all you see is light. When you fell asleep, that information evades your mind. All you see is light and whiteness, and you don’t know where you are, or what you’re supposed to do. You remember a long dream, fields of daffodils and dewy meadows, and a voice deep and haunting like a nightmare.

The Deity of Dreams has awoken.

It's the year 2524, and you're a defeated God/Goddess/Deity in a place and time where your kind is rarely needed anymore. After being locked away and thought to be dead for nearly a millennia, you wake up.

Features

Customize your God/Goddess/Deity of dreams.

Retrieve (or not) your now metaphorical throne, stolen by your killer, the God of War and Discord.

Explore and survive in a futuristic and very posthuman world. A world so much different from the one you were pried from.

Blend among mortals, pretend to be one of them— whether you embrace that side of you or not is up to you.

Get your power back after a thousand years of slumber.

Romance or befriend a cast of six characters.

Poly options: Dawn/Bruno, Eris/Dawn, A/Seth, Bruno/Seth.

Characters

Dawn (she/her) • THE REBEL

A rebel and a hacker. Possibly the sole reason you’re awake today, too. She hates deities but seems desperate to get rid of the God of War, even if that involves working with you.

Bruno Lee (he/him) • THE HISTORIAN

Bruno may call himself a historian, a curious old soul in search of unveiling the secrets of the past. But given the fact that he's the only other being locked away with you, there must be more to him.

Vex (they/them) • THE CYBORG

Vex—who also goes by V—is a law enforcer who seems to be more metal than flesh. They represent the crude reality that time has moved on without you. Though V claims they're loyal to their God of War, they've been roped along to help their little sister Dawn.

Amara/Aiden/Asher Moonless (she/her he/him or they/them) • THE LOST ONE

Your memory fades and wavers but you remember A (how could you not). You know they're not the same person you were oh so close to so many centuries ago, but their similarities are eerily noticeable.

Estelle ‘Eris’ Lawrence (she/her) • THE CELEBRITY

Also known as The Voice, Eris is an actress, singer and model. She's every teenager’s daydream, the vivid representation of rags to riches. And, according to Dawn, a valuable ally to have by your side.

Seth (he/him) • THE GOD OF WAR

Your killer and enemy. You knew him once, or so you thought. All that your relationship with him got you was a sword through your chest.

DEMO

[rottenpumpkin13]

Cloud decides that he’s in charge of movie night now and puts on how to train your dragon.

Sephiroth: where is this boys mother?

Cloud: keep watching.

Sephiroth: hIs mOtHeR iS dEaD?!?

Cloud: *sitting on him* shhh keep watching.

*they put on the second movie*

Sephiroth: *sobbing in relief* HIS MOTHER!

*The next day*

Genesis: Oh goddess. What are you doing?

Sephiroth: That movie we watched last night rekindled a hope I thought was lost. It made me believe that my mother might still be alive. Though the journey ahead will be arduous, I have decided I'm setting out once more in search of her.

Genesis: I meant what are you doing with that dragon?

*Sephiroth does indeed have a dragon with him*

Sephiroth: You're seeing things.

Genesis: Shiva's tits.

[elysiaheaven]

𝐈, 𝐉𝐢𝐚𝐨𝐪𝐢𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦-𝟏 The fox's wedding

Words:5207

TW: Mentions of curses, dead people, forced marriage?

Most of the lines are from the Masa works design's onibi series songs! just references since I got this idea from it!

If you think y/n is shitty in the first chapter, get ready to face that it's not true.

Characters that appear in this chapter: Jiaoqiu, Moze, Y/n

The abandoned ship from part of the Luofu which was lost loomed ahead, its dark silhouette against the starry backdrop of the void. Jiaoqiu and Moze approached the vessel, their steps echoing in the silence of the derelict expanse.

Moze, his eyes scanning the surroundings with a mixture of caution and disdain, adjusted his grip on his weapon. "This is a bad idea," he said, his voice a low murmur. "There's a reason this place was abandoned."

Jiaoqiu, ever the optimist despite the grim setting, gave a reassuring smile. "I understand your concern, Moze. But this herb is crucial for General Feixiao's treatment. Her condition is deteriorating, and we need to find it before it's too late."

Moze nodded, though his frown deepened. "If it's that important, then I suppose we have no choice. But if anything goes wrong, remember that I warned you."

As they entered the ship, the musty smell of decay filled the air. The once-magnificent interior was now a maze of twisted metal and debris. Shadows danced ominously across the walls, and the eerie silence was occasionally broken by the distant creaks of the ship's frame.

Their search led them to a chamber filled with a disturbing sight: statues of what appeared to be people, frozen in various poses of agony and despair. The lifelike details of the statues gave them a haunting realism, their eyes wide with a frozen terror that seemed to transcend time.

Moze's gaze lingered on the statues, a shiver running down his spine. "What are these?" he asked, his voice edged with unease.

Jiaoqiu's expression grew somber as he observed the statues. "These statues are a tragic reminder of an old tale," he began, his tone reflective. "It's the story of Y/N L/N, the Goddess of Betrayal. A deity not born from human creation, but from something far more ancient and malevolent."

Moze's curiosity was piqued despite the ominous setting. "Go on," he said, though his eyes remained wary.

Jiaoqiu took a deep breath. "Y/N L/N once aided the Borisin clan during a time of dire need. She provided them with food and sustenance when they were on the brink of starvation. The Borisin people, desperate and grateful, welcomed her aid. But there was a price to be paid."

He paused, looking at the statues with a mixture of sadness and reverence. "The village's guardian deity, a foxian named Eiji, tried to stop her, sensing something sinister behind her gifts. Y/N L/N, driven by her own malevolent desires, killed Eiji and took his place. In doing so, she cursed the people of the village, transforming them into statues as a testament to her betrayal."

Moze's eyes widened slightly. "So these statues are—"

"—the remnants of Eiji's final wish," Jiaoqiu continued, his voice somber. "He wished for everyone, including himself, to be turned into statues and die, hoping to stop Y/N L/N's wrath. But as a spirit, she couldn't die. Instead, she was bound to the human realm through marriage. If someone were to marry her, they would be bound to her forever. If they tried to escape, they would die. The only way to defeat her was through a clever scheme: to trick her into giving up her soul, thus betraying the Goddess of Betrayal herself."

Moze's gaze fell back on the statues, their cursed faces a chilling reminder of the power of betrayal. "I see. And you believe this herb will help Feixiao?"

"Yes," Jiaoqiu affirmed, nodding. "The herb is said to have properties that can counteract the Moon Rage affliction. It's our best hope."

Jiaoqiu and Moze moved deeper into the abandoned ship, their search for the herb proving more challenging with each step. The air grew colder, and the silence seemed to press in on them, broken only by the occasional clatter of debris.

As they entered a large chamber, Jiaoqiu's eyes were drawn to a wall covered in ancient writings and inscriptions. The text, faded and worn, was in a language he recognized from his studies—a mix of old Borisin dialects and forgotten scripts. Despite Moze's warnings, Jiaoqiu was intrigued by the historical significance.

Moze, ever the skeptic, approached with a concerned expression. "This is a bad idea, Jiaoqiu. We're here for the herb, not to play historian. The more time we spend here, the greater the risk."

"I understand," Jiaoqiu replied, his eyes still fixed on the inscriptions. "But knowledge can be as valuable as the herb itself. There might be information here that could aid in understanding more about our current situation."

Ignoring Moze's concerned sigh, Jiaoqiu began to decipher the texts, his fingers tracing the old characters with a mixture of reverence and curiosity. As he read, he stumbled upon a section that described a statue of a girl. The description was both enchanting and tragic—a girl with delicate features, her hands seemingly outstretched in acceptance, yet her eyes filled with sorrow.

Driven by a strange compulsion, Jiaoqiu moved towards a pedestal at the center of the chamber where the statue was displayed. The statue was exquisitely detailed, her features so lifelike that she seemed on the verge of tears. Her hands were poised as if she had accepted an offering, but the sadness in her eyes was palpable.

Jiaoqiu reached out and gently touched the statue. A shiver ran down his spine as he felt an intense pull, a deep yearning to kiss the statue's cold, sculpted lips. He found himself inching closer, drawn by an inexplicable force.

"Jiaoqiu!" Moze's voice cut through the haze. "What are you doing? Snap out of it!"

But Jiaoqiu was beyond hearing. The closer he got, the more overwhelming the sensation became. The statue seemed to come alive with an eerie allure, its sorrowful eyes mesmerizing him.

Suddenly, Moze, sensing the danger, lunged forward. "Get away from that statue!" he shouted, grabbing Jiaoqiu's arm and pulling him back.

The moment Moze's hand made contact, the statue's eyes flashed with a malevolent glow. 

Jiaoqiu, now freed from the statue's grip, staggered back, his mind clearing. "There's a monster, behind it." he said, his voice trembling. 

Moze drew his weapon, his face set in a determined scowl. "We need to fight. Stay sharp!"

The creature let out a guttural roar, its monstrous form shifting and writhing. It charged at them with surprising speed, its eyes still glowing with that hypnotic light. Jiaoqiu, shaking off the lingering effects of the statue's influence, joined Moze in the battle.

Moze moved with precision, his strikes calculated and deadly, while Jiaoqiu used his agility to dodge and counterattack. The ship's dim lighting cast eerie shadows on the walls as the battle raged on, each movement and strike reverberating through the cold, silent chamber.

Jiaoqiu managed to land a solid blow, causing the creature to stagger, but its eyes continued to glow with a hypnotic pull. Moze, sensing the need for a decisive strike, aimed for the creature's core, hoping to end the threat once and for all.

With a final, powerful strike, Moze hit the creature's core, and the monster let out a final, anguished roar before collapsing into a lifeless heap. The hypnotic glow in its eyes faded, and the chamber fell silent once more.

Breathing heavily, Jiaoqiu and Moze stood amidst the remnants of their battle. The statue was now just a broken relic, its enchantment defeated. Jiaoqiu's hands trembled slightly as he looked at the fallen creature.

"Thank you," Jiaoqiu said, his voice shaky. "I almost—"

"Don't mention it," Moze interrupted, his tone firm. "Let's get what we came for and leave this place before there are more surprises."

Jiaoqiu's eyes were drawn back to the statue as he and Moze took a moment to catch their breath. Something nagged at him, a detail he had initially overlooked in the heat of battle. The statue's kimono—

He noticed that the kimono was worn right over left, a clear indication that it was a garment meant for the deceased. In contrast, living people traditionally wore their kimonos left over right. This detail, combined with the kitsune mask that adorned the statue, suddenly clicked in his mind.

"This... this is the Goddess of Betrayal's statue," Jiaoqiu hissed, his voice barely a whisper. The realization sent a chill down his spine. "It's her!"

Before he could say more, the monstrous creature, still lying in wait, let out another guttural roar. The statue's form shifted and writhed, its monstrous nature fully revealed. It charged at them once more, its eyes glowing with that hypnotic allure.

Moze, seeing the danger intensify, made a split-second decision. "Jiaoqiu, get out of here!" he shouted. "I'll hold it off. You need to save Feixiao. Get to the herb and get out!"

"No, Moze, we need to—" Jiaoqiu began, but Moze pushed him back towards the entrance of the chamber.

"Go! I'll handle this. I can't let you both die here," Moze said firmly. With a swift motion, he activated a mechanism on the door, locking Jiaoqiu inside the chamber with the monster.

Jiaoqiu's protests were drowned out by the clamor of the battle. He tried desperately to force the door open, but it was securely locked. He pounded on the door, shouting for Moze, but his cries were met only with the sounds of the struggle beyond.

Then came a scream—a piercing, agonizing sound that cut through the chaos. Jiaoqiu's heart sank as he realized it was Moze's voice. The sounds of the fight grew more desperate, and then suddenly, everything went quiet.

Jiaoqiu's breaths came in short, panicked gasps as he searched for a way out. His eyes darted around the chamber, looking for any possible escape route or a way to help Moze. But the door was firmly locked, and the only other exit seemed to be the way he came in—blocked by the monster now.

He turned back to the statue, his mind racing. The legends had spoken of the Goddess of Betrayal's curse: she could only return to the human realm through marriage, and if someone attempted to escape from her, they would die. The only way to save Moze—and himself—was to somehow appease the goddess, even if it meant sacrificing his own freedom.

Jiaoqiu felt a wave of desperation wash over him. He knew what kind of malevolent spirit Y/N L/N was reputed to be—a being who had betrayed the town. Yet, if he wanted to save his friend and complete their mission, he had to confront this deity.

He approached the statue with trembling steps, his heart pounding in his chest. The goddess's eyes seemed to follow him, their hypnotic glow now more pronounced than ever. Jiaoqiu took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he knew he had to do.

"I'm here," he said, his voice quavering but determined. "I'm willing to make a pact. I'll do whatever it takes."

As he spoke, the air around the statue seemed to shimmer with dark energy. Jiaoqiu could feel the pressure of the goddess's power building, an oppressive force that threatened to overwhelm him. But he remained resolute, focused on saving Moze and fulfilling their mission.

"I'm not afraid," Jiaoqiu declared, his voice growing stronger. "I'll marry you if it means saving my friend and completing our mission. I'll do whatever it takes."

Jiaoqiu's heart raced as he stood before the statue, holding the ancient text that revealed the solution to their dire predicament. The spell was clear—marriage to the kitsune spirit was the only way to save his friend. With a resolute expression, he read the incantation aloud, his voice steady despite the fear gnawing at him.

As he completed the spell, the statue's eyes began to flicker with life. Jiaoqiu approached, feeling the weight of his decision press heavily upon him. The goddess, a tragic figure bound by her curse, had her eyes closed, her form still and lifeless. He knew what he had to do to seal their pact.

With trembling hands, Jiaoqiu leaned in and pressed his lips gently against the statue's. The kiss was soft, almost tender, yet it carried the weight of his desperation and hope. As his lips met the cold stone, a shiver ran through him. The sensation was like stepping into a dream, where reality blurred with the ethereal. The statue's form began to change, her features softening, and her kimono—a deep, wine-red with black sashes and a grey obi—flowed around her as she transformed.

For a moment, you, the Goddess of Betrayal, felt the warmth of his kiss. Your eyes fluttered open, revealing a deep sadness mingled with an ancient, inscrutable power. You could see Jiaoqiu before you, his features illuminated by the dim light—a young man with pale salmon-colored hair and golden eyes that reflected a mixture of determination and vulnerability. He was almost hypnotized by the act, his gaze locked with yours as he awaited your response.

"You've bound yourself to me," you said, your voice a whisper that echoed with a sadistic edge. "How cute, a foxian marrying me. After all, it was a foxian I once killed with my own hands."

Your eyes softened momentarily as you gazed at him, your lips curving into a dark, melancholic smile. You leaned closer and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, a gesture both affectionate and haunting. "I will be a good wife, haunting you through every step you take."

Jiaoqiu's eyes widened, a mix of fear and awe reflected in them. He didn't fully understand the depth of your power or the true nature of your curse, but he sensed the gravity of his situation.

"Please," Jiaoqiu implored, "save Moze. He's in grave danger."

You nodded, You moved swiftly, your form a blur as you used your powers to navigate the darkened corridors of the temple. Your presence was a haunting shadow, manipulating the very essence of the surroundings to achieve your goal.

The scene was surreal: you, a goddess bound by a curse, moving with a grace that was both unsettling and beautiful. The power you wielded was palpable, shaping the environment around you as you searched for Moze.

Finally, you reached Moze's location, your eyes narrowing as you saw him injured but alive. With a decisive motion, you used your abilities to mend his wounds and transport him out of the locked chamber. The process was swift, the air around you shimmering with the force of your will.

Jiaoqiu, witnessing your actions, felt a mixture of relief and awe. He had bound himself to you in a moment of desperation, but now, as he saw you save his friend, he understood the complexity of his choice. Your presence was both a blessing and a curse, a reminder of the tragic fate that had led you to this moment.

With Moze safe and the immediate danger averted.

Moze's frustration was palpable as he slapped Jiaoqiu across the face, his eyes blazing with anger and confusion. "Why did you sacrifice yourself?" he demanded, his voice a low growl. "Why did you throw away everything for this?"

Jiaoqiu's eyes were red with tears, his face a portrait of anguish and resolve. "Because... because you were my friend," he choked out, his voice trembling. "And Feixiao was like family to me. I couldn't let him suffer, even if it meant enduring this... this fate. I would rather suffer myself than let him down."

Moze's silence was replaced by a fierce, unspoken rage. He raised his hand to slap Jiaoqiu again, his expression a mix of sorrow and fury. But just as his hand was about to connect, you, levitating gracefully above the floor, intervened. Your ethereal presence was both commanding and terrifying as you stopped his hand with a mere flick of your wrist.

"Hold your hand, mortal," you said, your voice echoing through the chamber with a chilling calm. "You're the emi of our lives, I don't wanna hurt you."

Moze pushed against the air with a sense of futile defiance, his frustration evident as he faced you. "You're not welcome here," he growled, his blade grasped tightly in his hand.

You hovered there, a spectral figure of disdain and amusement. "What are you looking at, while grasping that blade in your hand?" you taunted, your voice dripping with mockery. "Shall we speak to him, who can't recover his old self? You mock the very reason why he married me. I find it quite amusing—laughable even—that he chose to bind himself to me."

You floated closer, your gaze sharp and unforgiving. "He chose to sacrifice himself for a cause greater than your understanding. It is because of you that Jiaoqiu married me."

Your laughter was haunting. Moze's anger seemed to falter under the weight of your words, his expression a mix of confusion and disbelief as he struggled to comprehend the depth of Jiaoqiu's sacrifice and your own cruel amusement.

You continued to hover, your laughter echoing ominously through the chamber. The sound was both mocking and sorrowful, an unsettling blend that seemed to deepen the shadows around you. Moze, seething with anger and desperation, stepped forward, his voice fierce and filled with an edge of menace.

"The Luofu will see to it that you are beheaded," Moze threatened, his eyes locked onto yours. "You're nothing but a curse upon us. Leave Jiaoqiu alone, and get out of here!"

You looked at him with a cold, unsettling calm, your expression unphased by his fury. "Oh, I am the victim here, Moze," you said with a haunting smile. "I am bound to this curse, and I cannot turn back into a human unless I am married to someone for thirty days. Only then will I be freed from this torment."

Your eyes narrowed, a flicker of anger lighting up your gaze. "And yet, you ask me to leave, to abandon the one who bound himself to me. How quaint. You insist on telling me not to leave. Are you so eager to ensure my suffering continues?"

Jiaoqiu, sensing the growing tension, stepped between you and Moze, his voice urgent yet pleading. "Please, stop haunting Moze. He's already suffering enough."

You turned your gaze to Jiaoqiu, your expression momentarily softening as you regarded him. "And why should I? He is the one who forced this fate upon me. Yet, you plead for his sake. How touching."

Moze's eyes hardened, his tone laced with disdain. "Loyalty for a goddess after betrayal? Is that what you value so highly?"

For a moment, you were taken aback, a flicker of confusion crossing your features. The question struck a chord deep within you, stirring emotions you had long buried under layers of bitterness and rage. But you quickly masked your confusion, a cold smile returning to your lips.

"It seems you misunderstand," you said, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "Loyalty is but a tool, a means to an end. Betrayal and loyalty are mere players in the game of fate. I am bound by my curse, and he—Jiaoqiu—has chosen to play his part in this tragic tale."

Your gaze shifted back to Moze, your eyes reflecting a mixture of sorrow and disdain. "But remember, it is not just loyalty or betrayal that defines us. It is the choices we make, the sacrifices we endure, and the consequences of our actions. If you wish for me to leave, then so be it. But know that I will not forget the role each of you plays in this twisted narrative."

As you floated closer to Jiaoqiu, leaving Moze behind, your presence seemed to envelop the room with an eerie calm. Jiaoqiu, sensing the intensity of your gaze, instinctively took a step back, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and resignation.

You hovered gracefully before him, your expression softening into a smile that was both unsettling and strangely tender. Despite your past hatred for the foxians—rooted in deep-seated bitterness and betrayal—you found yourself unable to hate him. There was something about Jiaoqiu's demeanor, his gentle features, and the earnestness in his eyes that disarmed you.

"You know," you said softly, your voice carrying a strange, melodic tone. "Despite everything, I find I cannot hate you. You are so kind, so pretty in your own way. It is a rare thing, to find such sincerity amidst the shadows."

Jiaoqiu's heart pounded as he looked at you, his fear palpable. To him, your kind smile felt more like a haunting specter of doom than a promise of salvation. He closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the weight of the situation, and gave a slow, hesitant nod.

"I will be a good wife to you," you continued, your voice imbued with a gentle assurance that contrasted sharply with the chilling atmosphere. "I will fulfill the role expected of me. Though we are not officially married, this bond we have is undeniable."

As you spoke, Jiaoqiu tried to create some space between you, his hand trembling as he attempted to maintain distance. "We didn't marry officially," he said, his voice strained, trying to maintain his composure.

You chuckled softly, the sound both melodic and unnerving. you floated away, your presence lingered, leaving an unsettling stillness in the chamber. A soft, eerie light began to emanate from the statues, and suddenly, they began to stir. One by one, the statues moved as if guided by invisible strings, their once-stone forms now animated like puppets. The room came alive with a spectral, unsettling energy.

Moze, still bound and struggling, looked on in shock as the statues—now eerily lifelike—took their places around him, their movements synchronized in a macabre dance. His eyes widened as he realized the full extent of your powers and the dire situation he was in.

In a swirl of shimmering light, you transformed into a vision of ethereal beauty. The Kinmokusei blossom petals surrounded you, their sweet fragrance filling the air as you emerged in traditional Japanese wedding attire. The kimono you wore was a stunning array of intricate patterns and colors, the fabric flowing gracefully around you. Your appearance was both enchanting and unsettling, a blend of elegance and menace.

The statues, now fully animated, assumed the roles of your attendants. They moved with a precision that spoke of long practice, preparing the room for the grand event. Their silent, expressionless faces and fluid movements added to the surreal atmosphere.

You giggled softly, the sound a strange mix of joy and malevolence. Your eyes sparkled with a twisted delight as you directed the attendants, arranging the room and ensuring everything was perfect for the occasion.

Jiaoqiu, observing the transformation with a mix of dread and confusion, was soon approached by the attendants, who gently but firmly guided him into a male kimono designed specifically for the wedding. The kimono was elaborate, its fabric rich and luxurious, adorned with intricate embroidery that contrasted sharply with the somber atmosphere.

As Jiaoqiu was dressed in the ceremonial attire, he looked at you with a mixture of fear and resignation. You stood before him, your smile a blend of satisfaction and cold determination.

"Isn't it wonderful, Jiaoqiu?" you said, your voice sweet but carrying an underlying edge. "The ceremony is almost ready. All that remains is for us to finalize our bond."

Jiaoqiu's heart raced as he took in the surreal and haunting scene around him. The once-stone statues now moved with a life of their own, and the atmosphere was thick with the sense of impending doom. The wedding was no longer a mere formality—it had become an eerie, otherworldly ritual that tied him irrevocably to you.

As you approached, your gaze never leaving him, Jiaoqiu knew there was no escape from this twisted ceremony. The realization of his fate, bound by your will and the powers you wielded, left him feeling both trapped and powerless. The room, filled with the soft glow of Kinmokusei petals and the haunting presence of your attendants, seemed to pulse with a life of its own, marking the beginning of a dark and unbreakable bond.

The scene before Jiaoqiu was straight out of a nightmare, a dark and twisted version of a wedding ceremony. The once-stone statues, now animated and lifelike, moved with eerie precision. They formed a haunting procession, their eyes vacant yet filled with an unnatural, ghostly light. The atmosphere was thick with an oppressive silence, broken only by the soft rustling of Kinmokusei petals.

Moze, bound and helpless, watched in grim horror as you, now an embodiment of spectral elegance, took your place at the center of this unholy ceremony. Your mask, a golden fox visage, added to the sinister aura, its eyes glinting with a malevolent light.

With a commanding gesture, you pushed Jiaoqiu forward. He stumbled, his movements shaky, as the procession of animated statues—now disturbingly alive—moved in a perfectly synchronized manner. Each statue seemed to have a purpose, their once-dead eyes turning toward the couple as if they were part of the ceremony.

The statues, their faces twisted into grotesque smiles, began to twist their necks in unison, their bodies contorting in unnatural ways. Their movements were eerily fluid, as though they were performing an intricate, macabre dance. Despite their movements, their expressions remained hollow, a haunting echo of their former selves.

"You see, Jiaoqiu," you said softly, your voice carrying a dark, hypnotic undertone. "This is our wedding. A ceremony that binds us in ways beyond the mortal realm. These are the witnesses and the blessings. They are alive, in a sense, but bound to this realm by my will."

As you spoke, the statues' necks twisted further, their bodies stretching and contorting in a grotesque mimicry of life. They seemed to move with a purpose, their eerie, synchronized motions creating an unsettling harmony. The sight was both mesmerizing and horrifying, a testament to your power and the dark magic you wielded.

You floated gracefully behind Jiaoqiu, your presence both alluring and terrifying. The Kinmokusei petals drifted around you, their fragrance now tinged with an undertone of dread. Your mask, a symbol of your divine but twisted nature, added to the surreal and menacing atmosphere.

Jiaoqiu, his heart pounding and eyes wide with terror, looked around at the grotesque spectacle. He felt a deep sense of dread as he realized the full extent of his predicament. The once-beautiful ceremony had transformed into a dark, demonic ritual, and he was at its center, bound by fate and your will.

The statues, now eerily alive and animated, continued their dance, their movements a haunting echo of a ceremony long forgotten. They were both the audience and the participants in this unholy union, their twisted forms a stark reminder of the price Jiaoqiu had paid for attempting to save his friend.

The atmosphere was thick with anticipation as the ghostly figures completed their macabre dance. The haunting melody of the Kinmokusei blossoms floated around you, casting an ethereal glow on the scene. Jiaoqiu, trembling with fear and resignation, stood at the center of this twisted ceremony.

With a chilling grace, you approached him. The Kinmokusei petals continued to fall gently, their sweet scent now mingling with the oppressive dread in the air. Your attire had shifted to an elaborate Japanese wedding kimono, its intricate patterns and vibrant colors creating a stark contrast to the dark ritual unfolding. The ceremonial clothing was as elegant as it was eerie, a blend of tradition and otherworldly menace.

Jiaoqiu's eyes darted nervously from the animated statues to you. He took in your transformed appearance, the golden fox mask and the flowing kimono adding an otherworldly grace to your already haunting presence. His heart raced as he struggled to process the reality of the situation.

"Jiaoqiu," you said softly, your voice a haunting whisper that seemed to echo through the stillness. "We are bound by fate and ritual. This is our union, sealed by the forces beyond."

You reached out to him, your fingers cold and otherworldly as they brushed against his cheek. Jiaoqiu's breath caught in his throat, the touch both unsettling and strangely intimate. He closed his eyes, trying to brace himself for what was to come.

With a deliberate and practiced motion, you guided Jiaoqiu to the center of the ceremony. The statues, now fully animated, encircled the couple, their eyes fixed on the scene with a mix of eerie devotion and hollow anticipation. Their twisted forms seemed to sway in rhythm with the ceremony, creating an unsettling backdrop for the final act.

The ceremony's focal point was a large, ancient scroll held by one of the statues, its intricate symbols glowing with an unearthly light. You took the scroll and unrolled it, revealing the ancient marriage vows inscribed in a language both arcane and familiar. You began to recite the vows in a low, melodic chant, your voice weaving a spell of binding and enchantment.

Jiaoqiu, still trembling, tried to maintain composure. His heart was heavy with the weight of the situation, but he understood that there was no turning back. He nodded slowly, accepting his fate as you continued to recite the vows.

As the final words of the incantation left your lips, you moved closer to Jiaoqiu. Your eyes locked onto his, and you could see the mixture of fear and determination reflected in his gaze. With a gentle yet firm motion, you tilted his chin upward and leaned in to seal the marriage.

Your lips met Jiaoqiu's in a kiss that was both chilling and profound. The contact was not just physical but also mystical, a connection that seemed to bind your very souls together. Jiaoqiu felt a strange sensation, a mix of warmth and cold, as if he were being enveloped by a force that was both beautiful and terrifying.

As the kiss deepened, Jiaoqiu's mind swirled with a blend of emotions. The kiss was hypnotic, drawing him into a realm where time seemed to stand still. He felt a strange comfort amidst the dread, a bond forming between you both that transcended the ordinary.

When the kiss finally ended, you pulled back slightly, your eyes shining with a mix of satisfaction and cruel delight. The ceremony was complete, and the bond between you and Jiaoqiu was sealed. The statues, now fully animated, seemed to exhale a collective sigh, their movements becoming more fluid and less menacing.

Jiaoqiu, now officially bound to you, looked around at the eerie assembly of figures. His expression was a mix of relief and fear, knowing that he was now a part of this twisted ritual. The haunting beauty of the ceremony was over, but the implications of the union were just beginning to sink in.

You smiled softly, your gaze lingering on Jiaoqiu. "Welcome to our eternal bond, my dear husband," you said, your voice echoing with a sinister undertone. 

Acquired to exchange our lost bodies, Our twofaced thoughts,half dreaming,half awake In the end, I embrace & whisper to you Open it? Open it? Open it? Open it!

"Wake up!"