#Ritualistic Worship

[mindfulldsliving]

True Worship and Righteous Living: Insights from Alma 31

Alma 31 highlights the undeniable power of God's word to lead us to righteousness. Despite the Zoramites' severe separation from the Nephites, Alma trusted in the virtue of the word of God to bring them back.

God’s Word Leads Us to Righteousness: Insights from Alma 31 Righteousness is more than a mere term—it’s a way of life that aligns us with divine principles. Alma 31 addresses the complex issue the Nephites faced with the Zoramites, who had separated and adopted false beliefs. The solution might have initially seemed to lie in politics or force, but Alma knew better. He trusted the “virtue of the…

[deathstench]

Formed ten years ago, DEATHSTENCH released three albums and many eps.. The "Massed in Black Shadow" album was a great obscure and dangerous one..The crown of their sacrifice was their collaboration with Bon Masters Phurpa. John Paul Whetzel and Darea Plantin spells behind this interview.

“Blood Moon Divination” was your latest release. It was released in a limited amount of copies and only in Tape format. Why this choice?

We have always preferred analog releases. We view physical copies as something that should be appreciated.. Let's face it, it's the 21st century, and people do most of their listening through some sort of streaming service. If they like it, they most likely pirate it. We understand this; Our physical releases are intentionally designed for coveting.

We put a great deal of energy into each release. In our past special editions, we have included ritual accouterments that correspond with each album, such as shards of human bone and incense we made specifically for the intent to conjure with the dead.

You have released three albums. Please tell us the concept behind each one and the process of the recordings…Each release turns out to more noisy and dark forms..

To be precise it's four albums, and numerous collaborations and splits. Our releases are not in any sort of chronological order, from conception to the final product takes its own time dependant upon the haste of that particular record label. We record basically the same for each album, building upon a structured theme. Our music is built on layers of sounds from instruments, traditional and otherwise, that we record with either handheld devices or microphones connected to an audio interface which we use to record our percussion and amps.

Each track on "Blood Moon Divination" is an audial ritual recorded and released during each specific Blood Moon in the tetrad cycle of blood moon eclipses of 2014-2015. Through that span of time, these celestial vibrations were available as they were being released on several streaming platforms, including Black Metal and Brews and Repartiseraren. A tetrad of lunar eclipses is extremely uncommon. This was only the eighth of such cycles in over two thousand years. We compiled them together for a physical album that we chose to release during the first exclusive total solar eclipse the United States had seen in over two hundred years. Eclipses, both solar and lunar, are considered to be very inauspicious events throughout the world. As an omen of war, the Talmud regards "If the face of the moon is as red as blood it is a sign that the sword is coming to the world."

"N.O.X." is a transcendent four track journey that starts out violently with the lo-fi black metal track OXEX DAZIS SIATRIS, Enochian for "Vomiting The Head of Scorpions" and slowly transforms itself into a less chaotic discord that concludes with the meditative piece "Mysterivm Tremendvm". N.O.X. or "The Night of Pan", is a mystical state that represents the stage of ego-death in the process of spiritual attainment. The Greek word Pan also translates as All, as he is a symbol of the Universal, a personification of Nature; both Pangenetor, "all-begetter," and Panphage, "all-devourer". Pan is both the giver and the taker of life, and his Night is that time of symbolic death where the adept experiences unification with the All through the ecstatic destruction of the ego-self. In a more general sense, it is the state where one transcends all limitations and experiences oneness with the universe.

"Nekro Blood Ritual", our second album, was designed specifically for its cassette release and is broken into two sections: Conjuration Rites and Burial Evocation. This album focuses on conjuring the dead and the desecration of human remains. This is by far our most atmospheric album; most of the tracks are rely heavily on field recordings and stygian synthesizers to evoke the abject darkness. These songs are reminiscent to the "Incantations in Dead Tongues" era of our work. There are only two conventional (for use of a better term) songs on this album, "Nekrobloodritual" and "Desecrating The Host" the latter being a harsh black funeral doom dirge for the departed.

In our debut album, "Massed in Black Shadow" we utilize all of our influences through the years. Incorporating elements of death industrial, dark ambient, doom, and black metal, and hideously transforming and conjoining them into a writhing mass of absolute filth, a sound truly all our own. The final track, titled “Bastards of the Black Flame” can be considered a motto to us, as it is exactly who we are. The byproducts of an unholy union between some of the most violent forms of music, in both sound and ideologies.

DEATHSTENCH collaborated with Phurpa. How did this Union take form? Are you interested in the theory of empiricism in Bon Religion?

In 2012 Alexei Tegin had discovered our music from our debut album and contacted us. Both Phurpa and ourselves operate with the same meditative qualities regarding our music. Although our sound derives from different spectrums, they coalesce quite vividly. "Evoking Shadows of Death" fuses our ultrasonic vibrations and harsh atmospheres with the harmonious chants and deep, droning reverberations of their tantric voice. These two tracks are designed to help the chod practitioner tap the power of fear. This transformation does not fall spontaneously, as grace, upon the listener: the practitioner must engage in the process. One must take steps to transmute through the aural plane and, through a process in which they must actively participate, requiring utmost concentration and mental stamina. This mystical experience is achieved, not bestowed.

Empirical reasoning has no place in esoteric practices and the occult. These objects are neither phenomena (empiricism) nor human constructs imposed upon the phenomena (idealism), but real structures which endure and operate independently of our knowledge, our experience and the conditions which allow us access to them. Some things cannot be reduced down to empirical measurements.

Thanatology and satanism are your basic influences. How do you define satanism and how death in your personal path?

Deathlore has always intrigued the both of us. There is absolutely nothing more final than Death. Every single one of us will die, as Death does not discriminate. Dying, death and how human beings respond to the inevitability of their mortality and cope with the reality of loss can be viewed from a wide range of perspectives. Our intent has never been to elaborate on our practices or rituals to any audience. Even the altars we allow you to see are set up specifically for public viewing. While they are still symbolic of what we would normally produce for our own rituals, the intent isn't there. It's merely superficial. Our personal altars and rituals will always remain clandestine, as all witchcraft should be.

“Those who know do not speak. Those who speak do not know.” ― Lao Tzu

I would like to hear your thoughts and if you are into the systems of O.N.A & Temple of the Black Light in theory and praxis as Traditional satanic approach you unveil through your works . Satanism is such an elaborate construct; Atheistic, LaVeyan, theistic, there are so many paths. Satan has always been symbolic with the quest for Knowledge, of opposition to arbitrary authority, forever defending personal sovereignty even in the face of insurmountable odds. Our path cannot be defined by one simple ideology.

We have absolutely no affiliation with these groups.

Does DEATHSTENCH ever perform live?

We are very selective in our live performances. The last show was in Portland, Oregon way back in 2015 when we opened up for MGLA, Weregoat, and Sempiternal Dusk. Alan Dubin (of Gnaw, Khanate) and Billy Anderson, whom we have long collaborated with, did a sort of dueling vocals approach to our fifteen-minute audial assault on an beyond-capacity crowd. This show was recorded by Mateo from Greysun Records who also released it on his label in 2018.

Necromancy is an Old Art Like Time.Ancient Greece had deep roots also in this Subject. Are you familiar with the Ancient Greek Mysteries?

Yes, we are familiar with some of the Chthonic mysteries highlighting mortality and the briefness of life, and the spirits of the blessed dead. Though, like most true paths of esoteric knowledge, not much is truly known about the intricacies of these rituals, having been sworn to secrecy and then lost to the Sands of Time. It has been suggested that communicants would drink Kykeon infused with the psychotropic fungus ergot which helped the initiate to reach a fuller understanding of their purpose in life and to shed their fear of death and this, then, heightened the experience and helped transform the initiate. The same can be said of the Huichol in Mexico, who eat peyote at the completion of long arduous pilgrimages in order that they may experience in the journey of the soul of the dead to the underworld. Death worship and eschatology are celebrated by all cultures throughout time, most with the use of hallucinogens.

I would like to hear your thoughts on these words: “This being true for the ordinary Universe, that all sense-impressions are dependent on changes in the brain we must include illusions, which are after all sense-impressions as much as “realities” are, in the class of “phenomena dependent on brain-changes.”  ― S.L. MacGregor Mathers, Goetia the Lesser Key of Solomon the King: Lemegeton, Book 1 Clavicula Salomonis Regis

In contemporary education, the emphasis has been on the psychomotor and the cognitive, namely reading, writing, and arithmetic, at the expense of the affective, namely, the emotions, the sensual, the intuitive, and the imaginative. Priority has been assigned to the verbal-intellectual skills. Anything else tends to be shelved or boxed and put away as ephemeral, esoteric, or mystical, each of these terms being used in a pejorative sense.

Consider for a moment the human sensory system. To the scientific mind, the senses are perceived to act as a kind of data-reduction system. The problem with this concept of the senses is that we do not respond to all that is potential sensory input. Perception is quite a selective process, attending to only a small fraction of so-called reality.

To some extent, scientist or artist, everything we perceive is "illusory," since to perceive anything at all we must use our imaginative capacity for fantasy.

What can we expect from DEATHSTENCH in the near future?

We have a few albums waiting in the shadows including collaborations with Sektor 304 and LINEKRAFT, as well as another full-length album incorporating both Billy Anderson and Alan Dubin. Time is relative, and there are no promises as to when any of these releases will see the light of day.

[bunniesbearsandadventures]

I remember going on a trip to mexico and they had these things you could paint.

I chose this Bird

I painted an anarchy symbol on him

I call him the anarchy bird

[tteokdoroki]

ᯓ★ ONCE UPON A FUCK ME !? — kinktober 2024 !

mirror mirror on the wall, who’s the filthiest fairytale of them all? your favourite storybook characters, reimagined.

✧ there’s a note from your fairy godmother - hello my angels !! welcome to another kinktober. i hope you guys are as excited as i am. wave your magic wand here ! to join the taglist. rb for a happy ending ₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡.

✧ read the blurb - each of the following fairytales contain nsfw and dark themes. fem!reader. each fic comes with its own warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact.

✐ᝰ.ᐟ CHAPTER ONE RAPUNZEL - satoru gojo.

[OCT 1ST ★ BONDAGE] once upon a time, a girl trapped in a tower with nothing but her extremely lavish, long hair as company decides…fuck it and sleeps with a handsome stranger to get what she wants.

additional kinks. orgasm control, sensory deprivation, edging, thigh riding, spit kink, outer-course, begging, switching.

✐ᝰ.ᐟ CHAPTER EIGHT BEAUTY & THE BEAST - katsuki bakugou.

[OCT 8TH ★ MONSTER FUCKING] once upon a time, a village girl thinks to herself — fuck it! being trapped inside a castle with a monstrous sexy bloody beast isn’t so bad… she might as well make it worth her while.

additional kinks. bath sex, soft sex, blood play, size kink, praise kink, body worship, body modifications.

✐ᝰ.ᐟ CHAPTER FIFTEEN CINDERELLA - tobio kageyama.

[OCT 15TH ★ MUTUAL MASTURBATION] once upon a time, a soon-to-be crowned princess, once down on her luck, says fuck it and settles on consummating her marriage with the crown prince before they’re actually due to be married.

additional kinks. oral sex, clothed sex, cherry chasing, first time, corruption.

✐ᝰ.ᐟ CHAPTER SIXTEEN THE LITTLE MERMAID - eijirou kirishima.

[OCT 16TH ★ FUCK OR DIE] once upon a time, a princess decides — fuck it! fuck the engagement. who cares when a sexy half-man, half -fish…prince? whatever! needs to drown her in an ocean of pleasure in order to survive…

additional kinks. underwater sex, ritualistic sex, voice kink, pain kink, choking, quickie.

✐ᝰ.ᐟ CHAPTER TWENTY TWO SLEEPING BEAUTY - seishiro nagi.

[OCT 22ND ★ SOMNOPHILIA] once upon a time, a brave knight, destined to marry someone she’d never met, says fuck it and plans to reap the rewards of saving the prince from eternal slumber. without realising that he’s already awake…

additional kinks. hold the moan, overstimulation, cockwarming, dacryphilia, outer-course, free use, dub con, cumplay.

✐ᝰ.ᐟ CHAPTER TWENTY NINE LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD - yuuji itadori.

[OCT 29TH ★ KNOTTING] once upon a time, a curious little girl says fuck it and disobeyes her mother’s only wish. stay on the path when you visit your granny, you don’t want to get snatched up by the big bad wolf.

additional kinks. wolf hybrids, mating season, oral fixation, sweat + scent kink, pregnancy kink, lactation, breeding, a/b/o.

✐ᝰ.ᐟ BONUS CHAPTER: GOLDILOCKS & THE THREE BEARS - bachira, isagi 'n nagi.

[OCT 31ST ★ CUCKING] once upon a time, a sweet little bear hybrid on her own in the woods decides... fuck it! she'll teach that pesky thief goldilocks what it really means to share. with the help of friends, of course.

additional kinks. bear hybrids, double penetration, mutual masturbation, deep throating, brat taming, exhibitionism, multiple orgasms, foursome, dub-con, coercion, marking, oral sex.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai & recommend elsewhere.

[blueheartbooks]

Illuminating the Mysteries: A Journey Within the Temple of Isis by Belle M. Wagner

Belle M. Wagner's "Within the Temple of Isis" takes readers on a captivating journey into the mystical realms of ancient wisdom, seamlessly blending historical richness with spiritual exploration. The book serves as a portal, inviting readers to delve into the sacred sanctuary of Isis, unraveling the secrets that lie within.

Wagner's prose is an enchanting tapestry that weaves together vivid imagery, profound insights, and a deep reverence for the spiritual traditions associated with the Temple of Isis. The author's meticulous research is evident, creating an authentic backdrop that breathes life into the narrative. Through her words, readers are transported to a bygone era, where the divine and earthly coalesce in a dance of profound significance.

The exploration within the temple is not merely a physical one; it's a journey of the soul. Wagner adeptly guides readers through the intricate corridors of mysticism, touching upon themes of self-discovery, transformation, and the universal quest for meaning. The prose dances with the rhythm of ancient rituals, creating an immersive experience that transcends time and space.

The strength of Wagner's narrative lies in her ability to balance historical accuracy with a poetic touch. She navigates the delicate line between scholarly discourse and accessible storytelling, ensuring that both seasoned researchers and casual readers can find value within the pages. The result is a book that not only informs but also inspires, making the esoteric wisdom of the Temple of Isis accessible to a broad audience.

"Within the Temple of Isis" is more than a book; it's a beckoning call to those seeking a deeper understanding of spirituality and ancient mysteries. Wagner's work is a testament to her passion for the subject matter and her commitment to sharing the timeless teachings embedded in the heart of the temple. For anyone ready to embark on a transformative odyssey, this book stands as a luminous guide, ready to illuminate the path within.

Belle M. Wagner's "Within the Temple of Isis" is available in Amazon in paperback 9.99$ and hardcover 17.99$ editions.

Number of pages: 108

Language: English

Rating: 7/10                                           

Link of the book!

Review By: King's Cat

[blueheartbookclub]

Illuminating the Mysteries: A Journey Within the Temple of Isis by Belle M. Wagner

Belle M. Wagner's "Within the Temple of Isis" takes readers on a captivating journey into the mystical realms of ancient wisdom, seamlessly blending historical richness with spiritual exploration. The book serves as a portal, inviting readers to delve into the sacred sanctuary of Isis, unraveling the secrets that lie within.

Wagner's prose is an enchanting tapestry that weaves together vivid imagery, profound insights, and a deep reverence for the spiritual traditions associated with the Temple of Isis. The author's meticulous research is evident, creating an authentic backdrop that breathes life into the narrative. Through her words, readers are transported to a bygone era, where the divine and earthly coalesce in a dance of profound significance.

The exploration within the temple is not merely a physical one; it's a journey of the soul. Wagner adeptly guides readers through the intricate corridors of mysticism, touching upon themes of self-discovery, transformation, and the universal quest for meaning. The prose dances with the rhythm of ancient rituals, creating an immersive experience that transcends time and space.

The strength of Wagner's narrative lies in her ability to balance historical accuracy with a poetic touch. She navigates the delicate line between scholarly discourse and accessible storytelling, ensuring that both seasoned researchers and casual readers can find value within the pages. The result is a book that not only informs but also inspires, making the esoteric wisdom of the Temple of Isis accessible to a broad audience.

"Within the Temple of Isis" is more than a book; it's a beckoning call to those seeking a deeper understanding of spirituality and ancient mysteries. Wagner's work is a testament to her passion for the subject matter and her commitment to sharing the timeless teachings embedded in the heart of the temple. For anyone ready to embark on a transformative odyssey, this book stands as a luminous guide, ready to illuminate the path within.

Belle M. Wagner's "Within the Temple of Isis is available in Amazon in paperback 9.99$ and hardcover 17.99$ editions.

Number of pages: 108

Language: English

Rating: 7/10                                           

Link of the book!

Review By: King's Cat

[dailyhatsune]

miku as my babaylan oc who is trans

babaylan research dump (mostly from memory so it’s gonna be pretty distilled):

babaylans are the lead shamans of indigenous filipino tribes (mostly northside, the luzon and visayas area, rip mindanao) that are responsible for practically every spiritual aspect of the community. only women were allowed to be babaylans, since, according to local mythos, women had more affinity to the spiritual realm.

however, what i find notable about babaylans is that their requirements also include transgender women! one does not simply choose to become a babaylan, instead, she has to train under a senior and go through a ritual before the anito (local spirits) deemed her worthy of representing them. the only exception is if a girl went through something that confirmed to the people immediately that she had anito approval. notably, trans women were also among the subset of girls who got to skip the selection process. this is my speculation but i like to think it’s probably because the locals considered the realisation that one was trans as anito approval. assigned female by duende

usually, i’m very wary of putting modern queer labels onto historical figures (we don’t know how they would identify now), but spanish colonial records noted that amab babaylans, outside of their ritualistic roles, would live like women (down to having husbands), were treated like women and were simply considered women barring the ability to bear children. if she walks like a woman, talks like woman…that didn’t stop the spanish settlers from misgendering them, though.

that being said, in present day, while there are still people out there practising babaylan rituals, they’re mostly men who only take on feminine appearances during the rituals, and live as men in their regular lives. this stems back from the spanish colonial period and we are not getting into that now this read more is long enougb as it is

personally i find this fascinating because, at least for what i was able to look into, trans babaylans were the only time i could look at a historical indigenous gender identity and definitively refer to them as lgbt. most other indigenous identities are either meant to be their own thing (not native american, but i remember reading discourse over whether two-spirit should be considered nb or as its own thing) or far too complex to be described with the western modern lgbt terms (although they generally present feminine, the hijras from india classify themselves as a separate third gender and worship specific deities from hinduism). maybe i haven’t looked hard enough but it’s so interesting to hear about old communities where women, and especially trans women, were basically the most important figures

anyway sorry for rambling. sometimes i like to ramble.

[scotland]

Sunset over Ceann Hulavig stone circle on the Isle of Lewis 🌅

Ceann Hulavig is an ancient stone circle located on the Isle of Lewis in the Outer Hebrides, Scotland. This prehistoric site, also known as the Callanish IV stone circle, is part of a broader collection of megalithic structures known collectively as the Calanais Stones (or Callanish Stones). The Ceann Hulavig circle consists of standing stones arranged in a circular pattern and dates back to the Neolithic period, approximately between 3000 and 2000 BCE.

The Calanais Stones are a significant archaeological ensemble comprising several stone circles, standing stones, and other prehistoric structures scattered across the region. The primary and most famous site is the Calanais I, which features a central stone circle with a cruciform arrangement of monoliths extending from it. These ancient monuments are believed to have been constructed for ceremonial or ritualistic purposes, and they are aligned in ways that suggest an astronomical function, possibly related to lunar and solar cycles.

The exact purpose of the Calanais Stones remains a subject of ongoing research and debate. Theories suggest they could have served as a place of worship, a community gathering site, or an ancient astronomical observatory. The alignment of the stones indicates a sophisticated understanding of astronomy among the Neolithic people who built them.

Ceann Hulavig, like the other Calanais sites, offers valuable insights into the prehistoric past and the spiritual and social lives of the ancient inhabitants of the Isle of Lewis. These sites continue to attract researchers, historians, and tourists, drawn by their historical significance and the mystery that still surrounds their original use.

[blackenedsnow]

Hi I don’t know if you write this kind of stuff but I’d like to request a headcanon of Art the clown being into period sex?? I feel like he’d enjoy it?? Pls dismiss this if it’s too gross or weird

art the clown being into period sex ; headcanons

WARNING: NSFW/18+, period sex, blood, rough and intense intimacy, possessive behavior, some gore themes

PAIRING: Art the Clown x Reader

NOTE: Thanks for the bold request haha! I also think Art would be into period sex. It’s crazy because I was literally talking to my friend about it. (Reader has a vulva)

Art is drawn to blood in ways that go beyond typical arousal; it’s a mixture of awe and desire.

The moment he catches that hint of iron in the air, he’s transfixed, almost worshipful.

He enjoys how period blood flows naturally, almost ritualistically, and it only adds to his excitement.

Art isn’t just content with simple intimacy—he likes to turn things into a performance.

Expect him to toy with you, smear, trace, and maybe even draw shapes on your body, admiring the colors as he works you up.

He’ll never miss a chance to turn the act into something “artistic”.

He's so nasty

He’s practically delighted with the idea of things getting messy, like a kid with a new set of paints.

Art will touch and smear in every place, relishing the wetness and enjoying every drop.

He’ll pull your thighs apart just to see how much blood he can spread, taking his time with each movement, watching your body react.

There’s something almost reverent about how he goes down on you during this time, as if savoring a meal.

He’s unafraid to get messy and won’t stop until he’s left no inch untouched, his mouth smudged with red.

There’s no hesitancy, no disgust—only fascination as he laps up every bit, making it an experience as indulgent as it is horrific.

With blood smeared across his face and hands, Art enjoys pressing his fingers down, leaving red fingerprints along your skin.

His usual twisted humor plays into it, as he might even “play doctor,” mockingly inspecting you with exaggerated gestures.

Wow what a freak

[play-now-my-lord]

in the late Usamerican death cult, many offered worship despite other overt religious commitments via a ritual experts call "Grilling". An informal canon is beginning to emerge describing the feast days and seasons of the calendar during which "Grilling" was acceptable. Those prepared to participate in the late Usamerican death cult assembled in small gatherings outdoors in private residences or state-owned land; they would then light contained fires to cook forcemeat and small cuts over an open grill. While some suggest this is a ritualistic reenactment of cooking methods that predominated before the electric range, it remained prominent even in households with gas or other ranges, and evidence has emerged that many households maintained both a gas range and a gas grill. The openness of the grill was of sacredotal importance; drippings of fat and myoglobin would both feed and foul the fire, ritually recreating the subordination of the natural world to the thanatos complex. It was rare, sometimes even actively discouraged, for these grills to be cleaned in spite of obvious food safety concerns.

Despite late Usamerican culture's famous fixation on meaningless choices at the point of consumption of material goods, the master of ceremonies was expected and encouraged to impose "correct" gustatory choices on the ritual participants, and in all cases it was taken as granted that the host would choose and openly express strong opinions on the fuel source, acceptable 'brands' and varieties of forcemeat and small cuts, etc. While this ritual complex was similar to a related tradition in late Usamerican culture, the "Dinner Party", key differences include the anticipation of male leadership (possibly suggesting a late evolution of the patriarchial "Grilling" complex against the backdrop of a more matriarchial/matrilocal society), a relatively standardized bill of fare, and in direct contradistinction to the "Dinner Party" complex, the clear expectation of a radically imbalanced nutritional profile favoring fat and protein. It is debated whether alcoholic libations were ever central to the late Usamericans' understanding of "Grilling"; yet it is certain that even for female participants, where drinking did take place, beer and neat spirits were favored, and wines and mixed beverages were regarded as inappropriate.

"Grilling" is a subject on which voluminous scholarship exists, and this survey is necessarily too brief to contain research done on several aspects and sub-complexes in the late Usamerican death cult, including the predominance of plastic and plastic-coated utensils and servingware regarded as single-use, the loose canon of acceptable and unacceptable forcemeats, the emergence, exoticization, and decline of the "Shish Kebab", and the layers of ironic subtext in "Grilling"-dominated late Usamerican works like King of the Hill or Twitter. Strange as it might seem to us, "Grilling" tied late Usamerican men together in casual yet firm homosocial bonds (while both reflecting and reaffirming existing dominance-submission relationships) almost as efficiently as men throughout history have typically achieved by simply fucking nasty

[bsdawgz]

「 ✦ Closer ✦ 」 Bungo Stray Dogs, Armed Detective Agency: Osamu Dazai

a/n: inspired by the morning voice post by @lovedazai (THIS), nin, and curiosity about how dazai would f#@% in the morning

genre: nasty and a sprinkle of fluff. (early) established relationship.

content warning: f!reader. MDNI! nasty ahead! some edging, begging, and praise. body worship + oral sex (m! and f! receiving for both. everyone wins!). religious imagery. you've been warned.

summary: in the morning, dazai likes to spoil you in bed ♡

just as you're about to get out of bed, you're stopped by soft lips against the nape of your neck, gently traveling across your skin as slender fingers grasp at your hips, coaxing you back into the futon and into a warm embrace. a quiet yawn into your shoulder is followed by a series of loving kisses up and down your spine – dazai's morning ritual as he tries to persuade you to stay in bed just a little longer, linger in his arms for just a minute or two more. in the mornings, he's always so resistant to getting up, so clingy and attached and so determined to not go into work. why waste his time laboring away at the ada when he can waste his life away in the arms of a beautiful woman instead?

"good morning, pretty girl." his voice is deeper, richer, in the morning, slightly raspy from a good sleep brought from being tangled in one another's bodies the night before. it's alluring, sexy, even, the way that he whispers in your ear and pulls you closer tight against his chest, as though he can't get enough as you, tracing circles into your naked back with his fingertips, etching his initials into your skin as if to remind you that your his and his alone, his lips lingering on your earlobe, his breath tickling your neck –

– and he pulls you closer, closer,

and closer.

it's never quite enough for him.

molding into your body and seeking your warmth, "won't you pay attention to me~?" he coos, fingers playing with the waistband of your panties teasingly. you feel him adjust your hips slightly, and at this angle you can feel him now – all of him. the heat that emanates from his skin, the firmness of his chest pressed against yours, and most of all, the hardness in his boxers as he pushes up against you – you can sense him just smirking once he knows that you can feel him there.

"i hope you know how much i like you," he whispers, and his voice is so tempting, almost as tempting as the way that his hands smooth over your stomach and the way that they grasp your waist. those hands fit so perfectly around your body, around your breasts, around your hips. you feel him squeeze you, sighing into your skin, and you melt into his touch. ever since dazai started dating you, it's been impossible for him to keep his hands off of you – touching you felt ritualistic, like going to church. it was like a necessary reminder that you're real, that you exist, that you're alive.

being able to bask in your light, to soak in your vitality –

it felt like breathing – like living, even.

as he buries his nose into the crook of your shoulder, tangling his fingers in your hair, you can feel his warm breath against your neck. "mm, your body feels so soft," he murmurs affectionately, continuing to pamper you with soft, gentle kisses. these innocent touches might satisfy him for now, but it's never long until he's impassioned to get on top of you – and that's exactly what he does, shifting his weight until you're underneath him, ensnared in his bandaged arms.

"do you want me?" he asks you teasingly, swiping his tongue across his lips. there's this wicked grin on his face as he bats his long, thick lashes at you knowingly – there are no secrets you can keep from dazai. "you always feel so soft, especially here," he whispers sweetly in your ear, lips lingering on your earlobe as he nudges your legs apart with his knee. you can feel warmth spread wildly across your skin as you grow wet from just his subtle touch. he brings his fingers between your legs only to trail them along the side of your thighs until you're writhing underneath him, then those same slender fingers are brushing 'accidentally' against the place you want him most. it's fleeting – a moment gone too soon, yet you find your hips impulsively moving, desperately trying to chase after him.

"you know, that was pretty perverted of you..." he says tauntingly, eyes glinting with amusement. you flush with embarrassment, but it's not long until you feel his fingers press against your entrance for real, this time tracing your folds through the cotton of your panties, deliberately dampening the fabric with your arousal. "so dirty, huh." he's eyeing you like a wolf as he lowers himself onto your body, soft brown bangs falling into his darkened eyes as he grins at you smugly.

kissing down your body, along your collarbone and the curve of your shoulders, his large hands grasp your breasts, massaging them and lavishing them with gentle kisses. you gasp as his tongue encircles around a nipple, as he sucks hickies into your chest, as he molds his hands around your shape. then, continuing down your body, he stops below your navel, glancing up at you – "you want me here?"

you nod, then you feel his hands on you once more, slowly peeling your panties down your legs.

dazai holds you're sacred, like you're the source of life itself, laying his head down in front of you as though there's some altar hidden between your thighs. for a moment, all you can feel is his warm breath against your skin – nothing more.

then, everything at once –

– that heavenly feeling of his tongue, licking you so agonizingly slowly, so sweetly, so sinfully. you feel him ease a finger inside of you, then two, his delicate, beautiful fingers reaching somewhere you could never. then, pulling you flush against his mouth, he laps at you thirstily, tongue swirling around your clit until you're moaning out his name, until you're melting on his saliva. "dazai–" you hardly manage to stammer out, panting helplessly. "i want you... please... i want you in my mouth, too..."

you get on your knees as though to worship him. shuffling his boxers down his legs, you're desperate to just to touch him now – to finally taste him on your tongue. you feel its warmth against your skin as you press his length against your face, smear the precum that's pearling from the tip against your cheek, licking up the shaft seductively as you gaze up at him with doe eyes that are intent on having him watch you... but of course, he's going to watch you – focusing on your every movement with these half-lidded eyes that are clouded over with sheer desire and wanton lust. his hands tangle in your hair as he bites back a soft moan, enamored by the way you're rubbing his dick all over your sweet, innocent face. you can just feel him throbbing in your hands. how he aches for more, for you to put him in your mouth and devour him completely.

you stroke him gently, placing loving kisses on that pretty tip of his before sloppily wrapping your lips around him. saliva drips from your mouth, dribbles down your chin as you try to deepthroat him, and you gag as you feel the head hit the back of your throat. "that's it," he sighs pleasurably, throwing his head back. "god, you're good to me."

determined to finish him, you pick up the pace before you can choke on him – but he pulls himself out of your mouth suddenly with a soft laugh, resigning to stroking himself lazily with one hand. "fuck," you hear him curse under his breath, exasperated. "i'm already close.” he grins up at you playfully, then reaches across the bedside table for a condom, rolling it down his length before mindlessly tossing the plastic wrapper aside. then, grabbing you by the wrists, he tugs you into his lap to straddle him. "–not until i have you first."

there's a renewed wickedness in this eyes now, like he's up to no good. you watch him in anticipation as he starts guiding the blunt head inside of you... only to slide it back out of your slick folds, slipping the tip in and out of you teasingly, listening to the deliciously wet sound of your squeezing around nothing at all. "don't.. tease...!" you plead, but it's no use. your thighs give out as you feel him slap it lightly against your slick, hips spasming at the sudden impact, however slight. then, he laughs a sort of devious laugh, delighting in the needy way you squirm for him.

"tell me how badly you want it first," he insists, his voice a low, erotic whisper in your ear, his tongue tracing a line along the lobe. you can feel just the tip prodding at your entrance once more. as you try to roll your hips forward to meet his, his firm hands keep you in place. you whine out his name – not good enough, it seems.

so, you cry out, beg pathetically – beg for more and more. dazai watches you intently, wonder gleaming in those deep brown eyes of his as you struggle to feel him, to touch him, your body coming alive for him –

as you urge him to pull you closer, closer,

and closer.

it's never quite enough for you.

then, when he just can't help himself anymore, he sinks you onto him and fills you completely, pressing his body against yours until you're tangled so perfectly in his arms.

being close to you like this – it's started to feel a bit more like breathing to him,

– like living, even.

© BSDAWGZ 2024. Do not steal or repost ANY of my works! That’s plagiarism, and it’s mean. :(( Beautiful dividers by @ v6que!

[lottiesgrl]

𝗹𝗼𝘁𝘁𝗶𝗲 𝗺𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘄𝘀 + 𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽 𝗯𝗹𝘂𝗿𝗯

cw: nsfw, oral (r!receiving), body worship (r!receiving), slight voyeurism

i've been thinking a lot about lottie and body worship, but more specifically, i've been thinking of antler queen lottie and body worship. if you thought lottie liked to worship your body before the crash, you're in for a surprise when lottie tells you all the things she wants to do to you while you're in the wilderness.

sex in the wilderness is ritualistic to her. another way to make the wilderness happy, she explains, and don't you want the wilderness to be happy? it's not like you need much convincing - the second she gets on her knees with that pretty white dress and her antler crown obscuring part of her face, you're all hers.

she goes all out for it, too. lit candles, flower petals, and in the center of the room, an animal skull. you'd think it was an alter, if not for the fact that lottie is treating your body like it's the real alter. soft kisses all the way up your thighs, kisses on your stomach while she holds onto your hips to steady you, and when you cup your cheek, she peppers your hand in kisses as well. it ultimately culminates in her face between your thighs, lapping the arousal that drips from your wet heat.

it's usually a private affair, but sometimes when lottie is feeling adventurous (and you give her your very enthusiastic consent), she'll worship your body in front of the others. they're allowed to watch but not touch; after all, who would dare to touch what belonged to lottie? the girls all agree, and you think it's because they're too afraid to say no to lottie, but once you see all their hungry glares while lottie's tongue is buried in your cunt, you can't help but think that maybe they had alterior motives.

[cigardaddylover]

“The Ritual of Submission”

The vast expanse of the forest was Jackson’s sanctuary, a place where he could escape the mundane routines of his college life. But more than that, it was a realm of secret desires, a haven where he could explore the depths of his fantasies. The stories he’d heard of the rugged, dominant cowboy who roamed these woods had stirred something deep within him. The cowboy, with his broad shoulders, thick beard, and the ever-present cigar, was a figure of raw masculinity and power.

Jackson had ventured deeper into the forest that evening, driven by an irresistible urge. The scent of pine mixed with the smoky aroma of a cigar, guiding him like a beacon. As he approached a clearing, his breath caught in his throat. There he was, the cowboy, standing tall and imposing against the backdrop of towering trees. He wore a plaid shirt that clung to his muscular frame, leather chaps that highlighted his powerful legs, and a wide-brimmed hat that cast a shadow over his rugged face. The thick, hefty cigar in his mouth was a testament to his dominance, the smoke curling around him like a protective shroud.

Jackson felt a shiver of anticipation as he stepped closer. The cowboy’s eyes met his, a spark of recognition and authority in their depths. Without a word, the cowboy beckoned him with a single, commanding gesture.

“On your knees, boy,” the cowboy’s voice was a deep, resonant growl that reverberated through Jackson’s entire being.

Trembling with a mix of fear and excitement, Jackson dropped to his knees. The forest floor was cool beneath him, grounding him in the moment. The cowboy stepped forward, his boots crunching on the fallen leaves. The scent of the cigar was intoxicating, mingling with the earthy aroma of the woods.

The cowboy’s hand moved to his belt, unbuckling it with deliberate slowness. Jackson’s heart raced as the zipper of the cowboy’s jeans was pulled down, revealing the impressive length of his cock. Thick and uncut, it mirrored the heft of the cigar the cowboy was smoking, a symbol of his raw, masculine power.

“Take it,” the cowboy ordered, his voice a blend of challenge and command.

Jackson’s hands shook slightly as he reached out, his fingers wrapping around the cowboy’s cock. He leaned forward, his lips parting as he took the head into his mouth, the taste of the cowboy’s arousal mingling with the smoky air. The cowboy’s hand found its way to the back of Jackson’s head, guiding him with firm, controlled pressure.

“Good boy,” the cowboy murmured, taking a long drag from his cigar. “Now, show me what you can do.”

Jackson began to suck, his tongue swirling around the head of the cowboy’s cock as he took more of it into his mouth. The cowboy’s hand tightened in his hair, a reminder of who was in control. Jackson’s head bobbed up and down, his mouth working eagerly as the cowboy’s moans of pleasure filled the air.

The cowboy’s other hand moved to his cigar, taking it from his mouth and exhaling a thick cloud of smoke. The scent surrounded them, creating an intimate, almost ritualistic atmosphere. The cowboy’s dominance was palpable, a force that commanded Jackson’s submission.

“Deeper,” the cowboy growled, pushing Jackson’s head down until his cock hit the back of Jackson’s throat. Jackson gagged slightly but recovered quickly, determined to please the cowboy.

The cowboy’s hips began to thrust, fucking Jackson’s mouth with a steady, powerful rhythm. Jackson’s eyes watered, but he kept his focus, his hands gripping the cowboy’s thighs for support. The cowboy’s moans grew louder, his pleasure evident as he took another drag from his cigar.

The smoky haze enveloped them, the scent of the cigar mingling with the raw, musky aroma of their arousal. Jackson’s jaw ached, but he relished the sensation, the act of worshipping the cowboy with his mouth. The cowboy’s dominance was all-encompassing, his power a tangible presence that left Jackson trembling with desire.

“Good boy,” the cowboy praised, his voice rough with pleasure. “You’re taking it so well.”

Jackson’s heart swelled at the cowboy’s words, a sense of pride and fulfillment washing over him. He sucked harder, his tongue working expertly as he brought the cowboy closer to release. The cowboy’s thrusts grew more erratic, his grip in Jackson’s hair tightening as he approached the edge.

With a final, powerful thrust, the cowboy came, his cock pulsing in Jackson’s mouth. Jackson swallowed eagerly, the taste of the cowboy’s release mingling with the smoky flavor of the cigar. The cowboy’s moans of pleasure were a symphony in Jackson’s ears, a testament to his success in pleasing his dominant.

As the cowboy’s breathing steadied, he gently pulled Jackson’s head back, looking down at him with a mixture of satisfaction and approval. The cowboy took one last drag from his cigar, the smoke curling around them like a protective shroud.

“You did well,” the cowboy said, his voice softening slightly. “I’m proud of you.”

Jackson smiled, a sense of accomplishment and contentment filling him. He had found what he had been searching for—a place where he could submit, where he could find pleasure in his surrender to a powerful, dominant man. The forest, with its towering trees and earthy scents, had become a sanctuary, a place where his desires could be fully realized.

In the heart of the woods, surrounded by the scent of pine and cigar smoke, Jackson found his true self. The cowboy’s dominance was a force of nature, a power that commanded respect and submission. And Jackson was more than willing to give it, knowing that he had finally found his place in the world.

[shaunaswhore]

Lottie's Pet

Charlotte "Lottie" Matthews x Fem!Reader

Trigger Warnings: SMUT, MDNI. Mean, dominant Lottie. Degradation, jealousy, she's a bit harsh, BDSM. She fucks herself on R's tongue.

Word Count: 1,500 words

Request: "mean dom Lottie or nat ( either or works ! ) doming reader"

Request here please! | Please check out my masterlist.

It was no secret that Lottie was starting to go on a power trip, leading the group into ritualistic ceremonies and becoming more of a cult-leader than someone who was just trying to survive the Canadian Wilderness. When most people say It, they mean God, but when Lottie says It, she means the vast wilderness that they've been thrown into by her father's shitty private plane. Still, (Y/n) found herself under the girl's influence somehow, the right-hand to Lottie Matthews, who barely has to lift a single finger. She just has to attend to Lottie. Which she does dutifully, as Sappho once did for Aphrodite, worshipping the ground the girl walked on.

But that wasn't exactly new, was it? After all, this relationship that the two girls accumulated began their junior year of high school when they made the Varsity team. They celebrated, as best friends in 1995 do. With wine coolers and making out while MTV blasted on Lottie's Sony Trinitron Television Set. It was no secret that Lottie was the controlling one when it came to the two. She wasn't one to express jealousy in front of others, not giving away just how deep her homoerotic friendship with her best friend ran. Not in a small town in New Jersey in the 1990s. Not when they didn't know what they were doing themselves. Instead, she waited patiently for (Y/n) to come to her house after school where she grabbed her chin and told her who she belonged to.

It's been that way ever since then. During Doomcoming, the only person who couldn't participate in kissing Travis, was (Y/n). "Don't touch him," Lottie demanded, as if she was speaking for the world around her. She had a look on her face that (Y/n), high on shrooms, couldn't decipher. "It said you belong to me. That's the way it's going to be, understood?" She said, gripping (Y/n)'s cheeks with narrowed eyes. (Y/n) gave a feeble nod because, if she were being honest, she loved when Lottie told her what to do. She didn't even believe in all of the cult-like worship the group had partaken it. Though, she understood that they were trying to believe in something in order to get a grip on this new reality they've been forced to deal with.

Lottie drew protection symbols on Natalie and Travis's hands, nodding at them stiffly. While Travis was quick to surrender himself to Lottie's way, though (Y/n) expected it was more than their newfound religion by the way he looked at her at times, Natalie was more wary of the symbol. It seemed Natalie was the only one who wasn't completely losing her mind as they tried to survive. As spring was approaching and the snow had mostly vanished, it felt as though things were looking up. They needed Natalie's logic, butt (Y/n) wasn't about to agree with any of the skeptic words that Natalie would rant off to her as (Y/n) wished them luck hunting.

She didn't notice the way Lottie's warm brown eyes grew cold at the way (Y/n) even thought about nodding to whatever non-believer bullshit Natalie was spewing. Not when Lottie, so clearly, heard and understand the unseen force that was tucked within the wilderness around them. Instead, she sent everyone off on chores as (Y/n) approached. There was a darkness in her eyes that reminded (Y/n) off the night Ethan Reynolds kissed her, startling the girl. She had, obviously pushed him off, but it didn't make the deeply disgruntled feeling in Lottie's chest disappear until that night as she fucked her cunt against (Y/n)'s tongue.

(Y/n) froze slightly at the look in the girl's eyes. In the Wilderness, they didn't have to hide who they were to each other. Especially once Van and Taissa kissed in front of everyone and Coach Ben came out as gay. So, they didn't. They just didn't label it either. The entire group just knew to keep their hands off (Y/n). It was as simple as that. Or, it should've been. Leave it to (Y/n) to break the rules, squeezing Nat's arm as she went off with Travis.

"Get inside," Lottie commanded, her tone cold. (Y/n) nodded, knowing by the look in the girl's gaze that she was in trouble. She followed her instructions well, trying not to wince at the tone Lottie was using on her. "So, tell me. Do you believe what I say about 'It,' or are you just pretending to appease me? Knowing Natalie, I'm sure she was saying how crazy I am, right? And what did you do but nod? It's odd… Normally, you do whatever I say and agree with me… Do you just decide you're going to be slut for other people, too, and bend over backwards to appease them? Is that what is going on between you and Nat?"

(Y/n) doesn't have time to answer and Lottie points down. She doesn't need to speak. (Y/n) falls to her knees, already know the drill. "You're so pathetic. I'm not going to let Natalie separate us. I'm not going to let you be a whore and slut it out for her, too. You're mine." She gripped the girl's chin tightly, a menacing glower taking over her features, sending a shiver down (Y/n)'s spine.

Lottie knew the tasks would take time, and Coach Ben was outside now that the ground was clear. And, fuck, Lottie was so needy right now. She stripped out of all her clothes, looking at (Y/n) disapprovingly. "I want you to worship me. When I feel like you have done a good enough job, which I doubt, I might let you eat me out. Understood?" Another feeble nod. (Y/n)'s lack of words made Lottie's jaw clench. It wasn't good enough for her. So, she took the back of (Y/n)'s hair, yanking it back to make her look up. "Understood?" She repeated through gritted teeth.

"Y-yes, I understand." (Y/n) immediately got to work after Lottie released her tight grip on the girl's hair. Her lips kissed from her bump of her ankle bone. Slow kisses led up Lottie's body, fingers exploring her. (Y/n)'s fingers were once smooth, but over the course of the harsh atmosphere of the wilderness, it's lost it's softness, callouses finding their way upon her fingertips and palms. Lottie didn't mind, though. The roughness contrasting with the gentle and worshipping touch of her lover's hand was an intoxicating mix to her. As much as she wanted to punish (Y/n), limiting her to just her body- not her boobs, not her cunt or clit- she couldn't. She needed to be fucked too badly.

So, she finally gave in. Only, (Y/n) wasn't allowed to touch, having her hands tied and restricted behind her back. "Stick out your tongue." She stated, something (Y/n) did instantly. She clicked her tongue with a smirk. "Good. I love it when you act like such a pathetic little slut for me." Lottie smirked before one hand gripped (Y/n) shoulder, the gripping her hair. (Y/n) moaned when Lottie's dripping cunt was shoved in her face. "Take me. All of me." She rode (Y/n)'s tongue, pushing her face deeper in her clit.

Thankfully, she had (Y/n) practice on her before over the course of almost two years of them being exclusive, just not out. The amount of sex they had taught (Y/n) how to work Lottie while Lottie worked her. She knew her head would hurt later from Lottie's strong grip, but she didn't care. Instead, she helped the girl relieve her tension from the Wilderness. She let Lottie use her, degrade her. She knew as soon as this was over, Lottie would get dress, give her gentle kisses as if she didn't use her like some throw away doll. She liked the way Lottie fucked herself on her, screaming in pleasure as she finally cums, and (Y/n) is able to capture her orgasm as if it was ambrosia from the Gods. Because to her it was.

When Lottie comes down from her high, she releases her fistful of hair and redresses. She then cleans up (Y/n), thumb running along her lower lip. She was soft at this moment, but then she hardens again. Though, (Y/n) knows that won't last long. Just until she gets her point across, then it was back to sweet, gentle Lottie. Two different personas. Out of bed, she was kind. In bed, she was mean and dominant. She pinched (Y/n)'s bottom lip. "Next time you have doubts about It, talk to me instead of just talking shit with Natalie, got it? You're mine. Not Natalie's." She released (Y/n)'s now swollen lip once she nods. Then, she kisses her deeply, moaning at the taste of herself now being slid along her tongue by (Y/n)'s.

[diejager]

Hello, may please ask for nsfw headcanons for the Oni please?

NSFW headcanons

Pairing: The Oni | Kazan Yamaska x fem!reader

Cw: NSFW, breeding kink, biting, marking, aftercare, possessive behaviour, size kink, tradition, scent/musk kink, worshiping, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1.1k

Kazan is a proud man, honouring his family name to the point of committing blasphemy. He cherished the things that belonged to him, taking care of his kanabo with the careful swipe of his towel and as much love as he has for you, his little human. His big hands came to hold you before him, a supporting gesture while you stared up at him in the mirror, his piercing, red eyes meeting yours. 

Under the protective shield of his armour, those ritualistic shoulder guards with curved Oni horns, chest armour, sleeves and thigh protections secured by thick ropes rounding the mass of his body; and the bloodied cloth of his shirt, shin guard, skirt and pants held with strong string sewing them together to become a piece; Kazan was a soft lover, caring and soft-spoken with his feelings for you. Under that scary Oni mask, Kazan is scarily human, even with the added height and broad shoulders.

Size played a lot to his kinks, his body looming over your smaller one, his hands holding your curved hips as he bullied his cock into you, watching the skin of your navel bulge with his enormous size. You cried when he pressed a palm over the bulge, pushing it as he plotted through your wet and tight cunt, milking and clamping his thick shaft. Kazan enjoyed watching you take him by yourself, using his chest as support as you sink onto him, mewling and whining about how big he was and how your cunny was too small when you’d taken him over and over before, getting all his length in you. You shook and trembled, legs weak and useless, depending on Kazan to move you up and down, his big hands holding your hips. 

However gentle he tried to be, his strength and pleasure always got the better of his self-control, leaving bruises on your hips and waist, purples and blues the size of his fingers on your arms and thighs. Leaving marks on your soft, pliant flesh was a guilty pleasure of his, he liked sinking his jagged teeth into your shoulders and thighs. The sensuality of seeing the swollen bites on your skin and the sensitive news to it when he pressed a kiss on it. The ferality he felt surging in his body when red rolled down your thighs and shoulders, a single drop that painted your skin in a beautiful shade of crimson. 

He’d be ploughing you with his veiny cock while he leaves traces of his presence on your being, a show of possession on you that he revelled in with pride and sheer, unbridled joy. He was bound to be possessive of what he loved, he held great value and high respect for anything that deserved it, and you were at the top of his list. Forgoing his need to value and respect, being a killer naturally made him more possessive, the need to own and show the others he owned you. Perhaps it made you feel like an object, an item of his obsession, but you’ve never voiced your concerns and fears so he kept going on. If he can show to the others - either killer or survivor - that you were his, he could live happily.

Kazan, as the Oni, had a potency to his being. He had a name, had a reputation, had skill and had needs. He knew, like him, a lot of killers had forsaken their humanity - their souls - to their monsters. Most killers had better noses, their enhanced sense made sniffing out survivors easier and, in his case, helped let the others know you were his. The smell of his mark on you would cling onto you like a cloud of musk, the scent of his cum inside of you screaming about your branding. He would cum in you, spurting rope after rope of potent cum, staining your slick walls. 

He left it inside of you, dripping from your cunt and leaving the musk of his cum and your shared sex as a show of ownership. He spent time pumping you with his loads, he won’t stop until he’s overstimulated, because he can’t stop coming at the thought of breeding you. Building a family was a cultural tradition in his time, and to raise his descendants into honourable people, it was a dream of his, wishful thinking. He knew that within the Entity’s realm, all time stopped, he never aged, he never changed and he would never become a father, but the temptation of knocking you up was simply too much for him not to fuck his cum deeper.

Even while he bullied his load deeper and deeper, cock still as hard and leaky as when he first started, he’d kiss your lips so gently, muffling your mewls and cries. His hands cradled your face, placing sweet, worshipping kisses all over your face, hips rutting into you with your legs swinging over his shoulders. He rolled his hips steadily, making sure that you wouldn’t end up overstimulated like he was, all as he worshipped you. You were like a goddess to him, his little goddess that he could claim with his scent and mark. He kissed the ground you walked on, he kissed your hands when you held it towards him, and he would do anything you would want, all you have to do is ask. 

After everything, the hours-long marathon in bed, he would take care of you. He’s amazing at aftercare. He would do every whim of yours, if you wanted a cup of water, he’d have it in seconds, if you wanted to shower, he’d bathe you; if you wanted to sleep; he’d cuddle you from the back. His attention was spent on you and you alone after every session, he cleaned you, he fed you, he watched your back when you slept. He spooned you, his bigger body shadowing you in a comfortable and safe embrace, an arm under your head and another over your waist. 

If you didn’t want to sleep, wanting to feel pretty and clean as his, Kazan’s little goddess bride, he would dress you up prettily. Kazan was also a man who saw the beauty in tradition, painting you in the colours of his country, the powerful red and its innocent white. He painted your face in those shades with soft pink and yellow on your eyes, tried your hair in high loops and used beads to decorate your locks. Dressed in the beautiful robes that told stories and legends of his empire, you looked like those elegant geishas he remembered seeing years ago. You would dance and sing, he’d twirl you around him and make the ends of your sleeves flutter.

Kazan, for all his worth and pain, finally had something good in his life, something he could be proud of loving. Perhaps The Entity wasn’t as cold and unfeeling as She portrayed herself.

[arthur-lesters-right-arm]

Are you proud of us father right arm

-Unspecified body part

If this is you left arm I swear to god I'm going to give you so much blunt force trauma from every gardening tool my hand can find

If it's literally anyone else Yeah I'm pretty proud It's probably a cult but what's a community without a little ritualistic worship