#black desert awakening

[cloudsndreamsxo]

[g4zdtechtv]

THE PILE PRESENTS: G4TV.com - Swing And A Missed Connection | 4/11/03

Playing War Games during real wars... is it all fun and games?

(4GTV - WATCH NOW!)

[floriumm]

[theadorepiper]

Black Desert Online - Olvia

Utterly obsessed with the new Woosa Awakening.

[crimsonrubie]

A Quiet Night

Part 2

Biker!Bakugou would have one of the fastest motorcycles in the gang because he's a freak for speed and power. His bike would probably be a Suzuki GSX-R750, black and orange, with 750cc. He would be speeding with this baby everywhere. It's perfect for him because of its aerodynamic design and sharp and aggressive lines.

I imagine he loves taking his bike out on late-night rides. Especially when his mind is running a mile a second, what better way to cool off than speeding through the streets with his bike?

Warnings: Teeny tiny bit of angst then fluff! Also this is the first fic I've written in years so my writing is floppy at best and English isn't my first language so please excuse any mistakes!!

~~~

The cool night wind of Musutafu swept by and ruffled his blonde spikes as the roar of the engine purred in the background.

It was one of those nights. The silence at his home was eating him alive like an infection and without thinking, Katsuki grabbed his keys, forgoing his helmet and headed to his sleek dark and orange bike. He threw on a leather jacket over his top and sped off from his garage.

His mind hadn't calmed down since the incident this morning when he was on patrol. Heroes are known for doing their best to save everyone, but it's no secret that not everyone can be saved. The thought alone urged him to twist the throttle, revving the engine and letting it drown out his loud thoughts.

At his action, he heard a cheer similar to a kid's and turned his head to the side for only a second. The little kid's bright smile from the car beside him on the highway silenced his thoughts as he focused on him now. The car was keeping up with his bike, due to the empty road this time of night and the kid extended his hand out of the window and mimicked the motion of revving an engine.

Katsuki, to entertain the little boy, did as he wished and twisted the throttle, letting it last for a little longer and the bright smile from the boy brightened a small spot inside Katsuki's heart. The car then took a turn and the boy waved to him, Katsuki giving him one last rev before they separated.

He drove along the road, the streetlights blurring past him as the night remained quiet and peaceful except for a few cars. His emotions were still in chaos, but the low hum of the engine and the distraction of driving provided him with only some sense of satisfaction.

After half an hour, a park became visible in the distance. Katsuki noticed it was deserted for the most part and was situated a good distance away from the busy streets of the city so he decided it was a good place to stop. He parked his bike in the empty parking lot belonging to the park overlooking the beach. He killed the engine and got off of the seat, fixing his leather jacket and zipping it up as the cool air arriving from the sea sent a shiver down his body.

His lungs expanded to take in as much of the salty air as he could, letting it out in a deep sigh. Though looking out into the night sky, far from the blinding lights of the bustling city did little to distract his mind from his thoughts as they came rushing back. Now nothing around him could distract him from his swirling dark thoughts.

He hated it most when he failed in a mission, despised it and loathed it really. Whether he was bleeding all over or even had one of his arms rendered useless because of the damage, he refused to give up. Always pushing forward to save the day and kick some villain's ass. This passion was with him since he was a little boy and never left but only grew when the seed was sowed at the awakening of his quirk.

His quirk was supposed to be used for good, to save and win. What happened today was a complete contrast to that. He hated himself for letting the villain get him in such a vulnerable state. One little mistake lead to a chaotic and traumatizing ending for everyone on the scene.

Just remembering the anguished faces of the boy's parents after he utterly failed to get to him in time shattered another piece of his already broken soul. Now breathing didn't come to him as easily. His breathing was ragged and uneven, and his chest felt like it was being restricted by a boulder. His hands sought out his throat, gripping it as if his life depended on it and he gritted his teeth.

"D-damn it- Damn it all to hell!" His hand heated up without his knowledge, the nitroglycerin sweat on his palms reacting to his quirk. At his yell, a cat jumped up on a stone seat beside him and meowed. His breathing hitched and his eyes scanned the cat. Under the dim lightening of the lamp post beside the stone bench, he could decipher beautiful black fur and slit eyes that rounded out just a little at him. It wasn't a kitten, but didn't appear to be old but maybe a few years old perhaps.

The cat was looking at him, as if interested in what made him yell out into the night but he left it and plopped down on the stone seat, just a few feet away from the cat on the other side and buried his face in his hands. A minute passed which felt like an eternity before the tiniest of sobs escaped his lips. His hands now in his hair, he pulled harshly at the roots, needing anything to distract him from the searing pain in his chest if even for a second.

Gradually, the sobs left him like a dam with a crack, starting out slow and only deepening the crack and breaking it even more to allow more to flood out. His aching chest hurt, and one of his hands left his hair and grabbed at his jacket, right above the scar shielded underneath all the clothing. His fingers clutched tightly at the leather, crinkling it up as tears ran freely down his face, quiet sobs escaping without his permission.

It hurt. Everything hurt. His heart, his mind, his chest, even his hand from how tightly he was holding onto his jacket as if it was his lifeline and he was hanging on by a thread. His head was ducked as he suffered mentally and physically under the dim lightening when a weight was pressed against his thigh.

At first, he didn't notice but another thing landed on his thigh and he then pulled his head back and noticed the cat with its front paws now on his thigh, meowing up at him so softly. It was as if the little being knew he was in a vulnerable state and was offering comfort.

He sniffed, his arm rubbing over his red face and cold nose from the cold air. "You're weird, you know that?" His voice was gruff when he spoke, raspy from all the crying but the cat only climbed further into his lap, curling up as if getting ready to sleep and loafing on his lap.

The added weight of the feline and its warmth chased away some of the demons tormenting his mind. He looked down at the cat and scoffed with a sniff afterwards, realising that the cat in some way, knew to comfort him.

Katsuki wasn't a cat or dog person. His best friend Eijirou Kirishima, owned a Staffordshire bull terrier, the little guy both energetic and affectionate, a carbon copy of his owner but Katsuki never knew the appeal of owning a live animal and taking care of their needs, training them, and just sharing space with a living being he can't directly communicate with.

The cat was snuggled up on his lap and his mind now momentarily forgetting the pain in his chest, urged his hand to pet the soft fur of the black cat and he let out a breath when the soft sound of purring reached his ears. The side of his lip quirked up just slightly at seeing the little creature happily snuggled into his lap and purring like nobody's business.

While he was petting it, he then noticed a thin pink collar hidden under its fur and his eyebrows furrowed slightly. "You lost or something?" He mumbled under his breath and reached under the cat's chin to look at the tag and saw a phone number. He hummed then seeing the pink collar again, noted the cat must be female.

No wonder the cat wasn't sceptical of him. She was a house cat and well cared for from the looks of it so she didn't carry the same hesitance to humans like other street cats and approached him right away. The cat must have been emotionally intelligent, maybe a service animal?

Pushing those thoughts to the side for now, he got out his phone and texted the number a picture of the cat on his lap and his location.

Found her at the park in front of the parking lot.

He clicked send and not a second later, his phone dinged with a response and he opened it up again, the bright screen illuminating his face in the darkness.

I'm on my way! Thank you so much!!

He left it at that and put his phone down. He continued petting the cat, the notion calming him down as he soaked up the last few minutes he had with his unusual companion before she had to go back to her owner.

He gave a quick glance at the number's profile picture before he put his phone down and knew it was a girl but didn't look clearly to know any more details.

A few minutes passed by of him silently petting the feline and admiring her soft dark fur, letting the time run as he distracted himself with the continuous motion of petting the cute animal. The cat then pressed her paws on his lap then stretched making him chuckle under his breath at the cat comfortably doing whatever she desired on his lap.

"Ohh big stretch! She loves you." At the new voice, his head lifted instinctively and his breath was knocked out of his lungs. His back straightened like a board. This time it was a nice feeling, not choking him up but instead providing him with a sense of calmness and the smell of fresh air. Why, he had no idea but he welcomed the feeling in this dark time.

You looked pretty. With no makeup on and wearing a light colored hoodie and comfortable pants, you looked like you were on a leisurely walk before you lost sight of your feline friend. He found it endearing the moment his eyes skimmed briefly over your figure and back to your eyes.

Your figure closed the distance between you and you sat beside him on the stone bench, your cat upon recognising you, lazily switching from Katsuki's lap and snuggling up on yours instead. You provided her with scratches under the chin and ears as she purred. "You seriously need to be on a leash sometimes." You spoke out to the cat but he didn't detect any malice in your voice. "You always escape right under my nose but come crawling back for food huh?" The cat meowed in response, as if sassily replying to you and he watched the interaction with curiosity.

You suddenly sat up straight with a start and acknowledged the man beside you. Your reaction was similar to his if not the same. Your back straightened up and your lips formed a small rounded shape in surprise when your eyes scanned his naturally pale face. Red piercing eyes stared into yours as if to hypnotize you but you cleared your throat and offered up your hand in greeting, thankful this specimen of a man hadn't made you forget your manners.

"Katsuki bakugou." He greeted you in return, accepting your hand and nodding towards the cat in your lap. "She yours then?" He internally slapped himself for the stupid question.

You didn't seem to mind his gruff exterior and nodded with a smile, "Yes, her name's Aiko." At the familiar word, he remembers its meaning and hums.

"Little loved one."

Your eyes widened a fraction at the fact he knew the meaning and you let out a small laugh. "Yes, I love her so much and after a week of having her, I decided Aiko was perfect for her. She wouldn't hurt a fly and is so sweet with everyone, even little kids who aren't sure how to treat her. Everyone falls in love with her cuteness too, she's charming that way." You purse your lips and a blush blooms on your cheeks when you notice you rambled. "Sorry, I tend to ramble about her." You scratch at the back of your neck and he grunts in response, his shoulders relaxed as he sits back against the backrest.

"It's fine."

With his lack of words, you go ahead and ask a question in return. "You were out on a nightly stroll I'm guessing?" You tilt your head, Aiko now purring in your lap as you tuck her in your hoodie pocket so she won't get cold. It became a habit for the cat since she was a few months old and always crawled into the spacious pocket of your hoodie to warm up and surprisingly still fits.

He hums, fidgeting with his hands in his lap as he looks forward. "Just came here for some fresh air. I needed space and quiet, and found it here."

You hum and he blinks when a second later, you have your hand outstretched towards him, palm up with a snack in hand. "Take this, it's a homemade cookie, I made it. Don't worry I'm actually a good baker and you can take it as a sign of my gratitude for finding Aiko." You nudge your hand in his direction, encouraging him to take it and after a second of confusion, he accepts the cookie.

"Thanks. Do you carry cookies everywhere with you?" He raises an eyebrow at you, his attention now diverted from the beach. You noticed a small smirk appearing on his lips and rolled your eyes playfully.

"Well on occasion, yes. I always go out on walks with snacks and treats for Aiko too. Sometimes I can be out here for hours so I get hungry and speaking of that I also get my books a lot of the time too, I love reading in this park." He watched you talk with a gentle smile while your hands were busy petting Aiko's head that was peeking out of your pocket.

"Oh and I never saw you here before, you aren't from around here?" At your question, he nods in reply.

"I live in the city. I found this place by coincidence and parked here to get some fresh air." You hum and a minute later, he opens the packet you stored the cookie in and takes it out. "Chocolate chip." He comments and you nod with a smile.

"Yes, tell me how it tastes and hopefully you don't completely hate it." You giggle and watch as he takes a bite and chews.

Those few seconds felt like one of those cooking shows where the judge is eating antagonizingly slow as the crowd waits for their reaction. That's how you felt when you watched him chew down on the cookie and swallow. He licked his lips to get rid of the crumbs left and your stomach fluttered at the action but you cleared your throat and looked back into his eyes.

To your utter shame, he was smirking knowingly at you and you knew you were caught ogling at his lips but quickly asked him a question to avoid the embarrassment. "So? How is it?"

He hums and eats another bite, this one bigger than the last and you smile. "I'm guessing it's nice?" He nods, wiping his mouth with his thumb after he swallows.

"Send me the recipe." You blink. Well, that was straightforward.

"Uh, sure-" Your reply gets cut off by your laughter. He had his own unique ways of expressing his liking to something but you took it, sensing that he was just like that. "I'll make sure to send it to you now that I have your number don't worry. Right when I get back home!" He grunts and continues eating till the cookie is finished.

Conversation flowed from there for another hour at least. Talking with Katsuki felt like reuniting with a dear old friend as if you had known each other for years. Unfortunately, it was becoming late making you realise that you would have to part ways with this handsome stranger who helped you find your cat.

"Well, I'll have to head back home sadly. I have a shift tomorrow afternoon so I need to get back if I don't want to go looking like a zombie." You got up with Aiko in your hoodie's pocket, Katsuki standing up with you and burying his hands in his pockets.

"I'll give you a ride home."

"Oh! It's fine you don't need to! My apartment is only a few minutes away."

"I'm giving you a ride home. Whether you come or refuse and get kidnapped out on the street. Your choice." He raises an expectant eyebrow and you hate that he's right at the possibility of you getting kidnapped.

You sigh in defeat and nod. "Fine okay, I didn't want to be a bother that's all!" He grunts and starts walking. You quickly zip up your bag, sling it over your shoulder and jog after him until you're walking by his side.

"You are a man of few words?" He side-eyes you and shrugs.

"Don't feel like talking. Don't mistake it for me not giving a shit about our time together though. It wasn't half bad I guess." You conclude you can't get better than that from him and a smile creeps on your lips. He was being nice in his own way and even though only meeting him tonight, you felt comfortable with him.

He reaches a sleek motorcycle and your eyes bulge out of their sockets at the expensive-looking vehicle. "You gonna keep staring like a creep or what?" He snarks out but you notice a proud smirk on his lips at having his baby be marvelled at. It was apparent that he took pride in his motorcycle.

You then snap out of it and pout. "Hey, I'm not a creep! Your bike is just so cool and I'm not really used to seeing them so up close."

At your compliment, his cheeks redden just slightly and he ducks his head with the cover of taking out his keys. "Anyway get on." He nudges his head towards the bike and you walk over, swinging your leg around it, being mindful of the feline in your pocket and shuffle back on the seat as he gets on in front of you. He swings his leg over the bike with practised ease and his boots find secure footings on the foot pegs.

He inserts the key, twists it and the low purr of the engine roared to life in the silence of the night. "Hold on to me and make sure your little friend doesn't get ideas." You laugh and hold on to Aiko with one arm, wrapping your other free arm around his waist. The moment your arm makes contact with his front a blush explodes on your face at being so close to this stranger.

He had an air of kindness to him that you think isn't seen or noticed by many but when you do see it, you see a part he keeps reserved for only a handful of people in his life. You're glad the stranger who ended up finding your cat wasn't a creep or weirdo but instead turned out to be this handsome man who accepted your cookie and demanded the recipe be sent to him.

"Where do you live?" He asks from behind his shoulder as he kicks off the stand and pulls out of the parking spot, then makes a turn and gets on the road.

You relay your address to him and he scoffs. "A few minutes away? That's at least half an hour's walk away you shitty woman!" He exclaims, the wind from the ride making it come out a little muffled and you mockingly gasp. You guess he's more comfortable with you now with how his words left his mouth so smoothly and with no reluctance.

"Well sorry for declining your gentlemanly offer! I didn't want you going out of your way to get me there because you could be going in the opposite direction!"

"This is nothing. As long as you're fine I don't care how much further it is from my own home, next time you better not be as stupid with me or anyone else!" You open your mouth to retort but find yourself unable to think of anything so instead you grumble under your breath.

He chuckles at your grumbling and you feel your face heat up once again as his body vibrates with his deep laugh. The air is cold this time of night and you instinctively snuggle closer to his back, unknowingly making the blonde flush to his ears but he doesn't complain and the ride is spent in comfortable silence till you arrive at your apartment.

You dejectedly unwrap your arm from his waist and he gets up to help you out of the bike. You're swinging your leg to get off when it suddenly catches on something on the bike and you yelp as you lose balance but before you can fall any further, firm arms are wrapped around you and you're enveloped in the deep musky scent of Katsuki.

"Hey, easy. You okay?" His deep voice reverberates throughout your body and you shiver at the welcoming sound of his voice and nod, your arms braced on his chest while you're still in an awkward position on his bike. You were flustered behind belief because you felt his hard and defined chest underneath and all of it along with his voice will make you combust.

He moves to pick you up from your waist and plop you down safely on the ground and you blink at his strength. No wonder he owns such a powerful bike, it basically represents its owner. Sharp and striking just like his red eyes. Powerful and loud like him but in an endearing way, leading you to realise that you like it.

"T-Thank you, I'm not usually clumsy." You mumble, suddenly shy and he shrugs as he gets back on his bike and nods.

"Stay safe."

"Yeah, you too, Bakugou." You give him an appreciative smile and he nods in acknowledgement, a small smile making its way to his lips and you catch it before he turns his bike and speeds off into the night.

You hear an annoyed meow from your pocket and shiver at the cold air, "Whoops, sorry Aiko, let's go get warmed up in bed yeah?"

[dolicekiss]

Hi, how are you? I have a request about Le Chiffre. Female reader and her male colleague are undercover agents for MI6 to get Le Chiffre but he found out who they really are and kidnapped them but Le Chiffre wants to give to the female reader a personal interrogation by himself, warning:non-con, what do you think?

Captured

♡: noncon + le chiffre is the perfect combo tbh i love it

cw: smut (18+, mdni please), noncon, kidnapping, torture, death threats, unprotected sex, impact play, breath play, forced kissing, use of restraints, degrading, throat fucking, oral (male receiving), knife play

Staying in the same hotel as Le Chiffre was no coincidence, it was all planned. Being an undercover agent had its own privileges and advantages, such as staying in luxurious hotels at the expense of the Government.

Your counterpart — another agent helped when it came to use of strength while you were the brain. Le Chiffre was your aim and bringing him alive were your orders. Killing him wouldn't do the world any good because of the potent information he kept concealed in his brain.

You flipped through the pages of magazine, looking at the man swimming in the pool through your cartier glasses.

He had his little blonde girlfriend on the side but she was too occupied with tanning to pay attention to Le Chiffre. You, on the other hand, decided to make your move by standing up and sauntering towards the pool.

Unwrapping the shawl from around your hips, you tossed it and then slid into the pool like a snake. Eyeing your prey like a hawk, you swan around in the blue clean water.

Le Chiffre noticed you when you swam, arms moving like a writhing worm. You could feel his gaze on you and you didn't make eye contact, acting oblivious to him but you knew you'd captured his attention. The whole plan was to seduce him, bring him to your hotel room and get your male agent to knock him out.

But things were not as simple as they seemed.

He stared at you, drinking in your appearance.

You were beautiful, that was for sure. Your frame crafted by the hands of gods themselves, skin untainted like a canvas for him to paint on. Hair like some new creature found in the water, swirling around. You were a beauty and you knew that, hence you used it to your advantage.

You had the allure and Le Chiffre felt the attraction bloom.

You pushed yourself under the water, a small grin on your face before twirling and swimming back up to the surface. Your dance was enticing, how swiftly you moved your little body in the water.

You soon left the pool, walking out of the area with a little towel around you. Le Chiffre’s gaze followed you like you were the prey here.

You found your way to your hotel room and when you shut the door, your colleague greeted you.

“How was it?”

You rolled your eyes. “So far it looks like he wants to eat me.”

Your colleague laughed, obviously satisfied that the plan was working. You were the most beautiful of agents the MI6 had, a strong weapon they used to weaken strong and powerful men.

You decided to take a shower, taking your dress inside. After you were finished with the shower, you dressed up and left the bathroom only to find the room deserted. Not thinking much of it, you moved to the vanity and took a seat infro of the mirror.

Your colleague had probably left for downstairs, maybe to work on something.

You didn't pay it mind — your unawareness of the danger making you vulnerable. You reached for the brush to untangle your wet hair and then something in the corner of your eye moved.

A black shadow.

Your head snapped in its direction but to your disappointment, there was nothing. Empty space by the curtain of the balcony.

“I'm definitely stressed.” You whispered to yourself, in hopes of reassuring yourself but your horrors were brought to life when suddenly black clouded your vision.

You weren't even given time to struggle or react — as you were knocked with the hilt of a gun and rendered unconscious.

— ♡ —

Awaken by a splash of cold water across your face, you jolted up and regained consciousness in a split second. Your body shivered as your vision got used to your surroundings.

You felt tightening in your wrists and realized you were tied up, hanging from the ceiling.

“Look who's awake.”

You moved your gaze up to find Le Chiffre standing before you, one hand slipped inside his pocket. His maroon silk tie complimenting his black suit, a sparking contrast and seemingly the only color in this rusty, dirty room.

Your throat was parched and a throbbing sensation banged at the back of your skull.

This couldn't be.

Your cover could not be blown out, not like this. Unless someone actually outed you to him and you were clueless to who it was. Your colleague was also missing, probably taken captive by Le Chiffre and his men.

You struggled against the rope from which you hung from but that only worked to strain your arms even more. An agonizing hiss left your lips and Le Chiffre smirked, stepping closer until he was standing right in front of you.

He looked up at you, tilting his head.

“You thought your little swan dance in the pool would distract me?” He had genuine amusement in his gaze. “I have no lack of women willing to throw themselves at me. You're not special.”

You pressed your tongue against the inside of your mouth.

“I wouldn't even let you touch me with a ten feet pole.” You spat, furry awakening in your gaze.

Le Chiffre’s amusement only increased. “I didn't say I wouldn't touch you. You're a gorgeous woman.”

You flinched when his glove covered hand extended out to brush the wet strands of hair sticking to your forehead. His touch made you cringe and you turned your face away from him, glaring at the crumbling paint on the wall.

Le Chiffre’s scarred eye twitched.

“I brought you here to interrogate you but I must say, your beauty is a distraction.”

You wanted to punch him. If he'd attempted to fight you rather than attacking you from behind, you would've definitely taken him down. Le Chiffre had no morals other than money and making money.

The man was as shallow as a fucking sea shell.

“How did you know..?” You asked, curiosity biting at your abdomen.

He scratched his temple with a finger, walking around you in a stable circle like some animal stalking its prey. “I have spies everywhere, you think I wouldn't know MI6 agents trying to threaten my business?”

You inhaled, apprehension threatening to break your demeanor.

Le Chiffre’s hand moved up to your hair, his fingers tangling in it and tugging your head back. You winced at the striking pain in your scalp, glaring down at him. He only chuckled, tightening his grip.

“Fuck you.” You spat, fury swimming in your blurry eyes.

Le Chiffre tilted his head. “Yeah? I do the fucking here, mon cheri.”

He reached over to the metal rod which held the rope tightly around him. He undid it, watching you fall back on the ground with a loud thud. Your body ached from the abrupt fall and you whimpered — your elbow stinging because of the skin scraping against the concrete.

You looked at the skin and found your elbow to be bleeding and the air clinging to it only made it sting more.

Le Chiffre pulled you up by your hair, forcing you to get on your knees. Thankfully you were in casual clothes so the sweatpants helped protect your knees from grazing over the floor and possibly ending up with the same fate as your elbow.

Your hands flew to grab his wrists, trying to push him off you but the man didn't budge at all. Le Chiffre glared down at you, anger visible in his eyes.

“What information have you transferred regarding me? Trust me when I say I won't ask again, especially this nicely.”

You stayed silent and then your cheek hurt — a stinging sensation spreading through the flesh. Your head had moved to the side from the powerful impact. Le Chiffre had slapped you and you knew more was to come.

“You don't want to open your mouth? Fine.”

One hand gripping your hair tightly, the other frantically reached for the black zipper of his dress pants. Your eyes widened in horror as he unzipped his pants, hand shuffling inside and soon pulling out his hardened cock.

Panic consumed you as well as screaming fear.

“If you won't open your mouth to speak, then you'll open it to suck my fucking cock.” Le Chiffre’s rough hand grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks causing a pout to form on your lips. You still didn't budge, staying firm and resilient.

In result of that, Le Chiffre slapped you once more. This time causing your lower lip to bust, droplets of blood streaming down your chin and smearing over your lips. Tears emerged over your waterline from the sheer pressure and force of his hits, causing you to finally comply and part your lips.

He brought his cock head, driving it into your mouth and you braced yourself. You wished to fight back — desperately but you knew better. All at his mercy, you could only whimper around his cock as it breached the entrance of your mouth. You felt him glide across your tongue, making way into your throat.

Attempting to breathe through your nose, your small hands banged at his thighs but Le Chiffre didn't care. He continued breaching your throat, fucking himself deeper into it and tears welled up — vision becoming a messy blur. Both his hands rested atop your head, fingers tangled in your hair.

Then your nightmare began.

He pulled out, only to slam his cock deeper into your mouth and your throat constricted, sending jolts of pleasure down his loins. Le Chiffre threw his back, drilling his cock rapidly and you choked, gagging sounds filling up the room. No amount of pressure or slaps to his thighs and knees made him falter.

He continued fucking your mouth with sheer dedication and your eyelids fluttered shut, forcing tears to slide down your face. Your tongue laid flaccid, welcoming his thick cock to caress it. Your sobs and choked sounds echoed and Le Chiffre could only groan, his own matching with yours.

The evil man lifted one hand from your head, moving it in front of your face. He pinched your nose together, cutting off your air supply and all access to oxygen. Your face began to turn blue, shoulders squirming as you pleaded him with your blurry gaze.

Le Chiffre held your face against his pelvis, your nose buried in his neatly trimmed pubic hair as you continuously fought to breathe through either your mouth or your nose, forbidden to inhale any air.

“Fuck, what a tight throat you've got, mon cheri.” He panted like some wild animal, reaching his end. When he shot rope after rope inside your mouth, you weren't even given chance to spit it out. Bubbles of saliva and cum formed when the man fucked his cock thoroughly into your throat to push down the remains of his climax.

Forcing you to swallow it.

When he watched you gulp, a satisfied grin plastered on his face. His one eye sparkling with malice. “Look at yourself. Lips swollen, face red and my cum dripping down your chin. This is where disobedience gets you, whore.”

You flinched at the insult, glaring at him with a busted lip and swollen lips. He enjoyed that, how rebellious you were despite the vulnerable situation you were in right now. Le Chiffre chuckled and kicked your thigh, causing you to lose balance.

You fell back, on your tied hands glued behind your back and a painful wince left you.

Le Chiffre got on top of you, his weight supported his knees resting on each side of you. Thankfully the man was kind enough to not crush you and you watched with panic filled eyes as he shuffled through his pocket and retrieved a blade. Your eyes enlarged upon locking eyes with the weapon, glinting against the dim light.

“No..”

Le Chiffre scoffed. “Relax, I'm not going to kill you. It is to rid you of these clothes.”

You swallowed, shaking your head but you were allowed little to say in this matter. He reached for your collar, grabbed the white shirt and stabbing it with the tip of his sharp blade. It gave him enough space to dig his fingers into it and tug at it, ripping the shirt.

You were bare underneath the shirt and a gasp left you. Your peaks hardening and Le Chiffre groped you with his gloved hands, fondling the fat and toying with it. His touch harsh and rough. You tried to wriggle but to no avail.

“Stop fighting back.” It was an order, his tone serious and dark. “Do you want me to fuck you or all my guards?”

You didn't say anything, only weept as the monster on top of you grabbed your face, fingers dimpling in your cheeks. “Answer me, brat.”

“Y-You.” You whispered but he still didn't seem satisfied. “I want you to fuck me.”

Le Chiffre smiled, nodding his head and releasing your face but not before tapping your cheek lightly. “Good girl. You can be obedient, huh.”

“Asshole.” You couldn't hold back your tongue and Le Chiffre went silent. He didn't say anything, instead pulled your sweats down and no matter how much you kicked and struggled, he still managed to get them off you and reveal you to him. Your dark panties were ripped apart too, leaving you in completely nothing.

You didn't want to beg him but you had to, to try your luck. Tears fell furiously and you looked at him. “Let me go, please. I would not say a word about this to anyone. I will leave MI6 and never look back, please.”

He didn't care for your empty or full promises, being too far gone into his lust for you. The darkness that he kept concealed behind his one good eye, while the scarred one carried remnants of it.

He forcefully pinned your legs down with his, aligning his cock with your hole. Le Chiffre spat in his hand and rubbed it across your glistening slit, fingers prodding at your swollen bud and you whined — back arching off the bed. Your lips, parted released the sweetest sounds and he couldn't wait to hear you make more with his cock inside you.

Le Chiffre guided his thick cock head into your hole, allowing you to adjust to his size and once you had, he snapped his hips and filled you up with his entire length in one go.

Your face contorted, full of pain and you struggled. Forcing your shoulders into him, trying to push him off you and Le Chiffre having enough of this constant resistance, brought the blade to your throat. Brows scrunched and lines ceased in his forehead.

“You fucking move one more time, I will not waste a single second slitting your damn throat and fucking your dead cunt.” His threats made you quiver and you calmed down, sobs growing louder.

Le Chiffre pried open your thighs, holding them like that as he fucked his cock into your cunt. He loved how tight you were, gripping him like a vice and he relished in the pleasure of you. Groans and moans falling from his lips as he drove deeper and deeper into you, each thrust earning loud whimpers out of you.

The force of his thrust was such — he had your body surging forward. The blade managed to cut into your skin, only the first layer, blood leaking out. The stinging sensation was ignored and overpowered by the feeling you felt in your pussy.

“God, such a perfect pussy.” Le Chiffre groaned, sweaty bangs hovering over his forehead. “Oh I'm keeping you. All for myself, mon cheri. Your delicious cunt will accompany me on cold nights.”

Your pain covered face formed into a pleasure one, imitating Le Chiffre’s heated expressions as the sound of his cock slapping into your gummy walls reverberated. You cried, wailed even while he made home inside your sweet cunt. Repeatedly hitting that spongy spot of yours to draw out an orgasm — similar to his.

The man raised his hand and landed it across your breasts, making you flinch and gasp out at the impact. Heavy and painful, you stared at him in surprise but were given no time as he began to pummel his cock into you. Watching how his cock head bulged against your taut stomach.

You were breathless, bruised, a little bloodied and drained.

Yet he had not enough.

Le Chiffre dug his nails into your hips, searing pain welcoming you as he tore the barrier of your skin and made you bleed. Cock pounding into you and you sobbed, trying to reach out for him but your hands were still tied into that fucking rope. Your stomach tightened, walls sucking him in. Squelching sounds filling you with repulsion.

Your orgasm broke free with tremendous intensity as your eyes rolled back and your thighs shook, body riled up. Hot white coursed through you and as you cried out your orgasm, Le Chiffre came too. His thrusts slowly, only for a moment to ride out his climax within you.

“Oh my god.” He groaned, head thrown back as he began to fuck you with newfound vigor which caught you off guard. “Pretty pussy, such a pretty pussy. Can't wait to fill you up with my cum.”

You felt his warm seed shoot into your womb, rope after rope. Each one more thicker and fuller than the one before. The moment he was finished with you, he inhaled long breaths — bated and shuddered. His body still possessed enough strength to stay stable above you while yours twitched profusely from the abuse you'd suffered.

Broken and numb, your gaze focused somewhere else other than his face. Knowing you would find no empathy, not a sign of regret or remorse on his face. It was best to shut your mind off, only frail and worthless tears sliding down your temple.

”I'm not done with you yet, but I'll let you regain your energy. There's more, mon cheri.”

[philipkindreddickhead]

100 Fiction Books to Read Before You Die

The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri

The Book of Margery Kempe by Margery Kempe

The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison

A Small Place by Jamaica Kincaid

The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley

We Need to Talk About Kevin by Lionel Shriver

The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie by Muriel Sparks

The Girl by Meridel Le Sueur

The Kitchen God's Wife by Amy Tan

The Secret History by Donna Tartt

The Color Purple by Alice Walker

The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver

Veronica by Mary Gaitskill

Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Alias Grace by Margaret Atwood

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte

The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath

Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf

Kindred by Octavia Butler

Middlemarch by George Eliot

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

Uncle Tom's Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe

Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston

Passing by Nella Larson

The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. Le Guin

Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh

Death Comes for the Archbishop by Willa Cather

Play it as it Lays by Joan Didion

The House of Spirits by Isabel Allende

Wuthering Heights Emily Bronte

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

White Teeth by Zadie Smith

The Power by Naomi Alderman

The Street by Ann Petry

The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton

Mary Barton by Elizabeth Gaskill

An American Marriage by Tayari Jones

Small Island by Andrea Levy

The Idiot by Elif Batuman

The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton

The Price of Salt/Carol by Patricia Highsmith

Room by Emma Donoghue

The Sea, The Sea by Iris Murdoch

Garden of Earthly Delights by Joyce Carol Oates

Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys

Wise Blood by Flannery O Conner

Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn

Picnic at Hanging Rock by Joan Lindsey

Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier

Salt to the Sea by Ruta Sepetys

Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand

The Awakening by Kate Chopin

Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe by Fannie Flagg

The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros

The Well of Loneliness by Radclyffe Hall

House of Incest by Anaïs Nin

The Mandarins by Simone de Beauvoir

The Lottery by Shirley Jackson

A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara

Corregidora by Gayl Jones

Whose Names are Unknown by Sanora Babb

Half of a Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood

See Now Then by Jamaica Kincaid

The Lowland by Jhumpa Lahiri

Beloved by Toni Morrison

The Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan

The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt

Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver

The Ministry of Utmost Happiness by Arundhati Roy

To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf

My Antonia by Willa Cather

Democracy by Joan Didion

Black Water by Joyce Carol Oates

The Violent Bear it Away by Flannery O Connor

Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn

My Cousin Rachel by Daphne du Maurier

The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand

I Must Betray You be Ruta Sepetys

The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson

The Mare by Mary Gaitskill

City of Beasts by Isabel Allende

Fledgling by Octavia Butler

A Wizard of Earthsea by Ursula Le Guin

The First Bad Man by Miranda July

Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen

Moses, Man of the Mountain by Zora Neale Hurston

Disobedience by Naomi Alderman

Quicksand by Nella Larsen

The Narrows by Ann Petry

The Blood of Others by Simone de Beauvoir

Under the Sea by Rachel Carson

Go Set a Watchman by Harper Lee

Under the Net by Iris Murdoch

The Birdcatcher by Gayl Jones

Desert of the Heart by Jane Rule

In the Time of the Butterflies by Julia Alvarez

The Memory Police by Yōko Ogawa

@gaydalf @kishipurrun @unsentimentaltranslator @algolagniaa @stariduks @hippodamoi

[astra-ravana]

Liber Paimon

Note: This is a work in progress, but something I've been wanting to do for some time. Hopefully this gives you an idea what I'm going for and serves to preface the book as a whole. Once I am finished I plan to self publish it as an ebook. Any suggestions for this as well as feedback on the two chapters is really appreciated. Happy reading! 🖤

The Dream (Intro)

  I'm having the dream again. I am a child of another time, navigating large, gridded paths between square pools. Fish swim around below me as I run and hop to the end of one path and into an open patio positioned above a waterfall. Looking out, I see gardens with every form of plant life imaginable, but I barely pay them any mind. I approach a young boy sitting on a stone bench. The bench is the same shimmering grey-blue as the walls of this place. Cobalt, I recognize. I sit beside the boy and greet him, proudly presenting a stack of cards I had been given, some sort of divinatory oracle. The boy looks worried as he asks me about some sort of initiation I was to take part in.

   Then the setting changes and I'm being lead down a dark hallway towards a big, red door. My escorts are four masked women in what appears to be ancient Greek styled clothing and faces obscured by ornate masks. There are golden lion statues outside of the door. I know that these lions were a gift for the King and I was about to enter that room and life as I knew it wouldn't be the same ever again. I thought it was what I wanted but as someone positions a mask over my face I am suddenly filled with dread. I was being chosen, it was an honor, I had a gift, and people needed me. I knew all of this. But then I began to resist the hands leading me. Tears streamed down my face.

   Then from behind the red door we hear a building chaos. Yelling and panic, something shatters. One of my escorts opens the red doors and slips quickly between them, I try to see inside and catch a glimpse of fire as well as circles and symbols convering the floor and walls. Then theres a brief silence before I hear someone yell, "He has released them!"  The women leading me begin to fall away. The doors open and people are running past me, screaming, crying. Something big is happening. For a time I'm just frozen there, staring into the room. An old man meets my eyes and something in his gaze awakens me from my shocked state.

   Then I am in the desert sand, the stars above me, a chill setting into my bones, as I run, stumbling, towards the lights of a distant town. I didn't know if anyone was following me, I didn't care. I didn't think of how my shoes and robes would slow me down, or how cold it was. I just ran. Ran until I couldn't anymore, until I collapsed in a sobbing, shivering heap.

   Then he was there. Pulling me onto the back of a camel. Warmth, safety, acceptance, I felt these things. I knew he wasn't a normal man, more like an amalgamation of man and beast and god, a black flame in the pitch of night. "I'm running too, " he spoke, with a whispering melody, "Let's run together." I nod against him feeling power well within me. As we ride on, I feel myself changing, becoming one with his vibration and then it all fades away...

   The dream started when I was about nine years old and sure enough, every few nights, as I slept, I lived it again and again. I saw his face, his long black hair, heard his voice echoing in my mind. But who was this mysterious figure? What were these dreams trying to tell me? I wondered this for a long time. I wouldn't get my answers until the Winter of 2017.

   I had been scrolling some witchcraft centered Facebook groups when I came across a post asking about people's past life dreams and memories. I took the opportunity to tell my story, simply wanting to add something to the discussion. I forgot about it, until people began replying to my comment.

   "This sounds like the cobalt temple of King Solomon." My brain reeled at what I identified as a Bible reference. I was a dedicated atheist and detested the Christian religion. But someone quickly corrected me. This wasn't the wise, old King Solomon skimmed over in the King James Bible. Furthermore, my dream savior on camel back was likely not a man at all, but a demon. A powerful king of Hell, subject only to Lucifer himself, and his name was Paimon. As I clicked through links and articles of varying descriptions and depictions it became clearer. This was who I saw in my dream. But, why was I having these dreams? Could this possibly be real? What would this demon want with me?

   Honestly, I sat with the knowledge for some time, unsure of what to do with it. Then, I began communing with the spirit world as part of my practice. I began using my dreams as a vehicle for spiritual contact. I worked with the Fae, the dead, and became captivated by Djinn and other non-human spirits. Around this time I purchased several books, one of which was The Goetia of Solomon the King. I read Paimon's page over and over, stared at his sigil until my eyes watered. I began extensive research into demons, their origin, and true nature as well as methods for summoning and invoking them. And then one cool Spring night, I was ready.

   I wrote a plea to Paimon to enter my life and bring my answers and folded it a couple times, drawing his sigil on the outside, and then pricking my finger, letting blood dribble over it. I sat nervously on my front porch with a lit orange candle, the night was still, silent, dark. "Linan Tasa Jedan Paimon," I spoke to the air around me, it came out like a hoarse whisper. Undeterred, I held the petition over the flame and held it while it lit up, kissing the tips of my fingers with flame and making me wince. As the last scraps of paper burnt up a strange, familiar feeling cascaded over me.

   I suddenly felt very warm, dizzy, restless, ethereal, connected to something ancient and powerful. The sky let out a deep, atmospheric hum, like the blowing of a horn, the wind picked up and whipped around me, I could eventually hear bells and chiming tones, music rolling through my sleepy town. Then came a voice, rolling through my mind like a slow-moving storm front. "Finally, you are finished running. "

Who is Paimon?

“The Ninth Spirit in this Order is Paimon, a Great King, and very obedient unto LUCIFER. He appeareth in the form of a Man sitting upon a Dromedary with a Crown most glorious upon his head. There goeth before him also an Host of Spirits, like Men with Trumpets and well sounding Cymbals, and all other sorts of Musical Instruments. He hath a great Voice, and roareth at his first coming, and his speech is such that the Magician cannot well understand unless he can compel him. This Spirit can teach all Arts and Sciences, and other secret things. He can discover unto thee what the Earth is, and what holdeth it up in the Waters; and what Mind is, and where it is; or any other thing thou mayest desire to know. He giveth Dignity, and confirmeth the same. He bindeth or maketh any man subject unto the Magician if he so desire it. He giveth good Familiars, and such as can teach all Arts. He is to be observed towards the West. He is of the Order of Dominations [Dominions]. He hath under him 200 Legions of Spirits, and part of them are of the Order of Angels, and the other part of Potentates. Now if thou callest this Spirit Paimon alone, thou must make him some offering; and there will attend him two Kings called LABAL and ABALI , and also other Spirits who be of the Order of Potentates in his Host, and 25 Legions. And those Spirits which be subject unto them are not always with them unless the Magician do compel them. His Character is this which must be worn as a Lamen before thee, etc.”

- Original text from The Goetia

“Paimon is an angel-daimon of Lucifer, whom appears as a man crowned upon a camel. This spirit is a familiar of musick, thus by invoking Paimon one may work through an avenue of self-initiation through creating musick. Paimon is a powerful Angelick King of the Witchcraft, whom has 200 Legions of spirits – half are the Orders of Angels, the others being Potentates. Paimon appears with two Spirit/Djinn – Label and Ablim who are referred to as Kings. Paimon is perhaps one of the most significant Angelick Rulers, which along with Astaroth (whom is more bestial/demonic in nature and appearance) opens the way to the “Grail” of Lucifer’s crown – the perception of “I” and the mind separate from the universe. Paimon is a higher spirit of self-initiation, who is a path maker for ones own becoming. Paimon sometimes appears as an angelick spirit with a flaming sword. His office is Guardian of the Path through Leviathan, the Guardian of the Depths and Subconscious.”

- From The Luciferian Goetia by Michael Ford

“He teaches all arts and sciences and occult.  He can be invoked to bind others.  To be observed toward the west with offerings. Seek Paimon to understand Alchemy. Seek Paimon for creative pursuits or to design a plan of action. Paimon can also help in emotional understanding.”

-From the Demonolatry Goetia by S. Connolly

- The sigil of King Paimon

  The lore and cultural footprint of King Paimon is rather significant, especially compared to other Goetic spirits. First, and perhaps most notably, are his number of legions of followers, which is 200, more than any other listed demon. Far more in fact, as Beleth has the next highest number of legions, which is 85. This is likely the reason why Paimon is named the "Lord of Familiars", amongst other designations. Often described as having long, flowing pblack hair, an effeminate face, wearing robes with a brilliant crown upon his head. He possesses a unique connection with the spiritual realm and its inhabitants in that he can create an open channel of communication and can connect you to spirits who resonate at a similar frequency to you.

   In this aspect he very much carries the mantle of a grand mediator between you and the spirit world, easily finding you the right spirit for your need. Paimon can warn one of, and protect them from, malevolent spirits. He also eases connections with spirits who would be otherwise considered difficult to work with. He clears away the clouds of miscommunication for you to truly connect with spirits on their level, which is a truly priceless resource to a practitioner.

   Paimon is also a spirit of creativity and the arts. He celebrates both creators and the fruits of their labor. He is very in tune with the sounds, vibrations, and frequencies of the Universe and has a deep love for music. He is said to have influenced artist and musician alike, infusing his powerful energy into their creations. When Paimon arrives the world truly comes alive with light, color, and sound.

   Although he is capable of displays of power and physical manifestation, Paimon prefers subtle and considerate forms, talking within the conscious minds of his contacts. He is a spirit of  communication as well and has ways of connecting with almost anyone. Paimon carries an air of diplomacy and universal recognition. Wherever he goes, his voice shall be heard.

   Witchcraft is another area where Paimon's presence is highly fortuitous. Paimon is a higher spirit who has lived many lives, both physical and spiritual, and has been an avid practitioner of both high and low magick. He carries vast knowledge regarding herbalism, spell crafting, symbology, divination, spirit work, dream manipulation, and astral travel. If there is a witchcraft related matter, he most certainly has some knowledge related to it. He guides his adepts to research deeper and apply themselves in their craft. With his tutelage your practice can be significantly amplified.

   Finally, Paimon embodies natural, perfect chaos, the order of disorder, thinking freely, and being authentic and true to your path. While he can cause the ruin of the tower, he more greatly values the process of rebuilding it better than it was. In this same way, he rebuilds the witch, making them stronger and much more true to themselves in the process.

Temperament

   All things considered, Paimon is a rather easy going spirit. He enjoys sweets like cakes, honey, and especially chocolate. He loves animals and has a soft spot for children. He has a deep respect for nature, the stars, and the elements, and understands the intricate connections between these and the spirits that exist around, and within, us. He has a quick wit, brilliant sense of humor, and likes to gossip. Even though he leads 200 legions, he believes in equality amongst all spirits and always hears what others have to say. He's a fantastic listener as well as a smooth talker. As an individual he is charming and fascinating, comforting and strong, scientific and artistic, light-hearted but serious when the situation calls for it. Everything you might want in a friend. Especially a spirit friend who can help guide you through the unknown with enthusiasm.

   On the reverse side of things, Paimon is capable of being a very intimidating force. If he, or his adepts are wronged he can become fixated on vengeance. Don't mistreat your access to the spirit world and try to keep your dealings fair. In other words, the spirits want to help and they deserve fair reciprocation and respect. On Paimon's path we don't trap or bind spirits or force them to be subject unto us in any form. That means no Solomonic or Abrahamic magick. While studying these is encouraged, practice should be very limited. Instead we will focus on invocation, sigil work, and forming creative beacons for spirit to flow through.

   Paimon can also call vast amounts of spirits to his aid, making him an even more imposing emissary of the Qliphothic plain. Powerful spirits like Azazel, Asmodeus, Lucifer, and Leviathan have such a deep respect for this camel-riding King that he is considered by some to be an honorary Dark Lord of Hell. He knows secrets that no one else knows, has answers to questions no one has thought to ever ask, and has alliances in all corners of all plains of existence... And provided you're in his good graces, you would never suspect this. To Paimon, titles and hierchies are useless constructs, degrading the value and contributions of the individual. This humble spirit remains a wandering soul who values communication between beings, serendipity, the mind, and the soul's journey above all else.

Correspondences

Enn: "Linan Tasa Jedan Paimon"

Rank: King

Other names (titles): King of Music, Lord of Familiars, Master of Infernal Ceremonies, the Pale King, Guardian of the Path to Leviathan

Colors: Yellow, orange, black, purple, dark blue indigo

Herbs: Bindweed, saffron, sunflower, violets, yarrow, mullien, rose, frankincense, myyrh, wood betony, dandelion, sandalwood, patchouli, turmeric, thyme

Crystals: Gold aura hematite, labradorite, moldavite, rutilated quartz, pietersite, lapis lazuli, citrine, larvakite, ruby kyanite, bumblebee jasper, fluorite, marcosite, tourmaline

Element: Air/Water

Planet: Sun/Mercury

Zodiac: Gemini

Metal: Gold, meteorite

Tarot: The Magician, The Hermit, 6 of Pentacles, 10 of Swords

Direction: West

Dates: June 11th - 20th, April 30th - May 1st

Day: Sunday

Animal: Dramaderie camel

Domains: All arts and sciences, familiars, spirit work of any kind, music, alchemy, emotions, mental pursuits/finding knowledge, truth, the unknown, the occult, mysteries of life, manifestation, communication, enlightenment, mental, spiritual, and emotional growth, dream work, divination, astrology, baneful magick, herbalism, nature, sigil work, psychic abilities, scrying, shadow work, balance

Offerings: Sweets like cake, cookies and chocolate, honey, coffee, tea, soda, wine, canabis, tobacco, herbs, incense, music, works of art, conversation (tell him your secrets)

[bluemoonpunch]

⭐A Past Life of Jeon Jungkook - Oracle and Tarot Reading

[A view of a Past Life of Jeon Jungkook, born September 1, 1997 — Virgo. The Past Life Reading is an intuitive and channeled reading that pinpoints the most prominent past life that is currently influencing an individual’s current incarnation. For this reading, I use six decks: the Rider-Waite Tarot, The Linestrider Tarot, Moonology Oracle, Wisdom of The Oracle, The Spirit Animal Oracle, Wild Unkown Archetypes, Tarotwave, Wisdom of The Oracle, Black Moon Lilith Astrology Cards, Chakra Reading Cards, and the Sacred Geometry Activations Oracle deck. This reading lasted 3 hours.]

Reading Performed: October 17, 2024

Originally Posted: October 26, 2024

Overall Progression: The Ocean + The Desert/Eros + The Mother

The past life that came through for Jungkook is a very interesting one that seemed centered on development and personal progression of the soul through a human experience. This lifetime was one of late-stage awakening or a higher awareness toward the end of life that set the stage for the current lifetime where, alongside a working lifetime, he is experiencing make-ups or rewards for prior work experiences. Human connection and the appreciation for honest and open connection with deep understanding is rooted in this past life where he became very disconnected from this aspect that is true to him on a soul level within all lifetimes.

The overall progression of this lifetime is laid out above starting with The Ocean, which then moves into The Desert. Immediately it gave this sense of the soul drying up or becoming disconnected from the conscious mind completely after originally coming in relatively aware and heart-centered. In the image of The Desert we see a hand reaching out of the sand towards a burning moon or an eclipse — I was taking this more as a burning moon as it reflects the diamond in Eros, representing the loss of a counterpart connection. Essentially, a soul mate connection was in line in this lifetime, a higher counterpart that was present in other lifetimes, but due to the disconnect of the soul, the soul connection with the counterpart was also lost.

It was very clear that this connection lingered in the mind and body, suggesting that connection had been made, however, it was lost rather quickly or didn’t move beyond a certain stage. There was a part, a lingering shred of the soul that was still reaching out toward that counterpart while the rest of his consciousness sank into heavier spaces that were dictated by blind faith, conformity, and a deliberate separation from emotions.

The lifetime concludes with The Mother, where I was seeing the pearl in the center as reflecting the burning moon and the diamond in Eros. This is where it was shown that either while still alive or after death, there was a marker put on this lifetime for a redo, specifically around this connection. He planted a seed of this connection and then, on multiple levels, seems to have locked it in and ensured that out of everything, this would be something he would experience, pursue, and treasure. One of the elements of his current state of being, his appreciation of connection and relationships, which is still very clear within his soul ties, is present now specifically to aid in his ability to recognize this connection when it is presented to him.

Childhood

This was a little sad to read into because it seems like he really didn’t have a chance at all in this past life to be his own person. Granted, this was a deliberate setting for development, and he seemed to move through it relatively fine at first, but there’s a kind of softer innocence to how and why he was so easily guided toward something that was very against his nature. The combination of Allowance and Bluff read very literally in the realm of naivety, allowing others to bluff, moving in a carefree way through the words of other people. Falling in line, being convinced, and following laid out paths would have been very instinctual for him while on a more intuitive level, he would have felt uneasy.

Overall Energy: Allowance + Bluff

Timeline: Wheel of Fortune + Queen of Wands + 2 of Wands (rev.)

The timeline lays it out with the Wheel of Fortune and the Queen of Wands merged together as a symbol of outer authority, that may be connected primarily to his family first in this past life. It feels like the Wheel and the Queen represent someone else sitting in the driver’s seat of his life, and right from the beginning, straight from birth, were in control. This may explain why, in spite of that inner unease and disagreeing, he still was so easy to guide into certain things. He really didn’t know how to do or say anything against authority.

Because of this, his childhood was left to him in the form of the reversed 2 of Wands, which settled as the inability to dream or the refusal to dream, to think of anything far off in the future, or even something he would do the following day, as it was always understood that someone else was laying out his day for him.

I do think as well that his more stubborn and carefree approach to life now in his current state stems from this, ensuring that he can well and truly be completely in control of his life and how it plays out day to day.

Teen Years

The teen years was when shit seemed to really hit the fan when it came to the loss of soul connection. It was a temporary state, but it was quite a heavy one with very deliberate cutting off of the emotional center. It was very clear to me that this was related to some kind of military work, I was seeing it more as knights or some kind of guardianship of people of higher status, royal guards or something in that realm. It was a job that he was connected to through family, a kind of role that is passed through families specifically for the sake of trust and status.

Overall Energy: Solar Plexus + Defense

Timeline: Queen of Cups (rev.) + 9 of Swords + 9 of Cups (rev.) / The Magician (rev.) / The Hermit

Solar Plexus and Defense show a relatively unconscious state of being, a very externalized and forceful mode that he was in, very much leaning into a hardened masculine energy, drifting very far away from any internal awareness. The Solar Plexus is involuntary projection (as opposed to the Sacral Chakra, which is more intentional projection) and Defense brings Mars and Taurus — Cardinal Fire and Fixed Earth — together in absolute extremes.

In the timeline, we have this space and time initiated with the reversal of the Queen of Cups, which is the cutoff of internal awareness. This feels a lot like going through training or some kind of trial work where it was made clear that his own sensitivities could not be supported here and could not be supportive of what was expected of him.

This gave way to the 9 of Swords, which is quite a heavy mental load that strings together grief, paranoia, fear, and depression. This is mirrored then by the reversed 9 of Cups. Just as he intentionally cut off his internal space, he very knowingly cut himself off from a lot of what he did allow himself to dream about, which seems to be very limited to his relationship with this soul counterpart, which at this point still feels very distant. With The Magician in reverse alongside it, it is a known loss of power or control, coming across as him knowing that in stepping into line here, he would lose his wand, any ability he had at all to make his own wishes come true. This is then followed by The Hermit upright, a future prospect of always being alone.

It came through that the person he was hoping to be with was someone who was very peaceful and at ease in the heart, very similar to his own soul, but without the filtration or limitation that he was given in this lifetime. It feels like it may have been an “admire from afar” kind of situation with a few blips of sparks here and there. There was hope and a sense of freedom that was either gained from this person or was just something that this person inspired within himself that made it possible for him to dream of his future with this person. Because this person was practically the embodiment of peace, however, there was a major split here on multiple levels where they came to be entirely incompatible, at least from his perspective.

As a side note, somewhere within this timeframe between the teen years and adulthood, within the space of The Desert specifically, it seems he may have killed someone while out and about on a mission or in battle. I was seeing it in my head as him looking over a body on the ground in the middle of a wide open field. It wasn’t clear to me if I was seeing it as just the two of them in this field because that’s what it actually was, of it that’s just how it felt for him in the moment — going into shock during a battle and only being able to focus on the one person he actually did kill in that moment. There were more deaths, but it seems the first is what lingered the most, going numb to the rest.

This seemed to be the main source of the grief and depression, potential PTSD in the 9 of Swords. It also seems to be one of the major points in his mind that affirmed for him that coming together again with this soulmate was completely impossible. He held onto that guilt, but it did wake him up a bit and put things into perspective. He, at some point, maybe years beyond this first death, quit this job and truly did become The Hermit. There’s a major separation from others, although he may not have literally been alone the whole time, just unable to make deeper connections out of fear, shame, or just a lingering sense of inner disconnect that he could never extend past himself.

Adult Years

Moving into the adult years, which actually feel more like the end of life (with the End of Life section feeling like matters left to the soul after death), there was a reawakening that came through what feels like an existential crisis. On some level, it feels like The Hermit took on the energy of the 9 of Swords and sought out shelter in the church in the 5 of Pentacles. Not a literal church, maybe an institution, maybe an inner temple of sorts that was reached at a point of desperation.

Overall Energy: Heart Chakra + Tantric Journey + Empathy

Timeline: 5 of Pentacles + The World + 9 of Wands

The Heart Chakra and Tantric Journey as the overall energy of this period of his life are mind breaking. Connection to the heart, or the inner world, has been reestablished, but it feels like returning to ruins. The Heart represents something more physical or conscious, while Tantric Journey represents something higher, energetic, or out of body. On some level, I want to say that it feels like time travel, as if he experienced some sort of break from reality and traveled back in his mind to when he “had a heart,” which was connected to this person who was lost to him in the time. The Empathy card, the imagery on it, feels like revisiting a friend and hearing whispers. The bird holding the pearl makes me think of the pearl in The Mother, something representing this other person, who was a reflection of his own soul, heart, or inner world.

The 5 of Pentacles itself is connected to spiritual and financial lack, an emptiness or feeling of being incomplete. In this space, if you get stuck, a person can seek out a lot of comfort or distraction in order to cope with or do away with the feeling of not having what you really want. Following this, The World feels connected to the idea of some kind of break from reality, as the grid and field in the image extend past and break around the world itself. I feel this as a breaking point in which he could not be with the world, could not stay in reality, could not function properly. There was stuff coming through again that would lead me to think he was dealing with PTSD.

The 9 of Wands is a card about paranoia and negative anticipation, hypervigilance. In the traditional Rider-Waite image, there is a man who stands guard over his own domain after having been attacked or facing a battle of some kind. Constantly on foot, on guard, and looking over his shoulder. In the image in the Tarotwave deck, we see a group of wands standing around a computer to watch another wand that appears to break out of the screen. Breaking out of the screen lines up with the feeling of breaking out of reality, being watched by other people while doing it. He could have potentially been institutionalized or was watched over by family or friends.

The 9 of Wands’ display of breaking from reality, alongside The World and the 5 of Pentacles, does feel like the point of death or the energy that led to his death. If he did take his own life, it’s not entirely clear if he knew what he was doing or if it was a sudden accident.

End of Life

Because this portion of the reading registers as being after the point of death rather than the death itself, I’m wondering if he spent some time wandering after death, either by choice or as a soul lost and confused after an upsetting or disconnected passing. There’s something quite solemn about the combination of Cosmic Flower and Principle. They feel very big, expansive, stimulated, but very quiet and wide open, like walking through a field on your own and seeing nothing but the horizon on all sides. This feels like a wandering soul. Both cards are also connected to number 9 with Principle being connected to the 9th House through Sagittarius and Cosmic Flower being number 18, 9 multiplied and 9 from 1 and 8 together. This settles into the idea of expanding within the point of finality or having some kind of further awakening process happening whilst in a state of limbo.

Overall Energy: Cosmic Flower + Principle

Timeline: The Lovers + 4 of Wands + 4 of Swords

The timeline is less of a timeline and more of a designated checklist. Things that were pondered on, dreamed of, hoped for, and thus the seeds that were planted by the soul still wandering on earth, that would one day be able to be harvested and experienced during a separate lifetime. It doesn’t feel like it was an intentional planting whilst in a wandering state, it feels more like it was dreamed of so much that it just started taking root, and then when his soul crossed over and he was back to planning his lifetimes out, he designated a space and time, now within his current working lifetime, for these things to play out.

The 4 of Swords is a wide-sweeping one, which is connected to rest, relaxation, recuperation, healing, and meditation. His spirit was resting in a state of disconnect, it was uneasy and stagnant rather than fully at ease, which may explain why he may have gotten a bit stuck or lost within this timeframe — he thought he was dreaming, didn’t know he was dead, may have thought he was hallucinating or dissociating. The “permanent break from reality” felt to him in the moment like he was caught up in a very deep sleep and a lucid dream. Going back to his childhood with the reversed 2 of Wands, the matter of knowing even then that there was no point in dreaming, thinking, or planning for his future, he gave himself permission, whilst believing he was in a literal dream, to imagine and maybe play out on some level, the fantasies he had with this other person.

The Lovers is coming through very literally, especially with the image on the card. It’s a statue, a sculpture of two people embracing, something someone dreamed up but may have not experienced. The image is held in high regard and locked into place. The expression of love alone would be projected well enough through the 2 of Cups, but the fact that The Lovers is coming through here like this shows that there was a demand to see it, to feel it, to experience it fully, not just as a daydream.

The 4 of Wands is just the same with both the image here and the traditional image coming to mind. Both of them reflect celebration, but the traditional image also suggests a welcoming. Two people are on the other side of the threshold, which feels like him watching something through a window, through a screen, through his own imagination. He’s not just seeing his person welcoming him back, he’s seeing his own body welcoming him as well. It’s like part of him knew or was imagining that in some other world, they were together, and that other version of him was waiting for him to plug in and start living.

The 4 of Wands is also often connected to soulmate reunion and unification, through the representation of the two people placed within the four wands, which can appear as 1111 or 11:11, denoting parallel progression and mirrored souls, or counterparts. The number 4 is also the number of foundation and can represent the soil that the seed of The Lovers was planted in. With this recognition of welcoming on both sides, I would think that at this point he would have either found peace and crossed over after the passing of his person. It's possible the other person's soul, who was more awake and at ease in passing, came and got Jungkook out of his little limbo situation. This would take us into the 4 of Swords again in a different way, this time implying actual soul rest, the point of crossing over completely and ending this lifetime fully.

With the reversed 8 of Pentacles, there was a lot of deep disappointment toward himself for not being able to “do the basics,” which don’t actually seem to be very basic to me. This goes back to him not being able to handle or cope with his job, something that it seems most of his family did. This is very specific to harming or killing other people — it was considered a basic aspect of the job, it was something he couldn’t cope with doing in spite of doing it many times, and therefore he saw himself as someone who couldn’t keep up or couldn’t perform as well. The 8 of Pentacles here gives a feeling of a broken conveyor belt in a factory, a person unable to fall in line with others, a loss of self-control.

How He Saw Himself: 8 of Pentacles (rev.)

State of The Soul: The Fool (rev.)

The state of the soul reflects major restriction of potential, which goes back to the lack of autonomy that was prominent throughout this lifetime. The Fool, when upright, represents pure potential, and in reverse, it represents something that feels more like a doll, someone or something at the mercy of the outside energy, the outside potential, rather than what can come from within, what can come from personal choice. It seems to come down to him having gotten very comfortable with the idea of being able to follow rules and follow the leader in every way that when he hit this wall of his own limitations, he felt deeply unnerved by this. It’s almost like he was so controlled by others that it seemed like when he was left on his own to perform “simple tasks” he was unable to do anything. I think he thought of himself as someone who couldn’t do the job unless someone was holding his hand, and with that came a lot of insecurity and self-hatred around the emotional and more sensitive spaces within himself, which at some point he lived in denial of.

Unfortunately, it would seem most people saw him as someone coming undone, and with Justice in reverse, this is somewhat how he was supposed to be seen. Both cards here represent the mind splitting or unraveling. Justice itself feels more like the connection, the line of mediation between the inner world and the outer world, or the real world and the dream world (hallucinations/flashbacks), either collapsed or bled between the two leaving no distinction. The 10 of Swords is more visceral, feeling like the mind and nervous system becoming overwhelmed and glitching out, slowly being eroded away and then completely destroyed. From the outside looking in, he looks like someone who went completely insane in an "inevitable" way, while he himself was still fighting to keep himself above water. It feels like people looked at him as a lost cause long before he truly was, and that came down to him simply not being able to follow commands anymore.

How Others Saw Him: 10 of Swords (rev.)

How He Was Meant To Be Seen: Justice (rev.)

Again, this was a lifetime centered around development, so while this does seem a bit heavy, it is something he wanted to experience on a soul level with the intention of it contributing to his future navigation in working lifetimes — most likely a crash course in how to avoid the loss of autonomy, identity, and the heart.

Goal: The Devil

What Was Accomplished: Knight of Cups

The Devil representing the goal is more centered in the image, where the devil is shown to be whispering together with the man, both images distorted as the identity and self-awareness are lost. This feels like a reflection of the Wheel of Fortune and the Queen of Wands, which felt like someone else sitting in the driver’s seat of his life from the very beginning. The goal was to experience a complete loss of control that led to self-destruction so that these things could be navigated around more smoothly, which is what is shown to be accomplished with the Knight of Cups.

A more fluid, heart-centered energy that is self-guided and dedicated to making dreams a reality. This is all represented in the Knight of Cups, and I do think we see that energy in him now in his current lifetime. The Knight of Cups is also considered the most romantic of the Knights, usually associated with Prince Charming or the “knight in shining armor.” It’s a set mission, one he set for himself on a soul level, to curate a life and experience that is purely under his own rule, with a focus on personal foundations, love, connection, and proper unification with his person. I’m seeing that one of the reasons, on a higher level, that things seem to fall into place for him so easily is because he’s quite literally done it all before and can bypass a lot of the challenges one might face. He’s, on multiple levels, in the driver’s seat of his life and has a full view of the navigation system, with a clear vision of the end goal, which is centered on The Lovers and the 4 of Wands.

The significant soul connection that was experienced in this past life is represented by Temperance, a person displayed as being balanced between the physical and spiritual, a soul fully integrated into the body. What was gained from this connection, based on the reversed 4 of Cups, is actually what was lost or never found. Again, there was a foundation being laid within this past life that led to him being able to very much so appreciate love and connections in all subsequent lifetimes, so this aspect of separation being “what was gained” still makes sense within this lifetime and can be looked at positively on a soul level, while also registering as incomplete on a conscious level within these memories.

Significant Soul Connection: Temperance

What Was Gained: 4 of Cups (rev.)

Added note: I ended up doing an additional reading out of curiosity to see the energy signatures of this connection in the current lifetime in order to explore any interesting reflections or carry-overs from this past life. That reading will be included at the end of this one for reference.

Tools/Lessons Being Accessed: Gemini — I think + 1st House — The body + 11th House — Friends

The lessons being accessed here reflect the two main points of crossover that I recognized in the beginning — personal autonomy and a deep appreciation for relationships and connection overall. Gemini and the 1st House, with the key phrases “I think,” and “the body,” register very clearly as an independent mind guiding an independent body, a life dedicated to personal achievement and satisfaction alongside and in front of many people that he would feel supported and validated by. Anyone that wouldn’t support him on this would be in direct conflict with his very soul, something that in this current life he would not be able to look past. He may have moments (or had, in the past) where he allows things to slip for the sake of avoiding confrontation or hoping to see the best in someone or something, but there’s a very clear personal boundary that is laid and is meant to really solidify and become completely non-negotiable.

Outlook: Imagine

This was quite an energy to see rush through with this card. This set refers to the outlook Jungkook may have in this current lifetime based on his soul’s experience in the previous one. Here, with Imagine, there is a major emphasis on the aspect of dreaming, of looking ahead and seeing the infinite possibility in himself and everyone and everything around him. In comparison to this past life where, from the beginning, he was not able to dream or even plan his own future, here everything with Imagine is shown to be entirely within the realm of his own will. So long as he can see it in his mind, he will be able to bring it to life, for himself and others around him. This will cast a lot of inspiration out into the world, this energy is something that ripples out and expands on itself.

Something To Remember: Angels and Masters + Love + Play

This set would be for Jungkook if he were actually receiving this reading, something for him to remember or take note of from this past life, usually something that the soul wants to cement into the conscious mind so that it doesn’t get lost, forgotten, or bypassed along the way. Here, the Angels and Masters cards I was seeing as reflecting The Magician and Temperance. The Magician is a card that comes out for Jungkook a lot nowadays (it used to be The Fool with the Ace of Wands, or the Page of Wands), and of course, Temperance is here representing his soul counterpart or the person he will experience union with.

For reference, I was seeing the images of these two cards reflected in the image of Angels and Masters. Temperance’s wings and the chakras represent The Magician’s personal and external alignment, both acting as conduits of energy. One a bit softer, the other a bit more hands on and direct. It blends very nicely divine masculine and feminine energy that is expressed on both sides, showing individual soul development has been curated to a high degree. In the main card, “Angels” refers mainly to Temperance, and “Masters” refers mainly to The Magician, but both of them would be considered both as they both, out of body, would be “Angels” and on earth, as humans, would both be considered “Masters” of their own souls. Their progression, potentially parallel, would be evident.

Alongside the reminder of this significant connection, he also has two Heart Chakra cards with Love and Play, which really just felt like a marker of affirmation, his higher soul coming through and saying, “yes, you’ll know when it’s right because THIS is what it feels like.” It’s pure love, genuine love that comes very naturally, instinctually, and a vibrancy that brings him back to, or keeps him in a healthy state of playful youth, always ready to move and jump and yell and just really let himself be with this other person. The same feeling would be there for the other as well. It would be very natural, casual, simple, but potent and undeniable.

The closing messages here, which would still just be for him to take, emphasizes again the importance of maintaining that personal direction, that conscious connection to his own soul, his own personal direction and desire. Along with that, the Spider Spirit affirms that this is the lifetime in which he is to make his dreams a reality, living out his designs and giving himself free reign within all of it.

Closing Messages

Full Moon in Pisces — Balance spirituality and practicality

Spider Spirit — Make your dreams real.

Temperance’s Energy Signature In The Current Lifetime

The energy signature of the person represented by Temperance is very clear, but there is a heaviness to the energy especially in relation to The Tear, Saturn Return, and Concentration. There’s a lot of internal struggle with this person, but struggles that they are able to manage and move beyond quite easily, although they benefit most, or are able to help themselves the most when they are with others or are being supported.

The Tear and the Third-Eye Chakra show a deeply internalized person, someone who may find it difficult to speak or express themselves fully on their own, but are very capable of seeing into other people, very observant and very aware of what other people are feeling or the general vibes of an environment. There are heavier emotions that seem to flood the space with The Tear, but I’m seeing this in a way where the water droplet of The Tear, green and gold like the Heart and Solar Plexus Chakras, magnify or clear the lens of the Third Eye. Their own emotional upsets help them to feel and understand others more instinctually rather than intuitively.

Flexibility covers internal and external aspects — showing a flexible individual in the way that they speak to others, the way they listen to others, but also in the way that they operate within themselves. This can also be taken literally with a person who has a flexible body as I’m seeing this relating to how they take care of themselves with an effort to stay fit or stay relaxed and well managed through physical activity. With the Flexibility card specifically, yoga, dancing, or light cardio would be more the speed, activity that has the potential to relieve stress rather than add strain through something like weight training.

In comparison to Jungkook, the Flexibility card seems to hold more of that Divine Feminine energy as well, it’s the receptive space as well as a space of operation. The internalized flexibility is in the way they receive others, how they communicate with others, and how they interact with their environments. They are more receptive to, and one could say potentially at the mercy of, the energy or the people around them. I feel like this could have been a problem that has already been solved or is managed more consciously now as I keep seeing the person in the image of Flexibility wobbling before straightening back up like something else straightened out their spine.

Saturn Return is at the center of the spread and feels very significant in relation to time. There is a peak point either for this person or potentially for both of them around the time of the Saturn Return, but more specifically the culmination point which can fall around the 30th birthday specifically. It’s a point of transition out of a time of strenuous effort toward balancing things within yourself, and between yourself and the rest of the world (20s) and into a mode of personal awareness and a sense of personal liberation (30s). These two may meet each other in their 30s or if they’ve already met, which is possible due to The Tribe card, they may reach a certain peak or highlight of their relationship while they are in their 30s.

I also feel that for this person individually, the presence of Saturn here at the center shows that this person has been through their fair share of trials in their life and has built themselves up with it very nicely and is to be rewarded for that effort in the time of their 30s. Especially with the context of The Tear, Third Eye, and Flexibility, this person has had to learn how to manage themselves and other people, overcome a lot of personal, internal obstacles as well, and will be solidifying personal foundations of peace later on if they have not already begun doing it. In other words, very strict boundaries, a very close and limited circle of friends (The Tribe), words and actions would be very carefully chosen, and so on.

The Tribe card is very interesting because I immediately got thrown to the idea of soul family or cosmic DNA, connections that are very clear and strong due to the significant bonds that are beyond the physical. Considering that Jungkook, along with the other members, are here on a working lifetime, it is right to assume they did not come in alone, they came in with a lot of people that would help to ensure they are able to do what they need to do together and individually. This Temperance person is someone who is part of that group, is well intertwined with the space and if they are not already part of it, would be someone who fits in very easily, as if they were there from the beginning.

With The Tribe, considering how easily the connections fit and seem to work within the same space, I assumed that this Temperance person is probably an entertainer of some kind or works in media to a degree, and Concentration seems to support that. The images on the card are what I’m most focused on, as there is this sense of a witch hunt or someone being attacked and strung up with words and emotions. The mouth on top belongs to the Temperance person while the little green goblin devil thing are like envious projections from others onto this person, literally trying to put words in their mouth or trying to corrupt their image. The way the goblin is waving its hands it’s like, “See guys! This person did this, and then that, and they said this and then this happened! They’re awful!!” It’s all made up, exaggerated, or severely distorted, but the swords fly in any way with an effort to cut the person’s mouth. I’m taking that literally in the sense of hoping to silence them as well as very literally tarnish their image, destroy some level of beauty they wish wasn’t there.

If you think of the goblin thing as a little demon, and Temperance as an angel, the “default hatred” toward Temperance makes sense, but this is being displayed amongst humans, so it’s coming across as Temperance just kind of existing and jealous and hateful people going out of their way to destroy this person’s existence to some degree. It seems very on par with what celebrities, especially in the idol world go through.

The star at the bottom, strung up in a spider’s web, also comes from the effort of others to subdue or tone down the image of Temperance. There’s something more “close to home” with the web where it feels like they are not only being held down by the web, but they are also holding the web in place from the center. It’s a sense of self-sacrifice, and I’m seeing this as falling into some kind of extremism where, essentially, Temperance is aware, potentially due to the image above, that their natural image (an angel of fluidity and balance) is not something people enjoy and therefore they lean a little more into one side over the other. This takes the star’s color from a bright white (a blend of all the colors) to a solid red (centered more in the Root Chakra, more superficial, more image-oriented).

It is quite nice though if you consider that no matter how much other people try and destroy their image, and no matter how much they limit themselves for the sake of peace, they remain a star, the remain as some kind of celestial image that you can imagine floating brightly in the sky, looking down on everything with a sense of understanding and compassion.

The Ace of Pentacles is the last card for this person’s energy center and this may also contribute to them being a person in entertainment or a public figure of some kind as I was seeing this in connection to money as well as production. It’s both the work they do and the money they earn. Both are quite big and come from a “heavenly place” or an “otherworldly place.” There’s something about a natural or necessary exchange, as in this person gives the pentacle to the world, a product, a body of work, and then the world gives back to them a gold coin, a reward, money, success. It’s done quite big and quite successfully because it is supported on a higher level and fueled by the soul. There’s something of innovation or inspiration involved as well where their work or what they contribute to the world should be seen as and treated as a gift from an angel — people may really feel this to be true, and this may be why there are little goblins running around trying to tarnish it. On another level, they see this person’s goodness as a weapon against their own efforts to stagnate and destroy, to live miserably, to believe only in hopelessness, imbalance, lack, and a loss of identity.

The last two cards were pulled with the intention of catching an echo of a whisper, something that this person on some level would say or has said to Jungkook himself. There they have the Badger Spirit which says, “be fearless and bold,” and the New Moon in Capricorn, “your hard work is paying off.”

There certainly is a lot of support there in those words, generating what feels like a driving force or immense inspiration. The way this person has a gift for the world — that gift is received ten times over by Jungkook and the effects of this person would be quite noticeable to him, but still remain questioned by others. In this, they may fuel each other where Jungkook is inspired and pushed forward and the Temperance person is validated, appreciated, and in that is encouraged to keep going, keep building, keep delivering that fluid balance into the world.

Since we can’t be sure if they know each other already or if this connection is waiting in the wings, this section is more zoomed out and is reflecting what their souls or Higher Selves are contributing or pushing down for the other person’s conscious level reception. Here, Kook has the 5 of Cups in reverse. The 5 of Cups, when upright, is a person stuck in grief, insecurity, or a sense of hopelessness after experiencing some kind of upset that affected them deeply. It represents a person focusing only on flaws, low points, downfalls, and failures, losing focus on or going completely blind to hope, potential, or their own capability. This would reflect the Temperance person’s deeper inner sensitivity, connecting to The Tear specifically.

The Magician (Jungkook): 5 of Cups (rev.)

Temperance: 7 of Wands (rev.)

In reverse, Jungkook flushes out that dark water, and feels to shield this person from the swords and cut them from the bindings shown in Concentration. He lightens their load and opens their eyes again to a brighter future, giving them the strength they need to keep going.

In the same way, Temperance contributes the reversed 7 of Wands. Upright, the 7 of Wands is about fighting to keep your place, feeling competitive with others, or even just competitive with the self, feeling the strenuous urge to do more, be more. I am feeling this as very self-focused, as if he’s fighting with himself, or fighting his own sense of limitations. Where Temperance's sense of limitation could stop them from moving out of fear of confrontation, Jungkooks sense of limitation has the potential to make him burn himself out trying to perfect himself beyond those perceived limitations. Both are a bit exaggerated but not without intention — these perceived limitations were put on them both by other people, they just respond to them differently.

Temperance, as they reversed the 7 of Wands for Jungkook, cools the ego, soothes the tension and seems to apply some of their own flexibility to his energy, mind, and body. The same way Temperance is validated by Jungkook, Jungkook is validated by Temperance and is encouraged to move forward. Actually, it’s more like he’s ENSURED to move forward. There was never an issue of him potentially stopping, there was just a potential for him to be forced to stop due to burn out or injury.

In this, these two exchange Water and Fire between the Cups and the Wands. On their own, Temperance carries more Water, more fluidity, more feminine receptivity, while Jungkook carries more Fire, externalized action, masculine projection. They carry both energies very well, again showing the level of development in both of these souls, but they both lean a bit in either direction. With the reversed 5 of Cups, we see Jungkook illuminate and purify the heavier dark water that Temperance is dealing with. It doesn’t go away, it doesn’t evaporate, it simply is purified, cleared enough that Temperance can get back to the normal state of flow, clarity, and awareness. This goes into The Tear, the water acting as a magnifier for the Third-Eye — the deeper emotions are necessary and their ability to balance them is key, but when things get heavier, the water gets darker and the visibility of what’s really there, even within the self can become distorted.With the reversed 7 of Wands, Temperance runs Water through Jungkook’s system. Not snuffing out the flames, but cooling the generators that were steaming hot and about to crack.

How Kook Sees Temperance:

4 of Wands (rev.) + 7 of Swords (rev.) + 4 of Cups (rev.)

This is quite funny because all throughout this I’ve been trying to figure out if this is a connection that is already in play on a conscious and physical level, or if I’m just picking up on the inherent soul connection. With these cards it’s like saying, “No, I’m not WAITING for this person, they’re right here! No, I’m not SNEAKING AROUND with this person, they’re right here! No, you’re not MISSING anything, it’s right here!”

I’m thinking more of the Rider-Waite cards with this, so I’ll explain each of them for reference:

The 4 of Wands is connected to higher soul mate connections and soul counterparts with the four wands in the foreground often being seen as 1111 or 11:11, implying parallel paths of development or work that are leading to a point of unification. The two people in the background, within this context, can be considered the souls of the two individuals, already together on another level, waiting to celebrate the physical and conscious level unity. In this case, that would imply that the 4 of Wands says the connection is going to happen, that the paths are parallel but have not crossed yet. With this card reversed, it’s saying, in a very sly way, that this connection has already come to be, this union has already happened, there is no waiting.

The 7 of Swords shows a person sneaking around, specifically stealing swords and doing so in a way that’s going to trip him up. If we consider the potential of Temperance also being in the entertainment industry, there may be a need to keep things quiet, but there is no desire, with the card in reverse, to go unnoticed. The swords are still held by the blade, words, confirmation are still held back, but there is no desire to hide or “sneak around.” This connection is a visible connection to both him and other people.

The 4 of Cups is more externalized, as in you can imagine the floating cup in front of the man with his eyes closed as another version of the 7 of Swords — you’re not missing anything, it’s right in front of you, they are showing this connection, it’s just not making a lot of noise, it’s not being said out loud. When upright, the cup goes unnoticed by the man with his eyes closed, either because he’s meditating and expecting to receive this cup in his own mind, or he’s fallen asleep and hasn’t noticed it. Here, for this, it feels like the man is straight up refusing, crossing his arms, closing his eyes, and shaking his head. It makes me feel a little sad because it’s leaving the hand in the cloud to question, “why did you accept those cups, but you won’t accept ours?”

It’s like they were signaling or trying to slyly put themselves out there, but people refused or maybe even denied the connection in terms of their companies or management refusing a public relationship. On some level people are refusing them while accepting others and it’s very frustrating and confusing, specifically to Jungkook. It seems like, from that higher perspective, Temperance understands it, does not like it but understands it and is more compliant with the idea of needing to sneak or keep things hidden. There actually does seem to be a lot of frustration in this set now that I’m lingering on this one — “No, you’re not MISSING anything, it’s right here!”

In reverse, Jungkook is really like, “I can see this person clear as day, they’re right here, they’re right next to me, why are you acting like you can’t see them? Why are you acting like you can’t see us?”

How Temperance Sees Jungkook:

Knight of Cups + King of Pentacles (rev.)

When it comes to how Tempernace sees Jungkook, there’s an interesting reflection here that seems to relate to Jungkook’s view of Temperance, or more specifically his view of their relationship. When these cards came out, the Knight of Cups was hidden underneath the reversed King of Pentacles. The Knight of Cups is what Temperance knows of Jungkook — the Knight of Cups combined Fire and Water and seems to reflect the “knight in shining armor,” “prince charming” energy in the way they feel to be rescued from their own dark waters, literally swept up on the boat shown in the image.

However, the King of Pentacles in reverse registers as very stubborn, moving from mutable energy (Fire and Water) fully into the space of Fixed Earth energy, double Earth, very hardened and not very receptive. It’s that frustration from his set. It’s like when he’s with Temperance, he’s fully in that fluid state, more at ease and even more mature, but when he’s looking out at the world, looking out at these aspects of restriction, he’s very frustrated and it seems to trigger his ego, potentially triggering the soul in relation to autonomy and being able to live and operate freely under his own rule, literally taking the crown away from the King.

Again, it seems like Temperance is more understanding and receptive to the idea that they have to keep things quiet or reserved for the sake of safety, their careers, and so on. I imagine since Jungkook seems so opposed to it, Temperance is probably thinking more about him than themselves, and that’s probably due to them having been stabbed and strung up already in Concentration. They’ve felt that restriction already in other ways, they’ve had to learn flexibility because of it, and it seems they don’t want Jungkook to have to bend and nearly break like that, and instead wants to kind of set perimeters and then ensure freedom within those parameters, ensure freedom within their connection.

Current State: The Chariot

The current state of their connection being represented by The Chariot is really nice as it showcases that they are in fact on the same path now. With soul counterparts, the parallel paths eventually merge into one higher path that affirms and supports soul purpose, or in their case soul mission. This is not an intersecting path, meaning this seems to be a potentially one and done deal unless they choose to separate on a conscious level. In other words, if it was purely up to their souls to decide, they are together now and will be together until their lifetimes here are over. When one dies, they will stay with the one who is still living until they pass.

Highest Potential:

10 of Wands (rev.) + 10 of Swords (rev.) + 4 of Swords

The highest potential of their connection is genuinely lovely and makes me want to cry a bit. This is all centered around finding peace and being able to rest, either within each other, within this relationship, or this is something they are both building up and will one day be able to fully step into. The two 10s here are the “bad ones,” opposing the peace and fulfillment of the 10 of Pentacles and 10 of Cups. The 10 of Wands is strain and a lot of physical exertion, something that feels very connected to Jungkook’s frustration and urge to perfect himself. The 10 of Swords is about undeniable ends and destruction of reality, seeming to connect back to the swords flying in Concentration, the aspect of being strung up, bound, and abused by others' words and actions toward Temperance. Both of these are reversed showing that the highest potential of their connection involves relief from these burdens.

This is then doubled down on with the 4 of Swords which is literally just about resting after a major upset, relaxing and trying to heal, preparing for what is to come next. It’s a nap for the mind, body, and soul.

Again, this may be something they are already experiencing in small doses with each other, literally finding peace or a place to “nap” within each other, but this could also be something they are trying to build and move toward, creating a permanent state of rest or peace.

This brings to mind, as a kind of end goal, the complete transition of the two reversed 10s here and the upright 10 of Cups and 10 of Pentacles. For the sake of comparison, here are all four cards from the Rider-Waite deck:

Again, the 10 of Wands seems to be connected more to Jungkook and the 10 of Swords is more connected to Temperance. Take notice of how they are alone in those images, while the other two show partners and family, potentially The Tribe. The reversal of these cards feels like being able to find peace and retreat from these energies within each other when they can, but there also feels to be an open space or a desire to make this permanent and create the 10 of Pentacles and the 10 of Cups. You can imagine them on their own as having already both achieved for themselves the 9s of Cups and Pentacles — wish fulfillment and independent success, but the 10s are everlasting and hold matters of legacy and true soul fulfillment.

The 10 of Pentacles is more externalized and has to do with legacy and building up wealth, status, and solid foundations for themselves and their family that can be trusted, that can not be undone or taken away. The 10 of Cups is more internalized and represents absolute bliss, absolute personal, internal happiness and satisfaction with what is there. Both of these cards imply family, marriage, and growing old together.

That's all I have for this one, thanks for reading!

Shop | Website (currently down)

[cha-melodius]

OMG I'm back again, how about that? It's really a shame I don't have more time to write today because I was really on a roll. Thanks @wordsofhoneydew, @kiwiana-writes, @leaves-of-laurelin and @orchidscript for the tags!

“I should really shower,” Alex says without much conviction. “I’m filthy, H.” Henry just hums, and Alex feels his lips curl into a grin against his skin. “Maybe I like you filthy.” “You do, huh?” Alex asks, lifting one of his dirt and grease-stained hands to Henry’s neck. He’s very well aware that Henry’s never seemed to mind when he was a little grimy after a day of shooting, but today was particularly hot and dusty, and that’s aside from the extra dirt that makeup had added to his skin. He looks like he’s spent all day rolling around in the desert, which he has. Apparently, that’s doing it for Henry. “You want me to put streaks all over that pretty pale skin of yours? Mark you up?” He swipes his thumb over Henry’s collarbone, leaving a black smudge behind, and Henry exhales heavily. “Fuck, yes. I want that.” “Gonna make it so that everyone who sees you leaving this trailer knows that I’ve had my grimy hands all over you,” Alex murmurs, low and heated, punctuating it with a nip at the lobe of Henry’s ear as he smears more dirt around the base of his neck. That’s not how it will work out—this is Henry’s trailer, after all, and most of the rest of the crew will probably be gone by the time they shower and leave. But it still makes for a nice fantasy.  If the way his eyelids flutter shut is any indication, Henry agrees. “Please,” he groans, pressing into Alex’s touch.

As usual, I am doing an open tag, feel free to tag me back! Also tagging a bunch of people under the cut.

@cricketnationrise, @rmd-writes, @welcometololaland, @clottedcreamfudge, @dumbpeachjuice

@tintagel-or-cockleshells, @three-drink-amy, @14carrotghoul, @firenati0n, @inexplicablymine

@eusuntgratie, @sparklepocalypse, @blueeyedgrlwrites, @getmehighonmagic, @porcelainmortal

@iboatedhere, @indestructibleheart, @myheartalivewrites, @ninzied, @nontoxic-writes

@thesleepyskipper, @loki-is-my-kink-awakening, @justabigoldnerd, @pippinoftheshire, @mirilyawrites

@wolfpup026, @bighandsforabigheart, @anincompletelist, @heysweetheart-writes, @cactusdragon517

[andromacheofappalachia]

The Old Guard AU where the poly!141 are a group of immortals who seemingly cannot die so they travel around for centuries fighting battles, wars, and injustice.

John Price, the eldest of them all, the first known immortal. He cannot entirely remember how old he is or anything of his mortal life. There are memories that he carries of fighting against the Romans in what he believes is present day England. Eventually though everything began to bleed together and he almost gave up hope entirely until one fateful event.

The Battle of Culloden. It is where he meets Simon Riley and Johnny MacTavish.

Simon is a lieutenant for the King, a British red coat, different from the rest if only by the black bandana with the white paint of a skull covering his face. A man who Price encounters before his death. Something about him pulling the immortal to find him upon the battlefield. That is, of course by fate, where Price first meets Johnny MacTavish as well. A proud Scott fighting for independence. Face marked by warpaint, dirt, and blood as he kills Simon with a battle cry upon his lips. And in a moment that Price cannot comprehend being reality in its entirety or flashes of the new immortals being bound to him he witnesses this: Johnny kills Simon. Simon rises and kills Johnny. Over and over the two fight, killing each other and healing, until finally they pause. As if realizing that neither is truly dying they hold each other, both looking up to Price just standing over them. A calm silhouette against the backdrop of brutal battle.

Something telling them that he knows.

Of course, none of them understand that they are bound together until later that night when they dream of the other. Price. Simon. Johnny. Living and dying. Plagued by their personal inflictions and differences. Causing Price to have to hunt the two down. Explaining that they have to all be together. They have a job to do. A greater purpose that goes beyond Johnny not wanting to work with Brits and Simon not wanting to work with anyone. (Not that John would ever admit that in truth...he just didn't want to be alone anymore.)

And by the time they dream of a fourth, the consequences of Culloden is gone from them against the sounds of a world at war.

World War II is where they find Kyle "Gaz" Garrick. Dying from a gunshot wound after freeing a camp of POWs from the Germans. Price, Simon, and Johnny race across no mans land and trenches. Across borderlines and battlegrounds to find him. It takes nearly ten days across foot before they come across Gaz collapsed upon his knees drenched in blood. Surrounded by dead German soldiers. A sob shaking him as Price settles a hand across his shoulder. The three immortals explaining that everything would be alright. That Gaz wasn't alone anymore. He'd never be alone again.

And when that war ended well the wars never end. However, the 141 as Price names them certainly didn't expect to gain another member, but one night upon a cargo train within the middle of the desert, they suddenly gain you.

Your death awakens them from sleep far worse than if the train itself had crashed.

Price watches you die, sees the wound that kills you, the pain and fear flashing across your eyes. Johnny catches a glimpse of your name tag and the features of your face; his hands hazardously sketching you upon a notepad he had stuffed away. Gaz quickly tries describing your environment and clothing. Simon looks upon them all with darkened eyes, his hand grasping his throat, as he announces that he felt you die. A statement that has Price standing as he suddenly realizes where you must be and what had led you to your death.

No more words were needed for them to all agree to find you no matter what.

[iamespecter]

Oh ziku, I'm going to open Pandora's box with this question I'm going to ask (sorry if I made you uncomfortable)

I wanted to ask you personally what your eternal eclipse au is about. I saw that you mentioned it on tadc-harlequin a few times, so it generated interest in me. 🤔

As I said, I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything. I fully understand your love-stress relationship with the fnaf fandom.

I send you strength to improve your current situation.

lmfao I honestly don't mind, the Eternal Eclipse au brainrot still goes on despite the lack of interest amongst the general audience

But basically, it's an AU where God of War meets Security Breach, but if 80's synthwave were written all over it

The AU formed because I was watching Jacksepticeye's God of War Raganarok playthrough, while having Dance with the Dead songs playing in the background. I then thought to myself, " hm... what if.... God of War x Security Breach.... with lots of Dance with the Dead vibes....."

Summary:

The world is dying. The sun has lost it's warmth ever since the moon shattered. The Skies remain dark as the void vast of space, no longer in it's place. The Oceans, lakes and rivers have become frozen. The Weather has become volatile and constant sandstorms plague the wastelands. The Forests no longer lush, but ashen and volcanic.

An Eternal Eclipse sits lone beyond the horizon. A grim reminder, and a ticking time bomb for the eventual collapse of everything we know.

Freddy is a wandering bear who simply wants to find a safe place for his small companion, Gregory, a young human boy left to die all alone when he was an infant, until saved by Freddy. But the wastelands are brutal, and unforgiving. He's spent years running away from his demons, but now he's decided he must make things right.

Not just for Gregory, but for them, too.

I don't have a lot of art (especially since I'm currently on my phone rn), but I have Freddy's old design and yes I gave him Kratos' black bear fur coat it looks so fucking badass

Some spoiler for the story up ahead:

Each of the Glamrocks for this AU actually represent an important aspect of the world;

Chica being the sigil of water, the seas, rivers and lakes. Her being gone from her place means that all bodies of water have dried up and turned into a desert wasteland.

Where's all the water? She IS the water. And she's frozen entirely because of the great collapse, now being the reason why the entire lands are freezing cold. She is being held in the farthest corner of the world, where her influence had created a massive corrupted ice wall spanning the entire world.

(old concept art for Chica's corrupted primal form, may update this soon with a better one)

To free Chica from this feral form, a ritual must be commenced; Freddy has to play a song from her own guitar (that Bonnie kept) that reawakens her true spirit. Said theme is "Venom".

Roxanne is the sigil of weather, but due to her misplacement, she has crashed down to the earths and has become a mountain that only awakens to wreak havoc, seemingly trying to find something. Her breathing when she sleeps is the reason why there are constant sandstorms, and earthquakes.

(old concept for how her primal form looks, if she's not sleeping, may update this soon)

Roxanne's theme is "Andromeda".

Montgomery is the embodiment of fauna, being the forests and swamps. The rivers drying up has turned him and his territory into a volcanic creature, constantly spewing corrupted ashes into the air.

Monty's lava, smoke, ashes and withered fauna is one of the major reasons why the world, as well as it's occupants are slowly dying, as they can barely grow new crops.

Montgomery's theme is "War".

(Yes, this is another "boss rush" AU. lmao)

Now, what about Bonnie? Well, he's a zesty ahh vendor. lmfao

When the moon was shattered, the skies disappeared. Without the skies to keep the weather up, the weather crashed to the ground. When the weather came too close, the seas froze and the lands dried up. Without the sea's flow, the fauna withered and became hateful.

A domino effect that resulted into the Great Collapse of the world.

I don't have the updated designs for everyone yet, so hopefully I could get started on those sometime even if the AU is not my main concern atm

[theadorepiper]

*Excited yelling*

[mllemaenad]

Hm. Blight.

The thing about Blight is that it shapes the world. It shapes people into ghouls and broodmothers, and through procreation into darkspawn. It shapes the landscape with its black tendrils and bulbous growths. It notoriously ruins the fertility of the soil, and creates deserts where there was once farmland.

It also sings. That's one of the first things we learn about it. And every darkspawn, bar the Awakened, is consumed by the Song. Darkspawn are, of course, people, and their reaction to events differs on a case-by-case basis, but we know from the Mother that the song can act as a kind of anaesthetic. She was unable to survive what was done to her without it.

We can tie this to the experience of the Tranquil. I keep coming back, again and again, to Pharamond's description:

I find it ironic the Rite of Tranquility cuts one off from the land of dreams. because a dream is exactly what it feels like. Everything in a dream is as it should be, nothing is out of place … yet part of you knows something is not right. This isn't your home, this isn't your life … it isn't you. – Dragon Age: Asunder

Everything is right, but everything is also wrong at the same time. I also think of the text from Eddin the Meek:

Some laugh at me. I no longer mind. Once upon a time, I studied as they did. I learned under the tutelage of an enchanter and attempted to master the art of bending magic to my will, and while I did well enough, I know that I struggled. I saw the way the enchanter looked at me, the sidelong glances of worry and disappointment. While other apprentices were conjuring fire, I could barely light a candle. I was frightened of magic. When I was a boy, my grandmother regaled me with tales of the terrible Flemeth, the Witch of the Wilds. She told me of the magisters and how their evil magic infected the world with the darkspawn. She told me of demons, and how they were drawn to the dreams of those who possessed magic like moths to a flame. She told me all these things because, she said, the talent ran in our family's blood. And so it ran in mine. All my young life I had dreaded the thought, prayed to the Maker that I was not so cursed, but I knew otherwise. Deep in my heart, I knew. When the templars came to our home, I knew. The mages' tower was terrifying, full of secrets and danger. The templars glared at me as if I could spring full into an abomination before their very eyes. My enchanter patiently attempted to teach me to marshal my willpower, my only defense should a demon attempt to enslave me, but it was no use. How many nights did I cry myself to sleep in that dark and lonely place? Then my Harrowing came at last, my final test. Face a demon, they said, or submit to the Rite of Tranquility. They would sever my connection to the Fade, and thus I would never dream and no demon could ever touch me—but I would also be unable to do magic, and I would never feel an emotion ever again. Facing the demon was certain death, so my choice was easy. It was not so painful. Now I serve in other ways. We Tranquil manage the archives. We run the tower, purchase the supplies and maintain the accounts. Our condition also allows us to use the magical element lyrium without ill effect, and thus we are the ones who enchant the magical items. We are the merchants who sell these items to those the Circle permits, and the coin from those sales provides the Circle's wealth. Thus, we Tranquil are vital. The young and old may stare at me, ill at ease, but they would be worse off without me. They may think me a failure, but there is no horror for me now. I feel no fear of what I am. The shadows are merely shadows, and I am content. —Eddin the Meek, Tranquil of the Circle of Magi of Starkhaven, the Free Marches. – Journal of the Tranquil

Tranquility is generally described as torture, but some people who have undergone it, especially those who have been traumatised in some other way, believe that, like the Mother, they would not survive a cure. Avexis, in Inquisition, also believes she would not survive the reversal of her Tranquility.

Darkspawn operate as something like ... proxy bodies for the dreams of the Tranquil Titans. Tranquil mages are described as being like sleepwalkers, and I think you could reasonably describe darkspawn the same way. They are both lulled and compelled by the Song, and as Pharamond puts it "Yet [they] cannot act other than the dream allows. It follows its course, and [they] follow it believing nothing is real". A darkspawn may be cured of its condition (at least mentally) by a form of the Joining. Whether or not they can survive that cure is a separate question.

Cool.

But I also think about demons. Specifically about abominations. Or, well, to be really specific, about this:

That does not look exactly like a darkspawn, no. But there's a certain similarity there. When a demon decides to consume its host it also produces a distorted horror of what once was.

And a demon is a spirit that has been perverted from its purpose. It is also a being in distress, although it may not be able to articulate that. If things have gone this far, the demon is lashing out in helpless misery.

Which brings me back to the top. Blight shapes the world, and Blight sings. Titans also shape the world, and Titans sing. Isatunoll, as Harding is learning.

Blight operates like a Titan forcibly removed from its purpose. It acts with the will of a Titan, but distorted into horrors and destruction. It acts like a demon.

The distinction between living being and spirit is increasingly muddy: spirits can clearly become living beings – the elves did it. Do the souls of the dead become spirits? Unclear, but a possible theory among the mortalitasi. And Cole, of course, who is simultaneously a spirit of Compassion and a dead human boy brought back to life.

And Titans? Well, they are the pillars of the earth, but they are also magic incarnate – lyrium makes magic, and magic is a connection to the Fade. So they are, or were, simultaneously of the waking world and the Fade.

But there is a physicality to them that is not present in spirits. Lyrium is their blood, and it brims with magic. But it's a real material that you can mine and touch (although don't touch it if you'd like your brain to keep working). And Blight ... Blight is almost like ... bacteria? Perhaps a poor analogy, but as close as I can come.

The Taint has a real, physical presence in the world that is independent of other beings – although it can infect other beings. Like bacteria.

Isseya had this problem.

And it was her fault. Isseya still didn't understand exactly how or why, but she knew that it was so. The scarlet sickness that was overcoming the griffons was tied to the ritual she'd imposed on some of the fighting birds during the Blight ... but she didn't fully understand what it was doing to them, or how it was spreading, and she had no inkling of how to effect a cure. If it were a real disease, then their bloody spume might be the means of transmission. But it wasn't a real disease. Was it? How could it be, when she'd made it? – Dragon Age: Last Flight

Her Joining ritual failed, yes: instead of producing the resistance you get in Grey Wardens, it made griffons more susceptible to the Blight, and allowed it to spread more easily. But she didn't make a disease. Blight already acts like a disease. How do you catch Blight? From contact with the Taint, either in an infected person (like darkspawn) or from the environment.

The bodies of the Titans have magical properties – they might even be magic incarnate. The dreams of the Titans, tormented into violence by Tranquility, are a physical presence in the world, which mimic a sickness to produce their horrors.

They are backwards to what you see elsewhere: here is a person – they are solid presence in the world, but their mind travels to the Fade in dreams. Here is a spirit – they are imbued with magic, but lack a physical presence unless they possess something.

It feels like ... a fascinating look at what the world might be like if the Veil came down. A world where those rules simply don't apply.

[pxnsneverland]

Something Immortal | Biker!Austin Butler x OC (part 6)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

plot summary: In the gritty underbelly of a city ruled by werewolf biker gangs, Austin Butler reigned supreme as the ruthless leader of his pack. A man of unwavering ferocity, he lied, killed, and stole without remorse, living by a code of violence that defined his kind. Yet, even Austin harbored a secret weakness – his childhood friend Bonnie Barlow, the one woman he had loved in silence for years. Bonnie's father had once been part of Austin's gang, but after his death, she fled the treacherous world of the werewolves, unable to stomach the endless cycle of crime and brutality. For five years, she remained a fugitive from her own nature, until a fateful night when her life took an irreversible turn. Freshly released from a two-year prison stint, Austin returned to his pack, reveling in the debauchery of their den. But his revelry was cut short by a frantic call from Bonnie, pleading for his aid. Rushing to her side, he uncovered a grim truth – in a desperate act of self-defense against her abusive boyfriend, Bonnie had taken a life, awakening the dormant werewolf within her. As the next full moon loomed, she would undergo her first agonizing transformation, a fate she had always dreaded. Defying the pack's ruthless code, Austin sheltered Bonnie, guiding her through the excruciating metamorphosis that tore through her body each lunar cycle. In the depths of her torment, their bond rekindled, blossoming into a love they had long suppressed. Nights of shared laughter and reminiscence gave way to stolen moments of tenderness, their connection deepening with every passing moon. Yet, their newfound bliss was a fragile thing, forever threatened by the harsh realities that governed their world. For Bonnie was branded a deserter, her very existence a betrayal in the eyes of the pack. If Austin's treachery was uncovered, retribution would be swift and merciless.

pairings: biker!austin butler x oc

word count: 3900

warnings/notes: blood, murder, pain

Chapter 6 :Transform

The deafening growl of a powerful motorcycle engine shattered the serene stillness of the forest as Austin deftly maneuvered through the winding dirt path. The bright beam of his bike's headlight cut through the thick darkness, illuminating the way to the clearing where his pack had gathered. As he approached, the warm, flickering glow of a roaring bonfire came into view, casting dancing shadows on the faces of his fellow werewolves. The rich scent of burning wood mixed with their excited chatter and laughter that echoed through the night. Despite their boisterous revelry, Austin couldn't shake off the turmoil brewing inside him as he prepared for the impending hunt with his pack.

With a graceful movement, he swung his jean-clad leg over the sleek black motorcycle. The leather of his jacket creaked with the motion, an audible announcement of his arrival. His boots, scuffed and worn from countless rides, crunched on the forest floor, adding to the natural symphony of rustling leaves and chirping birds. Austin's piercing blue eyes scanned the scene before him—the wolves of his pack were gathered around the crackling fire, their silhouettes flickering in the dancing flames. Some tossed back cold beers, while others engaged in playful tussles, honing their instincts for the impending hunt. The scent of pine and wood smoke hung heavy in the air, creating a primal atmosphere that heightened their senses.

"Big night, boss," one of them called out, slapping Austin on the shoulder with a grin that was all teeth and wild excitement.

"Let's make it a good one," another chimed in, raising a flask in salute.

"Every night's a good night when there's prey to be had," Austin replied, his voice steady but edged with something darker than the thrill of the hunt.

Amidst the deafening cheers of his pack, Austin's mind wandered to the lone figure he had left behind in the protective shelter. Bonnie, with her delicate features and inner strength, was about to undergo her first transformation, a bone-shattering experience that every werewolf must endure. His thoughts were consumed by the image of her expressive eyes, usually brimming with empathy, now widened in fearful anticipation. A pang of guilt struck his heart as he reveled in the primal joy of the full moon, knowing she was struggling alone with the beast within her.

The fire crackled, its flames twisting and dancing like a mesmerizing show. The sparks swirled up into the night sky, a mocking mimicry of the storm raging within him. He should be there, with her, guiding her through the painful transformation as her body contorted and reshaped itself. But his duty as leader demanded his presence here, among his brothers and sisters of the blood, enforcing unity and strength.

"Something on your mind, Austin?" a deep voice inquired, dragging him from his reverie.

"Nothing that won't wait until after the hunt," he lied smoothly, locking away his concern in a chamber of his heart that had long since learned to prioritize duty over desire.

The pack paid no heed to the brief flicker of conflict in their leader's gaze; they were too consumed by the frenzied anticipation of the upcoming feast. As the full moon ascended, its luminous glow casting a silver sheen over the revelers, Austin felt his skin begin to tingle with the familiar pull of transformation. It was almost time. Soon, he would join them, running through the dense forest, their howls echoing off the trees and filling the night air with an electric energy. The scent of prey lingered on their tongues, intensifying their hunger and driving their primal instincts forward. Austin felt a surge of excitement and adrenaline course through his body as he prepared to embrace his wolf form and partake in the savage hunt with his pack.

Yet even as he prepared to embrace the wolf within, to shed his human worries with his skin, Austin knew this night would be different. He would not lose himself completely to the wildness, not yet. Instead, he would watch and wait, biding his time until the perfect moment presented itself. And when it did, he would slip through the trees with all the grace and quietness of a ghost, eager to return to Bonnie's side once again.

"Stay sharp," he murmured under his breath, a silent promise to the woman who held the biggest piece of his fiercely guarded soul. "I'm coming."

A thin stream of smoke twisted into the air as Austin drew back on his cigarette, a small, burning ember in the darkness.

"Hey," Jerry rumbled, sidling up next to Victor with a nod toward Austin. "Keep your eyes on the boss tonight. He's off, more than usual."

Victor followed Jerry's gaze, studying the way Austin held himself – tall and unyielding, yet undeniably distracted. A knowing smirk crept across Victor's lips. "Sure thing, Jerry. I've got him covered."

With a swift stomp of his boot, Austin extinguished the last embers of his cigarette and strode forward, wielding an air of authority that came naturally after years of leading his brethren. His low, commanding voice cut through the crackling flames of the fire, carrying with it a smooth and unwavering tone that demanded attention.

"Brothers! Sisters!" He spread his arms wide, an orator ready to inspire his troops. "Tonight, we run beneath the full moon's grace. We revel in the freedom it grants us, the power it fuels within our veins!"

The wolves hollered their approval, some throwing their heads back in anticipation, others pounding their chests with clenched fists.

"Let's make this hunt one for the ages," he continued, a steely edge creeping into his words. "I want to see the forest shake with our might, to hear the earth groan under the weight of our conquest."

"YEAH!" they roared, the sound rolling through the trees like thunder.

"Unleash the beast," Austin declared, his voice rising to a crescendo. "And let there be carnage!"

The pack erupted into a wild frenzy of excitement, their howls and cheers piercing the night and echoing through the trees. Their eyes were ablaze with hunger, eager for the promise of bloodshed and triumphant victory. Austin watched them with an inscrutable expression, his gaze drawn to the primal energy radiating from his fellow hunters. The anticipation of the hunt filled the air like a tangible force, urging them all forward towards the inevitable clash of fang and claw.

Amidst the clamor and thrall of his pack, Austin stood stoic, a statue among the restless. The full moon loomed overhead, its silvery light casting an ethereal glow upon the gathering. As the lunar crescendo neared, he could feel the ancient magic coursing through his veins, a siren call to the beast within.

"Any second now," he murmured under his breath, eyes scanning the perimeter of their woodland cathedral. He knew the transformation would grip him as well, but it also offered a fleeting chance—a diversion that might allow him to escape unnoticed.

In the cacophony of growls and cheers, his mind spun a quiet web of strategy. "Bonnie," he whispered, her name an anchor in the tumultuous sea of his duties. "I have to get back to her before—"

"Before what, Austin?" Jerry's voice cut through his reverie, a blade poised with suspicion.

"Before we lose ourselves completely to the night." Austin's answer was smooth, practiced, yet a bead of sweat betrayed his cool facade. His intense gaze locked on Jerry for a moment, a silent duel that ended with a curt nod from his second-in-command.

"Good," Jerry grunted, turning his attention back to the pack as muscles began to tense, bones to creak and shift.

As the moon reached its zenith, an otherworldly force took hold of every werewolf present. Their bodies trembled and twisted as they gave in to the primal urges within them, their bones snapping and reforming, their muscles bulging with newfound strength. A cacophony of guttural roars echoed through the forest as wolves, their fur gleaming silver in the moonlight, burst forth from their human shells. The ground shook beneath their weight as they ran, a symphony of power and raw instinct propelling them forward. It was a scene straight out of a nightmare, but to these creatures it was their reality, a part of who they were.

"Go! The night is ours!" Austin shouted over the din, though his words were more for himself than anyone else. As the pack surged forward, a torrent of fur and fangs, he lingered just a heartbeat longer.

"Bonnie," he whispered again, the weight of his secret anchoring him to his true purpose. It was time to slip away, to return to her side, where his heart truly lay.

The symphony of the woods echoed with the primal howling of Austin's kin, a wild call that spoke of freedom and ferocity. But for Austin, it sang a different tune—one of love and protection—as he readied himself to abandon the hunt for a rescue far more critical to his soul. He could feel the raw power pulsing through his veins, urging him on towards his destined path.

The transformation seized Austin, contorting his body with inhuman grace—a metamorphosis both violent and beautiful. His muscles bulged and elongated, the sinews threading into new, powerful forms as his rugged human façade yielded to the wolf within. Fur sprouted in a silvery blonde cascade, matching the untamed mane he bore in his human form. With a jaw that now snapped with razor-sharp canines, and eyes that glinted like chips of ice under the moonlight, his wolf was a majestic beast, large and imposing. Each breath Austin's wolf form took fogged the air, a silent testament to the cold fire burning within his heart.

"Run," he commanded himself, voice lost amidst the symphony of howls that filled the night. The primal instincts surged through him, but his mind held on to the singular thought of Bonnie, her safety acting as an anchor against the tide of feral urges that threatened to overtake him.

He lunged forward, paws thudding against the earth with purpose. The forest became a blur of shadow and moonbeam as he weaved between trees, his ears tuned to the cacophony of the pack's hunt—a discordant lullaby that masked his departure. The scent of pine and damp soil mingled with the distant, coppery tang of blood, a stark reminder of the savagery he left behind.

"Keep focus," he growled internally, each bound carrying him closer to his hidden desire, away from the chaos. Somewhere, amidst the raucous cries of his brethren, he discerned the sharp crack of bone and the visceral tearing of flesh that accompanied their feast. It was the sound of the wild reclaiming its dominion, the sound of unbridled predation that served as the perfect distraction for his escape.

As Austin raced onwards, his keen senses missed not a single beat of the forest's rhythm. Yet, so intent was he on his silent vow to return to Bonnie, he failed to detect the stealthy pursuit of another—Victor, whose curiosity drove him to tail the leader through the shadowed woods, trailing the ghostly imprint of Austin's passage.

The forest air quivered with the echoes of terror—a symphony of chaos that Austin navigated with grim determination. He could hear the fabric of tents ripping, the crunch of cooler lids under heavy paws, and the shrill crescendo of screams that cut through the night. Campfires that had once been the heart of merry gatherings were now beacons for a massacre, casting long, dancing shadows as the unlucky campers found themselves in the midst of monstrous revelry.

"Please, no!" a voice pleaded somewhere to his left, muffled by the growls and snarls that responded with ruthless glee.

Austin's ears twitched, but he pressed on, muscles coiling and stretching beneath his thick, silver-grey fur streaked with darker shades that mirrored the moonlit sky. His eyes, glowing an intense blue, remained fixed ahead. Regret was a luxury he couldn't afford—not when Bonnie's safety hung in the balance. The taste of fear saturated the air, yet he refused to let it seep into his resolve.

"Run, just run!" another camper shouted, their footsteps pounding against the ground in futile escape.

"Should've stayed in the city," Austin thought, his heart hardening against the sorrow that threatened to claw its way up his throat. He was the leader; his pack needed this release, craved the hunt—it was their nature, their curse. But he would not partake tonight. Not while Bonnie faced her own darkness alone.

Skirting past a clearing, he glimpsed the flicker of a tail disappearing into the brush—a reminder that the pack was far from idle. But none spared him a glance. Their focus lay elsewhere, on the thrill of the chase, the promise of blood.

"Bonnie, wait for me," he thought, his breath forming misty clouds that dissipated swiftly into the cold air.

Meanwhile, unseen by Austin, Victor slinked behind, a shadow among shadows. His steps were careful, calculated to avoid detection. His eyes, narrow slits of cunning, peered through the foliage, tracing Austin's every move. Jerry's instructions echoed in his mind: "Find out what he's hiding."

"Curiouser and curiouser," Victor whispered to himself, a sly grin etched onto his face, hidden by the darkness. He watched as Austin's form grew smaller, more distant, his own curiosity burning like a fire within, fanned by the enigma that Austin had become.

The woods gave way to the familiar terrain leading to the bomb shelter, and Austin sensed the shift in his environment. Here, the scents were less wild, touched by human hands, and it spurred him onward. The entrance loomed ahead, salvation in concrete and steel.

Victor paused at the edge of the treeline, wary yet intrigued as he beheld the sight of the shelter's entrance. He knew he'd have to report back to Jerry soon—but not just yet. This mystery demanded further investigation, and Victor was all too eager to unravel it.

As Austin approached the shelter, his sharp senses picked up the faint scent of fear and desperation that seemed to emanate from the very concrete walls. His jaw tightened and his muscles coiled in preparation for what lay ahead. With a deep breath, he focused all of his energy on shifting into human form. In a swift, fluid motion, he transformed, his powerful frame now standing tall and imposing against the backdrop of the dark night. His blonde hair glinted like a halo in the dim light.

The tranquil silence of the evening was rudely interrupted by a sharp, piercing sound that sliced through the air like a knife — Bonnie's screams. They were unbridled, filled with such intense anguish that it felt like they were physically twisting Austin's insides. He didn't have a moment to stop and think about his next move; his feet were already carrying him towards the origin of those gut-wrenching cries, driven by an instinctual need to protect and comfort.

"Bonnie!" he bellowed, his voice ragged with the strain of his suppressed fury and concern as he stormed into the shelter. The thick steel door groaned under his force, yielding to the strength that belied his human form. His piercing eyes scanned the dimly lit interior, the sparse fluorescent lights flickering overhead casting ghostly shadows on the walls.

"Bonnie!" he called again, his tone laced with a command that he knew would have no effect on what awaited him inside. It was a call born not from expectation of obedience, but from the depths of desperation that gnawed at his insides.

He found her there, the chains that bound her rattling with the violence of her struggle, the metallic clinks rising above her continuous cries. Austin's fists clenched at the sight, the primal part of him roaring to life. But he stood his ground, a bulwark against the chaos, knowing all too well that the path before her was one she needed to traverse alone. It was a rite of passage, cruel and unyielding, yet necessary.

"Stay with me, Bonnie," he whispered fiercely, though his words were drowned out by her screams. He remembered his own trials, the bone-deep ache, the rage, and the thirst for dominance. Yet now, as leader, he could do nothing but watch and wait, his every instinct pulling him in opposing directions. Protect or dominate; the dilemma of a werewolf torn between man and beast.

The cold, unforgiving concrete walls seemed to amplify Bonnie's agonized screams, each one ringing through the air like a sharp blade slicing through flesh. Her body convulsed on the dirty floor, twisting and contorting in sync with the unseen forces that seemed to be conducting a symphony of torment upon her. The very air around them felt charged with an energy of pain and suffering, as if the room itself was alive and reveling in Bonnie's agony.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, carving rivers through the grime. Her wavy hair clung to her sweat-slicked skin as if trying to comfort her. But there was no solace to be found in the throes of the transformation, no gentle whisper that could soothe the wildfire raging through her veins.

"Please," she gasped between sobs, her voice ragged and strained, "make it stop."

He knelt beside her, the heat emanating from her trembling form enough to scorch. The air was thick with the scent of anguish—an odor that no amount of distance or time could ever erase from memory.

"Bonnie, look at me," Austin urged, reaching out but not daring to touch. "You’re strong. You can get through this."

Her eyes—once a soft haven of empathy now shimmered with an animalistic glint—met his. In that fleeting moment of clarity before another wave of pain crashed over her, he read the raw desperation etched within their depths.

"I can't...," she whimpered, her voice breaking as another guttural cry tore from her lips.

The chains rattled violently, a haunting melody to the gruesome transformation unfolding. Her bones seemed to cry out in protest, the sound piercing the veil of stoicism Austin wore like armor. Every scream, every plea was a testament to the mind-numbing pain that gripped her, contorting her small frame into an instrument of torture.

"Don’t fight it, Bonnie." His words were firm, though his heart quaked with the effort to remain composed. He knew the struggle all too well—the way the pain clawed its way through flesh and bone, relentless and unyielding.

"Ah—Austin!" she screeched, the name torn from her lips as another spasm wracked her body.

Her fingers clawed at the unforgiving ground, seeking purchase against the hellish tide. Austin felt something primal stir within him at the sound of his name distorted by her suffering, a feral urge to rip away the chains, to end her pain by any means necessary. But he couldn’t. He wouldn't.

"Stay with me," he said again, his voice a low growl of determination, "I'm right here. You're not alone."

Yet in that moment, surrounded by the cacophony of pain and the stark reality of her ordeal, they were both acutely aware of a chilling truth: in the face of such brutal transformation, Bonnie was utterly, devastatingly alone.

"God, Bonnie," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely above a whisper yet laden with a palpable anguish that mirrored her own. The sight of her writhing on the cold concrete floor, the sound of her screams—it was like a knife twisting deep in his gut, the pain almost his own. Almost. His hands balled into fists at his sides, nails digging crescents into his palms as if the physical pain could somehow anchor him against the torrent of emotions threatening to consume him.

A sickening crunch resonated through the shelter, and he winced, each snap of bone an echo in his own flesh. He knew every break and mend, had endured them himself, but nothing had prepared him for the torment of witnessing his mate endure the same hellish ordeal.

She thrashed against her restraints, a low growl rumbling from the depths of her throat, her teeth bared in primal defiance. Her eyes, wild with pain, locked onto his for a fleeting moment before another convulsion seized her. The Bonnie he knew was slipping further away with each torturous moment, replaced by a creature of pure instinct and survival. And as she gnashed her teeth at him, a futile warning or perhaps a plea, Austin's heart fractured a little more, knowing this was a battle she had to face alone—no matter how much it tore him apart to watch.

The shelter quivered as Bonnie's convulsions escalated into violent tremors. Austin steadied himself against the cold wall, his muscles tensing with each of her shudders. Her skin stretched and rippled, contorting grotesquely as if a feral force fought to break free from within. The air grew thick as her body ballooned and contracted, fur sprouting in patches that rapidly spread until she was engulfed. And then, with a guttural snarl, the woman he cherished vanished before his eyes, leaving behind a beast with eyes like embers—glowing fiercely with a savage light that knew no reason, no restraint.

"Bonnie..." His voice trailed off, drowned by the roar of bloodlust that seemed to command every fiber of her being.

She lunged forward with an otherworldly might, chains straining and screeching against the force. The ferocity in her movements spoke of a desperation to rend, to tear apart the object of her fury—and that object was him. Austin's breath caught in his throat as he watched her struggle, the clank of metal on concrete reverberating through the space between them, a stark reminder of the perilous line they now tread. He could see it—the raw power, the unbridled aggression—as she snapped her jaws, aiming for flesh and bone. Her focus singular and deadly. She threw herself against her bindings, over and over, each attempt more desperate than the last, her growls a symphony of rage and pain that clawed at his heart.

There was no recognition, only the relentless pursuit of destruction—as if the very chains that bound her were the only things keeping him alive. Austin stood motionless, not daring to approach, painfully aware that any semblance of the woman he loved was buried beneath layers of primal instinct. Her snarls echoed.

Austin's muscles tensed, a low growl bubbling from his throat—an instinctual response to the threat before him. The wolf within urged him to claim dominance, to force submission, but he quelled the rising tide of authority, grounding himself in the knowledge that this was part of Bonnie's transformation—a rite of passage no chain could bind.

Her eyes, wild and luminous, flickered with an ancient ferocity, unseeing. The rippling fur along her back bristled as she lunged again, the chains holding fast. The standoff stretched, a taut line between man and beast, each second a testament to the tumultuous power of their kind. Then, without warning, the heavy door to the bomb shelter flew open, crashing against the wall with a resounding thud.

"What the hell is—?" Victor's voice cut through the tension.

His gaze landed on the wolf straining against the chains, recognition dawning in his eyes as the pieces fell into place. A smirk crossed his lips "Bonnie Barlow?"

Stay tuned for part 7!! Click HERE to view!

[hoffmanxfurthermore]

Strawberry Sunscreen

(Chase Harper x reader)

Collab w someone.

Content: age gap, daughters best friend, reader is a 19 year old virgin, taboo stuff lol EVERYBODY IS OVER 18 AND CONSENTING

Word count: 3.9k

(Gif by @angels-holocaust)

"I'll be there at 5 :)" You send the text and smile, setting your phone on your desk. Claire, your best friend, invited you to her family's fourth of July party, and you're beyond stoked. This year has been rough on you. You took the year off of school to help your sick mother. Now, at 19, you're starting your senior year of high school in less than two months.

It's a pool party, so you opt to just wear your bathing suit, a dark purple tankini, under your dress. It's not likely that you'll get into the water, but you like to be prepared. The rosy pink sundress fits perfectly, accentuating your curves, the hem reaching just above your kneecaps. Your wavy brown hair is pulled back into a high ponytail, and you complete your look with a pair of small silver hoop earrings and a pair of black sunglasses before setting off to Claire's house. 

There aren't a lot of people at the party, just you, Claire, her dad, and a couple of friends that you'd lost contact with since being out of school. It's a little awkward since you don't really fit in with Claire's friends. But Claire made sure to include you in their activities so you don't feel left out.

When everybody decides to get in the pool, you opt for sitting in the sun instead, watching Claire's dad cook burgers on the grill. You aren't sure, but you swear you could see him glance over at you once in a while, trying to be subtle. Especially after your dress came off, while you're lounging in a lawn chair in your swimsuit next to the pool.

As the night went on, the subtle glances turned into innocent flirtation. You blush, not used to the attention. You shyly turn away as he comments on your bathing suit.

Mr. Harper makes small talk with you, telling you he's proud of you for going back to finish high school, asking how your mother is doing. The sun is setting, turning the sky beautiful shades of scarlet and purple. You two sit next to the pool, chatting, catching up since it's been a while since you've visited Claire.

People start to leave, and the party is just about over. Claire's dad had given her permission to have you over for the night, so you change into a large t shirt and some clean underwear, ready to settle in for the night.

"Thanks for inviting me today, I really needed it," you say to Claire as you're both sliding into bed, just a little past midnight.

"I'm glad you had fun," she replies, smiling, "you know me and my dad love having you over."

You both slowly drift off to sleep, the cool breeze coming in through the open window, cooling down the stuffy room as the heavy down comforter covers your bodies.

3:34am.

The bright red LED analog clock on the nightstand nearly blinds you as you awaken in a panic, escaping from a horrible nightmare. Your mouth is drier than a desert. The oversized t shirt you wore to bed is soaked in sweat. Glancing over at Claire, you slowly sit up, trying not to wake her up.

Making your way down the dark hallway of the house, you hear what sounds like liquid pouring coming from the kitchen. As you approach the kitchen, Claire's dad turns to face you, a glass of whisky in hand. You pretend not to notice him looking at your bare legs, barely covered by the fabric of your shirt. He's dressed only in green flannel pants, hanging low on his hips. You stifle the urge to let your eyes roam his body.

"Hi, Mr. Harper, sorry, I just came in here for some water," you say, your voice dry and hoarse.

"Let me." He smiles at you, setting his glass down as he opens the cupboard, pulling out a clean glass. He fills it up with water from the dispenser on the refrigerator door.

"Thank you," you barely manage as you chug the cool liquid quickly, water dribbling down your chin onto your large grey t shirt. Wiping your face on your hand, you set the glass into the sink, your arm brushing against his as you withdraw your hand. You're not sure how to describe it, but that split second contact sparked something inside you. Is this your chance? Your gaze meets his for a second before you quickly look away.

"I should, umm, get back to bed," you say quickly, turning around to leave.

"Wait," he protests. Turning around, you can see he's walking toward you.

Your heart skips a beat as he steps toward you, placing a hand on your hip. The contact makes you gasp.

"I need to say something... Every time I see you, I can barely contain myself," Chase's voice is low, sultry, lustful, "and you looked so beautiful earlier," he confesses.

Your eyes widen in surprise. You've always had a thing for Mr. Harper, but he's your best friend's father. You'd be lying if you said you'd never had your own little fantasies about him, but the idea of actually doing anything with him scares you, not to mention would be the ultimate betrayal to your best friend. Especially given the fact that nobody has ever gotten further with you than reaching a hand up your shirt. Being a virgin, still, at 19 is a little embarrassing, so it's not something you usually tell people.

He takes a step closer to you, standing only inches in front of you, his hand still resting on your hip. He's taller than you are, and his frame is much larger. 

"I saw you looking at me earlier..."

"Mr. Harper," you whisper, "I can't." Your heart is pounding in your chest.

"Chase," he whispers in your ear, "call me Chase."

His hand leaves your hip only to travel up to the back of your neck as he gently laces his fingers through your soft, silky hair, causing a slight moan to escape your lips. Shivers run down your spine as he backs you against the counter, and you grab onto the edge to steady yourself. Your face is inches from his neck, and you have to fight the urge to kiss his skin.

"Claire would kill me," you gasp. Chase leans down and levels his face with yours. His lips are just inches away from yours, and his blue eyes feel like they're staring deep into your soul.

"Then we don't tell her," he whispers before pressing his lips to yours. His lips are soft, and they taste like whisky with a hint of peppermint. The stubble scratches your face as you lean into the kiss, your tongue slowly tracing around his plump lips. At that moment, the fear of Claire finding out and how she may react goes out the window. You want him. God, you want him so bad.  Chase pulls away from the kiss, his eyes full of lust and the desire to explore your body.

Kissing your neck softly, his hand snakes up your t shirt, feeling the soft skin on your lower stomach, just above the waistband of your panties. You inhale sharply as you feel his hand move down, his fingers grazing lightly over the thin fabric. There's a warm, tingly feeling between your legs, one you've only ever felt in your own bed, thinking of the very man who had his big hands on you right now. You're eager to continue but nervous at the same time.

"Can we, umm," you take a nervous gulp, "go to your room?"

A smile spreads across his face as he nods. He wraps his arm around your waist, leading you to his bedroom. Luckily, his room is across the house from Claire's. But still, he locks the door behind him just in case.

His bedroom is big. A large bed sits against the wall in the middle of the room with a big blue comforter and matching pillowcases on the pillows. The ceiling light is off, but a tall lamp in the corner of the room shines a soft white light in the room.

Sitting on the bed, you smile up at him, trying not to look scared. But he can see the uncertainty in your eyes.

"What's wrong, baby?" He asks, sitting next to you, "if you've changed your mind, I understand."

"I didn't. It's just... I've never had sex before. I'm still a virgin."

His eyes widen with surprise.

"Really? A pretty girl like you? No way."

"I've always been too scared to go through with it. I'm scared the guy will be too rough, or it will hurt, or that I'm not attractive enough..." Your voice trails off as he slowly tucks your hair behind your ear.

"Dont worry," he whispers as he places a hand on your bare thigh, "I'll take care of you. And I think you're gorgeous."

You cover your face as you blush, giggling nervously. Chase slowly pulls your hands from your face and kisses you again, running his fingers down the side of your face and making your skin tingle.

“I’m going to make you feel so good, baby.” Chase whispers against your lips, his hands moving down to your hips. You moan in response against this lips, your arms wrap around his shoulders as he guides you onto the bed, and your head rests on a soft pillow.

Chase’s hips press between yours, his hardening cock presses against your clothed cunt.

A soft moan escapes your lips as Chase begins to kiss your neck, trailing from your jawline all the way down to your collarbone.

You arch your back ever so slightly as his hand moves the fabric up your chest, offering yourself up to his touch, eager to feel the warmth of his hands against your bare flesh. He pulls your shirt up to unveil your soft breasts, emitting a low growl as he takes your nipple into his mouth.

“O-Oh,” You whisper, his tongue swirls around the soft bud, sending shivers down your spine. Your hand laces through his soft brown hair, watching as he happily takes in your breast while his other hand caresses your thigh.

A soft whimper escapes your lips as you feel Chase’s fingers brush over your clothed cunt, feeling your arousal. “You’re so wet for me, baby.” He purrs.

Before you can reply, you’re cut off by feeling Chase’s finger slipping behind the fabric of your panties and into your wet cunt. He continues to kiss your neck softly as he allows you to adjust, his finger moving slightly inside of you. This is a new sensation for you, and you cry out in pleasure.

"You're so tight... fuck," he groans as he pushes a second finger in, "Let me know if it's too much."

"It's... oh god!" You gasp loudly as he curls his fingers inside you, sending a sudden surge of pleasure through your body. He kisses you to muffle your noises as you moan loudly.

"Tell me how it feels, baby," he whispers, moving his fingers inside you faster, his thumb massaging your throbbing clit.

"It feels so good, Chase, oh fuck!"

Chase moans in response as he pulls his hand away, sitting up on his knees. Biting his lip, he tugs at the waistband of your panties and pulls them down your legs. You can see his cock throbbing against the thin material of his pants, and you lick your lips at the sight of it. You pull your shirt the rest of the way off and toss it to the hardwood floor.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, his blue eyes wide with desire as he looks at your body, laid out before him. His comment makes you blush again. Never in a thousand years did you ever think your best friend's dad would be into you after crushing on him for so long.

You don't even care that maybe he's just looking for a quick lay. You don't want to know. Chase could never have a relationship with you without jeopardizing your friendship with Claire, as well as straining the relationship he has with his daughter. He could never do that, and neither could you.

But you want him regardless. You know he has experience. He wouldn't hurt you. Still on his knees, he slowly lowers his flannel pants, and his dick springs free. You gasp at the sight of it as he removes his pants and throws them to the floor.

"Dont worry, y/n," Chase says, catching you gawking, "Relax..." he leans down, slowly kissing from your knee up your inner thigh. You're completely mesmerized with the sight as he looks up at you, his soft lips making contact with the top of your clit.

"Ooh," you gasp as he slowly drags the tip of his tongue over your clit, flickering over it with just enough pressure to make your legs twitch. You squeeze your eyes shut as his tongue travels around the most sensitive spots, his hand making its way up your body to play with your right nipple.

"Oh my god, Chase..." You run your fingers through his hair and buck your hips up as he swirls his tongue all around your sensitive clit and pussy.

"You taste so good," he growls between licks, "so sweet, like strawberries, mmmm..." he moans, his tongue dancing around your dripping cunt and the sensitive bud above it. His words only add to your pleasure. You moan loudly in response, an indication that you're getting close. Chase digs his nails into your thighs, holding your legs apart as you tremble. Sensing your impending orgasm, he quickens his movements, licking and sucking and nibbling.

"I'm gonna cum, Chase," you moan, your voice breathy, gasping for air. His hand moves from your breast to cover your mouth as you come undone. You squeeze his head with your legs, and you scream against his hand, your fingers claw at his shoulders as you cum. As you're coming down, he slowly plants light kisses around your throbbing pussy, looking up at you as your breathing slowly returns to normal.

He looks up at you, taking his hand from your mouth, licking your juices from his lips slowly, savoring every little bit of it.

"How was that, babe?" He asks in a hushed tone, slowly crawling up the bed next to you.

 "It was amazing," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, "Thank you."

Chase leans in to press a gentle kiss to your lips, his touch tender. You can taste your fluids on his lips, and despite the initial surprise, you find yourself strangely aroused by the taste.

Feeling Chase shift and position himself between your legs, a shiver of anticipation runs down your spine. Your heart pounds in your chest, eagerly awaiting his next move.

“Are you ready, baby?” He pulls away from you for a moment, scanning over your face for any sign of unease.

You look down to see Chase fisting at his cock, the tip is red and dripping with clear precum. It’s much bigger than you imagined,  but you can take it.

“Yes,”  You nod, looking up at Chase with pleading eyes. “I’m ready for you to fuck me. I wanna feel cock for the very first time….”

Chase is taken aback at how filthy your words are, seeing as he’s always viewed you as his little girl’s best friend. “That’s what I like to hear.” His voice is a low growl, a smirk tugs at his lips.

You feel the tip of Chase’s cock press against your slick entrance. He watches as your mouth opens and your eyes widen when he pushes his hips forward slightly, just the tip at first.

“Chase..” You whimper, your face scrunching in discomfort the more he stretches you open.

“Do you want me to stop?” Chase asks, stilling his hips for a moment.

You shake your head, assuring Chase that you don’t want him to stop. “Just relax honey, it’s gonna feel so good.”

"Oh my god!" Tears well in your eyes as he pushes further, slowly. It hurt like all hell, but you figured it would pass slowly. Your brows furrow as you look up at him, digging your nails into his shoulder.

Sure enough, the initial pain you felt at first slowly dissipated, and you soon find yourself drowning in waves of pleasure. In that moment, you give not the slightest fuck about anything else besides this newfound bliss that you'd deprived yourself of all these years.

"Chase," you whine as you move your hips to match his movements, to which he responds by picking up his pace. The sound of skin slapping skin and the blissful moans coming from the both of you fill the room.

“You’re doing so well,” He praises you, kissing your forehead softly. You bite your lip, closing your eyes. The bed squeaks below you as Chase picks up the pace, his thumb goes down to your clit to thumb at the sensitive ball of nerves, adding to your pleasure. “How does it feel, baby?”

“It feels….so good.” You whimper, spreading your legs even further to allow Chase to fuck you deeper. You flash a small smile at him, your mouth opening a little wider as small moans spill from your lips.

“Atta girl,” He locks his lips with yours, cupping your cheeks gently. “Your pussy is so ready for me baby, taking every inch.”

“Out of all the men to fuck me for the first time…I’m so glad it was you.”

"I'm glad it was me too, sweetheart," He whispers.  "I've wanted this for so long to be able to share this moment with you."

You smile up at him, feeling a deep sense of connection with him in that moment.

You trust him. You feel a certain way you've never felt with anyone before. Wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulder and moaning in his ear, you've never felt closer with anyone else in your life. The sounds emitting from Chase's mouth only add to your pleasure as he fucks you deep. A warm, bubbly feeling starts to develop within you, making your legs twitch. Chase continues twiddling at your sensitive bud, bringing you closer to the edge.

"Oh my god Chase, I'm gonna cum..." You whisper in his ear as he kisses your neck.

"Cum for me baby girl," he says, keeping the same pace, "I want you to cum for me..."

"Ohhh..." You groan loudly as the impending orgasm builds up, "please don't stop, Chase, please..." You beg.

Within seconds, you're wracked with the most amazing feeling you've ever felt in your life. This is totally different than when you're alone in your own bed, fantasizing about Chase. Your own fantasies never measured up to what this man was doing to you in this moment. Your walls tighten around his cock as he fucks you deep and hard, but he never breaks his focus. He fucks you right through your climax, dragging it out. Your eyes roll back and your mouth is hanging open as he presses his thumb down on your throbbing clit.

"Y/n..." he groans, "where do you want me to cum?"

"I don't care," you whine.

"I'm gonna fill you up," he whispers, his lips grazing your neck, making you shudder. He pulls his hand away from between your legs and gently caresses your face, "would you like that, baby?"

"Yes, please, fuck, fill me with your cum, please..." You beg him, looking at him with desperation in your eyes. Chase looks into your eyes as he bites his lip, breathing heavily.

"I don't wanna cum.. you feel so good, y/n... your pussy is so good for me... fuck..."

"Please," you plead with him, "please cum in me."

"Ohh fuck, I love hearing you beg..." he slows his movements, presumably so he doesn't cum too quickly, "beg me more... beg for my cum..." he continues fucking you deep, but really slow, teasing you.

"Chase, please, please cum inside me, fuck me hard till you cum," you cry out, looking up at him, your eyes wide, begging to feel his hot seed spill inside you.

"That's it, baby girl..." he picks up his speed gradually, holding your legs apart, his hands gripping the back of your thighs hard. His hips slam against the back of your thighs as you moan loudly, begging with your eyes.

"I'm gonna cum, y/n.... are you sure?"

"Yes," you gasp.

As soon as you say that, he sheaths his cock deep inside you, throwing his head back and groans loudly as his warm cum spills inside you. You wrap your legs around him and grind your hips against him, desperate for every last drop of it.

"Oh god," he groans, holding his cock deep inside you, "fuck, y/n, so good..." he whispers as he rides out his high.

Gasping for breath, he rolls off of you. He came a lot. You can feel it dripping out of you and between your ass cheeks as you look over at him, gazing into his beautiful blue eyes. You're unable to form words, but your face says it all. This was the most amazing thing you've ever felt in your life. You don't even care that you just lost your virginity to your best friend's dad at 4 on a Friday morning.

"That was so good," you gasp as your breathing slowly returns to normal. He rolls over to his side, facing you, and wraps his arm over your waist, pulling you close.

"It was amazing," he purrs, "I'm happy I could help you experience your first time."

You roll over and cuddle into his chest. He moves onto his back as your face rests against the soft hair and his warm skin, your hand gently resting on his hip.

"Thank you," you sigh happily as you cuddle him close. He reaches up and softly pets your hair. Your eyes are heavy with sleep. It's half past 4 at this point. His big arms wrap around your naked body as he gently kisses the top of your head.

11:23am.

You awaken in a panic, still in Chase's bed.

"Oh my god, Claire!" You gasp as you jump out of bed and rush to get dressed, praying Claire is still asleep. Your legs are shaky and sore. It takes a moment to find your balance. The sudden movement causes Chase to slowly wake up, and he turns his head to face you.

"Mmm, what's wrong, baby?" He mumbles as he rubs the sleep from his eyes as you pull your t shirt back on.

"I fell asleep in here! Crap, it's already after 11. I gotta get back before Claire wakes up."

"Shit," Chase mutters, sitting up in bed, a panicked look in his eyes, "I didn't even know we fell asleep."

As you slowly pull the door open, you barely have a moment to react when the door swings open with almost enough force to put a hole in the wall. Claire is standing in the doorway, looking pissed as all hell.

"What the hell is this?! Are you fucking kidding me?!" She shrieks.