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hongjoongscafe · 5 months ago

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Angry F*$!

Drabble

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Genre: smut.

Summary: maybe getting angry sometimes isn’t too bad.

Word count: 3.1k+

Warnings: orgasm denial, pussy slapping, spanking, creampie, spitting kink, face slapping, hair pulling, name-calling, smoking, oral, fingering, panty sniffing (he stuffs his boxers in her mouth, too), unprotected (wrap it up, people, wrap it up or else Namjoon will spank you), cum eating, degradation, daddy kink, doggy style, cuffs, anal, breath play(?), choking, biting, squirting, aftercare ('cause I love it).

Note: lemme know if you wanna be added to the taglist. Unedited.

Masterpost.

“Do you even know how dumb you make me look?” your husband, Jungkook, screams at you. “Fifteen fucking years together and this one bitch comes and you trust that cunt over me?”

“Am I wrong?” you scream back. “A hot, sexy assistant is what you got to know and why wouldn’t you wanna have a taste of her?!”

Jungkook’s new assistant is, to say the least, known for wrecking homes. And somehow that bitch wrapped your naive heart in her fingers and filled you with rumours regarding him and herself accidentally as she didn’t know you were his wife as if you two haven’t been together out on the events and face of every possible magazine at least once.

Jungkook’s jaw ticked as he stood up and walked towards you with a feral look in his eyes. “Taste of her?” he growled.

“Yes, taste of her. Isn’t that right? Wouldn't you want to fuck her; someone sexy, hot, desirable?” you push his chest.

“Why would I?” he yells.

“Why wouldn't you?”

“Fucking-,” he cut himself off and hold you by the roots of your hair and pull you with him to the mirror. “Because I wanna fuck you and love you forever!” he makes you look in the mirror, nowhere being gentle.

“I don’t believe you!” you turn around in his hold and slap him across the face. Your jealousy hitting the skyline.

Jungkook’s face turned dark. Your only warning before he threw you on the bed was “Then let me make you believe.”

You bounced as you landed on the bed. He roughly pulled your legs up, yanked your shorts down your legs and threw them somewhere behind him. “Mrs doesn’t believe,” he scoffs. “Now you fucking will and never forget.”

You gasped as he pulled you up by your hair and draped you across his lap as he sat down on the edge of the bed. He harshly pulled up your thongs, making you inhale sharply as the flimsy cloth rubbed against your clit. He rubbed your ass gently before landing a tight slap across your perfect ass cheek, “fuck,” you groaned.

He dipped his fingers under your g-string and pinched your clit making you moan pathetically. “Be a good bitch and count,” he pinched it harder when you didnt start counting.

“One!” you gasped.

He hummed and landed another smack, worse than before. Your pussy clenched around nothing. “Two.”

“Look at your fucking pussy already leaking through his sorry piece of panty,” he pulled and snapped back. “Might as well get rid of this shit,” he growled as he tore it apart and brought the big wet patch to his nose and sniffed it deeply. “Oh,” he moans. “Keep the counting going.”

Like you weigh nothing, Jungkook picked you up and threw you back on the bed. You looked up at him as he removed his pants and white button-up. His hot abs are now on full display. His muscles flexed as he climbed over to you and ripped your tank top off you. Your boobs jiggle free and your nipples tighten with the utter, shameless need for this sinful man in front of you. You looked down at his huge bulge as your mouth watered.

“You want me to agree with you as you claim to cheat allegations on me?” he muttered, darkly. “You want me to agree with you that I will leave my fucking sexy wife and fuck some fucking assistance who is nowhere near as beautiful as you?”

Your heart rammed against your ribcage. As much as your insecurity flared in front of that sexy bimbo, you felt filthily gorgeous as he was looking at you like an animal. Deep down you knew she was getting into your head but your doubt on yourself was too much to argue with her.

“What? Cat got your tongue. Hm?” he snarls. He spreads your legs wide open as he lowers himself between them. He buried his nose between your wet folds and sniffed as he groaned. Look into your eyes.

“Jungkook!” a surprised scream left your lips as he slapped your wet pussy, hard. His palm inflated on your pussy as rubbed it painfully slowly.

“And leave my delicious cunt for someone else,” he bit your inner thigh, leaving his mark there.

You were gasping for air from his harsh treatment. He had never been this hard on you. And now when he is being hard, you crave it more.

Jungkook could feel your clit throbbing against his palm, hotly. “You like that, huh?” he bites again. “You like it when I bite you, huh? Such a fucking whore,” he spits on your cunt and wraps his lips around your clit and sucks it in his mouth, his tongue flat against your nub, playing with it.

Your back arches and fingers fist his hair and push him flush against your pussy. He works down and thrusts his tongue in your hot cunt, his big nose rubbing deliciously against your throbbing clit. “Please,” you don’t know what you are demanding.

“Shut up!” he snaps and slaps your clit, making your whole body shudder. You look at him wide-eyed. Jungkook has spanked your ass plenty of times but your pussy? Your eyes roll back as he lands another one, harder than the previous one. “Count.”

“Three… four,” you whine as he shoves his two thick fingers into your hole.

“Look at that,” he kissed your thigh as he watches his fingers in your cunt. “Your fucking cunt is swallowing my finger like the greedy cunt that it is.”

“Mmm,” you hummed as he groped your tit. He crawled up, his fingers still inside you, and sucks your other nipple. His soft hair brushes your chin. Your breath hitches and let out another moan as he slaps your dripping cunt again. “Five,” you whisper in his ear.

Your walls clenched around his fingers as he thrust them back. Knowing you were cumming, he removed himself from your trembling body.

“No!” you cry out loud at the loss of his touch. You were so close to coming undone but he ripped it apart.

His chest was pumping up and down with his laboured breath. You looked so fucking fuckable as you lay there covered in sweat and that needy fucking look in your sexy eyes.

He removed his boxer briefs and bunched them in his hand. “Open your mouth,” he orders. But you just gape at him like a damn fish. Already running low on patience, he squeezed your cheeks and stuffed them in your mouth.

Your fingers fisted the sheets. Everything was turning you on more and more. It felt like your body was on fire. And he was just fueling it more and more.

He pulled out your favourite pink fluffy cuffs. Pulling you in a seated position, he cuffed your hands behind you and pushed you back all while you shamelessly eyed his long, fat cock swinging with each and every move he made. A pearly bead of precum was shining on top. All you wanted to do was to lick and choke yourself on his length.

“I’ll make sure you never fucking forget that I will only fuck my slutty cunt,” he rubs hot length against your slit, making it wet and ready with your slick. He thrust his thick, angry pink head in your pussy and mercilessly fucks you.

Your bed bangs against the walls and makes a creaky noise. His cock hits deep inside you, fucking your spongy spot, making your toes curl and eyes water.

“Fucking, whore,” he growls. His thumb rubs tight circles of swollen clit and his other hand wraps around your neck. He chokes you just enough to make you lightheaded.

You moan loudly against his boxers as he fucks you into the mattress. You were already going half-dumb under his sinful spell.

“Look at you,” he taunts. “All whiny and dumb for me.”

His fingers were digging in your neck. You could feel all of his angry thrusts in you. He was hitting the spot with each of them. His breath was coming as wretched as yours. The sweat was beading down his hard chest and abs.

Jungkook removed his hand from your clit and neck, still inside you, he grabbed a cigarette and lit it. As he took a deep drag, he removed his boxers from your mouth and blew it in your mouth. He smirked as he felt your walls trembling around his length.

“Jung-,” your breath hitched and turned into a moan as he thrust back into you.

“Oh, fuck,” he hissed. Your loud moans and his groans filled the room. “Fuck!”

He bent and squeezed your mouth open, “gimme your fucking tongue,” he rasped. You barely followed his order and he spat on your tongue. “Swallow.” Your eyes rolled back as you swallowed. Surprised by his lewd acts, you clenched around his length as you came all over his cock.

You gasp when he lands a slap across your face. It was not painful but just hot enough to make your cunt clench painfully around him. “Did I ask you to fucking cum?”

“N-no,” you whined.

Jungkook pulled out and manhandled you on your belly, pulling your hips up. His large hand pushed your face into the mattress, gripping by your hair.

“Then how dare you fucking come,” he moaned as he plunged back. “Fuck, your cunt is always ready to take my cock,” he rasp, spitting on his cock as he pushes back in.

His other hand holds the cuffs around your wrists, cigarette clutched between his fingers. “Daddy, please,” you moan and bite the sheets.

“Such a fucking slut, my whore,” he pulls your head back and spits on your face, smearing it and pushing his fingers down your throat as you choke on them.

His hand left the cuffs and brought the cigarette to his mouth and clutched it between his teeth and wrapped that hand around your neck, keeping you in place.

The drool was running down your chin to your breasts. He has never been this rough with you but fuck, you would poke him every day if he turned into this demon.

You turned your head to the side to look at his face. His hair was sticking to his face, his lips wrapped around the cigarette. He took a drag and blew it in your face. He was hot.

Your tongue licked his fingers and moved as if giving a blow job. A smirk pulled on his pretty face. He plastered your back to his hard front, removing his fingers, he tossed you back on your back.

“Open your mouth,” he said as he climbed on top of you and slapped your face with his heavy cock. He ran his pink head around your lips. You wrapped your lips around his swollen head and sucked it with hollow cheeks. You moaned around him, tasting yourself on his cock. He pushed it all into your throat, making you gag around him. He was all the way down your throat. He pinched your nose and fucked your mouth. You could taste his salty precum in your mouth.

With every second, his thrusts got sloppier. Your lungs burned with the lack of air. You thrashed under him.

“Fuck,” he moaned as the thick spurts of his cum started to hit the back of your throat. He pulled his cock out and pained your face with the rest of his cum.

He sat next to you and smeared his cum all over your face. You were so fucked, and coughing as you were finally able to breathe again. “Would I let myself cover that bitch in my cum? Fuck no.”

He brings the same hand down to your cunt and fingers your hole “or this?” he said and stumped the burning butt on the ashtray.

“Daddy,” you whimper.

“What?” still fingering your quivering pussy. “You thought this was over?” he scoffed and stood up.

From the drawer, he pulled out the lube and unclasped it. Pulling you by your legs, he brought you to the edge of the bed.

Pushing your legs apart, he bent you in half. Your knees were touching your chin. You could barely keep your eyes open. Your body jerked when he poured cold lube on your tight rim.

“Wha-” you began.

“Take whatever I give you,” he rubbed your rim with his fingers and slowly pushed them in. “So fucking tight,” he groaned. “Gonna fuck you so good, y/n, gonna fuck that shitty thought out of your fucking brain,” he scissors your tight hole. “Look at your cunt, I knew you were a fucking whore for me. You are dripping everywhere,” he runs his fingers across your sensitive cunt and bends down to suck your clit in his mouth as he helps you get used to his fingers in your ass.

When relaxed enough, he replaced his fingers with his cock. His blunt head pushed past your back hole. “Daddy!” you screamed at the intrusion.

“Yes, baby. Scream for Daddy. Beg me to fuck your hole full of my cum,” he sank more and more of his cock into you until his pelvis was touching your thighs, growlung. He pulled your legs around his shoulder and leaned down to capture your pointed nipple in his mouth, letting your hole ease around his length. “So fucking tight. Remind me to fuck you more here.”

“Fuck me!” you whimper, letting him know you were ready. Your loins were on fire.

Jungkook found it hard to keep his breath equal. He was just as ruined as you were. He finally pulled his aching cock slightly out then plunged it back inside with a forceful thrust. Slowly, he started to fuck you harder and harder.

Your mouth fell open, hot noises came out of your mouth. Your tits juggled with each sharp thrust. You had no thought left in your brain. If someone asked you your name, you wouldn't remember.

Jungkook looked at your juicy pussy and pushed his fingers, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit. Your back arched painfully and you let out a silent scream, clenching around his cock tightly, you came all over him.

His eyes were wide open as he looked at your cunt squirting over yourself and him. He slapped it, making you tremble with shocks running down your body.

His cock twitched in your hole, finally bursting and filling your asshole with his hot cum. He slowed his thrusts and slumped over your shivering body.

He had never come so much before. His own body was trembling with how hard he came into your hole. Your heartbeat was running wild against his ear, matching his own.

Your sight was to behold. Your face was covered with his cum and spit. Your makeup was running down your face. So fucked and beautiful. Your pussy and asshole was throbbing with how sensitive they were. Your cheeks, both face and ass, were red from the slapping and spanking.

Jungkook pulled his phone and took a picture of you so that he could show you just how fucked and gorgeous you looked when you were not dazed.

“Did you see what you just did?” he asked you, looking at your dazed, cum and spit-coated face. “Baby?” his eyes widened when he saw you breaking down.”

You surprised Jungkook and yourself by squirting. Now once in your whole life, you ever squirted. “Mmm,” too tired to speak. You just wanted to hug him close and cry, not because you were hurt but because you were overwhelmed with strong orgasms he pulled out of you. “Hands,” you whispered.

Jungkook quickly pulled out, making both of you hiss in sensitivity. He took the key and unlocked the cuffs from your back. Your wrists were red and bruised. The sheet underneath was torn by how hard you were clutching them. Jungkook pulled you into his lap and kissed your wrists.

You wrapped your arms around him and silently cried in the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry, baby. I shouldn't have been so harsh. I'm sorry,” kept repeating.

You pulled slightly and took his face between your hands. “I loved it,” you muttered around his lips. “I’m just overwhelmed and overstimulated, that's all.”

Chuckling, he kissed your lips. Your tongue tangled with his as he rubbed your back with a soothing hand. He then picked you up and brought you to the bathroom. “I would run you a bath but I can't wait to cuddle you, baby.”

He helped you under the warm shower and clean yourself. His gentle hands washed every part of your body. You flinched when he cleaned your pussy.

Soon, you were wrapped in a fluffy towel and sitting on the sofa chair in your room as Jungkook changed the sheets.

You both ruined the previous one completely. “Maybe we should keep them in memory of our first filthy fuck,” He joked but you knew he would indeed wash them and keep them in his closet.

Jungkook brought you to the bed and helped you under the blanket. He rubbed the ointment on your wrists, too, and gave you water and a little snack.

Cuddling you close to his chest, he lit another cigarette, kissed your shoulder and then your head. You both shared the cigarette back and forth while talking.

“Baby, never doubt my loyalty for you,” he muttered. “Why would I cheat on you? You are my part. My love. My heart. My soulmate. My freaky partner. My everything.”

You shifted in his hold, “I just— I don't know, she is so much better.”

Jungkook frowned, “the fuck not. She is not. You are! You are my woman, my wife. The most gorgeous, beautiful, magnificent, immaculate, majestic, marvellous woman ever.”

You giggled and hugged him tighter. Your body was still recovering from all the lewd things he did to you. “Promise me you will fuck me like this more often?”

Your husband laughed and tickled your sides. “Aren't you a dirty girl?”

“Only for you,” you kissed his chest.

“If I had known, I would have fucked you like today way before… and made you squirt…” he peppers your skin with kisses. Then he looked into your eyes with seriousness. “Tomorrow, the first thing I will do is to fire her, yeah? I don't want that bitch to work under my name. I won’t accept such behaviour. And she made you cry and doubt my love so she must suffer.”

You would ask otherwise but this one time, you won't mind. You don't want her to work for him either. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, baby…” he cuddled you even closer and dropped an innocent kiss on your lips as you slowly drifted away, letting the sleep overtake you.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

…..

Taglist:

@veneziamadness @cheline @sansmilkbread @jayb17 @constantlydelulusional @8tinytings @tea4sykes @chimmisbae @demonshauntingthedoves

@jjkkkk15

Have a nice day/night💓

#bts #bts smut #bts jungkook smut #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic

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gingerteafairy · 4 months ago

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𝑬𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝑪𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝑫𝒆𝒗𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

"Selfish, profane, or sinful—what does it matter? This passion consumes me, and I welcome it. She has my heart entirely, and she may do with it as she pleases. Haunt me if that is her wish. I ask only to feel her presence."

tags n warnings: smut/mdni. friedrich harding x reader, wife!fem!reader, obsession, ghost!reader, ghost sex, heavy angst, vampirism, language, death, blood, devotion, praise kink, fingering, oral, piv. word count: 5k

@ikkyfics thank you for making me post this and not hiding it on my virtual shelf, you deserve the world <3 masterlist

Friedrich Harding’s anguished cries tore through the air, echoing across the desolate countryside. The sound was primal, raw—a lament that seemed to pierce even the heavens. Strong hands gripped his arms, restraining him as he thrashed against them, desperate to reach the coffin that housed his beloved wife. His wife. The one who had once been his anchor in a chaotic world. But those who truly knew Friedrich understood a deeper truth—his devotion to her paled in comparison to his adoration for you. For you, he had defied every societal expectation, every unwritten rule. Now, his world lay shattered before him.

Despite the lingering fear of the plague that had claimed her, he yearned to hold her one last time, to press her lifeless form against his chest and plead for the impossible.

“Friedrich, stop this madness!” Sievers barked, his voice tinged with both command and desperation as he struggled to contain the grieving man. Harding’s fists swung wildly, his face twisted in despair. The crowd watched in stunned silence, their expressions a mixture of pity and disdain. Mothers shielded their children’s eyes from the spectacle, while fathers stood grim-faced, their silence betraying their discomfort. Children whispered questions to their parents, too young to grasp the depth of the tragedy unfolding before them.

“Release me! I command you to release me!” Friedrich roared, his voice a storm of grief, his blue eyes brimming with tears that fell freely down his face.

“Friedrich, enough!” Hutter pleaded, his grip tightening as he tried to restrain his friend. “This will not bring her back! You must—”

“No!” Harding’s voice cracked as he wrenched free from their grasp, his tear-streaked face contorted in anguish as he turned to Thomas. “She was everything, Thomas! Everything I had. God help me, what am I to do now? What is left of me? Damnation! Damnation upon this cruel fate!”

He collapsed to the ground, his body trembling as he crawled toward the coffin, his shaking hands reaching for the cold wood that separated him from her. But Thomas intervened, pulling him back into a firm embrace.

“Friedrich,” Thomas murmured, his voice soft yet insistent, “you must find strength. Look at me. Look at me.”

Thomas cupped Friedrich’s face, his hands rough and calloused, yet gentle as they held the face of a man utterly undone. The dark hollows under Harding’s eyes spoke of sleepless nights, of relentless grief that gnawed at his very soul.

“I can’t, Thomas,” Friedrich whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible. “She was my life. How can I go on living when my heart is buried with her?”

“Friedrich,” Sievers began, stepping forward cautiously, “I did not know your wife well, but I am certain she would have wanted you to find happiness again. Life does not end here. One day, you may find love again—”

The doctor’s words were cut short by a vicious punch that sent him stumbling backward. In a flash, Friedrich was upon him, gripping his collar with a ferocity that belied his weakened state.

“Curse you, Sievers,” he hissed through clenched teeth, his voice trembling with fury. “How dare you speak of love to a man who no longer has a heart? Insolent doctor! You know nothing of my torment.”

Thomas and the others rushed forward, pulling Friedrich away as he sagged against them, his strength finally failing. His body, ravaged by exhaustion and starvation, could fight no longer.

By the time they returned to his estate, Friedrich was a shadow of himself. He sat in silence, his eyes empty, his face devoid of the fire that had once animated it. He stared into the void as though nothing in the world could reach him now. Even if the earth had split open before him, he would not have flinched. He was a man as dead as his wife, his soul entombed alongside hers.

"Promise me you'll be well," Thomas pleaded as he stepped down from the carriage, his voice wavering as he struggled to maintain his composure. His eyes, heavy with worry, searched his friend’s hollowed face. "Promise me you'll eat, care for yourself. Do not fade away, Friedrich."

Harding did not respond. He merely turned, shoulders hunched beneath the weight of his grief, and walked toward the door of his home. There was only one solace left to him—the fragile hope of seeing you in his dreams. To escape into a world where you were still alive: radiant, healthy, untouched by the horrors of the plague. There, you would be free, unburdened by the cruel fate that had stolen you away.

Later, cradling a glass of brandy in trembling hands, Friedrich lay upon his bed. The liquor did little to dull the sharp edges of his sorrow. His body shook with silent sobs as he closed his eyes, desperate to summon even the faintest memory of you—your touch, your voice, a fleeting whisper of your essence.

A scream tore through the silence.

He woke with a jolt, his sweat-soaked hair clinging to his brow, his breath hitching in panic. The room spun around him, and then he saw you.

You stood beside the bed, bathed in pale moonlight that streamed through the window. The white gown he had chosen for your burial clung to your form, pristine and ethereal. You were unblemished, untouched by disease, impossibly beautiful—more luminous than you had ever been in life. To him, you were divine, a vision too perfect to be real.

For a moment, he was paralyzed. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came. Fear and longing warred within him. If he moved, if he dared to reach for you, would you vanish? Was this some cruel trick of his shattered mind?

"My heart," you whispered, the words ghosting across the room.

Before he could react, you faded into the shadows, dissolving into the night as though you had never been there.

Friedrich collapsed onto the mattress, his body wracked with uncontrollable tremors. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding as a guttural, muffled scream tore from his throat, buried into the pillow to escape the ears of the empty house. The pain was unbearable, clawing at his soul, leaving him raw and broken.

The next morning, he awoke to frantic knocking at the door. The sun was high, its rays spilling harshly through the curtains, though it brought no warmth to the bleakness inside him. Disheveled and barely able to stand, Friedrich stumbled toward the door.

Thomas stood there, his face pale and drawn, his eyes wide with dread.

"Friedrich. This is... it’s terrible," Thomas choked out, his voice trembling as his fingers combed through his disordered hair.

"What has happened, Thomas?" Friedrich demanded, though his voice was hoarse and distant, his mind still clouded by the haunting vision of you.

"Sievers," Thomas whispered, his hand instinctively covering his mouth as if to trap the horrifying words before they could escape.

"What about Sievers? Speak plainly!" Friedrich snapped, irritation flaring as the ache in his head throbbed from the brandy. "Thomas, what is it?"

Thomas hesitated, his voice low and filled with a grim finality. "Sievers is dead. He was found this morning... his chest torn open. His heart—" Thomas paused, his voice cracking. "His heart was removed."

The words struck Friedrich like a physical blow. He stumbled back, collapsing into the armchair behind him. His hands trembled as he pressed them to his temples. Memories of the night before flooded his mind, your whisper echoing like a ghostly refrain.

“My heart.”

It couldn’t be real. It was madness, surely. Yet the coincidence was too stark, too chilling to dismiss. His thoughts spiraled. Could it have been you? No. Impossible. And yet... Sievers had spoken of finding another, dared to suggest that love could replace the irreplaceable. Perhaps this was divine retribution—or something darker.

"Friedrich! Friedrich!" Thomas’s urgent voice pulled him from his reverie. The friend’s hands gripped his shoulders, shaking him gently as if to rouse him from the stupor.

Friedrich’s eyes cleared, a strange light igniting within them. He rose abruptly, pacing with a frenetic energy that had been absent for days.

"Call Von Franz," he muttered, his voice low but commanding.

"What?" Thomas blinked, taken aback by the unexpected request.

"Von Franz," Friedrich repeated, his tone sharper, almost desperate. "Summon him at once. That lunatic priest may know something—or I may be mad to even consider it. But summon him, Thomas!"

Without waiting for a reply, Friedrich strode toward his room, his steps hurried and unsteady. He needed to prepare. If there was even the faintest chance that Von Franz held the answers to this nightmare, Friedrich would face him. Hatred or no, he would endure anything to uncover the truth.

He stared at himself in the mirror, his hollow eyes scanning the face that no longer felt like his own. With deliberate precision, he splashed cold water on his face, the droplets clinging to his skin as if they could wash away his torment. A smile curled on his lips, unnatural, strained—then erupted into a jagged, manic laugh. His reflection in the mirror mocked him, a fractured visage of sanity, twisted by grief.

"Ah, my love," he murmured, his voice trembling as his fingers brushed the surface of the mirror, tracing a line over his own reflection. "You change me, even in death." His hand fell to his chest, clutching at the fabric of his coat as though he could rip his own heart out. "My heart… It belongs to you, always."

With newfound resolve, Friedrich shed his clothes, stepping into a bath as if it were a sacred rite. The water lapped at his skin, cleansing not only his body but the remnants of his despair. He emerged renewed, obsessed, his every movement deliberate as he trimmed his beard and dressed himself in his finest attire. His appearance was immaculate, a mirror of the man he had been on his wedding day.

When Von Franz arrived at the residence, the pastor, startled by Friedrich’s transformation, dropped his glass of wine. The shards scattered across the floor, but Von Franz’s gaze remained fixed on the man before him, his face pale as though he were staring at a ghost.

"By night, I sought him whom my soul loves," the pastor recited, his voice trembling with unease. "I sought him, but I found him not. I will rise now and go about the city, in the streets and in the squares; I will seek him whom my soul loves. I sought him, but I found him not."

The verses fell from Von Franz’s lips as if they were a prophecy, words carried by something beyond him. Friedrich stood still, each syllable piercing him like a dagger, his jaw tightening as the pastor's voice resonated deep within his chest.

"I must tell you something," Friedrich began, his voice low, commanding the attention of both Von Franz and Thomas. They moved cautiously toward the table where candles flickered, casting restless shadows in the dimly lit room. The once-bustling household was eerily quiet, the absence of servants amplifying the oppressive atmosphere.

Von Franz broke the silence, his voice a mix of awe and warning. "Your devotion echoes through eternity, Herr Friedrich." He studied the man before him, a shadow of the grieving figure from the day before, now alight with a dangerous fervor. "But it is selfish."

"Let it be," Friedrich replied sharply, striking the table with his fist before withdrawing his hand to retrieve a cigar from his coat. Lighting it with a flick of his lighter, he took a slow drag, the smoke curling around him as he spoke again. His tone softened, but his determination was unyielding. "Selfish, profane, or sinful—what does it matter? This passion consumes me, and I welcome it. She has my heart entirely, and she may do with it as she pleases. Haunt me if that is her wish. I ask only to feel her presence."

Von Franz’s voice grew urgent, his hands pressing against the table as though he could anchor himself to reality. "This is perilous, Herr Friedrich. You toy with forces beyond comprehension. Death is the final vow—'til death do you part.' To defy it…"

Friedrich interrupted with a bitter laugh, his eyes narrowing as he leaned back in his chair. "Something as absurd as death cannot separate me from my beloved." He exhaled a stream of smoke, his head tilting back as he closed his eyes. The faintest sensation brushed against his chest—soft, velvety, unmistakable. His breath hitched. "Ah, my love… Do you approve of my words?"

Von Franz stumbled backward, his wide eyes fixed on Friedrich as the air around him grew thick and heavy. He reached for Thomas, pulling the young man close as they both watched in horror.

“Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine. Because of the savour of thy good ointments thy name is as ointment poured forth, therefore do the virgins love thee.” Your haunting voice tantalized Von Franz and Thoma’s ears, but delighted your beloved ones, hearing every word slipping from your icy and dry lips, rough against the warm soft cheek of him.

From the shifting shadows, your form began to materialize. Von Franz’s voice faltered, barely audible. "Impressive…" he muttered, though his face betrayed the terror rising within him.

Thomas’s mouth fell open, his voice shaking. "This… this cannot be real."

His words trailed off as your ethereal hands appeared, their ghostly outline pressing gently against Friedrich’s chest. His head fell back further, his body convulsing with an eerie ecstasy.

Von Franz’s composure broke entirely. He yanked Thomas’s arm, dragging him toward the door. "We must leave. Now!" he hissed, his voice frantic. "If you wish to keep your heart beating in your chest, boy, then we must flee this place!"

Friedrich's grin turned wickedly amused as he closed the space between you intentionally this time. “Oh, my love. Be careful what you wish for.”

“I never play when it comes to what I want,” he muttered, swallowing hard as your fingers curled slightly into the fabric before reaching his arms. “And I want you, my muse.”

As he spoke, his eyes darkened, a flicker of something vulnerable crossing his face before he regained control. “You have something I've been searching for and found in you” he continued, as if sensing his sudden vulnerability. He placed his hand on your waist with a delicate yet firm grip, guiding you into a slow, intimate dance across the room. “Something to wish for. You made me feel something…”

His movements were measured and graceful, leading you effortlessly as if he already knew every step of the dance. “Something?”

“Passion.”

Your hand seemed to tremble. For the first time, you felt like your words ran away from your thoughts. Something unexpected in your movement as you gently lifted back up. “You're not sure of what you're saying, Friedrich. I don't…”

"If you don't want this," Friedrich cut, swallowing hard, navigating the labyrinth of his own courage, "then why does your body say otherwise?"

"I’ve learned not to trust what my body says," you replied, but your wrist didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned in, your fingers brushing the stray strands from his face with a tenderness that belied your words.

"Then listen to mine," Friedrich urged, stepping closer, pressing your hand against his chest. His heart raced beneath your touch, a frantic rhythm betraying the calm he tried to maintain.

There was something about Friedrich Harding—a tempestuous allure that made falling for him feel as deep as the ocean and as electrifying as the crackle of thunder before a storm.

His fingers lingered at the small of your back, pulling you closer to him, the heat of his touch sending an unspoken message straight to your heart. “You’re my wife, my woman, the only one I love. God spare me from my own sinful behavior through this sick pleasure.”

“Would love be a pleasure?” you asked, your voice soft as your eyes locked with his. He studied your face for a moment before speaking.

“Perhaps the worst of them,” he admitted, turning his attention back to the fire’s flickering light. “I’ve avoided love at all costs since the last time I fell. And then you came along—wild, untamed, like the very flames in this hearth. I knew getting close to you wouldn’t end well for my… redemption.”

“Redemption?” you echoed.

“Indeed,” he murmured, leaning toward you, supported by his arm. “But it seems I’ve never learned to control myself when it comes to love. Lust, perhaps, but passion—grand, classic, all-consuming passion—never. You're my everything.”

His voice, low and velvet-soft, broke the silence. "Make me yours again, my love.” he murmured, his lips grazing your ear.

"You’d have the world at your feet... but I'm afraid I only offer darkness." Your voice came out faint, clinging to him, the warmth of his body anchoring you.

"You don't have to offer anything but yourself," he replied, his voice trembling slightly, but full of resolve. "And I choose you.”

With his fierce determination, his hands tightened on your waist with a strong reverence, crushing you against him as he angled his head, deepening the kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to tangle with your own.

He poured every ounce of his feelings into that kiss, the way you had consumed his thoughts and dreams.

His hands roamed over your back, mapping out the curves and contours of your body in that gown, committing every dip and swell to memory. He slid one hand up to tangle in your hair, gripping the locks and tilting your head back to give him better access to the sensitive skin of your neck.

His heart raced, pounding against his ribs like a drum as he lost himself in the taste and feel of you, the softness of your cold lips and the heat of his tongue.

“Touch me, Friedrich.” You whispered panting as your lungs felt the breathing of life again, curling your fingers on his neckline. “Feel my heart. Even when I'm dead, it beats for you. Strong and hard for I love you more than everything to overcome death itself.”

He pressed his hand against your chest, squeezing painfully the soft flesh on his palm, feeling the frantic pounding of your heart beneath his palm, the way it raced and leapt at his touch. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, a sudden, overwhelming emotion threatening to overwhelm him.

"God," he whispered, his voice breaking on a sob, "I love you too. I love you so much it hurts. You're everything to me, everything I've ever wanted and everything I know I don't deserve."

He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours once more, his eyes squeezing shut as he fought to regain control over his emotions. He could feel the tears slipping down his cheeks, but he didn't care, not with your arms wrapped around him, holding him close.

“Make love with me, Friedrich.” you begged as the cold tears fell, cupping his strong face in your hands. “Take me the way only you know how. Make me feel alive, let your blood boil in my veins as you make me yours because I can't stand any other night without you, Friedrich.”

His heart leapt at your desperate plea, covering your hand with his own, turning his head to press a fervent kiss to her palm before tangling their fingers together. “I love you so much it feels like I can't breathe or sleep without you, I need you to survive.”

He took your face in his hands and slightly pulled your hair back so his nose could longer on your neck, breathing in your essence that remained intact even among the light aroma of earth and ashes with the lilies placed with you in the coffin.

“You're my everything.” He shivered, sobbing, biting your flesh, sinking his teeth, leaving his strong mark, his saliva mixing with his tears that fell every time he realized that you were there with him. “Everything.”

He captured your lips in another searing kiss, hands sliding down to grip your thighs, hoisting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you towards the house, to the known love nest.

He laid you down gently on the bed, his body covering yours, his hips nestled between your spread thighs. He looked down at you, taking in the sight of your locks splayed out across the mattress, skin glowing in the dim light of his bedroom.

Slowly, reverently, he slid his hands under the hem of your gown, pushing it up and over her head, tossing it carelessly to the side. He drank in the sight of you, his gaze roaming over the swell of her breasts, the hardened peaks of her nipples straining on the cold air of the night.

He leaned down, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the soft, sensitive skin, his tongue flicking out to taste you as he gripped on your breast as his anchor, pushing him back to reality, his thumbs brushing over the nipples, drawing a gasp from your lips.

“Please, Friedrich. I need you, I'm begging, please.” You sobbed, choking on your own passion as you desperately searched his face in your hand, nipping the bottom lip as you tied him with your thighs.

"Then you shall have it, my queen," he whispered before closing the distance, his kiss deep and unyielding, as though sealing a pact written in the shadows of the room.

He held you tighter, his hand now resting firmly on your waist, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles. The words you had spoken hung between you, a weight neither of you could ignore. He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your skin, and for a moment, everything felt like it was balancing on the edge of a dangerous precipice.

He slid his hand up your thigh, cupping the heat of your sex. He groaned at the feel of you, already so wet and ready for him, his fingers slipping easily between your folds.

“How is it possible?” He demanded, light headed with the feeling of his beloved intimate again, he could search in all the places, he couldn't find the one who pleased him this way.

“You're giving me life, Friedrich.” You whispered, arching your back at the travel your husband is. Loving, intense, belonging.

He slid a finger inside you, then two, pumping them slowly, letting you adjust to the new-old sensation. “God, how I missed you.” he groaned, curling them just so, rubbing against that special spot deep inside that made you see stars. “Missed your touch, missed your laugh, your moans, your cunt. The way you moan my name, oh… everything, yeah, keep moaning for me. Please, darling. Say my name just once more, can you?”

“Oh, Friedrich.” You moaned, curling your toes as your heart beated and you felt your pleasure slip on his knuckles with your peak.

He leaned down, pressing a soft, tender kiss to your stomach. He looked up at you, his blue eyes blazing with love and desire and a fierce, unbreakable connection.

“Say you want me to claim you, to fill you, to make you a part of me in every way possible.” he demanded miserably, panting on your stomach, digging his fingers on your hips. “Say my name, tell me I'm not out of my senses and you are here with me. Say you need my sex deep as you crave life again as my seed overflows on your delicious inside.”

“I want you, please. I want everything more than anything in this world or next. Fill me.” you whimpered, forking your hands on his locks, pressing him against you, grinding your arousal on his chest.

He sighs, running his hands down your thighs, as well as his face that camped on your core, inhaling the essence and feeling an immense desire to cry at the touch of his tongue on your sensitive nerve, taking in every note of your taste.

He sank there, never wanting to leave, he just wanted to please you with his entire being, to adore you, swirling his tongue in the exact places you loved, because Friedrich knew you like the back of his hand, you were an open book to him, he deciphered all your secrets and dreams.

Everything you loved, his tongue in your canal, at the entrance, swirling on your clit and taking it all in to suck the little spot and leave a soft kiss.

“Frid, Frid, my love.” you called, sensing your approaching orgasm, you patted his head, his answers delayed by his fixation on your cunt.

He swallowed the remaining taste, lifting his face lazily and meeting your eyes. “I love your taste.” he whispered, settling himself between your thighs, the hard, thick length of his cock pressing against your slit. “but I love being inside you even more.”

With that, he thrust forward, sheathing himself inside you. He groaned at the feel of your pussy so tight and perfect around him, it was made just for him, to wrap the way he wanted.

Then, he began to move, his hips rocking against you in a steady, sensual rhythm, foreheads together to hear every moan, purr and whimper from you. He kept his thrusts slow and deep, wanting to savor every moment, every inch of you.

His hands slid up your sides, cupping the soft, supple curves of your breasts, squeezing and kneading the flesh as he lost himself in the feel of you. He knew he would never get enough of this, of you, of the way you made him feel alive.

“You're my life, darling.” He panted, deepening the sway of his hips, capturing your lips. “If it's necessary to be dead to be with you everyday like this, I'd sell my soul for just a moment. Take everything you need. Take everything from me.”

“As you wish, my love.” You whimpered, your moans becoming even higher as you craved your teeth on his neck on his pulsing point as a thin amount of blood flowed to your mouth. “Oh, God. You taste so good. Oh, fuck. You… Darling, uhmm…”

“Fuck, take it. Take more. Take every drop of me, love.” He begged, nuzzling his nose on your neck to mark you as you licked the remaining blood salty with his sweat. “Come on my cock while you suck me with your pretty cunt and your teeth. Take my soul.”

He could feel you starting to tremble, your body tensing and tightening as your climax approached. He doubled his efforts, his thrusts growing harder and faster, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises as he drove into you.

"Come for me, my heart," he urged, his voice a low, desperate growl, licking your bloody face. "Come on my cock, my queen. Let me feel you, all of you, now and forever.”

“Frid. AH!” The sound of your scream, raw and filled with ecstasy, pushed him over the edge. He groans, burying himself to the hilt inside you as his own release overtook him.

"Fuck," he roared, his voice echoing off the walls of the bedroom. "I'm coming, fuck, I'm coming so hard! Take it, darling."

He pulsed and throbbed inside you, spilling his hot seed deep into your womb as he held you tight, crushing you against his chest. He could feel every clench and flutter of her walls around him, milking him for every last drop as you rode out the aftershocks.

He could feel his body growing weak, prolonging that orgasm as he gave the last thrusts, his eyes turning blank and the grip loosening.

"Frid... Frid, my love." You cried out, watching him smile weakly, his eyes nearly fading. Desperate, you stood up and slapped his face gently against your chest. "Frid. Friedrich. Friedrich, answer me!" you sobbed, cradling his nearly lifeless body in your arms, your tears falling heavily.

"It will be over soon..." he whispered, his hands weakly resting on your back, pulling you closer. "Soon I’ll... be with you... my love... Eat my heart, and you can live with our daughters."

"How? What do you mean, my Frid?" You shouted, gasping, as life slowly drained from him.

"Wasn’t that how you... came to me? By eating Sievers' heart?" He coughed and gasped for air, his lungs sinking from the lack of oxygen. "That's what Von Franz thinks... he knows about it. You trusted him before me... I didn’t believe in you..."

"No..." You trembled, your eyes wavering as you turned his face towards yours, gazing into his pale blue eyes, already touched by death. "It wasn’t like that, Frid. You brought me back. Your love brought me here. I manifested because of you. I can fix it. I know I can, we can live forever."

You bite your wrist, but nothing came, your blood was dry. You tried to rip your ribcage to get your heart and make him eat, but you weren't strong enough.“No… no…” you gasped

“I've always admired you. You always did your best to make me live comfortably, made me feel a king, love.” He gave a soft laugh, his body moving slightly with it. "I'm glad... I could do something… I'll love you forever" he murmured, finally succumbing to eternal peace.

“And I'll love you always, Frid.” You sobbed, holding his lifeless body in your arms, rocking back and forth as you sang a soft lullaby, the weight of your sorrow deepening, while your body slowly disintegrated, returning to dust and slipping back into your coffin.

In honor of Friedrich's love, Thomas crafted a grand coffin, large enough for both of you. They carefully prepared his body and placed it comfortably in the wooden vessel, where your hands were intertwined with his, bound together for eternity.

#friedrich harding #friedrich harding x reader #friedrich harding x you #x reader #reader insert #fanfic #imagine #nosferatu #nosferatu fanfic #aaron taylor johnson x you #aaron taylor johnson x reader #aaron taylor johnson

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allgirlsareprincesses · 9 months ago

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Choosing the Beast: Modern Folklore Heroines Embrace the Animal Husband

“I choose the bear.” The refrain rang out across the web, with many a woman nodding in agreement or at least understanding, and certain men huffing with indignant outrage. Just a meme, really, but did it speak to a deeper truth? Is it merely age-old mistrust of patriarchy talking, or a true desire for the beastly, the wild, the untame?

I’m no sociologist, of course, but I have noticed an emerging trend in fem-gaze media that seems to reflect this view. In movies like I Am Dragon (2015) and recent shows like My Lady Jane and The Acolyte, the heroine chooses the beast, loving her animal husband in his wild form rather than requiring him to transform back into a mundane man to earn her affection. This is such a departure from the typical folktale pattern that it’s difficult to even find an historic example where this occurs.

Commonly thought to reveal the desire to tame a dangerous mate in a patriarchal society, most animal husband tales (ATU 425a) feature a hero who ultimately transforms permanently into a human. This is viewed not only as freeing him from the maddening effect of his wild form, but also saving his bride from committing the sin of bestiality. In these tales, the animal mate’s transformation is necessary for the salvation of both.

Is the modern heroine then damned by choosing her husband’s beastly form? Or does she actually free them both from the yoke of patriarchal expectations?

Bathing: Discovering the Wild Masculine

The first motif that stands out in these modern screen examples is bathing. In animal spouse tales, there is often a dynamic of the hunter and the hunted, and thus a moment when the hunter comes upon their would-be lover unawares. Perhaps they find the animal spouse sleeping, or they cast a light on them unexpectedly, see them without their animal skin or disguise, and so on. And of course, they often come upon the lover at their bath.

There is an implied eroticism in this discovery, finding one’s quarry not only undressed, but also in the most private of activities. Water of course symbolizes fertility, but bathing is also purifying, symbolically washing away all that might make a mate undesirable. And this, perhaps, is the reason that historically this motif is used almost exclusively for animal brides, not animal husbands.

For the animal husband, he either actively chooses to reveal himself to the bride (perhaps on their wedding night), or she violently strips away his disguise, often armed with “flame and steel” like Psyche and her many avatars. Animal brides on the other hand are nearly always discovered at a body of water, bathing. The hunter will then capture her either by stealing her animal skin or cloak, or by placing his own clothing on her. What does it mean, then, when it is the husband who is discovered bathing in a body of water, held as an erotic object in the feminine gaze?

In The Acolyte, Osha follows Qimir to a pool where he slowly undresses, in full knowledge that she is watching. On the shore, she steals his lightsaber, just like the hunter who steals the animal skin, symbolically claiming him. When he emerges, Qimir dons new clothes, as if acknowledging that he is a different person than before he entered the water, almost purified in a way. Osha is forced to confront that there is more to the murderer in the mask than she realized.

Similarly, in My Lady Jane, our heroine goes looking for Guildford just before sunrise on their ill-fated wedding night, only to discover him bathing in the stables. The scene is gratuitously filmed from Jane’s (very horny) perspective, flipping the script on the countless scenes in screen history shot with the masculine gaze. Immediately after she discovers and confronts him, Guildford transforms against his will into a horse, and Jane realizes that he is an Ethian, a creature she has been taught is demonic and unnatural.

And in I Am Dragon, Mira makes several discoveries in quick succession: first, she deduces that Arman is actually the dragon. In the next moment, she slips from the island’s peak and falls, saved only when Arman transforms at the last moment and breaks her fall with his dragon form. The water begins to wash over his unconscious body, and at first Mira thinks that she will allow him to drown. But the sight of Arman in his human form after he rescued her, worried over by his animal familiar, stirs her to pity and she wraps him in a sail and drags him to safety. In this way, she clothes him, claiming him as her own.

Each of these heroines discovered a new aspect of her husband at the bath, finding him unexpectedly alluring, and ultimately choosing to begrudgingly claim him. Each animal husband tried to wash away his beastly form, to separate himself from the wild masculine. These men feel a sense of disassociation from a part of themselves, but now that their brides have discovered it, there will be no more hiding. Further, the bride now holds the power in the relationship, evidenced by how her husband needs her: Qimir needs Osha to be his apprentice, Guildford needs Jane to help him “break the curse,” and Arman needs Mira to heal him from his wounds.

Playing House: The Half-Husband

The second feature of these stories is a period of domesticity for the couple. For a brief time after the husband’s beastly nature is revealed, the lovers “play house” like children. While sexual tension is present, they typically do not consummate their union during this time, but instead cook, eat, rest, and care for one another. What’s more, they ignore or even attempt to actively destroy the husband’s animal form. They deny that this is part of him and therefore part of their relationship.

In I Am Dragon, Mira heals Arman, and wakes the next morning to find he has left food for her (dragonfruit, appropriately). Together they begin building a home out of shipwreck debris they find scattered around the island. A cheery montage shows them decorating a living space, choosing clothes, playing music, and dancing. But the specter of Arman’s monstrous form lurks on the edge of their idyllic life. Mira has nightmares, and tells Arman how much she fears “the dragon,” notably not referring to them as the same person. And eventually, it emerges that Mira has been planning to escape, rejecting Arman’s dragon form entirely.

After he sheds the helmet and robes of The Stranger, Qimir turns his attention to caring for Osha: he heals her, lets her sleep in his bed, provides clothes, and cooks for her. In turn, after some lightsaber-wielding, Osha becomes more comfortable in his home and accepts the food he offers, eventually even trying on his helmet. Later, they bicker amiably on their way to Brendok, like an old married couple on a road trip. When not facing down Jedi, Qimir leaves his menacing persona behind and transforms into an empathetic, protective, and alluring partner.

Jane Grey, meanwhile, finds herself using her honeymoon sequestered away in a private cottage to try to cure Guildford of his Ethianism. With her knowledge of medicine, she concocts various potions and magical cures, but none of them succeed. Guildford often checks in on her after these disappointments, making sure she’s getting enough sleep and taking care of herself. It’s also clear that they’ve been regularly dining together when Jane suddenly dashes off to rescue her friend. Guildford follows her and the two protect one another, followed by an almost-tryst. Even when they move into the palace, their day-to-day (or rather night-to-night) life is one of comfortable domesticity, although they continue to deny Guildford’s horse form.

In each of these cases (although less so in The Acolyte without Season 2 to continue the story), playing house can only last for so long while the husband’s animal nature is denied. There is a part of him that is suppressed, rejected, and this leads to him being incomplete, a half-husband. Each hero is unable or unwilling to accept and celebrate his whole self with his bride. Eventually, it is that denial that leads to a rift between the couple, which can only be healed not with the transformation of the husband, but with the embrace of his animal form.

Enforcing Patriarchy: The Rival

Each of these relationships exists in direct opposition to the dominant culture in the story: Arman as the Dragon is the literal enemy of Mira’s people, Qimir as Sith is the enemy of Osha’s Jedi masters, and in My Lady Jane, intermarriage between humans and Ethians is punishable by death. By choosing to stay with their animal husbands, even for a brief time, our heroines are openly defying the patriarchal norms of their societies. But no oppressive society is about to take that transgression lying down. In each story, a rival emerges to enforce the patriarchal order, kill the beastly husband, and retrieve the bride.

In I Am Dragon, Mira’s betrothed and descendent of the dragon-slayer, Igor, journeys to rescue her from the dragon. Over the course of the story, it becomes clear that Igor cares nothing for Mira herself, and merely feels entitled to her as his bride. Dragon-slaying is his heritage, so he must find her, kill the dragon, and take his place as the hero of his people. Even the marriage ceremony illustrates his ownership of her: he takes hold of a rope tied to her boat and reels her in, thus binding her to the patriarchal order. Contrast that to Arman, who offers her the power of flight, a symbol for freedom.

In Osha’s case, Qimir’s rival for her loyalty is clearly Master Sol, who wants to keep his former pupil dependent on him and the Jedi. Sol takes patronizing fatherliness to an extreme, constantly rescuing Osha rather than letting her stand for herself, teaching her to deny her feelings and instincts, and lying to her to “protect” her. The Jedi refuse to allow that there might be any other way to access the Force than their own, thus invading the home of the Brendok witches and ultimately orphaning the twins. Sol continues to press this dominance to the end, challenging Qimir and insisting to Osha that his own lies were justified.

In My Lady Jane, there are two rivals, both women. Lady Frances attempts throughout the show to dominate her daughters and crush their wills, forcing them into unwanted marriages, applying political pressure, and even counseling Jane to abandon Guildford to save herself. The other rival is Mary Tudor, who is determined not only to emulate her father’s violent, oppressive, and misogynistic reign, but to crush anyone she considers “unnatural” or who poses a threat to her rule. These characters stand as clear examples of how women can enforce patriarchy, too.

In each story, there is a moment when the rival briefly recaptures or “rescues” the bride from her beastly husband, bringing her to a moment of decision: will she stay within the bounds of patriarchy like a good little girl? Or will she make an act of defiance to choose her own path?

Marriage: Choosing the Beast

The bride’s choice will ultimately decide not only her fate, but that of her mate as well. As an independent character, the wild masculine is deeply wounded, separated from himself and thus from his bride. He longs to transform not into a greater, more whole person, but into a lesser, half-person. Alone, without the embrace of his anima, he cannot see the value of his beastly form. Instead of healing, he faces annihilation.

As a part of the bride’s psyche, the beastly husband represents her innermost desires, the truth of her heart, and a spirit freed from the expectations of her society. He is her animus, her missing wild masculine. If she transforms him into a man, then she will tame his wild nature, bringing him to heel under the boot of the patriarchy. Choosing the human form and rejecting the beast means rejecting her own psychological needs. It would be just another form of psychic dismemberment.

Fortunately and unusually, each of these modern brides chooses her beastly husband without demanding he transform. When Osha finally agrees to become Qimir’s apprentice, she takes his hand under the willow tree, clasping the newly-bled lightsaber between them. A few scenes later, this wedding imagery is repeated when they hold hands over the saber again, this time looking into a sunrise/set. Notably, at the moment they “marry” under the willow tree, Qimir is wearing his beastly helmet with rows of menacing, wolfish teeth. He has not come to the light side or shed his Dark Side persona, but Osha has embraced him anyway without fear. And while they might not both be healed (yet), they are more whole together than they were apart.

When her efforts to cure Guildford of his Ethianism repeatedly fail, Jane begins to suspect that his “condition” cannot be cured at all. But listening to her Ethian friends Susanna and Archer finally convinces her that the truth is Guildford doesn’t NEED to be healed - being an Ethian is who he is, and it’s nothing to fear. Unfortunately, Guildford still associates his beastly form with his mother’s death, so he is unable to accept it as Jane encourages, and flees. After a near-death experience, he uses his equine speed to return to the castle just as Jane is deposed and captured. As our heroes battle toward the end, Guildford comes to learn that there are many other proud Ethians, and that his family loves and accepts him in any form.

Still, he’s unable to transform at will, and when Mary captures him and sentences both husband and wife to death, it seems their story may end in tragedy. But as Guildford has been struggling to accept himself, Jane too has been battling with her own conscience. Does she renounce Guildford to save herself? Use her wits to kill the guard and escape? Bend to her mother’s manipulation? Jane confronts each temptation, and ultimately chooses to face death rather than betray Guildford or herself. But when her Ethian friends (the wild instinct) appear to disrupt the execution, our heroine seizes the opportunity to rescue Guildford. Unable to free him from the burning pyre, she confesses her love for him, and they kiss amid the flames.

Fire is often a herald of transformation, burning away illusions to reveal the truth. And when Jane and Guildford exchange their vows in this symbolic marriage ceremony, Guildford’s fears and illusions are finally burned away. Now that his bride has accepted his beastly form, he can accept it too, and so he at last transforms at will into a horse so that they can escape. Their story ends with them married and whole before the sunrise.

Among our modern heroines, Mira is the boldest in her embrace of the beastly husband. Offered yet again as a bride to Igor, she realizes that this is not what she wants, and casts off the tether from her boat. She declares “I love the Dragon!” using the name of her husband’s animal form rather than his human name. Then, she sings the song that will call the dragon to her, and he appears to carry her away again.

But their story is not over yet! Earlier in the story, Arman told Mira of how he loses control when in dragon form, and that dragons are compelled to reproduce by burning maidens to death and retrieving their offspring from the ashes. Returning to the island with her a second time, the dragon drops her on the altar and prepares to spew fire, but Mira lunges up and kisses him. This act of love, even when he is a monster, stuns the beastly husband. Again, Mira declares her love and kneels before him, saying she does not wish to be parted. We might expect the animal husband to transform in this moment, but instead he lays his fearsome head in her lap as a lover. Their story ends with a child and a flight in the sky, silhouetted by the sun just like the other couples.

Each bride, when confronted with the option to return to the patriarchal limits of her childhood, chose instead an act of love and acceptance for her wild masculine. This embrace helped the beastly husband to accept his whole self, and he is healed without having to cut off the wild parts of himself.

What Does It Mean?

Again, this story is so rare in world folklore that it’s difficult to even find examples. On fleeting occasions that the woman chooses an untransformed beast, it is presented as a cautionary tale. These women are framed as a danger to the community for their bestial impulses and abandonment of the social order, much like witches who were said to consort with the devil. It was certainly never presented as a happy ending, insofar as we can tell from written accounts.

So what does the emergence of this tale mean for our culture? I would argue that this is just the latest step in our ongoing reckoning with historic gender roles, as well as renegotiating with other forms of systemic oppression. People of all genders are pressured to reject a part of ourselves, cutting us off from our own truth and desires that run counter to the enforced social order. We must not challenge patriarchy, must not embrace different gender expressions, must not blur established hierarchies of power, must not find joy and power in our identities, and so on.

This enforced denial does tremendous damage to everyone caught in the system, and so through story, we dream our way to escape. We dream of embracing the dark, wild parts of ourselves, of flying free on a spaceship or a dragon or enchanted horseback, and of being totally loved for who we are.

It’s clear patriarchy is still fighting back against this emancipation of the wild feminine and wild masculine, given that both The Acolyte and My Lady Jane were canceled not long after their release. In the case of The Acolyte in particular, there was a sustained campaign from its announcement to harass and silence the creators. Demoralizing as this phenomenon may be, it’s important to remember WHO ultimately owns these stories:

“Fanfiction is a way of the culture repairing the damage done in a system where contemporary myths are owned by corporations instead of owned by the folk.

-Henry Jenkins, NYT 1997

Ah, an oldie-but-goodie. But Dr. Jenkins is right. Corporations may greenlight, film, release, and then cancel these stories, but ultimately they belong to the people. We take from these tales what speaks to us, leave what does not, and then retell them ourselves in fanfiction, in art inspired by the stories, and in lessons we pass on to our friends and families. If the embrace of the wild masculine speaks to you, let the story take root in your own life. Do you know someone who needs to be embraced, just as they are? Do you need to accept the parts of yourself that society tells you to hate? Do you want to be free, healed, and whole?

If so, then let these stories show you how, and tell more like them. Embrace the beast, and find your joy.

Sources:

Beauty and the Beast Tales From Around the World by Heidi Anne Heiner

In Search of the Swan Maiden: A Narrative on Folklore and Gender by Barbara Fass Leavy

And a relevant song for you, as a treat:

Women Who Run With the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype by Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Ph.D.

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stargirlygirl · 14 days ago

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choking with caleb (gone wrong)

caleb x fem!reader

contains: nsfw, smut, choking, p in v, reader passes out from choking, caleb and reader both cry, hurt/comfort, 1.8k words

inspired by: 'what he's like during it' by @bronzealchemy

you've been begging caleb to try choking with you for the last week. it started off tame, with you bringing it up in conversation after coming across a certain inappropriate video on x. caleb had laughed it off, claiming his pips has gone a little crazy with him being away more recently. that earned him the silent treatment for approximately 1 hour, 23 minutes, and 17 seconds before the colonel kissed the irritation out of you.

your next attempt was over a freshly baked apple pie you made for him after a long day at work. still in his uniform🫦, he couldn't resist sitting down with you and tasting your fine handiwork.

"this tastes great, honey. you're getting good at baking now, huh?" he asks, gazing at you with those crinkled eyes and signature smirk.

you nod enthusiastically and chirp, "maybe you should show me how much you appreciate my cooking." his fork clinks on his plate, those mesmerising eyes on you.

he chuckles, "oh, what did you have in mind?" you ask him again to try choking with you but he refuses, dodging again behind his girl being silly and missing him.

but you know what you want, especially with the man who knows you so intimately and loves you so deeply, to the brink of obsession (and more). that's why you make a show of touching yourself right when he gets home.

your legs are spread wide, fingers intertwined in your slick folds. your moans ricochet off the shared bedroom's walls, ringing throughout the apartment. and once you hear the faint jingle of keys and clinking of the front door, you get all that much louder.

your back arches, your walls clenching in pleasure when the bedroom door is thrown open. a seething caleb walks in, huffing as he throws his hat (fuck fuck fuck i love his lil fucking hat i'm sorry pls put me back in my cage) to the side.

his eyes bulge out of their sockets as you stare at each other, your fingers still working overtime on your clit.

he pants, "pips, what're you doing?" you giggle, but it turns into breathy moan. you nibble on your lower lip and tilt your head to the other side, avoiding his intense gaze. the sinful wet sounds of your arousal scream over caleb's stomps toward you.

he kneels on the bed, one gloved hand catching your working hand and pinning it beside your head. he slots himself between your thighs, weight keeping them open beneath him as his other hand grabs your cheeks and turns your head back to him.

his brow is creased as you lock eyes. caleb drinks in the light pink dusting your cheeks and the soft whines falling from your lips.

he almost growls, "i've been away for barely eight hours and this is what i come home to? you touching yourself without me?" you try yanking your pinned hand out of his iron grip, but he only tightens his hold on you, making you yelp.

"and-and now you're ignoring me? what do you want, baby?" your free hand palms his chest, pitifully attempting to push him off. in response, he drops his full weight onto you and buries his face in your hair, inhaling deeply.

"caleb—" you squirm.

he grumbles in your ear, "tell me what you want? why're you trying so hard to get my attention? it's all yours, don't you know that? or do i need to remind you how obsessed i am with you?"

your breath hitches, his voice going straight your core. you mewl as slick gushes from your hole.

"c-caleb," you stutter. he leans back to glimpse your face, all flustered.

"yes, honey," he whispers, gazing at you with those puppy eyes.

you pant, "you know what i want." he looks away momentarily.

shaking his head, he sighs, "is that really why you're doing all of this? to get me to choke you?" you nod frantically because finally, finally, he was getting it.

he chuckles all raspy, "fine." gazing back at you, he continues, "if that's what you really want, then i'll give it to you."

and that's how you got here, crying out as your boyfriend thrusts into you from behind. his mechanical hand is wrapped around your throat, applying the lightest pressure while his other hand pulls tightly on your hair. you can feel the sweat beading on his chest; it sticks to your back, a rite of passage given the connection between your bodies.

you two had hastily agreed on 'apple' as your safe word, and you're yet to use it.

caleb's cool metal hand slides down to your collarbones as he grunts in your ear, "was that okay?"

he hits the spongy spot inside of you, making you lose all coherency as you cry out.

"pips," he pants. "answer me or—fuck!—o-or i'll stop."

you nearly scream, "harder, caleb! harder!"

he chuckles gruffly as he slams into you roughly, "so demanding." his hand slides back up to your neck as he tugs your head back harder. and when he squeezes, you swear you're seeing stars. the pleasure, the lack of oxygen, the squelching sounds of your sex intermingling with his whimpers moans and your own whines. all of it intensifies as he ruts into you. and then he lets go and grabs a handful of your tit.

you cry out, "b-baby, please! please, please, ah—" he pinches your tender nipple and you just know he can feel the rush of arousal that starts dripping around his length.

"f-fuck," he groans loud. "what d'you need, honey? you can tell me." your next word makes his eyes widen and pace slow.

"bicep."

caleb breathes out, "darling, no."

you whine as his thrusts become shallower, "please, caleb! please, i trust you."

"i know you trust me," he grunts. he lets go of your hair and wraps both arms around your torso.

his chin comes to rest on your shoulder, and he whispers against your ear, "but i don't trust myself." he fucks you slower and softer, the weariness seeping into his bones from a long day of meetings and paperwork and reports. you almost start crying from being starved of his rough love.

you pout, "please, baby! ah— i love you! please! i really want you to, p-please!" your boyfriend groans. he loves hates it when you beg him for things because he's destined to cave. he wills himself to be strong, to deny your request. but upon hearing your declaration of love, how can he refuse to indulge his girlfriend's pleas?

he grunts, "fine. you want my bicep around your pretty neck?"

"yes! yes, please!" you babble.

"then you can have it," he groans as he bites your earlobe, his thrusts accelerating up to a brutal pace once more. his warm arm steadies you while his metal bicep curls beneath your chin. he doesn't apply any pressure yet, particularly mindful of just how easily he could hurt you as your small hands grip his forearm for support.

he pants in your hair, "just-just tap my thigh—mhmm— if it's too much, honey." you nod frenziedly and tap his thigh with your fingers a couple of times to show that you heard him.

he chuckles breathily at your cuteness, "okay. here we go." he squeezes lightly, trying his best to satisfy you without overdoing it. and of course, like the spoilt brat princess you are, you grumble at him to go harder.

he grunts, "you-you do know that i c-can't feel in this arm, right? if i hurt you—"

"i don't care, baby— hah— come on, please!" you scrunch your eyes shut, unable to keep them open from the sheer pleasure he's igniting within you. you hear caleb swear beneath his breath before giving you what you asked for.

in a few seconds, you're out like a light. caleb shouts as you slump in his arms, immediately pulling out and lying your limp body down on the fluid-soaked sheets. he cups your face, searching frantically for any signs of life while calling your name so loud it's like you're the one fucking him.

but you're not.

you're lying there, heart racing and breathing steadily as your boyfriend shakes you lightly, begging you to wake up.

his amethyst eyes are already tearing up, and his voice cracks as he pleads, "please, pips! please, f-fuck, please wake up! 'm so sorry, please." as if on command, you stir, your brows drawing together as you blink rapidly.

when an emotional caleb pinning you down comes into focus, you groan, "mhmm, baby, what happened? i thought— i thought we were—" you aren't able to finish your sentence as caleb squishes you beneath his weight.

he sighs with relief and raw emotion in your ear, "fuck, baby, i thought i lost you. fuck—" he pulls back and grabs your cheeks, his thumbs gently stroking them.

tears slowly slip down his face as he chokes out, "i'm so sorry. i shouldn't h-have—"

you tug on his dog tags, bringing him down to you. your noses and foreheads brush, caleb's stuttered breathing ghosting your lips.

you whisper, "it's okay." he shakes his head.

"no! it's not okay. look at you. look at what i did to you!" he proclaims frustratedly. more tears slide down his face. you do what anyone would in this situation and inch him even closer to you. you drag your tongue up the wet trails of his sadness, tasting the salt on your taste buds until you reach his under eyes. and you repeat the motion on his other cheek.

he smiles sadly and scolds you, "don't. not after i-i hurt you."

"mhmm, you taste so salty." your voice cracks as emotions you didn't even realise were there bubble to the surface.

"pips," he croaks out. he retreats to his hiding place (your neck), sobbing harder as you begin crying into his shoulder. your arms wrap around his shuddering back as some unsaid understanding passes between you.

once you both calm down (caleb's still sniffling btw), he swears that tomorrow morning he'll take you to the doctor just to check that you're okay.

the rest of the night is spent in each other's arms, whether that be in the shower, kitchen, or bed. your boyfriend doesn't let you out his grasp for more than minute. he needs to feel you right there, alive and breathing. you reassure him that you're okay, that you still trust him, and that you should have listened to him and at least let him use his other arm. but he shakes his head.

and you know that as you lie in bed cuddling, he's thinking it over and finding new ways to blame himself. you wish he wouldn't retreat into himself like this, but you can't blame him. you're confident that with a bit of time and tender support, he'll forgive himself.

at least, you hope so.

a/n: first time writing for caleb! pls lmk if the characterisation was okay

#ahhhh wtf i'm such a menace where did this come from #i literally couldn't stop myself from making you pass out #★’s works #love and deepspace #caleb x reader #x female reader #lads caleb #caleb smut #caleb xia

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witch1nghour · 2 months ago

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𝜗𝜚 ⠀𝗕𝗬 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗣𝗥𝗜𝗖𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗢𝗙 𝗠𝗬 𝗧𝗛𝗨𝗠𝗕 ﹔ various sentence starters ( platonic/romantic/antagonistic/etc ) from JEKYLL AND HYDE: THE MUSICAL ( 1990 ) . please , like or reblog if you plan on using . don’t claim as your own . content warning : tw murder, violence, religion .

in each of us there are two natures.

he's beyond help.

he stil has a soul - as pure and good as yours or mine.

madness is the cruelest of all prisons.

there must be a way to help him.

my theories convince me there is a better solution.

use your gifts wisely.

once there was morning, now endless night.

if I could reach you I'd guide you and teach you to walk from the darkness back into the light.

please try to hear me.

I'll never desert you - I promise you this till the day that I die.

I need to know the nature of the demons that possess man's soul

why does he revel in murder and madness?

I need to find a way to get inside.

I need to try to separate the good and evil - if I can.

give me courage to go where no angel will go.

there's a face that he hide till the nighttime appears.

man's a master of deceit.

what is his sinister secret?

if we could extract all of the evil from each of us think of the world we could create!

what makes you think you have the right to play god?

my fate is yours to choose.

I did try to warn you.

you should exercise greater caution.

you have come this far, remember what you have at stake.

comments on style, madam, should never be made by those who have none.

you'll get what you want in the end, you always do.

the only thing to fear is the unknown.

we knew there'd be a price to pay.

look in my eyes - who do you see there?

love is the only danger.

we'll make our one dream come true.

you know who I am...take me as I am.

give me you hand - give me your heart.

swear to me we'll never part!

goodnight, my angel.

goodnight, my devil.

if we want our love to grow, we musn't be afraid of letting go.

you are playing a very dangerous game.

a little touch of sin - why wait another minute?

why should tonight be different?

here's to the night!

if you only knew the games we could play.

you're not up to the chase.

you have got a lot to lose ... think of the consequences.

for all these years, I've faced the world alone.

I have started this alone ... and I must finish it alone.

I have a thirst that I cannot deprive.

tonight I'll take from all mankind, conquer all the gods.

I see the pain in your eyes.

have I become my work and nothing more?

what kind of monster would do such a thing?

I am in love with the things that I see.

if someone like you found someone like me then suddenly, nothing would ever be the same.

I'd feel so alive if someone like you loved me.

it warms my heart to know that romance still blossoms.

how dare you speak to me like that?

you don't seem like yourself.

I've been better, name ... I've been better.

I did everything I could to save the others.

I am dangerous. more dangerous than any wild animal stalking its prey ...

my love, what's happened to you?

I must be left alone to finish what I've started.

yu never promised me the journey would be easy - only that we would take it together.

you were heaven-sent to me, was it never meant to be?

don't abandon me now, name.

if you need me you know where I'll be.

did you really think that I would ever let you go?

do you think I'd ever set you free?

you will never get away from me!

this is not a dream, my friend, and it will never end!

no matter what you may pretend.

I'll rejoice as you breathe your final breath.

there's a beast at the door, and he's wild and free.

#rp memes #gothic horror rp memes #jekyll and hyde #rp prompts #inbox prompts

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night-dazai · 10 months ago

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Demons Wife

“fuck …oh my ….” full lips pulled into a smirk while sharp fangs peeked out “You even made me curse, such naughty lady aren't you, “ he said while white-gloved hands roamed your body pulling at your nipples and thrusting a finger into your wet weeping cunt.

“Seb…seabass….” you tried but nothing but strangled moans left your mouth, you had no idea how long it had been since you were in this position.

7 months into your marriage with Sebastian to save you from being a slave, you thought Ceil and his butler were kind men who had saved you and little did you know. You would sometimes question your husband's actions and behaviour, but with his gentlemanly aura you never even thought for a second he could be a devil or anything even close to evil. ”y/n we got married too soon, it might be a shock for you my dear, “ he said softly gloved hands creasing yours “Let's get to know each other and maybe one day we can consummate this marriage “ his smile angel like you could not thank god enough for such a caring and loving husband. In the 7 months, you guys would go on cafe dates and night outings cause that's when he was mostly free from his butler work. Holding hands after 2 months and kissing after 5 months broke it for you. You were sure you could give everything of yourself to him. “Sebastian, we can consummate this marriage, “ you said a month ago while you were out for a walk after dinner. His red eyes widened for a second and were soon replaced by a kind smile “Don't force yourself, love, it will be hard “ he said squeezing your hand reassuringly “But “you said stopping him “I want it to be you “You looked up dead in his eyes” I want you to take my virginity and all of me… I give it to you “ you said giving your hand to him. His red eyes looked at you quietly for a second before he got on his knees took your hands and kissed them “Your wish is my command y/n” he said smiling. You thought his eyes became darker for a second or maybe you were dreaming. But after the confession, your gentle husband made it his mission to get you accustomed to his touch, and light makeouts which left you panting for air.

“y/n I would like it if you looked at me more “ he said taking your hands which covered your tear-tainted face which was bright red. You looked up at him “Beautiful “ was all you could think but soon you pouted and turned your head to the side “No..not fair “ you said softly.

He chuckled kissing your jaw” What's not fair love ?” he asked innocently, you were sure he knew what it was. You lay naked and vulnerable on the bed while he was still fully clothed. You pulled at his shirt, chuckling at your cuteness “My my of course what is this rude behaviour of mine “ he said and moved back removing each piece of clothing with deliberate calculations and making sure you got a full show of him doing it.

“Now things are just going to get more rude “ he said pushing you back to the bed. The dimly lit room had both your shadows on the wall while some of the candles near your bed flickered a little due to the tension in the room.

That was when you noticed it fully, red eyes, fangs ready to draw blood and the smile of the devil, a shadow deep and darker than hell your husband smiled down on you creasing the side of your check “It will hurt, we have all the time so we can go slow okay “.

It was not a question, it was an order, telling you nothing will stop him. You have heard many call your wedded partner a devil and there were many questionable things that you have seen but …..” does it matter ?”.

Smiling you opened your arms wide “If you are going to hell or even if you are hell ..take me …”. That when the realisation hit you “I knew …… did not accept it “ you said “Claim me “

You did not know what effect your words had on him but his actions stopped, his dick right at your entrance while he stared into your eyes “Do…do you even know the meaning of the things you said ? What if I am a sinful being and ..not even human ?” he asked softly but there was no gentleness in it “that has nothing to do with me . You are my husband “you said still smiling like a child at a candy store.

The demon's red eyes flashed a dangerous red but collected himself he smiled, face filled with nothing but love “You surely will drive me crazy one day before that whiny master of mine does “ he said chucking and as you both were busy laughing his shaft moved right into you in one thrust.

Your back arching completely off the bed, air completely out of your lungs and eyes rolled back you held on to his shoulders for your life. Kissing your exposed neck, the devil smiled biting it, making you moan and yelp in pain and pleasure “All mine “ eyes red as fire and shadow darker than hell … The devil claimed his wife ………….

I always had a soft spot for the demon butler and also wanted one for myself ..but @chooyahh reminded me of my old lover. Thank you for that!💕

#black butler #black butler x reader #aot x black reader #sebastian michaelis smut #sebastian michaelis #sebastian x reader #sebastain stan #night dazai #sebastain x reader smut #Sebastian x female reader #sebastain michaelis x reader smut #sebastian smut #black butler season 4 #black butler x reader smut #ciel phantomhive #kuroshitsuji

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r0-boat · 7 months ago

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Defile

Whb!AsmodeusxGn!Reader

Happy Halloween, and enjoy this sinful fanfiction

Cw: Corruption, primal, predator/prey, breeding, mind control, womb tattoo(what's the gender-neutral term for that), Heat, religious play, CNC, Asmodeus yaps a lot, aftercare

You kneel at the end of the sanctuary your hands clasped together As you pray in the dead of night. As the rest of your brothers and sisters at the monastery slumber, You had woken up early dreaming of sin, pools of blood red eyes staring into your very soul as you feel hands grasp and touch you in ways the Lord will not permit.

You had been plagued with sinful thoughts and dreams for a while now. So you pray hoping that someone would answer your prayers, and you'll be free from temptation.

But in the ivory halls of the church, with nothing but the light of the Moon and the candles lit around the altar to keep you company. Little did you know you were not alone. A darkness more sinister stalks closer. The candle sticks that littered the Sanctuary blow out one by one starting from the entrance when the doors creeped open.

You didn't open your eyes And one by one each candle blows out all around you. You did not open your eyes until you smelled the smoke. The only candles that were still lit were the ones around the altar. You thought as though the wind must have blew them out.

Your eyes adjusting to the dark as you squint looking around for an opened window or door that you are not aware of that could have caused the candles to go out. Your eyes peer into the blackened void behind you. You could almost feel at stare back.

That's when you heard it.

"well well well, What do we have here. A little lamb astrayed from its flock?"

It bellowed. Echoing throughout the entire chamber, your heart quickens as you lose your balance from the shock, falling from your knees to your bum. Your eyes widen as they dart throughout the room, But all you could see was the same inky darkness that not even the moonlight could pierce.

"W-who are you?" Your voice cracks the only words you can manage to get out.

The figure finally steps into what little light that could reach into the monastery. Long pitch black hair his naked figure covered by a single white silk robe ironic for what he was. Chains and barbed vines around his arms and legs and his piercing red eyes with a single yet unmistakable curled horn.

There was no mistaken of what he was. Your breath shakes your whole body shakes. Grasping the gold pendant around your neck You scoot away.

The demon chuckles. "Don't be afraid dear human, I promise I'll take good care of you." The way that word rolled off the tongue made you shiver. You didn't want to know what he meant by that.

"You're not supposed to be here!" You call out

"This is a house of God! You are not welcome devil!"

The red-eyed monster grinned, his smile wide and sinister, flashing his fangs. He let out a deep chuckle. "Your God will not protect you." He smiles. You can hear shackles on his arms and legs shake as he stalks closer. That sinister smile seems to grow wider and wider.

"Do you think you're pathetic little prayers will keep the incarnate of Lust away from what he has claimed. Look into my eyes prey you know who I am..."

As the being gets lower to your level, his claws scratch against the marble tiles as he practically crawls toward you. Eyes full of longing and hunger. Getting so dangerously close, you could smell a sweet temptation coming from him.

They warned warned you about him; One of the seven deadly sins.

Asmodeus.

He didn't have to hear you say it because he could see it in your eyes The delicious fear. He could hear every pump of your heart getting faster and faster And of course you reeked of desire. Pretty virgin things like you always made the most delicious of prey.

"I can smell that you crave for me." He growls.

Your heart practically stopped; that sentence alone finally made your feet move, scampering on the ground before taking off. All you hear was a laugh echoing through the halls as you keep running.

You could hear him coming for you his heavy breath the footsteps behind you that sound less and less human and more like a pack of hungry wolves.

You didn't look back; you didn't dare to. You could already hear how close he was and that he was gaining. Your lungs burned as you pushed as hard as you could. You could only reach outside in the courtyard, the moonlight showing his full figure before he tackled you to the ground, his whole body weight bringing you down.

Using his entire strength, Asmodeus forces you to the ground. You are at his mercy as you try desperately to fight him. You swore you felt drool dripping on your skin when he buried his nose into your neck, deeply inhaling your scent.

"perfect, simply perfect. I've been watching you for a while. And now that you're underneath me, You are far better than I ever could have imagined." His breathy voice tickled your ear as you delicately felt his claws and fingers around your neck. Your heart dropped as you felt a bulge in his clothes pressing against your pajamas. You try to squirm out of his grip, anything to get out, but you are trapped, caged in his arms, back pressed against his chest.

"your ass grinds against me, mate; You're so eager for me to claim you as mine." He sneered. His claws were ripping and shredding through your clothes as if they were paper.

Treating you like a mir doll for his amusement. Asmodeus flips you over, holding your arms together with his big hand.

"Yes, let me see you, let me see my new bride." He purrs. His eyes rolling over you like a piece of meat.

Your struggling was cute, It highlighted how much bigger and stronger he was compared to you but he began to grow tired of your useless attempts at freedom. He likes his mates 'willing' after all.

He let out another animalistic purr pressing his tongue against your collarbone looking up your neck as his other hand presses down on your lower stomach.

You felt heat underneath his palm a sweet pleasurable heat burning into your core when he lifts his palm a mark appears and its place.

That warmth from your core begins to spread all over your body. Places where he has touched, bit, licked, or sucked, begin to tingle all the way down to your core.

Asmodeus watches with a pleasant grin as his influence slowly takes over your body. He presses harder against you, his skin against yours. All he was doing was touching you, yet you felt so sensitive—that little warmth beginning to grow hotter and hotter as It became increasingly harder to think. The demon above you begins to explore your body with his hand and his tongue, licking and groping every part he can, feeling up his new favorite toy.

"Good human, become nice and obedient for me. Feel your mind slip away and become mine." His voice seems to echo in your mind; you feel it with your whole body, sending ripples of pleasure throughout.

Asmodeus, lets go of your wrists. Finally, you have a chance to escape, but your body has other plans: staying underneath him, obedient and ready.

Knowing that your body has completely submitted to him, the devil leans backward, unveiling his cock hard and throbbing, his balls swollen. "Come to me, human, come serve your new male. Prepare him for breeding." He moans, His hand squeezing his shaft with one lazy pump before cupping his balls.

His voice echoes in your mind and you obey him without question. The more you resist the deeper you fall.

As your mouth begins to drool at the sight of his dick. You crawl forward on your hands and knees. He watched in delight to your tiny hand wrapping around his demon cock before taking it in your mouth.

His natural musk, sweet yet woody fills your nose All you want to do is bury your face into him and ride him till the sun comes up. Your own drool runs down his shaft using it as lube to pump his cock with your hand while you struggle to take it deeper.

Despite your eagerness to please him, your movements were that of a virgin; he could smell that you were turned on by this, Even if you are under his influence. He plays with his jet-black hair idly, His teeth sinking into his lip. The desire to corrupt you with his demonic seed grows with every bob of your empty little head.

With a wave of his finger for you to stop, you obey like an obedient dog in heat; His cock is coated with your saliva, and your mouth drools from the taste of his pretty cock in your mouth. Asmodeus smirked as he crawled back on top of you with one hand. He parts your your thighs, preparing to sink inside you.

"I've had enough waiting, I'm going to breed you like the sow you are." Asmodeus growled

You arched your back as his cock filled you up just right. Putting your legs over his shoulders as he pressed his entire body weight down onto you. He didn't wait for a moment because if he did, you would be screaming and begging him to move.

With every slam of his hips the symbol on your core begin to glow brighter and brighter.

At that moment, your mind was not yours. It belonged to the man claiming you, but you could still feel it begin to change and warp with every thrust. His cock hits the deepest parts of you, and he snarls, feeling you clench.

"I know you're close. Cum as I fill you with seed and marry you in Unholy Matrimony right outside the very place you kneel and worship Your Lord!" He pants, a crazed look in his eye as he chases his orgasm. He's close, So close, ready to flood your insides and mark you as his. He could feel you tighten around his throbbing cock; you were close, there was no need in try to fight it. He's going to shatter your pitiful attempt at rebellion and rip the orgasm out of you.

Asmodeus let out an animalistic growl, drilling down into you harder and harder. If it wasn't for his voice ringing into your head, all you could hear was the slapping of his hips and his balls against your ass. "I will bind you to me, and you will worship me like your new God! Cum on my cock whore!"

It was a command, ending it with sinking his teeth right into your neck. Your eyes rolled back clenching and exploding all over him. Asmodeus letting out a maniac laugh before slammed with one final thrust deep inside you to steal his hips. He made sure to lift your lower body just right so he was reaching as deep as he could before filling your deepest parts with his virile seed. Your cunt milks him as you cum like it's the first time you came in your entire life milking his cock as you feel every spurt of seed as he drains his balls inside you.

Even as you stopped even after he stopped he still pressed inside you. Making sure every drop stays deep.

The two of you back in the afterglow before you feel as modius wrap his arms around you He nuzzles into your neck peppering it with kisses.

"beloved, My dearly beloved."

He groaned still deep inside you You can still feel how hard he was.

"I still want more... I want more of you." He whined overdramatically, grinding his still-stiff shaft against you.

As much as he wanted to have more of you, as much as he wanted to drill you into the dirt till the two of you were spent and on the verge of passing out, He knew that you probably had had enough. You were merely human, after all. Deliciously and lovingly human.

You felt his tongue drag across your neck again this time affectionately you giggle and push him away "All right get away from me stinky. We can't stay here for long." He lets out a groan despite him being much stronger than you he plays along moving his body giving you a little more space. Only a little.

"Satan doesn't have to know what we use this place for."

Asmodeus purred playing with your hair as he stayed glued to your body like a clingy lover. He cared little for the names you gave him It was a nickname from you and he would accept any.

"I highly doubt he wouldn't know after how loud we were."

He just let out a goofy chuckle. Guilty was charged He wasn't exactly the quietest either.

"Will you stay with me tonight? I promise we can bathe together."

It was a tempting offer. He was desperate to have you in his arms for a little while longer Even if that means doing the one thing he hated. But your answer is still the same, knowing that one night with him will never just be one night...

"You know my answer."

You heard the pout in his voice "Mmh Okay... But at least let me bring you back to your bedroom. I'd like to tuck you."

#smut #making Asmodeus as creepy as I fucking can #The creepiness is part of his charm #*sprays pepper spray sliced with febreze at him*#whb asmodeus #what in hell is bad #whb #whb x reader #wihib #whb abaddon #Asmodeus yaps a lot....#demon x reader #demon x human #whb Asmodeus x reader

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lxkeee · 1 year ago

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Helloo, I was wondering if it was alright for u to write a lucifer x male reader where the reader is also a powerful demon and goes with lucifer to visit Charlie in the dad beat dad episode, and Charlie is just like OMG i have two dads now, this is awesome

if u don't write for male reader, then feel free to change or ignore this lol

MY GAYDAR IS NEVER WRONG!

—Lucifer Morningstar x m! Reader

warnings: mentions of s*icide.

When Charlie called Lucifer, he was excited that his daughter wanted to invite him to see the hotel. He thought he would be able to handle it.

In fact, he did not.

The poor man had a complete mental breakdown as he over thought what would happen, how would he act around his daughter, what should he say, and etc.

So, he decided to ask for help and he just knows the right person for that.

His beloved boyfriend of one year, [y/n].

Backstory time,

Lucifer has been seeing and secretly dating the man for a year already, it took a while but he got charmed okay? [Y/n] is literally so charming, very handsome, very chivalrous.... And very tall...

And is a pianist.

Lucifer met [y/n] in a famous restaurant, that only elites or the rich can enter. [Y/n] so happens to own that restaurant.

The only reason he was there at that time was because the other seven deadly sins wanted to have a get together.

As the dinner with the other seven deadly sins progressed, Lucifer was enamored the whole night, his eyes staring at the tall and graceful man sitting in the middle of the restaurant as he played the piano for the guests so beautifully.

Asmodeus even teased him, making the king of hell blush.

That's where his frequent visit to the restaurant started.

Lucifer claims that he just wanted to listen to the man play and nothing else.

Of course, [y/n] noticed his frequent visits and decided to approach the smaller man.

Of course, Lucifer was cautious.

Lucifer was suspicious why the man looked more humane than others, aside from his sharp teeth.

Eventually, the two slowly got along and then slowly developed romantic feelings for each other.

They started telling each other their stories too.

Lucifer found out [y/n] was a pianist when he was still alive, he was born in the 1920's and died in 1945.

[Y/n] died as passionless artist, who lost his inspiration and will to live.

But despite all that, [y/n] managed to find his passion for music again in hell and despite the era he was born in, he managed to go with the flow of time.

Yes, he knows gen z slang 😭

He's got serious problems when it comes to saying "lmao" "purr" and "slay"

Anyways, after finding out and realizing why [y/n] is here is because the sin he committed is that he didn't appreciate the life was given to him and decided to take it away by his own hands.

Lucifer's caution around the man was gone and maybe, not all sinners are bad.

[y/n] confessed first and Lucifer reciprocated by giving the taller man a kiss (he had to pull down [y/n]'s tie okay?)

And Lucifer didn't regret it, [y/n] is a passionate lover. A green flag of all green flags.

“Why are you here? You're so nice, you shouldn't be here.”

“If I was up there, then I wouldn't have the pleasure of meeting you and calling you mine.” [y/n] said with a confused tone.

Unaware rizz.

This man, doesn't know how much his words affect Lucifer.

And the fact he can carry Lucifer bridal style and calls him his muse is the cherry on top.

Anyways, back to the scenario. I'm done with the backstory lmao

Lucifer decided to text [y/n] telling him about the situation, wanting emotional support as he's nervous going to an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people.

He thought [y/n] wouldn't be able to come as the man got work but he was wrong as not 15 minutes later, [y/n] bursts through the door looking absolutely disheveled.

[y/n] ran like his life depended on it.

“My muse, I am hereeee...” the poor tall man wheezed out, hunched on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

Lucifer had to help the man out by using his wings to dry him up.

“Better?”

“Better, thanks my love.”

Lucifer had to explain the situation to him on the way to the hotel and [y/n] giving him peptalk after.

After arriving at the hotel, [y/n] stayed at the side while he watched Lucifer interact with the others.

He swore he heard the pink arachnid say, “Is anyone's gaydar going off right now?”

“It's just you, Angel.” the gray haired girl says with a deadpan.

After Charlie introduced the rest, she noticed the taller male companion who came with her dad. The male was just admiring the interior of the hotel.

Tall, dark, and handsome.

“So... Dad, how about you introduce me to your friend that you brought over?” Charlie asked, making the two males flinch in surprise.

[y/n] giggling as he watched the flustered look on Lucifer's face.

The two males just looked at each other, having a silent conversation.

“Do you want to tell her?” is what [y/n]'s facial expression says based on the raised eyebrow.

“I guess it's time to tell her.” Lucifer says through his facial expression, as a sigh left his lips.

The others just stared in silence as the two males looked at each other in silent conversation.

“Charlie, this is [y/n]... My... Significant other.”

After Lucifer introduced the unknown man, Charlie's jaw dropped.

So did the other's.

The only thing Charlie can think is “Holy shit, I'll have two dads.”

“SEE?! I FUCKING TOLD YOU THAT MY GAYDAR IS POPPING OFF SINCE THEY ARRIVED”

It was a wild night. From the dad off, some loan sharks deciding to cause a mess. (Charlie has three dads now)

Do you guys want this as a series? I'm thinking of actually writing this concept because aihsjans it's so cutee and interesting 😭🤭

Also, I absolutely write for male readers as I myself is a man 🤭 aosjsi maybe I should write more Lucifer x male! Reader?

#hazbin hotel #lxkeee hazbin hotel masterlist #lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel x reader #lxkeee answers #lucifer morningstar #lxkeee updates

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haru-natsuka · 1 year ago

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The fate (Anastacius x Female Reader x Claude)

Chapter 5 : The Mistress's Child

It was normal for a wife to hate her husband mistress and their child, but for her, the mistress was the person who had treated her fairly instead of the husband. When the latter died during childbirth, the wife pledged to herself to raise her child with care and love, giving the child the affection and treatment she deserved but had been deprived of...

Female reader will be named as Celestial

As always, Celestial hid behind a pillar to oversee a certain little girl who was approaching the Emerald Palace. She had observed the princess and noticed that she resembled Claude when he was a child, and there were no evident traces of Diana's characteristics except for her curiosity, similar to the latter and yet a lot of people did claimed the princess followed her mother features more. However, the princess did not take any precautions or seem concerned about the risks of being at the Emerald Palace, despite it being a place only for the Empress and the Emperor. Did she not feel scared if she accidentally met the emperor who had ignored her own mother?

Athanasia, a name that Diana bestowed on her own daughter before her passing from childbirth, also became the name that Claude used mockingly, being aware of its meaning as immortality. As if she was begging Claude to not kill their child. But, the crown prince had grown distant from Diana, not taking her feelings into consideration and only seeking for himself. And so, as Claude claimed to have lost a lot and could not bear to lose any more. Then, if he killed his only child, would he did not do anything except for losing some more? Celestial had lost her freedom because of Athanasia and Diana, but still she could not help but worry about the princess' fate.

"I am willing to do anything of your choice. I will support you with all my strength. I will be a good wife in exchange for saving the life of a child who was born innocent and free of sin. I beg you to have mercy and spare her, Claude. She is a pure being who only needs to be protected,"

Celestial pleaded as she hoped for the princess' safety. She could not help but feel the sense of urgency to protect Athanasia who was motherless and help Claude understand that this would be the right thing to do.

Celestial, despite having not bowed before anyone in her life, was now kneeling on the floor before her egoistic, monstrous husband. She lay her forehead on the ground in order to plead with the emperor to spare the princess' child from being killed. The scent of blood and corpses was overpowering and unpleasant, but Celestial remained to make sure that the innocent princess was protected. She could not risk it, having the sense of urgency to protect the pure and precious life of a child, despite her hatred for Claude. She had to save Athanasia with her very life.

Celestial refused to look at her husband, knowing that he was looking at her with hatred and anger. The surroundings were tense, due to the emperor's anger and the tense situation at hand. Knowing Claude, Celestial was fully prepared to sacrifice her own life to protect Diana's child, which she held so dearly. The mistress of her husband, Diana, was a kind person who was by Celestial's side when her husband neglected her and mistreated her. Because of her deep care and affection for Diana, she would go to any lengths and give her life to save Diana's child.

"Her name. Tell me,"

Claude ordered coldly, increasing the tension in the room and causing Lily to tremble in fear. She was desperate for her life and the newborn baby too. As they were the only ones alive amongst the sea of corpses, the Emperor's focus was firmly upon them. Lily was so terrified that she began to speak, answering his question with all her might, hoping that this will appease him and spare her life.

"Athanasia, Your Majesty," was the answer she gave, hoping that it was enough to keep her alive.

"Amusing. I wonder how long this thing can live in accordance to its name." Claude, upon hearing the response from the maid, chuckled madly and turned around to left the room without a second thought. He did not bother to look back, and in a stern tone to regard his wife. Knowing that Celestial gave him an offer to let the princess live, Claude finally agreed to this in turn for her devotion. He seemed to be satisfied by this outcome as he got to chain his wife by his side as long as he desired.

"And I would take your offer to me to let that filthy thing live"

While the palace was full of tension and conflict, it seemed that Athanasia enjoyed her time there. The little girl, having turned five years old this year, felt like a big girl as she was actively engaging in thievery of the palace decoration. The empress, could not help but notice her efforts to steal some decorations from the palace. In fact, she was so exposed in her position that anyone could locate her. Celestial, noticing her acts, tried hard to conceal her laughter, for she felt joy looking at the little princess engaging in such antics.

"I never know our guards are this incompetent that a thief can trespass into the main palace?"

Athanasia was caught off guard by a voice behind her. She then turned around, adorably showing of her doe eyes as she stared pleadingly at Celestial, who had witnessed her multiple times committing such sinful acts. Knowing that Celestial was aware of her daily activities, she hoped for her mercy and tried to gain sympathy by looking appealing and cute to her. However, Celestial had already grown accustomed to her thievery and antics, and the fact that Athanasia had gained a large collection of stolen items in her pockets had become a routine matter for both of them which the empress gave her full support for the girl. Let's make the palace be poor!

"Auntie, please don't tell anyone. Athy will give you my precious chocolate. Please keep this a secret," the little girl begged Celestial, referring to her as 'auntie' as she never know the true identity of the woman who she had met since a week ago.

"Is it the chocolate that you steal from the kitchen?"

"It already in my hands so it is Athy's!"

"You're funny. Am I not giving you enough jewels yesterday?"

"Athy just love pretty stuff so much that Athy wants it to be mine! Auntie is pretty too! Athy loves your hair and your eyes the most. Athy loves Auntie the most!"

Celestial knew the princess wanted her to keep her thievery a secret, but it was fun for her to tease Athanasia from time to time. In a way, being with this little girl had brought life to Celestial's darkened world, and she was glad to spend proper time with someone who was open and honest in their thoughts. She knew that the princess was a little wild at times, but it was far more enjoyable to speak to someone who was sincere and innocent compared to communicating with an adult with hidden agendas.

"Athy, I have a present for you for visiting me again, please extend your hand to me," Celestial told the little princess, who was more than happy to accept the gift.

"Is it bigger and sparkly than yesterday?" Athanasia asked with excitement, clearly expecting a magnificent gift as she had gained many trinkets from her previous visits.

"It is better than yesterday, Athy," Celestial replied with a smile, indicating that the gift would be better than what she had given Athanasia the day before. She gave the princess a little pouch, which she took in her hands curiously.

"It's not a jewel or gold?"

"Open it. I assure you will love it a lot"

Athanasia, the little girl from the royal family, opened the pouch with a sense of doubt, as she had certain expectations when it came to gifts such as this. She considered only gold and jewels to be worthy gifts to receive, as they were the only things she deemed to be invaluable for her future. The princess was not easy to please when it came to gifts, for these precious items were crucial for her future, and she wished to find out whether her expectations would be met.

Athanasia, the princess, was overjoyed when she opened the pouch and discovered that there were endless amounts of gold and jewels inside. She was overwhelmed with joy at the sight of the precious items and was amazed at the seemingly endless space inside the pouch. She was thrilled by the knowledge that she would no longer have to struggle with hiding the items she had stolen, for the pouch's space could hold everything with no one being able to notice. She thought that the gifts that she had been given were more than worthwhile, for they had truly exceeded her expectations.

"It is a limitless space inside the pouch so after this, you can put everything inside the pouch instead of your pocket. No one will notice if you steal anything more after this"

"Athy loves it! Thank you, Auntie!"

The princess hugged Celestial and gave her thighs a tight hug, as a way to show her appreciation for the gift she had just given. Celestial, in turn, also enjoyed the hug for it was a way of bonding and communicating with the little princess. She would also look forward to more future interactions, for the time she had spent with Athanasia had been an important and precious experience for both of them.

"I'm glad that you love it" She caressed the little girl hair gingerly to return her action. Celestial and Athanasia were in their own pleasant world, being completely unaware of the presence of the two individuals approaching them. However, they were soon pulled back from their dreamy moments when they heard a loud voice coming from somewhere nearby. It seemed that the princess and Celestial were not the only ones in the room, for two individuals had arrived and spotted them from a distance.

"What is this filthy bug doing in my palace?" The two girls turned to face the source of the voice, curious to see who had spoken out in such a way. It was non other than the emperor, Claude De Alger Obelia

@fluffy-koalala

Chapter 4 << Previous, Next >> Chapter 6

#anastacius de alger obelia #anastacius x reader #claude de alger obelia #claude x reader #wmmap #wmmap fanfic #wmmap anastacius #romance #who made me a princess #wmmap x reader #wmmap claude #manhwa #manhwa x reader #wmmap athanasia

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sorcerersandskillusers · 1 year ago

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Fyodor and the Devil: Analysis of Fyodor's motives and role in the narrative

Asagiri has stated that he based Fyodor not on Dostoyevsky the author but on a specific scene from one of his books The Brothers Karamazov where Ivan Karamazov confronts “the devil” in his room.

(It's a really good book, you should read it if you have time. Also. fun fact, Fyodor and the devil wear the same hat, “His soft fluffy white hat was out of keeping with the season.”)

Having read the book and gone over this scene, I realized that this could be used to find out a lot more about Fyodor as a character than we see in the story, including a potential glimpse at his real motivations.

A bit of context for the scene. Ivan Kramazov is a clever but deeply trouble man who has struggling with the concept of God and rationalising him with the cruelty of humanity, at one point while very sick, Ivan starts seeing a man in his room who claims to be “the devil”. Their conversation is a fascinating look at morality and why evil exists in the world, and if you look at it closely it reveals a lot about the role of a “villain” in a story.

This line from “the devil” is really interesting to me, and seems to explain a lot about Fyodor’s character, as well as align perfectly with how Asagiri has described Fyodor in interviews:

Before time was, by some decree which I could never make out, I

was predestined 'to deny' and yet I am genuinely good-hearted and not at all inclined to negation.

'No, you must go and deny, without denial there's no criticism and what would a journal be without a column of criticism?'

Without criticism it would be nothing but one 'hosannah.' But nothing but hosannah is not enough for life, the hosannah must be tried in the crucible of doubt and so on, in the same style. But I don't meddle in that, I didn't create it, I am not answerable for it. Well, they've chosen their scapegoat, they've made me write the column of criticism and so life was made possible.

Basically the devil is saying that he was created because without evil then good means nothing, if everything was perfect then nothing would happen or change, life couldn’t exist, so he was forced to be that evil even though he never wanted to be.

This is so similar to how Fyodor is described in the BSD exposition 2020:

Fyodor is the antagonist, he is the villain of the story, that is the role he plays. This explains why he chooses to commit so many atrocities in the name of “following God's plan”. It even connects to his line in The Dead Apple, and his ability name. He is both crime and punishment, as “crime” or sin originates with the devil, but it's also the devil who punishes sinners.

(I mean the title of the episode he is introduced in is literally “My Ill Deeds Are the Work of God” by committing evil acts he is fulfilling God's purpose for him.)

And if Fyodor is really based on “the devil” it's very likely he also either does or used to wish for release from this role that was assigned to him, but he knows that he cannot stray from his path or the story will cease to exist. My evidence for Fyodor wanting to be free of his mission is just one interaction, when he kills Karma.

Look at Fyodor's expression here, this is the only time in the entire series where we see him look truly sad. This isn't an act, there is no one there for him to trick, he simply says a quiet prayer for the life of a boy who's only purpose was to suffer and die.

This next part of “the devils” speech actually seems to fit very well for Dazai, it's interesting since he is the narrative foil to Fyodor and clearly is a very similar character.

We understand that comedy; I, for instance, simply ask for annihilation. No, live, I am told, for there'd be nothing without you.

If everything in the universe were sensible, nothing would happen. There would be no events without you, and there must be events. So against the grain I serve to produce events and do what's irrational because I am commanded to.

For all their indisputable intelligence,men take this farce as something serious, and that is their tragedy. They suffer, of course... but then they live, they live a real life, not a fantastic one, for suffering is life. Without suffering what would be the pleasure of it? It would be transformed into an endless church service; it would be holy, but tedious. But what about me? I suffer, but still, I don't live. I am x in an indeterminate equation. I am a sort of phantom in life who has lost all beginning and end, and who has even forgotten his own name.

This ties perfectly into Dazai and Fyodor’s debate on the nature of God in the sky casino arc.

Dazai here points out that it's not perfection and harmony that make the world move, it's the irrational, it's the foolishness and stupidity of humans who charges into life making a million mistakes but always finding ways to fight on through it. Here Dazai and Fyodor represent the conflicting sides of “the devil” with Fyodor embodying his mission to drive the world and Dazai embodying his secret love for, and wish to join, humanity.

“I love men genuinely, I've been greatly calumniated! Here when I stay withyou from time to time, my life gains a kind of reality and that's what I like most of all. Yousee, like you, I suffer from the fantastic and so I love the realism of earth. Here, with you, everything is circumscribed, here all is formulated and geometrical, while we have nothing but indeterminate equations! I wander about here dreaming. I like dreaming. Besides, on earth I become superstitious. Please don't laugh, that's just what I like, to become superstitious. I adopt all your habits here: I've grown fond of going to the public baths, would you believe it?

And I go and steam myself with merchants and priests. What I dream of is becoming incarnate once for all and irrevocably in the form of some merchant's wife weighing eighteen stone, and of believing all she believes. My ideal is to go to church and offer a candle in simple-hearted faith, upon my word it is. Then there would be an end to my sufferings.”

“"Why not, if I sometimes put on fleshly form? I put on fleshly form and I take the consequences. Satan sum et nihil humanum a me alienum puto."*

* I am Satan, and deem nothing human alien to me.”

This piece from the devil feels like it could be a description of Dazai’s character, his wish above all else to find happiness and love as a human despite believing he is a demon. Both Dazai and Fyodor have strong ties to the Devil, both of them are often described as demonic or inhuman, with emphasis placed on the darkness of their souls and the isolation they feel due to their minds.

But the difference between them is how they dealt with it, Fyodor chose to embrace it and fully commit to his role in the story as the ultimate evil for the greater good, but Dazai has always shown a fasciation with humans and has spent his life trying to connect to them and find meaning in his existence.

Finally, let's look at what we can learn about Fyodor’s motivation. Fyodor is the villain, he is the final obstacle the protagonist has to overcome, he is the driving force behind so much of Atsushi’s life and the reason so much of the series has played out at all. He sent Shibusawa to torture Atsushi as a child, he was an informant to the guild who put the bounty on Atsushi making the mafia turn on him, he was involved in the guild invasion, and obviously he was the master mind behind cannibalism and Decay of Angles.

If he is aware of his position as the antagonist, then he also is probably aware Atsushi is the protagonist, he knew he was the “envy of all ability users” after all, so he knows Atsushi has some significance to the world as a whole.

Atsushi is also the “guide to the book” which is seemingly Fyodor’s end goal, so even though Fyodor doesn’t seem to be focused on Atsushi, he has been indirectly influencing his whole journey up to this point. This also explains why Fyodor is only moving actively now, because the protagonist has appeared and his role as the villain can finally be fulfilled and he, like “the devil” can finally get the “annihilation” he asked for. Hence, Fyodor’s true goal is to erase himself from the narrative.

There is actually quite a lot of evidence for this. The obvious part is that Fyodor wants to rid the world of ability users while he himself is an ability user, he cannot exist in his perfect world.

Then there’s the fact that in the Dead Apple, Fyodor calls himself “crime” if Fyodor is “crime” or “sin” then a world free of sin would not contain him at all

Even when Fyodor talks about sin, he says how humans are easily manipulated into killing each other, while he constantly manipulates characters into killing each other, he is the cause of the sin he fights.

A really strong bit of evidence is this interview with Asagiri and Harukawa

Not only does Asagiri reiterate Fyodors role as the person who moves the story, Harukawa specifically mentions that Fyodor might be trying to create a world without ability users because he thought it was a “bad thing to do” aka the action a villain would take that would lead to a hero stopping them.

“Dos-san is the biggest villain in the story so far, but I have continued to draw him with spaced out eyes that are neither righteous nor evil for a long time. The only time I drew his eyes completely white was when he said he would create a world without skill users. It was because, in reality, we would decide what is evil or not by our own scales, but I wasn't sure if he himself was doing it because he thought that was a bad thing to do.”

This also connects to how Fyodor was able to understand Gogol when no one else could, Gogol is chooses to fight against the way the world is to prove to himself that he truly is free. Fyodor, who is bound to play a part in a narrative, would understand that feeling and that longing to be truly free.

To be clear, I don’t think that Fyodor is really a good person whose just been trapped in an awful position against his will, we see many times that Fyodor revels in his cruelty and enjoys killing and torturing others. Its the same with “the devil” in the book, although he hates the job he was given, he tells Ivan stories of the people he’s corrupted and seems very proud of himself for it.

My personal interpretation is that the sadistic zelot personality Fyodor displays is a mixture of a mask and a coping mechanism, kind of similar to Yosano developing a sadistic side to help her deal with the guilt of half killing people in order to heal them. I think it makes sense that after centuries of cruelty and manipulation a person would become detached and stop really caring about the lives he destroys.

This analysis is partially unfinshed but I wanted to post it now and see what other people think of it.

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beware-of-pity · 5 months ago

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You believe me like a god (I destroy you like I am) V

Masterlist

Previous Chapter - Next

Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

TW: Self-hatred/Implied Self Harm. Complicated family relations. The reader is a Targtower.

Cross-posted on Ao3

Chapter V: Not a lot, just forever (Intertwined, sewn together)

What have you done? How could you do such a thing?

You had practically run back to your room, Ser Rickard following close after. Before he could inquire about your state, you closed the door behind you, sliding down on it, shaking your head, sweating cold blood as you panicked.

You foolish girl, had you learned nothing? This is how it begins, your downfall, your own end.

You had shut yourself in your room, no one to enter unless you wished otherwise. As such, your meals were left at your doorsteps, which you cared not to take.

That same day, in the late afternoon, Jacaerys came to see you. Still shaken by your choice of actions, the whispered words, and the untold understanding between you and Lord Reynford, you gladly accepted his entrance into your room to get yourself off your raging mind. As if him being there with you could soothe your itching soul.

Oh, how much like your mother you were. Feeling guilty for wanting things you thought were within your rights to be yours, to demand for yourself, to want, to yearn. You yearned for things like a normal person. You had desires, wants, and needs, could it be so wrong to reach for what you wanted? Freedom is such an abstract concept. What is freedom? You’re free right now, within the confines created for you, but even farmers’ daughters were freer to do as they pleased themselves. So, how come you ate at yourself for being human?

Why did your chest burn with the guilt of treachery? Why did your mind chastise you with words of petulance?

How could it be your fault when the gods made you in the same image of the mother whose womb you were born from? The womb that gave you life, the womb that shaped you into who you are? From the father’s whose seed created you in his liking? The hands that, in the haze of pleasure, moulded you?

The gods made the sins they make common people like you afraid of so much stronger than the nature of mankind. A nature you were taught to fight against, to negate, to reject. But how could you when your soul demanded of you to be like others? They temped, they tethered, they schemed, awaiting, with baited breaths, as they watched you descend into a madness of your own making. For the moment, you’ll slip into the trap set for you to fall in. The gods are cruel, but they’ve been crueller.

Jacaerys had come for two reasons. One, because he had learned that you had shut yourself in your room, not wanting either maids or visitors to come in. And two, he had witnessed something he had never seen before in his life.

A dragon in distress.

He was very much aware of how close the bond between dragon and rider could be, and upon learning from one of your maids, one he paid to keep an eye on you, of your ‘situation’ once he returned to the Keep, he wondered if your indisposure and been the cause for Silverwing’s more than alarming state.

When he, Baela and Rhaena had gone to the dragonpit earlier that day, he was told that he could not access the cave where Vermax rested. The dragon keepers told him it would be too dangerous to venture into the dark of the pit when Silveewing, a dragon known for her friendly nature towards humans, was in such disarray with herself.

He had not heeded the advice given to him, citing that Silverwing had not hurt anyone ever before, even those who attempted to claim her and were unsuccessful in doing so. You were kind, and so was your dragon, he trusted that your nature fed off to Silverwing.

But when he approached the cave where Vermax rested, just a few paces from where Silverwing’s was, he understood why he was cautioned not to. She was whining, wriggling around, the chains pulling at her neck, clearly not used to them. Why would she? When she was a dragon known for her freedom. He remembered how often you used to fly with her, many times a day, almost every day. It was your only freedom, the one autonomy you were allowed in this world of men and gods. Something your mother used to reprimand you for, citing it was not good for a lady of your station to be more on the wild saddle than participating in courtly matters.

The moment Silverwing saw him, she tried to walk to him, possibly out of recognition of the many flights you and her had taken with him and Vermax in the past, until she was pulled back once more by the chains, agitating her.

When he didn’t try to help her, she grew angrier, batting her wings and snapping her jaw at him, baring her pointy and sharp teeth. Before he could make another move, she was blasting her blue flames at him, making him stumble back in surprise. She had never done that before, not to him, not to anyone. He was used to her friendliness, and her erratic change of attitude worried him.

He had not gone for a flight that morning. Instead, he waited for Baela and Rhaena to return with Moondancer, Rhaena riding with her since Morning was still too young for her to fly with. After all, the pink beauty was only four years of age, just a big hatchling still. It would be long before Rhaena could fly atop her.

With the time he was given, he contemplated what he had just found himself at the hands of. It was no secret that you missed Silverwing, the separation from your other half leaving you, at times, a shell of the person you used to be. He knew how much you yearned for the skies, not just for the sake of flying but to feel the air blow through your hair, flesh against your skin when you did so with the mount you used to spend your days upon.

Perhaps today, more than any other day, you felt more melancholic than usual, the disparity of your situation truly pulling at you.

There were….days when everything got the better of you. When you refused to go out, to eat even less than you already did, to get out of your bed. He worried for you; he truly did, and his worry did not come from a place of pity, which he knew you hated. It came from a place of care and concern for you, your well-being, and your sanity.

Jacaerys always felt that you had a special place in his heart, one he would always reserve for you. His childhood had not been the best despite his more-than-awaited royal birth. His mother shielded him as best as she could, but she could not change the nature of the world they both lived in. You were the only one, aside from Helaena, who saw him as more than what he was, seeing through the prejudices and rumours spread about him. Kind, ever the open-hearted and understanding girl you were, you made a point to defend him from your brothers when their words would get less than kind in his regards. You two read together, under the weirwood tree in the Godswood, mostly histories of Valyria and the history of House Targaryen, which you always seemed more versed on than him, one of the reasons why you also taught him most of the Valyrian he knew, which you had taken an affinity than he couldn’t compare to, even years after, when he had become a studied mind and an ample linguistic in the old tongue of his ancestors.

He remembers how you used to show him every single needlework you would sew when you first picked your needle and thread because of the lessons your mother had made you take. Your first true work was an embroidered handkerchief with Silverwing and Vermax on it. He had never felt his heart swell so much as it did that day. He was eight years of age.

He was so enamoured by the gesture that he used to sleep with the handkerchief under his pillow, worried that someone would try to steal it from him, like little Luke, who would surely tease him endlessly for it. Even now, years down the line, he never parted from it, a true testament to just how much it meant for it. It weighed in the pockets of his trousers as he watched you intricately weaving the needle in the fabric latched into the wooden hoop. A silent reminder of who you were for him.

“What will that be?” He asked, his voice just a murmur so as to not break the silence that filled the room, the flickers of the fire crackling in front of you two.

“I don’t know yet” you muttered. He noticed how you were quieter than usual as if something you did not want to say would come out of your mouth otherwise.

“I like the colour,” he said, watching the red strings sawn together “It would go well with gold”

You raise the hoop to get a better look at the weaving dragon you were sewing before moving to hold it up against his doublet to see how it would fit upon it, or something similar, like a shirt or cloak.

“Or black,” you said, before looking at his face, only for him to stare back at you. “If you like it I shall give it to your seamstress. Perhaps she can make good use of it. A shirt or doublet”

“I wouldn’t want to take away such creation from you for a mere shirt” he huffed, not taking his eyes off your inquisitive ones.

“Even if I insist?” It wasn’t often that you were so bold as to order around or dictate to others, especially not your servants, who you were always kind to and left to their own devices most times because you did not want to bother them with your bothersome nuances. Hence, Jacaerys knew that when you insisted upon something, you did so because you genuinely wanted to. It seemed now that you wanted him to have this piece of embroidered fabric for him to do as he pleased with it.

“You did the same with your last piece, I cannot accept any more” he argued against the offer, taking your free hand in his, absentmindedly caressing the skin of the back of your hand. “And I’ve yet been unable to repay you for your free labour”

You scoffed, admittedly not out of anger or annoyance, but, maybe, as an instinct of sort to show your displeasure with his words, “How can I show you that I do not do any of the things I do because I seek recognition or payment from it?”

Your words hit a nerve, it seemed because you noticed and felt his hand tighten slightly around your caged one “I did not mean it like that”

Jacaerys didn’t want you to believe that he saw you in the same light as he would a maid or a servant, who did things that they were asked to do only so they could be praised or honoured for their work later, such as that maid he pays to watch over you, who only betrayed your services because of the pouch of golden coins he handsomely bestowed upon her.

Loyalty can be such a fickle thing if you know just how to bewitch lonesome victims. To her fairness, the maid had a family to feed, and self-preservation demanded that if the occasion for her to improve her impoverished conditions would lay at her feet, she should then throw herself at them to do so. He was sure you, too, would not blame the maid for her treachery if unmasked, and she begged for your forgiveness for her disloyalty. After all, you were not privy to how desperate means called for desperate measures. And as a product of her own environment, you would not expect less of her.

“I know you didn’t, but, truly, I want to” you sighed “I would not get any use of it anyways. I would rather have you have it, than for it to gather stifle dust in this storage of a room”

Jacaerys tightened his lips at your words. He did not like your living conditions either. Your previous room, back in Maegor’s holdfast, had always been a sight to behold for him, rich in decorations and luxury. Full of Hightower heritage, green had dominated the space —and the more devout your mother became, the sparer everything had begun to look around the Keep, a reflection of your mother’s strong desire for order and control. There were a few things that made your personality stand out among your mother’s undigitised desire to be everywhere, like your collections of books and trinkets. Helaena liked bug collecting, but to the sometimes messy and soiling activity, you much-preferred flower pressing, amounting to a collection of books containing them that rivalled Helaena’s many viewing screens for her insects.

When he was younger, he liked to come with the two of you to the gardens, watching over as you and Helaena spent your afternoons and mornings indulging in your preferred pastimes. Sometimes, when Helaena was too afraid of certain bugs to pick, frightened at the possibility of hurting them, he would pick them up for her, swallowing his own fright and the revolting sensation that washed over him at the bugs crawling in his hands. He, too, preferred the art of flowers more than that of bugs

Instead of pressing them, you would bind them, creating small bouquets of all sorts of arrangments for him to bring back to his rooms, the freshness of the newly picked flowers haunting his room with their smell. In an effort to impress you, he tried his own hand at it, often creating bouquets of all colours, which clashed against one another, not quite as effortlessly as you did. He much liked yours better.

You appreciated the effort nonetheless, complimenting him and trying to help him by giving him bits of advice for him to follow. His mother, of all, delighted in the bouquet he presented to her for her name days.

He had hated watching you be stripped of all your possessions. Your room had been given to Rhaena, who had wished for it to be rearranged in a style more to her liking, as she should be able to as the new proprietor. Whenever he went to visit her, often having tea with her and Baela there, he would let his eyes stray around, noticing how different everything was and how you would, certainly, arrange your things differently than Rhaena did, were you still living in this quarter. He sometimes missed the white and green of it all, now replaced by soft pinks and pastels, Rhaena’s most preferred colours, reminiscing of the times you two had spent together in it.

The room in the vault your family was confined to, was second rate to what you had been used to in the past, and though you never complained about it, Jacaerys imagined it to be difficult to be living in such conditions either way. Small windows, with barely any light coming from them and little to no air picking up in this part of the castle. The bells of the Sept beside the vault would create this almost monastic environment, and he would muse about how this room almost seemed to befit a Septa more than a royal princess.

He had stayed long enough to have dinner with you. To say that the ensemble on the table was pitiful would almost be a compliment to the food. Stable boys ate better than you did.

The servants ducked their eyes at his stare as they placed the food on the table. Bread, although stale, butter and honey and blackberry preserves, old ones he was sure were stuffed in the back of the pantry, a rasher of bacon and a soft-boiled egg, a wedge of cheese, a pot of tea. A sullen assembly. Still, he watched as you dived into the food with no complaints, wondering if you did not care about the conditions of the food because you had grown used to it or because you were famished out of the lack of substance you denied yourself.

Guilt is a disease, one he hoped you would soon heal yourself from. He hated how passive you seemed to become of everything, and if you were not willing to stand for yourself, he would. Had you known how he rounded the servants that had served you your food tonight, you would have surely reprimanded him about how you were more than capable of standing up for yourself if you wanted.

He had inquired, if not outright demanded, who had insisted for food of such quality to be served to you, and to his surprise, or rather, to his predictability, they had told him that it was Lord Bartimos’ orders. Celtigar, clearly, did not know how to stay his hand, a mere councillor to his mother, he had gone behind everyone’s back, his, his mother, and her hand, his grandfather, to give out orders that he had no jurisdiction to give.

It was no wonder, that the next time they had crossed paths in the middle of the halls of the Keep, Jacaerys made sure to remind him of his place and station, adding on a subtle threat that future misconduct would not receive the same mild reception. Something about being ‘fed to the dogs in the streets’.

The next time he stayed for dinner, he was more than pleased to see what you had been served. There was hot bread and fresh churned butter, a thick beef soup, capon and carrots, and peaches in honey. Even the air could be tasted, sweeter than anything you had surely eaten in months, he thought.

He had watched with a hidden delight how you had taken a spoonful of everything, letting the different flavours melt into your tongue, each delicacy bursting your tastebuds with sensations long forgotten. From then on, he took to spending his suppers in your room, eating alongside you, to entertain himself in the sight he had come to love most. Word had spread around about his ‘encounter’ with Lord Bartimos, his household and that of many, he wagered, abuzz with spreading rumours spoken by fickle tongues.

He had no time for rumours or gossiped words; he was too busy showing his newly sewn black doublet with a proud red dragon embroidery on it. Many wondered whose intricate hands had weaved such dazzling composition.

If only they knew.

Taglist: @esposadomd @aleemendoza2425-blog

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wandanatskitten · 4 months ago

Text

Late Bloomer

Synopsis- Reader is a 30 yr old virgin. This is a full fic from an imagine I did a while back.

@jazzyxqzl I am so sorry I didn’t see your comment on that post when you asked for a full fic last September 🫣 This one’s for you, I hope I did you justice

Warnings: g!p Wanda, oral sex (Wanda being a certified munch), fingering, P in V sex

Word Count- 1.7k

It was undeniable since the beginning. Wanda was the perfect gentlewoman. From opening doors on your first date to bringing you lunch at work during her free time. She was always so considerate and it never went unnoticed.

For Wanda it came easily, naturally. To love you was like breathing. More often than not, she thought about you. Since your first date.

The glow of the street lamps reflected in your irises as you walk the town on a summer night. The smile that crests your face just before you advert your gaze after a compliment. The way you threw your head back when you laughed, causing you to trip over your own feet.

That night filled both of you with a silent prayer as Wanda’s arms firmly held you to her taller frame. Catching you before your descent to concrete but never letting go. Fate toying with the literal and metaphorical terms of falling in love as the silence of the event was christened with your first kiss.

The more time you spent together the more it proved difficult for Wanda to keep away from you. Her lips and hands attempting to claim every inch of your body. Both of your desires left no room to avoid a much needed conversation.

The button on my jeans popped. The sound of the zipper deafening as anticipation filled the room. “Wanda wait.” I placed a firm hand on her shoulder, one that matched the defiance in my tone.

This was the one time her attention felt suffocating as she clung on to every syllable i spoke. “I can’t-I mean I’ve never…“ I cut my own sentence off and looked away from her attentive green eyes to draw a breath of confidence. “I’m still a virgin.”

“Oh.” Wanda sat up immediately and her lack of warmth felt like a stinging rejection. The desire for her causing a string of insecurity to wrap around your body, shrinking your frame. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said any-“

“No no no. Y/n Stop.” Her voice quickly stepped in. “I’m glad you told me, that isn’t something I would’ve assumed.”

“Well most people have sex by the time they’re 30.” I ironically chuckle.

“Most people also regret how and who it happens with. Rushing pleasure can sacrifice it for pain.” Even now Wanda shut down your fit of self humility. Offering solace in patience and understanding.

“So you don’t care?” I asked.

“Actually I care a lot. I care about making sure you’re comfortable and safe. We don’t have to force anything you aren’t ready for.”

Wanda’s promise held complete truth. Her thoughts clarifying into her innate desire for you. Not completely untouched but surely undiscovered. And even so, the brunette erased any other trace or outranked any memory you had of anyone else who wasn’t her.

Wanda took every chance you allowed her to have. Practically taking home between your legs. Your thighs acting as a pillow as she lazily eats you out. More often than not she ate you out selfishly. Her lips offered the slightest suction on your clit and her tongue circled your entrance eliciting breathy mewls from you. Her goal wasn’t making you orgasm. It was the promise of your honey that leaked from your innocent hole. Tasting your sinful juices and praising your body as her favorite delicacy. “So sweet. God, you’re so sweet.” She’d whisper to herself in between licks. Wanda never rushed your pleasure. As much as she was selfish with it, she had other plans. Teasing your clit til you grew desperate enough to grab hold of her locks and grind against her tongue. She loved to see you lose control, or rather take it. Your desperation transformed into a primal need to cum on Wanda’s tongue. She all but trained you to take what you need. Not having to ask for permission as she would gladly sit on her knees all day while her tongue circles your throbbing clit til she’s stripped the last bit of energy you had into your final orgasm.

One fascination was coupled with another. Over time your body cried as you squeezed around nothing, so soon Wanda’s hands joined your moments of exploration. Having you ready and relaxed she’d trade her usual form of torture for slim yet long fingers.

Wanda’s thoughts filled with thanks to the sun light gracing the room. Not only feeling but seeing the plush warmth as you all but sucked her in. Testing the waters to make sure you’re comfortable. She didn’t curl her fingers or explore your depths til she added a second one. Encapsulated by the way your walls fluttered. Just for a brief moment Wanda had to pull away. Mesmerized at the string of arousal that coated her digits when she separated them. But your needy whine didn’t go unnoticed. She hushed you with the feel of her fingers once again, this time offering a gentle curl that caused a throaty moan to escape you. Wanda being all too aware took notes on the different sounds you made, the way your legs would attempt to close, or the spasms of your pussy as you grew closer to climax.

After you came the first time, Wanda basically begged to do it again. And who were you to complain or even deny the pleasure your girlfriend could bring you. But the second time around she wanted to see you stretch. You hissed as she placed three fingers into your pussy. She paused as you tensed, preparing to withdraw but you stopped her. Comforting Wanda’s worry by telling her it doesn’t hurt, it was just…unexpected. So she continued with delicate kisses to your inner thigh. While you clamped your eyes shut, attempting to contain the volume of your moans. Wanda’s eyes glazed with a feral lust that made her shorts grow tight. Imagining the way your pussy would feel around her cock. Your cum coating her shaft as you leak the same way you do onto her fingers. As she watched you build to another orgasm, Wanda didn’t dare touch herself. Enjoying the teasing thoughts as she twitched in her boxers. Her hand wouldn’t compare to the warmth of your greedy pussy and she didn’t want to waste a single drop of cum if it wasn’t to be inside you.

That became your new normal. Wanda’s complete focus being on you. Refusing to touch you without a source of light. Your pussy became an obsession. Delicate, needy, wet, and claimed by Wanda. She made an effort to love everything you’d allow her to have. Engrossed in the perversions of your body, one night she mindlessly whispered in your ear, “I can’t wait to stretch you out even more.”

Your breath hitched and hips jolted with anticipation. Although her fingers were deep inside you, you could still feel the impressive size of her penis as you straddled her lap. So with a passionate and determined confidence you responded, “Do it, I want you.”

Wanda slows to gauge your expression to find no resignation in your words. Yet still looking for another verbal consent. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Your smile was ample as you looked into her eyes. “I’m ready.”

Wanda lifted you enough to pull her boxer down. Her member standing proud. Sure you’d seen her naked but now there was promise for more. Wanda could feel your body tense so she kissed you passionately and slowly til you relaxed. Both of your bodies filled with delirium as the head of her penis swiped through your folds before angling to your entrance. Her arm around your waist pulled you onto her length. You gasped and tensed your legs at the foreign pressure as both of you took a moment to breathe.

It took every muscle in Wanda’s body to not drive her hips deeper and you could feel it in the way her arms gripped your waist. But her pleasure wasn’t as important as your alleviation. “You okay?” She asked. You nodded your head, “Yeah. It’s just-oh fuck.” You took the initiative to take more of her causing your sentence to end early.

“Fuck Y/n.” Wanda groans into your neck. “You feel so good.” For a minute you two just sat there enveloped by the feeling of each other. Per usual Wanda encouraged you to take your time and praised even the slightest movements you made to grind your hips into her.

The pressure soon modified into pleasure as your hips grew with conviction and picked up a proper rhythm. You couldn’t subdue the breaths, moaning, or whines causing them to freely explore the space around you. You held your arms firmly around Wanda’s neck, keeping her close. While she kissed any skin she could reach. Your lips, your shoulders, your arms. The heat of her body was overwhelming as she guided the momentum of your hips with her hands.

But your stamina was yet to build unlike the girl beneath you and she could tell. Ever fluent in your body language, Wanda switches positions and lays you down onto the mattress. Propping your hips to an angle with one of her pillows.

The new position reached deeper in your core and allowed you to feel every inch of her length. Her size was an average 6 inches but her girth made you feel fuller and all consumed by the woman on top of you.

Wordless babbles and incomplete sentences struck by cuss words flowed from your lips as her cock massaged your walls, hitting your g-spot with precision.

“Fuck. Fuck, ri…there”

“Oh. My. God. D-don’t stop.”

“A little harder.”

Wanda became drunk on you, frenzied by your legs hugging her hips, your nails that painted red streaks along her back, and the quivering of your pussy against her length.

She fucked into you admirably. Keeping her rhythm as you listen to her pant and groan in your ear. Only furthering the noticeable pattern of your impending orgasm. One of her groans resembled more of a growl as she spoke, “ You’re made for me Y/n. So perfect.”

Your pussy grew tighter at her words, pressuring your climax forward as you sang a melody of euphoric relief. Like a domino effect Wanda came right after. No longer having to fight off the need to paint your walls white.

You whimper each time she rams her hips into yours. Using you to milk the last few drops for her cock while offering security in a possessive tone, “You’re mine Y/n, this is the first cock in you. And it’ll be the last.” Before taking solace in your blissful state.

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