#silver wood wall art

[oswinsumbradoodle]

Dining Room Great Room Example of a great room with a vaulted ceiling in the mountain style, medium-tone wood flooring, brown walls, a traditional fireplace, and a metal fireplace.

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Infernal Shadows 02

Synopsis: Being one of the most powerful overlords in Hell, you like to keep up with colonies and overlord plans. Recently with the new extermination date out, you hold your annual gala sooner than usual. You hadn’t expected to get in the middle of the already heated feud between the Radio Demon and the head of Vox Tech.

Warnings: She/Her pronouns used for the reader, mentions of blood, voodoo?, Angel Dust being a horn-bag, Reader is referred too as Madame to the public. Vox and Alastor feud because I live for it.

Song for this chapter: HAUSER - Adagio (Albinoni)

A/N: I’m so glad part one did well! I really liked this idea and hoped other people would too. As always comment if you want to be tagged and I will tag you in the next post! I wanted this to be three parts, but depending on how much I can fit in this chapter and the next one, I’ll see if I need to make four parts. The song at the beginning of this chapter is meant to be played when the line “ The music picked up” Is read. Skip to 5:35 for it to play smoothly, or as smoothly as possible.

Word count: 3.k or something over that idk I got too lazy to count :(

Taglist: @dollops-of-delusion @nebusokuxp @scrunchss @rosedasy @valluvz @chesstras @pishybowl @iaaeav @forgotten-blues @22carolina08 @roboticsuccubus83 @doflamingadonquixote

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!! // Serendipity Writes (event) // Part One. // Part three.

Within, the grand foyer unveiled itself, revealing a sweeping staircase adorned with a rich, mahogany handrail in stark contrast against a black and white color scheme. Crystal chandeliers, dangling from lofty black ceilings, cast their brilliance upon white walls adorned with ornate mirrors. Plush Victorian-era furnishings, upholstered in rich black and white fabrics, adorned the parlor rooms, establishing cozy settings for guests to assemble and engage in enriching conversations. Each room murmured tales of a past era – intricately patterned black and white wallpaper, frames gilded in black to showcase classical art, and a subtle aroma of aged wood and lavender lingering in the air, harmonizing with the monochromatic elegance. The guests walking in all marveled at the details of the mansion.

Charlotte and Vagatha both stepped in, Charlotte in awe of the detailing. A shadow figure bent down slightly to offer her a drink, to which she happily took.

“Vaggie this is all so beautiful. I hope I can make a good impression.” Charlotte said, turning to her partner to ease her nerves. Vagatha just smiled, a hand on her shoulder lovingly.

“You’re gonna do great babe, besides, there’s so many people here, if one likes it I’m sure other people will get on board too.” Vagatha said.

“Or they can laugh at you if one person points out how ridiculous it is.” Husk said, chugging his drink before placing it back on the servers tray.

“Thanks for the kind words Husk.” Vagatha said sarcastically. He just shrugged, looking towards the bar area which was practically calling him over.

Upstairs in your room, you stared at yourself in the mirror as your shadows made the finishing touches on your outfit. Draped in a long, elegant black gown that gracefully embraced your commanding figure, the fabric cascaded like shadows. Delicate chain motifs intertwine with the dress, creating an alluring dance of darkness. A chain belt cinches your waist, a subtle nod to your captivating ability to ensnare and command over your shadows. Completing the regalia, silver chain cuffs adorn your wrists, reflecting both power and refinement.

“Madame, the guests are all in the lobby awaiting your arrival.” One of the shadows said. You nodded, stepping down from your showcase, winking to yourself in the mirror before chuckling to yourself. A shadow approaches you, bowing in respect before holding out a tray with your drink, a contrast to your dark colors. You take the glass in your hand, another shadow lightly putting a thermometer in your drink so it’s the perfect temperature for you, fifteen point five degrees Celsius. The liquid is a light yellow-ish green, Lafite-Rothschild, an expensive French wine you tried in 1906 when you were alive. Lifting it to your lips, you take a long sip and sigh, the spicy and earth notes, mixed with a hint of tobacco and red Barrie’s dance on your tongue like a performance of Gavotte. You pull back with a sigh, setting the glass down, a perfect Ridel Vinum Bordeaux, personally crafted for you as the bottom of the glass is a Smokey black, fading into clear glass towards the top.

“Let’s get this Gala started shall we~?”

In the lobby, guests were socializing amongst themselves. Velvet, Vox and Valentino had split for a short while. After the incident outside, the two overlords wouldn’t stop tantalizing the picture box about his fit of frustration dealing with the Radio Demon. From the lobby, there were large crystal doors revealing the back exterior of the house. The greenery was just perfect, with cobblestone flooring revealing another bloody fountain. Vox stood with his drink, speaking to some sinner he couldn’t remember the name of, about how well his business was going.

“You ever get,” Vox asked, eyeing one of the shadows who stood in a corner, white eyes soulless as they held out drinks to guests. “Creeped out by those, things?” Vox asked, turning back to the sinner. He just scoffed.

“Please, they’re always around and as far as I know, harmless.” The sinner said. At that, a shadow appeared between the two, taking their empty glasses and replacing it with new, full ones. Vox tried his hardest not to seem alarmed at this, and took the glass silently, sipping his drink slowly as it floated away. It was then he took in the shadows appearance. They all looked the same. Tall figures, Smokey outlines, but no feel or hands, just a faded end to their limbs. Their eyes were white and soulless, almost as it they were vacant, a shell of what they used to be. There were no facial features, just two white circles and a thin white line for their mouth. Each one however, had a light Smokey chain around their chest, wrapped in the shape of an X.

“What are the chains for then? They’re pretty much smoke, what do they need chains forever?” Vox asked. The associate laughed, but before he could answer, another overlord stepped in.

“They have chains because they’re claimed souls.” Fredrick Von Eldritch says, his sister Bethesda in toe. The two grin, a shadow following behind them with a tray of their drinks. “If you get invited to the gala long enough, you get a personal one.” He said with a wink, gesturing to the shadow behind the two.

“They’re quite cute once you get used to them.” Bethesda said with a smile, cooing at the shadow lightly. Yet, it still remained expressionless.

“Actually, now that you say that.” The sinner says, looking around for a moment. “It’s been awfully quiet with a laugh track being played.” He says, referring to Alastor. Vox just rolls his eyes.

“Who gives a shit about where that old timey freak is?” Vox asks. Fredrick and Bethesda snicker to each other, catching Vox’s attention.

“Probably hunting for his dear Madame.” Bethesda said dramatically, laying her head on her brothers shoulder and batting her lashes playfully. Fredrick and the sinner laughed at his sisters antics, but Vox grew serious.

“What does that mean? He knows her?” Vox asked, to which Fredrick scoffed, finishing his drink before reaching for another off the shadows server tray.

“Of course he does. She died before him, and they’re the closest overlords in time period. Well, aside from Zestial and her.” Fredrick explained. Vox didn’t say anything else, instead looking to the red ‘moon’ of hell, before glancing at the blood fountain. He had heard rumors about being at the Madame’s table, and how she gave the inside to all her projects and plans before the next extermination. Apparently, this year was supposed to be ‘different’ as people had been talking.

“When does this dinner start anyway? We’ve been standing out here for two hours.” Vox said annoyed.

“In a few minutes, Madame will make her grand entrance. She will socialize with the guests as it is polite to have one on one time with them. Then she will spend the rest of the time while the orchestra gets together deciding on contenders to sit at her table.” A shadow walking by said, stopping to stare at Vox. “Madame is always watching.” It then said, turning to serve other guests. Vox said nothing, instead turning on his heel and making his way inside the mansion. How could someone feel suffocated outside? Fredrick and Bethesda said nothing, watching him go, but sharing a glance between each other before making their leave too, leaving the sinner all by his lonesome.

Inside, Charlotte and Vagatha conversed about how she could get people behind her project.

“Maybe if I sing-“

“Please no. These people are too…” Vagatha said, glancing around the room. Everyone seemed too, fake. Vagatha knew Charlotte being herself around these people would do absolutely no good to the hotel, and though she hated telling Charlotte these things, she knew her kindness would be frowned upon, and made fun of. “Serious for that kind of thing.” Vagatha finished, taking a sip of her champagne. She settled for champagne in a flute while Charlotte drank water, wanting to hydrate herself in hopes to calm her nerves.

“I heard that Madame might be making her entrance soon.” Charlotte said nervously, looking around. She half expected her parents to show up, but knew how they rarely liked getting involved in overlord affairs. She’d be surprised if they showed up.

“Then when she does you can try to pitch your idea to her.” Vagatha said supportively. Charlotte just smiled and nodded, hoping someone would listen to her. She had tried practicing on two sinners moments ago, to which they both laughed and called her delusional. The defeat was beginning to get to her, and she hadn’t even started yet.

With Velvet, she began studying the interior of the old-styled mansion. She was trying her hardest to not be too rude about it, but of course she had her comments, but ultimately kept them to herself. Cramoisie, your fashion line, was the top fashion brand in hell, everyone wanted a piece of it. Velvet had never had an article for herself, despite trying her hardest to get something, anything, even a sample. But people feigned for it like drugs. Velvets line was successful sure, but with your validation and guidance, she could become perfection, the same way you were. Everyone in hell looked up to you, shit, you had even gotten Lilith’s praise as she was photographed wearing a custom piece you designed for her. Your work was art in its purist form, and Velvet kept a close eye on her other colleagues to make sure they didn’t fuck your chance up. Velvet had her assistant hold samples and sketches of designs Velvet had been working on, wanting to show you her best work in hopes of winning you over. She could brag about having you support her line, and her fans would die of excitement. Maybe, she could get you to design her a custom piece, or Velvet could design one for you. The possibilities were limitless, if you agreed to meet with her of course. But that was all the more reason why she needed to make sure she had a seat at your table tonight. She needed to get close to you.

“Are you fucking high?” Velvet whispered to Valentino, who just chuckled softly at her.

“What’s the matter hermosa? Just enjoy the Gala, we’re here to have fun right?” He asked with a giggle. Velvet huffed, deciding to find Vox, hoping he could straighten Valentino out. Valentino would not fuck up her chance tonight.

Near the large staircase in the middle of the room, Alastor stood, glass of whiskey in his clawed hands. He smiles, humming to himself while quietly back up into a wall, careful to scan the room quickly before he disappears into the shadows. Then, moments later, appears in a room separate from the gala. It’s a study, your study. Alastor takes a step forward and quickly the shadows in the room seemed to deepen, casting larger, more dramatic silhouettes that seemed to dance on the walls. The interplay of darkness and light only heightened the mysterious allure of the study. In the midst of this chiaroscuro ambiance, Alastor found himself surrounded by an atmosphere that mirrored the complex nature of the figure depicted in the portrait hanging above the fireplace, which was in the far back wall of the study. It was the only light source in the room. Black wooden shelves lined against the tall walls, showcasing famous pieces of literature, all hand picked and to your liking. The fire place, crafted with dark marble, commanded his attention. Above the mantel, a striking portrait of Madame hung, capturing his focus, like a trance. The image portrayed a being universally admired, yet equally feared; someone who elicited both admiration and intimidation all at once, you.

“Hm, hiding now are we?” Alastor asks with a grin, tutting lightly. “That’s not very proper of you Madame~” He says, calling out to you. Seconds later, a dark shadow appears in the corner of the room, taking up the entire corner, before a shadowy figure steps out. Similar to the servant’s out in the lobby, Alastor’s eye twitch’s slightly.

“Oh don’t be so pissy. You know no one gets to see me before my entrance.” You say, the shadow expressionless, but Alastor can hear your tone through the figure, taunting him. He sighs, setting his staff on a slant along his foot.

“And here I thought I could connect with an old friend.” Alastor said with a chuckle, staring down the shadowy figure, hoping his gaze would ease you to show yourself to him. But alas, stuck in your ways, you didn’t show yourself, instead laughing, though the figure did not open its mouth, making your ‘shadow a-presence’ all the more eerie.

“If you really want to speak with me it can wait until my entrance. I should be done soon.” You say, before Alastor just smiles, tossing his staff from hand to hand.

“Well if you’re really going to make me wait, mind you speed the process up a bit? You know it doesn’t take much to make you look breath-taking.” Alastor compliments, but earns a scoff from you.

“Oh please, don’t start with me ‘Radio Demon.’” You mock, before the shadow figure begins to step back.

“Wait, a moment before you go.” Alastor says, standing his staff on the floor. The shadow figure stops, before you speak again.

“Make it quick. You know how much energy it takes to keep this up.” You say.

“So, about this hotel business. I know she’s planning to talk to you about it.”

“Yes the idea you tell me so much about.” You say sarcastically. Alastor had told you bits and pieces about the princess’s project, but didn’t tell you what it was for exactly, leaving you to wonder how important it really was if even he wouldn’t speak on it.

“Well you know how much I crave entertainment. Is it possible to make a request for the seating arraignment tonight?” Alastor asks. You laugh, figure still unmoving.

“Humorous to think you even have a seat. You’ve been gone for what? Seven years?” You say with a scoff.

“You’ve been gone decades my dear, you didn’t even show up to your last twenty gala’s, having your pity shadows do it for you. I doubt you should be speaking on the matter.”

At that, you chuckle to yourself before the shadow begins to back into the corner, black smoke enveloping the corner like a cloud. “I presume you would be correct. Well, I’m off now. Don’t sneak into my quarters again.” You say finally before disappearing. Alastor just grins, stepping into his own shadow, joining the other guests.

The shadows had slowly but, eventually ushered the guests into the lobby, everyone gathering around the staircase as the shadows lined up against the railings, the orchestra playing the music you had specifically requested. You were about to make your grand entrance, something you hadn’t done in centuries. Everyone stood around, awaiting your arrival, the shadows momentarily disappearing to give the guests more space to crowd around. Candles lit along the walls, as well as floating lights appearing going up the staircase. There, the shadows took their place, two on each step on opposite sides, facing each other. The music picked up, the lights focusing at the top of the stairs. Black smoke began to roll down the steps slowly, the anticipation for your arrival growing. The music gets calm for a moment, a larger shadow figure standing at the top of the staircase. It’s larger than any of the other shadows in the room, standing at fifteen feet tall. It speaks in a monotone voice, but loud and commanding.

“Thank you all for your attendance tonight. The Crimson Gala is held once every year to start the new year with all those who survived the extermination. This being said, Madame would like to say her personal congratulations for not being apart of the bloodshed this year. While the past years she has used me to say that she will unfortunately not be in attendance, I am pleased to say that tonight, along with all the new guests, she will make her grand entrance. Presenting to you, the prowess of darkness and queen of shadows, Madame.”

The lights shine bright, and the shadow vanishes quickly. Velvet shushes Vox and Valentino, eyes practically bulging out of her skull to see you. Alastor just stares, waiting in anticipation. Charlie claps her hands quietly to herself while Vaggie just smiles. Rosie sips her glass, eyes waiting to see what outfit you’ve put together this time. At the top of the staircase, a large black smokey circle opens at the bottom of the floor, smoke swirling upwards slowly in a tornado form, smoke getting quicker as it swirls around itself. It gets larger, and guests closer to the stairs have to back up a bit as the wind picks up. Carmilla turns her face to the side, not wanting the wind to mess up her hair too much. Finally, the music picks up again, the peak point in the song, which lasts eight seconds, before the smoke falls to the side in one swoop, leaving you in the midst, now on display for all guests to see. The music continues, the chains against your dress glistening under the light. The music continues the play as you take steps down, looking at the guests. There’s a serious expression on your face, but somehow neutral all the same. Your shadows had added last minute black lace gloves, which went up to your forearm. The bottom of your dress had a lace trimming, as well as the bodice being laced with trim along the bust area. The jewelry was a simple black diamond crystal on a metal chain around your neck, paired with black diamond earrings. The cuff links on your hand remained all the same though. Finally reaching the end of the steps, everyone clapped, now finally being graced with your presence.

Velvet was in awe, staring at you with wide eyes like a child being gifted the most precious thing. Her excitement grew enormously, watching you shake hands and socialize with guests. She had never seen you before, after you had gone ghost for centuries, hardly anyone had photos of you. Hell she didn’t even know what you sounded like.

Charlie was so excited to meet you. She hadn’t seen you in, forever, and was now finally excited to be seen as your equal. Well, that was what she had hoped at least. Having seen a portrait of you in her parents' home when she was younger, she learned of the close relationship between Lilith and you. The anticipation had built over the years, and now, finally, she looked forward to being seen as your equal. Her hope was to hopefully get your support for the hotel, aiming to elevate her standing in the eyes of others. With your backing, she believed people would take both her and the redemption project more seriously, fostering a genuine desire for redemption. Maybe it would even work.

Husk smiled as he watched you socialize with guests. He was glad to finally see you back out again. He never knew why you went into hiding of course, but he never had the balls to ask, so he just stood quiet. When you disappeared, it was after a particularly rough extermination, and he knew something had happened, he just didn’t know what. Since then, the world only had glimpses of you to go on. Some sinners were starting to think you were a myth, since you never showed your face at the Crimson Gala, especially since you were the host.

Vox was taken aback, a sense of confusion and unease settling within him. Your presence had caught him off guard; he had anticipated something different, perhaps an older figure. The unexpected impact left him feeling uneasy, realizing the gravity of your influence. It dawned on him why Velvet had stressed the importance of making a favorable impression. Apart from Zestial and the twins, you stood as one of the strongest and most enduring overlords. In Vox's mind, securing your alliance was imperative for the success of his company. Your potential support would make his endeavors foolproof. Everything had to be flawless – not for any personal reasons, of course, but solely for the sake of his company. He needed you.

Making your rounds to guests, you began to get closer to your colleagues. With a wave to Stolas, and a nod to Zeezie, you run into the Radio Demon himself, Alastor. He grins, sharp teeth getting you. He smiles and nods his head, and you nod back. Alastor takes in your stoic expression, before carefully taking in your outfit.

“My, my, Madame, you’ve truly outdone yourself tonight. Your choice in attire is as captivating as ever – a perfect blend of elegance and sensibility. Quite the spectacle for the grand event, don’t you think?” He asked, holding his arm out to you. You take it, and the two of you walk around the lobby together, conversing.

“Well you don’t look to bad for yourself. Maybe going into hibernation was perfect for you.” You say back, and he grins.

“You’re too kind darling.” He says, dead heart quickening. He puts a hand to his chest, mocking fragility. “Your words leave me breathless my dear.” He says with false dramatics. You roll your eyes and smack his arm playfully.

“Oh please, your ego is quite large enough already, yes?” You ask. He doesn’t say much else, but instead, gently moves you to the side while you look at your shadows, now waltzing around in the middle of the lobby, putting on a performance.

“Did you plan that?” Alastor asks. You shake your head.

“No, but the music is perfect for it, so I let them be. They’re already trapped with me, I might as well make them useful.” You say, and Alastor just hums, a laugh track playing. However, as the two of you walk, his track screeches to a halt upon seeing Vox approach the two of you.

“Madame.” Vox says, nodding his head. His expression is serious, and though you’ve heard of him, you’ve never seen him.

“Ah hello. Vox I presume?” You ask, free hand reaching forward to shake his own outstretched hand. The two of you shake hands, and Alastor can’t ignore the way he fights to keep his smile. Why he could just shove his staff right into that flace faced fuckers scree-

“Alastor, I suppose you’ve met Mr.Vox before, correct?” You ask. Alastor nods with a smile, and you notice the way it stretches almost painfully across his face. It makes you uneasy, but you ignore the feeling. He’d surely tell about what this is about later on in the night you supposed.

“Why yes we have! I’ve made him loose his signal quite a few times.” Alastor says with a laugh, his laugh track playing. Vox doesnt say anything, though he doesnt have too as his eye twitching had given enough away. The two clearly did not like each other. Than again, you had felt the same way about Alastor when you first met him, so the feeling was understandable.

“Madame, a dance?” Vox asked, turning his attention back to you. You thought for a moment, before untangling your arm from Alastors and nodding to Vox, taking his outstretched hand to you and leading you to the dance floor, which now had a couple other sinners dancing as well. Alastor held onto his staff tight, but relaxed as you discreetly slid him a card. In white with black lettering, cursive font. Seat number five. He was invited to your table. Guaranteed a seat. That was enough to have him back in light spirits, now searching out his dear friend Rosie to share the good news.

Velvet had been looking for you all over, her assistant close in toe. She had tried her hardest to get to you when you initially made your enterance, but alas you had been too overcrowded with people for her to get to you. She had heard rumors about how you hated rudeness and disrespect. That meant no interruptions, and no loud speaking, or vulgar language. She was sure to keep herself in check, and that meant her colleagues too. So, naturally, you could imagine her shock upon seeing Vox dancing with you on the dance floor, black dress twirling at your feet. You looked so regal, so elegant, flawless. She wanted to be just like you. She waited patiently on the sidelines, waiting for the dance to end. She could see the two of you having a conversation, but couldn’t pinpoint what about.

“So, I presume you’re one of the, newer overlords?” You asked as the two of you danced. Vox chuckled, leading you slowly.

“New? Well, maybe to you I would be. I heard you haven’t really left your own head for quite some time.” Vox says lowly. You nod, letting him dip you.

“Yes that would be correct. So what are you supposed to be exactly?” You ask, quite unsure of his purpose. Overlords are meant to have a strong leading purpose in hell, so what was his?

“Well, you’re looking at the head of Vox Tech. A software company.” He says, and you hum in understanding.

“So modern technology.” You confirm, and he nods, pearly whites shining brightly back at you.

“You’re looking at the future Madame.” Vox says, spinning you quickly, before bringing you close by your hip.

“Interesting. So, what’s your social influence?” You ask. Vox thinks for a moment, before laughing to himself.

“People have televisions in all their homes. Any piece of modern technology comes strictly from me. With a little mind control, there isn’t any influence I don’t have.” Vox says, noticing a sinner walk by with a smart watch, to which he holds a finger up to you, sending himself through it, and then to another sinner with their smartphone, making his way around the room in seconds before he’s back in front of you, stepping in time for the next number. “See? Nothing I can’t do.” He says with a wink. You nod slowly, looking around the room. Being back out in the spotlight after being gone for so long makes you feel a bit, behind. But with an overlord like this in your circle, maybe this could be a way for you to keep up with the current world, get you back up to pace. The dance finally comes to a close, and the two of you bow to one another, before you summon a card, handing it to Vox. Seat number nine. Vox grinned at you, giving you a nod. You nod back, before looking at another sinner who’s asked to speak with you. With that, you leave Vox at the dance floor, white card in hand. His spot at your table was secured. But, this made his emotions churn even more. What was this feeling he had? He was happy yes, but for the companies sake. But, maybe for once, he could mix just a little business with pleasure.

Charlotte had lost her partner at the bar and had been looking for her for quite some time. However, instead of finding Vagatha, she found you instead. You had seemed to be finishing a conversation with Vox, and though she disliked him, she took her chance the moment she saw you walking away.

“Excuse me, Madame- Miss- Um.” Charlotte said quickly, causing you to stop in your tracks. She got closer to you, now a few inches away. It was then she realized how tall you were compared to her. You were easily around seven feet, or just under that. With your heels that was. You looking down at her made her feel intimidated, small, like the child. But, feeling her nerves rise, she began to ramble again. “I know you probably have a lot to do tonight and I don’t want to take up your time, I just want you to hear me out, if that’s okay with you of course.” Charlotte said quickly, pausing to inhale. You narrowed your eyes at her, snapping your fingers and causing a shadow to appear next to you, singular glass on the tray. It was the same tall shadow from earlier, with the same drink. Again, using testing the temperature of the drink, before nodding to you so you could take it. You lifted the glass to your lips, maintaining eye contact with Charlotte as you drank the wine in one go, putting it down on the tray with a sigh.

“Go on.” You replied, now intrigued. You knew who she was. “You’re the girl with the hotel? Lucifer and Lilith’s child, correct?” You asked. Charlotte smiled, stars appearing in her eyes as she gushed.

“You know who I am?” She asked surprised. You nodded, cracking a small smile for the first time tonight, causing many eyes to stare in shock. You hardly ever smiled. In fact, there were three counts ever of you smiling in hell. Once, when you first got to hell, killing and claiming territory, and smiling once you finally settled down. The second being after World War One, when so many souls came to you seeking ‘help’ yet only being met with contracts. Third, being just before the extermination you disappeared after. You had gone through your belongings from Earth that managed to get brought to you from the surface, and was looking at family photos with one other overlord. Zestial. Now, at the gala, here was Lucifer’s brat, as some would call, making you crack a grin at her giddiness.

“Of course I know who you are. Do you forget I know your mother? You’re practically a niece of mine at this point.” You say, motioning at Charlotte to walk with you. “Now, what is this hotel I’ve heard about?” You ask. She beams at this and follows excitedly.

“OkaysobasicallyIhavethishotelandit’scalledthe’HazbinHotel’whichisforsinnerswhowantobebetterandredeemthemselvestotryand-“ You stopped her, allowing her to take a breath of air after rambling for so long. You lead her outside, finding a nearby bench to sit on. With how quickly she spoke, she needed all the ‘fresh’ air she could get right?

“Why are you speaking so quickly? Also, sinners who want to better themselves? Where would you find those?” You ask with a laugh, the same tall shadow appearing with a glass for you. Again, you sip on your drink as Charlotte collects herself together.

“Usually if I explain slowly people cut me off and I never get to finish, so I’ve gotten used to just saying everything as quickly as possible so they don’t cut me off and actually listen to what I have to say.” Charlotte says, again rather quickly. “Like I was saying; the Hazbin Hotel is a place for sinners who want to better themselves to possibly try to get into heaven through redemption, and I know what you’re thinking, we’ve all died and got sent here, but I believe people can change and that everyone deserves second chances.” Charlotte explained. She saw the look of confusion on your face, and began to speak again. “We already have two residents, who are making strides to be better people every day with group activities and I believe it’s working. If I could just get other people on board, people like you on board who actually believe in my cause, then we can get rid of extermination and maybe save some people here.” Charlotte explained. You thought for a moment, and the fact you hadn’t laughed in her face yet gave her some hope that maybe she had gotten through to you. You stood up, setting your empty glass on the tray before the shadow disappeared.

“Honestly,” You said with a sigh, looking around, your eyes landing on your shadows serving other guests. “The entire project sounds delusional.” You said sharply. Charlotte looked down at this, defeated, before standing as well.

“Well, thank you for hearing me out I guess. You’re the only other person who has aside from Alastor. So, thank you for your time.” Charlotte said, turning to walk back inside the gala, head hanging low with tears brimming her eyes. Maybe it was the connection to her mother, maybe it was because she reminded you of her mother. But, something had to change.

“I didn’t say we were done speaking Charlotte.” You said sharply again. She stopped and tensed up at that, before turning around, wiping a tear that slipped down her cheek.

“W-what?” She asked. You stepped forward to her, putting your hands flat together before smoke encased them. Then seconds later it was gone, and in your hands was a white card. You handed it to her with a nod.

“It sounds delusional. But, maybe someone will like that about you.” You said. She read the card, face dropping once she realized what it meant.

“So, so I can sit with you tonight? I can pitch my idea?” She asked excitedly. You nodded, patting her shoulder.

“Yes you may. I’ll allow you to have your time. You get thirty minutes, there will be overlords and royalty there, I’m sure someone is bound to take an interest in it.” You say. Charlotte squeals excitedly before jumping up and down, clapping her hands.

“Oh my goodness! Thank you so so so much!! You won’t regret this I swear!” Charlotte said, and you just nodded.

“Of course I won’t. I don’t make mistakes.” You say, before walking past her. “Oh, and thank Alastor for that. He was insistent you be present at my table tonight.” You say to her. She’s left standing outside in shock, watching as you walk back into the lobby to socialize with other guests.

It seemed Velvet had finally caught you, rushing her assistant to follow you as she made her way over to you.

“Madame, you look absolutely breathtaking tonight! Your presence here is like a beacon of individuality and charisma,” she exclaims, eyes sparkling. You look her up and down for a moment, stopping in your tracks to listen to her. Something feels, odd about this one. “I’ve been ardently following your unique style for ages, and it’s truly an honor to be in your presence. The way you effortlessly blend boldness with subtlety, it’s unparalleled, truly outstanding. Now, I’ve ventured into a daring new fashion brand, and I can’t help but envision you as the unrivaled star in my collection. Picture it: the illustrious Madame, gracing the world with a revolutionary expression of style. This would be the perfect way to make your way back into the public eye, and of course you would look ravishing doing so.” Velvet said, her assistant handing you sketches of Velvets designs, and photographs of some of her work on her models. “So, what do you say Madame? Will you be the luminary of a new era in Hell’s fashion?” Velvet says. You grow quiet for a moment. Aside from Rosie, you’ve had no other overlord come into the fashion realm, and Rosie is only partially in it as a side hustle, but everyone knows it’s your thing. The designs are things you would never wear, bold and odd colors together, like a child’s clothing line.

“Is this for children?” You ask. Velvet nearly chokes and her assistant tenses up.

“No Madame. It’s modern fashion.” Velvet says cautiously. She knows what she’s doing. Correcting you. No one ever does that. You don’t need to be corrected because you know what you’re looking at. A sad fashion designer who wants you to slap your name on her sloppy work so if it goes up in flames it’s your reputation taking the fall, not her’s.

“So all your models look like they came from a whore house? Correct?” You ask. Velvet’s jaw drops and her assistant hides a laugh. Velvet, inhaling softly, tries her hardest not to cry on the spot. You’re her idol. She can’t fuck this up.

“No Madame! Not at all!” She says, showing you a design she had made personally for you. Based on your other collections, she knows your favorite color is black, so that’s a plus. All she had to do was add a bit more, of her flair to it. It was a black jumpsuit, with a fur coat that dropped down to the knees, black with white fur around the edges of the coat and the cuffs. The sketch wasn’t half bad, and quite frankly better than the others. Maybe it was the forgiving mood Charlotte had put you in. Velvet hands you the design and you skim over it, taking in the details, the hair and eye makeup, the shoes and jewelry notes written on the side. The sketches aren’t bad, but modern fashion isn’t your fashion.

“I’ll consider it. Do you mind if I keep these?” You ask. Velvet shakes her head, handing you the folder from her assistants hands.

“Please, take whatever you’d like Madame!” Velvet says. You nod, flipping through the pages.

“You’ll hear from me soon. In the meantime, I want new sketches of these designs. Modern fashion is fast fashion. Nothing stays memorable that way. You want to be good?” You ask her, and she nods quickly. “Then be better. Modesty and elegance are what people strive for. It radiates power, and everyone is greedy for that. If you can sell that through an item, you won’t ever go out of style.” You say, handing her back the folder, keeping the sketch she’d done for you. Well, at least you liked something. Vevelt nodded her head and watched you walk away, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Um, miss?” Her assistant asked.

“What?” Velvet asked annoyingly.

“She left a card on the folder.”

At that , Velvets eyes snapped down at the folder, before she screamed in excitement. Seat number six. She was invited to your table. Mission accomplished. Now, with only six seats left to fill, you were off to talk to your other guests. The night had proved to be interesting, and you knew your encore would not disappoint.

[roleplayerstips]

New York Transitional Living Room

[catiaadao]

Guest in New York

[hellosaidthemoonisafangirl]

Dining Room - Rustic Dining Room

[curtins]

SOLDIER, POET, KING — toji, suguru, satoru minors dni!

prologue. → medieval...bardcore...need i say more? thou art going back to middle earth with this one folks 😁

pairing. warrior!toji fushiguro x afab!reader / court advisor!suguru geto x afab!reader / emperor!gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. toji takes thee against a tree, geto's a munch, gojo's just kinda needy. doing it outdoors, getting eaten good on a lot of cushions, giving a massage?

word count. 4.5k song inspiration. soldier, poet, king — the oh hellos

a/n. listened to the bardcore cover of shakira's hips dont lie while writing. toji's is short tho idk why dont @ me

mp3. he will tear your city down (soldier) / he will slay you with his tongue (poet) / smeared with oil like david's boy (king)

TOJI FUSHIGURO — there will come a soldier who carries a mighty sword.

you're not sure what initially possessed you to follow him into the dense woods outside the encampment, but you sure as hell don't regret it now, not with the rough bark of the tree pressed against your back, grounding you as one of toji's large hands find their home on the back of your neck. the light pressure has you entirely dizzy, but that could also be attributed to the rough drag of his thick cock against your inner walls, slam!

over and over, at a giddying pace that sends shivers down your spine, and stars dancing across your eyes. the scent of pine, earth, and your own dripping arousal fills the air, and you groan as you taste the saltiness of the warrior's skin and the sweetness of his tongue, stained from the ginger confections that soldiers usually shared around the camp to invigorate them through the long nights.

his lips are demanding, fiery even as they push harder against your own, and you shudder as you feel the scrape of a thin scar against your cheek as the world fades away.

the only sound being your quivering breath, and the filthy smack! of his pelvis against your legs, which have been unceremoniously spread against the tree, riding your skirts up and if toji were to step away, and leave you there, all would see the silver, glassy sheen that dripped from your puffy folds.

but you pull him closer, wrapping your own shaking arms around his broad shoulders, as you mewl for him to keep going.

"there! ah! it's so - so deep, toji!" you try to contain your voice to a whisper, desparately praying that his comrades nearby aren't alerted to the lewd sounds erupting from the two of you.

but he looks merely pleased, dangerous like this, and his green eyes are hazed over with lust, the feeling of your tight cunt felling such a powerful and feared commander, "yeah, shit - deeper then?"

and he's angling himself closer to you, so his fat, bulbous tip must be kissing your most sensitive spot, the rough, spongy patch that makes you squeal and sigh, and cry out as you thread your fingers through his choppy dark hair.

"hope you can keep up, fuck!" and toji fushiguro's eyes are gleaming, "i can go till dawn."

didn't the sun set not a mere hour ago?

SUGURU GETO— there will come a poet who's weapon is his word

suguru geto's name is woven into every conversation at court, from the grand feasts to the courtyards where soldiers train. his silver tongue is one of legend, so sharp that it can cut through the thickest of political games, twisting even the most steadfast men and women into submission.

it had been hard not to ignore the sheer gravity of his presence, tall with dark eyes like pools of liquid twilight, and raven hair that's fallen haphazardly out of his topknot as he had led you into his chambers, "i know you've been listening to the rumours, people say many things about me," and his pink lips curl up, "but none can truly capture the beauty of my work."

your tone is breathy under his touch, "and what exactly is your work, geto?"

he's laid you back against the plush cushions of the divan, where tapestries (worth a king's ransom) hang over the walls, and his lips are now ghosting over your neck, "call me suguru," and there he presses soft, shallow kisses, "the court is full of pawns, but it is my job to make them kings."

it's hard not to tremble when his lips are travelling further down, scattering marks over your collarbones, "and me?"

his eyes are now locked with yours, and the world around you seems to slow, "you, an esteemed lady of the court? i could make you a queen."

you can smell the faint scent of sandalwood mingling with the scent of your own heady ache, and it makes your heart race. his lips are teasing, gentle and intoxicating like a fine wine that leaves you craving more, as you let your hands travel under his dark robes and over smooth skin.

gradually, his kisses travel down, moving from your collarbone to the shadow between your breasts, courtesy of his hands making quick work of your gown, then trailing along your stomach, each kiss igniting a trail of warmth that leaves a hot syrup pooling between your legs.

"hngh - lower, suguru! keep going!" and you angle yourself so your legs are spread wide and he can slot his broad frame right between them, right where you need him.

but he is not one to be direct, ever, and he gives you a teasing smile as he ghosts his fingers across silk-sodden undergarments, "lower?" and now he's pressing the pads of his fingers across the fabric, leaving lightning shocks in their wake, "lower, like here?"

and his fingers have found home, drawing figure-eights over your throbbing bud as you arch your back up, "yes, fuck, right there!"

you're given not a second or more to breathe, or choose your next course of action before suguru geto is tearing the offending garments off, and away, tossing them far from the divan as you gape incredulously.

silvertongue. the mere epithet does not do justice to how his mouth is laving hot kisses at your core, where the tip of his tongue is prodding at your fluttering entrance, and up over your puffy clit, before hollowing out his cheeks to suck.

GOJO SATORU — there will come a ruler who's brow is laid with thorn

the throne room is vast like a frost-kissed sky, and it stretches beyond what the human eye can comprehend. and the floor beneath your silk slippers is a pale marble sheen, icy and smooth as each step of yours echoes softly, swallowed by the immense space around you, as if the room is holding its breath.

there's a slight smirk curling at the corners of the emperor's lips, his pale hair falling softly around his face like the cool winds of winter that he commands — as he lounges back on the throne carved from white stone that is so pure, it gleams like ice.

"ah, i was wondering when you would come," and his voice is smooth and low, like the calm before a storm that leaves the earth ravaged, "my sweet courtesan."

"it seems my lord missed me?" now you're on the steps of the throne, and you know that you are the only one, save for the emperor himself, who can make it this far without being blown to pieces or ripped apart by the winds.

you know that he favours you, keeps you as a prize above all others, summons you at the most arbitrary of times to please him, as he does to you.

it is a fearful thought, that gojo satoru would defy the laws of gods and elders to claim you as a partner - one who would sit the throne alongside him as an equal, perhaps one day, but not yet.

the realm need not pay the price in blood for that.

your fingers dip into the bowl of warm oil, the scent of live and rosemary filling the air with an earthy, calming aroma as gojo shrugs the heavy indigo robes off his thick shoulders. the oil is cool at first, but it warms on his skin, gliding effortlessly over gojo's flesh. and you press gently at first, the oil easing against his skin, leaving a faint sheen as you work through the tight knots along his neck.

you hear a soft groan escape his lips, deep and resonant, as your fingers work into the knots of his muscles.

"i must be the luckiest man in the empire," he teases, and his voice is low and playful, as he runs his tongue over his lips leaving a gloss over his petal-pink mouth that you want to capture with your own, "i fear i'm becoming too accustomed to your...delicate, mmph! ministrations."

you snort, digging the heel of your hand harder into the muscle, and another moan escapes him, deeper this time, and it ignites something primal within you.

as your hands travel lower, you find yourself leaning closer, so your mouth ghosts over the shell of his ear, radiating red and hot.

gojo glances back at you, and you can see that the ice-blue of his eyes has become glazed over with desire, "if you keep this up, i might forget that i'm supposed to be in control here."

you indulge yourself, running your hands now over the front of his chest, feeling the ba-dump! underneath his pectoral muscles as you glide your fingers across him, "just wait, my lord, i can be quite persuasive when the mood strikes," you flick a pink nipple, and watch as he shifts, "perhaps, we might even shift control."

before you know it, he closes the space between you, with a soft laugh, and your lips meet his, soft and tentative at first — deepening as he pulls you onto his lap, and you gasp as you feel the thick bulge underneath the woven fabric, skirting your hips against it for the most delicious friction.

still, the oil slicks your hands as you run them over as much skin that you can find, and it's messy, full of fervour, as he runs his hands now up your robes, and prods a slender finger right past your gaping, quivering entrance, the ring of muscle allowing him in easily, such was your own want.

"now this," he whispers, the slighest whimper falling through his voice, against your lips, "- is how a true emperor enjoys his courtesan."

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Thanks to h0tb0x for finding this surreal 2018 estate at an undisclosed location in Oklahoma City, OK. I wonder why they built this incredible home only to sell it 5 yrs. later. It has 8 bds, 16ba, $17.25M.

Immediately, I'm blown away by the entrance hall chandeliers. That blue one has to be a Dale Chihuly worth millions. I always hoped I could afford a little one, but nooooo. In fact, I can't even afford a fake one.

The living room is gigantic. It has large windows for an amazing view, a stone fireplace that soars right up to the black wood ceiling, and a built-in entertainment center with a balcony above.

At least 2 more balconies overlook the space, and there are stone walls with openings to the other areas.

The dining room has wainscoting, an incredible ceiling, and you'll notice the blue lights are a theme throughout the home.

In the kitchen there are silver tray ceilings, stone walls, gray cabinetry, and 2 dark gray islands with black granite counters. The blue lights give the islands gradient tones.

A pantry that's larger than my kitchen has dark gray cabinetry and note the shimmery backsplash with red accents.

Now, this is a professional bar.

And, check out the incredible fantasy-like wine cave. The home is ultra modern but has some medieval elements in the light fixtures, stone, dark wood, etc.

The rec room is set up like a club with a pool table, bar and table, as long as the wall, w/stools.

On the other side is a lounge with a fireplace and sculpted ceiling with blue lights.

Now this actually looks like a hall with abstract art on display.

The dogs have their own room, also. I like the wide tile wainscoting- if they rub against it, it's washable.

Here's another lounge with a balcony that overlooks the living room. It has a lovely turquoise built-in game table and a kitchenette, plus a blue tray ceiling.

Next, there's a 2 lane bowling alley.

On the other side there's a lounge for the bowlers. Love the carpeting.

The primary bedroom is probably bigger than most of our apts. It has a beautiful blue ceiling feature and glass doors to patio areas. There's also a living room off to the side.

Of course the en-suite can't be anything less than spectacular. Love the silvery tiles.

Now, this is beautiful- a pink closet/dressing room.

Got shoes? And, this one is blue.

The laundry room has beautiful blue cabinetry. Love the backsplash, floor and contrasting island.

Yet another lounge with a kitchenette.

Check out the garage.

How many bars and party areas does one need?

Huge restaurant-like space with a large stage.

And, over here, there's a sitting area with a snack bar.

This is some home. Look at this.

The big barn has the garage and entertainment area with the basketball court outside.

36 acres of fun.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/Oklahoma-City-OK-73150/133368865_zpid/

[cherryredlove]

☆ pluck my strings ☆

Modern!au Goth! Aemond Targaryen x reader SMUT

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

Recently you've decided to pick up a new hobby, and you've always fancied learning the bass guitar. After picking up the basics on a shitty one you find in a charity shop, you bite the bullet and buy a gorgeous sleek black bass from facebook market. Hopefully the guy you buy from isn't a creep.

Word Count: 2.2k

Themes: smuuut, 18+, rough p in v, dacryphilia, creampie, alcohol consumption, lots of fluff tho!

Reader is implied to be vaguely (the extent is up to u ofc) punk with nipple piercings - drawn from personal experience ;)

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

The stale coffee aroma clung to the corners of your favourite neighbourhood café as you scrolled through FB Marketplace, halfheartedly browsing for a bass guitar that wouldn’t cost you an arm and a leg. After learning the basics on the cheap, battered bass you found at a charity shop last month, you finally decided it was time for an upgrade. FB was usually full of shit you lamented internally, sipping a hot mocha in Celtigar Coffee.

Amid the endless sea of overpriced instruments, you stumbled upon a sleek black bass with a gloss finish that caught your eye immediately. You smiled, smitten, at the sight of a black cat next to the bass. The listing promised it had “good vibes and great sound,” and judging by the photos, it looked like it had been well cared for. Alas, the cat wasn't for sale. You clicked on the seller’s profile, and your interest piqued even more.

Aemond Targaryen was his name. His profile picture revealed a strikingly handsome young man, heavily tattooed, with one icy-blue eye that seemed to stare right through the screen and a black leather eyepatch covering the other eye. He was effortlessly cool and goth: black leather jacket, piercings, and a smirk that screamed confidence. Against your better judgment (curse your friend Dyana for scaring you with stranger danger), you shot him a message expressing interest in the bass. Within minutes, he replied.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

You took a deep breath as you stood outside Aemond’s apartment complex, the cash for the bass tucked safely in your wallet. The building was impressive: old brick, with ivy climbing up its sides, slightly crumbly but in a chic antique way. Your heart thrummed with a mix of anticipation and anxiety. You’d always heard horror stories about buying things off the internet, but you needed a sick bass, and Aemond seemed cool enough. You tried to dissuade the lick of warmth you felt inside when you glanced at his picture again.

After a short elevator ride and a quick knock, the door swung open, revealing Aemond in the flesh. He was even more striking in person, his silver hair contrasting sharply against his black jeans and t-shirt. Traditional style tattoos snaked down his arms, disappearing beneath the sleeves of his shirt. You swallowed thickly at his heavily muscled arms that flexed as he held the door.

“You must be (Y/N),” he said, his voice smooth and inviting. “Come on in.”

The apartment was exactly what you’d expect from someone like Aemond. Dark and moody, with walls adorned in gothic artwork and grungy band posters. A state-of-the-art sound system took up one corner, and an impressive collection of vinyl records lined a bookshelf.

“Wow, this place is... awesome,” you said, trying to play it cool as you looked around.

“Thanks. I like to keep things interesting,” Aemond replied with a small grin. “The bass is over here.”

He led you to a stand where the sleek black bass rested next to three more basses and guitars. Up close, it was even more beautiful than in the pictures. You ran your fingers along its neck, feeling the smoothness of the wood. The craftsmanship was exquisite, and you could already imagine the kind of sound it would produce.

“Go ahead, give it a try,” Aemond encouraged, handing you a cable to plug into the amp nearby.

You slung the strap over your shoulder, letting the bass rest against your body. As you played a few notes, the room filled with a deep, rich sound that resonated perfectly. It felt right—like this bass was meant for you. You grinned at Aemond who clapped lightly.

“You’ve got a good ear,” Aemond said, watching you play. “Most people can’t appreciate quality like this.”

“Thanks,” you replied, feeling a rush of satisfaction at his compliment. “I’ll take it.”

You were interrupted by a loud meow. Looking down, a black cat with big moon-like eyes was staring up at you, nose twitching.

"This is Vhagar," Aemond scooped up the kitty and gave her a head kiss. Vhagar meowed approvingly. You reached out to give her a pet and she purred. Aemond seemed extremely pleased at Vhagar's apparent approval of you.

Distracted by the fluffy cutie, you handed over the cash once Aemond had put Vhagar down, and Aemond carefully counted it before nodding. As you packed the bass into its case, he surprised you with a question.

“So, what are your plans for tonight?” he asked, casually leaning against the wall, his gaze fixed on you. You noticed he swallowed hard after he asked.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, not much. Why?”

“There’s this club, The Dragon Pit. It’s got a decent alternative scene. Thought you might want to check it out.” You flushed at the surprise. You'd heard of The Dragon Pit. It was pretty legendary in King's Landing.

The offer was unexpected, but there was something undeniably intriguing about him. You’d come here for a bass and found yourself tempted by the idea of a night out with a stranger who seemed anything but ordinary.

“Alright, sure,” you agreed, trying to hide your excitement. “I could use a good night out.”

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

The Dragon Pit was everything Aemond had promised and more. A former warehouse turned music venue, it thrummed with energy as local bands played their hearts out on stage. The crowd was a mix of goths, punks, and metalheads, each in their element, dancing and drinking heavily.

Aemond had secured a prime spot near the stage, and you found yourself getting lost in the music with him. The bassline pulsed through the air, vibrating deep in your chest. It was easy to lose yourself in the rhythm, the heavy riffs drowning out any lingering doubts you’d had earlier. You both sang along and danced together, grasping each others hands and laughing breathlessly, buzzed from several bottles of Asshai beer.

“I didn’t peg you for a punk, thought you'd be a pure goth,” you said, leaning closer to Aemond so he could hear you over the music.

He shrugged, his eyes glinting mischievously. “I’m full of surprises.”

As the night wore on, drinks flowed freely, and the initial awkwardness from his flat between you dissolved into easy conversation and laughter. Aemond’s charm was magnetic, his wit sharp and engaging. You learned that he was a musician himself, dabbling in various instruments and playing in a band called Valyrian Steel with his brothers, sister and their friend that occasionally headlined at the club.

As the band played its final song, the adrenaline of the night combined with the alcohol in your system left you feeling bold. You caught Aemond’s gaze, the charged atmosphere between you undeniable. He leaned in, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You melted into his manly hands that held your cheeks.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he asked, his voice low and inviting.

Your heart raced at the implication, but you didn’t hesitate. “Yeah, let’s go.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

Back at Aemond’s apartment, the air was thick and heavy. Your heart thrummed harder than the music you'd been listening to. The door barely closed behind you before you found yourself against it, Aemond’s lips crashing onto yours. His kiss was electric, filled with urgency and passion, as if he’d been waiting all night to do this.

You melted into him, your hands finding their way to his hair as he deepened the kiss. His hands roamed over your back, pulling you closer, leaving no space between you.

Your pussy ignited at his deepened kiss, feeling his hands massage your ass and pull you closer to him. You gasped as he cocked his muscled thigh between your legs, pressing against your tender pussy. You rocked yourself onto him, sparks electrifying your sex.

“Bedroom?” you whispered between kisses, your voice barely more than a breathless plea.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with want. “This way.”

He led you down a dimly lit hallway to his bedroom, where candles flickered, casting soft shadows across the walls. The bed was invitingly unmade, the sheets black, of course, as if it had been waiting for this moment.

Aemond’s touch was gentle yet insistent as he guided you to the bed, his fingers deftly removing your shirt and jeans before he captured your lips again. You reciprocated, helping him out of his jacket and shirt, revealing more of the intricate tattoos that covered his body. He'd kicked off his boots long ago, and stood naked before you, appreciating your nearly nude form with eager hands.

You traced your fingers over the ink. He shivered under your touch, a soft groan escaping him as he pressed against you, guiding you back onto the bed.

He snapped your lacy red bra off at the back. You thanked the Gods you'd worn nice underwear today. His eyebrows raised high at the sight of your pierced nipples, cute little silver bars through them.

"Aren't you full of surprises, little slut," his voice was dark and warm. You gasped at the name, flushing, pussy slick. He flicked his tongue over your perked tits, grinding his hardened cock against your thigh.

You reached down to grasp him, earning a strangled type of whimper from Aemond. He bit down hard on your neck as you tugged him, using his precum to lube up your hand.

"Gods, Aemond, touch me, please!" You begged breathlessly. He laughed richly, pulling down your panties, and lowered his head to your delicious heat.

Your eyes rolled back to your head as his firm and pointed tongue lapped up your juices, sucking insistently on your needy clit. He rutted his hips against the bed, neck flushing as his arousal became uncontrollable. You were lost in the pleasure, wound up from hours of dancing and eye-fucking Aemond. Tears welled up in your eyes as how brutally good it felt to have Aemond between your legs, eating your pussy like it was his last meal. He moaned darkly at the sight of your wet eyes, newfound vigour making you lurch up into sitting and clench your thighs around his skull.

"Aemond! Oh!" You cried out, feeling a hot orgasm blossom inside. The warm fire licked your pussy, legs shaking and Aemond gently supped your cream as you came down from the high.

The orgasm did nothing to abate your lust for him. Your pussy felt painfully empty, and you stared at his long, thick cock as he nudged your pussy lips open.

"Ready, my girl?" He asked, breathless. You nodded, eyes wide, throwing your head back as he thrusted in, stretching you as your mouth fell open in a soundless moan.

Aemond was relentless, pounding you hard and fast, deeply reaching the sweetest spot inside your pussy. He swiped your tears of pleasure away, grinning through pants, and hoisted your legs up over his shoulders.

You drooled over his toned abs and pecs, scratching your nails into his muscles as he kneaded your tits leisurely. His hips snapped up in the most perfect way. Leaning a hand down, he rubbed your clit urgently.

"I'm on birth control!" You gasped out, suddenly remembering. Aemond's eye was fired up, throwing his head back and grinning down at you.

"Oh, my girl, I'm going to fill you up, make you feel so good. No other cock can make this little tight pussy feel so good." He rasped. You nodded, whimpering, feeling that unstoppable heat crawl up in your pussy again.

Mewling desperately and digging your nails into his arms, you orgasmed hard on his cock, squirting over his balls and feeling weightless as the pleasure took over your body. Aemond moaned at how you squeezed him, cumming hard and filling your pussy up with ropes of hot, thick cum. Your pussy felt thoroughly fucked and stuffed full of cream. He collapsed on top of you.

You both lay panting for what felt like forever.

Aemond gingerly got up to clean the pair of you, then nestled back under the cover, clutching you tightly in his thick arms.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

As dawn crept through the windows, you found yourself rested against him, your head lying on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The realization that you’d spent the night with a pretty much stranger didn’t feel as daunting as you’d expected. Instead, it felt oddly comforting.

“You know,” Aemond murmured, breaking the comfortable silence, “I had a really good time last night.”

You smiled against his skin, feeling a sense of contentment you hadn’t anticipated. “Guess we’re a good match then.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers trailing lazily along your arm. “I’d say so," he looked into your eyes. "Want to grab breakfast with me?

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

AN: if you've read my other hotd modern aus, can u see the world building I'm doing? lol if u like the sound of valyrian steel, then i might have a treat for you soon 🍒 ofc send any feedback and requests and check my masterlist for more xx

[the-fiction-witch]

Bump

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Sweet AF

I continued on my rounds checking my paperwork, as and when required popping in to anyone who wasn't urgent enough to come into the hospital. I checked on my way to the last house for the day, so I put my paperwork away and carried my bag with me, to the familiar deep blue front door, I fixed my jacket a little and swung the silver knocker a few times. The door swung open revealing young Elis Mayflower in her usual dress, "Ohh 'ello Dr Dawkins, we were expectin' you" She nodded and opened the door to let me in "Thank you, Elis," I nodded and took off my hat and jacket which Elis happily took "Where is she?" "Upstairs Doctor" She nodded I nodded and made my way up the stairs bag in hand. I headed down the hall past the paintings and small mostly unused rooms, until I stopped just before the last door.

The door was open a crack, light cascading from within, the sweet gentle sounds barely audible. I pushed open the door enough my body could slip inside, the well-polished wooden floor covered in dancing shadows from the fire, the flames in the fireplace danced and flickered sending the smell of oak wood and tyme across the room, the sound of the wood cracking and popping, the dark purple walls littered with almost too many paintings to even see the walls any longer, the window to the side shuttered up and then a curtain over it letting not a single bit of the harsh light from outside find its way, The various furniture littered the room.

The Main feature of the room, of course, the large wooden bed. With four tall wooden posts and a railing that normally hung purple curtains but they were missing today, the bed sheets were tossed into one corner of the bed, and sitting in it was the most perfect of sights.

Y/n sat in the bed, her back sat up but she had so many pillows between her and the headboard she must have been six inches from it if not more, her legs our straight, her hair free from any braids, and twisted, plaits or anything else, allowed to hang completely free with a slight kink to the hair where it so often lived plaided up and hidden below her hat. Her hair slightly in her face hiding it from me, she wore only a cotton shirt with long billowing sleeves that stopped just below her thigh, I thought for a moment I recognised it, as well as a pair of purple woollen socks that reached her knees with one white stripe around the top, her toes wiggling as they where warmed by the fire, her hands stroking her stomach, as she looked as if she was hiding a small barrel under her dress.

The small wooden and silver box on her table, the small silver ballerina twirling slowly as it paid her the music box song, the slight clicking and tinniness to the song as the music was plaid. And she sang with it, her voice gliding along the notes not loud enough for anyone beyond the door could hear her, as her hands stroked her stomach, tenderly, carefully, almost like she was afraid but loved all the same, her eyes on her enlarged belly and nothing else as if it and she were all that existed.

I couldn't hold back a smile, I must have looked an absolute picture, smiling so widely my cheeks hurt, red with blush to see her this way. I softly closed the door and took soft steps to lean my shoulder on the bedpost not enough to draw her attention, so I stood and watched for what could have been a thousand years, until her music box stopped and thus her song ended. "You're glowing," I spoke up, She jumped a little at my sudden words but she looked up with a sweet innocent smile, "Ohh, Hello Doctor Dawkins," She smiled, "I didn't hear you come in," "I didn't want to disturb your sweet song," I cooed unable to drag my eyes away from her just wanting to look at her a little while longer. She smiled "Aren't you going to examine me, doctor?" "Alright," I smiled moving to sit on her bed, I set my bag on the bed and opened it up to search through for what I needed. "How are you feeling?" "Much the same," She nodded leaning on her arms so I could touch her stomach, I checked her over as we spoke making sure everything was as it should be asking her short questions about how things were going and much of it was the same as last I saw her "So, When will it be?" She asked excitedly,

"Well, that's the question isn't it," I chuckled "I wish I could tell you, but unfortunately children are sort of a law unto themselves, when baby decides its time, then baby will come." I explained "You, I or anyone else doesn't have much of a say in it. But baby will let you know when it's time" I told her stroking her sweet cheek "Alright?" "Alright," she nodded, "I admit I am half tempted to get you a room at the hospital, just so you're close by," I told her, "I want to be here, where I'm comfortable." She said stroking her bump "Are you sure you don't want to be at the hospital?" "I'm sure," She nodded "Alright, as soon as you feel a contraction I want to know" I warn her, "I'll run all the way here if I have to." I winked "Can I? Please?" She pleads I smiled and got my stethoscope from my bag I gave the end a little warm with my hand before I tugged up her shirt just far enough to see her bare stomach, I put the other end to my ear and listened as I rested it on her skin, I shifted it across her skin until I found the best place to hear the rhythmic beating, for a moment I was frozen as I heard the gentle beats, each caused my own heart to swell and I had to fight back the tears "Here," I smiled and handed her the listening end and she happily put it to her ear and listened with the most excited smile I had ever seen a girl have,

She sniffled, tears slowly falling staring at her stomach as she listened "Hi Darling," She cooed and you could see the movement as the baby kicked, "You think he can hear me?" "Of course, he can, He can hear you talk to him, hear you sing to him, You're his mother, he loves you more than anyone will ever understand," I told her kissing her forehead, "Can he hear his daddy?" She asked as she took my hand and settled it on her stomach so I could feel him kick, "Of course, He can." I smiled giving her bump a sweet kiss "Hi little guy," I smiled as I rubbed my nose on her stomach and I gave her bump and our baby kisses. "It won't be long now, I'm sure of it." "Good, I don't want to be pregnant anymore Jack" She laughs returning my stethoscope to my bag,

"No?" "No. My feet are so swollen I can't wear shoes, I don't fit in any of my dresses anymore, I leak everywhere, I'm throwing up all the time, He's kicking me like I'm a football," She explained "It's not fun being pregnant Jack." "You said you liked it?" "I did when I was a couple of months and I had a cute little bump I could stroke as we walked through town." "You were adorable." I smiled thinking back to when she was newly pregnant, wandering around town with her little bump in her dress, I admit it made me feel very proud of myself. "And still are." "I'm as big as a ship Jack." she pouted, "They'll try to hollow me out and sail me to Africa," "You're a ship?" I chuckled, "ummmm" She nodded, "Well then, Permission to come aboard?" I smirked climbing over her to start kissing all over her face and neck which caused her giggle "Ohh yes a very beautiful ship, the most beautiful ship in the world, I shall have to steal her and sail the world single-handedly with her!" "Jack!" she laughed as she pushed me off her, "What's this anyway?" I glared tugging on her shirt, "I borrowed it," She giggled, "Borrowed?" "Well you've been working so much," she innocently smiled "We missed you." "I've missed you both too." I smiled, "But I need to do all this extra work, so I have lots of time off for when baby comes. I don't wanna be stuck up the hospital and leave you here with our little one, I wanna be here to help, and cuddle, and watch him grow. I don't wanna miss anything."

"Good, You can stay up all night when he cries then." "Ohh I know I will, I know what a trial it is trying to get you out of bed when you don't want to." "I don't like to be awoken," She pouts, "I just want this to be over." "Over?" I asked a little worried, "You know what I mean, I'm just… It's been a long nine months Jack, I'm tired." "I know you are," I smiled and kissed her lips "It won't be too much longer sweetheart."

[aylacavebear]

Soulmates? Yeah, right, pft. - Ch. 14

When you turn sixteen, and your soulmate's name doesn’t appear anywhere on your body that you can find, you figure you had to be the only person on the planet who didn’t have one. Most of the town shuns you, so you stick close to family. Your Aunt Ellen raised you after your parents died in a car crash when you were two, but what happens when the Winchesters return to town and buried secrets begin to come to light?

Pairing: Mechanic Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You

Word Count: 2214

Warnings: Angst, suspense, emotional situations, Crowley being Crowley.

A/N: This is my non-Supernatural fic I'm attempting. Please let me know what you think, as I always love hearing from my readers.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 14

When the SUVs pulled up to what looked like a heavily guarded wrought iron gate, attached to a thick brick or concrete wall, your heart almost felt like it would beat out of your chest. Dean at least still had his arm over your shoulders, holding you close, but your eyes were focused on the things outside. Outside the gates, all you could make out were the tall hedges and trees that had grown past the top of the wall, which you assumed encompassed the property. There were a few different types of vines, but they looked as though they’d been repeatedly cut back.

You wanted to ask where they’d taken you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak at the moment, even after what the judge had said. As the gates began to open, you felt like you were almost holding your breath. The driveway was neatly kept, winding its way through a pedicured landscape of trees, hedges, and flower beds. The mansion of a house where the SUVs stopped took your breath away. It was the most elegant and extravagant home you’d ever seen in person. The agent next to Benny opened the door, stepped out, and then held the door for the three of you. You swore your jaw had hit the pavement as you stepped out, staring up at the mansion before you when that Scottish accent pulled your gaze to the man coming down the steps.

“Oh good, you made it without incident,” Crowley stated, seeming quite pleased.

“What’s going on?” you asked, relieved it was Crowley and not someone from the Vaught family.

“I’ve made arrangements for you to stay here during the course of your case,” he explained. “One of my men will be back with your belongings, and theirs as well. Now, shall we get some brunch?”

You were still fairly confused, but you followed Crowley into his mansion, Dean by your side and Benny bringing up the rear. The interior of Crowley’s mansion was even more impressive than the exterior. As you stepped inside, your eyes were immediately drawn to the high ceilings adorned with intricate moldings and chandeliers that looked like they belonged in a palace. The walls were lined with dark wood paneling and elegant wallpaper, giving the space a sophisticated yet intimidating ambiance.

You walked through a grand foyer with a sweeping staircase that curved up to the second floor. The marble floors gleamed underfoot, and you could see various pieces of antique furniture and art tastefully arranged throughout the space. It was a stark contrast to the cold, sterile environment of the courtroom.

Crowley led the way down a long hallway, the rich scent of polished wood and old books filling the air. You passed several rooms, each one more opulent than the last, until you reached a set of double doors. Crowley pushed them open to reveal a lavish dining room.

The dining room was dominated by a long, mahogany table that could easily seat twenty people. The table was already set for a smaller group, with fine china, crystal glasses, and silver cutlery laid out meticulously. The walls were lined with tall bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes, and several large windows allowed natural light to pour in, illuminating the room in a warm glow.

A chef and a few servants were bustling around, preparing the final touches for the meal. The aroma of bacon, cooking meat, and something that was perhaps a fine fish dish wafted through the air, making your stomach rumble in anticipation.

“Please, have a seat,” Crowley gestured to the chairs, taking his place at the head of the table. Dean guided you to a seat beside him, and Benny sat across from you, giving you a reassuring nod.

As you settled into the plush chair, Crowley smiled and spoke to the servants, “Begin serving, please.”

The servants moved with practiced efficiency, bringing out a covered plate for each of you, while others had platters with delectable deserts displayed on them. The aromas only made your mouth water further. Another servant set a chilled, open beer on a coaster near your, Dean’s, and even Benny’s plate while another poured Crowley a glass of what looked like fine wine.

Crowley dismissed the servant as he looked at you, his expression more serious now. “You must have many questions,” he said, taking a sip. “Feel free to ask anything you need to understand.”

You wanted to answer him, but the servants set a dish down in front of the three of you, revealing what had smelled so good. Yours and Dean’s contained the most delicious-looking burger you’d ever seen, while Benny got something that was clearly something he hadn’t had in a long time. You were just too focused on your burger at the moment to even ask what it was.

“Figured you lot would prefer something simple,” Crowley told you, seeing you focused on the meal and not his prior statement.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, looking over at him as Dean squeezed your knee in a reassuring way. “Why are you doing this for us?” you asked finally.

Crowley’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of something softer behind his usual confident exterior. “Let’s just say, I have a vested interest in seeing justice served. The Vaughts have been playing games for too long, and it’s about time someone put a stop to it.” Dean leaned in slightly, his voice low. “We appreciate your help, Crowley. But what’s the catch?”

Crowley chuckled, setting his glass down. “No catch, Dean. Just a mutual benefit. You get the support you need for this case, and I get the satisfaction of seeing the Vaughts lose for once.” Benny spoke up, his tone serious. “We’ll do whatever it takes to win this. They’ve messed with the wrong people.” Crowley nodded approvingly. “That’s the spirit, Benny. Now, let’s eat. You’re going to need your strength for what lies ahead.” As the meal progressed, you found yourself relaxing slightly, the initial shock of Crowley’s opulent home giving way to a sense of determination. You had allies in the fight, and together, you were going to bring the Vaughts to justice.

Halfway through the meal, the double doors opened, instantly pulling your attention to what looked like a butler. “They’re here, Sir,” he told Crowley.

“Ah, wonderful,” Crowley replied, delighted as a smile played at his lips. “Show them in.”

The butler nodded, and a few moments later, Sam, Ellen, Jodi, Bobby, Mary, and John came into the dining hall. You instantly stood as Ellen made her way to you, tears in both your eyes as you embraced her in a tight hug.

“Oh, honey,” she told you softly, and you heard the sadness and relief in her tone.

“I’m okay, Auntie,” you replied quietly.

Ellen held you at arm’s length, her eyes scanning your face as if reassuring herself that you were truly alright. “We’ve been worried sick about you,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.

Dean, Sam, and even Benny embraced in hugs before Dean hugged John and Mary. Even Jodi and Bobby hugged the boys, then came over to you, giving you a soft, but relieved smile, embracing you in a hug. 

“We’re here for ya, kid,” John told you with the softest expression you’d ever seen on the man.

Crowley, ever the consummate host, gestured to the empty seats. “Please, join us. There’s plenty of food, and we’ve much to discuss.” As everyone settled around the table, the atmosphere shifted slightly. There was a sense of camaraderie, of a team coming together to face a common enemy. You wished that Jo could be there, as she was more like a sister to you than a cousin. And, oddly enough, even Cas and Garth. Just as you were finally feeling like you were relaxing, your mark began burning, horribly, a pained hiss leaving your lips just as Dean was getting out of his seat.

Crowley snapped his fingers a couple of times while you put your hand over your mark, missing whatever was being said. Moments later, though, Dean was putting cream on your mark. “It’s okay, I’m right here,” he attempted to soothe you as the entire room had gone silent.

“Well, now, this changes things,” Crowley mused from where he sat, leaning back in his chair. “Why wasn’t I informed about that?”

“About what?” you asked, only wincing slightly as you looked at him.

“With that,” he began, gesturing to your mark, “we’ve got a little more leverage.”

You tried to look down at your mark, but with where it was, you couldn’t see it. Frustrated, you looked back at him, “What are you talking about?”

He practically laughed, “Dean, you haven’t told her?” 

All Dean did was glare at him and the others stayed silent, which only annoyed you further. “Tell me what?” you snapped, clenching your hands in your lap.

“I was waiting,” Dean managed through a clenched jaw, clearly annoyed.

“Will someone tell me what the hell you’re talking about? I’m tired of this, of all of you keeping secrets from me,” you snapped at them, looking around the table as your anger finally boiled over. When no one spoke up, you just got up and walked off, practically slamming the dining hall doors. 

Crowley sighed and nodded to one of his servants, who promptly followed you. The servant was a young woman with kind eyes, and she caught up with you just as you were starting to feel lost in the labyrinthine halls of the mansion.

“Miss, please allow me to show you to a room where you can rest. Your bags have already been brought up,” she said softly.

Too tired to argue, you nodded and followed her. She led you up a grand staircase and down a long corridor to a beautifully furnished room. “If you need anything, just ring this bell,” she instructed, indicating a small ornate bell on the bedside table.

“Thank you,” you murmured, sitting on the edge of the bed as she left the room.

Meanwhile, back in the dining hall…

Dean, still fuming, stood up, “We agreed to tell her when her mark came in more.”

Crowley shrugged nonchalantly, although he wasn’t pleased about his secrecy, “It slipped my mind. Besides, she has a right to know.”

Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This isn’t helping. How did she not notice one of the letters came in all the way?”

Dean sighed and sat back down, “She never looked in the mirror at it, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her to.”

“Son, she’s gonna be more hurt if you wait much longer,” John told him sincerely.

“Does she have at least an idea of how you’re connected to all this?” Crowley asked, although clearly frustrated, but needing further information.

“Not completely,” Dean reluctantly answered.

“Benny, did she even pay attention when Dean testified?” Sam asked, fairly puzzled how you wouldn’t have found out.

Benny sighed, “No. I was talkin’ to her. Tryin’ to help er’ relax a little.”

Crowley was usually a calm, collected man, but this frustrated him: "What does she know?”

Dean grabbed his beer, taking a sip before he answered, staring at the label, “I told her I know she’s my soul mate, part of the thing with Lisa, and that she’s an empath.”

“That’s it?” Bobby exclaimed in annoyance and frustration.

“That explains why she knows we’re hiding something,” Mary sighed, looking back at the closed dining hall doors.

“I didn’t want to make it harder on her,” Dean mumbled quietly.

“Dean, she has to be told, before her birthday, or it’s gonna hurt her more, and not just emotionally,” Sam told him, his tone soft but firm. “I know what I told you before, but she’s quickly running out of time.”

Dean’s attention went to the doors, his mind on only you and what you were feeling. He’d hated not telling, not letting himself get closer to you than you’d let him. He’d felt everything from the moment he’d seen you that first day at the bar, and it was tearing him up inside that you still doubted him. Sam had warned him of the risks of waiting too long, but he just hadn’t been able to find the right time and he didn’t want to do it once you two had gotten stuck in that bunker. “Dean, are you even listened?” Crowley asked him, frustrated and now leaning forward in his seat, pulling Dean from his thoughts.

“Yeah, I mean, no. I wasn’t listening,” he grumbled.

An annoyed sound left Crowley’s lips as he leaned back in his seat. “Her birthday is in two days. Either you tell her tomorrow, or I’ll have to make sure the doctor is here.” His tone was of concern for you more than for Dean.

Dean looked down at his beer, “She’s gonna hate me, but… I’ll tell her tomorrow.”

“Son, she’s gonna be mad at all of us, but she’s not going to hate us, especially not you,” John tried to reassure him, feeling bad for what not only his son had to go through, but also what you have had to endure.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 15

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[pursuitseternal]

“Dexterity Check First, My Sweet:” finger-licking smut 🔥with Spawn!Astarion for “Bites in the Night” part 9

Astarion x f!reader | E | 3K of finger fucking licking smut

Summary: Flaming Fist soldiers on your heels, caught red-handed trying to steal some food, and your Vampire Rogue has one place in mind for you to hide: Sharess’ Caress. Where better to spend an hour laying low together than a pleasure house… where he can tutor you on the dexterity skills that got you into this mess

CW: Vaginal fingering, finger licking, breast play, anal fingering, generally arrogant Spawn Astarion, Act 3 spoilers if you squint maybe…

Ao3 link | Series on Ao3 | Masterlist

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“Can’t you run any faster?” Astarion hisses at you, eyes narrowed as he glares over his shoulder, leading you down alley after alley in Baldur’s Gate. The clanking of armor still echoes behind you—the Flaming Fist still trailing.

And you, you’re hustling, but it’s harder given your wardrobe. “This was your idea,” you pant, aggravated in reply. “You said ‘Wear a dress for once, darling. No one will suspect us if you look decent for once…’”

His hand shoots out from the shadows, pulling you into a darkened doorway. His chest heaves, lock picks in hand. “I know what I said. It’s true, my sweet. You do look decent for once. It’s not my fault you can’t use those hands for anything subtle and smooth that isn’t my cock.”

He flashes a quick smirk your way before picking open the door you both press against. That smirk that melts your innards and makes you quiver instantaneously.

Turning, you keep an eye out for the soldiers who caught you stealing from the vendors. Of course after weeks in the Shadow-Cursed lands, food and gold were scarce. What little you still had only stretched so far in the City. So, you and your Rogue decided to take a… new course of action. One he swore was foolproof… easy… something he did a thousand times over hundreds of years… And he had insisted you look ‘decent’ in a dress for it.

Which was how you now find yourself squeezed against some alley door, panting, and afraid of being arrested as the soldiers who caught you nicking food from the stands close in.

“Hurry, Astarion,” you elbow him in the shoulder where he crouches beside you. “They’re coming.”

“Darling you can’t rush art,” he sneers in reply.

“It’s not art, it’s crime.”

“Maybe next time, you'll not get us caught then. Maybe you need some lessons on just how to expertly use those fingers…” he pauses, even as the clanking of armor draws even closer. He stands quickly, spinning you both, pinning you hard against the planes of the door as he crushes you against the wood. His mouth devours yours, your eyes filled with nothing but his pale skin and mussy, silver hair. Your every sense is consumed by his taste in your tongue, his scent in your nose, his wiry body bearing down, covering you completely.

That passion, that ardor steals your breath, lost in the sound of his breath in your mouth and the wet working of his lips, his tongue with yours.

So distracted you barely even notice the flurry of guards rush right past you until they have long passed. Barely noticed that he’s hidden you from their sight in his distraction. Kept you safe. Then he breaks, his devious smirk at your arousal only makes you pant harder. “You clever devil,” you rasp, trying to swallow. “Kept us hidden… and clearly you do enjoy this dress.”

“What would you do without me?” he taunts, reaching for the handle of the door, letting it creak open behind your back. “They’ll be back, we need to lay low for an hour or two…” that wicked gleam in his eyes only darkens. “How fortunate that we can hide here…”

You turn, taking a step inside the door. Instantly, you recognize it from your adventures so far. The scent of perfumes and sweat, of alluring flowers and dirty bodies all at once. Thick crimson curtains draped over every wall and door, ready to soften the cries of orgasm and the sounds of sex.

Sharess’ Caress.

“What better place to hide than a pleasure house?” he gives you that feline grin that more than announces his intentions for how to pass an hour or two. “Oh, what a shame we will have to hide away… just the two of us… away from everyone else back at camp…”

“Did I call you clever?” you roll your eyes, despite the way your belly floods with heat. “I mean sly, cunning…”

“And very, very hungry,” he interjects, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you towards the stairs. “Starved practically…”

“How do you know where you’re going?” you hiss from behind.

“You forget so quickly these are my hunting grounds, my nocturnal domains. How fortunate you get me of my own free will during the daytime,” he quirks back at you over his shoulder as he turns down a hall and then another. “You’ve been dancing with a professional,” he smirks, breathing deeply as he draws to a sudden stop outside a door. “But you already knew that, my darling. Already experienced the fruits of my practice on the unworthy…”

“Gods,” you pant, “and you think me worthy?”

“Most worthy, my love,” he chuckles softly, turning the doorknob beside you. “Won’t you come and find out why it’s a pleasure house, my sweet?”

You smile, devious, “Emphasis on the… come?”

“I’m in such a good mood to be here with you, my darling, that even your unrefined wit won’t put me off or… soften… my regard for you,” he giggles, leading you behind the curtain that covers the entryway. Its fabric is thick, a dense sort of velvet, darker than blood.

You stumble into the dark, and instantly those hands… those strong, lithe, dancing hands, catch you. You hear so many other voices in the distance, a cacophony of moans and slaps and screams. You turn, looking for Astarion, an edge of… surprise in your heart. Surprise that warms quickly into a heady fear as he leers at you.

The soft light only makes every angle and cut of his face sharper, his skin almost lustrous, those hands leaving your grip to already begin to tear his tunic from over his head. Earth-shattering. Ruinous. He is beyond handsome.

And he’s yours.

“You can’t stop staring, darling…” he rasps, drawing closer in, closing in around you. The skin of his chest, the way every muscle and vein is familiar to you, it makes you force a swallow. “Not that I'm complaining, of course,” he gives that short burst of giggles to punctuate. “But we really… really must do something about those hands of yours.”

He catches them together in just one palm, his touch cool despite the growing heat that caresses your skin. “Strength doesn’t come from brute force all the time, slashing and twisting…” he breathes. You gasp, moaning suddenly as his other hand has already managed to somehow slink into the hitched hem of your skirt, his touch barely ghosting up your inner thigh. “You needn’t be so gruff and commanding all the time, darling,” he purrs. “Let your fingers find their own way, one by one in that merry dance…”

“Gods,” you groan, as indeed one by one they slip into your folds, sliding in so easily with how drenched you already are for him. He flashes that sideways grin down at you, eyes narrowed as he is savoring the way you shudder at his touch, at the way your mouth hangs open suddenly to feel him pleasuring you. “Please, more,” you sigh, arching back to find something to brace your body against. “I want more inside me, I want you inside me.”

“But I am, darling,” his grin only twists higher, “and this is my lesson for you, so you had better listen and learn.” His hold on your hands tightens, his thumb massaging over their backs, deftly and rhythmically stroking your taught muscles. His legs stride between yours, hips pressing hard against you, making you back until you smack the your knees on some soft furniture. But quicker than breath, he steadies you. Fingers slipping from your folds and your body to unbutton his breeches.

You don’t even need to look to know his cock stands at the ready, and you giggle as he presses it into your waist, so hard you feel its twitching through your gown. “Already?” you tease, feeling a blush sweeping over your cheeks and up your neck.

“Well, you’re going to need something to practice on…” His eyes gaze at you, glazed with desire, that crimson shine almost a bright red as the lights from the candles around you flicker and flame. “And, I will too,” he adds, voice thick in his throat as he takes the ribbons of your blouse in those long, lean fingers. “Something to play with, as an example of course…”

His breath is heavy, each inhale and exhale almost deafens you. He is close but refrains from brushing against you, nothing more than the way his fingers pull those thin laces of bodice, one by one.

Slowly. Painfully deliberate.

His gaze never wavers, doesn’t even have to look to know where to grip, where to touch. Until at last, the panes of your bodice split, your breasts achingly hard to feel the free air, the rush of his heavy breaths caressing them.

You try to catch his mouth, to bring him into a kiss, but he only shoves you back down to your heels. “Tch, tch,” he sucks his teeth at you, shaking his head in mock disapproval. “This isn’t a lesson for your mouth. Your tongue is already so good at sucking and swallowing, my pet.”

Oh, you shudder. His words alone push you to that precipice of need. Not to mention that constant washing sound of the pleasures around you. It makes you whimper to be denied.

“Shh,” he chuckles quietly, one long pointer finger on your lips to tap gently. “Think about how enjoyable it will be to put these skills into practice daily… nightly too…”

Your brow raises, mischief swirling in your belly as you quickly part your lips, drawing that finger between them to suck it hard.

His cock pulses against your belly, his mouth groaning loudly at the warmth and wet you swirl around it.

“Eager and naughty. You belong in this pleasure house, my love,” he growls. Slowly, he lowers himself to sit on the seat behind you, a settee you realize, covered in softest velvet. Your breathing grows rough, every inhale you make is filled with the perfumes of the house, masked heavily by that fresher scent of his skin.

Your mouth waters, his hands rucking up your skirts, clawing around your hips as he settles you on his thighs. He throws the skirts behind you, ensuring he has complete control, a perfect view of your soft-curled mound, your shaking thighs. But he leaves you aching, your pulse pounding as he can feel your folds soaking his skin and throbbing as you grieve the emptiness inside you.

His fingers seem to dance in the air as he reaches for your body, where your breasts hang so exposed. So easy for the taking. Fascinated, hypnotized by their dexterity, you watch as each of his fingers moves, of its own accord, each playing across your skin. His touch is delicate and deliberate.

The muscles of his hands clench, each movement visible as the candlelight caresses that masculine outline. Light warming his pale, pearl-like skin. Shadows following the ridges and trails the veins make over the backs of his hands, weaving gently up his arms.

You can’t resist, bringing your own touch to dance along those protruding blue lines. Mimicking the soft and commanding pressure he makes as he cradles your breasts, one in each hand, fingers twirling and plucking your nipples hardened to pebbles in his masterful touch. You can’t help it, can’t control it as the rhythm of his touch on your breasts alone sends those shivers of pleasure down your spine, your body under his thrall as climax pours through you. Hot and wild, you buck on the limited friction of his thighs, your cum coating that flawless, smooth skin.

And he giggles. With a little extra effort, he tweaks your nipples as you ride out the remaining waves. “Oh my sweet, see what skilled fingers alone can do?” he croons. His hips buck beneath your still-trembling thighs, making his cock jolt where it stands. Little trickles of his seed already leaking from that tight little slit. You want so badly to lick it clean, to quickly shove that hardness deep inside you to cool your burning lust. But you smile, taking it in your hands, not to be outdone by your arrogant, insufferable Rogue.

Plying that same silken yet commanding touch, you sweep a single finger up the trail of his precum, gathering it on your fingertip before slipping it in your mouth. Sucking it clean.

He groans, watching. His hands slide down your sides, holding your hips hard against his thighs. “What a good student you have become,” he praises in his honeyed tones.

You pull your finger from your pursed lips with a resounding pop. Licking the rest of those fingers one by one, you begin tracing just the soft pads of your fingers up and down his twitching shaft.

For hells take you if you weren’t about to stun him senseless with your fingers alone.

You keep your eyes on the motions you make, smiling harder each time his hips buck under your touch, cock twitching and jolting as you beat it in your grip. Maybe it’s the sounds that surround you, the wet slap of flesh, the moans of a hundred paying patrons, but your mind fills with a naughty idea.

Pausing, you clamber between his legs, pressing him wider with your knees. As he has done to you countless times.

“Just what are you doing, my sweet?”

You ignore the question, using a single hand to tug softly on the wrinkled silken skin of his balls. Gods, they feel tight and heavy in your palm already. Driving him closer to his own bursting release with each stroke you make.

“You’ll find out…” you grin innocently, meeting that flaming scarlet gaze of his. His tongue drags over his fangs, hunger lurking behind every clench of his body. The soft pads of your fingers slip further beneath him, following the hard seam of his erection until you brush the pert little hole of his ass.

Astarion hisses, arching his back as you press around it just a bit harder, circling it as he has done to everything on your body a million times.

“Darling…” he groans, raising his hips to let you in more. “Testing your dexterity on all of me, are you?”

You slip your touch inside, feeling him clench as you mimic the way he caresses you. The way he fucks you on those talented, eager fingers of his. You savor the way he growls, head thrown back against the velvet of the settee as you crook inside him deeper. For a moment, you forget all about his cock. Savoring the way you make him shake and quiver around your digits for once. But then, he clenches so hard around your finger deep in his ass, his cock ripples, thickening as you push him further towards the edge. He thrusts over and over into your other fist.

“Hells…” he pants, forcing his head up to meet your smile. “Where in gods names did you think to do that?”

You smile, so innocent and pouting and coy. “You’re not the only one who can read a book, Astarion…”

“Hgnf…” he grabs your wrists, the veins of his arms protruding even more as he flexes, pulling you down to collapse on his chest. “Lesson learned. Now I’ll claim my payment, it’s a brothel after all.”

No resistance is left in your body, too wet and hot and aching for anything other than letting that cool shaft of his cock to pierce deep inside you. And it does, sheathed so tightly in your cunt you cry, begging for more. Your scream could shake the walls, muffled only by those thick curtains.

“That’s right, my darling. Be loud, let them all hear you, hold nothing back like you do for me around the others,” he hisses low in the throat, hands tugging your dress apart all the more. All the better to let your breasts swing free with every unbridled buck of your body.

You groan, so loudly you’re sure you hear the curtains shaking.

And you do, as they pull back to open wide, the clatter of metal armor crashing through the soft slap of flesh. “Flaming Fist,” a cold voice startles you, anouncing. You gasp, clutching your bodice to hide the ample swell of your bosoms, burying your face against his chest as Astarion sits upright.

“What is the meaning of this,” he snaps in disgust and sneers in disdain, that commanding edge of his voice is dominating and cold. “I’ve paid good money for this, and you have no business to intrude on either my time or my pleasure.” He chastises, bracing his arms around you, curving you slightly around his side.

Hiding you.

“I’m sorry sir,” the soldier insists, far more timidly than before. “We’ve been trailing a thief we were tipped off today who would be pinching food stores from the markets today. We suspect she may be hiding here.”

“Get out or pay me the 500 gold I’ve already wasted by spending time speaking with you!” he bellows, gesturing roughly towards the door. “No one here but an angry, wealthy patron and his whore!”

That did it, sending them scattering and clattering as they shut the curtain firmly behind them.

You go still on his lap, a suspicious, scouring look on your face as you meet his arrogant, guilty eyes. “Tipped… off…”

His smirk curls wickedly to one side, shrugging demurely, a single hand splayed on his chest to feign innocence. “How else am I supposed to get you to accompany me here, say… Oh darling, I’d like to take you to a pleasure house so I can loudly fuck you away from prying eyes and listening ears?”

“You’d be surprised just how charismatic you might be if you checked, if you asked nicely…” you grind on his still throbbing cock, “…if you tried saying please.” You lean forward, pressing your hands on his chest to shove him back down. “Perhaps you could benefit from some lessons on asking nicely…”

That handsome face quirks, twisting harder as he smiles at you. “Dexterity check first, my sweet,” he purrs and crooks his finger against your clit. Reminding you just why you’re here.

[lilimalia]

1 જ⁀➴ holy shit, mommy??

TEVYAT NEWS… it's finally here!! Enjoy! And for any highlighted names in taglist, your tag was unable to be added. Please resubmit it!

WARNINGS... ooc albedo (?), cursing

SUMMARY… Young, dumb, and broke, Y/n L/n has scaled the makeup community from half-assed make up tutorials and explorations… Somehow, she's landed herself a position of popularity, and has yet to understand how to continue building fame. When a famous actor, Ayato Kamisato, is in need of a last-minute makeup artist, and is forced to call her up…

TAG LIST… @yelshin , @patchi-chi , @ittosoneandoniwife , @nightrayseishina , @hiqhkey , @haliyamori , @luminarymoonlight , @loudeggbananaranch , @naraven , @dazaisboner , , @zomzombie, @duskimooo , @aezuyu , @vennnnn-diagram

Sighing restlessly, you fall backwards on your couch (sofa), your unkempt hair splaying out in all directions, static prickling at the edge of your [h/c] strands.

"Holy. Fuck."

You whisper, hands reaching to your face before angrily rubbing against it. screaming bloody murder.

"I've done it. I've actually done it!" you mutter under your breath, grasping the situation at hand.

The idea of being in collaboration with your favorite company after so many years of building your brand against all odds, and the countless nights spent painstakingly editing your videos, you had finally made it to the top. Well, your top at least.

Three rapid knocks resound against your door before you're able to truly soak up your epiphany. Much to your heart's dismay.

"[Name] I'd appreciate it if you would open this door urgently, I can't be bothered to stand out here in the hall. These paintings are taxing to carry you know", Albedo's familiar voice rings out, a slight playful annoyance as he bangs the darkened wood of your door once more in urgency.

In a hurry, your pouncing over the piles of pillows left on your floor from previous filming and frantically scrambling towards the door before your dear friend reconsidered his decision to visit you. In a flash as your hand glazes over the cool knob and the door creaks with an eery sigh as your met with the clearly unamused face of the renowned artist that was your bestfriend, Albedo. Golden hair and in his prime glory as he quickly lifted the heavy artistry into your unexpecting arms. The weight toppled over you surprisingly, causing a slight step back from you.

"Now that I've handed over my part of this little escapade, explain now. What do you mean Ei of EiKerei is hosting you in a collab?" His eyebrows twitched up in curiosity, curtly allowing himself into the domain of your apartment without another word.

"H-hey! Dude I haven't even put down the paintings let me clean up Bedo!!"

In return, he glares at you,

"[Name] I've seen your apartment throughout all of its states, this is nothing compared to what it can be."

Pure aggression flashes across your face.

"So... You mean to say the EiKerei brand is branching out to minor creators and your a fortunate victim?"

"Yes and omg, I think I'm ready to die happy."

"No way moron we've still got to actually post something and hold our end of the bargain [Name]",

Albedo groans, glaring at you as you struggle to lay the paintings he had so graciously brought over, against the silver nails newly embedded into your wall. Stretching on his calves, both you and him stretch higher up, cautiously looking underneath in the space between the wall and the painting. Before finally laying the prized art against the wall in all its glory.

Low and behold, just before you could breath a sigh of relief, the tip of your sock slides off the coach's back frame before betraying you into falling down to your ass.

"What in the world- OW-" grumbling, rubbing the sore in the back of your head as you glance back to see what you hit.

"What kind of crazy was that? Did you fall over your own feet? Are you alright?" Bedo questions, jumping down more gracefully then your landing in concern. Reaching to balance the back of your head with a pillow.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, dude I'm just a little light footed I guess... Did anything break? I think I hit the side table-"

Frantically checking your table's wares for damage, your fingers end up glazing over a singular knocked down frame.

Lifting it up, your breath lets out in a shaky, uneven quake, just a photo of highschool...

"Are you alright? The frame isn't broken right? I'd hope not, we might need to check for glass and-"

"No Bedo, it's uh, fine... That was me sighing over the photo not the frame. Everything's fine", you cut him off, focusing your sights on the photo in your lap, fingers grazing over its dusty glass. A thin layer of dust gathering on your fingers like a blanket as you hand him the frame.

"Huh... Isn't this your highschool photo? Looks like you forgot about it for a while..." Albedo perks up, raising one eyebrows as he blows over the dust and watches your expression sour.

"Wait a minute..."

"Correct me if I'm wrong... But isn't this the Ayato Kamisato from that new popular movie on Flix?"

"I wish it fucking wasn't."

@lilimalia do not copy, repost (on other platforms), or plagiarize ANY of my content

series list // NEXT

series taglist

[aphroditelovesu]

Kinktober Day Ten — Voyeurism

❝ — 💜 lady l: day ten of kinktober! I hope you like it, dear!!

❝💜pairing: yandere!taehyung x female!reader.

❝warnings: smut, NSFW, female and male masturbation, voyeurism, bad writing.

❝💜word count: 900.

Within an intimate space, a bedroom reveals a woman's unique personality. Dark tones dominate the room, creating a sophisticated and welcoming atmosphere. The walls are covered in an elegant charcoal gray, which serves as a canvas for a contemporary art collection. A large window, framed by black velvet curtains, lets in a soft filter of city light.

The centerpiece of this retreat is a king-size bed, with a luxurious midnight blue velvet duvet and silver satin pillows. To your right, a minimalist dark wood bedside table holds a lamp with a soft light for evenings reading. On the other side, a wall shelf displays a collection of contemporary literature books and pieces of art.

The floor is covered in a plush, graphite-colored carpet, inviting bare feet. A large full-length mirror, framed by wrought iron, reflects the splendor of the space and adds a feeling of spaciousness. Next to the window, a designer armchair with emerald green velvet upholstery offers a place to contemplate and gaze at the cityscape.

An integrated closet with mirrored doors reveals an arsenal of modern clothes and accessories, meticulously organized. Dimmable recessed lighting creates the perfect atmosphere for any occasion, from relaxing to getting ready for the evening.

In these rooms, dark tones combine with the elegance and personal style of the woman who inhabits it, creating a luxurious and welcoming retreat in the heart of the city of Seoul. This room was her refuge, the only place she felt comfortable and truly relaxed.

And it was her favorite place to relax and do something therapeutic and healthy for herself.

You were sprawled out on her bed, your head resting on your soft pillow, your eyes closed and your hands played with your breasts under the bra you were wearing.

You bit your lip and moved a little on the bed and placed your hands behind your back and unclasped your bra, exposing your breasts.

His fingers squeezed and massaged her sore breasts from spending so much time in a bra. You bit your lower lip and took your fingers to the waistband of your pants and played with the buttons until finally deciding to unbutton them. You lowered your pants and removed them, leaving you in just a pair of red, lacy panties.

When you were down to your underwear, a deep breath came from your closet. Someone, without your knowledge, was watching you and taking great advantage of it.

Taehyung knew what he was doing was wrong.

He knew it was wrong to spy on people, to break into their homes and hide in their closet when they weren't looking.

He knew all this but he didn't care.

Not when he had the privileged view of her practically naked body. You only wore a pair of red panties that he was sure you picked out for him. Such a naughty girl.

You really liked teasing him, didn't you? Always so naughty and desperate to be touched and fucked by him.

He licked his lips. Just a little longer, you just needed to wait a little longer.

His breathing became strained as you slid your index finger over your underwear, towards your slit. You let out a low, sly moan at the contact.

Taehyung couldn't move because otherwise he was sure he would be seen and he didn't want you to know about the love he felt for you like that. Without him noticing, his right hand went to his pants and squeezed the bulge that had formed due to his excitement.

He took a deep breath, biting back a groan when you reached inside your panties and started rubbing your clit. He followed your movements and slipped his hand inside the pants he was wearing, going through his underwear and feeling his cock.

You slid your panties off and got rid of them, finally exposing your beautiful pussy to him. The way he was, Taehyung could see your entire pussy and he salivated, his movements on his cock intensifying when you slipped a finger inside your cunt, moaning softly to yourself. He could clearly see your pussy greedily swallowing your finger and Taehyung regretted that it wasn't his cock being swallowed.

''Oh...'' You moaned as you inserted a second finger into your pussy and your thumb slowly rubbed against your clit. You groped your right breast with your free hand, moaning at the pleasure you felt.

''Fuck!'' Taehyung moaned softly as he touched himself harder, knowing he wouldn't take long to cum. He just hoped you wouldn't be long. The movements of his hand intensified as you fucked yourself with your fingers. You moaned loudly as your pleasure increased and your thumb rubbed your clit hard as your fingers were penetrated into your pussy.

You closed your eyes and fucked yourself harder, feeling incredibly turned on. Your mouth opened and you moaned loudly as you squirted, staining the sheets with your liquid, you continued rubbing yourself for a few more minutes until it became too much.

The moment you came, Taehyung released himself into his own hand, not taking his eyes off your body for even a minute, he moaned your name like a prayer as he came and breathed heavily.

He clenched his fists.

He couldn't wait any longer.

[thebunnyslibrary]

In The Woods Somewhere

summary. You go into the woods to take some photos...but find him instead

characters. Vampire!Bucky x Reader

word count. 4.8k

warnings. Dub!Con, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Stockholm-ish, mentions of violence/blood.

BunBun's Spoop-tober Collection Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Finally, your big break. You were finally getting the chance to publish a collection of your photos of haunted locations around New England with a real publishing company. Your final location was an abandoned church in the woods; thought to have been used by an early group of colonizers until it and the nearby settlement had been abandoned. No one knew for sure what had happened. Perhaps the colonizers had moved on? Maybe they were wiped out by plague? There was even a dark story of a minister who had started murdering villagers that were “unclean;” allegedly filling the church pews with corpses with slashed and bloody necks. Doing research on places before you took photos was one of your favorite parts; gathering information for the captions and essays you wrote to go with the photos.

After your parents had died while you were in college, it had left you feeling empty and directionless for some time. Then, after finally finishing your degree, you decided to use the money your parents had left you to buy a van and photograph the world.

You’d been working as a traveling photographer for a while now, doing gigs like weddings and events. You’d also managed to self-publish a few books and tried to sell your photos and art where you could. It wasn’t much but it kept you in gas money and beef jerky. You’d been all over North America and a few parts of South America. You were hoping to go international for a follow up book if this one was a success.

You pulled up to the walking trail that led into the forest. You had about an hour’s hike into the woods; knowing getting the shots at sunset would create perfect photos. You shrugged on your backpack with your supplies and with your camera case hand, headed off. The trees were washed in the golden hue of fall, starting to shed their leaves in preparation for their long winter sleep. A slight chill hung in the air but after 3 months of heat and humidity you were ready to be cold for a little bit.

Sometimes you listened to music when you hiked but today you’d decided to relish in the sounds of the forest.. Bird calls echoing off the trees, the rustling of the trail as you walked, squirrels and other small critters gathering their own winter supplies. A flock of geese calling out as they flew in v formation overhead and you quickly snapped a picture. Traveling and photography had given you an entirely deeper appreciation for nature and it’s beauty. An hour later, you stepped into the clearing where the church was set.

It was a small chapel, probably only fit to hold 10 or 15 people.  Most of the eastern wall had crumbled while the others were still partially there. Only one or two (maybe one and a half) benches were left; but you weren’t too sure about actually sitting on them. Still completely intact though, was the Archway that must’ve bene the entrance. Above it, was a bell; likely used to let the nearby colonizers know that church was starting. But on the bell was an inscription that could no longer be read. The language appeared to be Latin, but the words had been lost to time. You were raising your camera to take a picture, when a soft voice startled you

“Hi.” You turned suddenly and you were staring into crystal blue eyes. You jumped back but kept your eyes fixated on his. A man, maybe a little older than you had been standing right behind you.

“Oh! Uh…hi!” you said, blinking and taking more of him in now. Dressed in a black jacket over a fitting gray tee-shirt, dark jeans clinging to his legs, and silver rings adorned most of his fingers on his right hand. His left hand was hidden by a leather glove. His hair was pulled back in a man bun and a single ruby on a black chain hung from his left ear.

                “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I was just coming up the trail and I called out to you.” His voice was soft, with a hint of an eastern European accent, making a slight shiver go through you.

                “Sorry, I suppose I didn’t hear you.”

                “No worries, I’m James. But my friends call me Bucky” He reached out his hand for yours, taking it and telling him your own name. “I’m surprised to see someone else this far out in the woods.

“I’m here to take pictures.” You explained. “It’s a beautiful structure…what’s left of it anyways.”

“How interesting.” He said. “Are you a professional?”

“Well, sort of. I’m actually just finishing my first collection to be published. ‘New England’s Haunts and Its Future.’ I’m including the church with a piece on New England puritanism and its effects on today’s bigotries.”

He smirked. “I like it. I’ll have to make sure I order a copy of your book.” You both laughed. “You know the old England had some haunts too. All of Europe, in fact. Plenty of old spooky castles. You should definitely see them.”

“If my book goes well maybe.”

“Have you ever had your work in a gallery?” he asked.

                “Unfortunately, no. I’ve had my art displayed in some cafes here and there, but not much else.”

                “Pity, you seem passionate about your work, it must be nice.”

                “I’d call it nice, maybe good.” You beamed. “I’d actually like to get a few shots in, if you don’t mind. I can talk a little while I work though.” There was something about him. He unnerved you, if only slightly. But you also didn’t want him to leave. You wanted him to stay with you.

The two of you walked through the archway to stand on the overgrown stone floor, flowers and dandelions peeking through the cracks. As you walked up what used to be aisle and could almost make out where the other pews had been. Maybe it was the sunset, maybe It was your imagination, but along the floor, the stones seemed eerily stained red.

                Again, Bucky’s closeness startled you, but this time, you seemed frozen to the floor.

“You know, darling. There’s one thing I’d love. Could you take a picture of me under the archway? It would make for a great dating profile picture.” He winked at you. And you felt your face warm up.

“Sure, why not.” You focused your camera on him and his eyes seemed to flash red at you. You gasped before snapping the button, but only cursed and brushed it off as red eye-syndrome. You took one more picture and this time, it seemed normal. You pulled it away and waited as the picture loaded. Your book would hopefully lead to some newer equipment. Bucky stood behind you suddenly, but again you were frozen to place; only this time with his chest firmly against his back.

As the picture loaded on the screen, your stomach dropped. The picture was empty. the archway was still in there. But Bucky wasn’t.

You turned around and his smile was downright predatory. Revealing two pearly white fangs. But his eyes, they were bright crimson red.

                “That’s…. those can’t be real…your eyes, your teeth…” you said, feeling your heart drop into your stomach

                “Oh, my darling. They are ALL too real…little girls like you should know better than to go out after sunset.” You should be running, fighting back, anything. But you can’t. You’re staring into his deep red eyes and you can’t move. “No, printsessa. I can’t have you running away. Not when you smell so delightful.” His arms wrapped slowly around your waist, pulling you closer to you. “Not to mention how beautiful you are. You are exactly what I’ve been searching for.” He whispered in your ear. Before you could blink, you felt a sharp pain in your neck and the world went dark.

You awoke in a soft bed, softer than anything you’d felt before. A bed, but you’d been… Oh fuck… You shot upright quickly as you remembered what happened. What greeted you was a dimly lit room. A wall of immense windows letting the moonlight stream in while a fire roared in the fireplace. Low lamp light gave let you see to see immense bookshelves lining the rest of walls. You started to panic. That freak had knocked you out, now you were in some cabin somewhere. You were still wearing the same clothes, but you had no clue where you were.

                “My my, finally awake. I suppose I did drink a bit more than necessary. But I just couldn’t help myself. You were just absolutely delicious.” You looked and saw Bucky. He’d been sitting by the fire until he stood up and moved towards the bed. You could see he was wearing black t-shirt and sweatpants, but what you hadn’t seen before…was his metal arm. His hand had been covered by the glove, but now you could see the moonlight glinting off it. You caught yourself staring and remembered what had happened last time you’d stared at him.

                “What did you do to me you sicko?” You lowered your eyes to the floor, trying to move out of the bed without tripping. You heard him chuckle.

“What’s wrong baby doll, you don’t wanna to look at me? “

“No! I just wanna go home. Please.” You tried to be strong but you were trembling as you tried to keep your eyes low enough. You desperately searched for anything sharp or heavy, settling on the lamp and reaching to pick it up, but before you could, you found yourself pinned face down on the bed, your arms trapped behind you. You struggled against him, but he hardly moved. His voice in your ear.

                “Poor little bunny. You know what really happened. Or do you need a reminder?” You felt something scrape against your neck. Fangs.             

                “That’s…. you’re not…”

                “Oh, but I am doll. And I don’t think I’ve found anything I’ve ever wanted more in my centuries of living.” He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “Your trembling is so adorable baby girl. It makes me want to ravage you until you cry for me.” His hand wandered down to your jeans and your breathing turned shallow. There was an ache deep between your thighs that wanted to call out for him, but you were still scared of what he’d done.

“No, I won’t have my beloved scared of my touch.” He said, gently pressing a kiss to your neck before moving to help you stand up. Your legs were much wobblier and you found yourself leaning against him. You stared at his chest and quietly spoke. “Bucky, please. Where are we?”

“We’re at my cabin. I’d like to show you around; as this is to be your home too. If you promise to behave.” Deep down, you still felt petrified. But an inner voice said that if he had already wanted you dead, you would be. Besides, you hadn’t noticed before, but something about his smell was so enticing to you. Cinnamon and smoke, with a slight…metallic underlay.

                “If…If I go with you willingly…will YOU keep it that way?” you asked, trying to sound firm. You could hear the amusement in his voice.

                “I see my little bunny can stand her ground. No, I will not control you that way like before.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. Taking a deep breath, you lifted your head to look at him.  His hair was still pulled back into a loose bun, moonlight casting shadows on his sharp cheekbones led down into full lips. And those eyes. You would never forget the deep red color before he drank from you. Now instead they were crystal pools. As unending as the sky. Like you could stare forever. But you blinked away, acknowledging he had kept his promise. You moved away from him and instead toward the windows.

                “If you are…a vampire…why the windows? I thought you were supposed to avoid natural light.” He chuckled. And walked a normal pace now to stand next to you as you both stared out into the forest.

                “Any creature can be exposed to too much sun. We just have much a lower tolerance limit. I have heavy black out curtains for the day…but I cannot find it in myself to give up this view.” He pointed up towards the stars. You didn’t think you’d ever seen so many. But a rumble of thunder off in the distance caught your attention you saw flashes of lightning. A storm was moving in soon, and you could feel your resolve to escape crumble slightly. Where could you go in a storm?

                “How exactly…did you become…?” you asked, hesitantly, not wanting to upset him and trying to focus on anything other than his closeness. You’d always thought trying to…humanize…your enemy so to speak was supposed to help keep you safe. He smiled.

“A vampire…Well, I would imagine you know how.” He chuckled and you found yourself chucking as well. “Where Romania is now, I was a simple farmer. Goats mostly. Then one night, a creature attacked our village.” He paused. “Killed my sister. I tried to fight back, and something about that… He changed me instead of killing me. Figured it was some cruel punishment, killing everyone I knew and loved and leaving me alone.” You felt your heart tug. As if sensing your sadness, he turned and shook his head.

“Don’t worry too much about it, I got my revenge. Afterwards I stayed low, kept to myself for a few centuries. Until the world erupted into war. I refused to keep to myself. That’s how I lost my arm. When the Germans found out what I was; they tried to use my powers to make more. They took my arm to see if they could clone me. Then they gave me this one and tried to turn us into a weapon of war. Only their plans backfired. They couldn’t control them. They eventually all killed each other…at least the ones I didn’t kill first.” He was quiet for a moment and you almost started to panic. But he let out a sigh.

“After the war, I settled here. Made my home, invested some wise money, now I have a little peace.” He turned to you. You felt your heart ache for him. “But I have waited so long for something so enticing as you.” He started to move closer, but you still were nervous, taking a step back.

                “Wait uhm... I thought you wanted to show me around.” You reminded him, trying to distract him. He smiled and let out a deep sigh.

                “I suppose I did. Well, you’ve seen the bedroom and its extensive library. But there’s an even bigger one downstairs. Come.” He took your hand with his metal one and led you towards the door. You felt less scared following him now; you still could feel yourself wanting to resist and struggle. But he was holding your hand too tightly.

                As the two of you toured through the large Tudor cabin (mansion, it seemed), you took note of the art on the walls. Beautiful photographs of places around the world; paintings you wanted to stare at for hours; Bucky having to pull you away from a particularly intriguing work from the Harlem Renaissance.  The two of you talked. Bucky had been to many of the places you hoped to go. And some of the ones you’d already been to. It was nice to find someone like yourself, a wanderer.

                “I suppose after my parents died; I just felt a little lost.” You told him “I didn’t have a big family, no siblings, so I just decided to be free. It’d at least be nice to have a home base someday though.” You mused.

                “I can understand. I’ve actually lived on this land for some years, even before what happened to me. It’s actually owned by an Indigenous tribe. I bought it outright around the 1800s when the government tried to push them out, then gave it back to them. I only asked they let me build a small cabin on the outer edges.” Your jaw dropped. “But…do they know…?” You asked, still having trouble believing it for yourself.  He paused and smiled.

                “In my lengthy time, you meet many people who believe many different things. I’ve learned to appreciate many human cultures, and to always show respect where it is deserved. And not to tolerate those who would degrade it.” He said, then kept leading you on, with you following a little bit closer. You two walked into a room you definitely didn’t expect to find. A Kitchen.

                “It was easier to build than to ever explain why there wasn’t one. Plus, I have a supplier who steals blood from some hoity toity government hospital and I need somewhere to keep it cold. You’d be surprised at the amount of blood they keep on reserve for those rich old bastards.” He rolled his eyes and you managed a genuine laugh. “I don’t know I would.” He smiled at you before continuing out of the room, with you following almost eagerly behind. The tour led down one last hallway to a set of double doors.

                “Now my favorite room. My private study.” He opened the doors. A library that could’ve easily fit 10 of your vans with celling high bookshelves stretched before your eyes. A cozy looking couch sat across from either one of the 2 fire places on opposite walls, and a huge bay window revealed the storm had truly arrived. Gone was the moon, here were flashes of lightening and roars of thunder. In front of the windows sat a big mahogany desk. You strode over to the desk, to see out the window and there on his desk was a stack of all of your books. As you looked back towards him you could see on the walls, one of your photographs.

                It was one you’d camped out and waited all night for in the woods. But you’d caught them, a pack of wolves running through the woods under a moonlit sky.

                “I saw it in a little café in Boston and had to have it. I’ve been following you for quite some time. Literally.” He chuckled. “I became enraptured with you. Your pictures moved me. How you always seemed to capture both the joyful and the macabre sides of humanity. That’s why I had to get your book published. So, I bought the publishing company to make it happen” You turned to him in disbelief.

                “Bucky, you…you didn’t…you couldn’t have…”

                “Oh, but yes I did, doll. It’s what you’ve wanted, what you’ve desired.” His voice dropped. He licked his lips and moved closer to you. “And now, my little bunny rabbit. It’s time to take what I have desired for so long.” He grabbed your hand and tugged you back towards the desk, using his strength to lift you up and pin you down on your back, minding your head.

 His confession, his obsession, even with his charming personality, you felt fear flaring up inside you anyways.  “Wait please…” you pleaded, pressing your hand against his chest.

                “No more waiting printsessa. It’s time. I need to satisfy my thirst. And my lust. And I cannot resist the sound of your pulse screaming out for me.” He paused, pressing his hips more against yours. You wanted to resist, wanted to push harder against him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Instead, you wanted to bring him closer.

                “No…you gave your word…” you begged, desperately.

                “I did. And I’ve kept that word. I did nothing to control you. I just failed to mention that my natural state is to lure you in. Until you’re caught like a fly in my web and you don’t even realize it.” He purred, trailing kisses down your cheek. “You’re in my home, surrounded by me, breathing me in until slowly and slowly your defenses have lowered, until you don’t even have the strength to push me away.”

                 He was right. You had wanted to resist him but you’d felt it crumbling more and more. Like the walls of that stone church. You were gripping his shirt not to push him away, but wanting to pull him close. Handsome, intelligent, alluring. Your thighs clenched with want.

                “When I first drank your blood, there was a taste of fear that was indescribable. But now I know, lust will make it even sweeter.” He grabbed your hips and lifted you onto the desk. “So beautiful, but so…fragile.” His fleshed hand wrapped around your throat; you could feel the bitemarks as his thumb ran over them. “You know all I’d have to do is squeeze, right? And I’d crush this fragile beautiful throat. You’re so delicate.” His voice was low. You were still afraid, but that fear was streaked with desire. You wanted to give yourself to him, no matter what the cost.

                “Please…Bucky…” you whimpered, not even sure what you were asking for.

                “Please what, baby? Tell me. Tell me you want me to ravage you like the beast that I am. I can smell your pussy; you must be absolutely dripping by now.” You were drowning. And he was oxygen.

                “Yes.” You barely breathed the word out before his lips were on yours. He slowly pushed you to lay down on the desk. You could hear rumbling in your ears. You couldn’t tell if it was the storm, or your heartbeat. But judging by how Bucky was staring down at you, you assumed the latter.

“You’re so excited aren’t you, doll? You want me to fuck you, make you my slut. And I will, you are never leaving me.” He pulling away, making you whine in desperation, but his only response was to growl as he ripped your jeans down, your shoes falling away and leaving only your panties covering your pussy. He knelt between them, putting your legs over his shoulder, and inhaled deeply.

                “Fuck.” He groaned. “You are soaking wet. How long have you been hiding this, huh? Since I first drank your blood, or from when I told you that I am absolutely obsessed with you? What a shameless slut.” His words, that voice, you would listen to him forever if he wanted, anything to get him to touch you. His fingers moved slowly, stroking you over your panties.

                “I’ve dreamed about eating this pussy for so long, and now I’m going to savor every moment.” You tried to buck your hips as he nipped at your thigh, but his silver arm held you firm. In the bright light of the fire, you could see how each of the platelets moved as he gripped you tighter. You looked back down at him between your legs and knew he’d seen you staring.   

                “Someday I’ll show you everything it can do baby. But for now...” He pulled your panties aside and started with soft licks to your clit while two fingers gently worked inside you. His touch was so gentile compared to the monster you’d feared him as. Your soft moan turned into a shriek as the edge of his fang nipped you.

                “I told you, love. Desire will make the blood so much sweeter. I know you want me. Want to be my little snack for all eternity.” His fingers sped up, rubbing that special spot inside you that make you cry out with reckless abandon.

                “Bucky…Bucky…don’t stop…oooh…” you moaned. Your hands clasping for structure and finding none. His tongue resumed its ministrations on your clit, never even giving his words a chance to wash over you as your knees began to shake. You could feel the erratic patterns his tongue was laving on your clit, driving your climax further to its breaking point.

                “Cum for me, darling. Give yourself to me.” His words were your undoing as you screamed his name. Cumming harder than you could have ever imagined possible. And true to his word, his tongue lapped up every drop it could, sucking his fingers clean. You lay against the cool desk, your body burning with desire and you locked eyes with him, not caring to look away. He smiled, showing off his fangs. “Oh, baby girl, between your blood and your pussy, I’ll never go hungry again.”

                Standing up and leaning over to kiss you, you found yourself tugging at his shirt, trying to get his skin on yours again.

                “Bucky please…need you…” you begged.

                “How can I deny such a sweet bunny like you?” He rid himself of his shirt and sweatpants as you followed suit, dropping your panties to the floor. Your eyes widened at the size of his cock. You’d had your fun with toys but he was something else.  You could see pre-cum dribbling down the side and you wanted to close your legs, but Bucky stood between them

                “Don’t look so afraid, doll. I know a good slut like you can take my cock in that pretty pussy.” He rubbed the head of his cock against your slit and you tried to push your hips up. He pinched your thigh, making you squeak. With his spare hand, he gathered your hands in his strong metal one, pinning them above you to the surface of the desk. His cock teased your entrance and you both moaned.

                “You’re mine now, understand. Heart, body, mind.” He kissed from your temple to your ear. “I own you down to your very soul. Forever.” You nodded. He was a vampire. He was obsessed with you. He’d likely hunted you down for weeks. But none of that mattered now. You needed him.

                “Yes, Bucky. I’m yours. You’re mine.” Bucky smiled and pushed his cock into you, slowly; letting you feel the stretch of him filling you up.

                “Yes, darling. I’m yours. Yours to keep satisfied. Yours to use you as a little fuck toy when I need it.” His pace became rougher, fucking you; squeezing your wrists tighter until you yelped. Then he slowed his hips, letting you now revel in the pleasure you felt. He started rubbing at your still sensitive clit, making you clench around him.  He growled deeply and you gasped as his eyes flashed crimson.

                “Oh, baby doll, don’t play with fire if you don’t want to end up burnt.” He said, his voice lower and huskier. You knew he was getting closer to his own release when his pace picked up again. Not as punishing as before, but you felt his lust, his carnality in every thrust. And it only drove you crazier.

                “When you cum, I’m going to drink from you again and you will be bound to me, my mate, my slut, little morsel.

                “Yes…Bucky yes…please…” closer and closer you edged until he let out a low growl.

                “If you don’t cum right now, I have no problem chaining you in my basement and edging you until the next full moon. Now. Cum.” The idea alone sent you over the edge, screaming out as he bit down fiercely on your neck, drinking from you again. He kept fucking you through his own orgasm, but did not drink as much as he did last time. Only just enough to make you light headed. When he finished, you two lay there a few moments, you breathing heavily as Bucky seemed to still above you. As you floated back down, your body seemed to go even more limp.

                “Such a good girl.” Bucky released your wrists, but you didn’t have the strength to move your arms. Instead, he cupped your chin in his hand and kissed you with your blood streaked across his lips. He kissed passionately and deeply, until your toes curled and you knew he meant what he said. 

                Not bothering to remove himself, Bucky helped you wrapped your arms around him and he carried you over to one of the enormous couches by the fire. Grabbing a blanket off the back and swaddling you both. “You’ll have to sleep for a little while now. But when you wake up, you’ll live forever.” His words seeped into your brain, but there was nothing you could do now. You heard him speak again.

“You wanna know the real story behind those people?” Bucky asked and you made a noise of half-committal. “Well, those colonizers weren’t hard to pick off.” In that moment, you were reminded that though he seemed to have a soft spot for you, there were also very, very dark spots. You shuddered, but it was quickly washed away by the feeling of his metal arm, holding you tighter.

“Don’t worry darling,” he purred. “Think of all the beautiful photos you can take in the moonlight.

[rotworld]

The Vow

art by @exorbitantsqueakingnoises

you were born into the secretive and gruesome world of house mandragora, paired with an apprentice assassin who dreams of the day he will die for you. if you go through with your dangerous plans, that day may come sooner than either of you are prepared for.

->original work. basically explicit; contains graphic descriptions of violence, extremely dubious consent (coercive/fuck or die-adjacent), manipulation, power imbalance.

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On the morning of the end of it all, you wake to the sound of rain. The black canopy curtains have been tied to the posts of your bed and your room is awash with the dull, stormy light and drizzling shadows of a downpour. Merrill sits in a chair by the window, still and silent, already dressed in his black bodysuit and form-fitting armor. He’s probably been there for hours, watching you sleep. 

“Good morning,” he says, terse and serious as always. “Today’s the day.” 

He stays there while you prepare for the day, his piercing stare following you back and forth across the room. Everything you do feels unusually weighted and final. Normally, there would be some small talk—at least, you would talk and Merrill would nod or grunt in acknowledgement, or even grace you with a curt reply. Today, you’re both silent and haunted by anticipation. Merill doesn’t move until you’re nearly finished dressing. You don’t hear him stand up or cross the room. Like a phantom, he rises soundlessly and walks to you with unnatural grace. He kneels, dexterous fingers quickly lacing up your boots in a fraction of the time it would take you to do the same. 

“You’ll protect me, won’t you?” you ask him. 

Merrill looks up at you with awe and reverence, his eyes half-lidded and his gaze heated. His hand caresses the back of your leg, his gloved palm sliding up and down your calf. This is one of the only times he smiles; when you make a request. When you give an order. When he kills. “Of course,” he whispers. “Always.” 

“From everything? From anyone?” 

“Yes,” he says without hesitation. He nuzzles against your leg like a dog, legs pressed tightly together as he resists the urge to grind against you. 

You are Merrill’s whole world. Promised to one another when you were too young to know what that meant, you were raised in conjoined Houses; he in the spartan halls where children become weapons, you in this dark, cloistered manor where death and life are intertwined. You can still remember the day you were first permitted to see each other in the courtyard that joined your worlds—a solemn and severe teenage boy clad in an assassin’s vestments, blades sheathed and strapped all across his body. His cold gaze melted the moment you saw each other. He stared, wide-eyed and breathless like he’d seen something beautiful for the first time in his life. 

He would fight for you. Bleed for you. Die for you. There’s nothing he wants more. 

This is a cruel thing to do to him, but he’s the only one you trust.

Merrill is your shadow on the long, dreary walk to the dining hall. Thunder rumbles beyond the arched windows and lightning illuminates the gardens, leaves and branches bobbing beneath sheets of rain. The dining hall is lit by a silver chandelier, dangling strings of crystal resembling dew on a spider’s web. Portraits of your predecessors hang on the wood panel walls in decorative frames, posed sullen-faced in crypts and cemeteries. You’re the last to arrive for breakfast. A long table meant for lavish dinner parties is only sparsely occupied. Four seats are taken at the far end of the room by a handful of your elders and instructors. Each is accompanied by a small group of revenants, fully armed and armored, who remain standing, chatting quietly over the heads of those seated. 

They frighten you. They always have, no matter how polite they are. Their silver, reflective eyes and corpse-like complexions are a constant, inescapable reminder of what’s soon to be expected of you. Their attention is suffocating. You can’t stand in a room with one and feel like you have any secrets left.

Every eye turns towards the open doorway when you appear with Merrill. Wordlessly, you walk  the length of the table until you reach your seat. You nod politely to Orcus, seated at the head of the table. Merrill bows to the revenants before he assumes his post beside you.  Breakfast waits for you beneath a silver cloche: eggs and toast with an assortment of sweet and savory accompaniments to choose from, green garnish and washed roots fresh from the garden, everything artfully arranged on a plate with a floral pattern ringing the edge. 

“No hello?” Orcus says wryly. “You’re in a mood this morning.” He wears fine, corset-cinched robes and heavy jeweled necklaces befitting the head of House Mandragora, snow white hair tied in a high ponytail. An outsider might assume he is frail, getting on in years, from his wrinkled face and thin, bony hands. And it’s true, he’s the oldest among you—far older than most people would ever guess—but it would be a mistake to underestimate him. His plate is empty except for a few slender, pale orange roots with leafy green stems. Hemlock, you think with a frown. You don’t know how he eats it raw like that. The taste is far too musty for you.

“Good morning,” you mutter. “Please pass the jam.” 

It’s not Orcus who does it but one of his revenants. Gideon leans over the table and arranges each glass jar on a long silver tray, so careful with the clawed tips of his gloves that you never hear them clink against something. He comes over to your seat, inclining his head in a bow before he sets the tray beside your plate. You thank him sheepishly and he grins, leaning against the table with his arms crossed over his chest. Standing on your other side, Merrill watches him. Not with suspicion but with attentive interest; the eager gaze of a student towards his beloved teacher. 

Gideon is everything he has been taught to work towards. He is utterly silent when he moves even as he passes over the same floorboards that creaked and groaned beneath your feet. He is tall, lithely muscled and honed to swift, lethal perfection. His hair is dark and he is permitted to wear it long unlike Merrill’s short, precise cut that ends at his nape. He smiles, too, even when he isn’t in the field or catering to Orcus’ every whim. 

His eyes were blue once. They’ve calcified to metallic silver, shimmery like an animal in the dark. 

“What has you so tense this morning?” he asks playfully. 

“Nothing,” you say, focused on slathering a generous helping of pink jam onto your toast. Foxglove, says the label. It has a sharp, bitter tang that fizzles on your tongue.

“Your apprenticeship is almost over. You’ll be an official member of House Mandragora soon. Aren’t you excited?” 

“Can’t wait,” you say glumly. 

“I never should’ve let you go to public school,” Orcus laments. “You’ve been difficult ever since. What on earth does that wretched world have to offer you?” 

Choice, you think. You don’t dare speak the word aloud. Choices are what you found out there. There are so many things people can be. Not just what was decided for them. Not just the House they were born into. You’ll never have that here. The others try to draw you into a conversation about politics and alliances, how amusingly the distant Main House has conducted itself as of late, but you’re unenthusiastic. The revenants are leering at you, whispering with hooded gazes. Wondering who among them will have the privilege to taste you.

“You could be our new representative to the Main House,” one of your instructors mentions, hoping to entice you into anything more than apathy. “Most of us don’t care for socialization or those tiring soirees they love to host. Perhaps you would enjoy those.” 

“I’d rather not,” you say. 

“Well, we could always use more apothecaries. The gardens are also a splendid place to work.” 

“Mhm,” you say. You reach for the jar of wolf’s bane jam, the sticky sweetness inside dark purple.

“Or you could tell us what you want instead of making us guess,” Orcus says brusquely. Your eyes meet across the table. You know he cares in his own strange way, as much as anyone in House Mandragora cares about anyone else. He sent you to the Main House sometimes as a child in the hopes of easing your loneliness, setting up playdates with children who ultimately were too afraid to come near you. He let you out in the garden when you should have been studying, or brought you with him to the revenant’s leisure quarters where they cooed and fawned over you.

Your silence tells him all the things you know you can’t say. He sighs heavily. 

“House Mandragora fulfills a very important purpose,” he says. “There is no one else who can do what we are capable of.”

“I know,” you say quietly. 

“Our work is sacred. It is vital to the Main House and necessary for all of humanity. Without us, those who inflict sickness on the world would not be culled.” 

“I know that,” you insist. 

“Only we can do this,” Orcus says sternly. “We are few in number because it is a rare thing to birth a new being from both life and death. Each one of us is precious. Each one of us has a role we must fulfill—”

Your silverware clatters on your plate and you shove your chair back, standing abruptly. Gideon frowns. Merrill looks at you with concern. “I would like to begin my studies for the day,” you say. 

Orcus’s brows furrow in irritation. You confound him. You always have. You wonder often if you were a mistake, or if his impulsive kindness in your youth was a strangeness the likes of which House Mandragora has never experienced before. “You may go,” he says coldly. You do, without hesitation. You can feel them watching—your elders, disapproving. The revenants, curious and hungry. Merrill follows you into the hallway, easily matching your rushed pace. 

“You’re upset,” he says. 

You shake your head. “I’m fine.” You pass elaborate wall sconces and decorative alcoves with sculptures and old vases, open doorways to libraries and laboratories. Such a vast, sprawling place, and so empty. It was so frightening to be the only child here. You stop beside an arched window adorned with intricate Gothic stonework, looking out at the rain churning the mud. The garden grows wild with prickly leaves and bright blossoms; larkspur, lily of the valley, clumps of hydrangea and shy blooms of bloodwort. 

“I wish I could help. I wish I understood better,” Merrill admits. 

You wish he did, too. You wish anyone here did. “Doesn’t it scare you?” 

“What?” he asks.

“Dying.” 

He doesn’t answer. You turn and he quickly averts his eyes, his smile small and trembling. “No,” he says. “Not at all. I’ve dreamed of all the ways it might happen.” He glances up shyly, his smile waning at the sight of your discomfort. “Are…are you afraid?” His expression softens. He moves closer. He reaches for you slowly, giving you time to back away or reject him. When you don’t, he cups his fingers beneath yours. He holds your hands like each is a precious treasure. “Are you afraid of me dying? For you, and for the House? You don’t have to be. I want it more than anything.”

You pull away slowly. Merrill lets you go. You see just a twinge of fear and hurt before he covers it with his usual stoic facade. “Will you uphold your vow?” you ask him. 

He doesn’t smile but he nods resolutely and stands straighter. “Yes,” he says. “Always.”

“Thank you, Merrill.” 

The sound of his name makes him shiver and bite his lip. He nods again and you try not to feel so guilty.

You have to wait until evening. Your instructors are nosy throughout the day, a constant rotation of concerned faces peeking into the study where you’ve sequestered yourself. The revenants are more active at night when everyone else goes to sleep, so you don’t have long. As the sky darkens and the rain keeps falling, Merrill follows you through the courtyard. He holds the umbrella while you fumble with a keyring pilfered from one of your instructors, each thin piece of metals bearing a decorative flower at its base. This overgrown shack in the corner of the garden conceals the entrance to the Sending Tunnels, a covert pathway for the revenants to leave the House and perform their duties. Its dark, subterranean passageways fork and wind in a dizzying labyrinth that would be easy to get lost in, but Merrill has been taught how to navigate it blindfolded. 

You’ve checked the schedule and no one is coming and going at this hour. This is your best chance. One of the exits feeds directly into a subway tunnel in the heart of the city. You could be long gone by the time they even realize you’re missing.

“You’re certain you want to do this?” Merrill asks, so quietly you almost don’t hear him over the constant hiss of the rain. 

“You promised you would help me,” you say.

“I did. I will. Always. But are you sure about this? No one is permitted to abandon the House. They’ll hunt us for the rest of our lives.” He doesn’t sound afraid. He doesn’t even sound upset. Matter of fact and mild as always, Merrill simply seeks clear orders and your approval. You wish you didn’t have to get him involved. You wish his House hadn’t made him what he was, so eager to please you that he would turn his back on everything he’s ever known just because you asked.

It takes a few tries but you find the right key decorated with the pinwheel blossom of an oleander flower. The lock turns and clicks. You push the door and it creaks open, a musty smell emerging from inside. “Yes,” you say. “This is what I want.” You want to show him the world outside this place. Maybe he’ll love it, simply because you do.

Stone steps descend into deep, oppressive darkness. The air is cold and ancient, choked with dust. The only lights in the Sending Tunnels are lanterns affixed to the walls, and they are few and far between. Merrill holds your arm, gently guiding you in the void between with soft tugs and whispers. You think you’ve made several turns, that the path might have sunk even deeper into the earth, but you aren’t certain. 

Several times, you think you feel wind. A sudden chill, or the breeze of movement gusting past you. Something could be here and you wouldn’t know, you realize. But Merrill would, surely. He would sense danger coming long before it reached you. 

“You’re shivering,” he says. 

“I didn’t know it was like this down here,” you admit. “How far is it?”

“It’s…right here.” He sounds reluctant. Nervous, you think.

You can’t see anything. Then a light flickers—a lantern turns on in the tunnel ahead, switched on by clawed fingers. Gideon steps forward and your heart sinks. Those aren’t shadows in the tunnel behind him. Those are revenants standing shoulder to shoulder, blocking your path. They raise their heads in unison and the glint of lantern light makes their eyes shine. The scuff of footsteps on the stone behind you is deliberate, a way of letting you know you’re surrounded. 

“I made a bet with Orcus this morning,” Gideon says. He saunters closer. Merrill’s arm slips away and he puts himself between you. His hands twitch at his sides, fighting the instinct to draw a weapon. “He’ll be disappointed to know he lost.” 

“Gideon, please,” you beg him. “I don’t belong here. You have to know that. Everyone knows. There’s no point in keeping me here.” 

“Of course you belong here. Every member of House Mandragora is precious and irreplaceable.” He takes another step and you see Merrill bristle like an angry cat, muscles taut and shoulders heaving with heavy, anxious breath. Gideon tilts his head, regarding Merrill with an expression of amusement. “Do you uphold your vows, brother?” 

Merrill trembles. “Yes.” 

“Against everything?” Gideon asks. “And everyone?” 

Merrill turns to look at you. On his face is an expression of sheer, unbridled joy. “Yes,” he breathes. Gideon grasps his shoulder with one hand. The other plunges into Merrill’s chest like a dagger, punching all the way through flesh, bone and armored bodysuit in a sickening burst of blood. You’re too shocked to scream. Merrill holds your gaze even as dark droplets spatter the floor at his feet. Blood trickles from the corners of his blissful smile. When Gideon rips his hand back out, he sinks to his knees, clutching the gaping wound. You can see soft, pulsating things and the glint of fractured bone poking through the hole in his chest. He shudders and coughs, a watery red clump pouring from his lips. 

In shock and disbelief, you drop to the ground beside Merrill. He rolls onto his back and you frame his face in your hands, tears rolling down your cheeks. He clasps your hand against his face with shaky fingers. He nuzzles against it, kissing your palm. His eyelids flutter. He’s losing too much blood. You hear the revenants whispering above you, excited, expectant, and you suddenly understand. This is not a punishment. Merrill didn’t tremble with fear before, but with anticipation. 

“You told them,” you realize. “You were never going to help me leave.” He might not hear you, or he might not care. He groans in agony and clings to your hand. 

“He protected you from yourself,” Gideon tells you. He shakes his hand, splattering Merrill’s blood on the floor. “From your recklessness. From your shortsighted, pointless rebellion.” When you do nothing but wordlessly shudder and cry, he crouches beside you with a pitying expression. You flinch when his claw grips your shoulder, blood staining your sleeve. His eyes glint in predatory delight in the dark. “He’s going to die,” he tells you with a smile. 

You can barely see through your tears, everything twisting light and shadow and blood. This isn’t a choice. It never was. This is the next step on the only path you’re allowed to take. Inevitable, no matter how hard you fight. Merrill’s grip loosens. His gaze grows distant. He stops coughing and trembling, sagging against the ground. You do what you were always going to do, somehow, someday. You climb on top of him, laying over his body and the hole through his center, feeling his pulse slow and stutter in his chest. You press your lips against his. 

The first death is misery. Orcus told you it would be. It is pain unlike any other, heat and sharpness and unmaking. Merrill shivers under you. Then he flinches. Then he convulses, legs kicking and flailing under you, hands clenching and unclenching. His eyes roll back in his head and if he had the strength, he would be screaming. He makes horrible choking sounds, his fingers scraping the floor until his nails break and his fingers bleed. The saliva dribbling down his chin and pouring out the sides of his mouth is a dark greenish-yellow like bile. His heart is shaking uselessly. His lungs are paralyzed. His nerves are on fire and his insides are corroding, the hole in his chest sloshing with pinkish foam and dark red sludge. 

The poison in your body could’ve killed every revenant in the tunnel when they still lived.

You can feel the change when it takes him. Merrill goes frighteningly still for a moment and then he gasps. His chest heaves with harsh, sucking breaths and he wraps his arms around you, one hand cupping the back of your head while the other slides down to your waist. He’s ravenous when his strength returns, kissing you back with tongue and teeth. His hips push up against you and you gasp at the sudden hardness straining against his bodysuit between his legs. 

“Yes,” he moans between eager nips and licks and bites. “Oh, it’s—it’s even better than I imagined. You taste like heaven.” 

The first resurrection is bliss. They all are, Orcus says, but your revenant will chase the perfect ecstasy of that first soul-searing sensation after oblivion for the rest of eternity. Merrill kisses you hungrily, his tongue curling against yours. The taste of you has gone from rancid to the sweetest ambrosia and he strokes your cheek, smooths his thumb along your jaw, tilts your head into a better angle so he can swallow even more of your poison. You’ve never kissed before, never felt the throbbing thickness of his arousal so close to your center. It makes you whimper and hold onto him tighter. 

“Move with me,” he begs you. Both of his hands move lower, cupping the swell of your ass through your robes. It’s bold of him, unthinkable only hours ago, but he’s not just an apprentice anymore. He pulls you into the shaky, rolling motions of his hips. You gasp and shudder together at the pleasant friction. “Like that,” he whispers. “Use me. I’m yours.” He encourages you with soft, pleading kisses, squeezing and kneading your ass. 

You forget everything—where you are and why, that anything else exists. All that matters is Merrill, warm and writhing and kissing you breathless. The sound he makes when you frantically grind down on him is almost wounded, desperate, shaky keening. 

“And you’re mine. Mine forever,” he babbles, half-muffled against your lips. “You’ll have others, I know you will. But I’m your first. I’ll always be your first. I knew the taste of you before anyone else.” He chants praise and encouragement even when you break the kiss, overwhelmed and sensitive in ways you’ve never experienced before. You bury your face in his neck and blanket your body over his, mindlessly rutting your clothed sex against his. “Don’t stop,” he whispers, his breath warming your ear. “Keep going. Doesn’t it feel good?” His breathing gets harsher, his moans louder, as he bucks up into your thrusts. 

You cry out and stiffen against Merrill, hips shaking in frantic movements as you reach your peak. He tilts your chin and claims your mouth while you’re still catching your breath. It’s your poison on his tongue that pushes him over the edge. He groans as he licks into your mouth and pulls your hips roughly against his in several last hard thrusts. You go limp against him and Merrill cushions your head against his chest—whole again, healed over beneath shattered armor and torn fabric. His hands stroke your head and down your back. 

You regain awareness of your surroundings gradually. You’re too tired for shame, too weary for anger. The revenants encircling you fall to one knee, their heads bowed, honoring your ascension to House Mandragora. 

Your revenant takes your hand and presses it to his lips. His smile is wide. His eyes gleam silver.

[the-forest-library]

January 2024 Reads

The Gentlemen's Gambit - Evie Dunmore

A Lady Guide's to Mischief and Mayhem - Manda Collins

The Ladies Rewrite the Rules - Suzanne Allain

One Night in Hartswood - Emma Denny

The Breakup Tour - Emily Wibberley

Places We've Never Been - Kasie West

Most Ardently - Gabe Cole Novoa

Okay, Cupid - Mason Deaver

Love, Me - Jessica Saunders

Dungeons and Drama - Kristy Boyce

Seven Percent of Ro Devereux - Ellen O'Clover

Eight Dates and Nights - Betsy Aldredge

Rules for Being a Girl - Candace Bushnell, Katie Cotungo

The Christmas Wish - Lindsey Kelk

After the Forest - Kell Woods

All the Hidden Paths - For Meadows

Shady Hollow - Juneau Black

Strong Poison - Dorothy L. Sayers

The Silver Chair - C.S. Lewis

The Chalice of the Gods - Rick Riordan

The Marvelous Magic of Miss Mabel - Natasha Lowe

Elf Dog and Owl Head - M.T. Anderson

Winter - Kelsey E. Gross

The Bookstore Cat - Cylin Busby

The Glass Castle - Jeannette Walls

Brain on Fire - Susannah Cahalan

A Book of Days - Patti Smith

Karma - Boy George

I Hate Everyone, Except You - Clinton Kelly

The Life Brief - Bonnie Wan

The Stress Prescription - Elissa Epel

Infectious Generosity - Chris J. Anderson

Break the Cycle - Mariel Buque

Eve - Cat Bohannon

House Love - Patric Richardson

Pests - Bethany Brookshire

Freaks, Gleeks, and Dawson's Creek - Thea Glassman

But Have You Read the Book? - Kristen Lopez

The Good, the Bad, and the Barbie - Tanya Lee Stone

Normal is Just a Setting on the Dryer - Adair Lara

Men to Avoid in Art and Life - Nicole Tersigni

Friends to Keep in Art and Life - Nicole Tersigni

Parenting Advice to Ignore in Art and Life - Nicole Tersigni

Bold = Highly Recommend Italics = Worth It Crossed out = Nope

Thoughts: 

Messy memoirs, healing from generational trauma, and recovery from burnout - these are a few of my favorite things.

Goodreads Goal: 43/200

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