#the religious undertones are just delicious

[armysonemeu]

My Roman Empire is Marisha PCs seeing/making/looking up to Laura PCs (as) their god/religion/faith and the undying and eternal love of Laura PCs to Marisha PCs that stem from their loneliness and need to be loved. It really opens up to the whole matron/worshipper (follower?) dynamic that Laura and Marisha PCs have in every campaign (and yes that includes Vex and Keyleth as well).

[avelera]

(Meta) Fortiche's Use of Religious Imagery in Viktor's Arc Was Intended to Convey Sinister Undertones

So I'm gonna put my Art History TA hat on for a second and say I've seen a lot of the connections made between Viktor (Arcane) with the religious imagery referenced in his arc, which is inescapably present and intentional, and I feel like its worthy time for a reminder that Fortiche, the animation studio for Arcane, is based in France

So on the one hand, it would be impossible to develop as an artist in France and not have a ton of exposure to religious art and iconography, which is very obvious in just how much Renaissance art and Catholic iconography is referenced with Viktor. (Never mind how well it works as a visual language for the mysticism they imbued into the rise of the Machine Herald in general.)

There's a great thread about all the art referenced here:

But on the other, if I can just put my history nerd hat on as well for a second I'd also like to point out that there's also subtle (and not so subtle) sinister undertones to the religious iconography for Viktor, even before he does anything overtly evil. Like, even when he heals Huck back in 2.02, I think we're meant to feel at least a subtle sense of wrongness to the "triumph" of that scene and the swelling religious chorus.

I was reminded while watching those scenes that an element of the French Revolution (also referenced in the opening credits of Arcane with Jinx waving the flag, so I think it's fair game to consider in discussions of the meta themes of the show) that is sometimes overlooked in the US when we learn about the French Revolution is how much the rage at the aristocracy was also aimed at the Catholic priesthood, since those two institutions were deeply intertwined as oppressive forces against the French people.

Basically, I think if you consider a French studio referencing Catholic religious imagery in their show (used to depict Viktor's rise to mystic power which will in turn lead to his eventual disillusionment with humanity and him dooming the world if he isn't stopped) you're missing out on some delicious shades of nuance and subtle foreshadowing if you don't know that a French studio's use of Catholic imagery could, in itself, be intended to add a subtle sense of impending evil because Catholicism in that country has also historically represented a system that is oppressive towards individual freedoms.

Now of course France's relationship with Catholicism is complex and it isn't just a simple case of Catholic Imagery = Evil Stuff is Happening Here, but I would point out that if you watched an American show and a character was crowned king in the first act to a manically cheering crowd, it would absolutely be fair to wonder if the crowning of the king had sinister undertones, because of the US's history and how the country was established in part as an escape for monarchy. On a cultural level, we see kings as bad things in the US, and likewise in France, Catholicism as an institution and Catholic imagery have some very complex and often evil associations.

TL;DR If you don't consider that a French studio might have used Catholic imagery specifically as visual hint and foreshadowing that Viktor's arc was going to be about him turning evil, then you're missing out on some very fun and tasty meta associations in the Arcane show.

[moodymisty]

Listen I know the wall husbands heads are full of concrete but I'm interested in what you could do with a black templar

Maybe having a cleric darling (Thinking more of a lay person vs someone like a sister of battle) so there can be some delicious religious subtext

But I also know some black templars are very much into seeing when normal baseline humans can overcome the odds and rise above with their own zeal.

Maybe she isn't a combatant but by the God Emperor she will help out however she can even if it is just passing him boltgun magazines.

I got ideas for Black Templars but they're all over the place! Maybe you can make more sense of my ramblings and since it's still on the brain it could be Yandere or not just however you can make a Black Templar with a Darling work

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's Note: So... I went apeshit. I apologize. I just fucking love doing religious subtext and whatnot. Also the frail maiden with her knight. Combining them? Awooga. Like this is my dream prompt. I hope you enjoy.

Summary: His thumb presses against your lips, and your mouth opens. You can taste the metal on your tongue, like bitter iron. His hand despite being so inhumanly large is so dextrious and gentle, and the thoughts that enter your mind are sickening.

Relationships: Unnamed Black Templar/Fem!Reader (there aren't pronouns used but the lady/knight vibe is super intense)

Warnings: A smidge lewd but not NSFW, Vague traditional gender roles-like talk (being gentle/needing to be protected etc), Religious under(over)tones, Forbidden romance undertones, Vague yandere/yandere beginnings, Armor kink if you squint, Brief mentions of blood and murder, General 40kness

Word Count: 2209 oops uwu

Ceramite boots thud against the floor like the thunder overhead, echoing in the high, vaulted ceilings.

He hears a tile crack underneath his right boot as he shifts his weight onto it mid-step.

He was always heavier than his brothers. His armor had to be adjusted three different times to fit him as he outgrew it.

'Leave him, he’s off to go for his prayers, and to stalk the locals.’

His one battle brother had laughed at the other’s comment, as he left them all behind to return to the cathedral. It's far from his first time here, in these sanctified halls. He finds himself returning here after almost every patrol, every outing, every moment alone.

His armor shifts with his movement, and he rolls his left shoulder during his walk. He’s had the armor fixed after a stray round hit him in the shoulder, but it still feels off. Like the motion is ever so slightly delayed in comparison to his other interface ports.

He'll get it looked at again. For now he has a different pursuit.

It’s the dead of the night, moon high in the sky as he walks through the nave past pews filled with nothing but air. At this time of night he knows it will only be you here, keeping candles lit and rolling scrolls. A stray servoskull might flutter past every now and again, but other than that, you remain in complete solitude.

No distractions, no needless fluff. You're always busy, fluttering about, making yourself useful where you can. You aren't able to fight, not this threat, but your obedience in cleaning armor- weapons when an Astartes allows- and other such duties has earned you enough to stay where your fellows have left.

Many of the other human refugees have been shipped off at this point, to become the Militarium's logistical problem. You and a few others however have earned your keep. At least in the eyes of the Black Templars.

You'll be far safer here than in a Militarium camp stuffed in with hundreds to thousands of others; Like animals waiting to be shipped off world.

You'll be far safer here with him.

There you are. He can spot you from across the cathedral, and a part of him wonders why it has such an effect on him. His hearts beat faster and his neck tenses; It feels like how he does whenever he's about to fight, but also distinctly different. It almost makes him feel like he's sick from an illness he can't explain.

The moment you hear him however, knowing the sound of an astartes this late and this far away from his brothers could only be him, your back straightens. You've been leaning over for awhile, and your body makes uncooperative cracks as you stand at his approach.

He stops in front of you, at the bottom of the ambulatory steps that rise up to the main altar. You stand at the top of them, quickly moving aside so he can come closer. When he does, you can feel his gaze through the lens of his helmet. It always feels heavy, even when his helmet isn't tilted you way you swear you can feel whenever his eyes are on you.

With both hands he unseals his helmet with a soft hiss, grasping it by the rim before handing it to you. It’s almost too heavy for your grip, but you manage to hold it close to your chest and avoid dropping it. Meanwhile he takes a knee, elbow on his knee as he drops his head in prayer.

His chainsword shifts on his back, over top of a long, tattered cape that's stained with mud and blood at the bottom hem. Astartes don't leave their armor during war, and so the cloth holds the weeks long stench of iron and rotting flesh. It simply burns however, until a few minutes later and then you can no longer smell. For the best, more than likely.

The cathedral is cast in complete silence, his shoulders shifting underneath plates of ceramite. He always is whenever he prays, unlike his brothers in the few times you've seen them. Perhaps it's just a quirk of his. Or maybe they're the odd ones.

Then again, they aren't the ones visiting an empty cathedral in the dead of night, only to meet a single person. Over and over again.

When he rises, he gently takes his helmet from your hands and latches it onto his belt. You speak up for the first time since he appeared.

"Have you made good progress out there? The weather seems to only be getting worse."

He looks down at you; His short, hastily chopped hair dry and pressed in odd places from the pressure of his helmet. It's mostly dry now, but you can tell it was wet not long ago. He must've taken his helmet off in the rain and was instantly soaked to the bone.

"The Emperor watches over us. We will prevail despite the deluge."

Said deluge batters on the tall glass windows of the cathedral, and thunder cracks not much later. The sound gives you a momentary jolt. This particular storm has been going all day, but the area has been battered with rainstorms for weeks now on and off. It might not slow them down, but you can see dried chunks of mud where they've had to trudge through it to progress. Most of it is washed away on him now, the rain having cleaned his armor significantly.

Your hands grasp each other tightly, no longer having his helmet to act as some sort of grounding.

"I tried to pray like you do, this morning." His eyes noticeably brighten ever the slightest, as your voice echos in the empty cathedral. "I wanted to pray to the Emperor that you stayed safe out there."

You don't know if he finds it amusing; But the corner of his mouth quirks upward ever so slightly anyways.

"Then pray for our victory, not our safety. What matters is that we succeed," He states.

You hear the mechanics in his armor shift as he leans slightly more on his left leg than right. It's like the armor is simply an extension of himself, and you suppose it is.

He is the first astartes you've even seen, so your knowledge is sparse. A small part of you has so many questions you'd wish to ask him, not knowing if he'd even entertain you with an answer.

You're fascinated by him; You wonder if he thinks the same of you. The way he acts lends you to think so, but you don't know how to feel about it.

In the corner of your eye you notice movement, and turn to the right just a bit and see someone walking across the nave. But when they catch sight of you and one of the Black Templars, the scurry out of the main hall like death was on their heels.

It isn't the first time someone has made a conscious effort to avoid you, now that you have an astartes taking such an interest in you. People are keen to spend as little time around them as possible- as despite them being the primary source protecting you all, they have more than displayed their fickle nature. One misspoken word and you could be gone. It's happened before. You know of a few faces that have disappeared with little a word.

You must look away from him for too long, as suddenly his armored hand grasps your jaw, turning your face back to him. The awkward angle due to his height makes your neck ache, and you grasp at the seams of his gauntlet for any sort of support.

"Are you going to try and run like they did?"

He says, watching you like he's looking for something more than a simple answer.

You wonder what he sees. If he notices the way your heart has begun to race in fear and something else, as he overtakes your vision. That something else was only for those rare moments of solitude where your reasoning left you, and your mind wandered to areas it shouldn't. If you'd known any better, you might've thought such things were blasphemous, or something of the sort.

Suddenly, you remember that he's waiting for an answer; You watch as the scars on his face move when he shifts his jaw.

"No."

He takes a step closer and with no more room your back presses against the altar just behind you. You risk nearly bending over it from how close he is, his dominant leg taking root just close enough that your legs have to part to let his knee past.

The shadow of the window mullions decorate the back of his armor, the light making the shadows against his face even harsher. You can even see the shadows of large rain droplets against his pauldrons, sliding down as if they've actually fallen on him. You can hear them hit the glass as the wind whistles outside and rattles the glass.

You watch him wondering; His eyes and face are completely unreadable. Astartes are so stoic, any little emotion is held invisible deep within themselves. Trying to figure out what he's thinking is an impossible task, though it's clear the interest he has in you is no longer just curiosity. That thought makes your heart pound against your chest as if it's trying to escape, your blood hot.

His thumb presses against your lips, and your mouth opens. You can taste the metal on your tongue, like bitter iron. His hand despite being so inhumanly large is so dextrious and gentle, and the thoughts that enter your mind are sickening.

It feels like he's toying with you; Experimenting with something new as he watches the way your soft skin gives under his armor. Your hands and gentle skin have faint crumbles of candle wax and ink on them from your work, as they grasp his armor.

You're terrified. You want more of him. You'll be happy to burn if that's what it requires.

"You'll come with me, when we are finished here."

You whisper his name, telling him yes as if you were foolish enough to think you had a choice in the matter. No one but him is here to hear it.

If someone was you wouldn't be able to see them from the way his massive armored form overtakes almost all of your vision, swallowing you in a sea of shadow and pitch black armor. They would see as he leans down, his thumb leaving your lips. You can feel his hot breath on your skin. The way he almost seems to suffocate you with how much of his body looms over you, just to get close. You can hear your own heartbeat so you just know he can, his eyes dilated and nearly total black.

Your back hurts pressing against the edge of the altar, feeling vulnerable underneath his unreadable stare. The fabric of your clothing bunches in places and rises up on your body, catching on the seams of his leg plates. His armor might be cold, but astartes run hot; Like their blood is boiling, so beneath that metal chill is the heat from the skin visible on his face and neck. You think if the cathedral was any colder, his hot breath would be visible.

His lips hover over yours, brushing as if he's so thoroughly detailing every step of this. Savoring each moment, or perhaps just toying with you. Watching the way a human so much smaller than him writhes under his grip at his mercy. You want to finish it, but the hand clamped around your jaw won't allow you, as much as you want to yearn and beg and plead to k-

'Brother. Return from toying with the refugees, the chaplain has returned with an update.'

Suddenly audible is a deep voice shaken by vox distortion emanating from his helmet; His head turns ever so slightly in it's direction. The bow of his upper lip brushes over yours as he does so. His brow furrows and he seems visibly irritated, interrupted during the worst possible time. You are as well, though it's more of desperation as you try to silence the way the your body aches for just him.

But as quick as it had begun it all ends, as he rises to his full height and removes his hand from your jaw. It complains with the promise of a hefty bruising, as he uses the same gauntlet to one handed slip his helmet back onto his head.

You can feel him stare at you even through the lenses, as he shifts in his armor and walks past where you stand splayed against the altar, clothes a mess. Your legs wobble as if about to give out from underneath you without his support, a weight like a rock in your lower belly.

He walks down the ambulatory in silence and leaves you alone once more, but you know it won't be for long.

[glitterslag]

I'm desperate for more messed up Hellcheer fics myself, do you have any recommendations?👀

Sorry I took a while to reply, I took my mission seriously and have been deep in my ao3 bookmarks for the past couple days🧑‍💻📚🧐

Ok so after performing my literature review sadly I could only find four fics that fit the bill (((and anyone who sees this PLEASE feel free to add on your own cuz I just know there are so many other amazing ones out there))).

Anyway without further ado I present to you my rec list of nasty hellcheer:

Dirtbag by betts - so starting out strong this one is absolutely SICKENING both in terms of the smut (quite intense bdsm with a CNC dynamic btw so it's definitely not for everyone) and also in terms of the emotional side???? Like this fic had me DISTRAUGHT it had me so so so stressed about the outcome bc I was reading it as it was being posted (fear not if you're new to it - it's completed so no waiting). But yeah if you wanna be ripped up emotionally and also just be generally horny ig this one's for you. Can't recommend it enough, it's an absolute journey

Blood and Fire by EroticFuneral - ok so this is a newly discovered one and let me tell you.... this shit goes CRAZY it's giving midnight mass it's giving fleabag. In which Chrissy is a nun (A NUN) and Eddie is a fallen angel. We get a ronance b plot as well, with guest appearances from sister byers and monsignor harrington, among others. Oh and it has period sex and eddie in a monstrous form 🤠🤠🤠

your kiss to life eternal by @scorpioheatherholloway - ok so the flavour of fucked up here is hellcheer doing a bunch of different drugs and having absolutely ✨feral✨ yet highly romantic sex. Bonus points for it being one of ye olde cheating on Jason fics!!!! Plus, this fic explores dom!chrissy which we truly don't see enough of!! A must read if you're keen for beautiful imagery, religious undertones, period sex, knife play, soul ties - all that good stuff!!!

The first one's free to get you hooked series by @uwusillygirl - probably no surprises here!! But if you're new to this then enjoy 80k words of messed up power dynamics and bdsm!!! This one makes me feel very funny in the tummy!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Delicious!!!!!!!!!

Oh yeah and btw the first three are completed fics and the last one is an ongoing series going about 15 parts strong, so happy reading gang!

[ace-of-hearts-and-spades]

Top 5 albums (based on cover art) and top 5 albums (based on the music in them).

Sorry it took me a minute to get to this, I had to go to class and I wanted to give it a good think. But this ask is fucking amazing thank you

Top 5 albums based on the actual music:

See You On the Other Side, by Korn. I know it’s not the usual pick for favorite Korn album, but it’s the first one I listened to all the way through and I’m very attached to it. The art for this one is also pretty sick. Plus it has the best fuckin bonus tracks of all the Korn albums.

Slipknot, by Slipknot. My favorite Slipknot album swings between this one and The Subliminal Verses, but right now it’s this one. Just pure nu metal rage and hatred.

Fallen, by Evanescence. My mom bought this album by chance when I was a toddler and I grew up listening to it. It was my introduction to metal, particularly nu metal. Extremely formative. I have a lot of fondness for it.

Welcome to Horrorwood: The Silver Scream 2, by Ice Nine Kills. It’s a metal album about horror movies, of course my dumbass is gonna love it. And I definitely prefer it to the first Silver Scream. I think it shows the band's skills and versatility better.

Black Labyrinth, by Jonathan Davis. What do I even say about this one. It’s fucking amazing. The different world instruments really make this album feel special, and of course I fucking love JD’s voice.

Top 5 albums based on cover art:

Putting this under the cut because I’m including pics and I’m gonna ramble about art shit. And I just know I'm gonna remember a bunch of cool cover art I've forgotten once I hit post

The Nothing, by Korn. Conveys the entire mood of the album so, so fucking well. The fact that the human figure is both made of wires and tangled in them creates this sense of being inescapably, innately trapped. It creates this sense of escape being impossible, that it’s pointless to even try. It feels dark and bleak and twisted. And that’s perfect for the songs on this album. It’s understated, but I think it’s just so damn effective.

The Bitter Truth, by Evanescence. Okay, this is another one I like because it’s simple but effective. Is it maybe a bit on the nose? Sure. But it works. It very much demonstrates the concept of the bitter truth being a nasty little pill you have to swallow. That’s the whole point of the album’s title, themes, and hell even its release date. The little X_X face on the pill feels a bit tongue in cheek too, which I like.

Mother, by In This Moment. I’ve only listened to couple songs on this album but I really like the cover art. I’m a sucker for religious imagery and themes, but I love that the cover conveys the album's undertones without overtly displaying traditional religious symbols like crosses or what have you. Instead, we get a halo-like crown and figures in pristine white. Figures that look a lot like ghosts – and that ghostliness, along with the dark tangled roots reaching up to the central figure, also suggest death and decay. Idk man I like the vibe.

Steal This Album!, by System of a Down. I don’t have anything deep to say here. This cover’s just cool and fun as hell.

Bleed the Sky, by Reveille. Have I ever listened to Reveille? No (though I intend to eventually, they’re on my list). But I don’t care. This album cover is sexy as hell. The colors are delicious, that orange is delicious, it feels kind of sexual, and I want to eat it. That is all.

[shinhoofood]

Find the Good Quality Canned Tomatoes and Tomato Paste for Your Kitchen

When it comes to baby tomatoes and the canned tomato paste, quality does matter to your meal. Being a home cook that utilizes these products for sauces, soups, stews and much more, I have tried my fair share of brands over the years. Some I added and subtracted until I narrowed it down to a couple that I continue to religiously purchase for my pantry. OK I will give you some tips so you can optimize the taste and texture of canned tomatoes and paste that you are using.

When it comes to good quality canned tomatoes, nothing comes close to Shinhoo Food. Compared with some other major brands, Shinhoo does not add calcium chloride and other supplementation to its tomatoes. It does this so that the natural sweetness of the fresh tomato may be fully enjoyed. Harvested ripe, tomatoes are immediately processed to capture their juicy and fresh taste. Whether I am doing a basic marinara or making a shakshuka or even a chicken cacciatore, these always add deep tomato undertones that are far from tinny or fake tasting.

Whenever there is a recipe that requires tomato paste, always prefer good quality Canned tomatoes. We state that, unlike the usually bland or bitter tasting pastes, theirs offers a well endowed sweet and sour taste. Even a titbit is sufficient to enhance the taste of soups, slow-cooked meat dishes, roasted vegetables, beans or lentils. It comes in a squeeze tube – so easy to dispense just the amount you require. No consuming leftovers of a can which is opened partly.

Second, the tomato paste does not contain any genetically modified ingredients and the cans are all BPA free, thus making me comfortable to prepare foods for my entire family. Moreover, Shinhoo does not over charge their customers and so, buying multiple cans of food at a time does not make me feel guilty.

Or if you’re prepared to make a significant improvement to your homemade Italian pasta sauces, soups, stews, and more, don’t fail to check out Shinhoo’s canned tomato paste. Their quality and the kind of flavour they come with are better than most of the meals being offered out there. I am telling you the truth once you switch from the usual supermarket brands you cannot go back. Hang tight, folks: your food is about to be a lot more delicious.

[madness-in-the-flesh]

Oh my please please some yan phobos head cannons!

Here you go buddy +) !!

GENERAL PHOBOS HEADCANONS

GENRE - ROMANTIC / PLATONIC

TRIGGER WARNING - Phobos' God complex, possible religious undertones, dehumanization, training. Mentions of Sensory deprivation, Electrocution, whipping, cutting, Burning, really any sort of violence, Sleeping on the floor without any blankets or pillows, degradation, threats, general intimidation, mental and verbal attacks, gaslighting,

To me, He's definitely a yandere that doesn't take shit. For your safety and everyone around you, Bend to his whim.

He's not afraid to go above and beyond to make yourself something worthy of a god. After all. He ONLY deserves the best.

May think of you as a disciple. He want you to follow him, worship him, be someone who knows everything he does is that of a god's work.

Basically you're just another way to further his god complex. He wants that tasty bit of someone else supporting his delicious and He will have it. Even if it means breaking you down, bit by bit, into something he deems worthy.

Why he picked you? no clue. Phobos is a very impulsive grunt. For all you know, He just saw you walking around: Pointed at you and was like " mine ". Not like you could fight back and say no, Well you could but it doesn't mean anything when the fucking ruler of the city picked you out like a kid in a candy shop.

Although, It could have been you accidentally humoured his god complex and it struck a cord. Something you assumed wouldn't have such dire consequences down the line. Yet, here you are.

Tends to be very obsessive because he wants to know what you think of him constantly. He wants your praise and attention more than anyone else's. Something about him always craves it and he will purposely drop hints that basically sum up to " give me ALL your praise and worship me " and if you don't pick up on it. You're getting punished since he assumes you know what you did wrong.

Easily jealous too, wants your eyes on him and him only. If he finds them even lingering on someone else for a little too long, You're getting punished for it. He doesn't care if it was an accident. He will not tolerate what he views as ignorance or mistakes from his beloved disciple.

Keeps you to himself, Apart for a select few of his most trusted guards to keep you in line. He doesn't want you trying anything and although he doesn't believe you could even get out of his grasp: After all he'd just get the whole of nexus city looking for you, There's still a part of his mind that tells him he can't afford to lose you.

In saying this, If anyone talks shit about you and it gets back to him: No matter who it is. They're fired and dead within the next week. Mortals should know better than to face the wrath of a god. As should you.

Might even get his scientists to look into ways on how to train the perfect disciple as a side project. He would never make you a guinea pig, oh no. You're far too important to him for that. So he'd only do the best and most effective treatments for you.

This would definitely include some sort of reward-punishment system. Similar to how you train pets: Reward for good behaviour and punishment for bad behaviour. To the point he kind of dehumanizes you.

He wants to be the only thing you think about. Your only purpose in this life is to worship him and everything he does. He knows that deep down, no matter how much you fight, you must greatful that he picked you over everyone else. He could have anyone he wanted and he chose you. That makes you special. un-expendable. He's practically saved you from being a shitty nobody and you still fight him? That's quite upsetting.

Punishments from him include but aren't limited too: Sensory deprivation from a couple hours to a couple days, maybe even a week. Electrocution, whipping, cutting, Burning, really any sort of violence, Sleeping on the floor without any blankets or pillows, degradation, threats, general intimidation, mental and verbal attacks, gaslighting, etc, etc. and possibly other types of punishment that I won't get into here at least.

[charturnus]

I'm not a bad girl (but I do bad things with you)

Ship: Alcina Dimitrescu x Female reader

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI; general vampire stuff; mentions of homophobia and religious trauma; d/s undertones; dirty talk; talk of strap-ons; jealousy

Summary: Chapter II, I want to satisfy (the undisclosed desires in your heart) AU;

‘’If you’re a good little girl and tell me every filthy detail, I might just make it come true.’’

Desires of more than just one kind are confessed.

━━━━━━━━━ ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯ ━━━━━━━━━

Our embrace seems to last for hours. She indulges me, giving several leisurely kisses. My hands clutch at the silk of her gown. Now I have her, I never want to let go.

I try to desperately hold on to this moment, to remember exactly how to feels to kiss her. How it feels to have her hands cupping my face ever so gently. The ache between my legs is becoming overwhelming, I want so badly to feel her hands and her mouth on me everywhere.

When we finally part, it’s only so she can nuzzle into my neck. My mistress lets out a soft purr and then a growl. On edge as I am, I whine and expose my neck for her. I want her to kiss me there, to feel her tongue against my heated skin. I want her to sink her fangs into me, so she can suck me dry.

***

I had heard the rumours of course, long before I even set foot in the castle. The rumours of a countess who stole girls from their bed, sucked their life force from their necks and then turned the rest of them into wine. I never believed it. It was a just a tale to frighten disobedient girls, I thought.

Later I learned that whilst some unlucky girls did meet their end by my mistress’ hands, she also opened up her castle to the unwanted girls of the village. She gave us a safe-haven, a community, a purpose.

During my first week in the castle it became clear to me where all those rumours had come from. It was not unusual for a maid to be summoned to our mistress’ chambers, only for them to return hours later with bruised bite mark on their neck. They would walk funny for the next several days, and it made my heart burn with jealousy.

I waited and waited to be called on like the rest of the maids, but my mistress never asked for me. When I became her personal maid I had hoped that might mean she would feed from me, but it seemed to me she had lost all interest in us maids. She never called for anyone anymore.

***

My mistress inhales deeply when I tip my head backwards to expose my neck for her.

‘’You’re playing with fire draga mea.’’

‘’Please.’’ It comes out in a high pitched whine, and I wriggle my hips in an attempt to gain friction.

She laughs at this, her voice high and clear and magnificent. She gently scrapes her teeth over my neck, but she doesn’t bite down.

‘’All in good time, my sweet pet. I think you need something else right now.’’

She lifts me up carefully and something underneath me moves but I can’t see what. When she sinks me back down, she guides my legs to straddle one of her thighs instead of both.

When I try to settle myself I realise quickly that she has hiked up her dress to expose the skin of her upper thigh. When I make contact with her cool skin, both my mistress and I gasp. My split drawers allow for direct access, which I’ve never been more grateful for than I am right now.

There’s no hiding it now, the both of us feel the true state of my arousal. Hot and slick and wet, I can’t help but rock back and forth against my mistress. My heart is pounding harshly against my ribcage. The pressure isn’t enough, but it’s oh so delicious and I can’t help myself, I let out several stuttered moans.

‘’Oh my, my poor pet. Is this all for me?’’

I know I should respond as I usually do, dutifully and respectfully. But I can’t seem to put two words together. All I can think of is the heavenly pressure against my clit, the scent of my mistress’ perfume and the fact that her hands have settled underneath my dress, squeezing my buttocks.

I just manage to force out a feeble. ‘’Uhuh’’

She smiles ever so wickedly at me. ‘’Uhuh?’’ She repeats back to me, eyes bright, nodding her head in encouragement.

‘’You can do better than that, can’t you, little pet?’’

Unbidden a whine escapes me. How am I supposed to put into words how much I desire my mistress? I am no poet, no songwriter, no novelist. She is the kind of woman that deserves elaborate declarations of love and lust. Not the feeble, half thought out, confessions I have to offer.

With a shaking hand I reach behind me, to take one of my mistress’ large hands in my own. I place my hand delicately on the black glove encasing her hand.

‘’May I?’’

‘’Go on then, pet. You have my attention.’’

Carefully I peel off the glove, gently taking her hand once more. I thrill at the feel of her skin, cool and soft underneath my heated fingers.

I guide her large fingers gingerly to the apex of my thighs. When she makes contact with the wetness that’s gathered there, I have to let go, so I can steady myself against her shoulder. She strokes me gently, groaning when finds the source of the wetness and feels just how desperate I am for her.

I gather all the courage I can muster in this moment. ‘’D-do you feel that?’’ I whisper. ‘’You did that to me. There mere thought of you makes my head spin. Now that you’re so close to me, touching me. I feel as though I could fall apart at a moment’s notice.’’

‘’Oh pet…’’ She sighs. ‘’I’m going to absolutely ruin you and you are going to love every filthy second of it.’’

When she removes her fingers, I want to cry. She only smiles at me.

‘’It’s time to get you out of that uniform, little one.’’

***

My mistress carries me from the chairs by the blazing hearth, to her bed. I feel like I’m dreaming, or flying, or dying, or all three at once. I have spent countless mornings making my mistress’ bed, dreaming of her setting me down it and having her way with me. Now that it’s actually happening, it feels unreal.

I expect her to lay me down on her gigantic mattress, in amongst her silk sheets. But she merely sets me down at the foot of her bed as she herself towers over me.

‘’Now pet, I’d like to have some fun. Wouldn’t you?’’

‘’I’d like to do whatever makes you happy, mistress.’’

‘’Good answer.’’ She’s grinning maniacally and I barely have time to wonder what she might want to do when her first command comes.

‘’Undress for me, pet. I wish to see you.’’

My heartbeat picks up once again and I feel myself freeze. My mistress perches on the edge of her large bed, studying me carefully. I feel rather self-conscious, being watched and scrutinized like this. What if she thinks I’m ugly? What if she is simply not attracted to me and decides to send me away?

‘’Get out of that little head of yours, pet. I gave you an order.’’

‘’I’m sorry, mistress.’’ I say, inwardly cursing myself.

My cap is the first article to be removed. I carefully unpin it and place it down on an ottoman by the side of the bed. My hands instinctively move to undo my apron, but my mistress speaks up.

‘’And the hair.’’

When I look up to her she’s watching me intently, eyes focused on my hands as they pull out pin after pin from my hair, until it comes tumbling down over my shoulders.

My apron is next, followed by my starched, white collar. My black blouse, with its finnicky buttons proves the most difficult item yet. But after a while, I manage to shed the blouse to reveal the bare skin of my arms.

My mistress has only seen me in a state of undress once. When she carried me to the castle and tended to my wounds she had stripped me down to just my chemise. Still, that was almost two years hence. I look up to see if she might have reacted to the newly revealed skin. My mistress, while most certainly looking at me with an uncanny hunger in her eyes, is otherwise focussed on the button closures on her own dress.

I have to breathe deeply through my nose to steady myself. I had expected her to want see me, but never in my life would I have expected her to bare herself before me. I want to stop undressing, to sink down on my knees in front of her and allow her to take her pleasure from me. But I know she won’t allow that, she gave me an order. So I try my utmost to ignore the rustling of fabric coming from the edge of the bed, and try to focus on the task at hand.

With trembling fingers I undo my black woollen skirt and slip out of it. I am careful to fold it neatly, so it won’t crease. My petticoat and bustle-pad soon follow suit. When I get to my corset cover I chance another glance at my mistress. What I see makes my mouth go dry.

My mistress has removed her magnificent gown to expose the garments underneath. Cover, corset and chemise. They are beautiful to be sure, made of fine fabrics with gorgeous lace trimmings. But I am beyond distracted by my mistress’ chest, rising and falling as she breathes.

Her breasts spill over the top of her corset and by God, I want nothing more than to tear the garment off her, so I can look at her, touch her, put my mouth on her.

She seems to notice my distraction because she laughs.

‘’Patience is a virtue, my sweet girl.’’

I force my attentions back to my clothing. I struggle with the knot in the strings of my split drawers. When I finally get the double knot loose I let the drawers fall to the ground and I kick them aside. No one will see these garments, I don’t care if they get creased. To be frank, right now I only care about ridding myself of every article of clothing as fast as I possibly can.

My hands fly over my corset front to undo it and once that’s off, I manage to pull my feet out of my boots. Now all that separates my body from my mistress’ gaze, is my thin cotton chemise. When I look up once more, uncertain if I should remove my chemise too, I catch my mistress as she slips into a silk robe. I can just make out the bare skin of her chest disappearing under the robe.

She catches my gaze and her laugh tinkles in my ears.

‘’And the last piece too, sweetling.’’

Her eyes are fully settled on me now, I’m hyper aware that she’s about to see every inch of my skin. There will be nowhere to hide. When I begin to slip the garment over my arms and shoulders, I find myself wondering why I would want to hide from her to begin with.

My mistress, who saved me from certain death, who gave me a home, friendship, comfort. My mistress, the only woman capable of drawing such desires from me. Why would I want to hide from her? When has she ever hurt me? Has she not spent the past three quarters of an hour, assuaging my fears? Is she not as naked and vulnerable as I am about to be, under that robe?

I have nothing to fear from my mistress. I want her to see me, I want her to want me, I want to see the desire written on her face when she looks at me.

Under the watchful gaze of my mistress I pull my chemise up and over my head, letting it fall carelessly on the flagstone floor. I watch her eyes flit over my body, moving several times over my breasts and the patch of curls in between my legs.

She purrs and I feel myself shiver, whether from the chilly air or anticipation, I do not know.

‘’Look at you, my dear. Aren’t you exquisite like this?’’

She begins to slowly make her way towards me, like a lioness stalking her prey, she looks as though she wants to eat me alive. I might be her prey, but I have no interest in running or hiding. I’d let her rip me to shreds and swallow me whole, if that’s what would make her happy.

She does not rip into me with her sharpened claws however, quite the opposite. One of her hands gently takes mine, lifting it up in the air. For a moment I’m confused but then she says.

‘’Twirl for me, sweetling.’’

Dutifully I spin a in a slow circle, allowing her to take me in from every angle.

‘’You’re simply delectable, my pet.’’

I blush deeply. I find it strange that a woman as magnificent as she is, would think that a girl so plain as me is beautiful. But under her admiring gaze I feel like I could be the prettiest maid in the castle.

My mistress cups one of my cheeks gingerly, bending down to reward me with another kiss. When she lets me go I want to protest, but my mistress has other plans.

‘’Kneel for me now, pet.’’

Carefully I let myself sink into the oh so familiar position. My mistress towers over me, but with one of her hands securely in my hair, I feel beyond safe.

‘’I think it’s time that you confess your dirty little fantasies to me, sweet little maid.’’

Horror-struck my head snaps up. My mistress laughs.

‘’Don’t look so frightened, dear. It’s only a game.’’

I want to ask her what game she’s talking about. But I’m well-trained, aren’t I? I keep my mouth shut, waiting for her to elaborate.

‘’My, you have astounding self-control’’ She remarks. ‘’Even when you look like you’re fighting the urge grind those lovely hips of yours like a wanton whore and beg for me to take you right now.’’

At these words I feel my face, neck and chest glow red hot. I am now acutely aware of the thick wetness sticking to my overheated skin. It’s one thing to imagine my mistress speaking to me in such a manner, but to actually hear her say these words aloud is beyond anything I could have ever imagined.

I swallow hard. ‘’Thank you, mistress.’’

‘’Poor pet, I bet that got you all riled up. Didn’t it?

I don’t bother answering her, I know it’s a rhetorical question. She knows exactly what she’s doing to me.

‘’Well that was only an appetizer, so to speak. A taste of what is yet to come.’’ She gives me a devious smile. ‘’I want you to tell me, in detail, one of those little fantasies of yours. I want to know what it is you think about when you touch yourself.’’

She balls her hand into a fist, grabbing hold of my hair, making me gasp.

‘’If you’re a good little girl and tell me every filthy detail, I might just make it come true.’’

My mouth feels like a sandbox and I try to regulate my breathing, to no avail. One fantasy she asked for, that’s not too bad, I try to reason with myself. And if I tell her everything, she might actually fulfil it too. The thought of that send a chill through my body.

I try to think. If any of my fantasies could come true, which would I choose? I rack my brain for the fantasies most frequently at the forefront of my mind. I have a favourite of course, the one I think about on a weekly basis. But this one is tricky. It requires an accessory and I’m not sure if my mistress knows what it is, let alone if she has one in her position.

‘’Well… there’s one, but-‘’ I hesitate, not sure how approach the subject.

‘’But?’’ My mistress asks, cocking her head curiously.

I take a deep breath and continue. ‘’But it includes something which I’m unsure you have at your disposal, mistress.’’

‘’Now you’ve made me curious, draga mea. Go on.’’

I blush deeply. ‘’Uhm… Well, I suppose it’s an object two women could use to- to make love.’’

I’m hoping that this is enough, but my mistress has a mischievous glint in her eyes and she doesn’t speak.

‘’It- uh, it allows a woman to... take… another woman, as a man would.’’

‘’Ah, I see.’’ She says pointedly, clearly amused by me. ‘’It’s a cock you want.’’

Every bit of air seems to have left my lungs, but I force my head to nod.

‘’Well I have plenty of those, don’t you worry about that, pet. Now let’s hear what you want me to do to you with it, hmmm?’’

I try to steady myself, but it’s all quite overwhelming. I take several deep breaths and close my eyes.

***

Gemma was the one who had told me about it. We were polishing the silverware together, when she asked me how I ended up at the castle. By that point I had learned that there were many girls like me in this place and that Gemma was one of them. Still I didn’t feel comfortable enough to tell her the whole tale, or maybe I didn’t feel like remembering the way my father’s steel-toed boot felt when it made contact with my ribs.

I told her about the baker’s daughter though. Elianne, her name was. It was just a kiss, but they tried to murder me for it. I don’t know what happened to her. The same thing that happened to me, I suppose. Only she wasn’t saved by my mistress.

Gemma had a reputation for being crass and she made sure to live up to it. When I told her about Elianne she asked me if we were caught ‘’fucking’’. I told her to mind her own business.

She then proceeded to tell me about her encounters with foreign girls. Her father was an artisan of some sort, something to do with stone, or wood. They travelled together and she apparently made it her mission to work her way through every eligible young lady available to her.

When she told me she ‘’bought a cock in Paris’’, I laughed so loudly that she sound echoed through the hallway and the head-maid came to tell us off.

‘’What, a real one?’’ I whispered to her, once the head-maid had left us alone after a lengthy lecture.

‘’No, you idiot. What use is that?’’

I just shrugged, how should I know what she meant?

‘’It’s not real, it just looks like one. It’s made out of polished wood, leather or stone. It comes with a harness of some sort, that’s made of leather.’’ She stood up then to trace her hands over her hips, showing where it sat. ‘’And then you just secure it in the middle and you can fuck just like a man can.’’

This idea excited me much more than I was willing to share with Gemma. I turned my head away so she wouldn’t see the blush on my cheeks.

‘’You shouldn’t say that f-word so much.’’ I said. ‘’It’s crass.’’

***

I let my eyes flutter back open and try to clear my throat.

‘’I have spent a lot of time at the castle observing you, mistress.’’ I begin. ‘’I learned quite early on, that you like to, uh, spend intimate time with some maids.’’

Mistress chuckles. ‘’You mean I liked to fuck them.’’

I swallow hard. ‘’Yes, mistress.’’

‘’Go on, try again, pet. With the right word this time.’’

My shift around uncomfortably, but I obey. ‘’I learned that you like to fuck some maids, mistress.’’

She gives me an approving nod at this.

‘’I learned too that you bite them and that you drink their blood. And it made me- I mean, I felt-’’

I hesitate. I know that mustn’t lie and that she ordered me to give her every detail, but this is awfully personal and goes beyond the realm of just lust.

‘’Keep going, pet.’’ My mistress says, her fingers softly scratching the crown of my head.

‘’It made me envious, mistress.’’

She quirks an eyebrow. ‘’Because you wished to be included?’’

I let my head hang, so I don’t have to look at her when I speak.

‘’Because I wished I could be the only one you wanted.’’

‘’I see.’’ My mistress says softly, her hand moving once again to my face, where she strokes my cheek affectionately. ‘’Continue.’’

‘’I- I just didn’t like to see all those maids getting your attention all the time. I wished it were me receiving your affections, so in my fantasies, I imagined it was just me who served you like that.’’

I feel old frustrations bubbling up to the surface once more. I thought I had left them behind, but it became clear to me now that I most definitely had not.

‘’I thought that maybe if I did everything right and made sure I was perfect, you would want me. But even when I began to serve you as your personal maid, you didn’t seem interested in me. I think it just made me more frustrated, being so close to you, but still not close enough. It drove me up the wall.’’

I know my anger and frustration must be clear in my tone, but I can’t help myself. I’ve kept this in for too long, having no one to confide in.

My mistress is quiet for some time, before letting out a heavy sigh. She tilts my head upwards so that I may look at her in the eyes.

‘’I didn’t seem interested in you… Do you truly believe that?’’

‘’It is clear to me that until tonight you have shown no interest in me, mistress.’’ I say, quite boldly.

‘’For such a clever girl you are extraordinarily oblivious.’’ My mistress states bluntly. ‘’Let me ask you this. How long has it been since you began serving me as my personal maid?’’

‘’About half a year, mistress. Give or take.’’

My mistress hums in assent.  ‘’Can you also tell me how long it has been since I have called any maid to service me?’’

I know the answer, of course. ‘’The last time I am aware of would be about a fortnight before I began serving you as your personal maid, mistress.’’

The tip of her finger presses almost painfully into the base of my chin.

‘’Now, whatever might that mean?’’

I frown. When she lays it out in front of me like that, I could almost believe that she stopped calling those maids, because of me. But I can’t begin to fathom why she would do such a thing.

‘’You know the answer, spit it out.’’ My mistress says, not unkindly.

‘’It’s because of me?’’ I ask slowly, before adding quickly. ‘’Mistress.’’

‘’I thought that perhaps if you took notice of the fact that I was no longer requesting maids to service me, you might outwardly show your affections towards me.’’ She murmurs. ‘’There are plenty of maids in this castle who desire me, they are at my beck and call. I use them for my pleasure and give them some in return, but it is never more than that. I do not care for those girls, it is you I want.’’

***

All the breath has left my body. I feel both deflated and extraordinarily alive. My heart thumps loudly in chest and I try my utmost to form a cohesive thought. Somewhere in the distance my mistress laughs. The sound steadies me somewhat. I can feel her lifting me up again, away from the flagstone floor and onto her bed. It’s mercifully soft and warm after the harsh coldness of the floor.

‘’Are you honestly so surprised, draga mea?’’

‘’B-B-But, you never… You didn’t do anything!’’ I stutter out, all my manners forgotten. ‘’You never called for me or did anything close to the things you did for girls like Gemma, or Adelaide. You always looked at them like you could eat them alive. It turned me green with envy.’’

‘’Your words wound me, sweetling.’’ My mistress says sadly. ‘’I cannot pretend to know what you perceive, but do not forget there are always two sides to a tale.’’

She sighs heavily. ‘’May I ask you something?’’

Momentarily I am stunned. Never in all my days at the castle have I heard my mistress ask anyone for permission to do anything, let alone a maid.

‘’Y-yes, of course.’’

‘’Say you desire someone, in a way that goes beyond merely lust. Would you not want them to come to you with their affections, willingly and of their own accord? As opposed to being ordered to do so?’’

I don’t even have to think about it. Isn’t this exactly why I have not acted upon my feelings for my mistress? I had not wanted to force my feelings upon her, so I had kept quiet.

‘’Love and lust should be given willingly and eagerly, mistress.’’ I say tentatively. ‘’I don’t believe it would feel real if I had ordered someone to- well… Act, I suppose, as though they have those feelings for me.’’

‘’So, you understand my dilemma?’’ My mistress asks, lowering herself down on the pillows next to me.

I screw my eyes shut and whisper. ‘’Oh, I understand it. But I dare not believe it.’’

One of her large hands finds one of my own and she squeezes it gently. ‘’If you had not been so determined to be such a perfect little maid you would have noticed.’’ She lets out a dry chuckle. ‘’But you never strayed from your assigned work, never looked up, never looked at me. If I had not noticed your racing heart, or the overwhelming smell of your arousal, I never would have guessed you felt anything for me at all.’’

A pang of guilt surges through me, and my voice cracks when I speak up. ‘’I was just trying to be good.’’

She reaches out to brush some strays hairs from my brow. ‘’I know, my sweet girl. And you are, you’re always good for me.’’ She tugs up the sheets to cover my body, bringing a wave of blessed warmth with it. I hadn’t even noticed how chilled I am.

‘’I would go as far as to say you were too good.’’ She says pointedly. ‘’Always so prim and proper, never even daring to look me in the eyes unless I commanded it. You never noticed, my poor sweet thing, how much I truly care for you.’’

With a sigh, she sinks herself down on the pillows next to mine. We lay there in silence for quite some time, her fingers find my hair once more and begin to comb through it. I mull over my mistress’ confessions, wondering what it is that I missed all those times I had not dared to look up from my task.

It’s true that often I felt her eyes on me as I moved about her chamber, dusting and tidying. She would gaze at me with amusement etched all over her face as I painted her face, or assisted her in putting her jewellery on. But I had just assumed that she was scrutinising my work, or that she perhaps was amused by how much my hands still trembled when I was around her.

The silence is deafening and my thoughts are terribly loud. When I can’t stand it anymore, I speak up.

‘’Mistress?’’

‘’Don’t…’’ she says quietly. ‘’Call me Alcina.’’ She says, before adding. ‘’Please.’’

‘’Alcina.’’ I say, carefully, tasting her name on my tongue for the first time. It feels familiar, it feels like a name said through kisses, over the dinner table, or in a shared bed. ‘’Alcina Dimitrescu.’’ I whisper. ‘’That’s a wonderful name.’’

‘’I like my name coming from your mouth, sweetling.’’ She says through a smile. Her fingers trail down to my waist, drawing lazy patterns there and I find myself shifting, almost subconsciously, closer to her.  ‘’What was it you wanted to say?’’

I roll over onto my side, to face her. ‘’Why didn’t you try to talk to me? If you knew how I felt, you could have said something. You didn’t have to order me to do anything if you didn’t want that.’’

To my surprise this makes her chuckle. ‘’Oh my sweet girl.’’ She says. ‘’You are ever so delicate. I feared I would frighten you away, before I could even begin to get close to you. And I suspect I was right, even after so many months, you were terribly afraid when I finally walked in on you.’’

I have to think about this for a while, I suppose she’s right, because I was beyond horrified when she walked in on me. Still, my jealousy at the fact that she continued to be intimate with certain maids, lingers.

‘’Why would you continue to have… encounters, with those maids? Even when you knew how you felt about me?’’

She heaves a sigh. ‘’I admit it was foolish of me to continue pursuing those particular activities, but I have desires too, just like you. I can be quite insatiable, as I hope you will soon come to learn.’’ She says pointedly.

‘’I used those girls for my pleasure and then discarded them, without much care. There was no tenderness there. And I ought to remind you, I had no painting of you to gaze at.’’

When she mentions the painting, I can’t stop myself form scowling, which makes my lady laugh loudly.

‘’Oh, I like you like this, sweetling. It reminds me of when I first brought you home.’’

She’s right, of course. In those early days, when I had given up on my lust for life, I was feisty and beyond furious. I lashed out at her and everyone who tried to help me. I scowled and screamed and kicked. I refused my food and smashed dish after dish against the locked hardwood door of my chamber.

That was before I realised the opportunity that I had been given, before I recognised the kindness that could be found inside the castle walls. I forced myself to be perfectly well-mannered and good natured, after that. But clearly my lady had not forgotten who I used to be.

‘’Let’s not speak of those girls any longer, my dear. I have you in my bed and I do not wish to waste any more of my time on them, when I finally have you within my grasp.’’

‘’Okay.’’ I say softly. Whilst jealousy still tugs painfully at my heart, I do agree with my lady. I don’t want to waste precious time on them, when I am here in my lady’s bed.

‘’And besides.’’ She says.  ‘’I do believe that you still owe me a fantasy.’’

I blink up at her confusedly.

‘’You don’t think I’ve forgotten about our game, do you?’’ She asks, grinning maniacally. ‘’I’m waiting for you to finish your little story.’’

‘’Right…’’ I say, the excitement from earlier steadily returning to me. It feels different now, now I have a slight insight into the feelings my mistress has for me. Knowing that she wants me, not just because she’s looking for a girl to burn through, is beyond thrilling.

‘’Go on then, pet. I’m waiting.’’

‘’Actually.’’ I say, hurriedly. ‘’Would it be okay if I- I mean, may I kneel again, please?’’

My lady gives me a sly smile. ‘’Of course.’’ She chuckles. ‘’I’m going to have such fun ruining you, sweetling.’’

***

A shiver runs through me, as climb down from the bed and sink onto my knees. I have to shift a little bit to find the familiar comfortable position, that I know I can hold for several minutes at least. My mistress shifts too, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and placing either one beside my kneeling form.

I freeze as I feel her legs settling down on either side of me. I realise, in a heart-stopping moment, that if I were to look up, I would be able to see right into my lady’s open robe. I force my eyes to floor, not daring to look up, even to breathe.

Above me, I hear my mistress chuckle. She hooks a single finger underneath my chin, her nail pressing into my skin. Ever so slowly, she tilts my face upwards, forcing my eyes away from the floor and onto her. For the briefest moments, I catch sight of the dark curls hidden between my mistress’ thighs and then my eyes meet hers once more.

‘’Now, do tell me, what is it you wished I would do to you, if you were the only one to serve me?’’

‘’Everything.’’ I breathe out. ‘’I want to feel your hands on my body, your mouth on my neck, my chest, in between my legs. I want to ride your c-cock and hold your hands, as you watch me.’’

I am beyond shame now. All I care about is my mistress knowing just how much I desire her.

‘’I want you to bend me over, to fuck me until I cry. I want to hear you growl and purr in my ear, to hear you tell me how good I am for you. I want to feel your teeth on my neck as you feed from me. I want you to tell me that I’m taking you so well and then when you’re done with me, I imagine you flipping me over on my back, or pushing me down on my knees so that you can take your pleasure from me.’’

I swallow hard. ‘’And- and that’s it.’’ I finish, somewhat lamely.

My mistress is standing now, looming above me. It feels so similar to all those nights I spent by myself looking up at her painted figure. However, this version of my mistress moves and smiles and speaks the most deliciously filthy words.

‘’There you go, pet.’’ She says sweetly, her hand resting on my cheek. ‘’That wasn’t so hard now, was it?’’ She smiles as her thumb finds my bottom lip and traces over it. ‘’I think you deserve your reward.’’

Her free hand finds the tie of her robe and expertly undoes the single knot. The garment opens, sliding partially from her shoulders and it reveals the most magnificent sight I’ve ever beheld in my life.

I gaze at her, unashamedly, fearlessly, knowing I never want to look away.

[andaniellight]

(The same anon that asked you for nanago fic recommendations) No need to worry, that's sent around yesterday :-) & I don't mind getting any fic recommendation from you if you don't mind!

Oh, heck, okay, hmm 🤔 I'm just gonna- put recommendations of fics that got me so good, they still live inside my head rent free up til now (and mostly because of either their 1) concept, or 2) format, or 3) the earliest I bookmarked them), then.

1. Coveted by meruemsthighs

Notes/Tags: and the 5 stages of grief, Gojo Satoru-centric, Pre-Shibuya Incident Arc (Jujutsu Kaisen), two divorced boys doing what divorced boys do, Canon Compliant, Comfort

2. A Forgotten Act by iamsomebody

Notes/Tags: This one looks like a screenplay's script! // brief descriptions of gore and blood, canon-compliant deaths, Angst, Drinking if that makes you uncomfortable, y'all I'm sorry for this one I just wanted Gojo to cry, Manga Spoilers, As in Shibuya

3. I'm not scared of the dark by Anonymous

Notes/Tags: Bro, this one got me crying from 1 AM to 3 AM ngl BUT IT'S SO DAMN COOL!!! // Dreams and Nightmares, Prophetic Visions, Canonical Character Death, Falling In Love, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Temporal Paradox, Open to Interpretation, Non-Explicit Sex, Math and Science Metaphors, Jujutsu Kaisen Manga Spoilers, Shibuya Incident Arc Spoilers (Jujutsu Kaisen)

4. Highway to Hell by keouil

Notes/Tags: This one is probably one of those first ones that made me laugh, I'm serious. Oh, and the author is one of my favorite authors as well! Click on keouil's pseudo/username and read all of the other fics, most of them are so unique! // Fluff

5. A Little Orange by tumblr

Notes/Tags: I really, really loved the setting in this one. So comforting. // Domestic Fluff, Marriage

6. Serendipity by simeoa

Notes/Tags: Sorry, angst again... // Canon Compliant, Manga Spoilers, Canonical Character Death, Pining, First Kiss, Shibuya Incident Arc

7. LITERALLY ALL THE NANAGO FICS WRITTEN BY newlight

Plausible Villain!Nanami? Where The Dawn Builds A Bridge (Enemies to something-that-ambiguously-resembles-Lovers in which Nanami kills his way to end CAPITALISM and you're going to love it, I promise)

Between Us, I think The Night is Watching. (A brief, brief study into the unspoken)

AND I BURN UP THE LAST OF WHO I USED TO BE. (Established NanaGo, let's go!!!)

Danish Sweetheart (Notes/Tags: Friends With Benefits To Lovers, Canon Compliant, The Hokkaido Trip but i touch it w my goblin hands)

Like Lightning from Heaven (Notes/Tags: This one is hella delicious. It has some kind of Religious Undertones where they both worship each other. FWB.)

Btw, I can't be held accountable if these aren't the recommendations that you're expecting. Hope you have a pleasant day!

[loviatars]

Purple Moons

pairing: abdirak x female main character (reader) warnings: torture that the mc has inflicted, blood, religious undertones rating: mature for above-mentioned reasons word count: 784 notes: another baby fic for my absolute favourite character in this gd game, the bdsm priest from the goblin camp slkdjf

His skin is wet with sweat or blood, and he will have new scars soon. Abdirak looks so pleased, his eyes fondly tracing the marks left that he can see. And when he lifts a hand to prod at them, the moan he gives is deliciously overzealous.

Until you swoop in, taking his wrist and gently guiding it away.

“None of that until you’re clean,” you say. Your voice echoes off stone, unafraid to be short with him. He makes a point of languidly stretching out on the cot, flipping over onto his stomach so you can get at his back.

The worst of the wounds bloom there. Long, red lines from a whip bite his skin. Both old and fresh, they lie side by side. He does not flinch away from your hand when you touch him, making another sound that’s not unlike a growl.

“No more pain. Not yet,” you add. And he folds his arms above him, resting his cheek against his forearms. “Did you like it, have I ever done better?”

“Not that I can recall,” he says, his voice is deep and hoarse from his revelry. Abdirak’s screams of agony were as practiced as music. “You did well, I liked it immensely.”

“And I think it pleased the Maiden,” you continue. He snorts, turning his head to look at you. “Don’t get all sanctimonious with me, now. I earned her blessing, same as you.”

“That is true,” he concedes. “What fresh misery do you intend to visit upon me, priestess?”

“The horrors of cleaning those bloody whip wounds, love,” you say. And even as you try not to smile, you give in. 

You sit next to him on the cot, balancing a basin on your knees. You pull the sopping-wet cloth from the warm water, writing it out just enough before pressing it gently to his scarred back.

Abdirak wails and you resist the urge to smile wider. He has his methods of devotion and you have yours, though you are far from a priestess. Likely he will again protest bandages, but you aim to distract him from that.

“Is it too hot?” you ask. He swallows.

“It is exquisite,” he says. “Nearly more than I can bear.”

“Bear it,” you tut, pressing down more firmly on the long marks. He growls again in response, though the aggression peters out to a thankful whine near the end. “Offer it up, as you say.”

“You are learning faster than I expected,” he says, his voice strained.

“I would tell you to quiet yourself, but you like your throat sore,” you’re more transparent with your teasing. Slowly, his dried blood comes away in flakes. The water in the bowl turns pink. “Isn’t that right?”

Another, lower whine is all you receive. You hum, a sense of accomplishment settling on your shoulders.

“All right,” you say, “no more playing. I’ll change the water and get the salve, it’ll burn your back up just how you like.”

“Is that a promise?” he grins, sounding pleased with himself. You sigh.

As impossible as he is, experience has made him patient. You admire the view of Abdirak, bare and scarred in the torchlight as you search for the bottle. Before returning, you pick up a roll of bandages.

“If you die of an infection,” you start, “who will bring offerings to our Whip? Hm?”

“You make a compelling argument,” he sighs.

You reach over, brushing your fingers through his hair. It’s tangled and dirty, you’ll both need a bath before the day is out. 

The absence of pain is not necessarily against his beliefs, it seems, as Abdirak lifts his head from his forearms and cants towards the source of comfort. A moment passes with neither screams nor anguish.

“Good,” you say when you pull away. It isn’t specified that you speak of him, but gooseflesh rises on his skin all the same. 

Dipping your finger in the bottle and bringing it to his back, you carefully paint the salve over angry marks. He won’t enjoy your attempts to control the scarring, either, but you’ll try the very same.

“It pleases me not to have to quarrel with you,” you say, a triumphant smile tugging on your mouth. His cold, deep laugh rumbles off the walls.

“Don’t become used to any of it,” he replies. “I fully intend to quarrel with you at every opportunity following.”

“I’m shaking,” you deadpan. He laughs a second time.

It’s clear that he’s still in pain. Abdirak white-knuckles his wrist, pressing his cheek firmly against the cot. But he doesn’t move an inch as you’re trying to work, and it seems the shouting has died down for the night.

[jungstruly]

From Eden || Lee Jeno

Disobedience, the first sin on mankind.

WORD COUNT 2.4k

GENRE Romance, Demon!Jeno AU

WARNING/S Religious undertone, Suggestive

NOTE Hello, I am back from my hiatus! Here is a peace offering for you all lmao. Thank you so much my lovely @scissorhands1617 for taking the time to read & edit my work! I love you my cute lil froggie úwù. Happy reading! Also, read at your own risk. Even I kept on blushing while writing Devil!Jeno ;)

The tree was calling your name. It rang in your ears like a captivating enchantment, whispering your name and telling you to come. A hymn that you cannot tune out that starts from the rise of the sun ‘till the dead of the night. You tried everything that you can to block it from your senses. You divert your attention to the clouds at noon even frolic in the river with your favorite animals to pass the time. And even tasted every fruit that this huge garden can offer. Except one, of course.

The only tree up the small hill that you were prohibited to do so. You were told that you are allowed to eat anything. Anything but that tree’s fruit. The both of you were instructed to do so without even telling the reason why and it bugged you deeply. You tried to bury it at the back of your mind.

But the more you resist, the more your curiosity heightens. Your desire devours every inch of you. You felt like it was going to kill you any time soon. If one cannot answer your simple why then, it is a matter of time ‘till you figure it out yourself.

The untouched green grass prickles your bare feet but you could care less. The tree was just few feet up from you. Your mouth gets drier with every step. It quirks up as you look behind you. With two shaking pupils, you glance to where you left your sleeping companion just across the river bend. Sure enough, his eyes screw shut in a deep slumber. It was now or never.

Sure, the garden in which you live was beautiful. The place is paradise itself. Every tree was standing proudly. Flowers in every kind dotted the whole place. Creatures in every kind live in harmony but all of these, can’t compare to the beauty that the tree has. The tree alone left you even breathless from your walk.

It has the plumpest red fruit that you have ever seen. It was even bigger than both of your fists combined. You were absolutely sure that it wasn’t your mind playing tricks on you but you swore that the air was sweeter here. A sweet and citrusy scent wafted to your nose. Truly, it was addicting.

The late afternoon sun made the leaves sparkle. You swore that you even saw tiny specks of gold on its leaves. Confusion stirs inside you as you remembered being told not to eat anything from it. Why would anyone stop you from having a taste of the fruit of this pure and harmless tree? It was absurd that you were kept from taking anything from it or merely looking or thinking of it.

Lost in your own thoughts, your hand absentmindedly reaches out to caress the red fruit. You were told not to eat it. Nobody said that you can’t touch it. The sensation of touching it along with its sweet smell puts you in a trance.

“Grab it.”

A faint whisper can be heard from your left ear. It was soft but it made your naked body jump because of the close proximity. The hot breath of the culprit tickled your ear. You turn to the side, expecting to see your companion fully awake but you were wrong.

Two piercing red eyes glowed and met your warm gaze. His long ebony hair parts perfectly, falling at the side of his face in an intricate manner. He looked like he was sculpted to perfection because of his chiseled face. A smug smirk lingers on his red lips. Just like you, he was naked.

It was a man. No, not your companion. It was another man that you haven’t seen in this entirety of Eden ever since you can remember. You tear your eyes from his blazing red pupils as you became conscious of what you were doing. You wanted to see the tree up close, nothing more. But here you are, seconds away from picking a fruit from it.

“We really should not.” Your voice sounded like a hoarse whisper. The man beside you walks past your nervous figure and marches near the fruit that you were holding earlier. “We were told not to do so and-“

A loud grunt comes from him before he picks the red fruit from the tree. Your eyes widen at his sudden action. You were sure that he was absurd but you can’t seem to tear your eyes off of the fruit. The man throws it in the air in one swift motion before catching it right in front of your face. It’s intoxicating smell wafts through your nose.

“You were saying darling?” The loud beating of your heart filled your ears as you tried to calm down your ragged breaths.

“I-I,” You stutter, unable to form coherent sentences to scold him but nothing came out. Your squirming figure only made his smirk grow wider.

Clearing your throat, you tried to swat his hand away and look him in the eyes.“I thought there were only two of us here, me and my companion. How come this is my first time seeing you? Where did you come from? Are you one of us too? Do you have a name? And what on earth do you think you’re doing?”

“Well, it’s to meet you too.” The man’s voice dripped with sarcasm but you were too nice to notice it. The tree that you were under gives both of you a nice shade.

Your cheeks immediately heat up, biting your lip in embarrassment as realization hits you. “Where are my manners? I’m not usually this rude. Sorry,”

“It’s very nice to meet you. Hello,” You blink back at him. “I am Y.N and you are?”

Your wide curious eyes look innocently at him. The sight of you being so pure and almost angelic made the man growl underneath his breath. His mind raced into different directions, but every single one of them involved him breathing your scent and him not leaving any inch of your skin untouched. The dark haired man raised a brow at your waiting figure. Well, how must he put this? What must you call him? He has many names indeed.

Serpent, devil, demon, monster, beast...

You wave your hand in front of his face, still naive of the brooding dark look that he was giving you. He snapped back to reality. His face contoured into a quick smile which you also mirrored.

“I got distracted, pardon me.” What he needs is your trust if he wants to get inside that pretty little head of yours. He didn’t expect you to be this kind and hospitable already but it wasn’t really a surprise. After all, everything is designed to be good and righteous in this garden.

“It’s Jeno,”

A nod is your only response. Questions filled your head but everything seemed to disappear once you got another look at the fruit that he was clutching. A sinister smirk paints on Jeno’s lips as he takes a closer step to you. Your eyes not leaving the fruit.

“Don’t you want to take a bite?” Jeno’s voice is filled with honey yet laced with malice. He urges the fruit closer to your face the moment he sees you gulping. His cold demeanor vanishes once you come back to your senses. You shake your head.

Jeno gives you a knowing look, slowly waving the red fruit in front of your face. His smirk not faltering. “Even just a tiny little bite, darling?”

“No, I’m not supposed to eat that.” Curiosity was eating you out but it still didn’t stop you from doing the right thing.

“Why?”

“Well, I don’t know.” You whispered in all honesty. His question caught you off guard. You glance at the sky. “I think I should go back now. It’s almost night time.”

“But don’t you want to know why?” He presses on. Jeno knew you were listening when he saw you not moving an inch despite bidding farewell. 

He tries to hide his devilish smile while talking. “I mean, I suppose there isn’t any problem with you knowing why you’re not allowed to eat this one fruit. Why not find out right here, right now?”

“I was told that I’ll die if I did.

His loud laugh filled your ears. Once his laughter died down, he raised a mocking brow at you. The smile was still obvious on his lips. “Oh really?”

A nod was your only response. Your face contoured into a face of shock and despair the moment he takes a huge bite from the forbidden fruit. A gasp leaves your lips.

“Oh dear!” You panicked, eyes wide open as you think for a solution to save him from dying.

Jeno on the other hand, moaned in delight upon chewing the delicious pomegranate.

“But I am very much alive?” He shrugs, taking another bite. “You were saying?”

Your mouth opens in astonishment. Jeno gives you a smug look. “Why don’t you take a bite?”

You were persistent. Your head shook no. You tried to push the idea of your creator lying to you away as you try to feed your curiosity. “Well, what does it taste like?”

“As sweet as an angel’s kiss.”

“A kiss?”Jeno finds your curious head tilt endearing. “What is a kiss?”

He stops himself from taking a bite from his fruit. Jeno gritted his teeth. You looked like a cute lost deer, waiting for its prey to eat you anytime soon. That time has come for he has something up his sleeve.

“Do you want me to give it to you?”

“Well if you must,” You held out your hand in front of him, anticipating the ‘kiss’ that he was talking about. Jeno snickered to himself. He wanted to stain your innocence so bad. You were too pure for him in his delight. It was a surprise that he was able to control himself from keeping you all to himself and taking you to his lair.

Besides, the serpent himself isn’t that foolish to begin with. He knew with your inborn goodness, you’ll definitely do what you’re asked of.

“One should stay still. Can you do that for me darling?” Jeno slowly runs his tongue to his lip as he draws closer to you. The taste of the red fruit still lingers on his mouth. “Hm?”

Head bobbing excitedly, you can’t help but to put your other hand out in front of him. This was exactly what he had in mind. If there was one thing you were also born with, it’s curiosity. You were created to have it. A mortal will always have the need for answers. It is inevitable.

You shudder at his touch. Jeno’s pale hands delicately caresses your cheek before cupping it on his palm. His touch was soft and gentle as if he was holding a porcelain doll. Your soft and warm skin made him crazy. His red pupils dilated the moment he locked his eyes on your plump red lips.

You were about to open your mouth to ask him the kiss’ whereabouts but your words were silenced by Jeno’s lips crashing on yours. It was rough and hard— the exact opposite of his touch. He was going crazy how soft your lips are. The fact that he was the first one to do it to you pushed him to the edge.

His action took you by surprise. You stood there frozen with eyes wide open. This was your first time receiving a ‘kiss’. You didn’t know what to do and you didn’t want him to stop. Whatever he’s doing, he’s making you feel something you haven’t felt yet in your entire lifetime.

Jeno pulls away breathlessly. His forehead still glued on yours as he whispers, tucking a small strand of hair behind your ear. “Close your eyes and just feel it. Let it consume you.”

Obeying his command, you did what he said. With eyes screw shut, Jeno smirks to himself.

“Good girl,”

He attacks your lips once again. This time around, you were much aware and responsive. Jeno’s lips tasted sweet with a hint of citrus. It tasted almost like a fruit actually— a fruit that you haven’t tasted yet. You didn’t know that your body was capable of responding to his actions. Your hands slowly run through his silky dark hair before letting your hands knot itself on it.

Jeno gives out a throaty chuckle when he realizes how much eagerness and hunger you’re giving to the kiss. Not that he was complaining though. He couldn’t blame you either. It’s hard to resist the things that are forbidden. One will have a hard time to quit.

You let yourself indulge in the kiss as much as you liked before pulling away just to breathe some air.

Jeno’s eyes flicker with mischief the moment your eyes linger to his lips and to the tree. You can’t help but to question your creator. How come you haven’t crossed paths with this man in front of you? How come the “kiss” isn’t introduced sooner? Why is eating the fruit from this tree prohibited in the first place when it’s obvious that it is harmless? Why? Why not?

“I-l” You tried your best to meet his eyes, avoiding to stare at his very red lips. “I need to go. It is getting dark.”

He nods his head with a knowing grin before grabbing your hand to place an open mouthed kiss. Jeno’s eyes not leaving you with each passing second. You gulped when he stayed still in that position.

Chuckling at your squirming figure, he releases your hand. “I think you should.”

As much as you wanted to stay here and kiss Jeno until morning comes once again, you know to yourself that you can’t. You give him a wave before skipping down the hill however, you stopped midway.

“When can I meet you again?” Your voice sounded desperate, needy even. He knew that his plan worked and it’ll just be a matter of time until you get banished from this ‘paradise’ and he can all have you to himself.

“Oh sweetheart,” Jeno’s eyes darken as he smirks. The bitten pomegranate fruit went flying in the air before it landed perfectly on his palm. “I’m everywhere.”

That night when you were asked if you have eaten the fruit from the forbidden tree, you answered no.

But you did.

The fruit of evil is indeed sweet. It is addicting. It consumes every part of your soul. The lingering taste of his lips shouldn’t be tasted in the first place. Because Jeno— Jeno became the fruit itself.

[frostbitten-written]

Chapters: 1/2 Fandom: Lucifer (TV), Lucifer (TV) RPF, Lucifer (Comic), Tom Ellis - Fandom Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)/Reader, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)/Original Female Character(s), Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) & Reader, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) & Original Character(s), Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)/Original Character(s) Characters: Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Reader, You, Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character(s) of Color, Original Female Human Character(s) Additional Tags: BAMF Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Finger Sucking, Fucking, Light Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Vaginal Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Church Sex, Confessional, Confessional Sex, Religion, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Religious Conflict, Religious Content, Religious Guilt, Author Is Not Religious, Catholicism, Catholic Character, Catholic Imagery, Catholic Character of Color, Catholic Guilt, Roman Catholicism, Improper Use of Catholic Rituals, Deal with a Devil, Episode: s01e09 A Priest Walks Into A Bar, Religious Fanaticism, Loss of Virginity, Virginity, Virginity Kink, Virginity or Celibacy Kink, Blow Jobs, First Time Blow Jobs, Public Blow Jobs, Bad Puns, Puns & Word Play, First Time, First Kiss, Innocence, Loss of Innocence, Corruption, Naive character, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Sexual Experimentation

Summary:

A sinner finds refuge in a confessional and begs for forgiveness, receiving guidance of the highest degree from the father of sin himself, Lucifer Morningstar.

Preview:

“I did it again.” Her voice trailed off; she was radiating guilt.

“And what exactly is it that you did darling…?” He dragged his voice out, clearly anxious to find out her next words, anticipating his next.

“I touched myself again.” Samara heard him attempt to stifle a contented moan.

“What a deliciously devious sin you've committed.” Her cheeks burned red, and she sat on her hands, embarrassed and angry with herself.

“I need to be punished, don't I?” He let out a sultry purr.

“Oh yes, very much darling.”

gif credit

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@poetic-fiasco​​

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[wri0thesley]

Demon risotto x angel reader nsfw Risotto becomes infatuated with reader and takes it upon himself to taint reader. He mounts her in front of a cross as a means to mock God. Make it kinky please!

Warnings: Slurs, Blasphemy (?). I don’t know it’s as “kinky” as you might have wanted but if hell exists I sure am going there! Could possibly read as dub-con if you squint but again, Reader Is So Into It. it’s not intended to be read that way!! reader just really wants to get laid!

Afab reader, fem pronouns, about 4k! 

You should not be here.

You know that, sure as you've known anything in your whole life. Though the wood and the pews and the cross towering over where the congregation should sit speak of devotion to your purpose, you can also scent the smoke on the air. The uncleanliness. You know that darkness has been here, and that darkness will be back. This is no longer a place of God; this is no longer a place of peace and serenity or a place of forgiveness.

Though the stained glass is beautiful and tells beautiful stories that you have always held true to, though the statues of your brethren are tall and imposing, though just this morning you watched people in need of religious guidance bend their head and pray--

This church no longer belongs to them.

And in that, it no longer belongs to you. You can no longer help these people. You should have fled hours ago; you should be telling someone that you have lost another piece in the game of war, so that your fellows can arrange a fire or some such tragedy to befall it, lest people be lead astray from their path when they enter and sense the darkness.

But you have not.

You have stood by the altar, and you have waited for the harbringer of this destruction.

Oh, if anyone else could see you now - if they could know what depths you were about to throw yourself into! You're sure that they would campaign for you to be let free from your heavenly duties, whispering about how even Lucifer was beautiful, using you as a horror story to warn off others of your kind from such things. You had thought you were different!

But you are not different.

Risotto Nero had looked at you with deep crimson and ink eyes, black feathers curling around broad shoulders, impressive frame casting a shadow over everything in his path - and instead of that crawl of distrust and horror at the pinnacle of evil before you, your body had cried out to touch his.

You should run. You scent brimstone on the air, and part of you - that part of you that still has heavenly inclinations, you suppose - pulls back in horror at the way it invades your senses. That part of you urges you to go before it's too late - but the other part of you . . . That part of you that has been in control for the past few months, since the first time Risotto's eyes had dragged over your body with barely concealed lust, since the first time his lips had brushed over your hand and the corner of his mouth had curled into a wicked smirk you'd felt bodily . . . That part of you wants to be enveloped in the brimstone like a comfort blanket. That part of you wants to stay here forever.

And that part of you wins out, of course.

There are heavy footfalls from somewhere unseen, and your body tenses. You know that this tenseness should be in fear - it should certainly not be in desire, in anticipation for your lover's form to reveal itself to your eyes. The noise echoes through the empty church. The candles closest to you flicker once, twice - and their flame sputters out, leaving you momentarily in total darkness.

You do not need to breathe, and you have no heart to beat, but in those few moments of silence and darkness you swear you can feel them rattling out of you.

And then, the candle flames spring up again, their centres dark pitch instead of violent orange - and Risotto Nero is there.

"I thought you'd come," he rumbles, his voice low and deep, stoking fires inside of you that you didn't know you were capable of. There's a delicate tremble that runs through you at the way he speaks to you, and it's only intensified as you meet his gaze and his mouth curls and you see the slightest hint of a mouth full of sharp teeth. "Couldn't keep away, angel?"

It's a term of endearment that is not without its mocking undertones - then again, he's utterly correct.

You could not keep away. Part of you had been drawn to him since the moment you saw him, and he has known that from the start. He has fulfilled his end of the bargain with the brush of his lips and the curves of his body and whispers of what he would do to you, were you only to allow him conquest of your body--

"No," you breathe. "No, I could not."

You're surprised when he gracefully gets onto his knee, his muscles rippling - and then, as he looks at you from his position knelt on the floor and holds out his hand, you understand.

"Do you not wish to make this official in the eyes of God?" He says, and the smirk on his face is unbearable in its pleasure. Your knees are weak as you put your own hand into his.

This is it. There is no going back. You are profaning the holy - but, with Risotto leaning down, his mouth brushing your palm, you cannot bring yourself to care. Sharp teeth scratch along your mount of Venus, drawing blood - and when he pulls back, demonic grin on his face, blood staining his perfect mouth--

Yes. It changes nothing.

"Then," he says, amused. "We are one."

He grabs you, pulling your body against him as he rights himself, each plane of his muscle hard and obvious against your softer self. He leans down, his breath tickling the shell of your ear, gooseflesh rising along your back and your arms.

"But, angel," he murmurs, his tone low and dangerous and predatory, and sending more than a spiral of heat low down into the space between your thighs this time. "We have not consumnated our union yet."

There's that perverse thrill that an angel should never feel. That shiver that goes through the entirety of you, as your mouth goes dry and your eyes widen at his implication. This is his last act, then, to make the church his own - profaning not simply the building and what it stands for, but you, who should know far better than to let this demon with his wicked words and his clever tongue and his lovely face have his way with you--

"Then," you say, swallowing. "We should make a start on it."

He's delighted with you, a laugh bubbling from his lips, his hands - almost claws - brushing your hips as he holds you against him for a moment.

"You know," he says, "I've wanted you since the moment I saw you. There's something about you . . ."

"I should not have let myself be lead astray," you breathe, as one hand cups your face, as you relax into the cool touch. Perhaps you should not feel comfort in the arms of a demon - but you are far too far gone for that to be a real concern now. "But there's something about you--"

"Oh, you were too good for this life," Risotto murmurs, low and deep, and he brings the hand that is resting on your cheek forward, claws making quick work of cutting the sheer fabric of your robe so it drops around you, pooling at your feet. Your wings are retracted - you had done that before meeting him. After this . . . after this you imagine that you'll never be able to call them forth again.

It is one of those sacrifices that will be worth it to still the constant need that pulses and pounds through you whenever your mind invariably drifts to Risotto.

"Too good for being an angel?" You quip, and you raise your own hand to ghost his face. Perfect cheekbones, shapely  lips, tousled hair falling over his forehead in a way that looks at once calculated and natural - dark eyes boring into you. Risotto is a dead ringer for Lucifer, you think, even as he chuckles and you see his throat buzz with the reverberations. You want to kiss down that throat - find the place where his pulse would beat if he had one and sink your teeth into it, if only to hear the noise of pleasure you're certain would spill forth from that lovely mouth.

"Oh," he says, "you always needed more freedom than that, didn't you? I'll give you that in droves, my darling--"

And he kisses you, full on the mouth.

He tastes like blood, like iron and fire and smoke, and you find your tongue mapping the lines of his lips even as he suckles on your own lower one. Your teeth tease into his bottom lip and he groans aloud, hands moving to your waist, lifting you up like a ragdoll as he carries you across the room, resting you on one of the pews. Your legs are spread, perched neatly on the seating of the pew, as he kneels again and you feel heat, hot and hard, pressing into your bare skin. As he kisses you, he moves, driving the unmistakable hardness into you as if he's going to rut himself to completion right there.

He pulls back.

"You were worth waiting to claim," he muses aloud, studying your face - you're left, blinking up at him owlishly, your cheeks flushed, your mouth swollen but still wanting for more of the delicious taste of him on you. The kiss has done little to sate that ache inside you that has been present since the moment you saw Risotto.

But, from the look in his eyes as they rove over your newly bared body (your former gauzy robe lays forgotten by the altar), you imagine that said ache will be soothed soon enough.

"Look at you," Risotto growls, and one big hand - warm, so warm - drags down your hip, over your thighs, across your stomach, the swell of your breasts - "Untouched. Holy. Immaculate." He leans down and he applies the aching hotness of his tongue to your nipple, a wordless thrum escaping your throat at the attention of that muscle, as he swirls circles around the nub and you feel a tightness that you've never felt before. As if pinpricks of pleasure go down your body, spiralling down to your core - and when he repeats the process on the other one, his teeth adding a bite to the equation that makes you shudder, that need for touch increases threefold.

"I hope," you say, breathlessly, "not for long."

He chuckles as he pulls back, hands resting on your thighs and pushing them apart. His eyes greedily eye your sex, wet and inviting and desperate for more of his handling, before they flicker back up to you.

If you could see yourself through Risotto's eyes, you would understand better the longing he feels for you. Since the moment you'd appeared in his life, he has coveted the feel of your skin and the touch of your hands - it's in a demon's nature to covet, of course, but for you . . . That need was something even more primal and raw than he'd ever felt. He'd sensed it when you'd come close to him, too - that need for something more.

When he'd seen you swallow and breathe and the way your body had reacted to his presence, he'd known that you wanted him just as much. And he'd fantasised about exactly what was happening a hundred times, waiting for his moment - so forgive him, if, before he gives you what you need, he spends a moment gloating about his victory. He has wanted this for as long as he has known you.

"So eager," he taunts, leaning in - his tongue licks a slow stripe up your inner thigh, a keen escaping from the back of your throat. "That's not how a proper angel behaves, is it?"

"Oh," you breathe, "I've long since given up that mantle--"

"What is it now?" He asks, smirking. His teeth scrape across your inner thigh and your body trembles with want. His breath fans along your aching sex. You need to be filled. You need to be touched.

"Whatever you want it to be," you gasp. "Your toy, if that pleases you--"

"Mm," he growls. "Angel, that pleases me very much."

And he dives between your thighs, his tongue working overtime as it once more stokes that fire within you in a way you did not know it could be stoked. Statues of saints and stained glass and images of your God stare at you, your thighs willingly spread for a demon - but you cannot bring yourself to care. Not when it feels this good. Not when you feel complete in a way you didn't know it was possible to feel complete in.

Risotto's mouth makes pleased grunts and groans, his tongue diving wildly between your folds, stroking your clit with tender quick lashes of his tongue before he circles your entrance again, shifting his attention from one place to another as your hips tip and shake wildly. The sight of him between your thighs, his pale head bent, his dark wings twitching in time with the rhythm of his mouth--

Your body jerks as he suckles on your clit, fingers diving into his hair so that you can keep some modicum of balance. This makes him groan aloud, and the vibrations of the noise send another shock of pleasure through you, your mouth calling out something wordless and desperate.

He pulls back for a moment, his mouth glistening with your arousal, his eyes wild and dark.

"Enjoying yourself?" He rasps, and flush rises across your bare chest and your cheeks.

"G-God, yes--" You breathe out, and he chuckles.

"You're calling to the wrong unearthly ruler, angel," he says, and he makes a show of licking his lips - oh God, that his tongue is forked and longer and clearly inhuman makes you feel an actual pulse within your hideously empty channel. "There is no God here."

"Good," you say, hands still knit in his hair. You tug at it, and he allows himself to be dragged back to his former position with your thighs pillowing his head. "Make me call out your name instead, then."

You do not have to tell Risotto twice. This time, his suckling and his licks and the broad lathes of his tongue have a fervour behind them that they were lacking before - when he swirls his tongue around your clit, he does not pull away in favour of teasing you somewhere else. You find yourself babbling out noises that make no senses, hips pushing your sex into Risotto's face, trying to get him to pay more attention to the throbbing, swollen nub--

And Risotto does not disappoint. He sucks your clit into his mouth, his sucking fast but rhythmic - and you feel that electricity that has been threatening to spill from you for weeks finally reach the full potential, like a hundred lights turning on at once all over your body - your channel pumps slickness out, your hips trembling against his mouth, Risotto's tongue slowing as he allows you to ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm.

He pulls back, leaving you trembling and staring, your breath coming in heaves and gasps. Risotto's eyes travel the length of your body again, taking in every inch of you - and from the way that he reaches down to pull away the sheer dark fabric over his hips, you know that he's enjoying what he's seeing before him.

"If you don't mind," he says, low and heavy - and immediately, you shake your head.

Whilst the orgasm - you've never felt one before, but you're not stupid, you know that this is what the fireworks and the electricity prickles were - was nice, it has done nothing to assuage the fact you feel so empty. You want him to claim you in every sense of the word.

It is not a consumnation of your devotion, after all, until Risotto has come inside you and marked you out as his own.

"I don't mind at all," you whisper. Risotto grins, leaning down, picking up your body once more like you weigh nothing more than a ragdoll. You're surprised when you're carried across and past the pulpit, to the back of the church - and then he slams you against the wall (the shock sends another wave of desire through you, though you know that you shouldn't be so pleased by his rough treatment--) and your head lolls back to see that he has your spine pressed against the symbol of the cross, the planes of wood meeting further up.

"I want your heavenly Father," Risotto growls, in a way that makes your body clench around nothing all over again. "To see that there's only one man you'll answer to now, angel. I want him to see your pretty face when you come around my cock. I want him to hear you when you cry out for deliverance from me, and not from him. I want him to know that one of his pretty little angels--" He brushes the back of his hand over your face, keeping you suspended against the wall with the power of one hand and his hips. His cock - hard and erect and clearly longing for you - presses into the flesh of your thigh. "Has become nothing more than a demon's whore."

"I am," you say, and the words sound final, but they do not frighten you at all. "I'll be your whore, and more--"

"Good girl," Risotto growls, and your thighs are spread wider and wider, allowing his impressive bulk to come between them, your legs either side of his hips. He holds you like that for a moment, allowing himself to look down at the wet mess between your legs that he'd caused with your tongue. "Look how wet you got for your sworn enemy. Look how easily you submitted. Because you've been begging for me all along, haven't you?"

Having him so close and yet so far makes you feel wanton and desperate. You bite back a whimper and nod instead.

"Say it aloud, angel," he says. "Like a prayer to your God. Say how long you've wanted my cock inside you."

Your face is red, but you comply - anything for him to take away the empty ache! Anything to be finally, finally filled. Anything for all of this dodging around one another to finally come to an end as you two meet in the most biblical of senses.

"The first time I saw your face," you say, and your breath is short, and it seems even less viable to breathe as you feel the rounded tip of his cock press against your swollen folds, teasing your entrance. You do not know much about such matters, but you cannot help but feel that Risotto is bigger than average. "I w-wanted to feel your lips on me. Your arms around me. Y-you awakened something inside me--"

"Keep going," Risotto urges, and shifts his hips so that the tip of his cock sinks inside you - and your body welcomes him in, wet and needy. Your next words have more of a moan to them.

"Whenever I thought of you," you manage to continue, "I felt empty. I felt like I needed something inside me. I felt like I needed something unholy--"

Further in. He hits a sensitive spot inside you and it takes all of your composure not to wail aloud, your shoulders heaving. He's easing himself in agonisingly slowly - when you look at him, his eyes flicker between watching your face as you speak and watching himself stretch you on his cock. Your mouth practically waters when you see he's barely made it halfway - you already feel so full. Even despite that, you know you can take more. You know you won't be satisfied until Risotto is buried in you to the hilt.

"And I did," you succeed in gasping out. "I needed your cock inside me, and your mouth on me, or your fingers inside me-- I needed you to make me into a plaything for your lust . . . I needed to be your l-little wh-whore--"

Your last words are cut off by Risotto sinking his entire length into you, a growl of victory coming forth from his mouth - and by him immediately beginning to fuck you against the cross that he has pressed against. Your words seem like they've broken a dam - you lock your legs around those hips more tightly, your arms winding about his neck, as he drives into you as if in a religious fervour.

Yes. You suppose it is a religious fervour. Though Risotto fucks you to ensure you're fully away from God's light, instead of to guide you into it. And you find that you do not mind.

If not being one of God's beloved means that you can feel Risotto's cock pounding into you like this, over and over again, is it so bad? If it means that the ache within you is assuaged by Risotto's heat and fire, if it means that the waves of pleasure that wash over you with each stroke of your inner walls are to be a permanent state - than perhaps it is worth it.

You whimper as he fucks you, all of the verbosity knocked out of you by just how good he feels. Just how right it feels. The shadow of the cross above you falls across the aisle of the church, but even that is not enough to make you think of what you might be losing. Your body is slammed against his with each press of his strong hips, and you simply cling to him and enjoy the feeling.

Tightness tugs at your stomach. Heat blooms low in your body. Your breath feels short, as you gasp out pleas - you do not gasp out God's name, this time. There are other people it is better to pray to.

"Risotto," you murmur, nails digging into his shoulders. "Risotto, please--"

He huffs against your ear, the breath hot. Teeth scrape the junction where your shoulder meets your neck - and as he bites down with teeth, sucking a mark into you so that anybody who sees your neck knows you belong to someone - your body seems to be a series of strings that all snap at once.

These waves are even more intense than the ones when Risotto had used his mouth upon you, crashing down over you, filling your body with heat and light. You're aware only dimly that Risotto's name has left your lips in a scream, as everything seems to go softly lit and gentle and your orgasm dims your vision.

Risotto's hips knock against yours - twice, thrice, four times -- and then he pulls out, letting your limp body slide down against the cross to come in an ungainly heap beneath it.

"Turn your face up, angel," he growls, and then; "Open your mouth for your communion."

You do. You open your mouth, watch him pump his cock once, twice more - and then, it twitches, and he spills ropes of his release into your waiting lips.

You accept the communion of your new leader eagerly, tongue lapping at the saltiness on your lips, some dripping down your chin and onto your naked body. Risotto towers over you, his eyes lit with heat at the sight of you being so shameless for him.

"Oh, angel," he says, and a hand comes down as he kneels to cup your cheek. Your eyes flutter closed as you rest your hand against it, relaxing into his touch, sated and pleased. Dark wings fold around the both of you. "You and I are going to have an eternity together."

You do not mind that it is surely an eternity in which you will be damned. You do not mind that you have given yourself in service to what is surely the wrong side.

All you care about is that when you look at Risotto, the ache within you does not seem so insurmountable. Perhaps you were never meant for good after all. Perhaps you were always simply--

Meant for this.

[amusewithaview]

Breakfast Is Served (abo au)

For Darcy, it starts something like this:

“You gave up caffeine for Lent?” she asks flatly.  It’s not so much a question as it is a plea for sanity to reassert itself in the labs. Her tone is eight parts ‘please tell me you’re joking’ to two parts ‘why, god. why' and combined with her thousand yard stare it must make for quite the picture, considering the way Tony is eyeing her.

“Not for Lent,” he says, and for all that he’s playing at being wary of her reaction he smells like nothing so much as amusement and the hard minerals that never quite dissipate from his scent pile.  “Not religious.  For Pepper.  Pepper is my religion.  My creed.  My-“

“Please don’t finish that,” she breaks in.  “Okay so, no caffeine.  What does that mean, exactly?”

“I may have removed temptation from the premises.  Temporarily.”

“Tony, are you telling me-“

“Why is the coffee gone?” Jane demands, bursting into the room.  The astrophysicist smells like adrenaline and sleep-deprivation and buttery toast to Darcy’s nose.  “What did you do?” she growls, stalking up to Tony with the light of battle in her eyes.

“He claims he found religion but my guess is a bet gone wrong.”

“Hey!  I would never!”  Two gimlet stares have him grumbling about being too predictable in his old age before admitting: “Fine, yes, a bet may have been involved.  But!  It stands. No caffeine for me.  You may have caffeine,” he allows generously, “but only when you’re away.”

Jane wrinkles her nose. “Leave the lab?  I can do without.”

Darcy sighs heavily.

This is going to end in tears.  Hers, probably.

 For Steve, it starts something like this:

“Captain,” JARVIS says quietly, after coughing gently to get his attention.

“Yes?”

“One of the other residents of the Tower is currently sleepwalking.  Normally I would lock them down in their rooms but they exhibited marked symptoms of stress when I attempted to do so.  I was monitoring for their safety but it appears they’re headed to the common kitchen area and I am concerned that they may injure themselves.”

“I can check in on them and wake them if necessary.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

Steve’s not sure what he’s expecting when he heads up to the kitchen, but it’s certainly not what he finds. What he sees is a messy head of hair, sleep-flattened on one side and curling gently on the other.  What he hears is a mix of mumbled gibberish and faint, plaintive whines.  What he smells is a full English Breakfast and woman and omega and-

He swallows hard.

The woman is occupied in opening every cabinet and systematically emptying them of their contents. She stops short seconds after he fully enters the kitchen.  Her head lifts, turning to face him, and he sees that her eyes are mostly closed, only the faintest gleam visible to indicate that she’s looking at him. Her nose lifts into the air and she takes a few deep breaths before letting out a soft dreamy sigh.

“Coffee,” she murmurs, and starts shuffling towards him.

Bemused, he watches her progress, expecting her to stop, to go around him, something.  Instead, she doesn’t stop, keeps walking till she’s just in front of him then reaches up and starts plucking at his shirt. Her soft smile is replaced by a faintly unhappy expression and she starts making those same plaintive little sounds again.  They’re awful sounds.  They reach into his chest and seem to squeeze at something there.  Steve allows her to pull him down a little and only just barely keeps himself from swearing in surprise when she shoves her entire face against his neck and just breathes.

“Coffee,” she says again, this time in a happy purr.

It is going on seven in the morning.  Steve is in no way prepared to handle an armful of delicious-smelling, soft-skinned, downright gorgeous omega at this, or any, time.  He settles his hands on her hips, intending to push her away, but the instant he touches her she starts climbing him and his metaphorical armful becomes quiet literal.

She’s still got her face pressed up against his throat, but she’s upped the ante and now she’s nuzzling him and making adorable little humming and chirping sounds of happiness. She smells warm and contented and it’s taking all of Steve’s not inconsiderable self-control to keep from pressing his own face into her neck in return and marking her up good and proper.

“-tain?  Captain?”

“Where’s her room, JARVIS?” he asks, and hopes the AI can understand his words through the involuntary growling undertone his words carry.  The omega in his arms, and he really needs to get her name, purrs in response and presses even closer.

“Follow the lights, Captain,” JARVIS instructs.

With the AI’s guidance it takes Steve less than five minutes to get to the right apartment.  It’s the longest five minutes of Steve’s life, so far. It’s dark enough that he can only make out faint shapes in her apartment, but the whole place smells like her and its just shy of overwhelming.  Her bedroom is even more scent-heavy and by the time he gets her to unlatch her arms and settles her on the bed, he’s almost drunk with it.

He ends up sitting beside her, letting her scent his wrist, till she falls asleep.

“JARVIS…”

“Yes, Captain?”

It would be cheating to ask the AI for a name the lady hasn’t given yet.

“Never mind.”

[caveartfair]

Long Demonized in Art, Eve Has Become a Pop Culture Icon

Divinely inspired or otherwise, the Old Testament story of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden is deeply rooted in the Western psyche. Eve occupies mere pages of the Genesis epic, but women have spent millennia atoning for her original sin. For the last 2,000 years, Eve has been invoked in the monotheistic world to suppress women’s rights and defame their characters. How many misogynistic stereotypes and prejudices stem from the reputation of the much-maligned, archetypal first woman?

The apostle Paul cited Eve’s narrative to justify women’s subservience to men, writing in the apocryphal book of Timothy that women should “keep silent” because “Adam was formed first, then Eve. And Adam was not deceived, but the woman was deceived and became a transgressor.” In the Middle Ages, St. Bernard of Clairvaux sermonized to rapt audiences of men and women that Eve was “the original cause of all evil, whose disgrace has come down to all other women.” More recently, at a legislative dinner in 2015, South Carolina Senator Tom Corbin was confronted for his combative remarks about women’s right to participate in the state’s General Assembly. “Well, you know God created man first,” he quipped. “Then he took the rib out of man to make woman. And you know, a rib is a lesser cut of meat.”

Adam and Eve, 2015. David LaChapelle MARUANI MERCIER GALLERY

From these rigid perspectives, Eve is one-dimensional: inherently wicked and an afterthought to Adam. Yet across popular culture and the history of art, Eve appears as a paradox. She is guileful and naive, earth mother and fatal seductress; she is the problem of man, his downfall, his eternal scapegoat.

Such depictions have structured our ideas of beauty, gender, and morality. The oldest conceptions of Eve play out again and again in all reaches of contemporary culture. A judiciously placed apple in a woman’s hand in art, advertising, or film can immediately invoke Eve’s devious sexuality, and still other references abound. The Handmaid’s Tale (2017–ongoing), adapted by Hulu from Margaret Atwood’s dystopian novel, features a young, religious character named Eden, who is expected to help repopulate the country. By the same token, in Pixar’s animated children’s movie WALL-E (2008), the title robot meets a fellow android who has come to bring new human life to Earth. Her name? EVE.

Forbidden fruit

Lucas Cranach the Elder, Adam and Eve, 1528. Courtesy of the Uffizi Gallery.

Though never explicitly named in the Bible, the apple has become the de facto “forbidden fruit”—powerful nomenclature for that which is fatally desirable, and therefore all the more tempting and worthy of moral rule-breaking. The apple’s shiny red skin and juicy interior make it an apt stand-in for sex, and the seductive way in which Eve is often depicted eating it only reinforces its libidinal connotations. Genesis records that after Eve takes a bite of the fruit, she simply “gave some to her husband and he ate.” St. Jerome, however, used the Latin word seducta to describe Eve’s transgression.

During the Northern Renaissance, German artist Lucas Cranach the Elder perfected the bewitching female nude. In his Adam and Eve diptych from 1528, the couple faces one another beneath the Tree of Knowledge, little red apples bobbing tantalizingly above their heads. A self-possessed Eve holds one perfect fruit out to her husband, who scratches behind his ear in apparent befuddlement. In Cranach’s depiction, it’s not the serpent whispering in Eve’s ear or even the apple that is dangerous, but the perfectly beautiful and alluring woman who will be his pleasure—and his downfall.

Domenichino, The Rebuke of Adam and Eve, 1626. Courtesy of the National Gallery of Art.

Men are often shown as helpless in the face of this female threat. In Domenichino’s 1626 painting, The Rebuke of Adam and Eve, God and his coterie of cherubim float down from heaven to reproach Adam. The first man throws up his hands in what looks like confusion or exasperation, diverting the entirety of the blame to his wife.

The image of Eve as sexual temptress has remained frighteningly constant, even in products and programs that purport to challenge ingrained sexist tropes. In the early aughts, for example, the soapy comedy-drama Desperate Housewives was lauded for casting five middle-aged women in the lead roles. The intended audience for the salacious TV show was presumably women, yet the impossibly fit, botoxed, and high-heeled characters seemed designed to appeal to men.

The apple’s shiny red skin and juicy interior make it an apt stand-in for sex, and the seductive way in which Eve is often depicted eating it only reinforces its libidinal connotations.

Red apples played prominently in promotional materials for the show. In the title sequence, an animated version of Cranach’s Adam is crushed by a giant falling apple as a blasé Eve looks on. In posters ahead of season five, the topless cast smiles coyly from behind a row of apples and the tagline “Even Juicier.”

So should one eat the apple or abstain? Designer Donna Karan exploited this ambiguity for her long-running DKNY scent Red Delicious. In the ads, a pouty model has just bitten into a green apple (how subversive), and the perfume packaging itself is shaped like the fruit. Sin is no longer the province of Eve alone: The “new temptation in fragrance” was marketed to both women and men.

Once in a while, the story of a woman with an apple doesn’t explicitly end with damnation or sex. In Disney’s Aladdin, the apples Princess Jasmine steals for a young, hungry boy lead to her meeting the titular male hero. They go on to have fabulous adventures together, but it’s Aladdin who reveals the world to Jasmine, and not the other way around. Sometimes apples—potent transmitters of dangerous information—are exchanged between women. In the 19th-century fairy tale that would later become a Disney classic, a witch proffers the poison apple that puts Snow White to sleep.

Snake charmer

In the book of Genesis, the tempting creature is explicitly referred to as “he” and is described only as a serpent. Yet Eve’s casting as an evil temptress gave rise to the belief that the duplicitous snake was female, too. In art, it was often depicted with a womanly upper body and a reptilian lower half. If wickedness is associated with femininity even before Eve gives Adam the Forbidden Fruit, which came first, woman or sin?

Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel version of the Fall sees his muscular Adam and Eve joined by an equally hulking snake-woman wrapped around the tree. Her right arm grasps the trunk for support as she stretches out to meet Eve’s upraised hand. Both Eve and the serpent use their left, or “sinister,” hands, further signaling their deviousness.

Michelangelo, The Fall of Man, 1512. Image via Wikimedia Commons.

Michelangelo was merely following a popular convention of his time. During the Renaissance, snake-women appear in Hugo van der Goes’s The Fall of Man and The Lamentation (ca. 1470–75); a terracotta sculpture of Adam and Eve by the workshop of Giovanni della Robbia (ca. 1515), which took inspiration from a famous Albrecht Dürer engraving; and the stone facade of Notre Dame. A blonde-headed serpent woman in Masolino’s Temptation of Adam and Eve (ca. 1425), a fresco in Florence’s Santa Maria del Carmine, is frighteningly funny: She snakes along the Tree of Knowledge with her comically tiny head popping out of the end of her skinny green body.

Left: Hugo van der Goes, The Fall of Man and The Lamentation, 1470–75. Courtesy of the Kunsthistorisches Museum. Right: Masolino da Panicale, Temptation of Adam and Eve, ca. 1425. Courtesy of Cappella Brancacci.

Giovanni della Robbia, Adam and Eve, ca. 1515.

Even before the Bible story, snakes were associated with women in cultures around the globe. The hostility that is created between them in the Bible may have been a way to separate the nascent Jewish community from pagan traditions that had a snake as a powerful female goddess. The Canaanite cult of Baal-Asherah heavily influenced the newly formed Israelite nation. In the predominantly female cult, Baal appeared in the form of a serpent with his wife, Asherah, at his side. When the Israelites entered Canaan, pagan religions were demonized in lieu of monotheism.

In this light, the story of Adam and Eve has political undertones. The biblical narrator may have already witnessed an established association between the serpent and the woman in neighboring tribes. When God punishes them, a wedge is driven between the serpent and the woman, cursing everlasting “enmity” between them and their offspring. The story successfully alienates the woman from her longtime ally.

Left: John Collier, Lilith, 1887. Image via Wikimedia Commons. Right: Pantaleon Szyndler, Eve (Temptation), 1889. Courtesy of the National Museum in Warsaw.

They are indeed powerful together. Who can forget the 2001 MTV Video Music Awards, when Britney Spears walked onstage with an albino python draped across her neck? Dressed as an exotic snake charmer and scantily clad in artfully tattered rags and glitter, Spears fully assumed her onstage persona as an outlet to embrace her newfound sexual freedom. The conflation of the pop star with a sexual goddess transpired before millions of girls and women in the public forum of television. With that scene from Genesis, snakes and women received their eternal reputation of immorality. The snake became an erotic symbol as “the bad girl” gained sex appeal.

The fall of (wo)man

Britney Spears performs at the 2001 MTV Video Music Awards. Photo by Kevin Mazur/WireImage.

Spears’s performance resonates with an artwork made over a century earlier by Pre-Raphaelite painter John Collier. With her perfect, naked body and long blonde hair, the woman in the 1887 painting who nuzzles the head of the giant snake sensually coiled around her looks like Eve. But in fact, it’s her alter ego, the legendary femme fatale, Lilith.

Fed-up women looking for a new matriarchal origin story have taken in Eve beneath their own gaze. They have embraced the qualities—independence, curiosity, sexuality—that once demonized her.

In Jewish literature, the enchantress Lilith is described as Adam’s first wife, before Eve. Lilith was man’s equal but was devilish in her sexuality. According to legend, she felt repressed by Adam’s side, and she eventually leaves him to cohabit with demons in deep waters. In folklore and pop culture, she has come to be known as the mother of demons and vampires, eater of babies, husband of Satan—in short, a dangerous, sexually liberated woman.

Lilith Fair, 1998, Mountain View California. Image by Tim Mosenfelder / ImageDirect via Getty Images.

Finally, in our modern era, fed-up women looking for a new matriarchal origin story have taken in Eve, and her alter ego Lilith, beneath their own gaze. They have embraced the qualities—independence, curiosity, sexuality—that once demonized her.

Kiki Smith’s take on Lilith (1994) is a powerful and disturbing sculpture—a black-bronze horror movie demon, nude and crouched in a spider-like position high up on the wall. The glass grey eyes startle any viewer. An unlikeable woman, who is not sexually available, nor coy, is a forcefully unusual statement.

Madam Satan from The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina. Photo by Diyah Pera. Courtesy of Netflix.

Lilith appears in many guises in TV and movies: the progenitor of the vampire race in True Blood (2008–14); Madam Satan on The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (2018–ongoing); the frigid, hated ex-wife of sitcom icon Frasier. The sci-fi movie The Fifth Element (1997) turns the concept of Lilith on its head by having the main character Leeloo—a variation on Lilith—save humanity instead of devouring it. Her name has also been invoked as a statement of feminist independence: The Lilith Fair of the late 1990s adopted the legendary woman’s name for a music festival that showcased only female artists or woman-led bands.

Villanelle from Killing Eve. Courtesy of the BBC.

One recent TV show has gone above and beyond in complicating our understanding of Eve, and women. The BBC series Killing Eve (2018–ongoing), which follows an M15 agent, played by Sandra Oh, as she tracks down a psychopathic female assassin portrayed by Jodie Comer. Guess who is Eve? It’s not the assassin. The delight of the show is seeing the intense connection unfold between the so-called good and bad guys. Who is on which side becomes impossible to understand—both women contain multitudes. The sexual drama lies between the killer, Villanelle, and Eve—not a man. Though the title of the show probably refers literally to Villanelle’s overarching plans, it’s also a fitting metaphor for the destruction of the story of Eve itself—and all the misery, unfair expectations, and misrepresentation that have come along with it.

from Artsy News

[masterrestaurantguide-blog]

The Beauty of Indian Cuisine

Indian cuisine is very diverse, and this is brought about by the influence of the different Indian cultures. The variety of delicious Indian recipes is just amazing, and this is something someone has to try at least once in their lives. The eating habits of the inhabitants of different parts of the continent are very different, and this makes the combined cuisine a marvel. India is a continent that boasts of its multiculturalism, and this has brought about the development of diverse culinary styles. This has caused the food industry in India to develop greatly over the years. There have been new food companies that have grown simply because of the love of Indian cuisine even on other continents.

Indian cuisine is a favorite across the globe, and this is due to its wide variety and unique cooking styles that other cuisines cannot replicate. However, this food culture does not only offer delicious spicy cuisines, but it is also well known for different mouth-watering desserts. This popularity has made India a very popular tourist destination. Even restaurants like Marigold Maison that offer this cuisine get very many customers, both Indians and those of other races. India has over the centuries hosted very many different people who have had an impact on the culture. This is part of the reason why they have such a wide variety of dishes. The dishes even include some that were not originally Indian but were assimilated and became one of them.

Best Indian food is not only delicious, but they also boast of high nutrition making them a favorite healthy meal. Indian foods are known for the spices that are used in their preparations. However, they are very healthy food options. Indian cuisine has made a name for itself all around the world and delights the gourmet world to no end. The Indian techniques and methods of cooking can be traced back to centuries ago. It has been shaped by the land and the produce that comes from the earth. All the travelers that have been to the continent have left behind a cooking method that was assimilated into the already excellent Indian cuisine. The most beautiful thing about this cuisine is how it has maintained its uniqueness even after the modernization of everything. It has retained its authenticity, originality, its culture and the history behind it. This is why it remains a favorite to many people. There are also some religious undertones in the cuisine that makes it a marvel to experience.

More info here https://www.reference.com/food/food-indian-people-eat-8efa2e9aa0b9bc87.