#transparent soul verse. ✘

[attroxx]

❛ @tvrningout said . . . “alice? are you in here?” from cyrillo maybe! ❜

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐘 ? 𝐎𝐇 𝐒𝐇𝐄'𝐃 𝐓𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐎𝐓 ! from the back of the bookshop alice hears a man's voice, one she recognized now. maybe a few months ago she would've been skeptical, perturbed but now his presence had become somewhat routine. dusting off her skirt alice moves through piles of books with ease. at this point she could navigate the crammed bookshop with her eyes closed.

making it toward the front she pokes her head out from behind a shelf, making sure it's the company she thought it would be. then she smiles.

❛ cyrillo ? you know we close at seven . . . what's the matter ? ❜

halloween starters. ― accepting.

[brokenhardies]

OCs Made in Makówka’s Picrew

Amber Talbot - The Emissaryverse

Skye - Monster

Lorelai Calloway - transparent soul

Athel’min Ashland - Soldier, Poet, King

Alyssa Hargreeves - Tell Me I’m An Angel

Madoka Mishina - Take Your Heart

Kristal - Untitled

Tina Strode - Strawberry Chainsaw

Taglist

@darth-caillic​ @sterling-writes​ @ryutabas​ @reirvival​ @arrthurpendragon​ @foxesandmagic​​ (want to be added or removed? send an ask or a dm!)

[anantaru]

THE PRICE IN MYSTERIES CONCEALED

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — who was the man you fell in love with? why did it seem like he was hiding his true self away from you, and why, at last, was he hesitant to deepen the connection in your new relationship?

— ꒰ word count ꒱ — 3.4k

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ns]fw, fem! reader, first time intimate, playing with your tits (tit lover neuvillette), unprotected, he has marks on his chest, loads of cum lmao, virgin! neuvillette but skilled, quick learner, established relationship, size kink (dragon cock giggles), sweet sweet neuvillette he's the sweetest man

there are no two ways to go on about it, but you can clearly hear the words neuvillette doesn’t say to you, you can see it in the light of his eyes. hidden verses evaporating in slow heaves, how rain puddles disappear on a hot day, when he ultimately decides against reciting his longings out loud to you.

instead, he imagined it in his hankering memories, how you'd feel under him, topless, bare and exposed, how it would feel when he was luxuriating in your velvet walls of your entrance and the vivid heat that would envelope him every time he sinks his cock all the way inside.

nonetheless, it's futile, he couldn't do it, he won't make the first step, but he knows, he could swear on it, that there was nothing warmer nor more welcoming then being inside of you.

in such predicament, neuvillette doesn’t know what to do nor on how to get rid of those improper fantasies circulating in his psyche, because, as it happened, he felt disgusted in himself to even daydream in such manners, about his significant other— someone he regarded as infinitely perfect beyond the limits of his own imagination.

besides, he's never done this before, again, he’s fucked his hand while thinking about you, feverish pants and hot breathes exposing him behind closed doors, most of the times it's uncoordinated and without knowing how to bring himself to a nice, proper climax.

neuvillette could never stop his digits from traveling down south before rutting into his hand so fucking desperate, with a heartfelt heat plummeting on top of his body, shudders when he drags over the slit of his cockhead, brows furrowed, pale skin battered in champagne rose, wishing it was your soft, warm cunt he'd be fucking into instead.

and it's not like you denied yourself to him, because there certainly were enough moments in the past where he was presented with the opportunity of advancing it forward, magnifying your new, fresh relationship— souls nurturing in the most sacred, wonderful way, while right before it could be turning into that direction, his eyes would suddenly be unable to hold yours any longer and his worry kicks in right afterwards.

then, as it happens so often, he could feel his embarrassment bottle up when he pushes himself away from you, leaving you behind, yet— remember, he doesn't lie upfront to you, he'd never defy your trust nor succumb to altering the truth, which made it even more awkward to begin with.

to be transparent, gone were the days where he wouldn't have to deal with the enriched pressure and heaviness in his groin, new, unlocked desires that if he were to ignore them, or at least try, only would bounce back with a more intense power, until he was painfully hard all day, not knowing on how to get rid of it once and for all.

to counterbalance, you eagerly note and remember the words he did speak out to you, and despite the veiled meanings behind it all, sheltered below a smokescreen of mysteries, it's there.

furthermore, it was perceivable in the doubled seemings, and despite that, the mysterious man seldomly exchanged words of affirmations, protecting the hidden truth that had been stored in his heart for decades on end.

the man rather spoke in the elusiveness of his delicate glances, and in his imperceptible touch, because there was a primordial light inside the action of his trails. from first principles, he never sought out any of this, because the way he saw it was that unclouded emotions for another individual are best left unrevealed in life. all that mattered, in the end, was what the brain spoke out to yourself, because strict rules must be followed.

but if any moment in time anchored his very soul, created a strong tether to this plane of reality he found himself bound by, it was the moment he fell in love with you.

neuvillette never let you touch him more, currently, he only kisses you smoothly, plants wet, open mouthed pecks along your collarbones before lapping his tongue up, sharp teeth slowly grazing over the soaked skin. it's as if he was scared of unspoken consequences if he were to move this forward, or of the sudden possibility to hurt you.

humans were fragile, he said, like a vase falling on the ground, broken into a million pieces and unable to be fixed again.

presently, your hands find his hair, and the bed dips as you shuffle your frame into him, smothering the small distance of your bodies, laying your warm hand against his clothed chest, just above the little jeweled medallion he always seems to wear. he gulps out strongly when you lock your digits into his form-fitting garments, just to pull him closer to your body as you open his mouth with your tongue, lapping over his wet muscle before pulling away with a pop.

"feel me." you say intimately, guiding his trembling hand over your chest, and awaiting his reactions, testing the waters, while his luminous eyes watch you contently as you pause, his touch reaching your covered breasts, and neuvillette draws his fingers into the concealed mounds, his lips parting for a low grumble, eyes opening wide as it got hard.

"feel how my body reacts when you touch me," you speak in a hitching voice, whining when he pulls at the erected nipple, whilst the fabric of your shirt turned his traces all the more roughened, intense with the garment rubbing against your sensitive tits, "feel how i love you." 

neuvillette sucks in a breath, crossing his tongue over his bottom lip, "i do not want to hurt you." he whispers, his cock growing hard and heavy squished against your core when he unintentionally grinds down a little, both moaning against each other, his breath hot, his noises hanging across the walls of the room. it's without a doubt that this time it's different from prior instances where he was, although with enough discipline, able to remove himself from you, faster and without making a complete idiot of himself.

now, neuvillette was unable to keep his own hips to a complete stand still, he moves them, softly grinds against your clothed cunt before fisting the pillow right next to your head, knuckles turning white at the sheer intensity and power he was graced with, chasing more of the incomparable relief that you are so preciously giving him.

you whine, a noise all winded and hot when you wrap your legs around his hips, "you won't hurt me." you murmur, catching his face with your palms so he could rest in them, "because i trust you."

he believes that maybe you miss it too, desire it, the pleasure that was unlike others, perhaps it had been lacking in every aspect of your relationship which neither of you expected to have in the first place.

and you're ravishing, he can't say if often enough, believing that you were made for living once, because you were one of a kind, made of mesmerizing lights and clear, pure water and a soothing birdsong, sprouting flowers and the finest silk in teyvat.

... unlike him.

neuvillette groans into your lips when you lick across his mouth, leaving his infectious tunes stretch the need in his rough voice, stretching it out long and slow enough until it sounds like a clear beg to fuck you, or at least continue with this.

but besides that, you cannot look into his mind, blinking up at his reddened face that was towering on top of you, "do you want me to stop?" you breathe out, smoothly circling your thumb over his bristling cheek, stilling your hips and attempting to close your legs when he wishes you would just kiss him again.

"no.." he replies almost a little too fast, as if he was ready to beg for it, and his cheeks catch on the color of scarlet red rather quickly, his hands scattering down to your hips to keep you from concealing your movements away from him, fuck, it just feels so fucking good he cannot believe himself.

"i apologize.." his face crumbles with the vulnerability in it, exhaling from his parted lips, "i've never—"

"that's okay." you mouth a spot on his neck, reaching his earlobe, "but i want to hear you." you tip your head forward and give a twist of tongue into his lips, skillfully arching your hips to rub over his erected groin yourself— teeth colliding against each other bound by a crushing sensation that was growing each second.

with a muffled, breathless laugh giving way to a soft whine when he adds more strength to his thrust, you longed to let him know how you felt— yes, right there, you say when he at last, slips his fingers into your shirt to touch your bare breasts, just like that, do it more.

you aid neuvillette in unclothing you as his body flexes under your hands, shivering when your eyes lift to meet his glowing ones, and there’s a moment— you can never forget it, crystalline and trembling on the edge of a leaf, that you could tell that he has been buried inside of his own mind but instead of going back to suppressing his desires, as he did countless of instances before, he answers now, without words— and oh, he gets bolder, the faint, needy whines that crawled into your ears made you rock into him, his digits slipping over your skin and circling on top of your nipples.

the prickles and vibrations in your veins and in your bones multiply and the temperature in your room changes into humidity— your craving body lightening up and threatening to float away by his ever so subtle, sweet traces and rounds on your tits, getting himself to work while you're anchored here only, all eyes on him, under him, by the rhythm of his fingers.

"take your clothes off for me." you say, pinching the hem of one leg and giving it a gentle tug. neuvillette hums in agreement, nodding right after, tongueing at the roof of his mouth in nervousness, because everyone could clearly see that he was tense, yet his cock was turning harder under your attention, he feels like it's going to explode if he doesn't do anything about it now.

he drops all the way back, body lifting off the bed as he slides his high-priced pants down yet not before opening his belt one handed, the "click" of the metal making you tremble, followed by the rest of his clothes which you aided him on, reaching down to drag down your soaked panties as well.

his cock bounces as he kicks the fabric away, and by the time he’s back up on both elbows towering above you, the fullness of it rests long and heavy against the crease of your thigh. His long, slender fingers giving it a slow tug as you watch, entranced by its size and shape— he was way above average, not even that would do it justice, coated with a bunch of small yet thick veins that reached all the way up, hard and aching, right under his cock head that had been desperately glistening with his pre cum.

time slows, stops, holds entirely; he dares to glance down, looking at your drenched pussy and how your hole fluttered around air, shimmering with your slick.

and you wrap yourself around him, arms out so he could lean into you. you know he's sharpening his senses to catch your reactions, adjusting his rubs on your tits when he notes a particular place being a little more sensitive and how you moan out when he touches it.

everything hits all at once, and he cannot get enough, both of you cannot.

for the first time, he experienced actually being free from his shackles and neuvillette needed your affirmations that it was in fact okay, you wanted to continue, because he never kept his eyes off you, always watching you closely through hungry eyes— for all that could happen, despite him continuing to be content with you.

the man was intoxicating, he was handsome from the depth of his ocean eyes to the gentle, sweet expressions of his voice when he whispers sweet nothing into your ears. neuvillette was beautiful, as if carved by literal gods, his chest defined, blue'ish traces, reminding you of tattoos, outlining the sides of his torso— but they weren't tattoos, they appeared to be a part of him since birth, how beauty marks are visible on some bodies, his were larger and resembling the kindest, most soothing waves.

neuvillette kisses down on your collarbone and you gasp out when he suddenly moves a little lower to take a nipple into his warm mouth, shudder when he crosses his tongue over it for the first time, it feels warm and wonderful with his complete weight on top of you.

and you can feel his hand, the rhythm of it on your other breast as it’s wrapped around the solid heat of your bud, continuing to palm your tits when his warm breath fans across your skin.

in this room, the man experienced so many different emotions now, but he feels more alive, within seconds, more awake, more present, and he doesn’t try to talk nor voice too much in the beginning, he just wanted to listen to the pace of your breathing, your whines and what your moans did to him.

he was waiting for your heaves to even out, align in soft decrease whilst he certainly doesn't realize that if he were to continue to hump your bare, thudding pussy the way he did, in accessory to playing with your tits and lapping his tongue across as if famished, there was no way for your heart rate to ever go back in an even pace.

regardless, neuvillette alters his breathing to match your own, his heaves on your wet skin, breathless, hot, when you begin to move your hips up a little, his cock nudging on your hole but never sliding in, his tip alone seemed to be big in it's own right and you wondered if you could even fit him in you.

of course, you were plenty wet, he made sure of that, always so kind and gifting.

your entire face buzzes with pins and needles when he draws himself back from your tits and your hand travels down to catch his girth in your warm palms, fisting him a little and spreading his pre over his drumming girth, grinning when he hooks his hands to your hips, pulling you straight down so his cock would be perfectly situated and ready to feel you, for real this time.

"tell me.." he mutters, "if you want to stop." and you kiss his lips featherlight, "of course, don’t worry about it." and nodding when you drag him across your folds to collect enough slick before slowly, agonizingly slow, push his tip inside.

your eyes flare wide and you arch your back instantly, no thoughts, no judgements, only your breathing getting cut short by the sudden piercing thrust burying inside your tight hole with a stretch that's more shock than anything else, and you hide yourself in his chest when you whimper into his ears, "slower, please". he understands and the restraints in his chest loosen as he wraps his arms across your body, as if protecting you in a sense.

neuvillette shuffles his knees wide and splits your legs further apart, holding you how he wants you, how he thinks will hurt less and even out the burning split on your cunt— he proceeds and fucks into you slowly, inch by inch, waiting a little, before adding another.

you ease up into him eventually, your walls getting used to his girth, the slap of his body against you quiet yet precise, his hips pumping in a slow, rhythmic roll that grinds the low of his stomach against your clit, spotting the prickling point on your cunt. you're turning hazy at the fullness, dipping your fingers into his long hair before pulling him in for a sloppy kiss, lapping across him in slow twists, pinching your hips up to meet his blows.

now, all you could do was to relish in his warmth, curve your back like a bow and let the most desirable, filthiest moans spill from your pretty, pursed lips. neuvillette was quick to catch and watch you, swallowing down every gritty moan and whine that you offered him, because of him, he couldn't fathom that he was the reason you felt that good, passing his cock back into you, in, out, in, out, humming in appreciation between sucking kisses that leave a pinching trail from your neck to your tits that he ever so graciously played with.

neuvillette got a pretty good first impression of it now, and he doesn’t slow, while, his thrusts become faster and more, greedy, not until he unthreads an arm from the mounds of your breasts and caresses the length of your body— slowed and appreciative, sliding his hand over your stomach and up, reaching to your shoulder before hooking his fingers on it— thrusts now faster as he drags you into him, harder, and your tits bounce back and forth with each jolt of his large cock splashing into your hole.

of course he blushes when you tighten your muscles, clenching down on his girth and milking him preciously, it was a dead give-away that he wouldn't last long when he releases a long, lagged moan of your name. like his warm, wet kisses, the drags and fondles of his traces left a wake rippling along your entire skin, a sensory memory, never overridden by anything else.

the coil in your stomach builds up quickly, nerves lighting up when his tongue flicks out to tease the sensitive point of your neck and jawline, body sizzling as if electro infused as pleasure jolts down your flesh until reaching your cunt.

"make me cum," you cry, "i need you!"

"—you have me."

throat tight, body tighter, your hands quick to push him from your neck to your mouth, lips pressing together as you arch and jolt off the bed, up and down, his cock faster than before as the wet, filthy smacking sounds almost overrode your noises. you squeeze around him, hungrily, strongly, suckling in his cock with your thudding hole as his hand on your shoulder clasps behind your neck, pushing you so far up against his glossy lips that you exchanged breathes and whines, throaty groan and cries.

you turn your arms around his chest to strengthen the touch, throat bobbing, mouth dry. there’s no space for anything left and when he pushes himself in you completely, cock disappearing in your used hole, your eyes roll into the back of your head and you shake viciously, climaxing around him, making a mess of yourself, when the bubble in his stomach popped instantly whilst seeing you become free, your liquids drawing a white ring around his girth— neuvillette couldn't go on about it any longer, not when you gnaw down on him so fucking desperate, so loved and fulfilled.

he cums hard, and a lot, and he tenses up, a thrill running over his flesh as his brows furrow, releasing his warm whites with shallow thrusts into your pussy before tucking your body tight to his front and pulls you even more tightly against him, messing you up with his seed. he has been so touch-starved that he can feel drizzling tears form and connect under his lashes in tune with his own orgasm taking him hostage.

his expression softens afterwards, looking like a heavy burden has been lifted off his shoulders, and he dips his head forward, foreheads resting. it's quiet for a while, well, if it weren't for your loud breathes and the clear exhaustion quelling on your facial expressions. the both of you are puffing and blowing out air, finding comfort in the silence when a torrid heat of swirls casts on your bodies, the atmosphere in the room on-fire and fiery.

you decide to kiss his lips, when you finally smirk up at him, eyes aglow, and his own lips are pulled up into an ethereal, handsome smile, his demeanor cascading with an intensity, an honesty, a gentleness and love.

real love.

"i craved you." he whispers, "and i desire you." and kisses your lips one more time.

alas, neuvillette came to terms with himself, knowing that there would never be anything, nothing, that could ever beat the feeling of this.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[darlingdekarios]

abandon all hope.

RATING: explicit. 18+ only. — LENGTH: 9,131— Raphael x f![warlock]tav [reader]

CONTENT: being a patron is being a sugar daddy/mommy you can't change my mind, set during Act II canon, small amounts of alcohol consumption, toxic behavior/ expressions of possession/ownership, "fluff", SMUT [unprotected p in v], KINK(S) [praise kink, orgasm control, hair pulling, biting, scratching/clawing, blood, breath play, dacryphilia, just a little degredation, size], there's a lot of poetry in here I did my best, Haarlep cameo, the least Raphael could've done for killing an Orthon for him is fuck us ffs, have fun thinking Raphael is bad at sex I'm built different, this got out so out of hand

you had become his absolute favorite - his most precious client and prized treasure. it's become increasingly difficult not to admit that you're truly his forever...and he's ready to hear it.

"In a world of horrors where shadows loom, A tiny creature navigates through certain doom. A little mouse, determination in its eye, Hoping this will not be its last heard lullaby."

It would be a lie to say that very voice didn't send the most delightful of shivers down your spine each time it announced his presence to you - you hung on each syllable like he was speaking a new language you were desperate to understand. Though your back was turned to him as the corners of your lips twitched upward you could feel in your soul - the one that no longer belonged to you - that he knew.

Though you may have been doing your best to feign disinterest and even often annoyance at his dramatics, it was no secret that you found him amusing. Fortunately, he happened to feel rather the same, a creeping mirth building in his chest at this familiar performance you were putting on.

"Just when I was beginning to miss your theatrics."

It was only then he realized just how badly he'd yearned to hear your voice again in the time since it had last swam into his ears. Curiously - but perhaps not at all - he felt his mouth go temporarily dry as his next rehearsed verse fell from his mind momentarily. When his silence lingered you filled it gracefully as you knelt before a bucket of water, scrubbing your arms free of the blood that covered them as you worked off the most uncomfortable parts of your armor.

His stumble did not last forever - his practiced words would not go to waste.

"With the battle fought and her patron's foe slain, She has etched upon her weary soul so very much strain. With a gentleness most sincere, the Patron offers her rest. Her wearied body, soon at peace even in her mind, No longer bound by battles' fierce behest, Their worries, for a moment, left entirely behind.

For the strongest heroes, too, do need a moment's grace, To find their strength renewed in the tenderest embrace."

Though his continued lack of transparency was frustrating, particularly after the stretch of days you'd had at his bidding, you noticed the practice lilt in his words, the methodic delivery of his latest poem.

"Have you been practicing poetry for me again, my Lord?" your tone was filled to the brim with the very amusement you felt, amusement that was growing by the moment at the slight waver in his voice, the subtlest indication that now was one of few times his trademark control had faltered. "I must tell you, it really is quite sweet. I've never inspired such before."

Your pleasantries and a title you so rarely chose for him stirred a feeling oh-so rare and delicious in him, a tingle up his spine that spread a wicked grin across his face. Exhausted, and uncaring of the company at the moment you continued your work on seeking your own comfort, continuing to peel armor away from your figure and toss it to the side.

Maybe you knew the lack of attention would agonize him - maybe that was only just more amusement for you. Annoyingly, he was attempting to bury the desires as he always did around you, finding now that the feelings stirring were beginning to gnaw their way out from the inside.

"You flatter me with honorifics yet ignore my presence."

His words had the slightest bit of edge to them and yet the tone in which they were delivered could be described as little more than a purr. It was a tone you'd discovered was reserved to fall on your ears alone - he never spoke to you this way in company, though you didn't doubt others existed that were fortunate enough to hear it. It was delicious - made more-so by the sharpness to them, the gentle bite that warned his limits were being tested.

The fact you only heard it when you were alone meant you seldom travelled with companions for too long, discarding them when your interests were no longer the central focus. It was lonely, but few wanted to be at your side when they discovered the source of your power, and the moments like this reaffirmed your decision each and every time.

"In a land of shadows shrouded with a curse most horrific, Lies a weary hero, hoping her devil might be more specific. For if she doesn't soon rest, Her weary body will be for the shadows to ingest."

There was no denying the radiance and allure in his laughter - it rang out so beautifully it didn't fit in a place like this, it almost wasn't fair for such a joyous sound to ring out in such a cursed land. Now, you couldn't help yourself - you turned to face him with a light smile pulling at your lips, exhaustion written on your face accentuated by the blood of those you'd slain in his name.

It pulled at his heart, something that seldom occurred - you were truly always a sight like this, in his eyes at least.

"Your skills increase tenfold each time we meet," he complimented, the smile settling on his face matched by the pull of the wrinkles beside his eyes. "You were successful in your latest task."

It was a statement - not a question, the wordless affirmation of his continued faith in your abilities. Still, you could've given him a snarky response - the blood covering your body and armor wasn't enough of a clue for him? In truth, though, you'd began to enjoy the moments where he complimented you - even more the rare moment he actually thanked you.

"As always," your coy tone was the final act to try to hide the giddiness you felt now, as well as the fatigue that was slowly overtaking your body. When was the last time you had eaten? When he left would you simply remove the rest of your armor and do your best to build a fire and lay beside it, or would you simply make do with the cold ground beneath you now?

He could sense it; he knew exactly what was on your mind. In truth, your thoughts were mirrored in his - this was no place for someone of your caliber to rest, especially not when you'd been so very good for him already. He'd heard about your camp, of course, but seeing it for himself - well, it really was quite awful.

A snap of his fingers and once again you were in the House of Hope, the unmistakeable extravagant decor a much better sight than the lands you'd been traveling. Though it was a bathroom where you appeared it was already enough to almost bring tears to your eyes - it smelled delightful, a bath was already drawn with bubbles and filling the room with the warmest steam. Unsurprising was the small table beside it filled with fruits, meats, cheeses and wine that made a fresh rumble sound in your stomach.

"It is so very fortunate your generous patron is willing to reward a valiant effort, would you not agree?"

You huffed a breath through your nose as a smile spread further across your fae, heat rising in cheeks as you returned your gaze to his. "And who said devils are selfish?"

His beautiful laughter filled your ears again, the warmth radiating from the fireplace and the bath nothing compared to that which engulfed you just hearing the sound so entirely for you. His movements were smooth as he made his way to the small table, pouring a glass of wine with ease while his eyes stayed on you the entire time.

"You have undertaken quite the ordeal on my behalf, you deserve a proper display of my abundant appreciation," there was the unmistakable purr of sultriness beneath his tone, his strides predatory as he made his way back to you, eyes running up and down your entire frame again before settling on your eyes. "And a bath, though I do so worship the vision of my dark hero covered in the blood of my enemies."

"You show your appreciation by providing me my power."

"And yet," the pause lingered heavily - if you weren't so keen on enjoying everything he had to offer you there would probably be a quip about holding for drama, but now you only looked up at him with wide doe eyes - eager and expectant and deliciously obedient. "I find myself curiously wanting to provide you with more."

The look that was blooming in his eyes was a peculiar one - one of a fondness. He slipped behind you gracefully, one of his hands reaching to grasp your hip and turn you to face an ornate mirror before his arm fully encircled your waist, drawing you back toward his chest. His hand slipped up your body, avoiding any part that would have been too inappropriate to touch without express permission, to grasp your chin, holding your face gently but firmly as he angled it to look in the ornate mirror before you.

"The longer you have my power reflected in your eyes, the more beautiful you become. Wouldn't you agree? You are radiant."

Now it was impossible to pass off the heat that had risen in you as nothing more than the heat from the bath - with his hand just beneath your chin on your neck and his claws digging ever-so-slightly into your skin, the heat had begin to pool at your core. You were still trying to remain focused, to maintain the aura of strength you almost never allowed to falter…particularly around him. But with him pressed to your back and his eyes devouring you in the mirror like a feral animal with a long-awaited meal, there were certain signs from your body that gave you away.

The elevated heart rate. The blown pupils. The pull of your bottom lip between your teeth.

It didn't take any amount of perception to see the signs that were so plainly there, particularly not for a devil who was eager to look for them.

"As you've pointed out, I'm covered in blood."

"A testament to our combined strength, my pet," you were certain with the intensity with which he was staring into your eyes' reflection in the mirror that he had stopped blinking, finding an unchanging face each time your eyes closed briefly. "Do you mind?"

He was offering you the wine glass to free up his hand or to distract yours - it was impossible to tell, really. Regardless of the intent you reached for it, taking a drink and relishing the familiar fire this particular wine ignited in your throat and belly.

Meanwhile his free hand was lightly trailing over the bow to the back laces of your clothing, giving a subtle tug to seek permission as his eyes continued to burn into yours in the mirror. With a nod the laces fell free under the quick work of his fingers - it was somewhat endearing that you knew he could do this with the snap of his fingers, yet he was choosing to do it himself, to peel you apart with his own hands. What you'd been wearing pooled to the ground and revealed the aftermath of your battle in full, all of the bruises and scratches and burns that had no place there…unless they were given by him or on his word.

His hands found your shoulders first and with a familiar warmth your injuries became another part of your past, his eyes trailing up and down your body to ensure all that remained was evidence of injuries not belonging to you.

"Positively resplendent," his breath was hot on your neck as he angled his face closer to yours, his nose brushing behind your ear softly. "A painting of this image would be so suitable for a portrait of us, wouldn't you agree?"

Bravery - it was a characteristic of yours that he cherished nearly more than any other, one that provided endless entertainment (and often worry, though he was hardly eager to admit that). It was the very trait that sometimes pushed you to do or say the very last thing he expected, and yet you still managed to take him by surprise. Even now in his domain was one of those times, your face unwavering and intention resolute as you spoke.

"Not in this form."

All he'd offer in his momentary shock was a raised eyebrow before these features faded and he transformed to the figure he was meant for, wings stretching behind his back as he got more comfortable. This is how he was meant to look - how the two of you were supposed to appear together, the devil and his toy hero, you and the source of your growing power. It would take blindness not to see the radiance with which you two joined together, and even then it was palpable in the air.

Ignoring the many feelings and tensions that crackled between the two of you when you were together was difficult - and growing more impossible by the day.

"This is suitable for the foyer."

He continued to lean down behind you, swallowing you with his true height so he could press a singular kiss behind your ear before straightening his back, his hand that was still flat against your now fluttering stomach pulling you against him tighter. Your skin burned where his lips had graced it - tingling as though his the action was magic. Your body only continued to respond to him with all of the tell-tale signs: a rising temperature, parted lips, blown pupils, quicker breath.

He so adored that you were trying to maintain control - to maintain an unbothered façade.

"You prefer me this way."

It left his mouth as a statement, but you caught the subtle insecurity at the tail of the sentence, the way his words slightly trailed and his eyes flashed with a truth - and hope? - that was so rarely seen.

Was he afraid of your answer?

"You don't need to wear a mask around me," you were quick to silence his doubt and eager to put out a particular fire that threatened everything around it boiling beneath his surface. Your sincerity and sensitivity was hardly what had initially drawn him to you - he loved that you'd always been willing to tell him your mind without a care to whom you were speaking, even himself included at times. "You would know that I preferred you this way if you spoke to me yourself more often instead of sending your little spy."

Suddenly you understood the meaning of the phrase "devilish grin" in a new light.

"Do I detect jealousy, my dear?" he purred as he leaned down toward you again, his breath tickling the back of your ear and neck and his claws dug into your hip slightly. You tried to ignore the flare of heat within you, unwilling to admit it fully quite yet. "A flicker of envy, so very subtle but clear."

You huffed and rolled your eyes in response to his taunt, annoyed he could think of a rhyme so quickly and a charming one at that, and even more annoyed that it worked. Bards.

"Korilla does not enjoy the same…benefits you do," he continued when you offered nothing in response but the puff of air, a reticent hum vibrating in your chest as you raised the cool glass to your lips to take another drink. Your eyes met his in the mirror again as you realized how long they'd been focusing on his hands, allowing your gaze to stay connected as you continued to drink.

Of course, he was hardly one to leave a silence unfilled for long.

"And what of my own feelings?" he questioned, the twitch in his jaw accentuating the frustration behind his words that he was trying to tame. "So many people you meet these days and you haven't shared with a single one where you get your power…"

It was hard to focus on a conversation like this when his claws were now grazing lower down your thigh, red lines painting your skin the evidence the Cambion's claws had been there. In the mirror you could see how he lovingly soaked in the sight of each new mark - of each new claim of his territory. You'd have far more decorations from him by the time you returned to your own camp.

"What am I supposed to think other than you're ashamed of me?"

"No," the rejection of his insinuation came from your lips faster than any reply you'd given before by far, a fact that ticked his lips into a slight smile. Though the two of you teased anda taunted one another often, you were always well aware of the line before you stepped over it. "They wouldn't understand."

"They don't have to understand…they have to respect. Besides, it's not their soul to be bothered with, and you're hardly the only warlock in your little party."

"But they won't. With the Blade of Frontiers it is different…he had no choice, not really. I did - I could've chosen anything else…anyone else. And I chose you."

"Then you will make them."

You could hear the commanding tone he rarely needed to take with you begin to form in his words, a low grumble rumbling against your chest as he spoke. At this point you knew what little remained of his patience was so close to slipping away completely - but you still couldn't stop yourself from testing those tempestuous waters just a bit more.

After all, he needed you alive just as much as you needed him. Harm too serious coming your way was out of the question, and the proof you could take a bit of pain was in the stories that would be told about you and your adventures for years to come.

"It's just another contract to you. What difference does it make?"

The final impertinent word left your lips as his hand grabbed your chin, applying pressure and encouraging you to face him. He loomed over you in this form - a delicious fact - his skin noticeably hotter against yours as he leaned closer, trapping you between his body and the wall. Flames danced in his eyes, the raging inferno matching the temporary flare of anger he felt ignited in his chest. His grip on your face was resolute, thumb and forefinger grasping so hard your cheeks were squished together.

That would certainly keep you from further insult.

"I am so very fond of you, my impudent little mouse. Can you not see that is so?"

You'd been in many dangerous - increasingly so - situations recently, but the fact this one was one of the most was…invigorating. Invigorating in the same way as when he'd first approached you with a deal, in the way he'd complimented a job well done for the first time, in the way he was overjoyed when you returned from your kidnapping. In truth - because you were not foolish enough to deny what was a plainly writ fact - you were well aware you belonged to him in every aspect of the word. It was fun to test what boundaries a relationship like that presented.

Your heart was thudding against your chest harder and faster by the moment as he continued to regard you, fully aware you couldn't respond to his question through the hold he maintained on your face.

"I will not hear more of your ill-mannered mouth while I am being such a gracious host. You are far from 'just another' anything to me…"

There was a sincerity in his words that shattered any possibility of refute.

"…and I will not tolerate our attachment being hidden any longer."

A threat, or a promise? Both were equally exhilarating in their own way. With the expression on his face - furrowed brows, pinched nose, set jaw, and nostrils flaring with each breath - his feelings toward the situation were written plain on his face. He was done arguing - and you'd be foolish to push it.

"Perhaps I could have a collar fashioned for you that only I can remove."

His hand that still held your waist pulled you closer, a muscular tail winding around your lower legs to hold you against him. One of his legs slotted between your thighs as you pressed to him closer, hands clinging to his upper arms still. His face softened somewhat at the closeness, at the shaky breath that slipped past your lips as your eyes stayed oh-so focused on the way his curved into a wicked grin the more the thought blossomed in his mind.

"One that will burn you should you even try to remove it. Or perhaps better yet, a curse," as he spoke you found yourself drawn closer, entranced by the hardness in his pants that pressed to your waist now, chasing a kiss you weren't certain he'd give. "Or I could use hellfire to brand a symbol of my name beneath your eye - small enough not to ruin your beauty, large enough that everyone who sees you knows that you are mine."

He released his hold on your face only to drop his hand lower, lightly gripping your neck in a silent show of power. He regarded your expression carefully for any sign of distress and only grinned wider when he instead found observed your blown pupils and parted lips, his fingertips soaking in your accelerated pulse beneath them.

The fire in his tone sizzled for a moment, still lingering in each word but not quite as fearsome as even just a moment before. Sweet, almost - if you didn't know any better to see through the charm.

"Swear to me anew," he cooed, his thumb rubbing along the side of your neck as he spoke, eyes gazing at you with an expression that could only be described in adoration. The most temperamental volcano, fury subsided as fast as it'd come. When there was an offer to be presented, he could truly be oh-so-sweet. "An amendment to our existing contract. You are not to hide that we are joined together, or you will face consequences that will last forever."

Did it matter if you even truly had the option to refuse him when all you wanted to do was please him again? The proposition of more appreciation, the promise of his praise. That fact alone was enough to ensure your answer before you'd given it.

You nodded in understanding - specifics beyond what he'd stated weren't needed to convey the weight of his words.

"On one condition."

The bravery again - though your voice was more meek as you rightfully walked the fiery embers before you, navigating what you knew could still erupt again if you pressed too much harder again. To prove your point his eyebrow raised in annoyance, nose threatening to scrunch upward in frustration before you elaborated.

"We seal this contract with a kiss."

An expression that had almost been rage morphed into perplexity before a laugh burst from his chest, your mind lost in the sound and the view of his fangs, thoughts wandering somewhere fittingly sinful for your surroundings.

"And you talk about my theatrics."

Despite his taunting he brought you closer with his iron grip on your waist, the hand holding your neck still sliding up to your cheek as his thumb claw grazed along your bottom lip in passing. He looked at you like a child receiving a new toy, regarded you with an adoration often seen in temples.

And then, though there was still a subtle laugh shaking his chest, he held you reverently as he angled his head toward you. The rest of his expression as he approached would go unnoticed as your eyes slipped shut, holding your breath in anticipation…which he exploited for just a moment longer than was necessary before he finally gave you what you both wanted.

Your lips met like the strike of a match - the spark between flint and stone. It burned like frostbite and was over just as soon as it'd begun, taking your remaining breath with it.

It was a purr that rumbled in his chest as he ran his nose along your jaw that reminded you to breathe, his lips pressing a kiss over a pulse point on your neck pulling a gasp from your lungs as his hand slipped down the other side of your neck. Holding you like an artifact his fangs teased the skin on the spot for a moment as his grip on your waist tightened further, the tips of his claws threatening to break skin.

He withdrew before his composure melted, filling his chest with a deep breath to bring himself to full sense again.

"Come. I'm far from through with you, but you truly do need a bath."

It was…nice, which didn't quite seem wholly appropriate considering who he was and the fact the atmosphere had been threatening and tense only moments before. He sank into the tub first, motioning for you to join him by taking place between his legs. There was a voice in the back of your mind reminding you that all of this was because he wanted something - everything possible from you, and that he knew the best way to reach his goal was to manipulate.

The fact you were aware of it did little to stop you from enjoying it.

He made sure he ate and drank in a silence you didn't know he was capable of as his hands made work cleaning your body, a bath in the House of Hope proving to be a lavish experience as the water remained pristine and hot no matter how long it went on.

*(Though, it certainly could've just been the heat between your bodies sustaining the temperature).

It was the first time you'd truly relaxed since a tadpole had taken residence in your mind, the first moment of bliss in days. When his claws found your scalp and scratched against it lightly as he massaged soap into it he earned a thank you in the form of the sweetest moan that just couldn't be held back by your lips. You felt his cock twitch against your back at the sound, an appreciative hum rumbling in his chest.

"My, my…who knew you could sound so melodic, my dear," his tone was best described as a condescending coo, treasuring the way you melted in his hold and couldn't help yourself from being his to play with. "I want to hear much more of you."

One of his hands slipped from your head down to rest on your stomach as the other went even lower to the top of your thigh, pausing still to wait for your reaction. When you leaned your head back against his shoulder and closed your eyes he took his sign, chasing more of a reaction from you by running a single claw softly up your thigh toward your core. The small gasp that fell from your lips wasn't enough, his disapproval noted with a click of his tongue against his teeth. It was impossible to keep silent when one of his fingers connected to your clit, rubbing a swift circle quickly.

The cry that burst from your chest returned the smile to his face, a low laugh filling your ears again as he leaned forward to kiss your neck. Two of his fingers parted your folds as they slipped downward to your entrance, moans falling freely from your mouth you'd forgotten how to close. Taking advantage of the fact he leaned closer to claim your lips, reaching his free hand to hold the back of your head and ensure you couldn't pull away from him.

A dark possessiveness within him considered slipping his fingers into you to feel how your tight walls would grip him, though he knew it meant you would face the consequences of his claws. He could heal you, after all - but you'd always remember the feeling. He'd refrain on that particular thought…

For now.

Instead, he returned his attention to your clit, fingers circling the sensitive nub as his fingers tangled into your hair. He continued to kiss you past what your lungs could take, your eyes opening to attempt to gain his attention. His own eyes remained closed and he only held your head in a firmer grip - no doubt he knew though he couldn't see - and he continued that way until your vision was just starting to blur and your hole was clenching around nothing. Only then did he release you - releasing you fully by pulling his fingers away too - allowing you to take the breath you needed.

So close to the edge of release only to be pulled back away from it. It was a cruelty that made the first sound that left your lips when your breath returned to be a whimper.

"Please," you could barely get the shaking word through your lips, it could hardly be considered speaking when each letter was filled with a whine. "More."

"Now now, you will learn to take what I give you," he cooed, releasing his hold on your head to run the back of his fingers down the side of your face and neck, lightly pushing your head to the side to press a kiss beneath your ear. "With no questions asked. Won't you? You'll have to show me you can be patient."

You couldn't help the whimper that slipped past your lips again, your body singularly focused on its need for more. Your eyes are wide and desperate as you gazed at him, hands reaching to grasp at his thighs and squeeze. "'s not fair…"

Your ears were filled with his boisterous laugh again before he pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder, allowing his lips to stay against your skin as he spoke.

"Perhaps not for you, but it's perfectly lovely for me," you realized as he spoke that he was having fun, a giddiness in every word that proved it. Unrehearsed, without anger, without practiced intentions. Him. "Finish up in here at your leisure, then join me in the boudoir."

With a snap of his fingers he was gone and the option to beg for more removed you were alone, left to wonder exactly what awaited you when you did join him. The kind of excitement that matched the feelings of fear and anxiety bubbled in your stomach, making your movements a little clumsy as you navigated your way through one last wash of your body.

The feelings remained as you removed yourself from the water, realizing immediately you'd been left with no towel or robe or clothes to utilize on your walk. Feeling a flare of preemptive embarrassment you found your way to the hall, doing your best to navigate quickly as you muttered to yourself.

You were distracted in your search that you didn't notice Haarlep had stalked up to you from the dark after you'd passed until their voice filled your ears. "My, my, aren't you just delicious," he purred, continuing to walk closer toward you when you froze in your tracks. They circled you like a predator circled prey, like a painter studying their subject - it was enough to make your face burn again. "I wouldn't mind slipping into your image for the occasional rendezvous."

"Haarlep."

Their name left your lips as a gasp and they stopped in front of you with a wicked smile, handsome and proud and no doubt every bit as convincing as their Master, if not more. "So you do know me. How flattering."

You were cornered against a wall with one of their forearms resting next to your head, the other grasping your hip in fingers much gentler than the ones they were mimicking. They leaned closer until your lips were brushing together feather light, the anticipation of a kiss lingering heavy in the air and sending your heart rate skyrocketing again.

"Oh, what fun we will have together…"

Their sinful tongue left their mouth to lick the seam of your lips until they fell open, the muscle slipping into your mouth to kiss you fully and hungrily. As you swallowed their spit you started to feel new levels need, the definition of the word insatiable finally grasped in your mind. One of their knees knocked apart your legs as their hand left your thigh, slipping to examine how wet you were and finding their digits slid through your folds with embarrassing ease.

"Mm…but that will be for another time," there was a sincerity in their words that made them so believable and you were certain they were correct about it. "Tonight, your job is to make him a bit more tolerable for the rest of us. Be a good pet and behave, won't you?"

As they sauntered away in a pace that existed to entice you to follow they threw one last wink over their shoulder, pointing you in the direction of where you were meant to go. In a haze you made your way to your destination, opening the doors to find your Patron sitting on the grand bed with glistening satin sheets, lounging back against the headboard with his arms outstretched, waiting for your arrival. He'd covered himself with an expensive robe, the one he'd deprived you of.

The red of its fine fabric matched his burning aura perfectly.

He observed your clumsy movements as you closed the doors with light amusement until the two of you were once again alone, his eyes appreciating your clean form as you walked to the foot of the bed. With a smile he raised a hand to motion you forward with one finger, his features fittingly illuminated by the hellfires that illuminated the room.

He was beautiful. Enticing. This very room could become an easy prison with no locked door if you allowed your resolve to slip.

"Come," he invited in a delicious tone, using one hand to untie his robe and allow it to fall open. He patted his thigh afterward to further elaborate on his instruction, one you were more than willing to follow. "Crawl to me…show me what an obedient, eager little pup you can be."

You did exactly as he told you to, enjoying the feeling of the soft sheets against your skin as you made your way to him. You climbed into his lap and straddled his waist between your thighs, core hovering over his hard and throbbing cock that you now wanted more than logic should reasonably allow. He felt how wet you were when your thighs made contact with his skin, breathing in deep to take in the scent of your arousal.

"My, my, how very eager you are," he spoke of you as if he was being presented with the meal of a lifetime. It made you feel desired in ways you weren't sure you'd be able to experience with anyone else for the remainder of your life. "I have to wonder, did my naughty toy find you along the way?"

You nodded, the only response you found yourself capable of, grinding down against his waist in a way that allowed his length to slip through your folds and spread your slick. His hands grasped your hips to follow your movements, chest vibrating against yours with a quiet purr as he appreciated your movements.

"Oh, of course they did…sometimes they just can't help it, the sinful thing…"

Both of his hands found their way to your thighs to grab them roughly, not making any effort to be mindful about his claws in places it wouldn't seriously hurt you - something that would become a pattern for the rest of your time together. Under his fingertips he could feel the welts that raised as a result of his scratching, smiling a charming smile as he took in your expression.

Finding you perfectly needy for him he reached one hand to grab your jaw and pull you closer, leaving his face hovering inches from yours. His skin was noticeably hotter against yours now, the undeniable evidence that he was just as effected by your closeness as you were his. His other hand gave your ass a swat to encourage you to raise up on your knees again, licking his lips when he could then reach toward your core and run his fingers through your folds again.

It was easier to feel the arousal he - and Haarlep, now - had earned when you weren't submerged in a tub. His fingers took the distance from your hole to your swollen clit painfully slow, matching the deep inhale he filled his lungs with along the way. Lost in how his hands felt against your body again you hardly noticed his tail wrap around one of your legs to hold you against him tighter, ensuring there was no chance of you climbing off before he'd had his fill.

It was hardly something he needed to do, but the implications of it made the experience all the better for him - and for you too.

"Don't forget to speak to me, my dear," he cooed, no annoyance present in his voice though he was hardly happy he had to remind you as he exercised a bit of patience at your current state. "I simply adore hearing the desperation in your words."

"Please, I need…"

Though he'd requested them your words were cut off as he pulled you against him rougher, pressing his throbbing length up into her core as he does. Your sentence quickly turned into a moan, your hands grabbing at his shoulders so you could cling to him in every sense of the word.

"Do go on."

You hated that his taunting tone sent a shiver down your spine and a hot wave of arousal straight to your core. Your desperation flooded every word that came from your mouth. "I need more," you were begging without having to be asked for it, something he would thank you for at a later time. "Something…a-anything you'll give me."

"Anything I'll give you?"

Was that particular choice of words a mistake? You found you couldn't come to a rational answer as you became lost in the embers of his eyes. You nodded, grinding against him to further your consent and ensure the point was driven home - you wanted him in whatever capacity he'd provide, in any way that would earn you more of his favor.

You hadn't realized your lip was quivering and your eyes were slightly watering out of the desperation but he had, soaking in the sight of you so wanton and lustful for him. It was his favorite look on you by far, and he couldn't resist the opportunity to see how truly indecent he could make you behave.

And all for him.

"Then prove to me you deserve it. Prove to me you're worth the effort from me and then I will prove to you that you are mine."

You only leaned closer to entice him the rest of the distance between you. You reached between your bodies with one hand to grasp his cock and rub it through your folds again, lining it up with your entrance and teasing down onto the tip slightly to test what he'd allow. He raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to express a thought that disappeared as you began to sink onto him, maintaining the eye contact you knew he loved as you moaned out his name quietly. He forgave you when your eyes fluttered closed to focus on taking his length and girth, your forehead falling down against his shoulder as a heavy breath fell from your lips.

"That's it," he was quick to compliment your efforts to ensure you knew how much he appreciated it, hoping the praise would keep you from giving up. "You can take me. Do not get discouraged…"

Your head nodded as another steady breath left your chest, shifting your hips to find the right angle to take him in. Though his words were honied you knew he was hardly the patient type and to avoid a temper change you pushed yourself onto as much of his length as you could take, finally earning a groan from him that was worth the quick shot of pain that being stretched like this brought. One of his arms reached to wrap around your waist and his other hand found the back of your head, cradling you against his form. His wings soon joined, wrapping both of you in privacy and what felt like the ultimate safety.

Within his wings it would be impossible for anyone who entered to see how well you began to ride him after a long adjustment period, how after several minutes of grinding and shifting and allowing him to pump into you you began to take him perfectly. Though he maintained his hold on your head your lips were finding their way to any place they could reach on his neck, chest, and jaw, eagerly nibbling and licking and sucking - testing if you could mark him like he'd undoubtedly mark you.

He decided you were testing him when you bit into him hard, his surprise announced by a grunt and a squeeze from his hand holding your hip. He gave your hair a tug to pull you upward into a hungry kiss, your moans joining together in the room as your hands grabbed his horns to hold him against you.

This is how he wanted you for him forever.

As your tongues danced your movements slowed, his hands meeting on your upper back to press your chest closer to his. Allowing you a partial breath he pulled away from the kiss to watch your face twist in pleasure as his claws dragged slowly down your back, pressing harder the lower they reached as he experimented with what you'd allow. You were eager to prove exactly what he'd requested - you could take what he would give.

His own head dropped to claim one of your breasts in his mouth, his tongue circling your nipple and flicking the nub several times before he changed his efforts to suck hard enough to bruise, glad he could stay here without a real breath for longer than what you may have previously experienced. He only pulled away to bite a mark into the soft flesh that immediately spilled some blood - as you continued to ride him exactly how you liked you either didn't notice or you didn't mind, either of which were fine by him.

"Very good," he purred, remembering how well you normally responded to his praise. He was thanked by a quiet moan and your walls tightening, fluttering around his length as he struck just the right cord in you. "Should I allow you release before I have my way with you?"

You were nodding before his sentence was fully complete and begging incoherently as your face buried into his neck again, continuing to lavish the skin with kisses. Your thighs began to shake at the mere thought of release, at how it would feel to gush around his length and how he would moan feeling you constrict him.

Whatever words he chose to give you permission were not fully understood, only their intent mattered. Though he wanted to pump into you at his own pace he allowed you to find release in this position yourself, happy it didn't take much longer for your walls to clamp around him and your head to throw back in ecstasy, your screams undoubtedly filling every wall in the house despite the closed door.

He held you down on his length as you spasmed through the high, enjoying the feeling of your body against his and focusing on how you felt held in his arms. He was always going to take what he wanted from you after you'd found this release but the longer he soaked in how small you were against his frame the more his own carnal desire began to take over his thoughts, a feral need building that wouldn't be long ignored.

"You have hold of me like an addiction," he breathed out heavy, shifting his hips beneath you - earning a whimper - wondering how much you'd truly be able to take. "So…unh…tight…"

Before you had fully returned to your senses he was pushing you onto your back, staying inside you with little effort and pinning you down with one hand on your stomach. His other hand rested at the base of your throat with his forearm beside your head, and just as your mind began to fathom how dangerous the position you were in was he kissed you slowly, silencing reason once again.

You could feel how sensitive you were as he pumped his length into you a few times - slowly to test your reaction. He pulled away from the kiss to examine your face, finding it filled with pleasure and overstimulation - traces of pain were there but you gave no indication he needed to stop.

"Do you think you can take what I will give you?"

His lips moved against yours sensually as he spoke, and you opened your mouth to answer for only a sob to be released. Instead you just nodded, hoping it would be enough in the circumstances and looking into his eyes with a pleading expression. He pressed a kiss to your bottom lip and pushed every inch you could take into you roughly, earning another sob that was muffled as he bit into your bottom lip enough to cause it to swell. He pulled away from the action with a wicked grin and savored your expression for a moment longer before this position came to an end.

He pulled out of you slowly, moving to stand next to the bed. In your haze you listened to him give you instructions to get on your knees and elbows, instructions you followed hastily on shaky limbs as he stroked his length watching you obey. When you were finally presenting yourself to him exactly how he wanted he mounted behind you, still grasping his length in one hand as his other reached forward to circle your dripping hole with two fingers.

"Precious. I will try not to break you."

His fingers were gone and replaced with his cock swiftly, his restraint gone as he thrusted in as far as he could, still trying to press further when he reached the end and smiling when the most beautiful cry filled the room from you. He groaned out deep as his hand found your stomach, pressing against it to hold you upward, reaching his other hand to slip the fingers that were coated in your slick into your mouth.

"So small beneath me," he breathed out, leaning forward to press a kiss over one of the red welts he'd created on your back. He engulfed you in this position, you were at his complete mercy - all hope of being anything but his ever again gone. He would never give you up. "On your knees for me. Just where you should be."

He forgot to be somewhat gentle with you as he thrust into you at a feral pace - or perhaps he just didn't care how little you were able to move when he was through. He continued to kiss your neck, shoulders, and back in any place he could reach, his teeth marking your skin anywhere he could manage. His claws were just as helpful in regard to marking you, reaching to scratch at your thighs and back - until he focused his hand's attention on your ass, spanking and scratching and grabbing roughly as proved to give him additional leverage as he pounded into you.

He was already obsessed with the way you took him with moans and cries while ensuring you stayed in the position he'd molded you into, eyes transfixed on how your tight hole took his length. When this whole Absolute ordeal was taken care of at your hands, he'd happily take this sight every day.

"Look at you just taking me," his voice was shaking now, matching your legs once again. His hand left your stomach to squeeze your throat, accentuating the fact that you were truly just taking whatever he would give. "And you do it so well, you sweet thing."

Content with how marked you were for him his hands instead grasped your waist in the gentlest grasp he'd offered yet, not quite matching the ferocity at which he pounded into you. Through blurred vision you were half aware of the familiar figure that slipped into the room through the shadows, the incubus unable to keep away witnessing what was filling the House with the irresistible sounds of flesh smacking against flesh.

You didn't know if Raphael noticed - you didn't care. You doubted a complaint would be heard if you offered one, and they would leave after you'd reached your release and they'd heard your euphoria anyway.

(Though you did momentarily hope that sinful tongue they'd offered earlier could be put to a better use, though you knew your body would be spent by then).

"Give me another," he ordered, feeling how your body was tensing up again at the threat of release, eager to feel you snap again. "And I want to hear it…"

He reached to rub your clit again at a speed that matched his thrusts, eager to feel how tight you'd squeeze him when you came undone, already intoxicated by the way your velvet walls were fluttering around his length. He was taking what he wanted from your body at a roughness that would no doubt leave bruises for you to feel on the road to Baldur's Gate - he certainly wouldn't heal marks that were a gift from him covering your back and neck and causing you to walk with a limp that so clearly displayed you had coupled with him.

He let you fall to the bed fully, only finding he was able to pound into you harder as you laid flat on your stomach. Unwilling to have you pass out he grabbed your hair on the back of your head and pulled hard enough to force it back so you could continue to breathe, leaning his torso over yours until he could twist your head and claim your lips in a rough kiss. He was hungry - feral - fully lost in himself as he chased his own pleasure, releasing all inhibition as he found his release. The only warning it was coming was the sloppiness that overtook his thrusts as the end neared, a growl rumbling in his chest as he pulled away from your lips to instead bite into your shoulder.

His seed was molten as it filled you, overflowing past his length. As his release filled your womb his teeth broke your skin and he tasted your blood as he was lost in his pleasure. He'd crave its flavor that was entirely you just as often as he'd crave claiming your womb now, knowing the mark would show you were his.

He continued to pump into you slowly several more times, holding you still as you squirmed and whimpered from the overstimulation, hearing the shake in your breaths and sweet sounds that proved to him you were crying. When he decided to pull out completely his chest shook with a quiet, dark laugh, finding a comfortable position straddling over your ass. His hands were loving in the way a curator's were with art, running over your scratched and bitten back adoringly for several moments, fingertips tracing the marks that would last the longest. He leaned down to press a kiss to a particularly possessive bite mark before removing his weight from you, rolling you to your side to to check that you were still capable of coherency.

You blinked up at him with glassy eyes, tear-stained cheeks proving he had been right about your tears. He leaned to press a single gentle kiss to your forehead as he pulled the blanket over your weak body. Selfish of a creature as he was, he was still capable of some semblance of aftercare - though that was it, it was enough from someone like him to someone like you.

"Well done, my dear. A wonderful demonstration of your devotion to me."

This praise - this tone. The very reason you'd do anything he asked, become anything he needed you to become. Anything he asked of you in a moment like this you'd provide. Part of you wondered how long it would take for him to exploit that fact.

"Next time you've behaved for me I will have Haarlep join us. They can lick my seed clean from you as I watch how you look beneath me."

(You'd think more on that particular promise later, when your mind was capable of wrapping around anything other than Raphael's finger again).

His new tone was undeniable and impossible to ignore, the reverence steeping every syllable enough to drown in them. Appreciation, worship. It was difficult to decide if being beneath him or hearing this newfound depth of praise was more fulfilling. You nuzzled closer to him still just barely conscious, physically submitting to the exhaustion that overtook every inch of yourself.

You nodded your head lazily in agreement before burrowing your face in his neck, enjoying the familiar scent of cherries, musk and sulphur that had come to mean power and protection to you. If you were lucky those sinful notes would linger in your senses in the coming day.

Though he was far from one to cuddle, he wasn't one to complain when presented with any show of mutual adoration from you, and he allowed his tail to drape across your legs in a subtle concession to your own desires.

Beyond that, he was still, but he was content.

"Rest," you were intoxicated with this voice, one you couldn't help but wonder how few beings had heard it, one free of any performance - honest, soft. "You will need it before you continue your journey. When you wake you'll be in camp with your cohorts, and when you reach the city again you will return to me."

In your last moments of consciousness, you remained his eager little pup.

masterlist. baldur's gate III masterlist.

[herlondonboy]

metaphor, clarisse la rue

summary: nudes is a metaphor for love, but surely there are other way to express your feelings?

warnings: ITS NOT SEXUAL!!! it's 100% pg-13. DIOR IS 17, that's weird. nudes is a metaphor for love but reader doesn't get it. just says nudes a bunch. again, NOT SEXUAL.

wc: 1.1k

a/n: please tell me if this makes sense...

you share nudes when you trust someone deeply. it’s considered a high form of showing your love. allowing someone so far away to see you at your most vulnerable. it was what you did when you were in love, right?

did you understand it?

do you understand why, in a world painted with vulnerability, the exchange of nudes becomes a delicate dance of trust? each pixel, a brushstroke revealing the canvas of intimacy between two souls. as you bare your essence through the lens, it's not just skin on display; it's a testament to the trust woven into the fabric of your connection.

the subtle play of light and shadow mirrors the nuanced layers of your emotions, creating a mosaic of intimacy that transcends the physical. each shared image is a whispered promise, an unspoken pact that echoes the trust built brick by brick in the architecture of your relationship.

the digital realm transforms into a sanctuary where openness thrives, and the exchange of nudes becomes a metaphorical bridge connecting hearts. in the vulnerability of exposure, trust finds its strongest anchor, fostering a bond that withstands the test of time.

as you navigate the terrain of shared moments, the pixels become vessels of sincerity, encapsulating the essence of trust in a world where transparency is often obscured. nudes, in this verse, transcend mere visuals, becoming the language of trust that binds two souls in a symphony of shared vulnerability.

in the quiet corridors of your mind, scepticism echoes louder than the gentle whispers of trust. the metaphorical dance of nudes as a symbol of profound love seems like a concept too fantastical to grasp. as you navigate the digital landscape, you can't help but question the validity of such an intimate metaphor.

the canvas of your doubts is painted with shades of scepticism, and you find yourself hesitating at the threshold of vulnerability. the notion that sharing nudes could encapsulate the depth of love feels like a poetic exaggeration, a narrative spun by the romantic minds that may have overlooked the intricacies of real-life connections.

in the glow of your screen, you ponder the fragility of trust and whether pixels can truly translate into a language of profound emotions. the scepticism is a shield, a defence mechanism honed through years of navigating a world where trust is often elusive and fragile.

as you scroll through messages and shared images, you can't shake the nagging belief that love, true and unfiltered, transcends the digital realm. it's a sentiment anchored in tangible actions, shared experiences, and the messy, imperfect reality of human connection. nudes, you argue within yourself, can't possibly encapsulate the complexity of emotions that define genuine love.

so, no. you don’t understand it.

yet, even in your disbelief, a subtle curiosity lingers. perhaps there's a kernel of truth in the metaphor, a flicker of understanding waiting to be unearthed. as you continue to grapple with these thoughts, you find yourself at the crossroads of scepticism and the potential for a deeper understanding of the intricate dance between trust and love.

in the quiet moments of introspection, you wonder if embracing vulnerability in the digital realm could indeed be a bridge to a more profound connection.

then came along clarisse la rue.

she emerges as an unexpected muse, but your scepticism remains steadfast. the fiery connection you share with clarisse doesn't completely dissolve the doubts that linger around the metaphor of expressing love through shared nudes.

in the soft glow of your screen, your affection for clarisse grows, but you continue to believe that love transcends the digital realm. the metaphor, in your eyes, simplifies a complex spectrum of emotions into a narrow perspective. you yearn to express your love for clarisse through diverse channels, beyond the confines of shared images.

for you, love is a multi-dimensional tapestry, woven with actions, shared experiences, and genuine moments of connection. clarisse becomes the recipient of your affection, and you express your love through handwritten letters, spontaneous gestures, and the timeless art of conversation. the pixels on a screen, while a part of your journey, don't encapsulate the entirety of your feelings.

despite the depth of your emotions for clarisse, you remain unconvinced that exposing the vulnerable aspects of yourself through shared nudes is the pinnacle of trust and intimacy. your belief in the richness of diverse expressions of love becomes a testament to the complexity inherent in human connections.

you can show your vulnerability through your words.

inside the area cabin, you and clarisse found yourselves wrapped in the embrace of each other's presence. the soft rustle of leaves overhead provided a natural symphony as you both sat together, the moon casting its gentle glow upon your shared solitude.

as you stared into the distance, clarisse's voice broke the tranquil silence. "what are you thinking about?" she asked, curiosity lacing her words. the night air held a subtle chill, but the warmth of your connection created an invisible cocoon around both of you.

a thoughtful smile played on your lips, contemplating how to articulate the intricate thoughts dancing through your mind. you ended up just settling on a short, “nothin’.”

clarisse nodded, her eyes, filled with a depth of emotion, met yours. in that moment, her voice softened, carrying a weight of sincerity, "i love you infinitely."

the simplicity of those words held a profound impact, resonating with the unspoken understanding that had grown between you. a rush of warmth surged within you as you locked eyes with clarisse. in the quiet embrace of the night, you knew words were unnecessary— your hearts spoke a language more profound than any conversation could convey. than any picture could convey.

with a reciprocal smile, you reached for her hand, intertwining your fingers in a silent acknowledgement of the love that bound you together. the night seemed to stand still as the world around you faded into insignificance, leaving only the intimacy of the present moment.

"i love you too," you finally uttered, the words carrying a sense of completeness. with those three simple words, the unspoken thoughts and emotions found a voice, echoing through the stillness of the night. “i’ll love you for forever and a day.”

as the night continued its slow journey, you both lingered in each other's presence, finding solace in the depth of your connection. the world outside melted away, leaving only the shared heartbeat and the whispered promises of love exchanged beneath the celestial canopy. in the quietude of the night, you revelled in the beauty of a love that needed no explanation— it simply existed, profound and infinite.

in your own way.

[bnomiko]

PSA: I found out last week that Michiru Yamane, the primary composer behind many of the game tracks in the Castlevania-verse, has a YT channel with extended versions of some of her Castlevania tracks.

Some of my faves include: - Lament of Innocence: Joachim by the Transparent Lake (aka Joachim of the Clear Blue Riverside), Garden Forgotten by Time, Ghostly Theatre - Symphony of the Night: Wandering Ghosts - Curse of Darkness: The Forest of Jigramunt, Mortvia Aqueduct - Bloodlines: Iron Blue Intention, Reincarnated Soul

Whether you're a fan of the Castlevania game franchise, video game music in general, or a fanworks creator in need of some gothic-y ambient piano music to write or draw by, it's a pretty cool thing to check out : )

[jj-stay]

The Bittersweet Journey of Regretful Stray Kids

Hey lovely readers! It’s [jj-stay] here, and I’m beyond thrilled to share my latest fanfiction with you all. This one’s all about our favorite Stray Kids members and their reactions to walking out on an argument with their significant other. Get ready for a blend of fluff and romance that’s perfect for anyone 16 and older.

📖 Word Count: 614 (Perfect for a cozy read!) 💌 Request Status: Nope, this one's just from my heart! 💑 Pairing: Stray Kids x Reader (Get ready for all the feels!) 🌈 Genre Vibes: Fluff, Romantic (With a hint of drama) 🚨 Trigger Warning: Argument, walking out on an argument 🛑 Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real-life actions or events is purely coincidental.

Introduction

In this Tumblr fanfic, we dive into how each member of Stray Kids reacts after walking out on an argument with their significant other. Watch as they navigate their emotions and learn the importance of communication and maturity in relationships. and more loving relationships.

Enjoy the story, and don’t forget to like, reblog, and share your thoughts! Your support means the world. 💖😊

Chan (Bang Chan):

Chan storms out of the argument and immediately goes to his sanctuary: the room for music Hours pass as he empties his entire being into his organizations, involving music as a type of therapy. However, as the days pass, he begins to experience a gnawing sense of emptyness inside. It occurs to him that staying away from the issue won't make it vanish. Bringing boldness, he chooses to connect with his, not entirely set in stone to have a transparent discussion to repair their relationship.

Minho (Lee Know):

Minho, the self-reflective individual he is, withdraws into solitude to consider the dispute. He replays the scene to him on many times, wrestling with sensations of disappointment and yearning. He finds himself missing his significant other more than ever as the days turn into weeks. At long last comprehension the significance of correspondence, he bites the bullet and expands a genuine statement of regret, promising to move toward future struggles with development and understanding.

Changbin:

Changbin, who is well-known for his love of music and lyrics, expresses his anger and frustration through his writing. The turmoil he was going through, a mix of regret and longing, is reflected in each verse. However, as he pours his heart onto paper, he understands that words alone won't patch the fracture among him and his life partner. He takes the first step toward reconciliation by putting his pride aside and asking for forgiveness and promising to learn from his mistakes.

Hyunjin:

Battling to find a sense of peace with his activities, Hyunjin withdraws into isolation, consumed by culpability and self-question. He grapples with the information that keeping away from a conflict just demolishes what is happening. With a full breath, he sets out to stand up to the issue head-on, contacting his better half with a genuine conciliatory sentiment and a guarantee to discuss transparently and truly later on.

Jisung:

With his delicate and smart nature, Jisung replays the contention to him, investigating each word and activity. He's spooky by the inclination that he let his soul mate down. Still up in the air to offer to set things right, he starts a sincere discussion, recognizing his mix-ups and promising to improve the situation for their relationship.

Seungmin:

Seungmin hurls himself entirely into his examinations and responsibilities, expecting to divert himself from the waiting contention. He is aware, however, that ignoring the problem will not solve it. He takes the initiative to contact his partner, ready to address their issues in a mature and comprehensive manner because he recognizes the significance of communication.

Felix:

In spite of his endeavors to stifle his feelings, Felix winds up consumed by lament and strife. Incapable to bear the heaviness of unsettled struggle any more, he contacts his, not entirely settled to make things right. He vows to be more open and vulnerable in future conflicts with a newfound courage, realizing that communication is the key to a healthy relationship.

I.N. Jeongin:

Conflicted between lament and dread, Jeongin battles to handle his feelings in the outcome of the contention. However, as time passes, he realizes that remaining silent only serves to widen the gap between them. He takes a shaky breath and offers his partner an olive branch, ready to listen and openly communicate in order to repair their relationship.

Conclusion:

After a heated argument with their partners, we've seen each Stray Kids member deal with regret and uncertainty throughout this fanfic journey. Through reflection, correspondence, and a ton of soul-looking, they learn significant illustrations about the significance of open correspondence and development in connections. It's an excursion of development and understanding, and we as a whole are curious to see what happens.

Note from Author: It has been an emotional roller coaster to write this piece, and I hope it reaches out to you all. Your support and feedback mean the world to me. How about we continue spreading affection and understanding in our fanfic local area!

@kflixnet

@obsessedw-stars

@smut-lover

[acknowledgetheabsurd]

It's Sunday. The day is almost beautiful, with wind. They are playing boules on the road below and I can hear the clash of the balls from my room. The world is peaceful. How nice it would be to have the heart of a boule player in a Provençal village on a Sunday! But I promised myself to tell you the facts.

It's not much, it's true. Life continues with one more guest at the meals, Michèle Halphen who has moved to the hotel. I think she's leaving tomorrow. I like her but her sadness adds to the inertia of the days here. Yesterday, after a week's absence, Dolo came to liven up the house. I took her home in the evening. Sad too: she has been waiting for S[artre] for weeks, he said he would come at the end of this month and he announces that it will be at the beginning of the next. In short, things are not going well for her. Cheerful, isn't it?

I was repeating to myself Vigny's verse: "Separated lovers were united at the altars"! Come on, it's not for tomorrow. More important news: my brother is coming tomorrow. As the G[allimard]s are still here (they leave on the 20th) I will lodge him at the hotel. I will go tomorrow afternoon to Cannes to look for him. I am happy to see him again, but worried about him. I would like him to get well again. What else? A doctor from Grasse came to dinner with his wife. She had lost her mother following an operation that had caused an intestinal obstruction. The mourning was eight days old. Now you know that the company of more than four people exhausts me. Moreover, you can't count on the G[allimard]s to animate the conversation. So I made a great effort to talk about anything. The result was that I spoke successively about the cemetery in Cabris, about surgeons who are butchers, and about intestinal obstruction (all this without thinking of the deceased, of course). To finish, I told the story of Chamfort, where a doctor talking about his deceased patient said: "He is dead, no doubt, but he died cured."

On Wednesday Gide, who is in Juan-les-Pins where he is translating an English play for Barrault invited us all to lunch. Cartier, the producer I told you about and about whom you didn't tell me anything (but you are answering less and less to the questions I ask you. Linotte!) writes to me about his projects. I don't know why I trust him. After all, maybe we'll see The Plague on the screen. Now it's my turn. I've been muddy for two days. Headaches, vague nausea, I feel like I'm pregnant. I've even lost my rested complexion, but I guess it will pass. It is true that this waiting, it is silly to say, is so anxious that it ends up tiring me even physically. I exhaust myself imagining you and living our meeting in advance. Yet I behave wisely: a well-organized schedule, regular work (which does not necessarily mean fruitful work. There are good days and bad days, that's all). But the deprivation of happiness sometimes has the effect of under-nourishment, of asphyxiation too.

All my hope, all my courage comes finally from what I expect as a total reunion, love, emotion, joy, absolute freedom between us, bodies and soul, transparency and naturalness. And I do not wait for it as a utopia. I wait for it because I am sure of it. And it is not so far, no, it is not so far. Because listen carefully: yesterday in the mountain I saw the first flowers of the almond tree. The tree was still black. But at the ends of the branches a dozen or so frail and soft flowers were already rustling in the wind. You understand, my love, Maria dear! It was the extreme point of the extreme beginning of spring. And a great impulse came to my eyes and heart, which I can call no more than an impulse of adoration. I made a vow. I looked for a long time at the crying petals. And I went home, my heart full of love. Goodbye, my beautiful and wonderful love. I kiss my Valentine and give her the few flowers that we should give on Valentine's Day to the one that we love. You are the one I love, before every spring, and I kiss you deeply, with all my love.

Albert Camus to Maria Casarès, Correspondance, February 12, 1950 [#187]

[tyunchi]

she is sculpted by the evergreen trees

drew

— And you can hear her humming in the whistling wind of thunderstorms as she dance through the hymn of wisterias and willows. The waves of her jet black hair shape coastlines and uneven ocean tides that voyagers are eager to pioneer. Her beauty transcends any physical parameters as she holds nebula in her tantalizing eyes and constellations form from the dust of her freckles. She is all great things in the frail form of a damsel.

She embroider a tapestry of passion with her sanguine thread of philantrophy and wear suffocating corsets with austere simplicity. But she also breathe life to nymphs for she behold divinity in her lungs and from her larynx, sirens gain their ariose voice. She speak of pure somber melodies bestowing archangels their immaculacy and in her temple, they gratify her benignity. She is all great things in the frail form of a damsel.

As though she may seem to carry transparency in her but once you try reading the words from her verses, you'll ponder with an epiphany that she's built a labyrinth deep within her psyche, something you'll never get pass by. No man could ever enter her temple for what's written in the sibylline scriptures says that no blood of misogyny can tarnish the purity of her quintessential pneuma. Anyone who will go against that cardinal rule shall suffer perpetually the state of eternal punishment and damnation in perdition. She is all great things in the frail form of a damsel but not in need of any saviour.

Only those who have tasted the bitter taste of seclusion and social ostracism can undoubtedly sympathize for what splendour they wasted.

"women, they have minds, and they have souls, as well as just hearts. and they've got ambition, and they've got talent, as well as just beaut. i'm so sick of people saying that love is just all a woman is fit for.”

— jo march, little women.

[newprophets]

The Transformative Power of John 3:16 Embrace God's Love

The Transformative Power of John 3: A Fresh Start with Jesus

Have you ever wished for a fresh start, a do-over in life? John 3 offers the ultimate reboot, introducing the concept of being "born again." This chapter not only provides deep theological insights but also shows us the path to a transformed life through Jesus. Let’s explore the transformative power of John 3 and its relevance to our lives today.

A Curious Pharisee

Nicodemus, a Pharisee and member of the Jewish ruling council, is intrigued by Jesus’ teachings and miracles. However, his position makes it risky to be seen with Jesus, so he visits Him at night. This clandestine meeting opens the door to one of the most profound discussions in the Bible.

Jesus begins by telling Nicodemus, "No one can see the kingdom of God unless they are born again" (John 3:3). This statement puzzles Nicodemus, who takes it literally. Jesus clarifies that this rebirth is spiritual, signifying a complete transformation of the heart and soul through the Holy Spirit.

Spiritual Rebirth Explained

Jesus explains that to enter the kingdom of God, one must be born of water and the Spirit. This isn’t about a physical rebirth but a spiritual awakening. It’s akin to installing a new operating system in a computer—removing the old, flawed system and replacing it with a new, efficient one.

This rebirth signifies a fresh start, a new life where the old self, marred by sin, is replaced by a new self, guided by the Holy Spirit. It’s a transformative process that changes our perspectives, values, and actions, aligning them with God’s will.

The Heartbeat of the Gospel: John 3:16

The climax of this chapter is the well-known verse, John 3:16: "For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life." This verse encapsulates the essence of the Gospel:

God’s Unconditional Love: God’s love is not limited to a select group but extends to the entire world.

The Ultimate Sacrifice: God gave His only Son, Jesus, to atone for our sins.

Eternal Life: Belief in Jesus ensures eternal life, a gift freely given to all who accept it.

This verse underscores the inclusivity of God’s love and the accessibility of salvation to everyone, regardless of their past.

Light vs. Darkness

Jesus continues by contrasting light and darkness. He states that He did not come to condemn the world but to save it. Those who do evil prefer the darkness to hide their deeds, while those who live by truth come into the light.

Light represents God’s truth and presence, while darkness symbolizes sin and separation from God. Jesus, as the light of the world, invites us to step into the light, living in truth and righteousness.

Practical Application

How can we apply the teachings of John 3 to our daily lives?

1. Experience Spiritual Rebirth: Have you undergone the spiritual transformation Jesus speaks of? Seek the Holy Spirit’s guidance to renew your heart and mind.

2. Live Transparently: Let the light of Christ shine through your actions. Live truthfully and avoid hiding your deeds.

3. Spread the Gospel: Share the message of John 3:16 with others. Let them know about God’s immense love and the gift of eternal life through Jesus.

4. Trust in God’s Love: In moments of doubt, remember God’s unconditional love for you. His love is a constant source of strength and assurance.

Conclusion

John 3 offers a powerful message of spiritual rebirth, divine love, and eternal life. Nicodemus’ encounter with Jesus provides timeless lessons on the transformative power of faith and the inclusivity of God’s love. Let these truths inspire you to seek a deeper relationship with God, live in the light of His truth, and share the Gospel’s message with the world.

[angeltreasure]

Okay just kinda rambling but wanted to share my thoughts and have someone who I respect to bounce off of. I like macabre and dark stuff, like vampires, ghosts, horror, goth, the whole thing. Now I'm not like trying to contact the dead or summon demons, I'm not an idiot. I find the imagery of that dark stuff lovely in a way, since it's not this cookie cutter materialistic crap of what society wants us to conform to be. Like, imagine a dark cathedral with a cemetery, crosses, angels, roses, classical music, that kind of images. I'm also a Christian, and believe in God and all that stuff. So I was thinking, since the idea of memento mori and the soul being eternal, would that perhaps be why I like the dark imagery? Cause I can appreciate the beauty of nature and praying for the dead and all that which is one of my favorite works of mercy, but I also find comfort in the idea that we only live once, so better to make the best of it cause we don't know when God's gonna come a knocking to bring us home.

I was attracted to darker things growing up too. I dressed darker, I gobbled up all kinds of videos of vampires and ghosts, loved horror movies, I wasn’t even scared of the cemetery the next street over from my childhood hometown. I had used a ouija board twice at different times, the first time I thought it was funny to prank a friend who used it with me. My all time favorite mass was at 6:30 PM at night. Depending on the time of year the sun would set before getting there. Mass at night in that big church (it felt big to me but now it’s so small) with its dark wood, so many beautiful stained glass windows were darkened by the night, candles were light all around the altar and many places for prayer in dark corners, the dark wood was beautifully craved in the whole place, and I was fascinated with what was behind the veil that I couldn’t see… especially in churches because the veil between Heaven and Earth is the thinnest! My apartment was haunted, or so I joked with my parents, because we had so much paranormal activity happen with seeing ghosts, hearing sounds like people walking, hanging on walls, lights would turn off, cold spots would be felt near the bedrooms, chains like a Scooby Doo ghost passing the hallway outside our doors around 2 AM, we had things go missing, we had chairs rock, the tv would turn on by itself, we had imprints of a person sit down next to us on the couch, I saw shadow people….Looking back, it was clearly a level of demonic infestation. We never had a priest over but we blessed the rooms a few times with Holy Water.

And of course, you can’t get more “gothic” than Catholicism, meditating on ancient prayers about His Passion were so powerful. I never had a doubt in Jesus’s true presence in the bread and wine. I found comfort in only living once too, and a verse burned into my mind ever since reading it at my grandmother’s funeral that goes something like ‘When we live we live for the Lord, when we die, we die for the Lord’. I was His, even with all my own sins and the terrible things I was going through in mind, I clung onto the Church. Even when news of the scandals came to light through better transparency and law, I clung onto the Church. Even my own priest, who I was suspected all along as gay, ran off and married as a gay man, I clung onto the Church. When my church had lied to me about why he left, I clung to the Church. When someone threatened suicide against me that I thought I fell in love with, I left them and clung even closer to the Church. Even with family deaths so close to each other, I clung to the Church. Searching for myself, who I really was, I cling to the Church.

Without my Church, I would not be who I was meant to be—- I would be a totally different person. I find comfort in the living Word of God. I may not dress as dark as I used to (especially when I walk up to the ambo as a Lector), even I avoid a lot of the darker music I found years ago, even though I also I avoid “fandoms” now, memento mori is still a big reminder to me and Catholicism is mien forever. I can’t imagine ever leaving especially knowing Jesus is truly present body, blood, soul, and divinity in the Eucharist and wine.

So, to answer your question, yes it could be a reason why you like dark imagery. Be careful where it takes you, as I know where it can lead if you go down the path too deep into its woods. I hope one day we can meet in Heaven. To be a saint is both our ultimate goal.

[esuemmanuel]

Poco entenderás de mi herida si jamás has sido tocada por la locura que trae consigo la imaginación, por esas horas entregadas a los sueños impregnados de palabras, de todas esas emociones enmarcadas en versos y poesía siendo recitadas por el alma viva de un transparente ruiseñor... Poco sabrás de lo que es cargar con el amor al silencio que pinta ante los ojos rasgados de lluvia un precioso paisaje lleno de verdor y cielos azules que besan, profundamente, al sol... Poco sentirás en el corazón el picor de la dicha que surge de mirarse con las manos llenas de tinta, la misma que brota del corazón enamorado de la ensoñación; flores, pétalos cristalinos, amores fugaces jamás comprendidos, letras y más letras naufragas del amor; curiosidades que transgreden a la realidad, que doblegan a la razón con la pericia de un mago y enamoran al caído con la reliquia del sinsabor, de ese mismo que ha sido construido por otros muchos amantes de lo que no tiene nombre ni color.

— Esu Emmanuel©, Little will you understand my wound if you have never been touched by the madness that imagination brings with it, by those hours spent in dreams impregnated with words, of all those emotions framed in verses and poetry being recited by the living soul of a transparent nightingale… Little will you know what it is to carry the love of silence that paints before the rain torn eyes a beautiful landscape full of greenery and blue skies that kiss, deeply, the sun … Little will you feel in your heart the itch of the happiness that comes from looking at yourself with your hands full of ink, the same that springs from the heart in love with reverie; flowers, crystalline petals, fleeting loves never understood, letters and more shipwrecked letters of love; curiosities that transgress reality, that bend reason with the skill of a magician and make the fallen fall in love with the relic of tastelessness, the same that has been built by many other lovers of what has no name or color.

[hermitsmirror]

Deck interview: Bee Tarot

With the arrival of spring, it seemed fitting to bring a deck interview for the Bee Tarot into being (bee-ing, har har). The Bee Tarot, illustrated by Nadia Turner with a thick guidebook by Kristoffer Hughes, is one of the new decks being published by Llewellyn Worldwide, my own publisher for the Seaborn Kipper, and I asked if I could have a copy of it when I saw it. In exchange, I would show it off. So to be transparent, this is a ”review copy” of the deck, but it wasn’t foisted upon me, and this is a deck interview, not a full review per se (but if you have questions about it, let me know or read more about it on Llewellyn’s site—one of the surprising features is that it’s a linen texture). I just thought it looked fun and appropriate to my own interest in the intersection of nature magic and divination. I also just really like the idea of apiaries (Robbing the Bees: A Biography of Honey by Holley Bishop is one of the few nonfiction books I would consider reading a second time) and the concept of bees for spiritual work and community.

As it happens, the deck has a tie to Druidic traditions, which may or may not be important to readers. I’m certainly not well-versed enough in that tradition to know how successfully or meaningfully it brings in the Druid element, although I did have the good fortune to interview a prominent Druid author when I was in college (decades ago now), so I probably should know more than I remember.

But to get back to the Bee Tarot, I love how this deck interview builds off of my deck interview with the Apothecary Spirits Oracle and continues the story of reconnecting with a love for life and community, more or less starting with a journey of just being present. It really has me thinking about the Elder Futhark rune wunjo and that concept of joy that could only be found through harmonious community engagement, even as recently as a few centuries ago. You wouldn’t survive if you tried to do it all alone. Why should we not lean into that reminder of communal joy now?

As always now, I used my own deck interview spread, which you can find explained on my blog.

What major lesson are you here to help me learn? 3 of Jars

Through which divine energy can we best communicate? 6 of Wands (reversed)

In what area can you aid me to help others? Queen of Swords (reversed)

In what area could your guidance be easily misunderstood? 10 of Wands

What can I do to keep our communication clear? Queen of Jars

How can I use your guidance for the highest good? 5 of Swords (reversed)

How will I know when we’re ready for a new lesson? 6 of Pentacles

I’ll get to the first card in a minute, but I want to discuss the second card first because the reversed 6 of Wands in that second position takes on a different meaning than I would normally consider for it. In the context of the rest of the spread, the reversed 6 feels like a stark reminder of the importance of humility in spiritual work, especially with the community-oriented and interdependent concepts behind the deck. If nothing else, bees are part of a collective. Yes, there’s a queen bee, and there are distinct roles within the dance of the actual living, breathing bees, but the archetype of the bee is one of community orientation and soul work in line with serving one’s role in a bigger picture, not serving your own whims. That feels important here with the reversed 6 of Wands. I would normally associate that reversal with arrogance or pride—and yes, that’s still relevant—but in answer to the second question, it feels softer. It feels less like chastisement and more like a reminder to let oneself recede into the background. It’s a softer energy in this position of divine energy. Surrender and celebrate alongside in humility, rather than being the central heroic figure.

This of course relates to the lesson that this deck is helping me work through, the fun and celebration that comes with a close community of likeminded souls. The 3 of Jars (Cups) is that quintessential celebratory card, but as I mentioned in the office hours for my spring semester of courses not too long ago, it’s distinct from the 6 of Wands or 4 of Wands in that the celebration is through water instead of fire, a merging and blending of hearts, an expansion of the emotions and of meaningful connections. It’s a softer form of fun. Perhaps the idea of “softer” is what the bees of the Bee Tarot are offering more broadly. Honey is amelioration (and amelioration is literally the adding of honey, the sweetening of things).

This connection ties in with the 5 of Swords in reverse, a laying down of weapons (or arguments) and the blunting of the too-sharp swords. And of course it all fits beautifully with that generous spirit of interdependence and care for the collective seen in the 6 of Pentacles, the final card of the spread.

The Queen of Jars (Cups) also lends a soothing element in the fifth position to the overworking sting of the 10 of Wands. The 10 is such a burnt out card for the busy bee, hot and tired, in need of a little water and rest. That combination of the fourth and fifth cards is a nice reminder that one’s collective soul work, at least as explored with this deck, may be work, but it’s not burdensome. Returning to that first card, the 3 of Jars, it’s important that it’s not the 3 of Pentacles or Wands, cards of communal work and effortful building. If I find myself coming to this deck for tasks (for me or others), the Queen sits ready to redirect you toward the bigger picture. In her role as clarifier to the 10 of Wands, she offers the soothing and supportive effects of seeing easier flow and finding one’s place. Don’t try so hard. There is no spiritual grind, just ego pushing a path forward, wreaking havoc with the tapestry. Sure, you can do that sometimes, but why? Surrender and find that sweet nectar of life in whatever it is you do.

Sometimes readings can feel too coherent, as if the reader has forced redundancy into the cards, but that blending and layering of sticky meanings again seems right for the Bee Tarot. And it’s not quite a seamless match of hexagonal compartments.

The Queen of Swords in reverse poses an odd problem here. How is she helping me understand how I might be helping others? I’ve learned from  a couple years teaching Awaken the Court Cards that the Queen of Swords can be much more accommodating than people assume. Students who embody the Queen of Swords (Water of Air) recognize the flow more often attributed to the Queen of Cups, but it’s funneled or honed like a sword’s point or edge. It’s there, but it’s focused. In this third position, the Queen of Swords in reverse seems to hint at the Queen of Jars in the fifth: she’s inviting me to work with those who have felt the pull or the currents of their soul—a calling, as it were—but who haven’t figured out how to refine that and focus that into something specific.

Combined with the warning to not overwork things in the 10 of Wands, it seems like an invitation to those who find themselves in the problem of the embodied soul who knows what they’re supposed to do “for the collective” in some way, but perhaps they’ve overworked it and limited soul work to spiritual industry work. That’s an important and thankfully growing population—I say “thankfully” because more people are recognizing the importance of doing meaningful soul work. There is pain in trying to force soul work into the limitations of spiritual industry work given our current economic environment. We can all be doing soul-centered things without being full-time energy healers or overworked tarot readers. Teach, volunteer, celebrate, and love as you do whatever you do. Bring spirit and nature and harmony into your world in whatever way you can, small or large. That’s the dream of a mindful and soul-centered collective.

And that helps me better understand the role of the reversed 5 of Swords in the sixth spot: we don’t all need to be competing with each other all the time. Yes, there are market forces that incentivize that. But why can’t we work in collaboration and mutual support? That journey awaits me still, I think, as promised by the 6 of Pentacles. But I suspect that it will find me sooner than later. Here’s hoping!

The Bee Tarot by Kristoffer Hughes and Nadia Turner is published by Llewellyn Worldwide, who publishes one of my one decks. The deck provided here was a gift from my publicist, but these insights about and experiences with the deck are my own.

[thesiltverses]

Hello! I just realized y'all had a redbubble!! Will y'all ever put a white version of the silt verses logo sticker? I was hoping to put one on my car but I have a dark colored car and am worried the black wouldn't show up if I got a transparent sticker 🤔 really need to show my love for silt verses out to the world!

I'm sorry, I always leave these redbubble asks on the burner for way too long because it breaks my soul every time I try and navigate through their CMS:

We do have a white-background (non-transparent) sticker already available which should show up OK - but I've just enabled a transparent-background white-line version as well if you'd prefer that! Thanks very much for asking.

[soulfulodyssey]

Push Start

In December 2023 after a spiritual transition and relationship that I began building with GOD and his son Jesus, I was told that it was time to move on from my 25 years served in the 9 to 5 prison. I was being paroled through the faith that I was showing. Like any inmate being released after decades of living in a prison assimilating to the real world was new. As the light hit my cheek and the world became clear it was time to live on my own terms.

The idea that I can do anything at any time is so new to me that it's completely inconceivable. So as I have been navigating this new journey that is now my life it's been rough on my psyche. When you are used to consistency even if you aren't being paid your due it can be hard to transition. It's almost like my flesh and my spirit are sparring and my flesh wants so badly to go back to the comfort of captivity but my spirit just gently whispers "endure". It reminds me of a verse in the bible Matthew 26:40-41 which spoke about when Jesus went to pray with his fathers and his disciples fell asleep.

40 " Then he returned to his disciples and found them sleeping. “Couldn’t you men keep watch with me for one hour?” he asked Peter. 41 “Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.”

What stood out the most to me was "the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak". I know that everything will be ok however my mind always fights against me in the disguise of attempting to protect me. However, is protection worth a life long of unfulfilled servitude? I don't believe it is so I will continue this spiritual journey and keep pushing forward.

I created this blog because I just love to create but more importantly, I am learning to be transparent and share who I am in my completeness. I feel like this will heal wounds in spaces I didn't even know my skin was lacerated. My primary medium of choice is photography but I am open to sharing in so many different ways and mediums, I am looking forward to sharing whether only 1 person reads and follows this page or 1 million people do. It's more therapeutic for me and I hope that first and foremost it helps me grow and then inspires growth in others as well.

I am pushing start on my self-care journey... welcome to Soulful Odyssey

-Ty

[queen-she-wolf]

Just me

For those who have felt the sting of hurt and the weight of never ending internal turmoil, my poetry is my lifeline, a means to ease the pain and silence the internal chaos. In the realm of verses, I find refuge where my emotions are given a voice, I can privately tend to my wounds and where my healing begins. There is power in poetry and I find myself in the words when I feel alone and lost in this cruel world!

Misunderstood by most, I have withdrawn into myself! The biggest extrovert online and the biggest recluse in the real world! I have always felt like I don’t belong. Yearning for a place, that’s name I do not know, yet I feel it deep in my heart and soul as I stare at the stars.

The tranquility of a walk in nature or sitting on the beach are ways I calm my inner demons! The smell of rain excites me! The feel of grass under my feet relaxes me! Blocking out the humdrum of my busy life and just absorbing in nature aids me in reaching a much needed equilibrium! 

I pride myself on my complete transparency, with my heart on my sleeve and my soul completely exposed! I have an unwavering commitment to honesty, I fearlessly speak my mind and stand by my words. My insatiable hunger for knowledge fuels my quest for enlightenment, which I passionately share with others whether solicited or not lol. In a world consumed by materialism, I find no value in possessions, instead I focus on spiritual growth! 

Join me on my journey of self-discovery. Picking up the broken pieces as I heal. Learn from my past mistakes! Grow spiritually, mentally and please not physically! Most importantly, Strive to be the best morher and best possible version of myself! Cause I’m not as I could be, not as good as I should be but thank God I am better than I used to be!