#unleash your goddess

[myrtleturtlee]

Happy Winter Solstice from me and my army

I hope Yule treats you how you deserve

[julienelson]

[lovelybucky1]

I. Need. More. Threesomes. With. Deadpool. And. Wolverine. ASAP!!!!!

Please please pleaseeeee 🥺

you’re not really sure why logan agreed to sub for you and wade. honestly, you’re not sure if logan knows why he agreed to this. it was fine at first, but he started to have some trouble following the rules.

you thought the guidelines were pretty simple. do as we say, and don’t touch or cum without permission. its not so much that logan isn’t willing to listen, it’s just his nature to do pretty much the opposite of what wade wants him to do.

you would have restained logan, but neither you or wade knew where to get handcuffs strong enough to hold a wolverine. instead, you were holding onto hope that he has enough self restraint to listen. newsflash: he doesn’t.

you were teasing the tip of his dick with your mouth; kissing it and swirling your tongue around it, when logan pushed your head down on his length.

“woah, woah, woah! those aren’t very good manners, wolvie. you don’t push a lady’s head unless she asks for it, and i don’t seem to remember her asking. if you don’t follow the rules, we’re gonna have to punish you,” wade says in that melodic voice that irritates logan like nothing else.

“fuck off, wade. stop teasin’ and suck my dick,” logan says.

you cock an eyebrow at him. “you won’t get anything with that attitude.”

“i think what you meant to say was ‘pretty please suck my dick, my goddess,’” wade says. that only makes logan more resistant.

“please,” logan grits out. you figure it’s as good as you’re going to get, so you give in.

from then on, things go pretty good. you suck, logan moans, wade commentates. logan keeps his hands to himself and he is mostly civil with wade. it isn’t until logan gets close to orgasm that he has some trouble again.

he tries to buck his hips up to fuck your mouth, but wade pins him down to stop him. logan doesn’t like that and tells wade such. before either of you could notice or stop it, logan’s brows are pinching together in pleasure and he’s cumming in your mouth.

you swallow it down out of instinct with a surprised noise.

“you broke a rule, peanut,” wade tuts. “you came without permission. you know what that means?” logan glares at him. “we have to punish you.”

pulling your mouth off of him, you sit up on your knees and grab ahold of his cock. he’s still half hard but it’s coming down from his orgasm. before you can do anything, wade bats your hand away and takes over.

he strokes him slowly, squeezing the sensitive tip and making sure to drag it out. logan hisses from the overstimulation but wade keeps him from squirming away.

“fuck, stop it,” logan growls. “hurts.”

“you should’ve thought about that before you disobeyed,” you say.

logan keeps all of his anger directed at wade. he has a soft spot for you, even if you’re aiding in his sexual torture.

“let go, wade.” logan’s voice is gruff, but it has an edge of desperation. “c’mon.”

“no can do, honeybuns. if i don’t enforce the rules, then you’ll think you can get away with whatever you want.”

groaning loudly, logan unleashes his claws and the tip of one catches wade in the thigh. “stop right now or i’ll cut your fuckin’ hands off.” wade laughs at him, which only pisses logan off more.

“you know the safe word, logan,” you say. “unless you use it, wade isn’t gonna stop.”

logan’s eyes flick up to yours for a moment before going back to wade.

“cut me up all you want, peanut. it’s gonna take a lot more than that to get me to safeword,” wade grins.

[gremlingottoosilly]

How large you think König's bodycount is? Like, with how many women has he sleep?

Failry normal, I think! A bit lower for a guy his age if we're counting him as being well in his thirties, but I feel like he slept around with 20 women at least. They are not long-term partners, mostly just hookups with some other soldiers from different units after a good pub crawl with the team or some passerby at an early age. It's not like he doesn't want to sleep with more women and gain experience in the romantic scenes - he is just too much of a weird fucking loser to get a girl that would like him for something more than his monstrous dick. He is awkward and weird, he will cherish you like a goddess and cover you in money from his mercenary paychecks, and you would still want to run away because he already starts planning your marriage after the first date. He has experience with sex - mostly because he was forced to be good at it, or else no lady would ever want to stay in range of ten meters with him - so he will eat you out before the act and after, not cringing as he licks and sucks at his own cum dripping from your pussy. He doesn't have a lot of romantic experience - sometimes he fails to remember that you're with him on your own free will and he doesn't have to threaten you with lives of your family. he still does this to keep you on your toes however. He had a few flings in his mid career, when he just got shiny new rank - a captian or something - and went on a bit of a sex rampage, finally believing in being desired by pretty women. He got humbled pretty quick when he found out that, despite having more money, muscles and height than he ever had before, he is still not really a desirable person - so he went into a depressive rampage right after. Such a good thing that he already gave up on dating and hooking up when you came in, looking so sweet and helpless, he just had to scoop you with him and unleash his pent-up desires...

[smutoperator]

Aphrodite

Jeon Heejin x Male Reader

Tags: breeding, clitorial fingering, (lots of) cowgirl, creampie, failed facefuck, goddess, mating press, mythology, poolside, public nudity

Word count: 4000.

Santorini, Greece

Heejin's life had changed a lot in such a short span. Winning the lawsuit against her former company, reuniting with her old boss, joining a new group, and getting a new solo were all things that happened to her in under a year. But no memory became more ingrained in her mind than her trip to the beautiful Greek islands of Santorini. Heejin's time in the archipelago could only be described as something straight out of a movie, starting with the moment many people asked her and Jinsoul if they were a married couple due to their matching white dresses that caught people's attention. Filming season's greetings on a Greek island for a group named after a Greek goddess was the perfect fit after all.

Today was one of the couple of free days her group had to enjoy Santorini before heading back to Korea. Haseul, Jinsoul, Kim Lip, and Choerry all went out right in the morning, but Heejin opted to stay in the lodge the group was staying in at the top of one of the many hills of Santorini, intending to enjoy the pool and relax. She took her orange bikini, sprayed plenty of sunscreen on her body, and laid in one of the chairs poolside. Her body was glowing under Helios. Heejin had never felt so confident before, just deciding to spend the whole day playing in the pool by herself, enjoying being all alone in such a cozy and spacious lodge with no eyes watching her.

Heejin loved the total privacy she was getting that day, so much so that she started getting bolder and thinking of things she had never done before. As the hours passed by, she stripped herself naked, laid on the chair, and just closed her eyes, taking a nice and relaxing nap with her bare body on display. However, she would suddenly be disrupted by some noise.

A shocked Heejin rushed to cover her intimate parts as she saw a man repairing one of those classic white-painted houses in Santorini, panicking at the thought of him seeing her naked. She wasn't told anyone was going to make any repairs close to the lodge, unleashing her anger at the man. "What are you doing? Stop looking at me, you pervert. What are you waiting for? Get out!" Heejin furiously yelled. The man climbed down the stairs as Heejin covered her boobs with her left hand. "Are you crazy?" he asked. Indeed, you had the right to be shocked much more than her, as you definitely weren't expecting your little job you got in Santorini during tourist season to deliver such an awkward experience as seeing a naked East Asian woman yelling at you.

Heejin looked petrified, biting her nails as her cheeks turned red out of embarrassment. But her naughtier side was also looking at the sights of a muscular guy whose body seemed sculpted by the gods Greece is so famous for. She thought of the whole scene all night, struggling to sleep. Heejin's thoughts were divided between feeling embarrassed for being seen naked or for her rude behavior towards the guy. As a new day arrived, Heejin surprisingly decided to stay at the lodge once again. "I'll catch you later," she told her groupmates, as her day started like the previous one, but this time with a major headache that permeated her thoughts.

Heejin walked towards the same place where the man was doing his repairs yesterday. Her heart raced the moment she saw you shirtless working on that beautiful house. She set her sights on you, watching how you perform your craft before heading in your direction. "Excuse me?" Heejin asked. "I'm here to say I'm sorry for yesterday; I wasn't aware someone would be in the vicinity," she continued. You didn't say a word to her, pretending not to understand what she said. A saddened Heejin just ended up walking back to her lodge as you kept working.

But she wasn't going to give up easily. Heejin decided she was going to bring the guy she had a crush on by any means. A goddess always gets what she wants, especially the goddess of love and beauty. Heejin found the company the repair guy worked for and sent them a request for work in the lodge. You felt dreaded when you got the call, as you knew it was the address from the woman who had rudely yelled at you, but you had to do the job. But as you arrived at the door and rang the bell, no one was there to answer.

For a moment, you almost thought it was a prank. What if that mad East Asian woman just wanted to take revenge on you for ignoring her? Knowing your company had a 30-minute tolerance policy, Heejin made you wait for nearly the whole time while she was inside the lodge, enjoying you desperately ringing the doorbell multiple times to no avail. She got herself ready, and just as time was about to expire, a familiar silhouette appeared at the door, wearing just a black robe as if she had just gotten out of the shower.

Heejin slowly dropped the robe as she walked through the door, unveling the same body that caused the whole scuffle a day ago. Up close, she was even more stark, beautiful from top to bottom, a goddess-esque beauty. As she walked the final steps towards the door, you could only contemplate every single part of her: her perfect hair, her lustful eyes, her small nose, her cute lips, her sexy collarbones, her perky little tits, her flat belly, her bare legs, and, most importantly, her tight trimmed pussy. Your eyes just moved involuntarly at this point, going toe to head, head to toe, multiple times as if they were looking at the incarnation of a goddess.

"You're crazy," was your first reaction as you smiled. Heejin laughed. "No, I'm Aphrodite," she replied, putting her right hand on your neck as she kissed you. The goddess of love, lust, beauty, passion, pleasure, and most importantly, procreation. Heejin took the initiative from the start, unbuttonning your shirt as she kept kissing you. As she fully took your shirt off, you pushed her body closer to yours, giving her your most passionate kiss yet and running your left hand into her ass.

Heejin placed her hands on your torso and shoved you in the direction of the pool where your first meeting had happened. For a girl of her size, she was surprisingly strong, to the point that you were starting to believe she was indeed a goddess. Once you two had reached poolside, Heejin shoved you once again, this time towards not a regular pool chair but a whole king-size bed waiting for the two of you. The bed wasn't there at any moment previously, serving as a gift from the gods to their little Aphrodite. You looked at her perfect body as you lied on it, the remaining clothes on your body vanishing the moment your back hit the mattress. Heejin slowly climbed on it, crawling on top of your body as she gave you more kisses.

Her smile was beautiful and had you at your weakest every time she showed it. Her mouth sucked yours in a way resembling that of a soul eater. Heejin moved down your body and licked your still flaccid shaft for the first time, instantly turning it into a hard, throbbing, erected pole. You tugged her hair as you watched her lick it, groaning as she closed your eyes and delivered a tongue sweep of your tip. Heejin laughed as you reacted to it, repeating the move a few times before inserting it in her warm mouth, sucking it slowly while softly grabbing the base with her left hand. Her eyes full of lust looked at you as she now had both hands working her magic on your dick, using the right hand to stroke it hard while the left one still held the base.

Heejin now moved faster, turning a quick succession of blowjobs into her first deepthroat of your instrument. She had you on the edge from the start, continuing to rapidly suck it with little care if you were going to last for long. She treated your cock like a lollipop, making pop sounds as she put it in and out of her mouth and slapping it on her model-esque face and her sexy tongue. You couldn't resist her fast-paced blowjob for long as you started thrusting upwards to pound her throat. Heejin just took the hands of your cock and enjoyed your attempt to reach the depths of her mouth, trying to take as long as she could before inevitably gagging as she coughed on your penis.

Right after, Heejin gave you another smile and went back to her quick sucking ways before climbing on top of you while never keeping her hands out of your cock, stroking it fast and hard. Another fast and sloppy blowjob followed suit, and then you slowly guided her head in and out of your shaft, hearing the sexy popping noises every time her mouth pulled out of it. You gave her a pair of facefucks that made her cough once more before you too were competing to see who was faster: her hands stroking down your cock or your cock hitting Heejin up her mouth.

"I wanna ride your cock," Heejin whispered to your ear as she got it ready with hard strokes that had you throbbing harder than ever. You laid your back on the bed and watched her body cover the sun on top of you before moving to a straight position where she started grinding her entrance on your shaft. "Yeah, yeah," she softly moaned as her folds rubbed the sides of your pole. Heejin moaned the hardest when your tip hit her clit, as you held your cock firmly by the base for her to better grind on it, moving it a bit forward as she started going up, in such a way that once she went down, Heejin now had it fully inserted in her pussy.

"AHHHHHH," Heejin moaned beautifully as you filled her insides. Her ride was very slow, but she could take it deep from the start. Her moans after the first were soft and out of breath; her open mouth and closed eyes looked so visually pleasing as she bounced on your cock. "Oh, fuck, fuck. Oh God, you're so huge," she continued as she spread her legs and you ran your hands in her sexy thighs. At first, you just passively enjoyed it and let Heejin do all the work, moaning at each thrust, before joining in and pounding her from below as well. "Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah," Heejin moaned quickly before she regained her composure and increased the speed of her ride.

"Yes, rub my clit, touch my pussy," she said as you reached your left hand into her genitals. Now Heejin's ride had reached a new level as your thumb poked her clit while she kept bouncing. "Harder," you asked her, leading to more rapid moans as she picked up the pace. Heejin put her hands on your chest and moved closer to you as you took the opportunity to kiss her while giving her pussy fast and hard poundings that quickly had her screaming, leading Heejin to react with a laugther as she coped with the sudden heat in her hole. She kept herself collected and switched to a slower pace, firmly scratching her nails on your chest and kissing you before going back to her original straightening position, keeping her body away from you and leaving you as just a spectator for her pleasure.

"Such a nice big cock; make me feel it deep," Heejin ordered in whispers as she continued to ride it. Her moans increased the tune; a few ahs were replaced by many yeses, and finally a loud "OHHHHHHH FUCKKKKKK" that she screamed as if she were singing a high note. You tried once again to take advantage of her and pounce, but she was ready and just moved a little forward to keep moving as if nothing had happened. You tried to put your hands on her neck, but that didn't slow her down at all, having the opposite effect as she made sure you would now groan at each bounce.

"OH MY GODDDDD," Heejin finally showed some vulnerability, and you were finally able to strike, hitting her cunt fast and deep as her mouth opened to the fullest with her body tilting towards your chest and her screaming her lungs out right at your left ear. Heejin clings to you as you grab her from behind, and you too have a romantic makeout. She switches sides as she now faces the beautiful Aegean Sea in the background. "Yes, please give me your cock," she demands, ready for a new round of riding, but not before you slap it multiple times on her thorbbing vaginal lips, playing hide and seek with your shaft, eventually resting it under her ass as she grinds her folds on it once more. She moans as your tip goes in and you spread her cheeks for another ride, starting slowly before you spank her ass and ask her to go harder.

Heejin obliges, and with her body fully lined up against yours, she furiously rides your dick, giving you no rest whatsoever. Heejin may be the goddess, but now she's the one worshipping your divine cock. "Come on, faster," you demand of her with a big spank in her ass. Heejin goes harder, bouncing on you like a maniac as you now grab her by the waist. "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" she screams the moment you put her ride to a halt and attack her cunt full speed, only stopping to slap her butt before you give her pussy another fast attack to the point your cock slips out of it. After this burst gets you tired, Heejin now tops you with her toes on top of her thighs, but you quickly answer back, making her cute little feet tremble as you shake her base. "DON'T STOP," she demands as you give her your biggest strike, making her skin red as she gets out of breath and recoupling herself with a slow and passionate ride aftewards as you suck her perky little tits.

"My clit yes, please," she says once again as you duck your hands under her entrance and fingers her with your penis still inside her stretched babyhole. "Yeah," Heejin moans as you circle around it, even touching your own shaft in the process. Your movements now increase as you make sure to stimulate the whole surface of her clitoris. The way she still manages to bounce on your dick makes it even hotter. Her pussy gets wetter as you increase the stimulation and attack her insides with your cock once again, just resting her head down in the bed as her cunt gets destroyed. Her ass gets slapped once more as you pull out of her and let her now take turns giving you a hot ride with her body tilted to her left before taking yet another massive pounding that makes her cheeks clap, spreading her ass as you strike once more and make her let out crying-esque moans.

Overwhelmed by your length, Heejin has to slow down. And wow, she really loves the cowgirl position, taking you once again on it, but this time in reverse, putting her hands on your belly as you look at her sexy back and soft ass, but not before doing her classic pole-grinding moves on your dick. "OHHHH," you groan. "AHHHH," she groans as your cock goes back inside her tight little slit. This time, Heejin goes for a very elongated ride, almost taking your cock completely out of her pussy at the top. "Slow and deep, slow and deep," she repeats to herself, already out of breath and giving out angelic moans each time she reaches the bottom of your massive member.

"Yes, rub my pussy just like that," Heejin demands as you return to stimulate her folds, catching her by surprise to the point your cock slips out of her hole, which Heejin quickly corrects. "Keep going, keep going; work your hands in my beautiful goddess pussy," she says. You give Heejin no rest, plowing her pussy fast with both hands now on her clit, spreading it wide open for the whole world to see as her juices coat your cock. Her clit is now harder than your dick, and her nipples are fully erect as she lets out more soft screams as you take her over the moon with your fast-paced poundings.

You pull out and keep teasing her erogenous zones, circling around her nipples and rubbing your tip on Heejin's throbbing clit before putting your cock back inside her. "Shit, yes, yes, yes," she says as you give her little pumps that hit her insides, before increasing the pace as you grab her legs. "Oh, you fuck me so good!" she exclaims, her little tits bouncing at each fucking. "Rub this pussy," you order her as she starts frenetically rubbing her clit. "Please make me cum," she says as her legs clench and she lacks the strength to continue riding before recomposing herself and taking it slowly, giving your tip a great treat as it hits the hood of your clit. Heejin changes her motion with long and deep bounces at moderate speed before you start clapping your balls hard in her entrance.

"Oh, please eat my pussy; just eat my pussy," she says as she sits it on your face with her hands on your belly. "Ride my face," you order her as Heejin starts to move, holding hands with you as you lick her hard-pounded cunt. "Good boy," she praises you as she goes down for the 69, taking it deep until she coughs and spits on your penis. You slap her ass a bit, as she now has her mouth full of your balls, going fast on your dick and slapping it on your tongue. You fuck her face hard on top of you, to which she laughs, as you now grab her perky tits as well. Heejin jerks off your cock more before she gives another order. "Please fuck my mouth," she says.

You grab Heejin's hair, tying it up so her beautiful face doesn't have anything standing between it and your big cock. You start slow as Heejin also bobs her head. It turns out her mouth isn't her pussy, as an upside-down Heejin coughs all over your cock and struggles to even take it halfway in. She tries to adjust, but a quick pounding already has saliva flying all over her mouth as she bubbles on your dick. Heejin tries to smile, but she is clearly overwhelmed, instead getting on her knees and gently jerking your cock as she gives you a cute kiss.

"Fuck me from behind," she tells you as you get out of bed. Her pussy looks very stretched out and extremely wet as you spread her cheeks. Like usual, you rub your thobbing tip on Heejin's similarly thobbing inner lips and insert it first just to tease her before pulling it out. It seems like the entire blood of Heejin's body now flows to her cunt, as just a simple touch in her vaginal area makes her moan. You continue to tease her with the tip-fucking, not committing your full length, as just a quarter of your cock inside makes her scream.

As Heejin lets out her first laugh in a while, you insert your cock halfway in, still giving her slow pumps. "Such a nice ass," you praise her bottom assets, still treating her pussy gently, especially in comparison to what you did early on. But you can't resist for long, inserting it fully back on Heejin's wet pussy, leading to another scream as she reaches peak sensitivity, closing her legs and pushing your cock out of her hole. Heejin now just closes her eyes, trying to stay on her knees as you slowly fuck her slit once again. But every deeper thrust makes her lose it. You grab her cheeks as you increase the pace before deciding to use no hands and getting into rhythm. Heejin puts her head on the bed and keeps her eyes closed. "Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah," she rapdily repeats as you push harder, even squeaking a little.

You couldn't resist for long, now firmly grabbing Heejin's ass and clapping her cheeks. "Yes, yes, yes, please, please, please," she begs. Her small tits bounce a lot. At this point, you two were just exploring every possibility. As Heejin got a little less sensitive, she was now the one rocking her hips against your crotch, which ended up being bad for her as you just grabbed her butt and reasserted your dominance. "AHHHHHHHHHH!" she screamed once more as her tits were once again jiggling. Heejin held your right hand as the fire continued to burn inside her pussy; she no longer had any strength to resist your advances, just clinting to you as you destroyed her cunt nonstop, and only AHs came out of her mouth now.

Heejin turned around and opened her legs for you to eat her out; her messy hair now had untied itself and hit her eyes. You lick her like ice cream, starting at her hole and going all the way up to her little trim, before diving into her clit and making her twist. Heejin put her right foot on your back to support herself as you continued to lick her before inserting a finger in her pussy and tasting it. Now you were tonguing her clit hard to the point where she squirted a little in your mouth. You increased the hit by adding a second finger while still licking it. Heejin fell weaker, pressing her foot harder against your back as your tongue turned her folds wetter for the final round.

"Breed me. Put a baby inside a goddess; I know you want it, she told you as she put her right leg up and you slowly fucked her in missionary. You put her right foot in your mouth as you went faster. Heejin fingered herself as she waited for your cum; her insides were extremely sensitive. "Fuck me like this," she asked you as you two kept going. Your thrusts got faster but shallower as you kissed her beautiful feet and rubbed her belly. Going faster, you put Heejin under a mating press, which she enjoyed a lot, meaning she was going to get inseminated the same way the whores from the many hentais she loves to read are. Despite that, she still managed to finger herself. "Give me your cum; give me your cum," she demanded as you groaned and got closer. "Cum in my pussy," she continued, as you eventually unleashed inside her womb with your cock balls deep in her, coating her insides with your sperm as some rolled out a little while you pulled out and teased her clit for one final time with your tip.

"Wow, I can't believe you came inside me," Heejin said. "I can't say no to a goddess," you said as you returned home. The following day, you went back to the lodge but found it empty. It turns out Heejin and her ARTMS groupmates had already flown back to Korea.

Meanwhile, on the plane...

"Heejin, are you okay?" Haseul asked, sensing her groupmate's sickness. "Sorry, I'm a little sick. I think I drank too much last night when we went out," Heejin replied as she barely had time to finish her sentence, unhooking her seatbelt and rushing to the plane's bathroom, where she threw up the food she had just eaten.

[soulaires]

Sweet Dreams | A.W

pairings: dad!Aaron Warner x mom!Reader

synopsis: Aaron loves his daughter, he really do. Hell, he would burn down the world for her but sometimes,, all he wanted was to spend one night alone with you—his beloved pretty wife.

warnings: interrupted sexy times, domestic life, GIRL DAD AARON WARNER LESSGOOO, comfort, nightmares, Aaron Warner is so done, reader and dior are little shits, fluff, married life, light smut obvi, it was interrupted though (literally the whole plot) not proofread …

« words: 1,607┇ao3┇reblogs are appreciated! »

🏷 :: @ravisinghs-wife @ab-baybay @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @cosmicswan @nomournersonefuneral @lilyevansstudygroup @arinexeisnotworking

Aaron Warner is a good father.

He really is, he educated himself on the risks, pros and cons, he even bought himself a book on how to take care of his pregnant wife, a beginners guide on being a father and what not.

He would like to pride himself that he knows about everything, knows how to handle when the baby cries, when the baby throws a tantrum, or when his daughter wants something and such.

but…

If there was one fact no one mentioned to Warner about being a father, it was just how quickly his sex life would evaporate.

He loves dior, he really does. She is his most beloved daughter, baby girl, light of his life, his princess, his Achilles heel (plus you, of course.) and unfortunately the bane of his existence.

he’s kidding.

but of course there are some times that he just wants an alone time with you, his beautiful wife without being interrupted by a certain little princess.

All because you drove him to madness, igniting an insatiable desire within him, awakening the hidden beast that eagerly salivated and panted in response to your lustful glances, strategically unleashed whenever the mood struck.

He would be a fool to lie and pretend you didn’t stir something inside of him, some wretched version of himself rattled the bars of its cage, akin to a hurricane relentlessly tearing through barriers to reach you whenever you allowed your sugar-sweet voice to caress his sensitive ears.

He was a slave for the love you easily gave him as if it’s the easiest thing you can ever do. How can you easily love someone like him? a hopeless man yearning for thirst and begging for a single drink, a solitary taste, as if dying of thirst and pleading at your feet.

You were his goddess, and the privilege of sharing your bed, your throne, surpassed all his wildest dreams. Simply being by your side was more than he believed he deserved, and he vividly recalled the day he first encountered you—the day you convinced him that he was truly worth something.

—

The room is awash with the silvery glow of the moon, you notice, setting a tranquil atmosphere that amusingly contradicts the feverish warmth of Aaron's caresses. His kisses trace a journey from the curve of your neck to the hollow of your navel. However, any sense of composure shatters when your husband playfully bites your right nipple, sending all rational thoughts scattering out the window.

“Ah, Aaron,” you groan after a sharp nip against your collarbone. “fuck! baby…I—we can’t—!”

“Shh, we can, love. Dior is asleep” he whispers against your ear, “just let me take care of my wife, yeah?” He said as he caressed your hair, admiring your beauty under him. “It’s just us…” he said as he chuckled and that made you shiver.

“Pretty, momma…look at you, my pretty wife.” Aaron shifts to readjust himself as he hurriedly vanishes the remaining clothes and attacks your lips and kisses you passionately and hungrily as if he has been starved for years.

“Gods—look at you, ma, pretty as life and poison, want me to put another baby on you, hm?” he said as he dragged his teeth against your chest to taste your beating heart and he then placed soft and slow kisses on your face while stroking your face with his thumb.

You draw him closer, intending for a light and sweet kiss to allow your husband to continue his gentle touches. Yet, it’s not your fault that you find yourself getting lost in the sheer perfection that is Warner.

He, in turn, envelops both of you with his hand, stirring a gentle desire for more within you and oh, dear god, you need more.

Just as you are about to open your mouth to voice out your desires for a little more, a soft, almost inaudible knock interrupts the intimate moment.

The unmistakable soft voice of your three-year-old daughter pierces through the room, calling out, “momma..? dada..?” Panic flashes between you and Aaron, and hastily, you both scramble to locate your discarded clothes.

“mommy! daddy!” yelled dior through the door as she started knocking continuously that makes you and your husband panic more. “‘s da door broken..?!”

“just a second, princess,” Aaron softly calls out, panicking when his hard-on doesn’t seem to go away. Hell.

He glances up at his wife and stares at you, baffled when he realizes that you had already put on your night gown and on your way to open the door.

“Wha—how?” he asks in disbelief. “You were literally just—”

“Don’t underestimate me.” You joked.

Aaron dismissively shakes his head, muttering under his breath, and takes a seat on the bed, discreetly covering his arousal with the white comforter just as Dior bursts into the room and enthusiastically throws herself into your arms.

“Hey, baby,” you whisper, gently rubbing comforting circles on her back. “Nightmare, love?”

"Uh-huh," Dior nods against your neck, her tears leaving your nightgown slightly damp.

you picked her up and went to the bed as dior hugged her dad, sniffing as she softly cried, ��oh, darling. What happened, princess? hm?” Asked Warner as he hugged his crying daughter to his arms.

“I—hiccup t-thought monsters got you,” said dior, her green eyes filled with tears. you then pulled her into a hug.

“aw, baby, we are fine,” you said, patting her back. you brush the blonde curls out of your daughter’s eyes. “yeah, sweetheart, no monsters here.”

“Are you sure?” She asked, looking suspiciously around their room.

“Promise,” you replied, assuringly as you stood up to rock her to calm her down.

“We promised, sweet princess. And if there is, daddy will scare the ugly monsters away,” your husband assured her from the bed as dior starting to calm down,

“really?” she said with a shaky voice and a glassy doe eyes and you almost cried seeing her state.

Poor baby.

“I promise, Di, daddy will protect you and momma.” Aaron said sincerely as you rocked her back and forth in your arms, running your fingers through her wild curls.

Dior sniffles start to quiet down. “Mhm…,” she says. “Can I stay here?” She looks at you with puppy eyes that is impossible for you to say no so you nodded.

“Of course, princess ,” Aaron responds, quietly mourning the loss of one night with his wife, alone.

As you continue rocking Dior in your arms, attempting to lull her into a peaceful slumber, your efforts are momentarily interrupted by her sweet voice, breaking the silence of the room.

“Mommy?” Dior queries after a few minutes, perched on your lap with a wide-eyed expression. “What's wrong with daddy?”

Your gaze shifts toward Aaron, who remains sprawled face-down on the bed, emitting occasional groans and muffled whines in his attempt to compose himself for the sake of your toddler. Suppressing a grin, you find amusement in his comical efforts.

“Well, Di,” you murmur, showering light kisses on your daughter’s chubby cheeks to conceal your amusement. “I think your daddy is having a nightmare, much like the one you just experienced.”

Dior gasps in innocent concern. ”Oh no! Mommy, give daddy kisses to scare the monsters away!”

Smiling at her pure-hearted suggestion, you gently explain, “I don’t think that will help, sweet thing.” Observing Dior's face scrunch up in confusion, you swiftly add, ”You see, adults have different nightmares than kids do.”

“But kisses always help!” Dior insists with unwavering conviction.

”Well, if you insist,” you reply, giving in to her innocent plea, and share a quiet laugh at the sheer delight evident on Dior's face.

As you comply with dior’s request, you peppered kisses onto your husband’s face, eliciting a chorus of giggles from both him and Dior.

After showering Aaron with a cascade of kisses, he playfully remarks, "Mhm, daddy is okay now, but he'll be even more okay if you give daddy a kiss too."

Dior, with her eyes sparkling, responds enthusiastically, "Okay, Daddy!" She complies, peppering him with a flurry of sweet kisses as you heard Aaron giggles so you did, and in the midst of the joyous exchange, she graciously plants kisses on your face, too.

“Thank you, baby. Ready for sleep?” You asked and the response is a barely there nod.

“Love you and g’night, little missy.” You whisper, your voice sounds like a lullaby to the quiet room.

Aaron chimes in, taking on the role of the protector, “daddy will be right here, chasing away any monsters that dare to bother you, emerald.”

Dior, even in her drowsy state, manages to mumble a sleepy “luvu, daffy, momfy” before succumbing to dreams. The room, now quiet except for the soft breathing of your little one.

Your husband then looked at you and softly smiled, “I’ll chase all of your monsters away, too, love.” you softly giggled and gave him a peck.

However, as the night deepens, you feel a pair of eyes on you. Turning your attention, you find your husband, his expression akin to a kicked puppy, a playful pout adorning his features. It’s a silent plea for the solitude that eluded him tonight, a longing for those moments when it’s just the two of you.

You meet his gaze, understanding the unspoken disappointment in his eyes. As a promise of solace, you assure him with a tender look that whispers, ”Next time, it'll be just us.” you promised him.

And you were never the one who breaks promises.

So, was it really a surprise that after you fulfilled your promise you found yourself with two positive pregnancy tests?

No, not really.

📫 :: my first post in 2024 ?!?!!? Anyway this will be a series !!! Next one will be the introduction of the new addition to the family and THE question of “where does baby come from?” From baby warner. Also, if you want to be added to my taglist please do let me know!

[aquaticmercy]

Safe and Sound

Summary : You have been cursed. Agatha will stop at nothing to destroy the witch that cursed you.

Pairing : Agatha Harkness x Reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : obsessive love, wrath

Requested by : Anon

Word count : 1.3k

Note : I love me a very protective, ancient, goddess-like Agatha. Enjoy!

Requests are open!

The wood crackled softly underneath the fire, but its warmth barely reached you as you sat huddled on the edge of the couch.

Your mind was unclear, scattered.

The curse hovered over you like a dark fog, a force that grew heavier with each passing hour. The bone-chilling coldness it brought wasn't just physical—it was deeper, as if Morgan le Fay’s magic had latched onto your very soul.

It drained your strength, making you feel fragile. Small. Weak. 

Across the room, Agatha stood motionless, staring into the flames with an intensity of a thousand dying suns. Her dark hair fluttered over her shoulders, blending into the shadows that seemed to flock around her like sheep to her shepherd. 

She had not said a word, not yet. She didn’t need to. 

You hadn’t wanted it to come to this. You hadn’t wanted to bring this darkness into her life. But le Fay— that ancient, cruel witch, had seen right through your connection to Agatha and decided to exploit it. She had marked you—cursed you—because she knew what you meant to Agatha.

She knew that by targeting you, she could hurt the one witch who had dared defy her word in the last century.

You could feel the curse now, curling around your heart like a vice, slowly tightening. The magic was vile, twisted. It was Morgan le Fay’s way of hurting you because she knew it would hurt Agatha.

The longer it stayed, the weaker you became, and the darker your nightmares were. Last night, you had nearly strangled Agatha because you could not tell what was real or fake. 

You had tried to hide it from her— it had been a week since the nightmares started. 

You hadn’t wanted her to see how deeply it was affecting you. You knew what she was capable of—what kind of cruel devastation she could unleash to the world when she was threatened. 

But Agatha was not a fool. She had sensed it the moment the curse had begun to take hold.

She had sensed her on you. And it made her sick to her core.

“How dare she lay a hand on you?” Agatha had whispered when she first realized, her voice laced with a venomous rage that you had heard only a few times before. 

The question had been rhetorical, a statement of disbelief, as if le Fay’s audacity alone was enough to spark something primal in Agatha. You had tried to explain, to tell her that it was under control, that you could handle it. But Agatha had only stared at you with those ancient, knowing eyes, and the look in them—the burning fury—made it clear that this wasn’t something you could fight on your own.

Now, she stood like a statue, her gaze still fixed on the fire. But her magic was everywhere, humming in the air, vibrating beneath your skin. 

It was raw. A feral power.

The longer she stood there in silence, the more you could feel it building, charging the air around you.

“Agatha,” you whispered. Your voice was barely audible over the raging crackle of the fire.

You saw her shoulders tense, the barely restrained power rippling through her body. When she finally did face you, her eyes were almost glowing, that familiar dark violet light that hinted to the depths of her power. 

“How long?” she asked softly, her voice deceptively calm. 

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. “I didn’t want to—”

She cut you off, finishing the sentence for you. “To burden me?” Agatha’s voice was sharp, cutting you off before you could finish. She stepped toward you, her gaze locked onto yours. Her voice softened just a little bit “You think you’re a burden to me?”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. There was a raging storm in her eyes. The way her power seemed to gather around her, made it impossible to speak.

Her lips curled into a dangerous smile, but there was no humor in it. Only raw, unyielding protectiveness. “My love,” she whispered, her voice dark and low, “there's nothing in this world nor any other, that would stop me from protecting you. Do you understand that?”

You felt tears prick at your eyes, the darkness you felt inside you too much to contain. The curse had been eating away at you, leaving you feeling weak, afraid, and distant to your love. 

But here, standing in front of you, was Agatha, burning with a passion so fierce, so powerful, that it almost hurt to look at her. She had lived for centuries—endured betrayals, losses, and unimaginable pain—but here she was, ready to destroy anyone who threatened you.

“I didn’t want to make you… lose control,” you admitted softly, your voice trembling. You didn’t want to see her unravel, to see the darkness she so often kept hidden come roaring to the surface because of you.

You weren’t protecting her, or yourself. You were protecting the world from her. 

Agatha’s eyes softened for a brief moment

Her hand reached out to cup your face, her thumb gently stroking your cheek. 

“Lose control?” she echoed you incredulously. Her voice was softer now but no less intense. “Darling, you are the only thing in this world that grounds me. Without you, I am ruined. If Morgan le Fay thinks she can tear us apart, then I need her to understand what she’s dealing with.”

Her fingers brushed against your forehead, and you felt a surge of warmth, her magic wrapping around you, pushing back the icy tendrils of le Fay’s curse. It was like a blanket of safety, of love.

“She will regret this,” Agatha continued. Her breath hitched, her tone darkening once again. “I will tear her magic apart piece by piece. I tear her into pieces if she even looks at you again.”

You shivered at the intent in her words, but it wasn’t fear that made your heart race. It was the overwhelming feeling of being loved by someone so powerful, so ancient, that the very universe seemed to bow at her feet. 

Agatha wasn’t just your protector. She was a force of nature that would stop at nothing to keep you safe.

Tears slipped down your cheeks, and Agatha’s gaze softened again, her thumb wiping them away with tender care. 

“Shh,” she whispered, pulling you into her arms, holding you close against her chest. You could hear her heart beating, steady and strong, and it grounded you in a way nothing else could. “I’ve got you, my love. You’re safe.”

You buried your face in her neck, inhaling the familiar scent of lavender. The curse still lingered, but it felt distant now. Agatha’s presence alone was keeping it at bay.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper against her skin.

“I know,” she murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “But you don’t need to be.”

Her words were like a cure to your restless soul, soothing the fear that had been gnawing at you for days. 

She pulled back slightly, just enough to look down at you. “You are mine,” she said softly, her voice trembling with emotion. “And I will move heaven and earth to protect you.”

You nodded, feeling the truth of her words settle deep within you. There was nothing Agatha wouldn’t do for you, no magic too dark she wouldn’t wield, no battle too bloody she wouldn’t fight. You were her everything, and in her arms, you knew that no curse, no ancient witch, could ever truly harm you.

As the night wore on and the fire dwindled to embers, Agatha held you close under the soft glow of candlelight. Her fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on your skin, a silent reminder that you were under her protection. You could feel the hum of her magic around you, warding off the curse that lurked in the shadows of your being.

Agatha’s voice was a soft murmur in the quiet, a promise woven into the very air. “I’ll find Morgan le Fay,” she said, her lips brushing against yours ever so gently. “And when I do, she will beg for mercy that will never come.”

You sighed, nuzzling closer into her warmth. You were hers, and she was yours—bound by a force that no curse could ever break.

-end

[astra-ravana]

A Dive Into The Dark Feminine

The Dark Feminine is not the same as the Wounded or Shadow Feminine energy. No. She is deeply misunderstood because society represses her into shadow. She is liberation, rage, pleasure, and intuition. She is not a manipulation or a repackaging of the male gaze.

She is fierce grace, wild liberation, the sword of truth. She is blood, sex, and earth. The Lover and the Whore. She shakes the cage of "Good Girl" conditioning to unleash the full spectrum expression of woman.

She is Hekate, Kali, Lilith. The Creatrix and the Destroyer. She is the Shamaness, the Wild Woman, and the Wise Crone. Once a woman awakens to her there is no going back.

"Your rage is sacred.

Your grief is a holy gift.

Your full-spectrum depths,

hold your greatest power."

Dark Feminine Energy is:

Self sourced power, sensuality, chaos, devotion, magick, passion, rage, transformation, internal safety, fearlessness, sexual liberation, the unknown, regeneration, wholeness, sisterhood, authenticity, death

Checklist

• Cut off toxic people.

• Practice shadow work.

• Prioritize self-care.

• Healthy communication with loved ones.

• Practice manifestation.

• Try things out of your comfort zone.

Essential Dark Goddesses

• Lilith

• Hekate

• Morrigan

• Nyx

• Persephone

• Morgan le Fay

• Erish Kigal

• Baba Yaga

• Sekhmet

• Freya

• Circe

• Oya

• Hel

• Medusa

• Eris

• Kali

• Melinoe

• Angrboda

• Tiamat

"And in the death of her reputation,

She felt truly alive."

Pre and Post Patriarchy Views of Women and Sex

Pre-Patriarchy

• Sexuality and divinity were one; sex was seen as divine.

• The more sexual a woman, the more holy.

• Priestesses that were initiated into the highest Mystery (womb magick) were seen as livinf goddesses.

• The worth of a woman was inherent.

• Sacred priestesses in tune with their sexuality, having mastered the power of their bodies (Kundalini) were revered as a direct portal to spirit and the Gods/Energies of the Universe.

Post-Patriarchy

• Sexuality being taboo, seen as profane, filthy, even evil.

• The more sexual a woman, the more vulgar and profane.

• Priestesses turned to sex slaves, "prostitutes" for men to release upon their repressed sexualities and sexual tension.

• The worth of a woman is now in relation to a man; her value is in her chastity. The more lovers she has, the more worthless she becomes.

• The word "whore" is used as an insult for women who were comfortable with sexuality.

• The more a woman is sexual, associated with the taboos and repressed instincts of the collective, the less she is respected, seen as "not respecting herself", "being cheap", "easy", or "giving her most sacred possession away".

• Women with high sex drives said to have "fornicated with the Devil".

Someone who has a lot of sexual energy can also possess a powerful healing energy. This is because sexual energy IS healing energy at a spiritual level. The best healers have big sexual energy.

VINDICA TE TIBI - "Claim yourself"

The Secret Power of Friday the 13th

Friday the 13th is actually good luck as it is associated with the 13 cycles of the moon in a lunar year, this is why a woman has 13 cycles a year, and ovulates on the 13th day. In 1487 free thinking and Divine Female Energy was suppressed and labeled witchcraft by Heinrich Kramer, who went forth to burn many healers on the stake due to forced ignorance and hatred for powerful female leaders. This is why Friday the 13th is actually a spiritual day of enlightenment, divine/dark feminine energy, and healing that should be sacred instead of hated.

Black Moon Lilith

In astrology, Black Moon Lilith plays the role of 'Guardian of the Threshold'. The term indicates a spectral image which manifests itself as soon as the student of the spirit ascends upon the path into the higher worlds of knowledge. Lilith, representing the testing of the feminine oracle, comes with temptations and promises for the ego, forcing the seeker to meet their own shadow.

"Darkness is the fertile soil of the feminine. Discomfort is the birth place of our shadows. Wild chaos catalyses true leadership. Raw emotions teach us how to feel. The deep void of our sex holds our primal hunger. So, what powerful darkness do you feel is wrong? "

[galedekarios]

gale & curing the orb - early access

writing my current series of cut content from early access made me think a lot, especially about how curing gale of the orb might have originally worked out if larian had kept to what had been set up in early access. it's no secret that a lot of things were changed or cut entirely, big and small, like for instance halsin's involvement with ketheric's fall, isobel and the shadow curse.

gale's condition, too, seemed different then.

what exactly was different in early access?

while only a few body models were unique in early access, gale's key art showed his left arm in bandages.

in early access, auntie ethel had vicious mockery lines, which hinted what might be beneath those bandages:

Auntie Ethel: I can smell what's under those bandages, wizard. You're all rot and ruin. Come to greet death early? You'll be a lovely spectacle.

we also had information from gale directly as to what happened to karsus in the aftermath of casting his spell:

Player: I was wondering about that “mighty lord” you told me about in your story. Gale: Ah, yes. Karsus Karsus was perhaps the most powerful wizard that ever lived. The child-who-would-be-a-god, the elves called him. And he tried. With a spell of his own devising he endeavoured to usurp in one fell swoop the power of the goddess of magic.  Mystryl, she was called then. Imagine what it must have felt like. To be a god. To know yourself to be untouchable. To be mistaken. As Karsus aimed his spell at her she began to unravel, and with her, the entire Weave. Too late did he realize what he had unleashed. It would have been the end of everything had not Mystryl sacrificed herself.  Gale: The goddess of magic is all magic. By dying, the entire weave was lost, and the spell that challenged a god failed. It was the end of Mystryl, the end of Karsus, and the end of an entire civilization. As the child-who-would-be-a-god was turned to stone, his empire came crashing down around him. The floating cities of Netheril were no more. An event that came to be known as Karsus’ folly.

which is in accordance with the lore:

Unfortunately, his choice was a terrible mistake, for one of the responsibilities of the deity of magic was to regulate the flow of magic to and from all beings, spells, and magic items in the world. Lacking the ability to do so properly, magic surged and fluctuated. With her last remaining bit of power, Mystryl sacrificed herself to block Karsus's access to the Weave, causing all magic to fail. The flying cities of Netheril plummeted to the earth. The severing of the link also killed Karsus and transformed him into stone, and the last thing he saw was his entire civilization being destroyed because of his actions. This was to be known as Karsus's Folly. The stone form of Karsus eventually landed in a part of the High Forest, now called the Dire Wood. The city of Karse was built around its base. Karsus was never accepted as a petitioner by any god, nor did he go to the Fugue Plane when he died. Instead, his soul was bound to the Material Plane. Those with experience in pact magic could call up his vestige, where he appeared as a giant blood-red boulder, like the one found in the High Forest where his petrified form landed. Blood burbles up from the top of the stone, trickling down the side facing the summoner, pooling at the base. When he spoke, the pool fountained upwards, its height varying on the volume of his voice.

the netherese orb then seemed to have a immediate visible physical effect on gale, in addition to the ones that carried to the full release version of the game.

so putting these clues together, i think it's safe to say that the orb caused gale in early access to be afflicted with some form of corrupted petrification, which makes sense given that it's a piece of magic unleashed during karsus's folly.

at that point, this corruption seemed to be affecting his left arm the most, perhaps either from opening the book containing the netherese magic with it, or trying to shield himself with it - but that's just speculation on my part.

so what did the early access set up in terms of curing gale from his affliction?

gale in early access showed a great interest in the astral plane, especially in the absence of time there. he has several banters with lae'zel, which are still in the game now and showing his vested interest in the astral plane as well as any knowledge or insight lae'zel might offer on it:

Gale asks Lae'zel about the Astral Plane. Has she been there? Gale: Tell me, Lae'zel, what is it like on the Astral Plane? Your home realm intrigues me. Lae'zel: Githyanki lay their eggs on other planes. They cannot mature in the Astral. Lae'zel: I will only be welcomed once I obtain a mind flayer's head.

lae'zel notices gale's interest and initiates a banter of her own:

Lae'zel asks Gale what his interest is in the Astral plane, and he equivocates Lae'zel: Tell me, Gale: what is your interest in the Astral Plane? Gale: Time. Or rather: the absence of it. In the Astral Plane, everything is eternal. Lae'zel: It will be my home soon enough, should Vlaakith will it.

in addition to these banters, which clearly show gale's interest in the astral plane - which now in the full release seems merely academic - hinted at another solution to ridding himself of the orb.

what points to that quite conclusively is gale's dialogue when he reveals the truth about the orb to the protagonist.

this reveal differs quite significantly from the full release version. most notably, the protagonist was able to ask him about his own ideas for a what might be able to cure him from the orb.

gale had something very interesting to say to that question:

Player: What would permanently rid you of the orb? Gale: The orb was kept safe and inert in a pocket of Astral Plane, suspended in time. If I can somehow manage to expel it from my body while in the Astral Plane, it will be rendered inert again. Alternatively, I could learn to control it’s chaotic magic, that is; to succeed where I failed before. But without Mystra’s favour, I don’t see how that may come to pass. Of course there could be different answers as well. Faerun brims with more magic than any one wizard could fathom, let alone comprehend. Who knows what outlandish solutions may yet present themselves?

so what does this all mean?

in conclusion, i believe originally there were either more ways to cure gale from the orb - or maybe even in a different manner entirely - than there are in the full release version of the game (begging mystra to remove it, ascension, or accepting/keeping the orb).

perhaps even one that would circumvent having to beg mystra for forgiveness entirely, without gale having to sacrifice his mortality to do so.

i think these banters and lines of dialogue show that the astral plane, which would have rendered the orb inert and stopped the corrupted petrification of his body, would have played a bigger role in gale's quest.

[aphroditelovesu]

Yan!Mom Hera Headcanons (Platonic)

❝ 🦚 — lady l: I kind of thought of this after reading a lovely reader's comment and remembering some concepts about Hera as a yandere mother so... Here it is! Ah, @natashenka-br this is for you, I hope you like it! 🙌🏻❤️

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, jealousy, mention of manipulation and unhealthy platonic relationships.

❝ 🦚pairing: platonic yan mom!hera x gender neutral!reader.

You didn't remember anything other than that Hera was your mother. She was everything you remembered and loved, from your first thoughts to the present day. She was always everything to you and you were everything to her.

Hera was all you knew and loved, your sweet and loving mother, who would always be by your side to love you and protect you from all the evil that exists in the world.

All you thought about was how loving and perfect Hera seemed to be. She was so patient and kind with you, always encouraging you and applauding your every achievements with great pride. She was the perfect mother.

At least that was yours and Hera's point of view. There was nothing scarier than the goddess of marriage and women when she was furious, and luckily for you, that anger was never directed at you.

Hera was always careful not to show her fury to you, she didn't want to scare you and make the child she loved most fear. She would never have that, just like she would never let you leave her.

The goddess loved you with all her heart, her always serious and boring expression quickly perked up when you were around. You were everything she could want, you were her perfect, beloved child. If she could sew you to her side, she would.

Hera is extremely possessive and jealous of you, and that's nothing new. You are hers, her child and that says more than enough. She will not tolerate any type of external contact, especially if it's from Zeus. She will not allow him to corrupt you.

Zeus and none of the other gods will be allowed to approach you, with the exception of her other children. She doesn't really like the idea of Ares being so close to you because of his nature and she wants you to remain pure, but she prefers him over Hephaestus.

Hera, if she gets the chance and the opportunity, will leave you as a child forever. She knows you should grow up and live your life, but she doesn't want any of that. Maybe with a little persuasion you could get permission to grow up to sixteen at least, but Hera would become much more suffocating.

She will not tolerate any kind of possible love interests you may have if you grow up. You must remain pure and untouched and she will unleash her fury on anyone who dares to corrupt you. You were her perfect child and no god/goddess or mortal will lay their hands on you.

The goddess is overly controlling and if you dare disobey any rules she may set, she will be completely shocked. You were her perfect, obedient child, so why were you acting this way? She would blame everyone for this, Zeus's bastard children, the other gods and even her own husband. But she will never admit guilt, that the reason you reacted like this is her fault.

It's not easy to deal with her and it never will be. Hera is vengeful and possessive and she has eyes everywhere. You could never leave her, even if you wanted to. Which you don't want to do, right? After all, she is your mother, the only thing you remember from your childhood. And she would always care and protect you, even if she had to manipulate you into it. But everything would be fine in the end, after all, mom always knows best.

[starlightsuffered]

No Protection

Info - unprotected sex, immediate obsession, not lasting long

"I can't believe you're letting me do this, none of my other girlfriends would let me," he said eagerly.

"I want it so badly Tim, I had the feeling of a condom where you should be," I moaned. Just seeing his bare cock hovering above my heat had me feeling a bit wild.

"Y-you ready?" He asked me.

"Yes, put it in," | begged. He slowly pushed inside me, we were both gasping as he bottomed out.

"I-, fuck my love, I can't help it, I'm gonna go fucking wild," he breathed.

"Do your worst," I pleaded. He was fucking me with fervour now.

"Fuck, fuck, you feel so good, you feel amazing," he whined as he thrusted deeply. I wrapped my legs around him, locking my ankles.

"Never pull out! Oh I never want a condom again," I whimpered.

"Your body, you're a goddess," he wailed. His cock was so tangible. I felt every inch, and every vein, each pulse experienced was heavenly.

"Deeper, harder, I want to feel everything," I moaned.

"I can't take it, the squeeze, it's heavenly," he cried. I kissed him deeply. It was a sloppy and uncontrolled kiss. We were all wet bodies and ecstasy.

"I'm never wearing a fucking condom again," he huffed into my mouth.

"M'never," | slurred. "Wanna be cum drunk Timothée, fill me up."

"I'm gonna do it baby, I'm gonna unleash inside you," he promised. "I'm gonna fucking cum."

"Cum! Cum!" | pleaded.

He cried out and slammed deep inside me. I felt his semen filling my cunt. The feeling made my eyes roll back into my head. I came as well we were both humping one another through our orgasms.

"Perfection, fucking perfection," he breathed.

"Let's go all day," | swooned.

[ryttu3k]

So I got up to the Mystra scene in my Gale Origin run and I have A Lot of thoughts, most of them boiled down to "FIGHT ME, MYSTRA", but also a theory on Mystra orchestrating the whole thing with the Orb. Few too many caps to post all of them, so I've typed them up. My comments in parentheses.

Narrator: "Just as Elminster promised, you stand before no ordinary idol. Beneath the silent stone surges a relentless current of purest Weave. A summoning channel, the kind commanded by Mystra herself. How many times have you dreamed of this moment? An audience with the goddess who loved you. Who abandoned you. All you have to do is reach for it…"

(Shift of expression here - from fear to determination.)

Halsin: "Speak your mind, Gale. Let go of that weight you have been carrying for Mystra."

(I loved Halsin speaking up here! Unsure if it's a romance-only line but it felt very sweet and appropriate.)

Reach out. Go to Mystra.

(Expression of dread. He looks like he's being sent to the gallows.)

Mystra: "Gale of Waterdeep. You look well."

Gale: "You break up with me, cut me off from the Weave, leave me to die, and that's all you have to say? You look well?"

(First response to seeing Mystra after a full year of pain and suffering. He looks anguished seeing her again, and how... dismissive her response is.)

Mystra: "I did not come here to suffer a mortal's admonitions. Certainly not yours. I've been watching your journey here. Your triumphs. Your temptations. Your doubts. You discovered what lies at the Heart of the Absolute - the Crown of Karsus - and you disobeyed my instruction. Why?"

(1. The 'certainly not yours' feels especially callous. 2. The way she phrases this implies that she knew what it was already. She wasn't sending Gale to kill himself to destroy a new god, she was sending Gale to kill himself to destroy an elder brain wearing a Crown that has previously threatened her personally.)

Gale: "Because my life isn't yours to throw away. You had no right to ask that of me."

Mystra: "You were my lover, my Chosen, yet still you know so little of me. I hoped hindsight would help you see what you could not perceive before. Do you understand why I severed our connection?"

(The hell is hindsight supposed to do? This one one of the biggest things that gets to me with the whole Orb thing - how was he supposed to know?)

Gale: "I let you down. I was a fool, and fools don't deserve the love of a goddess."

(Expression - he looks so hurt here. He absolutely blames himself.)

Mystra: "The past cannot be undone with self-pity, nor can a future be forged. Only with the truth will you see the way ahead. The fragment of magic you tried to return to me was not of my creation. It was the Karsite Weave. It is a corrupted, half-born magic wrought in the brief moment Karsus ascended to godhood. It hungers for power just as he did, and it can never be sated. You unleashed something that would consume all magic in existence, and yet you thought only of preserving yourself."

(So she blames him for unleashing the Orb. Again, how was he supposed to know? Probably the only ones who know about Karsite Weave were Karsus himself, Mystra, and probably Ao. How was a thirty-four-year-old mortal human dude supposed to know of a completely new and unknown form of magic that existed for the approximately six and a half seconds Karsus was a god for? Elminster points out at one point that Mystra is omniscient. Gale is not. How was he supposed to know? Second, 'you thought only of preserving yourself'. She left him to die! And the minor issue of if he did die, he'd take out Waterdeep in the process!)

Gale: "I never intended to do harm. Only to prove myself worthy of you."

Mystra: "You were already worthy. What you lacked was patience, and it cost you dearly. When the Karsite Weave entered your body, your gifts were the first things it consumed. The only reason the 'orb' sleeps is because I have allowed it to feed on the true Weave - a temporary measure, but one that will not be enough to save us. With each day that passes, the elder brain threatens to become a new kind of god, its worshippers a scourge of soulless illithids. If you will not use the orb to end this abomination, then you must find a way to separate Crown and host. When you've done this, you must surrender the Crown to me. Perform this service, and I will see you cured. You will be forgiven."

(1. 'Your gifts were the first things it consumed'. Sorcerer Gale, natch. 2. So that more or less implies that she could have stablised the Orb at any time. Even if she couldn't - for whatever the reason - warn him about it ahead of time, she could have still prevented the year he spent in pain, the year he spent weakened, desperate, isolated, and depressed, the year he spent thinking that one wrong move would not only kill him but destroy all of Waterdeep with him! She didn't just risk him out of spite, she risked a two-million strong population!)

Gale: "You're the mother of all magic, the Weave incarnate. Can't you just destroy the Crown yourself?"

(His expression is downcast for most of the conversation. Here, he finally looks up. Beseeching. Not just, "Why couldn't you do this?", but also, "Why couldn't you prevent this?")

Mystra: "It is not my place to destroy another god's creation, however temporarily he joined the pantheon. It must be you, Gale. You are the one who carries Karsus' power within you. You are the only one who can."

(But of course, it's entirely her place for her Chosen to do it for her. Will get back to this point in a moment.)

Gale: "Very well. The next time we meet, I'll be bringing you the Crown."

Mystra: "Thank you. May the Weave's light guide your purpose, and its wisdom guide your hand. The future of magic rests on your shoulders, Gale of Waterdeep. I promise you - it is a burden you are strong enough to bear."

(Yeah, the Weave's guided him great so far. No pressure!)

So, there's a couple of questions here.

First, what did Gale believe he was doing?

He believed he was restoring a fragment of Mystra's lost Weave to her. He knows that Karsus' Folly was the crux of it, but all he knows - all he possibly can know, at this point - is that magic was restored except for one fragment. He wanted to be seen to be worthy of Mystra, and so believed that restoring that fragment to her would be both a symbol of love and devotion, and also something that'd be of tangible help to her.

Indeed, he thought he was carrying out her mission. "The goal of Mystra's faithful is simple: that magic be preserved and promulgated throughout the Realms." Was it perhaps a sliiight sign of hubris that he wanted to do it to prove himself worthy of her love and admiration? A little, yeah, but what else did she expect? He had been groomed since childhood to be the greatest wizard he possibly could. He was thirty-four, he was Mystra's Chosen and lover, he knows mortals can be elevated to higher powers. This very incarnation of Mystra only became so in 1358, after being one of Mystra's followers!

Ambitious, yes. But he never wanted to supplant her. He wanted to be seen as worthy and perhaps achieve apotheosis, which is exactly what she did herself.

Second, though, and more importantly, is what did Mystra see Gale doing?

She is, per Elminster, omniscient. She can sense any magic being used. She knows when Gale just reads the Annals of Karsus. She had to have known that what her Chosen was about to unleash was Karsite Weave, and...

She opted to do nothing, let Gale nearly be killed by the orb, let him suffer for a year, then tell him to fix it by killing himself, only when the Crown itself came back into play.

Think of it from Mystra's perspective. The year is 1491 DR. She's spent a good chunk of her actual godhood dead and has only relatively recently been restored, although she has, at this point, indeed been fully restored to all her powers. One of her Chosen is a young human wizard named Gale, who she's also taken as her lover. Gale is ambitious - of course he is, he's an insanely talented Chosen wizard - and actively wants to please her.

The Crown of Karsus is sealed away in Mephistopheles' vaults. The Orb of Karsus is sealed away in a book. (Who knows where the Sceptre is.) She knows it's a threat, but one that's currently under control.

She sees her Chosen approach the book the Orb is sealed in. She must realise that her Chosen has no idea what's in it, because she's well aware he's never read the Annals of Karsus, and he certainly wasn't there at the time. What's the more logical response here?

Tell your Chosen that what's sealed in the book is an extremely dangerous form of anti-magic that is an immediate threat to you, to him, and to everyone around him, and that if he isn't willing to just leave it alone, he should instead destroy it for you, or

Let your Chosen unleash it without warning him, nearly killing him and posing a very real threat to two million people until it's stabilised, which you can do at any time but don't?

She must have been thrilled when the Crown was stolen, right around the same time. Suddenly, she has a way to rid herself of the blight of Karsus - use one artefact to destroy the other! Never mind that one of those artefacts is currently lodged in the chest of her Chosen and doing so would kill him and a great many others, she's got rid of a greater threat.

The Crown was stolen and Gale was hit by the Orb around the same time, a year before the game. Which came first? What if the Crown was stolen first, what if Mystra grew worried about it because look at what happened last time, and, knowing that one of the only things strong enough to destroy the Crown would be another of Karsus' artefacts, she deliberately guided Gale to it? What if she intentionally abandoned him in order to prime him to want to do anything he could to gain her forgiveness, which she could conveniently grant if only he used the Orb to destroy the Crown?

Either way, it was cruel. If it was just sheer neglect that saw her fail to warn him, it was also stupid. She's omniscient. She could have warned Gale any time. She could have stablised the Orb at any time. Why leave him to suffer? Was it petty sadism, or did she always intend to use him as a tool to destroy the Crown, and never mind the consequences?

She's already willing to sacrifice half the Sword Coast to an illithid invasion if it means getting rid of the Crown. What's one more life?

Hashtag fight me Mystra, hashtag Gale deserves better.

[tarjapearce]

Iridiscent (Pt. 4)

Pirate AU! Miguel O'Hara x Mermaid! Reader

WARNING: Angst, mentions of violence, graphic depictions of violence, mild gore, political implications, character origins, character backgrounds, introduction of character, Greek mythology mentions.

Summary: The aftermath of a mermaid encounter brings an unexpected ally.

A/N: Pirate Miggy is back ❤️

Previous

Mermaids, sea witches, sirens, sea monsters. The latter was the most accurate name for what your mere existence rendered. And now, men eater.

Existing since way before humans understood the concept of civilizations, silent watchers of eons of evolution, yet unfortunate by the simple fact of being.

The permanence of the kin itself was a result of a fateful domino effect the God of the dead had unleashed by being invaded and bewitched by a mortal feeling. Love.

His whim had turned into obsession and this somehow morphed into love. A feeling so strong that made him kidnap the Spring goddess for himself, tired of the miserable companion solitude was in the underworld. And that was the moment everything changed.

The nymphs in charge of their queen's safety were turned into winged beings, as a punishment from none other than Demeter. Her wrath over them, ruthless and merciless as they were forced to look everywhere for their vanishing queen to no avail.

Some of the nymphs had escaped the aftermath to a recluse island, abandoning all purpose of finding Persephone, to follow the whims of their hearts in lieu. Singing and music.

But even so, Demeter's fury had no match, vengeful and blinded by anger she looked for the rebel ones to kill them, but these hid in the sea. Eventually, the feathers hardened, turning into scales. These etched and covered their legs. Securing them in a colorful long tail.

Bird's talons turned into beautiful and deadly hands, that once a prey was caught there was nothing it could do but to accept it's fate. Death.

Damned be Hades and his stupid obsession. Damned be Demeter and her blinding rage, and damned be the men that polluted the earth above with their existing and constant evolving.

Men. The real wretched creatures. The executioners of everything they decided unworthy of living. Stupid beings that played God in a self imposed role in  life's hierarchy.

Creatures that had hunted and killed your kin for ages, forcing to separate and face new dangers at every turn in the endless ocean. Humans, a little too praising title considering their acts and actions were everything but, had forced you to hide in the deepest waters and forbidden lands not many were brave enough to venture in.

A couple of centuries were more than enough for you to have a glimpse of their nature. Destructive, dangerous and merciless. They sullied and tarnished everything unfortunate enough to go under their hands.

They killed everything unknown or deemed too frightening for their existence and had no mercy while at it. The bloodier the better. A disgusting yet necessary example of behavior you had to follow in order to survive.

Humans had shaped your temper. Heart rejoicing at every sunken ship the sea swallowed. Even their flesh had lost the sizzle to be enjoyable enough, making your feeding habits more inclined towards other creatures within the sea.

You didn't eat men because you hated them. You ate them because their hatred had poisoned enough the seas, leaving you without resources, pushing you to consume them. And your refusal had made your body weak, it had been years since your body felt properly satisfied.

You collapsed.

How many days had passed, certainly was unknown. Time under the sea was measured by how long it took for a reef to go completely white, how often the ships let their nets in a single spot. Sometimes you remained on land, sea too dangerous to venture alone.

But none of that mattered anymore. Inanition wasn't exclusive of humans, the last thing in your mind was to curse Hades and the men.

But death escaped and picked you and others alike within a net. Pushing some survival instinct back in you as the net wriggled and broke. Injecting the right amount of life to hand you a buffet in a wooden platter. Gathering your bearings after the little commotion in your head, was quickly overlooked when the attention focused on the scene unfolding.

A ship full of men, that stared in wonder and fear. One of them stood out from the rest. It reminded you of Hercules. His physique unique, just as his eyes. A fine specimen and surely a delicious one. Their language was unknown, but it became clear the moment you kissed the fool before your apparent naive form. Absorbing his knowledge and a little more in that simple gesture. Which was little.

But enough to understand what the men said and whispered around you.

Foul and salty smelling, with a faint tinge of wine. He tasted sour and ashy, but edible enough to sate your rampant huger. You wanted to go for the herculean man in shackles, his scent rich in leather, voice like a soft and firm caress in the back of one's head. His cinnamon toned skin made your mouth water.

You were about to move for him, but Elliot, the idiot infront and your hunger kept you in place. You knew your initial prey would fight and would waste the little reserve of strength you had left. He was no fool.

As moronic as the man on your way  was, he'd save his purpose. The prey was subdued, flesh and bones devoured; bland and tasteless, but well welcomed within your body. Revitalizing energies and restocking the strength you had been lacking for a time.

Expected as it was, they attacked, all by the command of the shackled man, that had dared to injure you with a bullet. But you were too frenzied and hungry to care. Your meal hung in your maws, as you fought to get it off the ship.

Your Hercules watched in horror from afar, and never in your life had you felt more realized and satisfied to provoke such disturbing reaction in a man.

You could almost taste the fear behind his raged and shaky breathing, his shock in every powerful beat his heart did, the denial in his eyes as they widened the more your teeth sank into the corpse. It fueled you. And also ignited with new strength the already flickering purpose of your existence.

Destroy as many of them as possible.

You went under the ship, away from their archaical defense to eat and consume your food. Humans weren't definitely on the top, for a moment the hunter became the prey and didn't survive to brag about his new kill.

Skin and flesh was torn, consumed with such hunger it had you full and completely sated like never before, within matter of minutes. Elliot Jackdaw no longer existed, but served as a reminder that your kin prevailed and endured.

But also, had unleashed a new domino effect you weren't aware of.

The man in shackles, your forsaken greek god, was thrown at the sea. Your territory. You saw him move, fight against the current; trying to free himself from the heavy cuffs that weighed him down and reach back to the ship. And then nothing.

He became still and it made you frown. Where that bravado had gone? The smirk that was about to emerge in your lips faded as soon as a red cloud oozed and swallowed his head.

His scent was too rich and alluring, stagnant almost. Sickly sweet for your senses and he wasn't moving.

If you recalled, he was called a captain. What was a captain doing out of his ship drowning in the sea? Your lip twitched in scowl.

The lack of loyalty among his kindred was another reason to hate them. He wasn't the first nor the last you had saved in these conditions. Mostly women or little children that were expelled without much reasons other than being a burden.

As much as you cursed your heart for not turning its back to these sort of injustices, and your need to have a tiny taste of him, you hauled him up shore. Light as a feather in water, but heavy as lead on land. The heavy iron around his wrist didn't help, so you destroyed it, inflicting little cuts around his flesh in the process.

Ancient eyes scrutinized his form. Sharp cheekbones that could only match a sword. Strong features that screamed fighter in every direction you looked. A jagged and nasty cut on a side of his head, some strands obscuring his face, you removed them and some bloodied debris from his wound, inspecting it.

Not a too deep cut, the contusion of his head against the moving ship had been rough. A single cut in the upper right cheekbone, clothes clung to him like a second skin. His pockets however were too tempting to be left alone.

Sand and water on them, along a shiny pearl that had you staring and sniffing at the trinket for a close inspection, that didn't pay attention to the locket nesting deeper inside. The pearl was true, so you took it as it quickly etched to your skin, under the ribcage as a decor motif of the raggy top you used to cover your chest.

He'd surely serve as one of Aphrodite's lovers. His forearms laced in tiny and fading scars, that also loitered his solid and somewhat hairy chest. A man through and through. A natural enemy of yours, yet you had saved him.

Probably, he would hunt you too, like the scarce quantity of men you had pulled out of danger. The pearl was a token for saving his life.

You could kill him, filling your tabs with another number, but it wouldn't be honorable. Even if you were a different species, you refused to let some of their habits to rub on you. You opposed greatly to be like them, and so with a look that would suppose to be a final one back at him, you dipped back into the sea.

----

He was on land. Alive, heart beating along every single erratic breath. The sea waves washed over his hips, not cold neither lukewarm. Just the ideal temperature for the humid weather

I'm alive.

His mind couldn't comprehend what had happened. One moment he was in the sea, to then hurl himself back up and puke all the salty water his body had unwillingly ingested.

Miguel was dizzy, but alive. Beaten up, but still breathing. Pissed and ever ready to get his treasure back. But he had to recover some energies first.

Sighing and rising slowly, he turned around to kneel in the moist sand. Tiny grains of it etched to his moist skin, they were rough, altering his sensorial touch for a second. Feet finally got the strength to stand up, careful to not let the nauseas get to his head entirely. Skin burned, but he could bear the discomfort, what Miguel truly needed was a big gulp of water.

He remembered the sun being high on the sky, blazing with all it's glory and witnessing his crew marooning him for good. And now it was night. Somehow thankful that he didn't have to deal with the weather's inclemencies. Step by wobbly step he approached to the thickets and palms rooted in the soil, dressing up modestly the land he walked on.

As another wave of nauseas hit while his head pounded, Miguel stopped to rest in a nearby palm. Calloused hand cupping and covering his mouth to prevent the bile and vomit to spill out once more. Dehydrated as he was, Miguel also understood the dangers of drinking too much salty water.

If dehydration didn't kill him, puking too much without having any other resources on reach would. But none of his survival could be done with the unbridled headache that hammered in his head. A side of it was caked in dry blood, like some strands of his already matted and full of sand hair.

With careful steps he ventured in deeper into the jungle, looking for a spot to spent the night away from land's troubles. The island wasn't familiar for him, he didn't even know if it was big enough to harbor sustainable life, or if ships would pass nearby. With a gasp and a frantic move, he palmed his pockets.

Mierda, no! No

Panic rose upon not feeling the pearl, the sudden motion made his steps stutter as he puked, unable to hold it in anymore. But once he was done and wiped his mouth with the back of his arm, he searched into them.

Por favor

The pearl was gone, that was for sure, but relief washed over him upon feeling the fine golden chain of the locket. Hand clasped on it while he brought it to his chest and sighed.

He nearly gave up.

Heart pounding in his ears along his head, and only when he opened the locket, the tears flowed. Calloused fingers full of sandy grains probed the valuable mineral, feeling the dents of the shell shape he knew by heart at this point. Eyes drowning and his voice muffled into a silent and wrathful sob as he inhaled the trinket.

Perdóname, Gabi. (Forgive me)

A faint tickle of fresh home bread, coconut oil that he used to fry the fish, and the eucalyptus ointment that was always next to him brought back the bittersweet memories that flooded his mind about the last years he had with Gabriella. She adored when he cooked, and always smelled his fingers after using the oil.

It reminds me of you, Papa.

She loved freshly baked bread. But hated the smell of the eucalyptus ointment the doctor left her.

The only memento he now had of his beloved and long gone daughter. The only thing that mattered the most for him.

How dared them betraying him when he had been everything but fair and good?

How dared them into taking his ship and some important things he had hid inside? But most importantly, how dared life to show him that mermaids were real when the reason he believed in them in the first place was no longer with him?

Who was he supposed to tell that he saw a mermaid?

A karma for turning into a pirate, maybe. All his mind was able to remember was the way the creature looked at him, a clear assessment of her power. Fear invaded every fiber of his being, making him too stunned to actually think or act until he saw the creature devouring Elliot.

Another reason for him to respect the sea. Now that he had a glimpse of what laid underneath, Miguel wondered what other things crawled in it's depths. But he would think about it all tomorrow.

His eyes drooped in exhaustion. Thinking consumed the last bit of his energy reserves. Despite the thirst clawing at his throat with a vice grip, the headache and weariness were greater. Even though a thicket wasn't the right choice to spend the night, he hadn't the time nor the energies to be picky. He just collapsed once more and hoped whoever above to live another day.

----

The sunlight was slippery enough to leak through the dense foliage and reach patches of the humid and moss textured land, as well parts of his weathered face. With a wince he rolled to his side, avoiding the aurifeous and warm touch from the ever blazing sun.  Head clear from it's pain, and thoughts in order, like it should be.

With a sigh he rose and stretched, popping joints back in their place. Discomfort remaining in his head and wrists, that upon further examination he deducted the cuts in them were fresh, and undoubtedly someone had saved him from a certain death. Who, he didn't know but was grateful for the mysterious savior to let his revenge start.

With a rested yet hungry body, and a fresh head to think, he rolled his shoulders back and took a look around. Surveying his environment to decide which way to go. No weapons, no resources but packed with skills that were honed precisely for these sort of situations.

He still remembered the first time Mundaca had left him in an island with a single knife to fend for himself, since Miguel refused to accompany him in a slave hunting trip. At first he thought that Mundaca had left him for good or out of spite, but Fermín had only taught him a valuable surviving lesson. This time however, he didn't have that knife and would rely only on his hands, brain and brawns.

Naturally, Miguel headed for the north, palm trees left behind, instead acai palms, rubber trees and soursops begun gathering in the place. The scent of wet soil and rotting wood was pungent in the air, oddly, he liked it. Macaws and other birds cackled and cawed as he pushed deeper along some distant rustling.

The overgrown roots twisted and tangled here and there, weaving a walkable path free of them to his right, His eyes darted to the tail of a cobra slithering away from him, minding it's business.

The copious squaking of the birds was a good white noise along the crunching of his wet boots. His throat was beyond arid, that even spit couldn't form in it if he wished; stomach rumbled violently, begging him for some food. Breathings paused but deep.

Hours stretched for what seemed forever, he didn't know if he was walking in circles, the island was definitely not small. He had found some fruit trees along the way, but the things were so our of reach, that attempting to climb for them was a risk. He'd knew the wait would worth it.

Ears however perked at the gunshot given in the distance. Eyes widened, both in surprise and excitement at the thought that civilization was within. Cause that meant, food and water. And also weapons. And what a better way to confirm it than a booming gunshot that spooked away the nearby fawn.

With careful steps, he followed the echo, making the least of noise possible. As much as it thrilled to have a bite, he also understood the implications of such things. Armored men, guarded bodegas, overpowered foremen and probably slaves.

Time flew by, but his spirits lifted upon spotting the first red uniforms in a distance. Two of them. He approached closer to take a better look.

The soldiers had a rifle each, a belt full of ammo and firing at what were now dead slaves as shooting dummies. To his right, Miguel saw a few tents and supplies. Food and water tossed in a nearby bench, a fire was alight, serving as a cooking source for the pot placed above. His eyes however fell upon a machete. Probably belonging to one of the dead men tied up in the wooden posts.

After all, working tools had to be in perfect conditions, leaving no room for slacking off.

Miguel forayed slowly, moving within the foliage until he reached for the machete, with paced breathings he awaited for another shot to rumble to pull the weapon within his reach. The metallic drag was drowned. He couldn't eat until the men were disposed off.

Now that he was armored, a distraction was needed. The branches used for the iron's pot makeshift support were weak, the stew inside boiled. Miguel pushed the tip of the machete on the pot's edge, a little clink connected as the pot was pushed forward, but it barely tumbled it. He awaited for another gunshot to echo to push the pot entirely on the ground.

The lard immediately sent sparks on the floor as smoke surrounded the area. The noisy thud of the pot alarmed one of the guards that didn't waste time into blaming his companion for the shitty structure and how they'd have to go fishing again to get food done.

A little too late the guard noticed the fiery red eyes that glowered at him. Before he could even say something the sharp blade of the machete sliced through this throat in a firm thrust, all the guard could do was a gurgle, perturbed, before plummeting on the floor, staining the blade with a warm crimson as Miguel pulled it out of the body. Flesh sizzling at the contact of the hot coals and wood.

He took a rock that filled in his palm and aimed it for the head of the remaining guard, the other soldier yelped as he fell on the ground, the rock hitting his head with a lurid crack. Miguel lurched for him to end his misery by impaling the weapon in his back. Right in the middle. It was quick, deathly and effective.

Miguel panted but waited in case  another guard was around, but none approached, just the wing flapping of a macaw somewhere. With the machete in  hand he approached to the tent and wasted no time in gobbling down the water in a container, quenching his thirst, not really caring for the droplets that rolled down his neck.

His hands then wiped his face as he scrubbed the caked blood and sand away, then scarfed down the leftovers left in a plate and devoured anything within reach that was cooked or preserved, Adia probably would scold him for eating like an animal, despite being starving.

Once he was satisfied and his strength back, he looked for other weapons he could use. As much as the machete proved a worthy aid, it was long and it made noise. The opposite of what he needed.

The Red Eyed Demon searched into the soldier's pockets, a couple of coins, bullets and gold teeth that seemed freshly pulled out of the bodies in the back. He took the bullets and left the rest, he also found a short ranged pistol, a combat knife and a rope.

Also, to his luck, some fresh clothes. As much as he was set into his vengeance he wouldn't waste the chance into being comfortable while at it. His boots were soiled full of sand and saline water, he changed them, like his pants. The shirt was the only thing he kept since none of the men actually wore his size.

Ridiculous as it was, one of the soldiers had abnormally larger feet. But were perfect for him. Pants still a bit too short but he'd had them any other day instead of walking around feeling uncomfortable and itchy by the salt etched to his skin and clothes.

He ventured deeper only to find a familiar scene before him. A state. Hacienda Valverde read in the overly embellished metal structure that held the sign.

----

So far, Miguel had done a good job in keeping himself hid, the least of attention he attracted, the more successful his escape plan would be. So far he had counted around fifteen soldiers in the property. Five of them scattered through the plantations, making sure the workforce didn't dally in their duties.

He ventured over the trees, avoiding unnecessary trouble, to then land nearly quietly in a mountain of hay. His breathings stopped at every time an unsuspected guard passed by him. Heart pounded in his ears when his steps brought him closer and closer to danger

The rest of the guards were scattered through the property, watching over the stables, the main storage room, inside the hacienda and of course, watching over the supply.

He had snuck in the warehouse, to his surprise the cells were empty, he went through each of them to see if anything worthy had been left behind, but the sound of the lock being picked made him hide behind a couple of haystacks.

"Stop, Stop!" A groan came from a wriggling man, "I told you the truth! Let me go!"

Miguel couldn't see who was the prisoner, peeking out would be too risky, but the lack of accent, gave him a hint. An American.

The man grunted as he kicked, managed to land a punch or two to the guards that only twisted his shackled hands backwards. This made the man whine and curse, blind hot pain shot in his ribcage as another soldier hit him with the base of his rifle.

"Shut your fucking gob!" With a rough shove, the fighting man was thrown into the cell, the enclosure's door stilled with a loud creak as the main door was slammed shut.

The only noises the pirate could hear was the pained grunts that only increased when the prisoner tried to pick himself up from the floor, and the shaky huffing that turned into whiny whimpers when he managed to recover some air.

The day was set to surprise him, cause in his life he had seen a white man being thrown in a slave cell. Until now.

The man was tall, lean muscle in his body, a five o'clock stubble in his narrow cheeks and blue eyes. Hair hapzardly peeking ontop of his head.

"Fuck..." He groaned but recoiled in his cell even further upon seeing the shade of red glinting at him behind the haystacks. Pain screamed in every breathing he did, but that didn't stop him from trying to get himself free.

"H-Hey"

The man's eyes widened as soon as Miguel came into full view. He had to crane his head upwards to meet his eyes and gulped as soon as he realized the color in the behemoth of a man. Breaths shallow but less erratic than before now that he knew he had company.

"Please. Help me out of here, pal"

He was definitely American.

"And why would I do that?"

Miguel’s bushy brow quirked while taking another look through the warehouse, searching for alternative escape routes.

"Cause my wife just gave birth and I wanna meet my little girl."

A red stare seized the blue one. His unwavering, but the man's rivalled against it. Miguel broke contact as his hands fisted briefly. The prisoner's chest heaved whole he rubbed the area he was hit on.

Lucky bastard

"I was supposed to arrive last week but I was taken from the ship."

"Why?"

Miguel looked through the haystacks and other corners he didn't have the chance to search thoroughly.

"That's what I'd like to know!" The man sat against the lateral bars and winced defeated, watching at the moving man.

"I was a merchant, on a trip to improve a little familiar business I have, but Nueva York isn't precisely friendly with the working class." He paused to take some air the hit had taken away, "So I came back. And that's where the english trapped me." His forehead rested ontop of his scrapped and bloodied knuckles. The spark that gave him a beating and his imprisonment.

"The English are press ganging civilians at sea."

Miguel's lip twitched in a scowl upon hearing the news. Of course they would, Americans and English were too deep in political wars that could barely stand eachother. But in the sea, the English were the masters and none was there to stop them. More like he wasn't there to sink as many of them as possible.

Yet.

"How old is your daughter?"

The pirate asked above his shoulder and this made the gaoler to look up.

"Three weeks old. According to my wife's last letter."

Miguel's shoulder slumped, and he turned to look at the man. A little hesitation passed over his eyes, but it vanished as soon as he saw an old acquaintance of him. Hope. Red eyes rolled annoyed, as if regretting the sudden decision he was about to make.

"Do you know how to use a weapon?"

The question surely threw the man off, but still managed to reply

"Y-Yeah. Not fond of them, but yeah."

"Fight?"

"Not a complete useless if that's what you're hinting at."

Miguel chuckled and approached closer to the cell, examining the lock while the detainee put on his pair of boots.

"Gimme a wire and I'll get myself out of here."

Miguel instead took a nearby shovel to destroy the lock in a couple of hits. The metal piece clanking on the floor as it fell.

"O-Or you could do that. Yeah."

The man stood on his feet and stretched before offering his hand to him, Miguel just stared at him for a moment before taking his hand in a firm shake. Peter hid a wince at the sheer display of strength and that he had grabbed his injured hand.

"Peter B. Parker. Merchant and lock master."

"Miguel O'Hara. Pirate."

Peter could only blink stupidly at him.

"Let's go."

But followed him without much thought.

-----

Taglist:

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[azsazz]

Between the Shadow and the Soul

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Anon Request: No thoughts just death god Azriel and goddess of life reader

Warnings: Mentions of death, graphic depictions of violence, a tiny bit of smut.

Word Count: 2,712

_________________________________________

The first time Death meets Life, she’s dying.

Deep within the dense forest now blooming as your power escapes you, he looms. 

Azriel knows that something isn’t right. There’s a war raging before him, his favorite scent of death brought to him in plumes, screams of agony ringing deliciously in his ears. He licks his lips, tasting it as he scans the battlefield. His heart vibrates with pleasure in his chest at the sights of bodies being flayed open and falling to the ground.

But the thicket of trees he’s just trailed through are no longer fraying from his dark touch, leaves brittle and bark peeling away from thick trunk like flesh tearing from muscle and bone. It’s flourishing in rich colors, deep greens in the peak of summer, their limbs strong with new growth and reaching towards the sun in prayer. 

He frowns, pulling his hood over his head. The fabric is thick, black like the shadows swirling around his feet. The scent of freshly turned earth drowns out that of slaughter, stinging his nostrils, nose scrunching and lip curling away from perfect teeth in disgust.

From the veil of shadows he goes, trailing through the battle as if it’s nothing more than wading through the long grass growing rapidly at his feet. It’s stained crimson, still warm as it traces hair thin lines across his marred palms when he touches it. The twin blades sheathed at his back sing with praise as he releases them, and he twists them around with the skill of a thousand men. They keen, begging to be used, their gleaming metal bathed in gore.

Blood spatters across his face as he cuts down a man atop a horse. The dark hood hiding his identity does little to keep the ichor from splattering on his tanned skin. His eyes glow and he licks his lips, the metallic taste of a life ending sweet on his tongue.

He can kill a man with a single look if he wanted to, but Azriel found himself enjoying a more hands-on approach to killing. It is natural, afterall. There is something different to be found in wielding a death blow himself, the beast encapsulated in his soul growls with pleasure as he watches souls leave bodies, falling to the ground already sodden crimson. An offer to the Mother, returning from the earth they’d been born of.

Azriel cuts his way across the battlefield with ease. More fae charge his way, unleashing their powers, but none make sweat bead Death’s brow. He’s having his fun, but is focused on the task at hand, gliding through the grass towards the forest beaming with new growth like a beacon calling him home.

His blades vibrate in his hands as he swings, slicing through adolescent branches. He wishes he were cutting through skulls and bones, and his weapons do too, screeching as sap sticks to the thin metal, mixing with the red that already stains their surfaces.

Shadows straying ahead, they search for him even though he can feel the pull of death and smell it on the breeze. A glance to the forest floor reveals moss growing where the path has been trodden down to dirt, the plush greenery climbing up trunks of trees whose leaves are growing in so thickly that the light of day grows dark.

The tether of fraying life pulls tighter and tighter the closer he gets. Crowds of trees open into a small clearing, booming with aliveness. The sun shines down into the center of the field where the branches and leaves don’t extend, warm rays shining down on your glowing skin, power leaking from you so thickly it nearly makes him choke.

But what does have Azriel’s breath catching is you. The bright linens of your dress are wet with blood, crimson soaking into the fine fabric from hem to collar. Your chest heaves, breath labored so you lie, eyes shut as you bathe in the sun like you’re not balancing on the cusp of death.

Azriel strides forward. You pry your eyes open at the sound of knives sliding back into sheaths, and glaring through the light in your eyes, you smile softly at the figure approaching. He’s cloaked in rich, dark robes, hood pulled up, revealing only those harrowing eyes. You’ve never met Death, but with the throbbing ache in your chest, you recognize him immediately. You’d heard rumors that if you looked straight into those hollow eyes of his you’d die on the spot, and it warms your quickly freezing body to find that the rumor is false.

The man kneels by your side and you want to laugh at the way that he assesses you, eyes trailing across your body, gaze as serious as the injury to your chest.

Azriel gently moves your hands from where they’re trying to keep the wound closed. He doesn’t need to put much force behind the action at all, your limbs weak from blood loss. He grimaces at the sight, the usual excitement that clings to his very soul upon seeing such a gruesome picture is not there, instead, it feels like claws of ice blooming from his chest, painful and angry.

He can feel the power emanating off of you. The way it surges and buries beneath his own skin, heart picking up in pace. Your eyes are dazed, and the smile you give him has him both wanting to lean further into you and tuck his hood more securely around himself. Life, dying right before his very eyes.

And he can see it in the way your skin shimmers. The grassy knoll beneath you is overcome with life, thick, green grass soft beneath your body as if the earth itself is making you a comfortable spot to rest. A flick of his gaze has Azriel noting the animals peering from the brush, the lively rattle of mice and the uncomfortable stares of deer watching the both of you. 

“Have you come to claim me, Death?” you rasp, looking up into his eyes. They’re surprisingly bright, golden like the sun that cradles you, alive with shadows and souls. He hides himself well, you decide, clutching the soft ground as his eyes trail the open wound ripped wide down your sternum as you search his eyes for any sign of himself. But you don’t sound alarmed, if anything being in his presence feels as peaceful as life itself.

“Not yet,” Azriel murmurs, icy fingers brushing down your cheek. He wipes away the speck of red there. When you dare return to where you’ve come from he doesn’t want you catching sight of it in the mirror, noticing how close you’d been to finally being his.

The clash of swords grows louder, shrill cries of bloodshed on the battlefield still ringing in his ears. Many have joined him today, and you should not be out here. Should not be in the middle of a war trying to save fallen soldiers, let alone the winged bastards who’ve done this to you. 

He doesn’t remove his hood, doesn’t let you see his face. Something rumbles in his chest, so much like a death rattle but a sweet song all the same. His treacherous heart kicks up a beat, spurring panic in his veins like the vines twisting through the forest floor. Resilient, just like Life. 

“Are you scared?” He asks, letting you clutch his hand with both of your own as his fingers slide down your throat to touch the top of your wound, careful not to harm. So small, he notes, so perfect.

“Do you want me to be?” You respond through labored breaths. You watch the way his wings scratch over you, blocking the sun from your eyes. If he’s going to do this, he’ll need the dark.

“No,” Azriel finds himself saying. He doesn’t want Life to fear Death.

His grip is strong, sure, just as death is. You want to watch him as he works but your eyelids are too heavy, and you’re not sure if it’s his shadows creeping into the sides of your vision or if you’re about to pass out from the state you’re in.

Azriel summons his powers, placing both of your tangled hands across your wound. You suck in a sharp breath as a wave of agony drags you from the dark, eyes flaring open only to catch on his again. He whispers something you’re unable to make out, but you feel the icy coldness of his powers seeping into your skin as he draws on them.

They kickstart your own, warm and comforting as they wrap around each other like the shadows and rays of golden light filling the field. The sounds of battle are deafened by whatever he’s doing and your breath catches in your throat. It feels as though you’re burning on the inside, his darkness freezing your soul and your own powers lash out in response. 

“Come on,” he urges softly, noting that the wound on your chest is beginning to close. The feeling of your powers mixing with his feels strange. He’s never once felt alive, but now, as waves of warmth burn through his blood, he finds himself wanting to bathe in it.

You gasp as the wound closes fully, eyes shuttering shut as your spine arches off of the ground and your vision explodes with black. The entire clearing goes dark with Death’s shadows before your light bursts out of you in an awakening you’ve never experienced before.

Sitting up in a rush, your head spins. When the light of your powers has died down, you find yourself alone in the forest, Death a whisper in the wind.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Humming an all familiar tune, you stride through the sparse trees to the lively river, a mother and her ducklings trailing happily behind you. You’d found them on your morning walk, feeling the caress of lives tugging on your soul as you went, smile stretching wider and wider as you strolled to find them.

They’d been a little lost, the mother quacking happily as you appeared with a soft demeanor and outstretched hands. You could feel her worry, as she rounded the ducklings up, keeping them close. You giggled as they’d started climbing all over you, scooping up the fluffy beings and cuddling them close to your chest.

The river is alive with life. Fish swimming in the soft current, finally thawed from the harsh winters. The perfect watering ground for many of the animals in the forest, and a nice place to stop on a hot summer's day for the fae of this realm, the perfect setting for the duckling family to rest.

But what you’ve failed to notice is the fox sneaking through the shadows of the trees on silent paws, licking its maw at the sight of its next meal, and Death following closely behind.

He watches with intrigue, though he’s seen the way that this plays out more times than he can count. He doesn’t even need to be around for a death as simple as this; the smallest duckling lagging behind as it trips over an upturned root will be the one to go, and its mother will not even notice until they get where they’re going and her little one is gone.

It’s all a part of life though, and you can’t save them all. He notes the way you hold yourself, the skip in your step and the smile on your lips as you murmur softly to the animals like they can understand you. Your powers unconsciously slip from you, flowers blooming where your feet land as you lead the flock towards the rushing blue waters of the river.

You pause, looking around as if you’ve felt a shift in the air, like the piece of him that you carry in the faint scar across your chest has alerted you to his presence, and Death finds himself ducking behind a tree. But you’ve already caught sight of his dark robes slipping between shadows.

Crouching in a hurry, you collect the ducklings near to you as the fox pounces from its hiding spot. You scowl at the animal, black fur and bright eyes halting at your look. It bows its head sorrowfully, whining softly.

“Trying to play tricks on me, Death?” you raise an eyebrow, heart softening as you shoo the ducklings towards the river in favor of scratching behind the fox’s ears. It keens, leaning into your palm as your warmth consumes it, flipping onto its belly for more of your loving touch.

“Death is no trick, Life.” Azriel responds seriously, untucking himself from the shadows creeping around him. His golden gaze flicks to the animal and where your fingers are buried in its fur and he’s brought back to all of those months ago when it had been his fingers yours were clinging to and keeping warm.

“Life is no ruse either,” you respond, too amused for his liking. You're too cheery, bright eyes burning holes through his skin, scaring off of his shadows. Death is not afraid, and Death is not falling. He’s been seeking you out, secretly, watching you with a keen eye the way you brighten the world little by little, while all he does is sweep darkness in his wake.

He shrugs, as if your statement means nothing to him. Of course it wouldn’t, he is Death. The tree he’s leaning against is proof enough, its leaves shrinking, crumbling as life is sucked out of them, fluttering to the ground like snow.

It doesn’t irk you like it should. No, it’s actually breathtaking, the way that he draws life to him is intoxicating, and you can feel your powers reaching out to him. You’ve never felt such things before, have been thinking about Death more than you’d like to admit, the way he’d made you feel when he saved you.

“Would you like to come by for some tea?” You blurt, cheeks pinking up when his features don’t so much as twitch. The fox nips playfully at your stilled fingers and it skitters away at the disapproving glare Death sends it.

He nods once, hood bobbing with the motion, and you lead him to your home.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Finish me,” you breathe, and it makes Death nearly cum.

It’s not the way that you mean it. You’re not sacrificing yourself, asking him to take your soul, but with the way that he’s buried deep inside of you, you feel as though you’d give anything to him at this moment. 

Death likes that.

The words have him groaning, teeth nipping at your shoulder as he jerks into you, cock hot and heavy with arousal. He’d followed you to your home only for the both of you to end up like this: you flat on your back in your soft bed with him driving into you, shadows writhing around his shaking wings.

The vines that hang off of your ceiling pass between life and death as you fuck, blooming with new growth and snaking down the walls when you cum with a shout. You feel like you’re dying, gasping for breath as blackness fields your vision until stars shine beneath squeezed eyelids. 

Death is close behind you, pulling you to him and rolling you over, holding you tightly as he pistons his hips up into your writhing body, seeing you through your orgasm. He slips his tongue into your mouth, desperate for a taste of Life as he releases. The plants that line your home droop and fray as he sucks the essence from them.

He feels like he’s finally alive, chest expanding with a first full breath, life pulsating through his body as you cling to him as tightly as he is to you. 

It’s utter bliss, the way you two stay tangled up in each other for days, not worrying about the life or death that’s happening outside your quaint cottage. It’s two souls reuniting, the missing parts of each other, finding the balance they’ve so desperately been craving since the cosmos tethered them to this plane of existence.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Death is not a lover.

He’d never let himself love anything.

But this time, when Death sees Life, she’s bringing another into the world.

[houserautha]

These Destined Touches

Summary: Feyd-Rautha’s POV from Part 4. You know what scene I’m referencing.

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Word Count: 741

Warnings: female masturbation, male masturbation. A lot of masturbation.

A/N: You don’t necessarily need to have read These Destined Ends to read this, everyone needs to be able to enjoy Feyd masturbating. (But you should read TDE)

"Do not be so easily influenced by a girl," the Baron had sneered at him. Smoke billowed from his lips, and Feyd had tried to focus on it instead of the urge to strangle his uncle.

He hated that the Baron saw through him so effortlessly, had exploited his weakness like turning over a rock and exposing the wriggling bugs underneath. Feyd did not like weakness. He had pruned all of them from his mind — or, at least, that's what he thought.

Feyd was out on an errand for his uncle, collecting payment from someone on his endless payroll. Usually he enjoyed these errands. More often than not they ended in violence, in a chase, in the clean swipe of his blade across a jugular. He practically lived for the resulting warm spray of blood on his face. But he found himself loathing the task because it took him from you.

He wanted to know what you were doing, what you were thinking. He wanted to see the glint in your eye when he purposefully provoked you.

Feyd needed to purge you from his mind.

So he sought out a well known tailor on the planet and commissioned a dress for you, knowing that you would sooner gouge out your eyes than deny him and let him triumph. Feyd wanted to humiliate you thoroughly, strip you of your confidence and drive you from his thoughts.

He hadn't expected you to strip, however, to stand naked before him like some sort of resplendent goddess. Feyd couldn't drink you in fast enough, committing to memory every inch of your body and the way your nipples pebbled in the cool air or perhaps with your own arousal. It had done the opposite of what he wanted, rooting you even more deeply into his mind.

"I'll see you at dinner," he said flippantly. He had turned and strode from the room before you could notice his tented pants.

Feyd's anger stoked his hardening cock, though, no matter how much he tried to will it away. Eventually he gave up in soothing his desire — it wouldn't go away, not as long as the sight of your naked form was still burned behind his eyelids. And so he stormed to your shared quarters, flinging open the doors to search for you, the searing words he wanted to unleash burning his tongue. But you were nowhere to be found.

Then he heard it: the sweetest sound, breathy and needing, over the roar of the shower. It stopped him in his tracks. Steam poured out from under the door of the bathroom.

Feyd dared closer.

And there it is again.

He can feel heat pool down to his cock, swollen head twitching at the sound of your whimpers and moans. You’re pleasuring yourself.

“Feyd,” he heard you sigh.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Feyd, fearing that you might catch him — or worse, he might cum right there — slipped out of the chambers. His feet carried him to his strategy room, blissfully dark and empty. The door has barely closed behind him when he’s fumbling for his pants, his cock.

He glided his digits along the underside of it and then circled the head, breath hitching in his throat as he imagined your hand in placement of his. Feyd dragged his fingers up over his slit, gathering the pre-cum and slicking his cock with it. He groaned. Goaded by the image of you naked, he gripped the length of his member and began stroking it, hips bucking in response to his touch.

Feyd conjured the memory of you, summoned to mind what it might feel like to plunge his cock inside you. He thrusted faster into his hand. Would you still look at him with that glint in your eye as you rode him?

His hand blurred over his shaft, wrist snapping to wring out his own pleasure. Feyd closed his eyes as his orgasm crested, breath sawing from his chest faster and faster. “Fuck!” He growled.

Cum shot from his throbbing cock, over his hand and stomach. He worked through the climax and the shuddering aftershocks, lids fluttering, tongue darting out to wet his parted lips. Feyd lingered for a moment, then quickly went to work cleaning himself and fastening his pants. He licked up the residual black cum from his fingers, plotting exactly how he was going to get you back for this transgression at dinner.

Tags:

@moonsoulk @heartarianagran @torchbearerkyle @unicoreads @taleah @mamawiggers1980 @jovialeggsbailiffsoul @harkonnin @avidreader73 @unicorntrooper @beebeechaos @kamcrazy123 @wo-ming-bai @m-indkiller @kpopnstarwars @dacreshoney @stopeatread @the-na-baroness @therealslimshady-1 @unnisumi @aoi-targaryen

[bratzbrat]

✟The Witch Hunter!

pairing: a witch!hunter Katsuki Bakugo x fem!reader.

cw: mentions of death! | blood! | description of a wounded animal! | death of wounded animal! | there's a part where reader asks the goddess of this world for forgiveness. proceed with caution, if you're religious and would feel uncomfortable reading it. |

1.4k+ words.

here... *throws rock at you* enjoy!

⊰𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒 𝐩𝐭.𝟐⊱ »»————> Mother...

his eyes narrowed, grip tightening on his sword as he looked up at the a— "dragon..." he muttered, voice low and edged with tension. "don' move." he raised his blade, gaze fixed on the towering beast that emerged from the huge pile of rubble at the end of the village— its dark crimson scales glinting like blood under the sunlight.

the creature reared back, muscles coiled and massive wings stretched wide, unleashing a bone-chilling scream that comically scared the birds out of their trees.

the hunter's jaw clenched. "alright—now ya' can run." he sheathed his sword with a sharp motion and took off, not waiting for you to react.

you stumbled after him, the uneven ground and weight of the restraints rattling as it dragged you down. a rather strong branch that jutted out from a tree, caught your chains, jerking you backward with a harsh clang.

you tugged frantically, your heart pounding as the dragon's heavy stomps grew closer. another low growl reverberated from deep in it's throat, and as you twisted around to look, you came face-to-face with its snarling jaws.

your dashing captor's sword gleamed as he lunged forward, charging at the dragon without a second thought.... protecting you... and you watched as he fought the beast, swinging and slashing at it's scales. but before his blade could strike a critical blow, you stepped between him and the creature, chained hands raised.

"wait," you called out. "look—" and pointed to the deep, bleeding gash beneath the dragon's wing, the raw wound pulsing with each labored breath it took.

he scowled, teeth bared in frustration. "ya' think that matters?" he spat in a rough whisper. "it's a fuckin' dragon! might as well be dea—"

before either of you could react, the dragon snarled, swinging it's tail forward to whip the hunter, sending him flying backward until he tumbled across the forest floor, spitting out curses as he forced himself back up.

you took a slow, steady breath, raising your hands in a gesture of surrender. "please," you said softly, as if the dragon might somehow understand. "i can help you." and pointed to it's wound.

the dragon's head tilted, humming as pain flickered in its dark, eyes. it let out a low, rumbling sigh and with a begrudging snarl, lowered its head and plopped down, granting you it's permission.

carefully, you stepped forward, examining the wounded area. it's scales dented inward leaving a punctured hole —large enough you to fall into if you leaned to far— to expose a chasm of flesh beneath, and the dragon's breaths came in harsh, shallow gasps and grumbles.

you took a deep breath, "goddess, forgive me for taking from you." you whispered as you reached back to the massive tree that caught your chains, feeling the rough texture under your fingers. you took a deep breath in and the life within it drained, as you pulled water out, leaving the tree dry and shribbled up, as the liquid gathered in your hands. you guided it over the wound, watching as it covered the gash, cooling and soothing the dragon's agony.

it let out a shuddering sigh, breathing slowly. you looked into the dragon's eyes as it looked back at you, it's eyes slowly blinked, like if it we're trying to say thank you, and a single year fell from your cheek. the wound had taken too much from it and your healing was now a mere salve on a wound too deep to be saved.

then, a faint noise caught your attention—a series of soft, anxious chirps and chitters. you glanced up to see a tiny dragon cub, trying to climb up it's head, letting out frantic squeaks and nuzzling her scales. the dragon shifted slightly, drawing in another long breath as it nuzzled the small creature, eyes closing with an expression of weary relief.

realization hit, as you watched the two. she was protecting her young—her final instinct. and whatever had given her this wound had left her like this, clinging to her last moments with her baby.

the hunter stirred behind you, muttering something under his breath as he picked himself up, brushing dirt from his coat. "what kinda idiot dragon charges into a fight like that anyways?" he scoffed, though his voice was quieter, the usual bite barely noticeable as he watched the dragon and its young.

as the mother's breaths slowed, her massive form grew still beneath your hands and you cradled the last beats of her heart, attempting give her a few more seconds with her young. her scales dulled, leaving a hauntingly beautiful reminder of her former strength and her pain went away. the dragon cub let out a high-pitched chirp, nudging its mother's snout, oblivious to her faded life.

the hunter staggered back to his feet, wincing as he clutched his side. he spat a bit of blood to the side, as he approached you, his face twisted in a mix of anger and confusion, sword still in hand. "oi, the hell do ya' think you're doin'?" he barked, eyes narrowed.

you held up a hand, gesturing for him to keep his voice down. "she's a mother. she was only protecting her young," you said quietly, glancing at the cub who was watching you with wide, fearful eyes.

"mother or not, she's a godsdamn dragon," he grunted, glancing at the tiny creature still nestled on her head. " 'n woulda torn us to pieces if she'd had the strength."

"what did this to her in the first place," you wondered out loud, your gaze drifting back to her wound. "now this poor baby's all alone."

"tch." he scowled, looking away as though the sight irritated him. "yer wastin' yer breath, witch. no point pityin' a beast."

ignoring his protest, you knelt beside the mother's head, murmuring softly to her cub. "there's no need to be afraid, little one," you whispered, extending a gentle hand forward, motioning for it come to you.

and the blondie let out an impatient growl. "yer not seriously thinkin' o' helpin' that thing..." he muttered in disbelief, eyes flicking between you and the scaled cub. "it'll only grow up to cause more trouble. that's what they do."

"like witches?" you shot him your best irritated look, "like me?" and turned your attention back to the baby, "i'll make sure you prove him wrong." you promised, watching as it curiously sniffed your hand. it saddened you to see a cublet loose it's mother so young. and you felt guilt. you felt responsible for it now.

"tch, yer insane, witch." but he didn't stop you. he stood there and watched, arms folded, as you held your hands over the young dragon. using the last remnants of water you pulled from the tree. thin tendrils of moisture spiraled down, encircling the dragonet like a soft, transparent veil. its frightened chirps softened into curious coos as the warmth of your healing water enveloped it.

as you finished, the young dragon blinked up at you, then slowly leaned into your touch, the trust in its eyes enough to make your heart ache.

"you're sowoo cute," you whispered to it, running your hand along its tiny, scaly head. "awww, wanna come with us?" you asked it, like if you were talking to a fledgeling. "wanna come with me and the big scawy man?" and it tilted it's head to the side as it didn't understand you, but nuzzled up to you nonetheless, making you giggle.

the hunter huffed, crossing his arms tighter over his chest as he looked away. "yer softer than ya' look, witch... just let it fend fer itself. nature don' play favorites."

"and yet, you're here, hunter," you shot back, rising to your feet. "still breathing, because I played favorites..."

"tch." he scoffed, and shook his head to dismiss the ongoing meeting he was having with himself, " 'm lettin' ya' go..." he muttered under his breath. "better not make me regret it." and he grabbed your wrists.

a faint smile touched your lips as your fingers brushed over the empty space where your shackles had once been. "and what if I do? what if I use my 'witch crap' on you?" you smirked, lifting up your hands and wiggling your fingers in his face.

"then i'll be ready to take ya' down." he sheathed his sword.

"we'll see about that."

thank you for reading! hope ya like! {I wrote this trying to come out of a writer's block...}

find the previous chapters in my masterlist!

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©𝐵𝑙𝑢♡

»»————>𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

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