#virgin woman diaries

[malusokay]

Girly Comfort Movies

Little collection of my favourite comfort movies (take with a grain of salt lol) <3

Legally Blonde (1 and 2)

the devil wears Prada

The Princess Diaries (1 and 2)

Little Woman

Clueless

Mean Girls (1 and 2)

Pride & Prejudice

Roman Holiday

Uptown girls

Marie-Antoinette

The Virgin Suicide

10 things I hate about you

Lady Bird

Jennifer’s Body

how to lose a guy in 10 days

American Psycho

A Cinderella Storie

Emma

Watching the detectives

La La Land

Peters to Juliette

Bling Ring

Fight Club

13 going 30

The Notebook

Breakfast at Tiffanys

Sex and the city

Dear John

The breakfast club

Mamma Mia

Monte Carlo

Black Swan

Girl Interrupted

Pearl

If you guys have any more suggestions and/or recommendations (maybe some shows and series as well!!), please feel free to share them with me in the comments!! <33

[boolger]

Never getting rid of me - John Price x reader

Hi sinners, so here are some dark!john price x reader thoughts that got out of hand. Yes, inspired by the song ‘never getting rid of me’, both the musical version but also the more creepy version by Egg on Spotify.

Dead dove don’t eat. Read the tags. Mdni. 18+. Tw creepy ass Price, stalking, kidnapping, non-con and dub-con, forced marriage, forced gender role/stereotypes, non-con punishments, loss of virginity, daddy kink, squirting, just….dont read if you’re looking for a sweet fic w John price. There will also be feet kink and scent kink.

Reader is chubby and described as having a pussy and perceived to be a woman by Price. Whether or not the reader actually is this, is up to you, really. besides that, i did my best to keep the description of reader vague. I apologize for any grammatical errors. English is not my first language and i am ttired

Something something dark! Price who sees you randomly at a coffee shop where you serve him awful tea - but it’s okay, pet, because you are the most beautiful and innocent thing Price has ever seen.

Dark!Price who knows it’s best to be sweet at first as to not scare you away - he can’t lose you this early, you’re perfect for his retirement after all, even though that’s far into the future. So despite the bloody awful tea, Price does his best to be a regular at the shop.

He even walks you home afterwards, you just don’t know it. He doesn’t consider it stalking — no no, he is just making sure you come home safe after your shift! Never know what kind of men are out there after all, besides himself of course.

While you’re at work, he breaks into your house early, going through everything throughout a couple of days. After an hour or two (sometimes three if he is feeling cheeky) he leaves, going to the shop to see you. He has time off before the next mission, what else is he supposed to do?

And is that a diary? Oh my, how convenient for Price, he needs to know his sweetheart's thoughts after all. And boy, does he learn a lot of fun things in that little book of yours

He becomes obsessed with very specific things in the following days — the way you write the letter J and P. The way you organize the fridge, the way your socks and underwear smells - so sweet, so perfect. All you. He liked how you read a lot of romance, how you always drank dr. Pepper every Friday evening. 

Okay, so you might prefer coffee, but don’t worry, Price knows he can fix that! You just need to taste actual tea, good tea, not the dog piss he drinks at the coffee shop almost every day by now.

He pulls a few strings and gets access to all of your electronics and oh isn’t it fun to see what you do on your phone every day, what music he needs to get on CD, because a silly lass like you can’t be trusted to have a phone when you get together in the future, can you? Not at first at least, maybe you can earn back the right with time.

Dark!Price loves seeing what kind of porn you watch. Loves seeing what your search words are, whether it’s kinky or not.

Especially after reading in your diary that you are a virgin! It has him frothing at his mouth, the urge to take you instantly, overwhelmingly strong when he sees the words for the first time.

Of course he always makes sure to put everything back in the exact same spot and way as he found it. Can’t have you stop writing in your sweet diary, it’s his favorite book already!

The first mission he goes on is awful. Sure everything goes smoothly and even though he has installed hidden cameras all over your apartment, it isn’t the same as being there.

Dark!Price who proudly shows you off to his team - the boys need to see who their captain is in love with after all. And he trusts his men, knows that they’re just as fucked up as him — they coo at the sight of you, of the few photos he has dared to take of you while you slept. Not his fault that you live in an apartment that is embarrassingly easy to break into, is it, pet? 

Dark!Price who feels so proud as his men drool over your soft curves, talking about your tits and ass and when Price mentions that you’re untouched, he is pretty sure Soap and Gaz almost come in their pants. Possibly Simon too, Price knows him, but he pretends he isn't as affected by the words - As if Price can’t see the man’s erection in his pants.

He gets everything ready, his little house in the middle of nowhere gets fixed up. He always imagined he would move into the house much later, when he actually retired but he can’t wait that long to have you. He loves the idea of having his missus all ready for him whenever he returns from work. All his. He would never let you go, you would always be his. He would take care of you forever - he already imagined bringing you to his mom, bless her. Old and sick, but you would charm her, he is sure.

Price who asks you out after two months of coming regularly to the coffee shop, putting on his best charming smile - and of course you, his future bride, says yes! All shyly, barely able to look him in the eyes, but there is a jump to your step afterwards and you’re grinning like you won the lottery.

Price, who is the perfect gentleman at the date, he takes you out somewhere nice, pays for everything despite your protests, soaks in all of your attention, who loves every second he spends with you. He is ready to declare his love for you at the end of the night but he knows it’s too early. He doesn’t try to kiss you, doesn’t even imply he wants to get in your knickers, despite his strong urge to do so. No, no need to scare you away.

so imagine Dark! Price’s reaction to seeing your diary entry the day afterwards - you describe him as too sweet, unsure if you’re ready for a relationship - almost upsets him, until the last line. He would probably be a nice person to lose my virginity to. That’s as good as a love confession to him! A bloody proposal almost and despite not having planned to move things along this quickly, well he has to, doesn’t he?

It’s embarrassingly easy to kidnap you together Gaz. He just happens to drive by you on your way home after a long shift, and saying “want a lift, sweetheart?” is all it takes.

Gaz who was hidden in the backseat and the moment the doors closes and locks, he sits up and uses one of those fancy syringes to stab you. Don’t make a fuss, don’t be silly, birdie, it’s all good! Just take a nap, eh? 

Nikolai and the rest of the team are almost finished packing up your things - they’ve been at it all day after all, dark!Price has personally packed the most important parts of your home, like that nice diary of yours, sextoys and underwear and all those nice photo albums you have. Nothing is getting left behind! You need to feel at home at his house after all. The boys almost deserve to have their fun with you at some point in the future.

He is there when you wake up, smiling happily at you, as you groggily take in the basement you’re currently in; See how some of your furniture is down there, the nice green color he painted the walls, how it’s your own lampshade hanging from the ceiling. He lets you take in the wedding dress hanging proudly in front of the wardrobe, the little bathroom not too far from you - the cameras that hang everywhere, not even attempting to be discreet. He has to make sure you’re behaving after all.

Dark!Price who gets incredibly turned on when you realize you’re wearing a metal collar and chained to the wall - the way your eyes widens and how confusion visibly changes into fear. Like a little prey releasing they’re in a trap - and unable to get out.

he is extremely proud over how he doesn’t take you right then and there, despite how much he wants too.

Oh how adorable your attempts at attacking him are! Even though you’re still groggy from those nasty sedatives, you hit his chest and try to claw at him. Screaming and crying, throwing a proper tantrum! He can’t help but laugh as you threaten him. “sure you’ll go to the police, pet” he agrees while he easily catches your fist that was aiming for his nose, “but no I’m not letting you go.”

you scream bloody murder, as if he has done you anything. Ridiculous. But Price patiently (and easily) fights you off all day. Teasing back, pointing out that it’s not that bad down here, trying to explain that the two of you are going to be together forever.

Price who lets you run out of energy that first day, until you’re a sobbing mess - gathering you into his arms, promising you that he is never gonna leave you, that you’re never getting rid of him. Not like all those other people in your life, no don’t worry, princess! Price will be your daddy, he will make sure you have everything you need! You’re not even going to work at that lousy job anymore, pet, don’t worry, he already quit it for you. 

Dark! Price, who is all sweet and gentle as he comforts you, kissing your forehead and temple, muttering about how silly you are - that he understands that you might feel a little overwhelmed - but look at how pretty your wedding dress is, sweetheart! All in the different sizes as well, don’t worry, he has taken your measurements and bra sizes and everything, his missus doesn't have to worry about anything. He saw your Pinterest boards, Gaz and Soap showed him how the website works, and saw all the different dresses you had dreamt of. Isn’t this perfect? Just for you!!

Dark! Price who doesn’t outright admit to having read your diary, breaking in or stalking you, despite all those accusations of yours… no no, he didn’t he just … got ready for the two of you to be together - but of course he knows so much about you sweetheart, he has seen the daddy kink porn you watch regularly, yeah he knows you’re a virgin. No no, he won’t rape you, what’s that all about? No, you’re saving your virginity to marriage, you’re a good girl - the two of you can wait another week, that’s nothing.

and after everything, how nice he has been and how he has sat everything up in the basement you’re still angry with him? Don’t be absurd, sweetheart, you would come around soon - you were going to be his missus after all, what kind of wife would you be if you didn’t want to talk to him?

Something something, he ends up pushing you to the floor, holding your hands down as he takes his time to properly smell you. Your pussy, over your clothes, don’t worry - your armpits. Grabs your ankle and sniffs your foot too. Sweet all over!

dark! Price who loses control of his anger when you throw the entire tray of breakfast that he made for you, at him. The tea is not too hot because of the milk, but still. You made a mess and that isn’t nice. He takes you over his knee for that, slapping your arse and upper thighs sore, leaves you an absolute mess. He apologizes afterwards of course, not really because he feels bad about it, but because you made him do that. He has to make sure you understand that there are consequences for your actions! 

Dark!Price who keeps you downstairs in that little basement of his, while you get your worst fits over with. He expected these, you’re a strong woman after all, you just need to understand that the two of you are meant for each other. Next week the boys will swing by and they’ll be witnesses as the two of you get married - isn’t that grand?

No, the shop won’t be looking for you, bird, don’t worry about that! You already quit immediately - had to move home for a family emergency, but you were very sorry about it. You already terminated your apartment lease too, moved out already! Pesky family emergency again, innit? No no don’t cry pet, Price knows you don’t have any family you’re close with, it’s okay. Nobody is hurt! All is good! You’re just being silly, you don’t know how good all of this will be for you. How you will be a perfect missus!

He will threaten and hurt you all week, but not touch that sweet pussy of yours - grope you? Sure, but nothing more than that. You’re not married yet after all. 

Price who sweetly explains that he knows you love him, even if you can’t say it out loud yet! That’s alright, sweet pet, you will be able to soon!

Dark! Price who happily makes it clear to you that making any kind of fuss at the town hall and they will kill everyone. You won’t have to wear the beautiful dress at the town hall, no, Price got you something much more simple, they don’t deserve to see you at your most beautiful - it will be quick anyways, don’t worry sweetheart. Just sign the papers. No fuss, remember? No protest - look, all the boys dressed up nicely in suits - and look! They’re all armed as well. Would be a bloody shame if you were guilty of getting so many people killed, wouldn’t it?

dark! Price who kisses you for the first time after you sign the papers, who almost wants to lick off the tears rolling down your cheeks as the workers of the town hall coos, thinking you’re crying from happiness. And you are, but you’re also a little overwhelmed, aren’t you, pet? Better get you home again.

dark!price who dresses you up at home, forcing you to swirl in your dress in front of his men, Nikolai and Laswell. All of them ignore your attempts at asking for help and you’re a quick learner - you figure out that they’re not going to help you after a few attempts. You’re his girl, his sweet missus, and you’re handcuffed as you sit on his lap during their dinner at home, being fed all the nicely made dinner from a fancy restaurant. You don’t even throw a fuss as you eat all together, so you’re rewarded with some champagne and wine. Good tasting, aren’t they?

Dark!Price who grins as he sends his guests on their merry way, while you begin to cry again, begging to not be left alone with him - aw, you’re so sweet when you’re getting nervous. Is the wine getting to your head?

Dark! Price who throws you over his shoulder then, not bringing you down to the basement but instead into your new shared bedroom. Laying you down on the bed, taking in the sight of you like this. In your wedding dress, surrounded by rose petals, painted all warm colors by the sunset. Cooing at you as you hiccup and cry and hide your face behind your hands, saying you don’t want to. Don’t worry, he will be nice! All gentle for you, pet, it will feel good!

Dark!Price who cuffs you to the bed, pushing up that nice dress of yours to expose your bottom half. Looking at the pretty lace he forced you into earlier, praising you for how beautiful you look! He kisses your thighs, keeping your legs open with his strong hands, taking his time. Finally the two of you are married. You’re going to be his in every way now! With a ring on your finger, a new name — losing your innocence to your husband.

Dark! Price who eats you, Mrs. Price, out all lovingly, enjoying the sounds that escape you against your will. Loving your taste, loving the way your legs shake, the way you cry as he ducks on your clit. He makes you come on his tongue and then fingers, and you’re perfect! Squirting for him! He is lapping up the sweetness that pours from you! See, he will make it feel good for you. He even frees your hands. 

Dark! Price who shushes your cries as he pushes his fat cock into your hole, ruining your sweet pussy for everybody else; he can feel how wet you are for him, croons at how good your cunt feels. How daddy will take care of you, just breathe. Yeah, just like that, c’mon princess, look down to see how the two of you are connected! He pushes in the last couple of inches the moment you look down, taking in your cry with pride, drowning in pleasure and ownership.

You’re so wet and warm around his big cock, he couldn’t help himself, lass! His perfect wife with a perfect cunt, feels so good - he is going to fill you up, don’t worry, but not until he has made you come again and again.

dark!Price who whispers “i know I know, pet,” as you whimper over how it feels weird, how it hurts because his cock is so big. Who drinks in the sight of you as he licks two fingers before slipping them in between the two of you, gently rubbing at your clit and oh, that feels nice, doesn’t it?

Dark! Price who finally begins to fuck you then - no, he isn’t fucking you, he is making love to you. The first round is all sweet and gentle, he is claiming you, taking his time. Covering you in kisses as he rolls his hips, touching all those soft places of yours. He wants to run his tongue over those stretch marks, wants to fuck his cock in between those two breasts of yours. But for now he fucks you as you deserve, enjoying your little moans and whines that grows stronger and louder, the way your body shakes and the way you grab onto his shoulder and back. How those sweet nails of yours digs into his skin.

Dark! Price who makes you come twice, cooing in your ear about how you wanted it after all, how you’re his wife forever now - before he comes himself, hot cum shooting deep inside of you.

The second round isn’t as gentle in any way - it’s after twenty minutes of holding and kissing you, cuddling you and declaring his love, that he takes you again. He fucks you, properly. He makes the bed rock as he fucks into you, making you scream and trash, before surprising the both of you by squirting again. 

Dark! Price who almost fucks you the entire night - yeah, he might have taken some viagra, but he honestly wouldn’t even have needed it, because you naked in front of him is enough. Wedding dress ripped to shreds, cum all over it and over you. You’re fucked from behind, then in a mating press. You pass out during the last round, much to his amusement! Sweet missus, all tired, eh? That’s okay, the two of you got the rest of your lives together - forever and ever, because you’re never getting rid of Price. Never.

[fayes-fics]

The Secrets We Keep: Pt II

<< Part I

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Knowing someone your whole life doesn’t mean they can’t surprise you… (part II, see above for link to part I)

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, loss of virginity, vaginal fingering, oral sex (m to f), cunnilingus, hand job, vaginal sex, woman on top, orgasm. Also a lot of fluff and a few dashes of angst.

Word Count: 8.5k (13.6k for complete fic, including Pt I)

Authors Note: Part 2 of 2. Part 1 linked above. My longest gestating WIP! It’s been more than 18 months since I received a request for this secret diary fic. Tulip Anon, I have no idea if you still follow me, but I hope you think I did your detailed request justice. Here is the conclusion to this Benepic! Betaed by the awesome @colettebronte, who I can’t thank enough. Enjoy! 🫶

-vii-

The first thing you feel is throbbing pain, an insistent drum in your head, mouth dry as if you have been chewing cotton wool—the instant regret of excessive drinking floods through you. However, when your eyes reluctantly peel open, your predicament escalates.

You have no earthly idea where you are. Or how you got here. The last thing you remember was Benedict kissing you; then the room was literally spinning from entirely too much brandy. 

Still in the dress you wore yesterday, but tucked under crisp white linens. A trace of a familiar scent upon the pillow that you cannot quite place in your fuzzy state. Gingerly sitting up, you try to get your bearings, not yet awake enough to have any reaction beyond puzzlement. 

The room is darkened, thankfully, save for a sliver of the rising sun that slashes across the bed through a narrow gap in the curtains. You are in a large mahogany four-poster bed; the room is decorated in rich jewel tones—heavy velvet burgundy drapes and dark blue Persian rugs, panelled walls on which stunning artwork hangs. Embers glow in a nearby fireplace as you spy your pelisse hanging on the back of a door and your shoes neatly arranged nearby.

Then you twist and see the bedside cabinet, and your stomach plunges.

There, alongside a glass of water, is your notebook. Your secret notebook. The one that should still be concealed within the hidden pocket of your pelisse. But instead, it is here. And what is worse, it is open. Open to a page with one of your favourite sketches of Benedict: his eyes crinkling against the strong rays of the sun, a carefree smile on his face.

Instantly, you grab it and slam it shut. Fingernails drumming urgently on its silken cover, now hugged into your chest. Horrified that your mystery generous benefactor, who must have seen you to bed, has also been privy to your most private thoughts. 

Galvanised by a need to solve the mystery of who, you relinquish your tight hold on the tome. It is then that a folded letter slips out of its pages and drops into your lap. Tentatively, you unfurl the paper and are aghast by the headed notepaper declaring the author and revealing your host. The worst possible person you could think of.

But then your gaze falls to the elegant script inked onto its thick parchment, and your life is indelibly altered.

Dearest Y/n

I hope you are well-rested. There are so many things I am impatient to impart, but I must begin with an explanation and, indeed, an apology.

You are in my bedroom, at my lodgings. I brought you here as I saw no other option that would guarantee your safety and welfare, which is always my utmost concern.  I made pains to ensure your arrival here was not seen, and I must assure you, in case your recall is uncertain, that nothing has happened between us beyond our kiss. 

Now onto my apology, which is two-fold, although I suspect it should contain multitudes more. Firstly, my most sincere and unreserved apologies for my ungentlemanly conduct at our last two encounters. As wondrous as those kisses were, they were nonetheless inexcusable. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive my impulsive actions.

Secondly, I must apologise for my discovery of this, your private diary. My knowledge of its existence is purely accidental; I removed it from your coat merely as a wish for your possessions to be in neat order upon your awakening. My knowledge of its contents, however… for that, I must throw myself at your mercy and beg for your forgiveness. Curiosity and liquor are not the best companions, and it seems both got the better of me. 

In what I hope is partial recompense, I will confess a secret of mine. Arguably selfish in nature and most likely the worst possible timing, too. However, given what I have now seen, I am utterly compelled to convey it….

I love you, y/n.

Most ardently and most truly. 

There is no person in the world I would rather spend time with. Whose thoughts I am always impatient to know and whose every moment I wish to be a part of. For some time now, you have occupied my every thought. 

It is why I felt compelled to act when I heard from Eloise about your impossible situation. I will do anything within my power to assist you. It is why I said that I want to alleviate your burdens. I meant every word and more. My happiness is seemingly inextricably calibrated to yours—when I see you happy, it brings me great joy, and when I see you are not, it brings a pang to my chest I know not what do with. 

I would have taken these feelings to my grave… were it not for this diary. When what I found hidden within ts pages gave me the exquisite burden of hope. Hope that perhaps you return my affections? May indeed have done so for quite some time as well? 

I must also take a moment to compliment your poetic talent, and that is to say nothing of your artistic abilities, which quite frankly are humbling. Dare I dream of a day that we could paint together? Sorry (Again! Multitudes indeed!), I am likely getting far ahead of myself.

I will not be home when you read this. Partial cowardice on my part, no doubt, but born out of utmost respect. You always deserve the right to choose, y/n, and that includes what you do with this confession. I do not wish for you to be obligated to see me or let me know your response, thoroughly eager though I am to hear of it. 

If you wish to speak to me before your wedding ceremony, please leave your hair ribbon tied to my phaeton upon your departure. I will find a way to see you. If you do not, I shall, of course, respect your decision. 

A vila mon coeur, gardi li mo: You will always have my heart; I hope you also choose to be its haven.

Benedict

You could read this confession a thousand times over and still scarcely believe it; the depth of his feelings declared plainly, boldly, and so lyrically in writing. You pour over it once more, giddily aglow, your fingers tracing across his elegant, looped script, your lips moving as you mouth his words, needing to have them within you somehow. Then, you lovingly refold and place the letter between the last two blank pages of your notebook—a more fitting denouement to its contents you could not imagine.

You put on your shoes and pelisse, still floating on a cloud. A valet meets you in the hallway and, with a wordless nod of acknowledgement, leads you out of the rear mews entrance, handing you a large silk scarf to conceal yourself under. With one final glance up at Benedict’s abode, you unfurl the ribbon from your hair and, insides aflutter, tie it in a neat bow onto his phaeton before wrapping the scarf around your head and stealing out onto the streets of Mayfair. 

-viii-

Still in a daze about Benedict’s confession, you slip into the servant's entrance of your family home, tiptoeing through the dormant kitchen and tugging off the scarf. Just as you believe yourself home-free, Mrs White, head cook and ersatz maternal figure, materialises from the pantry, nearly dropping a bag of flour in surprise.

“Lawks alive, sweet child, you gave me a fright!” she exclaims, clutching her chest. “Pray tell, why are you sneaking into my kitchen at the crack of dawn?”

You cringe and turn sheepishly to meet her gaze. “Sorry for the scare, Mrs White. I, um, indulged rather too heavily last night. I was in no fit state to return home. I stayed with a trusted friend.” The truth, albeit behind a veil of obfuscation. “Please do not tell Father!” you add hurriedly.

As she plunks down the flour and smacks her fingers together to rid them of its nascent dust, she chuckles. “I shall not divulge if you do not… for I was already under your father’s employ when I did the same many years ago, the night before I made my Harry an honest man.”

“Deal!” you giggle, clutching your notebook tight to your chest, unable to quash the ebullience fizzing in your being.

“You look as if you caught a rainbow and sold it to the sky,” she declares, crossing her arms and observing you closely. “Wedding day excitement, yes?!” she adds pointedly with a raised eyebrow, even as her tone very much suggests she suspects otherwise. 

“Of course, Mrs White…” you concur, attempting to conceal the quirk of your lip. 

She rolls her eyes and shoos you affectionately towards the hallway. “Away with you! I suspect the less I truly know, the better…”

You say nothing; just give her a nod and race up the servant's stairs, keen to make it to your bedroom unseen. 

As soon as you are safely there, you toe off your shoes and only then relinquish your vice-like grip upon your notebook to hurriedly change into your nightgown as if you had been asleep in the house all night. Enacting a plan you conceived on the brisk walk home, you grab a night bag from your ottoman. Flinging open your wardrobe, patently ignoring the wedding dress hung upon its door, you bundle the notebook with a couple of your favourite outfits and stuff them into the bag. Buckling it shut while you scoot across the room, you open the sash window and  - with a quick check of the garden below - drop the bag into the large rhododendron beneath, hopeful the dense, fragrant blooms will conceal its presence for now.

Just as you are closing the window, a gaggle of ladies descend upon your room, led by your fussing mother, your ladies' maid Rachel among them. Realising she has had to lie to keep your cover since yesterday at the modiste, you silently shoot her a brief look of reassurance.

“Rise and shine, darling!” your mother chimes. “‘Tis your most special day!”

And then everything is a blur as the preparation for your wedding starts in earnest, you still slightly detached from it all, your thoughts purely of Benedict. It is only sometime later that you get a few moments of peace with just Rachel as she puts the finishing touches to your look.

“You seem changed, my lady…” Rachel opines sotto voce, sliding a pin into your hair.

You say nothing, even as your eyes meet in the vanity table mirror, unwilling to confess details of what has transpired just yet. Unsure yourself even what it could mean until you get the chance to see Benedict yourself, your stomach in knots to do so.

“I told your family you took dinner alone last night in your room after returning from the modiste, and then you went to sleep…” she whispers, leaning in even though you are alone.

“Thank you. I am truly grateful,” you offer sincerely before adding: “I will tell you more when I am able. I do beg one more favour of you…?”

She makes eye contact again in your reflection, giving a brief tentative nod after a pause.

“If you should hear from a Bridgerton valet, please follow any directions he provides,” you implore, the image of your hair ribbon fluttering gently in the breeze emblazoned in your mind.

“A valet? Not a ladies’ maid?” she checks softly, frowning.

“Yes, just please… do as he asks?”

“Yes, my lady,” she demures before reaching for your jewellery.

It is only as the carriage you and your mother ride in shudders over the cobblestones towards St George’s church an hour or so later that reality comes crashing in. 

So engrossed in thoughts of seeing Benedict all morning, you had almost forgotten the dreadful fate that likely awaits you. A sudden spike of fear that he will not turn up, that something will prevent him from seeing you, or, heaven forfend, today’s stiff breeze has blown your hair ribbon asunder. 

All at once, your head is spinning, your dress feels too tight, and there is a plunging dread in the pit of your stomach, your skin prickling hard before your vision seems to swim with dots before narrowing to blackness…

“Y/n!? Whatever is the matter?!” your mother’s alarmed voice rings out as you woozily return.

You are slumped sideways against the glass window, its cool surface a balm on your suddenly fevered temple.

“Is it what I told you about your wedding night…?!” she frets, her laced glove tickling your forehead as she appears to be checking your temperature. “I can assure you, you will get used to it…”

You bat her away and slowly sit upright, taking a calming breath while also trying to blot out the memory of her talk about marital relations right before you left the house. Not able to confess it as unnecessary without raising suspicion, you had to endure a stumbling, unhelpful explanation of things you already know. Indeed, you have witnessed at Granville’s parties, even if you have not taken part yourself. 

But then the sudden thought of being required to do such with Lord Farringdon has you grasping the curtain, your empty stomach heaving at the mere prospect. The silent hope that Benedict can assist you at the eleventh hour is the only thing that stops you from passing out anew.

With a shaky gait and a queasy, oily feeling, you alight a few moments later, your mother lending an arm of support as your father and brothers pile out of the other carriage. This is to be the entirety of your wedding guest list. You have pulled into a side courtyard of the church, concealed behind high walls, away from the inquisitive sights of the Ton. The rushed nature of the union and Whistledown’s latest means your family has no wish for this to be a public event, keen to be rid of scandal. Only your immediate family, your husband-to-be and the vicar - a friend of your father’s - know of today’s ceremony. Well, and Benedict. You did not even get the chance to inform Eloise of this expedited schedule.

As he leads you up the stairs and into the side vestibule, your father informs you that Lord Farringdon is already awaiting you at that altar and that he will appreciate a swift ceremony. You swallow thickly and nod mutely, sensing the window of opportunity creaking closed with alarming alacrity, each incessant tick of the church clock seeming like both forever and not enough time, scrabbling for any chance to stall.

Just as you are about to lose all sense of hope, you see movement over your father's shoulder that has your heart leaping into your throat. There, through a mullioned window, you see the distorted outline of a phaeton swiftly pulling up on the other side of the church from where you entered, a palpable wave of relief and excitement washing over you. 

Benedict has come!

-ix-

“Father, may I please have a moment alone?” you rush out breathlessly, pulse-pounding hard in your ears. Hoping he will interpret your request as mere nervousness about the imminent ceremony, you add: “Before I must take this big step and become a wife?”

He reluctantly grants your wishes, brusquely telling you it should be brief before following the rest of your family through the doors into the nave. 

As soon as the coast is clear, you are darting out the entrance again and running around the outside of the church, wedding dress swishing around your legs, until you skid to a halt next to a pillar that conceals you from the street.

There, before you, arrestingly beautiful and jumping athletically down to the pavement, is Benedict—a vision in a blue velvet jacket and teal cravat. 

Your eyes meet, and your knees want to buckle; such is the magnitude of the moment. He bounds up the granite steps and crushes his lips to yours briefly.

“No time to talk,” he rushes out. “If you wish to escape, take my hand, for we must depart now!”

Your heart hammers as you do the only thing you could ever want to: grab tightly onto his proffered hand as his face breaks out into the most arresting smile. Then it's a blur as he whisks you down the steps to his phaeton, hoisting you up onto its leather bench and throwing a blanket into your lap, then clambering in himself. With a shake of the reins, you lurch and take off down an alleyway at a rapid pace. The velocity of motion, red bricks of buildings whizzing by mere feet away, has you momentarily stunned and so you almost jump out of your skin when he speaks loudly over the rushing noise.

“Cover yourself before we get to the street,” Benedict advises quick-fire, only taking his attention off the road briefly to nod to the blanket. Just as you are struggling to conceal yourself, the horses careen onto Park Lane, attracting attention for the speed you are already travelling.

“Benedict!” you chastise, your arm shooting out to grab the side of the partial umbrella-like hood that arches over you, having to cling on for dear life. “This is not exactly a stealthy escape!”

“I know,” he grimaces, not looking at you, “but we must make haste and be as far away as we can as soon as possible.”

“Regardless of destination, we will need to stop at my house!” you almost have to yell to be heard over the jostling wheels on either side of you.

“Why??” His whole face screwed up in disbelief.

“I must gather some things! I will not leave without them, Benedict!!” you warn.

“What could possibly be worth stopping for?” he decries, the whole vehicle swaying violently as he rounds another bend.

“Perchance, other clothing?!” you wither loudly, frowning that he had not considered such, before adding: “And your letter!?” 

His head whips around to look at you and there is an intensity in his gaze that has your heart stuttering. An all-consuming want to kiss his lips as his gaze falls to your mouth. Only the urgent yelp of a pedestrian you narrowly avoid colliding into rips your attention away from each other. 

He rights the phaeton, tugging the reins so the horses slow.

“Alright,” he concedes, quieter, calmer. “But please do be as quick as you are able…”

You don't get the chance to inform him you have already packed and stowed a bag because he is pulling up in the quiet mews behind your family home. You jump down and take off, sprinting through the small gate and across the lawn. Soon, you are diving into the large bushes on the side of the house beneath your bedroom window. Fumbling around, you have to wrestle your dress from a branch before you reach the wall. Emitting a muted noise of victory as you are finally able to grab your bag and out of the foliage without looking.

“Miss y/l/n!?”

You jump out of your skin, spinning to see Mrs White standing at a nearby door, wielding a rolling pin.

“Mrs White, please,” you beseech, “please, do not tell anyone!” 

She takes stock of you: your animated state, your wedding dress torn over your knee where it snagged upon that branch, a night bag grasped in your ringless left hand… and she appears to make a calculated decision.

“I fear I could not, my child,” she offers with a shrug, “I do not see anyone for me to tell of…” 

The small, sympathetic nod and smile toying her lips has you barreling towards her, throwing your free arm tight around her as flour dust puffs onto the silk of your dress. You utter your thanks, flooded with gratitude, hugging her close before disentangling, you take off sprinting before she can say anymore.

-x-

As you depart from your family home, a companionable silence settles between you—a tacit understanding that there is much to discuss, but the journey is not the ideal place to do so. Both resolute to put some miles between yourselves and your family, likely now emerging from the church and wondering where on earth you are. A flare of guilt in your belly for not informing Rachel or even your mother. You resolve to send word tomorrow that you are safe without providing details.

As the edges of London give way to the countryside, you do decide to ask one simple question. 

“Where are we headed, Benedict?”

“I have a suggested destination….” he begins enigmatically, an odd cadence to his voice, “but we will discuss that later, once we stop for the night at an inn.”

There is a little flutter behind your ribs at the thought, but it is forgotten as a strong gust of wind whistles over the carriage, making you shiver and burrow into the blanket, wishing you had grabbed your pelisse from the night bag before setting off.

You startle as Benedict pulls you snugly into his side, adjusting the carriage hood and then the blanket, too, so he provides partial shelter from the winds as they whip across the fields. 

“I am sorry I do not have an enclosed carriage for you to journey in comfort,” he winces, his speech humming into you. “But it is best we use this speedier option anyway. We will cover more ground swiftly travelling light.”

You nod in acknowledgement. “Thank you for the blanket, at least; it is very considerate,” you respond, not unpleased to have an excuse to cuddle into him as you reassure him: “I am well now.”

Indeed, the warmth of his flank on yours and the steady rocking motion of the carriage is soporific, the whirlwind of the day hitting you even though it is merely lunchtime.

“Please rest if you need to,” he intuits, “I will wake you if needed.”

And despite the elements, you find the lure of sleep inevitable.

A warm wetness on your brow stirs you.

“Y/n…”

You wish you could always be roused like this; your name a soft rumble from Benedict’s lips as they trace gently over your forehead. You nuzzle unthinkingly into the sound and feel, which has him chuckling into your skin.

“We are here, at the inn….” he murmurs, his breath hot into your hairline.

You blink awake. “We are?!’” You twist to see you are stopped alongside an elegant Tudor wood building. “How long have I been asleep?!”

“All afternoon,” he admits, a touch sheepish. “You looked so peaceful and I assume you must need the rest after a tumultuous few days.”

His touching manner has a warmth spreading behind your ribs that makes you push up and land a kiss on his jaw.

“Thank you,” you whisper, pulling away but pleased to see a dot of colour high on his cheekbones.

“‘Tis nothing,” he demures before changing the topic. “I am sure you are hungry and in need of refreshments. So we shall dine and remain here for the night. We have covered a considerable distance from London already—around forty miles.” He jumps down and stands expectantly holding out a hand for you to follow suit as he continues speaking. “To avoid attention, we should present ourselves as family relations—cousins, perhaps?” 

“I am in a wedding dress,” you remind as you wrestle your way out of the blanket and reach for him to descend.

His Adam’s apple bobs as he scans down your form, lingering slightly.

“Oh yes. Well. Umm. Perchance as husband and wife then?” he flusters as you step down with his assistance.

“Would that not draw the attention you mentioned we should avoid?” you murmur, your hands still joined even though you are on the ground now.

“Do you have another suggestion?” he queries, his breath warm on your face as you stand entirely too close, fingers flexing around yours.

“Unless you wish me to remove my dress out here…” you goad, a little crest of victory as his pupils rapidly dilate and he huffs a breath, “...then I do not.”

“We have much to discuss,” he almost growls, which stokes something low in your belly as he tugs you along towards the entrance, only stopping to nod briefly to the inn’s groomsman who emerges to take care of your horses.

-xi-

The tavern at the inn is a warm, convivial space, wood-panelled, the smell of delicious foods wafting in the air alongside the tannin of wine and the ferrous tang of dark beer as crowds of people of all walks of life gather. Benedict sees you into a corner booth away from other patrons as he orders food, then goes to secure your accommodation for the night.

As he returns, passing you a glass of wine, there is a nervous churning in your gut; this is the first opportunity you have had to talk properly since you awoke to his life-changing letter.

“I have no idea where to begin,” he confesses, looking perplexed, and it makes you reach out in reassurance over the table, pulse strong in his raised veins under your fingertips.

“Your letter was the single most wondrous thing I have ever received,” you offer honestly, his eyes softening, making your heart flutter. “Benedict,” you take a steadying breath before ploughing on with the truth you have never spoken aloud before, “I have loved you for as long as I can remember…”

His face lights up, and his hand turns under yours, your palms touching as he laces your fingers together in a tight knot, then brings your joined fists to his lips, kissing your knuckles gently. 

“Why did you never tell me?” He entreats softly.

“Why did you never tell me?” You return lightning quick, a quirk on your lips that has him chuckling.

“An entirely fair accusation,” he concedes, shuffling closer and grabbing your other hand, your heads so close together now. “I suppose I thought my feelings irrelevant, futile even, that you would secure a titled husband. Though why your father chose such a vile one confounds me, I must confess.”

“I believe that a chastisement,” you commence but are interrupted by food arriving at your table. 

So, as you eat, you explain the whole story between mouthfuls. That you were able to delay your debut last season in your father’s absence, but it meant this season, he was determined to see you matched swiftly. Recounting fondly your time spent with your Aunt Eliza, Benedict appearing impressed as you reel off all the skills you now possess. You also talk in detail about how her encouragement meant you fell into the London art scene and how you know Henry Granville. Benedict listens intently, taking bites of his dinner, but his attention never wavers from you as you recount everything. 

“So yes, I believe the match was about my father’s wish to quash a perceived rebellion more than a match society might deem appropriate for the firstborn daughter of a Viscount.” 

“An untitled second son, even less so,” Benedict muses softly, downcasting his eyes, a flare of insecurity that has you putting down your cutlery and grabbing his jaw.

“Benedict, please do not,” you petition, rubbing a thumb over his cheek. “You know me. You know that I have never cared what society might think! If I were to marry, I would only ever want it to be a love match. I would not give a damn if my husband were a penniless beggar as long as he loves and respects me.” 

You pause as he raises his soulful gaze to yours, your faces so close.

“Luckily for me, the man who stole my heart fifteen years ago is neither penniless nor a beggar. He is a wonderful, caring, handsome, passionate artist who I would indeed be lucky to paint next to,” you conclude with reference to a line in his letter, a scene you can picture so clearly it seems more premonition than a dream.

“Fifteen years?” he repeats, a look of utter wonderment as he turns his lips aside to kiss your palm where you still cup his face. You nod, a little nostalgic smile tugging at your lips as he adds: “Then I must confess… I have never been more grateful for my incessant curiosity; it led me to your diary and thus to this very moment.”

He takes your hands from his jaw, then kisses both of your knuckles again in turn, but this time, he lingers, his lips warm, damp and pursed open, and a trace of his tongue dabs your protruding bone. A shiver runs down your spine, stoking something acute, dangerous and exhilarating.

“Do you know I have kept that notebook hidden since I was fourteen? Sewing a secret pocket into all of my coats or hiding it under floorboards so it would never be found. For six years. Yet it took you less than one evening…” 

“Maybe it was waiting to reveal itself to the one person who needed to see it the most…” he muses between kisses, his breath gusting hot over your fingers. 

That seismic but simple poetic sentence devastates your ability or wish to talk anymore—a thronging need for him that you are powerless to resist any longer.

“Take me to our room, Benedict,” you command, voice tremulant with want and hope. 

His head shoots up, his face a captivating tapestry of barely bridled passion and astonishment.

“But I-I booked us separate rooms,” he stumbles, confounded, and that gentlemanly act just makes you want him all the more.

Uncaring that you are sitting in a wedding dress in a public tavern, you pitch forward and capture his lips in a kiss that instantly becomes passionate and demanding, your hand running into his hair and tugging him closer.

“You should return the key and request your money back, for that will not be necessary…” you decree, breathing the words into his mouth.

That seems to light a fire in him. He shoves back the table and sweeps you into his arms bridal style, striding out of the room purposefully, his mouth hot on yours, your pounding heartbeat almost drowning out the bawdy, raucous cheers from the drunken patrons you pass.

-xii-

Once the room door clicks closed behind you, his demeanour softens. He gently removes your shoes before setting your stockinged feet down on a plush rug in front of a roaring fire. He tugs his jacket off so he stands before you in a colourful waistcoat and ruffled shirt.

“Are you certain?” His ask is chivalrous, tinged with such delicate hope it makes you melt.

“I have never been more certain of anything in my entire life,” you declare candidly, boldly stepping towards him.

His hands encircle your waist as yours slide up his biceps, the warmth of his skin through the crisp white fabric making your blood run warm. 

“I may be chaste, but I know of what we are to do; I have been at Granville’s, remember. I also know that I want this. So very much.”

“I am the luckiest man…” he asserts in a low rumble, your honesty seeming to ignite him again as he crowds into you.

It’s an electrifying kiss that has your scalp tingling: his hands moulded to you, mapping your every curve as you take from each other as you never have before, desperation bubbling over with each parry of tongues. His fingers land on the buttons of your dress, between your shoulder blades, silently asking permission.

“Rip it off me,” you urge impulsively, chest heaving within your stays. “I want you to destroy this very dress and everything it represents….”

His responding growl inflames your core, molten liquid heat as his large hands grab the material and tear it asunder from your body so you stand before him, trembling with desire in just your stays and chemise.

He guides your fingers to his waistcoat, the crackle of the fire and the huff of his breaths the only sound in the room. His chest rises and falls steadily as you work on each button. When you reach the last one, he shucks the garment from his torso, then crosses his arms and discards his shirt in one swift motion, sailing away in a puffed arch. The broad expanse of smooth chest before you has you tongue-tied. A lean musculature and pale complexion reminiscent of Italian renaissance sculpture… but living, breathing and looking at you as if you are the most precious thing on earth. 

Long arms wrap around you, enveloping you in his warmth, fingers spidering up the notches of your spine through the thin cotton of your chemise until they reach your stays and pluck upon the laces there. He unties them slowly as his lips trail hotly down your throat. You have observed forms of intimacy but didn't expect the firsthand experience to be so rich, so all-consuming. The sights, the sensations, the scents. Like the tangy undernotes lurking beneath his woody cologne, an aroma that is all him, his bare skin. It makes your mouth water and lean into him; a want to be a part of him almost—so much heat and touch.

As your loosened stays drop to the floor behind you, a clawing need for his flesh on yours has you rapidly discarding your chemise over your head, naked now save your stockings. But before he has the chance to see, you propel yourself into him again, his solid chest colliding with your breasts, your peaked nipples trapped against his warmth. A loud groan from his lips that you swallow as you push up onto tiptoes and wrap your arms around his strong neck, kissing him ferociously. His grip slides down to grasp your bottom, pulling you into him, something rigid pressing your stomach through the refined wool of his trousers. 

“Let me look at you,” he pleads, withdrawing a half step, his eyes sweeping covetously down your body as you feel aglow in the heat of the adjacent fire. “You are so beautiful,” he attests shakily, an insistent throbbing between your legs that is all of his making, so close without any stimulation.

“Touch me, Benedict.” 

It’s equal parts order and request, grabbing his wrist and guiding it low over your belly. His elegant fingertips curl through the patch of hair before swiping between your legs, dilated pupils boring into yours as you emit a wanton moan, knees almost buckling. A strong arm wraps around you to keep you steady as he observes you up close, repeating the motion, parting your folds this time, you honeying upon his fingertips as he glances over your swollen clit. 

You whimper his name, and he claims your lips again, sliding the pad of his fingers over that spot over and over. Fingernails digging into his arm at his expert touch, the air swirling with the wet sound and scent of your arousal.

“You smell so utterly divine,” he groans, pitching forward and almost biting your bottom lip in a toothful, desperate meeting, your moans echoing over his tongue. “I need to taste you,” he stutters.

You have to shoot out an arm to grasp the mantlepiece as he suddenly drops to his knees before you and buries his face into your mound, inhaling deeply, his nose pressed onto your clitoral hood. He is so primal in his desperation as he lifts one of your legs and places it over his shoulder, diving into your folds, his tongue a wet, hot spear over your swollen nub. Your other hand burrows into his thick head of hair, scratching along his scalp as he hums his approval into your damp heat, the vibration causing sparks of pleasure to fan out.

It takes what little shred of concentration you have left to stay upright, clinging to the fireplace and him, rocketing skyward so dizzyingly fast, slack-jawed, breathless, rooted in your body as you gawk down at him. You had no idea this would be so intense, so carnal. His stare is fixated upwards on you, reading your reactions like a book, his glazed jaw moving with expert precision buried between your legs—an intoxicating sight that burns into your retinas.

“I need you to come for me, y/n,” he begs hotly into your soaked flesh, his tongue a muscular swipe greater than his fingers, his fingers plucking the ribbons holding your stockings loose so they slide down to your feet.

“I want to do so with you…” you gasp, unable to prevent whatever forms in your mouth from slipping out, leaking profusely onto his chin.

“You will; I promise,” his gravelly assurance, the permission you need to let go, riding his tongue with abandon, your body undulating, chasing that ephemeral high you have only experienced from your own touch before. But this is so much more, so wholly other, magnitudes indeed, the words from his letter never far from your thoughts even as you spiral somewhere close to bliss. His gaze locked onto you, able to read all your signs: skin flushed, ragged pants, shuddering with each quest of his tongue.

And then he gently bites your clit, and you are gone, his hands needing to clamp onto your hips to hold you upright as your body convulses. You cry out, sagging onto him as your body races with a high that fizzes in every cell, radiating in waves of pleasure that have you calling out, uncaring who may hear, incapable of anything but clinging to his hair for dear life and scrunching your toes into the thick wool rug underfoot.

You know you utter a curse, entirely overpowered by the euphoria coursing through you as he stands back up and pulls you into his arms, kissing your cheek chastely, the scent of you strong on his face. But as you come back to yourself, renewed passion stokes in you, determination to give as good as you have been given, a drive for mutual pleasure that has you shoving him backwards forcefully.

He falls back onto the bed, a look of total surprise claiming his face as you crowd over him, laying prone, attacking his trouser buttons with a vigour that has him stunned, his mouth agape. But he doesn't move to stop you, far from it. There is a flash in his eye as you grab his hands and cage them onto the sheets briefly before returning to attack his clothing. Wordlessly, he lifts his pelvis when you tap his hipbone, and then you are tugging his trousers down and off, flinging them across the room.

You are momentarily taken aback when you look down and realise he is without underwear, now as naked as you. His cock, nestled in a small patch of hair, is larger than you have seen before, tinged dark pink and leaking from the tip. It looks so good you bite your lip, a twinge deep inside that is pure want. 

His moan is beautiful as you take him in hand. He is hot and steely in your grip as you move your hand up and down, learning his contours, fascinated by the contrast of how silky his skin is.

“I am so glad you have seen things you should not have,” he groans, squirming delightfully, so very responsive to your touch. It makes you greedy always to have him like this, yearning for you as much as you do him, stuttering your name as you change your grip and move a little faster.

“Please stop…” he grits out, his hand covering yours and slowing your motions, but you can tell it is utterly reluctant. “I am too close, my love…”

That reflexive term of endearment makes something melt behind your ribs, and you crawl up over him as you release his cock, claiming his lips in a kiss, his hands encircling your waist, pulling you down so that his cock is trapped under your pubic bone.

“I love you,” you breathe quietly over his lips, holding his face, wanting to convey the depth of feelings you have for this man.

“I love you too, y/n,” he replies earnestly, his eyes glassy, a cloud of emotion claiming his expression as his hands cup your jaw as well, a profound moment of heartfelt sincerity amid this tableau of fevered physicality.

“May I?” 

Your ask is hesitant as you rearrange, sliding your legs up either side of his hips, signalling your wish to ride him, a need to be the one to give your virginity to him more than him to take it. Something achingly significant in the ability to choose.

He nods a reassuring and spellbound look, and a beguiling hitch in his throat as his tip brushes your entrance.

“It may hurt a little, my love,” he advises, wincing as if wishing that was not the case for you.

“I know,” you murmur back, grabbing his hands to aid you in sitting up so you have more range of motion. 

And then, with a steadying breath, you lower yourself onto him, mouth falling open at the invasive stretch with barely a fraction of him inside you. His face is a kaleidoscope of everything you hope for him—joy and bliss. Your fingers grasp tight around his knuckles, your joined hands a knotted fist, as you feel a pinch of pain that makes you suck air through your teeth, knowing this is the moment you become a woman. So glad it is with him, the categorical love of your life.

Luckily, the ache is fleeting, and you sink lower, him moaning your name lyrically, you puffing a breath at the complete fullness. A pressure holding you open that is so galvanic you now understand the hedonism of what you have previously witnessed—the drive to satisfy an urge that is innate and potent.  

“Oh my god, Benedict,” you stutter, as finally he is fully seated within your body, clinging to him, held open in the most arresting way.

“I know, my love, I know…” he soothes, untangling your hands to touch your skin, running his palms reverentially down your body. “You are amazing, a wonder…” 

“Guide me…?”

He smiles and whispers gentle instructions for you to push up with your thighs and then sink back down, his hands now clamped around your waist to assist you. The sensation is indescribable, the drag of his cock against your walls as you slowly ascend and descend, trying to catalogue every second as a precious memory.

Your speed increases as you get used to the physicality of movement, a cloying, dewy heat spreading over both your bodies as you move in unison. He starts to tilt his hips off the bed to assist in your strokes, pushing to a new depth that catches your breath and has you muttering a curse, your hands scrabbling his abdomen, enjoying the flex of muscles there. His grip moves to your breasts, teasing your nipples in a way that has you gasping and riding harder. His fingers snagging on your sensitive buds is a beeline zipping to your engorged clit, that mashes into his body with every downward stroke you take. Still on a high from your last orgasm, it won't take much more for you to come again; this time, you hope in tandem.

His movements become more urgent, his noises louder, his touch firmer, squeezing you, bucking up with force now, making you moan with each new plunge onto him, as if he craves to leave an imprint of himself inside you.

“Are you close, my love?” you query, borrowing his term of endearment. It has his screwed-shut eyes flying open, his hands flexing on your hips, and a ripple up his rigid cock you can actually feel.

“Yesssss,” he hisses back, “please call me that again,” he entreats through clenched teeth, a prominent vein in his neck pulsing hard as his whole being seems to tense.

“My love,” you coo, treating it like a gift to bestow, addicted already to the effect it has on him, his fingers digging into your flesh in a way that will leave marks you will be proud to wear.

You move faster now, the sturdy bed squeaking in protest, the sound of your damp skin slapping together, taking even yourself by surprise at how visceral this is, especially for a first time. Expecting it to be less somehow and enraptured that instead, it is better, burning brighter than anything you have ever fantasised of—skin and sweat, muscle and bone, heart and body in rhapsody. 

One of his hands squirrels between your legs, fingertips hooking against your clit, and within seconds, you are breaking. Your vision whiting out as you slam onto him, your pussy clenching in waves, his cock almost too much as you float somewhere that is both within you and a thousand miles above. Dimly, you sense his nails scrape your flesh as he calls out your name, loudly, debauched, wrecked, a strong pulse through his length as he shudders then goes entirely still, a warmth blooming deep inside your channel that is his seed, something about it so very primaeval. 

You slump inelegantly onto his chest, huffing breaths, altered fundamentally by this magical experience. His touch is soothing, encouraging to lay upon him as he softens within you, eventually slipping out as you lay nuzzled together, exchanging soft words of sated joy—a sudden tide of fatigue lapping your edges. Fuzzily, you feel Benedict chuckle under you and, with hushed, tender words, rearrange your pliant body, rolling you onto your side and curling protectively around you, a warming presence that has sleep seizing you almost immediately.

Awakening the following morning in Benedict’s arms is sublime, his stubbled lips grazing your neck as he rolls you under his warm weight. Just as your body stirs under his sensual kisses, he stops and sighs, dropping his forehead onto your clavicle.

“I wish to spend a lifetime right here, entwined naked with you, my love, but alas, I must desist,” he laments softly. “We need to get moving…”

“You never did say your planned destination,” you point out, running your fingers into his lush hair as he tilts his handsome face up to meet your gaze.

“Did I not?” He lilts, feigning ignorance. “I blame you entirely; your beauty is far too distracting..” Flattery falling from his lips reflexively. “Well, anyway, we must make haste if we are to reach Scotland by Friday as I have planned.”

“Scotland?” you echo breathlessly. “That is so far! Why there?”

“Gretna Green, my love,” his eyes sparkling as he hovers over you, entwining the fingers of your left hands together, his thumb brushing your ring finger. “I hope you are amenable to my proposal...”

And your heart veritably explodes.

-xiii-

The journey is long but worth it. Your wedding, five days later, over the border in Scotland, is everything you could hope for—a beautiful, romantic, private moment for just the two of you, promising your lives to each other in secret. Something thrillingly illicit about its location, too, the place to which all forbidden lovers escape. You do not wear a wedding dress, just a simple light blue chiffon one you had thrown into your night bag, always a favourite since Benedict once complimented you in it. He wears a cravat in the same colour. Exchanging matching wedding bands engraved inside with the same phrase Benedict signed off his love confession with: A vila mon coeur, gardi li mo (Here is my heart, guard it well).

You are happily ensconced in his idyllic Wiltshire cottage by the time family reactions to your elopement reach you almost two weeks later. The Bridgertons are supportive if a little shocked; the dowager Viscountess is always enamoured with a dramatic love story. Your family is less so, but they cannot deny a match with a Bridgerton is no bad thing, even if it was fleeting gossip fodder. You hear from your mother that Lord Farringdon did not demand compensation for your abscondment from the altar. Apparently, you were not the first to do so. Rumour has it that the odious man is negotiating a marriage deal with the Cowpers for their wayward daughter. It may be the first time you have felt a pang of sympathy for Cressida. 

Mostly, you are grateful that the more scandalous truth surrounding your union - Benedict stealing you away on your wedding day - never becomes public knowledge. Every couple must keep some secrets from the world, no? 

Although, a couple of weeks later, on a leisurely Sunday morning, you discover your marriage can no longer be considered as such.

“Darling, you might want to see this…” Benedict drawls casually, wandering into the bathroom as you luxuriate in warm water. 

He drops the latest issue of Lady Whistledown onto a nearby stool as he tugs off his shirt, apparently planning to join you in your bath. Your mouth falls open in shock as you grab the pamphlet. But it is not from his naked form as his trousers hit the floor; it's from what you read:

Lastly, this author may have to eat her hat. News has reached me that Mr Benedict Bridgerton had indeed done the almost unthinkable and married the spirited Miss Y/n Y/l/n. They exchanged vows in a quiet ceremony far from the prying eyes of the Ton and will now settle in Wiltshire, I hear. 

“How did she find out?” you ponder aloud as he slides into the tub behind you. Surely Whistledown must be close to the Bridgertons to discover as such?

“I have not a clue. But perhaps I should send her some honey from our hives to make her headwear more digestible?” he jests, interrupting your reading by pulling you backwards into his arms. 

“Mr Bridgerton!” you chastise playfully, holding the paper aloft to save it from the sloshing he creates as he surrounds you, laughing carefree, so much delightfully naked skin around yours.

“Are you done reading Mrs Bridgerton?” His tone changes to a husky murmur in your ear, his fingers trailing distractingly upwards over your ribs under the water.

“You just brought this to me, husband,” you riposte pointedly, but your argument dies off into a wanton noise as his hands slide up and cup your breasts, his thumbs circling your nipples expertly. You abandon any attempt to focus on the page, tossing the paper aside and twisting to capture his lips with yours.

Upon the floor, as water splashes onto the wood nearby, the last few sentences you missed glow in a shaft of sunlight:

Congratulations on the latest Bridgerton love match, and I wish them a lifetime of happiness. As I am certain, do all of you. 

What secrets will I unearth next, dear readers? Even I do not yet know. But I look forward to it. Don’t you?

Yours sincerely,

Lady Whistledown

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[thyme-in-a-bubble]

a list of some autumnal movies/series 🍂

i am nothing if not an organised little goblin who can not stop themself from making a good list. this is just in case you want something with that fall vibe but can't think of any. just close your eyes and point somewhere on this little list, or even put the numbers in a generator and go with whatever the result is ♡

winter | spring | summer

🥧 ‧₊˚ ⋅ movies ⋅˚₊‧

nosferatu (1922) 

sabrina (1954)

the creature from the black lagoon (1954)

psycho (1960)

rosemary’s baby (1968)

the rocky horror picture show (1975)

halloween franchise (1978-)

friday the 13th franchise (1980-)

an american werewolf in london (1981)

dark crystal (1982)

a nightmare on elm street (1984)

ghostbusters (1984-)

ronja rövardotter (1984)

clue (1985)

princess bride (1987)

the witches of eastwick (1987)

elvira mistress of the dark (1988)

dead poets society (1989)

when harry met sally (1989)

ghost (1990)

the witches (1990)

death becomes her (1992)

hocus pocus (1993)

addams family values (1993)

interview with a vampie (1994)

the craft (1996)

the first wifes club (1996)

the scream franchise (1996-)

halloweentown (1998)

practical magic (1998)

you’ve got mail (1998)

the blair witch project (1999)

sleepy hollow (1999)

chocolat (2000)

amelie (2001)

the lord of the rings franchise (2001-2003)

scooby doo (2002)

school of rock (2003)

mona lisa smile (2003)

peter pan (2003)

pirates of the caribbean franchise (2003-2017)

north & south (2004)

pride and prejudice (2005)

the descent (2005)

just like heaven (2005)

the devil wears prada (2006)

the lake house (2006)

penelope (2006)

el orfanato (2007)

juno (2007)

ratatouille (2007)

bridge to terabithia (2007)

the edge of love (2008)

twilight (2008)

the curious case of benjamin button (2008)

julie & julia (2009)

jennifer’s body (2009)

dorian gray (2009)

coraline (2009)

true grit (2010)

the cabin in the woods (2011)

jane eyre (2011)

wuthering heights (2011)

perks of being a wallflower (2012)

the odd life of timothy green (2012)

hotel transylvania (2012-)

the conjuring franchise (2013-)

what we do in the shadows (2014)

the riot club (2014)

as above so below (2014)

john wick (2014-)

the age of adaline (2015)

the witch (2015)

far from the madding crowd (2015)

the edge of seventeen (2016)

paterson (2016)

20th century woman (2016)

the love witch (2016)

mary shelly (2017)

murder on the orient express (2017)

get out (2017)

a quiet place (2018 + 2020)

the guernsey literary and potato peel pie society (2018)

on the basis of sex (2018)

knives out (2019)

ready or not (2019)

the lighthouse (2019)

little women (2019)

the gentlemen (2019)

emma (2020)

ammonite (2020)

the dig (2021)

fear street trilogy (2021)

good luck to you, leo grande (2022)

the batman (2022)

fresh (2022)

bodies bodies bodies (2022)

mr malcom's list (2022)

totally killer (2023)

slay (2024)

🧦 ‧₊˚ ⋅ series ⋅˚₊‧

moomin (1990-1992)

twin peaks (1990-1991)

x files (1993-2018)

buffy the vampire slayer (1997-2003)

gilmore girls (2000-2007)

supernatural (2005-2020)

criminal minds (2005-2020, 2022-)

vampire diaries (2009-2017) / the originals (2013-2018) / legacies (2018-2022)

downton abbey (2010-2015)

the walking dead (2010-2022)

once upon a time (2011-2018)

american horror story (2011-)

teen wolf (2011-2017)

peaky blinders (2013-2022)

outlander (2014-)

how to get away with murder (2014-2020)

the magicians (2015-2020)

izombie (2015-2019)

poldark (2015-2019)

critical role (2015-)

stranger things (2016-)

ghost files / buzzfeed unsolved (2016-)

lucifer (2016-2021)

shadowhunters (2016-2019)

anne with an e (2017-2019)

the good fight (2017-2022)

riverdale (2017-2023)

manifest (2018-2023)

killing eve (2018-2022)

succession (2018-2023)

you (2018-)

a discovery of witches (2018-2022)

the chilling adventures of sabrina (2018-2020)

dickinson (2019-2021)

virgin river (2019-)

carnival row (2019-2023)

the witcher (2019-)

the umbrella academy (2019-2024)

sanditon (2019-2023)

the haunting of bly manor (2020)

i’ll be gone in the dark (2020)

queens gambit (2020)

the great (2020-2023)

shadow and bone (2021-2023)

the nevers (2021-2023)

wednesday (2022-)

interview with the vampire (2022-)

vikings valhalla (2022-2024)

lessons in chemistry (2023)

my lady jane (2024-)

[thatoneluckybee]

Tumblr users who DON'T read Cursed Princess Club/CPC...

These looks fun and I am bored I will reveal the answer when the poll ends!

[charlottecutepie]

☥ Bunny meat (William Afton x fem!reader x Michael Afton)

Summary: He was a likeable middle-aged man who had wonderful children, his dream job and a beautiful wife. He never blamed himself for his own actions, or to be more exact, he never thought about their consequences.

author note: im glad some of you liked the story and left comments, im glad I can share with you this fic, hopefully you’ll like this chapter<3

tags: darkfic, unhealthy relationship, angst, smut with plot, p in v, dubcon, oral sex, rough and gentle sex, daddy kink, blood play, knife play, fear play, hurt/comfort, violence, gore/murders, child abuse, follows fnaf lore, moral and physical abuse, virginity kink, anxiety disorder, age gap, daddy issues, unreliable narrator, hallucinations, hidden pairing, William is sick, psychopathy, unhealthy narcissism

Chapter 3

Chapter 2. Birthday girl

The bright rays of the sun hit your closed eyelids, making you wince and cover yourself with a blanket. But because of the sultry summer heat, you became instantly hot. When you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was your own personal open diary. Being half asleep, you forgot that you were writing in it all night. In a panic, you closed it and hid it under the pillow, hoping that mom didn't come into your room.

After you got yourself in order, you went out to the living room, but mom wasn't home. She left a note saying that breakfast was on the table, and she would be back in a few hours. You sighed.

What a nice beginning of your birthday.

…

Mom returned home closer to two o'clock in the afternoon. You noticed how her, all happy and cheerful, was getting out of the purple car with bags.

You knew whose car it was. You didn't like it.

The next hours flew by quickly. Your mom all happy entered house, you rushed into her arms. A million kind words, congratulations, kisses on the forehead. And most importantly — your gift. A minimalistic purple dress, made as if specifically for your figure. It fit you perfectly, hugging your waist and breasts.

Closer to evening, you and your mom were ready. She put on makeup, not too bright, but it was unusual for you to see her with lipstick and mascara. She was wearing her favorite skirt, which she always wore for walks with you when you were little. A light beige jacket complemented her look.

“Okay, now we’ll wait for a taxi.” said woman, approaching you.

The car pulled up a few minutes later while you were standing and discussing the upcoming evening. You and mom got in the back seats and the driver started the car. The whole ride you couldn't leave the thought of where mom got the money for a taxi. And when you got out of the car, your confusion only increased, because she didn’t pay driver as he only smiled goodbye.

It appeared to the eye. The most famous pizzeria in your whole town: “Freddy Fazbear's Pizza”. It looked like an ordinary diner, but you knew why it caused such a stir among children and adults. It was because of those animatronics, which, to tell the truth, caused you strange feelings. These robots were thousands of times taller and bigger than you, and their design always made you shiver. Despite the fact that you spent your entire childhood in this pizzeria, because you had to hide from your father somewhere, you still couldn't get used to their appearance. But the children who came here, apparently, were satisfied with everything.

When you entered the pizzeria, you immediately noticed that… Nothing has changed here. It was strange, because Mr. Afton was always busy with drawings, some projects related to this place. What can you say, he literally lived here, disappearing into his office day and night. The place was filled with people, mostly little kids, who happily jumped around animatronics, trying to somehow talk to them. Most of the tables were occupied, you started looking around the pizzeria in search of an empty seat.

“And here you are!” voice of William Afton called out to you. You jumped in surprise, causing him to grin. “Oh, what happened? Did I really scare you that much?”

“Mr. Afton, good evening!” your mom shook his hand.

“Hello, [your mom’s name].” he looked at her with a smile and, turning around, went to an single table, telling you to follow him. “ I chose this place especially for our dear birthday girl.”

Your cheeks flushed from such attention. You smiled and you sat down at the table. Your mom picked up the menu, but mr. Afton shook his head.

“Excuse me, ladies, but I have reserved today's choice for myself. In honor of your birthday, we offer you the best pizza and drinks of the diner!” he clapped his hands, imitating joy. “You won’t be disappointed.”

With these words, he disappeared from sight, leaving into the crowd of children and adults. You looked at your mom, who was just glowing with an abundance of joy and happiness. She looked so carefree, happy as a child, and you laughed at the thought of who has a birthday here.

Half an hour later, a nice and friendly waitress brought a huge hot cheese pizza with an incredible flavor. Smile didn’t leave your face as the look of this pizza was so good that you noticed the envious look of the children at the near tables.

You and mom started eating. After a while, William joined you both. Sitting down at your table, he waved to the waitress, and she instantly brought you three glasses and a bottle of champagne. This surprised you, but you decided not to show it, continuing to smile.

“You know, this is a children's place and alcohol is not welcome here.” Afton began, pouring champagne into glasses. “but in honor of the coming of age of Y/n, I decided that its possible to break this rule.” he smiled, looking at you.

“Mr. Afton, you are right, such a day should definitely be celebrated!” your mother has already taken a full glass, the same thing was done by the man himself. Both adults looked at you expectantly. You laughed nervously and also took the glass in your hand.

“Happy birthday, Y/n!” exclaimed William and you clinked glasses. It was your first experience with alcohol, bringing a glass to your lips and drinking the liquid from it, you immediately winced at the taste, although the smell was quite tolerable.

You spent the remaining half hour at the same table, talking about absolutely any topic, remembering how you spent your childhood in this pizzeria, and William also talked about his eldest son. You laughed at the stories about Michael, because he was your best friend from school, and he always positioned himself as a cool, dangerous macho in front of you, and in William's stories he was just a silly boy.

Time flew by so fast that you didn't even notice how all the people disappeared. Looking at the clock, you saw that it was already late evening, which means the pizzeria closed its doors to visitors, however, this didn’t alarm either Afton or your mother. They were sitting at the table, having a nice conversation about something, until her phone rang.

“Excuse me for a moment.”

You were left alone with him. All your joy in one moment disappeared somewhere, giving way to anxiety. You began nervously touching the hem of your dress, afraid to start a conversation.

“You look absolutely gorgeous in that dress.” William broke the silence. You looked up at him and smiled sweetly, thanking him. “Yeah… after all, I have a sense of style.” he chucked, taking a sip of champagne.

“Did you buy this dress?”

“This is a gift for your coming of age.” he noticed your confused look and added: “yes, I paid for the taxi too, honey."

Those nicknames again… This stupid pinky blush appears on your cheeks again. All you can do is keep smiling stupidly.

“I really liked this dress, Mr. Afton!”

Your conversation was interrupted by your mother, running up to you with worried look on her face.

“Mr. Afton, please take Y/n home, I am urgently called to work.” then your smile instantly disappeared. You looked at Mom, pleading with her to stay. “Oh, hun, I'm sorry, but it's very urgent. I'll be home early in the morning, don't wait for me and go to bed.” after kissing your forehead one last time, she ran out of the pizzeria.

…

William's car isn't exactly small, but it's not huge either. Anxious thought didn’t leave your head that he drank alcohol and got behind the wheel, you hoped that you would get home safely. In general, ideally you should have been sitting in the back seat, but it was occupied by some things.

“Don't be so nervous, y/n." his voice sounded so calm. “You've known me since childhood, why are you so scared?”

Damn, was your anxiety really that noticeable?

“Sorry, I haven't been myself lately…”

“You’ve always been a little scared girl.” you frowned at such statements, you’re not sure whether he was mocking or showing real emotions. “I feel so sorry for you, such a hard childhood.”

At end, you arrived without incident. His car is parked next to your house. Afton took you to the porch, all this time his piercing gaze didn’t leave you.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“You're welcome, dear, and happy birthday again.”

You went inside, but when you heard his footsteps behind you, you got confused and looked at him in surprise.

“Mr. Afton, is something wrong?” you asked, watching him come into your house, closing the door. “I can wait my mom alone.”

“I see that you’re afraid to be alone.” he smiled. “Do you mind if I keep such a lovely girl company?”

[rottendollface]

The Horror of Our Love. Chapter 4.

Co-author: @bigtimesalt8196

Character: Childe Tartaglia | Ajax.

Image: Picsart Al.

Warnings: NSFW; Ajax is older than in canon;

broken time line and age line for the sake

of plot; female virgin reader, incestuous

relationship, family abuse, self-harm,

misogyny, mentions of rape, unprotected

sex, black magic, blood and flesh magic,.

body horror, sacrilegious, Foul Legacy

Childe, breeding kink, miscarriage, marriage

grooming, pregnancy, erotic lactation.

murdering, abyssal soulmates, serfdom

system in Snezhnaya; all the characters are

adults; 18+.

Time was running mercilessly and the date of Ajax's departure was getting closer. Your mental state improved and you opened to your family, but the common joy ended quickly, as you hid into your wordless shell again, frustrated with a hollow feeling of upcoming loneliness. 

Ajax was stressed out. It wasn't rare for you to find him talking to himself, discussing plans for the future and even arguing. Ajax's short temper and unreleased anger were showing at these moments: he was gesticulating in an excited manner; if not, he was walking back and forth, and sighing heavily. 

It happened again when you were searching for Ajax to tell him to come and help others on the stable. You heard his heavy footsteps on the second floor. Before you knocked on the door, you overheard him saying something about grandmother. 

“How in the world could an uneducated hard-working woman become a witch? Still can't get it right in my head.”

You shouldn't be heeding to his words – you were taught not to eavesdrop, but something in your mind told you to stay and spy on Ajax. You pressed your ear to the door and leaned on it. It was unusual and exciting for you until you heard someone answering him.

“You don't need to have specific knowledge to become a witch. She was in so much despair and pain it made her prayers especially sweet and strong. We couldn't ignore such a broken soul. After she got the power, she got the education as well – we taught her to read and count in one hour.”

You frowned, trying to understand who Ajax was talking to. You didn't hear that voice before and it sounded strange: loud, deep and hoarse. At first you couldn't even understand what the person was talking about – their speech was gibberish without words. You heeded, then your mind translated it to a normal humanly sounding state.

“Brilliant. And who was she praying to?”

“She was praying to the devils, young master. The disadvantage of her choice is simple – you never know who will answer to your call.” The person chuckled. You frowned. “In her case, it wasn't just a deal. It was a salvation. We saw a potential in her: her hatred and thirst for vengeance were commendable. She wanted someone from her family to inherit the power and continue the legacy. Just like in the prophecy.”

“A prophecy?”

“Not now, young master. You want to ask me about the diary and the missing part of the power, I can feel.”

“Don't you dare tell me what I want to do.” Ajax hissed. “I had enough of this! One more time you and your fucking henchmen show me these lousy dreams I'll send you all to the deepest of the Abyss and let the guards have some fun with you all in the same manner. Speak and then get lost, son of a bitch.”

“So, part of the power was passed to your dearest sister and there is no way for you to get it back from her, but she will share it with you.”

“What?!” Ajax was stunned. 

“Ask her yourself. Not in my duties to explain everything to you. But I must confess she has a rather beautiful birthmark on her pretty back. Such a pleasure to watch her dressing up in the morning.”

You felt that someone pushed the door and jumped back so as not to fall into the room. 

“Ajax! Father needs your help on the stable.” You spoke first and played like you didn't hear anything. Ajax froze with an aggressive expression on his face, but his gaze became softer when he looked at you. 

“'Thanks,” He didn't wait and rushed to the stable. You stood aside to give him enough space, then looked into the room.

You made a step into it. The atmosphere here was different. A cold sweat broke out your body when you realized whom Ajax was talking to. In a second you felt that everything around you was hostile and hurried to get back to your room, but the door closed right in front of you. In fact… you had questions too, but you were afraid to build up communication with those ghoulish creatures. 

“How can I get rid of you?” You asked into the fake emptiness. 

“There is no way.” The answer was given to you immediately. You cried out, regretting your decision. “We serve your brother.”

“What about me? You said I have the same power as him.” Your brain was running fast, as you tried to rate the risk of the situation. You didn't want to repeat your recent journey of escaping demons, so you stayed alerted. Just a reminiscence of it made you weak in your knees.

“You stole a part of it from him. We mean no harm to you because of the master's order, but we have no desire to help you.” A mocking voice said, leaving you angry. 

“You caused me a lot of harm.” You flared up. You realized that you wanted to play dirty on them. “I'll ask your master to execute his threat. You'll get what you deserve.” You grinned, imagining the torture Ajax promised to them. “Open the door.”

The door opened with a creak. You stepped out and the daze fell from your mind. Your heart was beating like crazy and your limbs started shaking from the fact that you commanded those demons. 

“I hope you are suffering in a sulfur flame, grandma!” You couldn't keep the sudden outbreak of anger inside your throat. It all was her fault. Ajax and you were doomed to repeat her miserable fate because of her selfishness. The old fool believed in some prophecy – you were sure it was just a fiction of the demons to trick her into selling her family's souls to the devil as well. “Stupid cunt! Why couldn't you kill your husband without this fucking heresy?!” You screamed and froze. You opened your eyes so wide they hurt and pressed your palms to your mouth, trying to understand what you just said.

You made it to your room, feeling dizzy from the overexcitement. You laid down to rest. You felt so disgusted by your attitude you couldn't even believe that you let these words out of your mouth. Guilt was gnawing at your heart. Your head and your chest were heavy, you were about to doze off to sleep. Recently you got health issues: no matter what, you always were sleepy. With every day it was harder for you to wake up and get out of bed. You slept for ten and more hours, skipped meals and house work, as you felt completely drained out of energy. Even father stopped bothering you: despite his strictness, he was concerned about your health. 

Suddenly you remembered about the diary and your attention focused on it. You got up but sat down on the edge of your bed, because your vision blacked from a sudden move. You took the diary from its secret place and started reading from the very beginning. You didn't know what you hoped to find, and everything you read didn't make any sense. The words were written in a normal human language, but you couldn't understand a thing from it, as if the diary itself didn't want you to know its secrets. 

You stopped in the middle part to examine a magic circle that was drawn on a page. It was a simple circle with two smaller size circles inside of it. The smallest one had inside two triangles merged in the shape of a star, and in the free space in the middle of the triangles there was an eye; outside the smaller circles there were four crescent moons. You looked at it carefully, then read through the text on the next page and managed to understand it. The text was about an astral plane – an experience of lucid dreaming with the astral projection of your soul traveling through the spiritual world. Flashbacks of grandmother's house attacked your mind right after you decided to explain to yourself the definition of the spiritual world. There was no other useful information to gain and nothing was said on how to get into another world. 

You returned the diary to its place, then realized that there was something wrong with it. It seemed like the diary was deciding which information to give to you, and which one to hide – maybe it was some sort of magic. Bewildered, you took a deep breath and laid for a nap. You were in a slumber when Teucer opened the door and came to your room on his tiptoes. He looked around, then stared at your face. 

“Older sister,” he whispered and shook you by your shoulder. You woke up with a scream, making him jump back. “There is a noise inside your room!” By Teucer's tone you could tell he felt as scared as you. 

“What? I heard nothing.” You rubbed your sleepy face, hardly understanding what he was trying to tell you.

“No! I could swear I heard something inside!” In a second Teucer turned into a whiny boy, his voice got crying notes – it was his usual strategy to attract attention to his words. “'Like someone was scratching on the wood!”

“It was mice, probably.” You tried to wave him away. You were too tired to talk: your whole body was heavy and your eyes were closing on itself. You couldn't sit anymore and lay on your side. Teucer's ginger hair irritated you with its bright color, it made your eyes hurt. You couldn't hear him anymore, simply ignored everything he tried to tell you. Teucer ran away, as he got no response from you.

Just a moment after he came back with Ajax, lamenting on your behavior. Ajax sighed, patted Teucer's head and promised to take a look at the situation. Teucer, who was feeling like a hero, left Ajax and you alone. “What's wrong, dove?” Ajax closed the door and sat on the bed. He brushed away hair that fell on your face. You could feel his peculiar look with your skin.

“Nothing.” You mumbled, hiding your face in a pillow. “I just want to rest.”

“Don't want to seem rude,” Ajax's voice was anxious. “but you are resting too much. Are you okay?”

You didn't answer him, as you fell asleep already. All Ajax could do was to cover you with a blanket and leave, tormented by conjectures. He asked the devils by his side about your health, but their answer was vague – an eclipse was about to happen. Ajax spent the day without you, hoping that you would wake up, but you didn't. 

As usual, he came to your room at night when everyone else was asleep. Ajax found you awake, reading the diary. Two candles were illuminating the room; the wind was howling behind the window, bringing chilly air through the loose shutter. Your room was the coziest in the whole house to Ajax, because it was you to leave here. It was located in the back of the house, poorly furnished and cold, but your presence made it comfortable and welcoming. You closed the diary and put it in the secret spot.

“Do you mind sharing something interesting with me?” Ajax blew out the candles and made himself comfortable in bed. He laid on his side, so he could face you.

“Just a magic book paired with an autobiography.” You did as well, looking at your brother in the dark. “Ajax,” you started, but stumbled, afraid that your question would make him angry. Still, you continued. “Is there any chance for us to return to a normal life?”

“It is our normal life now. You better get used to it.” Ajax sighed. “It is our fate, dove, and we can do nothing about it.”

“I don't want fate like this. I would better die, than…” you bit your tongue, realizing how foul your words were. 

“We were talking about the diary.” Ajax replied with a stern voice that sent shivers down your spine. 

You got nervous and scratched your clavicle. “I don't understand what is happening. Why are we talking so casually about something like this, ignoring all the devilry that is surrounding us?” 

You were the voice of sense, and Ajax lost all his words. You were right – for him it was a usual topic, but for you, who almost lost one's mind contacting the devils and was contaminated with abyssal power against one's will, it was a delirium of polluted brain. 

“That's not something we should discuss for a night. I'll tell you everything later.” Ajax put his pinky finger towards you and you did so, sealing the promise.

In a small talk you were the one to lead the conversation. Ajax kept you in his tight embrace, replying leisurely. His warmth and soft smell of his sweat made you feel relaxed – in this chaos of life Ajax's hands were the only space you felt safe in. It was selfish, it was unfair, but Ajax was the only reason that kept you in this world. His love was your motivation to live and become better. You wanted to protect Ajax in your own way by giving him solace he needed. No one could replace you in his life, no one could love him and comfort him better than you. Was it jealousy? It definitely was. You couldn't even imagine Ajax doing the same things he did for you to another woman. Those fantasies made you feel angry and reckless. 

You turned your head to him, his lips were dangerously close to yours. You looked at him, waiting for something more – out of sudden the desire to be closer awoke in you. Ajax tarried, taken aback by your sudden move, so you pressed your lips to his gently. He slightly opened his mouth, helding your lower lip between his. You felt Ajax fingers brushing over your jawline, that made you hold your breath. An unusual drawing feeling curled in your lower belly; it made you thirsty for more than a kiss – your nipples hardened, full of lustful sensation. 

“This is wrong…” he whispered, pulling away from you. The two extremes were fighting inside his soul – being on the verge of another Fall, Ajax suddenly remembered that he was a virtuous man once. Even his corroded heart contracted nervously. He desired to have you, but you were his sister.

Perhaps, he just needed a little push into this abyss.

Ajax quickly got on top of you, his trembling hands caught your hips. It was the first time he touched a woman in such a private place, that left him overly excited: the beast he was restraining broke out. His mouth covered yours, he placed heated kisses across your face, got down to your neck, biting soft skin, then traveled lower, until your night dress. Ajax's ardor surprised you, the way he forcefully pushed his tongue inside your mouth and squeezed your breasts with tenacious slender fingers made you squeak. 

Ajax lost his mind: all the moral borders were broken and he was striving to push his erected member into your hot, wet place. Afterall, you were a woman in the first place, so it was nothing wrong in sharing bed with you and making you bear his children. 

It was hastily and clumsily, as arousal and thrill of being caught took over both of you. Ajax pulled down his pants quickly; you felt the tip of his cock pressing to your entrance. It was more painful than you expected it to be, so you bit on your index finger to ease that stinging feeling.

“Please, relax…” you heard your brother's husky voice. You did as he asked, and Ajax showed more of his member into you. It was hard not to cry, as it felt like you were about to split in half from this burning and stinging ache. Ajax's lips were trembling, as he was close to climax already.

You kept silent when Ajax started bucking his hips into yours. The process wasn't pleasurable at all and left you praying for it to end soon. Ajax, unlike you, couldn't keep his voice inside his throat, and moaned quietly: your quivering wet walls wrapped him around, sucking his cock deeper inside your womanhood. He had never felt more pleasure in his life. It didn't take long for Ajax to cum, staining your walls with his seed.

The following fuss went in a shy and wordless atmosphere. You left to clean yourself up, and Ajax stayed in the room to fix the bed. Intimacy proved to Ajax that you loved him the way he loved you – and your relationship should result in marriage. He was ready to marry you right now, but it was impossible to his own regret. Demons suggested Ajax take you to another village and introduce you as an orphan to a priest, so the marriage would be possible. His mood lightened – it was the first time those devils recommended something good to him. 

You came back and curled on the bed, as your lower tummy still disturbed you. Ajax hugged you and fell asleep right at the moment, soothed by your warmth. Your brain was restless. For demons it was a triumph, you thought. Despite the fact that this night was calm, you still felt their presence. They were a part of your normality, so you tried to think positively of them. It was very convenient to have servants like them, probably: all the dirty and impossible work was on their shoulders and they couldn't say no. 

You snapped out of your cogitation. You got an awareness that it wasn't your thoughts. They belonged to your head, but were planted in here artificially. You knew yourself well enough (at least you thought you were) and it wasn't in your character to have such destructive ideas. You didn't want to end up like Ajax – losing yourself over uncontrollable animal impulses that were implied to him by demons. They were trying to take control over you, you were sure, and Archons did nothing to protect you, which led you to a painful question – was there any point in praying to someone, who didn't respond to you? Slowly you started to understand your grandmother, and it sent shivers down your spine. 

To calm down you got out of bed and came to the window. Looking out, you saw the Moon. It was unusually bright today, you could see its surface in detail out of your window. It was exciting, for a moment you forgot how to breathe, beholding celestial beauty. Was it possible to reach it? You never heard of experiments of entering outer space, but you were sure it was possible. Why didn't Archons try it? Or, maybe, there were experiments, but in your obscure village no one heard of it. You sighed heavily. You were jealous of Capital citizens, they had everything on their plate by birthright. Ajax promised you that he would find a school for you in the Capital, but you were sure it wouldn't happen. He would be a regular soldier, no one would even think about doing him favors at the beginning of his career. If only you had access to actual knowledge and science… you brushed it away. You had enough disappointments in your life and didn't want to focus on sadness before going to bed.

Unexpectedly, out of nowhere, you saw a green lightning in front of you. It disappeared before you could react, and something fell on the floor, making a sound of fallen glass. You picked up what turned out to be a trinket, something similar to a pendant by its shape and design, but it lacked a chain. 

Shadows in the room started shifting chaotically. 

“What happened?!” Ajax jumped on the bed, aware of a strange sound. He quickly made it to the window and looked out, then he rushed about the room. “I heard something.” Ajax was turning his head, his eyes peering into the darkness. 

“I don't know…” You came to him and showed the find. “It appeared here.”

“A Vision!” Ajax exclaimed and covered your hand with the trinket. “You should hide it, okay? Don't let someone see it.”

“Why? Is it bad?” You got scared and wanted to throw it away, thinking of it as some kind of cursed treasure.

“No. I don't know what you wished for, but Celestia found your desire worthy of attention and granted you Vision. It allows you to manipulate a certain element of nature,” Ajax took his hand off and looked at it. “Dendro, in your case. I have one too. Mine is Hydro.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” You spoke with an offended tone. You thought Ajax would share such a great thing with you, but he chose to conceal it.

“I was told not to. I'm sorry, dove.” He got a guilty face and scratched his head. “But it means we became even closer! You and I both have extraordinary powers. I'll teach you how to use them.”

“I thought we were close enough already. Thanks, I guess.” You looked at the Vision again and decided to hide it in the same spot with the diary. 

You had no idea on how to use it and why you needed it, but at the same time it gave you a hope – if Celestia counted you as worthy, then your future was determined to be interesting and wasn't bonded with this gloomy village.

One day was left until the set date. You thought parents would prepare some kind of celebration or a farewell dinner, but nothing was done. Everyone took it as a natural part of his life, as if nothing had to happen. You were puzzled, until you realized: for them Ajax's enlistment in the Fatui was a shame. Instead of saying proper goodbye to Ajax and spending time with him, father brought his friend, Pavel Korneevich, into the house and introduced him as your groom to everyone.

You could swear: you physically sensed the immediate tension and confusion coming from Ajax. Your opinion wasn't welcomed, so you stayed silent, afraid to stand up for yourself. You weren't just shocked – you were scared to death. All your dreams for a happier life were about to be broken with a marriage.

It was scandalous: Pavel Korneevich was old enough to be your father. You were indecently younger, yet it didn't stop father from bringing this man into his own house. With this gesture he showed how little respect for you he had had, and the scanty amount of good things he had ever done to you was immediately forgotten by you. That grain of love you had for him was destroyed and turned into pure hatred. But Pavel Korneevich… How could he even think about marrying you? He was out of his mind, if he thought of you as a suitable wife for himself. 

“Is this some kind of a cruel joke?” Ajax's aura gave you shivers. His tone was serious, yet soft and sickly sweet, while his slightly narrowed eyes were fixed on the guest and father. “Don't you dare to put a ring on her while I'm out. I want to see my dear sister walking down the aisle with my own eyes.”

Ajax's words didn't make sense and you hoped that he said it only to win time. Ajax stood behind your back and put his heavy hand on your shoulder, that almost broke at the weight and a tight squeeze that he gave you. You portrayed a labored, trembling smile.

“Of course,” Pavel Korneevich nodded. “We need no rush in such things.”

“Sure,” Father grunted, munching on his wrinkled dry lips. “You are free to go. We have business to discuss.” Then he looked at you and, without calling your name, addressed you. “Pasha will talk to you later.”

On numb legs you made it to your room, Ajax following you like a shadow. As soon as you entered the private area, you cried out and fell on your knees, helpless and miserable. All he could do was hold you in his arms and remain silent. 

A familiar shadow appeared in front of Ajax, waiting for instructions. Ugly, ridiculously slim and tall, the demon in the shape of a man with a pig's nose was looking right into Ajax's soul. A second shadow, small and stout, showed up right near the first one: the same pig nose, but also small sly eyes. It was too late to pray, so Ajax made an order – to ruin the wedding and kill Pavel Korneevich, but his death should seem natural. By sinister smiles that bloomed on twisted faces and revealed sharp, abnormal teeth, Ajax figured out that the order was taken. They disappeared to prepare their nasty trap.

“Worry not, dove,” Ajax nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck. “I'll take care of it. Your brother will never leave you. I'll always be here to help you.”

On the contrary, Ajax's words made you feel even worse than you did before: dragged away from his home, he would think about you without the opportunity to communicate with you properly. You wanted to disappear, to dissolve, to stop existing in a physical way only to escape from this agony. If not Pavel Korneevich, then somebody else would be chosen as your groom. Parents wouldn't miss an opportunity to get rid of you. What could you do? 

“Take me with you!” You clutched at the collar of his shirt, your gaze crazy behind the clumped lashes and redness of the eyes. “Take me with you, or I will run away!”

Ajax hardly endured your emotional breakdown. Your broken voice and hysterical ideas were impossible to listen to; at this point he wished for the night to come sooner and take him from this cursed house – he didn't tell you that Fatui would take him in the night to avoid unwanted attention. Ajax stayed until you cried yourself to sleep. The last day with you was meant to be tragic, for his own regret. When the clock struck midnight, Fatui appeared in the yard, waiting for him. Mother gave Ajax a heartless kiss at his cheek, and father remained uninvolved. Ajax left without looking back not to torture his soul. For the first time of his life he found calmness. 

The gate grated, soldiers in heavy boots left, leaving deep footprints on the snow; a small lamp went out inside the house. The moon was unusually bright, its agily light oozed into the house through every crack. Your room was filled with moonlight, making it as bright as day. In your dreamless sleep you heard someone calling your name, and your body, hit by impulses, stood up on its own, pursuing the voice; step by step you made it to the front door.

The door opened on itself and closed, when you walked out. Your bare feet touched the snow; it melted from your heat. A bigger celestial body closed the Moon, causing the eclipse and hiding all the blissful light that Illuminated you. You felt like falling: the horrifying hungry maw of abyss opened under your feet, swallowing you into the darkness and covering your body with snow. You opened your eyes and saw nothing. You landed on the stone floor, all your body responded with pain. 

It was a big room with just one chair and a burning fireplace. Cold walls of unknown color were hidden in the dark, as well as other spaces of the room. You heard steps and a woman appeared in front of you. She had long white hair and manic crimson eyes. Her expressionless face scared you.

“This must be a joke.” She smiled to herself. “How could a worm like you deserve the Forgotten God's blessing? This is ridiculous.” She turned back on her heels. The cape on her bony shoulders followed her moves, and you noticed dozens of death masks that froze in scream on the hemline. 

“Where am I?!” Your voice broke on scream. It couldn't be that the nightmare from your grandmother's shack found you in Morepesok.

The woman sighed irritably. “He had one job – yet he failed. You are in the Abyss. The power you stole from your brother brought you there.”

“I want to go back.” You stated. Unusual hardness in your voice made the woman laugh. “This ain't funny! I'm tired of these devilish tricks I'm being involved in! I swear this time I'll fight you instead of running away!”

“Then fight.”

At an impossible speed she made an attack that struck you into your shoulder and made you fly to the nearest wall. You couldn't breath at the pain you felt – it seemed like your clavicle, scapula and ribs were crumbled into tiniest pieces. You were opening and closing your mouth with no sound, just like a fish that was taken out of water and left to die on the surface. It was a pure shock that paralyzed you and concentrated your brain on the inhuman pain. 

The woman sat in the chair and looked at the fireplace, as she immediately lost her interest in you. You didn't know how much time had passed since you were left to suffer, but it felt like decades to you before you were able to stand up. 

“You possess great power, yet I bet you know nothing about it. That's why you should think before stealing.” She spoke, watching the fire. “I heard a prophecy about brother and sister, who would free us from the shadows we were trapped in and restore the ancient order. It doesn't matter anymore – deep inside I stayed skeptical, and it proved that all prophecies are lies. Look at your right hand.”

You did as she said and staggered. One of your wrists was abnormal: your fingers, palm and veins got black, traces of the same color ascended until your elbow. 

“I'll teach you the concept of ritual – that's the starting point of your journey. Then, you will be on your own.” She let out a short chuckle, full of sadistic anticipation.

[zilabee]

Living The Beatles Legend:

After a lifetime of self-doubt over body issues and inveterate shyness, he simply couldn’t control himself. “Big Mal was a demon for sex,” Tony wrote. “[...] Like sacrificial virgins, a lot of the girls willingly accepted that they would have to do it with Mal to get to John, Paul, George, or Ringo, and Mal knew it.”

“A couple of newspaper friends put on a private show involving several prostitutes for our entertainment, one of them being very pregnant.” As Mal recalled, “It was a little unnerving to have these ladies performing before our eyes with each other in one room, with Brian, George Martin and Judy, and the rather more staid members of the press in the adjoining living room.”

“I was being entertained by a young lady late one evening,” Mal wrote, “when George rushes into the darkened room, stoned out of his mind, tearing the bedclothes off, shouting, ‘My turn next—come on, give us a bit!’” Mal gave way to the Beatle, concluding that “apart from that, I was the one that got screwed.”

By this point, [Lily] wasn’t just finding “silly groupie letters” in his suitcase, but also the occasional stray pair of knickers and other telltale signs of infidelity. She recognized that Mal was being seduced—and had been for some time—by overwhelming forces, impulses with which she could hardly begin to compete.

After her brother returned from the States, June recalled that “Malcolm came home knackered, absolutely shattered from that tour.” [...] Her brother and the Beatles were living in a “totally unreal world—an extraordinary, horrendous, wonderful, terrible place that they were all existing in during that period. And they were all damaged by it. They suddenly could have anything they wanted.”

After sharing a convivial dinner with Victoria’s father, who retired early, Mal (31yo) and Victoria (16yo) returned to the hotel and went up to the twenty-seventh floor. [..] “Mal was very sweet,” she recalled, “and we talked and we talked, and we sort of made out.” And while she was unable to meet the Beatles the next morning to do an interview, she exchanged contact information with Mal. And later that year, the letters from her new pen pal began arriving, elegantly adorned with “this beautiful British handwriting.” *

Eventually, Mal would develop a vital relationship of his own with the Scruffs, although he had his detractors—namely, Carol Bedford, a peripheral member of their scrum and a George aficionado who later claimed that Mal tried to put the moves on her. Apparently, Mal had continued to approach women in the Beatles’ universe in the same transactional manner in which he and Neil had “auditioned” willing fans during the band’s touring years. Another Apple Scruff recalled a similar instance when Mal’s attempts to cozy up to the Scruffs went terribly wrong. Apparently, he had crawled under one of the girls’ blankets and “touched something he shouldn’t have.” With that, the offended Scruff came flying out from under the blanket yelling, “Who do you think you are, Paul McCartney?” **

Since leaving the hospital, [Arwen (21yo)] had reared Little Malcolm in her cramped lodgings in West Hampstead. At some point, around the age of six months, he was put up for adoption, leaving her care lock, stock, and barrel, with Mal’s teddy bear as the baby’s only consolation. Mal’s diary would enumerate lunches and telephone calls with the young woman at various points across 1969, but eventually, Arwen chose to move on, putting the whole painful episode behind her. ***

[For his son's birthday] Mal made a cassette recording in which he offered his sincere wishes for the coming year. [...] But any goodwill Mal hoped to deliver was quickly undone that morning as Gary listened to the recording over breakfast with his mother and sister. To his incredible pain and embarrassment, the tape didn’t end with his father’s birthday greeting. Apparently, Mal had recycled the cassette, and as Gary and his sister prepared to go to school, they heard the unmistakable sounds of Fran fellating their dad. The boy’s only solace was the knowledge that his eight-year-old sister didn’t understand the sounds emanating from the tape player.

[..]for the first time, Fran found herself afraid of her boyfriend, whose darkness had never been more acute. It all came to a head one night when Mal, drunk to the gills, began threatening her with his Colt Woodsman pistol, at one point placing the gun against her head before discharging it into the washing machine. When he sobered up, Mal couldn’t have been more apologetic, swearing to mend his ways and be the boyfriend she deserved.

____________________________________

Another quote under the cut, with trigger warning for rape and attempted suicide - and a few notes about some of it.

____________________________________

June 1964 - New Zealand

At the time, the official story involved a twenty-year-old female fan who, having secreted her way into the hotel, chose to slash her wrists in Mal’s room after being unable to talk her way into the Beatles’ suite. Fortunately, police caught sight of the young woman through a window and broke down the locked door with a battering ram. She was subsequently taken to a local hospital and discharged that same day.

[There are then some bits about how Derek tried to ensure it didn't link back to the Beatles in anyway, and the way the press reported it as "Girl Tries To Die For Beatles", and someone else claiming she'd actually had sex with someone and then got 'hysterical' because she realised he wasn't going to get her in to see the Beatles... but eventually it cuts to the quote from Mal's diary below.]

“On arriving back at the hotel at two in the morning,” he wrote, “I was greeted by a crowd of police and detectives as the elevator doors opened at my floor. On verifying that I occupied a particular room number, they very solemnly escorted me there, where to my horror on opening the door, I found the bathroom and bedroom covered in blood. Apparently, what had happened [was] several people had gang-banged her in my bedroom. She was so distraught, she took a razor blade from my razor and slashed her wrists, but was discovered in time and recovered in hospital. Obviously I was a prime suspect, but I had the best alibi in the world—I was drinking tea with her mother.” ****

____________________________________

* Victoria was 16, and Mal was 31. He wrote with her for a few years and met up with her again several times, and there's a quote where she says she "thought she was in love with him", and another where she was surprised to find out he was married. He's a grown man with a family and it's creepy as fuck that he was leading on/grooming a 16 year old girl - although I think according to the book they never had sex.

** I've bolded a lot of the wording which fucks me the fuck off in that passage about apple scruffs, what a fucking weird piece of writing. Apparently apparently apparently - I don't even think he's using it to suggest it might not be true, I think he's just using it to make it sound a bit casual, oh turns out he was just treating them like shit like he used to! Oh he was just 'cozying up' ??????? The last bit also feels like the girl being able to fight her corner and tell him off is being used to suggest it therefore didn't matter - not to suggest that there were probably lots of other girls who didn't want his hands on them but didn't know how to say no. It's also quickly followed by a quote of another apple scruff saying he took care of them like a big brother and they all loved him. Which is fine. But teenage girls feeling as though the creepy guy who is being nice to them in order to take advantage is just being nice to them, doesn't mean much. It's creepy that he was trying to befriend the young vulnerable girls that idolised anyone who worked with Beatles, you've literally just said he was doing it in a 'transactional manner'.

*** The author used a pseudonym for Arwen - a young woman that Mal had an affair and a child with. He wrote in his diary when the child was born, and visited them, "gifting the boy with an oversize teddy bear from Harrods". Personally I think 'chose to move on' covers an awful lot of pain very glibly. Imagine having to give your baby away after six months, imagine what she went through. It is not a small thing that he carelessly got a young woman pregnant and then offered her nothing.

**** I think we all live in Beatles fandom knowing that the people we enjoy did awful terrible things, but sometimes it's good to confront how bad it was, even if we'll never know who was involved in this particular incident. Or how often it happened to other women. Whether Beatles were involved here or not, they were around this, they were inside it. They were influenced by and friends with horrible people. Imagine writing that in your diary like it's a good joke that you were having tea with her mum while she was going through that, and not how awful that would actually feel if you had a heart. The author adds that this incident affected Mal, saying, "His “demon” persona was still alive and well, to be sure, but there would be perceptible shifts in his outlook as the group’s touring days moved forward." I didn't really pick up on these, so I'm not sure how so.

[dearorpheus]

Are there any non-fiction you can recommend for people who are fascinated by your blog (especially the elements of dark eroticism, morbidity and horror)?

🖤 love that you are loving!

i will try to stick to non-fic (also refraining as best i can from re-recommending texts from previous asks but there is of course bound to be some overlap): - The Severed Head: Capital Visions, Julia Kristeva -> read about Aubrey Beardsley's illustrations for Salomé (x, x)

and supplement w Baudelaire's Une Martyre "in which the narrator lovingly contemplates the beauty of a woman's severed head at rest upon a nightstand"

- Masochism: Coldness and Cruelty & Venus in Furs, Deleuze - The Sadeian Woman: And the Ideology of Pornography, Angela Carter - Aesthetic Sexuality: A Literary History of Sadomasochism, Romana Byrne - Perverse Desire and the Ambiguous Icon, Allen S. Weiss - "Must We Burn Sade?", Simone de Beauvoir -> read also about Erzsébet Báthory, the Bloody Countess. supplement your readings with Borowcyzk's Immoral Tales (1973), Julie Delpy's The Countess (2009), Alejandra Pizarnik's La Condesa Sangrienta and/or, if you have the stomach for it:

Lorna's death in Hostel Pt II (2007), inspired by the Countess^

- Anaïs Nin's diaries + Henry and June - Abject Eroticism in Northern Renaissance Art, Yvonne Owens

Hans Baldung Grien "gave powerful visual expression to late medieval tropes and stereotypes, such as the poison maiden, venomous virgin, the Fall of Man, 'death and the maiden' and other motifs and eschatological themes, which mingled abject and erotic qualities in the female body"

- Satanic Feminism: Lucifer as the Liberator of Woman in Nineteenth-Century Culture, Per Faxneld - The Library of Esoterica's Witchcraft - the biographical Taschen on H.R. Giger's oeuvre—biomechanical, Lovecraftian-tentacular fused limbs, bodies, systems, overtly phallic/yonic symbology, darkly psychedelic... very much fantastically erotic; I have my eye on the 40th Anniversary Edition

Giger, as we know, having designed the xenomorph from the Alien (1979) series to have an intensely sexual evolution:

- DEFINITELY read about+explore ero guro (see also: Bataille's L'histoire de l'œil / Story of the Eye! though it is fiction)

brief introductory articles here and here but it's truly so rich and decadent... delve into it!! film, lit, manga, history, so on... -> watch Nagisa Ōshima's In The Realm Of The Senses (1976) too

- if you can read French by any chance, Le Corps Souillé (The Soiled Body) by Eric Falardeau looks incredible; if not, this excerpt alone is delightfully provocative even in isolation - similarly, L'espirit de plaisir: Une histoire de la sexualité et de l’érotisme au Japon (The Spirit of Pleasure: A History of Sexuality and Eroticism in Japan) by Philippe Pons and Pierre-François Souyri is something I'm hoping might see an English translation

^an excerpt from an interview with the authors

- The Art of Cruelty + The Red Parts, Maggie Nelson - Crucial Interventions: An Illustrated Treatise on the Principles & Practice of Nineteenth-Century Surgery, Richard Barnett - The Butchering Art, Lindsey Fitzharris - Death, Disease and Dissection, Suzie Grogan - The Theatre and Its Double, Antonin Artaud - Men, Women, and Chainsaws, Carol J. Clover - House of Psychotic Women, Kier-La Janisse - The Monstrous-Feminine, Barbara Creed - Dead Blondes and Bad Mothers, Sady Doyle - The Lady From The Black Lagoon, Mallory O'Meara

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 66

The Seventh Doctor was once frozen in ice in the Antarctic for over a million years after a skirmish involving Ice Warrior prisoners. Over time, his clothes had degraded dramatically, but he survived because he had put himself into a coma. He was accidentally awoken by an Antarctic expedition in 2012. Despite having memory loss, he brought up the names of his companions, such as Mel, Ace, and Hex, even referring to a woman on the expedition as "Ace" while he tried to remember everything. (Audio: Frozen Time)

A "monster," or "the Green Terror," had stowed away on the TARDIS when it had been caught on the First Doctor's jacket as a spawn. It eventually attacked the Fourth Doctor and K-9 when the TARDIS materialized inside solid rock. (Short story: Stowaway)

Thr Capricorn Killer was originally an office worker who had been suddenly turned to a vampire one night. Following his change and an altercation, he started killing and drinking people's blood. Eventually, he encountered the Fourth Doctor and Romana. The Fourth Doctor said, "I'm afraid someone brought you into our world. This is the only help I can give you. Now hold still. This won't hurt a bit." He then proceeded to stake the Capricorn Killer with a walking stick, something which hurt quite a bit and caused him to dissolve to ash. Then the Doctor went about his day like normal as though he had not just killed a man without second thought, asking Romana if she wanted to go for a steak at a restaurant. (Short story: I Was a Monster!!!)

Edgar Allan Poe took part in a seance with the First Doctor, Ian, Barbara, and some others. During this seance, a young girl named Abigail was possessed by evil forces trying to come into this world, connected through a ram's skull carved with a pentagram. Poe knocked a candle onto the skull to stop this, causing it and Abigail to go up in flames. Poe later recounted this in his diary but commented that he felt as though he had opened another gateway to let the evil in by doing so. The very next day, Poe was found wandering the streets of Baltimore, disoriented, and he died not long afterwards. A "mysterious stranger" visited his grave and left him roses and a cognac bottle. (Short story: The True and Indisputable Facts in the Matter of the Ram's Skull)

Because of LaMort, or Death, the Seventh Doctor felt the same sharp, raw pain that he had felt when Susan had left him and when all of his other companions left. He described his companions leaving as "Little deaths as they'd left him. Sometimes bigger deaths. Real deaths." (Short story: Virgin Lands)

The Eighth Doctor has been known to wear eye shadow. (Short story: Growing Higher)

Jamie has been known to take the precaution of chopping up the Second Doctor's recorder, not that it ever stopped him from producing a different recorder from somewhere. (Short story: Twin Piques)

There was massive beef between K-9 Mark I and Mark II. They fought a lot in their missives to each other and only buried the hatchet when the Fourth Doctor regenerated. (Short story: Jealous, Possessive)

A copy of "The Diary of an Edwardian Adventuress" by Charlotte Elspeth Pollard is at the Library of Kar-Charrat, the same place the Seventh Doctor and Ace once visited (as Daleks were invading). (Short story: Apocrypha Bipedium)

The Master once became producer of a show called "Make a Star," where many singers competed to become famous. He wanted to release songs as of yet unwritten to unravel the timeline. The Master later teased the Doctor for not guessing that he was involved, given that "Make a Star" is an anagram for "aka Master." (Short story: Hidden Talent)

The day after Barbara and Ian left in the TARDIS, Barbara's mother, Joan Wright, reported them missing to the police. A year later, she had not given up hope of finding her, and she shared a dream with Barbara on board the TARDIS. Barbara told her mother that she would return. (Short story: A Long Night)

The Fourth Doctor was once attacked by an entity representing all of the people who have felt fear because of the Doctor's actions and who was attempting to make the Doctor also feel that same constant fear. The Doctor was not afraid when the entity put him in cave full of people missing limbs and a terrifying creature that bit off the Doctor's arm, when the entity made the Doctor an old man in a wheelchair being tended by nurses, or when the entity put him in a padded cell. The entity eventually sensed a thought from the Doctor - that he was afraid of losing his mind. (Short story: The Fear)

Chloe and Arthur owned a bed and breakfast that the Sixth Doctor once visited. In this bed and breakfast, Chloe and Arthur were killed by hundreds of other versions of themselves over and over every day. The next version would come knocking, and the current would go outside and meet their fate. Eventually, the Doctor came to stay and also joined the ritual of repeatedly dying. After dying enough times, the Doctor decided that none of them will answer when someone came knocking, thus breaking the cycle and freeing them. (Short story: The Death of Me)

Long before The Doctor's Wife, the TARDIS took on the form of a woman called Iraj. Iraj (who I will from now on refer to as the TARDIS) had encountered Romana I just before her regeneration and decided that she wanted to play a trick on the Doctor. The TARDIS took on the form of Princess Astra and was annoyed when the Doctor barely noticed her. The TARDIS proceeded to put on three other bodies, forcing Romana to stay put when she lost her temper. The TARDIS eventually put back on Astra's body, only this time wearing the Doctor's clothes. Romana was still frozen when the TARDIS eventually returned, telling her all about an adventure she had had with the Doctor with Davros and Daleks, but she was still annoyed that the Doctor had barely noticed her. After convincing the TARDIS that the Doctor does care for her, the TARDIS helped Romana regenerate, and to Romana's surprise, she took on the form of Princess Astra! (Short story: The Lying Old Witch in the Wardrobe)

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[lovesick-girly]

the virgin suicides book review

author: jeffrey eugenides

genre: literary fiction, psychological drama

published: 5th april 1993

stars: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

synopsis: the lisbon sisters, five enigmatic girls, live under the strict control of their overprotective parents. their tragic beauty and mystique become an obsession for the neighbourhood boys, as the sisters' suicides loom over the town, unraveling the quiet suburban facade.

themes: isolation, the fragility of adolescence, obsession, suburban decay, the american dream, memory and nostalgia, death and innocence

fav quotes:

“That girl didn't want to die. She just wanted out of that house.”

“We could never understand why the girls cared so much about being mature, or why they felt compelled to compliment each other, but sometimes, after one of us had read a long portion of the diary out loud, we had to fight back the urge to hug one another or tell each other how pretty we were. We felt the imprisonment of being a girl, the way it made your mind active and dreamy, and how you ended up knowing which colors went together. We knew that the girls were our twins, that we allexisted in space like animals with identical skins, and that they knew everything about us though we couldn'y fathom them at all. We knew finally that the girls were really woman in diquise, that they understood love even death, and that our job was merely to create the noise that seemed to fascinate them.”

“It didn't matter in the end how old they had been, or that they were girls, but only that we had loved them, and that they hadn't heard us calling, still do not hear us, up here in the tree house, with our thinning hair and soft bellies, calling them out of those rooms where they went to be alone for all time, alone in suicide, which is deeper than death, and where we will never find the pieces to put them back together.”

“What lingered after them was not life, which always overcomes natural death, but the most trivial list of mundane facts: a clock ticking on a wall, a room dim at noon, and the outrageousness of a human being thinking only of herself.”

“We knew that Cecilia had killed herself because she was a misfit, because the beyond called to her, and we knew that her sisters, once abandoned, felt her calling from that place, too. ”

my thoughts/review:

the virgin suicides by jeffrey eugenides is, to me, the tragedy of being female. the novel explores how the lisbon sisters are misunderstood and objectified by the boys in their neighbourhood, who reduce them to mere sexual fantasies, failing to recognise them as human. this inability to see the sisters as complex individuals highlights the disconnect that ultimately leads to their death and why we, as the readers, will never truly know why they did it. despite the boys' attempts to understand—reading cecilia's diary, observing their lives, and even communicating with them—they remain incapable of seeing the sisters as anything more than sexual objects. their experiences and emotions are ultimately rendered invisible by the boys' objectification.

what i found most powerful about the novel is the way this detachment isn’t just something the boys experience; it’s something we, as readers, experience too. it’s tragic that we will never truly know the sisters, and that adds to the sense of mystery and sorrow throughout the novel. i really loved eugenides’ prose—his style is beautiful and haunting, which makes the tragedy even more striking. the themes of female invisibility and objectification are so layered, and despite how sad and dark it is, the novel still has an eerie beauty to it.

[your-nanas-house]

Stories I will write:

Chris Decker X fem!Reader series

Tom Riddle X follower!Reader: Secret mission part 2 (I have to think about it) (requested)

Ominous Gaunt X Reader, Sebastian Sallow X Reader: The Beginning part 2, Ominous and Sebastian talk about what happened.  (requested)

Joe Goldberg X Henry’s babysitter!Reader: Henry’s babysitter part 2 (have to think of a plot) (requested)

James Walker X Reader: short smut fic with 7 words (requested)

Jerome Valeska X fem Reader: they meet in the circus before he killed Lila (fluff and hits of his insanity) (requested)

Jerome Valeska X Reader: they play games together like catch, Jeremiah plays with them but he’s stubborn but he wants to play. (requested)

Jeremiah Valeska X gn!Reader: AU where Jeremiah doesn’t inhale the laughing gas (requested)

Valeska Twins X Reader: headcanon with cuddles and affection (requested)

Jerome Valeska X fem!Reader: smut during a day at the local swimming pool or at the river (requested)

Jerome Valeska X Rapunzel!Reader: Y/n is manipulated by her mom, hidden and exploited. It’s a darker version of Rapunzel where Jerome revisits and addresses his trauma through the reader. (requested)

Jerome Valeska X ftm!Reader: (headcanon) (requested)

Joe Goldberg X fem!Reader: he kidnaps the reader and does the whole glass box, she isn’t afraid and chills. (requested)

Duke!Jerome Valeska X Reader: Arranged marriage part 2 (have to think about a plot) (requested)

Sebastian Sallow X fem!Reader: During a muggle’s game part 2 (have to think about a plot) (requested)

Cameron Monaghan X Reader: short smut story with 200 words (requested)

Dick Grayson X Reader: (short imagine) Dick complains about Batman and a two words come out of his mouth that Y/n takes too serious 

Tom Riddle X muggle wife!Reader: Two Death Eaters go to their dark lord’s new residence which is in the muggle world, both meeting Mrs Riddle for the first time.

Hocrux!Tom Riddle X Witch!Reader: The young witch Y/n finds an elegant destroyed diary in her hands and has the task of fixing it.

Professor!Joe Goldberg X student!Reader: Joe tries to not fall back in his habits, he thinks that now with the new job and the new city things will change, but will it really be like this?

Joe Goldberg X Reader: Joe finds himself thinking about things while his gaze is on his new colleague who was taking care of Henry at that moment.

Pharaoh!Jerome Valeska X servant!Reader: Jerome sets his eyes on a young woman who he discovers is one of his servants.

Dark!Jeremiah Valeska X Gn!Reader: Jeremiah comes out of his bunker after several years in hiding and meets Y/n, from there the obsession starts.

Anthony Bridgerton X Maid!Reader: Anthony trying to catch his maid’s attention in any way.

Joe Goldberg X Reader: Y/n finds herself in Joe’s cage.

Bruce Wayne X model!Reader: After the first night spent at Wayne Manor Y/n meets the true Bruce.

Joe Goldberg (Jonathan Moore) X gallery owner!Reader: What is art? Art can be seen subjectively by everyone, therefore also by Joe.

Tom Riddle X Witch!Reader: they always meet in that place.

Jeremiah Valeska X nun Bruce’s sister!Reader: he meets Miss Wayne for the first time and has a strong need to corrupt her.

A few Sebastian X Reader’s stories and Ominis X Reader’s stories that I still have to translate. 

Elvis Presley X Milf!Reader: smut with virgin Elvis and experienced Reader (collab)

Elvis Presley X Reader: they meet at a nightclub.

Tom Riddle X fem!Reader: Tom and Reader have feelings for each other, they meet a few years later when he is slowly becoming Lord Voldemort and she finds out that she is a muggleborn. Tom is still attracted to her though even if he hates muggleborns. (requested)

Tom Riddle X Death Eater’s wife!Reader: Tom Riddle is jealous, he always was since he was still a kid and he always managed to get what he wanted, and now he wants to have for himself his follower’s wife.

Tom Riddle X artist!Reader: Tom Riddle randomly meets a weird woman who happens to be a young painter. She manages to catch his interest and he is ready to commit a portrait of himself to be able to see her more often and know more about her. Sadly after the portrait was finished everything ended because he disappeared to become “Lord Voldemort” starting that way a war after a few months

James Walker X Reader: Y/n Y/l/n and her boyfriend decide to go live in a new house together. This house happens to be Amytiville, a scary house where bad things happened, this didn’t stop the young couple though. After just a few weeks things get weird, the relationship between Y/n and her boyfriend gets worse and in the evening things get scary. James shows himself, after falling for the young girl, to scare and try to kill the boyfriend who leaves her alone in that house.

Chris Decker X Reader: Chris Decker meets Y/n on a random night in a random supermarket and they find themselves together all the night.

Jerome Valeska X Reader: Jerome Valeska starting to dance with his s/o during the morning, no words exchanged just glances and heavy stares while they body moves slowly following perfectly the music, creating such a lovely domestic scene.

Chris Decker X black widow!Reader: Chris finds out that his innocent Y/n had a bloody past full of sadness, angst and death connected to different weddings.

Colin Bridgerton X Anthony Bridgerton's wife!Reader: Colin returns at home after one of his travels and meets for the first time the Viscountess Bridgerton (Anthony's wife) and he can't help but be fascinated by her in many ways.

Anakin Skywalker X bartender!Reader: Anakin is focused on his mission with Obi-Wan but while waiting for his master to come back, trying his best to not intervene he catches the attention of a beautiful bartender that will help him distract himself for all the night.

Anthony Bridgerton & Sister!Reader: The time has come for Y/n Bridgerton too, she is attending her first ball and is ready to find a husband but her brother won't leave her alone making this mission almost impossible. She will though meet a young man that will "bewitch" her.

Elvis Presley X Reader: Y/n just watched a concert of the famous Elvis Presley and can't help but start to imagine about him while trying to sleep on her bed, finding herself with her hand down her shorts with her gaze on the poster of the King of Rock and Roll. Is he really the devil like her mama keeps telling her? Is she commiting a sin?

Anthony Bridgerton X Reader: Anthony is searching for a wife, while focusing on the diamond of the season he discovers many secret things about the young lady. Will he grow to love them or hate them? (Y/n is a quite, lover book and dogs lady).

Anthony Bridgerton X opera singer!Reader: Anthony meets the new prima donna of town and is as bewitched by her voice and her beauty. Will things get a dirty turn in their relationship?

Bruce Wayne X personal assistant!Reader: Y/n, Bruce Wayne's personal assistant, writes a book about her kinks and dirty thoughts but it goes in wrong hands. Will she lose her job after someone publishes her book not revealing yet the real writer or will she speak with her boss and fix things?

Anthony Bridgerton X Reader:(Modern AU) Anthony and Y/n meet during the Christmas Eve, in a hotel when the snow is thick and there is no possibilities to go somewhere else. Sadly or Luckily there is just one room left, a suit, and they have to share it.

Anthony Bridgerton X Reader:(Modern AU) Y/n participate at a charity event where she and some other girls are auctioned off. Many masked rich men come forward but only one will be able to "buy" a week together with Y/n, making them earn much more than the organizers had hoped. This secret millionaire is…Anthony Bridgerton (Could do it with Ominis Gaunt as well)

Sebastian Sallow X Reader: Sebastian and Y/n (MC) spend the day together, chatting and relaxing till evening. Something changes after the sun has set and the two follow their lust, right in a field of grass near Feldcroft.

???X fem!Reader: In a small church Y/n has flashbacks of her past, she remembers when she spent time with ??? and she regrets that she left, coming just now when someone told her that ??? was dead and buried there. (Rain while looking at the grave, Y/n is married) ((maybe Sebastian and Ominis))

Tom Riddle X Reader: Y/n wants revenge for her sister, since Tom hooked up with her once and ignored her after that breaking her heart, Y/n finds Tom years later, she manages to seduce him and hook up with him but when Tom things when to leave, she is a step ahead and puts her clothes on, when he asks where is she going she just says that he can have the room and throws a few galleons towards him before leaving. This makes Tom feel like a hooker and becomes strangely obsessed over Y/n.

Taglist:

@gabile18 , @mrsfullbuster500 , @rex-ray , @elizamalfoyy, @eovjjj , @monkeyking-and-liuer-mate , @jeremiah-va1eska , @gothamchic16, @rabbiteggz , @dieg0brandos-wife , @rottenecstasy , @lazyexcuse , @teh-vampire-bunny , @lobotomy-lover , @slasher-smasher , @sleepycreativewriter , @huntress-valkyrie , @lostmyremembrall , @bewitchedbymadness

[ausantana]

The Role of The “Weird Girl” in Movies

Written by: Au, also known as @ausantana on tumblr

click below to read more! ↓

Introduction 🪱

Nowadays, the trope of weird girls in movies has begun to become more visible, and as a society, we are beginning to increasingly normalize teenagers who identify themselves as "weird" or "awkward" and there is nothing wrong with both words unlike how they used to be used previously.

Types of weird girls ⭐️

There are various types of "weird girls", however they are usually categorized into 5 types (although in my opinion the complexity of each person goes far beyond each of these labels, and although we as teenagers try to fit into a specific type, we will always have characteristic features of each of these characteristics and personalities)

The goth

Known for their dark ways of dressing and acting, they mostly have alternative and gothic tastes.

Moodboard!

Characters: Lisa Frankenstein, Lydia Deetz, Nancy Downs & Morticia Addams

The Smartass

They are known above all for being sarcastic and having a great sense of humor, they tend to be the intelligent and smart ones.

Moodboard!

Characters: ‘Lady Bird’, Janis Ian, Robin Buckley & Kat Stradford

The Awkward

They are known either for not talking much or for talking too much, they are usually introverted for the most part and overthink all the time.

Moodboard!

Characters: Melinda Sordino, Carrie White, Juno Macguff & Nadine Franklin

The Basket Case

Normally, they tend to be girls who go through such a strong trauma that they express an unhealthy obsession through competitions, whether it be a frustrated dream or substance abuse. They are also called "the lost cause."

Moodboard!

Characters: Nina Sayers, Pearl, Daisy Rondone & Marla Singer

The Space Cadette

Those girls who are given the term "weird" for being daydreamers and being in their own world, are usually absent-minded.

Moodboard!

Characters: Luna Lovegood, Cassie Ainsworth, Cecilia Lisbon & Davina

Movies and Series with the weird girl representation on it 🎥

- Dinner in America (2020)

- Juno (2007)

- Lisa Frankenstein (2024)

- The Perks of Being a Wallflower (2012)

- Lady Bird (2017)

- The Edge of Seventeen (2016)

- Fleabag (2017)

- The Craft (1996)

- Beetlejuice (1988)

- The Virgin Suicides (1999)

- Little Woman (2019)

- Speak (2004)

- Girl, Interrupted (1999)

- The Diary of a Teenage Girl (2015)

- Garden State (2004)

Songs attributed to “weird girls” on social media at the moment 💿

- The Promise - When in Rome

- Teenage Girl - Cherry Glazer

- Watermelon - John + Jane Q. Public.

& more!

Video in representation → millionhawks on TikTok has perfectly represented the feeling of not fitting in anywhere, the typical attitudes of this trope such as awkwardness, overthinking and other things are also present in this video!

Which I absolutely love, as it also represents weirdness from a real point of view by adding characters from movies known to audiences familiar with this topic.

(Click on “video in representation” so you can watch the video!)

So this is my third post on this blog! I hope you liked the brief analysis I made about this plot, because I am another example of a weird girl.

I would like to encourage you to follow this blog if you want to see similar content, because even though I am not very well known on this platform, I would like to create a space full of people with the same tastes and interests as me, feel free to comment, give your opinion and ask questions in the comments of this post and any other!

I have a question for you readers! So feel free to reply: What kind of weird girl are you?

I myself am the composition of the 5 types, but above all, the awkward and the space cadette.

Xoxo, Au.

[michidrawsathing]

What are your favorite things about Prussia in canon?

Do you have any favorite headcanons about him?

Thank you, Anon, for the ask! My favorite things about Prussia in canon:

I love that even though this man talks himself up to be a huge player/popular guy. He's actually quite the loner. He doesn't really have many friends, except for France and Spain which he has gone to war with plenty of times. The man tends to make more enemies than he does friends.

I also like that while he is a menace he tends to contradict himself quite frequently. He has brash behaviors, he is quite sensitive, even keeping a diary (albeit of himself) since childhood. While it seems like he has a lack of manners/is uncleanly, he actually keeps up with himself as well as "has an anal retentive streak" (as said by Austria) about his clothes (and pretty much himself) being spick and span.

Also, this man is my highest kin, therefore, of course I have headcanons about him!

My headcanons for Prussia:

In my eyes Prussia is gay. Not bi, not pan, not any other sexuality, GAY. There are a few reasons for this, if you want to know, send another ask :3 However, due to his religious origin (aka him previously being the Teutonic Knights) I headcanon him as strictly monogamous.

Since Prussia is a good, faithful Catholic man (and to be a Teutonic Knight he had to swear a vow of chastity) he is a virgin. He's not some playboy/womanizer like everyone pegs him to be.

I also headcanon this man has a big oral fixation, he definitely is the type to smoke.

I believe, he is a huge romantic, in a modern AU I feel he would aspire to be a romance novelist. (Especially because he love to write.)

I believe he is also very expressive and empathetic to those he's close to. He's a huge cryer, though he would kill you if you caught sight of it on accident.

While he is a beer connoisseur, I believe he likes other types of alcohol such as wine and hard spirits.

I also believe he has an extensive vocabulary, however, he only showcases it to those he's closest to.

Thank you, once again, for the ask! I hope you enjoyed these headcanons (and the art) :3 Until next time~

For slightly NSFW headcanons, click keep reading

The more NSFW headcanons:

This man definitely takes pride in marking you everywhere. No spot will be untouched, I promise you.

Is a switch, however, he only bottoms for specific people. (cough cough Austria cough cough.)

Loves speaking German in the bedroom to you, as well as calling you German terms of endearment. (Examples: "liebe" which means "love", "Maus" which means "Mouse", "Schatz" which means "Darling". My favorite term is "Mein Ein und Alles" which means "My one and all" long terms for "My everything."

Loves being called his human name in the bedroom instead of sexy names like "master", "daddy", "sir", etc.

He loves people he can pick up, no matter the size, he just wants to carry you and throw you on the bed (that's why he lifts, ladies and gents).

I admit, he is probably more vanilla in terms of his interests (mans as stated before is a virgin) but once he's comfortable he's a huge experimentalist.

That's all I have! Thank you so so so so much again for the ask if you read down this far! See you all next ask!

[no1tolerateitfan]

got lovestruck went straight to my head...

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welcome to my girlblog!

colette , fifteen (taylor's version) , january capricorn , she/her , american-french-spanish , bilingual , tennis , soccer , estj , pinterest girlie , uptown girl , middle child , cabin 10 , ravenclaw , thought daughter , matt girl , hector forts wife actually

im a girl who loves...

pasta , shoes , fancy dresses , swans , jane austen , fashion , affirmations , grwms , hector fort , fruit salads , history , rome , mason thames , christmas , picnics , brandy melville , spain , navy blue , pink , snow , music , reading , winter , ivy leagues , fc barcelona , evermore , romcoms , coffee , emma chamberlain , models , concerts , any march , period films , the idea of motherhood , adam brody , traveling , brunettes , vogue magazine , nyt games , staying in , autumn , birthday parties , rhode , my family , the sturniolo triplets , france , doing my hair , learning new words , making new friends , nara smith , daydreaming , piercings , my boyfriend , being on dnd , shopping , matcha , setting goals , vanilla everything , summer roberts , real estate , concerts , stuffed animals , girlbloggers , healthy lifestyle , makeup , flowers , animals , halloween , starbucks , early mornings , etc<3

fangirl favorites

spotify deep dive;

gracie abrams , taylor swift , olivia rodrigo , sabrina carpenter , chappell roan , madison beer , lana del rey , clairo , billie eilish , lizzy mcalpine , noah kahan , maisie peters , laufey , role model , phoebe bridgers , harry styles , reneé rapp , mitski , tate mcrae , cas , paramore , boygenius , beabadoobee , niall horan , conan gray , billy joel , the neighbourhood , fleetwood mac , ethel cain , marley brown , arctic monkeys , abba , the cranberries , alessi rose , mazzy star , zach bryan , chris stapleton , ariana grande , avril lavigne , mckenna grace<3

film files;

little women , la la land , the princess diaries , lady bird , 10 things i hate about you , 13 going on 30 , pretty woman , 27 dresses , the devil wears prada , scream , when harry met sally , call me by your name , 500 days of summer , how to lose a guy in 10 days , notting hill , runaway bride , clueless , priscilla , a rainy day in new york , midnight in paris , corpse bride , the perks of being a wallflower , black swan , dead poets society , harry potter , narnia , enola holmes , beautiful boy , pride and prejudice , the notebook , the proposal , mamma mia , dirty dancing , grease , the parent trap , white chicks , ella enchanted , sixteen candles , she's the man , miss congeniality , my girl , the virgin suicides , the edge of seventeen , the amazing spiderman , mean girls , legally blonde , thirteen , breakfast at tiffany's , girl, interrupted , twilight , uptown girls , star wars , heathers , old disney<3

tv show archive;

grey's anatomy , gossip girl , gilmore girls , the oc , one tree hill , one day , friends , derry girls , baby , pretty little liars , anne with an e , how i met your mother , the office , criminal minds , supernatural , tsitp , bones , the flash , outer banks , suits , stranger things , you , the crown , emily in paris , satc , agggtm , jane the virgin , the vampire diaries , scream queens , supergirl , killing eve , glee , teen wolf , b99 , boy meets world , dawsons creek<3

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please please please reach out to me if we have the same interests , need to chat , or wanna be moots, i love meeting new ppl and being able to interact with you guys. my sideblog is @vani11alattes , if you wanna check it out! xoxo💗

!! dni if you are nsfw , 18+ , a mature themed blogs , racist , homophobic , misogynistic , and rude. this is a safe space for myself and others, do NOT ruin it by being oppressive !!

^if you are over the age of 18 and a girlblogger you are exempt from this

i am catholic , pro-palestine , and do not support russia. i don't typically talk about these topics, but if you don't agree with my views and beliefs , simply do not interact with me. thank you!

[girllookingoutwindow]

Do you think Colin really met and had relations with a Contessa or did he just make that shit up? I'm leaning towards the idea that he did meet one, they had conversations, perhaps even took her out for a few dates but nothing more. Don't think Colin has it in him to have casual relations with a woman of stature like Benedict.

I mean, he said something about a Contessa, maybe he never really talks about her or what really happened. He's talking to impress the guys. Possible is the person who was talking in his diary. I tend to believe that the majority of it is not real. But I think if she existed, maybe she kiss him or something like that. I don't think he had sex with her, and possible he didn't have sex with anybody really. I love the theory of virgin and not virgin Colin.

I don't think he had a relationship like Benedict, because that will imply some kind of connection and he was not having with anyone.

In a hypothetical situation:

Maybe he knows this woman, he was sad and drunk because Pen wasn't answering his letters and he talked with her about it, or about Pen. Maybe he tried to fill the void with her. I don't know about dates, it's sounds more casual to me. I'm sure she knew and she didn't care. But I'm sure he talked about Pen with her. If it was an old women, like it sounds, I'm sure she read him well and she sent him home or to fuck off.

Whatever it was: he wasn't finding what he wanted there. He came back home.