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targaryen-dynasty · 1 year

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GUILELESS.

Daemon Targaryen x Martell!Reader

The streets of Flea Bottom most definitely were not the place a noblewoman like you should seek out at night, but tonight marked one of the last nights you got to enjoy your freedom for you were to wed in four days.

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT–MINORS DNI; CNC, DUB-CON, p in v, roleplay, profanity, tiddy fucking, degrading, punishing, humiliating, public sex, slight oral (m receiving) and overstimulation, blink and you‘ll miss the breeding and size kink, vague description of fem!Martell!Reader (dark hair, dark eyes, small body)

WORDS: 2.6 K

NOTES: Killing two birds with one stone with this thing. Written for this and this request.

The streets of Flea Bottom were in an uproar with hundreds of gold cloaks roaming around to restore law and order in the foulest and most lawless district of the Westerosi capital. It most definitely was not the place a noblewoman like you should seek out, but tonight marked one of the last nights you got to enjoy your freedom for you were to wed in four days.

Your reddish gown had been replaced by the clothes of a boy. A wide, black tunic and gray breeches hid your body, and your long, brown curls were covered by a black cloak. The boots you wore were surprisingly more comfortable than the sandals you wore around court, yet they were not at all appropriate to be paired to the finest, dornish silk you usually donned.

On your way through the dimly lit alleyways, you bumped shoulders with more than one commoner that fled the scene you were too eager to see. Coming closer to the source of the agonizing screams, you stopped just short of the crowd, barely out of the alleyway.

To your left was a pillow house, the ornate lamp of gilded metal and scarlet glass swung over the door casting you in a red light. You tried to move further and squeeze past the wall of curious bystanders, before your wrist was seized by something firm that caused you to gasp.

“A lady like you should be careful wandering the streets alone at such hour,” a deep voice drawled out. As you turned around, you immediately noticed who had you in a tight hold, the long, silver strands of hair peeking from beneath the helmet a dead giveaway–just like the surcoat depicting the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen that none of the other gold cloaks around you wore. Daemon Targaryen, Lord Commander of the City Watch.

You straightened your back, and decided not to show any of your emotions. Especially not the nervousness that soared through your veins. “I shall have you know that I am no lady,” you replied sternly, though there was a slight tremble in your smooth voice, “I am to be a princess soon.”

That seemed to amuse the man, your intimidation tactic clearly not working. “Oh, you most certainly are,” he replied with a mocking tone, “that is why I have found you in Flea Bottom, hm, dressed like what… a little boy?” Now there was a slight hint of uneasiness accompanying his words and presence, which had a shiver running up your spine. “As your princess, I command you to let go of me,” you pressed, trying to tug your arm back – but to no avail.

“You are a feisty little thing,” the gold cloak murmured with a sly smile. “It is a shame you are nothing more than a pretender. You would have made an excellent wife.” He didn’t even allow you to give him a reply, before his hand found the back of your neck to shove you into the pillow house to your left you had examined not long before.

Upon stumbling inside, you noticed that it was no pillow house but a simple brothel instead. Older wenches with more flesh to their hips and a used appearance did not hone the low quality the common room presented itself in. Considering the size of the crowd in front of the etablissement, it was surprising to spot not so many patrons inside.

“I–What–”

“I shall have you punished for those treacherous antics,” he barked, effectively cutting you off. The light tap he gave your rear caught you off guard, however, it was solely a ruse meant to distract you from both his hands grabbing the waistband of your breeches and undergarments to rather forcefully tug them down your body. It was nothing else than luck that the tunic you wore was long enough to cover your cunt for anyone that dared to catch a glimpse.

You gasped, and seized his hand on your hip that threatened to dive forwards between your legs. “My lord,” you protested, pretending that you did not know whose chest was pressed flush to your back, “you should not– I–”

Before you could protest even more, he had hauled you up against the breastplate of his armor, and you could merely look at him from over your shoulder, your dark eyes filled with lust. You started to struggle against his hold, yet his muscular arms snaked around your frame made it obvious you didn't stand a chance.

“Please, no,” you whimpered.

“Silence,” he bellowed, carrying you through the common room of the brothel to an alcove that granted you just some more privacy. While you were dropped unceremoniously on a chaise standing nearby, he brought a large hand up to the back of your neck, applying a good bit of pressure so you were kneeling on the chaise with your arse up and face down.

From behind you, you could hear a satisfied groan, no doubt spotting the glistening shimmer on your cunt from how aroused you were. When his calloused finger dragged through your soaked mound, you could not stifle a moan to leave your lips.

“Please, stop, my lord, I am still a maiden,” you whimpered, trying to get back up only to be pushed down again forceful enough to have you grunting just once. “Stay,” he warned, and you were foolish to not obey his command. You could faintly hear his hands fumbling with the buckles along the breastplate of his armor, your heartbeat pounding in your ears loud enough to almost drown out every other sound, removing them and allowing the steel to fall to the ground – piece after piece following in its wake. “I am betrothed,” you tried to reason.

You gasped as his hand served a firmer slap to your arse this time, the gentle rubbing of his palm not at all mending the stinging pain. “And you still will be once I am done with you,” came his stern reply. He dragged two fingers through your mound, from your entrance to the little bud, retorting to rubbing mindless patterns over it that had you pushing your hips against his fingers for a moment to chase the friction. Despite the moans that left your lips, you tried to snake your hand between your thighs to cover your cunt and arse, but he was quick enough to capture both your hands, bringing them together behind you to pin them to your back with one hand.

The gold cloak was skilled enough to unlace his breeches one-handed, freeing his cock out of its confines. “I shall refrain from spending my seed inside of your cunt for I do not desire to dishonor your betrothed,” he mumbled, his voice taking on a rougher edge.

“Do not do this, please,” you released a shaky breath, and every protest that threatened to follow caught in your throat the moment he dragged the tip of his cock through your swollen folds, resuming the movements he had previously made with his fingers.

The attempt to resist him was cut short when his cock breached your core, pushing into you at a teasingly slow pace that had you drawing in a sharp breath. “Your betrothed might get to breed you, but I took your maidenhead. You do best to remember that when he lays his filthy hands on you,” he groaned. The moment you stretched around him, all you could choke out was ‘yes, yes, yes,’ being in a stupor because of his cock.

With his hand still around your wrists, he pulled you onto his cock until his hips pressed against your rear, taking his time to adjust to your tightness. The ‘Gods’ he muttered under his breath didn’t go unnoticed by you, and it appeared that he didn’t know where to place his free hand as it squeezed your arse, tugged on your hair and eventually settled in the curve of your waist.

He pounded into you with reckless abandon, the tip of his cock brushing the spot inside of you that had your vision grow blurry over and over again. With your face pressed into a pillow resting on the chaise, you were not able to spot the feigned anger and jealousy blazing in his eyes. The only thing that made you aware of the amusement he found in that situation was the tone of his husky voice, making it more than clear that he had a smirk on his lips. “When I am done with you,” he rasped, bowing forward to put more of his weight on your small frame beneath his. “You shall desire no one else’s cock but mine.”

“Yes–” he interrupted your answer with a hard, percussive thrust, and then another, and another, until you couldn't focus on anything else but the delicious pressure inside your cunt. You pushed your hips back against him, and he reared up to pull you back with each of his thrusts, meeting him halfway which resulted in the lewd sounds of skin slapping on skin bouncing off the walls. The position you were in, with your face pressed into the pillow, granted you some sense of feigned privacy, because otherwise you would have noticed some curious eyes lingering on you two whenever one of the customers or whores decided to prowl the scene unfolding.

“Let’s see how much you desire your betrothed’s cock after this.”

When his hips stilled, and the pleasure in the pit of your belly eased, you propped yourself up on your hands with his vice-like grip suddenly gone. You looked at him from over your shoulder, and if you were not so lost in the sight of him behind you, you would have pouted when he gripped the neckline of your tunic to rip the linen to shreds as if it was nothing, exposing the last bit of your body to the sticky air of the brothel.

His skin was glistening in the dim light the candles granted, small beads of sweat highlighting his muscles. His upper body was defined by numerous cuts and scars, a testament to the dangers he had survived in his short life already. As he glanced down to where his clock disappeared inside of you, strands of his silver hair fell into his face, framing his chiseled features. You were so focused on enjoying the view that you did not immediately catch on to what he had said to you, the words not registering in your mind.

It seemed that his patience was not infinite as he grabbed your waist and hoisted you up as if you weighed nothing, settling you down on the cold floor so you sat on your haunches. He sat down on the chaise with his legs spread, his thick cock flush against his lower stomach, and straining as he leaned back, hands resting on his muscular thighs. You tilted your head, affecting a look of defiance. His eyes flickered over your frame, taking in every exposed inch of skin, and he couldn't help but smirk. “I said I shall not dishonor your betrothed, did I not?” he said, and almost dismissively waved his hand in order for you to continue.

You took that as your cue to use your hands and mouth to coax him towards his peak, however, when you reached to grasp the base of his member, the dragon in front of you merely tsked. Without saying a word, he bowed forwards and brought his paw-like hands to the sides of your breasts, squeezing them together. At the realization of what he had in mind, your eyes widened in surprise, and when he raised an eyebrow with a slight tilt of his head, you knew what was expected of you.

While his hands merely released your breasts to allow you to lean forwards, it was your hand that fisted the base of his cock, still thoroughly lubricated with your arousal. You positioned yourself so his cock rested in the Vale between your breasts, only for him to squeeze them together around it again. “Good girl,“ he praised, and you craned your neck to give a teasing lick along the slit at the tip of his cock, which prompted the prince to take in a sharp breath.

He replied by bucking his hips up, his cock bumping against your slightly parted lips. While he smirked at you in a smug manner, you released a surprised gasp, your eyes flickering between his violet ones and his cock. With his hands on your breasts, he kept them pressed tightly around his member, using the crevice between them to race for completion. You raised and lowered your body in rhythm with his hips, licking and kissing the tip of his cock whenever it came close enough to your lips.

His fingers pinched and brushed the perky buds of your breasts, causing you to release one whimper after the other. It was a titillating sight, watching how your expression shifted to a more focused one as you moved your body for his pleasure, ignoring the throbbing at the apex of your legs as best as you could.

“What an obedient, little wench I have found on the streets of Flea Bottom,” he groaned, his voice raspier, indicating that he was close to reaching his peak. “So willing to please the Lord Commander of the City Watch. Do you like watching me fuck those perfect teats of yours?” You couldn't help but whine, a slight blush creeping onto your cheeks at his words like they were the most embarrassing thing you had ever heard. Dornish people were known for their sexual licentiousness, but that man in front of you seemed to top just that.

“Will you claim me, my lord?” you asked, innocently batting your eyelashes at him. But with his peak approaching him rather quickly, the last threads of his patience seemed to snap as he growled a ‘Tis husband for you’ in return, the thoughts of your well-schemed ploy long forgotten at the aspect of spending himself all over you, claiming you. With a strangled groan, Daemon reached his completion, his cock spurting between your breasts and onto your chest, throat, lips and even your tongue. The pinch on your perky buds turned painfully tight with the pleasure soaring through his veins, causing you to squirm a bit, and it took a moment for the tension to slowly subside.

He watched with hooded eyes as you licked his seed off the skin your tongue could reach, and when your hands came up to peel him off of you, there didn’t come any objection from him. You wrapped your lips around his cock, and took as much of him down your throat as possible. He breathed heavily as he bowed forwards, looming over you as he took in the debauched sight in front of him.

Daemon shivered and grunted as you cleaned him up, the overstimulation making him sensitive to your touch, and he fisted your hair to pull you off of him. With the remnants of his seed still on your chin, you smiled up at him, and you could see his flaccid cock slowly growing hard again. You rested your cheek on his thigh, staring up at him as you lazily tugged him to full hardness again

“Gods,” he groaned, the bump in his throat bobbing in anticipation. “I love you, t–,” you replied, the last word catching in your throat as he hoisted you up to straddle his hips. His hard cock was nestled between your bodies, and your arms immediately wrapped around his neck, fingers entangling in the strands of his silver hair.

“I am going to make you peak, and then I am fucking you until you can no longer walk and you are carrying my child,” he mumbled into the curve of your neck, sucking in your skin to leave some faint marks. “Just to show you how much I love you, wife.”

General Taglist: @aemondx @watercolorskyy @nothingqueens @urmomsgirlfriend1

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flying-cstle · 4 months

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Howell Jenkins / Howl Pentragon / Hauro Jenkins Zauberer Engländer 29 Jahre alt lebt in einem wandelnden Schloss

Though [Wizard Howl] did not seem to want to leave the hills, he was known to amuse himself by collecting young girls and sucking the souls from them. Or some people said he ate their hearts. He was an utterly cold-blooded and heartless wizard and no young girl was safe from him if he caught her on her own.“

Du möchtest mehr lesen? Schau hier nach!

The pitying look made Sophie utterly ashamed. He was such a dashing specimen too, with a bony, sophisticated face—really quite old, well into his twenties—and elaborate blonde hair. His sleeves trailed longer than any in the Square all scalloped edges and silver insets.“

„He's the best wizard in Ingary or anywhere else. If he'd only had time, he would have defeated that djinn. And he's sly and selfish and vain as a peacock and cowardly, and you can't pin him down to anything.“

Hyazinthen verfolgten den dunkelblau gekleideten Mann mit jedem Schritt. Von den Ärmel gingen silberne Faden aus und dekorierten ihn noch ein wenig mehr. Es wirkte magisch. Man könnte meinen, er stach in jedem Etablissement heraus; selbst unter adrett gekleideten Leuten konnte man seine Person ausfindig machen. Manchmal sogar mit einem passenden Zylinder versehen. Die hellgrünen Augen, die wie Murmeln wirkten, waren meist in Neugier oder Langeweile gestimmt. Selten erblickte wahre Freude oder Aufregung seine Züge. Mit einer Gitarre in der Hand, die er selten zu spielen vermag und einem charmanten Lächeln, saß der Zauberer gerne im Grünen um seiner Lieblingsbeschäftigung nachzugehen: Herzen zu brechen. Das Gefühl der Liebe beflügelte ihn immer wieder aufs Neue. Man munkelte, dass er nur dann nicht gestylt aus dem Haus ging, wenn er sich aufrichtig verliebte. Doch das war in all den 18 Jahren, die er mit dem wandelnden Schloss umherreiste, noch nicht passiert. Ungern ließ er sich auf etwas festnageln, wollte lieber die Freiheiten der Welt genießen und konnte ein dramatischen Auftreten des puren Egoismus' ausleben, wenn er wollte. Geduldige Menschen (und ebenso willensstarke) wurden gebraucht, damit der Zauberer sich breitschlagen ließ.

— charismatischer, flirtender und oftmals exzentrischer freiheitsliebender Zauberer

ooc: activity varies & crossover friendly, since Dezember 2019, open for plotting

credit banner: jessource

#f: howls moving castle #he/him #übernatürlich #historisch #gegenwart #b: kein Interesse #vorlage #userfakevz

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gynarchie77 · 1 year

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Gerechtigkeit am Tag Urteil in der Nacht

Das gedämpfte Licht des Gerichtssaals hob das massiv wirkende Eichenmobiliar hervor. Die Uhr über dem Richter zeigte 10:00 Uhr an. Die Anspannung war spürbar. Alle Augen richteten sich auf den Eingang des Gerichtssaals. Claire Moreau, eine der angesehensten Anwältinnen der Stadt, betrat den Raum, gekleidet in eine Anwaltsrobe, die ihre schlanke Silhouette betonte. Sie hatte langes, zu einem strengen Knoten gebundenes braunes Haar, tiefe haselnussbraune Augen und einen selbstsicheren Gang, der ihre Erfahrung verriet. Ihre Körperhaltung zeigte ein Selbstbewusstsein, das durch Jahre gewonnener juristischer Schlachten geprägt worden war. Der Fall des Tages war besonders heikel - ein Finanzskandal großen Ausmaßes. Claire vertrat die Verteidigung, was für viele eine Überraschung war, da sie vor allem für ihre Scharfsinnigkeit in Verfolgungsangelegenheiten bekannt war. Doch sie war nicht der Typ, der vor einer Herausforderung zurückschreckt. Während sie ihre Akten an ihrem Platz vorbereitete, durchzogen Flüstern den Raum: "Warum hat sie diesen Fall angenommen?" "Sie hat wirklich Mut!" "Sie ist zum Scheitern verurteilt." Claire jedoch schien unerschütterlich, ihre ganze Aufmerksamkeit dem Richter gewidmet, der gerade die Sitzung eröffnen wollte. Ihr gegenüber stand die Anklage, angeführt von einem jüngeren, nervösen Anwalt, der verstohlene Blicke zu Claire warf, sichtlich eingeschüchtert von ihrer Präsenz. Die Sitzung begann mit den üblichen Erklärungen. Claire, mit einer ruhigen und gelassenen Stimme, begann das Fundament ihrer Verteidigung zu legen, die Anklage mit ihren scharfen Argumenten zu verunsichern und die Situation zu Gunsten ihres Mandanten zu wenden. Das Beeindruckendste an Claire war nicht nur ihr juristisches Fachwissen, sondern ihre Fähigkeit, Menschen zu lesen, ihre Bewegungen vorauszusehen und sie zu kontrollieren, ohne dass sie es merkten. Der Tag war lang, der Austausch intensiv, aber am Ende, als die Menge den Gerichtssaal verließ, wussten alle, dass Claire Moreau einmal mehr bewiesen hatte, warum sie als die Beste galt. Was jedoch die meisten nicht wussten, war, dass der Gerichtssaal nicht der einzige Ort war, an dem Claire in der Kunst der Dominanz glänzte. Nachts tauschte sie ihre Anwaltsrobe gegen die einer Domina aus, bereit, eine ganz andere Art von Gerechtigkeit zu erkunden. Dieser Kontrast zwischen Tag und Nacht, zwischen Professionalität und Verlangen, war es, der Claire so faszinierend und ungreifbar machte.

Die Stadt hatte zwei Gesichter. Tagsüber war sie voller Geschäftigkeit, Autolärm und eiligen Passanten. Nachts verwandelte sie sich in einen Ort voller Geheimnisse, verborgener Geheimnisse und unausgesprochener Wünsche. In dieser Welt fühlte sich Claire am lebendigsten.

Im alten Viertel der Stadt, fernab von Wolkenkratzern und Neonlichtern, gab es eine unauffällige Gasse. Nur diejenigen, die von ihrer Existenz und ihrer Bedeutung wussten, wagten sich hinein. Am Ende dieser Gasse war eine schwarze Tür mit einem Türklopfer in Form eines Löwen. Sie führte zu einer eleganten, aber diskreten Einrichtung, die nur den Eingeweihten bekannt war: "L'Antichambre".

Hinter dieser Tür öffnete sich eine Welt der Lust und Macht. Dunkelrote Samtwände, Kerzenhalter mit flackernden Kerzen und sinnliche Musik, die die Besucher umhüllte, schufen eine intime Atmosphäre.

Claire betrat "L'Antichambre" mit der gleichen Selbstsicherheit wie im Gerichtssaal. Hier war sie zu Hause, respektiert und gefürchtet. Aber hier war sie nicht Claire Moreau, die Anwältin. Sie war Herrin C.

Herrin C ging zur Bar, wo die in Leder und Spitze gekleidete Barfrau ihr ohne ein Wort ihren Lieblingscocktail servierte. Um sie herum bewegten sich andere Dominante und Unterworfene, einige in Rollenspielen, andere einfach im Gespräch.

Aber heute Abend hatte Claire eine besondere Verabredung. Sie ging zu einem privaten Raum im hinteren Teil des Etablissements. Drinnen fand sie alles, was sie für ihre Sitzungen benötigte: Ketten, Peitschen, Seile und viele andere Instrumente des Vergnügens und Schmerzes.

Sie nahm sich einen Moment Zeit, um sich in ein passendes Outfit für die Nacht zu kleiden: ein schwarzes Lederkorsett, Overknee-Stiefel mit hohen Absätzen und eine Spitzenmaske, die nur ihre fesselnden Augen zeigte. Sie war bereit.

Die Tür öffnete sich leise und ein Mann trat ein. Groß, athletisch, mit kurz geschnittenem schwarzen Haar, trug er eine Maske, die den Großteil seines Gesichts bedeckte und nur seine intensiven blauen Augen freigab. Claire konnte die Spannung in ihm spüren, eine Mischung aus Nervosität und Vorfreude.

"Willkommen", sagte sie mit sanfter, aber bestimmter Stimme. "Bist du bereit, dich zu unterwerfen, deine tiefsten und dunkelsten Wünsche zu erkunden?"

Der Mann nickte, sein Blick fest auf sie gerichtet. Es war klar, dass er bereit war, sich in die Welt der Herrin C zu verlieren, eine Welt, in der sie alle Macht hatte.

Der Raum war gleichzeitig intim und beeindruckend. Die rohen Steinmauern wurden von Fackeln beleuchtet, die bewegliche Schatten erzeugten, die im Rhythmus der sanften und fesselnden Musik tanzten, die aus den versteckten Lautsprechern kam. Jede Ecke schien eine Geschichte zu erzählen, jedes Instrument hatte seine eigene Geschichte.

In der Mitte des Raumes thronte ein großes Himmelbett mit stabilen Pfosten, dessen schwarze Seidenlaken zur Sinnlichkeit einluden. Überall waren sorgfältig verschiedene Ausrüstungen angeordnet: ein Andreaskreuz, ein Käfig, ein Spankbock sowie abschließbare Schränke, die alle Arten von Instrumenten enthielten, von den sanftesten bis zu den grausamsten.

Claire, oder besser gesagt, Herrin C, ging langsam um den Raum herum, ihre Finger streiften jedes Objekt und riefen Erinnerungen an frühere Sitzungen hervor. Sie war stolz auf ihr Verlies, auf die Atmosphäre, die sie geschaffen hatte, eine Mischung aus Respekt, Angst und Begehren.

Der Mann, dessen Name noch ein Geheimnis blieb, beobachtete aufmerksam. Er konnte Claires Leidenschaft für diese Welt spüren, die Art und Weise, wie jedes Element im Raum eine Erweiterung von ihr selbst war. Er war sowohl neugierig als auch ängstlich in Erwartung dessen, was kommen würde.

"Jedes Objekt hier hat eine Geschichte, einen Zweck," flüsterte Herrin C. "Einige sind für Vergnügen, andere für Schmerz und manche für beides. Es hängt alles davon ab, was der Unterworfene bereit ist zu erleben."

Sie näherte sich einer Reihe von Peitschen, die an der Wand hingen. Sie wählte eine aus und schwang sie sanft, wobei das Leder durch die Luft zischte. "Einige lieben das Gefühl von Leder auf ihrer Haut, den scharfen Biss gefolgt von der wärmenden Nachwirkung. Andere bevorzugen Seile, das Gefühl, eingeschränkt zu sein, ausgeliefert ihrem Dominanten."

Der Mann schluckte, sein Blick auf die Peitsche gerichtet. Er hatte zuvor einige Spiele erlebt, aber nie etwas von dieser Intensität.

Herrin C kam näher, die Peitsche immer noch in der Hand. "Es ist Zeit herauszufinden, was du wirklich magst", sagte sie und strich mit dem Ende des Leders über seine Wange.

Er schloss die Augen und bereitete sich darauf vor, in die Tiefen seiner Wünsche und Ängste einzutauchen, geleitet von der erfahrenen Hand von Herrin C.

Nach einigen Augenblicken, die wie eine Ewigkeit zu dauern schienen, sagte der Mann, außer Atem und mit zögernder Stimme: "Mein Name ist Damien." Meisterin C neigte leicht den Kopf, ein halbes Lächeln auf den Lippen. "Ich schätze die Ehrlichkeit, Damien. Aber hier, in diesem Raum, ist dein Name unwichtig. Was zählt, ist, was du bereit bist zu geben, zu fühlen und zu entdecken." Damien nickte und erkannte die Macht des Moments. Er fühlte sich verletzlich, aber gleichzeitig war eine spürbare Aufregung in der Luft, eine Energie, die nicht verneint werden konnte. Während der Abend voranschritt, erlebte Damien eine Reihe von Empfindungen, die er sich nie vorgestellt hatte. Er war erstaunt über das Vertrauen, das er dieser Frau so schnell entgegenbrachte, und ließ seine inneren Barrieren fallen. Irgendwann, als Damien gefesselt und mit verbundenen Augen war, spürte er etwas anderes. Es war nicht Schmerz oder Vergnügen, sondern eine tiefe, fast spirituelle Verbindung zu Meisterin C. Es war, als würden sich ihre Seelen erkennen und auf eine Art und Weise verbinden. Als er schließlich von seinen Fesseln befreit wurde, flüsterte Damien mit tränenerfüllten Augen: "Wir haben uns schon einmal getroffen, oder?" Claire, überrascht, nahm ihre Maske ab und enthüllte ihre haselnussbraunen Augen. "Wo glauben Sie, mich gesehen zu haben?" Damien zögerte und suchte in seiner Erinnerung. "Es war vor Jahren, bei einer Konferenz über Recht. Sie waren die Hauptrednerin. Ich war im Publikum und von jedem Ihrer Worte gefesselt. Ich habe Ihr Gesicht nie vergessen." Claire lachte leise. "Die Welt ist klein, nicht wahr? Aber hier hat die Vergangenheit keine Bedeutung. Es zählt die Gegenwart." Damien lächelte und erkannte die Wahrheit ihrer Worte. Doch diese Offenbarung veränderte die Dynamik zwischen ihnen. Sie waren nicht mehr nur Domina und Unterworfener, sondern zwei Menschen, die in der Vergangenheit einen Moment geteilt hatten und auf unerwartete Weise wieder verbunden waren. Die Nacht endete mit einer erneuerten Intimität, jede Berührung und jedes Wort war von tieferer Bedeutung. Der Morgen dämmerte, und während sie sich anzogen, erfüllte sie beide ein Gefühl der Dankbarkeit. Sie wussten, dass diese Nacht nur der Beginn eines größeren Abenteuers war.

Die Sonne stieg langsam auf und färbte den Himmel in Schattierungen von Gold und Rosa. Damien, der die gepflasterten Straßen entlangging, spürte noch immer den Nervenkitzel der Nacht auf seiner Haut. Jeder Schritt erinnerte ihn an die Intensität dessen, was er erlebt hatte, die seltsame Mischung aus Entdeckung und Vertrautheit. Er hätte nie gedacht, dass ihm die Welt des BDSM ein solches Gefühl der Erfüllung bringen könnte, geschweige denn, dass seine Führerin jemand wäre, den er in einem völlig anderen Zusammenhang bewundert hatte.

Claire hatte gemischte Gefühle. Sie hatte immer eine klare Linie zwischen ihrem Berufsleben und ihrem nächtlichen Leben als Meisterin C gezogen. Damien in "L'Antichambre" zu treffen, hatte diese Grenzen verwischt. Während sie die Tiefe ihrer Verbindung schätzte, war sie sich der potenziellen Komplikationen bewusst.

Einige Tage später, als Claire auf dem Weg zu ihrem Büro war, bemerkte sie eine vertraute Gestalt. Damien, in einem eleganten Anzug, unterhielt sich mit einem Kollegen vor einem Café. Sie hielt inne, unschlüssig, wie sie reagieren sollte. Es war ihre erste "offizielle" Begegnung bei Tageslicht.

Damien bemerkte sie, und ihre Blicke trafen sich. Ein schüchternes Lächeln erschien auf seinen Lippen. Claire näherte sich, ihr selbstsicherer Gang verriet kaum ihre Überraschung und Verlegenheit. "Guten Morgen, Meisterin", sagte Damien leise, ein verschmitztes Lächeln in den Augen. Claire lachte leise. "Hier bin ich einfach Claire." Damien's Kollege, neugierig auf den Austausch, warf einen fragenden Blick. Claire streckte die Hand aus. "Claire Moreau. Wir haben uns vor einiger Zeit auf einer Konferenz getroffen." Nach einigen höflichen Gesprächen beschlossen Damien und Claire, gemeinsam Kaffee zu trinken. Sie saßen sich gegenüber und sprachen über dies und jenes, und vermieden sorgfältig das Thema ihres nächtlichen Treffens. Doch die Spannung zwischen ihnen war spürbar. Beim Abschied nahm Damien einen tiefen Atemzug. "Claire, ich weiß, dass wir aus unterschiedlichen Welten kommen und dass das, was wir geteilt haben, komplex ist, aber ich möchte… mehr über Sie erfahren. Nicht nur über Meisterin C, sondern auch über die Frau hinter der Maske." Claire nickte, berührt von seiner Aufrichtigkeit. "Ich stimme zu. Aber lassen Sie uns unsere Zeit nehmen und uns ohne Masken oder vordefinierte Rollen kennenlernen." Beide trennten sich mit einem leichten Herzen, voller Vorfreude auf ihr nächstes Treffen. Die Bindungen, die im Mondschein geknüpft wurden, begannen im Tageslicht Wurzeln zu schlagen.

#gynarchie #matriarchie #keyholder #HighHeelsLiebhaber #Fußfetisch #Fußfetischist #Schlüsselhalter #weiblichgeführteWelt #weiblicheÜberlegenheit

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freshstartbaby · 11 months

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TERRIFY

Florian was waiting inside the restaurant. A sophisticated nice place, with dark decoration, brown vibrations and few neons lights. Youth’s Fountain was one of their favorite places with Grace.

The etablissement was neat, mature, delivered excellent wine, creative hookas and had a good DJ. The last information was essential for Grace, she could not settle in a place where the music was not giving.

Florian’s thighs was bumping into anticipation and he could not resist to check his silver watch every minute. She was late and he was sure she was doing it on purspose.

Grace was always on time, to her you were already late when you were on time. So if she was showing up late, she probably had an issue or she was doing it on purpose. The idea of something happening to her created a tiny stomachache to Florian, but he was sure it was not that. He knows how she act when she’s upset and why she was upset.

His long fingers let mist on the beer glass he just finished to eased his mind. Florian valued humbleness, even if he had a certain ego, he knew he messed up something in his friendship with Grace. And the worst in this situation was that it was entirely his fault, he wanted to make it right.

Once he decided to call Grace to reassure his self that she was alright, he saw her penetrated the place. He put down his phone on the table while his green eyes were glued to her.

Grace greeted the waitress and told her about the reservation removing her sunglasses. She was wearing her signature bright smile and followed the tall girl slowly. While the waitress was taking her to the table, people were definitely checking her out. Florian was used to that. The glow of her mocha skin always had this effect on people. Whenever hairstyle she was having, everything suits her, today was boho braids and Florian was already falling for it. She had an aura that made people shiver and Florian was definitely one of them.

He got up when she arrived at the table. Without a word one of Florian’s arms wrapped around Grace’s waist and hers gently grab his strong biceps. He was so glad she didn’t pushed him back. Not that she used to do so but he was just walking on eggshells. They looked at each others in silence sitting down.

« 28 look good on you G. » he said hyping her up before moving one of her braids and shaking her right shoulder slightly. His hands were already begging to have her.

Grace didn’t had the time to answer that a particular waiter came at the table addressing directly to her.

« I knew it. I knew that if this Big Boy was here, you wouldn’t be far away ! » he said pointing her with a teasing voice

« How you been Martin ? » she answered kindly. The waiter just nodded his head before continuing

« I love your outfit. » he cheesed referring to the olive dress she was wearing.

Florian licked quickly his lips before letting his arms fall on Grace shoulders, massaging the back base of her neck. A shiver traveled her spine before she finally thanked politely the waiter. Florian’s motion made him step back a little before he took the drink’s order. Florian let his fingers touch Grace’s neck while he watched the waiter go before he said with a little irritation in his voice

« The way he keep trying to flirt with you everytime we come here, it’s-« Florian said letting the « s » sound between his lips looking for the right word

« It’s what ? » Grace said with a lifted eyebrow pushing the rest of her braids behind her shoulder

« Funny. »

« Funny ? » she repeated with her head falling to her left side

« Mhmh. »

« What is so funny about wanting to flirt with me ? » she said removing his hand from her body and locking her eyes with him.

Florian looked back at her for long seconds while his heart beat was increasing. He exhaled, look down and finally whispered in a low tone

« You know I what I me-«

« I can’t ear you, speak up. »

« I said you know what I mean. » he said again more louder this time after a growl.

Grace stared at him having difficulties to say that simple sentence with a lot of deception. Why was it so hard for him ?

« How was your birthday ? » Florian asked breaking the silence.

« You weren’t there but it was pretty amazing. »

He smiled and kept digging. He knew Grace was going to act a bit bitter for a long time tonight and he couldn’t show anything less but resilience.

Few months ago Cloe came at Grace, publicly, during a party talking about how she didn’t believe in straight platonic friendship between man and woman and that it was just a matter of time before her boyfriend kind of dump Grace. Florian was so surprised that nothing came out of his mouth. Not a joke, not a argument, no nothing. The party became weird in a snap.

After that, too much time passed without any communication between them. Grace felt for the first time that Florian was not on her side. The feeling was not sitting right, not at all, but she didn’t want to pursue a relationship she had to fight for. Not like that. Relationship was supposed to be easy, lov- friendship was supposed to be easy. And since this situation, it’s not. Even if it will be hard, she just wanted to move foward. She had already experienced having to fight for being love back and she promised herself it will not happen again.

Florian did not had easy months either. All the arguments with Cloe, all the self doubt, all the burdened feelings. The situation was so wrong and he felt a lot of guilt. Not having news from Grace, specially during her birthday, which he knows was a very important moment for her, was not what he wanted. Even if Florian was overthinking for month, he only had the courage to contact her few days ago. Why ? He was freaking lost.

« I miss her. » Florian said slumped on the couch during a boys night. His friends looked at he him and started chuckling seeing him this miserable. « Just call her man. She will pick up, you know her. » Sandro said reassuring him. « She will not ! » Masias said knowing too much how Grace could get when Florian pissed her off. « Are we talking Cloe or ? » Dejan asked really not sure about the girl he was taking about. Masias and Sandro started chuckling again knowing their friend was in a complicated situation. Florian looked at them with a tiny smile and put his middle finger up « Fuck y’all. » he mumbled.

Dinner was alright. Not good, not bad, it was alright. Florian and Grace tried to catch up the last months, he was definitely asking all the questions but it wasn’t a big deal. He was really interested and earring her talk was a blessing after having no news. Grace’s answers were a bit short and straight to the point but she tried not to be on defensive. She didn’t want to be the bitter one, she really wanted to act cool.

It was harder than she thought. It was hard to be insensitive infront of him. The way his navy sweater was hugging his body, the shiny chain trap between his torso and the fabric, his hands always finding a way on her body, his eyes locking sight with her while blowing smoke from his hookah. Yeah it was hard keeping her composure and seeing him after all this time remind her why she was so mad. The amont of love she had for him was insane. Maybe too much ? It’s certainly was a waste. She wanted to be in a relationship with someone who really loved her, something when she wasn’t the second choice or the fantasy dream. And the way Florian act last time ? It wasn’t what she wanted. Their friendship had run out course.

« I’m get going. » Grace said after emptying her mint tea glass. She grabbed her purse looking for her credit card when Florian grabbed her forearm, frowned his eyebrow slightly before putting his card on the table. « Already ? » he asked touching his nose trying to look her in the eye, he felt like she was trying to shorten their time. She nodded slowly looking around the place, it was certainly the last time she will be there. She wasn’t a masochist.

« Look we didn’t have the time to talk about what happen. » Florian said looking Grace ready to get out his car. He had to insist more than five time to let him drive her home.

Grace remove her hand from the door slowly. « We had. » she said rubbing her right eye gently. « We had the time but we decided not to. Didn’t we ? » she said in a monotone voice finally looking at him. It was just above a whisper.

« You’re right, you’re right Gigi. »

« I am sorry Gigi. » that’s how he began. It was a good start, really. He tried his best patching things up, being honest, explaining how much she meant to him but also how much he didn’t want to risk their friendship over a relationship he didn’t knew if it was worthy enough.

After that he continued, trying to put the right words on what he was feeling, but Grace wasn’t listening anymore. « I got feeling but I don’t know if it will work or if it worth it. » she eared again and again. So she wasn’t worthy enough for him.

« Look Florian-« Grace said cutting him off, she had ear enough. « Thank you for your apologies, I, I » she said losting the track of her thoughts. She wanted to be out of this car, quickly. « I appreciate them and accept them, but let’s just not go this way. We should you know, you do you with Cloe and we stay in touch in a friend way-«

« Wait what ? » he said trying to keep up with what she was saying « Gigi talk to me, I don’t even know what you’re thinking, you been on mute-«

« Because you didn’t even ask ! Like did you even care ? You were the one on mute when she came at me ! »

« Of course I care I was just surprised, what was I supposed to do, talk to her infront of everyone ? You know I couldn’t do that. It’s not because I didn’t do it infront of you that it did not happen ! You can’t be mad at me for that »

« Why are we having this conversation ? »

« What-«

« Why. Are we. Having this conversation ? »

« Because I want to make things right ! »

« No we’re having this conversation because you want to feel better ! »

« Gigi » he whispered letting his head fall on the headrest « I just don’t want to lose you. »

Rain drops started falling on the car. The silence in the vehicle made the sound more loud. Grace looked at the window and finally find a way out

« I don’t want to lose you either. But I want a friend who can have my back 100% or a boyfriend that don’t have any doubt of my worth. » Florian head snaped quickly at the word « boyfriend « not really sure of what’s Grace said.

« I know your wor-« he said in a quick motion

« Flo, take care. » she said ending the conversation putting her left hand on his.

Florian watched her leaving the car, still lost in his feeling and having the strong will not to give up on anything, specially not on Grace.

Helloooo guys, it was funny writing my first ask ! I was afraid that there were too much similarities with Same Hearts, different places but i think it turn out pretty well (?)

#florian munteanu #florian munteanu x black reader #fanfic #viktor drago x reader

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colemckenzies · 1 year

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Jesus Christ Superstar: Ultimate Edition

this easter It Is Time. using my years of fixation and research i present to you The Best Version of every song from jesus christ superstar, plus commentary. obviously subjective opinion so do feel free to discourse in the tags bc as you may have picked up i enjoy talking about the relative merits of jcs productions. also i might not even stand by this in a week bc i find it hard to keep multiple versions in my head at the same time for comparison and there are so so many versions.

please note that acting, vocal quality, music direction, and where available staging have all been taken into account. act 2 in rb bc of link restrictions.

heaven on their minds - 2012 broadway revival

youtube

obviously in terms of pure vocals carl anderson is unbeatable forever, but the staging of the 2012 broadway revival pips it for me. josh young's voice is still gorgeous and the judas/jesus/mary throuple is everything. i love versions where hotm is sung directly To jesus, and i love that in this version jesus actually listen and takes judas' concerns on board. the love and respect between all three of them is palpable and even though it is a serious disagreement, part of that disagreement comes from the fact that they care about each other so much. that's tragedy baby!

special mention to henrike tönnes on the 2022 rob carroll version, i specifically like the Ending of the song for that one. also the sarcastic clap along w the disciples that judas does in the 2013 hungary version.

what's the buzz/ strange thing mystifying - 2018 tv event

annoyingly this isn't on youtube but tbh the staging is nothing mindblowing. i think what's the buzz is a great song for showcasing the usp of each version and in this one i think being able to hear the real crowd actually cheering for jesus (john legend) really adds to the narrative. i also absolutely love brandon victor dixon and as i have said before he would be one of my favourite judases if judas were straight. sara bareilles does a great 'offended' face when he bitches about her lmao.

honourable mention to the 2012 uk arena tour for again showing off the conceit of 'modern day activists' really well in this song, not forgetting of course WOTS THE BUZZ #buzz tweet

then we are decided - 2013 hungary

youtube

(starts at about 9:49) obviously not a huge amount of competition for this one, i wish more versions included it bc it's a great song :( anyway i loveee the staging choice to have everyone else freeze-framed on stage with the priests walking among them, and i freaking love this caiaphas. literally inserting it into what's the buzz also works nicely

i do miss kurt yaghjian from the 1973 film tho, forever obsessed with his voice and facial expressions. extra shout out to the striving artists version for simply existing.

everything's alright - 2006 austria

something about the musical direction in 90% of versions of this song goes right through me, like there is always some weird instrument that makes me Cringe. but this version is Nice :) really enjoy how Pissed this judas is. and i love the way the long notes last into the next section of the song. i will say i prefer the alt melody for 'people who are hungry' but you can't have everything

this is a really nice one on the all-female cast recording as well, obviously it's already the most female-heavy song of the show but shoshana bean's judas is particularly good here i think. also of course carl anderson with tears in his eyes grasping ted neely's hands while the music swells is ingrained on my brain for all time.

this jesus must die - 1994 studio cast

this album as a whole is probably my Least Favourite JCS Ever, but i will admit that this song fucks. the haunting eeriness at the beginning. the way it kicks into a funky little syncopated rhythm. the disembodied hosannas. unexpected delight.

2012 uk arena tour is unfortunately disqualified for having possibly the Most antisemitic portrayal of the priests, which is a shame because it's probably my favourite casting. one of my favourite annas portrayals, but in general all of them are distinct and fully embodied which does make that version very fun to watch. i also really enjoy the 2019 castaway productions version for this song, the way they play instruments while they sing like a lil band, and caiaphas' eye make-up is sick. 1973 film is obviously also iconic with the little scaffolding tippy taps, and the way kurt yaghjian sings 'a trick-or-two with lepers'. i love this song sorry.

hosanna - 2017 striving artists

i kind of don't have justification for this one LOL i just like it. i know there are versions that are sung better and really the staging is quite important for this song but idk i just find this version really calming. i don't know if it's the music direction? i don't know enough about music tbh

admittedly this is another one that works really well for the 2018 tv event, but doesn't quite win for me as the crowd don't cheer in all the right places and john legend doesn't react at all to the 'would you DIE for me?' line which is crucial. for good reaction to that line the 2000 film where it elevates the bitchy gay tension in the love triangle really nails it.

simon zealotes - 2011 austria

EASYYY WIN FOR ME this is actually the song that made me want to pick a best version for each one because this version IS so much better than any other one for me. the guitar!!!!!! rob's energy!! the music design for this one really fucks so severely and then there's just rob jumping around hyping up the crowd (there is a film version from 2008 on youtube, but i wanted to capture the music for this one). iconic.

big love also to hungary 2013 for having a simon who's in a wheelchair, particularly notable when it's really the highest energy role in the show. i do enjoy.

poor jerusalem - 2022 rob carroll

i cannot find any information about this album other than what's on spotify but i do enjoy the slight alt melodies in this version and i like his voice.

not a lot to go into for this song really. i like the ben forster version a lot as well, and the 1996 london cast version. 'close your eyes' is a better lyric than 'live a lie'. moving on.

pilate's dream - 2022 all-female cast

may be biased bc I LOVE ORFEH but i just think this version is so gorgeous. i love the little vocal drifts without going too overboard and distracting from the song. the music composition is especially pleasing as well.

there's a lot of honourable mentions i could give here bc i think pilate has so much potential for power and gravitas, but 1973 film, 2012 uk arena tour, 2013 hungary, and east end theatrical ensemble. are also big favs. in terms of staging i love the fact that 2019 castaway productions has jesus himself on stage playing the backing piano like he actually is haunting pilate.

the temple - 1992 australia

australia 1992 habitually has some of the most interesting and creative music direction and this is one of the songs where it particularly pays off. love the whistles. i also like that the second 'get out' is spoken, not screamed. the second half is appropriately creepy with the sustained 'chriiiist'. pretty boring staging but at least the costumes are fun.

i don't know how to love him - east end theatrical ensemble

possibly controversial choice but ugh i love this version i even love how low the sound quality is. like listening to a vinyl. i think her voice is so gorgeous and i love her accent. deeply soothing to listen to. i feel like im in the 70s rn.

i'm also a huge fan of the 1996 london cast recording, joanna ampil has such a sweet voice and the way she emotes so that you can really Hear it works well for this song. special shout out to 2012 uk arena tour which i don't think is a particularly amazing version but we get the absolute gunshow from mel c at the end so we love it.

damned for all time/blood money - 1973 film

youtube

CARL!! I feel like 1973 film and 1996 london album are at a disadvantage in this bc they're what i grew up with so i kind of take them for granted but this is undeniably iconic. no one can commit to the tortured soul but belief he's doing the right thing like him. the way he can scream but it still sounds Good. i prefer versions that have annas suggest 'a fee' rather than caiaphas just repeating himself so that's here too. the weird keening way he sings 'on thursday night'. annas dropping the coins just as he reaches for them. UGH so good. a lot less brassy than other versions as well.

this is another song that kinda fucks in every version, but the original 1970 album and the 2018 tv event are particularly good i think. also that one bit in 2012 uk arena tour where annas is like '...... get up off the floor.'

#jesus christ superstar #jcs #jcsposting #please don't let this flop i spent all day on it.#will try to add act 2 on rb now otherwise it will be a new post lmao #Spotify

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