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#verse: i got soul but i'm not
saxhamsurvivor · 1 year
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in a mirror, twisted
@saxhamsurvivor asked:
"you should sit down."
@hearthandhomeward | nyx answered:
He should. Really. "I'm fine." Leaning more of his weight on Axis than he really wants to helps a little, even. Keeps him still going, one foot in front of the other as they slog slowly toward the nearest haven, sigils glowing faintly in the distance. "I'm totally fine."
"You're really not," Axis murmurs. He has one of Nyx's arms hooked around his neck, and his left arm firmly around the younger man's waist. He's sorely tempted to just stoop over and drag Nyx across his shoulders, but he doesn't know where Nyx has been hurt so it could do more harm than good.
"Mind telling me what happened?"
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iwasbored777 · 3 months
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Y'all wtf is going on in Spiderverse fandom?! It gets more toxic every day. If I didn't love these movies so much I would have left a long time ago
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abyssembraced · 1 year
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They awoke to the cold yet comforting surface of the bench, having been defeated in battle once more.
...
...Was it okay for them to dislike someone just because of who their friends are?
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glassarrows · 2 years
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     at his core, he wishes for nothing more than this all to be a terrible dream.   he wishes that soon he will wake up in a cold sweat and stare at the dense leaves blocking out the sky,   letting only a few stray strands of sunlight through to caress his skin.   though matthias is young,  he is not naive,  and he knows reality is often far stranger than dreams.   there is a near constant pain in his left hand that crackles and flares with the mark,  strange magic that is almost at ends with itself.   he still does not quite understand how he has ended up here;  events have all blurred together from waking up in the ruins of the temple of sacred ashes.   the whispers permeate through the walls no matter where he goes,  calling him herald of a figurehead he does not believe in.   else they call him inquisitor which is a title he is loath to answer to.   he wants to run and not look back,  run as he always has,  far enough away until he cannot be found and they are forced to find someone more qualified than a simple dalish hunter.
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      for the time being,  he is their only hope,  so matthias follows cassandra and nods along as she discusses the assembly of the inquisition.   he wonders if her piercing eyes see to his core,  the halla quivering before the knife.   there are others in this fight but they all look towards him for guidance.   he has been left along with one of them now  —  a spy and a good one from what was described.   he is what matthias would imagine a character in a romance novel would be:  a practiced and easy charm,  strikingly handsome,  yet impossible to look deeply at.   matthias clears his throat,  hands held behind his back,  drawing upon what confidence he still possesses.   ❝   i— i simply wanted to say thank you for agreeing to be a part of this.   ❞    he does not look up to meet @s4ints's gaze,  fixating on some middle distance.   a faint smile and breathy laugh precedes,   ❝   if it was not clear, we need all the help we can get.   ❞
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hnting · 2 years
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But the twist is that even after losing some of her visual processing abilities, Jess will still be able to do her thing, perhaps even more efficiently. There is no reason why blind netrunners shouldn't exist, right? It's all data, 1s and 0s, and that's what's getting processed by the human brain and turned into the "narrative" of the cyberspace and all, not real sensory input. So that should circumvent the damaged parts of the visual cortex entirely, since no information is being sent from the retinas. Am I making any sense lmao
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viihall-archive · 4 months
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tag dump
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lamiaviridis · 9 months
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𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝟎𝟑 : 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐌𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘
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Conceived by an incubus and a siren, a product of desirability and enticement, lust and beauty. Creatures born to drain sword-swinging men of their power using their own lust against them and ethereal summoners of foolish sailors and trespassers of sacred waters. Amora was a fusion of both; harboring the upper body of a beautiful woman and the lower body of a fish. On land, she used her magic to hide her horns protruding from her scalp, her bird-like claws, and serpentine tail. In the night, the creature takes the form of a beautiful woman, seducing men and engaging in lustful entanglement with them as a means for survival opposed to love or lust.
Whilst the comfort of her loch can suffice just as much life force, the land of the living fuels the creature's curiosity. Though, she must always return to the seas of Asgard to protect it from intruding sailors. Since the dawn of her existence, Amora has been raised to seduce, destroy, and repeat. Draining life forces using her body and drowning those whom invaded her waters using her voice. Every aspect of her being was a tool used for destruction. Her femininity and sexuality, mere weapons. She envied the Aesirs, envied their beauty as Gods and Goddesses being praised whilst deeming creatures like her monsters. She didn't want to be a monster, she only killed to survive and protect the seas of the very society that shunned her. Yet, she continued this cycle. Because it was all she knew how to do, how to live.
Though, on a particular evening, a happenstance occurred. She sensed a disturbance amongst the tides, like that of a boat, and prepared to strike. She leapt out of the water and lunged for what she assumed was an unsuspecting victim, tumbling beneath the current with them in her arms. She cupped their face in her hands and kissed their lips. Until, suddenly, what appeared to be a man before her, shifted into a fish, a hermaphroditic vessel, slipping from her grasp and escaping. This bewildered Amora, for she's never had anyone deny her before, let alone encountered a shapeshifting deity. This intrigued her. Thus, she gave into chasing after the strange being. Nearly chasing them out of the water, she stopped as she watched them, now in the form of a crow, soaring into the night's sky.
Her heart sank a bit, assuming this was a one-time occurrence, and she retreated to the depths of her sea. The next night, the shapeshifter came to her again. Tempting her with their human form only to then shift into a sea creature for her to chase. Their underwater tango always ended the same, the shapeshifter leaping from the water in the form of a crow and retreating. She knew very little about this shapeshifter, but she knew of their name: Loki. For Amora, someone who felt she had no true purpose in life, just the name of a mystical being who gave her something to look forward to every night was enough.
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tvrningout · 9 months
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divine beings in dórverold | the chosen
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it should be noted that there is a difference between a god gifting a mortal magic and a god selecting a mortal as their chosen. if one should be so lucky to be blessed with a god's magic, that magic will surely be more potent than the average mage's; it is new, not yet diluted by time and blood. a mage with such magic will be formidable and not easily felled.
yet a powerful mage does not walk with a god's favor. they had it for a moment, but a god does not continue to watch over them as they do their chosen. a mortal chosen by a god to be their champion not only gains incredible magic and attributes specific to the divine but a connection to the deity. there are few places the chosen could walk where the god could not hear their call.
some describe the connection as a constant presence in their mind whereas others feel nothing but always find themselves safe from harm in moments of tribulation. how the connection manifests appears to depend upon the deity.
the records we have of chosen mortals state that a deity's own physical attributes begin to manifest in their champions. sunna's chosen gain eyes and locks of gold; nott's chosen gain a silver gleam to their eyes and flowing, black tresses; and the list goes on. it must be noted that there are certain abilities unique to a chosen as well, such as resurrection upon death for sunna's chosen, which truly divide these champions from their mage counterparts.
a god's chosen is given a touch of divinity, a sliver of true divine magic, and no ordinary mage can replicate this.
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clochanamarc · 1 year
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@wnterslder asked: 🫂
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it's another perfect, glorious day in pleasant hill. puffy white clouds sit serenely against the blue sky, a radiant sun beams down on them all, white picket fences framing vibrant pillows of flowers, and the scent of coffee, pancakes and bacon drift throughout the kitchen. she can't bring herself to recall the strange dreams from the night before; not on such a wonderful morning! no sense in trying to decipher the two friendly, loving older men, or the diner that doesn't belong to pleasant hill nor the watery places of her past. not when bucky walks in.
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" good morning, sweetheart! " the brightness is touched by bemusement, however. his work clothes are nowhere to be found. instead, he wears his pajamas, and somehow she knows it's a tuesday, that he should be fetching his lunch and coffee and giving her a quick kiss before heading out to work. not because of a calendar. but simply... instinct. the confusion lifts further when he steps forward, a solemn gaze fixed on her, and wordlessly draws her into a strong, secure embrace. his cheek presses to her tousled hair. one hand cradles the back of her neck. his other arm secures against her back, as though trying to shield her from some inevitable blow. and while it's an excellent hug... it fills her with an undoubted burst of panic and dread.
" baby? what's going on? " her hands ghost against him, hovering and brushing anxiously against his back, his arms. " love, i don't... did something happen? did you get bad news? what's wrong? what's... are you okay? " why is she so scared? and beyond the measure of fear one might hold for a clearly troubled spouse? why does it feel like her whole world is about to be torn apart by this one moment? and why, when she speaks again, does it sound so much more like she's begging him not to do or say another word? " bucky! "
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bitofthisandthat · 1 year
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oooookaaay (sorry mun) Asami, so not a human really but sort of. like a monster lover or vampire stan or something? still into girls and boys as long as it's all there huh?
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send  anonymous  (or  not)  questions  to  my  muse  about  their  ships,  connections,  &  any  other  of  their  relationships on this blog.
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"What does my sexuality have to do with my boyfriend? He's a guy. A man." She quirks a brow, undaunted. "Let's just say what you mean: he's just not who you'd expect to see me dating. So, for argument's sake, let's just be totally transparent here: If I met a girl 'like him' and liked her, she'd still be a girl, and a girlfriend."
She makes a sound of disgust and rolls her eyes skyward, this is all too kooky to explain.
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"You're so insulting. He's a person with real feelings, someone I really like as a person. Those other groups are fe_tishes and unreal, and they have nothing to do with me or us. I like him for who he is on the inside...
And I just happen to also think he's physically attractive, and amazing--he and his brothers have done more for this city than you could ever know."
She's not going to say she's got a thing for spiritually charged HUMANOIDS with superpowers, grey face.
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ellecdc · 5 months
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so what if im ovulating 🙄 doesnt change anything
anyways closer to a full moon remus would be so mean and rough and sirius would have to be the one thats soft with you and praises you and its such a 180 it makes you feel even dizzier than you were already feeling, hed coo and tell you how “youre doing such a good job for our moony, sweet girl” and remus would just be grunting “mine mine mine mine”
ive not rly studied for my exam do u think theyd pass me if i wrote this instead? xoxo
....... I'm not proud of this.......
wolfstar x fem/afab!reader close to the full moon (nsfw, 18+)
CW: pure filth, 100% smut. little fluff in the aftercare. p in v sex, cumming inside someone, over stimulation, slight subspace mention (?), slight dom/sub dynamics if you really squint and look at it sideways, writer is still new to writing smut and not well versed so be nice
There were quite a few things that Remus and Sirius had in common.
They were both very mischievous, they were both funny and teasing, they were both very protective and possessive, and they both seemed crazy about you.
But there were also a lot of differences between your two boyfriends. 
Remus was calm and assured; he was your rock and safe space when life got crazy. He was the good cop to Sirius’ bad cop, he was always down to leave the party early, and he was so incredibly soft with you.
And Sirius, whilst soft on you, was rarely ever soft with you. He was boisterous and excitable; always down for fun and adventure. He was quick to anger but just as quick to fold when your lip wobbled or you bat your eyelashes at him, and he knew how to push all of your buttons like a professional pianist’s fingers dancing along the keys of your soul. 
And it was because of this that you found your current predicament quite contrary to the norm (and thus, so much hotter). 
“I…I can’t, I can’t.” You cried breathlessly; currently held upright by a strong arm around your ribs and another hand gripping your neck.
The only response you got from the boy behind you was a low grumble as he tightened his grip on you and thrusted into you with new vigor. 
“Can you give Rem one more, sweetness?” Your usually very brazen  boyfriend murmured softly, pushing some of your sweaty  hair away from your face so he could see you. 
You keened and shook your head as you felt Remus move his hand that had been roughly gripping your waist down to your clit; every muscle in your body strung taut in response. 
“She’s close.” Remus gruffed from behind you before replacing his teeth gently into your neck.
“Are you close, sweets?” Sirius confirmed. 
It was too much, too much. You were very quickly reaching your… (third? Fourth?) orgasm of the evening and you weren’t even sure you’d been going at it for that long. 
Sirius was in much the same state, currently soft and satiated below you where he’d just spilled down your throat before you were pulled back up vertically to the sound of steady chants of “mine” by Remus. 
That had been his third of the evening too. 
“You’ve been so good, baby; so good for our Moony, yeah?” He cooed at you softly as he sat up. You felt tears form in your eyes as Remus shifted you in his grip so that your knees were barely touching the bed any longer. 
“Tell her she’s been a good girl, Moons.” Sirius encouraged gently, taking your hand in his that you quickly held in a death grip.
“S’good.” Remus nearly growled behind you. “My perfect girl.”
You cried out as you felt yourself fall over the edge one last time, tears falling down your cheeks as Remus fucked you through it.
Remus shifted his hands again to grip each of your wrists behind your hips and let your torso fall forward into the bed as he sped up his already merciless pace into your sopping cunt; the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoing against the walls of the room. 
You felt Sirius’ hand push hair away from your neck and rub a thumb against your temple. 
“Gonna fill your good girl up, Rem?” He purred to your boyfriend.
Though you couldn’t see it, you could hear the two of them share a deep kiss which never even slowed Remus’ thrusts. 
“Mine.” Remus repeated as he pulled away from Sirius.
“All yours, Moony. Show her how much you love her, hm?”
And with that, Remus’ thrusts stuttered before he was spilling deep inside of you.
He came with a sound that bordered a whine and a growl as he fell forward; his body blanketing yours and burying his face into your neck as you both fought to catch your breath.
You’re not sure if you had fallen asleep, but the next thing you knew you could feel gentle kisses being pressed to your shoulder as Remus pulled out of you as gently as possible; with how oversensitive you were, it still caused you to hiss.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, dovey.” He whispered; pressing more kisses to your neck. “Are you sore?”
You whined in response and tried to shove your face further into the bed.
“Talk to us baby, are you okay?” Sirius added, appearing beside you and encouraging you to face him.
“M’Okay.” You mumbled, staring what you were sure was rather dopily at your long-haired boyfriend.
“I think Pads ran you a bath, sweet thing.” Remus murmured quietly, rubbing soothing strokes up and down your spine from behind you. “You feel okay to get up?”
“Yeah.” You sighed, though made no movements to rise from your current horizontal position.
You heard Sirius chuckle but Remus made a sympathetic cooing sound. “I’m so sorry, dovey. Are you sore?”
“No. Just sensitive.” You grumbled as you pushed yourself up to sit back on your ankles. “That was a lot.”
Remus sighed and brushed some hair away from your face. “It was a lot, but was it too much?” He clarified; tone inlaid with a subtle vulnerability completely at odds with the relentlessness he’d just treated you with.
“No.” You said as you offered him a sleepy smile. “Not too much.”
“I, for one, had a ton of fun.” Sirius said with a clap of his hands, causing Remus to snort a laugh.
“Yeah I bet you did.” He responded teasingly. 
“Wanna take a bath, princess? Go pee and then you can climb in with moons.” Sirius instructed as he helped you stand up on slightly wobbly legs. 
“No, she can climb in with you.” Remus argued. 
“Why would she climb in with me? I ran the bath for the two of you.”
“I was the one who took things too far, so-” Remus started, causing both you and Sirius to squawk in protest.
“She just said it wasn’t too much.” Sirius drawled. “Let me take care of you guys!”
“No!”You listened to the two boys argue over who got to perform the aftercare for the other (and thus, who loved each other the most, according to Sirius) as you went pee and then sunk into the perfectly drawn bath alone.
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Alright, alright, alright. I've seen peeps saying, "Vee's verse is a joke, Alastor is still alive", but who cares? Let me break it down for you - the real deal is that Alastor got his ass handed to him in front of the whole Hell.
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Alastor and Vox weren't fighting for territory, souls, or money; they were fighting for control over the narrative. Alastor's narrative is that he's the most dangerous demon in Hell, who killed every overlord that stood against him. Everyone fears him because they've heard stories and screams. But... those were only screams. It's easy to fabricate that. I'm not saying he didn't kill them, but no one saw him doing it. Yet, they saw him fleeing the battle like a coward.
Exposing Alastor's weakness to everyone in Hell is still Vox's big win.
Also, I think that's the reason for Alastor's hatred towards video - it allows less deception; you have to show, not just tell, especially when someone else is holding the camera. It's much harder to hide anything.
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darlingdekarios · 9 months
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abandon all hope.
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RATING: explicit. 18+ only. — LENGTH: 9,131— Raphael x f![warlock]tav [reader]
CONTENT: being a patron is being a sugar daddy/mommy you can't change my mind, set during Act II canon, small amounts of alcohol consumption, toxic behavior/ expressions of possession/ownership, "fluff", SMUT [unprotected p in v], KINK(S) [praise kink, orgasm control, hair pulling, biting, scratching/clawing, blood, breath play, dacryphilia, just a little degredation, size], there's a lot of poetry in here I did my best, Haarlep cameo, the least Raphael could've done for killing an Orthon for him is fuck us ffs, have fun thinking Raphael is bad at sex I'm built different, this got out so out of hand
you had become his absolute favorite - his most precious client and prized treasure. it's become increasingly difficult not to admit that you're truly his forever...and he's ready to hear it.
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"In a world of horrors where shadows loom, A tiny creature navigates through certain doom. A little mouse, determination in its eye, Hoping this will not be its last heard lullaby."
It would be a lie to say that very voice didn't send the most delightful of shivers down your spine each time it announced his presence to you - you hung on each syllable like he was speaking a new language you were desperate to understand. Though your back was turned to him as the corners of your lips twitched upward you could feel in your soul - the one that no longer belonged to you - that he knew.
Though you may have been doing your best to feign disinterest and even often annoyance at his dramatics, it was no secret that you found him amusing. Fortunately, he happened to feel rather the same, a creeping mirth building in his chest at this familiar performance you were putting on.
"Just when I was beginning to miss your theatrics."
It was only then he realized just how badly he'd yearned to hear your voice again in the time since it had last swam into his ears. Curiously - but perhaps not at all - he felt his mouth go temporarily dry as his next rehearsed verse fell from his mind momentarily. When his silence lingered you filled it gracefully as you knelt before a bucket of water, scrubbing your arms free of the blood that covered them as you worked off the most uncomfortable parts of your armor.
His stumble did not last forever - his practiced words would not go to waste.
"With the battle fought and her patron's foe slain, She has etched upon her weary soul so very much strain. With a gentleness most sincere, the Patron offers her rest. Her wearied body, soon at peace even in her mind, No longer bound by battles' fierce behest, Their worries, for a moment, left entirely behind.
For the strongest heroes, too, do need a moment's grace, To find their strength renewed in the tenderest embrace."
Though his continued lack of transparency was frustrating, particularly after the stretch of days you'd had at his bidding, you noticed the practice lilt in his words, the methodic delivery of his latest poem.
"Have you been practicing poetry for me again, my Lord?" your tone was filled to the brim with the very amusement you felt, amusement that was growing by the moment at the slight waver in his voice, the subtlest indication that now was one of few times his trademark control had faltered. "I must tell you, it really is quite sweet. I've never inspired such before."
Your pleasantries and a title you so rarely chose for him stirred a feeling oh-so rare and delicious in him, a tingle up his spine that spread a wicked grin across his face. Exhausted, and uncaring of the company at the moment you continued your work on seeking your own comfort, continuing to peel armor away from your figure and toss it to the side.
Maybe you knew the lack of attention would agonize him - maybe that was only just more amusement for you. Annoyingly, he was attempting to bury the desires as he always did around you, finding now that the feelings stirring were beginning to gnaw their way out from the inside.
"You flatter me with honorifics yet ignore my presence."
His words had the slightest bit of edge to them and yet the tone in which they were delivered could be described as little more than a purr. It was a tone you'd discovered was reserved to fall on your ears alone - he never spoke to you this way in company, though you didn't doubt others existed that were fortunate enough to hear it. It was delicious - made more-so by the sharpness to them, the gentle bite that warned his limits were being tested.
The fact you only heard it when you were alone meant you seldom travelled with companions for too long, discarding them when your interests were no longer the central focus. It was lonely, but few wanted to be at your side when they discovered the source of your power, and the moments like this reaffirmed your decision each and every time.
"In a land of shadows shrouded with a curse most horrific, Lies a weary hero, hoping her devil might be more specific. For if she doesn't soon rest, Her weary body will be for the shadows to ingest."
There was no denying the radiance and allure in his laughter - it rang out so beautifully it didn't fit in a place like this, it almost wasn't fair for such a joyous sound to ring out in such a cursed land. Now, you couldn't help yourself - you turned to face him with a light smile pulling at your lips, exhaustion written on your face accentuated by the blood of those you'd slain in his name.
It pulled at his heart, something that seldom occurred - you were truly always a sight like this, in his eyes at least.
"Your skills increase tenfold each time we meet," he complimented, the smile settling on his face matched by the pull of the wrinkles beside his eyes. "You were successful in your latest task."
It was a statement - not a question, the wordless affirmation of his continued faith in your abilities. Still, you could've given him a snarky response - the blood covering your body and armor wasn't enough of a clue for him? In truth, though, you'd began to enjoy the moments where he complimented you - even more the rare moment he actually thanked you.
"As always," your coy tone was the final act to try to hide the giddiness you felt now, as well as the fatigue that was slowly overtaking your body. When was the last time you had eaten? When he left would you simply remove the rest of your armor and do your best to build a fire and lay beside it, or would you simply make do with the cold ground beneath you now?
He could sense it; he knew exactly what was on your mind. In truth, your thoughts were mirrored in his - this was no place for someone of your caliber to rest, especially not when you'd been so very good for him already. He'd heard about your camp, of course, but seeing it for himself - well, it really was quite awful.
A snap of his fingers and once again you were in the House of Hope, the unmistakeable extravagant decor a much better sight than the lands you'd been traveling. Though it was a bathroom where you appeared it was already enough to almost bring tears to your eyes - it smelled delightful, a bath was already drawn with bubbles and filling the room with the warmest steam. Unsurprising was the small table beside it filled with fruits, meats, cheeses and wine that made a fresh rumble sound in your stomach.
"It is so very fortunate your generous patron is willing to reward a valiant effort, would you not agree?"
You huffed a breath through your nose as a smile spread further across your fae, heat rising in cheeks as you returned your gaze to his. "And who said devils are selfish?"
His beautiful laughter filled your ears again, the warmth radiating from the fireplace and the bath nothing compared to that which engulfed you just hearing the sound so entirely for you. His movements were smooth as he made his way to the small table, pouring a glass of wine with ease while his eyes stayed on you the entire time.
"You have undertaken quite the ordeal on my behalf, you deserve a proper display of my abundant appreciation," there was the unmistakable purr of sultriness beneath his tone, his strides predatory as he made his way back to you, eyes running up and down your entire frame again before settling on your eyes. "And a bath, though I do so worship the vision of my dark hero covered in the blood of my enemies."
"You show your appreciation by providing me my power."
"And yet," the pause lingered heavily - if you weren't so keen on enjoying everything he had to offer you there would probably be a quip about holding for drama, but now you only looked up at him with wide doe eyes - eager and expectant and deliciously obedient. "I find myself curiously wanting to provide you with more."
The look that was blooming in his eyes was a peculiar one - one of a fondness. He slipped behind you gracefully, one of his hands reaching to grasp your hip and turn you to face an ornate mirror before his arm fully encircled your waist, drawing you back toward his chest. His hand slipped up your body, avoiding any part that would have been too inappropriate to touch without express permission, to grasp your chin, holding your face gently but firmly as he angled it to look in the ornate mirror before you.
"The longer you have my power reflected in your eyes, the more beautiful you become. Wouldn't you agree? You are radiant."
Now it was impossible to pass off the heat that had risen in you as nothing more than the heat from the bath - with his hand just beneath your chin on your neck and his claws digging ever-so-slightly into your skin, the heat had begin to pool at your core. You were still trying to remain focused, to maintain the aura of strength you almost never allowed to falter…particularly around him. But with him pressed to your back and his eyes devouring you in the mirror like a feral animal with a long-awaited meal, there were certain signs from your body that gave you away.
The elevated heart rate. The blown pupils. The pull of your bottom lip between your teeth.
It didn't take any amount of perception to see the signs that were so plainly there, particularly not for a devil who was eager to look for them.
"As you've pointed out, I'm covered in blood."
"A testament to our combined strength, my pet," you were certain with the intensity with which he was staring into your eyes' reflection in the mirror that he had stopped blinking, finding an unchanging face each time your eyes closed briefly. "Do you mind?"
He was offering you the wine glass to free up his hand or to distract yours - it was impossible to tell, really. Regardless of the intent you reached for it, taking a drink and relishing the familiar fire this particular wine ignited in your throat and belly.
Meanwhile his free hand was lightly trailing over the bow to the back laces of your clothing, giving a subtle tug to seek permission as his eyes continued to burn into yours in the mirror. With a nod the laces fell free under the quick work of his fingers - it was somewhat endearing that you knew he could do this with the snap of his fingers, yet he was choosing to do it himself, to peel you apart with his own hands. What you'd been wearing pooled to the ground and revealed the aftermath of your battle in full, all of the bruises and scratches and burns that had no place there…unless they were given by him or on his word.
His hands found your shoulders first and with a familiar warmth your injuries became another part of your past, his eyes trailing up and down your body to ensure all that remained was evidence of injuries not belonging to you.
"Positively resplendent," his breath was hot on your neck as he angled his face closer to yours, his nose brushing behind your ear softly. "A painting of this image would be so suitable for a portrait of us, wouldn't you agree?"
Bravery - it was a characteristic of yours that he cherished nearly more than any other, one that provided endless entertainment (and often worry, though he was hardly eager to admit that). It was the very trait that sometimes pushed you to do or say the very last thing he expected, and yet you still managed to take him by surprise. Even now in his domain was one of those times, your face unwavering and intention resolute as you spoke.
"Not in this form."
All he'd offer in his momentary shock was a raised eyebrow before these features faded and he transformed to the figure he was meant for, wings stretching behind his back as he got more comfortable. This is how he was meant to look - how the two of you were supposed to appear together, the devil and his toy hero, you and the source of your growing power. It would take blindness not to see the radiance with which you two joined together, and even then it was palpable in the air.
Ignoring the many feelings and tensions that crackled between the two of you when you were together was difficult - and growing more impossible by the day.
"This is suitable for the foyer."
He continued to lean down behind you, swallowing you with his true height so he could press a singular kiss behind your ear before straightening his back, his hand that was still flat against your now fluttering stomach pulling you against him tighter. Your skin burned where his lips had graced it - tingling as though his the action was magic. Your body only continued to respond to him with all of the tell-tale signs: a rising temperature, parted lips, blown pupils, quicker breath.
He so adored that you were trying to maintain control - to maintain an unbothered façade.
"You prefer me this way."
It left his mouth as a statement, but you caught the subtle insecurity at the tail of the sentence, the way his words slightly trailed and his eyes flashed with a truth - and hope? - that was so rarely seen.
Was he afraid of your answer?
"You don't need to wear a mask around me," you were quick to silence his doubt and eager to put out a particular fire that threatened everything around it boiling beneath his surface. Your sincerity and sensitivity was hardly what had initially drawn him to you - he loved that you'd always been willing to tell him your mind without a care to whom you were speaking, even himself included at times. "You would know that I preferred you this way if you spoke to me yourself more often instead of sending your little spy."
Suddenly you understood the meaning of the phrase "devilish grin" in a new light.
"Do I detect jealousy, my dear?" he purred as he leaned down toward you again, his breath tickling the back of your ear and neck and his claws dug into your hip slightly. You tried to ignore the flare of heat within you, unwilling to admit it fully quite yet. "A flicker of envy, so very subtle but clear."
You huffed and rolled your eyes in response to his taunt, annoyed he could think of a rhyme so quickly and a charming one at that, and even more annoyed that it worked. Bards.
"Korilla does not enjoy the same…benefits you do," he continued when you offered nothing in response but the puff of air, a reticent hum vibrating in your chest as you raised the cool glass to your lips to take another drink. Your eyes met his in the mirror again as you realized how long they'd been focusing on his hands, allowing your gaze to stay connected as you continued to drink.
Of course, he was hardly one to leave a silence unfilled for long.
"And what of my own feelings?" he questioned, the twitch in his jaw accentuating the frustration behind his words that he was trying to tame. "So many people you meet these days and you haven't shared with a single one where you get your power…"
It was hard to focus on a conversation like this when his claws were now grazing lower down your thigh, red lines painting your skin the evidence the Cambion's claws had been there. In the mirror you could see how he lovingly soaked in the sight of each new mark - of each new claim of his territory. You'd have far more decorations from him by the time you returned to your own camp.
"What am I supposed to think other than you're ashamed of me?"
"No," the rejection of his insinuation came from your lips faster than any reply you'd given before by far, a fact that ticked his lips into a slight smile. Though the two of you teased anda taunted one another often, you were always well aware of the line before you stepped over it. "They wouldn't understand."
"They don't have to understand…they have to respect. Besides, it's not their soul to be bothered with, and you're hardly the only warlock in your little party."
"But they won't. With the Blade of Frontiers it is different…he had no choice, not really. I did - I could've chosen anything else…anyone else. And I chose you."
"Then you will make them."
You could hear the commanding tone he rarely needed to take with you begin to form in his words, a low grumble rumbling against your chest as he spoke. At this point you knew what little remained of his patience was so close to slipping away completely - but you still couldn't stop yourself from testing those tempestuous waters just a bit more.
After all, he needed you alive just as much as you needed him. Harm too serious coming your way was out of the question, and the proof you could take a bit of pain was in the stories that would be told about you and your adventures for years to come.
"It's just another contract to you. What difference does it make?"
The final impertinent word left your lips as his hand grabbed your chin, applying pressure and encouraging you to face him. He loomed over you in this form - a delicious fact - his skin noticeably hotter against yours as he leaned closer, trapping you between his body and the wall. Flames danced in his eyes, the raging inferno matching the temporary flare of anger he felt ignited in his chest. His grip on your face was resolute, thumb and forefinger grasping so hard your cheeks were squished together.
That would certainly keep you from further insult.
"I am so very fond of you, my impudent little mouse. Can you not see that is so?"
You'd been in many dangerous - increasingly so - situations recently, but the fact this one was one of the most was…invigorating. Invigorating in the same way as when he'd first approached you with a deal, in the way he'd complimented a job well done for the first time, in the way he was overjoyed when you returned from your kidnapping. In truth - because you were not foolish enough to deny what was a plainly writ fact - you were well aware you belonged to him in every aspect of the word. It was fun to test what boundaries a relationship like that presented.
Your heart was thudding against your chest harder and faster by the moment as he continued to regard you, fully aware you couldn't respond to his question through the hold he maintained on your face.
"I will not hear more of your ill-mannered mouth while I am being such a gracious host. You are far from 'just another' anything to me…"
There was a sincerity in his words that shattered any possibility of refute.
"…and I will not tolerate our attachment being hidden any longer."
A threat, or a promise? Both were equally exhilarating in their own way. With the expression on his face - furrowed brows, pinched nose, set jaw, and nostrils flaring with each breath - his feelings toward the situation were written plain on his face. He was done arguing - and you'd be foolish to push it.
"Perhaps I could have a collar fashioned for you that only I can remove."
His hand that still held your waist pulled you closer, a muscular tail winding around your lower legs to hold you against him. One of his legs slotted between your thighs as you pressed to him closer, hands clinging to his upper arms still. His face softened somewhat at the closeness, at the shaky breath that slipped past your lips as your eyes stayed oh-so focused on the way his curved into a wicked grin the more the thought blossomed in his mind.
"One that will burn you should you even try to remove it. Or perhaps better yet, a curse," as he spoke you found yourself drawn closer, entranced by the hardness in his pants that pressed to your waist now, chasing a kiss you weren't certain he'd give. "Or I could use hellfire to brand a symbol of my name beneath your eye - small enough not to ruin your beauty, large enough that everyone who sees you knows that you are mine."
He released his hold on your face only to drop his hand lower, lightly gripping your neck in a silent show of power. He regarded your expression carefully for any sign of distress and only grinned wider when he instead found observed your blown pupils and parted lips, his fingertips soaking in your accelerated pulse beneath them.
The fire in his tone sizzled for a moment, still lingering in each word but not quite as fearsome as even just a moment before. Sweet, almost - if you didn't know any better to see through the charm.
"Swear to me anew," he cooed, his thumb rubbing along the side of your neck as he spoke, eyes gazing at you with an expression that could only be described in adoration. The most temperamental volcano, fury subsided as fast as it'd come. When there was an offer to be presented, he could truly be oh-so-sweet. "An amendment to our existing contract. You are not to hide that we are joined together, or you will face consequences that will last forever."
Did it matter if you even truly had the option to refuse him when all you wanted to do was please him again? The proposition of more appreciation, the promise of his praise. That fact alone was enough to ensure your answer before you'd given it.
You nodded in understanding - specifics beyond what he'd stated weren't needed to convey the weight of his words.
"On one condition."
The bravery again - though your voice was more meek as you rightfully walked the fiery embers before you, navigating what you knew could still erupt again if you pressed too much harder again. To prove your point his eyebrow raised in annoyance, nose threatening to scrunch upward in frustration before you elaborated.
"We seal this contract with a kiss."
An expression that had almost been rage morphed into perplexity before a laugh burst from his chest, your mind lost in the sound and the view of his fangs, thoughts wandering somewhere fittingly sinful for your surroundings.
"And you talk about my theatrics."
Despite his taunting he brought you closer with his iron grip on your waist, the hand holding your neck still sliding up to your cheek as his thumb claw grazed along your bottom lip in passing. He looked at you like a child receiving a new toy, regarded you with an adoration often seen in temples.
And then, though there was still a subtle laugh shaking his chest, he held you reverently as he angled his head toward you. The rest of his expression as he approached would go unnoticed as your eyes slipped shut, holding your breath in anticipation…which he exploited for just a moment longer than was necessary before he finally gave you what you both wanted.
Your lips met like the strike of a match - the spark between flint and stone. It burned like frostbite and was over just as soon as it'd begun, taking your remaining breath with it.
It was a purr that rumbled in his chest as he ran his nose along your jaw that reminded you to breathe, his lips pressing a kiss over a pulse point on your neck pulling a gasp from your lungs as his hand slipped down the other side of your neck. Holding you like an artifact his fangs teased the skin on the spot for a moment as his grip on your waist tightened further, the tips of his claws threatening to break skin.
He withdrew before his composure melted, filling his chest with a deep breath to bring himself to full sense again.
"Come. I'm far from through with you, but you truly do need a bath."
It was…nice, which didn't quite seem wholly appropriate considering who he was and the fact the atmosphere had been threatening and tense only moments before. He sank into the tub first, motioning for you to join him by taking place between his legs. There was a voice in the back of your mind reminding you that all of this was because he wanted something - everything possible from you, and that he knew the best way to reach his goal was to manipulate.
The fact you were aware of it did little to stop you from enjoying it.
He made sure he ate and drank in a silence you didn't know he was capable of as his hands made work cleaning your body, a bath in the House of Hope proving to be a lavish experience as the water remained pristine and hot no matter how long it went on.
*(Though, it certainly could've just been the heat between your bodies sustaining the temperature).
It was the first time you'd truly relaxed since a tadpole had taken residence in your mind, the first moment of bliss in days. When his claws found your scalp and scratched against it lightly as he massaged soap into it he earned a thank you in the form of the sweetest moan that just couldn't be held back by your lips. You felt his cock twitch against your back at the sound, an appreciative hum rumbling in his chest.
"My, my…who knew you could sound so melodic, my dear," his tone was best described as a condescending coo, treasuring the way you melted in his hold and couldn't help yourself from being his to play with. "I want to hear much more of you."
One of his hands slipped from your head down to rest on your stomach as the other went even lower to the top of your thigh, pausing still to wait for your reaction. When you leaned your head back against his shoulder and closed your eyes he took his sign, chasing more of a reaction from you by running a single claw softly up your thigh toward your core. The small gasp that fell from your lips wasn't enough, his disapproval noted with a click of his tongue against his teeth. It was impossible to keep silent when one of his fingers connected to your clit, rubbing a swift circle quickly.
The cry that burst from your chest returned the smile to his face, a low laugh filling your ears again as he leaned forward to kiss your neck. Two of his fingers parted your folds as they slipped downward to your entrance, moans falling freely from your mouth you'd forgotten how to close. Taking advantage of the fact he leaned closer to claim your lips, reaching his free hand to hold the back of your head and ensure you couldn't pull away from him.
A dark possessiveness within him considered slipping his fingers into you to feel how your tight walls would grip him, though he knew it meant you would face the consequences of his claws. He could heal you, after all - but you'd always remember the feeling. He'd refrain on that particular thought…
For now.
Instead, he returned his attention to your clit, fingers circling the sensitive nub as his fingers tangled into your hair. He continued to kiss you past what your lungs could take, your eyes opening to attempt to gain his attention. His own eyes remained closed and he only held your head in a firmer grip - no doubt he knew though he couldn't see - and he continued that way until your vision was just starting to blur and your hole was clenching around nothing. Only then did he release you - releasing you fully by pulling his fingers away too - allowing you to take the breath you needed.
So close to the edge of release only to be pulled back away from it. It was a cruelty that made the first sound that left your lips when your breath returned to be a whimper.
"Please," you could barely get the shaking word through your lips, it could hardly be considered speaking when each letter was filled with a whine. "More."
"Now now, you will learn to take what I give you," he cooed, releasing his hold on your head to run the back of his fingers down the side of your face and neck, lightly pushing your head to the side to press a kiss beneath your ear. "With no questions asked. Won't you? You'll have to show me you can be patient."
You couldn't help the whimper that slipped past your lips again, your body singularly focused on its need for more. Your eyes are wide and desperate as you gazed at him, hands reaching to grasp at his thighs and squeeze. "'s not fair…"
Your ears were filled with his boisterous laugh again before he pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder, allowing his lips to stay against your skin as he spoke.
"Perhaps not for you, but it's perfectly lovely for me," you realized as he spoke that he was having fun, a giddiness in every word that proved it. Unrehearsed, without anger, without practiced intentions. Him. "Finish up in here at your leisure, then join me in the boudoir."
With a snap of his fingers he was gone and the option to beg for more removed you were alone, left to wonder exactly what awaited you when you did join him. The kind of excitement that matched the feelings of fear and anxiety bubbled in your stomach, making your movements a little clumsy as you navigated your way through one last wash of your body.
The feelings remained as you removed yourself from the water, realizing immediately you'd been left with no towel or robe or clothes to utilize on your walk. Feeling a flare of preemptive embarrassment you found your way to the hall, doing your best to navigate quickly as you muttered to yourself.
You were distracted in your search that you didn't notice Haarlep had stalked up to you from the dark after you'd passed until their voice filled your ears. "My, my, aren't you just delicious," he purred, continuing to walk closer toward you when you froze in your tracks. They circled you like a predator circled prey, like a painter studying their subject - it was enough to make your face burn again. "I wouldn't mind slipping into your image for the occasional rendezvous."
"Haarlep."
Their name left your lips as a gasp and they stopped in front of you with a wicked smile, handsome and proud and no doubt every bit as convincing as their Master, if not more. "So you do know me. How flattering."
You were cornered against a wall with one of their forearms resting next to your head, the other grasping your hip in fingers much gentler than the ones they were mimicking. They leaned closer until your lips were brushing together feather light, the anticipation of a kiss lingering heavy in the air and sending your heart rate skyrocketing again.
"Oh, what fun we will have together…"
Their sinful tongue left their mouth to lick the seam of your lips until they fell open, the muscle slipping into your mouth to kiss you fully and hungrily. As you swallowed their spit you started to feel new levels need, the definition of the word insatiable finally grasped in your mind. One of their knees knocked apart your legs as their hand left your thigh, slipping to examine how wet you were and finding their digits slid through your folds with embarrassing ease.
"Mm…but that will be for another time," there was a sincerity in their words that made them so believable and you were certain they were correct about it. "Tonight, your job is to make him a bit more tolerable for the rest of us. Be a good pet and behave, won't you?"
As they sauntered away in a pace that existed to entice you to follow they threw one last wink over their shoulder, pointing you in the direction of where you were meant to go. In a haze you made your way to your destination, opening the doors to find your Patron sitting on the grand bed with glistening satin sheets, lounging back against the headboard with his arms outstretched, waiting for your arrival. He'd covered himself with an expensive robe, the one he'd deprived you of.
The red of its fine fabric matched his burning aura perfectly.
He observed your clumsy movements as you closed the doors with light amusement until the two of you were once again alone, his eyes appreciating your clean form as you walked to the foot of the bed. With a smile he raised a hand to motion you forward with one finger, his features fittingly illuminated by the hellfires that illuminated the room.
He was beautiful. Enticing. This very room could become an easy prison with no locked door if you allowed your resolve to slip.
"Come," he invited in a delicious tone, using one hand to untie his robe and allow it to fall open. He patted his thigh afterward to further elaborate on his instruction, one you were more than willing to follow. "Crawl to me…show me what an obedient, eager little pup you can be."
You did exactly as he told you to, enjoying the feeling of the soft sheets against your skin as you made your way to him. You climbed into his lap and straddled his waist between your thighs, core hovering over his hard and throbbing cock that you now wanted more than logic should reasonably allow. He felt how wet you were when your thighs made contact with his skin, breathing in deep to take in the scent of your arousal.
"My, my, how very eager you are," he spoke of you as if he was being presented with the meal of a lifetime. It made you feel desired in ways you weren't sure you'd be able to experience with anyone else for the remainder of your life. "I have to wonder, did my naughty toy find you along the way?"
You nodded, the only response you found yourself capable of, grinding down against his waist in a way that allowed his length to slip through your folds and spread your slick. His hands grasped your hips to follow your movements, chest vibrating against yours with a quiet purr as he appreciated your movements.
"Oh, of course they did…sometimes they just can't help it, the sinful thing…"
Both of his hands found their way to your thighs to grab them roughly, not making any effort to be mindful about his claws in places it wouldn't seriously hurt you - something that would become a pattern for the rest of your time together. Under his fingertips he could feel the welts that raised as a result of his scratching, smiling a charming smile as he took in your expression.
Finding you perfectly needy for him he reached one hand to grab your jaw and pull you closer, leaving his face hovering inches from yours. His skin was noticeably hotter against yours now, the undeniable evidence that he was just as effected by your closeness as you were his. His other hand gave your ass a swat to encourage you to raise up on your knees again, licking his lips when he could then reach toward your core and run his fingers through your folds again.
It was easier to feel the arousal he - and Haarlep, now - had earned when you weren't submerged in a tub. His fingers took the distance from your hole to your swollen clit painfully slow, matching the deep inhale he filled his lungs with along the way. Lost in how his hands felt against your body again you hardly noticed his tail wrap around one of your legs to hold you against him tighter, ensuring there was no chance of you climbing off before he'd had his fill.
It was hardly something he needed to do, but the implications of it made the experience all the better for him - and for you too.
"Don't forget to speak to me, my dear," he cooed, no annoyance present in his voice though he was hardly happy he had to remind you as he exercised a bit of patience at your current state. "I simply adore hearing the desperation in your words."
"Please, I need…"
Though he'd requested them your words were cut off as he pulled you against him rougher, pressing his throbbing length up into her core as he does. Your sentence quickly turned into a moan, your hands grabbing at his shoulders so you could cling to him in every sense of the word.
"Do go on."
You hated that his taunting tone sent a shiver down your spine and a hot wave of arousal straight to your core. Your desperation flooded every word that came from your mouth. "I need more," you were begging without having to be asked for it, something he would thank you for at a later time. "Something…a-anything you'll give me."
"Anything I'll give you?"
Was that particular choice of words a mistake? You found you couldn't come to a rational answer as you became lost in the embers of his eyes. You nodded, grinding against him to further your consent and ensure the point was driven home - you wanted him in whatever capacity he'd provide, in any way that would earn you more of his favor.
You hadn't realized your lip was quivering and your eyes were slightly watering out of the desperation but he had, soaking in the sight of you so wanton and lustful for him. It was his favorite look on you by far, and he couldn't resist the opportunity to see how truly indecent he could make you behave.
And all for him.
"Then prove to me you deserve it. Prove to me you're worth the effort from me and then I will prove to you that you are mine."
You only leaned closer to entice him the rest of the distance between you. You reached between your bodies with one hand to grasp his cock and rub it through your folds again, lining it up with your entrance and teasing down onto the tip slightly to test what he'd allow. He raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to express a thought that disappeared as you began to sink onto him, maintaining the eye contact you knew he loved as you moaned out his name quietly. He forgave you when your eyes fluttered closed to focus on taking his length and girth, your forehead falling down against his shoulder as a heavy breath fell from your lips.
"That's it," he was quick to compliment your efforts to ensure you knew how much he appreciated it, hoping the praise would keep you from giving up. "You can take me. Do not get discouraged…"
Your head nodded as another steady breath left your chest, shifting your hips to find the right angle to take him in. Though his words were honied you knew he was hardly the patient type and to avoid a temper change you pushed yourself onto as much of his length as you could take, finally earning a groan from him that was worth the quick shot of pain that being stretched like this brought. One of his arms reached to wrap around your waist and his other hand found the back of your head, cradling you against his form. His wings soon joined, wrapping both of you in privacy and what felt like the ultimate safety.
Within his wings it would be impossible for anyone who entered to see how well you began to ride him after a long adjustment period, how after several minutes of grinding and shifting and allowing him to pump into you you began to take him perfectly. Though he maintained his hold on your head your lips were finding their way to any place they could reach on his neck, chest, and jaw, eagerly nibbling and licking and sucking - testing if you could mark him like he'd undoubtedly mark you.
He decided you were testing him when you bit into him hard, his surprise announced by a grunt and a squeeze from his hand holding your hip. He gave your hair a tug to pull you upward into a hungry kiss, your moans joining together in the room as your hands grabbed his horns to hold him against you.
This is how he wanted you for him forever.
As your tongues danced your movements slowed, his hands meeting on your upper back to press your chest closer to his. Allowing you a partial breath he pulled away from the kiss to watch your face twist in pleasure as his claws dragged slowly down your back, pressing harder the lower they reached as he experimented with what you'd allow. You were eager to prove exactly what he'd requested - you could take what he would give.
His own head dropped to claim one of your breasts in his mouth, his tongue circling your nipple and flicking the nub several times before he changed his efforts to suck hard enough to bruise, glad he could stay here without a real breath for longer than what you may have previously experienced. He only pulled away to bite a mark into the soft flesh that immediately spilled some blood - as you continued to ride him exactly how you liked you either didn't notice or you didn't mind, either of which were fine by him.
"Very good," he purred, remembering how well you normally responded to his praise. He was thanked by a quiet moan and your walls tightening, fluttering around his length as he struck just the right cord in you. "Should I allow you release before I have my way with you?"
You were nodding before his sentence was fully complete and begging incoherently as your face buried into his neck again, continuing to lavish the skin with kisses. Your thighs began to shake at the mere thought of release, at how it would feel to gush around his length and how he would moan feeling you constrict him.
Whatever words he chose to give you permission were not fully understood, only their intent mattered. Though he wanted to pump into you at his own pace he allowed you to find release in this position yourself, happy it didn't take much longer for your walls to clamp around him and your head to throw back in ecstasy, your screams undoubtedly filling every wall in the house despite the closed door.
He held you down on his length as you spasmed through the high, enjoying the feeling of your body against his and focusing on how you felt held in his arms. He was always going to take what he wanted from you after you'd found this release but the longer he soaked in how small you were against his frame the more his own carnal desire began to take over his thoughts, a feral need building that wouldn't be long ignored.
"You have hold of me like an addiction," he breathed out heavy, shifting his hips beneath you - earning a whimper - wondering how much you'd truly be able to take. "So…unh…tight…"
Before you had fully returned to your senses he was pushing you onto your back, staying inside you with little effort and pinning you down with one hand on your stomach. His other hand rested at the base of your throat with his forearm beside your head, and just as your mind began to fathom how dangerous the position you were in was he kissed you slowly, silencing reason once again.
You could feel how sensitive you were as he pumped his length into you a few times - slowly to test your reaction. He pulled away from the kiss to examine your face, finding it filled with pleasure and overstimulation - traces of pain were there but you gave no indication he needed to stop.
"Do you think you can take what I will give you?"
His lips moved against yours sensually as he spoke, and you opened your mouth to answer for only a sob to be released. Instead you just nodded, hoping it would be enough in the circumstances and looking into his eyes with a pleading expression. He pressed a kiss to your bottom lip and pushed every inch you could take into you roughly, earning another sob that was muffled as he bit into your bottom lip enough to cause it to swell. He pulled away from the action with a wicked grin and savored your expression for a moment longer before this position came to an end.
He pulled out of you slowly, moving to stand next to the bed. In your haze you listened to him give you instructions to get on your knees and elbows, instructions you followed hastily on shaky limbs as he stroked his length watching you obey. When you were finally presenting yourself to him exactly how he wanted he mounted behind you, still grasping his length in one hand as his other reached forward to circle your dripping hole with two fingers.
"Precious. I will try not to break you."
His fingers were gone and replaced with his cock swiftly, his restraint gone as he thrusted in as far as he could, still trying to press further when he reached the end and smiling when the most beautiful cry filled the room from you. He groaned out deep as his hand found your stomach, pressing against it to hold you upward, reaching his other hand to slip the fingers that were coated in your slick into your mouth.
"So small beneath me," he breathed out, leaning forward to press a kiss over one of the red welts he'd created on your back. He engulfed you in this position, you were at his complete mercy - all hope of being anything but his ever again gone. He would never give you up. "On your knees for me. Just where you should be."
He forgot to be somewhat gentle with you as he thrust into you at a feral pace - or perhaps he just didn't care how little you were able to move when he was through. He continued to kiss your neck, shoulders, and back in any place he could reach, his teeth marking your skin anywhere he could manage. His claws were just as helpful in regard to marking you, reaching to scratch at your thighs and back - until he focused his hand's attention on your ass, spanking and scratching and grabbing roughly as proved to give him additional leverage as he pounded into you.
He was already obsessed with the way you took him with moans and cries while ensuring you stayed in the position he'd molded you into, eyes transfixed on how your tight hole took his length. When this whole Absolute ordeal was taken care of at your hands, he'd happily take this sight every day.
"Look at you just taking me," his voice was shaking now, matching your legs once again. His hand left your stomach to squeeze your throat, accentuating the fact that you were truly just taking whatever he would give. "And you do it so well, you sweet thing."
Content with how marked you were for him his hands instead grasped your waist in the gentlest grasp he'd offered yet, not quite matching the ferocity at which he pounded into you. Through blurred vision you were half aware of the familiar figure that slipped into the room through the shadows, the incubus unable to keep away witnessing what was filling the House with the irresistible sounds of flesh smacking against flesh.
You didn't know if Raphael noticed - you didn't care. You doubted a complaint would be heard if you offered one, and they would leave after you'd reached your release and they'd heard your euphoria anyway.
(Though you did momentarily hope that sinful tongue they'd offered earlier could be put to a better use, though you knew your body would be spent by then).
"Give me another," he ordered, feeling how your body was tensing up again at the threat of release, eager to feel you snap again. "And I want to hear it…"
He reached to rub your clit again at a speed that matched his thrusts, eager to feel how tight you'd squeeze him when you came undone, already intoxicated by the way your velvet walls were fluttering around his length. He was taking what he wanted from your body at a roughness that would no doubt leave bruises for you to feel on the road to Baldur's Gate - he certainly wouldn't heal marks that were a gift from him covering your back and neck and causing you to walk with a limp that so clearly displayed you had coupled with him.
He let you fall to the bed fully, only finding he was able to pound into you harder as you laid flat on your stomach. Unwilling to have you pass out he grabbed your hair on the back of your head and pulled hard enough to force it back so you could continue to breathe, leaning his torso over yours until he could twist your head and claim your lips in a rough kiss. He was hungry - feral - fully lost in himself as he chased his own pleasure, releasing all inhibition as he found his release. The only warning it was coming was the sloppiness that overtook his thrusts as the end neared, a growl rumbling in his chest as he pulled away from your lips to instead bite into your shoulder.
His seed was molten as it filled you, overflowing past his length. As his release filled your womb his teeth broke your skin and he tasted your blood as he was lost in his pleasure. He'd crave its flavor that was entirely you just as often as he'd crave claiming your womb now, knowing the mark would show you were his.
He continued to pump into you slowly several more times, holding you still as you squirmed and whimpered from the overstimulation, hearing the shake in your breaths and sweet sounds that proved to him you were crying. When he decided to pull out completely his chest shook with a quiet, dark laugh, finding a comfortable position straddling over your ass. His hands were loving in the way a curator's were with art, running over your scratched and bitten back adoringly for several moments, fingertips tracing the marks that would last the longest. He leaned down to press a kiss to a particularly possessive bite mark before removing his weight from you, rolling you to your side to to check that you were still capable of coherency.
You blinked up at him with glassy eyes, tear-stained cheeks proving he had been right about your tears. He leaned to press a single gentle kiss to your forehead as he pulled the blanket over your weak body. Selfish of a creature as he was, he was still capable of some semblance of aftercare - though that was it, it was enough from someone like him to someone like you.
"Well done, my dear. A wonderful demonstration of your devotion to me."
This praise - this tone. The very reason you'd do anything he asked, become anything he needed you to become. Anything he asked of you in a moment like this you'd provide. Part of you wondered how long it would take for him to exploit that fact.
"Next time you've behaved for me I will have Haarlep join us. They can lick my seed clean from you as I watch how you look beneath me."
(You'd think more on that particular promise later, when your mind was capable of wrapping around anything other than Raphael's finger again).
His new tone was undeniable and impossible to ignore, the reverence steeping every syllable enough to drown in them. Appreciation, worship. It was difficult to decide if being beneath him or hearing this newfound depth of praise was more fulfilling. You nuzzled closer to him still just barely conscious, physically submitting to the exhaustion that overtook every inch of yourself.
You nodded your head lazily in agreement before burrowing your face in his neck, enjoying the familiar scent of cherries, musk and sulphur that had come to mean power and protection to you. If you were lucky those sinful notes would linger in your senses in the coming day.
Though he was far from one to cuddle, he wasn't one to complain when presented with any show of mutual adoration from you, and he allowed his tail to drape across your legs in a subtle concession to your own desires.
Beyond that, he was still, but he was content.
"Rest," you were intoxicated with this voice, one you couldn't help but wonder how few beings had heard it, one free of any performance - honest, soft. "You will need it before you continue your journey. When you wake you'll be in camp with your cohorts, and when you reach the city again you will return to me."
In your last moments of consciousness, you remained his eager little pup.
masterlist. baldur's gate III masterlist.
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glassarrows · 2 years
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❝ well, that’s too bad… i was planning on helping you. ❞
     if it were not for the air knocked out of his lungs and stinging pain radiating from his back,  he would have more of a witty response to throw back.   instead,  matthias is focusing on sitting up on his elbows and regaining his breath for a moment long enough that the world stops shifting underneath him.   (the binding material wrapped around his chest certainly wasn't helping matters, but it was a necessary trade off.)   it would have been wise to accept a helping hand after being thrown to the ground as violently as it was,  but his head had already shook no before he was particularly conscious of the action.   once he thinks himself capable,  matthias gets up onto his feet with only a small stumble as his body sorts itself out.   shooting a sidelong gaze towards zevran,  he breathily adds,  ❝   see? fine.   ❞
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setaripendragon · 2 months
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So I'm still on this daemon AU kick, and I can't stop thinking.
What are the limits?
It's generally accepted that a daemon is an animal representation of the soul, right? So, you know, we've got birds and mammals and reptiles and insects.
But what about fish?
Obviously there's an issue here of, you know, environment, and if your soul literally can't survive in the air while you literally can't survive in the water, there's a problem.
But, hey, if it's small enough, you could have a little fishbowl for your daemon to live in. Hamster ball, but filled with water, rolling along at your heels. Fishtank on wheels that get tricked out like dudebros soup up their car. And maybe, if you're from a particularly sea-faring culture/lifestyle a water-bound mammal like a dolphin or an orca could make sense. And then there's things like sharks, which have so much symbolism attached to them that it seems a real shame to have to rule them out. (Someone who's particularly driven or ambitious having a daemon that would literally die if it stopped moving is a bit of symbolism I'm going a bit feral for, tbh.)
I think we have to rule out the deep sea creatures, unfortunately. Fishbowls and/or living on a boat wouldn't really solve the problem of pressure, and someone with a blobfish daemon would, uh... be in trouble.
And if we're talking about things that can't survive in the same atmosphere as humans, what about internal parasites? Like flatworms. I think it's safe to say that having your daemon parasitizing your intestine kind of defeats the purpose of having an external manifestation of your soul, but... There are species of flatworm that aren't parasites, so... do we just rule out all flatworms, or are the non-parasitic ones okay?
And speaking of flatworms, what about size? I've read some fun stories that deal with the issues that might come from having, say, an elephant daemon. It's not quite as dramatic as the issues of having an aquatic daemon, but actually, similar adjustments would have to be made to your living situation to cope. But, of course, it could be done and I don't think anyone's trying to rule out animals on account of how big they are, but I think it's safe to say that microscopic daemons are out for the same reason that internal parasites have to be.
There's a nice solid rule I can settle on; a daemon has to be a visible animal.
And, in point of fact, I think it's safe to say it has to be an animal. We can rule out trees and plants and even fungi.
So what about coral?
It's an animal, and if we are allowing for some aquatic daemons, then should coral be an option? Or are its vibes too plant-like to qualify? Do we rule out sessile animals like we ruled out microscopic ones? As much as I find the idea of a coral daemon absolutely hilarious, I am going to come down on the side of animals that are too much like plants are a no.
So a daemon has to be a visible, mobile animal.
But what about the ones that only move very slowly? I don't think we're ruling out sloths, but in the continuing vein of torturing myself considering various aquatic daemons, there's starfish and sea urchins and hell, even most bivalves can move at least a little, right? (Correct me if I'm wrong, I haven't done that research yet.) And there's a lot of fun symbolsim to be had, there, I think.
And what about extinct creatures?
I think it's safe to say that mythical creatures are a no-go, unless this is a 'verse where those animals are real, (oh, boy wouldn't that confuse people in a world like HP where most people think dragons and unicorns aren't real, but people still wander around with dragon and unicorn daemons) so we can ammend our rule to visible, mobile, real animals, but could we go so far as extant?
If yes, that would have interesting world-building implications. Where's the cut-off point? Can we rule out dinosaurs because we don't/didn't have enough information for a daemon to settle into a form that wouldn't be technically mythical? But then, what about animals that go extinct within human history? What about all the people who had mammoth daemons or dodo daemons as those animals were dying out.
Would conservationists study daemon statistics to see if an animal has really gone extinct? Would an animal's extinct status get over-turned when a kid's daemon settled into that form? Honestly, I like this enough that I've convinced myself that, at least barring some very unique circumstances, extinct animals are not allowed.
So, it has to be a visible, mobile, extant animal. That can exist in proximity to humans.
Oh, and should probably add; visible, mobile, extant, and non-sapient.
You can't have a human daemon, or an elf or a dwarf or a fairy daemon even if they exist in that world, and if this is a 'verse with dragons who're more than just exotic magical animals, you can't have a dragon daemon. (Obviously, if your fairies are more like magical bugs than tiny people, then fairies would be a valid daemon.)
...I'm still on the fence about whether a daemon should have to be air-breathing or not. That kind of rule would still leave marine mammals available for the fun world-building of how people adapt to that kind of handicap. (...Do you think people with aquatic daemons would be considered disabled? Oooh, what about people with really big daemons? I mean, presuming such a thing is comparatively rare, people probably wouldn't be building schools with a mind to allowing elephants or giraffes to wander the corridors.)
Disclaimer! This is for my own creative process, and not intended to limit anyone else's creative flair. And, honestly, I'd love to hear other people's takes on what does and doesn't qualify for a daemon.
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madlori · 3 months
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Hey how about some ART TALK
Art history is a bit of a hobby of mine. Last weekend I went to the Frick in Pittsburgh because they had a special exhibition we wanted to see, and in the gift shop I picked up a book that told the story of a series of acknowledged masterpieces. The first one in the book is Birth of Venus, the second is Mona Lisa, and the scream I scrumpt when I turned the page to see the third:
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Let me tell you about Artemisia Fucking Gentileschi.
She was a 17th century painter and one of the first women to be admitted to a Florentian art society and is widely regarded as one of the finest of the Italian baroque painters. She was raised by her father, who was also a painter who studied Caravaggio, and early in her career she had to put up with people saying that her paintings surely must have been painted by her father (despite her father himself saying she was a peerless artist and super accomplished).
As a young woman she was raped by a colleague of her father's. Her father sued the rapist because he hadn't married her (THIS was the crime, not the rape itself, of course) and Artemisia was tortured with thumbscrews to verify her testimony. Some of the...ahem...feelings about this entire episode definitely come through in her work.
Contrary to how these stories usually go, Artemisia had a long and productive career, was well paid for her work, enjoyed the patronage of the Medici family, and traveled widely. History, however, has only recently come to appreciate her and name her among the great painters of the period.
Let's talk about THIS FUCKING PAINTING, though. Judith Beheading Holofernes. Probably her most famous work.
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The story is one of Judith, a Jewish woman, who got the general of the army about to invade her city to come have dinner with her, got him drunk, and chopped his head off. Then she paraded his head out to the army, like a boss. It's been painted a number of times but this one...this one really brings the rage. Look at Judith, the strength in her arms, how she's got a look of steely concentration. If you look closely, you can see she has her knee up on the bed behind him to get more leverage. Her maidservant is helping hold him down. Neither of them look horrified or hesitant, they're ready to cut this motherfucker. (also that's definitely Artemisia as Judith. She put herself in a lot of her paintings)
It's an apt interpretation of the verse from the Book of Judith, which is admiringly succinct:
Her sandal ravished his eye, Her beauty made captive his soul, The sword passed through his neck. — Book of Judith, 16:9[7]
It's got a real "the tiger is out" energy, right?
Now let's look at the same scene, painted by Caravaggio, who was no slouch at painting, but...come on.
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Judith looks like a scared teenager. She's holding him at arm's length as if that's gonna work. Her maid is a crone, lurking at her shoulder like Wormtongue. This does not, imho, compare to the power of Gentileschi's version.
Artemisia painted another image of Judith holding the severed head. And a lot of other paintings. I'm just thrilled to see this one in this book, as it's one of my favorites. We have one of her paintings here in Columbus and I always visit it when I go (when it's up, that is).
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