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#Lyrical craftsmanship

blueheartbookclub · 4 months

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"Navigating the Celestial Odyssey: Apollonius Rhodius' 'The Argonautica' in the Lyrical Rhythms of R. C. Seaton's Translation"

"The Argonautica" by Apollonius Rhodius, elegantly translated by R. C. Seaton, emerges as a literary gem that weaves the tale of the heroic quest for the Golden Fleece into the fabric of ancient Greek epic poetry. This classical masterpiece, written in the third century BCE, invites readers into the mythical world of heroes, gods, and maritime adventures. The title itself hints at the epic journey undertaken by the Argonauts and the rich tapestry of myths that unfold in Seaton's poetic rendering.

Seaton's translation captures the spirit of Apollonius Rhodius' original work, breathing life into the archaic verses while maintaining fidelity to the poetic essence of the ancient Greek epic. The title serves as a prelude to an odyssey that transcends mortal realms, navigating the cosmic expanse and the turbulent seas that define the Argonauts' quest. Seaton's lyrical craftsmanship transforms the narrative into a symphony of words, each stanza resonating with the echoes of antiquity.

At the core of "The Argonautica" is the heroic journey of Jason and his companions, the Argonauts, as they embark on a perilous expedition to retrieve the Golden Fleece. Seaton's translation masterfully conveys the heroism, camaraderie, and divine interventions that characterize this mythic voyage. The title acts as a compass, guiding readers through the labyrinthine narratives that unfold in the wake of the Argo's sails.

One of the notable features of Seaton's translation is his ability to preserve the nuances of Apollonius Rhodius' language, allowing readers to savor the intricacies of the poet's narrative technique. The title becomes a doorway to the ancient Greek world, beckoning readers to immerse themselves in the vibrant imagery, divine interventions, and the cosmic forces that shape the destiny of the Argonauts.

The multifaceted characters of "The Argonautica" come alive in Seaton's translation, each imbued with distinct personalities and motivations. From Jason's quest for glory to Medea's complex role as both lover and sorceress, the title encapsulates the ensemble of characters whose fates intertwine amidst the celestial currents. Seaton's translation skillfully navigates the emotional depths of these characters, breathing humanity into the larger-than-life figures of Greek mythology.

As the Argonauts encounter mythical beings, face treacherous challenges, and traverse uncharted waters, Seaton's translation maintains a delicate balance between the epic and the lyrical. The title becomes a beacon, illuminating the narrative twists and turns that mirror the celestial constellations guiding the Argo through the cosmos. Seaton's poetic rendering captures the awe-inspiring beauty and perilous nature of the ancient mariner's journey.

"The Argonautica" is not merely an adventure tale; it is a tapestry of myths interwoven with themes of destiny, love, and divine intervention. Seaton's translation accentuates the nuanced connections between mortal aspirations and the whims of the gods. The title beckons readers to explore the mythic undercurrents that flow beneath the surface of the narrative, inviting contemplation on the intersection of mortal agency and divine influence.

In conclusion, R. C. Seaton's translation of Apollonius Rhodius' "The Argonautica" is a poetic voyage that resonates with the majesty of ancient Greek epic storytelling. The title encapsulates the essence of this celestial odyssey, promising readers an immersion into the mythical realms that have captivated audiences for centuries. Seaton's lyrical prowess breathes new life into the age-old verses, ensuring that the adventures of the Argonauts continue to inspire awe and wonder in the hearts of contemporary readers.

"The Argonautica" by Apollonius Rhodius is available in Amazon in paperback 12.99$ and hardcover 20.99$ editions.

Number of pages: 219

Language: English

Rating: 9/10

Link of the book!

Review By: King's Cat

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blueheartbooks · 4 months

Text

"Navigating the Celestial Odyssey: Apollonius Rhodius' 'The Argonautica' in the Lyrical Rhythms of R. C. Seaton's Translation"

"The Argonautica" by Apollonius Rhodius is available in Amazon in paperback 12.99$ and hardcover 20.99$ editions.

Number of pages: 219

Language: English

Rating: 9/10

Link of the book!

Review By: King's Cat

0 notes

prettyobsessed · 3 months

Text

⋆·˚ ༘ *🎀Perfumed Reverie🩰* ༘✧˚⋆·

🌊 / pairings: Rafayel / fem!reader *. ⋆ / genre: Story plot with smut [nsfw 18+, mdni] 𓇼 / tags: nsfw, romantic smut, lyrical writing, slight action smut, smut with plot, mutual attraction, slight jealousy, perfume obsession, kisses, body appreciation, hand job, clit fingering, nipple kink, nipple licking, slight sub/dom play, tying kink, ribbon kink, cock teasing, kissing, clit stimulation, unprotected sex, perfume kink, cum in mouth, savouring cum, mature sexual content, romantic, romantic smut 🐚 / word count: 6.6k

₊⊹summary₊˚⊹

In "Perfumed Reverie," the narrator prepares for Rafayel's celebration with meticulous detail, anticipating the evening ahead. Rafayel's thoughtful gift adds to the excitement. At the party, amidst the vibrant atmosphere, the narrator finds herself drawn to Rafayel's magnetic presence. Their connection deepens as Rafayel's curiosity about the narrator’s perfume sparks a moment of intimacy. Amidst the chaos, their bond strengthens, leaving both eager for more.

𓍢ִ໋🐇₊˚*ੈ♡⸝⸝𓆝🧸⋆

The sun cast a warm glow over the bustling city streets as I set out to find the perfect gift for Rafayel, my heart brimming with anticipation. As I navigated the crowded sidewalks, lost in thought, I was interrupted by the unexpected voice of Nero, my teammate from UNICORNS.

"Hey, fancy meeting with you. Mind if I join you for lunch? I've been dying to hear more about that eye you keep mentioning the other day,” Nero said with a grin that seemed a tad too eager. A memory flashed in my mind, the image of what lay behind the mysterious curtain stirring a sense of unease within me. Ignoring the knot of unease tightening in my stomach, I forced a polite smile and replied with a hesitant nod, "Sure, why not. I could use the company... and perhaps your opinion on something."

We settled into a nearby café, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the chatter of patrons. Nero leaned in eagerly, his eyes alight with curiosity. “So, tell me more about the eye. Could you describe it in detail? I'm fascinated by it," he urged, his enthusiasm bordering on obsession.

As I recounted the details of the memory, Nero hung on my every word, his fascination evident in the way he leaned closer, his breathless anticipation palpable. "Wow," he murmured, his voice filled with awe. Then, with a slight cough, he added, "Um, do you think you could draw it again for me?" There was a hint of demand in his tone, as if he couldn't bear the thought of waiting any longer to see the image.

Unease prickled at the back of my mind, a sense of distrust creeping in as Nero's fixation on the eye grew more pronounced. “It's just for research purposes," Nero added, his voice taking on a low and dark tone that set off alarm bells in my mind.Reluctantly, I hastily sketched the image for him, feeling a sense of discomfort lingering in the air. Sensing my discomfort, I shifted the conversation, suggesting we divert our attention to finding a gift for my friend, Rafayel. Nero readily agreed, and we set off on a leisurely stroll through the city streets, our laughter blending with the hum of conversation. As we strolled along, an unsettling feeling nagged at the back of my mind, refusing to dissipate.

Yet, for the moment, I pushed aside my suspicions and focused on the task at hand.

Amidst the charming boutiques and shops, my gaze was drawn to a stunning opal watch, its iridescent hues casting a spellbinding shimmer in the sunlight. Each facet of the opal seemed to dance with a kaleidoscope of colours, evoking an ethereal beauty that captured the essence of elegance and sophistication. The sleek design of the watch, adorned with intricate detailing and polished to perfection, spoke volumes of craftsmanship and quality. As I admired its captivating allure, I couldn't help but be reminded of Rafayel's discerning taste and penchant for the finer things in life.

Nero glanced over my shoulder at the opulent timepiece, his curiosity piqued. "A gift?" he inquired, his brow raised in intrigue. I turned to face him, a smile playing at the corners of my lips. "Yes, what do you think?" I asked, eager for his opinion. "It's nice," Nero replied with a nod, his tone neutral.

Taking Nero's brief assessment into account, I made the decision to purchase the watch for Rafayel. Just as I was admiring the opal watch, the salesperson approached with a warm smile. "Would you like to add a personal message to accompany the gift?" she asked kindly. "Yes, please," I replied, grateful for the opportunity to personalise the present for Rafayel. Quickly, I penned down my heartfelt message: “To Rafayel, Congrats on the collaboration! I’m super proud of you. This gift is a token of my support and belief in your talents. Hope you like it ♡ With love, Y/N x”.

With a sense of satisfaction, I passed the note back to the salesperson, who carefully tucked it into the gift bag alongside the opulent timepiece.

I continued my journey through the lively streets alongside Nero. The vibrant energy of the city enveloped me, infusing every step with a sense of anticipation. Before we could part ways, a familiar voice called out my name—it was Rafayel. My heart skipped a beat as I quickly hid the gift behind my back, feeling a wave of nervousness wash over me. I stole a glance at Nero, wondering how he would react to Rafayel's unexpected appearance.

As Rafayel approached, a nervous flutter danced in my chest, my anticipation mingling with apprehension. "Well, well, well, look who's out here on a date," Rafayel remarked with a hint of jealousy in his tone, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in our proximity.

Rafayel's gaze shifted to Nero, his expression clouded with doubt and suspicion. The tension between them was palpable, casting a shadow over the otherwise pleasant encounter. I exchanged a subtle glance with Rafayel, silently urging him to keep calm and not let his insecurities get the best of him. I mouthed the word ‘Stop it’ to Rafayel, hoping to diffuse the tension. “Rafayel, this is Nero,” I introduced, my voice steady despite the underlying tension. “He's my colleague. Nero, meet Rafayel. He's... well, let's just say he's always looking out for me,” I added with a hint of playfulness, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Hey, nice to meet you. Congrats on the collab!” Nero greeted, his voice laced with genuine warmth as he attempted to break the ice and alleviate the awkwardness of the situation. In response, Rafayel’s demeanour remained guarded, his arms crossed defensively as he replied in a monotone voice, “Thanks.”

Sensing the strained atmosphere, Nero decided to make his exit. "Umm, I better get going. See you at work next Monday?" he said, his departure a relief in the tense moment. I nodded in agreement, bidding him farewell silently appreciating his timing. As Nero walked away, Rafayel's eyes narrowed, his distrust evident in the furrow of his brow.

"Why are you being so rude to him?" I questioned, my tone tinged with suspicion, as I searched Rafayel's face for any signs of jealousy or insecurity. Rafayel's response was edged with sarcasm. "Oh yeah, why are you being so nice to him? You like him, that nerd?" His distrust of Nero was palpable.

I mirrored his tone, matching his sarcasm. “So what if I like him?” I retorted, feigning nonchalance. “There's nothing you can do about it.” Rafayel leaned in closer, his voice low and teasing. “Nah, I know you don't like him,” he remarked, his words carrying a hint of certainty. With a mischievous smirk, he added, “Besides, why waste your time thinking about anyone else when you could be thinking about me?” His playful remark caught me off guard, a flush of frustration rising to my cheeks as I struggled to maintain composure.

Reiterating once more that Nero was merely a colleague, I hoped to ease Rafayel's concerns.

“Pfft. Anyways, this is for you. Wear it to the party later?” Rafayel said, his tone softening as he handed me a small, elegantly wrapped package. “Ooh, what is it? Can I open it now?” I asked eagerly, excitement bubbling within me. Rafayel chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Not now. Open it later when you get home,” he replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Since Rafayel had already given me a gift, I pulled out the carefully wrapped present I had purchased for him. “I got you a gift too. Open it later and let me know if you like it. Or not. Whatever,” I said nonchalantly, though inwardly hoping that Rafayel would appreciate the gesture.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

As the clock chimed 6, signalling the beginning of the evening's arrival, I immersed myself in the preparations for Rafayel's celebration. My fingertips danced over the intricate jacquard fabric of my dress that I selected just for the party, marvelling at its luxurious texture and the way it cascaded elegantly around me. The crystal trim adorning the bodice caught the light, casting a mesmerising array of patterns across the room and infusing the ensemble with an irresistible allure. With its back lace-up closure, the dress whispered promises of sophistication and glamour, setting the stage for an unforgettable night. And to complete the look, I selected a white satin ribbon to adorn my hair, adding a touch of understated glamour to the ensemble.

Amidst the whirlwind of anticipation, my gaze fell upon the elegantly wrapped package Rafayel had presented earlier. With a gentle tug, the ribbon unfurled, revealing the treasure concealed within. Nestled within the folds of tissue paper lay a bottle of exquisite high-end perfume, encased in a pearlescent shell that shimmered like moonlight on water. As I lifted the fragrance to my nose, its enchanting blend of plum and freesia enveloped me in a delicate embrace, transporting me to a realm of opulence and elegance. Each inhale awakened my senses, stirring a symphony of emotions within me.

Accompanying the perfume was a handwritten note from Rafayel, his words infused with warmth and affection. "A gift for the beautiful Y/N," it read, his endearing nickname bringing a smile to my lips. "When I stumbled upon this packaging and scent, it instantly reminded me of you. Your vibrant spirit and unwavering kindness deserve only the finest. See you later, my silly goose."

The tender sentiment warmed my heart with a sweetness that only Rafayel could evoke, a testament to his thoughtfulness and consideration. Amidst the heartfelt sentiment, there was a playful touch that spoke of his penchant for light-hearted jests.

With a smile on my lips, a flutter of excitement coursed through me at the thought of wearing the enchanting scent to the party. With Rafayel's thoughtful gesture nestled close to my heart, I eagerly anticipated the evening party.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

As I made my grand entrance into Rafayel's house party, the room seemed to buzz with anticipation, a kaleidoscope of colours and sounds swirling around me. The air was alive with the tinkling of glasses, the rhythmic beat of music, and the low hum of conversation. Dressed in an ensemble that exuded elegance and sophistication, I felt a surge of confidence as I navigated through the crowd, drawing admiring glances from all who crossed my path.

Amidst the throng of guests, my gaze was irresistibly drawn to Rafayel, who stood amidst a cluster of people, his magnetic presence undeniable. Our eyes locked, and for a moment, it felt as though the rest of the world faded into oblivion, leaving only the two of us in our own private universe. His smile was like a beacon in the dimly lit room, warming my heart and igniting a spark of excitement within me.

Before I could make my way over to him, however, Thomas intercepted Rafayel, guiding him towards a group of potential clients. I watched with a mixture of disappointment and understanding as Rafayel was swept away, his attention momentarily diverted from me.

As I mingled with the guests, my thoughts kept drifting back to Rafayel, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his charismatic charm. Despite the gravity of my duty to protect him, my attention was unwaveringly fixed on him, drawn to his presence like a moth to a flame. Yet, amidst the distractions of the party, I remained vigilant, my focus unwavering as I monitored the surrounding and every movement. Ready to intervene at a moment's notice, I kept a watchful eye on him, ensuring his safety was paramount above all else.

Suddenly, a soft vibration in my pocket broke through my reverie, signalling an incoming message on my phone. With a quick glance, I saw that it was from Rafayel. "You looked stunning tonight. Can you rescue me from this crowd, pretty please?" His words brought a smile to my lips, a warmth spreading through me at the thought of him reaching out to me.

I quickly tapped out a reply, my fingers dancing across the screen. "You're doing great! Just a few more hours to go! Hang in there." As I hit send, I couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement in my chest, knowing that even amidst the chaos of the party, Rafayel and I shared a special connection that transcended the confines of the room. With renewed determination, I plunged back into the festivities, my heart filled with anticipation for what the night might bring.

Discreetly, I checked the holster of my concealed weapon, its comforting weight serving as a reassuring reminder of my preparedness for any unforeseen threats that might arise during the festivities. As I moved through the throng of guests, my attention was momentarily diverted by a mirror reflecting the scene before me. In its glassy surface, I caught a glimpse of a looming figure, cloaked in darkness and watching me intently.

A chill swept through me as I turned to confront the mysterious presence, but it vanished into thin air before my eyes. The image lingered in my mind—a spectre of unease that left me unsettled. I could have sworn I saw the glint of a pair of spectacles, reminiscent of Nero's distinctive style. Intrigued and wary, I resolved to investigate further. With each step, my senses sharpened, my hand instinctively gravitating towards the reassuring weight of my concealed weapon. Suddenly, a subtle vibration against my wrist alerted me to an urgent message on my Hunter's Watch—a Wanderer had been detected in close proximity, its threat level ranging from moderate to potentially dangerous.

Utilising my honed training and quick-thinking abilities, I sprang into action with a swift and decisive motion. With a determined focus, I swiftly herded the unsuspecting guests to safety, ensuring their protection before confronting the looming threat of the Wanderer. As the Wanderer crashed through the balcony roof like an uninvited intruder, its menacing tail resembling that of a scorpion's, I surveyed the room with a keen eye, ensuring that no one remained in harm's way. With a steady hand and unwavering resolve, I drew my weapon—a formidable tool enhanced by Protocore Energy—and took aim at the looming menace.

Rafayel stood at my side as the Wanderer's monstrous form bore down on us, his presence a reassuring anchor amidst the chaos. With a nod of silent understanding, we synchronised our movements, our synergy honed through countless battles fought together. Fuelled by deadly intent, the Wanderer lunged forward, its razor-sharp claws slashing through the air. In response, I unleashed a barrage of shots from my enhanced weapon, each blast powered by the pulsating energy of Protocore.

The projectiles streaked through the air with deadly precision, finding their mark on the creature's armoured hide, but it remained undeterred, its ferocity undiminished. In the midst of the fray, Rafayel stepped forward, his eyes ablaze with determination.

With a fluid motion, he unleashed his signature move, the Four Scourges—a devastating flurry of strikes that unleashed a torrent of energy upon the Wanderer, shaking its monstrous form to its core.

But the creature was relentless, its primal fury driving it forward with unyielding determination. With a roar that reverberated through the room, it launched itself at us once more, its jaws gaping wide in a feral snarl. Drawing upon our shared bond and unspoken camaraderie, Rafayel and I unleashed our ultimate technique: Abyssal Beacon and Abyssal Shadow—a dazzling display of power and precision that unleashed a torrent of energy, engulfing the Wanderer in a blinding vortex of light and force.As the echoes of our combined assault faded, the room fell silent, save for the gentle crackle of dissipating energy. The Wanderer lay defeated, its once-mighty form reduced to naught but a lifeless husk.

With a shared nod of triumph, Rafayel and I stood victorious, our bond stronger than ever in the face of adversity.

Approaching the fallen Wanderer, I scanned the room for any lingering threats, my senses heightened by the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. With cautious steps, I retrieved its Protocore, ensuring no remnants of its malevolent energy lingered behind. As I claimed the precious artefact, the body of the Wanderer began to dissipate into sparkling dust, a testament to our hard-won victory.

With the room now safe, I gestured for the guests to return to the ballroom, their applause a symphony of gratitude for our valiant efforts. The sound echoed off the walls, filling the air with a sense of relief and triumph. Thomas stepped forward to address them. "Thank you all for your understanding and cooperation," he announced, his voice carrying across the room with sincerity. "For the safety of everyone present, we must end the event early. Please make your way home safely."

With heartfelt thanks and apologies, Thomas bid the guests farewell, his words imbued with genuine warmth and gratitude. Meanwhile, Rafayel remained by my side, his concern evident in the gentle scrutiny of his gaze. “Ms Bodyguard, are you alright?" he asked, his voice soft with worry as he inspected my injuries.

Turning to Rafayel, I felt a surge of gratitude for his unwavering support. "I'm fine," I assured him, offering a reassuring smile. "Just a few scratches." Rafayel's expression softened, his touch warm and comforting as he gently took my hands in his. "I'm glad you're safe,“ he murmured, his voice filled with genuine relief.

Amidst the few lingering guests in the background, helpers scurried about, diligently tidying the aftermath of the Wanderer's unwelcome intrusion into the party, as glints of glass shards shimmered in the dim light. Rafayel then led me to another room—a sanctuary within his embrace—his bedroom. The windows were open, allowing the gentle sea breeze to sway the curtains in a graceful dance. The scent of the ocean wafted in, mingling with the subtle aroma of Rafayel's presence, creating an atmosphere of serene tranquility. His room exuded a sense of majesty, adorned with elegant furnishings and offering a breathtaking view of the ocean beyond.

The soft glow of moonlight cast ethereal patterns across the room, illuminating the space with a magical aura. The walls exuded elegance, adorned with intricate tapestries and ornate moldings that enhanced the room's sense of refinement and sophistication. Plush carpets adorned the floor, inviting us to sink our feet into their luxurious embrace.

As Rafayel rummaged for the ointment to tend to my injuries, I couldn't help but admire the way the moonlight played upon his features, casting a halo of light around him. His eyes gleamed with a mixture of curiosity and admiration, his movements graceful and deliberate as he searched for the right supplies. It was moments like these that made me acutely aware of the magnetic pull he had on me, drawing me closer with each passing second.

“I almost couldn’t concentrate fighting the Wanderer. What is that scent you’re wearing?” Rafayel's curiosity sparked as he rummaged for ointment to tend to my injuries. "Is that the perfume I gave you?" he inquired, his interest piqued by the lingering fragrance in the air.

I nodded in affirmation, a small smile gracing my lips. I watched as his gaze lingered on me, his curiosity evident as he took in the lingering fragrance of my perfume. The air between us seemed to crackle with anticipation, charged with an unspoken tension that left me breathless with excitement. As he leaned in to take another whiff of the scent, I couldn't help but feel nervously attracted to him.

Rafayel exuded an irresistible allure tonight, his hair tousled in a way that accentuated his rugged charm. There was a disoriented yet undeniably magnetic quality about him, as if my perfume had ensnared his senses and left him spellbound. He moved with a sense of urgency, flitting back and forth between attending to my injuries and searching for the ointment, his actions driven by an unspoken desire to be near me. Clad in a white collared shirt adorned with delicate pearly buttons, Rafayel's attire only added to his allure. The fabric clung to his frame, hinting at the contours of his muscular physique, while his slightly exposed chest sent a flurry of anticipation coursing through me, my heart quickening with every beat.

"Show me the scratches," Rafayel requested, his voice laced with concern. Despite the worry etched on his face, there was an underlying warmth that drew me closer to him. Feeling a surge of confidence enveloping me in his presence, I decided to indulge in a playful moment, relishing the anticipation building between us. With a coy grin, I allowed my fingers to glide along the fabric of my dress, slowly revealing the scratch nestled provocatively above my upper thigh.

"Right here," I said in a low, teasing voice, relishing the subtle flush that crept up his ears and the intensity of his gaze fixed on my exposed skin.

Rafayel's gaze intensified, his eyes locked on the exposed skin, his breath growing heavy. With a sense of urgency, he retrieved the ointment from his drawer, his movements deliberate as he applied it to my skin. His touch lingered, evoking a tingling sensation that stirred a rush of anticipation within me. “And here,” I continued, pointing to the scratch on my chest, just above my décolletage, revelling in the closeness between us. Rafayel stood before me, his proximity closer than ever, his eyes glazed over with delight as he leaned in to inhale the intoxicating scent once more on my chest to my neck. His breath hitched, his fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against my skin, a silent testament to the effect I had on him.

My heart raced with excitement as his touch lingered, each caress invoking a cascade of tingling sensations that danced across my skin like a symphony of desire. The air between us hummed with a potent energy, thick with desire and longing.

“Are you okay?” I asked, a surge of concern washing over me as Rafayel seemed to falter. Supporting him to a bench nestled at the foot of his bed, I sat beside him and searched his eyes for any signs of distress. “I don’t know,” Rafayel confessed, his voice tinged with wonder. “I was fine before the party started. But as soon as you came, I got caught up with your scent. And the more I catch the scent of your perfume, the more it seems to bewitch me. It's like...” He trailed off, struggling to articulate the intensity of his feelings.

Rafayel's confession left me breathless, his words painting a picture of vulnerability and desire. "It's like your scent has woven its way into my very being," he murmured, his voice a mixture of awe and fascination, his breath hitching with each word. The intensity in his gaze held me captive, drawing me closer to him as if we were bound by an invisible thread of longing. As Rafayel admitted his vulnerability, a surge of tenderness washed over me, mingling with the raw passion that surged between us.

He took my hand, bringing it close to his face to revel in the scent, almost as if he were savouring a rare delicacy. His touch was electric, sparking a rush of warmth that enveloped me, each caress leaving me breathless and yearning for more.

It’s like he’s being taken over by my perfume. He’s caressing my hand with his face, indulging in the scent that’s making him high. While he’s being obsessed with my scent, I couldn't help but notice the opal watch adorning his wrist, the one I had gifted him. With a soft smile, I traced the lines of his face with gentle reverence, feeling the weight of his words in the air between us. “You’re watching the watch. It suits you well,” I whispered, my voice barely above a whisper.

Rafayel's response was a whisper of his own, filled with promise and longing. "It's a reminder that I'm bound to you forever." Taking his hand in mine, I brought it close to my face, allowing him to revel in the scent that seemed to draw us closer with each passing moment. His gaze locked with mine, a silent plea lingering in his eyes.

"Kiss me, please?” he breathed, his voice a soft plea that stirred something deep within me.

Lost in the moment, I couldn't resist the allure of his disheveled appearance, his tousled hair adding to his irresistible charm. Without hesitation, I leaned in and kissed him, savouring the taste of his lips against mine. As the kiss deepened, I felt Rafayel's hands pull me closer, his touch sparked a symphony of sensations, each note playing a melody of longing that reverberated through every fiber of my being.

Rafayel's grip tightened around my waist, drawing me impossibly closer as our ardor surged to intoxicating heights. Feeling emboldened by his touch, I reciprocated his desire, my hands trailing down his neck to the exposed skin of his chest, then further down to the defined contours of his abs. With each touch, he reacted, his body jolting responding to my caress with a mix of pleasure and anticipation.

Still nestled in his embrace, I rested my left arm against his back, feeling the reassuring warmth of his skin beneath my touch. With my right fingers, I traced delicate patterns along his abdomen, following the enticing path of his happy trail as it disappeared below his belly button. Each stroke elicited a shiver of pleasure from Rafayel, his body responding to my touch with a mix of anticipation and desire.

With a daring glint in his eye, Rafayel teased, "Don't take your hands off me. Go further down, I dare you." His voice carried a seductive challenge, a playful invitation to delve deeper into the depths of our shared desire without inhibition.

His words hung in the air like a potent aphrodisiac, sending a rush of anticipation coursing through me, urging me to delve deeper into the realms of carnal delight. With a mischievous grin, I accepted his challenge, allowing my fingertips to continue their descent, tracing a tantalising path along the contours of his body. My fingers trailed from his abs to his pants, tiptoeing and caressing his growing erection with just my finger. Rafayel's hand reached out, a silent plea for restraint, yet his eyes betrayed the true depth of his desire.

“If you don’t stop, I won’t be able to leave,” Rafayel murmured, his gaze locked with mine—a silent invitation to indulge in the passion that simmered between us. The essence of Rafayel's words permeated the air, lingering like an intoxicating fragrance that enveloped us both. His gaze, locked with mine, spoke volumes, silently beckoning me to embrace the intoxicating passion that simmered between us.

"Good," I purred, my voice laced with a hint of mischief. "Because I don't plan on stopping." Rafayel's reaction was immediate, a low, guttural moan escaping his lips at my words. With a boldness that matched his own, I brushed his hand aside, allowing my fingers to continue their languid exploration of his hardened length. Each stroke elicited a soft gasp from him, his body responding eagerly to my touch.

His breath hitched in his throat, a symphony of desire escaping his lips in soft moans that filled the air.

My fingers traced patterns of arousal along his length, teasing and tempting him with every caress. Leaning in closer, I whispered words of longing against his skin, my breath hot against his ear. With each passing moment, the anticipation grew thicker, the hunger in his eyes mirroring my own. I revelled in the delicious torture of the moment, savouring the intoxicating dance of desire that enveloped us both.

With a daring glint in my eye, I continued to tease him, drawing circles on his throbbing arousal, each touch sending a surge of pleasure coursing through him. My fingers lingered on his clothed erection before deftly unbuttoning his pants, granting me access to his hard erection. With each button undone, my anticipation swelled, eager to explore the depths of his desire and fulfil our mutual craving for ecstasy.

Once I unbuttoned Rafayel’s pants, I liberated his shaft from its fabric confines. Unveiling his arousal, I found myself entranced by the mesmerising sight. Long, girthy and slightly curved. I couldn’t imagine the sensations it would evoke and how it would feel like being filled by him. I leaned in closer, my breath hot against his skin as I whispered words of longing.

His hardened length stood tall and commanding, pulsating with an undeniable vigor that spoke volumes. Without hesitation, I leaned in, my lips parting as I released a small stream of saliva onto his throbbing member. The slickness of my saliva enhanced the sensation as I slowly wrapped my hand around his hardness, feeling the heat and hardness beneath my touch. Our eyes locked in a heated exchange, a silent understanding passing between us as I continued to stroke him with deliberate slowness.

The anticipation hung heavy in the air as Rafayel, emboldened by desire, reached for the top of my dress, pulling it down to reveal my pert nipple. His touch was gentle yet firm as he traced the contours of my breast, his warm breath igniting a tempest of sensations within me. I gasped as his lips closed around my nipple, his tongue dancing and swirling, setting my nerve endings ablaze with ecstasy. The intensity of his ministrations sent bolts of raw pleasure shooting through my body, kindling an insatiable desire that surged from the depths of my being.

"It's hard not to bite what's already near my mouth," Rafayel chuckled softly, his voice a velvety whisper tinged with desire. The playful edge in his tone heightened the already intoxicating arousal that surrounded us like a tangible heat. With each stroke of my hand and flick of his tongue, he seemed to embrace his primal instincts and his movements growing increasingly feral.

Sensing my eagerness, Rafayel lifted me effortlessly, guiding me to straddle him as we made our way to his satin bed awaiting us. His touch was electrifying, his hands roaming over my body with a possessive urgency that set my skin ablaze with desire. "May I?" Rafayel's voice was a husky whisper, his eyes dark with longing as he gestured towards the dress that adorned my form.

"Yes," I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper as I surrendered to the intoxicating pull of desire.

With practiced ease, Rafayel deftly stripped me of my dress, leaving me clad only in delicate lace and the weapon concealed within. As the dress pooled at my feet, I discreetly removed the gun, tucking it away in a safe place, ensuring our passion remained undisturbed by external threats. In turn, Rafayel shed his top, revealing the chiseled contours of his chest, each muscle defined and sculpted beneath the surface. Despite undressing, he kept the watch on. As he tenderly guided me onto the plush satin sheets, his gaze locked with mine, his lips leaving a trail of delicate kisses along my skin, each touch igniting a wildfire of sensation. With each caress, he worshipped every inch of my being, his hands tracing the contours of my body with reverence, as if I were a precious work of art to be cherished.

Descending with purpose, his lips trailed a path of anticipation down to my stomach, then further still, until he reached the apex of my desire. With skilful hands, he parted my folds, eagerly savouring my taste as his tongue explored every inch of my quivering flesh. Lost in the throes of passion, he ravished me with fervent kisses and expert strokes, driving me to the brink of ecstasy.

With a gentle gesture, he offered his fingers to my eager mouth, coaxing me to coat them with my saliva. Without hesitation, I complied, relishing the taste of our shared desire. As he slowly inserted his finger into my dripping core, a wave of pleasure surged through me, intensifying with each rhythmic circle he traced.

The sensation was overwhelming, my body trembling with need as he skilfully brought me to the brink of release. And in a moment of pure ecstasy, I surrendered to the pleasure, succumbing to the powerful climax he had orchestrated with his masterful touch.

As waves of pleasure continued to ripple through my body, I basked in the afterglow of my climax, feeling every nerve ending alight with bliss. I luxuriated in the lingering sensation, relishing the intoxicating rush that coursed through me.

But even amidst the haze of ecstasy, my desire for Rafayel burned brighter than ever, urging me to reciprocate the pleasure he had so generously bestowed upon me. With a languid grace, I shifted my focus, my gaze locking with his as I conveyed my silent gratitude.

“I wanna try something,” I murmured, a mischievous glint in my eye as I reached for the white ribbon that adorned my hair. Removing it with a practiced twist, I used the ribbon to bind Rafayel's hands, securing them above his head as I took my rightful place atop him. With a playful smirk, I teased his senses, trailing kisses and caresses along his body.

The satin ribbon felt smooth against my fingertips as I expertly tied his wrists, the fabric contrasting with the heat radiating from his skin. With each knot, I could sense his anticipation building, his breath quickening in anticipation of what was to come. “Is this like… a new kink of yours?” Rafayel teased, a playful grin dancing on his lips as he observed me with curious amusement. His eyes sparkled with intrigue, betraying the hint of excitement stirring within him.

I responded with a coy grin, my lips curling into a mischievous smile as I nodded in affirmation.

As I leaned down to place a soft kiss on his lips, I could feel the tension in his muscles, his body straining against the restraints in a delicious mix of desire and surrender.

With his hands bound above his head, Rafayel lay helpless beneath me, his eyes dark with desire as I explored every inch of his body with kisses and feather-light touches. The air was thick with anticipation as I trailed my lips along his jawline, down his neck, and across his chest. With each caress, I could feel the intensity of his arousal building, his skin flushing with heat as he surrendered to the pleasure of my touch.

Rafayel's breath hitched in his throat as I continued my sensual assault, his moans filling the room with a symphony of pleasure. The faint scent of arousal hung in the air, mingling with the heady aroma of our desire as I teased him relentlessly. “Fuck…Y/N, stop teasing me,” His voice was a husky whisper, each word laced with desperation and longing. His hands strained against the ribbon, a silent plea for more, as I revelled in the power I held over him.

I leaned in closer, my lips hovering just out of reach as I whispered, "You know you love it when I tease you." The heat of his skin beneath my fingertips was intoxicating, driving me to push him further, to see how far I could take him before he begged for release.

With a wicked grin, I allowed him to untie himself, his hands immediately finding their way to my body, pulling me closer in a desperate embrace. His hands roam freely as he pulled me closer, our bodies intertwining in a passionate embrace. Guiding his throbbing member to my dripping core, I lowered myself onto him, savouring the exquisite feeling of fullness as he filled me completely.

I stroke Rafayel's cock with my clit, relishing the sensation of his hardness against my sensitive flesh. Releasing his cock from my core momentarily, I coat his pulsating member with my saliva, reveling in the intimacy of the act. The look of desire in his eyes fuels my own arousal, and I love every moment of tempting and teasing him.

Inching deeper, I circle my hips slowly, ensuring every movement brings him exquisite pleasure. His moans of ecstasy spur me on, driving me to explore every inch of his length with my tight, wet pussy. With each deliberate motion, I feel him responding to my touch, his cock throbbing with need beneath me.

"So fucking pretty, my princess," Rafayel moans, his words stirring a carnal hunger deep within me, every syllable like a siren's call, beckoning me further into the abyss of ecstasy. The endearing nickname he gives me only heightens my arousal, causing my pussy to tighten around him involuntarily. His eyes widen in surprise and delight, realising the effect his words have on me. With each fervent thrust, I surrender to the pleasure, riding him with an insatiable hunger that knows no bounds.

"I'm gonna—,” Rafayel groaned, his voice strained with desire as he neared the brink of release.

With a wicked grin, I withdrew from his pulsating member, the taste of his arousal lingering on my tongue. "Cum in here," I purred, my lips parting in invitation as I offered myself to him once more. Rafayel's eyes widened in anticipation, his hands gripping the sheets tightly as he surrendered to the pleasure coursing through him.

In a moment of pure ecstasy, Rafayel released his cum into my waiting mouth, his essence a delicious elixir that I eagerly savoured. Being the insatiable vixen that I am, I devoured his cock for the last time, each movement of my tongue prolonging his orgasm and intensifying his pleasure. His moans grew deeper, more desperate, as he held onto me tightly, not wanting to let go. With a teasing swivel of my tongue on the tip of his cock, his whole body jerked in response, his desire reaching new heights.

As he throbbed with the aftershocks of pleasure, I met his gaze with a sultry smile, his heartfelt admission of love resounding in the air like a whispered promise. "I adore you, every inch of you," he confessed—his voice a seductive melody that danced on the edge of desire.

"Please… never leave me again," he murmured, his hands cradling my face with a tenderness that spoke volumes of his longing. The sincerity in his gaze, the yearning in his touch, echoed the depths of his desire to hold onto our love, to never let it slip away again.

Savouring the moment, I met his gaze with a sultry smile, my own confession of love hanging between us like a delicate promise waiting to be fulfilled. “I promise. Among all the fishies in the sea, you're the one who caught my eye. Unless you’re begging to be released again,” I teased, my voice tinged with affection as I gazed into Rafayel's mesmerising eyes, feeling the weight of my love for him in every word.

Rafayel and I found ourselves entangled in a playful banter afterwards.

“Says the one who doesn't know how to row the boat!” Rafayel teased, casting a knowing glance at me. The memory of our ill-fated boating excursion flashed through my mind, a moment of levity amidst the tension. "Says the one who ended up tossing his lunch overboard.... and well, couldn't resist taking the bait,” I playfully retorted, a mischievous glint in my eyes as I teased Rafayel. He mockingly gasped, placing a hand over his heart. "Oh, the audacity! Here I am, pouring my heart out, and you're just here for the catch and release." I leaned in closer, my lips curling into a smirk. "Well, you must admit, Rafayel, I do have quite the knack for reeling you in."

He chuckled, his laughter filling the air as he leaned back, a playful glint in his eyes. "Touché, my dear. Touché indeed." Just then, Rafayel leaned in, his lips brushing against my neck as he inhaled the lingering scent of plum and freesia. "I need you to spray more perfume on here, Ms. Bodyguard," he murmured with a playful tone, his breath warm against my skin. I playfully swatted his arm, laughing at the ticklish sensation. His playful request to apply the perfume only added to the intimacy between us, as I surrendered to the warmth of his embrace. Allowing myself to bask in the warmth of Rafayel's presence, I closed my eyes. In his arms, I found solace, a sanctuary where love and laughter intertwined to form an unbreakable bond.

—by prettyobsessed🎀⋆⁺₊⋆ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

Editor’s note: this is for the Rafayel girlies out there! i intended to write something sweeter for Rafayel's smut, but the direction changed. hmm, we'll see. i might tweak around a bit more. also, doesn't Nero seem a little suspicious? i recently replayed the chapters again and started noticing his peculiar behaviour. but either way, hope you enjoyed this one! ᵔᴗᵔ

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chososluv · 4 months

Text

#𝟏 𝐅𝐚𝐧 - P L U G ! S U G U R U

✎₊˚⊹♡ summary & note : continuation of my plug series. here the reader is a local rap princess and suguru is your plug and favorite supporter ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

🏷 tags & warnings: smut, 18+, plug suguru, rapper reader, black femme! reader, reader has a vagina, weed smoking, squirting, spitting, riding, cremepie, oral (f + m briefly) pet names (return of ma/mamas agenda) also i was very eager to post this and its subject to be edited

✎₊˚ word count: 3.1k

if anyone knows the artist please tell me!

minors do not interact

"How much you want again, mama?"

You look up from Suguru's hands to his face as his question registers. Your eyes feel heavy as the indica pulls you into a sweet, tranquil embrace. Your eyes are red, hanging low and Suguru drinks in the sight when he finally meets eyes with you again. He subconsciously licks his lips, your beauty causing his body to increase a few degrees with desire. The burn has him clearing his throat to focus and you give him a lazy grin. You don't realize, but you send him spiraling with your dazzling charm before replying.

"If I remember correctly, you said that if I finish the song you would smoke me out." You remind Suguru of a verbal agreement you two had last smoke session. A chuckle verberates, shoulders shaking as he brings a lighter up to seal the blunt he had been working on. His craftsmanship in his rolls never fell short and tonight was no different. As always, he hands the blunt to you first. He always lets you light it and inhale the first puff of potent gas. Suguru watches your sexy and glossed lips wrap around the blunt at one end and flick the lighter on the opposite. He replies as you light.

"Well, I have yet to hear this said record so where is it, mama?" Suguru taunts as he watches you hollow your cheeks. Your inhale is long and harsh, and a thick cloud of white smoke leaving your mouth confirms it. Suguru smirks, watching you stifle a cough as the cannabis renders you breathless. Your mind is numbing out once again, feeling peace as you lean back into the couch. You pass the blunt to Suguru.

"That gas is immaculate." You comment and he smirks before taking a hit. He's conservative with it, taking smaller but frequent puffs, a major juxtaposition to your bigger yet smaller amounts. He takes another small hit and replies.

"You should know better." He grins, causing a shockwave to go to your belly at his charming smile. You shake it off.

"I never expect less. Anyways, I have the track on my phone. Do you wanna hear it?" You ask as Suguru hands you the blunt back. You scroll through your phone as you take it, locating the track as you take another drastic inhale.

"You should know better than to ask me a fucking question like that." You roll your eyes at his profane language but nevertheless you know his intent. Especially with the way his hips turned into a lazy grin, eyeing at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. Little did you know you have Suguru wrapped around your finger badly. His personal weed stash was not shared with anyone, let alone a romantic prospect. He knew you were different the moment he saw you rapping on stage and gave him the meanest and stankest attitude when he pushed up on you. It took him several appearances at your shows to finally entertain a conversation and the chemistry was so instant you were mad you took so long to give him your attention.

The drug dealer falling sweet on the rising local princess was not a romantic storyline Suguru thought he would find himself apart of yet here he was.

You play the track and Suguru instantly catches the beat. His head follows along with the bass instinctively, eyes closed as he focuses on your lyrics, flow, and delivery. Whenever clever word play or flow switch ups occurred he let out a verbal affirmation or appraisal that left your ego swelling. You took another hit from the blunt as the song continues, your final verse playing as you finish the track strong. A menace and lyrical genius you are in the booth and Suguru shakes his head. He opens his eyes as he looks over to hold your gaze.

"You so damn talented, y/n. You gotta perform that soon." He declares, reaching for the blunt and you hand it to him. He settles deeper into the couch, spreading his thighs out and the sight of him manspreading caused a butterflies to be released briefly but you quickly pull yourself out ot it. You gather your composure before replying.

"I will and you better be front row." You give him a cute little stank face, mean mugging as Suguru puffs on the blunt. He smirks at you.

"Bratty little thing," the words travel straight to your cunt, "but sure thing, mama. You already know wassup." Suguru gives you one of his charming grins and you feel those butterflies get set loose again. You can't fight it and you smile back. Suguru knows it's a mix of infatuation and cannabis, but he has the sudden desire to kiss you. He looks all over you, seeing that lip gloss still painted on your plush lip, big hoops in your ears, and those sexy bangs you recently got done. You're a goddess and have the intellect to keep Suguru on his toes.

"Good." You utter at his declaration, bringing him from his thoughts and he hums. He refuses to look away, even slowly leaning his weight towards you to bring his face closer to yours. You feel your heart thundering in your chest to the point where it almost hurts. You see the look in Suguru's face and sense he wants to immediately fold you in multiple different ways. Your eyes flicker down, eyeing the gray sweats he greeted you at the door with and see a tent now present. You should have known you would be sweating your straightened hair right back into curls.

"Mind if I kiss you, ma?" That was one thing about Suguru, you wouldn't think this immediately because he's a dealer, but he's so tender and so considerate of your boundaries. You felt yourself swooning at the man next to you, his large stature leaning over you as his lips came closer.

"I been waiting for you to do since I came through the door." You confess and Suguru smiles. A large and warm hand reaches out to caress your cheek. He holds his hands there, guiding your pretty face forward to meet him halfway.

"That long huh? Let me not keep my pretty baby waiting any longer, hmm?" Your lips meet and your world seems to melt. All the stresses evaporate and are replaced with a single thought.

Geto Suguru.

"Missed you so much, baby." Suguru says, tongue kissing you on his bed and you huff against his lips. You chase after his mouth, diving back in for a kiss as your hand snakes down to his sweats. He groans when he feels your hand palm against his length. You feel your clit tingle at his groan against your lips.

"I missed you too, Ru." You manage to get out before kissing him again. You crave his lips on yours and feel satisfied when you taste him again. He lets you kiss him a couple more times, your strawberry gloss on his tongue and you taste it when he shoves his tongue inside. You moan, falling onto your back as he pushes you onto it. You feel him pull away and you start to chase after him until he raises to his hunches. You pout, looking up at the man as he looks down at you.

"Watchu poutin for?" He asks, raising an eyebrow as he takes the black elastic hair tie from his wrist.

"You're not kissing me." You say and he chuckles. You dig your toes into the comforter at how dark his laugh sounded and your lower belly awakens when you notice he's beginning to tie his hair up into a bun.

"Yeah? Cause i'm bouta fucking feast on that lil pussy take them panties off already."

He's going to be the death of you.

"Fuck, I missed eating this pussy."

Sloppy slurping sounds cause your head to spin. You moan uncontrollably as Suguru feasts himself between your legs. His tongue is darting skillfully along your folds, collecting every drop you have to offer. Your toes curl, thighs shaking as Suguru has you on your back, legs pressed to your chest and feet dangling in the air. Your pretty anklet dangles and it happens to be one of his many gifts to you.

"Miss when you spit on it." You whine out before you can stop yourself. Suguru raises an eyebrow from between your legs, stopping his feast to smirk. He doesn't say anything, but before you can retort at his pausing he gathers all the fluids in his mouth and spits violently. The majority of it lands on your clit, the rest trickling down your soaked cunt. Your eyes roll back at the filthy scene and Suguru brings his thick fingers to spread it around your swollen clit.

"Like this huh? Like when I mark this pretty pussy?" His fingers sink into your folds, fucking the spit into your hole and you nod.

"Mhmm, yes Suguru." You whimper and he smirks. He brings his lips back down to leave a messy kiss on your clit. Your head falls back into the pillows as he takes it into his harm mouth. His tongue flickers along the swollen button before sucking harshly. You clench around nothing, desperate for something but you're too fucked out to articulate you want his cock. You feel satisified with the way his tongue marks each inch of your cunt. His oral techniques were gifts that you loved to abuse.

"You taste so good," he moans, taking a break to look at his work. Suguru admires it, seeing your swollen and soaked mound. He places an index finger at your entrance, feeling the arousal collected and greeting him instantly. He swears under his breath at the warmth and tight embrace of your folds. You pant, throwing your legs open wider to wordlessly beg for more.

"Suguru!" You moan, bucking your hips to attempt to fuck his fingers. He grins, seeing a small ring of cream form around his finger.

"Pussy so fucking wet, mama," he removes himself from between your legs and rises to his knees, "need you to wet this dick f'me, baby." You are sliding to be on your knees, matching Suguru's stance and he raises an eyebrow. Your hands come to his face, holding his cheeks before kissing him passionately. Suguru moans and you're slipping your tongue into his mouth causing his dick to twitch. His hands fall down to the curve of your back, taking your ass in his hands and squeezing. You moan but only continue to passionately kiss Suguru. Your hands slowly came from his face, traveling down to his shoulders. You plant your hands firmly on his broad, strong shoulders and press down before Suguru can register.

"What's this?" He asks looking up at you as you straddle his waist. You look down, grinning as you sink yourself into his lap.

"Wanna ride you." You state, grabbing between your legs to stroke his length. Your delicate digits touching his warm cock and earning a hiss from his mouth. You take his lips back with yours. Your tongues dance once again as you lead his tip to your awaiting hole. Your eagerness caused you to sink down, ignoring the sting and relishing in feeling full. You moans in his mouth, and he finds his hands kneading at your ass. You begin bouncing up and down, earning illicit moans from the two of you.

"Fuck, you're so wet." Suguru says against your lips. You moan and continue bouncing in his lap. His cock inching in and out left you breathless and falling closer to euphoria.

"All for you baby." You tell Suguru. He blushes but meets your thrusts when you sink back down. You choke, moaning out a whimper as you lift your hips, sinking them back down to be met with another thrust from Suguru. A lazy smirk forms on his lips and you squeal. His balls slap against your rear as his kneading ceases and a slap occurs. You let out a scream at the sting and pure shock.

"So tight and warm." He grunts, continuing to meet your thrusts and you grin. Your thighs begin to burn but you block out the pain, continuing to ride your lover to his pending orgasm. You feel your roots sweating into their prominent curls and Suguru relishes in the sight. Nothing had him more prideful than seeing his girl come with straightened hair and leave with natural curls. He knew if you didn't leave your curls he didn't do it right.

"Ru!" You pant his nickname, choking as he thrusts deeper and hitting your spot. The stroke earns a gush of liquid to wet your thighs and his pelvis. He bites his lip as your nails begin to dig into his skin, smarking his shoulders with crimson lines. He doesn't mind and only continues to meet your bounces with quicker thrusts.

"This pussy was made for me." Suguru comments, savoring the way your cunt continues to grip and milk him ecstacy. You whimper, giggling softly before you speak back.

"This dick was made for me." Your retort is followed with you clenching your walls. Suguru moans out a soft laugh before his hand strikes down on your ass. You cry and he hits the opposite cheek. Handprints form on both cheeks and he massages the sting away.

“Gonna come in this pretty cunt.” Suguru warns, feeling his cock swelling and ready to explode at any moment. Your pussy continues to squeeze Suguru's cock while making it absolutely soaked. His dick is beyond wet, its drenched.

"Give it to me." You sultrily encourage, "missed your cum baby." His tip kisses that sensitive spot and you start whining. Your pussy squelching with each bounce in his lap and continuing to decorate his thick thighs. Suguru is moaning at this point, hissing at how you continue to grip him despite being so fucking wet.

"Fuck, ma you're squirtin' all over me." Suguru moans, biting his lip as he continues to meet your rhythm, You only moan, ceasing your bouncing to roll your hips fluidly, his cock sliding in and out with lewd squelching. You place your forehead against his as you moan at the feeling of him twitching inside you.

"Feel so full baby." You say against his lips and he grins, hand slapping your ass and causing you to toss your head back, yelling out a profanity.

"So fucking tight," Suguru grunts through clenched teeth, "imma cum soon." Suguru warns, moaning again as you continue roll your hips gracefully. You sigh at his words, still swirling your hips as you lean back. Suguru looks down and sees your soaked cunt leave a creamy ring around his cock. He swears at the sight as he fights to cum because god the view is fucking filthy. Your swollen clit stood at full attention as it begged to be touched.

"Fuck, Suguru!" You place a steady hand on the back of his neck to brace yourself as you continue to lean back. He bites his lip, seeing the way your tits bounce and your beautiful body rolling obscenely. Something primal shifts in him and he's placing strong hands on your waist. You yelp, feeling your body fall back till you land in the plush sheets. Suguru still holds your hips, having them in the air as he pistons his cock deep into you. You choke, screaming before you place a hand on his wrist as you choke on several moans. Suguru is grunting, eyes closing as he is near his end.

"Fuck! I'm gonna cum in this pussy." Suguru warns you as he feels his cock throbbing with each trust. The warmth and lewd noises coming from your cunt didn't help with the constant squeezing and soft pleas coming from your pretty mouth. Your mouth is hanging open as he continues to fuck you stupid, screams occurring as you struggle to grasp reality. Suguru's strokes render your mind completely blank.

"Ru-gonna-Cum!" You're choking, struggling to warn him and Suguru chuckles softly. He quickly moans though, as you squirt all over him yet again. He's cursing, hips snapping desperately as he felt his orgasm about to wash over him.

"Ah ah, baby fuck. I'm cumming!" He hisses out, sighing as he ruts sloppily, thick cum spilling inside you as you reach your undoing. You sob, thighs shaking as you back arches, tumbling into a thick abyss of pleasure. Suguru slowly lets out his thrusts, leaving you whimpering shivering as he slips out of your cunt. You shudder out a breath as you slowly open your eyes. His cock goes limp, but still wet with your arousal as you sit up. You're in a daze, but nevertheless you reach forward wrapping your lips around his limp cock to taste you and him. He hisses at the feeling but allows you to suck. You pull away, only to get pushed down yet again.

Suguru spreads your legs, eyeing at your abused cunt but he waits. Surely, his cum trickles from between your folds and he licks his lips. He leans down to lick a quick stripe up your cunt, fat tongue lapping the taste of you two before crawling up your body. He meets you with a kiss, swapping more than just salvia and you suck on his tongue. He pulls away, licking his lips before speaking.

"So fucking nasty." You giggle at him and he chuckles along with you.

"It's why you keep fucking with me." You tease, smiling lazily in the post sex haze. Suguru only smiles before kissing you once again.

"One of a few. C'mon. Let's shower and smoke another blunt huh?"

He always knows just the right things to say to you.

A shower and clean up routine later you're settling into his bed passing a blunt back and forth.

"When's your next show, mama?" Suguru passes you the blunt as he exhales. You take it, looking up from his chest before replying.

"Next Friday." You take a hit and watch him nod. He makes a mental note to clear his schedule on that day. Ever since fucking with you he always made sure he was present at your shows.

"I'm there." He said. You smile, nodding because you knew he meant that. This man before you taking the time to make sure he was always there to be your number one supporter. You didn't know if you and Suguru would ever be committed together, but you didn't bother to stress yourself with uncertainties. As long as you had the man before you in your corner. The world could burn away.

But as long as you weren't separated from Geto Suguru, you'd be fine.

©𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐯 ╰┈┈➤ MASTERLIST!

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grapejuicestyless · 6 months

Note

hey, i eat up everything you write!!! i would love to request maybe a sunshine y/n vs grumpy Conrad (or harry .. I think it will work for either) set in college ! maybe it’s because i’m in uni right now but i am a true sucker for uni based stories 🥲😭 maybe she could be an art major or literature? … eee just an idea !!! thank you 🌟🫶🏻🧚🏻

Mona Lisa

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: You always kept your head up. Each inconvenience was simply a coincidence. But even the biggest balls of sunshine need a break sometimes.

Her chest expanded out, cheeks puffed up, lips pursed in a tight line. Her hands shook under the weight of her textbooks. Her tote bag was slung over her shoulder, but the cautious girl feared that even with the extra wiggle room between the canvas bag, all her things would break it and leave her with nothing at all to aid her.

Her late start had taken the energy out of her, the stairs had taken away her willpower, and the red marks littering her latest exam papers had taken away her spirit. Paint cracked over her knuckles and glasses pulling her hair back, she heard her mothers voice in her head.

“Don’t do that, you’ll stretch them out and they won’t fit properly. Though they still seemed to fit fine, the slight sliding down the bridge of her nose every so often proved her mother right.

She had picked art as her major. She had ambitions, goals and aspirations. Her past teachers had complemented her craftsmanship. Her skill behind an easel. Picking up her paper as an example, using her to demonstrate how to execute certain techniques. It didn’t excuse her from her other classes, however. That was her own decision to make. The idea of having no other classes but ones revolving around the arts would drive her academic side crazy. So each new semester, she enrolled herself into a few classes she didn’t really need to take, but would enjoy. Or so she thought.

It wasn’t like she was stupid, she thrived in the past. In many ways, she was a poet. She had a mind like no other, the words would simply come to head as soon as the pen hit the paper. But math taken away her vanity, and history was a drag more so than not. God, she couldn’t bear to sit through another lecture about some old white guy who would otherwise mean nothing to anyone if it weren’t for the many who refused to let them and their scandalous actions go.

Y/n knew better than to complain. She knew how privileged she was to even be able to attend a school as such. She didn’t have the wealth, but she had the motivations in her past that had driven her to a certain level of success. Something good enough to land her scholarships. She was good at keeping her head up, more so than not. Each struggle would only create another work for her to make.

It was normal to feel down, even knowing this. She was simply glad to be able to step over the threshold to her apartment. The key couldn’t turn fast enough in her eyes. All she longed for was a little warmth and maybe a cup of coffee to keep her going for the rest of the day. More than that, she longed for him. The man who so graciously wrapped his arms around her shoulder every night and whispered sweet nothings to her. Singing messy melodies and dedicating the lyrics to her while she sleeps.

Her shoulders sagged, only to stiffen when she saw how the December nip had come through her roommates open window.

But she didn’t grumble something mean under her breath. She had known she must’ve done it once or twice before too. Her roommate who she loved very much surely hadn’t meant any harm.

Her slippers were inviting, and his sweatshirt hanging by her door was the final piece she was missing. His smell, welcoming and warm. He smelled of toasted vanilla and pine. There were hints of hair gel in the sleeves, from how often he ran his hands through his hair. She didn’t mind the fray in the hem or how the strings were missing from the hood. It was Harry in every sense. And it was enough for her.

She thought that was the end of it, truly. She figured she could take a deep breather and let the stress of the day ease out of her veins. That now, with the university behind her and her classes over for the day, she could settle into her work and let the soft melodies of her playlist distract her.

Sitting on the floor, her legs folded neatly in front of her, she picked up her brush delicately between her fingers and her thumb, twiddling it around and biting her lips. When she went to reach for the paint the cap seemed looser than usual. When she picked it up, the top fell to the floor, spinning out to a step a few feet away. Her acrylic dried out presumably from sitting open for days while she worked on her studies and pushed away her art classes.

Portfolios were bare, sketchbooks a mess and worse, she was falling so far behind she was grinding out projects at an inhuman pace. All to simply be rejected or judged poorly. Nothing was ever enough and soon she would become just another burn out if she couldn’t pull it together.

Picking up the bottle, she searched for any signs of wet paint still surviving. She squeezed and turned it hoping to find a glimmer of anything. When she let go, in defeat, remaining acrylic splattered across her cheats and into her hair. Sticky and half dried.

Setting the bottles down, she reminded herself to breathe. To remember how she’d even got here. She was lucky, she had already made it farther than most of her old peers.

‘It couldn’t possibly get any worse.’ She thought out loud, keeping up her fading smile to try and keep her eye from twitching. Ever the optimist, she decided to simply move on, enjoy a nice brewed cup of coffee before settling down to watch one of the shows she had thrown herself into to distract her from the harsh realities of the stressful life she was living currently.

Trudging a few feet from her room to the kitchen, she saw the counter sprinkled with brown and white sugars and flour. It was a mess, one her lovely roommate had left, but one she could deal with later. She didn’t mind the chaos so much.

What she did mind was the sticky note attached to the coffee pot, stained brown on the bottom, grounds stuck underneath it on the stove. It was pink with curly lettering and a half hearted frowning face. ‘Out of coffee. Running to the store tonight after class.’ It read.

It shouldn’t have pissed her off, but her blood was heating up and her brain pounded in her skull. She couldn’t cozy up, it was far too cold. Fine. Her paint was dried. She was tired a few night ago, honest mistake. She could go buy more soon. Her coffee was gone. She found it in herself to brush it off, smiling to herself at the sight of a fresh pot of coffee for the morning. The longer the wait, the more worth it, it would surely be. She could be patient. She was patient.

She would focus her anger into something productive. She could wash the dishes, she guessed. Clean out the sink that was littered in stained plates and empty mugs. She would scrub until her fingers resembled those of her grandmas. Finger tips littered with wrinkles from decades of love, only hers would be shriveled from the constant presence of water bathing them.

And she forgot about her worries for a minute. Hot water running over her skin, mug slowly filling under the stream of water as her eyes drifted off. She saw herself sock clad feet, dancing along the tiled floors to a soft melody that resembled a love song. And beside her was a larger pair of feet, swaying along to the beat and laughing along about how neither of them knew how to dance. But they would learn.

They had the whole world at their feet and their youth still surrounding them. These were the good years, and it could only get better.

The door opened with such veracity, she was so sure it would come off the hinges. Startled, her head whipped to the door, already on edge, already struggling to calm herself down.

“Y/n/n?” His accent was thick and low. She had never felt more relieved to see someone so much.

His eyes were the purest shade of green she had ever seen. They put her art to shame. It’s why she never painted him. There was more mixture of colors that could capture the way they twinkled. Even when they were dim with anger or despair, they held so much depth it felt so impossible to paint. No talent could make her lose herself in the greens like his eyes could.

“Harry.” She breathed his name out like it was the best thing she could ever have. He could see the way her eyes gleamed and glistened at him, lips pulled into a genuine smile, softer than usual, but he blamed it on her eight a.m class.

She smelled like espresso, the coffee pot filling with murky water in the sink. Coffee and paint. She didn’t set the mug running under the water down, but the overflow splashing onto her knuckles reminded her to put it on the drying rack.

When she turned, he was there, a hand guiding her closer to him on her back, and lowered eyes looking into hers.

His lips felt like heaven on hers, and she wished he would have kept them there forever, but much to her dismay, he pulled away just as quickly as he came. Already dropping his bags down and grumbling about something that had happened in his organic chemistry class. Something about his professor, or whatever. She stopped listening to lean on the counter, she reminded herself to try and breathe.

“God, he’s such a moron.” He moaned, rubbing his temples. She did the same with her back turned. When she faced him, she plastered on a false smile.

“It can’t be that bad.” She tried to reason. He rolled his eyes, grumbling about how she was far too kind, too patient. So she turned her back to him again, fighting away the urge to grumble something back to him. Kindness was not the same as optimism, something that was wearing very thin in the usually very bubbly girl. It was that trait she carried so much over that balanced out the bad that Harry could bring. His glass-half-empty point of view and his constant grumbling about anyone who wasn’t her.

He continued complaining about his day, unaware of how his love was just a few feet away, struggling from her own stress, gripping the counter so harshly her knuckles turned white.

“Sometimes I wish I was an art major like you. God, it seems so much easier.” He didn’t mean it like that, she knew he didn’t mean it like that. She agreed, even. After all, she wasn’t taking organic chemistry or studying the human body in such depth as he did. She studied Van Gogh and Picasso. The crazy man who really wasn’t all that crazy who cut off his own ear. She reminded herself to breathe, just breathe. But when she took that deep breath in, it got stuck.

Why couldn’t she breathe? Why was it stuck in her throat, refusing to escape? She grew frustrated, not with him, but with herself. Tears brimmed her eyes so much, even the plates right beside her blurred into a haze of nothing. There was nothing left to distract her, to keep her up. The sink was empty, she was just running the water by now. And the sound of it should have calmed her but instead she felt very similarly to some of the greats. She could cover her ears and scream all she wanted. But would it ever be heard?

The soft shaking of her shoulders alerted him first. How pitiful she sounded, silently crying and huffing up small gasps to keep her sorrow that way. But he was so smart, in her eyes, even though he thought the exact opposite, even smarter than herself. He knew before she could even try to pull herself together.

“Love, hey.” His voice was soft, like he was unsure of what to do. And when he turned, he couldn’t help but feel ashamed. There she was, his love crying and falling apart so openly and all he could do was stand there like a big idiot.

Luckily for him, she’d made the first move, wrapping her arms up around him so tightly, all he had to do was pull her closer.

“Y/n/n, whats wrong?” He rubbed her hair, pulling the ends gently between his fingers.

“I’m a failure!” It was rare that Y/n broke down like this. It seemed impossible on some days. How upbeat and unfazed she carried herself. Always walking around with a warm smile plastered on her face. But she was only human. It had to happen sometimes. It was only natural.

Pulling her away, he held onto her to keep her steady. His thumbs rubbed at her tears gently. Her gorgeous eyes, once sparkling were now clouded by her own sadness. A wave of emotion he somehow hadn’t read from her moments ago.

“I mean, look at me, Harry! I’m barely scraping by in my math class, I’ve been surviving off of the same three paintings all semester and I smell like wet dirt! And don’t you dare say I don’t because I can smell it and I can see the grounds on my skin! Right next to the dry paint that I can’t even use!” Harry couldn’t help the way he laughed. Not at her, but for her. To her, the smell of coffee and paint was something so sickening. He would think the same if he were her. Inhaling the fumes every second of his life for years. But to him, she was a breath of fresh air. The chaos in her life something so extraordinary compared to his LED white lab lifestyle he had submitted himself to.

His hand wrapped around hers, which was now poking into his chest pathetically, her lips quivering like it physically pained her to be so upset.

“What?” She sniffled, almost embarrassed by the intensity of his gaze. Normally so stone cold, but one she had learned to read over time. The very small changes in the way he crinkled his nose or moved his brows. She couldn’t read it now, though. Not with the blinding tears falling down her cheeks.

There was no amount of times Harry could swipe his thumbs over her cheek, more and more would stain them it seemed like. And he didn’t quite get it. How could he? While she was breaking down about her failures all he could see was a woman who had already given so much and held no bitterness to those who caused her the pain. She could only reflect it back onto herself.

And while she talked down on herself, crying about her stress and how run down she must have looked to him, all Harry could think was how she could be Mona Lisa if Mona Lisa had a prettier face.

“Nothing.” He whispered, voice sticky and wet from not talking for so long. Her tears rolled down slower until nothing was left, eyes stuck forever searching his for any sign of disgust, but it never came.

“I just love you, is all.” Y/n could’ve laughed at how sappy her otherwise grumpy boyfriend was being. His dopey smile and kind eyes looking at her in a way she hadn’t seen all day. She almost forgot completely why she was upset, if it weren’t for the empty hole in her heart still eating away at her.

“I love you too.” She laughed, more so at herself than him at how quickly her frown had turned into a smile.

“Good.” He took her hand, slotting her arm around the small of his back so that his could rest over her shoulders. He could rest his head over hers and whisper all the sweet nothings that always seemed to charm her into a lavender haze.

And the laughter she emitted only reminded the both of them of how peaceful even the heaviest of rains could be.

To Harry, in many ways Y/n was the sun. Sometimes the clouds like to cover it, but they always pass by, and the sun comes out again.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #yn x harrystyles #fine line harry styles #harry styles angst #hslot harry #harry styles

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ghoulishlygrey · 3 months

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Hammer Meets Steel

Dammon x fem!reader

18+ MDNI

Tags: Oral sex, horns for handles, creampie

Read it on Ao3

You and your loyal companions had successfully defeated and cast out the remaining goblins. The grove, ever so thankful, offered to host a party in your honor, and to that you said, “how can I refuse?”

Dammon stood on the outskirts of the party, back leaned against a lone tree as he sipped from the bottle grasped between his fingers. He looked down, blue eyes peering down its neck to find it basically empty, “damn,” he muttered, pushing off the tree to find more wine. Instead, the sight he was met with made him stop in his tracks, the sight of the hero of the grove; the sight of you. You were standing by the fire, drink in hand and a lovely smile on your face, a smile that made Dammon stand still.

It took him back to that first day, the first moment he laid his eyes on you. You had just defeated the goblin ambush outside, your plate armor was smeared with blood, your hair wild, untamed even. You had brushed right past Arron’s wares, and beelined straight to his shoddy forge.

“I need some real steel,” you had said with a mischievous twinkle in your eye as you peered over at Dammon, “and I think you can help me with that.”

In that moment, as Dammon stared, star-struck at your grimey, cut-up face, he could’ve sworn he was in love with you. Which was ridiculous really, for Hell's sake he hadn’t even said a word to you yet. He cleared his throat, “Well, I do what I can.” He gave you an easy smile and shrugged his shoulder towards his wares, “You’re welcome to take a look, though it’s not much.”

And now here he was, standing in your camp, with an empty bottle. Right, he needs a new bottle, that was a good plan. But just as he was going to reach into the wine crate, his eyes flickered up and caught with yours. And, Gods, that *smile*. If a smile could kill, Dammon would’ve been one of your many, many slain souls. And for what’s more, you were walking straight towards him.

“Hey,” you greeted, bending down to retrieve your own bottle, Dammon tried not to realize he could peer down your shirt if his eyes flickered down. Instead he just cleared his throat and averted his gaze.

“Quite the party.” He said, uncorking his new bottle.

“I know right? It’s so good to see everyone happy after all that’s happened.” You replied, giving him a warm smile.

“I think everyone deserves a good break after everything.” He says, taking a sip from his wine.

“I couldn’t agree more,” you said, your smile turning wry before continuing, “it’s nice to see you away from the forge.”

He chuckles, “And I’m surprised you’re alone, usually you have at least three of your friends with you.”

“I finally shook them off,” you tease, looking over your shoulder to find said companions before turning back. “Plus I wanted to get you alone.”

“Oh?” He could feel his heart skip a beat, then immediately drum up in pace.

“Mhmm. I wanted to thank you for my new sword, the craftsmanship is lovely. I’d never commissioned a sword before but I’m glad I did with you.”

Oh. You wanted to talk about the sword.

“Forged from the heart.” The corners of his mouth tease a smile as he makes you laugh, your hand coming to rest on his crossed arm. A slight pink dusts his cheeks and nose at the contact. He clears his throat, Gods, why was he so nervous!?

“I can definitely tell, it feels perfect in my hands. Almost like it was made for me or something.” You tease, giving his arm a squeeze before letting go and returning to your bottle. Dammon could almost cry at the loss of contact, the way your soft hand laid over his sleeve so delicately, he missed it immediately.

“Hey, do you want to go someplace more… quiet?” You asked, your gaze flicking over to Alfira who was leading everyone in song, loudly chanting the lyrics for the crowd. Dammon’s eyes look between the two, heart pounding against his chest as he nods with an easy smile.

“Yes, please. I can barely hear you over Alfira, talented as she is.” He replies, sweeping out an arm for you, “lead the way.”

The two would make their way past the river and into the surrounding forest. “There should be a clearing around here somewhere…” you say, taking his hand in yours as you weave them between the trees. Dammon tries not to focus on the fact it feels like his hands were on fire with you holding him like this. Eventually, to Dammon’s dismay, you let go of him, motioning forward with your hand as he steps in front of you and into the clearing. It was beautiful. Tall, dark trees lined the circle clearing like a formidable wall, keeping everyone who wasn’t them at bay, giving them the privacy Dammon so craved. Somewhere in the distance he could hear a bubbling creek, faintly tickling his ears with its gentle trickling. In front of him, the clearing was lit by the beams of the moon, so clearly that he could step confidently without a torch leading the way. Fireflies beckoned them closer as they made their way through the tall grass to their perfect spot, which you unclasped your cloak and threw it down as a blanket for the two of you to sit on.

“Beautiful,” Dammon admitted, looking directly at you, hoping his admission would be confused for the scenery rather than at his true target: you.

“I agree.” You replied, smile shining brightly through the darkness as you looked around, coming to a seat over your laid out cloak.

You looked so beautiful tonight. You had recently bathed, that much was apparent from the lack of goblin blood on you, and you had let your hair loose from its usual spot atop your head. You were dressed in a simple tunic and leather pants tucked into high boots. Dammon noticed how the tunic color matched your eyes, making them pop even in the surrounding darkness. You shifted your legs, now pressing your thigh against his, a comfortable silence washed over you both as you took in your surroundings, and he took in the sight of you.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, voice barely above a whisper. You turned to him, eyes wide in surprise as you took in his question. For a second you don’t answer and that second is just enough for Dammon to lose all his nerve, his confidence shriveling up like a fire doused with water.

“Neverm-“

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Yes, you can kiss me.”

But when he hesitates for another moment, it’s you kissing him. The kiss starts off slow at first, lips slotting over each other carefully. You feel Dammon sigh into the kiss, his hands coming up to wrap around your middle carefully, as if he was afraid he might break you. Your arms automatically wrap around his shoulders, hands linking behind his neck as you pull him closer.

The two of you stay like that for a while, just breathing each other in. Dammon couldn’t hear much outside the pounding of his own heart as you slid your tongue against his bottom lip, asking for access. You let out a little moan when your tongue meets one of his sharp canines, causing him to pull away.

“Did I hurt you?”

The question catches you off guard, you pant slightly from the loss of contact before replying, “No, of course not.”

Dammon’s heart swells at the sight of your kiss-swollen lips as they curve into a cheeky smile. “What?” You say, looking away shyly. Dammon takes your chin between his fingers and brings for face to look at him again, “You’re just so beautiful.”

Those words were all you needed to hear before pulling Dammon back into the kiss, tongue sliding expertly past his lips to meet and swirl around his own. He pulls you into his lap, situating your legs on either side of him so you’re straddling him. You can feel him straining against his pants as you grind down into him, neither of you quite believing that this is actually happening. His hands skate up your thighs, nails leaving little crescent indents as he squeezes the soft flesh. You moan into the kiss as he probes further, thumb brushing over your clothed clit momentarily before shying away.

“Is this ok?” He murmurs against your lips.

“Yes!” You reply hungrily as your hands slide down his arms, squeezing at the toned biceps.

“I want you.” You say, pulling back slightly to look into his face, he smiles brightly

“I’ve wanted you since I met you.” He replies, pulling you back into the kiss, not baring to part with you any longer. Something about that confession had a heat pooling in your core, and ache becoming ever so present between your legs. To know that his thoughts were tainted with the image of you whenever he was at his forge, you wondered just how lewd he got with it, wondered about all the things he wanted to do to you.

“I want to taste you.” He pants between kisses, head falling to suck on the pulse point in your neck.

“Oh Gods, yes.” Was your reply before he quickly repositioned you so that he was on top of your laying body. Dammon starts at your neck, kissing slowly down until he meets the collar of your shirt. His hands brush up under the seam of your shirt, before resting his hands upon your ribcage.

“Gods, you’re perfect.” He whispers softly, almost to himself. “I want to touch you.”

“Do it,” you reply, hand coming up to cup his face as you watch him from above, “Please.”

Dammon’s hand inch up before securely cupping each breast, he groans at the feeling of you in his hands. Your skin is hot as he gropes, kneading and rolling the tight buds of your nipples between his fingers, you cry out in pleasure, hands instinctively grabbing into his horns as he teases you.

After a moment, he stops, grabbing onto the hem of your shirt and inching it up slightly, he looks into your eyes. You nod, arms lifting up over your head to aid in your shirt's removal. it was about now that you were glad to have forgone underclothes today. The look on Damon’s face said it all, he was happy about it too. He smirks up at you, but chooses not to say anything. Instead he brings his mouth over one of your sensitive buds, circling it with his hot tongue. Your head lolls back, mouth held open in a silent moan. His hands go to work on your trousers, expert fingers undoing the laces quickly and shucking it down your hips in one fluid tug.

“You’re killing me here.” He groans out when he looks down and finds out you had forgone your underclothes on the bottom as well. You smile at him, carding your fingers through his tied-up hair. “What can I say? I had my hopes for the night.” And it was true, it seemed that everyone back at camp was getting cozy with someone tonight, and you had had your eyes on Dammon ever since you approached his forge for the first time; you couldn’t help but hope something would happen with him tonight. You felt like the luckiest girl in Faerûn that he chose you tonight, when you were sure this handsome man could have anyone he wanted in the camp. You bask in that fact for a while; he chose you.

Now that you were entirely nude in front of him, you couldn’t help but feel the least bit exposed. You tug on his shirt. “What about you?” You ask, hands dipping under the hem to lay your hands flat against his navel. “I want to see you too.” You add on, lip slipping between your teeth as you look at him through your lashes.

“Well since you asked so nicely.” He teases, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips before slipping his tunic over his horns. His body almost floors you, toned and ridged as it lays over you. Your hands naturally go to explore all the infernal ridges and curves of his muscles, gently skating your nails over wherever you could reach. All those years hammering away at the forge, working hard bending metal, really left its mark on his magnificent body, sculpting it perfectly for his occupation.

“I wasn’t expecting all that.” You tease, smiling up at him.

 “Oh,” A light pink dusts his features, “Perk of the job, I suppose.”

You pull him down for another kiss as you whisper, “You’re perfect.”

Dammon grinds down on your exposed clit, the material of his trousers rubbing you just right, you bite your hand to keep from crying out.

“Ah ah,” He tuts, bringing your hand away from your mouth,

“I want to hear you.”

He starts to kiss his way down your body, making sure to lavish your breasts in attention before moving on, planting feather-light kisses to your belly button and finally kissing your aching cunt.

Dammon flattens his tongue against your wet folds, humming slightly as he tastes you finally. You cry out when he starts lapping at your hole, tongue moving in and out repeatedly. Your hands go to tangle in his hair, pulling out the hair tie as you do. You grip him for dear life as he works you over, your head falling to the cloak behind you. Dammon lifts your legs over his shoulder for better access, the tip of his nose brushing against your clit. You cry out again,

“F-fuck Dammon!”

His tongue flicks up to your clit and you moan, “Yes! More!”

Dammon takes your command to heart as his attention seems to turn to your little bundle of nerves, lips wrapping around it and sucking gently. Then he changes tactic, flicking his tongue out to tease your clit, as his hands dig into their position on your thighs. You rock yourself against his mouth, grinding as best as you can and chasing your high as an orgasm appears on the horizon. Just a little more, that’s all you needed, just a little more.

Dammon seems to recognize this as he returns to your hole, his fingers coming in to substitute the attention on your clit, rubbing small, steady circles on the sensitive nerves. Your legs clutch around his head, squeezing tightly as you chase your orgasm, finally coming on his tongue with a scream.

When Dammon resurfaces, his face is slick with your juices, his hair hands loose around his ears and his eyes are blown with lust. You lead his face towards yours, tasting yourself on his tongue as you kiss him passionately.   “I need you inside me,” You gasp as he gropes you again, lavishing the way his large hands feel cradling your breasts.

Dammon braces himself on one forearm, using his free hand to tug his cock free from his trousers,

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” he leans down to join your mouths again, his rigid length slicking itself with your juices as it glides between your folds. His hard cock brushes up against your overstimulated clit over and over as he rocks his body above you, making sure to cover himself in your slick before pressing up against your entrance.

Dammon’s hand comes down to angle your hips, and he grinds against you one more time. “Tell me to stop and I will.” He groans, tipping his forehead against yours as he gazes at your eyes.  “Don’t you dare.” You whisper, capturing his lips with yours. Dammon groans into the kiss, aligning himself with your entrance, he just couldn’t get past how perfect you are, how perfect this moment is. He slowly pushes himself inside you, moaning against your lips as your cunt swallows him inch by inch.

“So fucking perfect..” He grits through his teeth, sheathing himself inside you completely.  “You deserve so much better than a romp in the woods.”

“Then take me out after this,” You gasp, folding your legs around him as you adjust to his size, “just you and me.”

“I would love nothing more.” He replies, giving your lips a cheeky peck before starting to slowly thrust inside you. You gasp at the feeling of being filled completely, of being stretched on his cock as he rocks inside you. This moment was everything you fantasized it would be and more, the way he felt inside you, his scent, just *him*. It was beautiful, it was perfect.

Slowly, but surely Dammon’s thrust started to pick up speed,

“Fuck Dammon,” You moan, stringing together your words the best you can, “feel so good…“

Dammon was in the same boat as he thrust inside you, each snap of his hips earning a groan from his parted lips.   

“Me? You take my cock so good, such a good girl-“ he cuts himself off with a grunt, loving the way your velvety walls flutter around his cock after each thrust. His face returns to your chest, mouth taking one nipple between his teeth and tugging lightly before smoothing it over with his hot tongue. You cried out at the sensation, a little worry wiggling itself into your brain that maybe you were still too close to camp, maybe they could all hear you chanting Damon’s name as he takes you in this clearing. Oh well, was the conclusion you reached as your nails raked up and down Dammon’s muscular back, let them hear.

Your second orgasm was quickly approaching as he thrust mercilessly inside you, adjusting his angle to hit your g-spot every time.

“I’m gonna cum,” You confessed, hands coming up to cup Dammon’s face.

“I’m right there with you.” He says, leaning down to connect your mouths in a kiss. You feel his tongue enter your mouth as his thrusts become more erratic, sloppy.

A few more thrusts and you’re there, walls fluttering around his cock as you come, crying out his name against his lips. He pumps you through your orgasm, breath hitching as he separates your mouths.

“Where do you want me to-?” He asks, frantically looking over you as he waits for your answer.

“Inside me!” You almost yell, hands practically yanking him back down towards your face.

After a couple more thrusts, he comes inside you, filling you with his warm seed as he grunts loudly against your lips. You moan at the sensation of being stuffed, and he fucks his cum into you deeper. His hips still inside of you and he all but collapses above you, pressing his heated body against yours as he softens inside you.

The two of you stay that way for a minute, just panting as you come down from your highs. Your wrap your arms around him as he rests his head on your stomach, rising and falling with each of your breaths.

“Thank you,” He says into the darkness, “I’ve wanted that for a while now.”

“No problem,” you chuckle, taking a hand to run through his hair. “You owe me a date now.”

“That I do,” He replies, “that I do.”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading this little thing!! If you liked it, please consider giving me a follow as I will be writing more in the future.

#dammon x tav #dammon x reader #baldur's gate 3 #dammon #bg3 #bg3 dammon #bg3 smut #dammon x fem!reader

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spiderandme · 5 months

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i feel like it's underdiscussed how beautiful the lyricism of the otgw soundtrack is. idk whether the lyrics come from the blasting company or pat mchale or if it was a collaboration but like, i can't even start listing examples because it'll just be most of the lyrics in the whole show. just absurdly good poetic craftsmanship all the way through

#over the garden wall #the blasting company

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synnthamonsugar · 7 months

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Through the diffuse blue mist of the Queen's inner sanctum walked Eris Morn, right wrist laid softly against the pommel of her sword, left holding the ahamkara bone shard. Prepared, she hoped, for any contingency. No acolytes stalked nor shriekers spied as she made her way through hedge-rows overgrown with lush red flowers and shimmering filaments, her only companions white marble statues of thrall forever prostrate in supplication or bent toward the heavens in silent worship. The only sounds her footsteps and the streams of water that tinkled from high fountains.

She had visited the Altars of Reflection before, on Hidden duty, but she was not here today on the order of Ikora Rey. She didn't even tell her — an old habit she was loath to return to — though she'd left a note in a place Ikora would inevitably look if she did not return in time. She hoped it would not come to that, clutching the shard a bit tighter, fingers tensing over the hilt of the sword.

Once she had stood at the altar and listened to wisdom or trickery or both dispensed by a ghostly recollection of the Queen of Lies. Today, the genuine article knelt before her, hands resting loosely in her lap, wings spread behind like the train of a gown. There's a hazy quality to the optics in the chamber, the same as everywhere else here, shafts of light breaking around Savathûn's massive body, casting her front in violet shadows, accentuating the ripples of rainbow light that flicker at the edges of her form. Lucent moths flitted about the tines of her bone diadem and pauldrons.

"Thank you for coming," Savathûn purred as Eris stepped forward into the shade, craning her neck upward to meet her eyes-to-eyes.

"I didn't have to." It's hard not to feel dominated from this vantage, so the statement is a reminder to both herself and Savathûn that she still has power here. Even without Xivu's stolen tithes or her hive god-form.

"Which makes your presence all the more meaningful. I apologize for summoning you, but there are private matters I wish to attend to without the interference of Ikora or the Guardian, delighted as I am by their companionship." There's an earnestness to her voice that unnerves Eris more than if she'd been obviously lying.

"What matters?"

"Parting gifts . . . ones that you alone have the power to understand. To wield."

Savathûn outstretched her hands, palms-up, and produced from the aether a stiletto of bone and chitin, coruscating with prismatic light.

The blessings of the Traveler itself, Eris realized when she picked up the knife. To feel arc and solar and void after so long made her ache with longing, so she turned her attention to its craftsmanship: its weight and its balance in her hands, the detail of the carving on its handle and guard. Some of the moths that had circled Savathûn's crown tracked to her hand, tickling her with small shocks even through her thick gauntlets, but never attacking. "Impressive. How did you imbue your Light on an object in this manner?"

Savathûn smiled coyly. "Why, the simplest way."

With a jolt of horror and awe Eris realized that she held in her hand a live piece of the Queen. Her experiments had extended, unsurprisingly, to herself, and she had found a way to successfully project her Light beyond her contiguous body.

"It ought to keep you safe in my absence. But even the finest weapons are useless to a warrior who has no armor, so I offer you another present:"

She lifted her clawed hands upward, and sang.

Eris could not forget the melody of the Witch Queen's Song even if she tried, but she had never before heard its lyrics. Her skin prickled with goosebumps as Savathûn sonorously enunciated each syllable, words she now understood to be a hive invocation of the Sky, a self-sustaining, self-replicating command for protection, for creation.

The singing drew to silence, but the words still rippled through Eris' mind. She held onto them as she held the blade in her hand.

"What am I meant to do with these?"

"What I would," Savathûn replied. As vague as Eris expected, less helpfully than she'd hoped. "You'll know what to do. Trust me."

"You haven't made that easy."

Savathûn laughed, low and gentle.

"Once, when I was a worse person, I came to you. I said that we are one, and asked if you hated it. I pose that question to you again, Eris, now that I have become more like you and you more like me, both of us the better for it . . . perhaps the best we have been, the best we can be, in every world and eventually."

Her head swam, her heart pounded as she groped for a response. "Savathûn, I—"

She reached for Eris, the pad of one clawed finger almost the size of her face. Despite that, the touch against her ichor-slicked cheek was feather soft. "You needn't struggle for an answer. It is something for you to think about. A final gift."

"Until next time, my dear," she said, before vanishing in a ripple of light and color.

#destiny #eris morn #savathun #canon-typical “what THE HECK is the nature of your relationship???” between these two #synnth fic

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sydmarch · 1 year

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seeing people on here designing their own skill sets had me soooo inspired to make one too. kept feeling like there was too much overlap between intellect/psyche and physique/motorics so i split mine into just mind/body. some ended up more heavily inspired by harry's skills than others which don't draw from them at all. none of the 'portraits' are actually portraits bcus for the way my mind works i felt more abstract/object based representations just worked better. full breakdowns of each skill, which of harry's it takes after if any, etc below the cut bcus long lol. image descriptions in alt are hopefully helpful i kinda struggled writing them since some of these were pretty abstract lmao.

SALESMANSHIP: one on one people skills. a bit of rhetoric, suggestion, drama, and empathy. reading people, debating, mimicry, understanding what people want and how to act to get what you want in return. represented as it is because sometimes when you're neurodivergent you owe the majority of your people skills to the training you once got on a sales floor. masking falls under this skill along with composure.

CONVERGENCE: people skills in group settings and crowdwork. the ability to find a group of friends anywhere from school to workplaces to parties where you only know one person. reading crowds and the feeling of safety in numbers. finding the best route through packed subway tunnels and sidewalks or leading your friends to barricade at a show. gets +2 from alcohol.

ACUMEN: learned information or book smarts. a mix of encyclopedia and logic. memory, information recall, etc.

WEB WEAVING: conceptualization, but with a heavier emphasis on connecting patterns and drawing parallels. understanding where your creativity comes from and how to connect things that inspire you in new ways. +2 from weed.

INTUITION: protective instinct. somewhat of a half light and inland empire mix. less of an emphasis on gut feelings and more on careful evaluations - often too careful & veering into overthinking. will keep you safe but will also make you paranoid.

CRAFTSMANSHIP: interfacing, but with a focus on tools/artistic mediums rather than machines. familiar mediums like sewing needles, palette knives, and mirrors feel like an extension of yourself. the ability to quickly pick up & acclimate to new mediums through trial and error.

COGNIZANCE: perception, but more than sight hearing and smell. heavy emphasis on touch and a higher than average sensitivity to vibration where many sounds can be felt more than heard. extremely sensitive color vision and innate sense of color theory. synesthesia. a clinical or practical awareness of the body.

FLIPPING EVERY BEETLE: a weird name for a weird and hard to describe skill lol. some of you already know the name comes from part of the clj lyric i have tattooed on my foot. whimsy, childlike wonder, unselfconscious enjoyment of things. allowing your body to lead you. an awareness of the body that feels positive and playful. gets a +1 from alcohol and a +2 from weed or molly.

COMPOSURE: the same as harry's (since I already identified pretty strongly with that skill as is - those who've seen my jacket know) but combined with pain threshold and endurance as I feel all 3 stem from a similar place. keeping emotions in check, nt masking, sitting unfazed through long tattoo sessions, using drugs without getting sloppy or sick.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY: once again, the same as harry's. sex and drugs, but also dancing and stimming. urges and impulsiveness. my version has very different ideas around sex and also different prioritization of substances where out of all the things i partake in alcohol is of least importance.

#my art #de #disco elysium #one of the most introspective things i've ever worked on probably.. almost feels weird to be sharing it LOL but it was very fun to make

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ewrthings-race-repair-repeat · 8 months

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The Rolls-Royce Black Badge Ghost Ékleipsis Private Collection is a limited edition (25 world wide) that has been inspired by the seldom-seen wonder of a solar eclipse (the awe-inspiring moment when the Moon completely obscures the Sun).

EXTERIOR: GOLDEN DARKNESS The mysterious, ethereal light cast by a total solar eclipse is captured in the Lyrical Copper exterior colour of the motor car. This stunning Bespoke finish incorporates powdered copper pigment, which appears darker until it catches the light when it produces a rich and dramatic iridescence. Mandarin adorns the inserts below the Pantheon Grille and brake callipers, recalling the intense pulses of sunlight witnessed as the eclipse progresses. The same Mandarin hue is used for the hand-painted coachline, which includes a delicate abstract representation of the transition from sunlight to darkness as the Moon approaches to cover the Sun.

ANIMATED STARLIGHT HEADLINER The Rolls-Royce Black Badge Ghost Ékleipsis features a fully Bespoke Starlight Headliner with a special animation that, like the eclipse that inspires it, gives those inside a true sense of awe and wonder. As the coach doors close and the engine is started, the ‘stars’ in the Starlight Headliner darken and a mesmerising sequence begins, replicating the totality of the solar eclipse, when the dark silhouette of the Moon completely obscures the bright light of the Sun. A circle of 940 ‘stars’ is formed, representing the bright corona of light around the lunar silhouette. This is surrounded by a further 192 illuminating ‘stars’, recreating the otherworldly spectacle of stars visible in the sky during daylight, which occurs only during a total solar eclipse.

The animation remains visible for precisely seven minutes and 31 seconds – the longest possible duration of a total solar eclipse. Once this time has elapsed, the full constellation of ‘stars’ in the night sky is restored. This highly technical feature required a year of painstaking development, in which the Bespoke Collective produced three complete prototypes to perfect the design and sequencing of the ‘stars’.

ILLUMINATED FASCIA AND ‘DIAMOND RING’ TIMEPIECE The illuminated fascia of Rolls-Royce Black Badge Ghost Ékleipsis is adorned with 1,846 laser-etched ‘stars’ in a symbolic timeline of a total eclipse. A single Bespoke designer had sole responsibility for adjusting the individual size and position of each ‘star’ to create the mesmeric effect; a delicate and exacting process that took over 100 hours to complete.

The composition culminates in a Bespoke timepiece, which incorporates a brilliant-cut 0.5-carat diamond, recalling the ‘Diamond Ring’ effect, when a single, dazzling point of light can be seen on the Moon’s outline in the split seconds just before and immediately after it obscures the Sun. The bezel geometry has been modified to accommodate the precious gem, as this is the first time in Rolls-Royce history that a gemstone has been integrated into the clock’s bezel. The assembly underwent rigorous adhesion tests, which included climatic cell cycling from -30°C to +90°C, to ensure the diamond is robustly secured. The timepiece is finished with an etching on its dark aluminium surround, revealing the bright metal underneath. This beautiful piece of contemporary craftsmanship is the result of over 14 design iterations.

PANORAMIC SUNSET INTERIOR At totality of a solar eclipse, there is a moment when a golden twilight surrounds those viewing the eclipse, giving the illusion of a 360-degree sunset. In Rolls-Royce Black Badge Ghost Ékleipsis, the beauty of this rarely observed phenomenon is captured in bi-coloured seats with a unique perforated artwork, made of over 200,000 individual perforations.

The bold Mandarin leather is tinted in a black shade that is then perforated to reveal the brighter contrasting colour beneath, creating a visual effect with extraordinary depth and subtlety. Using computational design tools, the Bespoke Collective developed a unique pattern, which was then manually refined over seven trials and iterations.

Bespoke finishing touches include illuminated treadplates, umbrellas with Mandarin piping concealed in the coach doors, and a unique indoor motor car cover bearing the Private Collection’s wordmark.

All 25 examples of the Rolls-Royce Black Badge Ghost Ékleipsis Private Collection have been allocated to clients around the world.

#Rolls-Royce #Ékleipsis #ghost #eclipse #brexit #stance

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rajfhaldi · 6 months

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Would you come fly to me?

From my vantage point as the artist behind "Winter Bear," this poignant melody not only expresses a profound sense of longing and affection but also stands as a testament to my dedicated craftsmanship. As I delicately weave a narrative, likening the subject of my admiration to a captivating blue parrot, I utilize vivid imagery to convey the unparalleled beauty that captivates me. The sincere invitation to "come fly to me" reveals a profound yearning for closeness and intimacy, underscoring my heartfelt desire. The intentional repetition of "good day" and "good night" in each verse serves as a rhythmic refrain, emphasizing my fervent wish for the perpetual happiness and serene sleep of my cherished subject. As the lyrics unfold, the depiction of the person sleeping contentedly, reminiscent of a winter bear, imparts a comforting and warm ambiance, showcasing my meticulous choice of metaphors to convey a profound sense of tenderness. Within the poetic verses, my imagination comes to life as I visualize the person's face, deriving solace and joy from the mere contemplation of their presence. The poignant assertion that "all the bad days, they're nothing to me" resonates deeply, signifying the transformative power of this special connection, where challenges diminish in significance when shared with the individual in question. In essence, "Winter Bear" transcends being merely a song of admiration and longing; from my perspective, it stands as a meticulously crafted masterpiece, a testament to my tireless dedication. It adeptly captures the nuances of emotion, the beauty inherent in shared moments, and the profound impact of being with someone special—all gracefully symbolized by the metaphor of a winter bear.

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aeide-thea · 6 months

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overthinking things as per uʒ but:

[a transcript is under the cut, for anyone who prefers that format. <3]

aeide-thea sent a post "love sports love when people write about them in a normal fashion"

aeide-thea: lol i AM insane but the more i contemplate this post the more it irritates me actually

elucubrare: what aspect of it?

aeide-thea: like i have no particular stance on the success of this lyricism but as a general position i feel like. yes actually anything can come under the besotted lens of a prose stylist and get elevated thereby. cowardly and boring to laugh at writers not being 'normal' when in fact the elevation of the everyday into the ecstatic is one of the highest and best uses of language. like YES defamiliarize that shit. YES hallow it.

elucubrare: yeah ok, i'm with you!

elucubrare: i also have a half-articulated thought about Not Liking Sports and dismissing them as a tribal marker on the internet & so this description of a player like someone on tumblr would talk about idk. a supernatural man feels like it's unpleasantly transgressive

aeide-thea: yes i think you're onto something! like there's definitely a way in which a certain kind of (maybe especially modern, maybe especially on tumblr) writer feels like there's Their People and then there's Sports People and never the twain shall meet, and like, it's not that i don't recognize the incongruity myself but i also think the joke IS fundamentally based on the idea that anyone who loves a sport is a dumb redneck which like. IS instinctively how i feel about football but there are enough sports i do love that i can check that impulse in myself and recognize my own arbitrary bias

aeide-thea: like admittedly i haven't *read* eg roger angell's baseball writing but i feel like there used to be more room for the idea that an american writer could write about an american pastime (which like. problems of their own there but.) without it being like. writing is for nerds and sports are for jocks!! no—i'm tempted to say 'miscegenation' but i think that's probably an offensively reductive metaphor. however i do sort of feel like it's on the same spectrum of tribalism however far apart??

elucubrare: yeah i agree!

elucubrare: i think when i think about mid-century sports writing that i've been aware of, it's less overtly lyrical or flowery than this, but it *does* take its subject seriously or metaphorically the way this does

aeide-thea: no exactly. and like. idk if you've read that famous DFW piece on federer but like. would be very curious to see if OP would make fun of that the same way or if the fact that it like. has lit cred would stop them

aeide-thea: like dgmw i know i've done a lot of objecting lately to like. people pointing out Amusing Incongruities (see also: 'blorbo' in the NYT) and i know i sound like a humorless idiot but the thing is, it's not that i don't get where these posts are coming from! i just think the fundamental 'humor' of them is predicated on false dichotomies

elucubrare: yeah for sure!

elucubrare: i think here i think the snippet *is* a bit much but i would think that no matter what the subject was

aeide-thea: oh i super don't disagree!! but i also think like. it's tricky to evaluate the success of a snippet stripped of all buildup and ALSO i don't actually think the post was taking issue with the craftsmanship (where i'd probably have agreed with them/you!), but rather just laughing at the fundamental *attitude* regardless of execution?

elucubrare: yeah, i agree!

elucubrare: i think also this is a place where ur crusade against "normal about" comes into play b/c it really does sneer generally but say nothing except "this is not how *i* would have approached this"

aeide-thea: god no exactly. like fundamentally ALL you're ever conveying with 'normal' is like. 'i don't have to actually explain or justify myself bc Everyone (Who Matters) Already Understands so really this is just a general sneer to amuse and bond us, the preexisting in-group'

aeide-thea: like. articulate! your! objections!!! you might find in the process of having to explain yourself that you don't actually agree with yourself! learning and personal growth might happen (god forbid)!

aeide-thea: (also unrelatedly how do u feel abt having portions of our sportswriting convo reproduced 4 public perusal. 'pls no' is totes ok, i can always make my own post if i care that much i'm just feeling lazy lol)

elucubrare: (Go for it!!)

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thegentlesurvive · 23 days

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Who is "the professor"?

I’ve read discussions on the professor in “The Manuscript,” but haven’t seen the 2021 NMPA Songwriting Icon acceptance speech mentioned yet (though I’m sure it has been!) where Taylor thanks “my professors and teachers,” some of them by name.

youtube

Transcript (emphasis mine):

“Thank you, David, for that beautiful introduction. I’m really, really honored to be receiving this award because it honors the part of my job that is so magical and mystifying to me still. I love songwriting so much, because there's an element to it that's still really mysterious. Like, I think any songwriter will tell you, when you get an idea, you're not quite sure where it floated down from, um, but if you can grab onto that idea and turn it into something – a piece of music – that's where craftsmanship comes in, and that's where you have the opportunity to learn and to nurture that craft, and I, I want to take a moment to thank the people who were my professors, my teachers of the craft of songwriting. First of all anyone who wrote with me in Nashville when I was in like 8th or 9th grade, that is insane insane that you did that; I am so lucky that I got to learn from some of the best writers um on Music Row. Liz Rose is someone who spent hours and hours and hours with me when there was absolutely no sign that anything would happen in my career. Um, my dance card was not full, I was fourteen, and she wrote with me so many times and taught me how to edit my, my ideas down to something more concise that packed an emotional punch. Then I got to work later on in my career with Max Martin and Johann Shellback who I learned so much from, just about, you know, from a melodic sense, and i will carry those lessons with me for the rest of my life – I will learn more lessons from them next time we work together – and i just feel really lucky that they've been a part of my life. Jack Antonoff is such a wonderful creator and such a nurturing um presence with any artists, with his own art, with with other artists, he’s just so versatile, and, um, and such a wonderful friend. Um, Aaron Dessner came into my life recently, and he's such a prolific creator. All of these people changed my writing and helped shape it. There are so many others, though and so if you've ever sat in a room and co-written with me, thank you so much. Um anybody who's ever wanted to produce one of my songs, any collaborator I've ever had, I've learned from all of you. I want to say thank you to Troy Tomlinson for always being excited to hear new songs of mine, and um Jody Gerson for being such a champion of female songwriters throughout the industry. This is something that I am so proud to receive and um, you know the fans who are out there who care about my lyrics—you have no idea how much that means to me that you dissect them, and and and copy them into your journals, and, and care about the things that I write, the words that I write. Um, there are amazing songwriters that came before me, who deserve this. There are incredible songwriters coming up now who are just so impressive and amazing i have such an affinity and respect for all of you, and I am honored to receive this. Thank you so much.

For the record, I don’t think it matters who specifically Taylor refers to in “The Manuscript” as the professor, or if it is even one person, a composite, or just a way to put that quote in. Still, it is fun that she has referred to certain people as her professors of the craft of songwriting before.

#the manuscript #ts ttpd #the tortured poets department #the anthology #ttpd the anthology #ts11 #liz rose #max martin #johann shellback #shellback #jack antonoff #aaron dessner #long post #transcript #2021 #speech #my post #Youtube

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037official · 1 month

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Once I pulled up the lyrics to follow along, this entire song gave me chills. Quite literally.

I really hope this isn’t the last record, but if it is, this song is the perfect way to recount every phase of the band. Ten years of craftsmanship, man.

Man.

#in lieu of flowers #aaron west and the roaring twenties #dead leaves #music #it’s you this time #Spotify

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ourladyofomega · 8 months

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Great news for most of you: @rivetgoth has summoned me to choose ten of my favorite listens of September ‘23. Expanding the time span to thirty days meant holding out until the end of the month just to be sure. Picking out only ten was easy to do, and whether you like me or not, you’re gonna’ have to deal with it.

Your winners are:

#1: Replacements, The: "Unsatisfied" #2: Cult, The: "Rain" #3: Chemical Brothers: "No Reason"

This group of three is what happens when you’re following a mutual who’s super-obsessed about music. @tewz is an open book with plenty of audio and music video posts for the taking, plus a couple of Spotify playlists to rifle through. (Stay for the cat videos, too.) She’s my go-to and because of her, I had easy assembly of one of my recent radio broadcasts.

A fellow dee-jay asked me to fill-in for him not long ago. Now I had a double-broadcast (four hours) to set up. I had enough reserves from her to pull it off, so The Replacements’ “Unsatisfied” and The Cult “Rain” made the cut. Chemical Brothers: "No Reason" reminded me why they retained a feverish fan base to begin with, going all the way back to their “Setting Sun” days. Dare I say it reminded me of Daft Punk? Really, I thank her for everything music-wise she’s given me, ever.

#4: Crime Of Passing: "Off My Shoulder"

I love everything about this track. Unmistakably reminds me of Diat and the rest of the record follows with goth rock, post-punk / d.i.y, and coldwave. As a whole, Crime Of Passing displays a great style, aesthetic, seriousness, and urgency; all coming together and consistent as a gloomy yet smoking-hot nine-track album.

#5: Yfory: "Chwaer Pwy?" #6: M(h)aol: “Therapy” #7: Es: "Emergency"

I did an all post-punk / d.i.y. broadcast last month. One portion of the show had me group together female-fronted bands from Europe. That block started with Germany’s Maraudeur, continued on with Scotland’s Breakfast Muff, and then these three. Anyone paying attention knows that Europe (and especially the UK) is giving every other city scene a run for their money.

Also from Germany, Yfory struck me with their album cover (If anyone can identify that typeset, do let me know), their fluid Welsh lyrics which is new to me, and their great craftsmanship; hence "Chwaer Pwy?". I went with “Therapy” from feminist band M(h)aol because it sounds so rough. It’s the Irish equivalent of Guerilla Toss’ “Eraser Stargazer Forever” which sweeps the floor of everything. (If you really want to set yourself on fire, listen to “Period Sex”. Wow.) And, I got excited for new sounds from England’s Es. I played their opener “Emergency” at least 20 times and I still haven’t figured them out. That’s a good thing. Fortunately, the hopeful sounds of “Emergency” follows towards Less Of Everything and far away from Object Relations, and that’s from Flora Watters on keyboards, who is that special ingredient that makes Es. Their uniqueness pushes them near the very top of post-punk / d.i.y.

#8: Mamalarky: “Green Earth”

No way! What is this?! As if Palm’s Dog Milk and Mr. Elevator got a room, fucked, and made this. And I don’t know why I’m also equating Todd Rungren’s “Hello It’s Me”, maybe Peter Max, and other late-Sixties / early-Seventies standards in the mix, but this sounds amazing. It has that lo-fi, drowsy, malfunctioning feel with a wondrous charm to it. It’s really beautiful.

Now get this: “Green Earth” is on the environmentally- conscious The Eleventh Hour: Songs for Climate Justice compilation (and later Pocket Fantasy: B-Sides), and then you can clearly hear vocalist Livvy Bennett breathe in and inhale before singing each verse. Get it? Any song that can transport you to a new, undiscovered world is a unanimous winner in my book.

#9: Blonde Redhead: “Melody Experiment” #10: Tan Cologne: "Visitation"

To describe these in one word: inexplicable. They can be a soundtrack to a future world that could very well be possible, but in the same measure possibly not. These would fit right in with the annual ‘second chance’ broadcasts I do to end the year. ‘Second chance’, meaning, songs I enjoy but simply don’t fit into a specific category, so they have one all of their own. Think Erasers’ “Easy To See”, Mega Bog’s “Maybe You Died”, New Chance’s “Real Time”, Lily’s “New Fries”, and Il Quadro Di Trosi’s “Sfere Di Qi”.

“Melody Experiment” from Blonde Redhead sounds unreal to me. I still don’t believe it even exists. If it does, it’s the definition of ‘slick’. Sonically, it has wavelengths of “Corrections” from Phil Western and a breath similar to Pixel Grip’s Rita Lukea. Don’t ask me why I came up with that. To each, everyone’s own. Tan Cologne’s new single had to be influenced by Nancy Sinatra & Lee Hazelwood “Sand“; the all-encompassing heat during the pending sundown on a blazing-hot Summer day. These final two picks I’ve already heard at least thirty times, and I plan on hearing them thirty more.

Good news: I tag no one. As always, play at your own risk.

#personal #music #thank you!#Replacements #Cult #Chemical Brothers #Crime Of Passing #Yfory #Es #M(h)aol #Mamalarky #Tan Cologne #Blonde Redhead #omega #our lady omega

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pixelatedquarter · 10 months

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piss poor reading comprehension and an unwillingness to interact with literary analysis on YOUR corner of tumblr maybe. Foblr's lovingly sewing jurtains out of patrick's blue jean jackets to decorate whatever windows of Pete Wentz's lyrics that have gone on blue curtainless and he keeps going on record admiring the craftsmanship.

#Of course we're also looking at the view the window offers and the material and whether it's closed or not #(shhhh i know we're just as likely to piss on the poor and we have way worse issues than that but think of the blue jurtains joke)

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