I love the fact that Narcissa Malfoy is a huge, unrepentant asshole.
Don’t even try to say that her love of Draco is part of her redemption arc or a redeeming part of her character; saving Harry’s life wasn’t about Harry, it was about getting in her final revenge at Voldemort for ruining the lives of the people she loved, for treating her family like dirt near the end of the world, for feeding into her sister’s insanity, for giving her baby boy a suicide mission.
But don’t for a second forget that it gives the Malfoys an edge post-War and allows her to claim that she and Draco were under duress and unwilling accomplices, therefore saving their asses yet again.
Narcissa is exclusively demisexual. Her gender preferences are, uhhhh, undecided, but I think she leans towards men regardless of whether she is bi/pan or straight. This may or may not[1] be influenced by compulsory heterosexuality. Still her demisexuality is innate to her and unchanging. It isn’t
She is surprisingly kinky compared to many of my muses, but only in the context of her demisexuality. She needs a partner that she trusts and loves deeply, as well as continuous enthusiastic consent. Like she wants a lot of communication and assurance in the middle of sex in general, but especially when things are Kinky(TM).
Cissa does, actually, have sex with Lucius during their marriage---less because of her own desires and more because sex is expected in a marriage. In my default verse, their sexual activity is very infrequent and eventually trickles to a stop years before the series starts.
1. Technically, according to the theory of comphet, you can’t ever escape it (it’s compulsory after all), but what I’m trying to get at is that Cissa's gender preferences do lean towards men even if you factor in comphet.
What about Aphrodite made you fall in love with her? And what about her keeps you loving her? // Anonymous
original post before June 19th 2017
Why not ask Ares why his heart beats in his chest? Why does the sun rise in the east and set in the west? What is the reason for his existence? He’s a little lost at the question, mouth pulling into a frown at the thought of putting something so huge, so all-consuming–into words.
He thinks of Aphrodite’s laughter–the lilting sound, the long line of her throat, the way the light catches her hair in a halo. His Dia is brilliant, supple in her strength, and confident down to her marrow. She moves with full command of her body, knows herself intimately. He can watch her for hours and never tire of her. He can touch her for days and crave her still.
Can’t get enough of you, he whispers into her neck, against her belly, mouths against her cunt. Can’t get enough of you, he thinks, mouth pressed against her temple, his body next to hers, his hands holding her body against his own.
“I–” Ares is at a loss for words. “How could I not?”
Aphrodite is love, is everything beautiful and terrible about it. She encompasses it in its entirety–she is everywhere, every when. How could he have stopped himself from loving her? There was no arrow in his heart, no seduction. Ares saw her and he wanted, had her and fell to his knees. How could he not?
because i had this buried in the drafts of my ORIGINAL ARCHIVE BLOG and though its super rough and needs to be rewritten.... so badly.... this is something that i keep referencing and need it to be On My Blog proper so that I can reference it properly.
please forgive me, i wrote this like at least two years ago, but probably more like... three years idk.
.
the seduction.
search key: “near halike in argos, there is a mountain that was once called thornax...”
near halike in argos, there is a mountain that was once called thornax. it was there, with the bright moon hanging low overhead, that hera first welcomed the good god into her lovely arms, with the lush earth beneath their bodies and above them only sky.
adultress. that’s who neat-ankled hera was that night; it was wise metis who was bride, whose ripening womb bore the first fruit of a new dynasty. o dark-eyed queen, did you know what you did? two halves of the sky united between your thighs, in the secret dark of night.
unbulled, untouched, before he had you. how could you know it would feel like reaching heaven to have him inside? that slick warmth that rose within you like the light of a new dawn---and it was. it was it was it was, wasn’t it? what is unknown, once known, cannot be unknown---and you knew him, now. you know this.
fruitful mother, did you come away with lips stained red? with desire sweet on your tongue like nectar, inviting him to drink in deep: the warm wet of your mouth, the line of your jaw, the delicate column of your neck.
lower, lower, the golden one cried, and with trembling hands did she unpin
hands in his hair, nails digging into his skin until you felt it give away. what did you whisper against his ear? what secrets did you share? did laughter hitch in your throat, give way to moans? to sobs?
