A Throwback Thursday because I was working on that last one there of Lucanis during my break at work and was feeling very nostalgic since I hadn't been doing the thing I probably find the most fun with drawing? Which is turning on the lights š” Is it correct? Most likely not. But it's fun. I'm happy to be doing so with him again. And now back to doing so with him some more šāāļø
Looking up you see a very impatient looking woman, she's tapping her nails on your desk and glaring at the front door as the silent, young minotaur next to her stands with a stuffie held in his hands, and a heavy backpack on the floor.
Clearing your throat, you ask if you can help her, smiling in that way you trained yourself to do when a karen comes to the front desk of the library. Internally rolling your eyes as she almost dismisses you, pulling her phone out and sending a text message before looking over at you and barking for you to watch her kid till his dad gets there, giving said child a pat on the head and stomping out of your work. Confused, you look down at the young minotaur and ask if he wants to help you check in books, the young boy is more than happy to help as he drags his stuffie and bag behind the desk with you before climbing onto the stool you pull over for him.
It's about fifteen minutes later that an older minotaur walks into the library, looking every bit like a dad.
He's in shorts, a cheesy joke shirt, sandals made just for minotaurs, and sunglasses hanging from the collar of his shirt. The young boy next to you calls out to the man and waves excitedly, drawing the older monster over to the desk, looking both relieved and slightly concerned that the kids mother isn't here, once he's close enough you explain that the woman that was with the boy left earlier and he had been helping you since then, calling the kid a sweet boy as he drags his bag back around the desk to his dad's side.
The moment the boy is by his father's side he is babbling about how cool you are, practically vibrating with excitement as he tugs on his dad's hand, a complete difference to the silent way he stood with his mother, asking if you could be his new parent. Your face flushing as the kid pleads a case for his dad to get with you, after all you had done was give him some apple slices and a cup of milk from the staff fridge while the two of you checked in books.
The real flustering thing is how the older minotaur looks you up and down before telling his son maybe, slinging the boys bag over his shoulder and winking at you as he ushers his son out of the library. The young boy turns around and waves at you with his whole body, tail wagging with how exaggerated his movements are.
Where the Shadows Kiss (fae male (Emrys) x fem human reader)
Summary: You discover the forbidden Grimoire of Emrys inside the infamous Shadow Castle. You ignore the warnings scrawled on its first page and touch the book. The act awakens Emrys, the ancient fae lord of shadows, who makes you pay the price for touching his book.
TW: NSFW, MDNI, dark romance, magic, power imbalance, fated mates, emotional tension, supernatural binding/contract, shadows like ropes and moving like tentacles, oral (fem), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, restraint using shadow-ropes, praise, creampie, nickname (little thief), lots of fluids.
This was a surprise commission to a dear friend on patreon. Enjoyy!
This is the Grimoire of Emrys.
In the year when the moon eclipsed the sun, this tome was bound with shadows and soul.
To touch these pages is to bind yourself to my keeping.
Body and shadow. Heart and soul.
Mark this well.
This is no book of mere learning.
It is contract.
It is trap.
It is mine.
Sealed by Emrys of the Night Court, Keeper of Shadows.
You couldnāt believe youād found the Grimoire.
It was even more impossible to believe that, after reading the stark warning on the first page, you had stubbornly, foolishly, opened it further.
It was as if the book had been waiting. As if it had called you.
The old gothic castle was silent, the library smelling of wax and dust. Youād heard the rumors. Visiting the Shadow Castle meant you had a chance to find the legendary Grimoire of Emrys. Youād risked it. Entered the magnificent castle from a door that was open at the back entrance.
Surprisingly, you hadnāt met a single soul. Nor had you planned to wander toward the library, but your feet had carried you there, to this desk, as if pulled by a string tied to your very soul. Stupidity? Perhaps. But now it was too late. Youād chosen to stay.
And so you stood before the desk, with the massive, throne-like chair behind it. Too big for you to sit... or rather hop on. Your palm lay flat on the Grimoire and with a soft breath, you turned it over and opened it. The heavy cover fell back with a thump and you winced because it was obscenely loud in the quiet room.
You prepared for the worst.
Nothing happened.
The pages were thick and velvety, spread open of their own accord filled with warnings, magic spells and sigils. The words seemed to pulse, the ink a living blackness that swam before your eyes.
Again, that should have driven you away. Logic, survival should have prevailed.
Turn back and run the hell away from this place, your mind said.
But insteadā¦ you felt warmth. Stay, your heart whispered.
A strange heat bloomed in your chest, spreading down your belly, then lower, warming between your thighs. You turned another page, eyes widening. There, inked in black and white, was a drawing. It was him. Emrys. The fae Lord.
Achingly handsome with broad shoulders and a face of sharp angles, eyes so emotional they seemed alive. Commanding, pulling you in. The longer you looked, the less it felt like paper and ink. It felt like he was looking back.
āWow,ā you whispered and leaned closer, eyes drinking him in; his powerful wings unfurling behind him, vast and dark, surrounded by claws. His cruel mouth was perfect. Before you could stop yourself, your hand moved, fingers tracing the line of his jaw, then drifting down to his lips.
You jerked back as if burned by fire. They had felt warm.
āYou should not touch what is mine.ā
The voice came from nowhere and everywhere. Husky and low as a growl. The candles flickered once then steadied. The hairs rose on your arms.
āEven after the warningā¦ you still read. You still look. Touch.ā
āWhoāā you gasped, whirling around.
Shadows appeared in the corner of the room. swirling like ink dropped in water. A wind rolled through, even if the windows were shut. And then he was there, stepping from a black portal. Emrys.
Tall, unearthly, hair pitch-black, eyes too sharp to be human.
Your pulse thundered in your ears. Gods... The drawing had not done him justice. He was taller, broader, more potent. His skin was a muted gray, his clothes black, blending seamlessly with the huge, clawed wings. A regal powerful body. Sharp cheekbones, pointy ears and a mouth that looked carved for cruelty.
Speechless and frozen, you watched as he approached, his booted feet making no sound on the Persian rug. The smell of him hit you next; a musky blend of night flowers, spice, and a masculine musk that went straight to your head. It made your knees weaken, your chest heaving.
āYou were warned. Yet you opened the book. You read the inscription, studied my face. Foolish human.ā
Your lips parted, but your tongue was a dry, useless thing in your mouth. Why were you frozen? Why couldnāt you command your legs to run? Was it him?
āItās me,ā he answered your silent panic. He moved closer, one clawed wing scraping along the floor, black and golden eyes roaming your face and body.
āUndo this right now,ā you demanded, your voice stronger than you felt.
To your shock, he did. The invisible bonds holding you vanished and you jerked a little.
āThere. Magic gone.ā He gestured with his hands, a smile ghosting his mouth. āIām surprised, though. I did not think you would come to me so soon."
āThis is insane. People say youāre a myth.ā
āPeople say many things. Humans have short memories and big mouths. That does not make me less real.ā His gaze flicked to the open book, then back to your face. āYou touched my Grimoire. You woke the binding. That is not a myth. That is a choice.ā
āI did touch it andā¦Iām sorry.ā You squared your shoulders. āBut I certainly didnāt choose you.ā
āYou did. The moment you entered my castle, you accepted me,ā he said simply, taking another step, forcing you back until the hard edge of the desk dug into your buttocks. Only a few inches separated you. āYou were always meant to open my book.ā
You chuckled, fingers curling against the rough oak. āYouāre saying the most dangerous grimoire in the world simply allowed me to read it? That it opened for me? Wanted me?ā
His smile vanished. Shadows appeared from around him, twisted and ropelike, moving in the air with a life of their own. More tendrils of living darkness seeped from the Grimoire itself, curling across you. Emrys spread his hands and caged you before you could flee, his palms slapping down on the desk on either side of your hips, his body leaning in close.
āNo," he drawled against your lips. āI am saying I wanted you.ā
So near. He was so near. Your eyes met his, vivid and fathomless as ink with golden flecks in them. Your pulse was in your throat, frantic, but not from fear. Something else was blooming under your ribs. Heat, hunger, a dangerous, thrilling kind of curiosity.
āAnd what happens now?ā you asked boldly. There was no going back. You were caught. Youād storm through whatever happened. āYou punish me for opening it?ā
āPunish?ā His claw traced the edge of the desk, so close that the air against your wrist prickled. The shadows followed the motion, trailing from his fingertip to wrap around your wrist. It felt warm and so soft and your whole body awoke in goosebumps.
āNo, little thief. But I will claim what is mine. Curiosity has its price.ā
His words coiled low in your belly, and you hated how much you ached for more. For the danger of the unknown. For him.
āAnd if I donāt want that?ā
Emrys leaned in, his breath brushing your cheek, his scent warm, dizzying. The tendrils of shadow slid closer, higher. Two curling around your hands. Another, like a rope, slid up your calf, behind your knee, making you jolt. But the touch lingered, featherlight, fondling rather than grabbing.
āOh, you do,ā he murmured. āYour body already trembles for me. You donāt want to run. You want to stop thinking and succumb. You want me.ā
He was right. You were trembling. A reaction you couldnāt suppress. Betrayal was in your own body, defying logic and causing heat to rise under your skin. Your heart was hammering so hard it hurt, and there was that fluttering ache between your legs that left you raw and desperate.
āWhat say you, little thief?ā
You exhaled and finally said, "I shouldnāt want this, but I do.ā
His lips came down to yours, hand cradling your jaw, thumb brushing along your cheekbone. You let go, your palms flattening against his hard chest, feeling his muscles contract as you kissed. Lips brushing and merging as if pulled by gravity.
Your noses nudged softly when he deepened the kiss, his hand rising to cup the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair. You responded, your own fingers sliding along the sharp line of his jaw, tilting his face to better claim his mouth.
Lost in the feel of you, Emrys devoured your lips, tasting and tasting, unable to have enough. He lifted you on the tall desk, pulled you harder against his chest, and breathed softly against your wet mouth.
"Open."
Your lips parted on a sigh and his tongue sank in, tracing the seam of your teeth before delving deeper. A soft sound left you before you surrendered completely, your tongues meeting in a hot, wet dance. Gently at first, then with a deeper rhythm before slowing to tender again.
Amid the frantic kiss, he laid you down on the surface, his shadow-ropes wrapping around your wrists, pulling them high above your head. Pinning them flat against the cool, carved wood of the desk.
More shadows snaked around your knees and calves, spreading your legs open just enough to make you aware of every hard inch of him pressing against you. Emrys kept kissing you, and you kept responding, your tongue tangling with his, your fingers clutching at his clothes, knuckles white.
Cold air touched you everywhere.
Youād been so drugged by the kisses that you didnāt realize heād used his magic to remove your clothes. Every single stitch. You rested bare on the desk, nothing between your skin and him but the bonds of his shadows. They slid over you like silk, making you shiver.
Emrys pulled back from your swollen lips and stood between your spread legs, his wings arched behind him in a beautiful sweep. His eyes roamed over your naked body. He still couldnāt believe he had you. His mate, accepting him and his shadows, spread open like a feast for him.
Pouty, well-kissed lips, softly curved breasts, hard nipples, and the prettiest cunt weeping for him.
A snap of his fingers and he was naked too, huge and powerful. You gulped, your turn to stare. He was magnificent. A broad, sculpted chest, a chiseled stomach, thick thighs, and between themā¦ your eyes widened at the size of his cock. Inhuman, thick, long and thickly veined, with a bulbous head dripping with pearly pre-cum.
But he didn't take you with it. Instead, he bent down and resumed kissing you, letting that monster shaft rest against your inner thigh, like a lonely beast. You wanted more. You wanted that crazy, huge cock buried inside you, stretching you, filling the void.
āSo beautiful. Open and exposed for me,ā he said against your lips, tongue flicking against yours. āYou know you can still say no.ā
āI donāt want to.ā
āTell me what you feel.ā
āHeatā¦ everywhere,ā you gasped, the magic ropes feeling like his mouth, his hands on your skin. āLike youāre touching me in a hundred places at once.ā
āGood. Thatās exactly what I want. You thinking only of me.ā
A low growl rumbled from his chest as he rubbed himself against you, his cock brushing your inner thigh. His wings adjusted, curling around the desk like a leathery curtain. Two new shadow-ropes slid up your belly, tracing your belly, then moved upward to the underside of your breasts. You moaned as they wrapped around them, pressing, lifting, jutting your nipples up.
āHmnnnnā¦ haaaa.ā
Emrys suckled one delectable nipple, tongue teasing the tip hotly. Simultaneously, a shadow stroked and circled your other nipple, mimicking the action of his mouth before his lips moved to claim that one, too. Strong, veined hands brushed along your inner thighs, so close to where you desperately wanted him, but stopping just short of your slick pussy.
āIā¦ godsāā you moaned. āYouāreā¦ warmā¦pleaseā¦ hnn...ā
āSay it,ā he demanded and bit down gently on a taut nipple, just enough to make you squirm and cry out anew.
āYouāre making me wet,ā you blurted, pussy fluttering for his attention, for anything he would give you. āI need more. Please.ā
He smiled. āGood girl.ā
Again, he crushed his mouth to yours, lips meeting hotly, breaths teasing before his tongue thrust in your mouth. You whined into the kiss, pulling your tongue against his while more shadow-ropes neared your thighs.
Finally, came the hot touch slid between your pussy lips, sliding up and over you in a single stroke. A teasing circle that made you cry out in his mouth. Emrys drew back, watching as his shadows caressed you.
Ropes held your limbs, others worshipped your tits, two more playing with your cunt. Two shadow-tendrils spread your outer labia, baring your glistening hole to his eyes. A place to be fondled, suckled, kissed, and fucked.
Emrys lowered himself, his wings arching to accommodate the movement. He bent his head and brushed his lips to your slick folds, kissing your pussy lips the same way heād kissed your mouth. You went frantic, your body awash with pleasure. But you could do nothing but take it as his tongue lashed out, lapping up your juices, flicking your clit, and growling against your flesh.
āThere,ā he murmured, lips kissing your folds, his nose nudging against your clit. āMine. My pretty, dripping little cunt.ā
Another shadow rope returned, the bulky tip nudging against your pussy while the ones curled around your legs shifted, tilting your hips up, presenting you fully to him. Emrys growled, the sound vibrating through your very bones as his hands settled under your ass, lifting you to his mouth.
āYouāre trembling,ā he said. āBoth your heart and your cunt. Don't fear. Every shadow is a part of me. When they touch you, it is me, little one.ā
āI'm not afraid! I want you to fuck me. Youāthe ropesāwhateverājustā¦ hnn!ā
Your words were cut off when a shadow-rope thrust past your tight entrance at the same moment his mouth fastened on your clit. You cried out, already teetering on the edge of rapture. Emrys could tell and never changed the rhythm, the shadow-tendril pumping in and out of your pussy in perfect harmony with the suckling and lashing of his mouth and tongue.
All perfectly coordinated, giving your pussy their full attention while the rest of the tendrils caressed your hypersensitive body. Flicking your nipples, fondling your neck, rubbing your inner thighs. Your whole body sang under the multitude of touches, coiling tighter and tighter until it exploded in the most powerful, convulsing orgasm of your life.
āDo you belong to me?ā he whispered against your dripping cunt, his now glistening lips forming a smile.
āYesā¦ yes, I do!ā you muttered weakly. āAll of meā¦ yours!ā
Another deep growl and his mouth returned to your clit, kissing the swollen bud before suckling it back into his hot mouth. You shattered again, thrashing in his hold without any hope of escape.
At the same time, a second shadow joined the one already fucking your pussy, squelching inside with all your wetness, both of them stretching you wide, opening you with shallow thrusts. The ones curled around your breasts kept flicking your nipples, this time with tiny pulses of magic that made your toes curl in the air.
The pleasure stacked, overlapped, became an unbearable continuous wave. Little aftershocks rocked over you, tears of bliss in your eyes. You couldnāt tell where one orgasm ended and another began. And yet Emrys kept going, pushing you further.
āToo muchā¦ā you sobbed, head thrashing. āI canātāā
āYes, you can,ā he growled, obscene sounds echoing as he lapped at your cunt in the silent library. āYouāre built for this. Built to take everything I give you. Built to make a messy, pretty little puddle all over my desk.ā
The shadows inside you pulsed harder, faster, until you were writhing against them, every nerve a live wire screaming his name. Emrys kissed around your swollen, well-used folds, around where two of his tendrils were fucking you deep, watching your pussy lips flutter and your clit throb as another peak rolled through you.
āThatās my good girl,ā he murmured in awe.
Breaths stolen, you wiggled frantically, hands pulling against the shadow-ropes not to escape, but to anchor yourself. Emrys held you steady, his mouth licking your clit slower now, same with the shadows inside you, helping you ride the waves of pleasure. He watched you, he always did, then placed one last, tender kiss on your hypersensitive clit.
At his mental call, the shadows drew back. The living ropes squirmed in your pussy and slid out, dripping with your essence, leaving your body feeling empty and needy. You shivered as the other ropes restraining you released, and easily rolled you onto your stomach. Your ass was lifted into the air, your face pressed against the open pages of the Grimoire.
A soft whimper escaped you when the shadows returned, this time from the book, curling around your newly freed wrists, coiling firmly like velvet cuffs. Binding you to the Grimoire. Another set curled around your ankles, keeping your legs dangling on the edge of the desk and wide apart.
Emrys moved, the heat of his chest pressing against your sweaty back. He tugged your ass closer, his hands curving around your hips to pin you to the desk. He covered you from behind, his massive, throbbing cock rubbing against your glistening pussy, lubricating himself with your juices.
āComfy?ā he murmured, kissing along your spine. āYou look ravishing, little thief. But if you donāt like it, Iāll release you. Say the word and it all ends.ā
Your body arched involuntarily. āNo, donāt! I want them. I want you. Like this.ā
āIām all yours, mate,ā he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. āFeel me.ā
And then came ultimate heat and pressure, the broad head of his cock pushing inside. Despite all the foreplay and stretching, he was too much. The sheer girth and depth he claimed as he pushed inside left you whimpering into the Grimoire.
Emrys groaned and his hand found the back of your neck, holding you steady as he stayed half-buried in your perfect, tight cunt. It was a feat; his whole body trembled with restraint. Your pleasure was his priority. So he waited, fingers teasing your nape.
āEasy. Breathe for me,ā he purred and his shadows pulsed around you, teasing, pressing, stroking. Helping you relax and accept him.
You released a half sob, half moan. āEmrysāā
āI know,ā he soothed, kissing your temple as he sank another inch deeper, the stretch making you see stars. āI know it's a lot, beautiful. But you can take it. You can take all of me. Let me in. Let me all the way in.ā
A slight roll of his hips and you took more of him inside you. And that was how it went. Him pushing gently, steadily. And you gasping, moaning, crying out, waves of sensation rolling, building higher and higher.
When he finally buried himself to the hilt, his balls slapping against your skin, you broke all over again, your walls spasming wildly around the fat girth stretching them so tight.
Emrys growled, his hips drawing back, his cock slick and shiny with your juices before snapping back home with a wet, solid thud. He fucked you slow and tender, tracing his teeth and lips along your neck, murmuring, purring, praising, and dominating you all at once.
āFuuuckā¦ thatās itā¦ so tight for me, so hot. Tremble for meā¦ gasp for meā¦ lose yourself in me, little thiefā¦ all of itā¦ mine.ā
The shadows pulsed in time with his movements, their rhythm pushing you back into him, your bodies meeting with loud, wet sounds that filled the quiet library. Emrys gradually doubled his pace, his hands clamping around your waist, wings flexing and pushing him even deeper inside you.
āEmrysā¦ Iā¦ oh godsā¦ I canātā¦ itās too muchāIām gonna breakāā
All the shadows uncoiled from you completely.
Freed of the bindings, Emrys turned you over in his strong arms, gathering you against his chest, your breasts pressed to the hot wall of his torso. He scooped you close, his wings wrapping around you like a protective cocoon and kissed you hungrily, his cock impaling you right up.
You cried out into his lips and clung to him as he pounded up into you, this new angle making you feel even fuller, cockhead kissing your cervix with every deep thrust. Your lips merged frantically, breaths mingling, until you both exploded in a final, shattering release. Your convulsions milked him deep, jet after hot jet of his cum filling you up until it dribbled heavily out of your pussy and onto the floor below.
āItās done,ā he growled, his cock still spilling heat inside you. āBody and shadow. Heart and soul. Youāre mine.ā
āWhatā¦ do you mean?ā you whispered, dazed, trembling, body yielding in his embrace.
He kissed your eyelids, your cheeks, your swollen lips. āYou always were the only one who could touch my Grimoire. The only one who could survive my shadows. The only one who could survive me. Youāre not just my little thief. Youāre my fated mate.ā
āFated. Yoursā¦ā you trailed off with a small, satisfied smile.
āYesā¦ā His fingers curled under your chin, tilting your face up until your eyes met his, black shot with gold stars. āThe only one who can open the Grimoire and love the monster who made it. The only one who can accept my shadows into her body.ā
āI love the monster who made it,ā you whispered. āAnd his shadows.ā
āSay it again,ā he demanded, voice breaking. āSay it while looking at me.ā
āI love the monster,ā you repeated, holding his gaze. āI love you. And your shadows.ā
He closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them, the gold within was brighter. His hard mouth formed the most breathtaking smile. The shadows that had retreated now returned, curling gently around your arms and waist, stroking you with affection, massaging your tender spots.
āHmmm, so softā¦ā you murmured, leaning into their caresses. āThey touch me exactly where I need them to.ā
āBecause theyāre yours now, too,ā Emrys said, nuzzling your hair. āExtensions of me. Extensions of you. They will obey your command as easily as mine.ā
You blinked. āButā¦ I have no magic.ā
He nudged your nose softly. āYou didnāt. But the Grimoire has a way of rewriting truths. Youāll feel it soon when you want something, the shadows will answer, little thief.ā
You pouted. āDonāt call me that. I didnāt steal anything.ā
āOh, but you did,ā he rasped. āYou stole my heart and now, Iāll be taking yours in return.ā
warnings; dubcon-ish (a kiss), hypnotism, mentions of a harpoon gun, some unsettling descriptions, scary water!!!!!
divider; @/kodaswrld
would love to hear your thoughts on this! if you'd like another male siren story, let me know!
"You shouldn't have gone out there that night; now it will never leave," said your client to you on one particularly restless night.
His legs were bothering him again, having built a tolerance to the handful of fat pills you gave him every night before bed with lukewarm water from a paper cup. They were meant to stop the prickling, the burning, the unbearable tightness that made him thrash under the sheets and kick out until the discomfort fatigued him into sleep.
As his live-in aid, your hands were tied both metaphorically and legally. Giving him more than the allotted dosage could end up fatal, but there was guilt in knowing that one more pill would probably make a difference; ease that pain. Yet, all you could bring yourself to do was help him into his favorite recliner in the sunroom and massage his legs.
"I thought it had long since gone once I stopped playing ukulele, but I guess it was just waiting for something else to happen. What did you do?" asked the man, curiously with a slight lean of his head.
You'd expected more frustration and anger than what he was giving you now. It was like he wanted to know the exact conditions you created to lure the creature back here, as if he'd never wanted it to leave in the first place, years ago. What could you say that would fulfill his expectations?
It rushed through your legs and stopped suddenly, returning the water to the temperature it had once been. Goosebumps erupted across your body, and the needle-thin hairs on the back of your neck stuck straight out. Instincts had taken hold of you rightfully, prompting you to hurriedly lift your legs out of the water to get up and head back to the house.
Yet, as you pulled one leg out and half of the other, long fingers shot up out of the depths and seized your calf. A hand tried to pull you back down. You did what was reasonable for anyone in these circumstances: scream as loudly as you could, throw your wine glass at the pale arm coming out of the water, and launch your phone at the pale arm as well.
The water was disturbed, splashing as if by a very large fish, and the pale arm and hand and long fingers recoiled back into the inkiness. You didn't stay to scout the thing out; you fucking sprinted for the house, shrieking, bolted the doors behind you, and stayed in your room until your usual alarm sounded to give your client his first dose of medication for the day.
Later that same day, you returned to the dock in broad daylight to find your phone bobbing on the wooden slats, bone dry.
You gave the man your explanation, still massaging his legs while he listened quietly in his recliner. Once you were finished with your retelling, the man spoke solemnly, "I think it's chosen you. Don't listen when it calls."
To you, that had come across as the nonsensical babbling of a terminally ill man beginning to lose his mind to delusions, so you did not heed his warning. You hadn't considered that it was one until the chill of sea air at night touched your skin, softly rustling the hair on your head, and you opened your eyes to the wide eye of the moon and clusters of stars in the sky.
Why were you outside? How did you get there? You just remembered rubbing the man's legs and sitting down on the sofa once he fell asleep in his chair.
No, wait.
You remembered a man's song. His singing voice was unlike anything you'd ever heard; you doubted it could be replicated by human tongue and vocal cords. The words were incomprehensible, yet your mind perceived them as if they were language and something you knew. Something that told a sad story of melancholy and suffering, a lifetime of immense yearning so potent that the singer was prisoner to his own heart, his loneliness.
He had called out to you so sweetly, his words like a silk thread woven between your fingers. There were so many things he wanted to say to you, so many things he wanted to show you. If only you would come to himā¦ come to himā¦ come to meā¦ come to meā¦ come to meā¦
Now, as your senses adjusted to your surroundings, you realized you were lying on the docks. You were close enough to the edge to see down into the black depths, the water stirring with movement beneath the surface. Something was there; it had been waiting for you to wake up.
One long hand shot up out of the water and grabbed the dock, then another. The fingers were inhumanly long with nails tapering into thin points. Its skin was the same sort of pale from the other night, grayish and translucent. As it hauled itself onto the dock, you noted the sharpness of its elbows and shoulders, how its wrongness was in its imitation of what it thought a human looked like. Below the torso, still halfway dipped into the water, was an enormous black tail with scales that glowed silver under the moonlight.
Now, however, you were fixated on his face and how simultaneously beautiful and horrible it was. He looked at you serenely, inexpressive, almost, as he dragged himself over your body to examine you more closely, deep-dark hair draping over you like a wet veil. His face was long with a tapered chin, black eyes without pupils, and lips a cold shade of purple and blue. Where the prominence of a nose should've been were two symmetrical nostrils formed into slits.
You weren't sure if you thought he possessed an otherworldly beauty, or if he was terrible and monstrous. Your mind couldn't make sense of all of his features existing on one face and body.
And then, he started to hum. It rose from the back of his throat, soothing and sonorous, warm and comforting despite his freezing hands touching your skin, caressing your face. You felt him kiss you, his cold, blue lips pressing slow and hard, still humming to subdue you.
Those long fingers of his continued to explore you, fondle you, learn your body more than you knew it yourself. His lips sank to your chin, molded into the shape of your neck when you moaned and moved, and tried biting through your clothes when he could no longer feel or taste your skin.
He appeared in front of your eyes again, this time with a gentle, accomplished smile. His sweet humming had yet to cease, your vision was smeared, and the limbs of your body were leaden. Even as the creature shrank back into the depths of the black murk, pulling your legs off the edge with him, you could not move.
You were paralyzed and utterly at peace with it.
Suddenly, a bellow cracked through the stillness of the night, and the man appeared with a rifle in his hands. He cried out into the air again, startling the creature in the water before shooting a harpoon at it. The spearhead missed the creature by inches and vanished into the blackness without a sound, but it had done its job.
The creature emitted an enraged, mournful wail as it released you and flipped its tail into the air to escape back into the void where it once came.
"Quick! Quick!" the man waddled to the end of the dock with his bad legs, using the harpoon rifle as a crutch, and helped you to your feet once you had feeling back in your body. "He ain't gonna give you up that easily. He'll be back, you'll see."
warnings; dubcon-ish (a kiss), hypnotism, mentions of a harpoon gun, some unsettling descriptions, scary water!!!!!
divider; @/kodaswrld
would love to hear your thoughts on this! if you'd like another male siren story, let me know!
"You shouldn't have gone out there that night; now it will never leave," said your client to you on one particularly restless night.
His legs were bothering him again, having built a tolerance to the handful of fat pills you gave him every night before bed with lukewarm water from a paper cup. They were meant to stop the prickling, the burning, the unbearable tightness that made him thrash under the sheets and kick out until the discomfort fatigued him into sleep.
As his live-in aid, your hands were tied both metaphorically and legally. Giving him more than the allotted dosage could end up fatal, but there was guilt in knowing that one more pill would probably make a difference; ease that pain. Yet, all you could bring yourself to do was help him into his favorite recliner in the sunroom and massage his legs.
"I thought it had long since gone once I stopped playing ukulele, but I guess it was just waiting for something else to happen. What did you do?" asked the man, curiously with a slight lean of his head.
You'd expected more frustration and anger than what he was giving you now. It was like he wanted to know the exact conditions you created to lure the creature back here, as if he'd never wanted it to leave in the first place, years ago. What could you say that would fulfill his expectations?
It rushed through your legs and stopped suddenly, returning the water to the temperature it had once been. Goosebumps erupted across your body, and the needle-thin hairs on the back of your neck stuck straight out. Instincts had taken hold of you rightfully, prompting you to hurriedly lift your legs out of the water to get up and head back to the house.
Yet, as you pulled one leg out and half of the other, long fingers shot up out of the depths and seized your calf. A hand tried to pull you back down. You did what was reasonable for anyone in these circumstances: scream as loudly as you could, throw your wine glass at the pale arm coming out of the water, and launch your phone at the pale arm as well.
The water was disturbed, splashing as if by a very large fish, and the pale arm and hand and long fingers recoiled back into the inkiness. You didn't stay to scout the thing out; you fucking sprinted for the house, shrieking, bolted the doors behind you, and stayed in your room until your usual alarm sounded to give your client his first dose of medication for the day.
Later that same day, you returned to the dock in broad daylight to find your phone bobbing on the wooden slats, bone dry.
You gave the man your explanation, still massaging his legs while he listened quietly in his recliner. Once you were finished with your retelling, the man spoke solemnly, "I think it's chosen you. Don't listen when it calls."
To you, that had come across as the nonsensical babbling of a terminally ill man beginning to lose his mind to delusions, so you did not heed his warning. You hadn't considered that it was one until the chill of sea air at night touched your skin, softly rustling the hair on your head, and you opened your eyes to the wide eye of the moon and clusters of stars in the sky.
Why were you outside? How did you get there? You just remembered rubbing the man's legs and sitting down on the sofa once he fell asleep in his chair.
No, wait.
You remembered a man's song. His singing voice was unlike anything you'd ever heard; you doubted it could be replicated by human tongue and vocal cords. The words were incomprehensible, yet your mind perceived them as if they were language and something you knew. Something that told a sad story of melancholy and suffering, a lifetime of immense yearning so potent that the singer was prisoner to his own heart, his loneliness.
He had called out to you so sweetly, his words like a silk thread woven between your fingers. There were so many things he wanted to say to you, so many things he wanted to show you. If only you would come to himā¦ come to himā¦ come to meā¦ come to meā¦ come to meā¦
Now, as your senses adjusted to your surroundings, you realized you were lying on the docks. You were close enough to the edge to see down into the black depths, the water stirring with movement beneath the surface. Something was there; it had been waiting for you to wake up.
One long hand shot up out of the water and grabbed the dock, then another. The fingers were inhumanly long with nails tapering into thin points. Its skin was the same sort of pale from the other night, grayish and translucent. As it hauled itself onto the dock, you noted the sharpness of its elbows and shoulders, how its wrongness was in its imitation of what it thought a human looked like. Below the torso, still halfway dipped into the water, was an enormous black tail with scales that glowed silver under the moonlight.
Now, however, you were fixated on his face and how simultaneously beautiful and horrible it was. He looked at you serenely, inexpressive, almost, as he dragged himself over your body to examine you more closely, deep-dark hair draping over you like a wet veil. His face was long with a tapered chin, black eyes without pupils, and lips a cold shade of purple and blue. Where the prominence of a nose should've been were two symmetrical nostrils formed into slits.
You weren't sure if you thought he possessed an otherworldly beauty, or if he was terrible and monstrous. Your mind couldn't make sense of all of his features existing on one face and body.
And then, he started to hum. It rose from the back of his throat, soothing and sonorous, warm and comforting despite his freezing hands touching your skin, caressing your face. You felt him kiss you, his cold, blue lips pressing slow and hard, still humming to subdue you.
Those long fingers of his continued to explore you, fondle you, learn your body more than you knew it yourself. His lips sank to your chin, molded into the shape of your neck when you moaned and moved, and tried biting through your clothes when he could no longer feel or taste your skin.
He appeared in front of your eyes again, this time with a gentle, accomplished smile. His sweet humming had yet to cease, your vision was smeared, and the limbs of your body were leaden. Even as the creature shrank back into the depths of the black murk, pulling your legs off the edge with him, you could not move.
You were paralyzed and utterly at peace with it.
Suddenly, a bellow cracked through the stillness of the night, and the man appeared with a rifle in his hands. He cried out into the air again, startling the creature in the water before shooting a harpoon at it. The spearhead missed the creature by inches and vanished into the blackness without a sound, but it had done its job.
The creature emitted an enraged, mournful wail as it released you and flipped its tail into the air to escape back into the void where it once came.
"Quick! Quick!" the man waddled to the end of the dock with his bad legs, using the harpoon rifle as a crutch, and helped you to your feet once you had feeling back in your body. "He ain't gonna give you up that easily. He'll be back, you'll see."
šFanart time! I wanted to do a small series of favourite boys. So here is (one of) my favourite grumpy barbarians from "ice planet barbarians" It's honestly hard to choose. There are so many of them that I love lol.
š²The world spins, the light blurs, and the music fills the dark forest around you. The handsome hulderkall leans in and whispers
"Come with me into the mountains..."
Oh.. The words are so tempting. Will you join him? I'm sure it's completely safe, and you won't be locked away forever.
āThe medieval warrior, realizing the consequences of his impulsive act, immediately approached the owner of the drone and offered to pay for the damage.
The owner of the drone was so impressed by the brilliant attack that he suggested organizing a competition for bringing down ādragonsā with short spears next year.
Drone owners have another year to develop a unique ādragon-likeā design for their flying machines.ā (x)
I am 100% cooler with this knowing that the spear-thrower realizedĀ āoops maybe I shouldnāt have done thatā and tried to make it right, andĀ that the guy who the drone belonged to was cool with it
This is one of the scariest things Iāve ever done! Putting myself out there and asking for things is HARD, and I genuinely donāt know if thereās enough interest in this for it to be viable.
BUT shy bairns get nowt and all that, and if there is enough support and this does work out, then itās a chance to do something really exciting. Very few people have had a properly fitted suit of historical plate to test with, and even fewer of them have an audience of this size to share their findings with. And while I may not be the best person for the job, Iām the only person that I am.
SO, if you want to see how far I can push movement in plate armour, or how many fantasy tropes I can recreate; if you want to see the process of making and fitting a full suit, and learn more about historical craftsmanship; OR if you want to watch a goofy goober pole dancing and attempting gymnastics in a clanky tin suit, with lots of failure along the way, please support this project.
Thereās no way I can do it on my own, but if enough people chip in, thereās a chance!
And if you canāt or donāt want to contribute, donāt worry about it! Iāll still be here making my usual content either way!
The setting that prevents your work being used to train AI models is turned off by default! I had no idea about this until now! Artists, go to your settings, click āvisibilityā, and turn on this setting! Protect your work!
