primal movements


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After the Hunt (20 Different Pairings #12- Rowena x reader)

Summary: Rowena and the reader blow off some steam after a hunt.

Word Count: 1400ish

Warnins: Smut, scissoring, NSFW GIFS UNDER THE CUT

A/N: Yet another sex position and pairing I’ve never written! I hope you enjoy it!

Originally posted by thewinchesterstales

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A Bullet For My Valentine

Originally posted by plutoandpersephone

Warning: swearing, mentions of guns

“Well that was a shit show.”

You and Michael were running. Again. You were having dinner to celebrate his return home from jail. You wanted to show him how much he was missed. Even if his family wasn’t showing much of that right now. Michael came home changed after his time in the jail. Bruised, beaten, noticeable stubble growing from his chin. He wasn’t the same boy that went in…that boy came out a man. 

He started to act different too.Irrational, quick to judgement, quick to fight. You figure it was how he lived life in jail. He was powerless against the men inside. He didn’t have Tommy to protect him, so he learned to protect himself. He came out cold and angry. 

Angry at Tommy.

You tried to but him back together, you really did. But there was always something missing. Something the prison stole from him. His innocent…no he lost that long ago. His confidence…no. It was his soul.

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The Mysterious Stang!

One of the working tools that tends to differentiate Traditional practitioners of witchcraft from those pesky Gardnerians (note: the author of this brief commentary is an Alexandrian, and does not actually consider you a pest, Gards) is the Stang. Robert Cochrane describes it to William Gray as such:

“The Staff or Stang The Horse: It is the supreme implement. It represents the Middle Pillar of Yggdrasil. The Ash at one end, the Rowan at the other. Its roots are Malkuth, or the Gateway, that is physical experience, and its top is the highest mystical experience. It should be forked and bound at the base with iron. The Gateway because it is phallic and represents Hermes the Guide, and divides into these aspects as it rises. The Moon, because it is the path to the mysteries. The Foundation of wisdom and spiritual experience. It is love because it represents the union of male and female, therefore attraction and counter-attraction, and it is beauty, the child of Wisdom (Horn Child) It is Death, the transformation. The next atribute at the Horns is the GODDESS or primal movement. In other words it is a combination of masculine and feminine up to the position of death, [then]* it becomes the single path of enlightenment.”
(Letter to William Gray #13. From: The Robert Cochrane Letters, edited by Michael Howard and Evan John Jones. P. 142.)

Meanwhile Evan John Jones explains in The Witches’ Stang, originally printed in The Cauldron and reproduced in The Roebuck and the Thicket, its significance in his own words:

“In a coven the role of the stang should always have an ash shaft with a pair of iron horns and the foot of it should be shod with iron. The easiest way to obtain a stang is to beg, borrow, buy or steal a good old-fashioned pitchfork. This is the one thing that in the past could be left around a barn or farmyard without exciting any comment or suspicion of Craft membership. Always mounted at the nothern compass point of the circle’s edge, it represents the Old Horned God / King of the forest glade. The returning of the Old Year King reincarnated back into the body of the Young Horned God / Child born of the Goddess in her aspect as Diana of the Greenwoods and sired by the Old Horned God himself. When placed at the edge of the gateway to that circle, the stang becomes the symbolic guardian of the gateway to that circle, the link between the realm of the Goddess and the Old God, and that of the working ring.”
(From: The Roebuck in the Thicket, P. 61.)

Incidentally, I have absolutely no doubt that the Stang is used in Tubal-Cain circles due to its proximity to the pitchfork as an item. It is double your pleasure, and double your fun, after all. However, one of the horrible things I enjoy doing is discovering where magical instruments were used in Grimoires, and pointing them out to ruin the Fun of All Witches. Incidentally, I found myself consulting the Black Dragon (Le Veritable Dragon Noir), a French grimoire translated by Michael Cecchetelli and published by Scarlet Imprint in Crossed Keys (alongside The Enchiridion of Pope Leo III) and caught a glimpse of something interesting.

Now regardless of why the Traditional Witches use the Stang – particularly those bearing kinship to Cochrane’s line of thinking – I happen to be of the opinion that most magical weapons predate both our reason for using them, and our use of them. So this pleased me greatly:

“Always take holy water and a blessed branch into the circle with you, so that the demon can do you no harm, although to ensure you are obeyed in everything without trickery or deception, arm yourself with the mysterious stang, which you obtain in the following manner: first buy, without haggling, a knife whose blade is of pure steel, and on the day you deem the most suitable, find yourself in te woods before sunrise. At the moment when the sun pierces the horizon, cut  rod of wild hazel of some three feet or so to serve as the handle, then go to an iron-worker who will make for you a small, erect fork with the two tines from the blade of your knife: do not trust this task to anyone who will not perform the work in front of you, or else do it yourself. When you speak with the demon, hold this book in the left hand, and your stand in the right; this should be a horizontal position, the tines turned toward the spirit. A table can serve as the depository for all the aforesaid objects, but they must always be within hand’s reach. Throughout the duration of the operation, keep a paschal candle alight, or burn spirit of brandy in a lamp intended solely for that purpose: consequently, you will find your powers increased ten-fold, putting, in the event of any disobedience from the spirit, the tines of the stang into the flame, but never make gratuitous use of this means.”
(Crossed Keys, P. 6 – 7. Italix mine.)

Later, in the event a spirit departs without first hearing the License to Depart, one performs the following operation:

“If the demon were to disappear without your consent, that is to say without having read the license to depart, put your mysterious stang into the flame, or otherwise reiterate the conjuration, and soon as he reappears reproach him harshly for his disobedience, then continue with your work. […]”
(Ibid, P. 8.)

Now, I shall return to comparing spells to win at gambling. Because I also do that, sometimes.


For My An: Ben Solo + Virgin

Ben Solo, like his father was, is a very attractive man, quite popular with the women. When he wasnt training, he would often help Han with the Millennium Falcon. When it didn’t need work, he would court several women, the eventuality would often allow him more experience behind closed doors.

You had been on several dates with him by this point, allowing yourself to go past your usual coy nature and accepting him, exploring your mouth with his, those soft lips encompassing yours passionately.

You had began allowing him to fondle the swell of your tits, and the very last date you had with him ended in him straddling you across his lap while his length ground into you.

You were so desperate for him in a way you had never felt before. But you had never been with anyone. What would it be like to have your first be with the son of legends? He was an intimidating height, that description backed up with how easily he seemed to lose control whenever he’s being intimate with you. He gets rougher, more uncaring. How would he be if you…let him?

Ben could read that thought in your head the next day, you two were quietly playing a game of Dejarik on the Millennium Falcon, enjoying the company of each other. He turned to you, almost possessed, pressing his lips harshly into yours as he allowed his tongue to slide past your lips, expecting you to reciprocate and explore his mouth as well. The kiss grew deeper as you allow your fingers to explore the waved tendrils framing his face, his hands moving to cup each side of your cheeks, fingers pushing their way up past your ears into your hair. He had you locked to him, passionately playing with each other as his hands vacated your face to move to your buttons on your shirt, slowly unhitching each one.

You couldn’t bring yourself to move, inexperience getting the better of you, as you balled his hair into your fists, needing more of him.

Your shirt was fully open for him, allowing him to peel it off your shoulders, his mouth entirely eclipsing yours as his motions became more dominant. He snatched your hands and brought them down to his chest, forcing you to feel his muscular form underneath his shirt, dragging your hands underneath the vest his parents had given him. He never once breaks his hold on your mouth and he guides you to strip him free of his outermost layer.

Feeling confident, you shake your hands from his, pull back his garment from his biceps rushing your hands back to his chest and grasping the fabric of his shirt.
He begins to grow impatient with you and reaches behind him, pulling off his shirt and baring his chest to you. He grasps your hips firmly and hoists you onto his lap, a thigh on either side of him as he pulls you down into him, his length protruding through the fabric of his pants every second you rotate your hips on top of him.

His hands hold tight and cover the expanse of your hips as he rocks with you, needing more of you, becoming more aggressive as he bites you lower lip. He lifts you slightly and lowers you down on to the rest of the couch. He breaks the kiss finally, pulling slightly away to take you in.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he murmurs, and you pull your lower lip into your teeth in embarrassment.

“I’ve seen it,”

You blinked. You weren’t sure what he meant. His hands ran down your stomach tracing the hem of your pants.

“Seen what?” you asked, unsure.

“I’ve seen your need of wanting me. You want me to fuck you here, on this very seating arrangement. But I’ve also seen your….inexperience,” he placed his digits just under the fabric, grazing above your clit gently, “are you sure?”

You considered him for a moment. You’ve seen him almost lose control with foreplay. How would he be when all inhibitions are cast aside? He had an unpredictable nature to him. Dangerous–reckless even–and you were willing him your body to enable him further.

His gaze was hypnotizing. His hair falling gracefully over his face while he looked down on you, teasing above your entrance, goating you on to beg for him. Your want for him drove every word that fell out of you afterwards.

“I’m sure. Fuck me Ben. Make it memorable,” you moaned, arching your back into his hand.

Something primal came over him. His eyes were hungry, the color of them being swallowed by his pupils. You weren’t sure whether to be taken in or to be terrified. He leaned into you, placing wet kisses on your jawline, drawing the skin of your neck into his mouth, nibbling on your collar. His hands began exploring under him, pinching your nipples under your bra, dragging his Nails over your adbomen, fingering the clasp at your pants. He worked to remove them quickly –roughly yanking them, and your panties, down your legs in one swift motion. You kicked off your boots in a hurry, helping him slide your garments to the floor.

He drug his mouth down the marks he crested, tongue slicking your body as his soft locks followed suit down to your heat.

Stopping just above your sex, he looked up at you and you turned away. He grabbed your chin to force your gaze upon his.

“I’ve been told I’m…a lot to take. I’m going to play with you first. Warm you up. Then I’ll fuck you until you don’t remember your name” he whispered gently, his breath catching on your folds.

You were scared, yet somehow more aroused than ever. He wanted to do these things to you. Even as you hung on his last words, not sure what to expect, you were more than excited for the waves of pleasure he was promising to you.

You felt the familiar soft feel of his lips on you, only this time they were exploring your sex, delving deep into a place you only dared touch yourself now and again. He knew how to work you, dipping gently over your bud, pulling it into his mouth, grazing it over with his teeth, forcing moans from you as you felt a searing heat wash over you again and again. He took your bud in and out of his mouth, dragging you to something you’ve never felt before, as he moved his index and middle finger over your entrance, pushing them into you slowly. You sighed out of both pleasure and the discomfort it brought. He worked all the way into you. Curling his digits to your sensitive spot, scissoring them to widen you for him, he open kissed your cunt quickly before pulling back.

“You’re so fucking tight. Not sure how long I’ll last with this perfect little pussy around me”

You sighed out of impatience.

“Gods Ben just fuck me. I can’t take it anymore”

He was completely taken away by lust now. He grabbed at you and pulled you further under him, hooking his fingers under his pants and dragging them off with his boots. His hands fell back to your heat as his thumb delved into your clot, working cirlces into it, as his other hand jerked his dick.

He was huge. So large you were forced to loom back down at yourself in wonder. He was working you with his hand quickly, bringing you to the edge of your climax, as he positioned himself , poised at your entrance. His head caught the tip of you and you sighed, needing him inside of you. He edged his way slowly, physically splitting you, your walls seperating before him, spreading your pelvis apart as though you were being molded to fit him.

He let out an animalistic groan, his movements more primal as he forced his way in. He was out of control–a large hand grabbing your thigh and pulling it upwards to achieve a better angle.

“Ben no its too much!” you wailed to him.

He paid no attention, dragging himself deeper into you, spreading you apart, wrecking you as he snapped himself into you harder. His hand gripped your calf to bruising. You were reaching for something, anything, for leverage while each thrust delivered another spurt of pain into you. You were crying his name over and over until the stinging turned over to pleasure. He silenced your needy pleas by cupping his hand over your mouth.

“I don’t own this ship. If someone enters they will see you bent and broken. Stop”

Instead, you cried into his hand, working your way closer to your euphoria. You had never experienced it so vivid. He worked harder circles to your cunt, and you were reaching a point you couldn’t return from.

You screamed, clamping around his cock, greedily taking him in and out, pleasure taking you entirely. Ben crushed your face with his hand as he finished two thrusts later. He pulled out and dribbled onto your cunt, smearing it around with his fingers as he finished.

He pulled you up, bare and wrecked, enclosing you in his arms. Sweat mingling between you both.

You stared up at him, as he leaned down to place a deep kiss over your lips. His hand moving to thread itself into your damp locks.

“When can you go again?“you asked, your tone dripping with seduction.

@rossequartzz I lost your ask! I’m sorry! But this turned into a one shot LOL. Hope you enjoy. 😉


I was originally going to do this big, illustrated lore post about the clan my two main Aurin characters are in, the Wraithwhispers. I still have a lot written out about it, but I’m doubtful I’ll ever finish enough to feel good about posting the whole thing.

As for the pictures, Wraithwhisper Aurin are innately linked with the movement of Primal Life, particularly when it leaves a body. Their woods have a reputation for being haunted, and their Matrias a reputation for going insane over time.

The two standing there are just to show off some of the various skin tones common for their clan.

Hope y’all enjoy the doodles.

I Need a Gangsta (Mister J - Part 3)

Characters: Gabby Barnes (you), Joker, Frost, Harley.

Warning: Sexual themes, forced drug use, use of alcohol, intoxication.

“Dressed for the occasion I see.” The Joker gave me an amused look.

“You know me,” I stood up, brushing off my jeans, “I never pass up a chance to spend time with you.”

He lifted the end of his cane so it was tipping my face upwards, “Even uninvited?”

“You told me to whistle, so I put my lips together.”

Chuckling heartily, he clicked his cane back to his side and everyone in the room seemed to collectively relax, “Oh, kitten, be careful,” he grabbed my hand and guided me to the booths, “someone could take all that sass as a challenge.”

People began to resume their places in the club, diving back into their drinks, or the body sweat of others. My gaze fixed on a dancer who hadn’t stopped her movements during the exchange. She was sickly pale with shoulder length white hair that ended in washes of red and blue on each side. Her deep V necked dress hung from her bust almost threatening to slip off with every gesture. When she caught me staring she grabbed her pole and flipped around to look at me upside down while biting her lip and winking. Just one giant acid trip.

The Joker lead me to a rounded booth where a man in an expensive suit stood waiting, “Company, boss?”

“Yes, get her something to drink. You strike me as a rum girl, Miss Barnes.”

The man nodded and poured a drink from the mini bar that he pulled out from the wall.

“And, Frost? Get her some proper,” tilted his head while guiding me back and forth to see every angle, “attire.”

As he dragged the word out his crystal eyes rested on mine and I tried not to squirm. Out of fear, had to be out of fear.

I straightened as I sat down, “I’m good with what I’m wearing. Besides, this is business not pleasure.”

“Kitten,” he kissed my hand, watching me as he bent, “are you insulting my hospitality?”

To break eye contact I sipped my drink, “I’m just trying to do my job, Mister Joker.”

He grinned, “Please, my associates call me Mister J, but I would rather you call me Daddy.”

I had to stop myself from spitting up my drink entirely, “Mister J it is then.” clearing my throat before I continued, “So what have you been getting up to these past few weeks?”

Waving a finger, he shook his head, “No, no. I’ve done quite a bit for you, it’s your turn to do something for me. Then you can ask questions, pet.”

Leaning back, I let go of my notebook in my purse, “Alright, what can I do for you, Mistah J?”

He smirked at my quip, “Has the Bat come to see you yet?”

“He has,” I said cautiously, and downed the rest of my drink, “he wants me to be a mole.”

“How predictable.”  The Joker waved his hand in disgust.

“I said yes,” He practically snarled but I raised my hand, “we both know he would’ve followed me around anyway. It’s better to gain his trust. What’s more, I make the conditions. He comes if I call and only if I call.”

“Devious little thing aren’t you? But I doubt Batsy will stick to any terms except his own.”

“Boss? We have an unwanted guest.” Frost refilled my drink.

The Joker beckoned Frost to his ear and they spoke quietly amongst themselves. Whether it was the excitement of getting caught or the sheer aroma of sex in the air, I was slowly becoming dizzy. My eyes surveyed the room sluggishly and locked on the pale woman again. She was now grinding another female dancer who was draped in gold. They groped at flesh and worked against each other’s bodies. The pale woman spun around and ran her fingers down the other woman’s front all while sticking out her ass. My lips parted slightly and I felt everything fade at the edges, completely enthralled by their primal movements.

“Why, kitten, I could swear you like playing with women more than men.” The Joker purred as Frost walked off through the dance floor.

Snapping my attention back, I could barely keep focus, “Wh-What’s happening?”

He slid from the booth and stood in front of me taking my chin in his hand, “You like it?”

I blinked, “What?”

“My, my, not as clever as I thought.” he played with my bottom lip, “MDMA, pet, it’s my favourite shade.”

I glanced down at the red lipstick outline on the back of my hand, “I…”

Colours and lights shook in my vision, all refusing to stay within the lines. Looking at the Joker now his hair put off an intense glow, giving him a green halo. His red lined silver smile taking up half his face and growing. The top three buttons on his shirt were undone and I could see his dark tattoos jumping out of his skin. I trailed my eyes down his sculpted arms to his golden watch that I had an urge to touch but couldn’t. Those ice blue eyes intimidated me, like he was too big to be touched, too big to be real.

My clothes began to melt into my skin and I pulled at my t-shirt anxiously but was conscious enough to realize I was getting nowhere.

He placed his hands over mine and lowered to my level, “It’s not that kind of party just yet, kitten.”

As if it had a mind of its own my hand reached out and rested on his cheek. For a moment he seemed just as surprised as me but smiled slowly and let it happen. I ran my hand up to his hair but didn’t mess it up. It seemed thin even through the copious amount of gel layered on. Somehow I was confused as to why the green wasn’t dying my skin too. Realizing what I was doing I immediately pulled my hand away and tried to gather myself.

“Sorry I didn’t mean -” and then he kissed me.

At first it was sweet, which was the last thing I expected. Then he glided his tongue into my mouth pressing mine to the back of my throat to the point where I could barely breathe. His hands gripped my hips and dragged me closer to the edge of my seat so his waist was flush with mine. I was able to feel myself both outside my body and in it. Pale fingers ran up my spine in circles giving me goosebumps, while others grabbed my ass. He trailed up lightly to my neck where he pinched the back causing me to gasp and shudder. All at once, the second round of drugs hit me as he growled and bit my lip. With my eyes closed it felt like ten times the effect. My skin was overly sensitive and numb all at the same time. His thumbs slipped under the edge of my shirt and massaged the bare skin roughly. The dryness of my mouth was counter acted by his tongue as it crossed every inch. After what seemed like an eternity, he let go so I could come up for air. Breathing in I threw my head back, feeling myself fall deeper and deeper.

He settled a hand on my cheek and made me look at him, but not once did his gaze move from my lips, “See? Isn’t that better now, pet?”

“Mister J!” Frost came running in a frenzy.

The Joker threw a venomous look over his shoulder, “What?”

“GCPD are on their way, boss, it’s a raid.”

He swore under his breath, “Get Harley. I’ll take her and drive the Lamborghini, you take the Jag with Ms. Barnes.”

Then he turned to me, “So sorry to cut this short, kitten, the fun was just getting started.”

“The interview…” I trailed off but he put a finger to my lips.

“Another time, doll. This time I’ll do the whistling. Frost!” The man in the suit helped me to my feet, and threw my arm over his shoulder.

My vision darkened around the edges, purple and black spots danced in circles. The club was continuing as usual but this time all the colours and movement made me nauseated. Cool night air let me know we had somehow made it outside as Frost threw me into the back seat of a car. I don’t remember the sensation of us moving except for the street lights that danced in and out of view, paler and paler every time. There was a loud crash like metal indenting as I lost consciousness.