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mxnsterbabe · 2 days

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Nonbinary Celestial/Nonbinary Reader SFW Wordcount: 3,408 Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

You’ve spent your entire life staring at the stars; until one day, one of them falls to earth and you realise they aren’t stars at all.

The old astronomy building, a relic passed down from your father, stood solitary against the night. There you were, enveloped in darkness save for the dome of starlight that stretched above. Through the telescope, the heavens were a canvas.

Orion, with his belt of three aligned stars, seemed to watch over you, a guardian of the sky. You traced the outline of Cassiopeia, the boastful queen sitting on her celestial throne, and beyond her, the great bear Ursa Major loomed large and comforting.

As you methodically charted and sketched the heavens, a sudden flash tore through the the night. A shooting star blazed across the field of your telescope. It was a sight to quicken the pulse, to remind you why you loved these silent, solitary nights.

Instead of fading into the darkness like you expected, this star seemed to grow brighter, larger. Your heart raced as you tracked its descent, the telescope lens barely containing its fury. It didn't vanish but instead seemed to explode in a cacophony of light on the opposite side of town. The burst was brilliant, then gone, leaving an afterimage dancing in your vision and a burning curiosity in its wake.

This was no mere meteorite; you were sure of it. Something extraordinary had just touched down on Earth, and every instinct you had clamoured for you to find out what it was.

Despite a nagging intuition at the back of your skulll, curiosity propelled you forward. You grabbed your bag and coat in a flurry, the cold metal of the telescope still lingering on your fingertips as you rushed out of the building.

The idea of messaging your dad flitted through your mind—he would certainly want to witness this anomaly—but the urgency of the moment overrode the thought. Fingers trembling with adrenaline, you couldn't bring yourself to pause, to type out the words that would delay your discovery even by mere seconds.

You rushed to your car, the engine coming to life with a reassuring roar that cut through the silence of the night. The roads were empty, the world around you asleep. Streetlights blurred past as you drove, guided by the lingering afterimage of the fallen star's brilliance.

Finally, you arrived at a stretch of open field, the vast expanse of grass. You expected a scene of impact, a crater, some mark of the star's violent descent—but the field lay serene and undisturbed under the moon's watchful eye.

Confusion clouded your thoughts. Had you miscalculated the location? Could it have been a trick of the light, a figment of your imagination fuelled by a wishful fascination with the stars? Yet the vividness of the event, the certainty with which you had followed the celestial body's path, left little room for doubt.

You paused, the stillness of the field feeling suddenly charged, electric. A glow in the distance beckoned—an ethereal light that pulsed gently, like a heartbeat. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you took a cautious step forward, then another, drawn to the light.

As you approached, the source of the glow materialized into a form, unmistakably a person, or something like one. They stood motionless, bathed in a silvery-blue luminescence. Their nudity was obscured by the shifting, shimmering light that cloaked their form.

Their face turned towards you, revealing features both strange and mesmerising—enormous eyes that glittered like stars, a face elongated and ethereal, devoid of any malice, only calm curiosity.

For a fleeting moment, the word alien flashed through your mind, sparking a primal surge of panic.

As your heart pounded in your chest, ready to flee, the creature—no, the person—before you remained still, their gaze locked with yours. There was no aggression in their posture, no intent to harm.

Your fear ebbed, replaced by a profound sense of wonder. This was no star.

Compelled by a magnetic pull, you found yourself closing the distance. As you moved within an arm's reach, the glow from their skin illuminated the space between you. It was a radiance that bordered on overwhelming, so bright it filled your vision completely.

In the near-blinding light, you discerned the figure's form—undeniably humanoid but slender to the point of fragility, limbs delicate and willowy.

Their eyes held you captive, large and luminous, unblinking. It was as if galaxies swirled within them.

Overcome by curiosity and something else, something you couldn’t name, you raised your hand tentatively and touched theirs. The skin was unexpectedly hot, smooth and firm.

Your breath caught in your throat as the warmth spread from their hand to yours, leaving your skin tingling.

“What are you?” you asked softly.

They didn’t respond, simply threading their long fingers through yours.

Time seemed to stretch and warp around you, the field shrinking to the small patch of earth where you and the being stood. Your eyes remained locked onto theirs, and it felt as if you were peering into the very fabric of the universe.

The being leaned forward, their forehead meeting yours with what you could only describe as tenderness. The contact had warmth blooming in you, and your eyes slipped closed.

There were no words spoken, none that you could hear with your ears, at least. With your foreheads pressed together, you felt the being's curiosity, their joy of discovery, and the simple pleasure of their existence. They were here simply to experience, to explore one of hundreds of planets they had visited before.

Then, they said their name. Not with words, you had the impression they couldn’t speak in a way that you’d understand. Rather, you felt a flicker of joy, felt the glow of sunshine on your skin and smelled crisp, fresh grass.

As they stepped away you felt a sudden lightness, head spinning. Your balance faltered, a dizzy spell from the overwhelming encounter. Before you could stumble, their firm grip steadied you, their slender arms surprisingly strong, holding you upright.

They smiled then, and it was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

"Thank you," you murmured, steadying your breath.

They gave a small, understanding nod, their eyes reflecting the pale light of the moon.

"I wish I could understand your language, your real name," you said, your voice tinged with regret.

In response, they knelt gracefully on the cool grass. Their fingers, elongated and delicate, danced across the earth, tracing letters in the dirt with careful, purposeful strokes.

Nysa.

They looked up at you, their eyes shining.

"Nysa," you repeated, trying the name, feeling its shape and sound on your tongue.

Nysa's smile broadened, and they nodded once more.

As Nysa rose to their full height, a decision formed within you, swift and impulsive. Before doubt could grip you, you stepped forward and kissed Nysa.

Nysa's skin, hot to the touch like sun-warmed stone, seemed to thrum with an energy that coursed through you, igniting every nerve ending. You felt the delicate structure of their lips, the smoothness of them, small teeth scraping across your bottom lip.

Oh, it was perfect.

As you pulled away, the world around you narrowed until there was only Nysa.

A sharp sound broke the spell, a reminder of the world beyond the field. Nysa's frown, a slight crease in their brow, was the first sign of concern. They turned back to you, their gaze searching yours, as if ensuring you were unharmed.

It was then that the lightheadedness hit you, a gentle but insistent pull away from consciousness. As the edges of your vision began to blur, Nysa reached out, their forehead touching yours. It was the last sensation you felt before succumbing to the darkness.

***

You awoke to the familiar confines of your room, the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. Confusion clouded your mind as you tried to piece together the memories of the previous night. How did you get back home?

Sitting up, you surveyed the room, everything in its usual place. Undisturbed. Your jacket and shoes were neatly positioned by the door, your bag slung over the back of the desk chair.

You needed to check the rest of the house. Make sure last night had all been real.

Yet, as you attempted to stand, a wave of lightheadedness washed over you. You fell back against the pillow, the room spinning slightly as you tried to anchor yourself to reality.

As you lay there, trying to steady your spinning head, a soft silvery light caught your eye. It wasn't the sunlight streaming through the window, but a gentle blue glow, like moonlight.

Confusion gave way to awe as you realized the source of the light was none other than yourself.

Your hands, held before your eyes in disbelief, were bathed in the same silvery-blue glow that had enveloped Nysa. The light ebbed and flowed around your skin, swirling.

With bated breath, you watched as the glow began to fade, the light slowly receding until your skin returned to its normal shade. You didn’t doubt it any more; the events of the previous night were real.

The thought sent a thrill through you, and you shivered.

You hoped that Nysa would return. Something deep inside of you said they would.

#monster fucker #monster boyfriend #monster x reader #monster romance #exophilia fiction #exophilia #tag: nbxnb #tag: celestial #tag: nonbinary monster #tag: nonbinary reader #tag: sfw

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rednotebooksworld · 8 months

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Righting a Wrong

male merman/fem!human!reader

SFW oneshot

contains: human misdeeds, cursing and enemies to friends??? Idk

Summary: a young merman gets tangled up in some old fishing line and you decided to help

~***~

“Ow! Watch what you’re doing, human!”

You huffed in annoyance. You were in the middle of help a young merman, who got himself suck in some old fishing line on the shore of Saint Valor, an island that was a port, traded with the mainland.

“If you’d stop moving around maybe I wouldn’t nick you with my blade.” You said, shaking the switchblade you had in your hand.

He frowns as he scoffed. “Whatever.” His tail swished in the water, splashing you a bit as he but his chin in his palm.

“Curb the attitude, man. I’m trying to help you.” You said, going back to cutting the tough fishing line.

“I didn’t ask for your help.” He said.

“Yes you did.” You replied back.

“No, I didn’t. I could’ve gotten out myself!” He exclaimed.

“Right by tangling yourself up even more,” You said. “Look I just thought I could help.”

“You humans are such a bother. From your damn fishing nets to your loitering on the beach and polluting our ocean with your loud boats.” He growled.

“Really? You do realize our boats are our way of life. We need things from the mainland or else people will die.” You said.

“Hmphf, less humans to worry about.” He said nonchalantly.

You scowled at him as you flicked the side of his tail with your fingers.

“Ow! Human! What the hell!” He exclaimed.

“You’re a real asshole, you know that.” You said.

“Well, I’m sorry,” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Why should I have any sort of sympathy for you humans?” He asked.

“Because humans aren’t all in the same box, stupid.” You said.

“Ha! Yeah right,” He said scoffing with a smirk. “The elders never lie. Especially about you humans.”

You frowned as you took your knife away from the fishing net. “Fine then if you think humans are all the same then I’ll leave your sorry ass here and let you die.” You threatened.

The young merman’s eyes widened at this as you stood up, folding your switchblade and putting it back in your pocket. You were about to walk away when he called out to you.

“W-Wait, hold on a second!” He exclaimed.

You stop and turn around to look at him you had an unamused look on your face.

“I’m… I’m sorry… please… don’t leave me here.” He mumbled.

“Are you done being a dick?” You asked.

“Y-Yeah, please get me out of this net.” He said.

He wasn’t looking at you, he was look down at the ground in shame and embarrassment. You, a human were trying to help him and he was just being cruel and mean to you.

“Alright then. I just want to right a wrong. Some fishermen don’t care about the ocean but some of us normal folk do,” You take out your switchblade and started cutting at the fishing net again. “Our whole lives depend on the sea for ships to come into the docks to transport goods and other things that we need. I’m sorry that humans are scum and your eyes but don’t think that we don’t have it rough.” You said.

“I understand…” He said. “I… I never knew that… so do you think my elders are wrong?” He asked looking up at you.

“Somewhat, they need to look at humans individually. Every human isn’t all black and white, you know. We make mistakes, some more then others but the choices we make are our own and the faults of others shouldn’t be casted onto others that haven’t done anything.” You said.

“I see…” He said, he seemed to think about what you said a little. The young merman was dragged out of his thoughts when your voice was heard.

“There. You’re free now.” You said.

He blinks a couple of times then he looks up at you. “Oh, um, thank you.” He said softly.

The two of you say in silence as you put away your switchblade. Then you asked. “Can you make home alright?”

He looked to you then he looked away at the open water of the Saint Valor. He nodded. “Yes, I am.” He said.

“Good. Well, goodbye then.” You said.

You started walking away from the young merman. He whipped his head around and called out to you again. “W-Wait, wait a second!” He exclaimed.

You stopped in your tracks turning around again, looking at him.

He sheepishly looked away then he looked back at you. “Can I see you again?” He asked.

Your eyes widened at his question. Why does he want to see you again? You thought he hated humans. But then again you can see he’s young and looks to around your age if merfolk age like humans do that is. He was probably just believing whatever the elders or his parents told him and never met a human before in his life so you must have changed his perspective.

“Why?” You asked.

“Be…Because… you are so much different then what I perceive humans to be. I want… I want to get know you better.. maybe you can teach me humans aren’t all bad like the elders says.” He said.

He being serious, he’s not being a cocky little bastard. “Okay.” You said bluntly.

“Really?” He responded back as her perked up a bit from his sheepish expression.

“Yes, really. You can visit whenever.” You said.

“How about tomorrow? Same place?” He asked.

This shallow were a nice spot to meet. You nodded with a slight smile. “Okay then tomorrow it is.” You said.

“Great.” The young merman made his way back into the deep parts of the sea, he waved to you before he disappeared back into the depths of Saint Valor.

~***~

a/n: oh btw, I don’t have a name for this boy. So if you have any name suggestions please feel free to put them in the comments or my inbox 😊

#monster #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #monster romance #red’s oc #tag: mxf #tag: sfw #monster x human #merman #merman x human #merman x reader

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griffinkid · 1 month

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I've seen "I don't know how to play with toys anymore" a few times lately and just wanted to point out-

Playing with toys looks different for everyone, even actual children!

Playing with toys can look like: 🧸🪁🚂

Taking pictures of your toys and writing captions for them

Brushing or grooming soft toys or toys with rooted hair

Ordering or sorting your toys by colour/species etc

Making up stories, poems or comics about your toys

Dressing or accessorising your toys

Imagining your toys talking to you or each other, forming opinions of their own, etc

Drawing your toys

Taking your toys for a walk outside, even in a backpack or pocket if you don't want to carry them openly

Making lists of the toys you have and where you got them etc

Feel free to add your own ideas

#removing the agere part of the original text to make it more general but it still stands #since I saw at least one 'not agere but-' on this and wanted to make it more broad #Hester rambles #I don't know if this will be relevant to any of you but just in case #let's tag this why not #plushies #stuffies #toycore #kidcore #plushcore #agere #sfw agere #agedre #age dreaming

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ohio-stereotype · 8 days

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REBLOG IF UR BLOG IS SAFE FOR THERIANS AND FURRIES

#anti zoophile #deer #quadrobics #quads #squirrel #alternative #therian #sfw furry #reblog bait #idk what reblog bait is but someone said to put it in the tag so?

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master-xochimilli · 1 month

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I just want soft cuddlefucking. Arms holding me tightly, a nice slow deep fuck, kissing and praising me while wiping my tears away, fucking all the stupid sad out my head, reassuring me it'll be okay soon and that they've got me

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booaue · 8 months

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A lion who sings songs

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apotheoseity · 3 months

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gift art for @fagdragon !!!! give this beast treats NOW

#apotheoarts #digital art #artist on tumblr #digital artist #animation #gif #hi salad #dragon #bug dragon #feral furry #furry #furry art #anthro #anthro art #safe furry #safe fur work #sfw furry #furry oc #< lying for tags but it counts

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sproutfriend · 5 months

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well, do ya?

#furry #sfw furry #digital art #digital artist #fursona #furry fandom #furry art #opossum #possum #procreate #lizards #lizard #reptile #anthro #idk what else to tag pls enjoy my possum

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heartnosekid · 2 months

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thecrystalkeepers on ig

butterflies pictured (as far as i can tell, in order): chocolate solider (junonia iphita), postman butterfly (heliconius melpomene), malachite butterfly (siproeta stelenes), blue moon butterfly (hypolimnas bolina), another two malachites, some type of lacewing butterfly (the coloration is throwing me off), another blue moon butterfly, two more malachites, and i think the top butterfly in the last gif is the chocolate solider from the first gif, and the one on their hand looks like another blue moon butterfly. if i got any of these wrong, please let me know!

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mxnsterbabe · 2 months

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Male Drider/Female Reader SFW Wordcount: 3,430 Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

You're invited to a masquerade ball, hosted by the mysterious Lord Iskinder. A mysterious drider catches your eye, and it turns out that these two may have more in common than you think.

You stood at the edge of the ballroom hosted by the mysterious Lord Iskinder, the grandeur of the space unfolding before you like a scene from a storybook. Opulent chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, their light cascading over the guests and illuminating the room with a warm, golden glow. The walls, adorned with golden tapestries and gilded mirrors, echoed the laughter and music that filled the air.

Around you, the guests danced, the epitome of elegance and grace, their masks glinting in the light from the tall windows. Feathers, jewels, and intricate patterns disguised familiar faces, adding an air of mystery and intrigue to the evening.

Your own mask, a delicate creation of lace and pearls, felt like a second skin, its design both concealing and revealing. It was a perfect blend of mystery and allure, designed to intrigue yet allow you to blend seamlessly into the crowd.

Iskinder lingered in your mind as you navigated through the throngs of dancing couples and clusters of chatting nobles. The ball was a rare occasion where the norms of society could be bent, where one could indulge in the freedom of anonymity.

Amidst the swirl of gowns and the soft rustle of silk, your attention was caught by a figure unlike any other. The mystery man was a drider of remarkable presence, standing on the fringes of the dance floor. His upper body was that of a man, his skin a rich, dusky hue that complemented his flowing black hair; but from the waist down, he was a creature of legend, his eight, elegant legs belonging to that of a pinktoe tarantula.

His mask, a masterful creation of silver and obsidian, framed piercing eyes that seemed to see through the frivolous facade of the ball.

The sight of him, so regal and otherworldly, sent a shiver of excitement down your spine. The ballroom, with its gilded opulence and the sea of masked faces, suddenly seemed to fade into the background. The air around you thickened with anticipation, the moment poised on the edge of something transformative.

The concept of a drider, those beings of legend and whispers, had always seemed like a fanciful tale to you, stories meant to entertain and intrigue. Yet, there he stood, living proof of their existence.

His presence in the heart of high society was as breathtaking as it was unprecedented, drawing curious glances and hushed tones from the surrounding guests. Despite their stares, none dared voice their wonder or disdain aloud; the drider's demeanor, poised and unyielding, commanded respect and held a challenge in its stead, as if daring anyone to question his right to be among them.

As your gaze met his from across the room, the world seemed to tilt slightly on its axis. His eyes, bright as molten gold, burned with an intensity that pierced through the sea of masks and whispered conversations. In that brief exchange, something sparked to life, fleeting yet undeniable.

A flush of warmth crept up your cheeks, and you found yourself looking away, overwhelmed by the sudden depth of emotion that single glance had evoked. Your heart fluttered like a caged bird. It was an unfamiliar sensation, this desire to know more.

When you dared to glance back, hoping for another glimpse of the drider who had so captivated your thoughts, you found only the swirling mass of guests. He had vanished, blending into the crowd with a grace and speed you hadn’t expected.

Seeking respite from the press of the crowd, you drifted towards the refreshments table, the drider man still rattling about in your mind. The clink of glass and the murmur of conversation was a welcome distraction.

As you reached for a glass, the animated voices of two women nearby caught your attention, their topic of discussion sending a shiver of curiosity down your spine.

"... and they say Lord Iskinder, the host of tonight's ball, hasn't been seen by anyone this evening. It's all so mysterious," one woman whispered, her voice pitched with curiosity. "In fact, few have ever seen him at all. Those who have are sworn to such secrecy that no one knows what he truly looks like."

The other woman leaned in closer, her interest piqued. "A reclusive lord hosting a grand masquerade? It's the perfect setting for him to wander amongst us unnoticed. The anonymity of the masks, the mingling of guests... it's all by design, surely."

Your curiosity, already kindled by the encounter with the strange drider, flared into a blaze. With a polite interjection, you joined their conversation. "Excuse me, did I hear you correctly? Lord Iskinder has orchestrated this evening's affair yet remains unseen? How peculiar for a host."

The first woman nodded, her eyes alight with the thrill of gossip. "Indeed, it's the talk of the evening. A lord who is more shadow than substance, his presence felt but not seen. This masquerade could very well be his way of hiding in plain sight, observing his guests from behind the veil of anonymity."

The second woman added with a conspiratorial smile, "Some even speculate that the masquerade is a test of sorts, a way for Lord Iskinder to seek out those with a keen eye or perhaps a kindred spirit, without the constraints of societal expectations."

The idea that the elusive lord might be among the guests, shrouded by the anonymity of his own masquerade, sent a thrill through you. The possibility that the ball was not just a social event but a personal quest for the host, a search for connection amidst the pageantry, gave the night an air of unpredictability.

It was all so romantic, wasn’t it?

With a glass of champagne in hand, you retreated to a quieter corner of the ballroom, the golden liquid sparkling under the chandelier's light as you gently swirled the glass. The conversation with the two women lingered in your mind. The idea that Lord Iskinder might have been mingling among his guests incognito, perhaps even observing you at this very moment, lent an exhilarating edge to the night.

Your mind wandered back to the drider, whose presence had so captivated you earlier. If the women's musings held any truth, and Lord Iskinder was indeed among his guests incognito, then the appearance of such a rare and remarkable creature at the ball was no mere coincidence. Perhaps the drider was one of the lord's exclusive guests, a confidant or even a friend, invited to the ball for reasons known only to them.

With each sip of champagne, the possibilities seemed to expand, the boundaries of the ordinary stretching to encompass the magical and the unknown.

Your contemplation was abruptly shattered by a voice, soft like silk and honey. The unexpectedness of it sent a flutter through your heart, a sensation akin to the gentle touch of a butterfly's wing against your skin.

Lifting your gaze, you found yourself once again locked in the captivating stare of the drider from before. His molten gold eyes, gleaming with an inner warmth beneath the intricate mask, held yours in a gaze that was somehow both soft and so intense, it made your toes curl. The mask, an exquisite piece of craftsmanship, could not conceal the expressiveness of his eyes, nor the gentle curve of his lips that hinted at a smile.

"Would you care to dance?" he asked, his voice weaving through the din of the ballroom to reach you, clear and resonant.

The invitation, unexpected yet undeniably thrilling, sparked a mixture of excitement and apprehension within you. The thought of dancing with someone so fundamentally different, whose very form defied the conventions of the dances you knew, had your heart quickening in intrigue.

"I would be delighted," you replied, the words slipping out almost of their own accord, driven by the allure of the unknown. "Though, I must admit, I'm not entirely sure how to dance with... someone as unique as yourself."

His chuckle, a rich sound that seemed to resonate from deep within, was both reassuring and infectious. "Fear not," he assured you, a playful glint in his eyes. "When one possesses eight legs, one learns to make quite a few adjustments. I shall lead, and all you need to do is follow."

With swift grace, he offered you his hand, his movements as fluid and assured as they were gentle. As you placed your hand in his, the contrast between his strength and the careful tenderness of his touch was striking.

Together, you moved towards the dance floor, the thrum of anticipation building with each step. The crowd seemed to part for us, their curiosity mingled with an unspoken respect for the majesty of his presence.

As you reached the center of the dance floor, the music swelled, a lilting melody that seemed to wrap around you, inviting you to lose yourself in the rhythm. With a grace that took your breath away, he began to move, leading you into the dance with an ease that made your earlier apprehensions seem distant memories.

The world around you faded, the grandeur of the ballroom, the whispering guests, even the constraints of your own body seemed to dissolve in the magic of the moment. Iskinder's movements were a marvel, lithe legs strangely delicate. He was beautiful.

As the dance reached its crescendo, he executed a twirl, his movements orchestrating yours with such skill that you found yourself spinning, the room whirling around you in a blur of lights and colours. In that moment, suspended in the dance, you felt a joyous abandon that had your heart in your throat.

As the momentum of the twirl gently subsided, you found yourself momentarily unsteady, the world still spinning slightly around you. In an instant, one of the drider’ss slender spider legs moved to steady you against his chest. The unexpectedness of the gesture, the feel of his leg against you, might have startled you under different circumstances, but in that moment, it was nothing short of a saving grace.

"I do apologise," he murmured, his voice a soft rumble that resonated through the close space between you. "I sometimes forget how... unconventional my form can be."

You shook your head, a small smile playing at your lips, your heart still racing from the dance and the near fall. "No, I should be thanking you. Without your quick reflexes, I'd have been the evening's spectacle, tumbling across the dance floor."

The thought alone was enough to bring a flush of embarrassment to your cheeks, the imagined titters and whispers of the assembled guests a mortifying prospect. Yet, his next gesture swept away any lingering discomfort.

With a tenderness that took you by surprise, he reached up to gently tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. The contact, brief though it was, sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

"You are quite a spectacle, though for entirely different reasons," he said, his voice low, imbued with a sincerity that made you lift your gaze to meet his. In the gold of his eyes, you saw a warmth, an admiration that held you captive, and for a fleeting moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you.

The air between you charged. There was a pull as undeniable as it was unexpected. You found yourself leaning in, drawn by a force you couldn't quite name, the distance between you diminishing with each passing second. The possibility of a kiss, the mingling of breath and the meeting of lips, hovered in the space between you, tantalizing and terrifying in equal measure.

As the reality of the moment, of the public setting and the eyes that might very well be upon you, crashed back in, you took a step back, breaking the spell. The loss of proximity felt like a cold draft, a reminder of the boundaries that society, and your own caution, imposed.

Sensing the shift, Iskinder's expression softened, a note of concern creeping into his voice. "Perhaps you need some fresh air," he suggested, his gaze searching yours for signs of distress.

You shook your head, the rapid beat of your heart beginning to steady once more. "No, truly, I'm fine," you insisted, though the lingering warmth of his touch and the nearness of what might have been left you feeling anything but settled.

Seeing the hesitation in your eyes, he proposed once more, his voice gentle yet insistent. "Perhaps a moment of fresh air would do you good," he suggested, his gaze holding yours with an intensity that made it difficult to look away. "And, should you wish for company, I could join you outside in a few moments. It might afford us the opportunity to converse away from the crowd."

The idea of retreating to the relative solitude of the gardens, especially in the company of such an intriguing figure, sparked a flicker of excitement within you. Yet, the impropriety of the suggestion, the departure from the strictures of decorum that such a meeting would entail, gave you pause.

Sensing your reluctance, he added, "At events such as these, draped in masks and shadows, propriety often takes a back seat to intrigue. We are all here to escape the mundane, if only for a night."

His words, spoken with a confidence that bordered on persuasion, tipped the scales. The allure of stolen moments under the cover of night, away from the prying eyes and whispered judgments of the ballroom, proved too tempting to resist.

Resolved to take a chance on the unexpected, you agreed to meet him outside. Yet, before you could part ways, a sudden thought struck you. "I realise I don't even know your name," you said, a blush colouring your cheeks at the oversight.

With a smile that was both enigmatic and disarmingly genuine, he replied, "My name is Lord Iskinder." The revelation, delivered with a flash of sharp, predatory teeth that glinted in the ballroom's light, sent a jolt of surprise through you.

Lord Iskinder. The enigmatic host of the ball, the subject of whispered speculation and rumour, stood before you, not just a figure of myth but a living, breathing presence.

As the significance of the revelation settled over you, Iskinder offered a nod of acknowledgment, as if he understood the weight of what he had just disclosed. Then, turning delicately, he turned and vanished into the crowd.

As you stepped out into the crisp embrace of the evening air a minute later, the gardens unfolded before you like a scene from a dream. The lawns were bordered by beds of fragrant flowers, their sweet scent mingling with the earthy aroma of the night. Lanterns hung from the boughs of ancient trees, casting a soft, dappled light that danced on the pathways, guiding your steps and painting the scene with an ethereal glow.

Ahead, a gazebo, draped in climbing ivy and delicate blooms, stood as a focal point within the garden's design. It was there, under its latticed roof, that you noticed two orcish women, their forms silhouetted by the lanterns' gentle luminescence. They were locked in an embrace, sharing a kiss as the shorter woman titled her head back.

The sight, tender and unabashed, stirred a curious longing within you, a whisper of wonder about the sensation of Iskinder's kiss, the press of his lips.

Lost in thought, you scarcely noticed the approach of a presence until it was nearly upon you. The air seemed to shift, charged with an anticipation that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Turning, you found yourself once again in the company of Iskinder, his smile ravishing.

Under the moonlight, he appeared transformed. The soft silver light lent an ethereal quality to his features, highlighting the angularity of his face and the deep pools of his molten gold eyes. His hair, a cascading waterfall of black, shimmered with a lustrous sheen. The spider half of his form, though shadowed, moved with a silent grace that was utterly mesmerising.

His voice, when he spoke, was a soft murmur that seemed to caress the night air, a contrast to the visual ferocity of his form. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long," he said, his words tinged with warmth.

The sight of him, so formidable yet so gentle, made you squirm. The flash of sharp teeth as he spoke, far from deterring you, only served to heighten the allure. Gods, you wanted to kiss him.

As if attuned to your thoughts, Iskinder leaned in, his proximity erasing the remnants of the evening's chill. The scent of roses, a natural, earthy fragrance that seemed to emanate from his very being, mingled with notes of champagne. His hair brushed against your skin, a feather-light touch that sent shivers down your spine.

The air between you was charged with anticipation, every breath you took laced with the promise of what might come. His eyes, glowing softly in the moonlit garden, held yours with an intensity that seemed to pierce through to your very soul. You found yourself caught in the gravity of the moment, the world around you narrowing to the space where you and Iskinder stood, teetering on the brink of a kiss.

Yet, just as the distance between you dwindled to nothing, as you braced for the contact you both sought and feared, Iskinder pulled back. The sudden absence of his warmth left you momentarily adrift, a silent plea on your lips. He didn't move far; instead, his hand found yours, his grip firm and reassuring as he led you deeper into the garden.

The path wound through the garden, each step taking you further from the ballroom's echoes and closer to a solitude you hadn't realized you craved. When you arrived at a secluded flower garden, embraced by latticed walls that seemed to hold the night at bay, Iskinder stopped. Here, surrounded by the gentle fragrance of blooms and the soft rustle of leaves, he turned to face you once more.

This time, there was no hesitation. Iskinder pulled you into his embrace, his arms encircling you with a strength that was both protective and inviting.

Then, he kissed you.

The kiss was everything and nothing like you'd imagined. His lips were softer than you'd expected, their touch igniting a fire that raced through your veins, leaving you breathless and wanting. The taste of him, masculine and sharp, was tempered by the sweetness of champagne on his tongue.

As Iskinder deepened the kiss, the world around you seemed to dissolve, leaving only the sensation of his mouth on yours, the gentle yet insistent press of his lips, and the intermingling of your breaths. The sharpness of his teeth grazed your lip in a fleeting caress, a thrill of danger that made you sigh almost wistfully.

Finally, necessity compelled you to break the kiss, the need for air pulling you back to the present. You were left breathless, your cheeks flushed with a rosy hue - you knew by how hot you felt, burning up.

Iskinder, ever attentive, placed a lingering kiss at the corner of your lips. His arm remained securely around your waist, sharp nails just grazing your hips.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, the words a tender echo in the secluded garden. The sincerity in his voice made your heart swell.

In a moment of boldness, fueled by the magic of the night and the undeniable bond you felt, you replied, "So are you, Lord Iskinder. Beautiful."

For a moment, Iskinder seemed taken aback, a bashful light touching his eyes. "People rarely call me beautiful," he admitted, a hint of vulnerability in his voice. "Yet, coming from you, I believe it."

You reached up to flutter a hand across his cheek, where the cool mask met his skin.

As the night air began to cool, Iskinder pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Shall we go back? I find myself eager to dance with you again, under the watchful eyes of my guests."

The prospect of rejoining the throng of guests, of stepping back into the public eye where the magic of your secluded encounter might fade, filled you with a quiet disappointment.

“Can’t we just stay out here forever?”

Sensing your reluctance, Iskinder offered a compromise, his voice low and inviting. "If you would grant me the honor of your company tomorrow evening, you could return to my home. There, away from prying eyes, we could spend the night… just the two of us."

The invitation sparked a flame of anticipation within you. The promise of more time with Iskinder was an offer too compelling to refuse.

With a grin, you nodded - and stood on your toes to pull him in for one last, lingering kiss.

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