ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY
By clicking ENTER below, you agree that you are of legal age in your place of residence to view and consume erotic adult content. The prose and artwork herein is entirely fictional and created for the purposes of explicit entertainment, taboo thrill, and salacious satisfaction.
If you've found this small slice of the internet then you probably already know exactly what the artist Molten Gold creates. If you don't, then she advises you proceed with caution - if fictional fathers and daughters tangled together to be destined as consensual, consanguineous lovers does nothing but inspire disgust, be it visceral or righteous, turn back now. If that piques your interest however, welcome.
ENTERAUTHOR AND ILLUSTRATOR
ARTIST GALLERY
Disclaimer: The Summoning is in the process of being written and illustrated fully, and is not a finished book for one-time purchase yet. if you'd like to keep up with its development, and support me in my adventures in creating it, check out my support page for more information on how to do so. ♥
ARTWORK
GOOD GIRL
Everything's been scary, so, decided to draw something that made me feel safe. Ila is mine, her father/lover Idris belongs to my husband.
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"TELL ME..."
Poor Ila is so shy sometimes - probably because her papa is handsome all the time. ♥ Ageplay/little stuff is something that is intensely therapeutic and cathartic to me, and this is the first time in a long time I've actually dipped my toes into drawing it. It was really embarrassing but really, really worth it, haha.
I definitely want to do more.
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"TELL ME..." - BLACK AND WHITE
I just really like sharing these color and black and white versions, haha.
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EXPLORATION
I had a blast with this one! Incubus!AU Ila and Idris experiencing some exploratory-firsts together, hehe. I tried some... Not different, but tweaked? Methods? of working on this. It's not a fully fleshed-out painting like what I did for "Late Afternoon", but nor is it just a sketch. It's a very nice in-between that I really had a lot of fun getting to, haha! I did almost zero painting on top for this one. I think some flyaway hairs and by Ila's tail, for the most part.
Also, my love of dick veins and balls is kind of ridiculously evident here, hahaha! No time like the present to be unapologetically horny, I guess?
Ila is mine, her father/lover Idris belongs to my husband ♥
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EXPLORATION - SKETCH
Just the sketch version of Exploration! I say "sketch", but I don't... Actually know how to classify it, haha! A wash? A monochrome painting? A sketch? What the hell is this aesthetic I'm developing? I have no idea, but it's been extremely rewarding to play with!
Also, yes! The dialogue was extremely embarrassing for me to write, but that's when you know it's good, haha.
Ila is mine, her father/lover Idris belongs to my husband ♥
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LATE AFTERNOON
Ila and Idris's first time in the Victorian!AU, after years of hiding their pining for each other from each other, then months of their shared confession weighing heavy on the both of them.
The catalyst for this dam finally breaking being an awful day of Ila being with her blackmailed betrothed, so - Idris decides to show her what real pleasure is. She's been in love with her old man since she was small, and he's always loved her in turn. So, it's no surprise that it comes to a head on the heels of a stupid boy trying to lay claim to what has always been the assassins' to claim.
Ila is mine, her father/lover Idris belongs to my husband ♥
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THE ASSASSIN - A VICTORIAN AU
Abu Ila Idris Ibn Abdur Rahim Ibn Faheem Al-Fasih
Born in Lebanon at the turn of the 19th century, an assassin for hire throughout his early life until he travels to France in the 1850s and settles down as a trade merchant. Marries and has a daughter with a French woman, who dies shortly thereafter of the flu. The year, now, is 1873. Madly in love with his daughter Ila, who's also in love with him, but they're both too terrified to admit to it.
His past comes back to haunt him, and he is blackmailed into marrying his daughter off to the son of a Vicomte. He has to buy as much time as possible before Ila is married, because amidst all of the chaos, both of them confess, and everything gets a whole hell of a lot harder.
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Alternatively, in The Summoning: A man named Idris with an unpronounceable moniker to human tongues; an incubus that was born in the heart of a star and has lived for millennia. Depends on what I’m writing, he looks the same in both universes.
Idris belongs to my husband ♥
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CHARCOAL EXPERIMENT
Sketching isn't very fun, for me.
Maybe I'm doing it wrong, or maybe I just don't let myself sketch the way I naturally want to, or maybe sketching just isn't natural to me to begin with. I've made pacts with myself over the years to get better at drawing and sketching; I like to think I've made progress. But still - it's not actually very fun for me. I always want to immediately dive into rendering and painting, and it's a monumental effort to stick with a sketch, which has been to my detriment.
This one, though - this one was completely outside of my comfort zone, done on a whim in an effort to experiment, and I really think it paid off.
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REFELECTION
"I hope I didn't startle you too badly," Idris said dryly, leaning against the wall directly behind her.
Ila's arms tensed so hard they trembled, rattling the vanity enough to rattle the mirror, her gaze flicking from her reflection to his. She screwed her eyes shut for several seconds, took a deep breath through her nose, then slowly opened them again.
He was still there, patiently watching her from the shadows, one ankle crossed over the other. His cane was missing this time - but that didn't seem to bother him in the least.
After two minutes of openly gawking and willing herself to stop trembling, she swallowed and asked in the smallest voice she'd ever heard herself speak, "Y-you're real?"
Idris smiled, flashing teeth, and spoke with an all-too-easy familiarity and a shrug. "Well. As real as I can be, darling."
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A scene from The Summoning that wouldn't leave me alone until I drew it. I may redraw/repaint this in the future with the charcoal aesthetic found in a few other pieces in my gallery.
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SOMETHING INHUMAN
I did this experimental charcoal doodle on the right that turned into the painting on the left, and I think it's pretty neat! It really offered a new perspective on how I think I want to approach sketches and rendering that I hope I can use on larger pieces in the future.
Of course it's papa Idris - I can't seem to draw anything else, especially when I'm as stressed out as I have been in the last few months of 2019, haha. His face makes me feel better.
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THE SUMMONING - WRITING
Divided by space and time, only to come together again after so long that Ila never understood herself; was never given the opportunity to understand. So long that she doesn't know why she's so drawn to the old man who calls himself Idris, nor why his intent is set so fiercely on seducing her and claiming her heart for his own. He isn't real, after all, he can't be - he is only an illusion, a figment, a product of a grieving mind, surely?
Ila, a girl who thought she was abandoned and unwanted, untouchable and strange - only to discover through loss, grief, and an inexplicable haunting that she had not been abandoned at all. She had been stolen. She wasn't untouchable; she was only ever meant to be touched by one and one alone.
Idris gives her a choice, time and again. It does nothing to stop her from finding solace in him, because she chose the second she touched the book. She chose the second she kissed him for the first time, tasting petrichor and autumn, smoke and ash. She chose the second she knew his identity, the second she understood that she was the daughter and the lover of an Incubus, and that they both have been starved of each other for far too many years.
"What do I call you?"
Her voice was soft, her brow knit in confusion. Two more tears fell down the planes of his gaunt face, and then he smiled.
There was an emptiness, a hollowness when he finally whispered, "Idris."
"Idris." Ila tested the name on her tongue as soon as he'd said it. The tall, lean figure kneeling before her looked like he was about ready to collapse, and the light shifted enough to obscure his face again, plunging them both in darkness.
"How far did you go?"
Ila blinked. "Where?"
"The book, the book," both of his hands - hands that could swallow the whole of her head - tenderly cradled her jaw, fingers lacing in her stark white hair, "how far into the book?"
"I..." she swallowed, lips parting, shaking hands reaching up to hold his knobby wrists, "I don't know. It told me how to... It told me what to do. I can't read any more of it. I don't understand it."
Her fingers brushed lighter linen and heavy cotton cloth, tickled by hair that stood on end, gooseflesh rising over his dark skin. They stayed that way, her head in his palms, his wrists in her hands, for what felt like an eternity. Still - Ila wasn't frightened, though somewhere she felt she should be. No one - no man - had ever been in her presence for such a sustained amount of time.
"Look again when you can," he breathed a shuddery sigh, "it won't tell you everything. Maybe not much at all."
He smoothed her hair back and wiped at her eyes with his thumbs again, "It won't tell you why it was in the attic. It won't tell you who I am."
Ila's gaze came into sharp focus. Her hair stood on end, she felt heat blossom in her face, felt her pulse quicken under his fingers. "How do you -"
"Mysteries that will be revealed in due time," he murmured.
"What does that mean?" She asked, a sob threatening in her throat.
"I wish I could tell you. I wish I could tell you." His grip became firmer, and the light shifted again, casting the old mans face in gradients of diffuse gray. It revealed the darkness of his eyes, the shape of his mouth, the set of his teeth. "I can't."
"Why?!" It was the closest she'd been to shouting in months. Ila finally found her fear and shoved Idris's hands away, scooting back and staring at him, wild-eyed.
His hands hung in the air where he'd just been touching her, fingers flicking. His jaw set, and she watched the motion of him swallow. The light shifted twice more, before his arms dropped, held loosely at his sides, just barely enough of a bend in one to hold his cane. They stared at each other for several heartbeats that felt like several lifetimes, breath caught beneath Ila's fluttering heart, breath slowly exhaled from Idris's flaring nostrils. Black staring into lilac.
"You're beautiful. More than I could have ever imagined."
There was an ache, set somewhere between the low growling cadence in his throat and the accent catching his tongue. Ila was too stunned to respond, but she felt it too - in the way that her heart squeezed, wrapped in the vines of a growing recognition. Before she could voice it, Idris got up from the dusty hardwood in one fluid motion, cane held sturdy in one hand to support his weight. Though, judging from the way he stood so squarely, she wasn't entirely sure he needed the cane.
"Will I see you again?" It came out in a rush, before she could think to not say it at all.
Idris looked down his hooked, crooked nose at her, stilling. His gaze shifted from hers, to the book next to her hand, and he croaked, "That's your choice to make, darling."
The light shifted again, and when Ila blinked, he was gone.
