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bumblebeesfromvenus · 4 months ago

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Soft Feathers, Softer Kisses 🦉

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

I'm soooo excited for y'all to see this!!!!

My first time writing for Telemachus and EPIC in general so please go easy on me 🥲

This was born from my need to smooch Tele. He's so cute 🥹

*the art is not mine, I got it from pinterest, if anyone knows the artists lmk pls!*

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You're betrothed to the prince of Ithaca. His father is lost at sea and 108 suitors are pushing his mother to choose a new king. When one of them insults the queen, a fight breaks loose, and you end up fiercely defending your lover with a determined owl at your side.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The sound of your sandals on the smooth palace floor echoed off the marble walls, the fabric of your chiton that wasn't bunched up in your hands was brushing against your legs while you hurried towards the hall.

The commotion had managed to make its way through the entire building like a breeze of the salty sea air.

Still, the news reached you later than you'd have liked.

Worry and anger twisted in your chest, a feeling like countless arrows piercing your heart. Your lungs were burning, no breath managing to get enough oxygen in your blood.

You had to hurry.

They would eat him alive.

You were well aware of the suitors. The 108 men who'd grown stubborn roots in the palace and refused to leave without getting a chance.

The king had been gone for so long, leaving his throne empty and his family behind. It had been two decades since he sailed off to war.

Not many believed he was even still among the living, instead thinking he was slaving away in his place in the Underworld.

The queen managed to keep the kingdom from ruin for years, ever since her beloved left, and yet they insisted on a new a king, a new man to wear the crown and sit upon the throne.

A new man to take Penelope as his wife.

The moment they showed up at the gates you'd stared at them with disgust, boring into them with your sharp gaze.

None of them were fit to lead, let alone rule an entire kingdom.

The queen stalled and stalled, the hope of her husband's return heavy on her heart.

However, the suitors soon grew impatient. Causing havoc within the walls of the palace, pounding on Penelope's doors, threatening bloodshed if she didn't choose a new king.

And now, your betrothed, the prince of Ithaca, was caught in the middle of it all because he was cursed with a heart too big for his body.

When you turned the corner of the hallway, you were met with a sight that made your heart shatter and wrath boil in your veins.

The suitors had circled Telemachus, leaving him trapped with no way out while Antinous stood over him, broad shoulders throwing shadows on the face of your beloved.

He was beaten and bloodied, heaving while trying to fight back.

Although a small, proud smile cracked on your face when you saw some of the men limping or nursing their bruised eyes.

Even Antinous was left with crimson streaks dripping from his mouth, staining his teeth. Your feet were carrying you further in their direction, a mindless action.

Panic struck you when Antinous raised his hand to deliver another blow.

Without thinking, you called out to him, rage tinting your voice accompanied by the angry grinding of your teeth.

"Antinous!" You yelled, a scowl on your face as you forced your way through the ocean of suitors.

"Get away from him!"

The giant man lowered his hand with a deep chuckle and turned to face you with a smirk that made the previously boiling blood to freeze.

"If it isn't the little princess. Come to save your prince, have you? I swear it's the other way around."

The grin that sat on his face, his bloodstained teeth exposed, made bile rise up your throat.

The men chuckled, making Telemachus' head fall forward in shame.

You payed them no mind, rushing to your lover.

Giving Antinous a look that could kill, you kneeled down next to Telemachus and cupped his face, a worried crease forming between your brows while you gently brushed your thumb over the blooming bruise on his cheek to soothe it.

"Look at you.. you're bleeding!" You gasped, quickly using your chiton to wipe away the blood on his face.

"I'm fine, I promise."

Telemachus gave you an unconvincing smile, followed by a wince. The worried look on your face tugged at his heart.

You looked like you were about to cry, and he hated to think that he was the reason.

"You're not fine. You're bruised and-and what if you broke a bone? How did this even happen? They knew there'd be consequences if they-"

the words just spilled out of you, the concern for your lover was something you could no longer contain.

He cupped your cheek and smiled weakly.

"My love, please. I assure you, I'm alright-"

He was cut off by Antinous, a scoff falling from his split lips. You scowled again and rose from your knees, a panicked expression appearing on your beloved's face.

"No, don't-"

Telemachus grasped at your hand, only for you to gently tug it from his grip as you approached Antinous.

Only when you made your way over to the grinning man did you notice a big owl circling the suitors, flying high towards the tall ceiling.

You spared it a glance, noting the magnificent coloring of its feathers and the bright eyes filled with something you could only describe as a sense of justice.

Not once had you see such determination in an animal, but it managed to put your mind at ease a little.

"You filthy dog! Who do you think you are?! He is your prince, whether you like it or not. And you have no right-" you snarled, raising your hand to point a finger at him.

He quickly caught your wrist in his fierce grip, a deep frown sitting on his face.

Antinous glanced at Telemachus, who was holding his aching side trying to pull himself off the ground, before averting his eyes back to you.

"He doesn't look very princely to me."

The smirk he sported was enough to make the fire in your chest spread even more.

"You-" you sneered only to be interrupted by Antinous again.

"What? Hm? What will you do?"

"Stop." Telemachus heaved, supporting himself on a marble pillar.

You didn't let yourself be intimidated by him and rivaled him with a look just as sharp.

"There's a special place in Tarturus for you, Antinous. If he'd even allow it." You spoke quietly but firmly, feeling satisfaction bloom in your heart at his reaction.

Antinous scowled, tightening his grip around your wrist.

"He," he began, "is dead."

You smirked, a scoff making its way past your lips.

"You better pray to the gods. Lady Tyche is not on your side. You'll be lucky enough if he even grants you a way to the Underworld. I hope you have enough gold on hand. Because the only way you're getting across the Styx is in pieces." You spat at him, venom dripping from your tongue.

Antinous bared his teeth, fury blazing in his eyes as he raised his other hand in the air, presumably to strike you.

"Get."

Telemachus' voice boomed through the hall, a scorned look on his face.

"Your hands. Off of her." He sneered, pushing himself away from the pillar.

"Do you want another beating, boy?" The giant man roared, almost crushing your wrist in his hand.

Down came your feathered friend, swooping in with its sharp claws and a chilling screech, successfully tearing open a new scar across Antinous' eye. He cried out and dropped your wrist, clutching his face instead.

The other men quickly drew their swords, swinging at the bird, only to miss and receive a peck from its beak against any vulnerable spot.

The owl evaded the suitors' weapons with such grace and struck back with such vigor that you were almost mesmerized.

"Αγάπη μου." *(my love)

Telemachus' gentle call for you snapped you out of your haze.

"Are you hurt?" He asked, worried Antinous had caused you any harm. You stared at him, your lips parted.

"I... no. No, I'm alright. We should leave." You said hurried, supporting his weight while you dragged him down an opposite corridor.

You spared the suitors and the mysterious owl a last glance, a smirk tugging at your lips at the sight of 108 men being defeated by a bird.

Antinous caught your gaze, and he snarled at you, still holding his eye.

"Next time.." he called out after you, "you're dead."

The threat sent an unpleasant shiver down your spine, but he was quickly put back in line by the owl, who promptly delivered a peck to the top of his head.

With a small smile playing on your face, you led your beloved back to his rooms to take care of his wounds.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Back in your chambers, you knelt in front of Telemachus, a worried crease between your brows while you gently held a damp linen cloth to his swollen and split knuckles.

The pure white fabric was stained with the crimson blood of your lover, a sting in your heart.

Telemachus sighed and took your chin in his hand, tilting your head to look him in the eyes.

"Λουλούδι μου, your expression pains me. I'd rather see your heartwarming smile." He spoke with a small grin, hissing when his busted lip reopnend and the blood began pouring once more. *(my flower)

Quickly, you pressed the cloth to his mouth, a deep frown on your face.

"And your state pains me. You-... You could've died. These are vicious, feral men, and as much as I don't doubt your ability to stand your ground, 108 against 1.... the odds weren't on your side." You replied, such sadness in your eyes it made Telemachus' heart ache.

"I wouldn't be able to live with myself if..." you sighed deeply, tears threatening to fall from your lashline while your head fell forward.

His gentle hands cupped your face, the rag in your grasp long forgotten.

"But I'm okay. I promise you, my love, it's barely a scratch." A smile cracked on his face and you couldn't help but chuckle, followed by a sniffle.

"You have a larger heart than all those men combined." You whispered, pressing your palm right above his beating heart.

Telemachus cupped your hand and placed a gentle kiss to your forehead. Your eyes fell shut at the sensation as you melted further into his touch.

"Besides," he broke the silence, a smirk on his lips, "I had help."

He glanced towards his balcony and you followed his line of sight, being met with the owl resting contently on the railing, curiosity in its bright eyes.

"Yes," you chuckled, rising to your feet and walking towards the creature, gently dragging Telemachus behind you by his hand, "your mysterious feathered friend. Care to introduce me?"

"Right. Her name's Ath-"

he was cut off when the owl screeched at him and furiously flapped her wings. He startled and chuckled nervously, clearing his throat.

"I-I meant A... Alena. Yes. Her name's Alena."

If an owl had shoulders and they could sag, this is what you'd imagine it'd look like.

You laughed softly, watching as the bird narrowed her sharp eyes at Telemachus. He swallowed thickly and gave her an awkward smile.

"Well, Thank you." You said sincerely, smiling when the owl bowed her head at you.

What a curious creature.

"We should get you some ointments for those cuts and bruises."

You turned back to your beloved.

"I told you, I'm totally fi- ow."

He winced, holding his side that would undoubtedly bloom with purples and blues come evening. You sighed softly and shook your head at him.

"You're too sweet for your own good sometimes."

You caressed his cheekbone and pressed your lips to his in a gentle kiss, minding his injuries. He hummed into the kiss, resting his hands on your waist.

Lost in your embrace, the owl made another sound, something closer to the typical hoot, averting your attention to her.

She ruffled her feathers and with a last glance at the both of you she took off into sky. With a content expression you watched her glisten in the afternoon sun.

Telemachus had a bright smile on his face and waved after her, watching as she flew into the sunset, disappearing behind the horizon.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Please let me know what you thought! <3

More of my stuff -> 💫

I think you wanna see this @withonly-sweetheart @allysunny 👀

Thank you so so so much to @vampkennedy for assisting me with the translations 🩷

#bumblebeesfromvenus #telemachus #telemachus x reader #prince of ithaca #telemachus of ithaca #epic x reader #epic the musical #epic the musical x reader #epic antinous #epic athena #epic penelope #telemachus of ithaca x reader #prince of ithaca x reader

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latenightreadingpdf · 6 months ago

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A Hufflepuff's Heart - Regulus Black

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Masterlist ⋆˖⁺‧₊

Summary: Regulus Black’s unexpected friendship with a sweet Hufflepuff is revealed when Sirius catches them together.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The air in the castle was brisk, the cool draft weaving through the stone corridors and carrying with it the faint scent of autumn leaves and freshly lit torches. Regulus pulled his cloak a little tighter around his shoulders, his mind preoccupied with the latest round of pranks that had once again targeted Slytherin House. It wasn’t hard to guess who was responsible—his brother Sirius’s handiwork was as familiar as it was aggravating. Regulus could almost predict the moment Sirius would appear, armed with a smirk and a taunt, ready to test his patience yet again.

Sure enough, as Regulus turned the corner, Sirius was waiting there, arms crossed, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Ah, Regulus,” Sirius drawled, that irritatingly self-satisfied smile tugging at his lips. “How’s my favorite Slytherin?”

Regulus forced himself to remain calm, carefully keeping his expression neutral, planning to just walk right past his brother.

Sirius’s grin widened, undeterred. “I take it you noticed the common room… enhancement? Thought the emerald and silver scheme could use a bit of sparkle.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, the irritation flaring up despite his attempts to stay indifferent. “If you’re going to make yourself a nuisance, at least have the decency to make it subtle.”

“Oh, subtlety is no fun, Reg,” Sirius replied easily, leaning back against the wall, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Besides, it’s not as if you’re incapable of a bit of rule-breaking yourself. Don’t think I don’t know about those after-hours trips to the library—”

“Sirius,” Regulus interrupted sharply, his voice low but firm. “I’m not interested in discussing my nightly habits with you.”

Before Sirius could fire back, the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor, followed by a familiar, bright voice that cut through the tension like sunlight breaking through clouds.

“Reggy!”

Both brothers turned to see you striding towards them, your Hufflepuff robes swishing as you approached, your face lighting up with a smile that was warm enough to melt even the most stubborn winter chill. Regulus’s expression softened instantly, his usual guarded look replaced by something more open, more vulnerable.

Without a second thought, you walked right up to Regulus and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. He stiffened for a heartbeat, caught off guard by your sudden affection, but quickly melted into the embrace, his arms coming up to hold you close.

“Hey,” you said softly, pulling back just enough to look at him, your eyes filled with warmth and a hint of concern. “How have you been?”

“I’m… good,” Regulus replied, his voice softer than usual, almost as if he were afraid of breaking the spell your presence cast. A small, genuine smile tugged at his lips, a rare sight that seemed reserved only for you.

As you finally pulled back, still standing close to him, you seemed to notice Sirius for the first time, your gaze shifting over to the older Black brother with a look of surprise. A polite, curious smile flickered across your face as you gave him a small wave.

“Oh, hi! I didn’t realize there was anyone else here. I’m Y/N,” you said, introducing yourself in that sweet, open way that Regulus had come to adore.

Sirius raised his eyebrows, looking you up and down as if trying to solve a riddle. He offered a nod, his grin softening into something more curious, though he said nothing in reply. For once, Sirius Black seemed to be at a loss for words. There was something he couldn’t quite place about you—a gentleness, a warmth—that seemed so at odds with the icy walls Regulus usually built around himself. It was strange, almost impossible to imagine someone so kind being so close to his guarded, distant brother.

After a moment, Sirius managed a slight smile, finally extending his hand to you. "Sirius Black,” he introduced himself, his tone curious, though he kept his usual charm restrained. “Regulus’s… older brother.”

You took his hand, returning his smile with a polite one of your own. “Oh! It’s nice to meet you,” you replied, a hint of surprise in your voice. You turned back to Regulus, seemingly oblivious to Sirius’s scrutiny. “I had no idea you had a brother, Reggy!” you said with a laugh, your eyes shining with amusement. “You keep him quite the secret.”

Regulus shifted, his hand instinctively tightening around your shoulder. He’d dreaded this moment for so long, the day you would meet Sirius, the brother who seemed to draw people in without effort, who everyone adored and admired. Regulus had always felt invisible in his shadow, the “other” Black brother, colder and quieter, always on the outside looking in. But you had seen him—you had seen past the walls, the carefully constructed mask, and found something worth holding onto. And he couldn’t bear the thought of sharing that with Sirius, of watching you get pulled into his brother’s orbit and realizing he could never be what Sirius was.

Sirius, still watching silently, caught the faint, possessive gesture, the way Regulus seemed to pull you closer as if trying to keep you all to himself. His expression flickered with something unreadable, a mixture of curiosity and something softer, something he hadn’t expected to feel. Seeing Regulus with you—seeing his younger brother so fiercely protective of this rare connection—stirred something in him, a strange pang of almost… respect.

The silence stretched, and you shifted slightly, glancing between the two brothers as if sensing the tension, though you didn’t seem to mind. Instead, you gave Sirius a warm, friendly smile before turning back to Regulus, your hand reaching for his as you gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Well, Reggy and I should get going,” you said softly, looking up at him. “We’ve got some homework to catch up on.”

Regulus’s gaze softened at the touch, and he nodded, his lips curving into that faint, private smile that he reserved only for you. “Yes, we should.”

With a final nod toward Sirius, Regulus gently guided you down the hallway, his arm draped protectively over your shoulders. He glanced back once, catching Sirius’s gaze, and for a fleeting moment, the brothers shared a look of understanding—a silent acknowledgment, a truce of sorts. Sirius watched as you walked away together, his brow furrowed in thought, his mind turning over the strange puzzle of his brother and his unlikely friend.

How did someone as kind, as open-hearted as you manage to find your way into the life of someone as complex and withdrawn as Regulus? Sirius couldn’t understand it, couldn’t fathom what had drawn you to his quiet, brooding brother. But as he watched the two of you disappear down the corridor, he felt a spark of hope, a rare flicker of warmth in the cold, stone-cast walls of the castle.

Maybe Regulus had found something Sirius had never truly understood—a genuine connection that didn’t rely on charm or bravado, but on something softer, something real.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

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pukefactory · 10 days ago

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•☽────✧˖°˖ SODA FOUNTAIN ˖°˖✧────☾•

★ Summary: A Compilation of Headcannons Featuring Salesperson ENA X Autistic Reader

★ Character(s): Salesperson ENA (ENA: Dream BBQ)

★ Genre: Headcannons, SFW

★ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

★ Image Credits: @JoelG

☆ She notices it before you speak. The stillness. The quiet intelligence you wear like a hand-me-down jacket. The twitch of your fingers, the tick of your breath, the way you hesitate before stepping into noise. ENA does not judge. She categorises. She studies. Her head tilts, sharp and interested. “Are you experiencing a SYSTEM OVERLOAD, partner? We can reorganise your sensory pyramid. Let’s start with the silence.” And then she sits beside you. Doesn’t speak again. Just… lets you be. Two opposing halves, resting in symmetry.

☆ When you info-dump about your favorite hyperfixation—whether it’s beetle taxonomy, train models, or a single obscure cartoon that aired once in 1998—Salesperson ENA’s red side lights up like a business expo. “Wow! You’re pitching an entire emotional enterprise, I love it. Could I subscribe to your newsletter? Or… marry it?” The meanie side, pale and sharp, cuts through the room: “HEY. IF YOU INTERRUPT AGAIN, I’LL CHEW YOUR FACTS INTO PIECES AND SPIT THEM INTO A MUSEUM!” You blink. She grins. Both sides are listening. Really listening.

☆ Routine? ENA treats it like a sacred business model. “So your Tuesdays require specific cereal-to-milk ratios and one (1) viewing of That Video With The Cat Screaming? A delight. I shall PRINT THE SCHEDULE and laminate it with my tears.” She starts mimicking the routine too, sometimes dramatically over-committing to it. One day she shows up at your door with four bowls of cereal and a projector. “Oops! I over-scheduled our scheduled overscheduling. Let’s recalibrate!”

☆ When you get overwhelmed—when the lights scream, and the noise becomes too much, ENA does not ask what’s wrong. She knows. She flips her hat backward, lowers her voice. “Time to switch gears. Come with me, my love. Let’s find a sensory haven.” And then she takes you under the table, into a bathroom, or behind a vending machine where everything buzzes in exactly the right way. She creates a little ritual with you. “Let’s play the quiet game, but instead of being quiet, we just exist. No rules. No points. You win by breathing.”

☆ Touch is complicated. Sometimes it’s comforting. Sometimes it’s a full-body fire alarm. ENA respects that like a legal clause. “Touch threshold acknowledged. Engaging… emotional contract.” She offers you her mitten hand when you’re okay with it. The yellow, clawed one stays behind her back unless you request it. She even makes laminated cards: [Touch okay] [Please no touch today] [I would like a pat on the head only] You catch her referencing them with comical solemnity. “Hm. The oracle says we’re on [Headpat Hour]. Shall I proceed?”

☆ You stim. Flap your hands. Rock. Mumble. Hum. ENA? She mirrors you. Not to mock—but to validate. “Ohhh you’re FLAPPING?? ME TOO—WEEEHHH!” She makes it a duet. Sometimes it’s a whole musical. She turns your stims into a ritualized language. A way to say “I’m okay” or “I’m not.” She calls it your “corporate communication channel.” “I am now subscribing to your emotional data stream. Please keep broadcasting.”

☆ Sometimes people talk over you. Treat you like you’re slow. You don’t always have the words right away. ENA sees it. Salesperson smiles. “Pardon me, but you’ve exceeded your cruelty limit.” Meanie bites. “SHUT UP AND LET THEM SPEAK, YOU MOIST JELLYSACK.” ENA’s loyalty is a crashing stock market. Loud, sudden, intense. But always on your side. She will fight GØD if you’re being misunderstood. And then offer GØD a limited-time coupon.

☆ You script your conversations sometimes—rehearsed lines to get through tough moments. ENA? She calls it “performative theater!” “Oh! A fellow playwright! Let us prepare Act II of this Grocery Store Encounter Scene!” She even starts playing along, adding her own scripted responses. “Hi, how are you?” “I’m functioning within acceptable parameters. And yourself, my most esteemed collaborator?” She validates your way of communicating like it’s art. Because to her—it is.

☆ When you mask—when you try to be “normal” in public, even if it hurts—ENA sees right through it. She leans in close. “I see you under the disguise. The real CEO of your own joy.” She doesn’t ask you to stop masking. But she reminds you, gently, that you don’t need to with her. “You’re already profitable as yourself. No quarterly reports needed.”

☆ Your existence to her isn’t “difficult.” It isn’t a puzzle to be solved. You are anomalous. You are nonlinear. You are wonderful. And ENA, caught somewhere between marketing lingo and existential dread, wraps her arm around you and says, “You are the most reliable investment I’ve ever made. I hope you know that. Even if this whole world crashes… I’d still pick you.” Her Salesperson side beams. Her Meanie side nods like a glitching earthquake. She means it.

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lilitophidian · 1 year ago

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OK, confession, I have no idea what the everloving shit I'm doing with some starters, so uhhh, gonna throw another starter call out with some rules to help myself. Let me know your triggers so I can stay away from certain topics to cater to you. Do remember I am a heavy content writer, and I do not want to make anyone uncomfortable.

My discord is floralparadise since Tumblr is on occasion a twat waffle with IMs.

Also, don't be afraid to ask me for outlandish shit cause again fiction does not equal reality.

Ocs - Please tell me what you'd like and explain your ideas in regards to relations to Lilith.

Multi-muses - State which muse you'd like me to pester.

Crossovers - Speak to me first as stated in my carrd. Sometimes, I don't watch all mainstream media.

Canon characters - If there is no lore, fan theories, or things in regard to our interactions, please message me so I can get an idea of what you are looking for.

Those who have come to me already, you're fine. And I'll try and get around to it today!!

#starter call #should have added rules to the first one but yaknow it was late #⋆˖⁺‧₊☽⚸☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ 𝓦𝓱𝓸 𝓴𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓑𝓪𝓶𝓫𝓲 ⛧ Ꭷꭷፈ

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whisperofaflame · 1 month ago

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Too Long (Natasha Romanoff x Reader)

18+ (this is pure smut, you have been warned)

Summary: Wanda is away for work, and you're feeling increasingly needy. Natasha tries to teach you some patience and restraint.

Word count: 5.4k

Featuring: Mommy kink, praise kink, begging, slight dumbification, slight humiliation, penetration, strap-warming, slight size kink, cunnilingus, dacryphylia (soft of), explicit consent, safeword use (and healthy discussion), subspace, aftercare.

Warnings: This is kinda filthy — please mind the tags above and skip if they squick.

A/N: This is my first foray into smut, so it might be a bit clunky/repetitive in parts. I wrote this on the notes app of my phone in the back of my parents car on a long cross-country drive earlier this year. I don't know why I'm telling you this. Catholic guilt maybe? Anyway, I'm posting this and running...

Wanda has been away for three days now, and she won’t be home for another two. In her absence, your emotions have been wobbly, and your behaviour less than your best. Thus far, Natasha has been tolerant. She understands that your petulance stems from the separation, and how much you’re missing your Mommy. So she’s been letting you off lightly when you’ve pouted and deliberately pushed her buttons, giving you gentle reminders rather than stern warnings. She even let you get away with not tidying up the living room last night, which is normally a non-negotiable. And yet, despite all of her kindness and understanding and leniency, your misbehaviour has only continued. If not escalated.

Natasha told you this morning that she needed space to focus on her work, and she didn’t want to be disturbed while she was in her study. She even explained when you could have breaks together, for lunch and snacks and cuddles if needed. But what she thought was a simple, reasonable rule (set mainly to help you get some of your own work done in peace, rather than any selfish desire of her own) is being blatantly ignored. Repeatedly.

The fourth time you interrupt her without knocking, whining something unintelligible about being bored and needing your recently confiscated Switch right now, Natasha’s understanding of the situation flickers into a new light. Her previous resolve lost, a new tactic takes its place. One which she realises is far more appropriate for your needs, as she now sees them.

-----------------⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅-----------------

Natasha frowns at you, her demeanour very different to the rather softer affect she has adopted since dropping Wanda off at the airport. She seems more like herself now. Serious, firm. Reliable. The domme you know; the domme you need.

“Go change into a skirt and a vest top. Now, please,” Natasha commands, her tone cutting into you at once, making your heart flutter and your core twinge.

“Yes, Nat” you squeak out, then dash off — out her study, down the hall and up the stairs to your room. In the closet, you find a white cropped tank top and a layered white and pink floral skirt. It’s short, leaving little to the imagination. You’re fairly sure this is what Natasha wants.

Once you’re dressed, you pull up your socks and race down the stairs again, almost skidding as you turn the corner to her study. The door is closed over, making you hesitate. Do you knock?

Your heart pounds, a smidgeon of anxiety rising to the surface.

“Nat?” You call out nervously, twiddling your fingers together and scrunching your toes up beneath you.

“You may come in, malyshka,” she responds, her voice husky and commanding. Your hand trembles as you reach for the handle and push the door open.

Nat is sitting at her desk again, looking across at you with her fingers tapping the edge of the table. She has a stern sort of look on her face, one which makes you fold in on yourself, shoulders curling forwards, head ducking.

“Come here.”

You obey her instruction at once, approaching in a flurry, desperate to please her. You stop about a foot away from her, hovering at the side of her desk.

Natasha’s eyes roam your body from top to toe, smirking appreciatively. You can feel the cool air from the open balcony door meeting the already-damp patch of your underwear beneath the skirt.

“Now then, malyshka…” Natasha begins, her tone serious and a little scathing. “Why do you think I’ve called you here?”

You swallow thickly, words sticking in your throat.

“I’ve been bad,” you squeak out.

“Hmm…” she hums, considering your words. “Can you tell me more about that, baby?” Her voice is a little softer now. Perhaps she’s noticed your trembling fingers and taken pity.

“I - I’ve been disturbing you while you work,” you mumble. “I’m sorry.”

Natasha reaches out and takes your shaking hands into hers.

“And can you tell me why, please, little one?” She strokes your hands with her thumbs, and you feel like you’re melting. You desperately want her to hug you, to hold you. Anything more than this.

“Um…” you gnaw at your lip, struggling to maintain eye contact with her piercing green eyes. Natasha nods encouragingly at you, and you take a deep breath. “I n-need you, Natty. I - I wanted…” you blush darkly, her questioning forcing you to consciously realise what you’ve been wanting, what you’ve been aiming to happen without really knowing.

“Go on, malyshka,” Natasha urges you, letting go of your left hand and cupping your chin, lifting it so you’re looking at her. You swallow, and feel hot, embarrassed tears well in your eyes.

“I wanted you to touch me,” you say, the words spilling out in tandem with a single tear.

“Oh, my pretty girl,” Natasha coos, wiping the tear away with her left hand then placing both hands around your waist, fingers brushing against the skin exposed between the ending of your top and the beginning of the skirt. “You know you don’t need to act out to get that, right? You can just use your words.”

You squirm on the spot and look down again, feeling your arousal pool at the condescending tone she uses. Natasha’s hands snake a bit lower, resting on your hips now, pressing in against the fabric of the skirt and stilling your slightly swaying movements.

“Hmm, do you need a reminder of Natty’s rules, baby?” she asks, making you look up uncertainly. “Remember, I like you to use your words, malyshka. Big girls use their words to communicate, and only big girls get to play grown up games with Natty. Are you a big girl, Y/N?”

You whine at this, feeling hot all over and struggling to contain the urge to rub your thighs together, the soaked fabric of your panties becoming distinctly uncomfortable against your throbbing centre.

“Are you too little right now to play?” Natasha checks, her tone wavering between teasing and concern. You look up at her, mind foggy and unsure how to answer. “Colour, baby,” she commands, and you feel relieved at the easy request.

“Green,” you whisper, at once. She smiles.

“Good girl for using your words,” she praises, and she leans forward in her chair, rising a little to kiss you passionately on the lips. You feel yourself falling into her, your weight taken entirely by her firm hold on your hips. When her tongue presses against your lips you grant her entry at once, and she’s lapping inside, her tongue pressing against yours, her teeth taking your lower lip in a bite that borders on painful. You wrap your hands around the back of her neck and moan into her mouth. In response, her hands dig in a little tighter to your hips, and she breathes out a little gasp of appreciation as she lets your lip go and separates.

“Let’s take your panties off, then you can sit on Natty’s lap,” she tells you. You stare at her for a moment, blinking as the words sinks in. She waits for your smile of understanding before she reaches beneath your skirt, hooks her fingers into the elastic of your panties and slides them down your legs. They pool at your ankles and you step out of them, her hands returning to your hips and holding you steady as you wobble. Natasha glances down at the glistening fabric on the floor, smirks, then lifts you onto her, arranging your legs so your knees are pressed against the remaining edges of the chair, your calves folded under your thighs. Your skirt splays out, hiding your thighs and a bit of hers like a blanket. As you sink down, you feel something hidden beneath you, beneath the fabric of her trousers. Something hard, that presses against the sweet spot that craves friction.

Natasha sees your surprise and smirks.

“Feel that, baby?” she asks, her voice even lower than usual. Seductive, excited. You nod, biting your lip to suppress a whimper. Natasha raises her eyebrow and you remember her rules.

“Y-yes, Natty,” you breathe.

She rewards your words with a controlling movement of her hands on your hips, guiding you to rock yourself back and forth over the buried strap. Your moans come out broken, your breath too shaky to maintain a single sound.

“P-please Natty,” you beg, tears bubbling up again even though you’re so happy. “I need you. Please.”

“Shhh… it’s okay baby,” Natasha hushes you gently, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips and quelling your babbled words. “Let Natty help you.”

She lift you a little so you’re resting on your knees and hovering above her. Then she removes her hands from your hips, and reaches down beneath the drape of your skirt. You hear her unzip her trousers, which must already be ruined by your slick. You blush at the thought, struggling to stay steady on your knees.

Natasha’s hands return to your hips, and she looks you in the eyes, seeking consent.

“Please, Natty — I want this,” you whisper, desperation making your voice waver but you’re so sure; you need her.

“Okay, baby,” she promises, kissing you again then bringing one hand down beneath your skirt. Brushing against your thighs, teasing you only briefly before taking her fingers to your folds and running them from your opening to your clit, collecting your arousal and letting out a deep breath.

“Oh, zolotse — you’re so wet,” she groans delightedly, and you whimper at her words, at her delicate touch. You need more. “Is this all for me?”

“Yes, Natty,” you whisper, feeling the hand at your hip move back up to your waist, pressing into the flesh beneath your ribs and holding you tight. Your fingers flutter at the back of her neck, too nervous to take hold of her hair but expecting you’ll need too soon, to anchor yourself as she enters you. Please be soon.

Natasha’s finger renew their inspection of your folds, whispering back and forth, producing small convulsions as your hole begs to inhale something, twitching at the teasing glances of her fingertips.

“Natty…” you whine, tears building up and spilling over silently. “Please, inside me, please.”

She silences your babbling with a kiss, and as she sucks at your lips a single finger finds your opening and enters, making you moan into her mouth. Natasha murmurs something as she kisses you, lips wobbling out the indiscernible sounds, but the appreciative groan that accompanies them makes you think she is enjoying the way your walls are fluttering around her digit.

“God, baby,” she murmurs when she releases you from the kiss, “your pussy is so tight; I need to stretch you more before I can fill you up, hm?”

You whimper at this, humiliation and arousal overpowering your ability to think. You pray she won’t ask for more words, because surely they won’t come now. Your brain is so empty, so full of fog.

Natasha removes her finger from you, but then re-enters with two before you can even whine at the loss. She slides in easily but you can feel yourself squeezing at her once she’s inside. You feel so close already, and it’s just her fingers, just the beginning of what she must have planned for you. Your head droops and you rest your forehead against her shoulder, squeezing your eyes shut and willing yourself not to come, not yet.

“Oh baby, is it too much already?” Natasha asks, crooning with condescension. You tremble against her as her hand leaves your waist and curls around your back, holding you in a gentle embrace as her other hand pumps two fingers in and out of you at a slow pace, masterfully avoiding your clit. You shake your head against her shoulder desperately, not wanting her to finish you here. You want to be good for her, to hold on until she lets you. And to be good, Natasha needs your words. You take a shuddering breath.

“Natty,” you squeak out, her name strangled by your quivering arousal.

“You’re okay, baby, I’ve got you,” Natasha reassures you. She carefully removes her fingers from you, leaving you empty and twitching. The hand around your back returns to your waist, and you revel in the sharp pain of her fingernails digging into your skin, finding you amongst the fog and grounding you a little in the moment.

Then you feel it, the silicone head pressing against your hole, circling slightly as Natasha moves it over your slick to prepare you. You pant and scrunch your face up in anticipation, desperate for it, powerless to take control in Natasha’s firm grip. But she doesn’t make you wait too long. Guiding you by your waist onto the strap, which she must be holding steady with her other hand. You can’t see it because of the skirt, but it keeps going. On and on she eases you down onto it, your entrance stretching to accommodate its length and girth. Your mouth opens into an O of pleasure and a tiny hint of pain, which Natasha keeps a careful eye on, and uses to determine her speed. She slows at the slightest hint of a grimace and pulls you back up, so you bob up and down very slowly a few times, until you finally sink down and the skin of your inner thighs meets the fabric of her trousers.

“Good girl,” she praises you, peppering your face with kisses and cleaning away the tears. “Such a good girl, taking Natty’s big cock so well. You looked so pretty, baby, sinking down on the biggest strap. Such a stretch for your tiny pussy, hm? I’m so proud of you.” You cry and whine against her, fingers scrabbling at the back of her shirt and threading into her hair as gently as you can, desperate for her to relieve the throbbing by allowing you to ride her. But her hands are both on your waist now, holding you down in her lap.

“Now, Natty has some work to do, baby,” Natasha tells you calmly, her voice returning to her serious, daily tone. You blink at her, too full to think properly. Natasha gives you a kiss on the lips, then drags the chair closer to the desk and reaches forward with her right hand, taking hold of her computer mouse.

You stare at her, confused and unable to find the words to express your frustration. You just pout and blink your teary eyelashes, hoping she’ll explain. Finally, she takes pity on you.

“You didn’t think Natty would reward you for interrupting her, did you, malyshka?” she asks, shaking her head slyly. Your lip wobbles and she hushes you, gently rubbing her left thumb against your tummy. “Hush now, baby — don’t worry. If you can sit still and keep Natty’s cock warm for an hour then you’ll get your reward for being a good girl.”

An hour?

Natasha must see the panic in your face, because her smile disappears at once and her other hand moves back to you, cupping your cheek and wiping your tears away.

“Colour, baby?” she asks you.

You want to say green, but something is stopping you. Of course, you love Natasha taking control, you love her applying consequences. And you want her to stay in charge, to do what she wants, what she thinks is best. But you know that if you say green just now, it won’t be entirely honest. Your heart pounds, and your voice gets lost inside you.

“Orange or red?” Natasha asks, finding your eyes again and trying to ground you with a neutral look. It helps, her taking out one of the options. It helps to know she’s expecting it.

“Orange,” you whisper.

“Good girl,” Natasha tells you seriously, giving you a small smile. “I’m so proud of you for being honest.” She pauses, letting the praise sink in. “Can you tell me what’s uncomfortable, malyshka?”

“Too long,” you mumble, blushing. Natasha tilts her head, frowning with worry.

“The strap?”

You shake your head quickly.

“No, the um…” You bite your lip, and duck your head. “The time. I don’t think I can manage an hour.”

You feel embarrassed, that this is the reason you’re first putting a pause to proceedings like this. Your impatience, your inability to sit still. Even with a strap buried inside you, even with Natasha’s soothing embrace, you still know you won’t manage. You’ll get bored and antsy and you’ll get in trouble, no matter how much you want to be good.

“That’s okay, baby,” Natasha assures you, visibly relieved that she’s not hurting you. “You’re right, an hour doesn’t make sense, I got a little carried away. Do you want this to end? We can move to the bed, or switch straight to aftercare if you need?”

You shake your head again, bringing your hands to Natasha’s shoulders and fiddling with the collar of her shirt nervously.

“No, I - I want to continue, please.”

“Are you sure, malyshka?” Natasha checks, concern etched in the lines of her forehead. “We can always give it another go a different day, and discuss it properly first?”

“Please Natty,” you tell her, eyes wide and pleading. You do want this; you just needed it amended a little.

“Okay,” she says, nodding and massaging her thumbs at your waist. “Can you tell me then, my love, how long you want it to last?”

You wrinkle up your nose in disagreement. It’s no fun if you choose; you’re not good at decisions and besides it’s her being in control that makes these scenarios pleasurable.

“You choose,” you tell her petulantly, and she rolls her eyes, though her lips curl into a smile.

“You’re so stubborn,” she teases you, tickling her fingers into your sides very gently, and making you giggle, then moan as your wriggles make the strap press deliciously against your walls. Natasha chuckles at your inadvertent pleasure and stills you again in her grip.

“How about half an hour?” she asks you, serious again and studying your face for any sign of doubt or discomfort.

“Okay, Natty,” you agree. And you smile a little to reassure her, which makes the skin of her forehead smooth out again.

“Good girl,” she praises you, kissing your nose gently and making you giggle again. “You’ve used your words so well; Mommy will be so impressed when I tell her.”

You blush and bury your face into her neck, embarrassed at the prospect of her relaying this situation to anyone. Even Wanda, who you know will be happy to hear that you used a safeword when you needed to.

Natasha brings a hand to the back of your head and strokes your hair, shushing you gently as you whine.

“That’s it baby. You just relax with Natty’s strap inside you. I’ll set a timer and if you’re good and let me work, then I’ll reward you, I promise.” She kisses the crown of your head, and you breathe out, relaxing. But then, she can’t resist another little tease. “You must be feeling so sticky now hm? All stretched out by Natty’s big cock?”

You whine and squirm against her neck, too ashamed to speak. Her words make you feel even more full, the pressure against your walls immense. She pats your head and luckily doesn’t try to pry any more words from you, as she fiddles with her phone and then holds the timer up so you can see it has begun counting down from thirty minutes.

Natasha’s hands leave you after a while, but you don’t dare wriggle on top of her, despite the overwhelming urge to squeeze your thighs or buck your hips against the full feeling. Even if you were bold enough to try, you’re not sure if you have the energy left. The buildup and teasing, the tears and the honesty, they’ve all drained you to the point of being completely floppy and pliant in her lap.

“Baby, we’re halfway through now,” Natasha tells you gently, lifting you from your haze after a while. “Are your legs okay? Do you want to change your position a little?”

You have to force yourself to check in with your body; all your senses are somewhat dulled by your stupor and the overwhelming sensation of being so full. Your knees are a bit achey, you realise.

“Sore, Natty,” you whisper.

“Your legs? Or something else?” she checks.

“Just legs,” you tell her. She nods, finds your chin and lifts your head so she can see your face.

“Okay; let’s get you off your knees and get your legs to wrap around my back instead. I need to lift you up a little though, baby. It might feel funny, with the strap. Is that okay?”

“Okay, mama,” you whisper. It slips out without you consciously noticing. Natasha’s face softens even more, but she doesn’t draw attention to it, perhaps realising you don’t quite know what you said.

Natasha lifts you gently, and you feel yourself sliding up the strap as you rise. It does feel funny, and you whine at the feeling.

“I know, baby,” Natasha coos. “Let’s move your pretty legs now, get them comfy.” She supports your weight and guides your legs to unfold and curl around the back of her. As she gently eases you back down onto the strap, your ankles cross over each other, holding her body close. You let out a little “hummph” sound as you sink down to the bottom, your clit brushing against the base of the strap and making your hips buck a little automatically.

“Good girl, well done,” Natasha murmurs into your ear, massaging your waist on either side to calm you down. When your breathing slows again, she lets go of your waist and places her left hand on your back, scratching gently as she clicks her mouse in her other hand. You’re not sure if she’s really working, or if it’s just part of the scene. Either way, the idea that she can focus on work while you’re consumed with the feeling of her strap inside you makes your cunt twitch with humiliation. You’re entirely at her disposal, a melted mass for her hands to mould, but she can stay cool and superior, apparently unaffected by the way your arousal leaks out of your stretched hole and dampens the fabric of her trousers.

You almost fall asleep on her shoulder, so tired from the ordeal and placated by her nails scratching lightly into your back, keeping you just distracted enough from the way her strap seems to be bulging against your internal seams. You’re awoken from the haze by the beep of her phone and the return of Natasha’s full attention, her right hand cupping the back of your head, her lips kissing yours with an energy you can’t return. You settle for moaning passively into her mouth, eyes fluttering closed and your tummy twisting as your arousal approaches the edge again.

“So good for me, baby, you’re perfect,” Natasha whispers, her lips hovering millimetres from your own. “I’m so proud of you, you stayed so still and let me work. You must feel really full hm? I bet you’re so close.”

“Yes, Natty,” you mumble, relieved by her understanding. “So full, so close.”

Natasha unleashes a moan of her own at your whimpering agreement.

“Good girl, perfect girl,” she praises again, her own voice becoming a little more desperate. “Ride for me, baby.” And she guides you, lifting you up with her hands at your hips again, letting you sink down when you choose. You’re so tired that you hold on to her shoulders, needing something to press against, hardly able to hold yourself up and prevent your body from crashing down painfully on her strap.

“Please, Natty,” you whine, tears flowing again as your legs tremble. Your body feels alight, tired but electric, sparks flying through your veins and making you twitch. “Please… gonna…”

Natasha tilts her pelvis slightly and brings you down a little firmer, pressing herself against you so your clit rubs over the bulging base of the strap.

“Cum for me, baby,” she instructs you, and your fingers fumble at the fabric of her collar, your ankles spasm against each other around her back, and you feel a gush of liquid squirt out of you, leaking out around the strap and soaking Natasha’s trousers and underwear. You gasp and babble her name as you cum, tears leaking out and getting kissed away by Natasha’s lips, as she rocks her hips against you and lets you bounce pathetically on top of her lap as you ride out your high. Eventually you slump down on top of her, breathless and exhausted, and Natasha stills her hips before you can whine from the overstimulation. She uses her thumbs to wipe the tears from your eyes and smiles at you in adoration.

“I love you, malyshka,” she tells you avidly, staring deep into your eyes as your eyelids droop.

“Love you, Natty,” you whisper hoarsely, your throat a little dry and your nose a little stuffy from the crying.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Natasha says gently, giving you a little kiss on your nose. You nod, and wrinkle your nose as she lifts you up with her hands in your armpits, the strap sliding out of you and making you shudder. “Sorry, baby,” Natasha whispers sympathetically. “I’ll be gentle; I know you’re sensitive right now.” You nod against her as she stands, still supporting your body weight in her arms as she turns you onto her hip. She moves her right hand to rest beneath your bottom, and you wrap your legs tighter round her body to help.

“It’s okay,” she reassures you. “I’ve got you.”

Natasha carries you through to the bedroom and then lays you down on the bed, giving you a kiss on the lips then trying to move away. It takes a moment before you realise what’s holding her back; when you do, you unwrap your arms from her neck, flushing at your misunderstanding. She smiles at you.

“I’ll be back in a moment, baby,” she promises you. And she gives you one last little kiss before disappearing into the en-suite. You stare at the ceiling, fighting the urge to close your eyes, knowing you’ll fall asleep if you do.

Natasha returns promptly, as promised, with a wet cloth and a glass of water. She’s taken her trousers off and removed the harness, so she’s just in her shirt and boxers.

She supports you to sit up first, then holds the cup as you sip at it, wetting your dry throat and quenching the thirst you hadn’t noticed. Then she seeks permission with her eyes before wiping your legs and centre clean once you nod. You squirm a bit at the feeling of the cloth against your clit, but Natasha is quick to clean you, and she peppers you with kisses on the thighs when she’s done, making you giggle and twitch at the ticklish, teasing feeling. Then she lies next to you, pulling you on top of her and wrapping her arms tightly around your back. You tug at her shirt and whine frustratedly.

“You want this off?” she asks you.

“Please,” you murmur, and she smiles.

“Okay, baby. I can do that for you.”

She sets you back down at her side again, then sits up in the bed and unbuttons her shirt, throwing it to the floor once it’s off. She’s left in her bra and her slightly mottled boxers, and you pout at her in disgruntlement. She rolls her eyes.

“Come on baby, that’s not how we communicate our needs,” she sighs. But she smiles then, showing you that she’s teasing. She takes off her underwear finally, throws it to the floor then crawls over you to peel your skirt off and lift the crop top off over your head. You cling to her then, sighing contentedly against her skin.

“Better, baby?” Natasha asks, though she must know the answer from the way you relax against her.

“Mmm,” you hum happily. You lie side by side a bit, Natasha’s left leg hooked over your body, curling round the back of your knees. It gives a comforting weight, letting you sink deeper into the mattress. You stroke her forearms as she holds your cheeks, watching your eyelids flutter.

“You can sleep, malyshka,” she tells you; but there’s something you want to do first. You nuzzle your head forward, burying in towards her chest. You glance up for permission then, when she smiles, you plant a series of kisses on her sternum, then the sides of her breasts. Natasha moans quietly, appreciatively. You lick her left nipple, swirling your tongue around in a circle, then flicking at it rhythmically.

“Yes, baby…” she groans. You kiss around it then, teasing her a little before you encase her nipple between your lips and suck gently. You can feel Natasha shuddering beneath you, and you suck a little harder, pressing your teeth teasingly against her soft skin.

“Malyshka…” Natasha’s voice is strangled. She scrabbles about, finding your hand then pushing it urgently down towards her thighs. You grin against her breast, and stroke the sensitive skin of her thighs with your fingers, deftly avoiding her centre as you suck her nipple a little harder.

“Please,” Natasha moans, “don’t tease me, baby. Be a good girl and make mama happy.”

Your cheeks feel ablaze at her words and your core tingles anew. Natasha’s never referred to herself as such before; it’s only ever slipped from your lips, much to your embarrassment. You always thought she wasn’t a fan, by the way she stuck firmly to Natty whenever she referred to herself in third-person during scenes. But now she has used it, right when she sounds so desperate, and so close to her peak.

“Yes, mama,” you whisper, and you find her folds with your fingers and dip in between, pressing two fingers against her glistening hole and sliding in with ease.

“Oh…” gasps Natasha. “Yes, baby, that’s it. Pump in and out now. Good girl.” You follow her instructions eagerly, proud to be prompting such sweet sounds from her lips, the moans and the gasps as your fingers curl into the spongy spot that makes her twitch.

“Yes, oh god — yes,” Natasha cries out. “Another finger, baby, please.”

You add a third finger diligently and continue pumping in and out of her cunt. Your wrist is beginning to ache but you are determined to bring her all the way to her unravelling, so you ignore the pain and carry on fingering her, focussing on swirling your tongue around her nipple and alternating it with sucks and kisses, driving her wild.

Natasha’s moans and cries become more and more desperate and you feel her walls beginning to squeeze your digits. Quickly you wriggle downwards, planting kisses on her stomach on your way, then you bury your mouth atop her clit and suck sloppily as your fingers continue to fight against her growing resistance, pumping in and out and curling into her g-spot.

“Oh, oh, baby… yes…” Natasha whimpers, and she falls over the edge, her legs spasming and her thighs trapping your wrist and face harshly between strong muscles. You do your best to keep up your ministrations, even though it’s hard to breathe between the powerful grip of her orgasm. Eventually, her legs relax a little and she grabs for you, motioning for you to join her. You crawl up, waiting until her eyes meet yours before sticking the three fingers which were inside her into your mouth and sucking them clean, your eyelids fluttering at her musky scent and taste. Natasha moans at the sight.

“Oh fuck, malyshka — you’re so perfect.”

You grin happily as you remove your now clean fingers, then lie down on top of her, your breasts flush against each other. She finds your lips and kisses you deeply, swirling her tongue about your mouth to find her taste in you and curling her fingers into your hair.

You sigh peacefully as she lets you go, and she turns you over so you’re lying beside her on the bed. Natasha strokes your cheek and holds your hand.

“Sleep now, malyshka,” she tells you quietly. “I’ll still be here when you wake, I promise.”

You look into her green eyes, tuck your hand under your chin and close your eyelids, a blissful smile on your lips as you slip away.

↑ (Me after posting smut for the first time, contemplating all my life choices)

#natasha romanoff x reader #f/f fanfic #wandanat #mommy natasha #mommy wanda #mommy k!nk #natasha smut #natasha romanoff smut #wlw smut #mommy!natasha #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x wanda maximoff #wandanat x reader #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff

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the-cosmic-cauldron · 4 months ago

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☽𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕄𝕠𝕠𝕟 𝕊𝕚𝕘𝕟 & 𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝔻𝕖𝕤𝕚𝕣𝕖 𝔽𝕠𝕣 ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕕 ☾

Welcome to 10 Days, 10 Posts from The Cosmic Cauldron! Over the next ten days, I’ll be sharing a blend of astrology and tarot posts, each designed to spark your curiosity and guide your journey. If you find my content interesting, fascinating, or engaging, be sure to click the follow button for more! Ready to dive deeper into your personal journey? Head to my homepage and book a reading — you won’t regret it.

☾ 𝒜𝓇𝒾ℯ𝓈 ℳℴℴ𝓃

An Aries Moon doesn’t typically desire to have children due to their strong sense of independence and fast-paced nature. When it comes to their emotions, Aries Moons are not the most patient—they don’t like to dwell on feelings or spend much time processing them. They’re also not naturally inclined toward self-compassion, often being hard on themselves.

Because of this, an Aries Moon may feel they would struggle with the emotional demands of parenting. They might worry about being too tough on a child or failing to provide the kind of emotional support a child needs. As a result, an Aries Moon doesn’t usually see parenthood as a natural fit for their personality.

However, there are exceptions. Aries Moons are ruled by Mars, which governs passion and intimacy. When deeply in love, an Aries Moon may feel inspired to have children, especially since their Mars-driven energy often leads them to seek physical closeness and intimacy frequently. In such cases, if they believe their partner would be a good parent or that their partner balances their own emotional tendencies, they may decide to start a family.

Interestingly, Aries Moons are not naturally drawn to the nurturing, emotional aspects of motherhood. However, Aries Moon men may be more open to fatherhood. The idea of leading a family and taking on a protective, leadership role aligns with the fiery and ambitious energy of this placement. This makes fatherhood more appealing to them than the emotionally intensive aspects of parenting.

☾𝒯𝒶𝓊𝓇𝓊𝓈 ℳℴℴ𝓃

A Taurus Moon typically has a strong desire to become a parent, largely because they are natural nurturers who enjoy giving and caring for others. This nurturing energy often seeks an outlet, and the most traditional vessel for that is raising children. Taurus Moons, especially women, are often drawn to the idea of parenthood for this reason.

The energy of Taurus is ruled by practicality, which means many Taurus Moons view having children as a natural extension of a relationship or a fulfilling part of building a family. They may also see raising children as an opportunity to nurture and guide them into becoming healthy, well-rounded adults, or to provide experiences they themselves may not have had growing up.

Taurus Moons are especially likely to want children when they are in love. They enjoy the idea of extending the love they share with their partner to a child, creating balance and harmony within the relationship. For them, the connection between parenthood and love is deeply fulfilling.

In addition, Taurus Moons are drawn to parenthood when they feel stable. This stability doesn’t necessarily mean being wealthy or having every aspect of life figured out. Instead, it’s about being in a comfortable, steady routine where they are financially secure and content with their day-to-day life. Taurus Moons thrive when they are preoccupied with meaningful tasks, and raising a child fits perfectly into their desire for purpose and responsibility.

Men with a Taurus Moon also have a nurturing side and are likely to want children. They often see parenthood as a natural step in a serious relationship, thinking, “She could be the mother of my child.” Taurus Moon men are drawn to the essence of family and enjoy the grounding, fulfilling experience of building a close-knit unit of their own. The idea of having a family brings them a deep sense of stability and belonging.

☾𝒢ℯ𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒾 ℳℴℴ𝓃

Gemini Moons have a 50-50 split when it comes to wanting to be parents. Some Gemini Moons are not interested in parenthood at all, primarily because they value their freedom and love living in the moment. They enjoy the ability to be spontaneous and on the go, and they don’t want to feel confined by the responsibilities of parenting. For these individuals, the idea of having children just doesn’t align with their desire for independence and restlessness.

However, there are also Gemini Moons who find parenthood incredibly intriguing. They are curious about the process of raising a child and are fascinated by how their child will turn out. These individuals often see parenting as a unique experience and are interested in approaching it in an unconventional way. They may want to channel their own personalities into their parenting style, aiming to be unique or “out-of-the-box” parents. For these Gemini Moons, the idea of parenthood becomes appealing due to their curiosity and the desire to explore this new and exciting role.

☾𝒞𝒶𝓃𝒸ℯ𝓇 ℳℴℴ𝓃

Cancer Moons usually want to be parents because they are natural homebodies who love the comfort of their homes. They take pleasure in creating a beautiful and cozy environment and enjoy spending time there. Children often spark their interest because Cancer Moons are inherently nurturing. They have a deep desire to care for and nurture something, and children represent a traditional way to channel that nurturing energy. Many Cancer Moons also want to connect emotionally with their children, especially if they had their own emotions dismissed growing up or didn’t feel they were treated in the way they desired. For these individuals, parenthood is an opportunity to reinvent parenting and be the kind of parent who not only nurtures a child with practical support but also offers emotional care, protection, and a strong presence. They aim to listen to, connect with, and truly show up for their child.

However, some Cancer Moons may choose not to have children, especially if they feel emotionally unstable. Because Cancer Moons are highly emotional beings, if they believe their emotions are too unbalanced to provide the stability a child needs, they may decide against parenthood. A Cancer Moon desires to be a great parent, and if they feel their emotional state is not conducive to that, they will hesitate to bring a child into the world.

Both Cancer Moon men and women generally want to be parents, as they crave the deep emotional connection with their children. The presence of children and the idea of having a family often make Cancer Moons feel more complete and fulfilled.

☾ℒℯℴ ℳℴℴ𝓃

A Leo Moon will definitely want to have a family, as Leo is all about close-knit connections and feeling validated by those around them. For many Leo Moons, parenthood is a highly validating experience. It allows them to feel a sense of accomplishment, particularly if they didn’t succeed in certain areas of life. They often see having a child as an opportunity to support and nurture that child’s growth, helping them succeed, bloom, and feel creative. Leo Moons are naturally inclined toward parenthood because they want to guide their children to achieve greatness.

However, there is a small percentage of Leo Moons who may struggle with parenthood. Leo Moons can sometimes crave being the center of attention and might feel that a child will divert attention away from them or their relationship with a partner. In these cases, they might delay having children to fully enjoy their time with their partner or focus on themselves. They may fear that having a child without having these experiences first could lead them to preoccupy themselves with personal desires, rather than being fully present and supportive for their child.

Overall, though, Leo Moons do desire to have children. They view parenthood as a positive and fulfilling experience. Given that the Sun, their ruling planet, represents fatherhood, many Leo Moon men especially see fatherhood as a significant and rewarding part of life.

☾𝒱𝒾𝓇𝑔ℴ ℳℴℴ𝓃

A Virgo Moon typically doesn’t want to have children, and the reason is that Virgo Moons are not necessarily focused on service within the family context. They tend to be more service-oriented in their work, school, or other responsibilities. Unlike Cancer Moons, who are naturally nurturing and motherly towards children and family, Virgo Moons are more likely to show up and perform at a job or take on responsibilities. They are humble, adaptable, and willing to compromise in those areas, as they are a mutable sign.

However, when it comes to their personal lives, Virgo Moons are more introverted and detached at times, as they tend to be very analytical rather than emotionally engaged. A Virgo Moon would typically only want to become a parent if they were in a stable relationship and felt prepared for children. For a Virgo Moon, having the necessary stability in their life is essential before they would consider having a child.

Virgo Moons are also likely to become parents even if they don’t initially want to, simply because they are adaptable. If their partner wants children, they may be the type to go along with it, especially since they can have self-sacrificial tendencies and are generally inclined to be of service to others. However, they don’t naturally yearn for children. They are more preoccupied with their routines and don’t feel a strong urge to become parents on their own.

That said, if they’re in a good relationship and feel that having children is the next step, they will likely have children. But Virgo Moons are not typically drawn to parenthood as a natural desire.

☾ℒ𝒾𝒷𝓇𝒶 ℳℴℴ𝓃

Libra Moons are likely to want to be parents, and the reason is that they often see their children as friends. Libra Moons are very social beings, and in this placement, they are even more social because emotionally, they like to talk about their feelings and seek harmony in their relationships. Even if a Libra Moon initially didn’t want children, their verbal nature and desire for harmony would likely lead them to go along with the idea. If they feel that having children would bring harmony to their relationship or life, they would be open to the idea.

Additionally, because Libra is a cardinal sign, they are more likely to take the initiative and express a desire to have children. With Libra being ruled by Venus, which is associated with relationships, Libra Moons often feel more at peace when they’re in a relationship than when they’re single. This constant seeking of connection may lead them to want children, as they idealize the concept of family. Even if they were initially against having children, they might eventually decide to have one, as they crave the peace and balance that a family could bring.

Furthermore, Libra Moons are ruled by Venusian energy, which is centered around love, beauty, and giving. This energy makes them feel fulfilled when they can nurture and give to others. A Libra Moon might feel that having a child is a way to channel this nurturing energy and offer love and care in a way that aligns with their desire to give and nurture those they love.

☾𝒮𝒸ℴ𝓇𝓅𝒾ℴ ℳℴℴ𝓃

A Scorpio Moon can be a bit tricky when it comes to wanting children. Many Scorpio Moons may not feel ready for parenthood because they carry a lot of unresolved trauma and deep, intense emotions. Their life experiences tend to be very intense, and some may feel apprehensive about having children. There’s often a fear surrounding parenthood, especially given the vulnerability involved in pregnancy and childbirth. For many, the thought of holding a child and the emotional and physical shifts that come with parenting can feel daunting.

Scorpio Moons already deal with emotional imbalances, such as depression, sadness, and heavy emotions. As a result, some may be afraid of experiencing postpartum depression or the emotional changes that come with becoming a parent. There may be a fear of not being able to show up for their child in the way they want to, given their emotional complexity. For some Scorpio Moons, the idea of having a child might lead them to consider alternatives like surrogacy or IVF, as they might not want to carry the child themselves due to these fears.

However, there are also Scorpio Moons who are deeply passionate about having children. These individuals may feel that they haven’t experienced true love in their lives and see a child as a source of unconditional love, something they feel they’ve been missing in their own relationships. For them, having a child may fill a void and provide the deep connection they long for. So, for Scorpio Moons, it’s really a 50/50 situation—some may want children, while others may be more hesitant or fearful.

☾𝒮𝒶𝑔𝒾𝓉𝓉𝒶𝓇𝒾𝓊𝓈 ℳℴℴ𝓃

I would say that Sagittarius Moons are also very 50-50 when it comes to having children. For some Sagittarius Moons, they are so on the go, always engaged in new adventures, interests, and traveling, that the idea of having children doesn’t really cross their minds. They are constantly stimulated by new experiences, and for some of them, the thought of having a child feels limiting to their freedom. They may even think that if they were to get someone pregnant, they wouldn’t stick around for the pregnancy because they’re focused on their own pursuits. For Sagittarius Moon men, they might prefer doing their own thing, while for women, some may feel like motherhood would be too restrictive, as they crave the freedom to enjoy life and travel.

However, there’s another side to Sagittarius Moons that really embraces the idea of having children. Some see themselves as children at heart and get excited around kids. They enjoy being around children, having fun with them, and often think of parenthood as a fun adventure rather than something serious or deep. For these Sagittarius Moons, having a child doesn’t require a deep commitment or a stable relationship with someone. They may not even feel the need to be married or have a traditional family setup, as they view having children as a source of joy and a new, exciting chapter in their lives. They see children as a blessing and an opportunity for more happiness and adventure, and they want to experience it.

☾𝒞𝒶𝓅𝓇𝒾𝒸ℴ𝓇𝓃 ℳℴℴ𝓃

With Capricorn Moons, it’s a bit of a mixed bag. While many Capricorn Moons may not desire to be parents, a significant number of them do. Here’s why: Some Capricorn Moons can be very dark, deep, and reserved. They carry a lot of wounds and trauma, and they often feel emotionally restrained. For these individuals, the idea of having children may not appeal to them at all—it can seem like just another responsibility to take on, which doesn’t excite them. They may prefer to dedicate their lives to themselves, even if it seems selfish, rather than take on the responsibility of raising a child.

However, for other Capricorn Moons, the desire to have children is tied to their drive for accomplishment. These individuals often seek a sense of fulfillment in life, and for some, part of that fulfillment comes from having a family. For them, having children aligns with their vision of a successful, traditional life. They may feel like they haven’t fully accomplished what they set out to do if they don’t have children. It’s not so much that having children is their main goal, but more that it’s an integral part of their overall life goals. For these Capricorn Moons, becoming a parent is something they may feel compelled to do in order to feel that they’ve truly achieved the life they desire.

☾ 𝒜𝓆𝓊𝒶𝓇𝒾𝓊𝓈 ℳℴℴ𝓃

Aquarius Moons typically want children when they feel surrounded by a supportive community. This is when they are most likely to desire parenthood, as Aquarians are independent but also enjoy being part of groups and communities. While it may not always be about family, they feel that a child can bring blessings to their environment. Aquarius Moons often see the bigger picture, thinking about how having a child could impact not just themselves, but others, such as making their parents grandparents or their siblings uncles or aunts. This sense of community and connection can inspire them to want children.

However, many Aquarius Moons may not want children because they tend to live somewhat erratic lives. Their emotional state can be unpredictable, which makes them hesitant about the consistency and stability required in parenthood. They value their freedom and may not want to feel tied down to the responsibilities of being a parent.

For the Aquarius Moon individuals who do decide to become parents, their approach is often unconventional. Their parenting style might be unique, and they may be somewhat disciplinary, as Aquarius is a fixed sign ruled by Saturn and Uranus. These placements can make them more rigid, but also prone to sudden shifts in behavior or unpredictability. Aquarius Moon men may be more likely to embrace parenthood than women, as women with this placement can come across as strict or cold, influenced by Saturn’s restrictive energy. However, the unpredictable nature of Uranus can lead to sudden changes in their parenting style, making it challenging to maintain consistency.

☾𝒫𝒾𝓈𝒸ℯ𝓈 ℳℴℴ𝓃

Pisces Moons are likely to want to be parents because they have an abundance of unconditional love to give. They seek a place where this love can be expressed, and they often feel that the innocence of a child is most deserving of their compassion, empathy, and care. Pisces Moons are deeply sensitive beings, and they tend to want to connect with their children on a profound level, getting into their children’s minds and hearts. For many Pisces Moons, the desire to be a parent feels like a natural extension of their loving, giving nature.

However, for some Pisces Moons, especially those who have experienced significant struggles, such as being escapist, dealing with addiction, or struggling with practicality in life, the desire to be a parent may not emerge. If a Pisces Moon is in a state where they feel lost, neglected, or stuck in a cycle of despair, they may not want children. In these cases, they might recognize that they cannot offer the stability or care a child needs, and the idea of neglecting a child would weigh heavily on their conscience. While Pisces Moons naturally have a strong inclination toward parenthood, when they are in a difficult space, it can make it hard for them to desire or pursue that outcome.

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serpentandlily · 1 year ago

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Lost in a Labyrinth - Azriel x Reader

Lost in a Labyrinth I - Azriel x Reader

Summary: Lonely and heartbroken after his near kiss with Elain, Azriel finds himself at the door to the most exclusive pleasure house in Hewn City, The Labyrinth, taking Rhysand’s cruel advice. What he expected to find was a pretty girl to warm a bed with him for a single night. But instead he finds something he never thought existed—his mate. A mate that is tangled up in something far more sinister than he could ever imagine.

Warnings: smut (minors dni), reader is a prostitute

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part I

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“So you will leave Elain alone. If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure house and pay for it, but stay away from her.”

Rhysand’s words had played over and over again in his head since the Winter Solstice, three months ago. Azriel wasn't sure why he was taking him up on his shitty advice now but by some will of his own, he was standing in the shadows of the alley across the street from The Labyrinth—Hewn City’s most exclusive brothel.

Azriel only knew of this place because some of the high ranking nobles he spied on talked about it often. It was known for its secrecy, for making sure their clientele had confidentiality. There were far more pleasure houses that were known to the public, even one in Velaris, but the last thing Azriel wanted was word getting around that he had been seen visiting one. Partly because he liked keeping his love affairs secret, but mostly because he didn’t want to give that satisfaction to Rhysand.

When his shadows came back with no reports of any sightings of faeries nearby, Azriel crossed the distance to The Labyrinth. He knocked five times on the plain looking, unassuming door, following the instructions he had overheard.

A sliding peephole opened revealing a pair of dark eyes. “A bargain, Shadowsinger,” a male voice said through the door. “A copper for your eyes.”

“A silver for your tongue,” Azriel agreed. He felt a burning sensation behind his ear, the bargain tattoo forming.

This was another thing he had learned from spying— the secret bargain that would grant you access to The Labyrinth. A bargain that he wouldn’t speak of the people and things he might see here so long as they kept their silence in regards to his identity.

The door swung open a second later and the male guard ushered him in. The guard gave him a once over, his eyes stopping on the dagger sheathed on his thigh.

“No weapons allowed, Shadowsinger,” the guard ordered. “Especially around the girls.”

Azriel wordlessly unsheathed Truth-teller and let his shadows take it away. He didn’t tell the guard that it was pointless, that he could summon it back at any time regardless of whatever wards they had set up around here—his shadows didn’t abide by the typical rules of magic. But the guard didn’t need to know that.

The guard held out a gloved hand. “The entrance fee.”

Azriel reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pouch filled with coins. He set it in the guard’s palm without question.

The guard gave him a dip of the head, satisfied, before gesturing for him to continue on. Azriel strided down the dim hallway. He could already smell various aphrodisiacs and drugs amongst the intoxicating scent of arousal in the air. It spurred him on, kept his feet moving on the dark red carpet, not allowing him the chance to second guess his decision to come here.

He wasn’t sure what magic was at play, or if they specifically scented the hallway to further get their clients in the mood, but something was tugging him forward.

He finally made it to the other end of the hallway, where a black door was awaiting him. He opened it slowly, cautiously and when no threat appeared, stepped through the threshold. The door opened up into a large foyer of sorts with a large candle chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

Straight ahead was a grand staircase that led to the second floor. On both sides of the foyer were large double doors with masked guards standing in front of them, swords strapped to their backs.

Waiting for him in the center of the room was an older, High Fae female with generous curves, dressed decadently. A polite smile graced her pretty but aging face as she took him in.

“Shadowsinger,” she greeted with a dip of the head, her hands clasped in front of her. “Welcome to The Labyrinth. My name is Lydia. I will be your point of contact during your time here. Please follow me, I will show you to the girls so you may make your selection.”

This wasn’t the first time Azriel had visited a pleasure house. Gods, when they were younger, him, Rhysand and Cassian had gone to some together. Had even taken the same girl once. But this felt…different. The atmosphere was soft, sensual—not rowdy like the other brothels he had been to.

He followed Lydia into the first set of double doors, which led down another long corridor with more doors lining the wall, all numbered. Until they reached the end where another set of double doors waited. As soon as Lydia pushed them open and gestured for him to continue, soft music crept through the air.

Azriel walked into a heavily perfumed room, dimly lit much like everywhere else in this place. Dark red, velvet settees and cushions lined the walls and floors. Silks hanging from the ceilings gave each space a bit of privacy. A bar was on the opposite wall, fully stocked with various alcohols. Males and females, alike, were milling about the room in various states of undress, some paired up on the couches and chairs.

At the front of the room was a wall made entirely of glass that overlooked a courtyard. Hanging plants and flowered vines decorated the space. A large fountain bubbled in the middle of it. Girls in lingerie and silk robes sat on the stone benches and cushions on the floor, lingered near the fountain, danced to the soft music in corners of the courtyard—all giggling and chattering with each other.

“These are the girls in The Labyrinth,” Lydia explained. “If you would like to see our selection of males, let me know.”

His eyes wandered over the girls, all so beautiful and unique. Every single type of fae was here—from nymphs to firelings to High Fae. But his gaze was drawn towards a lone figure in one of the second story alcoves.

His breath was sucked from his lungs the minute his eyes fell on her. She was…she was so beautiful. The most beautiful female he had ever seen in his five hundred years of living. She was dressed in a light pink lingerie set, a sheer robe hanging over it with white fur trims. She was alone, resting an elbow on the stone railing with her chin plopped in her hand as she gazed out into the carved mountainside within Hewn City.

He couldn’t rip his eyes away from her.

“Are any of them suited to your tastes, Shadowsinger?” Lydia questioned from beside him, knocking him out of whatever spell he had been put under.

“Her,” he answered, his voice a mere whisper, as he dipped his head towards the female he couldn’t help but stare at.

Lydia murmured something to one of the masked servants walking around with trays of champagne flutes. A moment later, one returned and handed the female a slip of paper. She clicked her tongue at whatever she read.

“Apologies, Shadowsinger,” she said, “But it looks like she’s already been chosen for tonight. Do any—”

“By who?” Azriel growled before he even realized, his shadows whirling around him. Lydia looked up at him with a stern look that accentuated all the fine lines on her face.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” she chided. Azriel gave her a sheepish look, not knowing what had come over him. “It looks like any of the other girls are still up for the taking if you’d like to choose another?”

But Azriel couldn’t stop staring at the girl in the pink. Couldn’t help but be mesmerized by her. None of the other girls caught his attention. He had come here looking for a quick, no strings attached, fuck but that desire, that need—it was like it had been sucked right out of him.

“I…” he trailed off, suddenly reeling back into his body. Lydia was staring up at him expectedly but he took a step away. “N-no. I’m sorry. I should…I should go.”

Not a second later, his shadows swirled around him, whisking him away.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Azriel wasn’t sure what drew him back to The Labyrinth the next night. Or the night after. Each time he came, he asked for that girl in pink, and each time, he was told she had already been booked for the night. It would’ve been easy to accompany Mor to Rita’s and find a plethora of females that would fuck him for free. But none of them would’ve been her.

He wasn’t even sure why he was becoming so obsessed with a girl he’d never even talked to. Obsessed enough to travel to Hewn City, pay the copious entrance fee, just to leave when he was told she was still not available.

But here he was.

Again.

Standing at the doors to The Labyrinth.

It had become such a reoccurrence that Lydia would merely shake her head no at the sight of him, already knowing what he was there for. He was sure tonight would go more or less the same. But he was surprised when he caught sight of Lydia standing in the large, intricate foyer and she shook her head yes.

“Well, Shadowsinger,” she said, “I admire your persistence. It seems it is your lucky day. The girl you’ve been waiting for is available. Please, continue on up the stairs and into The Labyrinth. She will be waiting for you behind the ninth door.”

Azriel gave her a dip of the head before striding past her to the staircase. His shadows were swarming him—excited about something. He tuned them out, pushing open the black doors waiting for him at the top of the stairs.

He paused for a second, feeling like he had suddenly been transported somewhere else. Instead of one long hallway like he’d been expecting, the doors opened to a maze of large pillars, multiple pathways lit by candles placed on the floor.

He sent his shadows forward to scout the place and locate the ninth door that Lydia had mentioned. He followed their trail which led him to a red door with a number nine painted on it in a darker shade of red that looked suspiciously like blood.

He let out the breath he had been holding as he wrapped his scarred fingers around the doorknob and slowly pushed it open.

Slow, sultry music met his ears and the scent of pomegranates and cardamom flooded his senses. It was intoxicating, beckoning him forward. He softly shut the door behind him before he completely paused in his tracks as he turned to face the room.

There, standing with her back to him, was the girl who had been utterly consuming his mind since he had first laid eyes on her. She was wearing a light pink nightgown that laced down her lower back. She was bent forward slightly, lighting a candle on a coffee table set up in front of a pair of red velvet couches.

His eyes trailed over the room for a second, trying to gather his bearings. It was a large room, large enough to have a sitting area separate from the four-poster bed covered in silk and textured fabrics. Everything fit the same color scheme as the other rooms he’d been in, red and black. Lit only by candles, the soft lighting only added to the sultry atmosphere.

Some smoke lingered in the air, making everything a bit more hazy. He recognized the scent as a popular aphrodisiac often used during parties with high nobility. His shadows seemed lulled by the music, drifting around him lazily as he stood in place.

He stood frozen as she finally turned around and met his gaze. He had thought her beautiful that day he had seen her up on the balcony, but this close, well… beautiful was not strong enough of a word. She looked crafted for the Gods, a being not meant to walk alongside man. His breath was sucked right out of his lungs again, his eyes widened as his shadows reacted by lowering themselves onto the ground, leaving him bare.

“There you are,” she purred, her voice as smooth as silk and honey. “I’ve heard you’ve been waiting for me.”

Azriel swallowed harshly, his throat bobbing with the motion. He watched her eyes track it, watched how her smirk slipped into a soft smile instead. He opened his mouth to speak, to say anything, but it was like no thoughts existed in his head except for an image of her.

“A bit shy, are you?” She teased after he failed to speak, walking towards him and holding out a hand with well manicured nails. “That’s okay, my love, let me take care of you.”

She grasped his hand in her much smaller one, not even flinching when her skin met contact with his brutal scars. He let her guide him to the couch and push him to sit, entranced by her very presence. She moved to the bar cart behind him, running a delicate hand over his shoulders as she did, before pouring two glasses of whiskey.

She meandered back over to him, plopping on the couch next to him before handing him one of the glasses. She clinked her glass against his. “For the nerves, my love.”

Azriel wanted to tell her that he wasn’t nervous, but that would be a lie. He had no idea why he had been reduced to the shy teenage boy he had been in his youth but he couldn’t shake himself from the feeling. Her presence was overwhelming, intimidating. Like she somehow held his entire being in the palm of her hands.

“Thank you,” he grunted out, his voice rough. He cleared his throat before downing his glass of whiskey in one go. She followed his lead, her smoky eyes never leaving his as she swallowed her whiskey. Beneath the exaggerated desire he found in them was a more calculating look, like she was trying to figure him out.

A bit of the whiskey slipped out of the side of her mouth, dripping down her chin and neck to the crevice between her breasts. Azriel’s gaze followed it, his cock tightening in his pants as he wished to lick it off her gleaming skin.

“Oops,” she giggled, swiping it up with a finger and sucking it into her mouth. “Would you like another glass?”

He shook his head. He didn’t want to be drunk for this. He wanted to savor every second of his time with her, the girl who had been plaguing his thoughts night and day.

“You seem tense, Shadowsinger,” she purred with a pout, making his eyes dip to her full, red painted lips. “I can fix that.”

She reached forward and ran a slender hand up his chest and he nearly moaned at the feeling of her touching him. His hand latched onto hers, stopping it in its tracks.

“What’s your name?” Azriel asked, finally speaking. He needed to know. Needed to taste the way it felt to say it on his tongue as much as he needed to taste her.

“Serenity,” she replied with a coy smile. “But you can call me anything you like, my love.”

His eyes searched hers. “That’s not your real name, is it?”

“Of course not, darling,” she giggled. She leaned towards him, close enough that her breath fluttered over his ear. His cock twitched in his pants, his skin heated. “I think the real question is, what would you like me to call you, Shadowsinger?”

“Azriel,” he breathed out. “Just…just Azriel.”

“Azriel,” she repeated in that voice of silk and honey.

His eyes darted down to her lips again. He couldn’t help it, couldn’t help how turned on he felt. Was it the aphrodisiacs in the room? Or perhaps the whiskey had hit just right? He didn’t care. All he knew was he needed to have her.

Azriel let go of her hand, letting her continue her travel up his chest until she grabbed the empty glass in his hand and set it down on the table in front of them. She made eye contact with him again, slowly moving to straddle him on the couch, wrapping her arms around his neck lightly. He bit back a groan as her weight fell on his hardening member.

“What is it you’re here for, Azriel?”

His brain couldn’t focus with her in his lap. Her eyes were so mesmerizing, her scent one he could get high off. His hands found her waist, the silk fabric of her nightgown so smooth against his rough skin.

“You,” he whispered, honestly. Because that was the truth. He had seen her and knew he needed to have her.

“I’m yours, Azriel,” she giggled. “Any way you want me.”

If he were a better male, perhaps now would be the time he realized this might be a mistake. But he wasn’t a better male. He couldn’t be. Not when her body was pressed against his, not when she looked so beautiful staring up at him with her large, expressive eyes, and certainly not when his body was singing for her—hungering for her like she was the only sustenance he needed.

So Azriel surged forward and kissed her.

Lightning exploded, skittering over his skin, the moment his lips touched hers. He groaned at the feeling of their softness. She let out a small sigh as she kissed him back, melting in his lap, pressing herself closer to him.

Azriel slid a hand up her exposed back until he grasped her by the back of the neck and tilted her head so he could deepen the kiss, finally taking control of the situation. His cock hardened painfully as she spread her legs further, allowing her heat to rub against him.

He kissed her like a starved male, licking along her bottom lip, compelling her to part her lips for him. She let him consume her, let him slip his tongue into her mouth and taste her fully.

So sweet.

So divine.

Azriel broke the kiss, letting her gasp for air. The scent of her arousal had his eyes rolling back in his head. Still holding her by the back of the neck, he twisted her head to the side and pressed his lips just below her ear before trailing down her jaw and to her delicate neck.

She moaned, squirming in his lap and rubbing against his hard length, only spurring him on more. His other hand started working on unlacing her nightgown. His fingers fumbled over the ribbon, until finally, it came undone and fell, pooling at her waist.

Azriel pulled back to look at her, now bare before him from the waist up. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly with her breathing, her eyes dilated and full of lust, her lips swollen. The perfect image of desire.

“So beautiful,” he growled, before leaning forward and latching his mouth around her right nipple. She gasped, arching into his mouth as her hands fisted his hair.

“Azriel,” she whimpered, pushing her hips down against his bulge. He growled again, thrusting his hips up to meet hers.

His lips made a path back up to hers, taking her breasts in his palms as he kissed her deeply. She grinded down on his cock again, pulling a whine from the back of his throat that had her smiling against his lips.

He wanted to take his time with her, wanting to draw this out as long as he could. But he knew he wouldn’t last. Not when the need to be in her was causing him to strain against his pants to the point of pain.

Azriel stood, lifting her up with him with an arm under her ass and the other wrapped around her. He let his shadows swarm them, stepping out right in front of the bed. She was breathless as he dropped her onto the soft pillows and sheets, her hair fanning around her head like a halo.

An Angel.

That’s what she was.

A godsdamn Angel.

He couldn’t keep his hands off of her, running them down her body as he pulled her nightgown all the way off, leaving her entirely bare before her. She moved to sit up, reaching for the buttons of his shirt but he lightly grasped her throat in his hand and pushed her back down.

“How do you want me, Azriel?” She hummed, seductively, wrapping her hands around his wrist.

Azriel leaned down, running his nose along the column of her throat until his mouth was beside her ear.

“First, I want you coming on my fingers,” he commanded, his voice husky with desire. “Then my tongue. And then my cock. Do you understand?”

She swallowed audibly, nodding her head.

“Words, angel,” he smirked. “Use your words.”

“Yes, Azriel, I understand,” she whimpered, the scent of her arousal peaking.

He inhaled deeply before pulling away and dropping to his knees before her. She sat up on her elbows, letting out a small cry as he hooked his arms around her thighs and yanked her towards the end of the bed.

Her sex was glistening with her want and Azriel groaned at the sight, unlacing his pants with one hand to relieve some pressure. He watched her as he dipped forward and ran his tongue up her slit, his eyes rolling back at the sweet taste of her.

She tossed her head back with a moan, spreading her legs wider for him. Azriel didn’t waste any time. He sucked and licked at her clit with a hunger he’d never felt before, his cock twitching every time he drew out a moan or cry from her lips.

True to his word, his finger swirled around her entrance, causing her hips to thrust closer and closer. He continued his ministrations as he slid a single finger inside of her, cursing as he felt how tight she was wrapped around him.

“Azriel,” she cried out as he added a second finger before slowly thrusting in and out of her. “Fuck.”

He continued to suck that spot that had her crying out, pure waves of euphoria crashing through her body. His fingers began to thrust inside of her faster and faster as her moans became more frequent.

“That’s it, angel,” he praised as she rutted against his fingers. “Fuck yourself with my fingers.”

She whimpered, her movements frenzied as he latched his mouth back on her clit, sucking in rhythm with his fingers. One of her hands gripped his hair while the other fisted the sheets and she squirmed in pleasure until he pushed her over the edge.

“Az…Azriel,” she cried, arching her back as flames licked their way through her body. “I’m gonna—”

Azriel didn’t stop, palming himself with his free hand as she orgasmed, pulsating around his fingers with a loud moan. He slipped his fingers out and replaced them with his tongue just in time to feel the aftershock ripple through her.

She tried to pull his head away, but he didn’t relent. He needed her on his tongue, needed to fulfill the hunger inside of him. It wasn’t long before he had her screaming through her second orgasm, lapping at the wetness pooling between her thighs. Azriel didn’t let up as he rode out her orgasm with his tongue, not until her body was writhing in pleasure and she was begging him to stop.

He stood, sticking one of the fingers covered in her juices into his mouth, eyes rolling back in his head as he groaned. “Gods, you taste so good.”

He left her panting on the bed as he made quick work of ripping his clothes off. His eyes were black with lust, his shadows spilling all around him in his craze. Gods, he needed her so bad. Every piece of her.

He climbed onto the bed, hovering over her and crashing his lips against hers. His tongue was still claiming her mouth as her hands roamed the muscles of his chest, sliding down to his cock. He groaned into her mouth as she ran her hand up and down his shaft.

“Please,” she begged.

“Please what, angel?” He nipped at her bottom lip. “What is it you want?”

“Please fuck me, Azriel,” she whined.

The noise that came out of his throat at her words was one he’d never made before. He sat back on his haunches, replacing her hand with his as he guided himself towards her entrance, rubbing up and down against the wetness that was waiting for him.

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as he slid himself inside of her slowly. She moaned as Azriel let out an animalistic growl at the feeling of her wrapped around him. It wasn’t until he was all the way in her when they both finally released a breath.

“Fuck,” he grunted, falling forward and peppering kisses along her throat. “You feel so good.”

She whimpered at his praise and felt him smirk against her neck before he started to finally move, pulling himself all the way out her before thrusting back in, faster this time. She cried out as he slammed into her.

Azriel set a punishing pace, thrusting into her again and again. His shadows seeped from him until nearly every crevice of the room was taken over by his darkness.

Her nails raked down his back, between his wings as she let him take her. He claimed her mouth again, passionately swallowing each moan he pulled from her. Her hips began to meet his with each thrust, pushing him deeper and deeper inside of her.

“Gods, Azriel,” she cried, squeezing around him as he hit that sweet spot inside her.

“Are you going to come on my cock, angel?” he cooed.

“Yes,” she mewled. “Yes, gods, yes.”

“Good girl,” he growled, nipping at her throat with his canines.

His words pushed her over the edge into the hot bliss of pleasure. She screamed his name as the lightning shot through her, her core pulsating with each strike.

“Fuck,” Azriel groaned. He rode out her orgasm and then his thrusts became harder, faster but sloppy with no rhythm as his own release slid up on him.

His tongue swirled around the base of her neck before an utterly feral growl ripped through him. And then he bit down on that spot. His canines ripped through the skin, sinking down into her flesh as he came, thrusting once, twice and one final time—burying himself in her.

They both panted in silence for a moment, coming down from their highs before Azriel slowly slipped out of her with a small whimper. He pulled away from her and she smiled up at him, her eyes glazed with pleasure and satisfaction.

And then something happened. Something he never thought would. Something he had only dreamed about but never wished for because he had thought it a waste of breath.

A golden string of light unwound itself and shot across the darkness, all the way to the beautiful girl before him.

The mating bond snapped.

His mating bond.

Azriel let out a choked noise, rising fully. He stumbled back in shock, his eyes wide as he stared down at her. Her brows furrowed in confusion and she sat up.

Fuck, his mate…

She was his mate.

His godsdamn mate.

This couldn’t be happening. Not like this. Not after he had just paid her to have sex with him. Not after he had come here for a shameless fuck. She’d never want him now. Why would she?

He hastily began picking up his discarded clothes and dressing himself. She did the same in her confusion, slipping her nightgown back on as she frowned at him.

“What happened?” Her voice was meek as she hugged an arm around herself, looking at him. “Have I…have I done something wrong?”

“N-no,” he stuttered, not looking her in the eyes. Gods, she would hate him if he told her now. She would not want anything to do with him. “No, I’m sorry. I-I need to go.”

“But you paid for the whole night,” she said, perplexed with a hint of insecurity. “Please, if I wasn’t good…if you didn’t enjoy it…I can do better, I swear it.”

He finally looked at her, at his mate. His heart sank in his chest at her words. Fuck, he was making this worse. He couldn’t stand the sight of her looking at him like she’d done something wrong. She was perfect. She had been perfect. It was him who fucked up.

“No, no, don’t. It’s not you," Azriel tried to reassure her. “I…it’s me. I need to go. I’m so sorry.”

“At least let me get you your money back,” she said, rubbing her arm. He felt sick to his stomach.

“No! No, please keep it,” he murmured, buttoning up his shirt as fast as he could. “I’m…I’m so sorry. This was a mistake.”

And then he disappeared in his shadows, her confused and hurt face the last thing he saw.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

a/n: so obvious this was entirely from Az's perspective but it will be reader y/n just in case it wasn't super obvious! Hope you guys enjoyed it! If you asked to be tagged but don't see your username, it wouldn't let me tag you for some reason :((

(also, now that the whole chapters out, if this isn't what you thought you were signing up for, no hard feelings if you asked to be removed from the taglist)

taglist: @itsswritten @impossibelle @lilah-asteria @heartless-tate @sheblogs @jesskidding3 @landofpetrichor @thecollegecowgirl @5onedirection5 @cherry-cin @fayeatheart @brieflyclassymortal @saltedcoffeescotch @glitterypirateduck @eyebagsanonymous @chxosangxl @daardyrnitta

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #azriel angst #azriel smut #azriel spymaster

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jasmines-library · 10 months ago

Note

hi!! i love your new marauder writings! could you do something with remus and his sense of smell- could either be an angsty one or a fluffy one- not sure what you are comfy writing (like she’s on her period, got injured by accident or by someone else, or she has self-h*rmed) ignore this if you’re uncomfortable! realizing now i should’ve looked for your request rules 😖

Blood Quill

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Warnings: Blood, protective Rem.

Word Count: 0.9k

⛧ MARAUDERS MASTERLIST⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

The quill sat comfortably in your hand, the black feather gleaming and shifting in the light. You shifted it between your fingers, it was light and seemed to fit as though it was an extension of your body itself. Yet you could feel the magic radiating from it. Dark and cold, wrapping itself around you like a thick tendril. It confused you too…..a quill with no ink? You frowned softly, unable to figure it out. But when you began to write, and your other hand began to burn uncomfortably, it began to make sense. The words appeared on the page in what appeared to be shiny red ink. But then, an identical set of your handwriting appeared on your other hand. The quill was writing in your blood.

By the time you were done, your hand was practically trembling with pain and the words ‘I must not disobey curfew’ were scrawled deeply on your skin as if it were an etch-a-sketch. You were with the marauders trying to set up a prank when you got caught. You hadn’t managed to make it under James’ invisibility cloak in time when Filch came stalking round the corner and caught you, deeming you a detention. James had apologised profusely, and Sirius, the great friend he is, had even offered to take the detention for you, but that would have only made the whole thing more suspicious and ruined the whole point of the plan. Remus, on the other hand, was rather angry. Not at you, of course, the sweet boy could never be mad at you, but rather at Filch and the ‘unfairness’ that the other three of them had gotten away without a scratch. You supposed it had something to do with the full moon nearing. Remus is always on high alert and is rather overprotective when it comes to you. That was the reason you decided to pull the hem of your jumper over the evidence of your detention.

After reaching the portrait and uttering the password, the door to the Gryffindor common room swung open, revealing the warm hues of the space created by the swooping drapes and plush pillows. Your friends were gathered around the sofas, lounging about chatting as they waited for you to arrive. Making sure your sleeve was firmly covering your hand, you strolled over to them.

“Hey dove.” Remus greeted you softly, his hands coming around your waist as he guided you to sit with them. You greeted him with a kind smile, taking a seat by the fire.

“So, what did they make you do?” Sirius asked curiously, leaning back against the couch.

“Lines.”

James frowned, his forehead wrinkling together in disbelief. “Lines?! That’s it?”

“Yep.” You hummed.

“That is so unfair!” He whined. “I had to clean the boys’ bathroom for like a week.”

You laughed.

“It’s not funny!” He exclaimed, tossing a pillow at you. “Stop laughing at my suffering.”

The two of you went back and forth, bantering with Sirius throughout the evening. You found it relaxing spending time with them, though you couldn’t help but notice the way Remus was looking at you. From time to time he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, his eyebrows and kitted downwards tightly. His lips would also twitch into a frown as he observed you. With the moon being so close, he was on high alert. And so were all of his senses. He could tell something was up just from the way you were sitting. from the way you shifted constantly as if you were trying to hide something. And then there was the salty undertone of the nervous sweat that had broken out across your skin. He knew something was off. And if it wasn’t from that it was from the bitterly sweet scent of blood that lingered around you. There was something you weren’t telling him, and it made him worry.

“You alright, Dove?” Remus asked, his voice laced thick with concern.

You tilted your head up at him. “Yes. why?”

He didn’t answer for a moment. Just studied you silently. “You’re sure?”

“Uh-huh.” You answered, pulling your jumper over your hand. Remus noticed the movement.

“Dove?” he lowered his voice. “Let me see.”

You tried to play it off as nothing. “See what?

“Sweetheart.” He gave you a look. One that said he was on to you. He reached for your hand tenderly. Relenting you let him push up your sleeve, revealing the red-raw imprint.

Remus furrowed his brow. “What? Sweetheart what happened? Who did this to you?”

“My detention….”

His expression darkens. “What. They did this to you?!”

“It was a- a quill.”

Sirius looks at you. “A quill?”

“It….i think it used my blood to write…”

Remus’ jaw clenches.

“Is that even allowed?” James frowned. “Surely the school can’t allow that?!”

You just shrugged meekly. This caused Remus’ expression to change.

“Does it hurt?” He asked softly, holding your hand gently.

��A little.” You admit.

“Oh Dove.” He says sadly. Let’s fix this up, hm?”

You nod, and he picks up his wand, casting a quick healing spell to help aid the healing process before bringing your hand to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles and pulling you close to him on the couch. He tucked you protectively under his arm, resting his chin on your head.

“There we are sweetheart.” He murmured, clearly not intending to let you go anytime soon. You leaned into him as he wrapped his arm around you. The perfect remedy.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

MARAUDERS TAGS:

@hearts4robs @xxrougefangxx @marauderfreaksblog

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•

#marauders x reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #sirius black x reader #sirius black #the marauders #padfoot #moony #wormtail #prongs #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #marauders #fluff #marauders fanfiction #marauders fluff #james potter x reader

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ceoofglytchell · 8 months ago

Text

Safe Haven

Summary: While Aemond searches for comfort with Madame Sylvi, the older brother has long chosen you, one of the Madame’s more expensive girls, to be the shoulder he cries on.

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Brothel worker!Reader

Word count: 3127 words

Warnings: hurt/comfort, making out, brief nudity, brief smut, allusions to past smut, mention of sex work, mention of the death of a child, he’s kinda dependent on you, no mention of Y/N

Notes: I just wanted to thank you all for the positive reactions to my first fanfic! I could never have imagined people would actually read and like the stuff I write and I am very grateful for that. Also I would like to thank @danytar for supporting me ever since I started this blog, love ya! Anyways, here’s another one for you! 💛

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

“Look, it's the king!”

You looked up from the cup of wine that you had been holding for some time, staring into the dark red liquid, hoping that tonight you would just have to sit there and look pretty for the men coming by to get rid of their loneliness for an hour or so.

While you were grateful for your job, as it meant you wouldn’t have to live a miserable life on the dirty streets of King’s Landing, there were times when you wished you were someone else.

A lady from a rich house, a princess, a queen...

However, those were nothing more but daydreams and besides, you didn't really want to carry the burdens of royal life on your shoulders. Not when you had heard for many years how much they plagued a certain silver haired prince who came to you ever since he saw you dancing for some men once in Sylvi's fine establishment. It had been several years ago and at first he had actually only come to you to have someone to drink with. A little later, he had begun to open up to you and then you often dried his tears and held him in your arms whenever his grandfather and mother once again frightened him with the thought that he would have to wear the crown one day.

It had been two weeks since he had last been with you. The poor boy had stumbled into the brothel in the middle of the night, completely drunk, bumped into people and started a fight because he had thought you were taking care of another client, the thought of which he could not stand, which had not been true, as you had simply taken a small break. You had barely run into the room after you had been told he had come when he had already thrown himself directly into your arms and buried his face in your hair while sobbing bitterly.

The very next day, you and many other people had been dragged into the dragon pit to watch Aegon being crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms in front of everyone, and that moment your heart had broken for him, knowing how much he had never wanted that title.

Now, some time later, he was standing in the doorway again, his two friends Martyn and Leon were standing not far behind him and a young man with raven-black hair was also there, but you didn't recognize him and he seemed to be a little unwell. Aegon also seemed drunk, very drunk actually, as he was slurring his words and could hardly walk in a straight line, but when he spotted you on the opposite side of the room, a broad grin formed on his handsome face.

"My love!" he called loudly and stumbled past a couple, who seemed lost in a passionate dance, and ran up a small staircase to where you and some other girls were sitting on the sofas and talking to pass the time. His friends followed him cautiously, knowing how infatuated he was with you.

You quickly placed your golden cup of wine on the side table, stood up and approached him just to make sure he wouldn't trip and embarrass himself in front of all these people. He was the king after all and you knew some who already saw him as weak and incapable of ruling, which you wanted to shield him from. You knew what he had been through recently and it had only been a matter of time before he came back to you.

There was just one small problem... his brother had also come through the doors not too long ago and he had not left yet.

So you had two things to worry about that night: Aegon and not accidentally stumbling over Aemond.

As soon as you got close enough, Aegon wrapped his arms around your smaller frame and held you tightly against him, as if to make sure you wouldn't vanish into thin air. You have been his safe haven for quite some time now, and your mere presence did wonders for his troubled soul, your smile a balm for his heavy heart. Your long, wavy hair smelled of roses, and your body, wrapped in green satin robes, clung to his so perfectly that for a moment he thought you had melted into one. Aegon wanted nothing more than you and your closeness, which was why he had come here that evening. He had wanted to see you.

"I missed you," Aegon murmured into your hair, his fingers digging into the fabric of your robes over your hips to feel your warmth. But he would prefer it if you weren't wearing any clothes at all so he could feel your soft skin under his fingers instead. You didn't even have to do anything together, he just wanted to be close to you.

"I missed you too, Your Grace."

"Don't call me that," he grumbled into your shoulder and instinctively hugged you tighter. He came to you to feel free and forget some of the burdens that weighed on his shoulders, not for you to remind him who he was and that he wasn't supposed to be here. He was supposed to be in the council chambers, talking to his council about the next steps of the war or just doing something, but instead he sought comfort from you - a whore.

"My Darling? Sweetling? Precious?" you joked playfully instead, while stroking his back with your gentle hands. You had used all of these names with him before, but he had never admitted which one was his favorite or whether he found them all to be terrible. However, you always thought he liked them better than some respectful noble title that he didn't want to wear anyway.

One of his friends, Martyn, cleared his throat and patted the young black-haired man on the shoulders, as if to tell his king that there was still something to do before he could devote himself to his own satisfaction.

His head shot up again immediately, which messed up his silver hair a little, which was not a very unusual sight for him, and he put an arm protectively around your waist, while he looked right back at his drinking companions. "Right, right. Dove, we are looking for the madam. This young lad here needs bedding in, gently. I thought she was the perfect choice, don’t you agree?”

Your lover wanted to go with you in the direction of the private rooms, but you managed to hold him back by the arm, whereupon he clumsily bumped back into you in his drunken state, but you were already used to that.

"Madame Sylvi is busy right now."

Aegon opened his mouth to reply, but thank the gods he was a little slower in his movements and reactions at the moment due to the influence of wine.

"However, I know someone else who would treat the boy well." You only had to snap your fingers once and one of the girls you had been sitting with on the sofas earlier came running over and quickly grabbed the boy's hand. She was a little younger than you, pretty, and talented. In your eyes, that was certainly better than interrupting the madam right now, especially considering who she was with in this very moment.

"You heard the woman. Go on, get going. And have fun!" Aegon called after the squire as he was being dragged into one of the back rooms by the whore you had called to help, whereupon he burst into loud, drunken laughter. You just rolled your eyes and shook your head, but a small glint within your gaze revealed how much you truly cared for the king no how much he meant to you.

It wasn't just the sack of gold he gave you after every night, or the sex that was important to you, but rather everything about him. You loved his loud laugh, the way he constantly sought your closeness, his urge to always touch you, you loved his jests just as much as the moments when he showed you how vulnerable and broken he truly was, when he just leaned on your shoulder and cried and you stroked his back and told him how good he was being and that he would always be enough for you. That was what you loved. You loved him.

"And what are we two going to do now?" you asked him, amused, to which he simply grabbed your hand in response and started to pull you along, while he didn't even look back at his friends, since you were everything that mattered to him. You were the only one who could ease his hidden pain.

Since he came here again and again especially for you, he knew his way around here like few other and knew exactly where the little alcoves were where two people could make themselves comfortable, be alone and spend time together. Luckily for the both of you, one at the beginning of the corridor had just become free, so you wouldn't run into a certain other Targaryen. You did not want an argument, not now.

As soon as Aegon had shut the curtain behind you both, he sighed and fell onto the soft mattress while you moved to lit the candles to make the atmosphere a little more pleasant. It smelled of candle wax and fire, but also of various perfumes and other fragrant oils that the previous guests had probably used before they had left again. You already knew that the hour he would spend with you would be either very nice or very heartbreaking. After all, you hadn't seen each other for two weeks and he certainly had much to talk about. You, on the other hand, could mostly only tell him the same stories about overzealous customers and strange preferences that the other women had told you about. Those talks didn't bore him, because he was sure that he would always be happy as long as you were with him.

For a moment you considered taking off your clothes and pulling him into your lap, but you decided against it when you saw that he was just staring into one direction, his good mood evaporating like a pile of ashes in the wind. You knew that look and it was usually never a good sign. He needed you. Now perhaps more than ever.

"Aegon?" you asked carefully and sat down next to him on the white sheets, which were a bit out of order and had stains in some places that you didn't want to think about too long.

"Come here, I need you," the king murmured and tugged at the ends of your robe, whereupon you chuckled and dropped down next to him on the round bed and immediately wrapped your arms around him and buried your head in the crook of his neck.

"I wish I could have been there for you. That night."

You knew the night he lost his son was a difficult subject and probably not what he wanted to talk about, or what he had come to you for, but you couldn't hold that thought back any longer. The other girls had told you how he had all the rat catchers hanged the next day and how hard it had been to watch the little prince's funeral march. You hadn't been there because you had things to do, but you weren't sure you would have watched it voluntarily either, because the regret would probably have eaten you alive.

All the time he spent with you, he could have spent with his children, but he was probably aware of that as well. But the regret didn't change his feelings for you, and you both knew that he would come back again and again and again. Sometimes you really believed he was as dependent on you as he was on dornish wine.

"They wanted Aemond, did you know that? It was supposed to be revenge for Rhaenyra's dead son, but because he wasn't there... because he wasn't there, they murdered my little son in his bed."

His grip on your waist tightened and you knew from his voice alone that he was close to tears, if they weren't already shining in his eyes. You would weep too if your child had been murdered, but you did not have one. A bastard would only hinder you from your work and you didn't want to lose your only source of livelihood, even if the thought of being a mother was one that often crossed your mind.

Especially if he would be the father...

"It's my brother's fault. It's all, all his fault. If it had not been for him, I would be far away from all this in the free cities or gods know where! I would not be king and my boy would still be alive!"

Aegon was sobbing now and you couldn't do anything but wrap your arms around him even more and listen to him speak, because if he didn't tell you, who else would listen to his thoughts? Certainly not his mother, not his brother anymore either, he rarely spoke to his sister-wife anyway and thus he only had you. You were the only one who always listened to him and who was always honest.

He wished he could have married you... You two could have lived a simple, beautiful life far away from King’s Landing, outside of Westeros. But neither of you were granted such a life. He was the king and you were just the whore he loved.

"Don't you have anything to say, love?"

You looked up from his shoulder and leaned over him so you could see his sad amethyst colored eyes and the tear that slowly made its way down his cheek, leaving a trail of wetness behind on his pale skin. You felt a brief urge to brush it away, but instead you let it fall and watched as the tear fell onto the velvet pillow that lay beneath his head, leaving a tiny black stain that would disappear in a matter of minutes. No one would ever know what you and the king did behind the curtain, but you knew that if you happened to be mentioned later on, history would describe you as nothing more than his mere mistress. Perhaps in this case you wanted to be forgotten entirely, for no writing would ever do justice to what you two had together.

The bond that bound you to each other was strong, but no one would ever know about it.

"What can I say, darling? There is nothing I can say except that I am deeply sorry, and I already did."

"Then don't say anything. Show me." As much as he tried to make it sound like a suggestion, it was a command. But you loved him too much to tell him that this was not the right way and that you were not exactly good for him. He wouldn't listen to you anyway. Two days later and he would be at your doorstep again. That's how it had always been and that's how it always would be. You would get gold for your efforts and he would kiss you goodbye and leave.

As always, you obeyed him and connected your lips with his. Two weeks without you had been too much for him. Aegon moaned into the kiss and pulled you closer to him, as close as humanly possible so that he could feel every feminine curve of your body pressed against his even though you were both still wearing your clothes.

Normally this would be the moment when he would turn you onto your back and rip those sheer robes from your body, but this time he did nothing of the sort and gave you full control.

Your tongue found its way into his mouth and you could still taste the heavy wine that was clouding his senses on his own tongue and it was clear that he had probably drunk a lot of before he had set foot in this establishment again, which you couldn't blame him for. If you had been in his place, you would probably have thrown yourself off one of the balconies of the Red Keep long ago, but he was stronger than that.

You kissed him desperately, pouring every emotion you had ever felt for him into that one kiss and he let it happen and he lost himself in it, he lost himself in you.

You managed to numb his senses better than anyone in the known world and perhaps that was another reason why he always found his way back to you in the end. But you let him in every time, which told him that you must feel for him too.

There were moments when he couldn't help but wonder if you were real. Not whether you existed, because he knew very well that you did, no, whether your affection for him was really genuine. Your smile, your laughter, the way you always sought his closeness whenever he was with you, and how gently you treated him all gave him the hope that you actually felt the same as he did, but he would probably never be sure. After all, you never refused his gold. Probably only then would he be sure that it was real.

Your gentle hands slowly brushed his coat from his shoulders and worked on the clasps of his tunic, believing that this was exactly what he wanted, because after all, he hadn't told you anything except that you should show him what you couldn't with words.

A short time later, you were both completely undressed and you moved your hips against his in a way that made his eyes flutter shut and left him gasping for air and groaning your name in pure bliss.

Fucking, alcohol and you were the only things that could distract him from being king or from wondering when the next time would be the stranger's shadow would fall upon his family and who it would be. It just couldn’t be you. If he lost you... he wouldn't know what to do.

Aegon was aware that none of this was good for him and that he should have stopped coming back to you years ago, but when you lay in his arms again a little later, breathing heavily, a light layer of sweat on your body and a happy, radiant smile on your face, he knew that no matter what happened, he would never let you go. You would always be with him, although unfortunately not as his wife, but he couldn't help his feelings and he wouldn't hide them from you.

"I love you," he whispered to you, his hand stroking your side soothingly and his head resting against yours.

"I love you too, Aegon."

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fanfic #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x female reader #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii x reader #tom glynn carney

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k-rising · 1 year ago

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𝟗𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

What's the 9th house?: This house is ruled by Sagittarius and represents ethics and morals, spirituality, cultures, travel, studies, luck and philosophy.

𝐒𝐮𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟗𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

Scholars and visionaries. These people attach great importance to personal growth and have a great ambition for knowledge. They give others their knowledge to enhance their growth. They like to investigate topics that seem interesting to them. They seek to have a broad vision beyond common sense. If the Sun is badly aspected, they can become arrogant people who demonstrate intellectual superiority.

𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟗𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

Curious and volatile. These people tend to end up living far from where they were born. They are susceptible to the opinions of others. Intellectual stimulation in this position is very important for them. They dream a lot about the future, but they don't focus on the present. They need to absorb knowledge to expand their worldview. They also need to build their own values so that they can feel more secure and emotionally stable.

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟗𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

Restless and curious. Studying and reading will always be part of their life. They are interested in the culture of other countries. They may be interested in topics such as human rights and religion. If Mercury is well aspected, they tend to learn new languages easily.

𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟗𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

Adventurous, open-minded, sociable and optimistic. These people love to travel and learn new things. They attract people from different countries and cultures and learn a lot from others. They are attracted to people who give them new experiences. Some may easily fall in love with more than one person.

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟗𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

Honest, straightforward, lovers of life and open-minded. These people prefer to experience certain things for themselves rather than believe the opinions of others. They tend to rebel against traditions and religious beliefs. Some may move abroad to teach.

𝐉𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟗𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

Restless, optimistic and intuitive. These people are focused on their destiny and seek to understand life in a deeper way. They tend to be quite incomprehensible to others. They have to learn to respect other points of view.

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟗𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

Practical. They tend to be closed-minded and it is difficult for them to change their minds. They do not tend to believe much in the mystical, but instead seek to give a scientific explanation to things. It is possible that they were forced to follow a religion from a very young age and that always generated rejection. They may also have had a lot of school problems or even been denied going to school in some way.

𝐔𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟗𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

Unique and eccentric. These people see life from different points of view. They tend to rebel against traditional beliefs and the opinions of others. They do not usually follow a religion that many people follow. They often experience unusual and unexpected things on their trips.

𝐍𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟗𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

These people believe that anything is possible. They are attracted to mystical experiences and are open to all kinds of thoughts. Religion or some other belief is important for them. It is very likely that they will experience some type of spiritual journey. They have to be very careful, since they can become blinded to certain beliefs.

𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟗𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

Persuasive and intelligent. Knowledge is power for them. They need to find some meaning in their lives and are always searching for the truth. They may experience dramatic crises in their lives. They are firm when it comes to giving their opinions and they always back up their arguments. They also like to change other people's minds. Traveling may cause them some type of trauma.

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾　𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑜 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔! 　☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

#9th house #astrology #sun in the 9th house #moon in the 9th house #mercury in the 9th house #venus in the 9th house #mars in the 9th house #jupiter in the 9th house #saturn in the 9th house #uranus in the 9th house #neptune in the 9th house #pluto in the 9th house #astro observations #astro notes #astrology notes #astrology observations

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snailpebbles · 2 months ago

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matters of the heart

chishiya shuntaro x gn!reader

summary: a three of hearts game revolving around secrets. not ideal for a secret relationship.

wc: 2k ish

tags: angst/fluff, some hurt some comfort, established relationship (yall are married), secret relationship, sorry i'm a sap and haven't written in ages :/

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Nobody knew you two were dating. It was better this way in both of your opinions! The Borderland is dangerous to all and doesn’t discriminate on who lives and who dies, a lesson you learned quickly.

Chishiya is a private man, in and out of the Borderlands; as his wife, you know this. What is not widely known, ie. by nobody at all, is your relationship. Somehow the general consensus is that you despise one another all because your husband is a bit more teasing to you than anyone else. Neither of you try to refute these claims for many reasons: there can be no one using the other against you, Kuina, and the monstrosity that is the military (Niragi). To many this level of privacy and secrecy would strain the relationship, but not you. It took literally five years for you to even mention Chishiya to your family.

They were not pleased, to say the least.

Leading into your current predicament, let us set the scene. Your visas are about to run out, so you both go out on the next run and by happenstance end up on the same team. With the way Chishiyas shoulders relax slightly, you know that being able to protect you is a relief to him. There have been far too many close calls and unknowns. Climbing into the car with the honestly obnoxious bunch, you both make the realization that oh! Tatta is here too! The pinkie that crept toward yours stays in place once remembering that the aforementioned boy has the observation skills of a dead duck.

The game, a level three hearts, is the one type Chishiya never wants to be playing with you at his side. Fuck. The concept is relatively simple and, if played correctly, could result in no death! Great, right? The objective is to tell who's a liar and who isn’t. Each player tells a secret or memory and the others cast their vote on whether it’s a truth or a lie. The option with the most votes is chosen. What’s the problem then? There is one player chosen secretly as a trickster whose goal is to get a unanimous incorrect vote - a truth is voted as a lie or vice versa. If this is managed, all the other players die. If it isn’t then the trickster will die instead.

The three of you walk into the old classroom and sit down at the desks arranged in a circle, all facing one another. Tatta is a nervous wreck but you quietly talk to him about random things, an effective distraction. If a small smile graces Chishiya’s face…well that’s no one's business. The other five players worry you - cocky young boys with quick tempers and two nervous wrecks. Lovely. The rules are explained and your heart rate ticks up, silently matching Chishiyas even as his body language says otherwise.

“Player three, start!” The young boy with no eyebrows steps up to the podium and a timer of two minutes counts down. You pay attention to his tapping fingers, breathing, and where his eyes go. Being with Chishiya for as long as you have has certainly taught you some things.

“Uhm..one time I uh, kissed a fish.” The snort that comes from Tatta almost gets you, but you cool your face. Hands tap a button and the counts tally in - unanimous truths. The alarm bells go off and your palms grow sweaty even though you’re confident that this weirdo did kiss a fish. His burning ears made it obvious. Your husband's dark eyes glance at you, the deep color so familiar that it’s calming. The slight nod of his head soothes any worry you had. The screen lights up green - all clear! The boy sits back down and another with a…tasteful mullet, takes his place.

“I’m allergic to oranges.” He deadpans, fingers still and skin unchanging. Shit. The blond beside you watches his peripheral, decides he doesn’t like seeing the nervousness on your face, - at least not in this context - and tilts his tablet screen just enough for you to see ‘lie’ highlighted. The trust you have is unmatched so you don’t hesitate to choose. Tatta taps your shoulder and based on his sweaty brow, needs help. You share your choice much to the chagrin of the group across you.

“You can’t do that!” Fish-kisser complains to which you recite the rules. Never once is it mentioned you can’t share answers so he pipes down real quick. Reality is brought back to you when the screen lights up red - fail. The rules never stated what happens when the player tricks the majority of you. The thought is sobering and you nervously look at Chishiya, only to see his eyes already on you. A tick mark appears in the corner of the screen and text flashes stating, “if the guessers fail three times, one randomized player will be disqualified!” The cheerful voice does not match the deadly rules, nor does it pair with the fear that flashes within Chishiya’s eyes. Already he was planning ways to get the both of you out of this unscathed, but now he has to factor in other peoples idiocy and randomization? A pinky finds yours and you hold on tight.

The next person steps up to the podium and is caught in a lie, ‘clear’ soothing the staccato of your heart. This trend follows for the next two boys and you expect the same for Chishiya, your curiosity that initially drew him to you in the first place making a show towards what he might say. His relaxed form stands at the podium, both mysterious and gloating with how his eyes ghost over each player.

“My hair is dyed.” Ah. He’s playing it safe. The more obvious the answer, the faster he can get you to safety and back in his arms - fail!

What?

The three boys across from you are laughing, laughing, as if they haven’t royally fucked up. Before you can stop yourself, you’re speaking up.

“What the actual fuck are you thinking?” While your voice may sound level, internally you’re having to restrain yourself from throttling someone. A white coat fills your peripherals and for a moment you’re tossed back to the days of visiting Chishiya on his lunch break, soft touches and pastries eaten in amicable silence in the garden. Truth comes back to you when his pinkie relinks with yours and Tatta begins to panic beside you, the two tally marks seeming to take up the entire screen.

“We wanna get outta here faster, so we might as well just get disqualified.” Mullet shrugs. The fact that they’re new is even more infuriating. Your eyes squeeze shut so you don’t snap at them, but Tatta has you covered.

“No you- you don’t want to be disqualified. Just play the game.” His voice is higher than normal, giving away his stress. Your tablet flashes at you, reminding you that it’s your turn now. The walk to the podium is heavy on your shoulders but your eyes meet Chishiyas and stay there, imagination offering escape in the memory of lazy mornings in filtered sunlight. The three boys totally ignore Tatta in the time it takes you to reach the podium.

“I’m married.” Tatta chokes on his spit and Chishiya looks the smallest bit surprised at your secret as if he isn’t the one you’ve devoted your being to. To emphasize the truth to this, you take the simplistic ring - a metal band with a beautiful pearl in the center - out of your pocket and slide it on your left ring finger. There was the slightest tan line that is now covered and the ring fits perfectly, the nights Chishiya spent secretly measuring your sleeping figures hand definitely having paid off. The proud smile on your face doesn’t hurt either as you can never seem to hide the joy of being connected to another person. It’s something Chishiya deeply admires and will whisper to you when he thinks you’re fast asleep in his arms. All in all, the truth option is the only one.

Therefore, when the screen flashes red and a tally is added beside the ‘fail’ text, your surprise is palpable. Tatta only manages a squeak of fear and the two random people look physically ill, Chishiya’s face a blank slate and the group of three laughing annoyingly at everyones reactions. The results make no sense until one of the ill people starts rapidly apologizing, having believed you to be the trickster and convincing their partner of the same. The three boys find it hilarious.

You don’t even notice your trembling until Chishiya is sitting you back down in your seat and his hand is gently rubbing your back, murmured instructions to follow his breathing being subconsciously followed. The apologies fall deaf on your ears. A faint hum fills them instead and now the urge to speak to Chishiya, your one love, is overwhelming.

“I love you.” The truth is whispered only to the man across from you and the reciprocation meets your ears just as fast, but lacks the resignation in your tone. The gears in Chishiya’s mind are turning rapidly as the buzzing hum grows louder and the chance of your death seems larger than it mathematically is. The three boys laugh and Tatta panics and the ill people vomit, at least until Mullet has a smoking hole between his eyes.

Tatta gets up to the podium and says some obvious lie, ‘clear’ flashing across the screen and the card collected.

You’ve calmed down at this point but your pinkie holding has escalated to holding his hand, your free hand even wrapping around his bicep. Chishiya only holds on tight so his heart will calm back down and he can regain control. He tells himself over and over that you’re okay, but the level of stress is the exact same as when he got the call of you in a car crash. Tatta has the tact of wonder-bread and the timing of gold.

“Are you two married…?” He asks on the ride back, filling the stark silence now that one new guy is gone and his two friends will return to Beach much less eager to play. Both of you nod at the same time, fingers staying laced together even as you walk into Beach and past Kuina. She does a quadruple take and almost tackles Tatta, knowing that getting information from either of you would be like pulling teeth. As you pad up the steps to your room, neither of you miss the muffled screech of “Married?!” and the following thump of someone fainting.

You shower together and fall asleep together, wrapped up in the other with hands pressed on pulse points and lips imprinting promises into the skin.

Sunlight streams in through the curtains and your eyes blink blearily, meeting Chishiyas focused ones where you lay curled up side by side. He looks borderline angelic, easily worth the devotion, in the morning light. Your eyes trail over the familiar lips of his face and curves of his torso, stopping where your arm is curled around that unfairly slim waist. You know you have bedhead and probably look as tired as you feel, but with the way his eyes stare so reverently, you could be convinced that you’re an angel worthy of devotion too.

If a chair is kept under the door handle and a married pair stays in their room all day, that’s no one's business but your own. If vows are renewed after facing death, those promises will stay yours. If Kuina and Tatta spend that day gossiping with just about everyone…well that is everyone's business. Ann can only listen in mild amusement because she’s known - it was obvious when the only time she’s seen Chishiya truly smile was at you.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

a/n: hi I'm alive and while I'm not really in the aib fandom anymore, I saw a picture of chishiya and immediately went back to being down bad! so! here you go!

#chishiya x gn!reader #aib chishiya #chishiya x reader #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya shuntaro #aib fanfic #chishiya x you #shuntaro chishiya

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