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fr0stf4ll · 12 days ago

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A court of Shadows and Moonlight - Part 5

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the wake of looming war and changing traditions, a gifted healer returns to the Night Court after centuries of wandering the continents. Tasked with stepping into Madja’s legendary role, she must guide reluctant healers, soothe wounded warriors, and face the entrenched prejudice of Illyrian leaders. But as she mends torn wings and broken spirits, an unexpected bond awakens between her and the Night Court’s enigmatic Spymaster. With rivalries simmering and a dangerous threat looming on the horizon, she must reconcile duty and desire, learning that true healing can extend beyond flesh and bone—if she dares to embrace the light hidden among the shadows.

word count ; 5k

Trigger warning; //

notes; Hey ! Happy celebrations for everyone <3 I'm back with the part 5 of the story, you guys are getting more elements about the story here hihi. Hope that you will enjoy it ! See you soon <3

Link; Part 4

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The day after you had stabilized Azriel, you returned to the House of Wind to check on his injuries. Morning light filtered through wide windows as you stepped into the corridors, the faint scent of fresh linen lingering in the air. You carried your satchel of supplies—new dressings, salves, and a mild tonic—tucked under one arm. The tension you felt in your chest, the awareness of that golden bond, still hummed quietly under your skin.

When you eased open the door to Azriel’s room, you found him not only awake, but sitting propped against a nest of pillows. He turned his head at your arrival, and his hazel eyes, calm yet quietly guarded, focused on you. You froze for a fraction of a second, expecting something—recognition, some sign that he sensed what you had felt so vividly the night before. The mating bond. But Azriel’s gaze was polite, curious, nothing more than what you’d expect from a warrior thanking a healer.

“Good morning,” he said, voice low and even. His wings were carefully arranged, bandages neat and secure from your previous efforts. “I owe you my life, I think.” The corner of his mouth tipped upward slightly, a cautious attempt at a smile. “Thank you.”

Your heart twisted. You managed a professional nod, stepping closer to the bed. “It’s my duty,” you replied, your voice steady despite the pang in your chest. “How do you feel?”

He shifted a little, wincing but not complaining. “Better,” he answered, meeting your gaze without any flicker of that deeper connection you had feared or hoped for. Just calm gratitude and a warrior’s patience. “The pain is manageable.”

You swallowed, extending a gentle hand to adjust a pillow behind him and check the bandage on his shoulder. Your fingers brushed his skin lightly. Nothing. No spark, no sign that he felt what you did. He gave a small nod of thanks, as though you were any other healer administering care.

The golden thread inside you felt taut and delicate, as if one wrong breath could snap it. But what good was a thread if only one person felt its pull? You busied yourself with routine tasks: applying fresh salve, examining the healing tears in his wings, ensuring there were no signs of infection. He watched quietly, occasionally letting out a soft hiss of discomfort, but never more than that.

Every so often, you dared glance into his eyes again, searching for something—some warmth or spark that might betray an awareness of the bond. But you found nothing beyond polite interest and a soldier’s resilience. To him, you were a stranger who had saved his life, a skilled hand rather than a destined partner.

When you finished, you stepped back and forced a calm, reassuring smile. “Everything seems to be on track,” you said, keeping your tone measured and pleasant. “I’ll prepare a mild tonic to help with any lingering ache. If you rest and follow instructions, you’ll recover smoothly.”

He inclined his head in acknowledgment. “You have my thanks,” he said simply. “And my respect.”

With that, you gathered your supplies and turned toward the door, heart heavier and more uncertain than before. You paused on the threshold, glancing back once over your shoulder. Azriel was settling back into the pillows, eyes drifting to the window, lost in his own thoughts—thoughts that, evidently, didn’t involve the bond you carried alone.

You left his room as you had entered: a healer, no more, no less. The golden bond within you lay silent and unacknowledged, a secret you would shoulder alone.

Days blurred into a quiet routine: morning rounds at the clinic, afternoons spent reviewing herbal stocks and training junior healers, and, scattered between these duties, several trips to the House of Wind. Each visit found you in Azriel’s room, applying new salves and checking that his injuries were knitting properly. He was a cooperative patient—patient enough, at least. He didn’t complain, though you sensed his restlessness. He asked questions about healing techniques, listened politely to your instructions, and always offered a sincere “thank you” after you were done.

In these encounters, the tension of that first night lingered only as a ghost of memory. He seemed comfortable enough with your presence. Once or twice, you thought you caught something in his gaze—curiosity, or a particular warmth—but you brushed it off. Your priority remained his recovery, not your tangled emotions or that elusive bond you had discovered.

But not all your visits were so calm. One afternoon, just after you’d finished changing the dressings on his wings, voices rose outside his door. You stepped into the corridor with your empty bowl of used bandages, intending to fetch fresh ones, when you heard the unmistakable sound of Rhysand’s voice—low, measured, but threaded with tension.

Azriel responded, quieter but sharper. You hesitated near the threshold, uncertain if you should intervene or give them privacy. Yet their words drifted through the partially open door, and you caught enough to understand what was happening.

“I’m not asking for permission,” Azriel said, voice tight. “I know what I’m doing, Rhys.”

Rhysand’s tone cooled noticeably. “This isn’t about your skill or independence. It’s about what’s best for everyone. You heard Y/N’s orders—no more unauthorized interference. Azriel, you nearly died. We can’t afford another risk.”

A pause, then Azriel’s voice, lower now, a note of frustration vibrating through it. “I’m not talking about the healer’s instructions. I’m talking about Elain.”

Your chest tightened at the name. So they were arguing about her. About his relationship to her. You swallowed, fingers tightening around the bowl as if it were an anchor in unfamiliar waters.

Rhysand sighed, weariness and a hint of annoyance seeping in. “You know the stance we agreed upon. Elain’s presence here complicated matters. She’s not a healer, and we can’t have her risking your life by trying something ill-advised. It’s best if she stays at the townhouse until you’re fully recovered.”

Azriel’s response was quieter, but no less charged. “I know she didn’t mean harm. She cared, and that caring led her astray. I’m not defending her action, but I want a chance to speak with her. This—this distance you’re enforcing feels like punishment.”

Rhysand’s answer came measured, each word precise. “Call it what you like. Her action nearly cost your life. Let Y/N do her job without interference. Once you’re healed, we can revisit the matter.”

A tense silence followed. You should have turned and left, but your feet seemed rooted in place. At length, Azriel spoke again, voice subdued yet firm: “I won’t forget this, Rhys. I know you mean well, but I have a say in who sees me and when. We’ll talk about this again.”

The tension crackled, and you took that as your cue. Quietly, you stepped away, heading off to get fresh supplies. By the time you returned, Rhysand was gone, and Azriel sat brooding by the window, wings carefully draped over the edge of the chair. He met your eyes and offered a faint, polite nod, as if nothing had happened.

But the atmosphere had changed. You redid a bandage and Azriel thanked you, his voice level, though a crease lingered between his brows. It wasn’t your place to ask about the dispute, and he didn’t volunteer information. Yet the words you’d overheard thrummed in your mind—the High Lord’s firm stance, Azriel’s quiet defiance. And, unspoken between them, Elain’s name, heavy with meaning.

You left that day more aware than ever that Azriel’s recovery wasn’t just about healing flesh and bone. There were deeper wounds, quieter tensions to navigate, and you found yourself caught at the edges of relationships and loyalties you barely understood.

At the week’s end, you returned to Azriel’s room for what would be your last scheduled visit. The afternoon light slanted in gently, highlighting the subtle improvements in his condition. His wings, once in tatters, now bore only faint scars slowly fading beneath well-applied salves. He was no longer propped up by a fortress of pillows, simply leaning back against a few cushions. His color was better, his breathing steady and even.

You approached with your medical bag, a familiar ritual by now. He watched your every move, though more relaxed than before. After a brief examination—checking the suppleness of his healing wing membranes, testing the resilience of muscle and skin—you nodded, satisfied.

“I think you’re in the clear,” you said, voice warm but professional. “Your wounds have healed nicely. You’re allowed to walk around the House of Wind again, as much as you like. Just…” You arched a brow, fixing him with a pointed look. “Please wait a few more days before attempting any training. Give your body time to adjust.”

Azriel inclined his head, his eyes thoughtful. “I’ll try,” he said, a hint of wry humor in his tone. “I’m not particularly good at staying idle, but I’ll manage.” There was a pause as he studied you, folding his hands loosely in his lap. “How are things at the clinic? It must be a lot of work, reacquainting yourself with everything after so long.”

You took a moment to consider your answer, recalling the busy days, the endless patient logs, the younger healers who looked to you for guidance. “It’s busy, yes,” you admitted, shoulders rising in a small shrug. “But well. The transition has gone smoother than I expected. Madja’s presence helped me settle in quickly. I’ve met most of the healers by now. They’re competent and kind.”

Azriel nodded, as if glad to hear it. “I’m relieved. I know Madja cared deeply about who would take her place. She made the right choice.”

Your heart tightened slightly at the praise, but you managed a small, genuine smile. “I hope so. I’m doing my best.”

A brief silence fell. You cleared your throat, deciding it was time to share your upcoming plans. “I should mention—I’ll be leaving tonight. I have to travel to Winghaven for a few days. So if you have any issues you will have to wait a few days or got to the clinic directly.”

At that, Azriel’s gaze sharpened. “Winghaven?” His brow furrowed. “Alone?”

The note of concern in his voice was unmistakable. Though he’d never demanded details of your comings and goings before, you could sense genuine worry now. Perhaps it was the memory of his own recent injuries, or simply the protective streak you sensed running through him and his circle.

“No, not alone,” you assured him, waving a hand lightly. “Cassian will be accompanying me. I’ll be there for just three days—no more. I’m to inspect the healers in the Illyrian camps, starting with Winghaven, and see what improvements can be made.”

Azriel’s shoulders eased a fraction at the mention of Cassian. “Good,” he said quietly. “Cassian knows the terrain and the people well. He’ll keep an eye out.”

You offered a small laugh, though it carried traces of earnest relief. “I’m counting on that. I’m prepared for skepticism, but at least I won’t be going in blind.”

Azriel regarded you steadily for a moment. The silence felt strangely comfortable, his eyes holding yours but revealing nothing that would add to your confusion. Finally, he nodded. “Then I wish you a safe journey. If anyone can bring them new wisdom, it’s you.”

You inclined your head in thanks, feeling the odd weight of unspoken things settle between you. You gathered your bag, stepping back and preparing to leave. “Rest well,” you said softly, voice gentling with sincere care. “I’ll see you when I return—if you haven’t taken flight before then.”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “I’ll be here, doing as you ordered, healer.”

You departed with that quiet exchange lingering in your mind, the simple comfort of knowing he’d be on the mend as you embarked on your own task. The golden thread that you carried alone remained silent in your chest, and you tried not to linger on it. For now, purpose called you to Winghaven, and he had recovery and patience ahead. It was enough.

———

Those three days in Illyria were challenging, to say the least. You’d arrived with Cassian after a lengthy journey through mountain passes and windblown valleys, the chill air biting at your cheeks. Your first night was spent in Rhysand’s mother’s old cottage—an unexpected sanctuary tucked into the rugged landscape. The walls hummed softly with old memories, but provided a safe place to rest before the real work began the next morning.

You settled in as dusk wrapped the world in quiet shadows. Cassian had started a small fire in the hearth, coaxing warmth into the modest room. You sat across from him, knees folded beneath you on a low cushion. He offered you a cup of something hot and spiced, the scent of cinnamon and cloves wafting between you. Outside, the wind sighed against the wooden shutters, a distant chorus of wolves or perhaps just the moan of the breeze in the pines.

The conversation drifted naturally toward personal matters. Perhaps it was the calm crackle of the fire or the sense of isolation out here that made it easier to speak of things long unspoken.

“So,” Cassian began, leaning forward on his elbows, his tone gentle but curious, “you’ve traveled a great deal. Dawn Court healers, crossing seas for rare herbs… I’ve heard bits and pieces, but never your own version.”

You fiddled with the rim of your cup, gaze flicking to the flames. “I suppose you’d like to know why I left the Night Court in the first place,” you said, voice low.

He dipped his chin. “If you don’t mind sharing. I know you trained under Madja for a time. But then… you disappeared for centuries.”

You exhaled, the memory tugging gently at your heart. “I was a child during the first war,” you began, words careful. “I saw enough pain and loss in those early years to shape my entire understanding of healing. Madja took me under her wing afterward, teaching me for more than fifty years—an eternity to a child, but a mere blink to her. She was patient, strict when necessary, and always kind. But besides her…” You paused, searching for the right words. “I had no attachments. My parents, my kin—lost to war or scattered.”

Cassian nodded, respectful silence encouraging you onward.

“After those decades, I met a renowned healer from the Dawn Court—someone who saw a spark in me. He said I had a gift worth honing further than what the Night Court alone could offer. At first, I resisted. This was my home, wasn’t it?” You gave a hollow laugh. “But I felt… stuck, I suppose. Prythian was changing, and we were all rebuilding from ash and smoke. Yet I wanted to see more of the world, learn techniques from healers who knew magics and herbs I’d never even dreamed of.”

Cassian’s eyes gleamed with understanding. “So you left for experience.”

You nodded. “Exactly. The Night Court has always been a place of shadows and hidden strengths, and I love it for that. But I craved something more—new visions, new methods. Dawn Court healers taught me how to harness starlight in potions. In the Summer Court, I learned to treat venomous wounds from creatures that lurk in coral reefs. Across the seas, I found healing arts that rely on sound vibrations rather than herbs. Every place offered something unique, something that layered onto my understanding of healing until I could weave it all together.”

Cassian tilted his head, a small, admiring smile curving his mouth. “No wonder you could do what you did for Az,” he said softly. “You brought back a piece of every land to save him.”

You swallowed, touched by his words. “I hope so. Returning… it wasn’t part of my plan. But Madja asked, and I couldn’t refuse her. Besides, maybe I’ve gathered enough threads now to weave something truly worthwhile here at home. Maybe I won’t feel stuck this time.”

Cassian’s gaze drifted over the small room—old furniture, worn curtains, the echoes of a past High Lady who once dwelled here. “You left a home that felt too small,” he said, “and came back with a world’s worth of knowledge. You’re changing the Night Court already, I can tell.”

His sincerity warmed you almost as much as the fire. “It might be too soon to say it but I trully wish that I will be able to help”

Outside, the night howled softly, and beyond that, Winghaven waited—skeptical healers, reluctant warriors, a land that would test your resolve. But for tonight, here in this cottage, you had honesty and understanding. Cassian, it seemed, respected your journey, and in turn, you respected the loyalty and openness he offered.

You sipped your hot drink, and Cassian spoke of Illyria’s challenges: old traditions that died hard, camp leaders who would eye you suspiciously. You listened, grateful for the insight and glad for the company. Three days in Winghaven would be short, but intense. At least you would not face it ignorant or alone. And when you returned to Velaris, you’d do so with fresh perspective, your choices affirmed by the understanding gleaned here tonight.

The teacup in your hands had grown lukewarm. Outside, the night was dark and silent, and within the old cottage’s modest walls, you and Cassian had settled into a gentle rhythm of conversation. You had shared bits of your life, your wanderings, and the layers of healing knowledge you carried. He, in turn, had given you insight into the Illyrian camps, the challenges you’d face in Winghaven.

But your mind, restless even after the day’s trials, drifted to the quiet tension you’d sensed in the House of Wind—particularly around Elain and Azriel. You remembered Rhysand’s firm stance, Azriel’s simmering frustration, and Elain’s tearful regret. Maybe it was none of your business. In fact, you knew it probably wasn’t. Yet the curiosity gnawed at you.

Swallowing your reservations, you glanced at Cassian, who sat across from you, relaxed yet ever watchful. He had answered your questions willingly so far. Would he answer this one? You took a breath and ventured, “Cassian, can I ask you something more personal?”

He raised an eyebrow, curious but not wary. “You can ask,” he allowed, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. “I can’t promise I’ll answer.”

You tried a faint smile. “Fair enough.” You hesitated only a moment before plunging ahead. “The Archeron sisters—they’re all closely linked to the High Lord and High Lady, yes? I’ve met Feyre, of course. But I’ve heard of Nesta, Elain… They seem important to this court. Could you… tell me a bit about them?”

Cassian’s expression changed subtly, as though he were sorting through what he could say. He took a sip from his mug, gaze drifting to the fire before coming back to meet your eyes. “Important might be an understatement,” he said quietly. “Feyre, as you know, is our High Lady. She and Rhys… well, they hold this court together in ways I never thought possible.”

You nodded, encouraging him without words to continue.

“There are three Archeron sisters in total,” Cassian went on, choosing each word with care. “Feyre, Nesta, and Elain. Each of them is very different. Feyre’s heart is this court’s beacon, always thinking of others, guiding us with compassion. Nesta… she’s complicated. Strong-willed, fierce, often prickly. She’s fought her own battles, overcome demons both inside and out. And Elain—” He paused, a subtle tension passing over his face. “Elain is gentle. Kind. She sees the good in everyone, wants to help.”

You swallowed, recalling Elain’s well-meaning but disastrous attempt to help Azriel. “I see. They must have deep bonds with you all.”

Cassian’s grin was wry, as if acknowledging a private joke. “Deep bonds indeed. They’re not just important to the court, they’re part of us—Rhys’s family, our family. We’d do anything for them.”

You considered his words. The Archeron sisters each had distinct roles and personalities. Feyre the High Lady, Nesta the warrior spirit (if what you gleaned from rumors was true), and Elain the gentle heart. “It sounds like they’ve all been through a lot,” you said softly.

“You have no idea,” Cassian replied, voice quieter. “War, transformations, personal struggles—those three have endured trials that would break many.”

Your gaze lowered, understanding dawning. Whatever had happened to them, it had forged unbreakable bonds not only with each other but also with these Illyrian warriors and the High Lord. You remembered Elain’s desperation at Azriel’s bedside, that fierce concern that led her astray. Perhaps it made sense now—she was a nurturer, wanting to help but lacking the knowledge. Her role within this tight-knit circle might explain why she was so devastated by her mistake.

You raised your eyes again, meeting Cassian’s gaze. “I see,” you said quietly. “I suppose they mean as much to each other as they mean to you all.”

He nodded, his stance relaxing again. “They’re family. And in this court, family isn’t just blood—it’s chosen. Earned. The Archerons earned their place in all our hearts, scars and all.”

As Cassian spoke, you saw a certain softness enter his gaze, especially when he spoke of Nesta. He lingered over her name, voice turning fond and respectful in a way that stood out. You took a careful sip of your cooling tea, weighing whether to pry further. Finally, you couldn’t help it: his tone when mentioning Nesta was unmistakable.

He caught your curious glance and let out a low, rueful laugh. “I suppose there’s no hiding it. Nesta is my mate,” he admitted, voice quiet but steady. The corners of his mouth curved into a small, proud smile. “It took us a while to find our footing, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Your thoughts spun for a moment, and you had to swallow a surprised breath. Feyre and Rhysand were mates, you’d learned that quickly enough. Now Nesta and Cassian. A fleeting, wry thought crossed your mind: three Archeron sisters, three Illyrian warriors, three mates? Was it so neatly arranged?

Cassian’s gaze sharpened slightly, as if reading your thoughts. He raised a hand, palm outward, as though to forestall your assumptions. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said, tone turning wry. “Three brothers for three sisters. But it’s not that simple.”

You blinked, surprised that he’d guessed your train of thought. He set down his mug and sighed. “Elain already has a mate—Lucien.” He paused, letting the weight of that name settle in the small room. You hadn’t met Lucien yet, but you’d heard whispers of a fox-eyed male with keen wit and wandering loyalties. “That bond was forged during the war, under extraordinary circumstances. Yet Elain’s relationship with Azriel…” He trailed off, choosing his next words carefully.

Your brow furrowed, curiosity piqued. “I gather it’s complicated?”

Cassian gave a solemn nod. “Complicated doesn’t begin to cover it,” he said. “Elain’s mate is Lucien, but her feelings—her choices—don’t neatly follow the bond’s dictates. And Az… Az and Elain have a certain understanding, a closeness that’s never found a clear label. It’s delicate, messy. Not something any of us can force or resolve easily.”

Your heart twisted with new understanding. Elain’s tearful face by Azriel’s bedside, her desperate attempt to help him, made sense in a different light now. She was caught between a mate-bond she couldn’t ignore and feelings for another. The tension you’d sensed back in the House of Wind, the argument between Azriel and Rhysand, the High Lord’s firm stance—this was part of that tangled knot of loyalties and love.

You leaned back in your chair, fingers tightening around the mug. “That’s… a lot to untangle,” you said softly, marveling at the complexity of the lives you’d stepped into upon returning to the Night Court. “I suppose healing hearts is even harder than healing wounds.”

Cassian’s smile was gentler now, his eyes reflecting a sad sort of understanding. “You have no idea,” he murmured. “But we make do. We try our best, all of us.”

And so you sat there, in Rhysand’s mother’s old cottage, the fire crackling softly. The weight of destiny, bonds, and unspoken wishes pressed in around you. Three days in Winghaven would be challenging enough, but these people’s lives—filled with bonds that sometimes knotted rather than wove together—reminded you that not all healing could be done with herbs and salves. Sometimes, it was about patience, understanding, and the acceptance that not every wound could be closed neatly.

You said nothing more about it, not now. You’d carry this knowledge silently, weaving it into your understanding of the court and the people who had become part of your new world.

Over the following days in Winghaven, your schedule unfolded with steady precision. You’d arrived with a clear plan: assess the camp’s existing healer teams, identify gaps in their knowledge and supplies, and demonstrate a few techniques that might broaden their capabilities. With Cassian hovering protectively in the background, you were able to move through each task smoothly, guiding younger healers and checking on several patients who had been awaiting more advanced care.

On the first morning, you stood under a makeshift awning behind the camp’s central barracks, watching as a trio of Illyrian healers prepared poultices from dried herbs. They worked diligently, but with a certain mechanical repetition that hinted at a narrow scope of training. You introduced yourself, explaining that you were here at the High Lord’s request to advise and improve methods. One of them, a middle-aged healer named Serain, looked at you with polite skepticism.

“Been doing it this way for decades,” she said, packing a poultice into a cloth bundle. “We know how to close a wound and set a bone. What more do we need?”

You offered a measured smile, crouching beside them. “Closing wounds and setting bones are vital, yes. But have you tried using crushed frost-lily petals for inflammation, or incorporating a mild healing spell to halt bleeding before you stitch?”

They exchanged glances, intrigue sparking behind their guarded eyes. By mid-afternoon, they were asking quiet questions: what if they added a teaspoon of powdered ash-root to their salve for deeper burns? How did you stabilize a patient’s temperature overnight in the harsh winters? Slowly, their skepticism turned to curiosity, and by the end of the day, they were taking notes on your suggestions.

Between these lessons, you wandered the camp with Cassian shadowing you, stopping to speak with patients recuperating in cramped tents. One young Illyrian warrior, wing bandaged awkwardly against his side, stared at you warily when you entered.

“You’re from Velaris?” he asked, voice thick with bitterness. “What do you lot know about Illyrian injuries?”

You met his glare steadily. “A wing is a wing,” you replied, voice calm. “Tendons, membranes, blood vessels—it’s anatomy. If you allow me, I can show you a gentler binding technique that will let it breathe and heal faster.”

He snorted, but Cassian cleared his throat meaningfully, and the warrior grudgingly allowed it. By the time you finished adjusting his bandage, he flexed his wing gingerly and looked surprised by the improvement. “Huh,” he murmured, grudging respect coloring his tone. “Thank you.”

“Sometimes small changes make a big difference,” you said, standing and dusting off your hands. “No matter where I’m from.”

On the second day, you found yourself face-to-face with Delvon, the camp’s leader. You’d been warned about him by Cassian the night before, but mere words didn’t prepare you for the man’s presence. He strutted toward you as you emerged from a storage hut, his dark eyes narrowed and jaw set, wings mantling behind him as if to emphasize his status.

“So, you’re the ‘expert’ the High Lord sent,” Delvon said, voice dripping with sarcastic disdain. He looked you over as if assessing livestock, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Come to tell us how to heal our own warriors, have you?”

You inclined your head slightly, forcing a polite smile. “I’m here to offer knowledge that may help your people recover faster and better. If you wish to view it as an intrusion, that’s your choice.”

He snorted, stepping closer, invading your personal space. “We’ve managed for generations without Velaris meddling. Next you’ll be telling us how to fight our battles.”

You stood your ground, lifting your chin. “I’m not here to discuss your battle tactics, only to ensure your injured don’t suffer more than necessary.”

Delvon’s lip curled in a sneer. “All that fancy technique and gentle touches—waste of time if they can’t get back to the battlefield. But do as you will, we can ignore it if it’s useless.” With that, he stormed off, wings flaring as if to punctuate his dismissal.

Cassian appeared at your shoulder, having watched from a distance. He rolled his eyes. “That went about as well as expected,” he murmured dryly.

You sighed, tension easing at his words. “At least I know why everyone despises him,” you replied under your breath. “He’s impossible.”

“Delvon’s a relic,” Cassian said, voice low. “A time will come when leaders like him are replaced. Until then, just focus on those who listen.”

And so you did. Despite Delvon’s hostility, you spent your third and final day in Winghaven conducting a brief demonstration for a handful of healers who’d shown genuine interest. You guided them through mixing a new salve that combined Illyrian herbs with a Dawn Court technique of magically infusing warmth into the mixture. A few nodded in quiet approval, clearly seeing the salve’s potential.

When dusk fell on your last evening in Winghaven, you looked over the camp from the edge of a plateau, Cassian beside you. The wind tugged at your hair, carrying the scents of pine and distant snow.

“You made some progress,” Cassian observed.

You let a small, wry smile slip onto your lips. “Some, yes. Enough to plant seeds of change, I hope.”

He laid a comforting hand on your shoulder. “It’s all we can do. Now, let’s head back. Velaris awaits.”

With a final glance at the camp, you turned away, a pocketful of new experiences and a touch more understanding of the Illyrian people weighting your steps. Change might be slow, but you had played your part, and tomorrow, you would return home with new lessons learned.

----

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harridansibyl · 13 days ago

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Personal associations/interpretations of the dark/mystical houses (4th, 6th, 8th, 12th)

4th house

twisted tree roots, cultural practices, heirlooms, photo albums, inherited features, traditions, the mother, past lives, generational trauma, picture books, garden beds, childhood homes, ancestor altars, hand written recipe books, hearth, squeaky wooden floorboards, genealogy archives, caves, oak trees, baby wrap carriers, emotional security, cultural heritage, building foundations, photo albums, genetics, laundry lines, swing sets, property, mines, crops, sanctuaries, the chest and heart, home steads, fields, farms, root cellars, harvests, pots on stoves, brooms, backyards, agriculture, vines on trellises, handmade blankets, grandparents house, laundry baskets, attachment styles, singing lullabies, history, deep emotions, instincts, the unconscious, summer, waxing moon, vase of flowers, bath time, picking berries, celebrating holidays, chicken coops, older sisters, family gatherings, stone paths, forest walks, ancient structures/buildings, ancestral languages, cupboards, staying in

6th house

vitamins and supplements, morning routines, pharmacies, tasks and lists, doctors offices, health food stores, stomach medicine, hygiene practices, journals and planners, schedules, herbal teas, personal rituals, emergency kits, dog walks, lymphatic drainage, caregiving, donating blood, examinations and checkups, meditation, colour coordination, sticky notes, gastrointestinal problems, folded laundry, labels on everything, retirement homes, hand washing, braided hair, herb gardens, filing cabinets, face masks, kombucha, detailed diagrams, volunteer work, medicine cabinets, cleaning supplies, shelves, acts of service, skin care, organic linen, gauze and stitches, stress-induced illnesses, essential oil/herb baths, house plants, instructions, repetition, holistic medicine, giving advice, yoga studios, "gut feeling," bone broth

8th house

altars, divination, near death experiences, candle wax, feeling crushed by a heavy weight, grave dirt, red/dim lighting, funerals, double income, control, the underworld, cheques, insurance, heirlooms, ghost sightings, power imbalances, crime documentaries, ouroboros, bank accounts, grief and loss, shadow work, the womb, manipulation, scrying mirrors, Russian nesting dolls, keys, mortuaries, tests from the universe, pendulums, crime scene tape, the phoenix, projections, credit scores, animal bones on a forest floor, blood stained sheets, metaphysical shops, spiritual attacks, deep emotions, snakes, dead flowers, late autumn, wedding veils, envelopes, full moon, muddy boots, shadows at the corners of your vision, scarab beetles, inner processing, experiencing crisis, inherited possessions, natural disasters, sexual trauma, psychological studies, ancestral connections, cracked dolls, veil between realms, mental illnesses, deep connections, intimacy, reincarnation, torture devices, keys, whirlpools, the sound of sirens, unconscious fears, intense first impressions, pushing limits, feeling bound, scratches on walls, ten of swords

12th house

abandoned places, liminal spaces, long winters, shadowy figures, reoccurring dreams, repeated patterns, fog-filled forests, self analysation, inner worlds, cave systems, unfinished basements, hallucinations, solitary confinement, empty parking garages, spiral staircases, substance abuse, trapped in purgatory, hidden beneath the surface, maladaptive daydreaming, hospital hallways, confines of society, waning moon, moths, wandering aimlessly, disconnection from the world, psych wards, healing others, tired eyes or dark circles, chronic mental illness, suppression, addictions, hiding places, overnight shifts, unexplainable experiences, past life karma, exhaustion, cobwebs, others projections, catacombs, bird cages, premonitions in dreams, prescription bottles, self destructive patterns, late night walks, misty lakes, the feeling of walking out of the movie theater at night, identity crises, blurred faces, empty public transport, astral projection, comas, diary entries, dissociative episodes, shape shifting, generational trauma, observing people, mirrors, padded rooms, the afterlife, chain link fences, paradoxes, feeling misunderstood, repression or memory loss, hikikomori, the freeze response, disappearance, waiting rooms

#astrology #astrology community #astro tumblr #astro notes #astroblr #astrology aesthetic #4th house #6th house #8th house #12th house

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x-z-x · 4 months ago

Text

SAND AND METAL

→ Seth x Goddess!OC [Habibah]

✦ Synopsis: Hathor gives birth to her first descendant, and Seth is the last to find out.

✦ Word Count: 5.3k

✦ Warnings: Incest / Smut + Erotic Asphyxiation.

✦ Spanish Version: Arena y Metal

“What’s happening with Hathor?”

The gods turned at the new voice, and some faces showed displeasure at seeing the latest addition to the room. Seth raised an eyebrow at their reactions, while Sekhmet smiled widely, ready to provide answers.

“Apparently, her daughter is causing trouble,” she said with malicious laughter.

“Since when does she have descendants? Who among you was it?” he asked, slightly aggressive due to the confusion.

“None,” Maat sighed, crossing her arms. “She had an affair some time ago and...”

Seth made a sound indicating his opinion on how foolish it was for her to end up pregnant, then watched them with suspicion, wondering if this had been a secret kept just from him.

“What did she do to make Hathor run through the halls in tears?”

“She was born with her mother’s beauty. She enjoys dancing and travels with a troupe to different cities for performances, but her appearance is drawing quite a lot of attention,” Bastet explained.

“Seriously, the problem is that she has too many suitors?” he scoffed.

“It’s more than that; some are deities who are starting to fight and cause chaos,” Maat said, emphasizing the gravity of the situation. “We asked Hathor to impose order and demand that her daughter act according to her divine title, but...”

“Divine? Did her daughter ascend?” he asked, less sympathetically.

“She is the Goddess of Precious Stones and Metals. Everything we use was crafted by her,” Thoth said, pointing to the impressive necklace he wore.

Isis smiled with mockery, but Seth dismissed the situation as a waste of time and left the place, heading to his temple. Upon arrival, contrary to what he had said, he ordered his most loyal servants to find the young woman who captivated everyone. However, the information didn’t arrive until several months later, and by then, any interest had faded.

Still, Hathor didn’t hesitate to confront him when she learned he knew her precious daughter was coming to the city. Nervous and agitated, it only encouraged the man to dismiss her concerns even more.

“Don’t mess with my baby! I’ll deal with the suitors, erase every trace of affection, and nothing will happen!” she growled, frowning.

“Now you choose to act? Battles and conflicts have arisen because of her, and that’s my territory.”

“She’s the victim, don’t blame her! If you do anything...”

“What?” Seth raised an eyebrow, a challenging smile on his face. “Do you think you can stand up to me?”

Hathor turned crimson, her violet eyes' pupils becoming vertical slits, her aura extremely threatening.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to destroy you if you interfere with her. I don’t care if I have to alter the feelings of every living being to have them protect her and turn against you,” she declared, sparks flying from the tips of her fingers. Then she turned and left the hall.

“Since when does she dare to speak to me like that?” he muttered angrily, tapping his nails against the throne he occupied.

Choosing to go regardless of the circumstances, he instructed them to prepare less conspicuous clothing and to cover his red hair well to remain unnoticed. Wrapped in linen, he set out at dusk for the designated area, frowning at the large number of people already occupying the front rows.

“Sir, please come this way,” a young woman with fine jewelry and a broad smile announced.

“Don’t touch me,” he growled as she grasped his arm.

“Please, I have instructions from the lead interpreter to take you to the front row,” she explained, maintaining her charm.

Seth squinted and moved forward, noticing that several mortals dressed like her were organizing the spectators. Both women and men watched him pass by, curious about who he was as they were led to more favorable spots. When he stopped, they led him to a cushioned area just a few meters from the makeshift stage.

As the sun set, torches were lit, and the musicians settled into their places, quietly chatting among themselves. It took some time before the performance began, and after a while, a man finally welcomed the audience and announced the start of the show. The first to perform were a mixed group dancing in pairs or small ensembles before breaking formation to interact with the audience. Seth admired the performance, wondering where they had found so many beautiful and talented people, while the crowd laughed and applauded at the artists’ infectious enthusiasm.

Minutes passed in a different activity for him, the final act arriving as a curtain was lifted to reveal several female silhouettes that captured everyone’s attention. A different rhythm began to play, and the fabric was released by the men holding it on ladders. Nine women showed their backs, with one standing out at the tip of the V formation. Gradually, they turned, and finally, the face of the girl Seth had come to see appeared, his mouth slightly open in awe.

With a confident and seductive smile, and lips as red as rubies, the goddess lifted her eyelids to reveal dark purple irises, with long lashes inherited from her mother. She walked slowly as the other women scattered across the stage. In perfect synchronization, they began their choreography with incredible flair. Crystals and golden beads intertwined and flew through the air as they twirled, the decorations sparkling as brightly as she did, leaving the audience breathless.

Seth’s red eyes followed every movement, admiring the curves that swayed with mischievous grace. Ignored until she decided to get closer to the prime spot, she crouched with a predatory air and crept to the edge of the platform, supporting herself on her hands and knees. The crowd cheered excitedly as she maintained eye contact, rising at one point and slowly swaying her hips. She traced her legs, thighs, waist, and neck in an extremely sensual display before turning and calling one of the men dancing nearby.

Euphoria erupted at the potential of what might happen, with Seth grinding his teeth and watching almost without blinking as she placed both hands on the man’s shoulders and began to caress him. He held her and spun her around, recognizing her intentions, and stroked her exposed abdomen while maintaining a challenging gaze toward the god. At this point, due to the heat from the large torches and the dance, she glistened with a light sheen of sweat and had cheeks flushed like beautiful garnets.

"I’ll wait for you," she said, her voice fading into the music and the noise.

Seth read her lips and watched as she threw a bracelet at his feet. Some people tried to reach for it, but he covered it with his hand, glaring at them so intensely that they backed off.

Once the event ended, he decided to wait for a signal. Suddenly, the bracelet began to heat up, pulling him with an unseen force in a specific direction. He let it guide him through a couple of crowded streets before turning into an alley, where the woman awaited, leaning against a wall and inspecting her nails.

"I learned of your existence only recently, unlike the rest," he remarked with a hint of reproach.

"It’s understandable. From what I’ve been told, your temper is rather volatile and aggressive," she said, shrugging as if it didn’t matter much. "What brings you here?" she asked, tilting her head and closing the distance between them, but soon found herself trapped as sand coiled around her legs.

"As the God of War and the Desert, I’ve come to deal with the trouble you’re causing with your suitors."

She averted her gaze and rolled her eyes silently, prompting Seth to issue a warning sound that forced her to speak.

"Do you have somewhere more private?"

Seth narrowed his eyes, considering the question before grabbing her by the arm and vanishing in a whirlwind.

"This is…" she hesitated, looking around.

"My temple," he finished, shedding the unnecessary linen, letting his red hair fall freely over his shoulders.

"Wow," she murmured, gently touching a strand. "I could make so many things to enhance this color. It’s so beautiful..."

Seth grabbed her wrist high in warning, allowing her to smile and lick his hand without breaking eye contact.

"Careful, or I’ll cut out your tongue."

She snorted, pulling free and turning her back to him, elegantly walking toward the massive stairs leading to the main building. The jewels and gemstone threads hanging from her chimed harmoniously with each step, glowing brighter as she neared the torches.

"It’s huge. I wouldn’t mind spending a few weeks here," she teased, brushing a wall with her fingers.

Seth followed at a measured distance, his eyes tracking her every move, taking in everything she was. Since he first saw her, an unfamiliar, overwhelming need had been growing inside him, frustratingly hard to ignore.

"Did I offer for you to stay?"

"Don’t you want me to? I’m good company," she turned, walking backward. "Why do you think those who know me fight over having me?" she winked.

"Sex."

"If that’s all, why don’t they forget me when I leave? What makes them cling so tightly?" she slowed her pace, drawing closer. "You saw it tonight—the crowd gets excited just watching me... Even you."

Seth clenched his teeth in frustration, and she stuck her tongue out teasingly.

“Do you have your mother’s permission to be mingling with gods?”

“I haven’t needed her approval in centuries,” she laughed. “I told her today I’d try to avoid causing chaos. Who knows, maybe getting close to the God of War is the solution.”

“You’ll be more trouble than pleasure.”

Her laugh rang out at that, before she pretended to ponder deeply.

“Do you have musicians? Maybe a private dance would change your mind.”

“We have matters to settle first,” he replied indifferently, though she knew a little push would make him fall. “What’s your name?”

"I'll tell you depending on what you decide after my dance."

He clenched his jaw, hating the carefree tone in her voice and the mischievous glint in her eyes. The constant smile was unnerving, making it seem like she was the one in control.

"Why do you live like a nomad, performing shows?"

"Mortal or immortal, every being is born with a family they can cherish—or not. My mother is one of the best things that’s ever happened to me, and she'll always have a place in my heart. But the rest doesn’t really matter much. I met people who share my interests, people I enjoy spending my days with. They trust me, and I trust them, so I chose them," she explained, a new air surrounding her. "I won't leave that caravan, not when everyone I care about has an expiration date."

"You have feelings unbefitting of a deity."

"What is a god without humanity? If you don’t understand the people you’re meant to protect, represent, and serve, how can you be an empathetic and respectable ruler?" she asked, her eyes filled with pure seriousness. "I know I’ll never rule Egypt, but that doesn’t make me indifferent to those who pray to me."

"By the way you speak, I have no doubt you’re close to Osiris and Isis."

"Well thought out, both had a big hand in raising me," she responded, crossing her arms and shifting her weight to one hip.

"Whatever," he mimicked her stance, looking her up and down. "Are you incapable of ordering your lovers to stop fighting over you?"

"Most haven’t even managed to lay a finger on me; they fight purely for the desire to do so. I’ve intervened, but the one who really should be stepping up here is Nephthys and encouraging peace."

"I don't question that. They should’ve turned to her from the start."

"She’s your sister. If she doesn’t act, you could ask her."

"Who do you think I am, a messenger?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Wow," she sighed, tilting her head. "So what now, we sleep together and let the rumor spread to scare the gods?"

"You’re really persistent. Do you want me that badly?" He clicked his tongue, grinning smugly.

The question drew a dry laugh from her as she stepped closer.

"I won’t deny you’re incredibly attractive, but even before you showed up at the performance, I knew I was in the mood for some fun tonight. If you don’t join me, I’ll find someone else to satisfy me."

Seth exhaled and held her gaze, his heart racing as he fought the urge to look away, feeling as if she were pulling him closer to the edge of a cliff.

"I believe you promised to dance and change my mind, didn’t you?"

"Finally, we’re getting to the important part," she said, pleased, taking a step back. "Lead me to your musicians."

Without delay, he took the lead and left her waiting outside as he entered a room. From the corridor, she could hear the hurried greetings of men and women as they scrambled to follow his commands, a few accidental notes sounding in the shuffle. A considerable line of people soon filed out, their eyes widening as they caught sight of her. She smiled, reveling in the way some let their jaws drop in astonishment.Seth exhaled and held her gaze, his heart racing as he fought the urge to look away, feeling as if she were pulling him closer to the edge of a cliff.

"I believe you promised to dance and change my mind, didn’t you?"

"Finally, we’re getting to the important part," she said, pleased, taking a step back. "Lead me to your musicians."

“What’s keeping you all busy?” Seth asked from the back, his voice causing everyone to snap out of their stupor and hasten their movements.

"If you decide not to have sex with me, I’m glad to know I won’t have to look far for another partner."

He shot her a sidelong glance, gritted his teeth, and then tossed his hair back.

"Let’s go."

They walked calmly, with Seth entering first into a vast room where a massive mattress lay nearly at floor level. Posts with large curtains were arranged to shield the bed from view, while four attendants lit incense and prepared alcohol.

"Release the side curtains."

Another small group hurried to comply, loosening the ties and leaving only one section uncovered.

"Interesting," the goddess remarked, taking a few steps around the room.

The musicians arranged their instruments and took positions concealed by heavy drapes, their role clearly to observe the guest.

"Prepare as you wish," Seth said with an indifferent gesture before heading to the bed and reclining against a large mound of pillows.

Two women approached with golden goblets filled with wine, which both accepted before the temple owner instructed them to leave.

As she drank calmly, she approached the musicians to discuss her preferences. They exchanged opinions and reached an agreement on how to proceed. Satisfied with the outcome, she moved several meters from the bed and took her place directly in front of the open section.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Are you?” he replied, raising an eyebrow as the incense began to fill the room.

Winking, she emptied his glass in one gulp and raised it in the air. At this signal, the musicians began to play as she turned her back to him, keeping her arm extended above her head.

As she swayed her hips slowly, the gold she wore started to melt and reshape. It dripped down her arm, first forming a small head and then an elongated body. The newly formed snake coiled and descended to rest around her neck. With both hands on the sensitive area, she turned slowly and smiled with her eyes closed, letting herself be carried away by the music. She caressed her collarbones and shoulders before extending her arms, while the serpentine creation moved across her chest and encircled her. Suddenly, a piece of fabric fell away, revealing a breast.

As if nothing had happened, she continued her dance, the metal caressing and embracing every part of her body as it descended. Her adorned wrists and fingers skimmed her skin and created perfect movements in the air, captivating the onlookers who held their breath as the serpent approached the garment covering her most intimate area.

Unperturbed, she turned and placed both hands on the back of her legs, carefully lifting a bit of the fabric. The serpent coiled one of its segments around her thigh to keep her hand in place, taking advantage of the opportunity to slither beneath her skirt.

A murmur rose from the left side, and the woman glanced over her shoulder to see Seth’s unblinking gaze, though one of his eyebrows twitched involuntarily at a comment she couldn't quite decipher. With a smile, she arched her back and bent her body backward, her free fingers caressing from her abdomen up to the exposed breast, squeezing it with delight.

The serpent gradually released her, and she turned to show how it emerged from the front, starting to rise and drag the fabric up to the edge of revealing her inner thigh. However, she made sure not to expose too much, guiding it to change direction slightly. She pivoted on one foot, preparing for the imminent drumbeat, and at that moment, she fell to her knees with her hands extended and her hair cascading forward.

She slowly straightened up, and the musicians adjusted their rhythm to match her movements. Seated in a W shape with her legs apart, she locked eyes with Seth and felt the intense heat from his red gaze, which made her smile. She then turned her attention to one of the women who had earlier caught her eye. Attractive and alluring, the woman was a tempting prospect if Seth chose to let her go. In an instant, the protagonist contemplated how to seduce her, but the god’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

Everyone snapped out of their trance and ceased their actions, the musicians hurriedly gathering their instruments and leaving the room. Within minutes, they were alone, and she approached the foot of the bed, tilting her head with curiosity.

“Didn’t you like the performance?”

Seth took a deep breath, finished his wine, and threw the glass off the bed with a loud clink. He adjusted himself and gestured with his index finger, signaling her to come closer. She smiled and took a few steps onto the bed, getting on all fours and crawling towards him until she was on top. The serpent, curious, slithered over the red-haired man’s body as they locked eyes.

“It was disrespectful of you to look at someone else when you should have been trying to convince me.”

“Is that why you cut off the dance? I was just assessing the best option in case you decided to pass on such an incredible opportunity,” she defended herself, moving closer until their faces were only a few centimeters apart. “So, what’s your answer?”

After a moment of silence, he placed his right hand on her head to close the distance. Their lips met and quickly intertwined, his feeling incredibly soft mixed with the aroma of the wine they had drunk.

"When you decided to meet me, had you planned this?" she asked as he pulled away, his hand caressing the small of her back.

"You’re the first descendant of Hathor, and she had hidden you from me jealously. It was just curiosity," she replied. "And you? Why did you give me the bracelet?"

"Isn’t it obvious? You captivated me the moment I saw you. I definitely wanted us to share a bed."

Seth flashed a small sidelong smile and brushed her hair back, the intertwined lines of gems shining in his hand as he gathered it.

“What’s your name?” he asked, even more dazzled by her incredible appearance up close.

She smiled and tilted her head towards one of the curtains, as if deciding whether to reveal the information. Finally, she turned back and kissed the palm resting on her cheek.

“Habibah, which means ‘the one who is loved,’” she confessed, with a look of complicity.

“Your mother really knew what she was doing, because that’s how everyone seems to feel when they meet you.”

“Even the God of War and the Desert?”

“I’m not like the others. Do you think you can make me feel the same way?” he said with a touch of challenge, but sounding more like an invitation to continue what they had started.

Accepting the challenge and everything it implied, she kissed him deeply, her tongue exploring his. Seth caressed her warm skin and then pressed down, aligning their bodies so that she could feel his erection. Without hesitation, she began to move her hips, and he let out a pleased sigh, his hands finding their way to her waist.

Habibah ran a hand through his red hair and descended slowly, tracing her way down his chest until she focused on one of his nipples. Seth gritted his teeth, undid the clasp of the upper fabric, and started to caress what was within reach, instructing her to lie down.

Without hesitation, she moved a few pillows and settled against the soft mattress, watching as the serpent coiled around the man’s arm like a perfect and beautiful accessory. He barely noticed the gold, focusing instead on returning her affections. Habibah closed her eyes and took a deep breath as his lips arrived at her breasts. She caressed his shoulders and back, lightly scratching as she felt him burning like the desert under the sun.

The incense began to take effect, lightening their minds and giving way to an intense desire that drove them to hold each other with urgency. Their hips searched for each other frantically, moaning against one another in broken kisses, their legs and arms entwined in a connection with no clear beginning or end.

Habibah slipped a hand between them, urgently seeking his erection, which she attended to with skillful movements until she lifted the fabric that covered his intimacy. Seth created some distance and propped himself on his knees, removing the minimal clothing and setting it aside before focusing on her. Completely naked and adorned only with jewelry, she settled herself as he took her legs and dragged her over his thighs. The movement elicited a small surprised sound from Habibah, and he watched her expectantly while caressing the outer side of her legs.

“Do it,” she encouraged, brushing his stomach with a hand.

Seth tightened his grip, leaving momentary marks before releasing her and taking his erection. With a single movement, he inserted the tip and then thrust in a steady rhythm until he reached the deepest point. Both moaned, and the woman arched her back with a wide smile while pulling the sheets.

“You’re incredibly wet,” he growled, his cheeks flushed with satisfaction.

“You say that as if it’s something strange. Don’t women get excited with you?”

She shivered with excitement and pleasure as a sharp, red gaze emerged among the fiery hair. The intense tickling sensation made her laugh with delight until she nearly screamed as he began to thrust forcefully. Breathless, she tried to steady herself amidst the sounds of raw impact, the heat and pleasure spreading like waves from the center of her body to every corner.

"You shouldn’t be competing with the God of War," he said with a proud expression.

"I don’t mind losing," she replied honestly, though she knew it would only fuel the fire further.

Seth narrowed his eyes but soon regained his composure, placing his hands on the mattress with a feigned calm as she wrapped her legs around his body. She swayed her hips, feeling his member pressing down, and he resumed the movement with great force after a hiss. Habibah pulled him towards her by the nape to kiss him, shivering as his tongue entered and took control. The thrusts were relentless, with a stamina reminiscent of someone who had fought countless battles to defend Egypt.

With tearful eyes, she admired the man moving above her, pushing aside her strands of hair to see him better, noticing the earrings that moved violently in sync with their owner.

"I’ll make you some prettier ones," she said, brushing against the fine, rectangular gold plate.

"How can you think of that in the middle of sex?"

"Maybe you should try harder," she pressed, noticing how the atmosphere shifted in the blink of an eye.

The room fell silent, and Habibah's skin tingled as she realized she had made a mistake.

"Turn around," he commanded as he withdrew from her, not waiting for her to move and grabbing her by the arm to start repositioning her.

Any doubt vanished when she lost her breath again, feeling Seth penetrate her abruptly and hold her by the neck with considerable force. She was left gasping for air and tried to grab his wrist, but the sand made her hands stick to the bed.

"Such behavior with someone who was born long before you is very inappropriate," he growled, his abs tensing as he gradually adjusted the angle to graze the spot that would drive her wild. "Talking less and learning would do you a lot of good."

Involuntarily, Habibah’s eyes rolled back as he found her most sensitive area, her legs wanting to give out but unable to do so due to the force with which he held her.

“Se… th…” she called, her muscles trembling in a way she had never experienced before.

“Hmm?” he asked, loosening his grip.

A bit of awareness returned to her as she tried to ask for a breath amidst the perfect administrations. However, Seth increased his effort, making it impossible for her to speak.

Cursing inwardly, she let her head drop as moisture dripped down her thighs, slightly staining the sheets. Seth held her by the hips for added stability and wrapped sand around her neck, the itching heightening the effects of pleasure and strangulation. Any cries and moans were muffled or cut off, with only a few gasps escaping as he breathed heavily and occasionally growled in deep satisfaction.

Struggling to swallow and relishing the challenge, Habibah briefly focused and set the serpent in motion. The god's hips lost their rhythm, and she glanced over her shoulder to see the golden creature firmly wrapped around the redhead's throat.

“T-Two…” she tried to say, and he deliberately loosened his grip. “Two can play… this game,” she smiled proudly, though she soon rolled her eyes and propped herself up on her elbows.

He breathed heavily, the metal not yielding in the slightest and intensifying his own sensations.

“I knew you’d be a pain if I brought you to the temple,” he growled, his brow furrowed.

Habibah tried to laugh, but a strange sound escaped as she felt the onset of her orgasm.

“But I… I also give you pleasure,” she defended, feeling her lungs burn and forcing the gold to make him suffer the same way she did.

A desperate, frustrated groan escaped from the man, who felt the constriction sending electric waves to his erection. He clenched his jaw and threw his head back, pushing into her with renewed urgency to provoke the impending climax.

Both seemed to have lost control of their consciousness and bodies as they moved, overwhelmed by the need to escape the pleasure consuming them. They were on the brink of fainting, allowing brief moments of calm before their necks were swiftly constricted again.

Habibah's spasms intensified, reaching a climax that opened a new world of pleasure. Her legs trembled uncontrollably, making lascivious sounds as the moisture increased significantly with the release. The pressure of her walls became too much for Seth to bear, and the stimulation pushed him to his limit, culminating inside her. He trembled and groaned loudly, delivering the final thrusts with some difficulty until the stimulation became overwhelming and he stopped.

Both the metal and the sand loosened, and they both breathed heavily, their eyelids drooping as they collapsed onto the mattress, savoring the comfort. Habibah, lying face down, slowly turned to look at the man, who had one arm draped over his forehead as he steadied himself. He looked just as beautiful, if not more so, with an enviable profile and eye and hair color that she would love to highlight with various creations.

“That was good,” the young woman sighed, stretching her arms.

Seth watched her, unknowingly mimicking her movements, silently admiring the beauty that had captivated him at a single glance. They chatted a bit and decided that this would be the only round, though their mouths didn't escape some additional entanglements until they surrendered to sleep.

When the sun was high, the god cracked open his eyes and, groggy, took a few minutes to become aware of his surroundings. Floral scents filled the air, none of which were familiar, so he looked around and noticed Habibah’s absence. Frowning, he sat up, ready to get up and find out if she had left, but then he heard a noise in the room and, cautiously, drew back the curtains.

Facing away from the window, the goddess examined herself in the mirror as she applied a type of oil to her face. Her hair was wet and slicked back, the sunlight streaming in and drying it quickly. She was visibly focused and didn't realize that Seth had awakened until his bare feet made a soft noise on the floor.

“Good morning,” Habibah smiled as she applied perfume.

“I see you found the bathrooms.”

“Yes, after the show and our entanglement, I needed to freshen up.”

“I still have the bracelet you threw at me.”

“It’s yours,” she said, looking at the object. “With it, if you ever get bored and miss me, you can find me wherever I am and relive last night,” she winked playfully.

Seth clicked his tongue and looked at the accessory, feeling his stomach churn. The stones sparkled as much as she did in the sun.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Still, you should be prepared for when my mother sees you wearing something of mine,” she warned, stretching her neck to examine the marks he had left.

“Not much she can do,” he brushed off, placing a hand on his hip. “Are you heading to the caravan?”

“Yes, I need to let them know I’m okay and ready for tonight’s performance.”

“How long will you stay in the city?”

“Until the next full moon.”

They fell silent for a moment, and Seth crossed his arms, looking out the window at the clear sky.

“Stay here.”

“Excuse me?” Habibah raised both eyebrows, admiring his chiseled face.

“During the night, don’t sleep in the caravan. Come here.”

“Every night?” she asked, surprised.

Seth nodded, and she blinked, perplexed, but then gave a quick affirmative gesture.

“I would love to, thank you.”

“I’ll go take a bath. Do as you wish in the temple.”

“Are problems included?” she asked mischievously, and he tilted his head.

“No.”

“But…”

“If so, I’ll punish you.”

“Somehow, that sounds very promising. Maybe you should give me a lesson,” she laughed, playful and seductive.

“I’ve just gotten up,” he said with a yawn, still feeling the remnants of the previous night. “We’ll catch up later.”

“Of course, I’ll make sure to say goodbye before I leave.”

As she watched his back, Habibah dropped any pretense and smiled slyly, knowing that the man was falling for her. He wasn’t different from any other human or deity, but Seth was undoubtedly the one she truly desired, and she would give him everything if he surrendered at her feet.

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moonselune · 3 months ago

Note

Could I please request headcanons or a Drabble for postgame Tailor!Astarion x reader? The worms are eating my brain I can’t stop thinking about him pinning dresses on his s/o with a measuring tape round his neck

The brain worms entered my head as well upon reading this

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Tailor!Astarion xf!reader | The Most Beautiful Mannequin

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion worked with a meticulous grace, his hands sure and steady as they roamed over your body, pinning fabric here and there. It was strange, to see him in this domestic light. Gone was the battle-hardened vampire spawn with his daggers and shortswords in hand, now replaced by a man who had found peace in the art of tailoring, his fingers just as deft with needle and thread as they’d been with blades.

The light of the afternoon sun spilled through the window of your shared home, bathing the room in a warm glow. You stood in front of the mirror, dressed in little more than the fabric he’d carefully draped over you, while Astarion worked around you like an artist with his masterpiece.

He was muttering something to himself, eyes narrowed in concentration as he adjusted the hem of the dress. A length of measuring tape hung around his neck, and a handful of pins were tucked between his lips, their metallic gleam catching the light. Every now and then, he’d pluck one from his mouth and secure a fold of fabric, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that sent a shiver up your spine.

“You know,” he said around the pins, his voice slightly muffled but still carrying that familiar, teasing lilt, “this would go much faster if you could stay still for even half a minute.”

“I’m trying,” you protested, though the soft laugh that followed betrayed your amusement. “It’s not easy when you keep poking me with pins.”

“Well, if you didn’t wriggle so much, my dear, I wouldn’t have to poke you,” he countered, raising an eyebrow as he removed the pins from his mouth and placed them on a nearby table. “Honestly, you’d think you’d never been fitted for a dress before.”

“Not by someone like you,” you murmured, letting your eyes linger on him for a moment. He wore a simple linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing the pale, smooth skin of his forearms, and there was a casual elegance to him that made your heart skip a beat.

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” he replied with a smirk, though you could see the faint flush that crept up his neck. “Now, arms up. I need to see how this falls.”

You obliged, lifting your arms as he instructed, and he stepped closer, his body brushing against yours as he adjusted the fabric over your shoulders. You could feel the warmth radiating off him, the gentle press of his fingers as they smoothed out a crease. His touch was so light, so careful, as if he was afraid that one wrong move might tear the delicate material—or perhaps tear you.

He took a step back, scrutinizing his work with a critical eye, before making another adjustment, his fingers brushing against your waist.

“Much better,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “You know, I must say, you do make for quite the lovely mannequin.”

“Mannequin?” you repeated, giving him a mock glare. “I didn’t realize I’d been reduced to nothing more than a glorified coat hanger.”

“Well, if you could refrain from moving every other second, perhaps I could start seeing you as something more,” he teased, his lips quirking into that familiar, devilish grin. “But alas, you’re not making it easy, darling.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re adorable,” he shot back without missing a beat, stepping closer once more.

This time, his hands rested on your hips, his touch lingering, and you felt your heart skip a beat as he leaned in, his breath ghosting against your ear.

“Besides,” he murmured, “it’s not every day I get to play dress-up with the most beautiful person in all the realms.”

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks at his words, and you bit your lip to keep from smiling too widely.

“You’re incorrigible,” you muttered.

“And yet, you adore me,” he replied smugly, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck before he pulled away to continue his work.

For a while, you stood there in comfortable silence, letting him work his magic. Every so often, you’d catch him stealing glances at you in the mirror, a soft, almost tender expression crossing his face before he quickly masked it with that practiced smirk. It was those moments that made your heart ache with affection, that reminded you just how much he’d changed, how far you’d both come since the days of endless battles and bloodshed.

“There,” he said finally, stepping back to admire his handiwork. “What do you think?”

You turned to look at yourself in the mirror, your breath catching in your throat. The dress was exquisite, the fabric hugging your body in all the right places, the cut and stitching flawless. It was a work of art, and you couldn’t help but marvel at how perfectly it suited you, as if it had been made for you—and in a way, it had.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed, turning to face him, your eyes shining with gratitude. “You’re amazing, Astarion.”

He shrugged, though you could see the pride in his eyes, the way his chest puffed out just a little.

“Well, I do try,” he said, though his voice was softer now, more genuine. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it,” you corrected, reaching out to take his hand in yours. “And I love you.”

He blinked, his eyes widening slightly before he let out a soft laugh, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

��Always so sentimental,” he teased, though there was no bite to his words, only warmth. “But for once, I suppose I’ll allow it.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips.

“Thank you,” you said, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. “For everything.”

He hummed, a pleased sound rumbling in his chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close.

“Anything for you, darling,” he murmured against your lips, his eyes shining with a love that made your heart feel like it might burst. “Anything at all.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Oh I actually adore Tailor!Astarion so much, and I hope you guys adore him too! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

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theambitiouswoman · 2 years ago

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Hygiene tips

Wash your hands thoroughly with soap and water for at least 20 seconds, especially before eating, after using the restroom, after coughing or sneezing, and after touching public surfaces.

Carry a hand sanitizer with you. Make sure the sanitizer contains at least 60% alcohol and rub it over your hands until dry.

When coughing or sneezing, cover your mouth and nose with a tissue or your elbow to prevent the spread of germs. Dispose of used tissues immediately.

Refrain from touching your eyes, nose, and mouth as much as possible, as these are entry points for germs into your body.

Take showers or baths regularly to keep your body clean and fresh. Use soap and water to thoroughly cleanse your body, paying attention to areas like armpits, feet, and groin.

Brush your teeth at least twice a day for two minutes each time, using fluoride toothpaste. Don't forget to clean your tongue, and replace your toothbrush every three to four months.

Keep your nails short and clean to prevent the buildup of dirt and bacteria. Use a nail brush to scrub under your nails regularly.

Regularly clean and disinfect frequently touched surfaces in your home, such as doorknobs, light switches, countertops, and electronics. Also, keep your living space well-ventilated.

Wash your clothes, bed linens, and towels regularly, following the manufacturer's instructions. Use the appropriate water temperature and detergent to ensure proper cleanliness.

Avoid sharing personal items like towels, razors, toothbrushes, or makeup.

Practice good food hygiene by washing fruits and vegetables thoroughly before consumption. Cook food to the appropriate temperature to kill harmful bacteria, and refrigerate leftovers promptly.

Keep your surroundings clean: Regularly clean and disinfect commonly touched surfaces such as doorknobs, light switches, phones, keyboards, and remote controls. This helps eliminate germs that may be present on these surfaces.

Maintain clean and healthy feet: Keep your feet clean and dry to prevent fungal infections. Wash your feet regularly, dry them thoroughly (especially between the toes), and wear clean socks and well-fitting shoes.

Ensure that the water you use for drinking, cooking, and personal hygiene is clean and safe. If necessary, use water filters or boil the water before use.

If possible, use a shower filter.

If you are sexually active, use barrier methods (such as condoms) to protect yourself from sexually transmitted infections. Get regular check-ups and screenings as recommended by healthcare professionals.

Take care of your mental well-being by managing stress, getting enough sleep, engaging in regular physical activity, and seeking support when needed. Good mental health is essential for overall well-being.

Sleep with aloe vera on your face to help with scars and acne.

Massage your body with oils and lotions after shower or before bed.

Eat greek yogurt to help fix PH balance, acne and odor in your private area.

Wear cotton based underwear.

Do not treat your body like a trashcan.

To smell good during the day:

Regular bathing helps remove sweat, dirt, and odor-causing bacteria from your body.

Apply antiperspirant or deodorant to clean, dry underarms to control sweat and odor.

You can also use baking soda and lemon to get rid of under arm odor.

Put on freshly laundered clothes each day. Clean clothing helps prevent the buildup of odor-causing bacteria and keeps you smelling fresh.

When choosing clothes, opt for natural fibers like cotton or linen, which allow air to circulate and help wick away moisture from your body. Avoid synthetic materials that can trap sweat and lead to unpleasant odors.

Brush your teeth at least twice a day, floss daily, and use mouthwash to maintain fresh breath. Don't forget to clean your tongue as well.

Apply a pleasant fragrance, such as perfume or cologne, sparingly. Avoid excessive application, as it can be overwhelming to others. Focus on pulse points like the wrists, neck, or behind the ears.

Keep your feet clean and dry to prevent foot odor. Wash your feet daily, dry them thoroughly (especially between the toes), and wear clean socks and well-ventilated shoes.

Regularly brush your tongue, as it can harbor bacteria and contribute to bad breath. Visit your dentist regularly for check-ups and cleanings.

Drink plenty of water throughout the day to flush out toxins from your body. Staying hydrated can help prevent the buildup of odors.

Certain foods, such as garlic, onions, and spicy dishes, can contribute to body odor. Pay attention to your diet and make choices that minimize strong odors if you are concerned about smelling good.

Keep a small travel-sized deodorant, wet wipes, or refreshing body spray with you to freshen up during the day, especially in hot or humid weather.

Ensure your clothes, towels, and bed linens are washed regularly. Use a detergent with a fresh scent to keep them smelling clean.

Spray perfume on your brush or use natural oils that are safe for your hair.

Wipe front to back to avoid infections. Use toilet paper then wipes.

moisturize your skin.

When washing your hair, make sure you are using products that clean your hair without drying it out.

Keep feminine wipes with you.

#hygiene tips #healthy living #health and wellness #womens health #womens health and fitness #personal hygiene #level up journey #levelupjourney #clean aesthetic #clean girl #glow up tips #glow up #high value woman #self care #beauty tips #health tips #healthy lifestyle

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so-i-did-this-thing · 28 days ago

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Hi Nicholas! I'm intimidated by laundry care for more suit-like clothing; got any tips? (Or is semi regular dry cleaning just something I need to suck up if I want to dress like you?) Thanks!

As long as you're not getting them filthy, you really only need to dryclean your suits/sports coats every 3 or so months, assuming you wear them once a week. Over cleaning wool is not great for the fabric. Brush and lint roll your suits to get the majority of the particles off of them.

There is the spritzing of vodka trick in order to cut down on odor, but if you are at that point, get the clothes dry cleaned. The vodka trick is mainly for stuff that can't be hand washed or dry cleaned (like a lot of costuming things).

In between, you should be rotating suits, keeping them hung on nice hefty hangers. Use a steamer to get the wrinkles out.

Check the wash instructions on dress shirts. Hanging them to dry is usually best. A good cotton undershirt will go a long way to keeping sweat stains in check.

Sweaters have the same wash cycle as suits, only you can hand wash them at home in cool water with a gentle detergent, letting them air dry flat. More instructions here.

It's a little extra care to dress nicer, but suits are pretty sturdy things, and only get annoying to maintain, imo, when they are a thinner, wrinkle-prone material like an unlined linen.

#fashion #men's fashion

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knife-dad · 3 months ago

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Thrifted fashion tips from me, a peer reviewed fashion girlie, and 3rd generation thrift shopper:

Take a look at the tags on your favorite clothes and look for items with a similar fabric blend (I love rayon and linen myself) and don't forget to look at the care instructions! It's good to know what kind of effort you'll have to make to care for vintage clothing before you buy it. I tend to pass on things I know I won't be able to clean properly.

Take a look at the brands as you shop! In this case, it's not about looking for high-end brands, even though those do end up at the thrift on occasion. This is about finding brands you consistently enjoy wearing. For example: I know I tend to like Sag Harbor skirts. They aren't highly sought after by resellers, but they're sought after by me! If I find one, I know it will probably be a regularly used part of my wardrobe and is therefore a good investment.

Don't worry about trends or seeking out high value items. The thrift store is NOT a good place to try and stay on top of microtrends- none of that stuff will hit the thrift until the trend is over anyway. It's also almost never worth it to compete with resellers for the "good" stuff. In my experience, the items that are meant for you will be there if you are patient.

The thrift store is a great place to start when you want to experiment with new styles! You can find something relatively cheap that's outside of your comfort zone without feeling guilty if you have to donate it later. And if you end up really loving a certain style, you'll know what to look for when you shop for new clothes at regular stores. It's also a great way to get familiar with brands from big box stores without paying full price. If you know what you like from the thrift, it makes regular shopping easier.

Basically, shopping at the thrift store is all about looking for hidden potential. Just about anything can be styled in a fun way, if you think outside the box. If you want fun clothes for thrift prices, you're going to have to be willing to spend time on sifting through many things that are not your style in search of what's right for you. You'll need to get creative- it helps to have basic mending and jewelry making skills, so you can confidently adjust things to suit you.

That said, it's important to be considerate of other shoppers: I know thrifting is kind of a trend right now, but there are a lot of families for whom it isn't a trend but a necessity. While you're shopping, try not to shop too far outside your size range. Resizing a fun piece here and there isn't bad, but it's good to make sure you're not taking useful children's and plus sized clothing from the reach of people who need it.

And most important of all, have fun!

#thrifting #fashion tips #text posts to the void

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coco-loco-nut · 8 months ago

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Daddy’s Girl - Part 2

pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x Stroll Reader

summary: you bring Daniel on the family vacation

a/n: thanks for the request!

masterlist part one

——————

You invited Daniel to the annual winter family vacation, this year to a beautiful beach in Fiji. Lance has finally just come around to the idea of you and Daniel. It’s also Daniel’s first time meeting your mom, Chloe, and her husband Scotty.

“I’m actually a little nervous,” Daniel says as you board one of your families private jets from Australia, opting for a take off time that will have you landing in the morning.

“I promise there won’t be a repeat of the dinner, just be a little more careful than usual since they haven’t met you yet and you’ll be fine,” you sit in the chair across from your boyfriend.

“I can handle it, for a week of relaxation with my girl,” he smiles at you, “and getting to see you in a bikini,” Daniel winks, never missing an opportunity to turn something dirty.

“If you want to see that all you have to do is ask, honey badger. I hope you brushed up your golf skills too, because Dad will probably want you to go golfing with them, and before you ask, no I won’t be there for you to stare at in a skirt,” you tell Daniel, one step ahead of him.

“How do you feel about joining the mile high club?” Daniel asks, his lips close to your ear once you’ve taken off and the pilot turns off the seatbelt light.

“I think it’s a good thing this is an overnight flight,” you reply, heart beating faster.

“Be a good girl for me and go back to that bed made up just for us,” Daniel instructs, the air thickening between you, so you say the one thing that will mess with him.

“Yes, daddy,” you smirk, moving towards the back of the plane where a bed is made up from the couch.

The pilot wakes you up before descent with an announcement, you scramble to get back into your seat and buckled.

“It’s beautiful,” you gasp as you look out at the island.

“Not as beautiful as you,” Daniel compliments, your cheeks flame.

“Danny, shut up,” your laughter fills the plane. It’s not too much longer before you deplane and a short ride gets you to the rented villa.

“Y/n! And you must be Daniel, welcome to the villa, I’m very happy you made it,” your mom greets you with a hug. Daniel goes for the handshake but your mom hugs him anyway. She still comes on the family vacation despite your dad remarrying. His new wife, Raquel, did not join this time, busy back home.

“Thank you for having me, I hope I’m not intruding,” Daniel says, he’s not always the rakish Australian that you love.

“Of course you aren’t, come in, breakfast is almost ready,” your mom shows you your room first, so you can drop your luggage and change before breakfast.

You opt for a bikini covered by a tee and linen shorts, Daniel goes off of your vibe, wearing something he would back home. The best part about the villa is that all the bedrooms are separated from the main living space and yours happens to overlook the beach with its own private patio.

“We’re on vacation, no need to dress fancy unless it’s a special dinner,” you grab his hand and drag him down to the kitchen table. “Sit, I’ll grab us coffee and food,” you smile, he just follows your lead.

“Daniel seems like a nice guy, Dad spoke kindly of him,” your older sister, Chloe says, sliding up beside you.

“The only thing Daddy doesn’t like is his age. Lancie was mad at me for a while, I guess Danny is his rival,” you tell her everything that you’ve said over the phone before.

“Well you look happy, that’s enough for me,” she hugs you.

“How was the flight here?” you ask, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing.

“Good, poor Lance is the only one who doesn’t have a partner here, but it was a long flight. We only got here an hour before you. How was yours?” Chloe wiggles her eyebrows.

“Very nice, shorter than yours because we left from Australia, but I can say that I am a part of the exclusive club. Don’t tell Daddy, he will actually kill Danny,” you look at her and she just smirks.

“Scotty and I did the same thing on that plane, who am I to judge?”

“Girls, once the coffee is done help me carry in the food,” your mom tells you both.

“You take the coffee in, I’ll help Mom,” you tell Chloe, who doesn’t argue. You follow behind her with plates of food, setting them on the table and taking your seat between Danny and Lance.

“Morning, Y/n,” Lance greets you with a tired smile.

“Morning, Lancie,” you take a sip of the coffee Chloe poured you. Breakfast isn’t too eventful, just quiet chatter as everyone is still a bit tired from the flight.

“I’m going to go sleep a little bit, you are welcome to join me,” you tell Daniel, who happily follows you back to the bedroom. You make sure to set an alarm so that you don’t sleep longer than a couple hours, and it doesn’t take you long to fall asleep, the warm ocean breeze combined with Daniel’s superior cuddles knocks you out quickly.

You spend the rest of your day lounging on the beach, catching up with your sister and mom. Daniel is also on the beach, but he’s talking racing with Lawrence, Lance, and Scotty, even though they all promised that they wouldn’t.

As the sun sets, you all sit down for dinner, prepared by the private chef service that is a part of the villa rental.

“Will you pass me the water, Daddy?” you ask your dad, slightly kicking Daniel as he seemed to start reaching.

“Here you are, sweetheart,” it’s a relief that no one noticed Daniel’s reaction. Once you pout your water, you give Daniel an unimpressed look to which he just grins. You would do anything for that smile.

The next couple days are extremely relaxing, spent swimming in the pool, playing on the beach, and a lot of sex. Daniel couldn’t help the last part, have you seen yourself? You are an absolute goddess, plus your sun kissed skin from all the time spent outside, completely irresistible. You felt the same way, the tropical air making his curls bounce, his tan skin and toned abs, you could jump him anytime.

On the fourth day, Lawrence takes the guys golfing and your mom takes you and your sister to a spa to gossip and relax.

“So, when are you joining the married couple club?” Chloe asks as the three of you are in your massage.

“I’m not sure, Daniel is really focused on getting his career back on track, plus it’s nice to just follow him around the world and not be planning a wedding. If it’s meant to be, it will happen, but it’s still pretty early in the relationship and I am a lot younger than him,” you say, not concerned about holding your thoughts back.

“Honey, that doesn’t matter. If it’s right, it’s right. I haven’t seen you happier with anyone else and the two of you look at each other like you are the only ones in the world. Plus from what I’ve heard you tell your sister, you have a very healthy sex life,” your mom adds to the conversation and you lift your head a little to look at her.

“Mom!” you let out a scandalized gasp.

“It’s natural, it’s a good thing. Just wrap it before you tap it,” she brushes it off, savoring the spa experience.

“Scotty and I have been talking to Lance and Daniel. Lance has said nothing but good things about Daniel and Daniel cannot stop telling us about how much he adores you,”

“I would marry him if he asked, all I’m saying is that there’s no need to rush into it,” you defend yourself, putting an end to the conversation.

“Sir, I would like permission to marry your daughter. I’m not going to ask yet, I think it’s better to wait until we’ve been together for a little longer, but your daughter is the one for me. Y/n is perfect in every way and I want to make her happy for the rest of her life,” Daniel says to Lawrence as they stand off to the side, watching Scotty and Lance tee off.

“No,” Lawrence says, wanting to see the drivers reaction.

“I respect that sir, but I do think that Y/n wants to marry me eventually and if that will make her happy then I will marry her despite your wishes,” Daniel sets his jaw, trying to think where he went wrong. Lawrence didn’t see him make a move to grab the water the other night, did he?

“I’m kidding, son. You have my permission, but if you mess it up, I will end your racing career,” Lawrence smiles, happy that his baby girl is happy and found a life partner.

“Thank you, sir. I wouldn’t expect less,” Daniel breathes a sigh of relief.

When the guys get back to the villa, they spot the girls on the couch, wrapped in light blankets, watching old Disney movies.

“You guys took relaxing to heart. I should’ve joined you instead,” Lance quickly makes his way to couch, squeezing in between his siblings.

“Do you girls want wine?” Lawrence asks, an amused smile on his face.

“Yes, Daddy,” you and Chloe purposefully say in unison, watching Daniel and Scotty restrain themselves at the last second.

“Boys, come help me out,” Lawrence tells Scotty and Daniel, not noticing their reactions.

The next day, you, Daniel, and Lance join Chloe and Scotty on a guided hike. Lance, being the only single one, is relegated to photographer unless it a a group photo that the tour guide offers to take.

On the last day, there is a rain storm, so you spend the day inside playing card games and reading. Like always, you never want to leave, even if you are going back to Monaco.

instagram

tagged: danielricciardo, chloestroll, lancestroll, scottyjames

y/nstroll the kids go hiking in Fiji, what pretty views☀️🌊

user1 I think the Stroll girls have a thing for Australians

danielricciardo the best view was sitting beside me

y/nstroll shut up 😭🫶

user2 oh to be an F1 driver or heiress going on winter break

chloestroll this is my petition for a kids only family vacation soon

lancestroll i second that

scottyjames i third that

danielricciardo i fourth that

y/nstroll guys this is why we have a group chat (let’s book one right now)

claireannstroll my babies ❤️

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alannairis · 13 days ago

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Elevate Your Dining Experience with Velvet Color Table Linen Napkins!

Velvet Color Table Linen Napkins are the height of luxury, created to elevate any dining experience. Whether you're having a formal banquet, a corporate meeting, or a private supper, these premium dining napkins provide unparalleled sophistication and functionality. These Velvet texture napkins, made from high-quality 100% velvet polyester, combine durability with a soft, absorbent finish, making them suitable for both cocktail and luncheon napkins. Their hotel-quality napkin design ensures that they can withstand continuous use without losing their beautiful appearance. These banquet napkins and event table napkins are ideal for weddings, events, and fine dining places, adding an air of luxury to any environment. Available in a variety of 16 rich colors, they pair beautifully with any decor theme. Caring for these table napkins is effortless, thanks to their easy-to-clean and wrinkle-resistant fabric.

#Velvet table napkins #Velvet color napkins #Luxury dining napkins #Polyester table napkins #Dinner napkins USA #Banquet napkins #Velvet texture napkins #Luxurious table linen #Event table napkins #Hotel-quality napkins #Absorbent fabric napkins #Corporate gathering napkins #Cocktail napkins #Luncheon napkins #Table napkins care instructions

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luvrodite · 1 year ago

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SOUP FOR THE SOUL JASON TODD

↳ taking care of jason while he's sick

“Hey, sit up for me.”

Jason winces as he pushes himself up from the bed, looking so pitiful it tugs at your heart. You set the bowl of soup on the table nearby, pressing a warmed hand to the fevered skin of his cheek.

“Baby,” you murmur, sympathetically. He frowns through bleary eyes, and you skim your thumb over his jaw.

“Y’don’t have to fuss over me,” he rasps out, and you think maybe it would sound more convincing if he didn’t sound like his voice box had been dragged over gravel, scratchy and hoarse.

“Course I do,” you say, reaching for the bowl once more and handing him the spoon. “Can you manage to keep anything down? I called your dad and he passed on a recipe. It’s not butler-made, but I hope it’s not awful.”

He manages a weak grin at the joke, accepting the spoon. His fingers brush against yours, tracing a minute path up the inside of your palm before curling around the metal. Soft steam curls up from the bowl, and you hold it closer for his convenience.

“My sweet thing,” he rumbles, taking a sip. You watch carefully, feeling your shoulders relax when he sighs. “‘S great, baby.”

“Yeah?” you prompt, warming all over when he nods tiredly. “Okay, I’m glad. Can you take a bit more for me?”

He keeps a hand on your thigh as he finishes the rest of his soup, and you talk to him in low tones as he does. The evening sun begins to bleed through the shutters, crimson and gold pooling in the bedsheets. Your lover remains hot to the touch, but you think the food does him some good, a little colour returning to his face as he eats.

The dryer beeps as he finishes the last of it, and you take the spoon from his fingers. They clasp around your waist when you go to stand, and you wobble slightly, looking back at him. His lips curve down into a frown, the barest makings of a pout beginning to form on his mouth.

“Don’t go,” he murmurs and you sigh. He’s sweet like this, you think, needy and reaching out for you.

“I’m just going to put this away,” you assure him. “I’ll be back in a second.”

“Promise?” he asks, and you bite back a laugh, drawing an X over your heart in affirmation.

“Swear.”

You’re back sooner than Jason expects, and clutching a pair of flannel pyjamas and a blanket in your hands. He squints as you enter, and you tilt your head in silent instruction.

He’s still burning as you help him take his clothes off, skin heated and covered in gooseflesh, replacing the tattered shirt and shorts with the most loved set in your wardrobe. He’d laughed the first time you presented them to him, but had worn them so much the flannel had felted over. They’re warm in your hands now as you help him into them, depositing him on the nearby chair and wrapping the blanket around his shoulders.

“I love you,” he mumbles into the fleece, as you’re stripping the sheets. You look over your shoulder, finding him half asleep in the chair.

“Love you, baby,” you whisper back, tugging on a fresh set. “C’mere.”

The dirty linen pools on the floor and Jason tugs you into bed with him, curling himself around you and leaving little chance for escape. Jason falls asleep almost immediately, and you hope he feels the trace of your fingers in his hair, in his dreams.

#jay my heart #jasonsmirrorball #jason todd x reader #jason todd fic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd imagine #jason todd reader insert #x reader

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leilabeaux · 2 months ago

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Title TBD

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Summary: Ivar returns from his travels but all is not well. (IM RUSTY AT THIS FANFIC SUMMARY THING!)

AN: Heyyy! How’s everyone doing? It’s been a wild 4 years since I posted. But here I am, down a mom and a husband in the same damn year.

I was going through my emails and found a pretty much completed part of my Stolen Queen series if anyone is interested or even still into Vikings 😅

——

Warm blood dripped down to your elbow as you reached up to wipe the sweat off your brow. Your hand returned to the cut open stomach, making small, swift cuts against the membranes as your other hand was busy pulling out the entrails. The deer was your first successful hunt, a proud victory for you after much instruction from Arn. You jumped for joy when your arrow landed in its neck but he only grunted out that you needed to work on your aim before shooting a proper headshot.

Blood splattered onto your face when you plopped the organs into the bowl next to you. You looked up from the carcass after hearing a snort from the man in front of you.

“Care to share what’s so funny, Hallfred?,” you questioned the skinny blond-haired man as you went back to pulling out the rest of the innards.

“I just didn’t think that Christian princesses were known to get their hands dirty.” He smirked as he took the intestines from your bowl to rinse off the blood.

You rolled your eyes, not even bothering to correct him. There was no point. You knew that your royal title made no difference in these lands.

“She’s a queen, not a princess. And if some of our dead Viking brothers and shieldmaidens could talk, they’d tell you just how dirty her hands got in battle,” Arn uttered as he sharpened the stick in his hand into a proper arrow. You were surprised to hear him chime in at all. The large elder man kept to himself mostly unless it was to criticize you or his partner.

“My apologies, Queen Y/N,” Hallfred teased, giving a small mocking bow to you. If you had any guilt remaining for taking his knife, it was definitely gone now.

Your head shot up when you heard the sounds of horns blowing out in the distance. Feeling your heart begin to race, you couldn’t help the smile that was threatening to creep onto your face. It had been months since you last saw Ivar. While you appreciated the company of the two men next to you during the day, your nights have grown to be cold and lonely.

As the horns became more rushed and constant, you sensed that something was wrong. The two guards exchanged a look before Hallfred stood up and began walking off toward town.

“Arn, what’s going on? What do the horns mean?” You were now on your feet, standing in front of him with your arms across your chest, worry painted all over your face.

“It means the boats have returned,” he said so matter-of-factly. (He came over and squatted down next to you.) “Start skinning, we need to hurry up and cut up the meat.”

Knowing he wouldn’t say anything else even if you begged him, you did as you were told.

——

The sun had long been set and still you had no word of what had happened. Hallfred had since returned. His usual mischievous face was replaced with something more serious and yet he remained quiet, not offering any news to you.

So you tried to busy yourself around the cabin. Blankets and linens had been folded then refolded. Your stolen knife was now sharp enough to split a hair in half. And after a good polish, you could see your reflection in all the gold trinkets Ivar had given you.

You toyed with your necklace as you looked out the window to check the tree line for the umpteenth time. He should have been here by now. You tried to reason with yourself again. He was King and if he had a successful raid, then it would be right for him to spend the night celebrating with his people...even with his wife.

A set of footsteps approached the cabin, breaking you away from your thoughts. You must have been so lost in your mind that you didn’t even notice anyone walking by. Grabbing your knife, you tucked yourself behind a pillar, worried that you might have an uninvited guest on your hands.

You could hear the hushed tones of Arn and Hallfred but couldn’t make out what was being said. They sounded cordial enough that maybe this stranger wasn’t deemed a threat. When a quiet but familiar voice started to speak, you stepped out of your hiding place and out of the cabin to greet this guest.

The last time you had seen Hvitserk was when you first arrived in Kattegat right before a bag was placed over your head and you were forcibly marched over to the very spot you were now standing in. By the look on his bruised and injured face, you knew the raid didn’t go as planned. You tried to hold yourself together, knowing that if he was here instead of his brother, then there was nothing good he had to tell you.

“Where is Ivar, Hvitserk?” your voice quivered as you felt the water welling up in your eyes. You turned your gaze from him to Arn when he hesitated to give you a proper answer.

The older man wrapped his oversized cloak around you and calmly instructed you to go with Hallfred and Hvitserk. As if sensing your anxiety, Arn pulled the hood over your head and then leaned down to reassure you, “You will be okay.”

——

You focused on the dimly lit path in front of you as Hvitserk—or was it Hallfred?— ushered you to your destination. With the cloaked hood obstructing your view of the structures surrounding you, you found it odd how you have never truly been in Kattegat even after living on the outskirts for almost two years. You briefly wondered if you would ever get to explore the town Ivar was proud to call home.

You felt a push from the hand across your back as it led you into the building. If it wasn’t the fragrance of healing poultices and salves in the room, then it was definitely the overbearing stench of blood and death that let you know you were in the healer’s hut. You started to hear Ivar’s strained groans as you made your way further into the room.

While walking toward the direction of the sound, you were about to take down your hood when the screech of a chair being pushed back stopped you. Careful footsteps slowly approached you before a soft feminine voice cut through the room, “Is this her?”

“Freydis…,” Hvitserk started but was cut off by a scoff.

“I was told that he kept saying he needed his queen ever since he arrived but when I came to him, he told me to leave him alone. I’m not stupid, Hvitserk. I know that lately when he’s home, he prefers to warm another bed than our own at night.”

You felt the air shift as she walked past you and out of the hut. Ivar had never offered a lot of details about Freydis other than that she was a former thrall he had freed. You assumed her to be beautiful if she was able to have garnered his attention at one point and become Queen of Kattegat. Pulling your hood back, you looked toward the door to get a glimpse of the woman but she was already gone.

You turned your head back when you heard Ivar groan out once again. Sitting in the vacant seat next to his bedside, you brought your hand up in an attempt to stifle your cry when you looked down at his bandaged midsection.

“It was an ambush and one of the Saxons got him in the side with their sword,” Hvitserk started unprompted before continuing with a shaky voice. “He lost so much blood and I tried to tell him to stay at the settlement to heal but...but he wouldn’t listen, he just kept saying that he wanted to come home. It was like he knew something I didn’t. And then he went to sleep and wouldn’t wake up. I thought that you should see him before—”

You stopped him immediately, not wanting to hear the end of that sentence. “You mustn’t go there, Hvitserk. His body is forcing him to rest so he can heal. He’s still here with us and that’s what we should focus on.” You looked up at him, noting the dark circles under his eyes. He must have exhausted himself with worry for his brother. “Maybe you should get some sleep yourself. I’ll stay with him.”

He seemed to hesitate over the idea of leaving you alone with Ivar before taking his leave. “I have slept alone with him unguarded. If I wanted to kill him, I would have done it by now.”

An overwhelming guilt washed over you as you stared at the large dark spot soaking through the cloth. There was a point in time when you had prayed to see him on his deathbed, even better if it had been at your hands. But now you found yourself silently praying to your god and all of his that he would make it through this.

You took his hand into your own and leaned close to his ear, “I’m still here, Ivar. I waited for you so don’t you dare leave me now.”

—-

After glaring at Hallfred when he came back inside for the fourth time and insisted that you come back to the cabin, you continued to clean Ivar’s arm with a wet cloth. You had already washed away days worth of sweat, dirt, and blood from the rest of his body, making sure no one was in the room when you got around to his legs. You knew how sensitive he was to being in that state of undress around most people.

“I already told you, I’m staying here until he wakes up and can tell me to go back himself. Besides, I was just telling him about how you wet your pants when Arn threw his axe at you.” You smirked at the guard. You had spent most of time recounting everything you’ve been up to since Ivar was gone.

“He was aiming for between my legs! He could have nicked my balls off!,” he pouted before stomping back out of the hut.

You laughed as you dropped the cloth into a bowl of water and then wrung it out.

“I bet he screamed like a little girl too.” You nearly smacked the bowl off the table, startled from the sound of Ivar finally speaking. The small smile he had went all the way up to his blue eyes that were busy taking you in. “Well? What else happened?”

You rushed in to wrap your arms around his neck, taking care to not put any pressure on his wound. As you felt his arms wrap around your waist, you had let go all the tears you were holding in. “You had me so scared, Ivar. I have half the mind to slap you for traveling with such a serious injury.”

“I had to make sure that you were still here waiting for me,” he chuckled into your neck.

You pulled away from him, frowning, “Don’t joke, you could have died. You really want to make sure I don’t leave you then shackle me to Arn or take me with you. But you will not do this to me again,” you demanded even though you knew you had no authority over him.

Taken aback, he palmed your face to wipe the fallen tears off your cheek, “You were truly worried for me. I’m sorry, I won’t scare you like that again, my queen,” he pulled you in and pressed a kiss against your lips, his hand falling down to stroke your neck. “I must confess that I...that I—“

You waited for him to finish his sentence, momentarily concerned that he was suffering from memory loss. “You must confess that you…?”

“That I had left your book with Hvitserk.” He finally finished.

You had a feeling that that wasn’t what he was really going to say but you chose not to bring it up. You rolled your eyes, “I don’t care about any presents. I care more that you’re awake and talking to me now.”

“Still, I think you would like it. It had pictures of dragons. Maybe it’s a story of my grandfather and how he slew Fafnir.” He held your hand in his, “I would like it if you read it to me. I have missed your voice.”

“Whatever you wish, Ivar.”

#alex høgh andersen #ivar the boneless #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader

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demonicbaby666 · 10 months ago

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Hi, can i request oral sex for mommy!regina x reader w degradation kink ? regina receiving

Command

One shot | Once Upon a Time Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

Pairing: Regina Mills x fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

Words: 1.1k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, degradation, oral sex, face-sitting, mommy kink, squirting

From the start, you knew Regina liked control. Her throne was not left in the enchanted forest. Instead, it lived freely in all her presiding actions and orders. You knew that nothing could stand in the way of her regal sovereignty. And from the very first time she looked at you, that ordinary spring morning, you knew from the puckish twinkle in her eyes and the sudden conviction in her stride that her sights were set.

That very night she brought you to her mansion, her goals clear: to break you down, claim you as hers and mark you over and over till you were melded to perfection. By the time you lay bare for her, watching as her tongue darted out to wet her lips and her eyes grew a smokey shade of oak, your body was already coloured purple and shades of red. The plethora of bloodied stains littering your supple skin were studied over and over again by lust-bitten eyes, revisited by puckered lips, and grazed between gnawing teeth until finally, the branding session met its end with a final pop.

Regina bore no discomfort in uttering how she planned to destroy you, whispering into the shell of your ear every minute detail she could spare, how she would tear you apart, how she’d fuck you over and over until you’d beg her to stop, how she’d ignore your wishes and mercilessly take what she wanted from you till you’d fall limp and see black.

As the details grew more vivid and the scenes were painted clearer in your head, your body grew to be more reactive. Regina would only have to slide a finger between your legs, give you the slightest bit of attention, and you’d have come on the spot. Of course, the older woman knew this, which is why she did the opposite.

Hovering above you, Regina redistributed her weight from elbows to palms and pushed herself up. Smearing the evidence of arousal over your stomach, Regina straightened her spine to straddle you comfortably.

The pride in her eyes was evident as the sound of your dejected whine filled her ears, each corner of her lip curled, soon revealing a glossy row of pearly whites. With little care and no regard for your moping, a demanding hand brushed the side of your neck and gripped tightly to a heap of hair. There was little warning or time to adjust when you were urged down the bed, your hips a bustling mess as they brought more and more of the bed linen with them on their descent.

What greeted you was a mouthwatering sight. The musky aroma drew you in and tempted your tongue to dart out your mouth; knowing better than to act without permission, the muscle did not stray further than moistening your lips. You waited patiently, looking up into chestnut eyes that held none of the impatience you were sporting. Regina's control was unfathomable and often deterring, but you held firm and awaited instruction.

“Such a good little doll for mommy,” she drawled, polished nails raking through your hair. “Now put that slutty mouth to use, mmh?”

It was everything you’d expect, from the bitter tang to the delicate undertones of honey—perfection. The taste of Regina was something you knew you’d never tire of.

You drank it in slowly, teasing the sensitive area with languid brushes of your tongue, never quite getting close enough to where you would be most appreciated. Only when the grip in your hair grew insistent and demanding did you place your lips around that hidden gem and draw it into your mouth. The thanks the older woman let out was worth the pain of her sudden deathly grip. Her moans sounded like the call of an angel: low, breathy and shaky.

“I knew it,” Regina moaned, pushing you further into her cunt, hips moving to ride your tongue. “You are a dirty little whore."

You unabashedly moaned into her cunt, the vibrations giving way to a whole other sensation the brunette thoroughly enjoyed. Thighs tightened around your head, muffling the collection of sounds coming from above you, but you didn’t care when you could see them as much as you could hear them. Plump lips were permanently set apart, taking in rushed breaths as Regina’s chest rose and fell accordingly.

‘Take from me what you want. Use me. I am entirely yours’ is what you might have said had words not failed you, had your mouth not been preoccupied. Instead, you became intent on portraying your message by worshipping Regina’s sex with measured licks and calculated sucks.

It wasn't long before she was slipping, her control dimming like a burnt-out flame. Her hips movements spluttered, her thighs shook, and her moans shrilled. But the woman above you would not give into submission so easily. This was her playground, and you were her plaything. There would be no other way.

One of the hands holding Regina’s thigh was urged up to cup a heaving breast. You palmed the soft mound in your hand, tweaking a nipple and marvelling at the way Regina’s back arched, and another whine tumbled out her gaping mouth. A line of sweat formed above her brow, a droplet running down from her neck to the valley of her breasts. The salty smell of exertion it was taking to hold her orgasm back filled the air, only slightly discernible away from the beckoning smell of her heated sex.

“More,” she demanded, digging her nails painfully into your scalp, pushing her pussy further down onto the bottom half of your face. You could scarcely breathe, nose nestled in coarse hair, mouth hellbent on tipping Regina over the edge.

You worked faster and redoubled your efforts if only to draw more moans from the woman above you. You didn’t care that your lungs were constricted or your head felt light. All that mattered was Regina's trembling, her getting louder and, ultimately, closer.

Hand over her breast, you tweaked a nipple between your thumb and finger, tight enough to send a jolt of pain through Regina’s system, something you were happy to find out she liked. With the finishing of one long drawn-out stripe of your tongue, you sucked Regina’s clit back into your mouth and ran it between your teeth. She fell apart, eyes shut, spraying her juices over your face, squirt dribbling down your chin.

You drank her up, tongue delving into the source, unafraid to continually pleasure Regina through the entire length of her orgasm till she was near screaming and lifting her hips away. Her grip loosened in your hair, fingers combing through loose knots instead.

After heavy breaths turned light, Regina slid off you, planting her back on the mattress beside where you lay breathlessly. She turned, placed a hand over your flushed cheek and smiled, bright and genuine.

“You did good, baby,” she said, closing the space between your bodies and giving you a passionate kiss.

“I did?” You asked, suddenly shy and self-conscious.

Regina’s smile only grew wider, her hand sliding down to the juncture between your legs. “Yes, now let mommy make you feel good, sweet girl.”

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#regina mills x reader #regina mills x you #Regina mills smut #Regina mills #Regina mills x fem!reader #once upon a time #once upon a time fan fiction

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