#White Marble Home Temple

[sahestatellc]

White Marble Home Temple

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[bhuvneshwarimoortiart]

White marble temple designed by Bhuvneshwari Moorti Art

Recently White Marble Temple work done at Bhubhneshwar,Odisha

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[marbletemples]

Which Type of Marble Temple is Good for Home

Marble temple for home selection is one of the most vital decisions any family makes, as it creates a sanctum sanctorum to pray, meditate, and seek spiritual peace on a daily basis. With numerous marble types, the choice can become overwhelming. This guide will show you which type of marble temple is best suited for your home and why.

[ssmoortiart11]

7 Essential Tips to Maintain the Shine of a Marble Temple

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[avinashmoortiemporium]

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[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　BLURB

matt sturniolo x reader

where the triplets and Y/N have a small 'coloring drawings date' back in Boston

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

It was a chilly Boston afternoon, and the cozy kitchen of the Sturniolo triplets' childhood home radiated warmth. The black and white marble counter was covered in a colorful array of pencils and printed drawings ready to be filled in.

Matt, Nick, Chris, and Y/N sat together, each absorbed in their masterpieces, while an assortment of completed drawings, taped with pride, decorated the fridge nearby - just like the one back in Los Angeles, creating a gallery of memories they'd crafted every time they came to Boston.

Y/N was nestled close to Matt, sharing a single pair of earphones that played their shared playlist, mix of indie tunes, and a few songs that made them laugh as they lip-synced together.

Every so often, Y/N would pause her coloring just to press a gentle kiss onto Matt's shoulder or cheek, and every time she did it, Matt’s face would light up with a shy smile, his hand instinctively reaching over to brush her fingers, squeezing them lightly before returning to his coloring.

Across the table, Nick was squinting at his drawing, his tongue sticking out in concentration as he carefully filled in the skin of the pokémons with a vibrant mix of yellows, blues and purples. Chris, with a look of intense focus, was working on an abstract swirl of colors, occasionally nudging Nick to make him mess up just a bit, causing laughter between them.

"Hey, don't mess with my work!" Nick huffed, shielding his paper from Chris, shooting him a dirty look. "Fucking moron."

Chris snorted.

"Oh, come on, Nick, I’m just adding some flair to it!" He laughed, his tone playful, but he left Nick’s drawing alone, deciding instead to lean closer to Y/N and Matt, peeking at their work, accidentally hitting some pencils to the floor. "What are you two coloring over there?" He teased, a soft smile on his face as he watched Y/N and Matt too close, almost blending into each other, the identical maroon sweaters disguising who was who.

Y/N grinned, lifting her drawing to show a sunset over mountains, shaded in soft pinks and oranges.

"It’s our little Boston sunset for the fridge gallery."

Matt smiled brightly, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand as he glanced at her drawing.

"It’s going to he the prettiest drawing in there, babe." He murmured, leaning down to place a quick, sweet kiss on her temple.

"You're so disgusting." Chris huffed, rolling his eyes playfully before going back to his own paper.

Y/N stuck her tongue out playfully in response, her eyes gleaming with a happiness that was contagious.

As the playlist continued, Matt and Y/N swapped colored pencils back and forth, murmuring softly to each other about which colors went best with the others.

After a while, Nick stood up, lowering his grey headphones, heading to the fridge, and scanning their growing gallery.

"Alright, let's see what new masterpieces we're adding today." Nick announced, carefully peeling off a piece of tape to stick Chris's vibrant butterfly next to his own pokémons drawing on the fridge door. "At this point, we’re not even gonna see the fridge anymore." He grinned, smoothing each piece into place with a bit of pride.

Without missing a beat, Chris turned to Matt and Y/N, an exaggerated impatience in his voice.

"C'mon, lovebirds, finish up so we can add your little sunset next to my work of art."

Matt scoffed, rolling his eyes as he passed a glance at Chris.

"If we’re being honest, yours doesn’t even deserve a spot." He muttered with a smirk, dodging Chris’s halfhearted swipe at him. "Oh, I'm gonna end you-"

"Boys, no fighting near the fridge!" Came Mary Lou’s voice from the couch in the other room. Both brothers froze, biting back laughter as they stood straight. Nick stifled a chuckle, sharing an amused look with Y/N, who shook her head at them all, her smile soft.

"Alright, Matt, focus." Y/N said, tugging him gently by his sweater sleeve to bring his attention back to the counter. "Before I finish this sunset all by myself."

Matt let himself be pulled down with a playful grin, settling beside her once more.

"Fine, fine." He relented, leaning in close, their heads nearly touching as they dove back into their coloring, whispering and swapping pencils as if the world outside didn’t exist.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

A/N: I had this idea after seeing Nick's stories yesterday, and I know it's an ass, but I liked the concept 😭✋🏻

[emsgwenstan]

Why not me?

Larissa Weems x fem reader {angst}

words: idk 2.5k?

warnings: language.

note: ok idek what this is, i haven't written anything in months because of burnout, so really just something i pulled from drafts.

“Don’t.” It was to the point; it was sharp and clear. I picked up my handbag, coat and gloves and evacuated the room as swiftly as possible.

Slamming the door behind me, I could feel its vibration, the loud noise echoing through the halls and corridors, just like every one of my steps down the marble stairs. Frustratedly, I rummage through my bag to find my car keys, desperately needing something to just go my way, I plucked them out and balled the abundance of jagged metal in my fist while storming across the cobblestone to reach my car.

The second I sat in the driver's seat, tears started to roll down my cheeks and my nose started tingling, I shove the keys into the ignition and reverse out of the staff lot before practically doing a burnout when setting off. Where to go now is the question. Where to go indeed. The only home I’ve ever known is nevermore, the safe place I retreat to when the outside world is far too cruel, when normies are unkind and when life gets too much.

Every possible place I think to go isn’t an option, they are all riddled with memories of her, there’s nowhere in the whole of Jericho that I haven’t been with her, the park benches and weathervane after getting hot chocolates on a sunny winters day, the local bookstore on a windy spring morning, the clearing just off the road in the woods on a gloomy autumn afternoon, or the empty fair ground on a cool summers night.

“Oh, you would love her y/n, she very pretty and quite the catch, she flatters me all the time and is very sweet-.” “Don’t.” The conversation plays on a loop, God why? Why wasn’t I enough? The trees reflections whipping across the windscreen seemed to become faster. “Goodness, can you believe she asked me? I haven’t been on a date in years.” She had said. “Help me find something to wear dear?” She asked, and, without question I did.

My grip on the wheel becomes tighter until my knuckles turn white and crescent shapes are imbedded into my palms. Did she not know? Didn’t she realize? Has she not seen the way I look at her? Before I drive myself out of the town ship I stop on the side of the road. I just sit there, I sit and cry for a long time, even as dusk falls and night comes, I sit and cry.

Many cars have passed my own, however none caught my attention until I heard one ripping down the road sounding like it’s going a million miles an hour, when it passed the brake lights almost immediately illuminated my skin and the tires screeched as it stopped, my brows crease in confusion until it reversed back alongside me. Quickly I came to realize who it was. Larissa.

Without second thought I tried turning my car on though it wouldn’t turn over, how bloody convenient. I looked to my side to see her get out and run to my door. “Shit.” I breathed. She reached for the handle and was stunned when she couldn’t open it a dumbfounded expression overtook her pale features. “Open the door.” She pleaded I didn’t look at her, I kept my eyes in front of me still trying to start the engine. “Darling open the door.” She begged, her voice cracking and muffled by the glass.

“Y/n so help me god I will smash this window if you don’t open the damn door.” Her accent became thicker as she yelled. I just wanted her to go away, I rest my temple on the headrest in defeat. For a moment it was quiet- too quiet, that was until I heard her door slam close. I peeled my eyes open and saw her wrapping a cashmere scarf around her wrist, immediately in rage I unlocked my door and stepped out. “What the hell are you doing!?” I seethed. “What am I doing!?” She asked incredulously unwinding the material. “What the hell are you doing!? Where have you been? I called you close to forty times with no answer, I thought you were hurt! I thought something bad happened!”

“Why do you care?” I spat, the bitterness rearing its ugly head. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re my friend, of course I’d care!” There it was friend. Somehow that made it worse- another kick to the guts. “Yeah, ok.” I murmured, twisting around and pulling out my bag, closing the door and storming down the tar road. “Where are you going!?” She shouted. “Away, far away from you!” I bit back.

“Stop!” She growled frustrated and confused. I ignored her request and continued walking. “Y/n!… oh, for fuck's sake.” Her voice died in her throat as she came to the conclusion that I in fact didn’t care for what she had to say. Larissa threw down the scarf and started power walking towards me, her heals clacking hard against the ground, her stride quick and harsh. “Hey-… hey! Christ just stop.” She said exasperatedly reaching my shoulder.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” I shrugged her off ripping out of her grasp. “Take the hint! Larissa, I’ve made it clear enough that I don’t want to be near you!” I yelled whipping around to face her. “What have I done? What is going on? You don’t do this- you don’t pull this kind of childish behavior; I expect this from a student not you of all people.” She reacted. “Thanks, truly.” I sarcastically remarked and resumed walking.

“Fine I’ll just follow you then.” She said as if she was one upping me. “Piss off.” I said starting to walk faster. “Tell me what is going on! Please.” She asked her voice a little calmer and more desperate. I once again ignored her. “Y/n. I’m not going to stop until you tell me what has gotten into you.” She said starting to slightly limp from the ache in her feet. “What has gotten into me?… what has gotten into me?” I stopped abruptly.

I spin on the spot facing her again throwing down my bag in the middle of the road. “You.” I said creeping towards her with my finger pointed towards her chest. “You have gotten into me!” I yelled. “Me?” She asked, her brows furrowing and voice shaking. “Yes you! Day in day out, I’m sick of it!” Larissa’s posture straitened and head slightly dropped to the side in question. “Can you elaborate?” She said her eyes flicking about showing her confusion.

“It would be my pleasure. Let’s start shall we. “I’m not sure where I’m going wrong, I just wish someone would want me.” Or “I’m not good enough.” Or “y/n, why doesn’t anyone fancy me? Is it because of this or that'…or some bullshit reason.” I started, quoting just a few things from her. “What? Are you annoyed now that I actually have someone who could potentially be interested In me?” She asked furiously.

“No, I’m annoyed because of how ridiculous it is.” I retorted. “Ridiculous?” She growled through clenched teeth. “Yes. Ridiculous. How many times was I there to say those things aren’t true? How many times have I reassured and helped you? How many nights did I spend being by your side trying to make you happy!?” I asked. “What are you getting at!?” She asked, her eyes wide and lips twisted. “Months… years actually! Listening to you talk absolute garbage about yourself and continuing to do so after me telling you I’m here! - and, and now… you’re settling? for some waitress who thinks you’re pretty?” I explained looking directly in her eyes.

Larissa recoiled and looked as if she had been slapped. “Tell me how you really feel.” She murmured crossing her arms over her chest. “Jesus Christ, get a grip! Are you that thick!? I’ve been tryi-” I began. “Don’t even start, what about you! As far as I’m concerned you don’t have a great track record in relationships!” She yelled, her anger taking over once again. “Just fucking listen!” I screamed, rendering her completely silent.

When I realized she had bit her tongue and no longer wanted to argue, I started to speak again in a more relaxed tone. “I haven’t spoken, been with or even looked at anyone else. I’ve said nothing, but I’ve tried in many ways to show you, to tell you… every single time you have had a problem, a bad day, needed help, needed comfort, who’s been there? Me. I have. I know you better than anyone and I’m telling you that, that woman isn’t for you.” I stated.

“Right. So, your jealous that you're not the one who’s getting the chance with her, is that what you're saying? Because I thought you would be happy for me, out of all people y/n.” She said quickly and bitterly. “No that’s not-” I try. “I’ve heard enough, you want to be left alone fine, go ahead.” She said rolling her eyes and turning around to walk back to her car. “Larissa.” It’s her turn to ignore me. Before she got too far, I reached for her wrist without thinking and stopped her.

“I am.” I said quietly, pulling her to turn back toward me. “Your what?” She asked back. “Jealous.” I express timidly, looking away from her but keeping the firm grip. “But not of you… of her… I’m jealous of her.” I said just above a whisper. I look back up, my gaze trailing from her shins to the hem of her dress, to the waist belt of her grey coat, to her neck, lips and face, her very confused face.

“I’ve tried to tell you… I’ve tried everything apart from actually saying it.” I said loosening the grip on her wrist. “Do you have any idea how hard it was? How hard it is to listen to you talk about someone else making you happy? Someone else who can see the side of you I’ve only ever wished to be privileged to see?” Larissa’s face dropped; her angered expression melted away as I continued.

“What?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry.” I said in the same level of tone, goosebumps forming over my body as a shiver made its way down my spine, right there I knew I ruined everything. I close my eyes and let go of her wrist, I could hear her take a step, but it wasn’t back towards her car, it was to me, my eyes snap open as I feel her entire body engulf mine, in all the years of our friendship we’ve never hugged like that. Not once.

Together we stood planted in the middle of the road not daring to move an inch, it felt like it lasted a lifetime but in reality, it was only a few moments. My head and my heart were reeling, so many emotions, so many feelings, so many memories, so many 'what ifs'. “Larissa.” I said into her chest. “I know.” Was the reply. “Let me say it.” I murmured, Larissa’s chest heaved and contracted deeply, she guided one of her hands to rest on my temple and forehead moving the fallen hair in front of my eyes. “Look at me… please.” She asked pulling back just a little.

I lifted my gaze to her eyes and held the lapels of her coat, smoothing them and giving myself time to breathe. “I…” I swallowed. “I, love you.” I said quietly, tears threatening to spill from my eyes. “I have for so long.” I breathed, finally after God knows how long I finally said it, although my relief was short lived when I saw Larissa face slowly revert back to one of distain.

“This isn’t fair.” She said pulling away and taking a step back her brows furrowing and unable to look me in the eye. “What?” I asked in disbelief. “I-… I liked you for a long while y/n, but now you choose to tell me?” It took every inch of me to not cry immediately. "What are you saying?" I asked dumbfounded, feeling bile build up in my throat. Completely taken aback, I recoiled and was in such a state of disbelief that I turned around in utter shock, plucked my bag from the ground and resumed trekking down the road.

The whole world felt like water filled the atmosphere and I was drowning, my limbs felt heavy and the cold seeped into my bones, I heard her muffled voice call out to me, but it was far too late, the second I looked up a pair of headlights were set right towards me...

[totallynotashieldagent]

Kinktober 2024 - Mirror Sex

Pairing: Kento Nanami/Reader

You stood in the bathroom, taking off your makeup and doing your nighttime routine. The office party had been an absolute bore and Kento was in a mood because of it. 

His coworkers were annoying, and they always did the thing where they passed sly comments of oh, that’s the wife? because he worked so much. They were always shocked that a grumpy, stoic man like him had someone waiting at home for him. 

You heard him sigh again as he entered the bathroom. His jacket was gone, sleeves folded and his tie loose. His face looked tired without his glasses hiding his eyes. 

“Darling-” He whispered, his forehead leaning onto your shoulder as he hugged you from behind. You hummed, kissing his temple and continued taking off your makeup. “Was it as awful for you as it was for me?”

“No, Ken.” You mused, “It was fi-ah! What are y-” Your words tumbled one after the other when you felt his hand snake up under your dress. “Kento!” 

“I hated every second.” He murmured, pressing kisses to your shoulder. “I hate bringing you to them.” 

“Y-You wanted- You begged me t- Stop-” You stuttered as his lips moved across your skin. 

“Should I really?” He looked up from your shoulder, still kissing as he met your gaze in the mirror. You swallowed and shook your head. “Good.” He hummed, continuing but trying his best to keep his eyes locked on with yours. “Tell me how much do you like this dress…” 

“It’s my fav-” Your words were cut off with him harshly tearing it off of you. “Kento!” 

“I’ll buy you another.” His eyes were dark and his tongue dragged across your neck. Eyes never leaving yours.

Your knuckles were white, holding onto the marble counter because you’d never seen him this riled up after an office party before.

“Hated the way they looked at you- Look at what’s mine-” He growled, his large hands grabbing and groping your plush body. 

You stood in a lacy bra and cotton underwear. Mismatched. Because the bra went with the dress and who was going to see this underwear anyway, right? Kento loved you in everything, nothing, anything. From messy PJs to party gowns. You were his and there was bile in the back of his throat every time he remembered what his disgusting coworkers had been whispering. 

If that’s what I went home to, I’d never show up to work. 

I wonder how satisfied she is to be that clingy. 

Look at that dress.

God, did you see how she walks?

If that was my wife, I’d make her wear nothing but heels. 

It was constant. All night. And Kento was done. You were his. The ring on your finger was proof. The way you stayed by him should’ve placated him. And usually, your honeyed assurances would be enough to keep his composure. But not tonight. 

Tonight he was simply a man in desperate need to claim his woman. 

“I want you to watch yourself,” He said softly, doing your bra. It slipped down to your wrists and stayed there until he made you let go of the counter and pulled it away. Along with the tattered remains of the dress. 

You felt a little flustered at the command but nodded nonetheless. 

He pushed down your underwear and gently made you step out of them. Steadying you infront of the mirror again, he pushed up behind you. He was still very much clothed. 

“You know what I was thinking all night?” He leaned down to your ear, his very obvious boner pressing into the small of your back. 

“W-What?” You swallowed, the heat pooling in your stomach as you watched him rub his hands all over your body. 

“When all those cocksuckers were drooling over my wife-” His voice had an edge of warning to it, “I was thinking off all the way I’d take you when we got home.” You visibly gasped, your hold tightening at the counter. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, my love?” He smirked, pressing kisses from your neck to your shoulder. “You always love it when I ruin you, don’t you?” 

You nodded quickly, whispering a please, Ken- and one arm wrapped at your waist, playing with your nipples. Twisting and teasing them. You leaned back onto him with a soft moan, your eyes closing in pleasure and he warned you again. 

“Eyes on me, darling-” He said sternly and you looked with half-lidded eyes at him. He hadn’t even begun to do anything and you were already soaked with anticipation. His other hand was caressing patterns at your hip. 

Your breath was starting to shallow out. His hand started to trace away from your hips towards your cunt. You immediately parted your legs further for him. He mumbled a praise and his fingers ran through your slick folded gently. Teasing at your clit.

You didn’t even know it but as soon as your eyes fluttered close again, he stopped, making you snap your eyes open with a frown. 

Kento laughed against your neck. “I told you, darling. Keep. Your eyes. Open.” He punctuated each word with a swirl of his middle finger at your clit, making you grind down against his hand. “Good girl.” He rasped, his eyes dark and unwavering. “You’ll cum on my hand, won’t you? Or my cock? Maybe both?” 

“Don’t care as long as I cum,” You laugh breathlessly. 

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” He huffed but was still amused. His fingers played with your clit and finally one finger dove into your sopping hole. You whined as he pushed in with absolute ease. He chuckled a little, pushing another finger in as well and you moaned a little.

“‘S better-” You mumbled, your hands moving back to tangle in his hair and holding his shoulder. Leaning back against him fully, trying your best to keep your eyes open. 

“Look at you…” He whispered. His middle and ring finger moving in and out of your cunt as the most torturous slow place. “That’s it. Riding my hand.” He kissed, licked and bit at your neck and shoulder. 

Even though he was moving so perfectly and curling his finger just right… But you were used to his thick cock and his fingers were simply not enough. 

“Ken- Please-” You whined, leaning forward, placing one knee on the counter. “No more teasing.” You almost glared at him, making him smirk. 

You shuddered a breath when you heard him undo his belt behind you. His trousers fell to the floor, his boxers pushed down until his thighs. 

“This what you want, pretty girl?” He rubbed his leaking cockhead at your cunt. You nodded, biting your lip in anticipation. You inhaled sharply as he started to push into you. You closed your eyes for a second and he stopped. The cockhead just past your gummy walls. You groaned and opened your eyes again, forcing them to stay open, meeting his eyes. 

Kento's tongue dragged at the nape of your neck, pushing his cock further in. You breathed out softly. He could feel you throbbing around him. Once he bottomed out, his hands splayed across your body. One at your hip to make sure you stood steady on one leg and the other at your thigh that was propped up on the counter. 

“Look. At. You.” He pulled out and slammed back in with every word. You gasped and whined, your knuckles hurting with how hard you were holding the sink. You were surprised at how it hadn’t cracked under your grip yet. “So beautiful.” He growled and picked up the pace only slightly. 

You moaned his name like a prayer, soft, desperate and broken. You liked him like this. Desperate for you. Needing to have you whichever surface you were nearest to. 

You looked at him, his eyes were so dark, you could barely see the colour. His always-in-place hair was a mess and it was for you. 

He moved at a sickeningly deliberate pace and every deep thrust made your back arch for more. He knew what angle to go at to make sure your g-spot was kissed with every move. Your neck was blooming with patches of his bites and hickeys. They stung but in such a good way. 

He was still whispering in your ear. Telling you how beautiful you looked. How well you took him. This wasn’t Kento making love or even fucking. No, this was him laying his claim. His hand snaked down from your nipples and started to tease your clit again. You gasped and clenched immediately around his cock. 

This was the worst part of being married to him. He could undo you in seconds. He knew how. He’d learned your body too well. 

“I’m going to ruin you- then we’ll clean up and I’ll ruin you in our bed again.” He whispered between open-mouth kisses on your neck. You moaned for him, nodding, at least you think you nodded. You weren’t sure. The pleasure was overtaking you. 

You were so on the verge. The sink was digging into your stomach, your hands were pressed against the mirror, and you were only seeing yourself. How your tits bounced, how wrecked you looked, how Kento was holding your thigh up on the counter, how his other hand was swirling at your clit and oh- oh- 

You whined, cumming with his name and curses spewing out of your mouth. Obscene like a sailor and you squeezed so hard, Kento couldn’t help but join your pleasure. His hand didn’t let up, forcing your orgasm to prolong as much as possible. You felt his cum drench your gummy walls, dripping down your thigh. 

He was still making deep thrusts and the sounds were becoming even more vulgar. The slapping of skin mixed with the wet sounds of his cum. 

You gasped for air and he slowed to a stop but didn’t pull out. You leaned back, falling against him, exhaling a laugh that was somewhat a moan.��

“I need to keep you like this.” He said sweetly, kissing your temple, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror. “Perfectly fucked.” 

Kinktober 2024.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

For the Love of God(dess) || CL16 {2}

Summary: Greek God/dess AU. You show Charles a part of your world and he shows you a part of his. Warnings: angst, fluff WC: 2.6k Part One || Two

The old stone path should have been worn for all the centuries that it had been used as the entrance to Olympus but it was still as perfect as it was the first time you walked it. Nothing ever changed, not since the war ended and a new hierarchy settled among the gods. For two thousand years nothing had changed in the Eternal City.

“Love, what have you done?” The imposing form of Ares filled the road to your temple, his arms the size of your waist. His molten red eyes barely glanced at the man at your side before snapping back with a double take. “Kàrolos?”

“Uh, so everyone keeps saying,” he answered quietly, his eyes sizing up the God of War as he spoke for the first time since arriving through the portal. “And you are?”

“Intrigued,” Ares said with a smirk. “Good luck.”

The god vanished and Charles rubbed at his head, murmuring, “Fucking weird dream.”

“You’ll wake up soon,” you sighed. It might not be the wake up he expected, but it was coming - you just had to find Athena. “I know someone who can help make sense of this, we just need to get you back to my place first. It’s right over h-” your words froze as turned towards your temple. 

Where grey stone walls had stood, great white pillars of marble rose. Where empty garden beds lay, hundreds of white roses bloomed. 

Your temple had been restored.

“This is your home?” Charles asked, a little awestruck by the sounds of it. It was quite amusing that he walked among the gods but he found beauty in a building of all things.

“Our home.”

“I have a home - in Monaco.”

You opened your mouth to argue but saw the quiet desperation in his features. He was clinging to his humanity and it forced you to remember that this wasn’t the Kàrolos you knew, this was a stranger. The only resemblance they held were their eyes, but they were the window to the soul and they still had the same soul. 

“Let’s just go inside.”

The doors beyond the marble arch swung open on your approach and the interior had changed just as much. The vast room was open to the sunlight and a fountain filled the centre, the sound of bubbling water a calming feature. Open arches led to more rooms but you made your way to the furthest one. 

Charles followed sedately into the bedroom and out onto the balcony that overlooked the city. Above rose the peak which Zeus had claimed, his golden palace glittering beneath Apollo’s sunshine. Below, the forests of Artemis spread far and wide with lush green canopies and the Orlias river winding through it. 

Your palms warmed on the stone railing as you watched a herd of deer pick their way to the river for a drink. “I know you have a million questions and I’m sorry for…everything.”

Charles’ shoulder leaned into yours as he drank in the scenery but he jumped back when an owl swooped in, the spotted wings brushing his cheek. A flash of light burst from the owl and bare feet touched down on the balcony. 

“Hmmm, you have had quite the night, Love,” she said with an appreciative look over Charles. She reached out to his face with a smile and wiggled her fingers. “May I?”

“Why? What are you going to do? Who are you?”

“So many questions,” she laughed. “I am Athena, I am knowledge, and if you want the answers then you will let me touch you.”

He looked to you for help and gods damned if it didn’t make something in your chest hurt before you nodded. He swallowed the fear of the unknown and trusted you as he stepped into her waiting hands. Lightning shattered his brain, blinding him with flashes of images that moved too fast to see. But he knew. Knowledge expanded and exploded in his mind at an exponential rate until he knew everything. Thousands of years of history burned into his retina in less than a second. The history of the gods and goddesses that called this place home. The history of the wars and the destruction it brought. The history of you and everything you lost.

He knew it all. And it hurt more than the pain that splintered his head.

He didn’t even realise he collapsed until he felt the softest mattress dip beneath his weight as you laid him down. Your concerned face appeared above him, the sun catching your hair and weaving a golden halo around the strands. A thought crossed his mind and he laughed, shaking his head.

“What?” you asked curiously as his fingers twitched like he had to fight the urge to reach out to you.

“When we met I thought you looked like a goddess, but of course you do. You are.” He looked to the balcony but the owl had already taken flight back to her palace on the hill. “I’m not him, you know.”

“I know.” The man you loved had died a long time ago. You had your time together, no matter how short, and you had mourned for him. It was time to move on. “I don’t want you to be Kàrolos. I want to learn who you are, Charles.”

“And what if you don’t like who I am?”

“I am the Goddess of Love,” you teased, climbing onto the bed to sit beside him. “My arrows don’t work unless there is compatibility between the souls. Psyche is probably better off explaining that but my power only amplifies what attraction is already there. Can’t say I have been on the receiving end of it before. This will take some getting used to.”

“What will?”

“The want, the need to touch you,” you confessed as you looked down at your hands that gripped the bedspread tightly. “It is difficult to be this close and not reach out.”

Charles frowned. “You loved Kàrolos but you didn’t use an arrow?”

“Not everyone needs an arrow to fall in love. Like I said, it only amplifies. People find love on their own everyday, only some need a little poke in the right direction. Those friends who have been dancing around each other for years, the abused who don’t think they are worthy of being loved, the colleagues who only flirt at work. The fates weave their tapestry with a trillion threads of life and when there is a snag, like two lovers who failed to meet, then I repair it so the loom can continue its creation.”

Charles blinked as he began to understand how complex the roles of the gods were. “Fuck.” 

You laughed and his lips tugged up at the sound. 

“I don’t mind, if you want to touch me,” he admitted quietly, reaching for your hand and unfurling it from the bedding. His hand was larger than yours but your fingers settled between his comfortably and your body sagged with relief. “So what do we do now?”

You shrugged, not exactly knowing the answer yourself. Time was plentiful so there was no rush, but you were eager to find out who it was your heart had been given to. “What do you enjoy?”

Charles’ smile dropped as he suddenly remembered the world he had left behind. “Shit, we need to go back. I have a race this week.”

–

“Breaking News: Peace had been brokered between nations all over the globe in a dramatic turn of events. For more information we will be heading to our correspondent at the United Nations HQ…”

Charles turned off the TV in the hotel but he didn’t miss the way your eyes remained fixed on the screen, or the way your lip wobbled. Crossing the room, he grabbed your hands and bent his knees so you were eye to eye. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s my fault,” you whispered through the lump in your throat. “I failed my duties.”

He looked back at the TV where you could still see the breaking news. Peace had come after two thousand years of skirmishes and wars on the mortal plane. There should have never been wars to begin with. 

“That isn’t your fault,” he argued, but he had the knowledge of the gods, he understood how your power worked. The gods were a fragile ecosystem that required balance. You were the balance to Ares’ power and his effect on the world.

“I was weakened when Kàrolos died, I lost half of myself, half of my strength. It left Ares unchecked - of course it is my fault.”

Charles wrapped his arms around you, tucking your head into the crook of his neck so you couldn’t stare at the TV. “You’re making things right now, that’s what matters.”

“It’s not even me,” you laughed bitterly. “It’s you. I couldn’t do this on my own.”

“Come on,” he said as he started to drag you towards the door.

“Where are we going?”

“You need a distraction, and I know just the thing.” 

Charles drove to the circuit he would be practising on in the morning and it was relatively quiet as he led you through the paddock. A few teenagers excitedly asked for photos with him and you smiled as he stopped to talk with each one. He was so different to Kàrolos. Kàrolos was a warrior, proud and unmoving. Most children gave him a wide berth when they saw the scars that littered his body. It wasn’t in him to idly chatter or placate others, the only soft spot he had was for you. 

“You’re very patient,” you commented as he waved goodbye and continued to the edge of the track. 

He smiled shyly and looked at his shoes as he shrugged. “I try my best to talk to fans, especially when I have the time. Take a few laps with me?”

You followed his gaze to a Ferrari that was parked in the pit lane. “I’ve never been in a car.”

“No, really?” His eyes were wide with disbelief and you laughed at the innocence in those eyes. 

“I go where I want, I’ve never needed to drive.”

He grabbed your hand and excitement flowed through you as he set a quick pace to the car. “Trust me?” he asked as he opened the passenger door.

You were immortal so it didn’t matter if he crashed. Sure, it would hurt but you would eventually heal. But the question felt heavier than just asking if you trusted him not to crash, more that you could trust him to keep you safe. “Yes, I trust you, Charles.”

You slipped into the seat that was moulded to cradle you before he bent down and buckled the clips in for you. His cologne reached your nose at the close proximity and you inhaled deeper as you committed the rich scent to your memory. 

“Is this comfortable?” he asked as he tugged the harness.

“It is…managable.” Restrictive, confined, and claustrophobic came to mind but you didn’t want to worry him as he went around to his side. There was energy in his step that had been missing in Olympus, an ambience that brightened the moment he arrived at the racing track, and you wanted to keep that light in his aura. 

“We’ll take the first one slow,” he promised as he started the engine and gripped the wheel. 

You had flown into battle on the back of a pegasus, you had held onto the fins of charybdis as they raced through Posiden’s domain. Nothing came close to the thrill and the speed of Charles’ car. 

Your heart jumped up your throat as you were thrown back into the seat and then the world around you blurred. Everything faded away except for the window ahead and you didn’t dare blink in case you missed a moment. There were no thoughts on the what ifs of the future, or the regrets of your past. There was only the car, and Charles grinning at you.

“Are you sure this is slow?” you asked with a giddy laugh as the adrenaline reached your head and the initial surprise was erased.

“Hold on, cherie.” The engine roared louder and like a beast it leapt forward. A scream of exhilaration filled the car as Charles lassoed the metal beast and wrangled it through each corner until he finally slowed to return to the pit lane. 

“I finally understand the obsession,” you admitted as he parked back where he had left. Your fingers were almost stiff where they had gripped the harness over your chest and you flexed the feeling back into them before unbuckling it. “I can’t even describe it, but I feel alive - if that makes sense? I can’t think quite clearly now.”

“I understand.” Charles smiled softly and wiped away the stray tear that ran down your cheek from having your eyes wide open for so long. “It’s getting late.”

You climbed out of the car and looked up to see stars dotting the desert night sky. It felt like time stopped while you were in the car but nothing could stop time and it all came rushing back. “Can we do this again?” you asked, a little sheepish at how needy you sounded.

“Of course,” Charles promised, taking your hand as naturally as breathing. “After this race it’s winter break and I am all yours.” He stumbled and caught himself. “I mean, if you want to hang out and, uh, stuff. I don’t have any plans, but if you do we can figure something ou-”

You rose onto your toes and kissed his cheek that was turning pink in the moonlight and he fell silent. “I don’t have any plans either.”

Charles stared at your lips, still feeling the warmth on his cheek and he touched the skin as a smile tugged at his lips and he nodded to himself. “Okay. Okay.” 

“You’re cute,” you said as you felt the urge to kiss his lips next.

His nose wrinkled at the compliment. “Cute?”

“Amongst other things,” you added, biting your lip to keep your other thoughts to yourself. 

He grew confident and curled his finger under your chin, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip and pulling it free from your teeth. “You’re beautiful.”

Your lungs refused to work as his head dipped down slowly, giving you time to change your mind. You could still feel the remnants of that thrill in your veins and the charge was electric as you gave into your desire and threw your arms around his neck. The kiss started slowly, hesitation holding you both back as you tasted the chemistry, but it grew deeper as his arms curled around your waist, pulling your bodies flush. 

The track faded away as you spared one last critical thought to teleport back to the hotel room. Charles blinked as he looked around the bedroom, but the surprise turned to a smirk. “That is handy.”

“You can do it too,” you said as your fingers traced the hem of his shirt. “You can just have to picture the image in your mind.”

Cold kissed your skin and you looked down to see your own shirt had disappeared. 

“Holy shit, it worked,” he gasped. “Oh, shit, sorry.”

Your shirt returned in an instant but it was now the same shade of red as his team colours. 

“I wasn’t complaining,” you smirked but the humour dimmed as his hands came to rest on your waist that was still wrapped in red cotton. “We can take it slow, Charles.”

“Is that what you want?”

“I want you, not your regrets. I want you to be ready.” Ready for an eternity together.

Charles sat at the edge of the bed and pulled you onto his lap. “The first thing you should know about me is I have never been good at going slow,” he admitted as he cupped your cheek and crushed his lips to yours.

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A song of rage and salty waves: part I

— Emperor Geta x reader (Salacia)

— 2.5k words

— Read all parts here: Part I — Part II — Part III — Part IV

Summary; You were raised outside of this Rome. Born into peace. To know of fathomless deep seas, and skies so big, they wrapped around your whole sight. The way that at night all you can smell are lemon trees kissed by salt. The jasmine plants wound around the white walls of the villa. Salacia. And now you are sent to Rome for your father in the Senate. There you will catch the attention of Geta; in all the wrong and darkest of ways— any reblog and comments are greatly appreciated 💙💙💙

TW!! some dub con/ threat/violence/basically forced marriage/forced smut situation/Geta is such a vile human being/Macrinus is villain sorry denzel ily

You’re imprisoned in Rome.

You certainly didn’t come here of your own free will. Your father had tugged you here from Corsica. Employed clever charm with letters and schemes from his high position in the senate.

As the role of your sex; you were born to obey.

He sent you imported silken stolas the colours of cornflowers or lazurite, with gold fibulae at the shoulders. Gem inlaid jewellery, rings to decorate every finger, and earrings the sway. A golden net for your hair. Wheedled you into coming to join him. Sending servants to travel with you and take heed of your every comfort.

He made sure you dined on plump fresh fruit. Seafood of lobsters and crabs. Drank wine so rich dark it looked black.

You despise it. The stone pillars and temples. And gods of old. Eyes watch you everywhere. See you. Follow you.The governing heat and noise and sweaty heaving mass of all forms of life.

You were raised outside of this Rome. Born into peace. To know of fathomless deep seas, and skies so big, they wrapped around your whole sight. The way that at night all you can smell are lemon trees kissed by salt. The jasmine plants wound around the white walls of the villa.

Salacia. The ocean nymph and the being of your name. Crowned with seaweed in your hair. Sea foam dripping off your fingers. Ripped from your home, an isle by the sea, at the whim of another.

Imprisoned here in this cold marble city. A fish out of water. Gasping dry on the shore.

Pulled inland and stolen away. You can’t hear gulls or waves anymore. It sickens you. Heart pangs that throb for home.

When you arrived, pulled back your folded palla down to your shoulders. He welcomed you with open arms and fondness. Wrists linked in gold cuffs. Tugged you to his chest and embraced you warmly. Hissed in your ear - abrasive like harsh sea spray - spies are everywhere.

He needed you close by. For reasons you had yet to fathom.

You dined like spoilt deity’s. Breads and wines, fish, fruits from far regions fattened by the suns heat, and succulent meat roasted in sweet cassia spices on a spit.

He had urns of flowers - picked by the servant - placed in every room. Lilies, juniper branches still bearing dark fruit, lavender, oleanders.

Companions join him and he is boastful of you. A nubile creature offered placement at a table of old muddled men. He introduces you to trusted friends and advisors in the senate.

One man in particular takes keen interest as to your recent arrival. His name was Macrinus. Man of information and resources. Dealt in cunning and cruelty though you found him sincerely charming. Your father watched you with a desperate eye.

Macrinus bore a smile so dazzling and blinding it made you dizzy; made think of the sun god. Apollo and his light cast across golden wheat fields. Notes of fine music. He sipped his wine slow, as he learned the flavour of your name. Where you came from. Understanding the rolling sea foam in your veins.

There’s a game to be held at the coliseum. He will have your father as his guest - and you by a very pretty extension. He nods at you; his eyes glimmer like pooled liquid gold in the half lit dark. It almost makes you feel safe.

They dine and drink into the small hours. Yet you slip away.

You watched this awful city out your window that night in your silk dress the colour of night time tidal waves. The air is stale. Carrion to you. Hot. Full of dust and sweat. Here, It smells like mulberry trees and a green garden waiting for blessed rain.

You couldn’t hear the sea. Or your sisters. Your mothers humming as she wove cloth and mended clothes. And you wept.

Salt found in your tears to be your only sacred comfort of home.

~

You are soft to this hard stone city. The coliseum is magnificent. As large as it is those who hold their powerful fists over its rule. Clutched in gold. Fine for the rich. Deadly for the slaves and warriors thrown into the pit at the whim of others. Met with carnivore teeth and sand and death.

The senators, generals, and the rich merchants watch from their perch, up among the gods they serve, presiding in shade and clothed in perfumed silks and jewels. Ladies and men both.

Your hair took hours to fasten in its current coiled style. Plaited and weaved. Your dress is the colour of the softest blue shore. Your servant lavished your arms and fingers in golden finery. A serpent cuff coiled around your arm. Skin draped in lemon oil because it’s the small piece of Corsica you carry here with you. Serenity to push against this place of gore, butchery and death.

You find yourself seated here amongst giants. Macrinus is seated one side. Your father the other. He fondly lays his hand across yours in gentle touch.

His palm is damp. Gold rings wet.

His face looks haggard with age. The lines by his eyes more prominent. Rome is poisoning him. The golden apple just a fingertip shy of his reach. St Bartholomew flayed and stripped of skin piece by piece. Schemes and plots lay thick in his mind like rot. Sweat beads down across his brow and the thinning salt pepper of his hair.

He says something to Macrinus that you’re too absorbed to hear. It’s low. Dragged through a growl. He appears unmoved, with a slow flick of his eyes to you. Watching this finery and loudness devour you. Your eyes so full wide and round. Salt and innocence entwined.

You all rise when the emperors pass by, Geta and Caracalla, who stride in, garbed in gold and cloaks. Come to take their rightful place at the mouth of the box where you are seated.

They are like twin suns to the Roman people. Lion gold hair kissed by fire. They burn and twist and shine with it. Make noises like gold coins that clack when they move. Strung in riches and golden crowns of olive leaves and branches.

Together they make you think of Romulus and Remus. Raised rabid by wolves. And they certainly make an impression. You’ve heard tale of the voracious nature of the blood sport they all but live for. Faces limned in the glory of gore.

The crowd cheers for them. They nod and wave but it appears barbed. The games begin with a wave of applause and a regal hand.

Caracalla twists and casts an eye in your direction. Seeing new meat.

The way you sit sedately and can’t cast your mind into the butchery and violence happening below. The clash of steel. The hollow squelching cries that proceed death. The spill of viscera and the scatter of brain matter from split heads.

Each new gash or split in skin made them smile. The taint of blood. Metallic sour. Spilling of offal and exposed bone.

He tilts his head like a clever wolf. Eyes darken. His sneer as terrible as a skulls. He leans across and whispers something to his brother with a knock of his arm to gain attention.

Another set of wolfish eyes join the first in hooking to your skin. Silly soft girl. Made of gentle sea breezes and lapping blue waves calm and soft enough to wade in. Pearl shining in moonlight. So watery and weak. So good. Untouchable.

Geta swept his gaze on you from head to toe. Appraising you hungrily through greedy eyes. The beauty of your figure in that soft folds of that stola. The gold that crushed your neck. Broaches at your fair shoulders. Hair glistening and finely arranged.

He liked the way you winced when another sword blow came. The pull of your brows and how you had to look away. He wanted you gathered up in his lap; fingers crushing your jaw as he turned your head; force you to watch as the men cleaved at each other and drew blood. Hacked off limbs. Laugh at your revulsion.

Looking at you sat there; He has an urge to take his dagger, slit that fine silk from your shoulders and bare your real beauty. Grab it off you and snatch your dress down. Spoil himself on your curves. Grab your breasts. He’s sure you’ve tits that even a goddess would envy. He’d reel you in by grabbing your ass that definitely needs a spank and some attention.

You’re even prettier than some of the finest whores he’s had grace his bed. They never kept his interest too long. Too entwined in filth and sin like him; you look pure as a vestal virgin.

He likes that. He wants to pluck it off you and spoil it.

You don’t dare meet his eyes. Of course you don’t. He’s an emperor. He could have you executed for looking at him wrongly. Instead; you wring your hands in your lap and squirm. Close your eyes tighter with every dying wail.

He turns back to the fight. As do you. A gasp flies from your mouth when you draw your eyes to one of the measly soldiers in the arena. Your father left his seat to stand, mouth gaping.

You saw the familiar arrangement of strong limbs. Garbed in warriors clothing. The way his arms shook holding a sword. Inexperienced and struggling. The fight was not fair. The same head of hair that matched your own.

Your oldest brother.

Macrinus grinned. “He’s not my finest fighter. But I wager he’ll be good sport.” He smirks.

Your father turned, cursed the gods, and exploded with venomous rage. Flew for the man with his fists. Grabbed his clothing. You tried to restrain the storm of his temper - but then you’d got that trait from somewhere hadn’t you? - an ocean thrashing wild and free. Terrifying in its rage.

“You promised me.” Your father roared. Spittle flying.

“I never promised to protect your traitor of a son. Let us see if the gods spare him. Yes?” Macrinus commented.

You couldn’t take your eyes from the pit. Nor could your father. He clutched to you like he could barely stand. Weakened and shrinking. Hand a vice on your shoulder. It burned like the sting of sun but you couldn’t shrug him off.

Your brother was meeting with an opponent far larger than he was. A Retiarius. Helmet, trident, dagger and a net.

Of which had currently knocked your brother to the blood dusted dirt. Spearing the trident deep into his thigh. Pinning him to earth like a bug. His cry of pain ringing out. Blood sheeted down one side of his head. His scream is the most horrible thing you’d ever heard.

You can’t help it. Where you’re stood, you cry out. It pours forth from you.

The Retiarius loomed over your bother like a terrible storm cloud. Looking up at the stands for direction. The whole audience cheered and screamed for more.

Geta stood up and the crowd bayed. He sneered at the sight before him. All the power of a god; crammed into a mortal man.

He raised his arm. And hesitated for a moment. Before he smirked. And pointed his thumb right up.

Death.

Your father wailed. The huge lumbering gladiator descended onto your brother. Flinging the net off and cutting his throat in one fast slice. Blood poured and pooled around lifeless eyes. Stained the sand.

Macrinus stood to his feet and clapped along with everyone else. The emperors’ laughed like hyenas at the sight. Blood and pain only made their smiles grow.

Before you knew what was happening, the palace guards had you and your father surrounded. Hands viced around your arms. Your shoulders. Your father too.

Traitor. He decried. A traitor in the senate. The tarpeian rock.

Just like his now dead son. People’s poised against the glory of Rome. Against Caracalla and Geta. Death to all.

Macrinus spoke harshly to the guards to release you. He backhanded you across your cheek. Your eye felt like it was going to burst. Cheek flamed with fire. Lip cut and bleeding down your chin from his ring.

He then wasted little time in digging his fingers into your finely done hair. Hauled you along screaming. Tears streaming.

Your father could only watch, limbs wrenching forwards in terror to help, as Macrinus marched you across the stands to where they sat.

He threw you to the ground like a feral animal. Tumbled you onto your knees. Skimmed your hands. As you squirmed and cried at your body twisted to his cruelty.

“Your majesties. I have personally uncovered a traitor in your court. Senator Aurelius. Not only was his first born placed in rebellion against Rome. But he himself has been sowing seeds of treason in your senate. I bring you his filthy kin as recompense…” He spat at the Emperors. Releasing your mussed hair to throw you to their feet.

They examined you as one would a creature. Nothing of humanity left. Devoid of any feeling. You crawled slowly to your elbows. Tried to claw away sobs. Raising up but not daring to look at them. You weren’t worthy. You feared them.

Geta was the one who rose slowly to his feet. Coming to stand before you. “We are most grateful for your revelation, Macrinus. You will be rewarded for such loyal service.” Though he spoke to him, his eyes never left you.

You father shouted and cried pleas. They go unheard. He snaps to the guards who hold him. “Silence that treacherous snake-“ he barks. They beat him into submission.

You stay cowering on the ground. In amongst the gritty dirt, and the blood like those slaves and gladiators. That’s how they saw you. That’s how much you were worth. Held in the same regard as the dirt on their shoes.

You feel a ring clad hand tip a finger under your chin. Blood dripping down onto that digit as he made you raise your head to look at him until your neck hurt.

“What is your name, pretty little traitor-“ He sneers. Because that is all you are. They’ve tarred and feathered you with the same brush.

You give it to him through tears that run freely. You give this awful golden haired emperor with dark lecherous eyes your name.

“Salacia.” You cry. Voice watery and cloaked in heavy salty sobs. Lips parted. So soft and pliable. Lovely and ripe and waiting for him. A gift from the gods-

He tilts his head down at you. Looking like some sun gold lion. Showing his canines in a cruel white smile.

“Imprison them. Both.” He smirks.

He thinks he may have them bring him your fathers head on a platter. Strangulation seemed too soft. Too forgiving. He had to make an example of you.

He had a particular way in mind for your fate. He watched you get led away crying as he sucked your sweet blood off his thumb.

You tasted like salt and sea foam

~

Tagging in the hopes this finds its way to the right people—

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[agoofyannoyancetolaw]

Virgin sacrifice

a/n: I got inspo from this post from a fem reader account but I forgot their @! So- if I remember that I’ll credit them- also I know all my writing kinda reads the same this week but I don’t have any interesting ideas sooo :/

minors DNI

cold tiles against his burning against his hurt skin, the sound of buzzing and the door behind him locking shut filling his ears as he scrambled to sit up. The first thing that caught his attention being the large statue of your figure carved into the very marble of the temple, old candles and offerings scattered around with old pelts piled in a corner. He was freezing, the cold atmosphere of the temple biting at his skin under his silk white robes he had been forced into. He was an offering to you, nothing more- a virgin offering was gaz’s fate.

he sat in that coldness of the marble temple for a long time, before a sudden smell of warmth and home enveloped him, your figure standing in front of him and towering over his frame. He was scared out of his fucking mind; standing in front of a god he was given to as a blood sacrifice. But.. you didn’t attack him, nor bite into him or anything he was told to happen, you simply picked him up, and set him down on a bed in a room far below the rest of the old temple. Seasonings and herbs hanging from the walls and offerings of gold and such sorted on shelves next to the bed of fine furs and pelts; his tiredness quickly catching up to him while enveloped in the warmth as he closed his eyes and fell asleep. Unaware of your plans to make him your pretty little bride.

he woke up groggily, almost completely forgotten about where he was until he felt your strong arms held around him and your chest flush against his back, as well as a bulge in your pants right up against him. Your large figure draped over him in a way he couldn’t quite place as anything he expected. He expected to be slaughtered- or murdered and ate by a god such as yourself. But here he sat, stuck tightly against your figure while feeling your member against the soft fabric of his silk sacrificial outfit he had been forced into.

“may I?” You hummed sleepily, your fingers tiredly playing with the fabric of his clothes as he nodded ever so softly and let you slide a slow digit into him

his mouth made such pretty sounds as you prepped him slowly, your large calloused fingers pressing down on his prostate just to hear his pretty whines. He had already gotten addicted to the feeling of your fingers in him. He was your new offering after all! He needed to get comfortable in the luxury of silk and honey and sweets littering your temple and the feeling of you lavishing him.

he swore you had been working him open for hours, his cock hard and twitching as pre-cum dribbled onto his pretty silk, whining and writhing in relief when he finally heard your golden studded robes slide down off of you and tossed off the bed. and the feeling of your length sliding down into him inch by inch.

“taking me like a good offering, hm darling?” You hummed, the feeling of your hot breath against his neck making him squirm even more then he already was, his walls clenching around you like a vice and his body bucking up in search of relief until he was calmed by the feeling of your free hand softly stroking his own length.

“you need to relax- truly. You’re going to make it hurt,” he heard you muttered as you took it slow, rutting into him and earning moan after moan falling from his mouth. His stomach coiling in warmth as if a fire in his stomach was lighting up his nerves and causing smoke to fog his brain.

A sudden thrust from you sent him seeing stars before he could even warn you. His pretty silk stained with his cum. His walls tightened and fluttered around you, making you paint his walls white. Falling blissfully asleep while he cock warmed you- of course his own dreams being warm and fuzzy from his overstimulation