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arabellasleopardcoat · 11 months ago

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Bestiary (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Your husband and you do not speak the same language. During your wedding night, you find out that High Valyrian and the Common Tongue pale when compared to the way your bodies allow you to communicate.

Warnings: Heavy smut, not much dialogue. P in V sex. First time.

A/N: Who would have thought the most enthusiastic consent I have ever written with Daemon would be in a fic with nearly no dialogue?

Being coached through your wedding vows is not a good omen for your marriage. At least, that is what your husband must think, by the thunderous look on his face. You fight the urge to scream at him that you have practiced for this moment and that you do not need to be coached through the vows. It would be no use. The two of you do not understand each other.

Everything is strange to you in Westeros, from the language to the wedding ceremony. They make you cut your lips and hand, in a procedure you do not enjoy. Your husband does the same. Your blood flows into a goblet, from which you will have to drink later on.

It's barbaric. You suppose it must symbolize the joining of bloodlines in the crudest way.

At least Daemon kisses you at the end, a cold brush of his lips against yours that tells you he is still mad. He had probably felt betrayed, being forced into this arrangement you entered willingly.

If you had known he was that petty, you would have not shown your hand so fast. Your father had wanted dragons, which meant becoming part of House Targaryen. Daemon was the only one available for you to ensnare in your web.

As any good hunter, you had watched your prey first, taking notes of his behavior. Only an afternoon was needed to understand you started the race with a disadvantage. His eyes followed Princess Rhaenyra, Princess Rhaenys and her little daughter, but never lingered on other women.

While you might have lacked the silver hair, you did not lack the wits and charms necessary to be taken in consideration.

You had needed a few days to ready your song, but you had approached him not even a week later. He had been sitting in the library, so you had knocked on the table twice to draw his attention.

Daemon had lifted his eyes from the scroll he was reading, annoyed. He had a handsome face, decorated with age lines that only served to make him look more regal. He looked more the part of the King than his brother, a decaying corpse that you had heard had also acquired his own nubile bride.

Such was the fate of the daughters of powerful men. Sold to other powerful men, old enough to be their fathers, birthing them their own litter of sons and daughters. Sons that would grow up to become powerful men in their own right, daughters that would become pawns to establish dynasties. On and on it went.

Daemon had spoken then. His words were much harsher than those of the language you were used to, lacking the airy song of the languages similar to the one from the Rhoynar. You had not understood. You did not speak a lick of the Common Tongue.

No silver hair, no words, but plenty of resources. You had placed the book you had brought with you on the table, and looked at him.

His eyes had lit up with curiosity. He recognized the title. He spoke again, intrigued.

Despite his tone sounding much more auspicious, you had no other option than to shake your head and speak, with a tremulous voice.

“Bodmagho.” It's the only word you know, one that you have prepared especially for this. But just in case your pronunciation is not perfect, you open the book and mimic the gesture of passing the pages.

Daemon looks stunned. He says something else, still in the Common Tongue. You were able to tell from the intonation he was asking a question, but you didn't know what it was about.

“Bodmagho.” You repeated, stubbornly. You placed your book down and pointed to it.

Daemon sighed. He pointed to the chair. You sat, happy as a clam.

“Prince Daemon.” He pointed at himself. Then, to you. “Lady…?”

You told him your name. He nodded.

“Daor.” He shook his head. “No.”

You stared. He shook his head again. You understood that no, daor and shaking head meant the same.

“Daor. No.” You shook your head. Daemon squeezed your shoulder, a proud smile on his face.

Your father told you that afternoon that you were to be married to him. Just as you had made efforts to catch Daemon, your father had been setting his trap.

Daemon did not oppose, nor encourage the match, but he was angry at you. Angry that you knew before him and tried to charm him into doing your bidding.

Men like him, you learn, like to be the ones pulling the strings. They hate being treated like hounds, even if that is what they are.

You get no further lessons.

This is how you manage to get to your wedding feast only knowing two words. Teach and no. It makes you the most riveting company, and so, it's no wonder you are soon ushered into a chamber with your new husband.

You had not noticed before, but it is the first time you are alone with him since the morning at the library. To you, it had been a matter of no consequence. You had to marry a powerful man, one day. Your father decided it should be him because he wanted dragons. It was as simple as that.

As a rich man, your father had known rich men only get richer at times of unrest. And unrest was coming for the Seven Kingdoms. He could smell it in the air, hear it in the whispers of the common folk. Princess Rhaenyra wasn’t going to inherit without issue.

Your family moved here for that reason. An opportunity to get richer could not be dismissed. Your father had taken one look at the dragons and decided that they were the key to turning his legacy into an empire.

Giant war machines that could level castles in one afternoon. Raze a city to the ground in mere hours. Fire so hot it could melt stone. They could not be bought, you had to be a Targaryen to have them. It was only natural to turn into one, then.

Your children would get dragons. You would provide funds and as many children as you could, and House Targaryen the magic in their veins. Simple business transaction. But apparently, Daemon disagreed.

His face is thunderous. You can tell he is about to berate you. He starts talking, brows pinched together and an accusing finger pointed towards you.

Has he forgotten you do not speak his language? You step closer and poke his arm, hard.

It was the wrong choice. Daemon's face turns even more murderous. His lips twist into a snarl, teeth bared. His posture turns aggressive. He puffs up his chest, he advances on you. The Prince tries to intimidate you through his body language alone.

You are not a small woman. But you are young, and you do not train as much as he does. His looming over you feels menacing, and it reminds you once again of the fate his late wife was rumored to have suffered.

This was a bad idea. A terrible idea. Daemon is forcing you to walk backwards, pushing your forehead and nose with his. You either move, or get a broken nose and a concussion.

Daemon is terrifying. You will not cross him again, you think to yourself. Only a fool goes around poking dragons with a stick. You feel your palms starting to sweat, a knot forming in your throat. You fight the urge to cry.

The back of your knees hits the mattress, and you fall into the furs with a small noise of surprise. Your husband does not lose any time. He gets right into your face, trying to intimidate you even more.

But if you hope to survive this marriage, to make it work as your father has requested, you can't bend. Daemon will never respect you if you do. He will see you as no more than a frightened girl, who will not disagree with him and serve for little beyond warming his bed. You are not that. You will build an empire, a dynasty out of his dragons and your wealth. The only thing you can do is persevere or break trying.

Daemon scowls at you. He notices the change in your eyes, the fight coming back to you.

“Daor.” You say, staring him down with all your might. It doesn't matter if you are lying down, and he is hovering over you, pinning you under him. You will triumph.

Daemon doesn't heed the warning. He starts tugging at the buttons of your bodice, tiny pearls sent flying all over the room. The gesture is as brutal as it is calculated. It is meant to remind you of your place, always under him from now on. Daemon has a right to your body, and he intends to exercise it as he sees fit. You are no more than an object, and if you cry or scream, it is not relevant.

Despite knowing why he is doing it, you can't avoid grimacing. He looks more beast than a man, snarling over you, ripping your clothes. It's a sight that would scare any woman, no matter how cold.

You look up at him. You give him your own little snarl. Daemon pauses. It's not the reaction he was expecting. He wanted you to cry. You would never give him the satisfaction.

It's a balancing act. You will have to bring him to heel, but soothe his pride in the next act, less he turns on you. Push away a man too much, and he will think you are disrespecting him. He will call you names, thinking you are the problem. Daemon feels entitled to you. You need to show him he is not, but that you are giving yourself to him. He needs to value you. The treasure to his dragon.

“Daor!” You say, firmly. You push him away. Whatever he anticipated, you giving him a fight wasn't something he was prepared for. It shows in the way he folds, stunned by your behavior. You give him hard little slaps to the chest, until you manage to get him off you.

Daemon's scowl turns more confused than angry. He looks at you as if you are a particularly challenging riddle to crack. He rightens his clothes and starts to retreat.

“Daor.” You repeat, grabbing at his shirt to keep him in place. You do not want him to leave.

Daemon wretches free from your grip on his arm. He mutters something, angered.

“Daor.” You use his trick against him, stepping right into his path and forcing him to back off. You use your body to make him advance backwards, toward the bed.

He sits on the edge of it, still scowling. You giggle, making Daemon madder still. You look at him with what you hope is a seductive expression and pull your bodice down.

“Bodmagho?” You ask him, as your dress pools around your feet, leaving you in a sheer shift. Daemon's eyes darken. His expression changes into an amused smile, and he gestures for you to come to him.

You do. You step closer and get on his lap. His hands envelop your waist, warm and calloused.

Then, the unexpected. Daemon grabs your hair and pulls, forcing your head back. You moan, pain and arousal mixing into an unknown emotion that makes the place between your legs slick.

You can feel his breath against your neck, making you shiver. His face comes closer, and closer. Daemon stares into your eyes, lips slightly parted. You mirror his expression, feeling as if you are being consumed by your lust.

He arches an eyebrow. Never been one to shy away from a challenge, you brush his lower lip with his thumb. Daemon parts his lips and sucks it in his mouth.

The shock must have shown on your face because he laughs, giving your thumb a playful bite. You squirm, instinct overpowering modesty, and roll your hips against his.

The two of you stare at each other. Closer, and closer, until his features blur, until two purple eyes turn into one. A dragon turned cyclops by the mere force of lust. There is hunger and want, and confusion. Both of you are so close that you are sharing the same air, the same breath. And Daemon pulls, and you are kissing, and you shake in his arms, feeling like how you think the gods must have felt when the cyclopes formed the lighting.

His hands go to greedily knead at your thighs, slipping under your shift. His palms feel rough against your skin, impatient. The shift rides up, up, up. You mewl against his mouth, desperately reaching for something unknown to you but that you know Daemon will help you reach.

You are restless as he pets you, biting at your mouth, hands sinking in his hair. You tug him towards your neck, knowing his kisses, scorching hot, would burn even sweeter along your nape and ears.

Daemon, though, has other plans. He pulls away and pecks you on the lips. “Vūjigon ” He says. He touches his mouth. “Vūjigon”

You kiss him, softly. “Vūjigon”

He pets your hair.

“Vūjigon.” And he points to his collarbones. You frown in confusion, thinking perhaps the word doesn't mean what you think it does. He sighs and leans in, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the space between your collarbones.

“Vūjigon.” You perk up, and start kissing his shoulders. Your hands pull his shirt more open, letting you bite and lick more of his flesh. The urge to consume and be consumed is overpowering, making you desperate to touch him.

Daemon laughs. He pulls you upwards. Can't he see you are starving?

“Daor.” He says, when you try to go back to it. You give him your fiercest pout. Daemon tuts at you.

He squeezes one of your breasts, making you moan, before cruelly twisting the bud. You gasp, your nails digging on his naked shoulders.

“Shhh.” Daemon soothes you, his hand going to squeeze your breast tenderly once more. “Daor?”

You don't know how to tell him what you want, so you grab his hand and make him pinch the tender bud again. Daemon smiles. He kisses you, muttering something fervently on your lips.

He lays you down on the bed, despite your attempts to sit up. Daemon pins you down with a growl, hand on your chest.

You can't help it. No matter the warning, you squirm as if you were in pain. It certainly feels like it. There is some sort of hunger in your belly, making you want to rub your core against him. You can feel your shift starting to become wet right above your tailbone. Daemon has you so bothered you are dripping into the shift and the bed.

Daemon gives you another growl and leans down to bite your breast over the fabric of your shift. It's meant to be punishment, but you arch into it, gasping.

He laughs. He takes as much of it as it can fit in his mouth, sucking greedily. The noises are obscene. The sight must be, too. Your mouth, open, moaning yourself into a frenzy. Daemon, nipping, biting, sucking, like a man starved. Your shift with two giant wet spots, one at the chest and the other by your arse.

You moan, surprised at the feeling. You had never thought bodies could be used in such a way before. Nor had you hoped for him to please you so eagerly.

His lips close around your bud. His tongue twirls around it, lavishing it with attention. You grab at his hair, his nape, desperately trying to hold onto something. Daemon just sucks harder on your breast. You moan, and moan, and moan some more. Desperate little sounds, gathering in the air around a desperate girl.

He switches to your other breast. Your shift feels sticky on your skin, so you start trying to take it off. The task distracts you enough for his hand to find its way to your core, and you squeak at the first sensation of his fingers against it.

Daemon smiles against your skin. He presses a finger inside you, and you squeal some more. He lets go of your breast to better gaze into your overwhelmed face, seemingly getting an enjoyment out of it.

Another finger joins the first. You cry out. It stings a bit. Daemon shushes you, kissing your cheek. He rubs at something above your opening that makes you squirm in delight.

His other hand comes into your sight. Daemon makes a gesture, two fingers together, separating. You stare. He nuzzles you, his cheek against yours, before repeating it.

You nod with a pout.

He starts prying you open slowly, this time. Despite enjoying causing pain, it appears your cooperation has granted you privileges with Daemon. He understood the distress on your face, and read you correctly enough to know it was not going to go well if he kept going as he was.

Daemon rubs at your shoulders, soothingly. You understand you need to relax, and force your body to do so. He kisses you in reward, slow and sweet, coaxing you to him.

You nod again. Daemon moves back, settling himself by your side. He takes your shift away, pressing soft little kisses to each new inch of skin revealed.

The sudden removal of your last layer makes you shiver a little. Your skin is wet from his previous ministrations and rapidly cooling. You plaster yourself to him, seeking warmth.

He chuckles, grabbing your arse to move you slightly out of the way. You scowl, not sure why Daemon is doing so, until you realize he is taking off his breeches.

“Daemon.” You whisper, softly. There is a part of you that is already cringing at the promise of pain the loss of your maidenhead will bring.

“Daor?” He asks you, one of his hands petting your cunt. It makes you shiver.

“Bodmagho.” You grasp at his shoulders, steadying yourself. Daemon lines the two of you. You feel his member at your entrance, holding you open and threatening to spear you apart. It feels scorching against your skin.

He helps you impale yourself on his member. It's not pleasant at first. Property dictates that you should not let him see your discomfort. You should just bear it like a good wife and allow him to chase his pleasure unbothered.

But you know Daemon enjoys causing pain. He thrives on it. So you let your eyes fill with tears, and your face goes slack and overwhelmed.

He smiles. He licks your tears away, and mumbles something. You squeal, and it only excites him more.

“Bodamagho.” Daemon pinches the flesh on your hip, clearly calling you to focus. His hands move your pelvis back and forth, back and forth, until you are hissing in pleasure, your hands on his chest, doing the movement yourself.

“Vūjigon.” You demand, moving your hips just like he taught you. Daemon is too focused on aiding you bounce by thrusting upwards to pay attention to you. When he doesn't obey, you give a tug to his hair.

He snarls at you. You snarl back. So he grabs your wrists and pushes sideways, and suddenly, you are under him and Daemon is still thrusting into you.

You are desperate for closeness. You scrunch up your face and wrap your legs around his back. Daemon looks down at you, and bites your shoulder. He is not pleased with your perceived attempt to take control.

Realizing your mistake, you shake your head.

“Daor.” You rub at his back with your foot, gently. You hold him close, and nuzzle his neck, delighting in his scent. Never you had thought before you would enjoy the smell of sweat and some sort of aromatic oil, yet here you are. “Vūjigon.”

Daemon's expressions softens. He leans in and gives you a kiss. You make pleased, chirping noises, trying to show him that was precisely what you wanted.

He complies, releasing your hands. You enthusiastically hug him. It helps you anchor yourself against the unrelenting waves of pleasure.

His hands, now freed from yours, are everywhere. Twisting your buds, rubbing at your pearl, squeezing your waist. Daemon whispers nonsense in your ears, takes the lobe between his teeth. He aids you, tilting your hips with his hands, reaching deeper.

You heard a story once, about Westeros. A white hart was said to come to the greatest Kings alive. A magnificent beast, tall as a man, with skin made of the purest snow and antlers as long and imposing as the branches of an ancient tree. If a King encountered it, it was a good omen for his rule. It would be just and prosperous, blessed by the Gods.

What did they do with the hart? Keep it in Kingswood, perhaps? You had made the mistake of asking, once. You had been told that they used the best spear they had. That men held the hart down, and they gutted it from head to belly.

The perfect, regal beast, fur as pale as snow. The pristine white sheets under you. Blood tainting the white. What a way to go.

You understood then why they called it a small death. You were sweating, squealing like a beast being gutted, thighs trembling under Daemon's hands. It was too much and too little, and you felt yourself reaching it, yearning for it.

You did not care if you burned, moth to a flame, maiden to a dragon. Daemon seemed to realize it because his hand went to rub at your pearl, and he leaned in.

“….” He was talking, but it was in that strange language of his, and your ears were ringing, you felt about to explode. Your body responded to his tone, though. Gentle, loving, coaxing you over the edge with a scream so fierce you might as well have been one of those weeping women that appeared far north.

Daemon grinned at you. A fierce, proud expression, eyes crinkling in the corners. You pulled him into a kiss, and raked your nails down his back, feeling the skin yield like butter under your fingers. It spurred him on, and with a gasp and a bite to your shoulder, Daemon was shattering inside you.

He collapsed on top of you with a laugh. You smiled. Daemon pulled you to rest, back flush against his chest, and you understood each other better than those who spoke the same, common tongue, did.

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lokisgoodgirl · 1 year ago

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Heirs [Asgard!Loki x Fem.Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Loki starts your marriage by breaking tradition. Naturally. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Fluff & Smut. Oral. Asgardian HC Lore. Language. Loki POV. (w/c 1.9k)

Loki’s eyes followed the ripples your palms made over the water. Over the curve of your back. The delicate line of your spine. Steam rose in a mist, braiding upwards in the amber glow of sunset through the arched windows.

Sodden rose petals clung delicately to your waist, peppered sporadically on your skin like clean wounds. Beautiful, he thought, letting his robe fall with a rustle around his ankles to the ancient stone of the palace baths.

He smirked as you turned with a splash, instinctually covering your breasts before breaking into a smile. “Husband,” you giggled in greeting. It was the first time you had said it.

The word made him shiver, despite the heat thumping between his legs.

Loki enjoyed the slow crawl of your eyes up his body. You took in every inch of his long legs with the unrestrained hunger of a horny stable-hand, thumbs beginning to subconsciously massage your nipples. There was a flicker of pink as your tongue flashed over your lips, gaze lingering on his cock heavy set between tensed thighs. All yours, my love.

The water was perfectly warm. Hot – but not overly so. Carefully controlled thermal springs which ran into the palace saw to that. With each step into the stilling pool he took, you took a step back.

Even now wed, still ever the tease. Loki’s lips stretched in a mischievous smile, matching your own.

Heat kissed his knees, then his thighs, then his hips– dipping backwards to wet his hair in the perfumed baths. He could feel the weight sink into the tight weaves of his ceremonial braids, wound from his temples, the ends sinking down between floating strands of black. He rose up, rivulets running from his temples down to the nook of his collarbone. The Prince let out a small groan as you reclined on the steps by the side of the pool, only the curve of your mounds visible above gently lapping water. Beautiful.

You bit your lip, resting your elbows on the side. Waiting.

“I might even apologise for interrupting but I believe that would not be the most auspicious start to our marriage,” he coyed, before stopping directly in front of you.

He could feel the cool of your breath against his skin, wafting in teasing waves over the fat tip of his cock protruding from the water. “There will be plenty of time for lies, I'm sure,” you replied with a knowing smile, neck craning up.

Loki shivered again as your lips melded against his stomach, thumbs pressing into his obliques while your fingers curled around his trunk. He could feel droplets roll between his shoulder-blades as his neck tilted back. The feeling of your fingers wrapping around his base of his cock, the gentle suck of your mouth on the thick, swollen head threatening to make his knees buckle. How long he had waited for this. How long you had both waited for this.

“Stop,” he gasped, just as you primed to swallow him whole. Loki would never forget the way your eyes shone with innocent confusion. He looked forward to seeing that moment reflected in your beautiful gaze many times in the coming years. The god bent down, capturing your lips with a messy kiss while he slid beside you on the stone seat concealed beneath the surface.

“Do you know," he began, pausing to brush a thumb over your lips, "that the royal men of Asgard are forbidden from pleasuring their wives with their mouths?” His eyes searching yours, nerves fluttering in his belly. “I have heard it said,” you hummed, curling a thick ebony strand of Loki’s wet hair around your finger. “But it never made sense to me.”

Loki chuckled, leaning forwards to suck gently against your neck.

His tongue would never sate from the taste of your skin. Never. He let out a rasping moan in your ear, one of his hands sliding between your open thighs beneath the water.

The tips of his fingers grazed the plump folds he found, the arch of your back against the terracotta making his shaft twitch against his stomach. “You see, if my tongue is buried between your thighs, wife, it is not my cock.”

“Heirs?” you asked, feigning innocence.

“Heirs.” Loki smirked. You rolled your eyes playfully as his finger trailed lazily down your inner thigh, dragging softly over your knee.

“The most beautiful sounds a woman can make are thus,” he postured casually, leaning one elbow on the side with a fist beneath his temple. Your palms slid teasingly over his stomach, inching further with each time-wasting word. “Firstly, the primal grunt as her blade pierces the flesh of her enemy. And second...”

Loki paused to follow the descent of a particularly fliratatious droplet down the curve of your neck with one long finger, “the shameless groan in her throat as she cums into the mouth of her lover.”

“Is that so?” you said, sliding your hands up over his shoulders. Oil swirling within the heat of the baths made them soft and slick, the lady’s delicate grip against ropes of ferocious muscle making him weaken. Loki felt his brows slant. “You do not believe me?” he murmured incredulously.

The laugh that chimed from your throat made his heart swell.

“My Lord, I am innocent of such things as you well know,” you said, a sarcastic smirk tugging your lips. Loki tutted, playing the game. “I have fought beside you many times, wife. I know that you keep the highest count of men slain by a woman’s hand.”

You nodded thoughtfully, before your head tilted to the side. “I meant the other thing,” you whispered, pressing your lips together. Loki cupped your cheeks as your stare focused on the narrow valley of lapping water between your bodies. He frowned. "Truly?" You nodded. He could feel your cheeks warm beneath his touch. How can it be that a man has never pleasured her so, he thought.

“Then let me show you how black of a steed I truly am in this family of mine,” he heard himself mutter, seeing your chest begin to heave with quickening breaths. “Of all our inane traditions, that is by far the most loathsome.”

The nervous laugh that escaped you bounced to every vault in the high ceilings, sinking through the cross-breeze from the open arches.

“More so than the Ceremony of the Sacred Seed?” you giggled, biting your lip again. Loki nodded, a smile curling one side of his mouth. “The Ceremony is a farce, but this…?” his hands found the curve of your waist beneath the water, lifting you effortlessly to the final step before the bath’s edge. “The waste of my wife’s pleasure from my talents would be unforgivable.”

Water lapped gently at your hipbones while Loki carefully placed your calves over his shoulders. He turned his cheek, placing three kisses gently on wet skin. “Besides, was it not the Ceremony which set our path in motion?” he murmured, before grazing his teeth over your ankle. Your hips bucked upwards, a splash. “At least we may be thankful for that.”

Loki watched in awe as your body leant back against the smooth terracotta ledge, the clear bathwater making rivers and brooks through the creases of your hips. The way your curves stretched and moulded to the stone, fat streaks of water languishing down your supple, oiled skin.

He spread his knees against the bottom step, sinking down. His stomach flipped as your breath hitched, desire roaring behind a demure moan. Your glistening pussy was being lapped by the sway of water, swollen lips revealed and hidden with the graceful tide. Loki hoisted your thighs, positioning you perfectly.

“You know, technically, this is treason against the crown,” he purred teasingly, working sucking kisses up the soft flesh of your inner thigh. He felt them tremble around his neck.

“Husband, please,” you gasped, letting your head drop back. The wet of your hair slopped against the warm stone floor. Loki smirked against your skin, feeling a long breath leave your lungs as his palms lightly gripped your waist. “Very well, Princess-” he smiled.

Loki let his eyes drink in the sight for as long as physics would allow before his lips formed a soft latch to your centre. He stilled, letting you buck into his mouth with a shudder. The warmth of the bathwater lapped at his jaw, liquid silk mingling his tongue with your sex. And like a tame beast, he began a flat ascent up your slit.

The subsequent rattling, gasping cry from your body would never leave him. Surprise, relief, pleasure, freedom – it was all contained in that wordless pitch wavering amongst the bathhouse steam.

He let his tongue curve the softness of your womanhood, hands roaming further up your waist. The curvaceous weight of your breasts cupped in his hands made his cock ache. A vision of sinking himself inside you flashed through his mind, rolling and wrapping in once-pristine matrimonial bedsheets. With every rock of your hips, that delicate pussy crept further from the surface before retreating; never fully submerged but always caressed by the touch of water.

Loki felt your hands slide over his temples, fingers that did not know what to do with themselves playing at his intricate ceremonial braids.

It was tradition for the bride to undo the braiding on the wedding night while her husband rested, utterly spent of course. Of course, Loki thought; as the flat of his tongue pressed against your clit. Your back arched from his palms, an ambrosial moan of his name ringing around the cloisters. But there is time enough for that.

He was vaguely aware of the rumbles of wet enthusiasm bubbling from deep in his throat, the taste of jasmine mingling with the sweet nectar leaking from your entrance. All of it. He wanted all of it. All of her.

Your fingers had knitted into the thick of his braids, pulling his face gently between your thighs. Deeper. Loki smiled against your cunt. He rocked you back, sitting up further on his knees. The god took a breath, pausing to observe the once-forbidden glory of your pussy displayed beneath his loving command.

“How are you mine?” he hummed over your pleasure-drunk form, water dripping from his chin. You melted into his open mouth as he delved down again. His worship was rhythmic, each wax and wane of his talented tongue ringing new wells of praise from your lips. Your hands slid down his glistening biceps, feeling every solid curve and vein on their descent.

He could feel the growing frequency of twitching in your calves, the tense of your thighs as you clung on to the wave of pleasure building in your gut. Gasping, you patted his forearm; but Loki shook his head against your sticky heat.

His eyes rose, seeing your brow furrowed in panicked anticipation. The Prince ran his palms up your thighs from where he knelt, never ceasing his gentle laps against your slit. Relax, my love, it said. I have you.

And with a choked cry of his name, Loki felt a warm well of sweetness against his tongue.

Water splashed against his cheeks as your hips shuddered, your tightened thighs pressing him closer. He slurped, kissing your sex as he would your mouth; massaging the sparks of ecstasy sizzling on every nerve for as long as they could last.

You had dug your fingertips deep into his triceps, riding out your pleasure. As she should, he thought; moaning against your cum-soaked sex. He hoped your enthusiasm would leave bruises. However fleeting.

“My Lord…” he heard you gasp through broken breaths. Loki took a moment to hover before lowering your legs, sinking your hips below the comforting glaze of water. Tendrils of his onyx hair spread on the ripples as you slid down the step to meet his lips with yours.

“My Lady,” he heard himself slur; drunk on the taste of your cum and the tone of your voice, “shall we to bed?”

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, drawing him close. Fingertips played over the wet knotting of his braids, a loving smile tugging at your mouth. “Heirs?” you said, biting your lip.

“Heirs,” he smouldered.

Keep the wedding night journey going with Husband (follow up)

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@meowmeow-motherfucker @muddyorbsblr @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @peaches1958 @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @sidepartskinnyjeans @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @loopsisloops @glitchquake @joyful-enchantress @nyxlaufeyson @arch-venus25

#loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki fluff and smut #loki x reader smut #loki x yn #loki x you #loki x yn smut #loki x you smut #loki imagine #loki gif #loki marvel #loki x female reader #loki x female reader smut #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson x reader smut #lokismut

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hallowpen · 24 days ago

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One of the most important aspects to consider in The Loyal Pin, in this episode especially, is perspective. I have been really trying to establish that Anil's perspective and choices come from a place of royal privilege combined with western influence; Patt's come from a place of honoring status and tradition; and Pin, being influenced by her aunt / adoptive mother, knows the affordance of having title vs. not.

Anil is willing to sacrifice her title in order to be with Pin, but it's not as simple as it might seem. Renouncing one's title is a very formal process, where it is required that the King be officially informed of her decision and the reason behind that decision. Anil would have to relinquish any property or assets that were afforded to her because of her title; and would, therefore, be unable to stay at the Savettavarit Palace. She would lose any monetary benefits and be required by law to change her royal surname. Most importantly, she would have to sever all ties with her family... a commoner cannot visit or casually interact with royalty, especially when that commoner previously held title that once afforded them the privilege to do so (it is considered to be socially inappropriate).

Pin is unwilling to have Anil sacrifice her entire life for her. Instead, she is willing to make the less extreme sacrifice so that Anil does not have to suffer the loss of her family or live within the uncertainty of her future. As Prince Anan points out, Pin loves Anil more than she loves herself.

"Where else could I go? I could only go as far as the wall of this palace would allow me to."

Anil wants nothing more than to love Pin, but her title does not 'allow' her to. It can be said that both Anil and Pin value each other more than themselves, but their choices and decisions are bound to their status within society and its imbalance within their own relationship. And which character within the narrative could truly understand that? Ironically... Princess Patt.

And though Anil was prevented from renouncing her title, she can still twist her privilege to suit her future resolutions... something that Pin, given her position, is unable to do.

"I will give up on this love, only when you can find someone I truly love, who is also of the same or higher rank. Only then will I allow myself to completely erase her from my heart. Otherwise, never expect me to waste my time and marry anyone for the rest of my life."

Kuea's entitlement continues to rear its ugly head.

"How embarrassing it is that my ring seems to be of very little value and elegance when compared to her own ring."

For someone who claims to love and cherish Khun Pin, he rarely considers her happiness. Because, as Anil rightfully pointed out, Pin is nothing but an earned possession- a trophy to him... though he is hardly worthy of her. KNOW. YOUR. PLACE.

The series highlights a traditional Thai engagement ceremony known as ของรับไหว้ (pronounced 'kwang rap wai'). The 'exchanging of blessings' is a practice where the engaged couple pays respects to their family through order of seniority / rank. The couple presents the พานธูปเทียนแพ (pronounced 'phan thuup thian phae') in exchange for blessings and gifts from their elders. The offering consists of an arrangement of items used in blessing ceremonies (like candles and incense) combined with flowers and decor that signify auspicious values.

#the loyal pin #thai culture #anilpin #koda watches gl #talk thai to me #koda's royal records

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anotherhumaninthisworld · 2 months ago

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Historians having takes on frev women that make me go 😐 compilation

Sexually frustrated in her marriage to a pompous civil servant much older than herself, [Madame Roland] may have found Danton’s celebrated masculinity rather uncomfortable. Danton (1978) by Norman Hampson, page 77.

The Robespierres sent their sister to Arras because that was their hometown, the family home, where they had relatives, uncles, aunts and friends, like Buissart who they didn’t cease to remain in correspondence with, even in the middle of the Terror. There, among them, Charlotte would not be alone; she would find advice, rest, the peace necessary to heal her nervousness and animosity. Away from Mme Ricard, who she hated, away from Mme Duplay, who she detested, she would enjoy auspicious calmness. It is Le Bon that the Robespierres will charge with escorting their sister to this neccessary and soothing exile. […] If there is a damning piece in Charlotte Robespierre's case, it is this one (her interrogation, held July 31 1794). She seems to be caught in the act of accusing this Maximilien whom she rehabilitates in her Memoirs. She is therefore indeed a hypocrite, unworthy of the great name she bears, and which she dishonors the very day after the holocaust of 10 Thermidor. Charlotte Robespierre et Guffroy (1910) in Annales Révolutionnaires, volume 3 (1910) page 322, and Charlotte Robespierre et ses mémoires (1909) page 93-94, both by Hector Fleishmann.

Elisabeth, as she was popularly called, was barely past her twelfth birthday, younger even by three years than Barere’s own mother when she was given in marriage. On the following day the guests assembled again in the little church of Saint-Martin at midnight to attend the wedding ceremony of the handsome charmer and the bewildered child. Dressed in white, clasping in her arms a yellow, satin-clad doll that Bertrand had given her — so runs the tradition — she marched timidly to the altar, looking more like a maiden making her first communion than a woman celebrating a binding sacrament. Perhaps the doll, if doll there was, filled her eye, but certainly she could not fail to note how handsome her husband was. Bertrand Barere; a reluctant terrorist (1962) by Leo Gershoy, page 32.

The young nun who bore the name of Hébert did not hide her fate. She did not wish to prolong a life stifled from her childhood in the cloister, branded in the world by the name she bore, fighting between horror and love for the memory of her husband, unhappy everywhere. Histoire des Girondins (1848) by Alphonse de Lamartine, volume 8, page 60.

Lucile in prison showed more calmness than Camille. Before the tribunal, she seemed to possess neither fear nor hope, she denied having taken an active role in the prison conspiracy. What did it matter to her the answer they were trying to extract from her? They said they wanted her guilty? Very well! She would be condemned and join Camille. This was what she said again when she was told that she would suffer the same fate as her husband: ”Oh, what joy, in a few hours I’m going to see Camille again!” Camille et Lucile Desmoulins: un couple dans la tourmente (1986) by Jean Paul Bertaud, page 293.

What did it matter to Lucile whether she was accused or defended? She had no longer any pretext for living in this world. She was one of those heroines of conjugal love who are more wife than mother. Besides, Horace lived, and Camille was dead. It was of the absent only that she thought. As for the child, would not Madame Duplessis act a mother's part to him? The grandmother would watch over the orphan. If Lucile had lived, she could have done nothing but weep over the cradle, thinking of Camille. Camille Desmoulins and his wife; passages from the history of the Dantonists founded upon new and hitherto unpublished documents (1876) by Jules Claretie.

Having been widowed at the age of 23 [sic] years, Élisabeth Duplay remarried a few years later to the adjutant general Le Bas, brother of her first husband, and kept the name which was her glory. She lived with dignity, and all those who have known her, still beautiful under her crown of white hair, have testified to the greatness of her sentiments and austerity of her character. She died at an old age, always loyal to the memory of the great dead she had loved and whose memory she, all the way to her final day, didn’t cease to honor and cherish. As for the lady of Thermidor, Thérézia Cabarrus, ex-marquise of Fontenay, citoyenne Tallien, then princess of Chimay, one knows the story of her three marriages, without counting the interludes. She had, as one knows, three husbands living at the same time. Now compare these two existances, these two women, and tell me which one merits more the respect and the sympathy of good men. Histoire de Robespierre et du coup d’état du 9 thermidor (1865) by Louis Ernest Hamel, volume 3, page 402.

Fel free to comment which one was your favorite! 😀

#frev #french revolution #frev compilation #hampson: if women were uncomfortable around danton it’s because they were sexually frustrated!#fleishmann: two men in their 30s can ultimately decide what’s best for their sister who’s also in her 30s #also it’s totally unreasonable for charlotte to disown her brothers after their death when her life was possibly in danger #(and even though they pretty much disowned her while they were still alive)#lamartine claretie bertaud: françoise and lucile wanted to die since there was no longer any point to their lives after the husbands died #hamel: a good way of finding out which side was bad and which side was good is to look over how slutty the women on each side were #wow are you seriously surprised the view of women held by 19th century authors isn’t exactly top modern?#…no comment #claretie should technically get a pass since he thought the journal of sanson was an authentic source #But it was so spectacular i couldn’t contain myself #also a shame i couldn’t remember where i read the interpretation that the reason simond évrard was wary of charlotte corday #was bc she might seduce marat when alone with him

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uwmspeccoll · 1 month ago

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Chinese Ceremonial Papers

Many hundreds of varieties of prayer sheets used to be produced by specialist ma-chang printers all over China. Many of the limited range made today are the cheapest offset-litho jobs on the cheapest machine-made papers, but the designs still imitate the original woodblock prints.

Modern Taiwanese sheets of cash, made from recycled paper, sold very cheaply by weight in Taipei.

Mock money and other ceremonial papers for religious ceremonies will be gathered in "bowls" of crude papers, usually made of a mixture of rice-straw and bamboo fibers.

The simplest form of mock money is made traditionally with thin layers of tinfoil affixed to the center of a small piece of bamboo paper, although in contemporary production the cheapest grades of machine-made paper will be used instead, and in Taiwan and Malaysia metallic inks may be used instead of tinfoil.

Here's a piece of mock money in traditional colors with auspicious designs, and tinfoil brushed over with a dye from the pagoda tree to make it resemble gold.

Contemporary Taiwanese ceremonial paper.

Another variety of gold mock money, with inscriptions and symbols for good fortune building up the design, usually still quite well printed from woodblocks on fairly good quality paper, but sometimes now mass-produced by offset lithography.

Contemporary ceremonial paper printed letterpress on a stout machine-made paper in Hong Kong. The yellow coloring might have been brushed on by hand, but otherwise production of these attractive sheets has been mechanized completely.

At the Feast of Hungry Ghosts many large sheets of paper with pictures of all the clothes one's ancestor could need are burned. Although images of the paraphernalia of modern life like cell phones and computers might be printed on these papers, the clothing is always of traditional style.

Red paper envelopes with good luck symbols have been used for many years to enclose gifts of money made at New Year. They may be found wherever any ceremonial papers are sold; today usually with elaborate and eye-catching gold-stamping.

Decorative Sunday

The examples shown here are original paper samples included in Roderick Cave's (1935-2019) two-part article on "Ceremonial Papers of the Chinese" published in Matrix 12 (Winter 1992, pp. 51-66) and Matrix 13 (Winter 1993, pp. 161-177), printed at the John and Rosalind Randle’s Whittington Press in Risbury, Herefordshire, England.

In these articles, Cave, a noted print historian, librarian, and educator, discusses the history, manufacturing, printing, distribution, and uses of Chinese ceremonial papers used in rituals, celebrations, and festivals associated with the gods and the ancestors.

Our copies of Matrix are a donation from our friend Jerry Buff.

View more posts on Chinese papers.

View other posts associated with Roderick Cave.

View more Decorative Sunday posts.

#Decorative Sunday #Matrix 12 #Matrix 13 #Matrix #Whittington Press #Decorative Paper #Chinese ceremonial papers #ceremonial papers #Roderick Cave #Ceremonial Papers of the Chinese #John and Rosalind Randle #decorative arts #Jerry Buff

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azure-cherie · 1 year ago

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𝑵𝒂𝒌𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒎𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

✵ 𝗖𝗿𝗼𝘄 /𝗞𝗮𝗸𝗮

Crow is the animal associated with krittika , pushya , hasta , jyestha , dhanistha

Crows are associated with being the vahan of shani dev , they are a connecting link between the human world and The spirit world , it is believed that our ancestors come in the form of crows to get food and offer us blessings , it is also believed that the caretaker of the crow will achieve blessings from all gods and reach salvation after death

Mythology and lore :

The black crow, also known as a raven in some regions is said to possess clairvoyance by which he can see different worlds,is the tale of KakBhushundi, mentioned in Tulasi’ Das’s epic poem ‘Ramacharitamanas’. Bhusundi who was an ardent devotee of Ram had no respect or devotion for any representation God other than Lord Ram. His guru sage Lomas tried to correct this attitude by teaching him to develop devotion for nirguna brahman or the formless aspect of God. But Bhusundi ignored his guru’s teachings and kept on worshipping Ram as the Ultimate Truth. In a fit of anger Sage Lomasha cursed Bhusundi to become a crow because of his repeated rejection and arguments against the sage’s guidance and advice. When Lord Ram intervened on behalf of Bhusundi, Sage Lomas relented and recalled Basundi who was now in the form of a crow as ‘KakBhushundi’ or Bhusundi the crow and taught him Ramcharitmanas, stories about Rama’s spiritual journey. Thus KakBhusundi in the form of a crow became the ultimate narrator of the events in the life of Lord Rama. He was also blessed with the ability to travel through time and recreate the story of Lord Rama.

He witnessed a cosmic vision in Rama's mouth, observing millions of suns and moons within, and a vision of the sage himself in Ayodhya within each celestial object. He resided within each of these realms for centuries, and returned from Rama's mouth to find himself return to the same moment in time as he had left. Bewildered, he begged for Rama's salvation, and was promptly blessed with the same. He chose to forever remain in the form of a crow as he had been blessed by his favoured deity in that form.

during the shraddha ceremony or oblation offered to ancestors, a ball of cooked rice ( pind) is offered to the dead ancestor. If crows eat ( touch/peck) it, then it is assumed that the dead ancestor’s soul has been released from his or her bindings with the physical body and has embarked on the continuation of the soul’s journey to the next level of existence. In this rite, crows touching the rice ball is considered auspicious and is also seen as a good omen.they are of particular interest in Tantric narratives and Tantric rituals. In the general Hindu context, the crow is often stereotyped as inauspicious and its role limited to that of vāhana (vehicle of a deity). Conversely, in Tantric ritual manuals, the crow’s sphere of influence is based on a broader concept. Such scriptures imply ominous and ‘dark’ aspects of agency in crows, but they do so in a strikingly different way than Hindu classic mythology. Tantra emphasise an ambivalent potential in crows as beneficial to certain rituals and occasionally incorporate a ‘crow potency’ in ritual instructions.

They are the very powerful healers who are able to locate the shadows that create distress for people and bring blind dark spots to awareness in people so healing can ensue. Spending long periods in the dark gives one this Siddhi.Shuni Kah is the Crow of the Dark Moon who has access to the never regions. He is the one in us to bring the eye to the underground sediment that toxifies our lives. If this unresolved sediment it is left in the unseen world there is no healing.Shuni Kah the Crow and gatekeeper to the world of dreams is the grand healer. Just singing his name is a powerful mantra that causes us to see in the dark.

The entrance to Shuni is through the femminine. His Mother is Chaya, the Shadow Woman, and his father is Surya, the Sun. His Mother was not able to realise her power beside her Husband, the sun, for his glow burned and make her feel overwhelmed and insignificant and so she fled leaving behind her shadow.This signifies how the Feminine is brought into insignificance when the Solar or active force is ruled over her.Having left her Shadow with her husband, Shuni’s mother whilst still pregnant performed prayers and yogic austerity to Shiva under intense heat. Her effort was so great and the heat generated became so hot that her child, Shuni, was burned black.This signifies how heat and tapasya (yogic purifying Fire of austerity) reveals the darkness within the unconscious recesses of one’s being.When Shuni was born and seen in his blackness, his father was shocked at how dark he was refused to recognise him as his child, accusing his wife of being unfaithful. He raged greatly and insulted his wife. Seeing his Mother thus insulted raised Shuni’s wrath. Thus Shuni’s gazes is ever down in the underworld and arouses suffering.He Rides on the Crow and his wife rides on the Swan.One is the bird of the underworld and the other is the bird of the Celestial spheres

The completion of Tantrais known as the Kiss of Crow & Swan.The meeting of opposites.She rides a chariot pulled by crows and has a flag with crow emblem (Kak Dwhajini). She has a voice of howling jackals. Dhumavati

In Celtic mythology, the warrior goddess known as the Morrighan often appears in the form of a crow or raven or is seen accompanied by a group of them. Typically, these birds appear in groups of three, and they are seen as a sign that the Morrighan is watching—or possibly getting ready to pay someone a visit.

In some tales of the Welsh myth cycle, the Mabinogion, the raven is a harbinger of death. Witches and sorcerers were believed to have the ability to transform themselves into ravens and fly away, thus enabling them to evade capture.Odin is often represented by the raven—usually a pair of them. Early artwork depicts him as being accompanied by two black birds, who are described in the Eddas as Huginn and Munnin. Their names translate to “thought” and “memory,” and their job is to serve as Odin’s spies, bringing him news each night from the land of men. For the ancient Greeks, the crow was a symbol of Apollo in his role as god of prophecy. Augury—divination using birds—was popular among both the Greeks and the Romans, and augurs interpreted messages based on not only the color of a bird but the direction from which it flew. A crow flying in from the east or south was considered favorable.Genesis tells us that after the flood waters receded, the raven was the first bird Noah sent out from the ark to find land. Also, in the Hebrew Talmud, ravens are credited with teaching mankind how to deal with death; when Cain slew Abel, a raven showed Adam and Eve how to bury the body, because they had never done so before.Philo of Alexandria (first century AD), who interpreted the Bible allegorically, stated that Noah's raven was a symbol of vice, whereas the dove was a symbol of virtue (Questions and Answers on Genesis 2:38)In the Story of Bhusunda, a chapter of the Yoga Vasistha, a very old sage in the form of a crow, Bhusunda, recalls a succession of epochs in the earth's history, as described in Hindu cosmology. He survived several destructions, living on a wish-fulfilling tree on Mount Meru.[24]

The Lesser Key of Solomon: Goetia, The Book of Evil SpiritsStolas, the 36th demon in the pantheon, will first appear as a raven when summoned. Once he becomes a man, he teaches the arts and astronomy, as well as the properties of precious stones and the healing properties of herbs. Malphas, the 39th demon, appears as a crow and won’t change form until ordered. In his human form, he can build homes and fortifications and can give his summoner a familiar

Raven overheard the old man talking to himself about a box he possessed. The box contained a series of ever-smaller boxes, and inside the smallest box was all the light in the world—which Raven decided to steal.There seemed to be no door into the house, so Raven waited until the man’s daughter went to a nearby stream, then changed himself into a hemlock needle in the water, which the girl drank. Raven changed himself into a baby once he was inside her, and once he was born (an odd-looking half-bird, half-boy creature whose true nature was hidden by the darkness), he demanded to be allowed to play with the boxes. One by one, Raven demanded the first box, then the second, and so on. Finally, he convinced his grandfather to open the innermost box and let him play with the ball that was the light. As soon as Raven had the light, he took off with it gripped in his beak.The light spilled from the ball and over the world, but it wasn’t long before Eagle gave chase. As Raven fled, pieces of the light fell to the ground and shattered, bouncing back into the sky to create the Moon and the stars. Other pieces of the light slowly fell as Raven made his way around the world, which is why the light travels across the sky the way it does.Theories suggest that the three legs represent the three ancient clans of Japan or the three virtues of valor, benevolence, and wisdom. Some suggest that the three stands for mankind, heaven, and Earth. Regardless of why Yatagarasu has three legs, he’s seen as symbolic of the navigator, physical and spiritual, and he’s even been adopted by the Japanese soccer association in the hopes that he’ll help navigate the ball into the goal. He’s also closely associated with Kumano, the birthplace of the founder of the sport in Japan

The raven is considered one of the smartest birds. In fact, the raven’s brain is among the largest of any bird species. Ravens also happen to possess an extraordinary number of brain cells compared to the brains of other birds.3When the raven is your spirit animal, you are being called upon to rely on your wits in a given situation or when you are faced with a challenge in your life. Often in life, we can go on automatic pilot, accepting things the way they are, or thinking we don’t have the capacity to change them.The raven spirit animal tells you that with innovation and creative thinking, you can influence outcomes that affect the course of your life. Even if you feel emotional about a situation, remember to rely on the gift of your intellect to solve your problems. This is how you gain deeper intelligence and wisdom.\

Charles Dickens’ Barnaby Rudge: A Tale of the Riots of Eighty. In both tales, the raven is at first disturbing to the character who interacts with him. But then he provides important insights. Indeed, the raven expands both of the main characters’ level of consciousness.

In many Native American legends, the raven is the wisest of birds, even possessing the ability to speak.8 (In fact, this is an interesting parallel between Native American legends and stories from other cultures, such as Edgar Allan Poe’s The Raven, in which the intelligent black bird is capable of human speech.The Egyptian goddess Nepthys, who is the sister of Isis, was the goddess of the dead.13 It’s clear that the ancient Egyptians also connected the raven with death, as they associated Nepthys with this intelligence black bird.

Meaning: Survival and Adaptability

Intuition – Because the raven is so closely associated with clairvoyance and prophecy, on a spiritual level, they remind us of our own ability to connect with our Higher Power and higher spiritual entities through our own minds.

Spiritual Guidance – As they are associated with insight and guidance, the raven is also a symbol for spiritual education. We are all works in progress. Learning about spirituality from more enlightened souls can lead to our own spiritual growth.

Spiritual Transformation – As a powerful symbol of transformation, the raven also embodies the idea of shifting consciousness and opening our minds to greater awareness as we navigate our spiritual journey. reflect on the areas of your life that they might relate to. Even an anxious raven dream can be a gift. It can prompt you to take the time to be an objective observer of your own thoughts. Then, you can improve situations without getting pulled in every direction your thoughts might take.

Sources :

1 2 3

Through various nakshatras

Interpretations are solely based on my understanding and you can have your interpretation as well ❤️

Krittika nakshatra

Krittika is a churner of perfection under the fire of Surya that gave birth to Shani through his mother chaya the first conception of the birth of a crow comes through while Shani is associated with crows , the struggles of not being seen enough is associated here , the outcast themes come through. Along with that the perfection theme while a crow collects the most beautiful stuff to keep in it's nest , it knows what's valuable like krittika sees the value in things , they know what they want and they attempt to take it . Here this relates to the story of yatagarasu believed to be an incarnation of the sun in Shinto mythology. This also associates with Apollo being the god of prophecy and taking the form of a crow , shows that where there exists light ( Surya ) there Exists chaya , they aren't on a scale of horizontal extremes but the flip sides of a coin, one cannot exist without the other , in krittika lies the light so lies the dark , lies the beauty of creation so lies the pain of change .

Pushya nakshatra

Pushya nakshatra ruled by Saturn comes in through the first liberation through pain and trials in the lives of the natives , like a crow one suffers despite what others say , people say various things without knowing about the wisdom of the crow , this forms the initiation of intuition . While pushya relates to the nourishing aspect of a crow , how they hunt for their young ones , how they know pain because they have been the one experiencing it , being outcast only affects them for a small time because they pick themselves up like a true winner. . Here the intelligence and creativity given by the raven shines through with the light of the moon .

Hasta nakshatra:

The playful nature of mercury- moon shines through the crow in being a lover for finer things in life , they are the intelligent ones the smart ones , they are often called deceptive , but that's just cleverness put to use , while the significance here can be seen through the story of raven (mentioned above) stealing the box which contained all the light of the world and convincing the old man to open the box , natives have great communication skills and can easily convince people. As the eagle chased the raven the moon and the stars were created , signified by the moon hasta creates their own pathway through their own efforts. By hook or by crook they get what they desire .

Jyestha nakshatra:

In Jyestha nakshatra comes in the prophetic and astrological nature of the natives . Jyestha nakshatra is associated with the 8th house , hence death and through the mahavidya Dhumavati who is also associated with crows , this nakshatra gives grounding, astrological talent to the one with this nakshatra. When the ceremonial rites of a dead person is performed offering food to a crow suggests the offerings being accepted by the dead , which is suggested here with Jyestha being in Scorpio. In tantra crows are seen as potent symbolism of intuition and transformation in various mythologies, crow is seen as transformation as is seen in Jyestha nakshatra.In the lesser key of solomon a crow reaches the art of divinitions and healing properties of crystals . A Jyestha native transforms throughout their lives and gains knowledge to become a spiritual centre of creativity and intuition. They bring in spirituality and astrology as 8th being the origin of astrology, they are potent in magical arts and healing others as well as themselves.

Dhanistha nakshatra :

When in dhanistha can be explained through the story of kakbhushundi , the disciple who turned into a crow in devotion to Rama , the solar avatar of Vishnu, kakbhushundi explores the spritual aspect of the crow , kakbhushundi who recited stories through ramacharitamanas . Dhanistha associated with Hanuman also shows the infinite devotion the crow bird and the natives of dhanistha have towards their adored and admired one , being a symbol of loyalty they are blessed with spiritual powers like kakbhushundi could travel through time and various realms , Dhanistha are blessed with the power to see various perspectives . Dhanistha natives are associated with the celestial form of a crow , the loyalty , the devotion and the spiritual salvation.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope this thread provided you valuable insights, please know that this is based on my understanding and interpretation I'm open to suggestions and corrections

Have a great day / night ahead 🤍

#vedic astrology #sidereal astrology #astrology #astro community #astrology readings #astrology community #krittika #hasta nakshatra #jyestha #pushya nakshatra #dhanistha

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guzhuangheaven · 4 months ago

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How exactly do consorts and concubines get the "names"? In Legend of Ruyi, we hear names like Xian, Yu, Jia, Shu, etc. Do these names have any specific meaning?

The names like Xian, Jia, Shu etc. are granted titles or fenghao 封号 given to consorts. Usually only those with the ranks of pin and up will have granted titles, because only ranks of pin and up 1) have formal ceremony (册封) to canonise their title and 2) only pin and up would be entitled to wear court attire and attend formal rites and ceremonies.

Of course in dramas you will see concubines lower than the rank of pin have fenghao and it’s either just not explained (Yuyan as Jia Guiren) or passed off in the drama as at the discretion of the emperor (Zhen Huan as Wan Changzai).

Anyway, fenghao are likely chosen by the Ministry of Rites 礼部. The meaning of each fenghao can have pretty broad interpretations because of the way Chinese works, one character’s will have a general meaning but the specific can change depending on when you pair that character with another, but generally characters used as fenghao would all carry auspicious meanings or highlight the virtues of consort.

娴 xian - elegant. I’m reading way too much into this, but in the context of Legend of Ruyi, I wonder if there is also some subtle messaging considering part of the title contains the character 闲 which means idle, leisurely, unoccupied, which is basically the life that Ruyi wishes she has, for every to just leave her the hell alone and she’ll leave them alone, but never could have. Also another person who wishes for this and can’t have it is Fan Xian, whose name is actually is xian 闲.

愉 yú - pleasant, pleased, delighted. Hailan was granted this title when she gave birth to Yongqi and Qianlong explained it was because she had pleased him by having a son. Not to be confused with 豫 yù which is Eyinzhu’s title which also means happy.

慧 hui - intelligent. The Empress Dowager had a whole spiel about how this title for Xiyue is ironic because she really is…not. Which could just be Qianlong going I wish she would be more intelligent.

令 ling - The Chinese Wikipedia says that this title derives from the Manchurian word mergen which means intelligent and wise, so clearly Qing dynasty fenghao also take into consideration the Manchurian equivalent/meanings of the words.

嘉 jia - blessing/praise; 純 chun - pure; 舒 shu - comfortable, leisurely

An aside re fenghao in Legend of Zhen Huan

It’s always so funny to me that when An Lingrong was made a consort, the officials initially prepared as one of the choices for her fenghao the character 丽 (meaning beautiful) and Yongzheng vetoed it because it the character 丽 is part of some saying that extols the harmony between husband and wife, and Lingrong can’t bear this title because she’s not his wife, and this is the reason Zhen Huan suggested modifying the title to 鹂, a type of bird, probably knowing that Lingrong would hate it.

And I’m just…

WHO THE HELL IS THIS THEN??

Of course, the whole thing with Lingrong’s title is also just to highlight how precarious Lingrong’s situation then is and her promotion was a pity promotion because she was pregnant and she’s not actually that in favour.

Anyway, other concubines of lower ranks would be called by title of address 称号 chenghao, which are usually a character from their surname, their father’s name or their own name. Hai Guiren comes from Hailan’s name, An Lingrong was called An Daying/Changzai/Guiren/Pin for a long time from her surname.

#ask #qing dynasty #honorifics #legend of ruyi #ruyi's royal love in the palace #legend of zhen huan #reference

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izvmimi · 1 year ago

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cw: palace drama au. multiple wives. fem!reader. brief explicit sex, minors dni.

the emperor takes the throne at the ripe age of 20 years old.

this is a good age to rise to power, auspicious according to all celestial calendars, all manners of prophecy and predictions of the wise. he’s proven himself blessed with brain and brawn, enough to overshadow his reputation to be quick to anger. quick thinking accounts for a quick temper, they say, and bakugou katsuki is nothing if not brilliant and quick to decide and act.

the emperor's harem is decided for him, however, because he is too young to choose, say his advisors. either way, the new emperor cares very little about matters of the flesh - or at least this is what he hopes his subjects believe- and with a bare bones list of specifications, five concubines are selected at the time of his ascension, and of them, you are possibly the most nervous.

after all, the flame emperor seems to hate you at first glance.

the other palace ladies are graceful enough that you seem barely above the benchmark of decency, and you can tell he’s questioning how you were selected in the first round of consorts by his extended glance, to which you bow your head respectfully. he doesn’t seem to study the rest as intensely as he does you after all. you aim to let yourself fade into the background as the ceremony continues, burdened by your own internal ruler to which you can never measure up and the heaviness of your elegant robes. even if you know that you are beautiful, the emperor is duly blessed by heaven with chiseled features, a sharp regard and hair as bright as the sun. it is enough to be seen as a potential match for him even if among many.

imagine your surprise when you are first to attend his chambers.

skin warm, damp and fragrant from a bath of milk, honey and jasmine, your heart races as you are presented clothed in white silk to the man who is both your husband and your sovereign. you don't dare raise your eyes, brain still befuddled as to why you are first. first is an honor. first implies that you've charmed him. first means...

he calls your name.

you look up quickly from your knelt position, and have not realized he approached you in your tremulous thoughts, even if you would have believed earlier that the very ground trembled as he walked. he's before you now, sitting on the edge of the bed, in silk pants that leave very little left to the imagination. the apples of your cheek warm again; with his chest bare, you're reminded that the once prince was also a budding general, a few scant scars betraying all the skirmishes he's lived through. his face is still beautiful in the dim, flickering light of hundreds of lit candles.

he calls your name again, and you apologize.

"my emperor, please forgive me for my airheadedness."

he seems to merely roll his eyes at you but even the gesture seems somewhat kind.

"tell me where you're from."

you try to think of where to start first but he takes your hand and pulls your from where your knees sink into plush, ornate pillows.

"sit first."

beside him, he means.

your heart thumps again as you think of how the night will end. women older than you have told you many different things about your wedding night, how long it may last, if he'll bother to hold you, if it'll fit...

the emperor doesn't satisfy any of your expectations because that night is spent talking until the last candle burns out.

---

katsuki doesn't sleep with you that night, or the next night, or the night after that. the other concubines frequent his bedchambers and you wonder, but no one will lay and tell, whether it's a manner of propriety or simply to not reveal the emperor's favor. after all, titles have not been given yet, not one of you has a title above 'wife' or a new name bestowed on them out of affection. you try to determine favor out of a tell-tale crinkle of the eye as he looks upon the five of you at dinner, or if there is too much mirth in one of your sisters' smiles. there is nothing.

months pass.

katsuki's hand will idly find solace in yours as he uses the other to read through a scroll, he allows you to snuggle closer as you sleep when attending him, but still he never asks to bed you truly anymore than letting you actually inhabit his bed. you wonder if he doesn't actually like women, and you would not care either way, as long as he had some affection for you. when his fingers intertwine with yours for a moment, you hope he may pull it to his lips and kiss, and perhaps there will be... something to fill this yearning, and yet nothing. in fact seconds pass, and his fingers unlink with yours. he gives you a glance, and you look up at him, hoping the desire is not too obvious in your eyes.

the red stare is a little too intense tonight and for a moment, he cups your cheek gently. you know not to return the favor. he whispers something under his breath, and you whisper his name back. you hold each other's gazes, and something thick forms between the two of you, husband and wife.

and then air dissipates. you are emperor and concubine again. he bids you good rest, and turns to blow out the last candle, and the two of you slumber.

---

a year of reign has passed and your well of lust has somehow not run dry. instead it's been replaced with a different type of want - you think less about how how handsome he is or how broad his shoulders are, or how soft his skin may feel against yours, but rather his voice as it laughs at one of your jokes and the way he sneezes. the awkward way he holds his writing utensils rubs off of on you, and he asks you about your family then arrives to speak to them when they come to visit you. you're unable to see the way the remaining concubines look at you as you start to spend more nights curled up by his side, and once you see the sneer of the boldest concubine as you arrive to the harem's meeting chamber, you care less about that and more about the fact that katsuki has curled up into your chest and reminds you that it's the softest, sweetest place he knows.

the favor has creeped into your lap the same way you now creep into his as he briefs himself for the bureaucracy of the next morning. he asks you what you think, and presses his chin on your shoulder as you answer. you allow yourself to disagree, he allows himself to kiss you.

a year and a day passes and he whispers,

"i love you"

into the darkness.

you ask him when, and he tells you the day he met you.

you ask him why he waited for so long to let himself hold you like this as your leg wraps around his waist, and your naked, vulnerable bodies press together, your suckled-on breasts flush to his skin. you want to know why he only chooses now to hold you, after you've needed him for so long, why he only marks you with nibbles to your collarbone and neck that won't disappear even with your chambermaid's best makeup tricks now despite having claim to you the day he obtained the throne.

he kisses you, and as the taste of his lips and tongue linger on yours, he says,

"beauty that sinks ships, grace that scatters birds, charm that drives men mad... i couldn't give myself to you so soon."

your breath holds in your throat and he holds you tighter.

"i wanted to trust you with the rational part of me, the same way my foolish heart did."

you're connected now, his warmth and your warmth slotted together like pieces of a puzzle.

"you wanted to love me as a woman, not a duty," you say, voice softened as you take his length inside you. your arms reach for him as he flips so that he's above you. his forehead presses to yours as he nestles deep.

"i wanted to call you my empress when i really meant it."

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou smut #daydreams: bnha #mimi's notes

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seafoamreadings · 3 months ago

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week of september 8th, 2024

these are written predominantly for the *rising* signs but they are also intuitively "channeled" enough that they should work for any dominant energy you have! (try your sun if you don't know rising, or more advanced readers can try moon, anywhere you have a stellium, etc and see what works best for you!)

aries: a little bit of gentle mars energy helps you do what needs to be done without overexerting yourself too much. indeed, maybe some helpful person (or spirit?) just handles matters for you and lets you rest, if that's what you need. or they clear things up enough for you that you can vigorously pursue the things *you* want to do.

taurus: truly it's not a bad week to be a taurean. some welcome support arises from people and things that you enjoy - especially if there is some budding romance. and by the end of the week the airy trine of benefics is lucky for you and may provide some good resources and an elevation of your routine.

gemini: although you may face some sort of challenge to your ego this week, try to handle it with grace. give the benefit of the doubt wherever it is possible. when it is not possible, do your best to let it go. a benefic trine between venus and jupiter, in your sign, can repay you plus interest for your endless patience and understanding this week. but it doesn't work quite as well if you blow up.

cancerians: ideally this week has you doing two things: making a stable, pleasant home base for yourself where your subconscious can really feel and be safe and happy, and secondly being out in your community engaging with local (LOCAL!) plants, animals, and people. bonus points if you are helping out somehow. more introverted cancerians may prefer to pick up some trash or care for some plants rather than the more extroverted activities that are also auspicious now like volunteering at a shelter or with children or the elderly.

leo: this may be a somewhat trying time for your sign but it shouldn't be *horribly* grueling, and it should be quite temporary. by next week you'll be in the flow a little more comfortably. for now just keep your finances in order and your ducks overall in a row to the best of your ability. treats are all well and good but overindulging is not doing you favors at this time.

virgo: mercury moves into your sign, sextiles mars, and then trines ceres (your modern/co-ruling planet.) it's an excellent week for getting things done and going after unmet needs, and even potentially beginning or rekindling a pleasant and nurturing romance.

libra: venus trine jupiter later this week is a huge lucky trine for you if you are hoping to bring in money, love, academic success, or any kind of helpful people. accept gifts and compliments with grace and poise but don't neglect to be grateful, even delighted.

scorpio: this may not appeal to all scorpionic people, but it's a fantastic time to do magic. if that's not your thing, do some psychology on yourself. a little shadow work, a little deep analysis (especially with the help of a qualified professional!), a little bit of changing your scenery to change the whole vibe.

sagittarius: toughing out some tedious or otherwise agitating tasks or circumstances at the beginning of the week will be worth it. that's because by the end of the week a trine of the two benefic planets benefits you hugely - especially in relationships and friendships.

capricorn: mercurial themes benefit you tremendously all week. think like a virgo, if you can. spreadsheets, detail-orientation, impeccable cleanliness, and so on. these things are good for your health and good for your money!

aquarius: much like your sign's fixed cousin scorpio, this is a week to be doing magic or at least spicy psychology. and for you in particular, the ceremonial, drawn out kind is likely to serve you better for now than folksy or chaotic versions. the end of the week has a lovely air-sign trine which may bring many such works to fruition.

pisces: have any talks with your partner or friends that you've been putting off sometime in the next couple of weeks. and nurture your friendships and support system carefully especially this week! it's always important to have a good social support system to fall back on in hard times. and you may have the opportunity to be that for others as well.

#horoscopes #horoscope #weekly horoscopes #weekly horoscope #astrology #signs #zodiac #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces

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blueparadis · 1 year ago

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╰┈➤ MASTERMIND ✦ NANAMI KENTO.

⟣ ──┈ · · · + synopsis ➢ Nanami decides to pay you a visit on such an auspicious day to congratulate you but fate had other plans for him.

⟣ ──┈ · · · + cw ➣ fem!reader x (morally grey but ultra-soft)!nanami kento, canon+ fix it au, manga spoilers, mention of clan head!gojo, secret relationship b/w reader and nanami, mutual pinning, angst, scar worship, friends with benefits dynamic, s&d dynamic, mention of orgasm denial, orgasm control, love-hate séx (make-up séx ig) + unprotected, baby trapping. 2,6 k word count. half-based on this thought ( + I've a lot of hcs about gojo clan; one of them being that satoru had a half-sister whom he found accidentally while on a mission, so i used that here. ) | blog navigation + koct’23 masterlist. |

Nanami walks through the porch of the Gojo estate while taking a call. It has been half a month since the grim reaper graced him with a peck on his cheek showing him a glimpse of the afterlife. He has been facing trouble adjusting back to his old life again despite healing himself through the reverse cursed technique. He has left behind the life of being a jujutsu socerer but partly. Besides, he now works as an advisor for all jujutsu socerers who are gradually making their way to earn their ranks yet deep down, a part of him wants to tell how bold farced lie is all this is.

But something is still holding him back, and deep down he is vividly aware that he wants to grow his roots rather than uproot them. He is just unwilling to admit it out loud. Nanami is still unable to untie his attachment towards a certain girl who is also best suited to be the head of the gojo clan, as per the strongest’s opinion, y/n gojo. He still remembers the night he spent in that cheap motel with you, talking and drinking, drinking and touching, touching and kissing; making promises to you while being inside you. He does not regret it per se, he is afraid for those wishes to come true. There is too much at stake.

When he got the invitation to the ceremonial celebration for you being bestowed with the title and authority to act as a clan head by Satoru’s side he did not know why he could not refuse or not bother to turn up. Maybe he needed an excuse to apologize at length for not being in touch with you. Maybe you would not be so angry if you knew death was knocking at his door but he had to come back, he had to make it through the tunnel to see you, to embrace, to kiss you, for one last night time.

With such thoughts clouding his mind, the sound of sliding a door almost did not reach his ears yet strangely, he turns back only to find none other than you. Standing five feet away from you, in his Yukata he looks more handsome than before, especially with those scars on his face. “Yeah. Yeah. I’ll call you back.” With each fall of his words, his eyes move from head to toe. You are still not ready for the ceremony yet. Wearing a plain hakama, hair braided, a few loose strands kissing your jawline, and a mole near the corner of your lip that just unlocked the memories of that night.

“Nanami-san. . .” you murmur and bite your trembling lips. Tears threaten to flood your cheeks as you take a few steps towards him. He immediately backs away averting his gaze. But you can see him, his guilt, his silent sea of sadness. Nanami Kento is now nothing but a tapestry of quiet despair. A tug on one loose end of a thread and it will all come crashing down.

“Hey...” he states as soon as he realizes the gravity of his action but it is too late now. You have already turned around, started to stroll inside the room, and prepared to slide the door. Clicking his tongue he follows you but does not enter just stands on the other side of the wooden bar separating your room and the porch. His shadow is covering your whole body. He can only see your back, so he does not look up, just stills his eyes on the ground. “Congratulations on your succession —” His voice trails off as your haori drops on the floor.

“What’re you doing?” He raises his voice perking his eyes up at you. You turn your head slightly in his way and he notices bruises around your neck. Suddenly he can feel every bead of perspiration running down his spine. Have you been fucking other men while he was away? He has been wrecking his mind day and night thinking about how to let you down lightly, how to end this relationship without hurting you, what to say, and what not to say so that you can just move on with your life but meanwhile, but you have been seeing other men. How vile! How insulting!

“Why are you still here, Nanami-san?” You turn around without averting your eyes from him.

Nanami enters the room without a second thought closing it behind. “Is it what I think it is ?” He enquires curtly.

“I don't know. You tell me,” You murmur pulling up the sleeves of your nagagi, “what you are thinking. . .” There are certain wounds all the way up your neck in a particular pattern as if someone carved them on you. He does not budge. His brain cells do not finish the path of such thoughts.

Watching his contorted face you let out a disappointed sigh,“Yes. The answer is yes. I went through the ritual.” Nanami swallows, his eyes unable to avert from your body. He wants to see those marks, see each scar, and kiss them. That would be very unethical, wouldn’t it? “If tooru-ni would have been here he wouldn’t have let me go through it.” You walk away towards the window finishing that line of thought, “But I can’t always rely on him. Can I now?”

Okay, that’s good. You have made half of his confusion clear. What about the bruise on your neck? With long strides, he closes the gap between you two. His strong muscular toned arms curled around your waist before his lips aligned with yours. “have you been seeing other men?” He rasps against your mouth. Your hand rests on his firm chest. It is possible actually, since you are going to be appointed as a supportive clan head, marriage proposals are going to lurk like wild animals amongst the shadows of celebration, especially Zenin Clan. They do not let any cursed energy bearer getaway.

“Why? Would that make you jealous?”

“Yes. definitely.” You can not help but ket out a short-lived simper that not only makes Nanami’s throat dry but also fills his bones with your pesky ignorant attitude. It makes him wanna loathe you. He lifts you a little yanking you by the window side, caging you between the wall and him. He has not let go of his hand from your waist and his other hand rests on the concrete. You look at him with eyes full of longing and lust. You know this is wrong, this whole thing of meeting him here, seeing him before the ceremony. It is wrong in so many ways. Your fisted hands unfurl. You could feel his heart rate being faster now.

“Can’t we just run away?” you murmur so low and so meek that Nanami thinks he might just hear it wrong. Suppose he did run away with you. What then? People from the Gojo clan is going to hunt him until the end of time. He always has to run away and hide, like a coward.

“That wouldn’t be appropriate,”

Another chuckle. “Yeah? Then, what’s appropriate? Are you telling me this isn’t inappropriate? you and me, locked in a room, so close to each other. anyone might think we are—

“Then, let’s make their suspicion into something real,” He breathes against your mouth. There is just a thread of gap between his lip and yours before he opens his mouth with a ‘pop’ and you feel his warm, wet tongue along the column of your throat that makes you shut your eyes instantly, tears rolling down along your cheeks for holding back for so long, for waiting for him so long. Your arms slide along his shoulders slowly as he explores your neck and chest with his mouth making you almost melt in his arms.

“No. No. No. No. we can’t be doing this again,” He moves away from you shaking his head so much, his breathing labored and irregular. There is that look in your eyes, that sad look of having to fight all alone with no one by your side, that look that has so much sincerity and loyalty underneath.

“But Nanami-san, I’m not seeing anyone.” You mutter inhaling deeply feeling dizzy. Oh dear! Aren’t you a little too naive to be a clan head? Maybe there is no way out, day in and day out he thought about it but he could not find any. “what happened when you said you would take me to Malaysia?”

"You know we can't do that, baby." He shifts his gaze at you, rasping, "And, you know we were both just drunk and talking about what ifs...does that count? should it count?" You bite your lips looking at the robes scattered on the floor, him and yours, lifeless and entangled with each other. Nanami feels his heart constrict in his ribcage, as if someone had tied his heart with ropes and now both the free ends are being pulled like in a tug of war.

“Ahhh,” he groans. “Fuck it,” with that he holds your face in between his big soft palms kissing your lips as long as he can. Your fingers clamp around his wrists as you feel his tongue go inside your mouth before he sucks your lips, one by one, fervently, as if you are the source of his oxygen, not the air surrounding you two. He guides your limbs around his nape breaking the kiss to breathe in before kissing down the column of your throat.

“Take it off,” His husky whisper hot against your chest as he waits.

“But—” you try to protest making him more impatient. It is not like he does not get your point. You will have to go soon otherwise people might come searching for you. These fucking clan rules. Without any delay you let the upper wrapper cloth of your yukata fall down revealing your breasts.

“You know, you shouldn’t be roaming around like this,” He tartly says before licking up from the base of your chest to the middle of your collarbone.

“Oh Yeah? was waiting… for you,” Nanami’s hand finds your mounds, firm and large hands massaging both of them simultaneously as he presses his hard-on against your waist. His hands now rest on your hips pulling you into his body, while his mouth peppers kisses all over your bosom. Your nipples are so taut, skin awake with goosebumps. His hands travel around your back pulling you into his embrace. Your breath hitches as his grips grow stronger while his mouth latches onto your boobs, sucking your tits and biting them making you moan shamelessly.

Your constant tugging and fidgeting with the sash of his hakama has now paid off. It hits the grown revealing him in boxers. You take his cock out pumping, sliding the foreskin, and exposing the slick crown of his cock. Nanami grunts, taking his cock and pumping it by himself. “Look at me, look at me, baby”, he murmured while rubbing his nose against your neck, your skin glistening with sweat. He clusters your hakama around your waist and your hands hold them in place, around your stomach. He smiles at that gesture. He is impressed.

Lifting you up by clasping around your inner things, he holds your back against the wall ready to push his cock inside you. You guide his cock at your slick entrance. As soon as the cock-head is inside he quickly scans your features. You are panting, sweating, mouth open, and eager to take him. He pushes his cock inside you with a deep strong thrust hitting your spot. His grip on your thighs becomes stronger as he starts to glide his torso, to and fro. Eyes flying back ripping off your sanity as he pushes his cock inside you as if he was not hitting the spot making you squirm underneath him.

The bridge of his nose grazes your pulse point as he groans right into your ears asking, "You good?". You stare at him through the corner of your eyes, mouth open ajar, panting rashly too sucked into delirium to form words, but you nod. Kento knows your melting point yet seeing you taking him so well, being so obedient, being so responsive his lips curve in delight. He hums weighing his thoughts about whether it is okay to pull out another orgasm from your heated overstimulated body or not since he has been fucking you nice and slow for what seems like hours. Every time you are close he diverts your attention by pausing and then putting his mouth to work, either on your lips or on your nipples.

His warm cackle reaches your ears as he jerks up towering over your body, fingers clamping underneath your inner thighs. "Oh Gawd!", you whimper earning a smirk from him. "Don't worry angel! I'm not gonna stop until you ask me to!", he declares as he thrusts his cock with a single broad stroke earning a gasp from you. Those chocolate brown eyes gleam in an insatiable hunger as he starts to move in and out, slowly, watching your cream leaking around his cock from previously denied orgasms.

"You're still clenching me so hard baby!", he utters with a chuckle slamming his cock inside you with brute force followed by a long pause and making you arch your body like a bow against the wall. It is euphoric. It is aching. It is maddening.

"So good! such sweet pussy.", he groans as he starts to thrust harder, faster folding your legs over his broad shoulders. You grab your boobs, squeezing, biting your lower lip, filling the room with trails of whimpering moans blessing his ears. With his throbbing cock still inside you he yanks you into his lap, lips never disconnecting from yours he takes you to the futon laying you down. The hakama is clustered around your waist covering your pussy but it is better this way. At least, you are not so coy-like that night.

Kento quivers, balancing himself on his arms against the futon and letting you relax your legs. "Fuck wanna cum in you already", he coos immediately crashing his lips onto yours not giving you a chance to register his momentary lapse, a desire to see you carrying his babies. Moreover, he loves the taste of your salt while sucking your puffy lips inside you. Curling your hands around his nape, fingers skimming through his hair you moan into his mouth breaking the kiss.

His eyes blink as he feels your hands over his arms. While he is still feasting his eyes over your ravishing sex glow, you roll him along the futon without pulling out. Eyes soaked in surprise Kento is still taken aback by your strength as he gawks at your naked beauty with lust-blown eyes. “Your wish's my command, Sir”, you amend. As the words fall from your lips you start to glide, slow but steady strokes. He holds you by your waist, his lower lip being exploited in between his teeth as you bounce on his cock.

Seeing you bob like an animal, boobs bouncing at a steady rhythm he was in nowhere to decline you; after all, he wanted this too, to fill your womb with babies and those breasts with milk.“Oh yeah! Yea-ash baby!”, he mumbles as you keep jerking. He is close, you can sense it. He flinches feeling his cock twitch in pain but could not care less about it. All he wants is to fill you up to the brim. He sits up adjusting you in his lap.

“Say you hate me.” he huskily mutters.

“What?” you do not pause, just slow down.

“Say you hate me” he quips holding your waist and making you pause your movements. “Or I won’t let you cum,” When you do not believe him he quips with a smirk, “You know, I can do that, don’t you baby?” and strangely you remember how he felt you alone in the room when you made a move on him. You do not want that to happen now, absolutely not, especially with his dick inside you.

He starts to make you bob again, at this point so close to your orgasm that you do not even put up a fight. “Yes. yes. I hate you. I hate you nanami kento I hate you,” you whimper out those words as he thrusts you on his cock. Good, good, that is good; he can not have you admit those feelings out loud, just like him. Your legs quiver feeling the euphoric high approaching, marking his back with crescent indecent as he shoots his cum inside you. Warm, thick, and seeping along your thighs, soaking the sheets. He pulls out with a pop; a prideful glint smothers his face watching his marks all over your chest that run up to your pulse point on the neck. Kento shoots a look at you, your face. He maintains eye contact, puts his mouth around your nipple, and continues to suck until he feels your gummy walls clenching his cock again. “Ahhh—aH!”, you scream hands resting on his shoulders nails digging into his skin. He hates you, he hates you so very much.

Nanami hunches down a little more, kissing your temples, and before sitting upright again he whispers, “Yeah, let’s go to Malaysia. Let’s just run away, honey.”

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la-muerta · 2 months ago

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[莲花楼 Meta] Di Feisheng and the Three Kings

While looking through the cast list and end credits, I noticed that there had been actors cast as 炎帝白王 Yandi Bai Wang and 四象青尊 Sixiang Qingzun even though we don't get to see them in the final cut. Reading the original script, they appear in a deleted scene (unsure if it was actually filmed) in Episode 05, as a flashback during this scene with the robe in Jiao Liqiao's rooms.

It's explained in the script as Di Feisheng's old Alliance leader ceremonial robe, but in the final cut of the show, it seems to be implied as wedding robes Jiao Liqiao prepared for Di Feisheng.

Scene in original script:

FLASHBACK: Ten years ago, at the headquarters of the Jinyuan Alliance. DI FEISHENG is wearing that luxurious robe, sitting around drinking with the THREE KINGS. The TWELVE PHOENIXES are standing guard at one side. YANDI BAI WANG looks over at the TWELVE PHOENIXES and laughs.

YANDI BAI WANG: Each of our twelve beautiful protectors has her own charms, but we have never seen our Zunshang show any interest in any of them. Could it be… that Zunshang already has someone in his heart?

SIXIANG QINGZUN (shaking his head): Romantic entanglements and ruling the world are not of interest to him. Our Zunshang is only obsessed with martial arts, and all he wants is to be number one in the martial world.

DI FEISHENG (raising his cup proudly): To have a worthy opponent to discuss martial practice and duel for life and death for a hundred battles without getting weary of it, that is the only life I wish for!

YANDI BAI WANG (realisation dawning): If so, the lady you marry must be the most trustworthy, so that she can handle the affairs of the Alliance wisely while Zunshang concentrates on his pursuit of martial arts.

DI FEISHENG (laughing in surprise): That would be ideal!

YANDI BAI WANG (laughingly): I wonder which lady will have the honour!

The TWELVE PHOENIXES continue to stand guard but cannot hide their reaction to the teasing. The THREE KINGS raise their cups and laugh, and from where she is hiding in a distance, JIAO LIQIAO shoots a venomous look at the other women.

END FLASHBACK.

This scene is a parallel to Li Xiangyi's 18th birthday celebration, where the Sigu Sect members were urging Li Xiangyi to formalise his engagement to Qiao Wanmian. (Di Feisheng would have been around the same age as well.)

Also an interesting point about the titles that Three Kings picked for themselves. Assuming that they were around the same age as Di Feisheng (perhaps with Sixiang Qingzun being the oldest since he was already married and might have been around the age of the other three Nanyin descendants), then their titles might seem rather overblown for a bunch of teenagers/young men in their early 20s lol.

There's however a connection between their titles and the Four Auspicious Beasts (四象) in Chinese mythology; in fact, it's even in one of their titles! (Yes, I know it's translated by iqiyi as Four-faced but I disagree with that translation and I'll get to that.)

1. 四象青尊 Sixiang Qingzun As mentioned, 四象 or Four Aspects/Images is another name for the Four Auspicious Beasts, and "青尊" (Azure Lord) is another name for the Azure Dragon 青龙 of the East. So his title actually translates more accurately to "Lord Azure Dragon of the Four Aspects". I'm pretty sure I'm right because his wife, 两仪仙子 Liangyi Xianzi, has a related name. In 《易经 I Ching》, there is a phrase "两仪生四象" (the two modes – yin and yang – results in the formation of the Four Aspects). And it just happens that she practices a skill that allows her to change her gender!

2. 炎帝白王 Yandi Bai Wang "炎帝 Yandi" is an honorific for the leader or king of a civilisation that dates back to the Neolithic age. Another civilisation from a similar era used "黄帝 huang di" (yellow emperor), and that's why Chinese also call ourselves 炎黄子孙, because we can trace our ancestry back to these two civilisations. So his title translates more accurately to "The Flame Emperor, the White King/Prince". One of the Four Auspicious Beasts is the White Tiger of the West, so it is possible that his title refers to that.

3. 阎王寻命 Yan Wang Xunming "阎王 Yan Wang" is a transcription of the Sanskrit name Yama Raja or King Yama, who is the Chinese god of death and ruler of the Ten Courts of the Underworld. 寻命 is a little more tricky to translate but I think in this context it means to find your fate/destiny and face the inevitable outcome. So his title translates to "King Yama Seeking Fate". Assuming he also represents one of the Four Auspicious Beasts, then he is likely to be the 玄武 Xuanwu of the North (literally "dark/mysterious warrior", usually depicted as a black tortoise intertwined with a snake).

But it's supposed to be four beasts, so who's the fourth? The obvious candidate seems to be Di Feisheng as 朱雀 Vermillion Bird of the South — his official Alliance leader robes are red. Perhaps the Three Kings asked him to pick a fancy title to match theirs, but Mr "Dao is a Dao" refused to participate XD Maybe it's Wuyan, who does have some red in his clothes, which would then make Di Feisheng 黄龙 Yellow Dragon or the symbol of the emperor, which doesn't really match imo.

(As an interesting aside, the original novel 吉祥纹莲花楼 Auspicious Pattern Lotus House is published as four volumes corresponding with the Four Auspicious Beasts.)

#mysterious lotus casebook #di feisheng #three kings of jinyuan alliance #mysterious lotus casebook meta #dihua parallels #LM's translations #long post

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