#coral bangle

[portrait-paintings]

Lady Elizabeth Pope

Artist: Attributed to Robert Peake (English, 1551–1619)

Date: c. 1615

Medium: Oil paint on wood

Collection: Tate Britain, London, United Kingdom

Portrait of Lady Elizabeth Pope

Elizabeth Pope was the daughter of Sir Thomas Watson. He was a prominent investor in the Virginia Company, which ran the English colony of Virginia in North America. Elizabeth might be depicted as a personification of America. First Nation people in America were often portrayed in masques wearing ostrich feathers and clothes with pearls, hence the feather in her turban and the pearls in ostrich feather design on her dress. The pearls and her coral bracelet might also allude to the riches of the American seas. Pearls symbolise purity and were associated with Elizabeth I, the Virgin Queen, after whom Virginia was named.

Elizabeth Watson, an heiress, married Sir William Pope of Wroxton (1596-1624) on 13 December 1615, and it is thought that her portrait may have been painted in connection with this event. She is depicted beneath a laurel tree, with a landscape beyond, and wears a classical mantle of black fabric embroidered with pearls in an ostrich-feather pattern; this pattern is repeated on her hat, which is trimmed with a real purple feather. She has a pearl choker, strings of pearls round her right wrist and a coral bangle round her left. Her chest is bared, with a heavy diamond necklace laid across it, and her left breast is almost exposed. Her long hair hangs down, loose except for a single braid above her arm. This was a contemporary symbol of virginity and brides sometimes wore their hair down thus - one high-profile example being Princess Elizabeth (1596-1662) the future 'Winter Queen', at her marriage on St Valentine's Day (14 February) in London in 1613 (see Robert Rait, Five Stuart Princesses, London 1902, p.75).

[amphoraseyes]

[boylerpf]

Antique Victorian Seed Pearl Mediterranean Coral Bracelet

Source - Boylerpf

[the1920sinpictures]

1925 Wide openwork geometric bangle bracelet, set with single-cut diamonds and variously-cut lapis lazuli, coral, amethyst and aquamarine panels. One half of the bracelet is within a gold border and the other half in platinum. Designed by Adolphe Mouron. From Art Deco, FB.

[cuntphoric]

a/n; indian reader with gojo for @satoruspillow idk if this is like right because i'm not indian myself but i was researching!! i was trying!! i'm sorry if it's bad ☹‼

you’re sitting cross legged on the floor, wearing one of your oversized kurtas—the comfy, peachy pink one that fades into coral - the one you always reach for when you're home and relaxed. it’s late, the soft yellow lights in your apartment glowing like melted ghee, warm and easy. a bollywood movie plays faintly in the background, the scene showing a man playing with a violin but you’re not even watching it anymore, though. gojo’s lying on your lap, his snowy hair a mess against your thighs, his long lashes brushing his cheeks as he blinks up at you like a cat who knows he’s spoiled.

“you smell like cardamom,” gojo says suddenly.

you blink, pausing in your motions—your fingers had been threading through his hair absentmindedly. “it’s probably the chai i made earlier,” you murmured.

“you do smell like cardamom..” he smiles lazily, eyes half lidded. “you’re like a puja in a person.”

you laugh softly, flicking his forehead. “what does that even mean?”

“it means you make everything feel great. even the boring stuff. even me.” gojo catches your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles, his lips cool and soft. “especially me.”

your cheeks heated up, but you obviously don’t pull away. instead, you let your hand rest on his cheek, thumb brushing the curve of his jaw. he leans into your touch like he’s starving for it.

gojo reaches up and fiddles with your bangles, letting them clink together. “teach me how to say something romantic in hindi.”

you arched a brow. “romantic? why?”

“because you always say the sweetest stuff in your language and i want to make you smile too.”

you roll your eyes, but your heart stutters. “okay. say.. tum meri jaan ho.”

gojo tries. fails. tries again. says something completely different that sounds more like jam than jaan. you giggle into laughter and he grins shamelessly.

“you’re soo hopeless,” you tease.

“hopelessly in love,” he counters, tugging you down into his arms, toppling you both into a heap of laughter and limbs.

[mikaylathenerd5]

Flag on the Play - Fourth & Forever One Shot

Main Mainlist ৹ Join My Taglist

Pairing: AU Roman Reigns x Juno Davis (black oc)

Song Inspo: Kendrick Lamar & SZA - luther

Summary: In the blistering heat of a Miami afternoon, Juno and Roman juggle preschool pickups, car keys, and an overwhelming thirst for each other. Domestic chaos blends with raw desire as Juno tries to wrangle her man out of those sweatpants—and maybe into her before the clock runs out. It’s funny, filthy, and full of the kind of tension only love and lust can create.

Content Warning: This chapter contains explicit sexual content, strong language, and adult themes. Not suitable for readers under 18. Proceed with care if you're sensitive to graphic sexual dialogue or depictions.

A/N: I finally finished this WIP from like three weeks ago lol might have gone overboard as it is not much plot and a truckload of smut. I blame the thirst trap TikTok edits of this man I was staring at lol

This can be read as a standalone from the Fourth & Forever series.

Word Count: 5k

The Miami sun was a brazen seductress, scorching through the slatted blinds of their Coconut Grove condo and drowning the kitchen in a sultry, amber haze. Juno was a cyclone in a coral sundress that clung to her curves like a jealous lover, her dark curls wrangled into a high bun that was fraying in the sticky heat. She was elbow-deep in a pile of Luna’s glitter-smeared sketches, hunting for her car keys, her iced coffee—now a tepid puddle—teetering on the counter beside a rogue sippy cup and a crumpled Target receipt. It was 2:01 p.m., and they were already teetering on the edge of late for Luna’s half-day preschool pickup.

“Roman!” Juno bellowed, her voice a fiery blend of exasperation and adoration, honed by a year of stolen nights and playful spats since that sweaty BBQ at Jimmy and Jey’s where he’d won her over with ribs and a smirk. “Move your sexy ass, babe! Luna’s gonna be running the damn pickup line, and I’m not eating Miss Carla’s shade again.”

Roman Reigns, the Miami Dolphins’ defensive tackle and a walking testament to divine sculpture, strutted in like he was about to sack the entire opposing team on primetime. At 6’3” and 265 pounds, he was a fortress of muscle—shoulders that could carry a dynasty, thighs that could crush empires, and a smirk that had Juno’s heart doing backflips since he’d handed her a mojito under the fairy lights a year ago. His black fitted t-shirt was a love song to his pecs, a thick gold chain glinting at his neck, catching the light like a subtle boast. But the real crime was his grey Nike sweatpants. They slung low, outlining a bulge so audacious it could’ve had its own fanbase. The thick, heavy print of his cock was a public health crisis, and Juno’s eyes betrayed her, lingering like she’d spotted the Holy Grail.

She snapped her gaze up, hands on her hips, gold bangles clinking. “Roman, you are not waltzing into Luna’s school looking like you’re packing a goddamn rocket launcher.”

He flashed that dimpled grin, the one that had her giggling like a teenager at that BBQ. “What’s the issue, baby girl?” He spun, slow and cocky, giving her the full 360—muscles popping, sweatpants straining, gold chain swinging. “This is my ‘devoted dad’ drip.”

“Devoted dad?” Juno scoffed, waving her tumbler like a courtroom exhibit. “This is ‘preschool moms starting a riot’ drip. Change, or I’m burning those pants.”

Roman closed the gap, his voice dropping to a gravelly purr that still made her thighs clench after a year of him unraveling her. “You soundin’ possessive, Juno.” He leaned in, lips brushing her ear, the cool metal of his gold chain grazing her cheek. “You know this dick’s only for you.”

Her breath hitched, a flash of last night—him pinning her to the headboard, her legs trembling—making her flush. She shoved his chest, fighting the heat pooling low. “Roman, we got no time. Luna’s waiting, and I’m not telling Miss Carla her daddy’s pants are trending on TikTok.”

He chuckled, snagging a mango from the counter and slicing it open, juice dripping down his fingers. “Ain’t nobody clockin’ my pants, baby. They’re too busy checkin’ this.” He tilted his head, letting the gold chain catch the light, its heavy links gleaming against his skin.

“That chain won’t save you when Miss Carla calls the feds,” Juno shot back, lips twitching. Those sweatpants were a siren call, hugging his thick thighs and screaming danger. “Jeans, Roman. I’m begging.”

He licked mango juice off his thumb, smirking. “You beggin’? That’s a whole different game, baby girl.” He turned, bending to grab his water bottle from the fridge, the sweatpants stretching so tight across his ass it was a federal offense.

Juno groaned, rubbing her temples, her tumbler sweating in her grip. “You’re a walking felony.”

“And you’re addicted,” he fired back, tossing the mango peel in the trash and snagging his keys. “Let’s roll before Luna starts runnin’ the pickup.”

Juno trailed him to the living room, her tumbler abandoned beside a pile of Luna’s stuffed manatees. Roman bent to adjust his sneakers, and those sweatpants—sweet merciful fuck—outlined every inch of his obscene cock, the thick ridge a blatant taunt that had her pussy throbbing. They had five minutes before they had to hit the road; the preschool was a quick shot down Tigertail. Her brain screamed Luna, punctuality, Miss Carla, but her body was in full revolt, her pussy already slick and aching under her dress, begging for him to wreck her.

“Roman,” she purred, her voice a filthy, desperate drawl, the kind she’d used last month when she’d jumped him in the team’s sauna, riding him until they were both screaming.

He straightened, his smirk pure, unfiltered sin as he turned, his gold chain glinting under the sunlight streaming through the window. “That’s the fuck me till I can’t walk voice, ain’t it?” His dark eyes raked over her, lingering on her nipples hardening under the coral sundress, the fabric clinging to her curves like it was painted on. “What you need, baby girl?”

She closed the distance, hands sliding up his chest, nails scraping the taut t-shirt, feeling the furnace of his skin and the cool, heavy brush of his chain against her knuckles. “You’re a goddamn war crime,” she murmured, fingers dipping under the hem to trace the chiseled V of his abs, her nails digging in just enough to make him hiss. “Struttin’ around with that cock, knowin’ I’m fuckin’ unraveling.”

His hands clamped onto her hips, yanking her against him, the bulge in his sweatpants a steel rod, thick and pulsing, grinding into her belly. Juno’s pussy clenched, dripping with raw, animal need, her thighs slick as she rubbed them together. “You’re the one settin’ fires,” he growled, squeezing her ass so hard she gasped, his chain grazing her collarbone as he leaned in, his beard scraping her jaw. “Thought we’re late?”

“We are,” she whispered, her voice trembling with want, her hands frantic as they tugged at his waistband, desperate to unleash the beast she knew was waiting. “But you’re standin’ there with that fuckin’ dick, and I need you to fucking destroy me, Roman.”

His laugh was dark, primal, a sound that vibrated through her core as he backed her toward the couch, his hands rucking her dress up to her waist, exposing her thighs. “You want me to fuck you into next week, Juno? Gonna make this pussy scream for me.” His fingers hooked her panties, ripping them clean off with a savage yank, the fabric tearing like paper, and he groaned, low and obscene, as he found her soaked, her slick coating his fingers. “Fuck, baby, this pussy’s fuckin’ weeping for me—look at this mess.”

“Roman, please,” she moaned, her hips bucking as he dragged his fingers through her folds, teasing her clit with slow, torturous circles, his chain dangling as he leaned down to suck her neck, his teeth grazing her pulse. Her pussy throbbed, aching for his cock, her body trembling with need.

“You want this dick bad, huh?” he growled, his voice a filthy rasp as he pushed her onto the couch, her ass hitting the cushions with a thud. He knelt between her legs, spreading her thighs wide, his chain brushing her skin as he leaned in, his breath hot against her dripping pussy. “Gonna make you beg for it first, baby girl.”

“Roman, don’t you fuckin’ dare tease me,” she whimpered, her hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his t-shirt, catching on his chain. But he was relentless, his tongue flicking out to lap at her clit, slow and deliberate, the wet heat of his mouth sending shockwaves through her. She screamed, her hips bucking, chasing his tongue as he sucked her clit, his fingers sliding two, then three, into her tight pussy, stretching her, curling against her G-spot.

“Fuck, you taste like heaven,” he growled against her, his beard scraping her inner thighs, his chain cold against her heated skin as he devoured her, his fingers pumping in and out, slick with her arousal. “This pussy’s so fuckin’ greedy—look at you, drippin’ all over my hand.”

“Roman, I need your cock,” she begged, her voice breaking, her body trembling as he pushed her to the edge, her pussy clenching around his fingers. “Please, fuck me—now.”

He pulled back, licking his lips, his chain glinting as he stood, fisting his cock through the sweatpants. “You want it, you’re gonna get it,” he growled, shoving the pants down just enough to free himself. Juno’s breath caught—his cock was a fucking masterpiece, long, thick as her forearm, veined and heavy, throbbing with pre-cum dripping like a promise. It was the kind of size that still made her knees shake, even after a year of taking it, and her pussy pulsed, desperate to be filled.

“Starin’ like you ain’t had it before,” he teased, stroking himself slow, the head glistening as he rubbed it against her clit, smearing her slick, torturing her with the blunt pressure. “Gonna wreck this tight little pussy, baby girl—gonna make you feel every fuckin’ inch.”

“Stop fuckin’ teasin’ and ruin me,” she demanded, hooking her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, her pussy aching, her body screaming for him. Roman growled, his chain swinging as he lined himself up, then thrust in with one brutal stroke, stretching her pussy to its absolute limit.

Juno screamed, the burn of his size a white-hot supernova, her walls clamping around him like a vice, every nerve igniting with pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. “Roman! Fuck, you’re too big!” He was a goddamn monster, splitting her open, filling her so completely she could barely breathe, and she was addicted, her hips rocking to take him deeper, her pussy gushing around him.

“Too big, huh?” he growled, hands gripping her thighs, spreading her wider as he pulled back, then slammed in again, the head of his cock hitting her cervix with a jolt that made her see stars. “You take it like a fuckin’ goddess, baby.” He set a savage pace, jackhammering into her, each thrust a relentless assault, his thick cock dragging against every nerve, stretching her to her breaking point. The couch groaned, sliding across the hardwood, the room echoing with the wet, filthy slap of their bodies and Juno’s desperate screams, her voice raw with pleasure.

“You gonna let me put a baby in you,” Roman rasped, his eyes blazing, his chain swinging with every thrust, his cock slamming deeper, claiming her with every brutal stroke. “Maybe twins, baby girl. Gonna fill this pussy till it’s fuckin’ overflowin’.” His voice was a filthy, possessive vow, and Juno’s pussy clenched tighter, the words setting her ablaze, her body trembling with the raw intensity of it.

“Fuck, Roman, yes,” she moaned, her nails raking his back, shredding his t-shirt, catching on his gold chain as she arched into him, her pussy weeping around his cock. “Keep talkin’—put a baby in me daddy.” The idea of him filling her, claiming her so completely, pushed her closer to the edge, her pleasure spiraling out of control.

“Look at this fuckin’ pussy,” he growled, eyes locked on where they joined, her lips stretched taut around his girth, glistening with her slick, a thick, creamy ring coating the base of him, her arousal dripping with every thrust, pooling on the couch in a sticky mess. “Creamin’ all over my cock, baby—fuck, you’re soakin’ me.”

“Roman, you’re gonna fuckin’ kill me,” she whimpered, her body shaking, her dress bunched around her waist, sweat slicking her skin, her pussy throbbing with every thrust. His cock was a battering ram, hitting that deep spot that made her vision blur, and she was spiraling, her orgasm clawing closer, a tidal wave of pleasure building in her core.

He flipped her suddenly, pulling out only to spin her onto her knees, her ass up, face pressed into the cushions, the rough fabric scraping her cheek. “Gonna fuck you like you deserve,” he growled, slapping her ass hard, the sting making her scream as he thrust back in, deeper, harder, his cock stretching her pussy even wider from this angle, the angle making her feel every vein, every pulse. “This tight little pussy’s mine, Juno. Fuckin’ say it.”

“Yours!” she screamed, her hands gripping the couch, nails digging into the fabric as he pounded her, his balls slapping her clit with every brutal thrust, sending shocks of pleasure through her. The chain swung, brushing her back, cold against her fevered skin, and she was lost, her pussy clenching, her body shaking, her screams muffled by the cushions.

He reached around, fingers finding her clit, rubbing tight, relentless circles, his cock never slowing, his thrusts so deep she felt him in her soul. “Come for me, baby,” he growled, his voice rough, his chain dangling as he leaned over her, his breath hot against her ear. “Soak my fuckin’ cock—show me how much this pussy loves me.”

Her first climax detonated, a fucking supernova, her pussy convulsing around his thick length, milking him as she screamed his name, her voice raw, echoing through the condo. Her release gushed, creaming thickly around the base of his cock, dripping onto the cushions, soaking the fabric in a sticky flood, and Roman groaned, his rhythm stuttering. “Fuck, Juno, that’s it—fuckin’ drench me, baby.”

He wasn’t done. He pulled out, flipping her onto her back again, spreading her legs wide, her thighs trembling, her pussy still pulsing. “One more, baby,” he growled, thrusting back in, slower now, deeper, grinding his hips to hit every spot, his cock dragging against her overstimulated walls. “Gonna make you come again before I fill you up.”

Juno was a wreck, her body trembling, overstimulated but craving more, her pussy clenching around him, desperate for another hit. “Roman, I can’t—” she gasped, but her hips rocked, chasing him, her nails digging into his shoulders, catching on his chain.

“You can, and you fuckin’ will,” he growled, his chain dangling against her chest as he leaned down, sucking her nipple through the dress, his teeth grazing the sensitive bud, sending shocks through her. His fingers found her clit again, teasing with featherlight strokes, and she was gone, another orgasm ripping through her, her pussy gushing around him, her screams echoing, her body arching off the couch.

“Fuck, Juno!” he roared, slamming into her one last time, his cock pulsing as he spilled deep inside, hot and endless, filling her to the brim, his cum mixing with her slick, dripping out around him. His chain brushed her skin as he collapsed, panting, their bodies slick with sweat, the couch a goddamn crime scene.

Juno laughed, delirious, her body buzzing like she’d been struck by a lightning bolt, her pussy still twitching around him. “We’re so fucked. Luna’s gonna fire us.”

Roman kissed her neck, his chuckle rough and warm, the chain brushing her skin. “Worth it, baby girl. You’re my fuckin’ paradise.”

Four minutes later, after a frenzied cleanup—Juno dabbing at smudged mascara, Roman yanking those cursed sweatpants back up—they were in his black Dodge Charger, tearing down Tigertail Avenue. The windows were down, the Miami air thick with salt and jasmine, and Juno’s sundress fluttered, her skin still tingling from Roman’s brutal claiming. He was still in those grey sweatpants, the print a smug taunt, his black t-shirt shredded from her nails, the gold chain glinting against his chest.

“You’re gonna get us banned from that preschool,” Juno said, slipping on her aviators, her voice lazy with satisfaction, her pussy still throbbing from his cock and that baby-making talk. “Miss Carla’s gonna need a hazmat suit after one look at that dick print.”

Roman grinned, one hand on the wheel, the other sliding up her thigh, fingers brushing her still-soaked core. “Miss Carla’s a trooper. She’ll pull through.” He shot her a wicked look, chain catching the sunlight. “Unlike you, screamin’ like you forgot your own name.”

“Keep talkin’, and I’m hitchhiking,” she fired back, but her grin was pure mischief, her hand guiding his higher. They were late—2:20 p.m.—but the high of Roman’s touch made time irrelevant.

Coral Smiles Preschool was a psychedelic riot—walls splashed with starfish and mangroves, glitter embedded in every surface. Roman pushed open the classroom door, his massive frame dwarfing the kid-sized tables, the gold chain catching the fluorescent lights. Juno followed, bracing for Miss Carla’s wrath. Luna, their tiny dictator with soulful eyes and Juno’s curls, sat weaving a neon bracelet, her pigtails bouncing.

“Mama! Roro!” Luna squealed, bolting into Roman’s arms. “I made this for you, Roro! It’s blue ‘cause you’re awesome!” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re late.”

Juno winced, grabbing Luna’s backpack. “Sorry, mija. Traffic.”

Miss Carla approached, clipboard in hand, her eyes darting to Roman’s sweatpants, then his chain, before snapping away, cheeks flaming. “Punctuality is critical.”

“Sorry, Miss Carla,” Roman said, his charm lethal, chain glinting. “Family business.” Juno caught three moms whispering, pointing at Roman’s crotch, and grinned, looping her arm through his. He’s mine.

Outside, Luna rode Roman’s shoulders, babbling about being a “dolphin pilot.” Juno walked beside them, the Miami sun hot, her heart bursting. The afternoon was a filthy, chaotic masterpiece, but with Roman’s hand brushing hers, it was perfection.

The Miami night was a velvet seductress, the Coconut Grove condo’s private balcony bathed in the silvery glow of a full moon, the city’s neon hum softened by the whisper of palm fronds. Luna was fast asleep, her bedroom a shrine of stuffed jellyfish and her glittery “Roro” bracelet, lulled by Roman’s soulful bedtime reading of Finding Dory. Juno stood at the balcony’s edge, her bare feet cool against the tiled floor, her body draped in a flowing, black silk robe that fluttered in the breeze, hinting at her curves. Her dark curls spilled down her back, shimmering in the moonlight, her skin still tingling from the day’s chaos—Roman’s grey Nike sweatpants sparking a preschool frenzy, their couch-shattering quickie, Miss Carla’s pinched disapproval. The quickie’s raw, urgent heat was a distant echo; tonight, Juno craved a slow, soulful unraveling, and the balcony, with its wicker lounge bed and flickering lanterns, was their sacred altar.

Roman stepped onto the balcony, moving with the quiet confidence of a man who knew how to worship. Bare-chested, his loose navy linen pants slung low, revealing the chiseled V of his hips, the thick outline of his dick a lazy promise beneath the fabric. His gold chain glinted in the lantern light. He carried a vial of jasmine essential oil, his dark eyes locking on Juno with a gaze that promised devotion and hunger, a far cry from the quickie’s primal rush.

“Baby girl,” he drawled, his voice a warm, commanding purr that sent a shiver through her pussy, “you’re lookin’ like you’re ready to be devoured under this moon.” He set the vial on the lounge bed, his chain swaying, his eyes tracing her silhouette, the robe translucent in the moonlight, her curves a quiet invitation.

Juno smirked, sauntering toward him, the robe slipping to reveal a glimpse of her bare thigh, her nipples hardening under the silk, the breeze teasing her skin. “Devoured?” she teased, her voice soft and confident, a deliberate shift from the quickie’s desperate moans. “Babe, you’re the one who turned Luna’s preschool into a thirst trap parade with that dick print. I’m here to see if you can keep up with me.” Her words carried a playful edge, her power surging, ready to meet his hunger.

Roman’s chuckle was a deep, velvet rumble, his chain glinting as he closed the gap, his hands hovering at her hips, not touching, letting the tension build. “Keep up? Juno, I’m about to have you tremblin’ before you even touch me.” He poured a drop of jasmine oil into his palm, the floral scent blooming in the night air, his eyes daring her to surrender to his command, a soulful contrast to the quickie’s raw aggression.

Her breath hitched, the quickie’s physical intensity replaced by a soulful anticipation, her pussy already slick with want, her body craving his touch. “Trembling, huh?” she murmured, stepping closer, the robe fluttering, her hands resting lightly on his chest, fingers brushing the chain, its cool metal grounding her. “Better make it worth my while, Reigns, or I’m stealing that chain and dancing under this moon alone.”

His eyes darkened, a tender spark, and he guided her to the lounge bed, its cushions soft and inviting, the lanterns casting a warm glow. “Worth it? Baby, I’m gonna make you feel like you’re fuckin’ flying.” He untied the robe, letting it fall open, revealing her bare body, her curves bathed in moonlight, her skin glowing like a canvas for his worship. “Sit on my face, Juno,” he growled, his voice a commanding whisper, lying back on the cushions, his chain glinting, his hands patting his chest, inviting her to take her throne. “Let me taste that pussy—gonna eat you ‘til you’re screamin’.”

Juno’s pussy throbbed, her confidence surging at his command, the tantric rhythm of their breaths syncing as she climbed onto the bed, straddling his chest, her pussy hovering over his face, not touching yet, teasing, the anticipation a delicious ache. “You want this, Roman?” she murmured, her voice warm and commanding, her hands braced on his shoulders, fingers catching on his chain, the jasmine scent enveloping them. “Better make me sing, daddy.”

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna make this pussy sing,” he growled, his hands gripping her thighs, guiding her down, his tongue flicking out, teasing her clit with a single, deliberate stroke, making her gasp, her pussy weeping, her slick coating his lips. He stroked his dick through his pants, slow and deliberate, his groans vibrating against her folds, the moonlight casting shadows that danced across their bodies. Juno moaned, her hips rocking, her pussy grinding against his mouth, his beard a rough tease, the chain brushing her inner thigh, a cool contrast to the night’s heat.

“Roman, fuck,” she whimpered, her pussy throbbing as he plunged his tongue inside, fucking her with it, his lips sucking her clit, the jasmine scent mingling with her arousal, his hand freeing his dick, stroking it slow, the pre-cum glistening in the moonlight. He ate her out with reverence, his tongue swirling, sucking, teasing, his groans a low hum that sent shockwaves through her, the tantric rhythm of their breaths amplifying every sensation, a stark contrast to the quickie’s raw thrusting.

“Goddamn, this pussy’s perfect,” he growled, his voice muffled, his tongue circling her clit, his hand stroking his dick faster, his chain glinting as he devoured her, her slick dripping down his chin, her moans soft but piercing, carrying across the balcony. Juno’s hands gripped his hair, pulling hard, her pussy clenching, her first orgasm building, a slow, soulful crest, the moonlight bathing them, the lanterns flickering in time with her gasps.

“Roman, I’m—fuck!” she cried, her first orgasm crashing through her, a warm, soulful wave, her pussy convulsing, gushing over his face, soaking his beard, her moans echoing in the night air, the chain brushing her thigh, his tongue still licking, dragging out every pulse. He groaned, his hand stroking his dick, his own pleasure building, but he held back, his focus on her, his worship absolute, the tantric connection deepening with every lick.

“Fuck, Juno, taste like fuckin’ heaven,” he growled, his hands guiding her off his face, his lips glistening with her slick, his chain swaying as he sat up, pulling her into his lap, the lotus position intimate, their bodies pressed close. “Ride me, baby girl—take this dick.” His voice was warm, commanding, his dick throbbing against her pussy, not entering yet, just teasing, the oil making it slick, the anticipation a delicious torture.

Juno grinned, her confidence blazing, her pussy still pulsing from his tongue, the jasmine scent grounding her as she drizzled oil over his dick, stroking him slow, the slick glide making him groan, his chain glinting in the moonlight. “Gonna ride you so good, Roman,” she murmured, her voice warm and commanding, lifting her hips, guiding his dick to her entrance, sinking down slow, her pussy stretching around his thick length, the oil easing the glide, the sensation a warm, soulful burn, nothing like the quickie’s brutal stretch.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his hands gripping her hips, fingers digging into her ass, using her curves as leverage to thrust up, meeting her rhythm, his dick grinding deeper, the tantric rhythm syncing their breaths, the moonlight casting a silver glow. Juno set a slow, deep pace, riding him with measured rocks, her pussy clamping around him, every inch a fucking revelation, the chain brushing her chest, a cool anchor in the warm night.

“Feel that, Roman?” she moaned, her hands braced on his shoulders, fingers catching on his chain, her pussy grinding deeper, his thrusts matching her, the oil amplifying the wet, sensual sounds, the jasmine scent enveloping them. “This pussy’s takin’ you—every fuckin’ inch.” Her words were soft, commanding, her confidence surging, the slow pace a soulful contrast to the quickie’s jackhammering, her body trembling with pleasure.

“Goddamn, Juno, you’re—fuck,” he groaned, his hands squeezing her ass, pulling her down harder, his thrusts deep and deliberate, his dick hitting her G-spot with every rock, the chain glinting between them, their connection deepening with every move. Her second orgasm built, a slow-burning star, and she leaned forward, kissing him deeply, their tongues tangling, the jasmine taste mingling with her slick, the tantric rhythm pushing her closer, his hands guiding her hips, his thrusts relentless but controlled.

“You gonna let me put a baby in you,” Roman growled, his chain brushing her chest, his dick grinding deeper, the tender tone softening the filthy promise, a soulful contrast to the quickie’s raw possession. “I meant that shit mama.” His voice was warm, reverent, and Juno’s pussy clenched, the words igniting her, her body trembling with want.

“Fuck, Roman, yes—fill me,” she moaned, her hands tugging his chain, her pussy weeping around his dick, the tantric rhythm making her crave him. “You feel so good daddy.” Her words were soft, soulful, matching the balcony’s vibe, her hips rocking faster, chasing release, his thrusts driving them both to the edge.

“Look at this fuckin’ pussy,” he growled, his hands spreading her ass, his eyes locked on her glistening folds, a creamy mix of oil and slick coating his dick, dripping onto the cushions, her arousal a testament to their connection. “So fuckin’ perfect, baby—fuck, you’re my goddamn universe.” His words were reverent, his voice trembling, her riding and his thrusts pushing them to the edge, the slow, soulful pace a stark contrast to the quickie’s raw frenzy.

“Roman, I’m—fuck!” she cried, her second orgasm exploding, a fucking supernova, her pussy convulsing around his thick length, milking him as she arched, her release gushing, soaking his dick, dripping onto the cushions, her moans carrying across the balcony, the moonlight bathing them. His hands gripped her ass tighter, his thrusts deepening, dragging out every pulse, his chain brushing her skin, grounding her in the ecstasy.

“Juno, fuck!” he roared, his dick pulsing as he spilled inside, hot and endless, filling her to the brim, his cum mixing with her slick, dripping onto the cushions, the oil a slick testament to their love. His hands held her hips, his thrusts slowing, their bodies trembling, the balcony a moonlit sanctuary, the night air warm and soft.

Juno collapsed against him, breathless, her body buzzing, her pussy still twitching around him, the moonlight casting a silver glow. Roman’s arms wrapped around her, his chain cool against her flushed skin, their breaths slowing, the lanterns flickering, the jasmine scent lingering. They lay there, tangled on the lounge bed, the moonlight spilling over them, their hearts racing, the day’s chaos—Roman’s sweatpants, the ruined couch, Luna’s sass—a distant memory.

Juno’s head rested on his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath her cheek, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his abs, catching on his chain. She tilted her head, her dark eyes searching his in the moonlight, a soft vulnerability breaking through her earlier command. “Roman,” she murmured, her voice warm but tentative, “that baby talk… you weren’t just caught up in the moment, were you? The twins thing—it felt real.”

Roman chuckled, a deep, soulful sound, his hand cupping her face, his thumb brushing her cheek, the chain glinting as he shifted to meet her gaze. “Real as it gets, baby girl,” he said, his voice low, earnest. “I ain’t just talkin’ to talk. You with Luna—you’re a fuckin’ force, makin’ her world shine. I want that with you, Juno. Twins, a whole damn squad, whatever we build. I see it, clear as this moonlight. You feelin’ it too?”

Juno’s heart swelled, a soft laugh escaping as she nestled closer, her lips brushing his chest, the chain catching the moonlight. “Twins? You’re tryna give me a heart attack, Reigns,” she teased, her voice softening, her eyes glistening. “But yeah, I feel it. Luna’s my everything, but you and me, making more of us? That’s the kind of chaos I’m down for. Just… gotta warn you, I’m gonna need more of this practice.” She smirked, tugging his chain playfully, pulling him into a slow, tender kiss.

He grinned against her lips, his hand sliding to her lower back, the chain brushing her skin. “Practice? Baby, you keep sittin’ on my face and ridin’ me like that, we’ll have a dynasty before you know it.” His laugh was warm, his eyes full of love, the moonlight sealing their promise.

“We’re gonna need a new damn balcony,” Juno teased, her voice warm, her heart bursting, the chain glinting as she kissed him again, their connection deeper than ever, the night air soft and perfect.

They stayed there, wrapped in each other, the moonlight their witness, the lanterns flickering, the jasmine scent lingering. Roman’s hand traced lazy circles on her thigh, his chain glinting, and Juno smiled, her soul alight. The day had been a chaotic masterpiece—Roman’s sweatpants starting a preschool war, their couch ruined, Luna’s sass reigning supreme—but this, right here, was their forever.

Thank you for diving into the heat with Juno and Roman! This chapter was pure fun—a chaotic, sexy slice of life with two characters who can’t keep their hands (or eyes) off each other. I wanted to show that the passion doesn’t fade just because there’s a kid in the mix and a schedule to keep. If you laughed, blushed, or needed a cold drink after reading, I did my job.

If you want to follow along for more content I release, comment “add me” to join the taglist! I’d love to have you along for the ride.

Drop a comment if you loved it, reblog to spread the spice, and stay tuned—because these two are just getting started. 🔥💖

[hezzabeth]

Revati knew, as she walked back to Baker Street, that once again she was on the edge of things.

Revati could barely remember the first edge she encountered, four years old and holding a balloon while drones flew above.

The second edge, seeing her father’s twitching hand under the rubble.

And now, Amma standing in the doorway with Dusk.

Her arms were folded, and she glared when she realized Camilo was with them.

"Hello, Camilo," Amma remarked.

"Sugafanna! I haven’t seen you since…" he began.

"Jay’s last birthday; you drank too much of your honeymede and threw up on the walls," Amma pointed out.

"Ah, yes," Camilo blushed with embarrassment.

"And I suppose you’re here to help Revati with this insanity?" Sugafana asked coldly.

"Is saving the ones we love really that insane?" Camilo asked Sugafana, who sighed, rolling her eyes.

"I’m going to the station now, Amma; where’s Nanni?" Revati asked.

"I’m right here, Dimpy," Nanni said from behind mother.

"Don’t die while I’m gone; you’ve lasted eighty years. You can last a little longer," Revati said firmly.

Nanni pulled her down, kissing her forehead, and then draped something around Revati’s neck.

It was her precious Kasithaali, a gold chain dotted with gold and coral beads.

In the center of the chain, there was a tiny golden idol, its features finely carved.

The Kasithaali was ancient, trailing far back to the first Sheik born on Mars.

The coral beads had been picked from a long-ago dead and abandoned Earth.

"Nanni, you know I can’t take this! Raiders will try to steal it," Revati pointed out.

"Hide it down the front of your clothes! You will need Lakshmi’s protection," Nanni said firmly.

"You will also need this," Amma replied, sliding off one of her bangles.

"Why are you both giving me wedding jewelry? I’m going on a rescue mission; I’m not getting married," Revati asked as Amma slid the bangle onto Revati’s wrist.

Amma tapped the bracelet four times, and it suddenly glowed a faint purple.

"DNA approved user confirmed, current balance nine thousand six hundred and eighty-three credits," the bracelet chimed.

"It’s not a bracelet; it’s my portable bank account! You’re not going to go out into the world with no funds," Amma said as Revati stared at the glowing numbers.

"Is this a lot of money?" She asked curiously.

"It’s enough. Now here’s everything else you asked for... including your sister's hairbrush," Amma asked, handing Revati a bag, and Revati nodded.

"Good, well, I best be off then," Revati said, and Amma nodded.

Revati realized it was probably time to say something else.

"I love you both," she added before reaching forward to embrace Amma.

Revati firmly believed in only hugging on her terms.

Still, Amma deserved it.

It took a moment to realize that Brigadeiro Bun was politely following her and Camilo.

"Why are you trailing behind me?" Revati had to ask.

"He's following you as well, as well as what I suspect is the android wearing a cloak," Brigadeiro pointed out.

"I need Camilo to help me at the train station," Revati replied as they reached the maze's entrance.

"I’m pretty sure I can turn the train on for one ride; I salvaged a power cell from the dragon," Camilo explained.

"Well, I’m following you because you’ll need my tent if you want to survive the elements," Brigadeiro replied.

"You got your tent back, then?" Revati asked as they entered the maze.

In the distance, Revati could hear someone giggle among the leaves.

"Yes, Isabeau found it in the lost property pile," Brigadeiro replied.

"And you’re going to give me your tent?" Revati asked.

"I’m going to share it with you; it’s a two-person tent! My ex and I were supposed to travel together, but we broke up," Brigadeiro said with a small shrug.

"You don’t seem that upset about it," Revati pointed out as they turned a corner.

The giggling was coming from two small children in medical dress fighting with sticks.

"I was; then I went out to find diamond roses for her, and everything else happened," Brigadeiro admitted.

"So you’re going to travel with me for an indefinite amount of time? Finding my sister plus take weeks or months," Revati said as they turned right.

"Or years; when appliances want to hide things, they stay hidden," Camilo pointed out.

"Well, I’ll stay with you until we reach a public teleportation station; then you can keep the tent," Brigadeiro said, and Revati shrugged.

"Fine, that’s a fair exchange for saving your life twice," she admitted.

The maze suddenly opened up onto the grand entrance of Olde Landon.

The ticket booths, in the shape of castle turrets, had long ago been abandoned.

The giant Elizabeth Twin statue was covered in gently glowing fungus.

Revati stared at them briefly.

One of the queens was in a grand solid carved ballgown.

The other in a neat suit and hat.

Both of them had lizard faces.

"We have the exact same statue on the South West Sydney Space station; apparently, the lizard faces allowed the queens to live for centuries," Brigadeiro remarked.

"That was just a myth; come on this way," Camilo replied.

The park bullet train ran from the park to Leeryasoar, the country's capital. Years ago, the station teemed with tourists. Feet would pound over the shiny tiles, the exact same gold and purple as the domed train. Creatrix vending machines were constantly humming next to the benches. Revati remembered Amma punching in several numbers to get Dityaa a bottle of mango lassi. There had been a stand in the center of the platform selling park maps and plastic magic wands. Pink and red roses grew in orderly bushes. Holographic signs floated on the walls, stating that all data cloud technology would stop working inside the park. Revati had dim memories of her father checking the news on his communications bracelet before they went inside. The signs had long ago been smashed to pieces and were now nothing more than broken screens. The Creatrix vending machines had been looted and were now filled with spiders. The roses all grew in wild tangles flowing over the garden beds.

"Wow; these roses have gone feral! They're singing about how much they wish they could prick people with their thorns," Brigadeiro remarked as Camilo approached the abandoned purple shuttle train with his tool belt.

"Are we far enough away from the wall?" Revati asked.

"We should be! All the vending machines were, so they led the attack during the invasion! The only thing that stopped them was the station's power supply getting cut off," Camilo said, gesturing about. Camilo was right; the station was dim and depressing under the grey Martian sunlight. Revati nodded and whisked the cloak off the figure. The maternity droid stared back at her. Camilo had taken the time to repaint its face. Its lips were a deep scarlet, its eyes bright cheerful green. Camilo had also replaced its broken legs with bulky steel ones he had spray-painted blue with cheerful flowers painted down the side. The belly door had been reattached and was now filled with a healthy white light.

"Hello, I am your custom-built Materno 4000 Deluxe prenatal droid! Would you like to grow a new baby or link to your pre-existing infant?" The android chirped in a flat metallic voice.

"Pre-existing infant," Revati said, and the Android's eyes fluttered.

"Your pre-existing infant is 218 months old, is this correct?" The android asked.

"Correct," Revati said, and the android blinked again.

"Your pre-existing infant is currently out of detection range; would you like to create a new infant?" The android asked.

"No! I want to talk to the lady who was using you as a microphone before," Revati said.

"You have to tell it to open maternal communication! I turned the channel off," Camilo said from where he had managed to open the front panel of the train.

"Open maternal communication!" Brigadeiro said eagerly.

The android's eyes fluttered shut once again. There was nothing.

"I don't think we're far enough away from the wall," Revati sighed.

But then the humming began. A faint, child-like humming came from behind the Android's lips.

"Whispers in the motherboard, a haunting tune,

A phantom dancing in the light of a digital moon," Brigadeiro sang along, and Revati shot him a confused look.

"It's humming Circuit whispers! From the hit musical 'The Android of Music,'" Brigadeiro explained.

"I've never heard of it," Revati confessed.

"You've never heard of 'The Android of Music'? Praise group! Once you've rescued your sister, I'll have to take you! Everyone needs to hear 'The Android of Music,'" Brigadeiro said firmly. Before Revati had a chance to reply, the android's eyes snapped open again.

"Thank Krishna! Finally, a decent signal; it's been eighteen years," the android exclaimed in an incredibly annoyed upper-class woman's voice. The Android reached clumsily toward Revati, snatching her bag. Then it reached inside, pulling out Dityaa's hairbrush. The belly door swung open, and the Android shoved the hairbrush inside.

"Did it just do what I think it just did?" Brigadeiro grimaced.

"How else do you expect me to trace my daughter's DNA?" The Android asked, and then her belly glowed green.

"Right, the last recording of her DNA imprint was in New Singapore six hours ago! Let's go find my baby," the android said firmly and cheered as the train burst back into life.

[stochastique-blog]

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[rom-e-o]

A Moment of Weakness (Emmrich/OC)💚F!Rook

The game isn't even out. We don't know Emmrich's personality, VA, ... really, anything beyond the bare bones as I write this ... but I couldn't help myself! I hope this little story is enjoyable, despite inaccuracies, haha!

TW: alcohol mention/mild tipsy behavior.

It had started with a simple sentence, but one that Emmrich immediately realized was shrouded in complex sentiment.

Hours before, Belisma (“Rook”, as she was affectionately called) had knocked on the door to his study and invited him to share a drink with him. More specifically, she had wanted to toast a successfully long day of battles and negotiations by imbibing together at the Lighthouse, a base that was unnerving as it was beautiful. She had even surprised him with a dusty bottle of red imported right from Nevarra. It carried the region’s distinct fruity notes; a stark contrast to the stench of death and semi-permanent haze of stale incense the region was known for.

Perhaps that was why such bottles were so coveted. Even he, with all his knowledge and history of the reason, carried not the knowledge of a versed sommelier. He did know, however, that the drink was strong.

The drink had boosted their spirits quickly, and loosened lips even more so.

Moments before, he'd been laughing amicably at an amusing anecdote she'd told him about an awkward encounter with a former suitor. Quite the crude young man, from what the woman had described. Hardly someone suitable for a woman like her, he'd thought.

Then, she’d let the sentence slip.

"I’m glad I can be useful here �� I’m more suited for the battlefield than a quiet life anyway.” Then, she added, "Could you imagine … me, with a husband waiting for me back home? What poor soul could I do that to?”

Emmrich, dressed casually in a starched shirt and trousers (but still adorned in his rings and jangling bangles), paused to flick his gaze at present company.

"What?"

With a little hiccup, she allowed herself to sink against the weight of the table. "It's amusing, isn't it?"

"What is?" Emmrich prodded, a silver brow lifted. Her self-deprecating words had sobered him. "The thought of you with … a husband?”

"Right," she said. "Or a lover or ... someone of similar station. Even if someone was interested, I have nothing to offer. Mages aren’t exactly known for their large dowries and influence – even the wealthiest ones – compared to normal nobles.”

She paused, her eyes drifting askance as she tapped her nails on the oak table. “That was what he said, anyway.”

"Who?"

"Cyril," she reminded him. "I just told you about him. He was my last ... suitor, I suppose. I was 25. We met in a Circle. It feels like yesterday, but... his words stuck. Evidently."

The man gently lowered his chalice onto the table, the sweet wine forgotten. His eyes, rimmed with intrigue but touched with sadness, examined her. While a devoted scholar, Emmrich was also a man with decades of experience working with peers of many ages and backgrounds. Many called him a gentleman for the ways he seemed to invite conversation and put others at ease, but he preferred to his he simply put proper effort into listening. He leaned in, encouraging her to say more.

The silent prodding bore fruit. "I mean, it's inarguable. Look at me."

He did. He had been since they'd started working alongside each other.

He saw a lovely woman, just a small handful of years younger than him. She was a head shorter than him, with a feminine but muscled build from years of training as a mage and honing her skills. Her jaw, cut perfectly square enough to put the gems on any viscount's ring to shame, was adorned with bright eyes and lips that were ... very pleasant.

Her eyes reflected the color of freezing cold sap, tapped from the tree of Emprise du Lion. Her lips, painted with a swatch of coral, looked full and soft as far as he could tell. He hadn't been blessed enough to feel them pillow against his skin, but he could imagine. Her skin bore a light tan, and her hair swung gaily over her shoulders with each spin and flip on the battlefield. Starlight-gray waves sprouted from her scalp, and he thought they framed her face beautifully. Elegantly.

"I ... see you," he said carefully. He stammered a moment, eyes still searching for what she could mean. “I see you quite well, as a matter of fact.”

To him, she looked like a partner anyone would be lucky to have.

"Well, there you go," she added with a light, almost flippant laugh.

"I fail to see what's funny."

"...Emmrich, you don't have to be polite," she said, her voice becoming softer as a result of his stern but inquisitive tone. “I’m not a child.”

"I am being honest, with the politeness always secondary," he reminded her. “Lucanis can testify to that.”

A tense beat of silence passed. Before he could speak up, she sighed and pushed her chalice away. It flared bottom skipped lightly across the uneven wood grain. "I-I'm sorry. That's my cue. I’ve had enough to drink, I believe."

Another shaky laugh left her. Emmrich heard a telltale tremble in her voice, and rose to pursue her.

"Belisma, wait—”

"I’m sorry," she said, cutting him off. Palm flattening against the wall to better support her weight, she made her way toward the great hall's door to exit.

It only took one hobble for him to round the table after her. "You’re unsteady. I'll walk you."

"Please. Stay."

A man of many years, he could easily transcribe her true request from the dismal look on her face: “Keep back and let me go.”

So, he did.

Not one to disobey their leader, especially when she requested something so simple, he respected her desire for space. Falling back, he watched her go. She did not falter again, from what he could see.

Her shadow eventually slinked out of the room and to the left, which was the path he knew led to her quarters. As he watched her vanish into the night-darkened halls of the base, regret filled his lungs like sea water.

He should have said something sooner.

Night.

Night in the Fade was … very similar to the day, he had to admit. It wasn’t even really night, he supposed. Just an agreed upon hour where they all stole moments of slumber between onslaughts of enemies.

Back home, night was the most comfortable hour for the necromancer, as it shrouded the work in a silver-tinted darkness. Temperatures cooled, and his mind could home in better on his duties as an esteemed member of the Mourn Watch. Night was a time for study; a time for work. A time for solving problems he refused to let fester.

Here, the air still shimmered like mica, but the sky did not grow inky like it did in the mortal realms. Its comforts felt somewhat hollow, but it was all he had, so he took them.

When the Lighthouse was quiet save for his footsteps, he left his chamber and began to walk.

Emmrich knew his destination, in theory. There was a sparse list of places their Rook would, or could, travel to for relaxation. One of those areas was a small room located a few floors up, overlooking the Fade’s ever-twitching horizon. A small, stone room where mages could practice magic without risk of rogue spells hurting others.

Upon arriving at the room, he heard her voice from within. Grunts and yells of exertion peppered the otherwise quiet air. The older man took a deep breath, which served the dual purpose of bolstering his confidence as well as calming his racing heart.

He knocked. A beat of silence passed.

Then, a voice called from beyond the iron-enforced frame. "Come in."

A pleasant voice. A kind, womanly, familiar voice that could lure enamored men to burn their tomes for her.

Ignoring that he fit into that category all too neatly himself, he swallowed and entered the chamber. As he laid his palm against the frame, the metal was warm to the touch, even through his adorned glove.

The room was built from stone, top to bottom, with only a few slots to serve as windows. They also provided the handy attribute of ventilation, as this chamber was one mages utilized to train their abilities.

It was quite common to enter the training room to find the air crackling with electricity, or to nearly slip on ice-covered stones from the last mage practicing a bout of freezing spells.

In this case, Belisma appeared to be practicing fire magic. Her staff drawn and the smell of cinder permeating the air, she turned and gave the visitor a smile. The iron-clad tip of her staff still burned red-hot in the semi-darkness as she turned to him.

"Oh! Emmrich."

She looked pleased to see him on the surface, but he knew her better by now. There was a slight, nervous way her lower eyelids would upturn when she peered at him, like she was squinting through him, as if to see better intentions.

Nodding, he risked a step forward. "I thought I heard you in here. I ... wanted to check on you."

Although he spoke carefully, her face still fell at his admission. "Ah. Because of earlier."

"Yes, earlier."

A measured sigh snaked in and out of her lungs.

"It … was a moment of weakness," she confessed, hands dropping to her sides. He noticed with a heavy heart that she cast her gaze to the opposite corner of the room. An obvious sign of shame. "I shouldn't have burdened you with that. I'd had too much to drink and ... I suppose the ghosts of the past got a hold of me. I apologize."

"You needn’t apologize for that," he said kindly. "You're hardly the first one to divulge personal secrets over a chalice of wine, and I'm sure you'll be far from the last."

Her brown eyes sought his. "W-Well, when you put it like that ... perhaps you're right."

"I often am," he teased.

She smiled at that, and his heart leapt again. Gods above, how had any man made the woman before him feel unworthy of affection. Had time-altering spells been more his forte, he might have chanced traveling back a few decades just to clobber the fool with a skull. Or two. Perhaps a dragon skill, if he could lift it. Taash could help, he reasoned.

As the silence spurred his thoughts, it quieted hers in tandem. She sighed, tapping the leather-wrapped end of her staff’s hilt against the floor.

In a split second, bright sparks flitted between the crevices in the stone, snaking their way upwards through the narrow channels until the fire leads to the wicks of the candles adorning the room's small chandelier. With the formerly cavernous room now aglow with firelight, he could more keenly observe a notable flush to her cheeks.

"Thank you," she said softly. "I'm glad I didn't scare you away from wanting to talk to me."

He snorted in amusement. "It'll take more than banter to scare me, dear."

The realization of the term slipping out hit too late, and he cleared his thought awkwardly. "I-I've seen more death than some armies, you know. So n-no. Not scared at all. No."

He heard her chuckle warmly at his stammering. Perhaps she found it endearing, he hoped.

Nonetheless, fighting his own blush now, a hand lofted to scratch his temple. It was also his turn to look away, lest he become lost in those syrupy eyes again.

“I promise to hold my drink better when we hold our next private celebration,” she noted gaily. “You won’t have to listen to an old maid ramble, haha. Nobody here needs that in our only place of respite.”

Just as Emmrich had turned to scuttle away, he was lured back. “Stop that.”

She paused, glancing up at him. “Hm?”

“Stop with the self-depreciating comments, Belisma.”

Unlike his voice before, which had wavered from boyish shyness, his tone in the moment was pure bravado. He allowed himself to take pleasure in watching her cheeks turn cherry-red. Despite the color that bloomed on her face, her eyes remained glued to him.

“E-Emm—”

“You are a woman of immense talent and beauty, and while I enjoy your company here more than the company of any other, I cannot abide by you taking every opportunity to be so disparaging of yourself.”

He took a step toward her, and Maker, she stayed in place. He didn’t so much as take a breath as he dared to advance another. Before he knew it, it had crossed the threshold between them enough for their chests to barely touch. He couldn’t help but note that she was even more captivating from this angle.

“You are our leader, a talented mage, and your dedication to leading us through this rather unprecedented situation is nothing short of remarkable,” he reminded her.

“You think—”

“You call yourself an ‘old maid’? Please. You are an incredible woman, and any soul across Tevinter, Nevarra, or bloody Thedas would be lucky to share a room, or a drink, with you. I certainly am.”

He saw her eyes widen, but he couldn’t stop himself. The floodgates had opened, and it was impossible to bring them crashing down again.

“They’d be even luckier to have you as a partner…a lover, as you said before.”

A stern finger lofted to prod her collarbone lightly, a gesture that would have potentially felt patronizing if they weren’t too adults that seemed to be drifting closer by the second.

The next words caught in his throat.

“A-As I…should …”

The molten intrigue in her eyes vanished in that moment. With the poise he often saw her display on the battlefield, her eyes fell shut as she flowed forward.

He braced for a slap, but felt her lips press against his instead.

Maker, he thought in a blitz of passion, how long had it been since anyone had kissed him? Decades, probably. The thought was met with fleeting entertainment, but quickly passed as he realized he wasn’t going to overthink himself out of appreciating the moment.

He leaned in, hands finding purchase on her hips for balance.

Her lips, as he’d thought, were so soft. They became even more pliable when he reciprocated, angling his head in a way so that slotted his nose beside hers and pressed hard into her cheek. The better angle allowed him to nudge all the closer. Her bottom lip was nestled between his at first, but with another sway of their bodies, she tilted away, and he took the opportunity to take that lip between his teeth just slightly.

He worried for a moment it was too forward, but concerns melted when she moaned (gods, a glorious sound!) and inched her arms upward. First, she gripped his shoulders. Then, her arms wrapped around his neck, nudging their pounding hearts into further alignment.

Just the scrape of his teeth made her gasp again, and her strong arms hauled him closer. With her bosom pressed to his chest and their thighs flush, it was euphoria. The man was too enamored to realized that he’d walked her backward across the room, pressing her to the stone wall gently. Unable to help himself, he smiled against the kiss, and she chased that smile with her own.

When they parted for air, panting and breathless, he stared into her eyes. They looked even darker than they had before. All the more tempting to become lost in them, he noted.

“I…I have not been kissed in a very, very long time …” he admitted breathlessly.

Belisma’s lips, now a slightly more muted shade after he’d kissed her lipstick off, curved into a smile.

“I’ve never been kissed like that,” she confessed with a whisper. “Ever.”

Shared mirth leapt between them, and he dared to rest his forehead against hers.

“P-Perhaps I should get tipsy more often if it leads to pleasant moments like this.”

A laughter, warm like summer thunder, rumbled in his chest. He eyes crinkled as he cupped her cheek, noting how she leaned int his touch.

“Well,” he husked, his voice shifting to a pleasant burr as he urged her close, “All the more reason from you to not drink alone again, dear.”

This time, he leaned in to capture her lips against his.

And she, their fearless Rook, leaned into him with abandon.

I'm now going to go back to begging BioWare for crumbs, haha.

[olaqueenbeeofastrology]

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[clawsextended]

holly things because I can—

candy necklaces, pastel and soft and always eaten halfway through the day.

oversized hoodies, enormous puffer jackets with sublimated anime print, leopard-spotted attire and ripped fishnet stockings and jeans with holes torn at skinned knees and cropped hoodies with baggy cropped tees and jet purple cargo pants and jordans in every color and shade (hi tops only).

enormous headphones with a little crown on the band, kitty ears on either side.

the first day of spring when winter thaw brings flowers and birds twitter with their symphony and the sun warming gold-kissed snow and threads of gold bouncing through luminescent coils.

jade. not green, jade. translucent jade. a smooth mirror.

the sharp crack! of her palm when a kitten promises it won’t be moments before the cat tears them to shreds, a hurled insult, a furious glob of spittle intentionally aimed at a scarecrow before the promised feline’s claws flash across his face where the kittens had seconds ago. holly always gets the last laugh. when she says lina’s name, it always feels like a summoning. fear is for everyone else.

lisa frank ass aesthetic. candy colors only. rainbows. bracelets, layered and bangles and jingling.

fidget toy(s). in her pocket, a handful of spinners. clicky magnets. a cube with multiple sides.

laughter, giggles, rising, ever-rising, heard in every corridor and every corner.

the kind of hug that squeezes around you unbelievably tight, that doesn’t let go no matter what.

a hand holding without any intention to ever let go.

binary code blinking radioactive green on a flat black screen. discarded plastic parts that mark a translucent gameboy advance, the shell of a nintendo gamecube, the perfect way a control slots into your palms, the artificial glow of a tube tv stolen by her mother.

warm pink lipstick, coral pink lipstick, barbie pink lipstick, rose pink lipstick.

the shimmery mark left behind on a cheek after a glossy smooch.

chomp.

[amphoraseyes]

[the-cult-of-sato]

Rapidly approaching the end of PSO Episode IV and my research of L O R E for fanfic purposes has been pretty enlightening!

Those bangles everyone wears are their shields!

The inventory system is canonically the result of capsule technology a la Dragonball.

WORKS and the researchers on Pioneer 1 seem to be taking orders directly from the Coral government rather than Tyrell.

Newmen have unpredictable lifespans (kinda knew this one already, but it's neat to hear it from a character in the story)

There's a black market for Android parts, among other things.

Healing items have calories.

You can flush every monster down the toilet.

More to come! Hopefully I'll feel confident enough to write some lore-accurate-ish fanfic soon!

[hollownekomata]

//preliminary info on the other two Cooperative Arrancars because they're scratching at my brain but not enough to draw their looks (much of this could be subjected to change but the general concepts are set):

Gwynvere Clarnive Campanária (she/them) - Ex Arrancar n.58

Animal: Barn Owl

Fourth Division (main tasks: courier, quick transport of medical equip)

Actively seeks out the Recruitment Squad to join the Unit. Once one of Baraggan's fracciones, she defects right before the Segunda Espada leaves for the World of the Living because she feels like skipping work (again) and doesn't want to deal with Ggio. Only having joined Baraggan for their own interests, she doesn't have any particular reaction to his demise. After Aizen's defeat, Hueco Mundo becomes too "dull" and "tame" for her, and so decides that switching over to the winning side isn't such a bad idea.

Opportunistic troublemaker whose favorite hobby is to stick her nose into other people's business. Loathes hard work, prefers to flutter around the Gotei 13 to pick up on the latest gossip, or just find people to pester (his favorites are Iemura, Ikkaku and Yumichika). The only one she sort of respects and is thus safe from her mischief is Captain Unohana --Gwyn never misses her ikebana classes.

Physical highlights: has owl-like wings made of hollow bone-plate which she uses often, even for short distances. Her mask is a pair of big round glasses frames (no glass, just the frame). Hollow hole placement still unknown. Her smug aura mocks you, constantly.

Zampakuto: Malasorte (command: "Descend") - (appearance unknown)

--

Rorkedras Ippodirge (he/him), Ex Arrancar n.30

Animal: Horse/Seahorse

Fifth Division (main task: being an asshole, for now)

Joins the unit seemingly on a whim. Before Aizen's arrival, he was the leader of a small pack of Adjuchas who he considered his closest friends. Among them was his brother, who leaves the group in search of power to become a Vasto Lorde, only to come back some time after gone mad from the desperate realization that no matter how many souls he'd consume, he'll never trascend his current state. As a last resort, Rorke's brother slaughters his old group of comrades thinking that will be the key to reach "enlightenment", but is cut down by Rorke himselt. Found by chance by Aizen and his lot, he receives the blessing of the Hōgyoku and becomes the n.30.

Things don't go much furhter for him under Aizen, seemingly because of lack of potential to become an Espada. The lack of recognition makes him bitter towards Aizen and his lot, and he's actively happy to hear they were defeated. Deep inside, he misses the connection he had with his pack and that subconsciously leads him to join the Cooperative Unit.

Arrogant, loud, sarcastic and a big show-off. Short-tempered. Takes joy in standing out and getting attention, often seeking it by getting into fights in front of an audience. Those who know his story probably understand it's a symptom of losing his leader role and his close friends, but he hides it all behind a fierce mask. The closest way to his heart is praise, and attention, and playing along with his antics. Shinji is the only one able to keep him somewhat in place, while he takes a liking for Momo because of her determination.

Physical highlights: hollow hole placement unknown. His mask covers his right cheek/temple, and looks like a fossilized ammonite. His horns are supposed to recall coral (hones them often for that exact reason). Loves golden jewellery and is covered in it (earrings, bangle bracelets, anklets), adorns his face with pearl-shaped ornaments, sometimes glitter.

Zampakuto: Nereide (command: "Drench") - looks like a double-edged oar

first very raw sketches:

[missmitchieg]

I need Garcia to wear mint and coral. Cause reasons

Girlie, your mind! She would do it in such a cute way, too. Like, I can see a cute coral hair bow and a bangle bracelet. A look.

[husks-bar-talks]

Got it. *She began to work with her powers. As she makes an outfit. The outfit was split into two. The upper half of the outfit is a short sleeve, tailored blazer made from luxurious, lightweight fabric that drapes beautifully, with a structured yet soft silhouette. The blazer's design is a graceful ombre effect, transitioning from rich, warm orange at the shoulders to a soft lavender and pink at the waist. The lapels and edges of the jacket are adorned with exquisite diamond and golden topaz accents that catch the light, resembling sparkling stars emerging as the sun sets. The buttons are elegantly crafted from polished gold and are inset with tiny topazes. A sumptuous satin lining in soft gold enhances the interior. A slender, bejeweled belt in gold cinches the waist, adorned with a stunning centerpiece featuring a swirling design of diamonds and topazes. The lower half of the ensemble flows into a gracefully layered skirt that begins just below the waist. The skirt is made of ethereal chiffon and organza, featuring gentle layers that mimic the soft, billowing appearance of clouds. The skirt showcases a gradient that shifts from soft lavender at the waist to pastel pink and peach towards the hem. Dotted throughout the skirt are delicate, shimmering diamonds and topazes. A few hairpins featuring small topazes and diamonds, shaped like clouds. A multi-layered statement necklace with chains of gold interspersed with vibrant orange and red coral beads. In the middle of the necklace was a diamond and topaz intertwined. A thin, bangled bracelet made of intertwined gold and rose-gold strands, embedded with small, shimmering pearls, diamonds, and topazes. A wide band ring featuring a large, rectangular orange citrine in the center, bordered by smaller, round yellow diamonds. A decorative brooch shaped like a swirling cloud or sunburst, crafted with diamonds, topazes, amethysts, rubies, and pink diamonds. White soft gloves that go up to the elbows. Gold heels that wrap around the ankles, embellished with tiny topaz and diamonds.* How's this?

Angel: !

*he's too shocked and awed to speak*