#dancing naked under the light of the full moon

[bea-trician]

had some fun censoring the print for my new Etsy listing so my post wouldn't get flagged on Bluesky.

find her and join the dance here: https://www.etsy.com/listing/1822340625/frolicking-print-art-nouveau-poster?click_key=de59186977a30446191272df8056451cd0e9d3c8%3A1822340625&click_sum=47415ab0&ref=shop_home_active_1

[sashiavi]

✧˚·.SashiAvi's Kinktober Day Six.·˚✧

#6|Skinny Dipping|#6

Sebastian x Reader - Word Count - 2.3k

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There was something serene about the mountain lake at night. White moon beaming down its gaze, the dazzly lights of the stars freckled over the water’s clear surface, rippling against the bank. Frogs croak in the distance, their chests beating out with each ribbit, a sing-along with the chorus of crickets chirping their way through the night.

Sebastian can barely hear it though. 

Ears cotton stuffed, deaf to the rest of the world, his eyes hyper-focused on you; The way you look up at him, skin naked and wet, hidden away under the water’s surface save for the supple skin of your collarbones and shoulders. Careful droplets caress over your form, rolling down your wet skin, going home to the pool below.

“Hi..” It’s all he can muster, running a palm down each side of your waist, holding the divet from your ribs to hips, letting his fingers sink into the soft curve of your body.

If he knew this was how a simple night smoke would have gone then Yoba, he would gladly become a chain smoker, blowing through pack after pack to have you just like this. To have a chance of catching you walking his way. To keep you from going home in a timely manner to selfishly drink up your company. You weren’t new to each other. Finding that sweet dance of playful sex, fooling around during your shared moments of downtime, exploring your bodies through rough bites and hard, snapping rolls of hips.

This was something else. Something all-new and different.

It started with a quip, some stupid thing that had managed to catch your attention, striking up a conversation full of sarcasm, dry and witty, bordering on something self-deprecating. You fed into it, spurring the conversation along, even accepting the butt of his cigarette when he offered it up to you. Oh, how your lips wrapped around the filter as you take in a drag, blowing that spicy smoke out from your lungs, up into the air before it wafts away.

Closer and closer you came together, leaned up against the thick bark of a cedar tree by the bank of the lake, shaded by the soft shaking leaves, hidden from the moonlight, faces lit up by the soft orange glow of the cigarette with each pulling drag. Sebastian’s lazy, squinted eyes flick between your own, watching the glint of moisture spark with the flickering burn of the minuscule blaze. His teeth sink into the pierced flesh of his bottom lip, Adam’s apple bobbing with his dry attempt at a swallow.

Tensions. Oh, tensions.

Rising up and up until they boil over.

You breathe out slow, letting the thick smoke escape your lungs, leaning close, blowing the spiced air gently into his face, chin tilted up as if you were going to press your lips into his own. Of course you pull away, holding the dying cigarette to his lips, watching the ash burn bright with a final pulling drag before the poor butt is flicked away. Sebastian holds his breath in his lungs, letting his palm cup your jaw, long fingers spreading to hold your face, thumb brushing once over with a caress.

You part your lips for him, breathing in his smoke, taking the shotgun with a little quirk of a grin cracking at the corner of your mouth. Honest to Yoba, Sebastian nearly lets himself hum out a sound of need, aching to get his lips on a newfound craving, to hell with his smokes, you were worse than nicotine, wanting to taste you on his lips and never get rid of everything you could give him. Before he can even get a kiss in, your finger stops him, pressed into the plump swell in a shushing motion, a light chuckle huffing from your throat.

You pull away and he chases, pitifully leaning forward into the newfound empty space, awing at the effect you have on the otherwise stoic man. You throw him a look over your shoulder, easily slipping off your top, throwing the fabric his way, shielding his view of your stripping form before he hears the wavering wave of the lake, moulding around your body as you get in. You were something spontaneous, ripping him from his comfort zone, somehow urging him to remove his own clothes with a cheeky beckon of your finger and a light, sing-song call of his name.

You were a siren, he was sure, pulling him against his own judgements as if he were hogtied, making his heart beat hard on his ribs, getting his mind to follow your call.

“Water’s nice, Sebby~” It's really all it takes for him to chase you like a lost kitten.

Of course you tease and run, splashing him with water, flicking droplets with a kick of your legs when you try to avoid him, play-fighting under the beam of the moon, disrupting the flat surface of the water. Push and pull, cat and mouse- Except Sebastian isn’t entirely sure who exactly the mouse was in this situation.

But you’re ever so gracious, aren't you? Wrapping your arms around his neck, legs hooking on to him as if you were a koala, lifted effortlessly thanks to the gravity defying properties the water blessed you with. He greets you, and you breathe back.

“Hi yourself..” Twinkly, sparkly eyes kissed by the moonlight. It's all he can think about. Your gorgeous face all damp, ends of your hair lapped at by the water, lightly moistened thanks to all the play teasing.

Words are useless.

Especially when his lips are on your own, moulding to your sweet mouth, deep and spit filled with tongues swirling over each other, noses huffing in search of air, and yet refusing to properly pull away. It's all silent sighs against each other's lips, clicky spit-filled swallows as you try to catch your breath, arms tightening around his neck in a desperate lock, fingers threading through the hair on the back of his head. Sebastian’s hands wander, down your waist, squeezing your hips, curving over your ass for leverage, carefully grinding you into the swelling pudge of his cock, making himself at home between your warm folds. That's what this was; Warm. So, so warm on his skin, shivering goosebumps down his back at the juxtaposition of the cool, lapping water.

He moans, and so do you. Swallowing down each other’s sounds with feverish kisses, lips moving harder and faster, slipping from the slow tandem you had roped yourself into, more teeth, clattering and clipping with little care - Hands racking through his hair, grabbing healthy fistfuls with a squeezing a tug, palms squishing the fat of your ass in a groping massage. 

“Fuck me-” You chirp between hot kisses, squeezing your legs around him tighter, pushing the swell of your tits into his chest. Sebastian groans, clumsily moving you to the bank of the lake, pressing you into the slope of sandy, pebbly dirt, bodies still mingled within the lapping water. Your hair is not spared from being drenched and sand-filled, cool water kissing your skin, washing over the hot press of your bodies. Sebasian’s hands dig into the ground, fingers scratching lines into the surface with a pebbly drag, taking desperate fistfuls as his lips continue to devour your own. 

His chest huffs, eyes glued shut as his kisses move, biting down your neck, letting himself suckle deep bruises and teeth-filled nibbles into all the sensitive spots of your skin. You cry out, breathing his name with a hiccup in your throat, fingers twisting a tug against his hair, thighs squishing him harder against you. The sound makes his cock bob, that call out into the open air, right by his own home, crying out for his attention seemingly uncaring of any prying ears that could be nearby. 

He couldn't hold back, not like this, Yoba- He needed you, needed to sink his cock into your cunt, feel the warmth wrap all snug around his veiny length, save himself from the bite of the night air and the lap of shallow water licking at your bodies. His own tongue dares to lap up those droplets on your skin, licking the rough of his taste buds up your soft neck, finishing with a spitty kiss to your ear before he growls out.

“Put me in, Princess.. That's it- cmon..” He urges, nuzzling his temple against your own, coaxing you through the process of sinking him into your heat. “Hold me like that- fuck.. Tugging on me so sweetly.. Getting me nice and hard f’you? Yeahahh?” He can’t help but babble a little, spurred on by his own desperation, something he brought upon himself- Nothing kills a man faster than his own head.

“Promise- promise you’ll fuck me- please.. Pleaseplease-” You slip his head between your folds, sticky-wet even through the wash of water between your laps.

“Promise, Baby- Gonna fuck you s’good, s’okay- I gotcha.. I gotcha..hahh-” He nods, rolling his hips while he speaks his promises, sliding through the fat of your pussy, knocking on your clit.

Sometimes to stay alive you've got to kill your mind. And it dies. Any legible thoughts killed away with the warm sink of his cock into your supple, velvety cunt, pulsing hard with a thick, veiny throb when the pudge of his head kisses a press into your cervix.

Sebastian muffles a groan, huffed with an ‘oomph’ from his teeth-bitten lips, already starting a steady rhythm, humping into your cunt, letting your legs pull him in over and over. God, you mewl, chin tilted up to the night sky, hands clawing into his hair, fingers squeezing at the swell of his shoulder, doing your very best to pull him closer. It's impossible and yet? He craves it, needs to be pressed into you in every way possible, lapping at your tongue, fucking snappy thrusts into your creamy cunt.

He pulls back to see you, shining in that bath of moonlight, dark and lathered in sweet mystery at the luna’s kiss, the lake water pooling around your hips shining bright with those twinkles of light, lapping at your skin with each rolling thrust of his hips.

“Fuck..” More, More- Needs to see more.

His gritty sand groaned dirt covered hands pry at your legs, pressing rough grains into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, pressing you down into the water- The sweetest mating press one ever could muster - Legs spread nice and wide for him, pinned and stinging with the grit of dirt, knees rocking in tandem with each snap of his hips. Don’t get him started on the noises. Mewly moans and chanting babbles of his name dribbling from your lips, the squelchy sweetness of your cunt paired with the repetitive ripple of water following his every thrust. Skin splashes together, sprays of dribbling droplets coming off of the connection, bodies clapping together with a vulgar ‘plap, plap, plap.’

“Ahh.. hmmn~ S-Seb-!” You writhe and moan, squirming against the sandy bank, one hand gripped desperately at one of his wrists holding pressure into your spread legs, grounding yourself with him. The other messes with your clit, rolling the bud between your fingers, circling the sweet thing with the flat of your fingertips all while his hips smush into your knuckles with every grinding roll.

Sebastian’s palms slide up, hooking under your knees, into the soft underside connecting the joint, grinding your poor skin into the pebbly lake floor. He mounts himself on you, fucking feverishly into your cunt, hips moving down with obnoxious claps, splashy water perpetuating the noise- He stuffs his face into your neck, lips and teeth back on your skin, sinking down into the supple flesh while his cock dares to throb. 

Closer and closer- Feeling a build up in the depths of his gut, veins gushing warm blood into the tip of his cock with a hot flex, threatening to spill and burst-

“Cumming-! S..Sebastian! Ohhh Baby please- please!” You beat him to it, crying out for him so sweetly like that, sobby sounds cutting through the splash of water rippling with his fucks, fingers tightening on his wrist, speeding up against the bead of your cunt.

“That's it- Cum f’me.. Gonna be right there, Princess- Fuckk take me there-” His throat growls out a deep groan, teeth grit while he keeps up those praises, sweet talking you through the brunt of your orgasm, laughing a huffy, arousal tainted chuckle all light from his chest when you cream. Sweet and squeezy, velvety walls massaging the length of his cock as you cum, pussy suckling him in, inviting the hot pulse of his own orgasm with a loving hug.

His hips snap in sharp staccatos, throat stuck in a perpetual growl with each lingering fuck as he spurts. He creams into you, hot and ropey filling up the depths of your sweetness, milked off by your squeezing. His eyes dare to roll, jaw going slack with sloppy, hasteful kisses, voice box betraying him with shameless praises and confessions, accidental “I fuckin love you’s” gasped into the skin of your neck.

He gifts you a final grind, rocking his hips in small motions, working you through the comedown, handsy palms opting to pet and soothe at your thighs, tickling the skin from the inner depths of your bikini line all the way up to the knee. He helps your poor legs wrap back around him, nice and comfy while he comes down to knock his forehead into your own, resting his weight on his forearms, trapping you into your own little bubble. Away from the moon, hot breaths huffing in the space, crickets entering Sebastian’s ears once more, the surrounding atmosphere gracing its presence in his mind once again. 

He swallows thick, breathing hard, nuzzling his nose before pulling away just enough to see you.

“Hi..” It's all soft giggles of disbelief from there.

→ Kinktober Masterlist & Taglist ←

some soft Sebby today <3

Thank you so much for reading! If you have any thoughts please let me know! I'd love to hear them <3 your words spur my heart on!

Property of : SashiAvi

TagList

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[duskier]

Werewolf AU / fat hairy werewolf gf x poly!141 idea rambling in honor of the art by @littlebit-of-art ♡

|| okokok werewolf lore is always varied but I love the idea of like. shift at will werewolves, but they have forced shifts during the full moon where they get all primal and stuff... thinking about the 141 in the woods, in hiding from bad guys, getting cabin fever and impatient as hell. Pissed that Laswell has benched them (though understanding she has legitimate reasons why)

Soap finds you first, middle of the night. Well, you find him, actually. He was just sneaking out for a cigarette, went alone because he didn't want to share- his pack was running low. You're a tall creature when shifted, much too large to be excusably identified as a wolf. It's the full moon, so the 'you' isn't all there- moreso your hindbrain, your dumb dog of a wolf self. Of course *she* makes a beeline towards Soap after smelling him in the air, first human you'd seen in years- he thinks he's about to get mauled to death but is pleasantly surprised when he sees your tail wagging and you're nudging him to come play with you.

The rest of the squad looks at Soap like he's nuts when he comes by with you in tow, the "can we keep it?" look on his face. Ghost has half a mind to shoot you, no matter how damned cute you looked flopping over on your back, your primal way of telling the group you were friendly.

Price knows you're something strange, not a normal wolf. After some bickering between Soap and Price ("He looks cold :("..."it's a wild fucking animal, Sergeant") you're allowed to curl up on the couch in the den of the cabin, just in front of the fire. The wood of the furniture squeaks under your weight, reassuring Price you wouldn't be sneaking anywhere at night without him noticing.

...But come morning time, when you are you again- human, that is- Price is left speechless. Who was this beautiful, stark naked woman, and why was she on the couch? Where'd the wolf thing go? Poor man, fighting his urges to look you up and down over and over until he'd memorized every silky furry curve, the soft pout of your lips...

After an embarrassing wake up call, a lot of screaming and scrambling, you were sat in an oversized blanket wrapped around you and explaining who and what exactly you were to the 141. You appreciated the warm place to sleep in, so you offer them a deal- let you move in, you'll hunt for them in your wolf form. Easy enough.

What you never could have expected was how much you would become attached to the team. It starts off small, them getting used to your large wolf form- Gaz gives you a scratch behind your ear once in a while. Then it becomes so common for you to rest on him that when he sees you, he wordlessly clears his lap, a perfect resting spot for your head. Soap asks to draw you once, then it becomes a natural thing and he's a sudden canine anatomy expert in weeks, half his sketchbook filled with you- human and otherwise. Price checks in on you, worries over you and waits up every night that you're out late hunting for them. Reminds you not to push yourself, you've stocked them plenty for winter, as he wipes your bloody maw clean with a towel before bed. Ghost gets annoyed at your limp from stickers caught in your paws, but then it becomes a daily ritual for him to groom you all over, pulling out annoyances caught in your fur or paws.

...That's just when you're in your wolf form. When you're in your human form, the men are all just as sweet, if not sweeter. Price finds an old record player, teaches you to dance to the music. Revels in the feeling of pulling your soft body close, hands lovingly caressing every inch of your body as you sway in time, your pretty head resting on his chest. He becomes quickly besotted by the feeling of your arms under his hands, the silky hair covering inch of your skin making him just mad with affection and want. Soap makes even more portraits- drawings with harsh and soft lighting, never wanting you to ever hide your body in the ways you'd been taught to previously. Can't stop raining down compliments on you the entire time, as if every five minutes he's blown away once more at your beauty. Doesn't miss a single tuft of hair, a single bit of your body. Gaz who finds every way he can make you laugh because once he's heard it, once he's seen the way your laugh moves through your whole body and the way your smile lightens the room, he's like a lovesick puppy. (It becomes bad news for Soap, because nothing made you laugh quite like Gaz pranking Soap, each prank becoming more and more childish.) Ghost takes the meager rations they have- thankfully bolstered by your hunting- and makes the best warm meals you'd ever had. Makes you taste test every meal- never plated until it has your approval. Watches you with his golden brown eyes, searching for your praise.

One night, Laswell shipped them their new rations and included a bottle of bourbon, a late birthday gift for Price. 'Sorry you're still there,' a note on the bottle apologized. The team couldn't care less about being there, so focused in on you. You take turns having small shots of the liquor and end up watching the men as they excitedly share story after story with you, each wilder than the last. Price puts his big warm hand on your leg, unable to keep himself from squeezing gently. Gaz has his arm on the backrest behind you, fingers toying with your hair. Soap sits at your feet, his head on your knee, you feel his stubble against your skin whenever he speaks. It's Ghost who breaks rank first, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear and telling you you're the prettiest girl he'd ever met. You blush, and he says he'd like to kiss that blush right off of you. It's slurred, it's silly, but it works, and you let him kiss you, his mask rolled up to his nose. Soap protests, then, of course, how dare he not get a kiss. You jokingly ask Gaz if he'd like one too, of course he agrees and you oblige them both, as if it's the most natural thing in the world. You turn to Price, who was watching intently, eyes glittering in the firelight. "Come here, love," is all he has to say before you're crawling onto his lap and kissing him silly, the peanut buttery smell of his cigars filling your senses.

From there it's as natural as breathing to wake up in a cuddle pile, to kiss them all goodbye before going out on a hunt. For each of them to take you to bed, alone or all together or somewhere in between. They treat you like a precious thing, but never like glass- they know all too well how strong you are.

They find out even more of your capabilities when they are attacked.

Full moon, you're out hunting. Happily secure in letting your wolf side take the reins, looking for the best deer to take home for your boys when you hear a crack like a whip in the distance. You hear Soap screaming just as everything goes red for you. The primal side still in control, all it can think is that your pack was in danger. You ran faster than you ever thought possible, bulky wolf body breaking through old trees, unstoppable in your path to your mates. The men you kill in your way aren't anywhere near prepared for you, slaughtered like nothing. From your boys' perspective, you were a terrifying sight to see. Snarling and monstrous, standing on your back haunches taller than a building, soaked in blood and gore. It isn't until all enemies were silenced that you're capable of thinking anywhere clearly enough to look for your boys, make sure they were okay.

Thankfully, no one was hurt. Ignoring the mess covering you, you were sniffing and nuzzling each of them ignoring their protests in disgust, distressed whines leaving you. They weren't able to calm you that night, having to allow you to stalk a perimeter around the house all night long, daring more enemies to come. It wasn't until the next day that they found you, human form collapsed in the dirt from exhaustion. They take the time to bathe you, gently and with reverence, grateful for both your life and their own. Softening your skin with lotions and oils after, wrapping you in their nicest blankets and surrounding you in a giant cuddle pile so that when you awoke, you'd feel safe.

And you do. You can't imagine life without your boys.

[mywitchyblog]

Why do so many witches don’t believe in reality shifting? I’ve met so many witches that don’t believe in that rather than believe. Do u have any idea why that is?

Why Many Witches Don’t Believe in Reality Shifting: A Tea-Spilling Breakdown ✨🌙💅

Short Answer: It scares and invalidates their practice. Long Answer? Sit tight, babe; we’re spilling all the cosmic tea. 🫖🌌

1. Fear of the Unknown 😨💀✨

Okay, babes, let’s spill this witchy tea with some extra sass and sparkle, shall we? ✨💅 For many witches, the notion of reality shifting is like trying to hold a séance on a roller coaster that’s zooming through a neon galaxy—it’s just too out there. Witches usually thrive within cozy, well-defined spiritual frameworks, you know? They’ve got their candle magic, their herb correspondences, their lunar calendars, their intricate spellwork, and their carefully crafted altars. It’s all about stability, tradition, and working WITH the energies that already exist in THIS reality. 🌱🌕🔮

But shifting? Shifting is like slapping on a pair of cosmic stilettos, snapping your acrylics 💅, and literally hopping from one universe to another as if you’re scrolling through Netflix. Instead of respectfully nudging the energies within your familiar plane, shifting says: “Hun, why are we even here? Let’s just poof somewhere else entirely!” It’s a dazzling, quantum-level plot twist that screams “we’re not in Kansas anymore, witch.” 🌀✨ And let’s be real: that’s downright destabilizing for folks who’ve spent years cultivating control and consistency. Imagine telling a master chef, who’s perfected soufflés after decades of practice, that you just got a five-star meal delivered by wiggling your nose like a 1960s sitcom witch. 🤷‍♀️💫 Honey, they’d be shook. Completely. Utterly. Shook.

Witches who’ve spent countless moons learning the subtle interplay of rosemary and rose quartz, the sacred timing of solstices and equinoxes, the whispers of elemental spirits, are like, “Hold up—did you just say you can bypass all that complex cosmic choreography with a few affirmations and sheer willpower?!” It’s not just a new practice; it’s a fundamental overthrow of the entire magical ecosystem they’ve come to trust. Shifting doesn’t need incense blends, special tools, or elaborate ritual spaces. It’s pure mental muscle, babe. 🧠✨ No wands required, no covens needed—just your fierce intention and a heaping tablespoon of belief. And that’s scary as hell for witches who rely on structure. It’s like trading a well-tuned orchestra for a wild freestyle jazz improvisation… in zero gravity. 🎶🌌

Then we have the deep terror of surrender. While witches often ground themselves before ritual (casting protective circles, calling corners, lighting the perfect blend of candles), shifting is like stripping naked and cannonballing into the astral ocean with no lifeline. 🌊🌌✨ You’re not just grounding, honey; you’re launching yourself into unknown realities, letting go of all your safety nets, and trusting that your consciousness will find the right landing pad. Terrifying? Understatement of the century, babe. 😱✨

And let’s not forget the existential crisis this all triggers. Most witches believe reality is malleable but still kinda anchored in certain universal laws—like gravity or energetic correspondences that you can count on. Shifting says: “Awww, that’s cute. But guess what? There are infinite realities, all flaunting their own custom rules, cosmic quirks, and narrative vibes.” If shifting’s legit, then the reality witches have spent their lives understanding is just one measly channel in an infinite Netflix lineup. That’s a lot to swallow, even for someone who’s danced naked under the full moon (no judgment, babe, get it!). 🌕🩰🔥

At the core, the fear is this: shifting is too big, too wild, too damn unregulated. It challenges their entire spiritual foundation. Witches may pride themselves on open-mindedness, but when something asks them to ditch their known magical map for a cosmic GPS with infinite routes, it’s a big ask, darling. It’s shaking the bedrock of their beliefs, and who wouldn’t be spooked by that? 😨✨🔥

2. ShiftTok Ruined the Reputation of Shifting 💀📉🔥

Ah, ShiftTok. The wild, messy, dramatic cousin who shows up to the family reunion and makes everyone regret getting together. TikTok put shifting on the map, sure—but like, at what cost, sis? 😬 The platform’s infamous algorithm craves chaos, extremes, and hot takes. Meaningful spiritual discussions? Zzzzzz. Too boring. Instead, we got “I shifted to Hogwarts and married Draco Malfoy! 💚🐍✨” going viral at warp speed. Suddenly, shifting looked less like a metaphysical exploration and more like a teenage fanfic come to life. 📱💫💁‍♀️

For witches who’ve fought tooth and nail to be taken seriously in a world that still stereotypes them as “crazy old crones,” this was the ultimate cringe-fest. Just when they’d carved out a respectable niche, along comes ShiftTok flooding the timeline with questionable claims and zero nuance. It felt like a clown parade marching right through their sacred forest. 🤡🌳🔥 So, naturally, they distanced themselves, saying, “Not today, Satan—we are not about to be lumped in with that nonsense.” Witches need credibility, hun, and ShiftTok’s circus vibes threatened to snatch that credibility away faster than you can say “Wingardium Leviosa.” 🙅‍♀️💃✨

But here’s the twist: it’s not just about preserving a good reputation. The tidal wave of misinformation and dramatics turned shifting into a caricature, overshadowing its true spiritual potential. Instead of seeing shifting as exploring consciousness and tapping into infinite universes, the public saw it as “teen fantasies about dating fictional characters.” And that put off not just witches, but a lot of serious spiritual folk. They were like, “If this is what shifting is about, I’ll pass.” ✋🛑🔮

This divide has caused legit damage. Spiritual communities often embrace new metaphysical frontiers, but because ShiftTok presented shifting as some kind of Hogwarts LARP, witches and other spiritual veterans turned their backs. Shifters got left out in the cold, isolated from the spiritual communities that might have supported and enriched their practice. It’s a master class in how viral trends can twist and taint a legitimate spiritual concept. 🤦‍♀️📉🔥

3. Gatekeeping Spirituality 🚪🔑✨

Oh, honey, let’s talk about gatekeeping—the spiritual community’s dirty little secret. Witches (and other spiritual folk) love to brand themselves as enlightened, open, and loving. But as soon as something doesn’t fit into their curated definition of “real magic,” the rolling eyes and side-eyes come out to play. 👀💅✨

Shifting is a prime target for this gatekeeping. Since it doesn’t rely on the traditional toolkit—no fancy robes, no wands, no herbs, no hours-long rituals—some witches scoff. They brush it off as “just lucid dreaming” or “weird daydreaming on steroids.” Um, excuse you? 😒✨ That’s like telling a quantum physicist that particle entanglement is just “fancy air.” Dismissing shifting so casually is hella disrespectful, especially since shifters are delving deep into consciousness, exploring the MULTIVERSE (yes, multiple freakin’ realities, babe), and challenging the very nature of what we call “real.” 🌌🔮💥

Why the dismissals? Fear, darling. Pure, unfiltered fear. If shifting is real, it’s a spiritual free pass—no gatekeepers, no hierarchies, no “I’ve studied for 30 years, so I’m more legit than you.” Shifters waltz in and say, “Watch me hop timelines with just my mind,” and that makes the old-school spiritual crowd itch. They’ve invested years—decades even—in elaborate systems, coven politics, and sacred traditions. Shifting basically says, “You can press skip,” and that’s too much for some egos to handle. 😤✨🌙

But the saddest part of gatekeeping? It slams the door on real discussion and growth. Instead of having meaningful dialogues—like, “Wow, how can we integrate shifting with existing practices?” or “What can we learn from these new cosmic explorers?”—it’s all snark and dismissal. That’s a huge loss for the entire spiritual community, cutting them off from potential evolution and fresh perspectives. 🚪🔑💔

4. Jealousy and Insecurity 😤🪞✨

Let’s call it what it is, babe: jealousy’s in the mix. Witches who’ve spent half their lives perfecting their craft might feel a little pressed when they see shifters casually strolling into alternate dimensions like they’re popping into Starbucks. ☕💅 “I’ve been working with these herbs and crystals for YEARS,” thinks the witch, “and you just manifest a new reality by focusing really hard? Talk about a cosmic shortcut!” 🌿🔮💫

This can feel like a slap in the face. The witch might’ve spent hours prepping a prosperity spell—herbs, candles, moon cycles aligned, calling on spirits—and the shifter’s over there like, “BRB, shifting to a reality where I’m already a millionaire.” Ka-ching. 💸✨ Of course, not all shifters do it for material gain, but the sheer potential can spark envy. It’s like seeing someone win the lottery right after you worked overtime for years. It stings. 🏆🔮🙃

Insecurity often breeds dismissal. Instead of owning those feelings—admitting that maybe they’re a tad envious—some witches double down on skepticism. They label shifting as “fake” or “dangerous” to maintain their own sense of superiority. It’s easier to tear down what you don’t understand than to face the cosmic FOMO. 😏🪞✨

But here’s the tea: shifting isn’t undermining witchcraft; it’s just another path. There’s room for everyone at the metaphysical buffet. Witches can keep rocking their spells and potions, and shifters can dance through dimensions. Both practices have their place and beauty. Let’s stop pretending like the multiverse is a zero-sum game, hun. The cosmos is infinite; there’s enough magic for all of us to eat well. 🍰🌟🔮

5. Generational Divide 👵👩‍🎤✨

And now, let’s talk about the age gap in spirituality. Older witches might see shifting as flighty, trivial, or too pop-culture-infused. “Hogwarts DRs? Really?” they scoff, clutching their besoms. “We invoke ancient gods and speak with ancestors, not fictional wizards!” 😤🦉✨

But let’s face it: younger spiritual practitioners are remixing the mystical playlist, blending fandoms, anime, K-pop vibes, and metaphysics into a crazy, colorful tapestry. They’re treating spirituality like an open-world video game, pushing boundaries and experimenting with style. It’s fresh, it’s vibrant, and it’s challenging stale ideas. 🎨💫💻

For elder witches, this can feel disrespectful. But babes, times change. New generations always rewrite the script, bringing their own flavors and aesthetics. Shifters are showing that the spiritual journey isn’t static—there’s no one “right” way to access the divine or explore cosmic truths. It’s like spiritual evolution in real-time, and while it can spark eye-rolls and tension, it’s also a sign that spirituality is alive, dynamic, and ever-expanding. 🌱🔮✨

Final Thoughts: Shifting Stands Strong ✨🔥

At the end of the cosmic day, witches getting their broomsticks in a twist over shifting doesn’t make shifting any less valid. Whether they fear it, gatekeep it, misunderstand it, or feel threatened by it, shifting remains a legitimate spiritual practice with its own depth, challenges, and unimaginable possibilities. ✨🚀🌌

If witches want to stay perched on the sidelines, side-eyeing your every astral leap, let ’em. You’re busy charting new territories, babe—hopping timelines, exploring infinite worlds, and forging a path that’s as limitless as your imagination. 👑🪄💋

So keep slaying, keep shifting, and let the doubters watch as you rewrite the rules of what’s possible. After all, the multiverse is waiting, and you’re the star of your own cosmic show. 🌟🔮💫

personally sweetie i think that it is possible to blend and mix both, im a witch who beleives in shiting.

I reccomend you check the tumblr of @theshiftingwitch exemple of you can mix both babe.

Hope this posts answer your question !

P.S : Im about to post soon my essay about antishifters who they are and why they beleive the shit that they do.

[flowerandblood]

Take me with you (Oneshot)

[ Hades • Aemond x Persephone • female ]

[warnings: sex content, smut, sexual tension, fluff]

[description: The god of the underworld watches his chosen one from afar, unable to get close to her. One night, he spots her alone, bathing in the lake, and decides to join her.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

______

She knew he was watching her. She could feel it in the sudden chill breeze. Hear in the rustle of terrified leaves and flowers. See in the flickering shadow in the distance. He couldn't stop himself.

He couldn't approach her. His steps would destroy all her efforts. Any flowers under his feet, born from the touch of her hand, would wither.

He watched her from a distance, from the darkness of the forest, never going out to meet her. When he appeared, he saw from a distance how she turned her gaze quickly to him, her beautiful eyebrows furrowed with concern.

Her nymphs laughed around her, dressing her in her robes every day, combing her shiny, long hair, did not even turn around, not noticing the threat. They were weaving a wreath of field flowers, which they then crowned her head with.

At night, he watched from a distance as they bathed in the lake. As night fell, his movements were no longer bound by anything, but not wanting to scare them, he did not approach them. He watched their dancing silhouettes, shimmering against the surface of the water from afar.

One night he saw her alone. He stared at her, amazed, for she never went anywhere without her trusted confidantes. He pressed his lips painfully tight, as he saw her slender hands undoing her white, embroidered, delicate robes. Their fabric fell lightly on the grass, as her feet seared her toward the edge of the lake.

In the light of the moon and stars, her body shone with divine radiance even more than usual. She sank down to her shoulders, washing her delicate hands, her long fingers running softly over her body.

He stood up, his slow steps rustling softly in the thicket of grass. He was heading towards the wrist, his hand, with a light movement, unraveled the binding of his black, matte robe. He saw her look at him, her full, swollen lips parted slightly. In her eyes, shining like precious crystals, he saw fear and something else, that made his exposed body shiver.

She turned her back on him when he was completely naked, covered herself with her arms, as she heard the splash of water. He heard her inhale deeply, as his hands wrapped around her from behind gently, solemnly, devotedly. She shivered, as his cold chest pressed against her back, his hard manhood pressing against her hot skin, pulsing steadily.

She closed her eyes and flinched, as his fingers gently pushed back strands of her hair, exposing her neck to him. His cold, corpselike mouth bent over, placing subtle, soft, wet kisses on her. She sighed softly, her head leaning back against his shoulder.

He exhaled loudly as her warm, soft hand brushed over his scarred cheek, a reminder of his skirmish with his brother in the heavens, before pushing him into the Abyss. His large, rough hand cupped her soft, full breast carefully, caressing her nipple with his thumb, teasing her steadily. He smirked to himself as he heard her soft moan.

"I will give you pleasure, if you only desire." He whispered in her ear, and she shivered all over, her mouth parting wider in a ragged breath.

She looked at him, her eyes hazy, dreamy, uncertain. Her fingers continued to trace his face, his skin millimeters apart. She brushed her nose against his cheek. He parted his lips slightly, leaning over her. He traced them over her face, leaving wet marks, her lips parted lustfully, hot and full of anticipation.

His lips finally brushed hers, and they both sighed. They kissed slowly, with a wet, loud sound each time they broke apart. His hand teased her nipple steadily, hard and jutting with desire. His free hand moved lower, between her thighs. She shuddered, taking his hand in hers, stopping him gently. He broke the kiss by leaning over to her ear.

"Do not be afraid. I will not cause you pain." He whispered, brushing his lips against her cheek. Her chest heaved uneasily, her hand slowly loosening its grip.

His hand slid lower, his fingers meeting her warm, wet, throbbing womanhood. He began to massage her gently, in circular, slow motions, his lips finding hers again as she moaned so sweetly. Her hips began to move to the rhythm of his hand, their quiet panting and the sound of the water around them.

He felt her slender, pale body arch in pleasure as he slid his finger inside her. She was incredibly tight, wet and hot, her walls clenching against him hungrily. She kissed him chaotically, moaning softly, her lips moist from their kisses, her whole body trembling under his touch, feeling the impending fulfillment.

He pulled away from her abruptly, sliding his finger out of her, meeting her surprised, elderly gaze. He turned her to face him and grabbed her hips, lifting her up with a splash of water. He moved towards the shore, kissing her reassuringly, feeling her whole body tremble. She touched his face, looking at him with her warm, misty eyes from desire.

He laid her down on the grass beneath him, leaning over her, drops of water from his hair falling on her body like tiny diamonds. She stared at him, her hands spread at the sides of her head, her mouth deliciously parted in ragged breaths. He gently took her thighs in his hands and spread them out in front of him as if tearing a ripe fruit in two.

She looked at him pleadingly as he began to wipe his thick, engorged manhood in her juices. She sobbed as the tip of it pressed against her entrance, his fingers gently parting her skin sideways.

"Shh. We'll take it slow." He whispered, teasing her with gentle movements of his hips, Her walls clenched against him, he was barely able to put it inside her.

"It's too big." She wept, throwing her head to the side, her body arching as he pushed it deeper, closing his eyes with a loud gasp, feeling her fleshy, moist core.

"Just a little more, sweetest flower." He whispered tenderly, as he slid out again and thrust deep into her, all the way to the end, both of them leaning back with a groan. He looked at her with his lips parted in uneven breath, her whole body trembling under him, her walls clenching against him in panic.

"Look at you. How wonderfully you take me." He purred, looking at her, not moving for a moment, letting her calm down.

Until he saw her for the first time, he had never desired anyone. He could barely contain himself now, hearing her soft sigh.

He began to move slowly inside her with a quiet clicks of her moisture, a wave of heat went through them both, and they began to pant. His hands gripped hers, intertwining their fingers, his hips rocked inside her in a slow, steady rhythm, rubbing her where his finger had touched her before.

He sped up as she moaned sweetly beneath him, he was delighted to feel her hips begin to meet his movements, their naked bodies glistening in the moonlight slamming into each other with a loud, wet slaps. Both of them gasped loudly, as they stared at each other with their mouths parted wide, their bodies heaving under each other, her hot, moist, tight insides giving him a pleasure he had never experienced before.

"Do you want me to stop? Do you want me to take it out of you?" He asked in a trembling voice, looking at her wonderful, soft body glistening with sweat, his cock thrusting into her loudly, spreading her wide again and again. Her lips parted, her cheeks flushed red in embarrassment, she tightened her fingers on their intertwined hands.

"No, I beg you, harder." She whimpered. He took his hands away, grabbed her hips and began to root into her with all his strenght, panting loudly in response to her moans, he covered her mouth, muffling those wonderful sounds.

"We wouldn't want anyone to hear us, would we? We wouldn't want to interrupt this pleasure." He hissed, his thighs hitting against her buttocks with loud slaps, thrusting his aching erection into her, throbbing with arousal. His lover moaned loudly beneath him, his hand muffling everything that came out of her mouth.

He came hard inside her, throwing his head back, panting heavily, feeling the waves of her orgasm coursing through her body. Her insides clenched against him with tremendous force, squeezing his seed from his manhood into her hot core.

He removed his hand from her face, looking at her, both of them gasping loudly, as he rocked his hips inside her for a moment longer, unable to deny himself this pleasure. She looked at him dreamily, her lips parted in indescribable, sweet delight.

"Take me with you."

______

I got the idea for this story when my husband and I were in one of the museums and we saw a lot of beautiful paintings with nymphs and goddesses. The two photos at the top of the post are from that museum. We are both artists and we were impressed with how delicately they were painted! As always, leave a comment if you liked it! 💖

@zenka69 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff

[atinylittlepain]

Apothecary - Chapter Two

joel miller x witchy!reader

series masterlist

everyone's got something to say about her, and Joel doesn't know what to make of it. when he returns the favor he owes her, he tries to get some answers up in the mountains and away from the wagging tongues of Jackson.

warnings | 18+ angst, mentions of death, spooky-ooky vibes, people being superstitious dickheads

a/n | thank you all for the love on the first part of this series! i just got so excited i couldn't help but write the second part :) keep letting me know what you think, my inbox is always open and i love to hear from you!

.................................

“My son had a cough since he was two years old. She cured it with whatever she keeps bubbling on that stove of hers.”

“I had a rash that just wouldn’t go away. She gave me a balm that cleared it right up. A godsend, really.”

“Wouldn’t be alive today if she hadn’t nursed me back to health with all those herbs and plants she tends to.” 

“She talks to animals. Calmed a bucking colt with a whisper– I saw it myself!”

“I heard that infected don’t even notice her. Just walk right past her. That ain’t human, if you ask me.”

“That cat of hers spies on people and brings all their secrets back to her. You can’t tell me that’s a normal cat, not with the way it stares at folks.”

“Some of the women say they’ve seen her out in the middle of the night, dancing naked in her backyard whenever it’s a full moon.”

“I don’t know about dancing naked, but I have seen some strange lights coming from her shop on my way home from the Tipsy Bison. Lord knows what she gets up to in there.”

“She curses men. Lures them up into the mountains and puts them under her spell. But they always end up dead.”

“Dead?”

“As a doornail. It ain’t a coincidence that any man that crosses paths with her seems to wind up with one really unlucky patrol shift. Luck’s got nothing to do with it, lemme tell you.” 

Even though Tommy told him to forget about it, Joel’s been doing a bit of recon, asking people around town about her, and every new anecdote only further confuses him. It seems like everyone’s got some sort of opinion about the resident witch.

It has shocked him, really, how openly folks call her that. Even the ones that speak highly of her. He had asked Ellie about what she had heard one day after she came home from her classes at the community school. She had shrugged, a knowing grin on her face

“Well, she sure helped me out, old man. But yeah, my friends say their moms call her a lot worse names than witch. Personally, I think it’s fucking cool. D’you think she can fly around on a broom like in the movies?” Joel had not been particularly amused by that question.

He’s not sure what to make of any of it. Some people call her a saint. Others call her the devil incarnate. But there does seem to be a general consensus that any man that sets her in his sights is doomed to meet a timely demise.

It’s been two weeks since he saw her at the town market, and he hasn’t even caught a glimpse of her since. According to Maria, she’s been busy with a flare-up of some sort of stomach bug in the community, making house calls and – Joel supposes – working her magic. 

He can’t figure out why he even cares. After all, he’s only met the woman once. But he can’t seem to shake her out of his thoughts, replaying their meeting over and over in his head, particularly the moment she had said Sarah’s name with such certainty.

He finds himself rolling all this over in his mind most nights, sitting out on his front porch as the summer sun turns to thick liquid over the mountains. It’s in such a position that he finally sees her again, approaching his house with a tired smile on her face.

“Hey there, stranger.” She walks up the first step to his porch, leaning against the wooden beam as she speaks. He can’t help the way his eyes trail over her, a pair of coveralls like the kind mechanics used to wear pulled distractingly taut around the swell of her hips and a cloth bag slung over her shoulder, the tops of jars and bottles peeking out of it. When his eyes finally slip back up to her face, the quirk of her eyebrows lets him know that she totally clocked him checking her out, and he has to clear his throat, swallowing his embarrassment before he responds.

“Um, hey– hi. I, uh, haven’t seen you around lately.” She tilts her head at him, smile simmering down to a crooked smirk.

“I’ve been a little busy with all the– y’know, vomiting and diarrhea around town. But I think folks are finally out of the woods now.” Joel has to wonder to himself how she can still manage to look pretty while talking about vomiting and diarrhea.

“How exactly do you help– with that?” Her smile broadens.

“For the stuff coming out the top end, peppermint oil mostly. Ginger is king, but I’ve only got so much of it cultivating at the shop. For the problem down below, you just gotta push fluids and tell them it’ll pass.” 

“Can I ask– how do you know this stuff?” 

“Most of what I know comes from my mom. She was a lady of the plants, knew just about everything about anything that grows.” Fondness laces through her words, a soft smile as she tells him this, and he finds himself mirroring her expression.

“Lady of the plants– that’s a new one to me.” 

“Well, it’s better than witch, right?” Joel’s smile falls, but she just laughs.

“So I take it you’ve heard the rumors about me?” He’s not sure how to respond, a thickness settling in his throat and ice prickling the back of his neck. His voice comes out a bit hoarse when he does finally answer.

“Heard a lot of things about you. Not really sure what to believe though.” Her smile screws up at that, eyes crinkling as she looks at him.

“Why don’t you just ask me what you’re wondering then? Get it straight from the source.” She crosses her arms over her chest, the unbuttoned snaps of her coveralls splaying open to reveal the edge of a white tank-top, the suggestion of cleavage drawing Joel’s eyes before he can help it. He swallows hard, eyes darting back up to hers.

“Is it– I mean– are you?”

“Am I what?” She wants to hear him say it, he can tell by the ghosting curve of her lips. The word feels silly coming out of his mouth.

“Are you a– a witch?” Her smile goes practically radioactive at that, big and bright as she throws her head back in a laugh. She looks back at him, her lips pursed, eyes narrowed.

“Oh yeah, certified. Got the black cat to prove it and everything.” As if on cue, Stevie jumps up onto the railing of the porch, making Joel jump in his seat. She stifles a giggle behind her hand, Stevie nuzzling against her arm that’s wrapped around the porch beam. Joel huffs.

“Look, it seems like everyone’s got something to say about you. But I’m not the kind of guy to buy into a bunch of bullshit rumors.” She hums at that.

“Oh, no? What kind of guy are you then, Joel?” 

“The kind that likes to work things out for himself.” 

“Is that what this is? You working me out?” 

“Sure am trying to.” She sucks her teeth, squinting at him.

“And?” Joel sighs.

“And– I’m thinking it’s gonna take me a while to reach any kind of conclusion.” She nods lightly at that, smiling at Stevie as scratches under the cat’s chin.

“Hmm, alright. You let me know when you reach your conclusion then.” A thick blink of silence falls between them, and Joel finds himself unable to tear his eyes away from hers, only breaking when she lets out a sigh.

“I didn’t just come over here to give you a hard time. Was actually hoping to cash in on that favor you owe me.” He sits up a little straighter at that, nodding.

“Alright, when did you wanna go out– I mean– not– go out– like– not like a–” She laughs, silencing his floundering. 

“I know what you meant. And I was thinking the end of this week? Do you have time on Friday?” 

“Uh-huh, yep. That’s my day off.” Her face falls.

“Oh, I don’t wanna take up your day off, I’m–”

“Don’t worry about that. I’m happy to help, really.” Her frown softens into a suggestion of a smile, and she nods.

“Well, alright. Thank you, Joel. You good to meet at the gates that morning?” 

“I’ll be there, darlin. Sounds like a plan.” She grins.

“Until then, Joel.” She turns, hopping down from the porch step, before glancing over her shoulder to look at him.

“Oh, and don’t worry. I’m not gonna curse you. Not yet at least.” It’s so unexpected, he ends up choking on an inhale, but his coughing doesn’t drown out the sound of her laugh as she slinks away from his house. He’s so busy watching her saunter off that he doesn’t notice the cat jumping down from the railing, startling him when she starts twining between his legs. Stevie looks up at him, yellow eyes unblinking, as if she’s expecting something from him. He tentatively leans forward, holding out his open hand which the cat sniffs at before nudging her head into his palm, a low purr vibrating through her body. 

“You gonna go tell her all my secrets, Stevie?” The cat looks up at him, head tilted. A little too human-like for Joel’s taste. She lets out a small mrrp, before going back to twining between his legs, sleek spine arching up into Joel’s hand. Then, just as quickly as she had appeared, she pads off down the steps of his porch and out into the night. 

…

“Rumor has it you’re helping a certain lady out with some work up in the mountains tomorrow.” Joel huffs at his brother’s cocked eyebrow and crooked smirk.  He takes a sharp swig of his drink before responding.

“Owe her a favor, that's all. And before you tell me I’m not gonna come back alive, I’ve already heard that from four other people this week.” That gets a laugh out of Tommy, his eyes glancing around the bar before focusing back on Joel. 

“Nah, you’ll come back alive. It’s the days after when they always end up dead.” 

“You serious?” Tommy shrugs.

“There’s been a couple of guys, sure. But if you ask me, that has more to do with the stories people believe than it does with her. What we believe, we create, brother. The mind is a powerful thing.” He punctuates his words with a tap of his fingers to his temple. Joel grumbles.

“Yeah, yeah, alright, wise ass. But you’re telling me there really have been men who’ve–”

“It’s all coincidence, Joel. Like I said, there have been a few guys who started chasing after her. Went up into the mountains with her, y’know, all romantic and shit. And then, well, it seems like every time, only a few days later, they wound up dead. But in every instance, it was a bad patrol shift that got them. S’just coincidence that it happened after they got with her.”

“How many coincidences?” Tommy sighs.

“Four. In the last four years or so.” Joel feels his brows lift at that.

“That’s a lot of fucking coincidences, Tommy.” Tommy shrugs.

“Look, folks always talk about how horrible it is that all these men died. And it is. But no one thinks to mention what that must have done to her. To like someone? Hell, maybe even love someone? And then not only have them taken away from you, but to then be blamed for it too? It’s fucking atrocious, man.” When Tommy finishes speaking, silence falls between them, Joel a bit stunned by the clear compassion Tommy speaks with about her.

“Why d’you even care? Why not join the crowd, huh?” Tommy frowns at that, twirling his liquor in his glass rather than looking at his brother.

“I didn’t tell you this– I mean, why would I? But, Maria had a pretty difficult pregnancy.” He takes a sharp inhale before continuing to speak.

“We weren’t sure if– if the baby– if we were gonna be ok. And she was there for us, through it all.” Joel can see the tears pooling in his brother’s eyes, glinting in the low light of the bar when he finally looks at him.

“I don’t know if we’d have our boy today if it hadn’t been for her. So yeah, I care about her. And I’ll side with her every time. And most folks will too, when push comes to shove. She’s done a lot for this community. But it’s easy to spread poison behind people’s backs. So that’s what they do.” Tommy sits back on his stool, sighing deeply.

“Suppose a lot of the men see her as a challenge, y’know? Steal a cursed kiss and live to tell the tale, or some bullshit like that. And the women see the men pining after her, and they don’t like that one bit. Either way, they talk, way more than they should.” Tommy throws back the last of his drink, wincing at the burn. Joel, meanwhile, is still trying to process everything his brother just told him.

“So should I tell the kid to start planning my funeral, or what?” Tommy laughs, shaking his head.

“Nah, I think you’re too much of a stubborn ass to let a rinky-dink curse sway you. Besides, I think you’re getting ahead of yourself.” Joel squints at his brother.

“Why’s that?” 

“You said you’re just doing a favor for her. She might not even like you enough to curse you, brother.”

…

Joel doesn’t sleep at all that night. His mind works over what Tommy told him again and again, trying to reach some sort of conclusion about everything he’s learned, and coming up short every time. He shuffles out in the early morning light, eyes bleary as he nears the gate. She, however, is chipper as anything, smiling broadly when she sees him.

“Hey there, you ready to go?” He nods, grumbling out a quiet affirmation, and then they’re off.

Most of the morning is spent in silence, hiking up into the mountains. Joel knows that it’s not infected they have to worry about, not out here. But raiders are a whole other story, so he keeps a steady hand on his rifle slung over his shoulder, letting her lead them a few paces ahead of him. 

“You’re quiet this morning.” She glances at him over her shoulder as she speaks, eyebrow lifted.

“I’m thinking.” 

“About?” He huffs, stopping where he stands in the underbrush of the woods. When she realizes he’s no longer following, she turns back around, hands on her hips as she looks at him.

“I just– I wish you’d give me some straight answers here. I’ve heard something different about you from just about everyone in town– and I’m not sure if I believe any of it. Just– please.” Her brow is furrowed, eyes squinted at him as she worries her bottom lip between her teeth. 

“What do you want from me, Joel?” He swallows hard, eyes glancing around the thick trees before looking back at her.

“The truth– I want the truth.” She sighs, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific than that.” He has to laugh out of frustration at this little game they’re playing, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a low curse before focusing back on her.

“Alright, I’ll be specific. All those men that died. A lot of folks around town are convinced that you had something to do with it. S’that true?” When she speaks, Joel’s taken aback by her tone, her usual lightness replaced by a steeled stoicism.

“I had nothing to do with that. Any of it. The only curse that was on those men was their own goddamn minds buying into the town bullshit.” He’s inclined to believe her, judging by her unwavering gaze and the sure tilt of her chin as she speaks, but there’s still more that he needs to know.

“But you are– different. Aren’t you?” That coaxes a smile out of her, and she steps a bit closer to him.

“Different.” She says the word like a challenge, and he nods, taking his own steps closer to her.

“Is that your conclusion, Joel?” Both of them have their arms crossed over their chests, and they now stand so close that their forearms lightly brush.

“Starting to think I ain’t ever gonna reach a conclusion about you, darlin.” Her eyes crinkle, smile threatening to crook into a full-blown grin.

“Would that be such a bad thing? No conclusion?” It’s like magnets, the way their faces tilt, subtle shifts toward one another until he can feel the light air of her exhale across his mouth. He hums, a low sound in his chest.

“I think I’ll live.” He can practically feel the stretch of her grin at his words.

“I think you will too.” It happens as easily as a tide rolling in, languid in the way their lips slip together. His hands find the sweep of her jaw, pulling her in deeper, her palms splaying over his chest. He’s a little surprised when she swipes her tongue over the curve of his bottom lip, coaxing him open and tangling even closer with him. A woman has never taken charge like this with him, and it’s making his head spin. When she does pull away, he’s only a little embarrassed by the way he chases after her lips, stuttering into some sort of composure when she grins at him.

“For the record, you’re not wrong.” Not entirely sure what she means, he frowns at her, shaking his head. She laughs.

“I am different, Joel.”

“That wasn’t just a lucky guess, was it? About– about Sarah?” Her eyes soften, features dropping into a sad understanding. She slides her palms up from his chest to twine behind his neck. 

“No, it wasn’t.” 

…

“This is lemon balm.” She glances over her shoulder at him from where she’s crouched down, thumbing at a cropping of large, waxy leaves. He’s learned the names of more plants today than he could ever remember, though he still nods when she shows him a new one like he has any clue what it is.

“What do you use that for?” 

“You dry it, and then you can brew tea with it. It’s calming– helps with sleep and stress. Or you can mix it into salve to treat cold sores. Though not many people in Jackson come to me with that problem.” She clips several leaves from the plant, carefully tucking them into her pack and slinging it over her shoulder as she stands back up. 

They’ve been out all day, moving through the woods as she collects various plant snippings, explaining each one to him, how to use it and what its use is. And between them, a silent understanding has settled, even though Joel hasn’t asked anymore questions about her. But he knows that Tommy was right. Whatever she is, she’s a good one.

“We oughta head back soon. Sun’s starting to set.” She nods, wiping her hands off on the front of her jeans, and they easily step into stride with one another. They spend most of the hike back in a comfortable silence. Joel finds himself wanting to say something, ask something more, but always hesitating, mind hazy from the heat of the day, and from the stamped memory of the kiss they shared. Even if it was cursed, he reckons that he wouldn’t mind that.

“Joel? I want to say thank you.” He glances at her walking alongside him, the quick-fading light casting syrupy shadows across her features. He has to blink a few times to keep himself from staring.

“No need for thanks. I was happy to repay the favor.” 

“No, that’s– that’s not what I meant. I mean– thank you for coming out today with me, I appreciate it. But– I wanted to thank you for– thinking for yourself– about me.” That makes him stop in his stride, turning to fully look at her as she does the same. They’ve just crested a hill, the gates of Jackson coming into view, and her eyes keep glancing back toward it, a nervous crease between her brows.

“It’s just– you’re right– I know everyone has something to say about me. And I guess I don’t have too many friends because of it. Most folks make up their minds about me before they even talk to me. So, thank you– for not doing that.” His chest twists at her words, the worried look scrunched across her face. He’d like to take the pain away that’s clear in her expression. And then, that tightness in his chest grows for a different reason, as he realizes that he’s already in far too deep with her. He has to clear his throat to shake away the thickening feeling, tentatively reaching his hand out to her, his fingers skating over the faint dip of her collarbone. He can see her breath catch at his touch, and he revels in it, letting his hand trail down her arm until their fingers are tangling together.

“You shouldn’t have to thank me for that. Whatever may or may not be true about you– no one deserves that. I just– why do you help them– when they treat you the way they do?” She sighs, squeezing his hand in hers, and giving a weak shrug of her shoulders.

“Because it’s what I’m good at. I always wanted to help people– and that’s what I get to do. Even if some of them are fucking dicks about it.” Her crassness catches him off guard, pulling a stuttering laugh from his chest as she grins. But she’s all seriousness again, clearing her throat, her brow pulling down.

“Suppose I should warn you now that they’ll talk about you too– if you stick around me. And I don’t blame you if you don’t want–” He’s heard enough, and does something entirely too bold by closing the distance between them to steal another kiss, her wide eyes meeting his when he pulls away.

“Don’t care what any of ‘em have to say about me, or about you. They can talk all they want, darlin.” He can feel the relief in her sigh. She nods, giving his hand one final squeeze before breaking away, continuing the walk back to town. 

When they get back inside the gates, she offers him a small smile, her hands fidgeting with the straps of her pack.

“Thank you again. I really appreciated your help.” 

“Like I said, it was no–”

“Well, well, well– what do we have here? Looks like she’s got Miller under her spell, boys!” The change in her demeanor is instant, face scrunching up as they both turn to see where the commentary is coming from. Joel recognizes the man, Mason, if he remembers right, and a small group of other guys he knows from past patrol meetings. They’ve all got a similar sneer across their faces, eyes zeroed in on her, and he has to fight the urge to step in front of her to get them to stop looking at her like that.

“Guess we better get another coffin ready, huh? Hate to break it to you, Miller. She may be pretty, but she ain’t nothing but bad news.” Joel’s fists clench at his sides, and as the men break into another howl of laughter, his feet start moving toward them before his brain can catch up. But she’s quick to step in front of him, hands pressing into his chest and eyes fierce.

“Don’t– it’s not worth it.” It’s immediate, the calm that washes over him with her words, though he still glares over her shoulder at the men, whose laughter has only escalated.

“Awww, she got you good, man! Hey, witchy-poo! What kinda magic you got working on Miller to have him so whipped?” And with that, Joel is ready to bash their heads in all over again, though she holds him back with her palms firm against the front of his shirt. 

“Joel, it’s fine. They’re harmless, really.” He glances at the men one more time before finally focusing back on her, huffing as he nods. She gives him what she can of a smile, worry still pressed between her brows. 

“I’ll see you soon, ok?” His hands flex at his sides, wanting more than anything to tuck her under his arm and walk off together, but he settles for another nod, and a whispered acquiescence. She’s gone in a blink, walking off to the hollering of the men behind her. Before he can do something stupid, Joel heads off in the opposite direction toward the Tipsy Bison. He needs a fucking drink.

…

Joel is nursing his second tumbler of whiskey when just about the last person he’d like to see sidles up next to him at the bar. 

“Miller.” Mason sits down on the stool next to him, but Joel keeps his eyes on his swirling glass. 

“Look, man, I’m sorry for giving you a hard time out there. But I’m trying to help you out.” Joel rests his elbows on the bar, glancing briefly at Mason.

“Don’t remember asking for your help, man.” Mason laughs, turning on his stool to fully face Joel, a stupid grin across his face.

“Well then you don’t know her as well as we all do. I meant what I said, y’know. She’s bad news.” Joel’s starting to feel that anger creeping up his throat, angling himself just slightly in Mason’s direction to get a good look at him.

“Son, I’ve heard enough stories this week to have a pretty good idea of just how full of shit you all are. I thought this was a community of decent people, really. But after being told one too many times about some ridiculous curse, I realize you’re nothing but fools and cowards.” Mason laughs again, and Joel’s a blink away from slapping the sound right out of his mouth. 

“I’m not talking about that bullshit curse.” Joel squints at him.

“Come again?” 

“That curse you’re referring to? I agree with you that it’s town nonsense. But that’s not what I’m talking about.” When Joel stays silent, Mason’s mouth stretches into a smile.

“She may not be sending men to their graves, but she ain’t so innocent either. See, she likes to meddle.”

“Meddle?” Mason nods.

“In other people’s business. Sure, she helps folks all the time. But that’s not all she’s doing in that shop of hers.” Joel huffs, getting tired of the way this man seems to be stringing him along.

“Talk plainly, son. It’s getting late.” Mason barks out a laugh, sliding off his stool before laying a hand on Joel’s shoulder, a squinted smile on his face.

“Why don’t you go see what she’s got cooking up in that kitchen of hers in the middle of the night. Because I can tell you right now, it ain’t fucking tea.”

[adorekento]

Addicted `

NSFW : In which xiao ended up on an inappropriate website and was astonished to see his best friend bare in front of his screen.

anon asked : do you perhaps write for camgirl/porn? If you do! Will you please write one, where xiao is desperate to feel y/n's tongue wrapped on his cock but unfortunately he can only watch her hump the pillow on screen :((

warnings : smut (mdni), camgirl/porn, dirty talk, cussing, degradation, fingering, riding pillow, wild thoughts, mild sexual content, strong language, etc.

notes : I don't know much about camgirl and riding pillow, this is just based on what I've seen in some fanfics, so if I wrote something wrong or IDK I am so sorry 😭😭

Xiao was not the type of person to spend his time watching nasty content on a website. Xiao did not have that kind of tolerance for such things. He was more than pleased to go out and do his job, or so he told himself when he found himself staring down at an open webpage on his phone, a little after midnight, as he saw a video of some guy who got drunk while dancing with his wife.

He scrolled through it quickly, trying to find anything remotely amusing, until suddenly, a h/c haired girl popped up, dressed in only her bra and panties, wearing a smile plastered across her face. Xiao’s mouth gaped slightly, as he watched her take off her bra and slip it over one shoulder. As she moved closer to the camera, her bare chest seemed to be glowing softly under the light. He could see her belly button clearly from this angle, almost like a miniature moon. It felt weirdly intimate to see her like this, but there wasn't any way around that,

"y/n...?!" His heart pounded faster, As far as his fantasy could reach him, he never visualized his own best friend as a cam girl! Not to mention being an actual slut, playing with herself on camera while she's talking to a crowd full of people, But here he was, watching, helplessly and shocked.

He saw the comments start to stream in. The girl had been a total hit with the crowd. Most people were screaming at her for having breasts and showing them off so shamelessly. Xiao wondered if she even knew how much attention she was getting, and what people thought about the situation. He hoped not.

fuck me, mommy!!

I love u and ur tight cunt

ohh baby SHE'S SO HOTTT

who doesn't even wanna fuck her

LET'S JUST KISS TILL WE'RE NAKed

the urge to squish your badonkers is hard

I'm getting hard already, wanna fucking rip you

He paused reading the comments when he heard her laugh, "you guys are making me blush!" she said, in a soft voice that carried over the microphone, “So which toy do you guys want me to use first?" She asked playfully, "or should I start with this?” With a flick of her hand, she reached for her wet pussy. There were moans all around him now.

how much do i pay to have u on my bed

not an astronaut but i can explore uranus

i have two hands and you have two tits 🤘

oops, my phone went into my left hand 😍

at this point, xiao started to pump his dick slowly in response to the sound of her moaning. despite him knowing you entirely, he couldn’t help the blossoming of jealousy in his chest. with a scoff, he created an account and entered your live chatroom,

Use toys? Why not use your fingers, slut.

Xiao cringed as he typed that, if you were with him you would probably laugh at him, but you weren’t here right now. And you wouldn’t find out who he is anyway, at least not tonight. "oh? if that's what my new viewer wants, I'll make sure they get just exactly what they want." You replied, grinning evilly in return. With a flourish,

you pulled down the elastic top of your underwear and spread yourself wide open, your pussy glistening, your clit gleaming, the audience practically screaming with lust as their eyes followed the movements of your body. Xiao was unable to tear his gaze away from your face. He noticed how your tongue licked your lips as you smiled at them,

you started moving slowly in a circle around your clit, licking your lips as you moved. Xiao watched mesmerized by you, his erection growing harder as you rubbed circles around yourself, making small whimpering sounds.  Your head tilted back, and you looked sexy as hell as you continued to move in a circle. Xiao couldn't tear his eyes away from you. You had no idea what your viewers wanted to watch, yet, you still managed to make yourself look desirable and even hot.

Xiao’s heart raced as he imagined the way your lips felt on his cock, how wet you would taste. how hot, how tight your ass would feel wrapped around his cock. perfect you would feel, stroking his length, how wet he would feel, thrusting deeper inside of you, how good it would be as you moaned into the kisses you stole from his lips… Xiao bit his lip as he watched you. you were so gorgeous that sometimes, Xiao hated himself for watching you like this, he felt like a pervert, he felt disgusted. you didn’t deserve to be shown so blatantly like this, to be seen in the most intimate way possible.

he typed in one more comment, 'ride your pillow, and think of it as my cock.'

You stopped moving in your circling your clit, letting out a breathless sigh, a hint of excitement lingering in your smile, before you resumed circling and moving, teasing the audience, giving everyone the opportunity to watch. You looked completely unapologetic.

Xiao shook his head as he watched you. He wanted nothing more than to pull you onto him and fuck you until you begged him to stop until you cried out his name.

"Huh? I'm not even cumming yet and you're already asking me to do that? What a tease…" You smirked suggestively, before grabbing the nearest pillow and starting to hump on it. Your expression turned into one of pure bliss as you moaned your pleasure into it. Xiao gulped as he stared at the screen, imagining you like that, moaning his name, his hands roaming your body as you pleasured him.

You hump on the pillow, panting loudly, your thighs squeezing around your throbbing, pulsating clit. You took a deep inhale as your body shook, your face contorted, and your eyes closed shut as the noises of satisfaction spilled out of your mouth. You gripped onto the pillow, your fingers tightening around its fabric as you ground against it in your need to release yourself from your frustration. Xiao’s mouth went dry, his breath becoming shallow as he watched you.

you kept grunting and groaning, and every once in a while, a loud moan would escape your lips, before another came. The sound you made was sinful, and it sent shivers down Xiao’s spine. He wanted to listen to your voice, He wanted to watch you ride him, watch the pleasure dance across your face, watch you scream his name in sheer ecstasy, watch you come all over him as you fucked the air out of his lungs, he wanted you.

"ah... I'm close..."  You whispered as you came undone, the last thing you could say before falling limp against the bed. Xiao's eyes flickered between you, and the screen in front of him. Your mouth hung agape and his pulse quickened, as he felt himself release at the same time as you, he was touching himself the whole time even stopping just so he could cum along with you. After all, who doesn’t want to feel your sweet juice dripping down their cock,

"Ah... that felt so good... looks like I'll have to wash my pillows later...” you mumbled as your breathing returned to normal. Xiao was speechless. He couldn't believe that you, of all people, would hump their pillow in such a vulgar manner,

'once I see y/n, I won't be able to look at her the same way anymore..'

© [ adorekento ] do not steal, repost, or translate my work.

[violettduchess]

A/N: An entry for my super neglected but not forgotten Afterglow series.

Chevalier x Reader

WC: 500

The starlight behind your eyelids begins to fade. Breathing in deeply, you feel the way your wild pulse slows, the red frenzy of passion dissolving into the blushing pink of contentment. You become aware of the soft pillow behind your head, the weight of the blankets that he is now carefully pulling over your naked body to keep the chill away. The back of his knuckles brush your hips and you marvel at how just a few heartbeats ago, those strong hands were holding you there, gripping you like a lifeline. 

The only light in the room is the soft silver glow of the full moon. Not enough for him to be sure by sight alone. He reaches for you, pulls you close against him, the motion almost awkward in its haste. His hand slowly begins wandering the lines of your body, making sure not to disturb the blankets. It takes you a moment to understand what he is doing. His touch is cool and calculated, a sharp contrast to the sparkling paths of heat his fingers had not long ago been blazing across your skin.

“I’m fine,” you finally say, your hand resting on his chest, your head tilted upward to look at him in the pale moonlight. “Really.” Your voice is gentle but assured. He did not hurt you in his eagerness or the ferocity of his need. 

You’re not a fragile blossom easily torn apart by a storm. You can stand in the hurricane of his desire and meet it, head on. With a smile.

Chevalier’s hand stops on your lower back and remains there, his palm pressed against your skin. There is something shockingly intimate about being touched just there. And something so casually possessive in the gesture as well. Another hand may touch you here above your clothing, perhaps while dancing, perhaps while helping you navigate your way. But no other hand but his will ever touch here beneath it.

“Sleep.” His voice is low and quiet. The word may be a command but when he speaks to you, it feels round, soft, gentle. A tone that you and only you can bring out of him, a certain warmth that creeps into his language. A warmth born of the steady fire that you have kindled in his heart, twin flames of his affection and love for you and all that you are to him.

You sigh, a sound that reminds him of the flutter of a nightingale’s wings, and then lay your head against his strong shoulder. His scent surrounds you, crisp and comforting all at once. 

This is peace. This is home. This is all you will ever need.

It’s only when you’re standing on the ocean’s edge of slumber, about to plunge under the waves of dreaming that you feel him shift. A moment later, your forehead is anointed with a kiss, off-center and quick, but a kiss all the same.

He is at peace. He is home. You are all he will ever need.

When sleep pulls you under, you’re smiling.

Taglist: @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @aria-chikage @tele86 @writingwhimsey

@silver-dahlia @wendolrea @myonlyjknight @ikesimpleton @namine-somebodies-nobody

@whatever-fanfics @chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine @mastering-procrastinating

@portrait-ninja @sh0jun @queen-dahlia @themysticalbeing @nightghoul381

@whitelittlebunny @chi-the-idiot @bubblexly @ozalysss

[coyotelip]

august 25th: light (touches) || james × everyone (partner unnamed) || @stag-microfic || wc: 455

James' hands were made for light touches.

That's not the first thought anyone would get from the sight of his wide palms, his expressive gestures and his firm grip when it comes to playing on the field. No one would think so if they saw him on detention in the library with a dozen books in his hands at a time.

But James' hands were made for lightly touching the skin of those he cares about.

His fingers barely feel on Remus's skin as James gently applies the magic salve on fresh scars and wounds after a bad moon. Remus can lie with his eyes closed and even forget about the boy at the edge of his bed, tenderly working on what will soon become new pale scars. Sometimes Remus thought it was James's guilt playing tricks on him, apologizing for the scars he had left last night with his magnificent antlers, but over time he realized that every cut or bite on his body received the same treatment.

No one on the outside would call anything between James and Sirius light, but little do they know of the nights Sirius faces nightmares that lead him to James's bed to hide under his warm side, a reminder of safety and unconditional love. No matter how much they may have fought or tugged at each other playfully during the day, on nights like this, James's touch is softer than any expensive silk fabric. They begin with the deep wrinkles on the boy's tense forehead, examining them one by one until Sirius relaxes enough to close his eyes again and fall asleep with the feel of James's fingers playing with his hair.

James's touch is light when he ties Peter's tie and straightens his untidy shirt collar. When he helps Mary take care of her first broom. When he takes turns dancing with all the girls at the holiday party, holding his hands respectfully high on his waist, barely touching.

James puts special tenderness and love into light touches on his lovers' naked skin. he starts with the legs, tracing each distinct bone. Holding the soft thighs with his palms, he presses them just a little to feel this softness and to evoke a reaction from his partner. He bypasses the most interesting part between the legs and moves on, tracing his fingers around the tiny navel, counting all the visible ribs, drawing circles around the hard nipples. He runs his thumb along the expressive collarbones, restraining himself from scratching under the chin in a cat-like manner, and finally reaches the lips that are slightly parted in anticipation.

James can spend hours giving his lovers' body his full attention, but first he has to kiss them.

[mysticpolin]

Ielele: the nymphs, goddesses, and fairies of the Romanian lands.

In a dream, I found myself on a mountain where the ground was strewn with tiny black flowers, like stars scattered in a sea of shadow. Each flower glowed softly, whispering different stories despite their shared roots in the same dark soil.

A melody wove through the air—so delicate, yet so profound it stirred my very soul. It was a haunting sound that made my skin crawl, a blend of beauty and fear that beckoned me to seek its source.

In a moonlit glade, women appeared. Some were naked, their skin radiant under the celestial light; others wore long, translucent gowns as if spun from moonbeams and dreams. They danced in a circle, their movements a poetic dance of shadows and light, blurring the lines between the real and the imagined.

It is said that in the middle of the night, when the moon opens the door to the land of dreams, Ielele gather in hidden and mysterious places—deep in ancient forests, in moonlit meadows, by serene ponds, among clusters of conifers, along riverbanks, at crossroads, in abandoned houses, or even in the air itself.

There, they dance naked, in long white dresses, or sometimes wrapped in delicate veils that seem to be made of light and mystery, with tiny bells on their feet that ring with each graceful step they take. They stretch out their arms in a silent ritual, bringing with them a fleeting magic, a call wrapped in otherworldly melodies that fade into the night. The roots of old trees and the murmur of streams seem to witness their sacred dance, leaving behind a ring of scorched grass—a sign of their joy and their sorrow.

At times, Ielele appear only as fleeting shadows, vague, ghostly figures that flit through the air, or as passing visions full of joy and light. They are beautiful and enchanting but always out of reach, a forbidden dream that vanishes at dawn, leaving only the echo of their music and the memory of a magical night. In these moments, reality blends with fantasy, and the stillness of the place that was once a magical dance floor is filled with a mysterious sadness, like a secret known only to the moon and the Iele.

Usually, Ielele are not considered evil spirits. They only seek revenge when they're provoked, offended, or seen during their dance. In these cases, they punish the guilty by cursing them after putting them to sleep with their song and the whirl of their dance performed around them three times. In this way, they are similar to the Erinyes from Greek mythology.

Some incantations portray them as follows:

Voi Ielelor “You, Ielelor”

Măiestrelor “Masters of the Craft”

Dușmane oamenilor “Enemies of Humankind”

Stăpânele vântului “Mistresses of the Wind”

Doamnele pământului “Ladies of the Earth”

Că prin văzduh zburați “As you fly through the Air”

Pe iarbă lunecați “Gliding over the Grass”

Și pe valuri călcați “And treading on the Waves”

Vă duceți în locuri depărtate “You travel to Distant Places”

În baltă, trestie, pustietate “To Marshes, Reeds, and Wastelands”

Unde popă nu toacă “Where no Priest Sounds the Bell”

Unde fată nu joacă “Where no Maiden Dances”

Vă duceți în gura vântului “You go to the Mouth of the Wind”

Să vă loviți de toarta pământului. “To Clash against the Earth’s Edge.”

If you want to hear a modern version of this incantation, check out the song “Ielele” by Irina Rimes. It’s a beautiful blend of traditional and contemporary music, and I really enjoyed it.

There is so much more to discover about the Iele, so if you’re intrigued by this story, make sure to Google them and dive deeper into their myths and legends.

Thanks for exploring the world of the Iele with me. I hope you enjoyed learning about these mystical beings. Until next time, may your dreams be full of magic and wonder.

[onedaughterofman]

Sacrifice me (Papa Emeritus x g/n reader)

Summary: For tonight's ritual, Papa is tied down and on his knees. He's completely at your mercy and, to please the Old One, you must tease and deny him as hard as your heart desires.

Warning/tags: Any Papa you want. +18, sex, BDSM, sex toys, bondage, orgasm control/denial, aphrodisiacs, gags, flogging, dom/sub dynamics, ritualistic sex, satanism. 1.9 K words

A/N: I've been working on this for a while but tonight I drank a bit and decided... why not post it. Hope you like it. I proof read it after the wine, so there might be mistakes. Sorry.

The chapel of rituals smells of incense and burnt candles. Dancing flames illuminate most of the room, casting shadows around the place. There’s a gentle, grave melody echoing on the walls, reaching your ears as you walk down the aisle.

The consecrated chants send shivers down your spine. Tonight the moon is full in the black sky, ghastly light sweeping in through the stained glass, bathing everything in a multi-colored gleam.

Everything, including him.

The air freezes in your lungs, expanding your chest as your feet halt. There he is, among the lights and shadows, white eye emitting a faint glow in the inky darkness. Papa remains in the middle of the altar, on his knees, arms bound behind his back to an inverted cross.

He’s naked, and his skin conserves a bit of a flush obvious even in the gloom. The paint on his face is already messy, thick drops of sweat falling down his forehead. The air is balmy around him, clouds of condensation forming every time he pants with an open mouth.

What a sight. Tonight, he’s not Papa.

No, tonight he’s an offering, a sacrifice.

There’s nothing in your tongue when you swallow. The leather clothes are snug on your body, slightly creaking with every move. This is an unhallowed ceremony, a necessary ritual meant to honor the Dark One and to bring prosperity and power to this Ministry. It has been imparted by chosen siblings since the beginning of the times, and tonight it’s your turn to do it again.

As always, Papa smiles upon noticing you approach the altar. His shoulders roll, muscles stiffening under the tight, flushed skin. A low grunt escapes his lips, reverberating into the ancient chapel before disappearing on the walls.

Tonight is the night. This ritual is long, intense, mind-blowing even. It’s one of the very few occasions someone like Papa will be at your mercy, when he won’t be getting it his way no matter how hard he tries to sweet talk and charm you.

No. Tonight you’ll tease, edge and deny him to your heart’s delight, until he’s nothing but a whimpering, teary eyed mess on this altar. From his suffering, the Lord will be satisfied. Both of you will supply him as much sexual energy as you can create.

Fucking for Satan, offering him a rough, intense sex ritual… You’re lucky to have been chosen by Papa years ago, as his partner, as his caretaker. He never regretted it. You can percieve it in his pupils as you get closer, riding crop burning on your hand. It has a contudent weight and flows nicely in the air when you use the tip to lift his chin.

Now, with him staring right into your soul, you can’t breathe. There’s a violent blush on his face, bold even under all the black and white paint. “Amore,” he states, sultry gaze assaulting your senses. “Every second I spent waiting for you it’s been tortuous.”

The warm, wet breath creates even more condensation around him. Fuck, he’s burning. It’s not a surprise, since the cocktail of aphrodisiacs and sacred herbs he drank earlier is doing full effect. His pupils are blown, nothing but never-ending dark holes inside his irises.

In them, you look at your own reflection. In them you are powerful, sacred, a divine sight.

“I hope you didn’t torture yourself that much, Papa,” you reply, in a hushed tone. The tip of the crop is replaced by your finger when you lean down. “That’s my job tonight.”

The weight of his sheer adoration and pure lust is heavy on your shoulders. So dense, you could drown into it. The excitement coming from his bare body strickes your skin in waves, one after the other.

“Do your worst,” Papa breathes out, voice a rumble in his chest. He’s aching to caress you, or to be touched, unconsciously pulling on his restraints to be closer to you, wishing to melt into your body. “I’m yours. Forever yours. Take me.”

The first strike of the riding crop makes him flinch. An angry, red mark appears on his chest, and he smiles. Through his clenched teeth, nothing escapes but a grunt. “Harder,” he purrs.

As much as you wish to indulge him, that’s absolutely not the way this ritual should go. The following strike is softer, a tickle on his skin. The tenderness of that gesture might be even worse than the pain, because this time all the air leaves his lungs in a prolonged blow.

Oh, he’s way too sensitive for his own good. High on lust and aphrodisiacs, his blood runs hot and wild inside his veins and arteries. You take it slow, teasing and caressing softly, tip of the crop followed by your nails hardly scratching at his skin. Papa’s gaze falls to the floor, jaw locked. The shadows make him look older, face gaunt and eyes nothing but deep pits of wantonness.

And yet, you take it slow. Your fingers ghost over the places he wants them the most, merely brushing the underside of his cock before slithering back up to his shivering stomach and heaving chest. Fuck, he’s feverish already, a thin coat of sweat covering him.

“You know the deal, Papa,” you murmur in his ear. Your fingers curl around his black crucifix, pulling on it until he’s forced to look back up. “I have to watch you burn first.”

Unhurriedly, his head nods. There’s fire in his gaze, excitement and thirst in his body language. Your heels click on the old floor when you move away, scanning the table searching for whatever tool you want to use tonight.

Papa gasp through his clenched jaw when you place it on him, fist closing around his aching erection. There’s precum already coating your hand, and you wipe it off on his chest before moving away. The low buzzing of the toy fills the silence, interrupted only by the distant, faint ritualistic music.

This time, the flogger weights in your hand. Your wrist moves swiftly, causing a loud noise to stab through the air. Papa grunts, pulling on the leather restrain, but he can’t escape from the mix of pain and pleasure you’re offering him.

Gradually, minute by minute, the sexual tension and energy build up. You know your Papa well, all these years together have taught you the telling signs of his orgasms approaching. You stop right before one, then do it again, and again, and again…

You lost count of how many times you have denied him of sweet release before a raspy moan escapes his mouth, muffled by his teeth. His messy face paint stains your fingers when you cup his cheeks, gently massaging in order to encourage him to relax his jaw.

“Do you need something to bite on?”

“It might be for the best, amore,” he replies, voice nothing but a whisper. “There’s still a long way to go.”

He’s right. The moon is still high in the sky, pale light illuminating the big stained glass behind his back. Bathed in unique colors, Papa looks ethereal, sacred. And oh, there’s nothing you wish to do more than to completely ruin him.

The bit gag is secured on his mouth. Those blown, dark pupils follow your movements with adoration, dark lashes fluttering evert time your fingers graze his skin. A part of you feels pity for him, on how he’s tied up to an inverted cross in the middle of the altar, covered in drool and sweat, painfully hard. But then, there’s that dense sexual longing in his eyes, that raw ardour that reminds you he wants this.

Fuck, he’s enjoying every second of it, worshipping your ministrations with blind faith. Papa’s head leans on your leg, cheek pressed on your inner thigh. He looks up at you, silently begging to continue. A black stain is left on you when you finally move away, causing him to whine from the loss of contact.

Oh, how much he aches, how much he wants to caress you and breathe into your skin. He’ll get his chance; you’re sure of it, but now you continue with the ritual, step by step carefully planned and calculated.

By the time the moon has moved and most of the candles have consumed, Papa is nothing but a whimpering, moaning mess in the altar. The hard floor digs on his bare knees, body uselessly pulling on the leather straps. He’s biting down on the gag, droll falling to the ground when he lets out another mewl.

Your hands are on him, caressing, scratching, working him up and down with slow ease. Once more, you bear the weight of his desire, the sheer devotion in his pupils. Papa is high on your love, on the sex and the denial, high out of his mind and reservations. He only craves for any release you might offer, for any touch of your fingers and kiss from your lips.

Through labored breaths and a heaving chest, you overhear him trying to talk around the gag. There are marks on his face when you remove it, and he takes his time to pant before he’s capable to form coherent words.

“The big candle is almost all consumed, tesoro,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours as if you were the apple of temptation placed in front of him, sweet and juicy for him to bite. “Our time is ending here. Sacrifice me for our Lord. My soul is forever yours.”

This time, you’re the one breathless. You gasp, muscles tensing and relaxing as you swallow. This man is an unholy sight, the devil on earth, the son of one below and you crave every inch of him.

The soothing murmur of his prayers fills your ears. Papa’s thick lashes are coated in pleasure tears when he narrows his eyes to focus on the unsacred words, reciting from memory the ancient incantations. You do it too, in your mind, as an effort to keep you grounded.

Papa is right, this part of the ritual is important. All this slow build up has to end in a powerful orgasm, in raw energy for the Old One to consume. Your palm comes to contact with his cock again, gripping it tight as your wrist moves with practiced ease. Gently, then faster and harder. Papa’s hips move as much as he can, in an effort to ride his own pleasure until the end.

With his head propped on your shoulder, you allow him to thrust into your first, other arm slithering around his back. On your chest, you sense the muffled rumble of his grunts and moans, the heat coming from his body. The silence is pierced by his scream when he ultimately comes, hips still moving as his cum stains the floor, your fingers and his own stomach.

The candle is completely consumed by the time he pauses, body almost hanging limp. He's resting all his weight on you, blissfully out of his mind. Your fingers deftly loosen up the leather straps, allowing him to fall more and more on you. Papa’s eyes are closed, but his pupils are still blown and clouded when he finally opens them up to tenderly stare at you.

“You were ruthless, like an infernal creature who crawled up from Hell to torture my soul for eternity,” he speaks, through pants.“You scared me, amore. So badly.”

Then, lowering his lips on your palm, he smiles. His face glistens with his own release, cum mixing with the remaining black and white pigment.

“Do it again,” he purrs, before letting out a few airy chuckles. “But, later, si? Get your Papa some snacks and water, will you?”

“Anything for you,” you reply, placing a kiss on his temple. The salt from his sweat rises to your lips, combined with the bitter taste of the face paint. “My soul is yours too.”

PS: yeah none of us is free of sin, friends.

[enkisstories]

Moonlight

For the thursday microfic prompt at @gingerrose-hub.

So Hux was dating a Resistance commander now. But that didn’t mean that he was doing anarchist stuff like dancing improperly and naked in a forest in the moonlight. Not him!

They had merely danced together, in a sensible fashion, hands locked and his arm around her hip. Rose had been delighted to learn that the otherwise so stiff General could dance!

The forest had simply been a convenient place to hide them from both their factions (and the new moon didn’t count, since it wasn’t reflecting any light).

Three days later they had met under a thin crescent moon, but gotten forced into a cave by the onset of the first snow. They had bathed in a hot spring hidden down there and coming out of the pond they had danced the water off before donning their clothes again.

The half-moon had seen them dancing outside again, but it was so cold, that they had accelerated their steps and twirls until Rose had ended up leading in a wild Republic-style dance.

One week later Hux had properly learned that dance and he had complimented his teacher’s eyes, albeit uncertain whether praise for something one hadn’t accomplished by themselves was even welcome.

Why was he able to see those brown eyes in a clarity he hadn’t before?

Hux looked up, through the formerly thick canopy, that was now devoid of leaves and saw the answer:

The moon above them was full.

"Wait, wait, wait! We haven't done ALL OF IT at the same time!"

Knowing full well what her secret lover was referring to, Rose took his hand and with the other pointed towards the cave's mouth, that was lit up by the moonlight.

"Then it's high time we do!"

(What now, General? Follow or wriggle free?)

[witchersmistress]

Dancing Naked under the full moon

Hello my darlings! my WIPs are never ending so here i am try to tackle them into the ground lmao

Summary: this was a request by the lovely @livesinfantasyland from 101 kinky prompts #72 secret hook-ups starring the beloved August Walker and he just of course had to be a brat for me..

trigger warnings: weapons, orgy, voyerisum, rough sex, choking, threats, p in v., violent fingering, breath play, forced orgasm, and ire at me.

word count: 2.5K

 August’s POV

I know they say when you go undercover you need to play your part well  so here I am going to an orgy in the woods. This is fucking weird but  i cannot risk blowing my cover. Mike shut his car door behind me, and tossed me a black robe and half black mask. “Here put these on” as he put on his mask. Rolling my eyes I put them on and followed him into the clearing.

Pushing through the last of the brush, the light from the bonfire lit the path before us. Men and women all in different stages of undress, fondled, fornicating and playing under the bright moonlight. There were two women, playing with one man. Someone chased a young lady through the woods while he howled, another woman was on all fours with one man, on his back underneath her, one was in her ass and the third gentleman was in her mouth and the girl, she looked like she was having the time of her life with these men. 

Mike had already wandered off to join a group of people. Across the fire stood a breathtaking woman, with long hair down to her waist, in a grey chiffon dress, with silver arm bands, with more fabric flowing from them, her dress trailed behind her as she moved from her makeshift throne and through the mass of people as she approached me, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she handed me a gold and silver tipped arrow.  She walked passed and towards what i think were her guards, she whispered something to one of them, and proceed  to walk down a moonlight  path

One of the guards approached me and grabbed my arm, dragging me to the path she disappeared down. “You have until dawn to find her” one spoke in a gruff tone and pointed after her. A horn sounded in the distance and everyone went crazy, ripping everything off but the mask they wore and they began to chase. Disrobing myself, I took off down the path after her. A high pitched shriek came from my left as a woman was tackled to the ground, I kept following the path, guards scattered about the forest floor. A streak of grey flashed in the corner of my eye as she ran past me, I chased after her as she let out a bell sounding laughter as I chased after her. 

Slowing my speed, I began to creep and look for signs of her. She let out a wild giggle as she looked around a tree, and I flanked to the right of her tree as she turned around to look around it. Sneaking up behind her, I wrap an arm around her waist, and the other hand covers her mouth before she lets out a blood curdling scream. “Shhh my little demon”  moving my hand from her mouth to her throat, I squeezed ever so slightly, her breath hitched. I walked her towards a clear spot and there we saw the women and her three men again but this time, she was bouncing on the cock of one man while she watched the other 2 aggressively hate fuck one another. 

Leaning back against the tree, the bark biting into my skin, i spread my legs and tuck her in between them and hold her in place, she glanced at me with question flashing in her eyes ``Shh little demon just watch” gripping her jaw and turning her back to the scene before us. Gliding my under her dress,. I trace small delicate circles into the soft supple skin of her stomach, feeling the goose bumps rise on her skin. Slowly moving my hand lower till I find her silky smooth cunt. Arching an eyebrow, I let out a low rumble of a laugh “No panties? Spreading her thighs with my hand, I sink a finger into her wet pussy and swirl it around. I can feel her wall tightening as I slowly pump my finger in and out of her. “Fuck you are so tight” i whisper in her ear as she grips my forearm, “Does it excite you to watch her? Getting fucked by not one  but three men? Every hole filled and using her how they want till she cant take it anymore” adding  2 more fingers i pump in and out of her fast while my thumb circles her clit in fast circles.  “That's my good girl, cum for me little demon”  burying her face into my neck as she let out a scream and her knees buckled. I wrapped my free arm around her waist to keep her from falling to the ground.

She sagged against me as she tried to catch her breath. The group we were watching had chased  their girl off into the woods again. Her glittering eyes looked at me behind her silver mask. Scooping her up and making my way back on to the path, we came across one of her guards, one shook his head and the other one spoke “Follow me” as soon as we walked away with her, the other guard busted out laughing as we continued down the path to a small clearing that held a large white teepee “No one will bother you here until morning” he held the flap open for us as i ducked under and laid her down on the pile of pillows in the middle of the room.

Stretching out across the pillows she reminded me of a cat, lounging in the window on a sunny day. On her hands and knees her back is arched and her ass is up in the air and she is shaking it every so slightly. The little demon, letting out a low growl, grabbing her hips , I slam my front into her ass and hear her whimper. A smile curls at my lips as I do it again. Pushing the gauzy fabric up her pale  thighs and over her deliciously round ass and spanking her. She let out a pitiful whine as I did it again. Sitting back on my feet I pull her into my lap and wrap my forearm around her waist and anchor her to my body.

Pulling my cock out from the boxers and pumping it a few times before sliding it between her slick thighs, she whined and Gyrated her hips to seek some kind of pressure. I let out a low groan as I lined out the head of my swollen cock with her wet entrance. She mewled as I slowly sank into her wet heat. “ So fucking tight” I said through gritted teeth. Finally bottoming out I stopped and gave her some time to adjust to my size.

She breathed heavily while trying to get comfortable, I slowly began to buck my hips as she let out these cute little cries. Grabbing her hips, I rocked her back and forth, wrapping her arms around my neck. She leaned back as she moaned wildly. Leaning down I sunk my teeth into her neck and she jerked her body in response, as I released the skin on her neck, to her chest, then her voluptuous breast before taking her pert nipple and pulling it into my mouth.

Her hands clawed up the back of my hair and she gyrated faster. My right hand moving from its laxed position, skirted down the front of her stomach between her wet thighs to her clit that I began to circle. “Please please please” she begged me. Whine back at her, mockingly “ please I'm begging you. Fuck” I sharply groan as I picked up the pace on the assult on her body. “Your so fucking wet little demon”  Taking my free hand i wrapped it around her neck and squeezed cutting off her airway, moving my hand on her hips i began to drag her hips back and forth, the head of my cock hitting her g spot as she writhed against me, trying to loosen my grip on her throat. I could feel her walls tightening around me, her moans coming out almost silently. “If you want to breathe you’ll come for me. Right. Fucking. Now” she obeyed beautifully. She came apart on my cock, squeezing it so tightly that I came shortly behind her. With a grunt I released her throat. She took in a long breath as her body twitched against me as she struggled to catch her breath as she came down from her orgasm.  Tucking a long strand of her hair behind her ears as I pulled her off my softening cock.

Laying her down on the bed of pillows and blankets, covering her with one, I got up and grabbed a towel, dampened it with water, opened her legs and began to clean her up. She hummed softly as she watched me. Wiping myself off and throwing the towel to the side. Grabbing a few logs off the wood pile and placing them in the dying fire. Pushing them around getting the fire roaring back to life. I tucked myself in behind her as I draped a blanket over us and pulled her into my chest, kissing her shoulder blades.

 I murmured in her ear “You did so well little demon rest now, you'll need your strength for later.” she rolled over and threw her leg over my hip. “Who said I need to rest?” she purred, pushing on my chest she pushed me to my back and climbed on top, my cock was back at full attention as she reached back and unzipped her dress and pulled it over her head. Her voluptuous teardrop shaped breast bounced as they settled back into place. Running her hands up her curvy figure, grabbing her breast, pushing them together and squeezing them before letting them go. “ Well then my little demon, since you don't need to rest, then ride me” she gave me a shit eating grin and a wicked glint in her eye as she started on her task.

Her POV

* in the wee hours of the morning*

Rolling over, I stretched out, my body ached but in a good way, grabbing an additional blanket, I covered  my chest as a truck pulled up. “ it's just me,” a voice called. It was Lyla, she opened the flap and made her way inside. Dropping off my bag with all my stuff and some clothes for him. She gave me a wicked smile and a wink. “How was he? Did the rumors prove true?” she wiggled her eyebrows at me in a seductive manner as laid some wood on the fire.  Rolling my eyes, and standing up. “Thank you Lyla, i’ll see you later” she clicked her tongue at me “ Spoilsport you are no fun” picking up an apple from the fruit basket, i took a bite and smiled “That's not what he said” she threw her head back with a laugh and walked out.

Turning my back to her, I leaned on the tall table and just watched him. His usual quaffed hair disheveled from sleep and sex, his jaw relaxed, he was as dreamy as they said he would be, but he is a wolf in sheep's clothing.Pulling up Spotify and playing Austin Giorgio’s Lips of a witch on a low volume, dropping the sheet, i began to dress, watching his sleeping figure from the corner of my eye. Pulling in my black leather boots, zipping them and standing up. I pulled my black leather gloves and my Glock 20 along with my suppressor. Walking over to him I kneel down to his sleeping form.

Sweeping a piece of hair from his face. The world's most dangerous man was asleep at my feet. Pulling the black mask from his face. August Walker, Top CIA weapon laid before me. His breath was steady and even, screwing on the suppressor, I held the gun an inch from his temple, one pull of the trigger and my mission would be complete. What I was trained from a young age, by my father.

I went to pull the trigger  but I didn’t. I've enjoyed our game of cat and mouse so far to let it end. Removing my finger from the trigger and putting the safety on, I popped one bullet from the chamber and stood from my spot. My father will be displeased that he is still breathing but that man is always displeased in what I do. Walking back to my bag, I tucked the gun away and pull out a sheet of paper and left him a little note with my silver mask and bullet.

 Throwing a leg over my motorcycle, to make sure my backpack was secure, I looked back at the teepee one last time. Bringing the engine of the bike to life with a roar, I put my helmet on, visor down and rode off into the wee hours of the morning.

August’s POV

The sound of a motorcycle engine woke me from a sound sleep. Reaching up to rub my face, my mask must have come off in my sleep. Looking up at the center of the teepee, my right hand resting comfortably on my chest, I reached my left arm out to find my little demon. But her spot was vacant, still warm as if she had just gotten up a few moments ago. Sitting up I looked for her but it was empty, except for her silver mask glinting at me from the nearby table. Standing from the makeshift bed and grabbing my discarded boxers and sweatpants left for me. 

I walked to the table and picked up her mask, sparkling in my hand. Underneath was a note in delicate  handwriting:

Until we meet again…

And on that piece of paper was a single bullet, that was meant for me… picking up that bullet, I clutched it in my hand and seethed. She was going to kill me. She was going to kill me.. I growled my frustration as I looked over the note again and the bullet. I felt the rag beneath my skin begin to ebb. She was going to kill me.. But she didn't.. Why? She had me right where she wanted me, ik was defenseless and helpless while sleeping, she didn't do it why? I walked back and forth racking my brain to figure out why my little demon did it, then it clicked.

She wanted to play a game. The clever girl, i didn't know what she looked like without a mask, she gave me no way to track her. Not even with the bullet, it looks like it came from a Glock 20, a common handgun and looks like factory made bullets, smart girl. Making my way out of the teepee I looked up to see the tail lights of a motorcycle pulling away. My little demon thinks he can run from me?  That there is no way on earth I will find her?? A wicked grin  was plaster across my face. My little hellion, I will find you and when I do. I’ll fuck you and kill you. “See you soon little demon” I whispered into the wind and watched as it chased after her. Game on little demons. Game on.. 

[spockiguess]

A Whole Lot Of Something, I’ll Tell You What || Heimdall x Female Reader

Dedicated to Ash

A/N: So...I wrote a Heimdall fic, heehee! This one is LOOOOOOONG, like fuck me, brother. I’ve been hunched over my ‘puter for the past couple of days yanking this one out of my ass (like I do with all my other fics) and it’s finally done! Yippee! My friend, Ash, was with me the entire way, cheerleading me to finish (thank you for that, by the way). So, I hope y’all enjoy it! Leave comments and suggestions below, they’re highly appreciated!

Warnings: Smut, use of terms like cunt and pussy, jealousy, Heimdall being a cocky shit

Pairing: Heimdall/Female Reader

Night fell upon the realm of Asgard, hushing voices and lulling the land’s children to sleep as the moon rose in the sky, its milky light shining through your window, illuminating your naked form. Your skin was alight as if orange embers were dancing just beneath the surface, and your breath came in quick gasps and silent moans. It took everything in you to keep silent when your hand worked diligently at your sopping cunt. 

Lusty visions flooded your mind, absolutely consumed your heart and soul, and you couldn’t keep yourself from moaning his name. With a whine, you called him out as you rubbed your clit, imagining it was his hand instead of yours. You wondered how full his fingers could make you feel, pressing against the spongy spot inside of you until you came all over his palm. 

Warmth washed against your face at these thoughts, but you couldn’t feel shame for it. You were too lost in your own pleasure to even notice how loud you were getting. Surely you’d wake someone up. 

Still, you cried out his name, unknowingly beckoning the very man you thought of, “Heimdall! Please!” you cried. 

Your voice drifted down the hall, and soon feather-light steps fell in quick succession just outside of your door, “This better be good,” then came to a screeching halt. Heimdall stood like a deer caught when he heard another one of your moans. Before, Heimdall assumed you were hurt, whining like a lost child for his help, but no, now he knew exactly what you were up to. 

“Oh, you dirty little minx,” Heimdall was as hot-blooded as any healthy mortal man and couldn’t stop the pang of arousal from shooting down his spine when he crept closer to your door. Heimdall also couldn’t prevent his hand from reaching around the door handle and pushing just enough to let a sliver of light leak from your room. 

Your cries rang true in Heimdall’s head, fluffing his already enormous ego to preposterous amounts as he chuckled under his breath. There you were, just mere meters away, begging for him like a wanton whore.

With rapt, violet eyes, Heimdall watched as your legs spread even wider, shaking from the rough stimulation your hand was providing. What truly caught his attention, though, was your dripping cunt glinting underneath the moonlight. Heimdall’s cock strained in his trousers, and he could barely restrain himself from palming it.

Deciding to indulge himself further, Heimdall looked into your mind and saw a truly erotic sight. It was you on all fours; head pushed into the pillow as Heimdall took you from behind at a monstrous pace. You were practically screaming his name, begging to cum as tears fell from your eyes. It was delicious. 

Whispering to himself, Heimdall stated haughtily, “Don’t worry, my little minx. I’m here,” before moving to open the door fully.

Suddenly, Heimdall was thrust back into reality when he felt the hard grip of the All-Father’s hand on his arm, stopping him from even opening the door another inch. Whipping around, Heimdall stared into a singular, disgruntled eye before being harshly yanked away. 

“What are you doing? Why are you stalking around like some peeper?” Odin hissed. Odin was the only person who could cause Heimdall to falter, and the blond stuttered, tripping over himself. 

“I was just– they were–” Odin dropped Heimdall’s arm and walked, already knowing Heimdall would follow and mocked him the entire way.

“Ah– ah– ah– what? You some sort of creep now? Sjá hvat, first a drunken oaf for a son, then…nevermind, you’ve got work to do.” Odin plopped in his seat with a certain finality that told Heimdall he was in for a long mission.

Days had passed since Odin dragged an unwilling Heimdall into his study, and Heimdall returned to the grassy pastures of Asgard covered in blood that wasn’t his and seriously craving release. His bones ached, and his head throbbed, leaving Heimdall exponentially more annoyed than usual. 

Einherjar and Valkyries alike watched the ravenous Heimdall stalk towards the Great Lodge, set on his path. The only thing on Heimdall’s mind was you. He knew that you’d be willing to give yourself over the instant he asked, and this knowledge fueled his trek as the gravel pathway crunched underneath his thundering feet.  

Nearing the entrance, Heimdall swung the heavy oak doors open with ease, cock already springing to life with the memories of your needy whines calling for him. He could almost hear them now. 

Turning a corner, Heimdall saw Thor’s massive body blocking his view of your door, and anger flared through his being at an interstellar speed. Why, in all the Nine Realms, would his ape brother be standing in front of your room? 

As he approached, Heimdall could hear Thor’s laughter mixed with yours, a familiar sound to him– a sound he reckoned was only his to hear. This only stoked the fires of rage burning deep within Heimdall’s stomach. 

Speaking before thinking, Heimdall shoved Thor’s back roughly, “What’s so funny, you stupid lug?”

Slowly, Thor turned around and began to invade Heimdall’s personal space, but that didn’t matter to the mind-reading Aesir god. No, what mattered was you standing behind the beast of a man, still laughing light-heartedly. 

“Oh, c’mon, he wasn’t doing anything!” You protested as the laughter rapidly began to die down. 

Heimdall didn’t respond, though, simply locking his gaze with yours. Sparingly, did Heimdall give you this look. You were in trouble. 

Swallowing, your voice was small when you spoke, “Nevermind, Thor. I think it’s best if you go.” Heimdall grinned menacingly, such an obedient dog, you were, he thought. 

Not even sparing a glance at Thor, Heimdall started, “Yes, big brother. I believe it would be the best for everyone if you took your putrid stench elsewhere.” Heimdall clapped a patronizing hand on the god of thunder’s back, causing him to cast a worried glance your way.

You nodded at Thor, urging him to leave. You had only faced Heimdall’s wrath a select handful of times and were taking your best measures to do damage control. After a second of hesitation, Thor huffed before stomping off. 

It wasn’t long before Heimdall reached out and grabbed your hand, less-than-gracefully pulling you into your humble room and slamming the door behind you. Like a purple-eyed leopard, Heimdall advanced on you before your back hit your desk. You squeaked in surprise, the whole situation only fueling your intense desire for Odin’s right-hand man. 

Heimdall’s hands came to rest on either side of your waist, his fingers digging into the polished wood of the desk. Being in such close proximity to the god, you could smell the lingering scent of bloodshed on his skin, mixed with his usual leathery sandalwood musk. It made your head spin, and it took everything in you to focus on what was at hand. 

“So, dearest, were you having fun with my brother?” Heimdall sneered. Normally, Heimdall didn’t stoop to such petty depths like jealousy, but it was hard to ignore the feeling twisting in his gut, considering you were screaming his name just days ago. 

Reeling from the new nickname, you answered, “We were just talking,” you whispered before quickly asking, “Are you upset with me?” The thought of Heimdall genuinely angry at you made your stomach churn uncomfortably, and you prayed for his mercy.

Heimdall softened, having read your mind, and brought a hand to brush your cheek gently. His thumb swooped from just beside your nose to below the edge of your eye as if he were brushing a tear away, and you realized just how big his hands were in comparison to your face. 

“Oh, I’m not mad at you. Far from it, in fact. I’m just deeply disturbed by Thor’s lack of boundaries. Does he not know who you belong to?” Heimdall was thinking out loud at this point, but what you focused on was that last part. Your chest tightened at the idea of being Heimdall’s, and you leaned into his touch, already willing to do absolutely anything for the god. 

Heimdall sensed this, of course, and pride surged through him as he smiled deviously, gold teeth shining in the torchlight of the Great Lodge. 

“Yes,” Heimdall hissed, “Tell me you’re mine.” Heimdall could feel his erection waking back up, and he leaned closer, lips just millimeters away from yours. 

Without hesitation, you stated, “I’m yours.” Heimdall rewarded this by finally touching you, his hands flying to your waist, thumbs rubbing circles into the material of your tunic.

“And you don’t care about my ogre of a brother one bit, right?” You nodded avidly, which made Heimdall hum in approval. 

“I don’t care about Thor. Or anyone. Just you. Only you.” Once the words were out, Heimdall growled, lips locking with yours in a heated embrace. 

Your arms flew to wrap around Heimdall’s neck as he pushed your pelvis into his. Through his trousers, you felt the generous outline of his cock, and your stomach flipped in anticipation. You knew Heimdall was gifted, but Gods, you were almost scared of how big he’d be. You wondered if he’d be able to fit inside you.

Heimdall groaned, reading your thoughts; you were perfect at stroking his ego. Pausing, Heimdall separated from you, watching as a line of saliva kept you connected before falling on your plump lips, “All will come in due time, dearest.” 

And just as quickly as you had parted, you were kissing again. It was passionate and familiar, full of years of longing and want all finally coming to fruition. You moaned into Heimdall’s mouth, giving the Aesir the perfect opportunity to lick inside it, tongue pressing against yours. 

You throbbed and rocked against Heimdall’s hips, hoping to relieve some of the tension. Gods, Heimdall almost couldn’t keep up with you. Almost. 

Choosing to be his usual self, Heimdall broke the kiss before asking, “Why don’t we play a game?”

You gave Heimdall a worried look, but he quickly squashed your fears, “Don’t worry, precious, I’m sure you’ll like it.” Again, that evil smirk was back, and it left you all the more intrigued. 

“It’s called: How Long Can You Last?” You were about to speak when Heimdall interrupted, hands snaking beneath your tunic and running under the hem of your trousers, “I’m sure you’re dying to know how to play, so I’ll graciously explain.” 

Heimdall’s hands stopped their travels and instead moved upward, and getting the hint, you raised both arms above your head. With ease, Heimdall removed your tunic before stopping to ogle your chest. 

Taking both breasts in hand and massaging, Heimdall continued, his voice noticeably deeper, “You see, I’ll touch you however I please, and you have to keep from cumming until I allow it. Understand?” 

Arching into Heimdall’s touch, you moaned out a yes. Sufficiently pleased with your response (and himself), Heimdall explained further, rubbing your nipples until they hardened into stiff peaks, “But if you do cum before I say, well, I’ll just have to chain you up naked for all of Asgard to see, won’t I?” 

His breath was hot against your ear when he teased, “Oh, who am I kidding? You’d probably like that.” 

Looking away, you felt a new flood of warmth tinge your cheeks. Heimdall quickly grabbed your chin, making sure to be gentle for now,  “Ah– another rule before we begin. You have to keep your eyes on me the whole time. No looking away, pretending to be all bashful.” Heimdall gave you a knowing stare, and you nodded, accepting his rules. 

“Good girl. So good for me,” Heimdall whispered sweet nothings into your ear as one of his hands maneuvered back down your stomach to worm under the top of your trousers before cupping your covered cunt. 

Heimdall’s middle finger ran along the length of your pussy, and feeling how soaked your undergarments were, he teased you again, “We’ve barely begun, yet you are already so wet! You must have been waiting for this moment for years.” Heimdall punctuated the end of his sentence by lightly slapping your already sensitive pussy, earning a yelp from you. 

“Mm, how I love the noises you make.” You were about to whine, desperate for Heimdall to give you more, but considering the god of foresight had little patience as is, he acquiesced and shoved your underwear to the side before plunging his middle finger into your inviting cunt.

Heimdall groaned at the feeling of your tight walls fluttering around his finger, already imagining how good your pussy would feel wrapped around his cock.

Moaning, you bucked into Heimdall’s hand, relishing in the feeling of his palm grinding against your clit as he worked you. Soon, Heimdall added his ring finger, then another, stretching you wide before pistoning his fingers into your cunt, aiming right for that spot inside of you each time. 

Your whole body shook from the force of it, and within just a couple of minutes, your orgasm was hastily approaching. Remembering the god’s words, you warned, “Heimdall, wait! I’m gonna–” 

Suddenly, Heimdall’s fingers were gone, and you whined high in your throat at the loss, your hips rocking for more, “Such a greedy little thing, aren’t you?” Heimdall’s face was downright devilish as you locked eyes. Then, Heimdall brought his hand to his mouth, sucking the digits and moaning at the taste. 

You could’ve cum from that sight alone before Heimdall’s hand was back in its original position, fucking you senseless. Electricity crackled through your veins as your legs shook violently, your orgasm steadfastly approaching once again. The feeling was quicker this time, and you assumed it would continue to get faster the more Heimdall kept this up. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to stop from cumming, then. 

With a raspy voice, you clung to Heimdall and whimpered in his ear, “Heimdall, it’s–” In a flash, the Aesir removed his hand again, inspecting the slick that dripped from his fingers with a satisfied grin. 

After allowing your orgasm to dissipate, Heimdall went right back to it, this time kissing you wildly, earning a pleased moan from deep within your throat. The added sensation of Heimdall’s lips on you brought you to that peak for a third time, and like a good dog, you alerted him, “I’m gonna cum, Heimdall! Please, let me cum!” 

Heimdall continued his movements, pressing his palm further against your clit, “I should make you beg more often.” 

The match struck, and you screamed out Heimdall’s name, nails digging into the white cotton of his tunic as your whole body trembled from the overwhelming force of it. Wetness soaked Heimdall’s hand and seeped through your pants, coating the insides of your thighs. Heimdall’s hand didn’t slow or stop, however, as he kept his assault on your pussy up until you were practically crying from the overstimulation. 

The pleasure nearly turned to pain before Heimdall relented, gently moving his hand away and using the other to support you as you almost toppled over, “Easy there, sunshine.” 

You slumped against Heimdall’s chest, chest heaving and legs physically weak, when Heimdall suddenly picked you up bridal style and carried you to your bed. You sunk into the blankets, hands reaching out for the god. 

Before climbing into bed with you, Heimdall removed your ruined trousers and threw them off to the side. Settling in behind you, Heimdall wrapped his arms around your waist and nuzzled into your neck.

With a hoarse voice, you asked, “Wait, what about you?” 

Heimdall kissed your shoulder, “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about me.” 

[b1ravenclaw]

Sparkling Beauty

Kallias x reader, pure smut mdni

“Kallias?” 

“Yes?”

“Where are you taking me?”

“Surprise?”

“My wings are cold.” I stated, shivering under the night’s cold embrace. Kallias merely waved the hand that was not holding mine and warmth hit my feathers. 

“You could have concealed them.”

“Well I don’t know exactly where you are taking me, so no.” He merely hummed, holding me closer to him, as we walked around the castle and then outside of the castle grounds.

“Kallias, I know you really like me, but I don’t think your father would mind if you confessed your feelings within the palace grounds.” He merely scoffed at me, but the twinkle in his eyes made my heart flutter. 

“Do you remember?” He said after a while, the only thing around us being the snow covered trees and the animals that lurked around here. 

“What?”

“What my grandmother once told us about the lake.”

“Ohh, the eternal beauty lake. Yes I do” I said smiling at the old memories of us both sitting beside the fireplace as his grandmother used to tell us about the olden legends of Prythian. Even at a young age I was often invited to play around Kallias, with my family being close friends with the High Lord’s, and as we grew old we got even closer,  accompanying each other in every step of our life. 

“The sparkling lake, old even she could not remember if it never was there before.” I laughed at his antics, but encouraged him to continue nonetheless “It sparkles under the light of the full moon,” he gestured to the sky, full moon it was, “as if the stars themselves came down to swim in it, gracing whoever brave enough to step into the cold water, with eternal beauty, or rather eternal as long as they stayed inside the water eternally.” 

“Always with a catch.”

“The good things rarely come without one.”

“So you think you found this lake?”

“Oh my snowflake, i don’t think…” “That you don’t.”

“You know I am starting to wonder why I asked you to come along.”

“Because you would not have half the fun.” I smiled sweetly at him, who only rolled his eyes. Clearing his throat he stated that he knew he knew he had found the lake, and as always I followed him through a stone pathway that led us to a rough glass doorway, it looked as if it was broken and remade multiple times, and upon closer look I noticed that it was not glass, but ice.

“So what, do we go through this doorway?”

“Yes.”

“You must be joking.” He extended his hand to me.

“Do you not trust me?”

“Unfortunately I do.” I mumbled before settling my hand on his, and he gently led us through the doorway.

It was silly, really, but I closed my eyes. I was used to seeing magic all around but this time something in me told me to just feel it, and as soon as we stepped through the doorway the air around us changed, became sweeter somehow, more promising even, and I swore I could feel the stars as if they were dancing around us. When I opened my eyes Kallias was looking at me, his beautiful blue eyes staring right at me as if trying to read my emotions, and they were bluntly painting my face because he smiled so brightly at me I could have melted despite the cold. But as much as I enjoyed staring at him I could not ignore the lake beside me, it was actually sparkling with life. It was almost unbelievable. The snow covered the expansion all around the lake, and the closer we got the better I could feel the magic flowing in the water, and as the energy of it hit me I knew it was true.

“I can’t believe you’ve been here before without me.” I shoved him and started undressing to get into the lake, removed my robe, then my pants, my shirt next and I was only left in my pantys. Turning around I called for Kallias who was undressing as well, and when he turned at me he was standing completely naked and proud. His member between his legs was… it was fucking huge, and the trail of hair was as white as the hair in his head, and I was staring. Fuck. I turned around quickly to get into the water and heard him chuckle behind me. 

“No problem in staring, snowflake,” he said entering the water slowly, I still couldn’t look at him. “I stared too.”

“‘Course you did.” I said splashing water in his direction, but my cheeks reddened anyways. I stared at the sky, at the moon and how its white light reminded me of him. My best friend, whom I was bound eternally with, not that I complained. I loved him, loved my court, and knew one day I would serve it. Serve him. I smiled at the thought, even before I knew what it all entailed I knew I wanted to be part of it.

“Y/n?”

“Yes, Kal?”

“You look…” His hand was suddenly on my cheek, I hadn’t realized how closer he had gotten. “Fucking exquisite.” I wasn’t expecting that, I did not know how to react and only stared back at him, and in doing so I noticed, jus how fucking true the legend were. Kallias was by no means an ugly male, but right now he looked the most handsome he had ever looked.

“You don’t look too bad.” I cringed at my own words. “I mean, you look good. Really, really good.” 

“Do I?”

“You’re pushing it.”

“I want to push more.” Then he got closer, and his chest was grazing mine and his nose was too close. Our breaths mingled and our words were one and the same.

“Can I kiss you?” 

There was no wait, no moment to stop and think about it. Ws simply lunged forward and kissed, a mix of tongue and teeth of whimpers and grunts, of hands on the shoulder, on my arms, on his waist on mine. Exploring everything the water wasn’t touching, and when he lightly grabbed my chest I placed my hand above his indulging him to grab harsher, the sound he made was delicious and I wanted to hear more of it, but did not get the chance once his mouth came down, kissing my neck slowly, deliciously until it reached my other breast and started sucking on my nipples. The sound I made was embarrassingly high pitched but I could not care less, I wanted to feel more of him, more his hands and mouth on me. I wanted him everywhere. 

Moaning at his ministrations on my breasts I pulled his face towards mine once again, and this time as our lips collided he pulled me up and my legs circled his waist, and I didn’t quite understand his movements as I my only focus was his tongue against mine, but soon it was clear when he settled us on the snow at the edge of the lake, it wasn’t as cold as I expected, and I was certain his powers were to blame. We parted then, and I looked at his disheveled self, his beautiful white hair messy, lips swollen and face flushed. It was as if he never left the lake, and as I felt water at our calves I realized we in fact weren’t out of the magic effects just yet. And as I stared at his godlike form I couldn’t hold my tongue at what was about to happen.

“Kallias?” My voice was almost a whisper, but right then and there it felt like there was only the two of us, and he heard me, he always did. 

“Yes, snowflake?”

“I, well, I haven’t…” I couldn’t seem to bring myself to finish it.

“It’s okay.” He stroked my cheek and kissed my forehead. “We can take it slow.”

“Kallias?” “Yes, y/n?” His voice was sweet, but still held amusement.

“Have you ever…?”

“No, but I’m not untouched.” 

“Yeah, okay, fine.” My eyes everywhere but on him, but not for long as he held my chin and all but forced me to look at him.

“What’s the matter?”

“I don’t wanna go all the way, not tonight.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart, we’ll go at your pace. How’s that sound?”

“Good?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it sounds good.”

“Good.” He said, kissing my neck. “This okay?” I hummed and he kept on kissing me, his hands gripping my waist and ass now. “Mother, y/n.”

“What?” My brows furrowed, was he regretting this?

“Turn around please?”

“Why?”

“Please let me see it, don’t torture me.” “Kal?” Then, as he groped my ass I understood what he meant, and almost hesitantly I complied. Turning around and standing on all fours in what I thought was a seductive way. He trace de lining of my panties and touched the soft skin of my bum and as I backed into him he fucking moaned. 

“You have no idea of how long I’ve waited to see it, you have just the perfect fucking ass.” His voice was rough, and he sounded almost breathless. Oh if I wasn’t wet before, I certainly was now. 

“Do I?”

“Mhm.” And then the future High Lord of winter court kneeled behind me and peppered the skin of my ass and thigh with hot wet kisses, savoring my skin, almost worshiping me. And as one hand was still massaging my ass the other snaked around my waist and dipped into my underwear, moaning when his fingers found the wetness hidden there I could not hold it anymore. 

���Kal, please.”

“Hm, what was that snowflake?”

“Please.” I whined. “Please make me cum.” 

“As you wish.” And then he was turning me around again, my back on the floor and he stripped me off my last item of clothing. Surprising even myself I opened my legs at him, and the look he gave me only made me wish I had done it sooner. His hand worked magic on my entrance but there was still something missing, everytime I touched myself I would never focus on penetration. It was mostly clit stimulation. 

“Kal.” I said taking his other hand in mine, and guiding his thumb to my puffy clit. “Here.”

“Like this?” I could barely breathe out a weak yes before my bak was arching, my own hands finding my nipples and playing with them. 

“Fuck, you look so perfect like this y/n.” He said nipping at my neck, his movements growing harder, deeper. And the coil of pleasure in my stomach getting closer to snapping. 

“Kal, please, don’t –ahhg– don’t fucking stop.” 

“Trust me, I wouldn’t dare to.” More whimpers left me and he only encouraged me further, his praises helping me tip closer and closer to the edge until I finally fell. 

“Good?” He asked after I caught my breath.

“Yes, so fucking good.”

“Good.” He kissed my cheeks and sat straighter on his knees, and that’s when I saw. He was rock hard, and I wanted nothing more than to put him in my mouth. And as if reading my mind he said. “I’ll not let you do that unless we are somewhere more comfortable.”

“But I wanna help.” “I know you do.” And then he liked his fingers, the same fingers that were inside of me moments ago, he sat down and stroked his cock with his fist. “Come here.” He said motioning his lap, and I was quick to understand. 

Stradling him I took his cook in my hand, lightly stroking it up and down. I couldn't take my eyes off of him. I have never seen a cock in my life, but his was beautiful. “Like this?” I looked at him with my best doe eyes.

“Bit stronger.” I complied and he moaned harder, his grunts were welcome to my ear.

“You are so handsome Kall, and your dick is so pretty.” More whimpers left him then.

“Ya think so?”

“Yeah, wanna lick it. Will you let me put you in my mouth another time?”

“Fuck, yeah I will.” He bucked more harshly against me and I wondered how he would fuck me. “Would let you do –ahnn– anything. You, gods, you know -mhhm– that.”

“Hmm, I do.” I smiled up at him, his eyes were alternating between my face and my hand. And as his thrusts became sloppier I could only guess that he was close to cumming. “Will you cum all over my hand Kall?”

“Yeah, can I?” It was my moan that reached our ears then.

“Please do.” And he did, long thick ropes of snow colored cum staining both our pale skins. 

After we both were cleaned and calm it was me who broke the silence.

“So, an ass man.”

“What?”

“You.” I said. “You are an ass man, I should have seen that one coming.” He laughed, really hard.

“If that’s how you wanna call me, but honestly have you seen your ass?” I blushed, and he kissed me hard. “How about we get dressed and we talk about it at home, huh?”

“Yeah, sounds like a plan.”

“And maybeee you can show me your ass again.”

I rolled my eyes, but did in fact show him my ass again.

[strangerthingsstuff4]

A Darling Among Dragons- Chapter Seven

 It's finally here! thank you all for being so patient! I'm so sorry it has taken this long, i was really poorly over the holiday period but I'm back and will be updating a lot more often

Warnings- Still born, labor, mentions of blood, swearing

The warm air was almost stifling, with little to no breeze Aemond was sweating already. It was the early hours of the morning and as most of the castle still slept, Aemond stood in the yard with ser Criston. The sun had not long peaked over the horizon and the morning air of kings landing stunk of the contents of the chamber pots that were being emptied.

The prince dodged another blow the knight threw at him and spun in place swinging his own sword in an attack. A small group of maids and knights had stopped briefly to watch them training, it had become a daily occurrence for a crowd to form around them as they sparred. The onlookers watched as the pair danced around each other and tossed blow after blow.

‘Come on! More force!’ Sir Criston yelled encouragements at the young prince.

It drove Aemond to move more swiftly, he hacked at the knight faster and pushed him back in retreat before sweeping his feet out from under him. Sir Criston dropped to the floor onto his back and held his breath when he felt the cold bite of Aemond’s blade under his chin.

‘Very good your grace’ Cole smiled while grabbing Aemond’s outstretched hand.

‘My prince! My prince!’ A maid yelled breathlessly running towards the crowd.

Aemond watched the young girl hold her dress while she ran towards him, almost falling over her own feet to get to him.

‘My prince! It is your wife… she… she has started her labours’ the girl struggled to get out, only just managing to stop herself a few feet in front of him.

The sword that had been in his grasp a few seconds before hit the gravel floor. Aemond was across the yard before anyone could blink, his big strides carried him quickly through court and towards his shared apartments with his lady wife. He did not stop to move aside for maids who carried sheets or even guards on their morning rounds. He needed to get to her. Raenerys was only five moons into her pregnancy, this was far too early for her labours. Her screams quickly hit his ears, they were full of pain and anguish.

The corridor seemed to go on for miles now, no matter how big his stride he just had to keep walking. Finally reaching the open doors of their chambers he stopped in the doorway; his wife was stood bent over leaning against the bed. Her sleep gown stained red and shiny with fresh blood, her skin was covered in a layer of sweat and her face wet with tears. He wanted to go to her and help her through this but his feet turned him back out of the room and down the hallway. He was not who she needed but he could get her who was, even if he had to drag him to her by his foot.

Aemond forced open the doors to Aegon’s apartments and made his way through the rooms until he reached his bedchamber. His older brother was lay only his side with his naked butt sticking out of the sheets. Light snores flowed out of Aegon’s mouth as he still slept soundly, though he had not been into flee bottom in many moons now, Aegon had taken to spending his nights in Raenerys’ company. Recently he had taken to reading to her while they bathed together or sometimes, he would help her brush her long hair and pin it up out of her way.

‘Ahhh!’ Aegon groaned at his rude awakening of his brother ripping the sheets off him, leaving him completely naked and uncovered.

‘Get dressed’ Aemond demanded, throwing his clothes at him from the back of the chair they had been hung on.

‘Piss off! I have no appointments until this evening’ Aegon grumbled sleepily, digging his palms into his eyes.

‘No but my wife is currently trying to birth your spawn so you’re going to help her through it’

‘What!?’ Aegon questioned quickly, removing his hands from his face and staring at the younger prince expectantly.

‘She has woken with a bleed and pains; her labour appears to have come early’ Aemond informed him as candidly as ever.

Aegon had dressed himself in seconds and was running through the red keep before he had even tied his tunic properly. As he struggled to adjust his clothing while running, Aegon reached his sisters bedroom with his brother in tow.

‘Your grace! You can’t be here!’ Grand Maester Mellos gasped as he moved to stand in front of Aegon, who was attempting to walk to the princess’s aid.

‘Let him in Mellos’ Aemond huffed from his place at the doorway.

‘But your grace, he has no place here’ the maester argued as Aegon pushed past him.

‘He has my permission; he brings comfort to my wife’

While the Maester gave Aemond a knowing glare, Aegon moved to Raenerys’ side and held her waist from behind.

‘Sister, are you okay?’ he mumbled

‘Please make it stop… please Aegon’ She cried in response, begging him to take the pain that was ripping through her body.

‘She will not let me examine her your grace’ Mellos grumbled to Aegon, though he looked at Aemond.

Raenerys had grabbed hold of the hand that her lover had offered her, she gripped it tightly as another wave of crippling pain took over her body. She yelled out in pain, fresh tears falling over her cheeks. Aegon bit back any noise begging to be released from her nails digging into the skin on the back of his hand. His other hand was placed on the flat of her back while she was keeled over.

‘Raenerys you must get on the bed and let Mellos asses you’ Aegon spoke softly

‘I can’t’ She sobbed, leaning back against him.

‘Fetch her milk of the poppy!’ her oldest brother ordered without removing his gaze from her.

‘We can not my prince, she needs to be conscious while she passes the babe’ The maester said grimly.

Aegon and Aemond both knew the certain outcome of her labours. The babe was coming four moons too soon, it had no chance of survival. It broke both men to watch Raenerys suffer through this pain only to be put through the anguish of losing her child. But that was a problem to be dealt with afterwards. Right now, the main concern of all in the room was ensuring that it was not both mother and child that went with the stranger.

‘I will be here with you, come get onto the bed and let the Maester help you’ Aegon mumbled softly into her ear as he held her.

Raenerys sniffled and nodded as she enjoyed a small lull in the pain before another contraction took over her body. She was helped onto the bed where she lay on her back settling against Aegon’s legs, as he knelt up behind her on the feather mattress.

‘Has my mother been informed?’ Aemond questioned one of the maids quietly.

‘Yes your grace, Myra was sent to her while Lora was sent to come and inform you’

‘And? Where is she?’

‘She said she would come to the princess after she has passed the pregnancy’ A small mousy girl stuttered out nervously.

Aemond looked over to his brother, who was looking back. Why would she not come? Their mother was always there when it came to their children’s health, it was one of the only positives she held. She had been there when Haelena had been bitten by a spider in her youth, she had been there when Aegon had almost choked on his own vomit in his drunken state. But she was not here now, while her youngest daughter was on her birthing bed far too soon and was at risk of losing her life.

‘She is wide enough to pass the babe with some tearing but it is not likely the child will survive’ Mellos muttered to Aemond after he had removed himself from between his sister’s legs.

‘The princesses health is priority, do what you must’

‘Very well but I must insist that yourself and Prince Aegon not be present for the birth, it is not proper’

Aemond nodded at Mellos’ request and moved over to his wife and his brother.

‘Aegon we must leave, she is going to pass the birth’ he muttered quietly in hopes that the already anxious Raenerys would not hear.

‘What?! No you can’t go! You can’t leave me please’ she sobbed frantically.

‘My love we can not be here for this part but we will be right outside the door’ Aemond promised while wiping the stray hairs off his wife’s forehead.

‘I want to stay!’ Aegon insisted.

‘Your grace I assure you, it is not fit for your eyes’ Mellos informed him sombrely.

Though it was obvious as to why the Maester had specified Aegon’s eyes, he did not wish to make the notion of their relationship one of gossip amongst the maids. Reluctantly he exited the room and placed himself against the wall, where he intended to stay until he could be at his lover’s side once more.

He stayed there for what felt like hours. Aemond had gone and returned twice, not being able to stand the sounds of Raenerys’ cries. Aegon remained as maids came and with clean sheets and bowls of water. He heard every sob, every plea she made and every shout from Mellos for her to continue pushing.

The urge to run himself was strong. He wanted to get as far away from those noises as he could, never to hear them again. All he had to do was push himself up from his crouched position and his legs would do the rest of the work, carrying him away. But he stayed glued to his spot, his head stayed in his hands and his feet planted to the floor. He would not leave her, not matter how badly he wanted to. Raenerys had not left him when he had come down with a fever before his twelfth name day and he was not going to leave her now. His throat felt tight at the concept of what was happening beyond the brick wall he leant against. What if the stranger came for them both? He could handle losing the babe, they could make another. But her! If she was to leave him, he would have to throw himself from the red keep, it would be the kindest thing to do. The idea of living this life without her was a grim one but one he thought about all too often.

Aegon could not recall when it had gone quiet, too focused on not listening to her pain. The clicking of his brother’s boots approaching once more, drew him out of his daze. If the concerned look on Aemond’s face was not enough to turn Aegon’s stomach, the echo of his knock against the heavy wooden door could’ve pushed him over the edge. It creaked loudly as the Grand Maester slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him. His robes were spattered with blood and other fluids, from the layered neck beneath his chain to the tattered end that hung about his feet. The wide opening of his sleeves was drenched and sticking to his skinny hairy arms.

‘Your grace, the princess has birthed the child but as expected it was not born breathing. I give you my deepest apologies’ Mellos spoke directly to at Aemond but his words flowed to Aegon.

‘How is Raenerys’?! is she okay?’ Aegon demanded, cutting Aemond off from asking the same questions.

‘The princess is resting; it was not an easy labour. I have given her milk of the poppy and she is sleeping. She was quite distraught over the sight of the child’

‘Will she be okay?’ Aemond finally spoke

‘She will be fine granted she can burn away any infection that may come with her tearing’ Mellos stuttered gravely.

‘Thank you Maester, you have once again proved yourself invaluable’ the prince patted him on the shoulder, to which the old man beamed.

Aegon did not waste another second and made a move to step towards the door. A hand placed firmly on his shoulder stopped him. Grand maester Mellos shuffled his way to stand between the prince and the wooden door that separated him from the woman he needed to see was for himself.

‘I must warn you your grace, the babe has yet to be wrapped. There were some unusual bruising and disfigurements with the body that suggests the pregnancy was purposefully terminated’

‘Terminated? What do you mean?’

‘I suspect the princess has been consuming moon tea and a lot of it! To be able to end a pregnancy this far along it would need to be an intake of at least two kettles’ Mellos explained grimly, almost directly to Aegon.

‘Are you saying Raenerys did this herself?!’ Aemond questioned furiously.

She wouldn’t! Aegon knew she wouldn’t. She had been ecstatic to find out he was going to be there with her through it, it was all she had spoken about!

The rain was pounding the stone of the balcony adding to the relaxing atmosphere the couple had created for themselves. Raenerys’ swollen belly was quite an obstacle when it came to her favourite past time, brushing Aegon’s hair. He was sat between her legs on the floor while she struggled to sit forward in the plump armchair. She ran her fingers through each strand of his hair after running her brush through it. She held it at the root and fought with the new tatts he had managed to pick up during the day.

‘Vaegon’ she burst out with suddenly, ceasing her actions with the hairbrush.

‘What?’ Aegon asked confused, trying to turn his head enough to look at her but struggling with her hold still on his hair.

‘Vaegon… for a boy, it combines yours and fathers name’

Aegon grimaced a little and shook his head, he didn’t like himself or the man he had to label father, he didn’t want to tarnish the poor child by naming him after either of them.

‘We’re going to have to choose a name eventually Aegon, we had Aeryn until you decided it was too, and I quote, bashful’ Raenerys chuckled, continuing her assault on her brother’s head.

‘I just don’t want him to grow up to be some fat pervert’

‘I think it’s quite a gallant name... it could still be a girl we should have a name ready in case’

Aegon huffed and pulled his locks out of her grip, turning to rest on his knees facing her. He gently placed both of his hands flat on her bump. The heat radiating off her body never failed to send a glorious shiver down his spine.

‘It is a boy; I can feel it in my bones’ he grinned

Raenerys’ heart could explode looking at him, he had been apprehensive about the whole concept of becoming a father and having another person he was responsible for but, Aegon had never been so excited for something. He had been present when she had decided to have the child’s first pieces of clothing made, he had even helped her pick a shade of green for its basinet. Raenerys had never been so in love with him before, he had stopped all of his unattractive habits and become quite the princely type.

‘However… I have become fond of the name Aerea’

‘That is a beautiful name Aegon, now sit’ She demanded with a face splitting smile.

Once he was positioned on the floor once more, Raenerys began gently sifting through the tangles.

‘What about Rhaegar?’ She questioned.

Their whole evening had been spent like that. Raenerys had spent the last five months obsessing over have a small version of both her and Aegon mixed into one. She would never do anything harm herself or the babe.

Aegon moved around the Maester and quietly entered the chambers. His eyes instantly found her in the bed, sheets pulled over her pale sleeping form. Then he found the small basinet in the corner of the room, he needed to see. Although he was pleased that it was only the babe that had been lost he needed to see their creation. His boots patted the floor gently as he softly moved towards it, he had not thought to prepare himself, it was just a baby, a body. But it was much more than that, it was his child, it was her child. Aegon’s chest clenched when the full body came into sight. The purple tinted skin didn’t bother him, not did it’s disfigured limbs, it under formed hands or feet. It was the face. It was her face, the nose all thin and button like, sat about a pair of plump full lips.

‘The sex?’ Aegon asked when he heard the door creak softly behind him.

‘It was a female, your grace’ Mellos muttered softly.

Aegon chuckled softly, Raenerys had been right. He had been so sure it was a boy but she had been adamant that they needed to have a name for a daughter just in case.

‘She is beautiful’ he muttered.

A small groan from the bed pulled his attention away from the crip. Raenerys was stirring awake, groaning in pain. Aegon quickly made his way to her side, Aemond moved to the end of the bed. Her skin was damp with a sheen of cold sweat, her hair matted and stuck to her forehead. This was not the girl Aegon was used to seeing, yes he had seen her in many states of undress but he had never seen her quite like this. He did not want to get used to seeing her so distressed.

‘Aegon’ Raenerys groaned quietly.

‘I’m here sweet sister I’m here’ he reassured her, taking her hand and holding it tightly.

‘Aegon… I’m… I’m sorry’

‘Hush now! You have done nothing wrong’

Aegon brushed to soaking hair off her forehead and pushed it out of her face. Her skin was so pale and she was so warm, his heart was breaking just looking at her. She grimaced in pain as she shuffled herself into more of a seated position. His hands panicked, not knowing where to go to help her.

‘Mellos, more milk of the poppy!’ he demanded.

The Maester nodded and withdrew himself from the room to fetch some more supplies.

‘The babe… i…’ Raenerys stuttered as she began to well up.

‘I know… she would have been beautiful’ Aegon breathed heavily.

He nodded his head gently at the look she gave him. It was a look of disbelief, asking if she had heard him right when he had said she. More tears flowed down her cheeks and he squeezed her hand tighter.

Aemond stood silently at the end of the bed admiring them. He had been cautious when pitched the idea of allowing his elder brother to remain actively loving his wife, knowing how twisted Aegon’s desires could be. He had not wanted to force his younger sister into something she did not know the full extent of, did not want her to regret her decision of choosing Aegon over him. But watching the way he was sat there comforting her through her pain and anguish, reassuring her that she had done nothing wrong. He could see what she had meant when she had spoken of their souls. They had been made for each other, two separate parts of the same star being lucky enough to find each other immediately.

‘Raenerys… the maester says that the babe was lost because… because you’ve been consuming-‘ Aemond began.

‘I haven’t drank any moon tea, I swear it to you’ Raenerys interrupted him, turning to Aegon as she adamantly informed him.

‘I know you haven’t, I know you wouldn’t but… Mellos was sure that as the cause of the loss, are you sure no one has slipped you anything? Has anyone gifted you anything? Any food or wine?’ Aegon asked softly, his hand still firmly wrapped around hers.

‘No! I have only drank water that Lyana has brought to me’

‘Can she be trusted?’

‘She is my most trusted hand maiden! She has been since we were children’ Raenerys argued

‘The only food I have been gifted was-‘she continued

‘Was what?’

‘The lemon bars mother had me bring to you’ Aemond finished for her