#milk hearth

[loftyangel]

marupan.0219

[sleepis4theweak]

Came across this post the other day and realized I relate to it a bit more than I initially thought....

doomed siblings... save me doomed siblings...

[marsprincess889]

Basic themes of nakshatras

May edit this later, this is as far as I understand and have observed them, and I think it's pretty nice to see them simply.

Ashwini:

Newness, freshness, the unmanifest, speed, energy, vitality, instinct, healing, fast healing, unlimited energy, self-expression, selfishness, blocking outside noise, trusting yourself, self-empowerment, unfiltered actions.

Things that remind me of Ashwini: bees, the sun, horses, two white horses, golden deserts, horses gallopping, honey, long hair flying in the wind, apples.

Bharani:

Love, death, sex, the female, the feminine, limitations, the material, fate, destiny, coming into the body, struggling against limitations, struggling against fate, mind trapped in its own hell because of the inevitable, dealing with the harshness of life, harshness of mothers and mother nature, the hierarchy, privileges and deprivations, desire, going after your true desire, the immortality of the soul, adapting to changes, passion, tragic love, bravery, facing the truth, choicelessness, nessecity, revenge, violence, gatekeeping, reduction, denial of access, conquering your fate, everlasting beauty, immortality, eternal love.

Things that remind me of Bharani: hot pink and black, darkness, roses, the yoni, gateways, keyholes, caverns, boats, rivers, the damsel in distress, fantasy, high fantasy.

Krittika:

Adam, the main character, naming things, language, rationality, precision, sharpness, criticism, the poet, the "it" person, simplicity, cleanliness, expressing oneself, selectivity, the heat, the knowledge, the light, masculine ideals, stoicism.

Things that remind me of Krittika: knives, razors, lighers, sparks, fire, hearth, cooking.

Rohini:

Eve, sugar babies, growth, receptivity, enjoyment, pleasure, unrefined, doted on, subconcious, absorbtion, sharing, union, creation, the youngest daughter, naivete, feeling no shame.

Things that remind me of Rohini: sugar, stickiness, sweetness, heaviness, red, pink, flowers, the A.I(lol).

Mrigashira:

Distraction, realization, fickleness, adventure, running away, chasing, the hunt, excitement, softness, pleasure, altering conciousness, magic substances(iykwim), curiosity, fulfillment, insatiability, teasing.

Things that remind me of Mrigashira: silver threads, deer, green forests, green and blue, running in the woods, alcohol, the moon, Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream".

Ardra:

Disillusion, crying, lamenting, awareness of others, awarness of other's expectations, hyper-awarness of everything, intellect, the rational mind, pressures from society, rebelling against society, anxiety, hunting.

Things that remind me of Ardra: tears, water, storms, technology, teenage angst, emo culture, the rain, sad songs, dogs.

Punarvasu:

Mercy, forgiveness, permission, freedom, flying, expansion, gentleness, regrowing, realigning, returning, home, unconditional love and nurture, celebration, peace, peacefulness, centering oneself, sunlight, warmth, fostering, taking care, being taken care of, luck, unlimited fertile space, shelter, genuine kindness, believing in humanity again, cycles, patterns, seeing the cycles and the patterns, prophecies, the oracle, openness, second (and third, fouth...) chances, a comeback.

Things that remind me of Punarvasu: staying at home, pets, plants, cats, gentle rain, a bow and arrows, a target.

Pushya:

Asceticism, routines, self-restraint, servitude, control, self-control, working, working on yourself, patience, simplicity, striving for perfection, nurturing, nourishment, quiet ambition, symmetry.

Things that remind me of Pushya: milk, milkmaids, country life, milking, symmetry, goats, sheep, agriculture.

Ashlesha:

Manipulation, abuse, poison, emotional abuse, blackmail, resorting to everything for safety, protection, pent up energy, the nervous system, purity, water, sensitivity, cleanliness, energetic build-up, tension, restraint, preservation, self-preservation, virginity, feminine tactics, being "mean" for protection, lying for safety, sensuality, mother issues, agitation.

Things that remind me of Ashlesha: the color white, transparent things, cats, poisoning, snow white, Sofia Coppola films, teenage girlhood, ties, strings, knots, snakes.

Magha:

Royalty, power, ancestry, family trees, history, the past, regality, honoring the past, honoring the elders, honoring the authority, religion, tradition, customs, confidence, ego.

Things that remind me of Magha: crowns, thrones, churches, goth culture, smoke, big hair(like the lion's mane).

Purva Phalguni:

Pleasure, enjoyment, being spoiled as the feminine, loving to spoil as the masculine, procreation, sex, leisure, art, holidays, parties, exclusivity, pride, charisma, sexual dispersion, love as a method of self-expression, admiration, directness, active pursuit of your passions, indulgence.

Things that remind me of Purva Phalguni: fruits, eating fruits topless, rose gold color, the "rizz"(lol), the phallus, dramaticism.

Uttara Phalguni:

Favors from friends, family and partners, contracts, beneficial agreements, the perfect wife, likeability, popularity, friendliness, appearing cool, stoicism, beneficial arrangements, gain through partnerships, self-expression through relationships, wife/girlrfiend material, harvest, family associations, marriage associations.

Things that remind me of Uttara Phalguni: the "chads", simplicity, genuine friends, loyal companions, family business, the perfect male stereotype, the "rich heiress running away" trope, wheat, gold, power couples.

Hasta:

The earth, the veiled feminine, manipulation, denial of access, materialism, cheating, everyday matters, empowerment of women, deception, skill, seeking knowledge, wanting to be in control, activism, street-smarts, manipulation of masses.

Things that remind me of Hasta: the hand, Goddess Persephone, skilled hands, thieves, easy money, fairies, witches, scammers.

Chitra:

Crafting, building, perspective, truth, law, gems, sacrifice for your craft, vanity, stereotypes, aesthetics, the truth in stereotypes, building based on the law and the truth, the surface of things, the appearance of things, the substance reflected in the vessel, gossip, cliques, tricks.

Things that remind me of Chitra: the god Hephestos, martian gods in general, jewelry, fashion, make-up, drama, pettiness, the coquette aesthetic, pranksters, Olivia Rodrigo(ig).

Swati:

Space, the cosmos, shifting realities, love, rebellion, alternate realities, possibilities, seeing beauty in everything, inspiration, art, the cosmic egg, creation of the world, creation of worlds, microcosm and macrocosm, freedom through love.

Things that remind me of Swati: video games, the wind, plants beggining to sprout, the sword, technology, the Sims.

Vishakha:

The lightning, snapping, splitting, joining opposites, compromise, marriage, repressed anger, repressed aggression, alter egos, passion, enthusiasm, standing up for yourself and others, repression and then expression, energy, love and hate.

Things that remind me of Vishakha: lighning bolts, Zeus, Thor and other lighning gods, superhero "Shazam", celebrations.

Anuradha:

Friendship, devotion, depth, loyalty, unconditional loyalty, bonds, the occult, sex with love, numbers, gatherings, friend groups, groups, gentleness, humbleness, discipline, seriousness, organizing society, social groups.

Things that remind me of Anuradha: the color burgundy, dim lights, bunnies, "Sex Education" (tv show), sci-fi (for some reason), "The Vampire Diaries" (and very similar teen shows), frat boys, cheerleaders.

Jyeshta:

The battlefield, war, hunger, thirst, insatiability, conquering, the underdog, street-smarts, competition, strategy, extreme independence, mind games, the art of war, survival, ruling, rising above, self-reliance, wisdom, becoming the authority, the eldest, dryness, trust issues, enemies, destroying enemies, outsmarting all enemies.

Things that remind me of Jyeshta: grandmothers, owls, eagles, dry places, flags, marching, chess.

Mula:

Horror, the abnormal, the truth, the core, the center, the absorbing darkness, the black hole, the roots, violence against falsehoods, seeking the truth, seeking the cause, seeking roots, uprooting, chaos, from chaos to order, the unchanging truth, taming beasts, holding to your truth.

Things that remind me of Mula: "Phanton of the Opera", "Twilight", final girls, horror movies, dark murky green, the wilderness.

Purva Ashadha:

Art, beauty, alliances, artistry, ideals, fighting for the ideal, discrimination, exclusivity, philosophies about beauty and art, passion for love and art, attachments, secrecy, luxury, vitality, vigor, going for victory.

Things that remind me of Purva Ashadha: the sea, seafoam, goddess Aphrodite, seashells, mermaids, sirens, fans (the ones you hold in your hand lol), Arwen from LotR.

Uttara Ashadha:

Victory, loneliness, individuality, government, empowerment, independence, being looked up to, composed self-expression, ease, simplicity but regality, confidence, self-assuredness, melancholy and hardships of aloneness but contentment, stoicism, invincibility, unapologetic behavior.

Things that remind me of Uttara Ashadha: earnest people, goddess Nike, mint color for some reason.

Shravana:

Connecting everything, secret knowledge, interest in everything, reading between the lines, subconcious access, extreme sensitivity, holding the humanity together, secret agencies, percieving what others can't percieve, saving humanity, navigating, receptivity, mysticism.

Things that remind me of Shravana: Superman, Geralt of Rivia, Aragorn, King arthur, pathways, footprints, ear, color blue, spies, astrology, outcasts, fringe societies.

Dhanishta:

Celebration, celebrities, fame, visibility, aggression, agitation, action, bringing people together, idols, propaganda, wealth from fame, that which attracts attention, public image, benefits and downsides of fame, openness and flashiness, branding, movement.

Things that remind me of Dhanishta: supermodels, Princess Diana, dancing, rhythmic drums.

Shatabhisha:

Complexities, seeing everything, lurking in shadows, holding the knowledge, secrets, secrecy, hiding, technology, innovation, being ahead of your time, advising but manipulating, society, the collective, trends, the conciousness of masses, propaganda.

Things that remind me of Shatabhisha: midnight sky, stars, the seas, water reservoirs, the circle, the all-seeing eye of Sauron(lol), Lord of the Rings, rings, the movie "Stardust" (the book too), the evil advisor/black cardinal trope.

Purva Bhadrapada:

Notoriety, expansion, uncontrolled expansion, persmissiveness, growth to ruin unless restrained, fighting for your soul, the scapegoat, going against society, getting tested, the point of no return.

Things that remind me of Purva Bhadrapada: gangs, famous criminals, laziness, femme fatales, the grotesque, deserts, werewolves, the black sheep.

Uttara Bhadrapada:

Finding grace, hardships, working, inner strength, steeliness, resilience, patience, restraint, contol, self-restraint and self-control, bravery, honesty, stubbornness, fighting for your truth, perfect control, freedom through limitations, seeking a permanent foundation built on truth, working for the foundation, long-term goals, innocence, purity of soul, stillness, refinement, honor and glory.

Things that remind me of Uttara Bhadrapada: butterflies, clouds, baby blue color, Cinderella, warriors, knights, knight orders, ice, coldness, queens, ice-queen, dragons, water dragons, deep waters, deep sea and its creatures, wings.

Revati:

Ultimate freedom, creativity, wisdom, gentleness, compassion, guiding, herding, fun, laughter, mischief, lightnness, ease, finding peace, reaching the end, enjoying what you have, contentment, nurturing, open-mindedness, conclusions, gratefulness, freedom and free will, having choices, diversity, finding the truth, true wealth, parenthood, the guide, guidance, individuation.

Things that remind me of Revati: shepherds, herding, everything easy and light, the tricksters, the fool, jokes, Loki, The Joker, fish, comedy, the movie "A Fish Called Wanda", caring for everyone and everything, light and soft shades of green and blue.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

𝟷.𝟿𝚔 || 𝐎𝐔𝐓-𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐃

♡ ︎ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You ask Sirius if he’d still love you if you were a worm.

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: None

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: Sirius Black x fem!reader

The Gryffindor common room was alive with its usual evening buzz. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the scattered armchairs and sofas where students unwound after a long day. Yet, something was distinctly different about this particular evening, and it wasn’t just the sight of Remus Lupin trying to hide a smile behind his book.

Sirius Black—usually the life of the party, the source of everyone's laughter—was pacing the room with the expression of a man who had just been told he was being disowned (again).

The reason? You, his usually forgiving and smitten girlfriend, were sitting on the opposite end of the sofa, glaring at him with the intensity of a thousand howlers. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife—or at least thick enough for Lily Evans to finally take notice.

“What’s going on with you two?” she asked, setting down her Muggle novel and looking between you and Sirius with a raised eyebrow.

James perked up immediately. “Yeah, Pads, why do you look like a puppy that’s been kicked? Did you finally tell her that awful joke about the werewolf and the moon?”

Remus shot him a look. “Don’t even think about it, James.”

But Sirius was too busy grovelling to engage in their usual banter. “It wasn’t a joke! I was just being honest!” he exclaimed, his voice tinged with the kind of desperation that made Peter look up from his sweets.

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest and shooting him a look that could have curdled milk. “Honest? You call that honesty? You could have at least pretended to be romantic!”

Peter, munching on a chocolate frog, looked between the two of you in confusion. “What did you do, Pads?”

Lily leaned in closer. “Yeah, what did you say that was so terrible?”

You finally looked up from your magazine, fixing Sirius with a glare that could melt the snow on the highest peak of the Forbidden Forest. “Do you want to tell them, or should I?”

Sirius opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again—like a fish out of water. “It’s not that bad…”

“Not that bad?” you scoffed, slamming the magazine shut. “I asked him a simple, hypothetical question—”

“A trap,” Sirius interjected quickly, holding up a finger. “A trap disguised as a question.”

You ignored him, continuing as if he hadn’t spoken. “I asked if he would still love me if I were a worm.”

A beat of silence.

Then, James erupted into laughter, nearly toppling out of his chair. “A worm? You asked him if he’d still love you if you were a worm?”

Remus was struggling to keep a straight face, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked between you and Sirius. “And… what did you say, Sirius?”

Sirius looked pained. “I… I said no.”

James fell out of his chair for real this time, clutching his sides as he howled with laughter.

Lily, however, looked scandalized. “You said no?”

Sirius nodded helplessly. “But—”

Lily cut him off with a look of pure betrayal. “Why would you say no? She asked you if you would still love her as a worm, Sirius! The correct answer is always yes!”

“I know that now!” Sirius exclaimed, looking around the room as if begging for backup. “But at the time, I wasn’t thinking about the emotional implications! I was thinking about the logistics!”

James was gasping for air, tears streaming down his face as he tried to compose himself. “Oh Merlin, this is too good. Padfoot, mate, you’ve really done it this time.”

“What logistics?” you demanded, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s not that complicated! Would you still love me or not?”

Sirius threw his hands up in the air. “But you’d be a worm! How am I supposed to know it’s you? What if I accidentally step on you, or you get eaten by a bird? And what would we even do together? It’s not like we could… I don’t know, go on dates or—”

You rolled your eyes so hard you could’ve seen the back of your skull. “That’s not the point, Sirius! The point is that you didn’t even hesitate to say no. I could’ve been anything—a cat, a dog, a bloody flobberworm—and you just shot me down!”

Sirius threw his hands up in the air. “Well, yeah! I mean, how am I supposed to love a worm? It doesn’t even have a face! Or a personality! It’s just… squirmy and gross!”

You shot him a withering look. “So that’s it, then? You’re only with me because I have a face?”

“Wha—no!” Sirius spluttered, eyes wide. “That’s not what I meant at all!”

Remus, barely containing his amusement, decided to chime in. “Pads, I think what she’s trying to say is that you should’ve said yes, no matter how ridiculous the question was.”

Sirius looked like he was having an existential crisis. “But it’s a worm! How am I supposed to kiss a worm? Or hold hands? Or—”

You cut him off, your voice icy. “Oh, so that’s all I am to you? Someone to kiss and hold hands with?”

Sirius’s eyes widened in alarm. “No! That’s not it at all!”

James was now thoroughly enjoying the show. “Sounds like it to me, Pads. You’re only in it for the snogging.”

Peter, ever the peacemaker, tried to step in. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that…”

But you were on a roll now, standing up from the sofa and glaring down at Sirius, who was still kneeling in front of you. “If I were a worm, Sirius, I’d have a heart, even if it’s small and squishy! But apparently, that’s not enough for you!”

Sirius, now in full panic mode, reached for your hands, trying to make you sit back down. “But I don’t want you to be a worm! I love you as you are—human, beautiful, with a proper face!”

You yanked your hands back, crossing your arms again. “So you only love me because I’m not a worm. Not because of who I am.”

Remus snickered behind his book. “You’re in deep now, mate.”

Sirius shot him a desperate look. “Not helping, Moony.”

Remus decided to step in. “Sirius, you have to understand—these questions aren’t about the actual scenario. It’s about the sentiment behind them. She was looking for reassurance that your love is unconditional.”

Sirius threw his hands up. "But it was a worm! I thought honesty was important!"

You finally looked up, narrowing your eyes at him. "Honesty? You just admitted you wouldn’t love me if I was a worm, Sirius. That’s not honesty, that’s cruelty!"

Peter piped up, "But… how would he know if the worm was you?"

Everyone turned to Peter, who shrinked slightly under the attention. "I mean… if you were a worm, how would Sirius know? And… does a worm even have feelings?"

Lily shakes her head, still laughing. "You boys are impossible. The worm is a metaphor, you idiot!”

Sirius rubbed the back of his head, still looking confused. “A metaphor for what?”

You sighed, leaning back against the sofa cushions. “For love, Sirius. For whether or not you’d love me no matter what.”

Realization dawned on Sirius’s face, and he looked genuinely horrified. “Oh… Oh. I see now.”

James, having finally caught his breath, piped up, “Well, it’s a bit late for that, isn’t it? You’ve got to make it up to her now, Padfoot.”

Peter nodded sagely. “You really messed up this time, Sirius. Girls don’t just ask you if you’d love them as a worm for no reason.”

Sirius turned to you, eyes wide with desperation. “Okay, I get it now. I was wrong. I should’ve said yes. I should’ve said I’d love you even if you were the slimiest, wriggliest worm in the world.”

You raised an eyebrow, letting him squirm under your gaze for a moment before speaking. “And why should I believe you?”

“Because,” Sirius said, his voice softening as he took your hands in his, “I love you. And I don’t care if you’re a worm, or a dog, or a… or a Blast-Ended Skrewt. I love you for who you are, not what you are. And if you were a worm, I’d find a way to make it work. I’d carry you around in a little jar, and I’d protect you from birds, and… and I’d even learn what worms like to eat!”

But you weren’t having it. “Too late for that, Black. You’ve already made your feelings clear.”

James leaned back in his chair with a smug grin. “You know, Pads, if you’d just said yes in the first place, you wouldn’t be in this mess. But now, she knows your true feelings.”

Sirius turned back to you, his expression one of pure, unadulterated pleading. “Please, love, I’m sorry. I was just being stupid. You know I’d love you no matter what, even if you were… I don’t know, a Blast-Ended Skrewt!”

You blinked at him. “A Blast-Ended Skrewt?”

Sirius nodded earnestly. “Yes! Anything but a worm!”

Remus couldn’t hold back his laughter any longer. “And you think that’s better?”

Sirius groaned, running his hands through his hair again. “Okay, bad example. But you get what I mean, right? I’m sorry. I love you—worm, human, Skrewt, whatever.”

You paused, staring down at him as he knelt before you, looking thoroughly pathetic. The room was silent, all eyes on you as they waited to see what you would do next.

Finally, you sighed and sat back down, though you still kept your arms crossed. “Fine. I forgive you. But you’d better start thinking before you answer stupid questions in the future.”

Sirius beamed, his relief palpable as he quickly scooted closer to you on the sofa. “I promise! No more stupid answers!”

James leaned over, whispering to Remus. “Bet he’ll say yes to anything she asks now.”

Remus smirked. “No doubt about it.”

Sirius, now fully back in your good graces, wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pressed a kiss to your temple. “So, just to be clear… I’d love you no matter what, even if you were a worm. A very cute worm.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, though you tried to hide it. “Good. Because if you ever hesitate again, I might just have to turn you into one.”

Sirius laughed, pulling you closer. “And I’d still find a way to love you.”

James, watching the two of you, sighed dramatically. “Merlin, if this is what love is like, maybe I’m better off single.”

Lily rolled her eyes, nudging him playfully. “Oh, please. You’d have said the same thing if I’d asked you.”

James grinned, leaning in to whisper in her ear. “You wouldn’t have to ask. I’d love you no matter what.”

Lily blushed, playfully shoving him away. “You’re ridiculous.”

James smirked. “So, Sirius, if she were a Blast-Ended Skrewt—”

“No,” Sirius said quickly, “We are not going down that road again.”

Hope you all liked it!

[hallow-witxh]

Kitchen Staples and Their Properties

If you're any kind of kitchen user, there are a few things that are usually present. Things like bread, cheese, beans, and vinegar are all things that many kitchens keep in stock. So, here is a list of some staples you may have in your kitchen, and what they mean.

Bread: health, abundance, the hearth, kindship

Beans: wisdom in choices, luck, money, divination, prosperity

Butter: peace, friendships/relationships, spirituality

Cheese: goal completion, happiness, moon magic, health

Eggs: feminine/goddess magic, fertility, mysticism

Honey: joy, love, sex, wisdom, lust, purification, health

Milk (Cow's): feminine parenthood/guidance, love, sustenance, spirituality,

Rice: fertility, protection, luck, money, growth

Salt: purification, protection, grounding, cleansing

Sugar: banishing negativity, love, affection, invoking kindness/sweetness

White Vinegar: cleansing, purification, protection

Adding some things together melds their properties! Cooking in butter for your friends can strengthen your relationships with them, and baking bread can bring abundance into your home.

As always, do your research, practice safely, and blessed be!

Support your local witch on Ko-Fi!

[saintgoths]

☾༺♰༻☽ ᴡʜɪᴛᴇ ʙᴇʀʀʏ ☾༺♰༻☽

mdni - nasty sex. angry sex.

carlos oliveira, ellie williams, sim ghost riley, joel miller, leon kennedy, levi ackerman and will herondale.

this is for you guys helping me reach 400+ followers :)

ᴄᴀʀʟᴏꜱ ᴏʟɪᴠᴇɪʀᴀ

Hot tears trickled down your cheeks as your face had been pressed against the soft mattress, his large hand had been entangled within your locks while the rough thrusting of his hips had aided you into an eternal pleasurable tunnel, your whines mixed and embedded with his soft grunts as he angrily fucked his cock inside your tight cunt, his width twitching between your hearth while mumbling strong words of affront.

“I’m sorry,” you grumbled, your chin wet with your own shameful saliva, yourself incapable of keeping your mouth shut in response to his lewd roughness, eyes blurred with gratifying tears while the thumb of his free hand found way to the tightness of your second hole, your legs spreading further apart in sensual apathy while your boyfriend continued to rip you apart.

Finding the strength to grip your fingers into the bed sheets you had clenched your sex around his size. “I---I can’t take it!” You cried out, “Too big!”

“Shouldn’t have tried to make me jealous, princess,” he sneered, nearing his lips to your ear, “Want me to stop?” He whispered, dragging the hand that had been tied with your hair to your waist, the heaviness of his chest pressing against your back and with desperacy you had shook your head. “Just as I thought, like the slut you are,” he gritted, the thrusts of his length deepening against the softness of your pussy driving you into a delirious ecstasy.

“Yes! Yes!” You chanted, crazed feeling your orgasm heat and peak around your cunt you had moved your hand to the swollen pearl of your sex, desperately rubbing and circling your digits around your bud while you had frantically moaned against your bed sheets, your tears slowly drying against your cheeks as you respired all the animalistic thrusts your partner contacted you with, your eyes twisted shut as your high pushed through your entire body, your juices leaking on outsides of your thighs as your figure inconsistently twitched.

Over-stimulated by the quickness of his pushes, you had allowed Carlos to take care of your body, milking his warm cum against the slickness of your back. “There, there,” he whispered as your body slumped against the mattress, you felt his lips go close to your face once more. “Now, you won’t do that again?” He questioned, his voice laced with cunningness that had caused you to throw a certain look his way.

“Maybe.”

POSITIONS REFERENCE.

ᴇʟʟɪᴇ ᴡɪʟʟɪᴀᴍꜱ

You knew you couldn’t stay angry at each forever, and you knew Ellie would give into you once you met her with bright deer-like eyes; she’d drag you into her small cabin and begin to kiss you, though you had still felt the irritation that had vibrated through her body, but what she hadn’t realised is that you had just been as angry as her or even more

Once your clothes had met the floor, the two of you had continued to re-discover each other’s bodies, your fingers slipping and circling places that would cause her figure to jerk, and the second you had found yourself on top of her, your swollen bud had pressed against her eager pearl, your body circling and thrusting against her slim but muscled figure, your paw finding way to wrap around her neck as your once slow motion had carried into a stronger and competitive rhythm.

“Fuck,” Ellie whined, her back deeply pressed against her mattress as she had wrapped one leg around your waist, possessively and greedily twirling her body with yours as her coloured eyes rolled to the back of her head, her body shivering in pleasure as your juices mixed with each other, the friction sending her into a crazed edge as she held back her cum, embarrassed with how quick you had made her ride to her climax. “Don’t stop!” She cried out and cocky, you had smirked at her, your other hand finding way around her neck as both of your buds humped each other.

“Not stopping anytime soon,” you lustfully smiled, tucking your bottom lip behind your teeth you breathed out a moan as you gently bounced against her swollen pearl, finding yourself wanting to squirt against her cunt you allowed yourself to orgasm against her sex, combining and fusing your nectar with her natural wetness, the view of the whiteness of your ambrosia stirred Ellie into an soaring climax, both of your cunts pulsing against each other as you both resumed to grind in sync, both faces red and covered with love-tears as you had mutually sent each other into a second climax.

With a loud sigh, you had pressed your forehead against Ellie’s, with the both of you exhausted you had rolled your body off her physique and landed beside her. “You looked so pretty fucking me like that,” Ellie worded out and confident, you had sat up with your arms, an encouraging smile embedded on your face.

“Do you still have your strap?” You asked and with a faux-offended look on her face, Ellie clicked her tongue.

“Of course, I do.”

POSITION REFERENCE

ꜱɪᴍᴏɴ 'ɢʜᴏꜱᴛ' ʀɪʟᴇʏ

“You love pissing me off, don’t you doll,” he flared, tightly wrapping his hand around the back of your knee, your arm wrapped around the back of his neck to aid you to be roughly fucked by the tall man who had possessively held you against him, you had a playful smile on your face, content on sending your husband over the edge, your eyes currently doe to his dignity and grace while your cunt had hungrily pulsed around his shaft, your lips snugged behind your teeth as you had loudly whimpered and moaned to his rough and coarse fuck.

Easily drunk off his sex, you had leaned your head backwards, your cheeks rosy and flushed with erotica as your spouse continued to pound his cock so deeply inside your tight cunt. Your closeness sending him into a beastly bawdy lust as he continued to thrust his length upwards, he commenced to tuck his lips against the skin of your neck and shoulders. “You drive me crazy,” he moaned, his dark eyes laced with romantic madness as you aided your fingers to the bud of your pussy, rotating your digits around your clit while your pussy had sweetly soaked his size.

“I love driving you insane,” you whispered before pushing yourself to his lick his tongue, both you hungrily moving towards each other, latching against each other as your mouths had quickly melded with one another, the roughness of the curve of his tip poking and licking the soft texture of your sex while he ardently guided his dick deeper your vagina whilst the heat of his impending climax heated his body, his cock twitching tightly inside of your cunt while your nectar graspingly coated his length.

“Y’know I’d do anything for you, luvie,” he whispered, his eyes potent with anger mixed with thirst. “You know I’d kill for you,” he moaned, his legs then twitching and shivering as he heavily cummed inside your cunt, his balmy semen seeping and coating against your cervix, careful to push as much of his load inside of you, the man had continued to thrust his hips upwards, your toes curling in response as your eyes watered with sex and intimacy. “You love driving me to that point.”

“I don’t know if I should hate that,” he moaned while tightening his grip around you. “Playing with my feelings like this---oh fuck!” He loudly moaned, his second orgasm pushing through, his cum filling your tight area while the bulge of his cock lightly imprinted your stomach.

Moved, you had licked your lower lips, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you gently moved your body with his. Your competitive tastes obsessed with driving you insane, the thought of him handling others in your name had lifted you, while the friction of your fingers guided you to your peeking orgasm, you had pushed your lips against him once more. “I love you,” you moaned, your nectar sheeting around his width, mixing with his juices while you continued to squirt and cum around his cock.

“Shit—I love you too, doll,” he moaned while pulling his length out of your body, you had quickly held onto the table he had fucked you near. Dizzy with the tight and intense orgasm he had put you through, you had sneery smiled at him as you had watched him get to his knees. “Now let me lick my cum out of you.”

POSITIONS REFERENCE

ᴊᴏᴇʟ ᴍɪʟʟᴇʀ

The drop-off had went to shit, Tess had been missing and within your thoughts you had believed she had committed herself to another side-quest while pushing both you and Joel to stay in the current crappy apartment you had all currently inhabited; and due to this, you could tell Joel was pissed.

Well pissed off was an understatement to how the man had currently felt but you had understood that your man had wanted a relief, thus you had your second hole roughly ripped open by his girth, your anus wet with your saliva that had once coated his cock after the intense dick-sucking you had gifted the bearded man which had sent Joel to an acute orgasm.

Though, Joel was a man of stamina, he had wanted more, and now he had wrapped his arms around the back of your legs, pressing your back against his chest while fucking you ruthlessly. “Take it like the good girl you are,” he groaned, “Good girl,” he repeated and with your moans over-lapping his comments, you had thorwn your head backwards, mouth opened with un-swallowed saliva as you had attempted to live through his passionate plows.

“Fuck, you’re being so rough on me,” you cried out, snaking your hand towards your untouched pussy, the dew ample and sultry enough for you to easily slip in three fingers, the heavy over-stimulations forcing you to roll your eyes backwards as your walls gripped and twitched around your fingers and his cock.

“Keep doing that imma cum,” he gritted, his voice hoarse as his length began to throb inside your anus while he continued to aid you to bounce on his dick, you could feel your cunt want to spit with your juices.

“More,” you had whined, “I want to feel your hot cum inside of me,” you whimpered while bucking your hips forwards in autopilot. “I want it!” You moaned and satisfied by Joel’s quick turning point, the heat of his load painted and capped your walls just in time before Tess’s knocks echoed on the front door. “Shit,” you had muttered ere slipping yourself off his length, you could then hear Joel scramble onto his feet to pick up his thrown garments.

POSITIONS REFERENCE

ʟᴇᴏɴ ᴋᴇɴɴᴇᴅʏ

As much as you had been stubborn, you had known you always became somewhat of a tramp of Leon’s whenever he had wanted you, you the woman who had loved playing games and as much as you had told each other you were just co-workers, every second away from each other he had lusted for you, yearned for your wetness and touch

Though, as much as he had told himself he wasn’t a jealous man, the view of you being touched by someone else had driven him crazy to the point that, he had set up a faux meeting that had involved just the two of you, you on the other hand had thought you’d meet the rest of the members so when you had entered the meeting room to be met with an upset, Leon, you had taken the imitative to wonder what he had up his sleeve, and what had been the commodity up the fabric had involved the two of you naked.

Carried by his strong arms as he aided you to bounce up and down his thick and long shaft, involved you moaning shamelessly against his ear while your wet hearth had squeezed and throbbed around his size whilst his fingers gripped into the skin of your buttocks, you had felt the curve of his thick tip lick and press the softness of your cunt. “That’s it, baby!” You moaned, the high erotic sting pushing you into a lustful end while you had felt his soft lips press against the skin of your neck.

“Like that?” He reassured biting his lips. “Feel so good, so fucking wet---uh!” He moaned out, his size endlessly throbbing and solid between your warmth, “You’re gonna make me cum so fucking early!” He cried out, his legs weakly shaking as he could feel his cum want to spill and seep and paint the inside of your walls, but just as adamant as you, he had kept in his semen while roughly handling your cunt with his length, the curve of his cock brushing against your heat and pulling you into an obsessive cock-drunk state.

“Yes! Yes!” You moaned, your ambrosia reaching and peeking to its end and sheeting and finishing around his size that had resumed to buck upwards, greedy and hasty to find its own climax, Leon’s eyes dark with lust, he clenched his teeth, finding his strength to bounce your body upwards as he began to milk his cum inside of your body.

Relieved, he had pressed your body against the wall, lifting your figure off his dick as he watched the mixed liquid of both yours and his cum fall out of your body. “So beautiful,” he hummed before taking your mouth with his, deepening the dual passionate affection the two you both proudly and stubbornly shared for each other.

POSITION REFERENCE

ʟᴇᴠɪ ᴀᴄᴋᴇʀᴍᴀɴ

With the vibrating of the toy that he had pushed inside your cunt working its way within you, Levi had lost himself with fucking his cock deep inside your anus, his thick size hastily humping backwards and forwards while the Ackerman had possessively wrapped his firm hands around your waist. With your mouth opened, you had looked back at him, your mouth wide as he continued to fuck you into his bed.

With the sounds of the slapping off his balls hitting your ass, you had watched his steel-like eyes examine how intoxicated you had looked by the help of his length. Teasingly, you had squeezed your hole around his dick, over-stimulated with the buzzing off the toy that hummed against your pearl, instigating you to roll your eyes back whilst you had felt his other hand snake around your throat, possessively pulling you closer against him. “Don’t hold it in---I want everyone to know you’re being fucked by me,” he growled and with his permission your mouth had opened wider, your high-pitched moans vibrating off the walls as the pounding sounds of the bedframe had continued to hit against the wooden walls.

“Oh—Captain!” You wailed, “you’re so deep inside of me, feel so---good---ah!” You moaned, feeling a wave of orgasm wash through you, the bustling of the small toy hopping harder against your overwhelmed clit, your body falling numb within his grasp as he continued to pummel his cock down your ass, his swollen sac pelting against the skin off your ass cheeks while the wetness of both of your sweats continued to meld with each other.

“Moan for me like that, brat---let them know!” He grumbled, “ass so fucking tight around me---brat---oh fuck!” He sobbed, his body shaking as his cock began to shoot out his load, his warm semen piling and filling inside of you, helping him move his body faster between you, his fingers leaving bruises against your skin as he had trouble with pulling his cock out, and when he did the rest of his load spilt against your back, leaving you shaking against the bed.

Your ass still up, you could feel Levi press his lips against your anus before giving it a long lick, cleaning up his mess, sucking and whipping your ass with his mouth and tongue before moving it down your clit, helping your toy send you through another intense and addictive orgasm.

POSITION REFERENCE ONE

POSITION REFERENCE TWO

ᴡɪʟʟ ʜᴇʀᴏɴᴅᴀʟᴇ

It must’ve been another run in by Gabriel Lightwood, Will was usually someone who won over his disputes, but this time, the Lightwood must’ve hit a sore spot which had Will knocking on your door when everyone was asleep, he was in one of his rare moments, silent, but there had been a look on his face that had granted him access to your room.

He must’ve taken a walk, a walk in the rain in fact, his dark curly hair had been stuck against his skin such as his shirt had clung against his body, without an utter, the boy had already been unbuttoning his shirt while you had closed the door behind the two of you, though, you had not wanted to do anything with him, not without having him speaking first, so you had leaned against your wall. Arms crossed and eyes with slight judgement. “What happened?” You asked as you had watched him peel off his white garment.

With a quick glance you had watched him throw his shirt against the floor, in thought that you would follow after but you hadn’t. Earning a short piercing look from his ocean eyes and as you had returned with a darker glare, you had tightened your grip around yourself. “I’m not going to take off my clothes and lay with you because you want to.”

“You normally do.”

With your eyebrows furrowed you had ended up clicking your tongue in disapproval. “You’re such a dick.”

“I just need you,” he breathed out. “Gabriel---he…he spoke about you---” without allowing him to say another word, you had grasped his face, melding your lips with his while tucking your hand beneath his trousers.

“This will be the last time you come into my room expecting me to fuck you this easily, understand?” You questioned and with a soft nod, the both of you had continued to passionately embrace each other, mouth tight and swollen by your heated combination, while the two of you aided each other to take off each other’s clothes, naked under the long moonlight that had gently seeped through the curtains.

Will, strong and fast had pushed you against the bed, using you to get into the position he had wanted you to be in the second he had left the drawing room he had once shared with Gabriel, his eyes currently furious with lust, the stiff cock of his had gently stroked against the skin of your cunt, the wetness of your hearth easily welcoming him inside of you, the soft yet fiery friction had commenced a moan from both of your mouths, thus you had abruptly squeezed around him as his arm had welcomed around the back of your knee, aiding himself to dive and thrust deeper inside of your cunt.

“Oh fuck,” Will moaned, “fit so well for me,” he moaned as he quickened his pace with his thrusts, each plow filled with anger and erotica and each thrust quicker and rougher than before, leaning your head back in auto-pilot while your moans resumed to sing in his room, aware to feel the embarrassment and walk of shame that would occur the next day, you helped yourself to grind your body against, the tip of his cock circling and embracing the softness of your sex while your juices heavily capped and painted his shaft, his length then slipping in and out carrying him to his orgasm. “Oh [Y/N]!” He cried in adoration, his swollen sac releasing his climax inside of you, his grunts mixing with your high-pitched moans as he continued to move his body forwards.

Your body ridden stiff as you could sense your own climax attempt to spill against your mattress, your eyes locked with his, signalling your turning point, lustful to his encouraging look that had influenced the peak to your capstone, and thus you had relieved yourself, your amrita glazing and layering around his girth and once you had been done, you had rested your body against Will’s, an embarrassed and breathy laughed emitting from the back of your throat as you could feel Will leave your body.

“Charlotte is so going to be mad tomorrow,” you laughed.

POSITION REFERENCE

masterlist

♆

[s4nguiine]

dead flowers; pressed against my lips

arlecchino x fem!reader

» summary: you and arlecchino go on a christmas date and end the night with nasty lesbian sex

» rating: NSFW!! minors dni!!

» notes: ohhhh my godddd merry christmas everyone! here is 3.5k words of wlw with dom/sub dynamics, rough sex, choking, strap sucking, you know, the kind of stuff you usually imagine when thinking about arlecchino. don't look at me like that. i know who you are. i speedran writing this in a single afternoon and it is not beta read so there are probably many many mistakes. have fun!

arlecchino does not get christmas. she finds it frivolous and materialistic and most of all, she finds it to be a waste of time. suffice to say that the house of the hearth does not celebrate this holiday. or at least it used not to.

when she wakes up early that morning, she is immediately struck speechless when she finds you up and about. that much is a feat on its own, as you are not one to get up early unless strictly necessary. and yet here you are, awake earlier than arlecchino herself, and the living room is… green, red and golden. your back is turned to her when she enters, and although your hands are preoccupied with hanging up a wreath above the fireplace, you notice her presence anyway.

this does not come as a surprise to arlecchino. you wouldn’t run the orphanage with her if you weren’t good at your job.

“good morning,” you greet her, then you finally face her.

“what’s all… this?” arlecchino asks as she motions around her in general.

“why, it’s christmas, of course.” you smile like you’re saying the most obvious thing in the world.

arlecchino furrows her brows, looking around herself once more. “it’s gaudy.”

you laugh. she looks like a grumpy cat finding out that the furniture has been rearranged. “yes. yes, it is gaudy. but i think the kids will like it. some of them never got to experience christmas before, a change of pace should do them good.”

the harbinger sighs and relents. “i suppose you are right. it shouldn’t hurt to spoil them every now and then.” she can’t not relent when there’s that spark in your eye anyway. in this way, you’ve got her wrapped around your finger.

“come on,” you say, making your way towards the kitchen. “we still have some time before the kids wake up. coffee?”

arlecchino follows. “of course.”

she doesn’t need to say how she wants it made. you know that she likes it black, no sugar, no milk or cream. in this way, the two of you are once again opposites. arlecchino often cringes at the amount of flavoring you like to put in your coffee, asking you if you even like coffee in the first place. the truth that you haven’t told her yet is that you just want to be involved in her daily routine.

you were right, of course. the children begin to filter in, and everyone’s spirits seem to lift when their eyes land on the decorated living room. the more extroverted children are visibly excited, wasting no time in running back to the dorms to grab their friends, and even the gloomy ones perk up somewhat. arlecchino’s eyes, however, remain pinned to your beaming face. you’re clearly proud of your work.

if you’re the sun, the arlecchino is the darkness. and much like the color black, she wants - no, needs to soak in as much of your light as possible.

arlecchino catches your attention by tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. finally, your eyes are on her. if things went according to her, they would never leave her. the knave is lucky that the kids are too busy to notice this moment of tenderness.

days pass, and arlecchino finds herself growing accustomed to the holiday atmosphere around her. in the end, she is glad that she allowed you to do this.

she sits by the hearth, gazing into the fire as she usually does when she’s free, a warm cup in her hand. the scent of high quality chenyu vale tea wafts into the air, creating a relaxing atmosphere calm enough to lull one to sleep.

your footsteps draw near, and arlecchino knows that she can only hear them because you allow her to. she puts down her cup and folds her hands in her lap.

“come to keep me company?” she asks, feeling the backrest of her chair dip under your weight as you lean on it.

“maybe. or maybe i’ve come to ask you out on a date,” you reply.

arlecchino lifts both of her eyebrows and finally turns her head to look at you. “a date?”

“indeed. we haven’t gone in a while, right?”

arlecchino hums. she takes your hand in hers and brings it to her lips. “do you have something in mind?”

you smile at her display of affection. “there’s a christmas market in the court of fontaine. what do you say we go check it out tonight?”

she takes a moment to consider it. markets really aren’t her thing, and she really doesn’t understand the excitement about christmas. but it would make you happy. if she gets to see your smile, she will go.

“very well. let’s have a date, dear.” your grin is all she needs to know she made the right choice. “as for those three…”

“i will handle it.” you pull away and cross your arms, facing a nearby door. “you can come out now.”

there is a moment of silence before lyney, lynette and freminet emerge from the door, each looking more bashful than the other.

“i’m disappointed,” you scold. “surely i taught you to sneak better than this. did you even try to be quiet?”

the trio shift on their feet, throwing glances at each other to urge someone to speak already. you shake your head. “two weeks of dishwashing duties for each of you. now go along. i’m sure you have chores to do.”

lynette and freminet both deadpan at lyney, who laughs nervously. this is enough to clue you in on whose idea it was to spy on you. the children leave, and you sigh. “sometimes i feel like i have no clue what’s going on through their heads.”

arlecchino does. you’ve always had a way of pulling all eyes towards you. it makes it all the more impressive how good you are at being stealthy. she rests her hands on the armrests of the chair and pushes herself up.

“now then, let’s waste no more time and start getting ready, yes?”

you look at her, confused. “we still have ti-”

the words are swiped from your tongue when arlecchino leans in to capture your chin between her thumb and index finger. “don’t you want to pretty yourself up for me?”

your face burns up with the heat of a thousand suns. “i… yes… of course…”

the harbinger graces you with a small smile that’s enough to make you feel weak in the knees. she then lets go of you and retreats into the bedroom, leaving you reeling in the middle of the living room.

you’re pretty sure your brain just melted. when you come to, it’s been a full minute, and you quickly scamper to the bathroom to start putting on your makeup. yes, you’ll pretty yourself up for her. better yet, you will make her want you like she’s never wanted you before. tonight will end with her strap rearranging your guts, you’ll make sure of it.

when the two of you meet outside, you both stare at each other without saying anything. she’s hot. insanely hot. hotter than usual, even despite the fact that she is wearing more clothes than usual. arlecchino’s hair is let loose for once, a sight usually reserved for the bedroom. she knows you like it loose. seems that the two of you have the same plans for tonight.

you grin and take her up on her silent offer to lock your arms together.

“you look dashing,” she says. compliments are rare - you know you’ve struck gold.

“so do you. i’ll have to watch out for suitors.”

“no need.” her eyes are cold as she sweeps them over your surroundings. “i only have you in my sights.”

satisfied and arm in arm, you head out to find the christmas market. it only takes a few minutes for you to arrive at the main plaza, which is teeming with people. you know you don’t have to worry, though. as soon as you enter the crowd, there forms a circle of space around you two. this is simply the effect of dating peruere, who is so intimidating that people naturally avoid her whether intentionally or unintentionally. not you, though. you find that attractive.

you arrive at the first mulled wine stand and get a cup for each of you (but not without complaining about the ridiculous price.) arlecchino watches as you hold it with both of your hands and blow at the rising steam to cool the drink down a little. your cheeks and nose are red from the cold and your eyes are cast downward to show off the full length of your eyelashes.

having a better tolerance for heat, she sips at her own wine without taking her eyes off of you. you blink when you notice.

“like what you see?” you grin, exposing the teeth beneath your red-tinted lips.

arlecchino hums. “i do. very much.” she notices a speck of mascara on your cheekbone. immediately without thinking her hand darts out to wipe it away, black finger brushing against your skin.

“you’re spoiling me tonight, i see,” you joke. it’s all you can do not to give away your racing heart.

“for now,” she replies. “don’t get too used to it.” and with a wink she turns to lead you to another stand. you feel warmth pooling in the pit of your stomach and you’re unsure whether it’s the alcohol or the anticipation of what’s to come.

it is a nice date. you walk between the stalls, looking at the various products on sale. at some point you buy matching rings for you two, and you get chocolate croissants and some more wine, her treat of course.

by the end of the evening there is a pleasant buzz permeating your body and you’ve got a dumb grin on your face. arlecchino also seems more relaxed, despite all the eyes on her. she leans in close to your ear.

“shall we get to the next program?” she asks. you have to hold down a whimper.

your shoulder presses closer to hers, both hands wrapped around her arm. “i would love nothing more.”

“wonderful. let us depart.”

you are shoved down onto the bed, your naked body bouncing with the force of the push. arlecchino watches you like a hawk about to snoop down to catch her prey. she finds pleasure in seeing your messed up makeup, the lipstick smeared from vigorous kissing, and she licks her lips to taste your spit. stripping down to her underwear, she finally climbs on top of you, presenting you with a full view of her clothed cunt. she’s wearing the panties you gifted her a few months ago; black with a small red ribbon in the front. you’re salivating.

“what are you waiting for?” her voice comes from above, and in the darkness of the room all you can make out from her face are the glowing red crosses in her eyes. you swallow. “take them off.”

your thumbs immediately find their way under the hem of her underwear but she slaps them away.

“with your teeth.”

you let out a shaky breath. “yessir,” you reply as you push yourself up on your elbows. your face inches closer to her sex and you pinch the fabric between your incisors, careful not to bite arlecchino. your nose buries itself in her lower abdomen, upper lip dragging across her skin as you pull the panties lower. you manage to pull them down to the middle of her thighs before letting go. a strand of spit connects you to the fabric before breaking once you’re far enough.

the harbinger lets out a pleased hum. “good girl,” she purrs, and her clawed hand cups your cheek. her thumb pushes down onto your lower lip before breaching the entrance of your mouth. she explores your tongue and teeth and you let her like an obedient puppy begging for a treat.

arlecchino releases you from her grasp and you whimper. she reaches behind you, grabbing something from her drawing, and when she comes back into your field of vision, she’s holding a strap harness.

“would you put this on for me, darling?” she asks. you nod. of course you nod. anything for her, anything she asks. you take the harness and put it on her, making it tight enough to stay in place but not so tight for it to dig into her skin uncomfortably. more praises spill from her lips and you have to rub your legs together in search of some kind of friction.

arlecchino fastens a strap-on to the harness. you peek up at her through your lashes, salivating at the sight of her towering you. she seems to notice your reaction as her eyes narrow into a crescent shape. she grips the toy with her hand, bringing it up to your lips.

“why don’t you suck it first, hm?”

you part your lips, breathing onto the fake cock in front of you. “yessir…” she doesn’t move. you have to do all the work, and you do it gladly, leaning in, resting the dildo on your tongue. it tastes funny. you pay it no mind. it’s time to put on a show for her.

you swirl your tongue around its tip before dipping lower to its base, coating the dildo with your saliva. her eyes remain on you, a scalding hot gaze that penetrates your very soul. it makes you shudder.

a couple more licks, and you feel that the dildo is sufficiently covered. you pull back to the tip to give it a tender kiss, maintaining eye contact with arlecchino, before closing your eyes and completely wrapping your lips around her cock. your head dips and you take more of its length in your mouth. you move without stopping, until the dildo hits the back of your throat, making you gag. breathing in deep, you swallow around the shaft in an attempt to get used to it, and as you do so, you feel arlecchino tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“you’re taking it so good,” she coos, almost out of breath. “go on. you can take all of it.”

of course you can. if it’s her, you can do anything. so you flatten your tongue around the base of it and you push deeper, feeling it enter your throat. tears well up in your eyes, spit runs down your chin, but you press on - and at last, you can feel your nose hit the leather harness. you feel full, accomplished.

arlecchino shifts her hips and you gag again. “good girl,” she praises, and if you had a tail, it would be wagging right about now. “i suppose i should reward you for being so obedient.” she reaches behind herself, and as soon as you feel her fingers push past the folds of your pussy, you groan around the girth of the dildo. her middle finger teases your clit and your hips flinch. you want it, you need it so bad. unfortunately for you, you cannot beg with your mouth full of cock.

arlecchino pulls back her hips and you gasp for air, then cough as you choke on your own saliva. she brings her hand forward again, glistening with your arousal.

“so wet,” she drawls. “i didn’t even have to touch you.”

“please,” you seize this opportunity to beg, “please fuck me. please.”

arlecchino’s eyes find yours, and they’re freezing cold. “all in due time, my dear. or are you questioning my leadership?”

you shake your head. “i wouldn’t dare.”

“that’s what i thought.” you think you’re about to pass out with arousal. “open up.”

obedient as always, you do as you’re told, and her strap is back in your mouth before you can register anything. she begins to move her hips, and you suck to the best of your abilities. this proves difficult when her hand finds your cunt once again, middle and ring fingers rubbing your clit in a circular motion.

your eyes roll back into your head at the feeling and you arch your back. the moment you lose focus however, arlecchino draws her hand back and slaps your pussy, forcing a muffled squeak out of you. you get right back to work, glancing up at her pleadingly. she decides to indulge you, going back to your pussy, this time pushing her fingers inside while her thumb stimulates your clit.

your thighs shake, but you do your best to focus on showering her strap with love. arlecchino sighs at the sight. she withdraws her fingers to touch herself under the harness. and you feel yourself drip even more. arlecchino then grabs a fistful of your hair with the hand coated in a combination of your slick and hers, and her thrusts grow more forceful. your own hands find purchase on her thighs, now gone taut as her muscles flex.

she fucks your throat mercilessly through your garbled sounds of pleasure and gagging, and your eyes roll back as your vision grows blurry with the lack of oxygen in your lungs. your face burns and turns red. and just as you think that you’re about to pass out, arlecchino pulls out to let you breathe. you gasp, and the moment your lungs fill with air, your cunt spasms and you release, painting the bed sheets with your arousal.

the woman above watches you intently, her chest rising and falling with deep breaths. neither of you realize it, but her own arousal drips from between her folds, falling in drops onto your bare stomach.

once more, she praises you. “good girl,” she says, and you believe her. you’ve been a very good girl.

arlecchino lets go of your hair and gets off you, leaving you to ride out your high and calm down. once your small moans cease, she settles between your legs, lifting your hips and hooking your knees over her shoulders. it seems that while you were reeling, arlecchino procured a flask of lube, which she is now pouring over the dildo.

she then strokes the dildo with her bare hand, a casually vulgar display that leaves you biting your lip. her fingers delve inside your pussy and make a scissoring motion to test how stretched you are, and she hums, pleased with the result. at last, she lines up the tip of her cock with your entrance, and with a plunge, its girth enters your body.

you moan, fingers digging into the bed sheets as you’re stretched and filled. your heels dig into arlecchino’s back, toes curling while you struggle to breathe.

arlecchino’s hawk-like eyes remain on the connecting point between your bodies and one of her hands lets go of your thigh to rub at your swollen clit, which pulls a whine out of you.

“puh-please, have some mercy-” you interrupt yourself with a groan as arlecchino thrusts her hips, rocking your body. you feel like you’re going to snap in two.

“don’t lie to yourself,” she scolds, “you love it when i’m rough.” she thrusts again, hitting a spot deep inside that rips a sob out of you.

you cry, “you’re right! fuck- fuck me! peruere!”

arlecchino’s eyes widen at the mention of her name, crimson crosses seemingly glowing brighter. “as you wish, dear.”

she sets a merciless pace. the dildo penetrates you time and time again, and each time the sounds of your sex grow wetter, dirtier. you’re practically gushing over her dick while she rearranges your guts, fucking you into the mattress like her life depends on it.

her thrusts turn you into a whimpering and mewling mess, and arlecchino groans with you as you begin to unravel.

“so beautiful,” she says, voice gravelly, “you’re so beautiful for me. are you gonna cum again, dear?”

you have half a brain cell to nod. your mascara runs down your face and your lipstick is smeared all over your mouth. in spite of this, she calls you beautiful, and you truly believe her, for anything arlecchino says is the truth.

you feel pressure on your clit again, as peruere massages the bundle of nerves. you sob, then throw your head back, and your vision goes white. everything inside you grows taut, until the dam breaks with the snap of a finger and you come undone, legs stretching as you squirt all over arlecchino’s belly.

her movements finally still, except for her finger on your clit, which only slows down. you hiss when it becomes painful and arlecchino stops entirely. she pulls out and leans in to kiss you, humming into your mouth when you reciprocate.

“wonderful,” she mumbles. “you’re simply wonderful.”

your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, leaving you unable to reply. you don’t need to. arlecchino draws back and you hear the clinking of the harness’ strap, followed by a soft thud.

as you stare at the ceiling, the harbinger comes into view once more. “i hope you don’t think we’re done for tonight,” she says.

you chuckle.

“without repaying the deed? never.”

[beware-of-pity]

You believe me like a god (I destroy you like I am) II

Masterlist

Previous Chapter - Next

Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

TW: Self-hatred/Implied Self Harm. Complicated family relations. The reader is a Targtower.

Cross-posted on Ao3

Chapter II: Strangers

Jaehaera had run into your room, tears streaming down her eyes, full-on sobbing, as she crushed into you, her little hands gripping at your skirt.

In the panic of the situation, you tried to comfort her, tried to pry the cause of her distress before you heard it plain and clear. Screaming and screeches come from down the hall, where your mother’s room resided. You calmed Jaehaera enough for her to fall in the arms of your maid without refusal or complaints as you raised the front of your skirt to rush towards the commotion.

When you entered your mother’s room, everything was in disarray: the sheets of her bed had been pulled, now a mess on the floor, the table was flipped, and glass shards from a broken cup shimmered in the light of the fire of the hearth where she had thrown it at.

And there she was, your mother, ripping at her clothes again. A gown of deep green, almost black -  a gown she used to wear in simpler times, in easier times,…happier times.

“OUT!” She yelled “GET OUT! GET OUT!” She hadn’t noticed your presence yet so you were sure her words were directed to her maids and septa standing at the side of the room.

“Mother” you tried to get her attention. Once, twice, thrice, but nothing worked as she continued her parade.

“Mother!” the call, now more insistent, stopped her in her tracks, but perhaps it was because you were now holding onto her, your hands gripping her arms, into her skin, into her torn clothes.

She held low, letting her long hair hang over her face, hiding her from you, but you could see the tears streaming down it and rippling as they fell into the air.

You sighed “Let’s get you seated,” you said as you led her to one of the chairs still high. “Clean the room,” you said to the maids, who at your words moved in motion “and get her some sweet milk” The Septa nodded at your words, rushing out of the room to get what you had asked her

“Mother” you gently pried her hands from her face “What happened, Mother?”

“It’s not fair….” She whispered, “Not fair, it should be my boy…”

You noticed she was slightly red in the face but not because of her cries or tears. You raised your hand to her forehead to check her temperature, feeling the warmth of it.

She was sick, and so very warm.

“You need to lay down, mother. You’re sick,” you told her

You had come to understand later that when she was breaking her fast with Jaehaera, she broke into a fit, telling your niece to cut Aegon’s throat, Rhaenyra’s son with Daemon, and Jaehaera’s playmate. Jaehaera, frightened and scarred by the sight of her grandmother grabbing at her and telling her to cut her playmate’s throat, had made her run away in tears, seeking your comfort.

She had caused such a commotion that as you looked after her as she slept, more guards were stationed outside her door. Rhaenyra forgave you for being outside of your room without a companion, seeing the urgency of the situation. Not that you were seeking it when you were too worried over your mother going down with a fever to think about what you could have possibly done wrong for Rhaenyra to forgive you for.

Orwyle had been allowed to remain in your family’s services while Rhaenyra’s maester, Gerardys overtook the chains of office as Grandmaester, taking a seat at her council. You had called upon him to tell you what was wrong with your mother, to which he unfortunately couldn’t say.

“We’ll have to wait and see how the sickness progresses to see what she hails with” he had told you, to which you thanked him for his honest approach.

Your mother would trash, turn and pull her blankets off her body through the night, which you would pull over her once more. The winter was harsh, and with how much she was sweating, you worried she would catch a chill that would kill her in this state.

You slept in the chair beside her bed and did not do so willingly, but rather, your body would shut itself when you would run out of energy.

In her moments of lucidity, where she was not blinded by the haze of the sickness or the milk of the poppy given to her, she would seek your comfort, whisper words of wanting to see Aegon, Aemond Helaena and Daeron. To have the whole of the family together once more, like in days of old.

She wept and would talk to herself, especially when she slept, the sight churned at your insides in all kinds of ways, both good and bad.

Alicent Hightower, the once great Green Queen, was now nothing more than a being lacking sanity and forgotten by the gods in her small corner of the world, where she spent her days between hallucinations and murmurs. Now sick with a winter fever, she could barely make out her own daughter.

You had made Jaehaera visit her, but those times were few and short, for the girl could not bear to look upon her grandmother in such state, as well as for what had happened the last time they had interacted. You did not blame her, especially in Jaehaera’s own state of mind. You cursed and berated yourself for even thinking it was a good idea for her to come visit but you did so because you knew the truth.

Your mother was dying.

You were able to ignore it as much as you could if you did not think of it, but with you constantly at her side as her sole caretaker, it was difficult to think of anything but the way she was slowly losing herself in her madness and illness.

You worried you would fall asleep in the night and wake to her still form, sleeping forever in the many blankets of her bed, and if you didn’t sleep before, you almost never did now.

Rhaenyra had been informed of the situation and she made sure you knew that if you ever needed anything she would heed your every request. To her words, you responded only by asking her to prepare a coffin for your mother.

The bodies of Hightowers were buried in the Hightower. Were she to die any day now, you would have to send her away, which you did not want.

You loved your mother, despite all her flaws, despite everything she had done, you couldn’t hate her. You couldn’t.

Gods, you wish you did. Perhaps the pain would lessen then. But in the state, she was in, on the verge and swaying on the fine line between death and life, you could not but take care of her like she used to take care of you when you were young and sick.

So vulnerable and fragile she was, so out of her mind and senses, that you hoped she would recover, for you, for Jaehaera, for herself. You wanted her to live, you didn’t want her to leave you behind and join your siblings. She was the last thing you had, the only constant beside Jaehaera that had not been taken from you and now the gods pleased themselves, as they laughed at your distress, while they made her thread even closer to her end.

You worried about your future without her. She had always been the master planner, the one pulling the strings, the one telling you what to do, giving you security in the path she laid before you, which you trusted because it was your mother sending you on it. Surely, she would never set you up for failure or danger. And yet, her magnum opus had led to only you three being the last of her line.

You thought you knew grief, when the stank of it followed you around, hunting the path you walked on. And yet, the morning you woke and you saw your mother’s unmoving form, you realized, you knew nothing about grief.People often talk about how hard it is for mothers to have to bury their children, but no one ever talks about how hard it is for children to bury their mothers. It’s just expected of them, something they should know how to deal with. Protocol dictated that the servants be called to move the body, for it to be given to the Silent Sisters to prepare it for its final departure. Instead, you spend that morning looking at her, the most peaceful she had ever looked in months, years even.

Only around midday did you rise from your chair, moving to give her a final kiss on her forehead, crossing her arms and moving to the door of the room. By that very night, her room had been cleaned and emptied, and she was no longer on her bed, her belongings moved to your room since you were now their owner. You had overseen her body being prepared for her funeral, even when you were advised it was bad luck to look at the face of death. But you weren’t looking at death; you were looking at your mother.

The woman that had birthed you, raised you as best as she could, the mother you loved despite everything. She was dressed in a pastel green gown, and with her jewels and hair done she looked almost alive, as if she was merely sleeping and yet the hue of death on her skin told you otherwise, it reminded you of the truth.

You had placed her emerald crown on her, the thing you would send her off to the afterlife with, a statement to the woman she had been, a Queen worthy of the name she carried. As flowers framed her face, you bid her your last farewell.

The Mother is merciful, you had always believed, and the Father Above judges each man justly... but there was no mercy and no justice in what befell your life. How could the gods be so blind or so uncaring as to permit such horrors? Why would they wish for you to suffer so greatly? What had you ever done to deserve such fate?

The body of your mother was placed beneath the Iron Throne, where it remained for seven days. Rhaenyra had allowed for her parting to be shown such dignitaries as a previous Queen Consort, despite the name of a traitor she carried to her very end. For seven days, you stood vigil in front of her unmoving body as strangers, foes, and friends alike came to give you their condolences. Prayers were held on three occasions. While the morning services were open only to nobility, the afternoon prayers were open to the smallfolk, and the evening prayers were available for all. Many showed up at the services you lead in her memory, the smallfolks out of love for her benevolence to them in her youth and early years of Queenship.

On the eighth day, the casket was closed and sent off on a litter attacked to a wagon, befitting a Dowager Queen, elaborate and engraved, with the Hightower sigil on a green field, you had embroidered, laid over the casket as a shroud. The evening before, you had cried for the first time in months as you had watched her disappear under the wood of the coffin laid upon her. When you returned to your room that night, you found Jacaerys there, waiting for you. It was then you had allowed the tears to come free. You fell in his arms, and you both sank to the floor as he comforted you. The dark veil covering your head hid from others your despair and how red and tear-stricken your face was as you watched your mother be carried away from you and from your life forever. Jaehaera beside you was dressed in black, holding your hand and hiding behind your skirt as she often did, which you allowed this time. Jacaerys stood beside you, attending the ceremony when he did not have to, especially when the ceremony in question was for one of his old enemies. His presence had proven a comfort, a constant that eased your pain, especially when his hand rested on the small of your back.

Among the belongings now relegated to your room, there were her old gowns, her jewels, her books and her needlework, some old and well-sawn while some more recent and all over the place in their work, a clear sign of her state of mind before her death.

You had taken to wearing her jewels, never her gowns, the sight of you in them too gory for your eyes.Almost macabre. The Hightower ring on your ring finger, on your left hand, was a silent vow to her, one you often fiddled with when you thought of her or were nervous.

Your situation at court did not improve upon the death of your mother, and neither did Jaehaera’s.

If before you were ignored, now you were pitied, which you thought was worse than the latter.

You didn’t want pity, you had no need for it, no use to improve your life.

Jacaerys took you out in the open more often; you didn’t oppose because you didn’t want to be difficult, which you had every right to be. He took you on more rides on Vermax but stopped when he realised you took no joy in them, understanding that what you were craving was not the liberty of the skies but the companionship of your dragon while you did so.

Your cousins made for ample companions, but you and Baela and Rhaena were to different in taste and pursuits to truly call each other friends, nonetheless, you appreciated their efforts in keeping you company. These days, you were up for anything, anything that could change your life, make it better.

Rhaenyra thought that without your mother’s influence, you would finally try and approach her, but it didn’t surprise her when you didn’t. She understood you needed time and space, and she was more than willing to give you both, understanding better than anyone what it was like to lose one’s own mother, especially at a young age.

You were at times approached by secret supporters of your mother’s long-dead cause, trying to sweet talk you on their secret plans, but your ears were closed, you wished to hear no more of plans and plots and schemes.

You needed peace and quiet. You wanted to be everywhere but in the Red Keep. This place was killing you and you needed an out.

How long would it be before you took it?

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　CHRISTMAS BLURB

dad!matt sturniolo x reader

Y/N and Matt set up the house on christmas eve after their daughter goes to bed 🎄🎅

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The warmth of the fireplace crackled softly in the background, a cozy contrast to the chill of the snowstorm outside. Y/N and Matt sat together on their plush red-ish couch in the living room, their Christmas tree glowing brightly with a rainbow of twinkling lights and ornaments they had collected over the years. The scent of pine mingled with the faint sweetness of cookies left out on the table by their daughter just hours ago, complete with a small glass of milk.

Their daughter, Ava, had been bubbling with excitement all evening, her little voice ringing out as she read her letter to Santa aloud for them one last time. She had written it a week ago, complete with adorable misspellings, before carefully sealing it in an envelope addressed to the North Pole. After she had set out the cookies and milk, Y/N had carried her upstairs, humming a soft Christmas carol until she drifted off into her holiday dreams.

Now, the real magic began.

"Okay, so step one." Matt whispered over the gentle hum of the Alexa speaker on the kitchen counter, softly playing "Silent Night", leaning over the coffee table with a pen in his hand.

He grabbed the paper they had carefully tucked away earlier and began drafting the reply from Santa.

"What should Santa say to her? I don’t want to disappoint her, but I also don’t want to sound too over the top."

Y/N laughed softly, leaning over to look at what he’d written, her hand finding home on his hair, turning it messier than it already was.

"Matt, she’s six. Over the top is the bare minimum for Santa Claus."

"Right, right." Matt muttered, tapping the pen against his pouty lips in thought. He scrawled a new line in his handwriting. "How’s this? 'Dear Ava, Thank you so much for your beautiful letter! Mrs. Claus and I loved reading about all the kind things you’ve done this year'."

"It’s good." Y/N said, nodding with approval. "Make sure Santa says how proud he is of her for being such a good big helper to us. She loves hearing that."

Matt grinned.

"Got it. Santa’s totally her biggest fan." He finished the letter and held it up for Y/N to inspect.

She read it aloud, her voice soft.

"'I hope you enjoy the surprises I left under your tree. Remember to keep being the amazing, kind, and thoughtful little person you are. Merry Christmas! Love, Santa'." She smiled at Matt. "You’re good at this. Maybe you should moonlight as Santa’s secretary."

"Don’t tempt me." Matt joked, folding the letter and slipping it into a red envelope.

Next, they set the floor. Y/N carefully grabbed the glittering bag of artificial snow from their Christmas stash and handed it to Matt.

"I love this part so much."

Matt crouched by the fireplace, dusting a liberal amount of snow on the hearth, making it look like Santa had just stepped through the chimney. Then, he stood up, sliding his Prada boots on and stepping into the snow. He left a trail leading the fireplace to the table with the cookies and milk, and finally to the tree.

Y/N shook her head at his exaggerated movements, smiling.

"You’re such a dork."

"Well, you married me." He teased, winking at her, straightening up and looking at his work. "What do you think?"

"It’s adorable." She said, crossing her arms in front of her red sweater. "Now, the cookies. Don’t forget to leave a bite."

"Right." Matt agreed, grabbing a cookie and taking a large, exaggerated chomp. He replaced the bitten cookie back on the plate and downed the milk with a long gulp. "Santa’s full. And he’s gotta go deliver more presents."

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes.

"Was the cookie good?" She asked, briefly looking at the slightly deformed cookie they baked earlier with Ava.

"It was delicious." Matt smiled softly, pulling her close for a quick kiss before they got back to work.

Together, they placed the beautifully wrapped presents under the tree, making sure each one was strategically positioned to create the illusion of Santa’s careful delivery. Y/N made sure to add a few extra bows to the larger ones, while Matt adjusted the smaller ones for maximum effect.

As they stepped back to admire their work, Matt sighed, draping an arm around Y/N’s waist.

"Do you think she'll believe it? Like, really believe it?"

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with the glow of the Christmas lights.

"Of course, she will. This is magic to her, Matt. It’s magic to me, too."

Matt smiled, his heart full.

"I can’t wait to see her face tomorrow morning."

They sat on the couch for a moment longer, basking in the peacefulness and stillness of the house - something they rarely experienced these days. Y/N broke the silence with a quiet laugh.

"Chris and Nick are going to lose their minds when they see all this tomorrow."

"Chris is going to leave the whole house covered in fake snow." Matt said with a grin. "And act like it’s my fault."

"And Nick will probably try to eat all of Ava’s cookies." Y/N added, shaking her head while looking at the plate full of cookies above the kitchen counter.

They both chuckled, imagining the chaos of Christmas lunch the next day, but for now, the house was quiet, and everything felt perfect.

Matt squeezed Y/N’s hand.

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart."

"Merry Christmas." Y/N replied, leaning her head against his shoulder. They sat together, the glowing tree casting a warm light over the room, as snow continued to fall softly outside.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

merry christmas, lovelies ❤️

[myocsfanfictions]

THE WRATH OF FIRE

MASTERLIST

Princess Ysilla Targaryen is the only daughter of Prince Daemon Targaryen and Lady Rhea Royce. The affection that she felt for her mother was strong, while her father had never been there, acting as if Ysilla was not even his. But she was. The dragon egg that had been put in her cradle hatched. An outcast of a dragon was born. A dragon with no legs. An outcast of a dragon for and an outcast of a dragon rider. Ysilla’s hair was dark but streaked with white. She was a Targaryen, and her wrath was not different from the one that burned inside the members of the House of the Dragon.

《 Previous - Next 》

CHAPTER 8

The rumors surrounding Rhaenyra’s children only got worse when her third child had been born.

Ysilla was now a girl of fifteen. She was very different from the skinny little child that had left Runestone so long ago. People would describe her as elegant, intelligent, and beautiful. She had grown to be graceful, as much as her dragon was. And as Dārysyr, her fierce was known by now. Her dragon had grown large and powerful; his muscles were well-formed, and his wings were strong. Ysilla went flying on Dragonback once a week. She would have liked to do it more, but she had her studies and her duties.

Just a couple of years before, Ysilla had the chance to speak with the Alchemists of King’s Landing, and she had been left very fascinated.

“Vysenia was said to be familiar with dark magic,” she said one day, sitting beneath the Hearth Tree as she observed Aemond practicing combat movements with a stick.

“You want to be Vysenia born again?” He asked, fighting against air.

“Do you think I’d made a fool of myself?” She asked with a little smile as she looked at the boy.

“No,” he answered, turning to her, “I think you are as willed as her. But with the grace of Rhaenys.”

Graceful. Yes. Ysilla had grown up to be very grateful. She knew how to bow, to speak, and to dance. The court was well impressed by her. And from Runestone, her aunt Jeyne was hoping for a good arranging for Ysilla. Not only because she had become very well respected by the people in King’s Landing but also because Queen Alicent seemed to have high expectations from Ysilla. She called her her ward.

“She probably wishes for you to be wed to one of her sons,” that rumor had reached her aunt Jeyne as well. And she seemed pleased by it in her letters. A Royce on the throne.

Ysilla, on the contrary, had no thirst for power. The thought of ambitions and schemes only reminded her of her father and what he had done to be always a step closer to the Iron Throne. But she was not her father.

The lack of personal ambition, though, did not make her blind to politics and schemes. It was because she knew how harmful they could be that she was always vigilant and observant of what happened in court. Fully aware that knowledge and duty were what was required to keep alliances and peace. She had grown up side by side with the Queen, raised by the same people that raised the princes. She knew that the health of the King was faltered, as did the respect some people had for the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms when her children started to grow up to become more similar to the Captain of the Guards than her own husband. Everybody knew, and yet the King did nothing. This had also happened ten years before when her father had killed her mother.

“Are you not coming to the pits?” Aegon asked that morning when they were breaking their fast.

“You heard that right,” she answered, smiling at him before taking a sip of her milk.

“You cannot ditch me like this,” he said, leaning towards her with playful eyes, “I’ve promised you today would have been fun.”

Aegon had grown up, but his search for fun and enjoyment had remained the same. “Helaena wished to dance today. You know how I love her and how I enjoy dancing.”

He cocked his head to a side, “More than riding Dārysyr?” Then his hands moved to touch a strain of her hair, “Did I say how I like your hair today?” Ysilla took his hand to push it away. Aegon had always had a fascination with her hair, and since he had started to grow and notice women, he had begun to voice his compliments on her hair and appearance more often than not.

“I love nothing more than Dārysyr,” she answered, looking at the boy. "And we already flew with him and Sunfyre last week.”

Not so long before, Aegon managed to bend Sunfyre, becoming his dragonrider. Sunfyre was known to be the most beautiful dragon alive, and he really was. He had golden scales and pink shades, and even his flames were golden.

“I wasn’t meant to go fly together,” he said, a mischief light in his eyes.

“What’s with the face?” She asked, making him laugh.

“What face?”

“The one that always brings you trouble,” she answered with a glare. He was planning something. She knew him too well to be mistaken. She didn’t have time to ask because the wooden door opened to let Aemond enter the chamber.

“Good morrow, Aemond,” she greeted him with a smile.

“Ysilla, brother,” he answered shortly. It was how Aemond was, very different from his older brother. He was composed and dutiful. Less impulsive than Aegon was. “Mother is looking for you, Ysilla.” He said, sitting down.

“That’s why you’re not coming. Because of Mother,” Aegon said, making Ysilla turn to him.

“I wasn’t supposed to,” she said, standing up. Her eyes went from one brother to the other. "I’ll see you both when you return from the pit,” then she looked at Aegon.

“Behave.” He blown her a kiss.

“Like always, my sweet.”

“Stop that,” Aemond said, focusing his attention on the plate in front of him. Ysilla ignored Aegon, making her way towards the door. She wondered why the Queen wanted to see her. Ysilla knew she would have been busy with Rhaenyra after the princess’s labor ended and the third of her children would be born. Rhaenyra had been screaming for hours, and Ysilla stopped to observe the corridor that led to her chambers on her way to the Queen. By the screams, she seemed to be suffering very much. That made her anxious. She knew that it was a woman’s duty to give children to her husband. She just hoped the gods had mercy for them and an easy way to bring life to the world.

“Princess,” Ser Cole was guarding the door, bowing his head as she walked closer.

“Good morrow, Ser,” she answered politely. “I hope your day has been good so far.”

The man smiled, “It is, Princess.” His smile would have made her blush just a few years before. But the more she grew up, the less embarrassing it became to share words with men, even handsome men such as Ser Criston.

When Ysilla entered the chamber, the Queen was standing next to the window, and a serving girl was fixing the back of her dress.

“My Queen,” she greeted, bowing. “Have you asked for me?”

“Good morrow, my dear,” Alicent Hightower smiled kindly at her, “Indeed. Helaena is a little... agitated today."

Helaena had stayed the same in those years. She was still the sweetest girl that Ysilla had ever met. Sweet and gentle. But her queer behavior sometimes agitated even herself. Ysilla had seen Helaena in those moments, and she knew that the princess didn't like to be alone when she was feeling like that.

"We'll find something else to do then," Ysilla answered. They could have taken a walk or talked about bugs. Helaena liked bugs. Ysilla would have found something to ease Helaena's mind.

The Queen smiled at her, putting a hand on her arm. "What a blessing you are." Ysilla returned the gesture, bowing her head in gratitude and respect.

At that moment, the door behind them opened to reveal Rhaenyra and Laenor. Ysilla widened her eyes to see her cousin.

"Rhaenyra," the Queen gasped, "You should be resting after your labors."

"I have no doubt that you would prefer that, Your Grace," Rhaenyra answered, trying to keep her trembling voice steady. The pain that she had experienced was well visible on her face, and it was not surprising.

Ysilla had heard Rhaenyra screaming only a few moments before. She knew what happened during labor, and the septa had explained that to her. How could her cousin possibly walk? Or even walking up the stairs?

"You must sit," the Queen said, turning to one of her serving girls, "Talya, fetch a cushion for the Princess.” The girl bowed and turned to attend Rhaenyra.

“There’s no need,” Rhaenyra said. By the Queen insisted.

Ysilla followed Alicent as they walked towards the couple. Rhaenyra had finally accepted sitting down with Laenor's help, but seeing her in pain and holding her newborn baby, Ysilla felt like moving so that she could help her cousin sit. As the girl touched her arm, the Princess turned to look at her. A small smile appeared on her lips, probably still trying to hide her pain. It was well-known how stubborn Rhaenyra was.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“There’s no need,” Ysilla answered, then exchanging a look with the Queen.

Alicent was observing the baby like she had done with Lucerys just a few years before. Ysilla knew what she was thinking: even this child had nothing of Ser Laenor in him.

As Ysilla went back to stand next to the Queen, King Viserys entered the chamber with a huge smile on his face. “What happy news this morning,” he exclaimed.

The years had not been gentle to the King. His body was weaker and more fragile. His skin had gotten paler and his hair thinner. The condition of his left hand had gotten worse. He first lost just three fingers, but it kept getting worse until the Maester decided that it was better to cut off the entire arm. Even so, Ysilla’s uncle tried to maintain a positive attitude, always smiling at everyone.

“Indeed, Your Grace,” said Ser Leanor, taking the child in his arms to present him to the King. Ysilla observed Rhaenyra’s husband’s face as he looked at the baby. He smiled happily and proudly. Could he really be so blind? He had never seemed such a man to Ysilla. It was true, though, that he was not very present as a father.

He is more present than mine, anyway. She thought as she observed the unbothered son of Corlys Velaryon pass the child to the King. But even in his expression, Ysilla could not see surprise or disappointment. She could not understand why both men acted so blindly about the behavior of the future Queen? Why did her actions have no repercussions? Everybody knew, everybody whispered. And yet the King did nothing.

He must truly love her, if he is protecting her like that. Ysilla thought, observing the happiness on Viserys’ face.

“A fine Prince,” he said, his eyes looking at every one of them. Ysilla smiled, lowering her eyes. “Sturdy. You will make a fearsome knight.”

Surely, Ysilla thought. If the rumors were true and his father was Ser Harwin Strong, he surely could have become a terrific fighter as an adult. Breakbone was the strongest man in the Seven Kingdoms.

“Does the babe have a name yet?” The Queen asked with curiosity.

Rhaenyra took a breath, “We haven’t spoken-”

“Joffrey.” Ser Leanor interrupted his wife. “He’ll be called Joffrey.”

Ysilla looked between them, hoping that her face did not give away the kind of thought she had in mind. Had they spoken of it or not? Did Rhaenyra agree with such a name?

“An unusual name for a Velaryon.” The Queen was speaking the truth. Velaryon came from Valyria as much as the Targaryens. Their names came from Old Valyria to keep the traditions. But it wasn’t only their costume: in the Seven Kingdoms, all the Noble Houses had names and family names. Ysilla’s name was a Royce name. Her mother, Lady Rhea, had done it on purpose. Ysilla’s father could be a Targaryen, but she had Royce’s blood in her veins as well.

“I do believe he has his father’s nose,” Ysilla would have frowned at the King’s words, but she had to keep her composure, so she decided to look at Rhaenyra and smile at her. The Princess did the same, but there was no truth behind that gesture. They were both aware of what was happening.

The King chuckled, still focused on Joffrey, and soon after, Laenor did the same before clearing his throat.

“If you don’t mind, Your Grace, your daughter has exerted herself heroically and should rest,” Ser Laenor said, ready to help his wife get on her feet.

“Of course,” the King answered. The Queen was soon at his side, taking Joffrey in her hands. Ysilla moved aside when she saw the King walking closer to his daughter, but she didn’t walk very far, curious about what they would have talked about.

“Well done, my girl,” Viserys said with tenderness. Such a tone forced Ysilla to lower her eyes, fully aware that her father would never have such sweetness for her. If she’ll ever see him again. She knew that he was an Essos with his lady wife and their two twin daughters. She wondered how he was fathering them. If he was cold and cruel like he had been to her so long ago. Ten years had passed, and yet she remembered the way he had looked at her as he said that he felt nothing for his firstborn daughter.

“I do hope the labor was easy,” the King said as Ysilla walked towards the Queen, who was giving the baby back to Ser Leanor.

“Do keep trying, Ser Laenor. Sooner or later, you may get one that looks like you.” She had said it so politely, but her intentions were quite clear—she was voicing the thoughts of the entire court. The man looked startled, and when he noticed Ysilla standing there, she didn’t say anything. She only smiled, with no true intention behind it.

Rhaenyra then walked towards her husband before they both left the chamber. Ysilla bowed gracefully as they disappeared behind the heavy wooden door.

“What a happy day,” the King exclaimed full of happiness.

The Queen lowered her eyes from next to him. “Indeed, my love,” she answered.

The whole situation was against everything that politics and duty required. Ysilla could understand why her uncle was protecting his daughter, but her King was making a fool of himself. And whispers could only get louder and louder, not only against Rhaenyra but against the King as well. He was not only Rhaenyra’s father; he was the Protector of the Realm, of the peace of the Realm. How would the realm answer once the King had left that world? What was ahead of them? That uncertainty was heavy in her heart. Politics could be ruthless, and it could reclaim anyone’s life.

“You wanted to dance, I’m sorry,” Helaena was saying as they walked in the corridors of the Red Keep.

“Nonsense, Helaena,” she answered honestly. The events of that morning had left little room for light emotions in her heart. “I don’t feel like dancing today.”

“Running from the back is important,” her cousin said. Ysilla turned to observe her. It didn’t matter how many years they had known each other; Helaena’s strange sentences left Ysilla confused all the time. She knew better than to ask. Helaena didn’t know how to explain the meaning of her words, and the more people asked her to, the more she got agitated. That was one of those days. One where Ysilla stood quiet, listening to all the strange things her cousin felt to say. She loved Helaena, but on those days, the hours went on slowly.

I wish I was at the Dragonpit, she thought. Ysilla wished nothing more than to be with Dārysyr, especially during days that felt so heavy in her heart.

They were back in Helaena’s chamber when the Queen arrived. Ysilla was set next to her cousin, who was very interested in counting the rings of a centipede. They have been there long. And Ysilla decided to take one of the many books that she had in her chamber to keep herself occupied until Helaena was satisfied with her counting. When the Queen entered, Ysilla was ready to stand up and bow, but the woman gestured for her to sit still and keep with her reading.

“This one has sixty rings and two pairs of legs on each, ” Helaena whispered, looking closer at the centipede, “It makes two-hundred-twenty-four.”

“Yes, it is,” the Queen said in a soft tone, even if her expression could not hide her worry. It was difficult to communicate with Helaena when she acted like that. They had to be patient.

“It has eyes,” the girl spoke, looking closely at the creature in her hand.

“Does he?” Ysilla asked, keeping reading her book.

Helaena muttered in agreement, “Though, I don’t believe it can see.” Ysilla looked at her with a confused frown.

“And why is that so, do you think?” Asked the Queen.

“It is beyond our understanding.”

Beyond mine, for sure, Ysilla thought at her cousin’s words. Those were too much of abstract concepts for her mind. She liked history better.

“I suppose you’re right,” the Queen answered. Some things just are.” As she finished speaking, though, the door opened to reveal Aemond. Ysilla put aside her book. Her eyes widened, seeing how dirty his face and clothes were.

“Aemond,” the woman gasped, walking to her son, “What have you done?”

“He did it again.” Ysilla stood up after Helaena’s words. He must have entered the Dragonpit. That place was dangerous for someone without a dragon, and Aemond was the only one of them without one. Dragons bend only to one person, and when they did, they will only listen to their rider. They could become very dangerous for anyone else. But Aemond had always been very fascinated by dragons. The pain in his eyes was always visible when they went to the Dragonpit.

Ysilla could understand him. She had been fascinated, too, before Dārysyr’s egg hatched. Being a Targaryen without a dragon hurt a lot.

“After how many times you’ve been warned,” the Queen reproved him, “Must I have you confined to your chambers?”

“They made me do it!” Aemond argued angrily. Who made him do it? Ysilla moved forward, feeling for her cousin. He truly seemed so upset. What had happened? But the Queen didn’t seem to share Ysilla’s same thoughts.

“As if you needed encouragement,” the woman said, worryingly observing her son to be sure he was not harmed. "Your obsession with those beasts goes beyond understanding.” When she spoke like that, the Queen truly reminded Ysilla of her mother's skepticism about dragons.

“They gave me a pig!” Aemond exclaimed. Ysilla’s eyes widened.

“A what?” The Queen asked in confusion.

“They said they found a dragon for me. But it was a pig!” Aemond answered, trembling with anger.

I’ve promised you today would have been fun. Aegon had said to her that morning. He was behind it. Ysilla could not believe it. He knew how Aemond suffered since he was the only one without a dragon. Even Rhaenyra’s sons had one each, but not Aemond, a son of a King. How could he be so stupid to do that to his own brother?

“You will have a dragon one day,” Alicent said trying to calm her son, “I know it.”

Aemond deserved a dragon. It was saddening to know that his egg hadn’t hatched. He had asked Ysilla many times how she did it as they grew up, but she truly wasn't sure how or why. Dārysyr was just born one day. It had been a very normal day. But Aemond’s didn’t, and it was not fair. Why did the Gods play such games?

Aemond lowered his gaze, “They all laughed.”

And why did the Gods make Aegon to be such an idiot?

_____________________________________________________________

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[loftyangel]

[augustinewrites]

based on this

your frowning face appears in the mirror as wriothesley fixes his hair for the third time that afternoon, admiring how the gel he’d borrowed from clorinde was surprisingly adept at slicking back his unruly hair. 

“we can’t be late,” you remind him, fiddling with the collar of your dress. “father despises tardiness…”

“awe, are you worried i’ll make a bad first impression?” he asks, finally turning to face you. “don’t worry, sweetheart. parents love me. well, maybe not my foster parents. but i’m always a hit with other people’s.”

the comment about his…colourful past  goes right over your head. you really are worried. “it’s not you i’m worried about. father can be…intense.”

“i work in a prison. it can’t get more intense than that,” he reminds you, grabbing the gift bag sitting by the door. “besides, once we pull out this bad boy, he’ll be so impressed that he’ll ask me to join you for lunch next week too.” 

of course, he had no actual idea if the wine navia had chosen was any good. though his wallet had come back significantly lighter, so that had to mean it was halfway decent. 

“wriothesley,” you say, still looking deeply concerned. “you do know that father is–”

“intense, babe. i know,” he sighs, cupping your face in his hands and placing a kiss between your furrowed brows. you try to wriggle out of his hold, but he doesn’t let you, gently keeping your focus on him. “don’t worry, alright? i’ll shake his hand, we’ll talk about safe topics like the weather and how great the aquabus is. i’ll even use my best table manners when the food comes.” 

his thumbs gently brush your cheeks as you sigh, shaking your head slightly. “i just really want you two to get along.” 

“i can be plenty charming when i need to be,” he says, only letting you go to pull the front door open. “besides, who wouldn’t want a duke as a son-in-law?”

______

business at café lutece is unusually empty today, wriothesley observes. all of the tables are reserved, but remain empty at the height of the lunch rush. 

you don’t seem to notice this, fingertips drumming the surface of the table 

“quit fidgeting,” wriothesley murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“i’m just nervous,” you mutter, knee beginning to bounce. wriothesley chuckles, stilling it with a firm hand. 

you look up at him, smiling as you place your hand over his. “thanks.”

the waiter comes back with the tea he’d ordered earlier, leaving a teapot and two small jars of sugar and milk. he’s in the middle of pouring you a cup when you suddenly sit up.

“father!”

“oh shit,” the duke mutters, quickly getting on his feet. he glances down at his outfit briefly, making sure his buttons are done up properly and his sleeves are rolled neatly before holding out his hand. “it’s nice to finally meet you–”

wriothesley’s open stance shifts into a protective one, immediately putting himself between you and the knave. 

“well, isn’t this sweet,” the harbinger says, clearly more amused than threatened. 

wriothesley looks back at you, incredulous. “your father is a fatui harbinger?!”

“all children of the house of the hearth refer to me as such,” she answers, gracefully pulling out and taking a seat across from him. “sit, your grace, and prove to me why you should continue to be allowed to court my child.”

_____

sitting face to face with the knave was equal parts exhilarating and nerve-inducing. exhilarating because she was the knave. skilled in combat and espionage and one of the highest ranking harbingers.

nerve-inducing because she was your father. and as much as he wanted to engage her in a battle of wits and fisticuffs, that was not something one did with their father-in-law. 

“i trust business at the fortress is going smoothly, your grace?”

wriothesley casts the harbinger a wary look over his teacup. “you can read about childe’s status in the report i had sent over last week.”

“well, you know better than most that information from inside sources is much more valuable.”

both their gazes drift to you, and you send him an apologetic look.

“oh, relax,” the woman across from him laughs. “i was simply making conversation. since i’m short of time, however, i will make the point of our visit quite brief.”

she leans forward, clasping your hand in hers across the tabletop as she fixes wriothesley with a paragliding glare.

“if you ever hurt my child, or she comes to any harm whilst in your care, there is not a corner of the ocean dark enough for you to hide.”

“father!” you gasp. “you said you wouldn't threaten him.”

it’s almost eerie, how easily the dark expression slips off her visage. “that wasn’t a threat. c'était une promesse.” 

[satanicpagan]

Offering Ideas for Deities

─── ⋆⋅⚝⋅⋆ ───

Fire Offerings:

Charcoal

black salt

herb ashes

images/symbolism of sun or hearth

spicy foods

Red poppies

Spicy/strong-smelling herbs (Cinnamon, Chili, Pepper, Cloves, Ginger, Wormwood, Asfoetida)

Rosemary

sunflowers

marigold

dragons blood

calendula

herbs that sting or irritate the skin (Stinging Nettle, Holly, Cedar, Mace)

Protective herbs/crystals

red crystals

incense

cauldron

Earth Offerings:

Any herbs

plants

flowers

rocks you find

protective crystals

obsidian

amethyst

onyx

garnet

sticks/bark/branches

bones

images/symbols of earth, Gaia, mother earth, flowers, plants

most food offerings

fruits/vegetables

bread

rice

milk/water/tea

dried herbs/flowers

Water Offerings:

moon water

rain water

clear quartz

jasmine

mugwort

lily

willow

nettle

violet

lavender

perfume

essential oils

seashells

beach sand

florida water

symbols and imagery of water, ocean, fish, rain, the birth of Venus, etc.)

blue/transparent crystals

air humidifier

Air Offerings:

smoke cleansing

sound cleansing

feathers

incense

light fabrics

white/light/transparent crystals

dandelion fluffs

essential oils

essential oil diffuser

Athame

bird bones

meditations

breath mindfulness

moths

butterflies

Most Deities have one or more elemental associations and this can help you with finding some offerings! Remember, every offering is unique to you and your energy and actions, outfits, songs, writing, and art can be offerings as well!

[sweetbunpura]

*Yuu explaining Christmas to Rollo*

Rollo, hiding behind his handkerchief and narrowing his eyes: So, an old man breaks into your home via the chimney, steals some sweets and some milk, and in return he leaves "gifts" under a tree and in stockings hanging on the hearth for the children of the home? A man that is apparently watching childrens' every movement to see if they've been "naughty" or "nice" and keeps a list of all of these children? Yuu, my love, forgive me if I say, I would not trust this man within five feet of any child.

Yuu: Ok, I know it can seem weird when framed like that, but Santa is just a story! He isn't real!

Rollo, snorts: Yes, but it is a story that can make children almost automatically trust a home intruder during the winter season if they have a white beard and claim to have gifts for them. Surely you can see just how dangerous that is?

Yuu: Rolls, it's a holiday. You don't need to overthink it..

Rollo, glaring up at the elf on the shelf sitting on the bookshelf: And I do not trust his surveillance "elves" either. He looks far to innocent.

Yuu, offended gasp: Don't diss my boy Jeffery like that Rolls!

Yuu: If Santa weirds you out, then learning about Krampus would be the next thing.

Rollo: Krampus?

Yuu: He's a half demon, half goat monster that punishes kids into being good....and in some interpretations, he eats kids.

Rollo: ....

Yuu, looks over to see Gidel and Grim looking at them in horror.

Gidel, signs: We get eaten!?

Grim: We don't get presents!?

Yuu, laughs and waves her hand: You guys don't have to worry about that! Santa isn't real.....Hey Bones!

Skully, pokes head into room while wearing a halloween christmas sweater: Yes?

Yuu: When you were with Jack...did you see a fat guy in a red coat?

Skully, frowns: Yeah...but he doesn't hold a candle to Jack!

Yuu: ....Shit, Santa's real.

Rollo: Board up everything!

Fellow, walks in holding a pot of soup and in an apron: What is happening?

Yuu: This is my own fault....

[vanfleeter]

Tangled In The Blankets

Characters: Jake Kiszka x Fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ || Fluff. Cozy Jake. Smut. Dry humping. Oral sex (f receiving). Penetrative sex. Cockblocking.

🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️

Tonight is the perfect fall night.

The air is chilly accompanied with the light rain that drizzles. The whole house is swallowed in darkness except for the living room. Candles are scattered around the room, flickering and illuminating the room in a dull, orange glow. A cozy and comfortable feel for the night.

A fire flickers in the hearth. The sound of the fire crackling mixes with the breathy moans of both you and Jake.

After a long day of work for the both of you, Jake made the decision to have a quiet and relaxing evening, and he knew just the way to wind down. So when you came home, you found the house darkened and the soft glow from the living room beckoning you.

It started with a quiet dinner around the coffee table, consisting of a warm bowl of soup, a new recipe that Jake had found on the internet. Then following the soup, was a comforting mug of hot cocoa made from those hot cocoa bombs. Inside them were mini marshmallows and little Halloween sprinkles. He would watch you with a small smile on his face as you watched the hot cocoa bomb rotate in the warm milk before melting and releasing all of its contents. He chuckles when you squeal seeing the little sprinkles inside.

“There’s little pumpkins!” You exclaim as you look closer, your nose nearly touching the warm liquid inside the mug.

Sitting on the floor against the coffee table and sipping on the hot cocoa, Jake started to touch you. First it began with his hand resting on your knee as he leaned closer and pressed his lips to your cheek, causing your cheeks to just slightly flush red. He slowly trails his hand up your knee and he gently squeezes your thigh making you squeak and your body jolt, nearly spilling your hot cocoa. He smiles against your cheek, and you can feel his warm breath against your skin as he opens his mouth just a little to kiss you again. You let him remove the mug from your hand and he sets it on the table beside his before he pulls you onto his lap.

His lips brush yours before he fully presses in and he kisses you. His hands move from your thighs and around to your butt. He gives them a light squeeze making you smile against his lips. The small movement of your hips has you grinding against his crotch. He groans, mentally cursing himself for choosing to wear such a thin pair of linen pants. But in this moment, he embraces it and pushes you back down again against his hardening bulge.

You knew he had this planned out when he laid you on the floor that was already covered with blankets and pillows.

He takes his time undressing as he does himself, and leaving gentle kisses along your body. He loves you softly as he makes his way down your body. His thumbs rub circles on your inner thighs as he makes a connection with your aching core. You feel his tongue gently dance through your folds and you can’t contain that moan that escapes you.

He licks through your folds again before thrusting his tongue inside of you. You writhe beneath him as he becomes relentless, fucking you with his tongue and bringing you crashing into your first orgasm. He laps up all of your release and crawls back up your body.

All while he had been orally fucking you, neither of you realized that the rain had picked up and was turning into a storm until you saw a flash of light from outside the living room window. Jake took no notice of it as he positioned himself between your legs. He only acknowledged it when he pushed inside of you as thunder rumbled outside.

“I guess we’re just that powerful together..” He says with a wink. You can’t help but laugh at his feeble attempt at a joke.

He sits inside of you, completely filling you, and kisses you before he slowly starts to move, first pulling out with just his tip inside and then pushing fully back inside. He keeps it slow for a little bit, feeling every single bit of you.

You’ve wrapped your arms around his back and your legs are twisted around his waist giving him an easier access to you as well as a way to push himself deeper. Your moans are sweet and airy and he absorbs everything one of them.

You take him by surprise when you clench your thighs around his body and use your strength to roll the two of you over, allowing you to be on top. His head lays perfectly against the pillows, his long locks splayed out around his head.

“Was I not doing enough?” He says with a smirk.

“No..” You smile as you keep the steady pace going, rising and falling around his length as he meets you in your descent with a thrust of his hips.

You were nearing your end, your walls clenching around his length. “That’s it, baby..” He says, digging his fingers into your hips. He wasn't quite there yet but he wanted you to find yours again.

Oh how he loves to watch your face twist and contort as the pleasure fills your body. The way you bite your lip as a little squeak emmits from your throat. And when you finish, he flips the two of you back over. Seeing how tight the blankets have come with all the movement, he finds it hard to do much so he pins you to your stomach on the floor and fucks you from behind. His body is completely stretched on top of yours. Your back is arched just over so slightly so that he has the right angle to thrust himself inside.

You can feel his hands wash down your arms as he hands come down to hold yours, your fingers interlocked together. His warm breath cascades down your neck with every thrust he gives. You’re still sensitive from the first two orgasms that he gave you, making your third approach rapidly.

He peppers the back of your neck with kisses as he picks up his speed. He twitches within you, signaling his impending orgasm.

“Baby.. I can’t hold on any…longer..”

You turn your head to the side and he captures you in a kiss as you both come to your own releases. He sloppily kisses you again, refusing to remove himself from inside of you.

“Are you okay?” He asks as he moves your hair across your back and kisses your shoulder. You nod your head, giving him a lazy smile and he chuckles.

Finally he removes himself from inside you and does his best to twist his body inside the blankets to lay beside you. You turn on your side, giving him more space but he only pulls you closer. He brushes your hair behind your ear and softly caresses your face in his hand. Another strike of lightning flashes followed by a dull thunk from inside the house. “I guess the powers out,” Jake laughs.

“That’s okay,” You say as you snuggle into his chest. “We don’t need it right now.”

He smiles and tilts his head to kiss you. “I hope I did good tonight.” He says, drawing little shapes on your skin.

“Better than good,” You say as you slide your leg over his hip. “I love nights like this.. Slow and relaxing–we haven't done this in a while.”

“No, we haven’t,” He says. “And I’m sorry for that.”

You shake your head before kissing him. “Don’t ever apologize. You’ve been working hard and I am proud of you.”

The two of you became absorbed in each other again that you didn’t notice anyone coming inside the house until Josh clears his throat. Jake nearly jumps out of his skin and turns over to look at him.

“What the hell, Josh?!” He exclaims. “You can’t just barge in here like that! Did you even knock?”

“Uh yeah,” Josh says. “I knocked and I rang the doorbell.. But clearly now I can see that I’m interrupting something.”

“Very much so..” Jake growls through his teeth.

“Well I lost power so I thought I’d come over here.”

“We don’t have power either,” Jake says.

“Yes you do,” Josh says matter-of-factly as he leaves the living room. “Porch light is on!” He calls from the kitchen. “Ooo! Soup!”

“Josh–” Jake begins, but you stop him.

“No, it’s okay.” You say. “Let him eat some.”

“Well this relaxation lasted as long as it did,” He grumbles.

You giggle and lean over to kiss him. “Come on, let’s get dressed.” Jake groans and falls over onto his back. “Maybe when he leaves, we can resume where we left off..” You whisper in his ear.

“Why don’t we just continue now?” He whispers back as he pulls on top of him. “He’ll be so grossed out that he’ll have no choice but to leave.”

“Come on, Jake. Be a little hospitable.”

Jake huffs a breath. “Fine..”

🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️🕯️☕️

@losfacedevil @writingcold @edgingthedarkness @ignite-my-fire @jordinlkiszka @hollyco @earthgrlsreasy @dancingcarbon @josh-iamyour-mama @katiegvf @oliverfuckingreed @cheersdannyx2 @piratejtk @takenbythemadness

Add yourself to the tag list! Link in the master list!

[dedeinthewild]

paul aron x reader, more than friends

“No hot chocolate for complainers,”

The grand house where the Arons had grown up always took on a special atmosphere when the holidays arrived, ringing with the sound of festive bells.

Anna would head to the kitchen, mixing cocoa and milk to prepare a warm and delicious hot chocolate. Meanwhile, Paul decorated the Christmas tree with his mother, and Ralf played with his niece and nephew. Every year, that little bit of hearth and home they created on those chilly days managed to mend everything bad that had happened over the year.

But this time, there was a third figure standing between Margit and Paul.

“Could you hand me the angel one, darling?” asked the Estonian woman, turning to the girl beside her. The girl’s task was to carefully unwrap the ornaments from their protective coverings. Paul jokingly referred to her as his personal elf—a figure everyone had come to know as an essential part of his life and the small light that sparkled in his eyes.

It was special to see her there. The fact that she stood before their family tree in a pair of pajama pants and one of her favorite sweaters was proof of how important she was to Paul, and consequently, to everyone close to him.

“Thanks,” Margit said as her fingertips brushed against the girl’s. Nearby, the Formula 2 driver was wrestling with a tangle of lights Anna had planned to put at the entryway, muttering under his breath every time he thought he was about to untangle a knot—only to make three more.

“Need help?” she teased, her glasses slipping down her nose, earning a less-than-friendly glance from the blonde.

“Was it four or six spoons of cocoa?” Anna asked from the kitchen.

“It depends on how many mugs you’re planning to make,” the guest replied, placing a hand on her hip while passing ornaments to Margit, who had a nearly geometric precision in arranging the baubles on the tree branches.

Paul’s sister quickly counted the people in the room and checked the kitchen cupboards for the number of mugs available. It didn’t take long to realize there weren’t enough.

“Give mine to the kids,” the girl offered with a smile as she admired a family ornament featuring little Ralf and Anna holding a one-year-old Paul in their arms.

“We’ll split,” Paul suggested. He had finally managed to rewind the tangled lights and was now leaning against the kitchen island, observing the work his mother and the girl were doing.

“Hold on, everyone,” Anna quipped. “You literally yelled at me two years ago for taking a sip from your mug.”

Paul sighed, running a hand through his soft, springy curls before stepping behind the girl to bother her, sneaking ornaments from her box.

“The purple one now,” Margit called out, moving on to the higher branches of the tree. But the girl couldn’t find any plain purple ornaments to fit on the tree, despite searching through all the wrapping and unopened boxes.

“Purple?”

“Yeah, it should be plain. It was Anna’s favorite when she was a kid because she could see her reflection in it.”

The girl turned toward Paul, who was now sitting on the couch with his knees apart, a playful smile on his face as he tossed the purple bauble into the air. He caught it with his muscular arms under the snug sleeves of his blue shirt, pressing his lips together each time he tried to catch it, and waited for her to catch him red-handed.

“Paul Aron,” Margit said firmly. “If you break it, I’ll break you.”

Ralf stifled a laugh, pretending it came from the animal noises he was making while reading to his niece, all while stealing a glance at his mother’s murderous glare aimed at her youngest son.

“Let me put it on,” Paul said, tilting his head back against the cushions of the dark couch, feigning innocence. The girl, seated on an empty box nearby, stretched her back with a sigh.

“I’m done,” Margit said with a laugh, stepping down from the small stool that had helped her reach three-quarters of the enormous Christmas tree. She walked over to check on the hot chocolate preparations with Anna, leaving Paul to his “artistic” expression.

He was deeply focused, biting his lower lip gently and crossing his arms as he considered where to place the purple ornament as though the fate of the world depended on it. Finally, after setting up the second-to-last box of decorations, he stepped back, proud of the result.

“It’s perfect, huh?”

“It looks awful,” she replied, pointing out the stark contrast between Margit’s side—carefully arranged by size and color, embodying a sense of order tied to family memories—and Paul’s, which was more chaotic and clearly guided by emotion rather than aesthetics.

“Are you seriously saying that?” he asked, feigning a wounded expression.

She burst out laughing, holding her stomach as she leaned on one of his broad, muscular shoulders for support. Paul watched her, amused by her infectious laughter, her tears of joy making her eyes sparkle.

“I’m sorry,” she managed to say between fits of laughter, but every time she accidentally met his blue eyes, she started laughing again, spreading her contagious mood to the rest of the family.

“You’re so not sorry,” he retorted, placing one of his large hands on the opposite side of her head to pull her closer to his chest as they both gazed at the tree.

“It could use a woman’s touch,” said the eldest Aron brother’s wife, walking in with a tray of cookies she’d picked up while out shopping.

Paul sighed dramatically, then glanced at the girl, his gaze lingering for a moment. He saw how carefree she looked in that instant, how much good she brought to him and his family, who had embraced her as one of their own long ago.

“What?” she asked, noticing his unyielding stare.

Without a word, the Estonian slid his arm beneath her legs, effortlessly lifting her onto his shoulder so she could reach the tree where he had placed the decorations.

“Stop it! I’m heavy, you idiot!”

“No hot chocolate for complainers,” he teased, his hand firmly gripping her left thigh as she comfortably sat on his shoulder, stretching to adjust a few ornaments.

“I’m serious, Paul.”

“So am I.”

“Damn right he is,” said Ralf, raising his head from the book his niece had been covering him with.

The girl ran her hand through Paul’s soft blonde curls while reaching with the other to place the final touches. Anna poured the hot chocolate into the mugs as Paul whistled a cheesy Christmas tune, pretending not to savor the moment. He could have carried the weight of the world with her by his side.

“How does it look?” she asked as Paul stepped back to admire the tree from another angle.

“Did you get a picture?” Margit whispered to Anna, who nodded, phone in hand.

“It’s good, but I’ll never admit it’s better than mine,” Paul quipped.

She scoffed as he shifted her forward, still holding her a few inches off the ground. She smelled of home. She looked like home. And how beautiful she was, with the lights reflecting in her eyes?

“Hurry up, it’s getting cold,” Anna said, calling them to the kitchen island.

“Weren’t we splitting?” the girl asked, noticing Paul’s face already buried in his mug.

“Oh,” he muttered, reluctantly offering the mug, a streak of chocolate on the bridge of his nose, making her smile.

Across the room, the Aron niece sat on the eldest pilot’s back, kneading his cheeks like dough.

“I know Uncle Paul likes her,” she whispered sweetly. “But don’t tell her—I want him to say it.”

“I think they both know,” Ralf replied, stroking her blonde braids.

not proofread or anything, so there might be a few errors💫