#onism eye
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A bunch of halloween sillies




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*Strolling in your room up the balcony, in comes a very tiny expendable. Practically burried beneath a bright neon green robe and a comically large wizard hat, it lifts the brim from its eyes, and it peeps up at you with unfiltered amazement.
Woooaahhh… ‘ello up there!!! How are ‘ya!!
-Mx’ Onism
“I’m good?”
[The angel would tilt their head slightly.]
“Who are you?”
#pressure ask blog#ask#guardian angel of the banlands#roblox pressure#roblox#pressure#pressure roblox
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ok ok just got into a debate with someone about t swift partnering with disney. does that mean she supports z*onism bc of her association? what does that mean for the boycotts? what do you think?? it's a real interesting topic and i'd like to know your thoughts.
i don’t think taylor is a zionist or supportive of it but i do think she is ignorant because she doesn’t see a personal benefit to educating herself. as in, i don’t think she has a stance at all because she hasn’t cared to think about it. from her position, it’s a lucrative partnership and that’s what’s important to her, which i do side-eye her for. as far as the boycotts, her fans who care about the cause should continue to boycott. cancel subscriptions, refuse to stream the movie through the platform, etc. just because taylor chooses to be ignorant doesn’t mean we should.
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Andrew Garfield on the Modern Love podcast
Anna Martin:
What do you think this movie says about how to hold on to the beauty of those moments when you’re really scared to lose them? And sorry, it is a very big question I’m posing to you.
Andrew Garfield:
But the problem is is you can’t hold on to anything. It’s all a letting go. This is all a letting go, so it’s emotional. Yeah. This life is all a letting go. And the idea of holding on — I like the idea of savoring things. I think that the Jesuits are pretty good at that. I learned that from the Jesuits.
Segue. They had this. wonderful prayer called The Examine that they do every night, and it’s pretty much the same as — I don’t know if you’ve seen the film “About Time,” the Richard Curtis film. The Domhnall Gleeson character, basically, he starts by saying, so what I did is I started living each day twice and choose to see deeper and be more present in every small, banal, seemingly, moment.
And you haven’t got to be a Jesuit or a Catholic or even religious to do this, but it’s a beautiful practice, at the end of the day, every night, just to lay down, close your eyes, go back over the day, think of the three or four moments where, as the Jesuits would say, where you felt God’s presence very near you, but fill in the blank, where you felt alive, where you felt close to yourself, where you felt connected to the mystery, the unseen forces. And you re-enter those moments and you savor the feeling of — it could be something to do with nature, a conversation with a friend, time spent with a godchild, whatever it is.
And then you go through the whole day and you notice where you were aware of that mystery, and then you notice, again, where you missed the mark and you ask for forgiveness and you ask to do better tomorrow. It takes 15 minutes, and usually, you fall asleep during and you have a better sleep because you’re connecting and you’re savoring the things that matter. But my god, it’s all so transient and it’s all leaving constantly. And the people that I’m inspired by most and that I respect and love the most are the people that — I think I’m thinking now about Mike Nichols, who I got to do “Death of a Salesman” with, and he became a friend and a mentor before he passed away in the last 10 years.
I remember him as someone who seemed to be giving himself away like seed, just planting himself like seed as he exited this Earth. And he was able to move with such lightness. And I think he got to the place of wisdom to know that he can’t take any of it with him. He just wants to leave it all here for other people to feast upon.
Anna Martin:
Do you do that prayer every night?
Andrew Garfield:
When I’m a good boy. So, no, unfortunately.
I don’t know. This is my pitch, I guess. No, I really feel like the only gateway to true vitality through a broken heart is acknowledging that our hearts are meant to break and break and break and live by breaking. That’s definitely a quote. It’s not mine.
No, I think it’s the beginning of “Angels in America.” I think that’s a quote that Tony Kushner has. Basically, the idea is that the only way our hearts can expand is by cracking open and cracking open further and further and further. The finite nature of us being here is the only thing that makes it meaningful. It’s like the concept that a friend taught me once, called onism.
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Harvst – Mahlstrom
Genre: Atmospheric Black Metal Country: Germany Label: Schattenpfade- Co-release with Crawling Chaos Records (DE), Onism Productions (UK) Catalog number: Schattenpfade 040, TCCR-074,ONISM036 Released: January 10th, 2025 Themes: Existence, Time, Loss, The cycle of life and death Digipack, CD + 20-page booklet
Order the CD version now below!
1. Mahlstrom I – Der Aufschrei des Vergangenen 07:18 2. Laubwacht 05:55 3. Was die Erde nimmt 06:37 4. Wahnmal 04:56 5. Treibholz 05:00 6. Mahlstrom II – Der Abschied des Dechiffrierten 09:12 7. Jetzt bis zuletzt 06:06
Founded in 2018 by Dornh and Wynthar, Harvst represents atmospheric black metal that distances itself from common stereotypes, instead focusing on themes such as time, transience, personal transformation and existence. Completed by Raụch on drums, Harvst is now a trio, wrapping their message in melodic, intense, and diverse music- always with an eye on the essence, steering clear of clichéd templates.
@schattenpfade_support_circle @harvst.official
#germanblackmetal#atmosphericblackmetalalbums#atmosphericblackmetal#melodicblackmetal#blackmetalpromotion#blackmetalband#blackmetalmusic#blackmetal#blackmetalcds#cdcollection#extrememetal#metalmusic#harvst#mahlstrom#release2025#newblackmetalrelease#newblackmetalalbum#fetznerdeath#fetznerfamily#fetznerdeathrecords#schattenpfade_support_circle#onismproductions#crawlingchaosrecords
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I had a crazy autism car crash moment and thought about what each of the yiik characters TMA affiliated entity would be so now I’m going to list out all my possibilities + my reasonings. I haven’t listened to tma in forever i need to relisten sometime so this is off of my Memory and the wiki so BE NICE.
Alex: ik The Extinction was kind of my immediate gut feeling because of the whole y2k destruction thing he has going on AND I STILL FEEL THAT FITS. BUT! going off of his actual character alone, the Web is honestly sooo him. with how he spins the whole narrative to fit whatever he feels suits him best. he fears so much about not having control of his life that he turns around and starts doing it to everyone instead. and it’s just never ending in that sense. this feels the most blatant honestly No Notes.
Vella: shes very Buried to me for reasons i am struggling to explain, but i think what draws me to it is how shes been known to shut herself out from situations she cant control and when the world is falling apart around her. like thats literally how we meet her in the first place she had a bad circumstance and she escapes it by trapping herself in another fucking dimension. which feels very Buried to me. also i like how she presses the sides of her head with her hands when shes stressed i like to think tight spaces comfort her just as much as they frighten her in a way.
Rory: IM STUCK BETWEEN THE LONELY AND THE VAST. on one hand the Lonely is so obvious that it hurts, Rory surrounds and pretty much defines himself in loneliness. and to that end you’d think it would be kind of hard to give him anything else. but then you think specifically about his little theories, how thoughtful he is towards the idea of how humanity and souls occupy space, and its like oh shit. so i believe there is Some element of Vast in him. also i love the idea of him and Vella as physical foils OKAY THERE I ADMIT IT.
Claudio: this man could not be more Hunt coded if he fucking tried. his search for his brother is practically endless because he won’t just accept the most likely answer that he’s dead, until the search literally consumes him. when it becomes clear a physical Hunt won’t fulfill his desire for the chase, he starts using the Internet/ONISM to start a digital Hunt that can go on forever and ever and ever. maybe there’s even a little part of Claudio that doesn’t even want to find Aaron, knowing it’ll bring an end to his Hunt.
Chondra: when i make this into a full fledged AU with some semblance of story, i imagine her being the only one who starts out not clearly affiliated with any particular fear because of just how incredibly disinterested she is in anything trying to drag her down. HOWEVER, i think that she would be marked by the End, what with how the death (in her eyes) of her brother haunts her everywhere she goes even if she tries to distance herself away from it, until eventually she gives in and lets it claim her as an avatar.
Michael: i had to save him for last because he’s the one that made me think of this at all and i have so many ideas. HES SO FULL OF POTENTIAL I FOUND THREE GOOD ANSWERS. Part of me wants to separate it into the different facets of Michael that we see throughout the game + the little snippet of I.V. the Michael whos the eternal best friend and blind to the broken narrative Alex creates is such Stranger, i can imagine him Literally being a life sized doll painted to look like the Michael of Alex’s dreams but it’s just. a little off.
meanwhile Red Michael is The Spiral, so achingly aware that everything about the world Stranger Michael lives in is a lie but being unable to communicate that to himself outside of the red room so he spirals into ONISM and consistently tries to find reality where everything is a nostalgia-based deception that further pulls him to the path of Distortion,
FINALLY. Proto-Michael, consumed by the Eye, being painfully aware of everything around him, when no one else seems capable of doing so, and desperately wanting to know the answer to it all. I think this is the entity that fits his entire, Singular the most, because Michael is such a solution-oriented, curious guy and his need to understand every strange, supernatural thing in this world really reflects on his entire character. ALSO the camera motif with him would go FIRE with the Eye. so when i make this an AU separate from the canon events of yiik that’s probably what im gonna go with. But still isn’t this super cool.
uhhhh this was super long and doesn’t even feature other prominent characters but. hey this is the main cast so at least i got that. I’ll keep working on this tho yippeeeee
#AM I CRINGE YEA OR NAY❓#this took days to write. bc I was lazy and forgor abt it midway through#BUT im rotting over this idea again so. yah expect me to be very annoying now#sie shitposts#yiik tma au
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23 Emotions people feel, but can’t explain
Sonder: The realization that each passerby has a life as vivid and complex as your own.
Opia: The ambiguous intensity of Looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable.
Monachopsis: The subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place.
Énouement: The bittersweetness of having arrived in the future, seeing how things turn out, but not being able to tell your past self.
Vellichor: The strange wistfulness of used bookshops.
Rubatosis: The unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat.
Kenopsia: The eerie, forlorn atmosphere of a place that is usually bustling with people but is now abandoned and quiet.
Mauerbauertraurigkeit: The inexplicable urge to push people away, even close friends who you really like.
Jouska: A hypothetical conversation that you compulsively play out in your head.
Chrysalism: The amniotic tranquility of being indoors during a thunderstorm.
Vemödalen: The frustration of photographic something amazing when thousands of identical photos already exist.
Anecdoche: A conversation in which everyone is talking, but nobody is listening
Ellipsism: A sadness that you’ll never be able to know how history will turn out.
Kuebiko: A state of exhaustion inspired by acts of senseless violence.
Lachesism: The desire to be struck by disaster – to survive a plane crash, or to lose everything in a fire.
Exulansis: The tendency to give up trying to talk about an experience because people are unable to relate to it.
Adronitis: Frustration with how long it takes to get to know someone.
Rückkehrunruhe: The feeling of returning home after an immersive trip only to find it fading rapidly from your awareness.
Nodus Tollens: The realization that the plot of your life doesn’t make sense to you anymore.
Onism: The frustration of being stuck in just one body, that inhabits only one place at a time.
Liberosis: The desire to care less about things.
Altschmerz: Weariness with the same old issues that you’ve always had – the same boring flaws and anxieties that you’ve been gnawing on for years.
Occhiolism: The awareness of the smallness of your perspective.
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Oc-tober 21 - 27




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Onism
Amidst the grand expanse, I pause to ponder
The little of the world I'll ever know,
A mere fragment of life's vast wonder,
A speck within the universe's flow.
My heart yearns to grasp emotions untried,
To fathom depths beyond my own reach,
To walk a mile in shoes from the other side,
And understand the lessons that they teach.
But as I stand at the edge of my own view,
I'm humbled by the breadth of human mess,
For each heart holds a universe anew,
To know each story, each tainted regret
And in this limited scope, I’ll kill my shame
In stories told, in every tear-stained face,
In every heart that dares to hope and believe.
Please, let me strive to listen and to learn,
To see the world through eyes not quite my own
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these settlers who defend z!onism be like “you just hate us because we’re j3ws”
honey your background is irrelevant. we’ve seen videos, testimonies, historical facts. at this point we feel bad for you because you were profoundly lied to. the whole world is seeing it. we’re hoping you also open your eyes! your terr0rist state fooled you.
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Watch "The Sopranos Opening Credits Theme Song | The Sopranos | HBO" on YouTube
youtube
My son picked out a sign why it's Saturday morning this hardly any traffic it's earlier it starts out at sunrise which is like 5:30 a.m. and there's several trucks and they're driving every which way but usually there's only a few trucks out on Saturday a.m. and not that type so there doing some Mafia stuff and I think it's money because it probably is Antonio's Plano is going for it and then gets the idea he wants to threaten our son. Of course he says no and we do. He says you don't have to give permission he says we're not giving permission which means something. So he's bowing with sarcasm and started onism and he's going to regret it very soon when he sees his brains flying out onto the wall in the very show that he's insulting us with and the money we don't want to go to Tony's soprano but we certainly don't want amateurs like Dave next door doing what he's doing.
This will be tomorrow morning there are a lot of other signs the biggest is there's no traffic in New York City in New Jersey where he is both this traffic every single day every single morning except Saturday and Sunday starts up a little later around 8:00 a.m. but their trucks which makes it very odd even though our son says sometimes they have some trucking on Saturday morning for the grocery stores coffee shops and it's big in New York City they're just not the right types of truck they're too big and they're not the ones that are attached and that's what they send in so it takes a keen eye but he does know about it, now you see the same trucks later in the movie he was thinking that is that red truck again. Where is your orders on Dan AKA Dave right now
Thor Freya
I can't stand that guy I can't wait till he's out and he's going to be out fully. I can't wait till they banned these idiots they're so awful you can't have a moment's rest the pestering all the time and they're so stupid they forget who's pestering them they have no idea what it's like. Right now the max are going through them very fast and their numbers going to come down everybody is following their lead
Hera
Zues
Olympus it's far too many of them sitting there harassing him you got to move some of them out we're going to get in there and we're going to do it now
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Bright Desolation
They did not see where I went on the day I left them. They howled inside their desiccated skulls as they stood proud. They waited for the stars to change hoping they’d regain the sight they lost.
I took them to be beggars in the end. War manipulated their fears and crushed their memories. They could no longer see beyond the burning fields as their spirits were feasted on by black legends and force-fed the treacle of wasted years.
Still, I moved past it like a fish slicing through the water. Slashing their minds and cutting out their hearts, suffocating them where they slept so they wouldn’t have to wake up again. I took pity on them in the end which only a fool can trust, begrudging them the sacrifice of their own peril.
Instead, extracting the essence of what they gave me: egg, bile, chance, transmissive host, aligning through fluidic means, yet never fully coalescing. Traveler or ghost over gray, lonely roads, only not so lonely to me. Enraptured by the filamental guise shuddering between grief and isolation never too far from the obliqueness of space.
I change, and go, how I must. Metamorphosis of a star is the dark art of annhilation, either considered a blessing or a curse among nature’s rabble. Whether letting in the martyrdom of an age or trailing mysteries to their scintillating edge.
Where the Black Sun radiates with disorder and reunion. I don’t remember dying, yet wander through realms of the dead. Out of the smoking abyss to one cavernous retreat under the mountains. Gold of the world dims, blinding any who stay behind. Haunted evidence in their vacant eyes as they’ve lost far more than their sight.
In a ritual of separation and departure. The likelihood of entering another domain without making it back as those who came far and have died many times due to sorcery, plague or war can attest. Chameleons in the darkness. Black Sun portends to them rival worlds and other vistas of infinitude.
***
I float away until I’m nowhere. Like the Taar I once smoked in reeking dens I am orbiting down.
Weightless companion to my heavy burden as the universe reminds me: that somewhere, out there, lies its center and wherever I go I’ll be reminded of you.
Returning, instead, to a budding, chaotic world, where sands have not yet set and winter never comes. Cascading fields of green untrampled by human feet. Unsullied tide of spring-water seen clear through to the Serpent’s Eye.
Looking back.
I feel its heart in mine, cold at the bottom of a lake. A vision within a vision ensconced by phantom sediment. Proof of my existence. Ardor in the face of blight and confusion.
However, surviving aeons, its footprint remains. World swims around its form with radiant devotion. Substanceless depths come up for air as I watch myself drown. No matter, I was born here, where flesh meets sky.
I am just a man, I realize, crawling toward the Idol. I am my own frozen shadow under a dead moon.
The Idol is silent, too, and has been for some time. And even while the war is long over we’re afraid to go outside. Still, if I am a traveler – a true, wayfaring outlander cordially self-exiled – I’ll need to move past this, too. If only to hear that voice again, guttural, announcing itself with brute alienage.
***
I can give you that much at least: that I’ve lived like some pagan savage. I’ve fornicated with witches and bled for necromancers before locking myself away.
Or is it one of the many nightmares I’m only now awakening from?
Eyes, once tearful, brimming with devotion, now arid as the Desert of Glass, penetrating with sharp onism, clarity, no longer afraid to let go. Supine before splintering futures as a necromancer, clad in hoary robes, scried my heart for telling palpitations. While ages dwindled ahead to points of corrugating light, sun spilling its seed above the constricting meridian with no more room to breathe.
A demon, I was, spared to live truly, irrevocably, dead. And yet, alive, fuming with boreal consciousness while experiencing the tension of the world itself as a lashing scourge of fire and judgment . . .
Twisting, writhing through charnel streets as the blackness of my thoughts reveled in the clamor of doom. Resurrected to witness the night of nights when you are finally put out of your misery as, under these collapsed ruins and toppled halls, nothing remains.
Like the distance I feel which fills you with dread by the end. Another relic for the march across dead seas. Banners held high in defiance of madness to come: that you’ll go nowhere in the end, rotting on your throne.
Voice loud and clear, even over the clamor of war. Churlish words of a demon’s curse enraptured by the destruction.
***
I became lost on the solitary road. Deeper into the mountains. I’d been cold before, but never like this. Sky like an ashen cowl rendering me invisible against the expanse of glaring, white drifts.
I am reminded of another life.
People of the Black Sun.
Gaunt denizens, flesh worn only to still the waters of the thing inside, warming their bones inside a spectral furnace as they come to terms with the ghost inside. Situating musculature over stone as they are transformed into worms and ghouls who haunt, yet are never haunted, in void-like realms, considered revenant when spied from afar.
All that mattered was they were waiting for me.
What do you know, or care to know, as you fade from view? As this feeling remains, which is no feeling at all? . . .
World itself decays, gathering flies of its own. Festering reunions in the depths of holocaustal memories. Behind a veil of indifference, rising and falling of flame, blatant futures spew from exhausted oracles. Pineal eye slams shut to the Fall and deprecation of valor.
It’s okay, a Voice assured me, to end it like this. It was their voice, our voice, echoing through the illimitable chamber where we congregated: where the demonic wailing of the world could no longer be heard.
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The Aura Painter | DOB
Painter! Dylan x Princess!Reader
Word Count: 12K (12.057)
Warnings: Mentions of sexism, masturbation (mutual or solo), unprotected sex (this is a fic, be safe), cum play, breeding kink, filthy tbh, some cliché romance scenes. This is my second time writing ‘smut’. But this is the first time writing something so long and so filthy, bear with me.
A/N: This is an idea that I’ve had in mind for so long. Hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed imagining it. And of course, writing it. If you do, please give it some love and share it. The biggest solo piece I’ve ever written!
All Rights Reserved. The author, me, don’t allow any type of copy or adaption.
BIG MASTERLIST | KO-FI
Words you must know for the fic:
Onism (n.) the awarness of how little of the world you will experience.
Heriaeth (n.) a homesickness for a home to which you canot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning. the grief of lost places of your past.
Elysian (adj.) beautiful or creative; divinely inspired; peaceful and perfect.
.
The droplets of rain fell against the glass, leaving a trail which I followed with my gaze. The glistening tear of water disappeared before I could place my finger against the window and imitate that I could command its movement.
The sky seemed to cry, turning a darker shade. Perhaps the sky had lost a lover or perhaps, the one they loved was far from its reach. I could not tell as I never experienced one of those stories.
The books I had to read as a child were those who would teach me how to act and think. But those I read on the confines of my room when everyone was sleeping were different. Those told the story of a beautiful lady who wished to be rescued by a gentleman. I would try not to squeal under my blanket, as that was something, a lady of a high position should not do.
I glanced at the sky again as it screamed, lightly swaying the trees outside while his droplets of tears wetted everything under itself.
"M'lady," I corrected my form, trying to look as straight as possible. Turning around, I glimpsed directly into a pair of green eyes that seemed to lose their brightness as the seasons passed. Those eyes used to be the brightest ones in this palace, but now they were almost colourless, decorated by a couple of wrinkles. "Your mother is asking for your presence at her table."
That was unusual. My mother was a sophisticated distant woman who liked to spend time on her own. Hence, she tried to escape from her responsibilities as a Queen while having breakfast by herself. She would relax outside in the gardens. A small white table filled with her preferred meals, and even if she sought to convince herself, and lie to me about her drink being just a mere juice, everyone knew it wasn't.
"Tell me, Harold," While walking through the corridors of the palace, I noticed once again the monotony. The clicking of my heels appeared to be the only sound, except the melody of the rain falling against hard surfaces. "Did the Queen seem mad?"
Harold tried not to chuckle, knowing that if my parents or any of my siblings were near, he would end up getting struck by executing such a natural gesture. "I must say that the Queen did not ask for the cello man to accompany her this morning with some music."
I gasped, glancing at him to discern if he was teasing me. Harold had been in our family for so many years. I dare to say that he was in this palace before anyone else.
"She must be quite mad, then." I bit my lower lip, trying to think what of the things I have done could have gotten her mad, and how she had discovered them. "Perhaps she found the romance novels hidden in my room?" I muttered to myself.
"M'lady," Harold opened the door to the great hall. "She preferred to eat her breakfast in here as it is raining cats and dogs outside." He whispered, letting me walk in first. I silently nodded my head, wandering closer to my mother, who was sitting on the farthest place even though she was on her own. "My Queen. The young Lady has arrived. If my services are required, I will be waiting outside to escort the young Lady back to her room."
I shivered as soon as Harold left the room, wishing he could have stayed with me. But of course, he did not deserve the wrath of my mother. While walking closer to her, my clicking heels seemed to resemble the countdown of a bomb that would explode shortly.
"Take a seat, my darling," She demanded as soon as I was close to her. I swallowed, swiftly grabbing the skirts of my dress. I sat down on the white chair in front of her. She coughed. "Someone quite similar to the young Lady of the palace has been seen on the street market." A newspaper was placed on top of the table, facing me.
I swallowed one more time. "Must be someone who resembles me." I attempted to sound confident. "I am afraid that happened on Friday, and I take piano, courtesy and manner classes that day."
"Tell me, darling," She faked a smile. Her dark brown eyes, studying my position and expressions. "May I ask how you knew this happened on Friday as the article does not say something like that?"
"I-." Her stare became even more intimidating. "Guessed?" I squinted my eyes, perceiving that she would raise her voice to inhuman levels.
"Nor did you only skip your classes, you also lied and went outside on your own." Her tone was sharp. "Hideous things could have happened to you. Do you know what this could mean to your brother's throne?" Of course, this was about my dear brother. "The sister of the future King of Onism does not follow the rules of the palace. Then, what should they expect from their new King?"
"I did not do anything inappropriate, mother." I sighed, shifting my gaze to look at her directly. "I did not get in trouble, and as you can perceive, I am all right."
She rolled her eyes, which surprised me as she always claimed for that gesture not being refined. "And books," She pointed to one of the chairs, where I noticed all my favourite romance novels resting upon it. She had found them.
"May at least have some privacy in the confines of my bedroom?" I was mad, but raising my voice to her would get me in even more trouble. "Those," I referred to the pile of books that were my most precious property. "Those are mine."
"Not anymore," She got up, grabbing one of them and examining the title. "Romance novels? When will you understand that nothing like this happens in real life?"
I felt a little strength going through my body. "That book, in particular, describes the love story of the author! It is a romance that happened to her in real life. It is not fiction."
"But that woman was not a princess, was she?" I shook my head as she waited for my answer. "However, you are one. Even if you do not have anything to do with the future throne of Onism, your brother does, and you must behave like a princess." She walked closer to the fireplace. My eyes widened, and I gasped loudly. "You are a woman and a princess. The only thing you must worry about is making your future husband happy while following his rules, even if you do not love him." She opened the book, her skinny finger ripping some of the pages, and in the process, shattering my heart. "You will get married to someone you do not love, just to unite two countries." She let the book slip from her fingers. Falling to the fire, and burning as much as my eyes were burning due to the tears. "Stop filling your head with stories that will never happen to you. You are dismissed."
I got up from the chair, slightly glancing at the pile of books. I knew they would end up in the fireplace, slowly burning. I bowed my head. "I apologize, mother." She made a gesture with her hand, instructing me to leave the great hall.
My head was down as I walked to the door, wishing to exit the room and rant to Harold. "Wait," The voice of my mother interrupted my walk. "Get prepared as in two hours a man will come to paint a portrait of you. We will send the portraits to different future Kings of other countries that have shown interest in courting you."
"Yes, mother." I could not argue.
As I came out of the room, I noticed Harold's gaze fixed on me. I shook my head, letting him accompany me to my chambers. While walking through the long corridors, I glanced outside the windows. I reminded myself that I would never dance under the rain with someone while we laugh and kiss. I will never be caressed with love. I will only be touched with the purpose of bringing an heir to someone. An heir that would have to live the same dull life as me.
Going inside my bedroom, Harold bowed his head while he walked away. However, three ladies that worked in the palace entered my room, ready to assist me. I could not even take a bath on my own, nor could I dress by myself as the three of them did it for me.
"The painter will be here soon, ma'am," Rosetta informed, deciding to stay in the room as a lady should not be alone in a room with a man who is not her beloved husband. "He is a painter from town, said to have a gift."
"Is he quite known?" I asked to continue the conversation as I did not want to be rude. Nonetheless, the image of my books burning was the only thing in my mind.
"He is known in town for doing amazing portraits in exchange for food and a place to live." My curiosity peaked at the comment. "Royals are quite interested in getting their portraits done by him. Though, he had denied their offers." I looked at her with confusion. "He does not want to be related to any royalty member." I nodded my head, understanding why he did not want that.
There were two knocks on the door, indicating that the painter was here. I was quite surprised as my mother wanted the portrait to be painted in my private chambers. "Please, come inside."
When the door opened, a tall man came inside. He was probably around 5' 10". Wide shoulders that were covered by dark brown clothes. It seemed to be his best attire. Even though you could see the cheap fabric, and how he had tried to cover some holes and get rid of some stains. He had tried to gel his hair back. At first, I thought his hair was black until a streak of light fell on him, and I discerned it was a little lighter than that.
His light brown eyes fell on me, and studying them in-depth, I noticed that they resembled to be hazel. He bowed his head. "Uhm, it is a pleasure to meet you, Princess. I am here to-."
I offered him a smile. "Welcome to the palace," I bowed my head a little, which seemed to surprise him. "Please, do not call me Princess. It is fine to call me Lady." I gestured to one of the chairs in my room. "Please take a seat. It must have been a bumpy ride to the palace."
While sitting down, he nodded his head. There was a big black binder between his hands. Noticing my gaze on it, he quickly opened it, showing different canvas. "I can make different types of portraits. I thought I should bring some examples for the Pri-, Lady to choose the one she fancies the most." He stretched his arm, providing his drawings for me to look at them.
"May I ask for your name, sir?" My eyes focused on his drawings, understanding why everyone wanted to get their portrait done by the young man.
"My family name is O'Brien, while my name is Dylan, my Lady."
I nodded my head while still focused on his magnificent paintings. However, one in particular seemed to grab my full attention. It was the portrait of an elder, who appeared to be looking deep into me. He was skinny, and by his clothes, I could tell he was poor. He was sitting on a chair, and I almost gasped when I discerned that he had a missing leg. His expression was warm, a gorgeous smile decorating his face. Though, you could see that he had missing teeth.
"Did you find any equivalent style to what you desire?" His soft voice snapped me from my thoughts.
"May I ask?" I turned the portrait around, giving it back. His eyes examined the elder he had drawn. "Why is he smiling, but there are shadows around him?" I had noticed that the elder was smiling. However, black and grey adumbrations were around his figure. Some resembled horrible monsters. Especially a grey shadow that resembled a demon, resting upon his head.
He chuckled. "Those are the ones people in town ask the most." He glanced at me. "I draw their exterior as they want other people to see them. But then, around them, I draw what I can perceive or what I learnt about them." I furrowed my eyebrows. "Sadly, this man passed away a couple of weeks ago due to a cold." He licked his bottom lip. "He had offered me a home for a couple of days, and of course, he had proposed food in exchange for a portrait. Those days, I learnt many things while listening to his stories. I noticed that the man was attempting to look happy for his sick wife, whom he loved with his entire soul."
I fidgeted on my seat. "What happened, then?" I curiously asked, making him grin.
"He was not happy. He was afraid of losing the love of his life because death had knocked a couple of times on their door." He glanced at the painting. "Their children had married to people in higher positions, ignoring the elderly couple and not helping them with medicines. He was 87 years old, working in the town market. He was selling vegetables that he was cultivating by himself." He decided to continue as he saw that I was expectant of knowing more. "He never lost the smile for anyone, even if people did not treat him right. And of course, when arriving at his house, he would maintain the smile for his wife."
"Then," I tried to hide my teary eyes. "Those dark shadows..."
"Those are the monsters he tried to hide, but that I got to meet. The fear of losing his wife, the frightening feeling of wanting to end his own life, the fear of not having money to pay for his wife medicines, and so much more."
"And what happened to them?" Rosetta coughed, indicating me to fix my posture, and I quickly did, which made him furrow his eyebrows.
"As I said, one of his biggest fears was that they did not have enough money to pay for his wife's medicines." He peeped at the ground for mere seconds. "She died in her sleep. Her body could not hold the pain anymore, and she faded away."
"What about the old man?"
He nodded his head, his gaze shifting to the portrait. "He passed away in his sleep too. There was a smile in his face."
I blinked, affected by the grievous story of those who had to fight to survive. "I want one of those!" Both Rosetta and Dylan looked at me with surprised expressions decorating their faces. "I would like one of those portraits."
"My Lady, I'm sorry to intervene on matters that I should not. But I do not think the Queen will like such a portrait to be sent to those who are interested in courting you." She was right.
"She will not look at the portrait. Harold will be the one sending them." I affirmed, knowing that my mother would not dirty her hands for anything.
"It could get the young man in trouble, my Lady."
I glance at the man, who was looking at Rosetta until his eyes met mine. "Yes," I smiled, even though I was upset. "You are right. Then," I studied a portrait, a simple one. "I would like this one." Dylan nodded his head.
"It would take a couple of days to finish it. But I will be staying in the palace for the time being." He informed. "Is there any time of the day where you prefer to spend your time just standing in front of me?" He blushed a little. "Just for the portrait, of course."
"Tuesdays and Fridays I must spend receiving 'Lady classes'. The rest of the days and hours, I will be in here." I sighed, offering him another smile. "Did they give you directions for the room where you will stay?" Nodding his head, he showed me a piece of paper with some important directions to places of the palace that he could visit. "Your bedroom is at the end of this corridor. You are lucky as it is empty, except for me and Harold's room." Of course, he had met Harold already. "I must warn you not to leave your room after 11 pm as there are guards everywhere." I got up from my chair. "Rosetta," I pointed at her. "She will bring every meal to your room. Do not hesitate if you need to ask them something. There are a bathroom and a study in your chambers."
Before he could answer, the door of my chambers opened. A broad man stumbled in with decisive steps, and fury adorning his face. I gulped, stepping back before I could hold myself.
The man threw a newspaper at me, hitting my chest. Glancing at the floor, I witnessed the same newspaper my mother had been holding a couple of minutes ago. "Again?" His voice was sharp. "Did you escape again to buy those stupid books?" I shook my head. "Oh, yes, you did. Mother told me." His boots sounded like thunders as he walked closer. "I do not desire to hear any rumour of how my sister is not acting like a lady." My brother Evans glared at me. "If my future in the throne is affected by your stupid imagination and ambitions, I swear I will do whatever I must do for you to learn your lesson."
"I am s-."
"Do not you dare speak back to me!" He screamed. His gaze shifted to Dylan, who was standing too, eyes widened and what seemed anger decorating his face. "Are you the painter?" He nodded his head. "Try to make her attractive in the portrait. Hopefully, some rich soon-to-be King from another country will want to marry her." He peered at me. "Luckily, he will know when a woman needs a genuine beating to act like a lady or a wife." Those were his final words as he left the room. I finally could breathe.
"Uhm," My legs shook, and I attempted to hide it. "As I said before if you need anything, do not hesitate to ask."
"Thank you, my Lady." He got up from his chair, clutching his paintings. "Is it all right to start with the portrait tomorrow morning?" I nodded my head, wishing him goodnight as he left my bedroom.
"Rosetta," Her hands were behind her back, respectfully. "Tell Harold that I demanded not to be disturbed tonight. Not even for dinner." She nodded her head, bowing and leaving me on my own.
I sighed, wandering closer to a full-body mirror that decorated one of my walls. The moment I feared the most was getting closer. I would marry someone whom I do not love. I would marry someone whose eyes would not hold back from gawking at other women. And with those thoughts in mind, I went to sleep.
The following day, I decided to have breakfast and lunch in my chambers, not wanting to face my mother or my older brother. I had convinced Harold to stay outside my room, wanting to be on my own with Dylan. I thought that I would feel more comfortable if I didn't have someone constantly checking my posture or warning me of what should not say. Moreover, I also believed that a painter needed his privacy to reflect his art on a canvas.
I was stunned toward the bright day outside. Looking out of the window, I saw my little siblings running around the garden as some servants followed them. They were probably making their job even more complicated. Alexander and Victoria were quite the troublemakers. However, I was thrilled for them as they would not have to follow such strict indications, as to the ones I had to obey.
"Are those your siblings, my Lady?" Scared by the prompt presence, I turned around. Dylan was standing there, holding a big canvas and a briefcase, which I assumed held his painting materials. "I apologize if I alarmed you. Harold permitted me to come inside."
I nodded my head. "Yes, they are twins." I offered him a smile as he grabbed a chair, placing it in front of me. I discerned that my back was resting against the wall, and I quickly moved to stand straight. "Oh, please, no." He extended his arm. "Would it be okay for you to go back to that position? The light was caressing the right side of your face. There was a beautiful contrast." I swallowed, nodding my head while resting my back against the wall. I heard him chuckle. "Please, do not worry. It is okay for you to blink, breathe or swallow. It is also okay for you to do light movements."
"May I talk?"
"I am not great at holding conversations, but I will try my best, my Lady." He placed the blank canvas on the easel. His hands worked fast while taking out his painting material from the briefcase. "If it is not rude," He swallowed, probably questioning himself if it was okay to continue speaking. "I have noticed some books lying under the bed," I glance at my bed. Noticing that some books could be seen, which meant he was good at observing and that I did not hide my books correctly. "What books do you read?"
"Well," I gulped. "I read books about manners a lady should have in front of males and for the table. I study geography too as I must know the rest of countries for future alliances, and-."
"I apologize, my Lady." He wetted his brush. "Perhaps I formed the question wrongly. I wanted to know which books you enjoy."
My mouth opened as no one has ever asked me such a question. "You will think I am a typical young girl."
"Cannot think like that, my Lady." He mixed some colours. His painting brush, caressing the canvas delicately. "You are not a typical young girl. You are the Princess of Onism." Though those words shattered my heart, he was right. I would never be a 'normal' girl as my life was nothing like the one of an ordinary lady. "However," He continued. "When you paint someone, you get to comprehend them deeply. I believe I might discover that you are an ordinary human at heart. Something beautiful that would separate you from cold-hearted royalty." I was surprised by his words as people would not dare to talk of royalty like that.
I offered him a smile. "You might." He got distracted for a couple of seconds. His eyes navigated from the canvas to me, trying to retain my features and the folds of my clothes. "Romance." I was flustered. "I do truly enjoy romance."
"I presume something you will experience as soon as these portraits are sent."
I shook my head. "Something I presume I will never experience." His eyebrows furrowed once again. "Royalty men have the right to choose whom they will marry, even if they do not love them. Women will have to accept whomever their parents choose for her." My gaze shifted to the window for a couple of seconds. "It is my destiny."
He stopped painting for mere seconds, staring at me while slowly blinking. "Destiny can be changed." I shook my head. "It can," He nodded his head. "It might be scary or go against the rules. But destiny can be changed by the decisions you make. Only you are the sailor of the ship." He grinned. "That is something my father used to say."
"Used?"
"He passed away." He gritted his teeth. "He was a great painter too. Better than me." To my curious gaze, he decided to continue. "My mother left when I was a baby. She fell in love with a younger man, leaving my dad and me." He gulped. "Therefore, I would not dare to say that I have seen love as my mother left without looking back."
"H-Have you experience love, sir?"
"Please, call me Dylan, my Lady." There was a comfortable silence between us as he seemed to be concentrating on the portrait. "Not sure I did. Love is not what is shown in books. Nonetheless, I would like it to be like that."
"I cannot agree or disagree." I offered a sad smile, trying to hide my tears. "May we take a rest?"
He glanced at the clock hanging on my wall, nodding his head. "I apologize, time went by so fast." He cleaned and placed his paints inside his briefcase. "Good night, my Lady." I bowed back to him as he closed the door.
I waited for a couple of minutes, opening the door and seeing Rosetta waiting there. "Where is Harold?" I glance around, hoping to see the grey-haired man.
"He had to take care of some issues." She replied, looking nervous. "Do you need anything, my Lady?"
I quickly nodded my head. "I expect no dinner today, and I demand to be left alone." She furrowed her eyebrows, and before she could speak back, I stopped her. "I would like to take my nightly bath on my own, please." She nodded her head, walking away after wishing me a good night.
I closed the door of my chambers, quickly locking it as I rapidly walked into my bathroom, doing the same thing to the door. Walking closer to the bath, I turned on the faucet. I checked the temperature of the water until it was lukewarm.
I sighed as my hands went to my back, untying my dress. As the clothes fell to the ground in a surprisingly elegant manner, I appreciated not being forced to wear a corset. My legs shook as I placed one inside the water until I was sitting down.
I have read in books how a woman and a man would fall in love. A passion that they could not resist. An absolute passion that would make their hands wander through their bodies, wanting to feel each other as close as possible. I have read it so many times that I could lie to my head, making it think that I have experienced something like that.
I have read the way hands seem to burn on the skin, and how breathing becomes more arduous. And how after being pleasured, you need it over, and over again.
I sighed, feeling my nipples hardening, and I learnt they could do so even if the temperature was not cold. My left hand gripped the edge of the bathtub as the right hand rested on my chest. I decided it was time to move it, and closing my eyes, I left it to wander down while grazing my nipples.
When my fingers caressed my tummy, they seemed to become shy. Not used to the places they were descending. I have read books, but I have never experienced the feeling, which made me feel curious.
I tried to remember all the books. My fingers ended up placed on top of my bundle of nerves, and just the mere touch made me shiver from excitement. I slowly moved them in circles, adding more pressure, little by little. The temperature down there seemed to get warmer to the point where it burned. I could not avoid the need to move my fingers faster.
My left hand continued to grip the edge of the bathtub, but this time harder as my mouth opened and my vision became blurry. I felt this strange sensation. I felt like I was going to urinate inside the warm water, and even though I felt quite disgusted by the thought, I could not stop my fingers. They moved in circles, faster and adding much more pressure.
And it came. A rush of pleasure came over my body, and I could not hold back the moans escaping my mouth as I peeped down between my legs. My intimate parts turned red due to temperature and agitation. Then, I regarded the water near it, looking less transparent. So that was it. That is what a woman felt after pleasuring herself.
Curiosity invaded me even more, and I wanted to experience more further.
A couple of days had gone by, and the portrait was already looking amazingly good. I did not have any doubt of Dylan's talent as I have seen some of his works.
"Has anyone shown you around?" We had got a little closer as we spent many hours together for the portrait. He shook his head, taking off his dark green beret, and resting it on a nearer seat as he proceeded to mix some colours. "Would you like to see the gardens and the horses?"
His eyes widened. "Horses, my Lady?" I chuckled at his expression, nodding my head.
"Eight to be exact." His eyes widened even more. I remembered everything he had told me about himself, especially his love for horses. "We could take a rest. I feel dizzy from the smell of paint." He promptly nodded his head, halting and resting his brush on top of an antique plate stuffed with remains of paint.
Strolling through the gardens, I peered at him. He seemed content, having the chance to smell the fresh air mingled with the scent of the white roses that decorated our gardens. "White roses are your favourites." He had surprised me while retrieving such a simple, but a unique fact about me.
I nodded my head. "I prefer them over red roses. Those are overrated." He laughed, making my heart beat loudly. Dylan was an attractive man, and these past days I could not stop my body and my heart from reacting as soon as my gaze met his. "The stables are over there." I pointed to a couple of meters away from us. I extracted my arm as I felt something falling on it. "Oh, it seems like it will start drizzling." We walked faster to the stables, almost running as the rain appeared to fall swiftly upon our clothes. "You will adore Arden. He is my hor-." I was interrupted as I saw two bodies stirring frantically against each other. Their moans, invading the stables. "Wh-." A hand covered my mouth while another dragged me off the stables. Dylan and I ran under the rain, getting as far as possible from the horses' house.
Both of us gawked at each other in astonishment. "Maybe my eyes deceived me. However, I believe that was Harold?" He seemed as shocked as me.
"They did not trick you." I gulped. "May I add that woman was my mother?"
His eyes widened even more. "T-The Queen?" I nodded my head. "I am so sorry, my Lady."
"I am not angered by the fact she was committing adultery! I know my father is no saint." I gritted my teeth. "I am mad by the fact she lives a miserable life. In which she had to marry a man she does not love, and she wants to impose the same duty on me!" My hands reached my hair, fingers clutching it. "It is not fair for her to desire the same dull and cruel life for me!" Dylan kept quiet, allowing me to rant. "Why must not I experience falling in love with someone? I crave to be touched by adoring hands, not dirty ones that will not care about my desires and will expect for an heir to be conceived." I sighed. "I ache to live that romance until the day I die." I let my posture fall, whining. "Why cannot I be kissed by someone truly interested in me? Why cannot I be touched by someone who desi-."
My speech was interrupted as Dylan's hands rested on my cheeks. His lips were tightly pressed against mine. I have read how a kiss was mostly controlled by the fight of tongues, aspiring to be the dominant one. But this was just a simplistic kiss.
"Oh my-." His eyes widened as my mouth fell open. "I apologize for my behaviour. I do not know what came over my mind for me to-." My hands were now covering his cheeks as I bought him closer. My lips were awkwardly pressed against his. He separated from me, blinking dumbfoundedly. "Close your eyes." I did. "Open your mouth a little, my Lady." His thumb drew my lower lip downwards. As he got closer, I felt his tongue stroking my bottom lip.
My hands were pushed against his chest as I gripped his white shirt between my fingers. One of his hands had to wander to my lower back as my legs shook. His tongue was now grinding against mine, and not knowing what to do, I mimicked his actions. My mouth instinctively melted against his.
"You will be the death of me, my Lady." He held me closer. His right hand, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Literally."
The following day, I walked to the great hall, confident enough not to knock on the door before stepping inside. My mother seemed shocked to be interrupted by my presence, as she gripped the teacup tighter.
Harold wandered behind me, fear written all over his features as he had never seen me disrespecting my mother in such a way.
I gestured for the cello man to leave the room, which he quickly did, not even daring to glance at my mother. "How dare you to come inside in such a-."
"I will not get married." I interrupted her, something I have never done before. I had been informed by my brother that there was a powerful candidate for me to marry. A 52-year-old man. "I will not marry someone I do not love, and even less a 52-year-old King just for our countries to be at peace."
"You have no say on it."
"Mother, do you want me to live the same life as you?" I ventured to ask. "Do you want me to marry a man who will sleep with every servant or woman that crosses his way while my future children will have to suffer the consequences too? A boy that ought to follow the rules of a King until he becomes a tyrant. And a girl who ought to have to act as demanded. Merely for the young male of the family to be even more respected?"
"As I sai-."
"Will I be like you then, mother?" My lower lip trembled. "Will I be cold-hearted towards my children, towards my daughter? Will I have to submit her to the same shameful life as me?" I did not let Harold intervene. "Will I have to close my eyes to true love and consume my infatuation with the person I truly love in some dirty stable?" Both of them were shocked by my words. "You are preparing and forcing me to the life you both have. I do not want to hide from the public eye and keep the person I cherish a secret."
"If this is about that paint-."
"He has nothing to do with this." I did not appreciate the way she spoke about Dylan. "I have openly expressed my discomfort about marrying someone I do not love since I recollect. I understand romance books do not happen in real life. But love does, and marrying someone for my brother's throne is not love." I sighed. "It is not fair for us, women, to be treated like this while men are approached like that!"
She surprisingly glanced at me for a couple of seconds before her sober expression appeared once again. "Every King marries the women they choose. We cannot decide. Every King has bastard children." I had to remind myself that Alexander and Victoria were the children of one of our servants. "Even your brother is going to have a bastard child." I furrowed my eyebrows as it was the first time hearing that news. "Rosetta." A disgusted expression decorated my face.
"Well," I breathed deeply. "Destiny can be changed." I recited the same words Dylan had told me once. "It might be scary or go against the rules. But destiny can be changed by the decisions you make. Only you are the sailor of the ship." I glimpse at Harold. "I am tired of not being the sailor of my ship." I softened my voice. "Think about it, mother. I will do everything in my power to get out of here, even if it means dying in the process." For the first time in my life, my teary eyes were met with the glistening tears that invaded my mother's eyes. "I will be in my chambers. Please do not bother me at all."
When arriving to my bedroom, I did not expect to see Dylan waiting inside. I locked the door behind me as my eyes examined his entire body.
"Are you all right, my Lady?" He showed the briefcase he was squeezing between his fingers. "Rosetta told me to wait here for you. Since we could not continue with the portrait this morning, I assumed that perhaps, we could tonight."
"Let's escape together." My mouth seemed to move on its own. However, Dylan stared at me with complete confusion decorating his features.
"My Lady, I do not think I understand what you are trying to imply." He knew.
"I have told you before I do not plan on marrying someone whom I do not love." I walked to my bed, sitting down on the mattress. "It has been decided without letting me know that I will get married to the King of Hiraeth."
He glanced down at the floor for a couple of seconds to later shift his gaze on my direction. "Perhaps he is not only a noble because of his blood. Perhaps he is also noble at heart."
"It does not matter if he is noble at heart or not," I answered decisively. "He is a 52 year-old-man! And as I said before, someone I do not love!"
He sighed. "My Lady," Resting his briefcase on the floor, he pulled a chair to sit in front of me. Though, he maintained the distance. "If I am not wrong, you have never met this man before. You might end up fallin-."
"Do not dare to say that!" I got up from the bed, eyes flickering. "Please, do not be like the rest of those who live in this palace! The first time you came here, you told me I could change my fate." He swallowed, nodding his head. "That is what I am trying to do." My hands were squeezing the skirts of my dress. "Please."
"I cannot take you anywhere, my Lady. You are the Princess of Onism. Everyone in town knows the beauty you behold." He coughed while deeply looking into my eyes. "I do not know anyone that will keep the secret of you being in to-."
"You are not understanding me, Dylan." I tried to ignore the way his body shivered every time my tongue and lips worked together to create his name. "I know I told you that I have never experienced love." I bit my lower lip, taking a breath. "I only know what I have read in books." He nodded his head, waiting for me to continue. "But I understand my feelings. Even before the day we kissed under the rain, I was already attracted to you."
"Attraction is something that can be felt many-."
I stepped closer, making him glance up. "It was attraction, I admit." Both of my hands navigated towards my back. "But my heart beats madly, whenever you are near me, whenever I glance at you or when I think about you." He got up from his chair, slightly stepping back. "I am utterly sure that I am in love with a man who worries about me and my feelings. Someone who has been encouraging me and that has seen my fears."
"My Lady," He gulped. "I truly feel honoured to be inside your mind and heart. I will not lie as I do also feel the same towards you." When I moved closer, he prevented me. "But you are a Princess, and I am just a simple man who paints in exchange for food and a roof." He blinked fastly. "I cannot give you the life you might expect." He offered me a side-smile. "And of course, our relationship would not be approved by the King and Queen." His voice turned softer. "Neither by the soon-to-be King of Onism."
"I do not care!"
"But I do, my Lady." He breathed deeply. "I do not want you to live a life where people will insult and degrade you plainly because you married a penniless man, or because you did not obey the established rules of the members of the royalty."
"I already have that life, where I am discredited just because I am a woman." This time when I stepped closer, he did not back away. "I already have to follow settled rules for the sake of my brother." My hands were still behind my back, and I finally decided to let them untie. He did not notice yet. "But now I have found someone who makes me feel something I have never experienced before." I sighed. "What did you do to me, Dylan?" He opened his mouth. "My mind and heart are full of you, and they constantly demand my body to be filled by you too."
His neck and cheeks turned red as he seemed to have difficulties while swallowing his spit. His eyes shifted around the room, trying to decide what to do. "My Lady," He sighed in desperation. His hands travelling through his body while he clenched it and gritted his teeth. "I truly have been trying to hold back." His hands now grazed his face. "I have been trying to hide how in love I am with you as I am just someone who does not deserve you."
"You are the man who deserves me the most." The shoulders of my dress fell, displaying my bare skin. His eyes widened even more. "And you do not have to hold back anymore." Finally, the cloth fell onto the ground. "I have read so many things, but I have never thought of experiencing them." I felt embarrassed by revealing such a matter. "I could not hold my hands from exploring my body for the first time as your image was in my mind."
"You did?" I nodded my head. His eyes had never left mine, not even to peer at my underwear. A rush of confidence seemed to hasten through him as he walked to the door, securing it. "Show me." My expression must have confused him. "Show me how you did it."
It was my turn to gulp as I got on my mattress, lying down on my back. I was slightly sitting thanks to the pillow, which granted me to discern Dylan as he shuffled closer to the end of the bed.
My bralette was already off, but his eyes still fixed on mine. "You can look." As soon as those words came out of my mouth, his eyes glanced down at my chest. It seemed like he had complications breathing.
My hands gently travelled down, gripping the sides of my underwear and slowly bringing them down my legs. The chilly air was a contrast of temperature to my entire body. I shifted my legs to completely discard my panties, which ended up someplace on the ground.
I permitted my fingers to touch the bundle of nerves, suffering a chill through my body that reminded me of that time in the bathtub, or the following times where I could not restrain my needs. Rubbing on circles, my other hand went to my mouth, biting on it not to make any sound.
"That is how you did it?" I nodded my head. "Until you exploded?" Again, I acknowledged with my head. "My Lady. Has any man touch you in such a way?" Shaking my head, he offered me a smile. "May I be the first one to do so?" I nodded my head, which he did not seem to like. "Please, use your words."
"I do," I did not hesitate. "I do want to be touched by you, Dylan."
"I might die right now, my Lady." He wandered closer. His hands slowly discarded his dark blue beret. Then, his fingers rapidly unbuttoned his white shirt, which had some dark little stains due to his paintings. His body was fit, enough to make a woman drool. I must say, he seemed broader than what I have imagined. "Have you ever introduced your fingers inside?"
I shook my head.
I hear the sound of his shoes falling to the ground as he kneeled on the end of the bed. His right hand moved my left hand from my clit, leading it to his hair. "Hold on tight, my Lady." Not sure of his next actions, I shivered as his breath hit my heated core. His tongue peeked out from his mouth, gently grazing my centre.
I gripped his soft hair between my fingers, making his gaze shift to look deep into my eyes. His tongue lapped, adding pressure on my clit. I whined as his tender tongue left my core to slid down and up a couple of times, extending my wetness all over my intimate part.
I was utterly surprised when the tip of his tongue ended up inside me, and he seemed to noticed as he grounded it against my walls. His right hand slowly left my thigh, where his grip had been tough. "I will be gentle." His whispers were almost unnoticeable as my moans were louder, feeling one of his warm fingers getting coated by my juices as he introduced it, inside my vagina. "Does it feel good?" Without waiting for an answer, he started thrusting it. His lapping tongue and his thrusting finger, producing a drooling combination.
"Oh my god," The candles that were lit, and resting on the table next to my bed seemed to flatter by a scene hotter than their flames. "Faster, please." I must not lie. Introducing his second finger on me had provided a slight pain. But seconds later, it had been replaced by an unbelievable pleasure. "Please do not make me beg."
"I would like to see you beg, my Lady." His mouth had left my clit, chin dripping with my fluids. "I would love to see you beg under the light of the candles while no one else knows that you are getting the love and passion you deserve." His fingers made a wet sound when they left my insides. I could not help but whine as he got farther from my body but became expectant when his fingers played with his belt.
As soon as he slid his pants down his legs, I could not help but moan again. There was a bulge between his legs, and I could not help but get flustered thinking about having him inside me. However, I was quite worried about his size as he already seemed thick through his pants.
I remembered a scene from a book where this girl had her first experience with her childhood friend. They had become lovers and decided to consume their love on top of the counter of the protagonist's kitchen. Her description of the scene was incredibly detailed. And even though my body had become more heated while reading it, I could not help but be worried when she described the experience as feeling as if she was getting 'ripped', which was quite vulgar but exciting in an unusual way.
I had been distracted by my thoughts, as to when I realized my rounds, Dylan's member was finally free. It stood tall and thick against his stomach. He could not help but contain his grin as I gasped.
"I never-."
"I know, my Lady." His hands grabbed my ankles, calmly making their way to my thighs, which he squeezed while separating my legs even more. "I am utterly happy to be the first and only man to make love to you." Uh? "I will take care of you for the rest of my life." His eyes looked deep into mine, asking for permission for his next movements and actions. Of course, I nodded.
He grabbed his shaft, his hand circling it while he thrust into his clenched fist a couple of times. He left if free, spitting on his hand to later grab his member again, lubricating it.
"I am a little scared," I confessed, shifting my gaze to his face. "You are so thick and long. H-How is that supposed to fit inside-."
"We can stop if you want, my Lady." One of his thumbs caressed one of my thighs. "There is no rush and enough time to do this whenever you feel ready."
"I do want to do it! I am just a little scared." I gulped, glancing down at his member. "Could you maybe go slowly?"
He nodded his head, getting closer and placing a peck on my lips. "Whatever you wish for, my Lady." Asking for permission again, he waited until it was granted, for the tip of his member to graze the lips of my vagina. "Here I go." He started adding pressure. Until the entire tip was inside, making me gasp. "Sh, breathe." His right hand went to my tummy, caressing it. "We can go slower."
I nodded my head as I took deep breaths, ignoring the tears that were falling from the corner of my eyes. A couple of minutes went by when I decided that the pain had become a pleasure. I shifted my hips toward Dylan. I was right as there was only pleasure. "Dylan, please," I whined. "Please move."
His entire member was inside me, and Dylan's thrusts had become steady and swift. His mouth was travelling from my jaw to my lips, sometimes stopping to ask for my well-being.
One of his hands left my hips, going between our bodies as he started circling my clit, adding more pleasure. "Oh my gosh," I raised my voice, not being able to hold back the incredible feeling. "Lord, please go faster." I circled my legs around his hips, bringing him closer if it was possible. His member, hitting places that it could not reach before. Wails of satisfaction came out of my mouth. "Please, fuck me harder."
He seemed quite shocked by my choice of words as his eyes widened. But he had seemed to enjoy them too, as his thrusts became even faster and sloppier. "I will not last long." He groaned, not afraid of expressing his pleasure while his lips grazed my ear. "I have been dreaming of this for so long." His moans made my entire body shiver. His right hand, circling my clit even faster. "Please, my Lady. Tell me you are close. Please."
"I am!" I drowned my screams while biting his shoulder. "I am so close." His left hand travelled to my left nipple, toying with it. The different stimulations, getting me dizzy while my vision became blurry. And I came undone under Dylan's body.
Reading was nothing like experiencing it.
My breath was laborious. Dylan stayed inside, thrusting a couple of times more until he quickly came out, thrusting in his clenched fist. He was going to finish soon. His eyes, questioning where to explode. My hands went to my breasts, holding them together.
Dylan's eyes widened as he understood what I was implying. He moved, his hips getting closer as his dick ended up being embraced by my breasts. I held them in place while he thrust, moaning at the contact. His tip, hitting my chin and lower lip. He did not last much longer, exploding and cumming all over my chin and lower lip.
He gasped, our bodies full of sweat. "I made a mess. I am so sorry, my L-." My tongue peeked out of my mouth, licking some of the cum that was resting on my lower lip. "I-. Oh, gosh." His lips settled up against mine. His tongue, parting my lips so his tongue could slowly dance against mine. "Did it feel good?"
"It felt amazing." I was still trying to breathe at a regular pace.
He kissed my forehead, leaving the bed and wandering to the bathroom. His member was still lightly hard. But he quickly gave me the view of his butt.
When he came back, he was gripping a towel. Sitting on the side of the bed, he slowly cleaned his release from my chin and chest. Then, folding it, he cleaned between my legs. He was cautious, trying not to hurt me as my entire body was sensitive. Next, he discarded the towel.
His body fell on the bed next to mine. We both gazed into each other's eyes with foolish smiles decorating our faces. "I do not want to leave. But night curfew will be soon."
"I do not care." I wrapped my sore body against him, breathing in. "Stay here. Nobody will know. You can leave early in the morning." I did not notice I was pouting until his lips pecked mine. Then, the rest of the night was a cuddling blur as exhaustion took over our bodies.
Another couple of days had gone by, and it was nearly impossible to keep our hands for ourselves. Dylan had been sleeping in my chambers, which was difficult to hide. I had been ignoring my mother and Harold as much as possible. And thankfully, my brother was away in a political meeting with my father. We had also continued the portrait sessions, which sometimes ended with our bodies full of paint as we could not hold back for holding each other.
I must confess that there had been sexual escapes around the palace, which was a surprise, as we did not get caught yet. Momentarily, Dylan's boxers were around his ankles like his pants as I was grabbing the skirts of my dress.
My face and chest were pressed against the wall of a tiny room while he thrust in me from behind. "Ah, we will get caught." He whispered but did not stop his movements. "You are going to be the death of me, my Lady."
We had been walking around the castle until I could not hold back myself anymore. I took Dylan's hand, going inside a tiny room that, it is used, for cleaning materials. Therefore, we were fucking as fast as we could, aiming for a release. "Please, go deeper!"
"I believe I am as immersed as I can, my Lady." The sound of our skin slapping against each other turned both of us on even more.
We both were close to our release. But we were rudely interrupted by the door of the room opening, showing Rosetta and Harold, who stared at us with surprise written all over their faces.
Dylan quickly came out of me, pulling his boxers and pants up while I let the skirts of my dress fall.
"Harold," I started. "Please, do not say anything." My eyes begged. "Could you please give us five minutes and wait in my chambers?" Without saying anything, they closed the door. "Oh my god."
"It is okay, my Lady." Fear was visible in his face and voice.
I was baffled as when entering my chambers, my mother was there, next to Harold. He ignored my gaze, staring deep into Dylan's eyes.
"Mother-."
"I told you!" She did not hesitate to raise her voice. "I know you did not choose to be a princess, but this is what we have to deal with." I could not protest. "I am not trying to make you miserable. I was trying to avoid a situation like this where this young man," Surprisingly, she did not glare at the young man next to me, who was squeezing my hand. "And you will be in danger!" She sighed. "Imagine if it was your father or brother finding you two! They arrived early this morning!" I did not know about their arrival. "He would have killed him and make you watch." I gasped, getting teary. "I did not want you guys to end as I did."
"What?" I asked while being overwhelmed by confusion.
"Your mother," Harold decided to spoke as my mother had to seat on the end of my bed, trying to calm herself. "She fell in love with a servant of this palace, way before you were born." Dylan and I were pretty interested in the story. "You do not choose who you love, my Lady." He shifted his gaze between the two of us. "However, keeping such a secret was complicated. And eventually, someone found out." His hand rested on my mother's back. "Unfortunately, the one that discovered them passionately kissing in the gardens was your father." I gulped while swaying closer to Dylan, searching for his warmth. "He executed him right there, in front of your mother."
"Those white roses used to be red." My mother's voice shook while she referred to those planted in our garden. "It was so repulsive to see that his blood mattered nothing when for me mattered the world. He was my world." She offered us a sad smile. "No one mourned for his loss except me. His body was taken away by other servants in uncaring behaviour. His blood could not be seen, because it had splattered on the flowers that had the same tone." She wept, trying to breathe and calm herself to continue. "It was as if he had never existed. I thought I had gone crazy, and I had imagined the love and the man that I desired to have."
"Mother," My eyes were teary. "I am so sorry that happened to you, and now, I understand you tried to protect me." I glimpsed at Harold for a couple of seconds. "But this is just throwing me into a deeper hole. I will end up in a similar situation to yours, and my children will be doomed, to the same cruel fate." I was desperate. "Mother, destiny can be changed." Dylan was looking at me, a tiny smile on his face while he rubbed one of my freezing hands.
"I have seen you grow up," Harold intervened. "I have learnt every one of your moves, understanding when you wanted to cry or laugh." He grinned, crossing his arms. "Deep inside, I knew one day you would want to fight from the established and dull life you are supposed to live."
"He spoke to me." My mother continued. "Harold opened my eyes, and he taught me to perceive that you were falling in love with this young man." She bowed at Dylan, and he returned the same gesture. "And I perceived that this young man was falling in love with you too."
"Your father and brother lied of their whereabouts." Harold stepped closer. "They bought with them a visitor."
My mother shifted closer to us. "It is the King of Hiraeth." She gulped. "The 52 year-old-man that they expect to marry you with."
"No," I shook my head. "Please, mother." I could not stop the tears from falling down my cheeks. "Please, mother. Do not let them do that. Please. Please." Before I could fall to my knees, my mother held her hand up, offering me a brown bag.
"It is yours now." My mother replied, sliding the bag into my hands. "This will help both of you." Money, there was a lot of gold inside the bag. Dylan was looking inside the container with wide eyes as I did. "If I had stolen money from your father, he would have noticed. Therefore, I bargained my jewellery." Her hand unconsciously went to her neck, and I noticed her diamond necklace missing.
"Here," Harold extended his arm, offering us a piece of paper. Dylan clutched it. It was a map. "That black circle is your shared property. It is a near kingdom, not too far from here but enough for you two to be safe and not be recognized, as the Princess of Onism."
"What?" My mouth was agape.
"It is Elysian. It is a small town full of life, and it is secure." Harold explained with a smile. "It is your new home. The money will help you guys for a couple of years, but of course, my Lady, you will have to get used to a life without servants and luxuries. However, I do not have any doubt that you will be able to adapt to such a life."
"Then," I glanced at my mother. "You are helping me escape?"
"I am helping both of you leave." She cried. "I am helping you get out of the life you did not choose and the one you do not desire." I turned around to stare at Dylan, who had tears running down his cheeks while smiling at me. He shyly pecked my forehead. He wiped his tears while bowing again, staying in that position for a couple of seconds. "No, no, please stand up." He did. "We are family now. Please take care of my little girl."
"I will, your highness." His words sounded so confident that it made my heart beat violently.
"W-What about you two?" I glanced between them. "Are you coming with us?" I was expectant to hear their answer.
My mother shook her head. "We did change our destiny." She referred to the present situation. "Do not worry about us."
"But-."
"My Lady," Harold took me into his arms, embracing me. "Escaping is more complex for us. But do not worry, because we will end up getting away from here. One day, we will." He smiled at me. "For now, Arden is prepared to take you both far from Onism tonight."
I nodded my head. "Take care of my mother, and thank you for being like a father to me." After squeezing him, I quickly hugged my mother. "Thank you. Thank you so much."
Before they left my room, my mum turned around. "Dylan is your name, right?" He nodded his head. "I viewed the portrait. It looks marvellous. Take it with you." He was perplexed. "The portrait was for the man that will marry her. That man is you, so that portrait belongs to you."
"I bought gifts!" I overheard two squeals, rolling my eyes with a foolish smile, adorning my features. Two tiny figures ran to the owner of the voice. "Perhaps you both only love me when I bring presents."
"Perhaps they do." I walked closer to the man, whose beautiful smile was aimed, at me. My right hand gripped his arm, a signal for him to lower his head so I could peck his lips. "Welcome home. I made your favourite dish." My lips had trapped his bottom one between mines for a couple of seconds, making him whine lowly.
He seemed to be dumbfounded while pecking my lips a couple of times until our children interrupted the moment with their excitement to know what their father had brought them. "Well," He chuckled. "I bought my little princess this!" He took a stuffed animal from his coffee-coloured bag. Charlotte squealed and giggled while running around the room with her new plaything. "And I bought my not-so-little prince," He remembered how our little boy did not want to be named as a child anymore. "This." He showed him a new brand book, which cover was of a dark blue with golden touches.
Thomas could not help but grin. "This book was printed a couple of days ago! Thank you so much, father!" He tightly hugged his dad. "Perhaps I could bring it with me to the Addington's home?" He could not help but jump around due to his excitement. "I believe Newt will love it too!"
Dylan nodded his head. "Take care fo your sister, please."
The Addington's were a young family of five that lived next door. We were constantly inviting each other over to our homes, wanting the kids to play together. We, the adults, were also mates. A couple of times, we babysit each other's kids to have privacy with our respective partners.
As soon as the kids were out of the door, Dylan's briefcase had fallen to the ground. He had been away for an entire week due to a commission of a portrait where he would earn a lot of money.
His hands were caressing my entire body as we both tried to make our way to our shared chamber, in hopes of continuing the passion there. "I have missed you so much, my Princess."
My fingers moved quickly, trying to untie the dress I was wearing. My hands were sweaty, and Dylan must have noticed as he ended up unlacing my attire. "I am not a Princess anymore."
He swallowed, eyes focused on my breasts as I was not wearing a bralette. Both of his warm hands slid up, cupping my bosom. His fingers grazed my nipples while his entire hands squeezed the rest. "You are right." His gaze shifted to my lips. "You are the queen of my heart now, my Lady." That name had stayed since the very beginning, and every time it came rolling gently out of his lips, my undergarments got drenched.
"I will explode right here, Dylan." I moaned as my hands were busy sliding down his pants while he worked on his jacket and shirt. "I have missed having you around. And being around you."
He groaned, slipping one of his hands behind my back as he squeezed my buttocks. I whined when he pinched it. "You seem to be so desperate for me."
"That smirk," I grinned while kissing his bottom lip. "Perhaps you are as desperate as me." I glanced down as I spotted his hard bulge against my front.
"I am not as needy as you are, my Lady." The last word was said sensually, making my legs shake.
"I am sure you are as needy as me, Sir." It was that word for him. I could feel the temperature of his body rising.
"What does my queen require from such a humble servant?" He acted while sprawling my body down on the bed. His hands, gripping the sides of my panties, bringing the down and discarding them. "Maybe she needs help down here?" One of his fingers ran up and down, collecting my fluids. He did not hesitate to bring that finger into his mouth, savouring it. "My Lady, perhaps I should confess that you taste like Heaven, itself."
His face leaned closer to my core, but I immediately stopped him. He glimpsed at me, confused. "I want to be the one giving you as much pleasure as possible." Sitting down on the bed, my hands pushed against his chest until he was the one lying on his back.
I questioned myself when he had taken his boxers off as his member sprang free, hitting his tummy. Pre-cum was decorating his pink tip while sometimes, you could see it palpitating as the veins were tightening.
My right hand started working immediately, grabbing his shaft while going up and down. I softly squeezed it as his arm rested on top of his forehead, blissfully. My thumb stayed on the tip, playing with the tiny drops of pre-cum.
"Gosh, are you an angel?" His words wavered as my left hand cupped his balls, lightly tugging on them. "My Lady, I need your mouth, please." I attended his demands, my left hand still playing with his balls.
However, my mouth was also sucking on the lowest part of his member. Licking my way up, my mouth embraced the tip of his dick. His hands went through my hair, settling on grasping it forcefully and guiding me down until his entire thick member was inside my mouth.
His moans got louder as his hips could not hold back, shifting upwards, choking me as his tip scraped the back of my throat. "My Lady." Glancing upwards, I could see the sweat falling down his forehead. His entire body was sweating, especially the part of his chest with a spot of hair.
I sucked harder, preventing my teeth from grazing his delicate member. "May I come inside your mouth, my Lady?" Humming against his dick, he seemed to understand my permission. A couple of hard thrusts that chocked me and he was cumming down my throat, spilling a big load. His breath was laborious as his hands caressed my hair back. "Please, ride me."
He whined when his member lost the warmth of my mouth as I shifted my body to position myself on top of him. My left hand was resting against his chest. My other hand, grabbing his still firm member. "May I?" He nodded his head. As soon as he was filling me up, both of us became a moaning mess. "Ah, I felt so empty without your dick inside me."
His hands instantly clutched my hips as he encouraged me to bounce on top him. "You look so ravishing while you bounce on my dick." I moaned, loving his dirty talk. "I could do this every day. I love how your breasts bounce while you are getting stretched by my dick." He gulped. "They have got even bigger after you had our beautiful children." His right hand slapped my ass. "Listen," I ceased my moans as I heard the slapping sounds of our skins. "You are so wet for me, my Lady. Your pussy demands to hold my dick."
Both of my hands were now resting against his chest. "I am going to explode." The hand that was on my ass moved to the front, flicking my clitoris. "You fill me up so good, Sir!"
"I will fill you even more soon." He groaned, sitting down so he could move me closer to my body. Our mouths, touching in an open kiss. "I am going to release my entire load inside you. I am going to impregnate you, my Lady." I moaned. "You want that, right?" His thrusts became sloppier and harder. "You want to get filled and carry another gorgeous baby." I nodded my head. "You are as irresistible while pregnant. The way you cannot keep your hands to yourself. The way your bosom gets even bigger."
"Please, fill me."
No more words needed to be said as our teeth clattered against each other, riding our highs together. My vision got blurry, and my moans louder as I felt all of his huge load filling me up. "Oh, fuck me, my Lady. You take my load so good." The rest was full of kisses and warm under the sheets. His member had softened inside me.
On one of the walls of our chambers, there was a portrait of my younger self. She resembled grave and upset. Her composture seemed forced, but around her body, there were flames. Sparks that represented the passion she badly wanted to share. The adventures she wanted to live. There was a yellow light, which seemed, to be connected to her heart.
Dylan had described a young lady who aspired to live a passionate life. A young woman whose heart and mind were full of hope.
There was a lovely detail on the portrait. On the wall behind the young girl, there was a mirror, where you could perceive a young Dylan, examining the woman before him with a peculiar shining light on his eyes. The identical light young Y/N had while looking at Dylan O'Brien, the humble painter who shared the 'fictional' love she always wanted to experience.The love they both found and fancied.
Yes, destiny could be changed.
.
.
Those who asked to be tagged. Thank you for showing interest:
@og-baby-ob14 - @sweetest-serpent01 - @tovvaa - @jazminebrightxx - @sonnydoesrandomshit - @badgyal-barbie - @trustfundparker - @blueraindrops
#dylan o'brien x you#dylan o'brien x reader#dylan o'brien x y/n#dylan o'brien x oc#au!painter#au!princess#dylan!painter#dylan o'brien fics#dylan o'brien fanfiction#dylan o'brien fanfic#dylan o'brien fluff#dylan o'brien smut#dylan x you#dylan x reader#dylan x y/n#dylan x oc#dylan smut#dylan fluff#dob imagines#dob imagine#dob fanfic#dylan fanfic#dylan fic#dylan fanfiction#dob fanfiction#dob x you#dob x reader#dob x y/n#dob x oc#dob fic
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Hi, if you're requests are still open, could you something with draco being the reader's ex and walking in on them having sex with harry pls😊
sorry this is so late! all the requests i have rn are like full fic worthy so i’ve been trying to spend time equally on them. hope you enjoy!!
pairings: harry potter x fem!reader, ex!draco malfoy x fem!reader
warnings: nsfw, full blown sex, harry being a little shit
two words. two simple words rocked your life upside down in two seconds. you thought you had it all. dating draco was honestly the happiest days of your life. looking back you still can’t seem to see where it went wrong. you both were happy, or so you thought? the day after the break up you saw him with pansy, close as ever in the great hall. that day you told yourself you’d move on and forget him for good.
days like these only fueled your relationship with harry. being there to comfort you when you needed you both grew fond of each other and adapted quickly to being with each other 24/7. slowly but surely you two ended up admitting feelings for each other but chose to keep your relationship private for the time being.
cut to today, it’s after curfew and you’re currently bent over a desk in a random abandoned classroom with harry plowing into you from behind. toes curling from the pressure being put upon your g-spot you scream out in pleasure.
originally, your plan was to stay quiet while the prefects did their rounds. however after a particularly rough thrust, harry has you yelling out to the world for anyone to listen.
at this point you both are completely gone, not having a care in the world if anyone heard you. not hearing the footsteps approaching the room harry started rubbing fast circles on your clit as his hips sped up. “right there right there” gasping out you fail to hear the door open as draco walks in right as your climax hits.
overcome with sensations everything fades out. harry notices draco in the doorway and speeds up his thrusts as a smirk grows on his face. “who makes you feel this good?” “you do you do harry” panting out your nails dig into the desk. “did draco fuck you this good? did he make you cum like i do?” still fighting through your high you chant out “no never! only you can only you oh-“ your voice is cut off as your second orgasm hits you as fast as the first did.
seeing movement in the corner of his eye, harry looks again to see draco walking out of the room with a scowl on his face and an unusual amount of jealousy in his eyes.
tags: @anchoeritic @amourtentiaa @carmiml0v3 @marauders-simp1 @asthmax @expectoscamander @hey-there-angels @alyssamalfoy @ethernal-onism @dreyrugrjordy @kc-writes-things
#harry potter#draco malfoy#harry potter smut#harry potter x reader smut#harry potter x reader#harry potter imagine#harry potter blurb#harry potter fic#harry james potter#harry potter requests
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Oc-tober days 15 - 20
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These are some of my favorite words, my absolute favorites have a 💛
💛Sonder - the realization that everyone else around you has their own story, as unique as your own with their own internal dialogue, discussing all sorts of things, and emotions.
💛Monachopsis - the persistent sensation of feeling out of place, like a seal on land, floundering and clumsy
Anecdoche - a conversation in which no one is really listening, rather throwing in their opinion haphazardly like a game of Scrabble, where everyone throws in a consonant, hoping to make something.
💛Elipsism - the sadness in not knowing the future, likewise the melancholy sensation that somehow you have left part of yourself in the past, stationed somewhere far behind you, and that part of you will never see the things you have now.
Altschmertz - weariness over the same problems coming up over and over in your life, resulting in you chewing over them until, like when you say a word too many times, or when you chew gum for hours, it becomes a meaningless, exhaustive chore
💛Onism - the frustration of having one body attached to your conciousness; the inability to experience all you want before you die because you only exist in one place, at one time.
Fitzcarraldo - an image that comes to you, and scratches incessantly on your brain, itching to be made a reality
Wytai - the realization that a modern product is grotesque
💛Nodus tollens - the realization that life's plot no longer makes sense to you; you find yourself remembering old times where you were too focused on tomorrow when then, at that time, you should have been enjoying life, and choosing your own adventure.
Ambedo - a melancholy trance where you become entranced with the sensory details of living; the snow softly drifting to the ground, birds chirping and singing, the pattern of people's walk, etc
Vemödalen - the frustration of photographing something the human eye finds extraordinarily beautiful, but because it is now a photo it will now be cheapened by the fact that it has already been photographed before
Kairosclerosis - the moment of realizing you are truly happy,and wanting to savor that feeling, but upon recognizing the feeling, your mind starts to analyze and pick it apart, putting it in context, subduing it's poignancy to nothing but a sweet aftertaste
Adronitis - the agonizing feeling of taking the time to get to know someone, and the frustration of charting out a foundational relationship with them.
Keyframe - a seemingly innocuous moment you thought nothing of that turned the course of your life and changed everything
💛Anemoia - a nostalgia for a time that has never been, wishing for a bygone era you have never seen, and memories you have never held, but hoping that somehow, you can be back at the place you never were.
Heartworm - a relationship/friendship you can't get out of your head, thought to have faded but still thrumming in the back of your head like an abandoned gas station
💛Hiraeth - a deep yearning for a home you cannot return to, a past that no longer exists, grieving a time you cannot return to, like returning to your old house, and realizing it is just that. A house, an ordinary living space, without the paint stains, or the smell of your mother's perfume, and all the things that made it home have moved on.
Cafune - the act of tenderly running hands through a loved ones hair
Acatalepsy - the feeling that human knowledge is ever limited and in flux, so no human knowledge is certain, rather, knowledge we acquire is probable
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