#the great seedling | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

comfortless · 2 months

Text

Only Other

chapter three of three.

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. historical au (set around 350BC); potential inaccuracies as i am no historian!, König speaks some German here (as opposed to Gothic), mutual pining & worship, smut (piv), sliiiight breeding kink, violence, as always König is horribly in love and says ridiculously worrisome things, reader feigns ambivalence but is equally unhinged and smitten.

notes: eternally grateful to @wordsbyvani for reading over my shoulder and genuinely being the sweetest throughout every part. ^^ and again to @writersdrug for giving me the idea to begin with!

wc: 9k.

<- previous.

König’s men arrive sometime in the afternoon, a few hours behind but carrying hoards of supplies. There are weapons you recognize to be from your city stuffed into bags, pelts and silks and twinkling stones, meats and fruits. They had not forgotten to bring along wine, either: two barrels to either side of a gray mare led along behind one of their rugged steeds by a length of thick rope.

You don’t ask how they found her, let alone how they managed to actually tame her down enough to follow amidst the chaos that broke out the night prior. A weak string of “thank you”s leaves your lips when you press your nose to the horse's snout, sobbing into her silver fur. She seems less bothered, huffing impatiently as she’s tethered up with the others against broad trees.

You’re not convinced that here or anywhere is safe anymore, and you don’t assist when the men begin to set up their camp. They’ve enough supplies and arms to do it themselves, anyhow.

Guilt, trepidation and confusion, haunt you: cast out for all to see by your forlorn stares and the tremor of your lower lip as you continuously fight an internal battle to keep yourself sane. And how could you? You’ve only come to reason that this has all come to fruition because of you, because of the things that you could not help. Your curiosity, fascinations, and impiety had all led you to be here, now, while everyone you once knew sleeps eternally.

You have condemned yourself to the life of a slave girl, and later to the darkness of the Orcus when you do die.

Though… men do not give their slaves the looks that König gives to you. You haven’t spoken to him in hours, and you do your best to avoid his glances, shoot down his smiles with the curved arrow of your own sullen frowns. Still… amidst setting up the tents and gathering wood for the fire to stave off the chill of nightfall, you catch the very stars reflected over a sea in his eyes.

There is love there, a too-uncanny and harrowing love, but a great devotion nonetheless. It burns like a fire of its own in your chest, inescapable and rampant. You know it in the spaces behind your skull, your ribs, that what he feels is another cage: roomier, softer, but you will never be free of it either.

König does not follow you to the tent when the moon rises. He sits by the fire, watching as you go with the pelt drawn up over your shoulders and curled around you. When you sink into the bed of fur that has replaced the straw mattress from before you find yourself somehow even more fitful here than outside. Sleep is evasive, leaving you tossing and twisting amidst the smell of sweat and animal fur. Not even the crackling fire outside defeats the quiet or the cold in the air.

There’s a sickly pit in your stomach, thorn seedling threatening to take root and spread the longer you stare up at the blackened abyss of the tent ceiling. If you’re to live a life torn, at the very least you could be warm; you take to König’s side in moments, joining him by the slowly dwindling flame.

The brute isn’t sleeping, either, just… lost. Lost like you the day that you met him.

“I need to look at your wound.” Your excuse comes weak and puny, doe limbs and fragile glances when you do sit at his side and speak. You’ve never been anyone’s ‘Göttin’, you don’t know what you’re doing, what blessings to grant or judgments to cast. Avoiding him only seems a punishment for you both, and you’ve had your share of those.

König is anything but small: even amidst the turmoil your silence has gifted to him, he still seems himself, all ego and cruelly cut silver, softened only by your words, your touch.

“Richtig,” he mutters, reaches out to pull you in, and you let him. Straddling his lap with only the moon above awake to witness, cast her curious gaze down and illuminate the expanse of his chest whilst you work to pull away the bandages.

There isn’t much to tend to, it’s healing well. The flesh that once seemed inflamed has only drawn back its redness to simmer to the natural color of his skin. When you begin your careful prodding, it does not hurt him. He doesn’t so much as flinch or huff at your touch.

When you dab your index in the sweet honey that serves as a salve, he grasps at your hand and brings it up to his lips, presses a kiss to your index and middle without hesitation. And you see it then: a glimmer of hesitation in the way his lips pull and his eyes search your own, a silent plea for vindication.

You’ve never been cold to him, not even as he spoke with so much self-importance when you first met, not when he rutted his blade between your parted legs, not even now after all that he’s done. In his own way of thinking, these things have all been some display of courtship. There’s never cruelty toward you, not in his touch, the words that he speaks, and especially not in those somber eyes. These things break down the last fraying edge of your resolve.

You press your mouth to his, sharing the taste of honey pressed to his lips, everything sugary and warm. Over and over until the night begins to close its way in, plump clouds drifting over the pearl hanging in the sky when you finally find yourself tucked back into the tent with König curled at your side. He holds you closer than he ever has, not from a fear you’ll take off under the darkened sky, but in the honoring of something far greater. Some love comes quiet like flower blooms, his comes with fire.

“Wolves pair in winter,” he says quietly, burying his face into your hair. It’s shy, almost, as though the man has not already embedded his scent into your very skin and toyed with your most sensitive parts. It’s truer, more heartfelt, than even his confessions of love.

“Is that what you see us as being?” You laugh, a slow, gentle chime that aches your throat, face still puffy from tears and voice scratchy from those thick clouds of smoke.

“Ja…”

“You really…” The words get caught up someplace in the spaces between your lungs and tongue. You don’t want to cry, not anymore, but you find it difficult not to choke up after so much comfort with a lifetime of so very little. “You do care for me, don’t you?”

He answers your question in a grumble, a string of foreign words only meant for mountain caverns and creatures that walk on all fours and somehow they make sense. A resounding yes, in three gutteral sounding words. The frayed ends of guilt and anger finally drift off as you settle into his hold like a den of pure comfort, warm and buried in a world of fur and a man blessed by trees and the earth rather than gods and myth.

When the breeze picks up outside, rustling sprawling oak limbs, momentarily silencing the fire, its as if they answer him in your stead. You don’t cry, though it aches, but you let go of the memories of all your begging to those that never seemed to listen. Here, in the dark you’ve found the only person that seems to understand without even knowing.

You drag the pelts up over the both of you, clasp your hand over his where it rests beneath them, and fall into a haze of contentment. He draws you nearer, breath filtering through your hair from where his head lies just above your own.

The dreams that come are no longer of places you can not reach, but only of the memory of a city that was never meant to house your spirit.

You wake to König’s pawing. It begins along your sternum, hand placed flat there only to glide further up and push at your tit. It’s gentle and testing, pushes fire into your very veins when for the first time he doesn’t seem to remain entranced there. It drifts, further up to cup your jaw.

“You are awake?,” he rasps, propping himself up to inspect your face where you lie, weakened and warmed by sleep.

“Yes…”

“Are you still bereaved?,” König asks in such a hushed voice, reaching toward you again. His hand seems to tremble when it finds your face, thumb brushing over your mouth with such trepidation it seems misplaced for him.

“Partly.”

You consider your dreams again: the open street, devoid of people apart from those that face down at you with contempt building in hollow eye sockets. Where grass once sprung up beneath the cracks in the stones, there were only small flames. And you do still grieve for those that were innocent in the entire affair, those trampled by cattle when they had only just had a taste of escape. Your very mind begins to darken at the thoughts, your body only tensing further, a bowstring on the verge of snapping,

“Is that why I can not have you?”

“I never said…” Your voice only grows thin, detached almost from the way you purse your lips to kiss the digit toying with you. Your heart is only thunder, the sound of those wretched hooves: yearning was dangerous itself, your own only seemed to take further shape with each passing moment. Claws and a waiting maw, just like the wolves he speaks of.

König hums, a deep rumble from his chest as he gives a slow nod of acknowledgement.

It all becomes tree sap, a sticky confectionery bout. His mouth descends upon your own as though starved, hurried and longing as he samples you, the you who certainly yearned for the bathhouses to clean herself properly. All thought seems to dispel when his hand leaves your cheek and neck to begin its painfully slow descent between your legs, burrow between wax and honey to pull soft cries from your mouth.

He only stills his dismantling of you when you’re trembling and doughy, squeezing around his fingers so tightly you wonder how he can continue to bury them inside at all.

Just as the other gods, Sol is lost here when König crawls over you, all shadow and wretched, led here with the promise of a prey that you are not. Only another wolf… the flame in his winter eyes is the same that’s settled inside of you.

His head dips to kiss into your hair while your leg is pulled to settle over his hip. You feel a kiss, a different sort, when the pillar of his manhood reaches between your bodies to settle over your sex, probing at your slit that only seems to pulse and beg under his touch.

You had never found these silly metaphors enticing with the men of the city, even the entertainers with their pretty words could have never lured you this far down. Yet, here is different, here is cold and lonely and wild: a culmination of all that he is, incarnation of the earth and man and a desperate hunt.

“You are ready for me,” your god hums, pleased, as he coats himself in your arousal, sticky like warm sap. The sounds of his toying with you are something you should be accustomed to now, with him, but still makes your face warm. Not with shame, only a quiet desperation. “Beautiful little goddess...”

It’s summer here; winter tears its claws right out of your flesh when the sun itself sinks inside. The turning of seasons is natural, so dreadfully normal you’ve never bat an eye until you could physically feel it: the strip of your own apprehension tossed into a steaming sea, the dewy wetness all but drowning you entirely.

And it’s König who loses himself first, a sound so pitiful carving its way out of him you would almost believe him to be hurt if not for the way he throbs inside of you. He feeds it, a stuttering twitch of his hips as he slowly brings you toward him by your hips. Far too large to properly bottom out but encumbered and ecstatic by the sensation around him. Tighter than any sheath, but a weapon pushes through you all the same- inch by loving inch, until he manages to fully fill you with himself.

“I don’t want to hurt you, little one.“ Each word is torn from him, punctuated heavily by the shallow movement of his body and the drag of a demanding cock. Restraint is a peculiar thing hovering over him, his brow pinched as though forcing himself to concentrate on not ripping you apart where you lie.

“You’re not hurting me..,” you sigh as your hands find his shoulders, fingernails dimpling the skin there. If anything the urgency is only shared.

When your hips push back to meet him, the lead is dropped, another surrender. Too much trust for a man deserving of none of it.

His response is a breathy groan, mouth finding your shoulder as his hands drift to pull your hips upward to better meet him. Teeth find purchase along your flesh, gentle as he can be, but grinding and desperate to leave a mark, a piece of him behind.

It’s almost with a fury that he stuffs himself into you then, his jaw going slack and eyes wild, hands grasping at every inch of your pillowy flesh that he can reach.

Never could König have looked more beautiful than now, once starved and now tasked, for and now with you. His gaze trails from where your thighs tremble around him, to where the sap pools and nature builds up its own obscene choir at your togetherness… and then, to your face where his gaze only shatters into softness.

Something bubbles right against your lash line, a stray tear, overwhelmed by the feel of the giant ravishing you, pulling you down from your world of jewels and pillars to his own devoid of anything but need.

His head dips immediately, tongue running up the length of your cheek, a hand falling away to pry open your already parted thigh as he licks at and fucks into you like something truly feral. He coos his praises against your mouth, parted and whining, claims a new kingdom all for himself in you, of you.

You feel how the temples must, trodden through and left with gifts, blood and honey and fire as the muscles of your thighs begin to tense. Instinct spurs you to catch his lip between your teeth, push your hips back to laboriously furl around him.

His pace comes to a halt, settling to only grind himself so deeply within you that you feel the last of the stars begin to die out in the recesses of your skull, dim and dumbly smothered until they reignite in a blinding wave of white. König does not give you the time to settle, only spears into you with a renewed fervor as you cinch around him, furthering your rapture to a point that is almost agonizing.

He chases his own end with the same famished glare as before, stares right into your eyes as you pull iron from his lip and cast it into the fire of your waiting mouth. The sting, the bliss, only makes him whimper, a sound so small and choked its unfathomable to have come from a man who slams into you as though you were paid for.

You lick into his mouth in a way so tentative and fragile he immediately crashes down, blankets you in the strength of his arms and kisses you in turn: so soft and chaste it’s uncanny in this moment. His groan of defeat only comes when he stills fully, buried to the hilt, thrumming and shivering through his own release. Honey and seafoam, the rise of a tide touching earth to brim and spill past your joining.

He chases the feeling for several moments longer, bucking his hips sloppily as he lies atop your spent form, barely coherent when he mutters nonsensical praises into your hair, against your neck, the corner of your mouth- any place he can think to leave a kiss.

“… everything,” he mutters when he lies atop you fully, satisfied where he nestles his head into the fur below you both. “Everything I have ever wanted.”

The day passes on like this. Even as his men maneuver about camp, preparing to hunt or practice with their stolen weapons. The only thing König seems keen on doing is bringing you to ruin, repairing you with kisses pressed into your hair, along your cheek.

He leaves you only twice as the day drags onward. Once to gather you a meal of something meaty roasted over the fire, what remained of a boar, a gathering of dried fruit, and water from a small flask. You’re famished and exhausted by the thrill of being shoved down into the fur to tolerate him three times over already. The twinkle in his eye is nothing short of mischievous when you do finally tell him that you need to rest after eating.

After a bout of playfully shoving him away, you only find yourself on top of him, then. He seemed entirely unashamed, more hurried and desperate than before as he bucks at you like a wild horse, voicing his praises and spitting out such sugary sweet nonsense about how you would carry his son and only ever experience him, you almost felt shy. A curled finger hooks under your jaw to force you to look down at him, lose yourself in the vast, uneasy sea of his eyes while he floods you with his seed again. Finally, he seems sated, pulls you down to lie atop him.

König promises you that he will find your mother, that he will take care of you as no other has or ever could, while stroking along your back. He tells you of the mountains, the trees, the animals and the men who live amongst them and inside of them.

He tells you of the sea when you ask, how the sand is softer and sticks as if it never wants you to go. In turn, you tell him that he must be like the sea then, never fully parting from you, leaving his trace imprinted upon your skin with teeth rather than sand. A sea that loves instead of hungers, one that presses you onto your back to wash over you to steal the very breath from your chest and push it back with a kiss.

— — —

The wilderness is cruel. Wild things lurk in the brush and occasionally you pass by other settlements. Less friendly than the small band you have grown accustomed to. You’re always urged to shush, then have yourself tucked further against König while he speaks low and threatening to any would-be bandits. Only once has that resulted in a death, but not to one of König’s own. You didn’t watch when the man with the red hair carved a hole through the trespasser, just squeezed your eyes shut and buried your face into a waiting bicep.

Days pass on horseback, your legs feel stiff and clumsy, and there are no amount of pelts serving as makeshift saddles that could ever help the ache that shoots up from your pelvis. It serves no aid at all that, when riding ahead or too far behind the other men, König takes this newfound intimacy between you two to be a liberty. Regardless of your formation, he never ceases looking at you as though his only wish is to devour you whole.

Those times are often quick, palm pressed over your mouth as he dutifully breeds you beneath the sun, in the softest patch of withering wild grass or barren land available. You melt into him, part your legs like a wife rather than some skittish woman that he himself has whisked away. Each time, he whispers his praises, professes his love in more creative ways, covers you in so many kisses you feel a bit dazed by the time the ordeal is through.

Then, you’re righted back onto the horse with König at your back, the most horribly endearing smile plastered upon his face.

It’s not much of a surprise that his men do start their caterwauling at some point during the journey to wherever— past dormant trees and approaching the silhouettes of hills so tall and vast you’re certain that they must be the mountains you have heard of, even if you had yet to properly see them. König had made it perfectly clear just what you are to him in his coarse words to his companions, but never directly to you. They do not mock your union, but they do often give you strange looks, particularly at your tummy while they discuss you with their leader.

There’s nothing there, you’re sure of that much, but you shoot them your angriest glare anyway and raise your chin to look forward instead. Their talk of the possibility of a little “prinz” does not distract you from your own thoughts, drifting up to scrape the sky just like the peaks of the mountains.

“So that is where the gods live?,” you ask, mostly to yourself as you curl your fingers into the horse’s reins. There’s subdued laughter from either side of you, and you almost shrink at the thought of making a fool of yourself before these brutes. It wouldn’t be the last time, surely. You couldn’t even bring yourself to fully commit to the idea of there being any sort of vast and ethereal field awaiting you when you die anymore; it was already here before you, painted in the color of evergreen and winter blossoms.

König doesn’t laugh, at least. Only places his palm over the front of your neck and guides your head back to look up to him, gives a toothy grin when your eyes light up just from the sight. It was difficult not to when you’ve been fed and pleasured incessantly by him. You reason that your punishment for forsaking all that you once knew must assuredly be your own mind deteriorating to feel the way that you do.

“They are right here,” he says, so quiet and sweet, gesturing between the two of you. He had no interest in your former gods, of what he seems to view as stories for children, but he listens as you tell him the significance of such lofty places cloaked in fog, mist and trees.

His hand finds your cheek, savors in the feel of your skin against his thumb while you tell him of your misplaced belief in him being some son of a war god that he’s never even known, much less prayed to. He then reminds you of the woman he seems certain could have been your mother, says that surely she must have been wed to the shallow of a sparkling lake to birth something as lovely as you.

The men regroup after some time, stilling their horses and your rowdy mare still tethered behind one of the others to speak, access the distance from here and their destination while sipping wine from leather flasks and putting weapons back in their proper places. You listen on, picking up on the few words you did understand from their language, but ultimately gather nothing from it all.

“Where are you taking me?,” you hazard as you try to push yourself forward in a subtle reminder that yes, you were there too, and woman or not you had a right to know.

“Home,” König gruffs simply in response, gathering you back into his arms and taking the reins from your hands. His chin rests atop your head, the fingers of his free hand petting your side in an attempt to snuff out any further questioning. “You will like it.”

Home. Home to the place he had claimed you would find your mother; to foreign woods and wild downs, sprawling hills and little shacks covered in sticks and leather instead of the villas with their terracotta tiles.

You didn’t even know that you had a place to return to at all, not now. Your eyes catch his, though, and you know then just what it truly must feel like to belong someplace. Never had home been Gaius, reduced to smoldering ash in some divine reckoning, but it had always been with someone you truly believe you have wanted. Had you ever even been allowed to want before him..?

Your brow pinches as you shift to rest your head against the broad back behind you, held fast by the iron grip around your waist. The clouds drift by above, the sun casts a warmth over your face and you fall into comfort, into promise.

— — —

Barbarian settlements are strange.

There are no paved streets here crowded with people and decay, no hallowed and looming temples hungry and waiting for sacrifices. The columns are tree bark and very much alive with twisting limbs and growths of green that never seemed to dull even in the winter, not the stiff and lifeless marble you had grown accustomed to.

The homes are pieced together with wood, clay, anything that could be used with no clear rhyme or reason to their architecture. Goats wander about, bleating out for food or ramming into one another for play. The children don’t sit in houses studying or wander from stall to stall snatching and scurrying off, they play and work. There is a strange contentment here, too, something that feathers on the wind as it does the same on each face that you pass,

Everyone seems to have a place, a thing to be, and you feel like the world’s most delicate and forgotten pearl amidst these people who do not even seem to pay you any mind. If anything, they only seem pleased to see the man with his arm cloaked over your shoulders. They smile to him, greet him in their strange words and dip their heads as though he truly were some king.

Maybe he was, to them, to the wild people with no true reasoning to have any sort of monarchy. They barely had land to claim, much less rule over.

You’re not paraded around as a slave: he cups your jaw and lifts your head when your gaze falls to the dirt and dust below your feet, chides you in a rough whisper about how a Königin should present herself. The people do acknowledge you then, with looks of awe and offerings of dried flowers pressed into your palms and tucked behind your ear, Roman bronze dropped at your feet. You look the part of a proper queen too, when you flash them all your loveliest smile and nestle closer to your giant of flame and earth.

Thoughts of your past in the city come to mind when you note their lack of conveniences. Even the dread of forsaking your own gods briefly leaves you halting midstep before a firm hand urges you forward. König’s warmth comes as a comfort now more than ever when your thoughts do eventually circle back to a guilt, heavy and dreadful: the picture of Juno’s altar forgotten and burned away weeks of travel behind you.

“You will like it here,” he mumbles, trailing the same hand up to the back of your neck as he repeats the words he spoke only days prior on your journey. You could, you will, but it all feels so different that your pulse seems to triple its racing.

Your fingers graze over the dried flowers in your hand, sweet smelling as you trace over each petal to center yourself, take back that prideful smile that was in place just a moment ago.

If you’re to run amok, you may as well enjoy it.

You settle, regain your pace and that forced look of utter contentment at his side.

At least, until he begins to speak again.

“I will kill them all if you prefer we be alone,” König whispers into your ear, has the audacity to nip at your lobe, and does not even bother drawing back as if those words were meant to make you wet and pliant for him. All sense of reason must have left you entirely, because a shiver rips its way up each knob of your spine. “Would that please you?”

“No… Do not jest,” you grit out, staring only forward and not offering so much as a glance toward the beast at your side, even as his hand drifts down to palm at your breast.

“I am not.” He laughs, breathy and low when he finds your nipple already hard, thumb grazing over it as though this act of exhibitionism was as natural as any of the other things his madness compels him to do. “I will give you anything. Even blood, meine Göttin.”

Surely… you should be flattered that his loyalty is reserved only for you, but there’s no appeasement held in the glare that you shoot him as you pry his hand away from your chest. He gives you the look of a kicked stray then, even a pout so foreign on a face so scarred, you may have even chuckled if you were in better spirits, but he does relent. His hand drops back to his side and he detached from you after pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth.

You’re led to a shack larger than the others, but more or less in the same state. It’s simple, built solidly with thick carved wood and packed to prevent weather seeping its way in. It’s humble in a way, far more humble than any ruler’s you’ve only imagined. A bench, a table, a mattress likely stolen away from some Roman soldier’s tent. There’s nothing particularly special about it, but it smells like König, like the trees and the earth in a way that is comforting.

It takes a moment for it to fully register that this is what he had meant by home, not the people and their affairs outside, only this place. Only him. A temple all your own that you imagine he must wish to fill with love and children and an abundance of gifts he may steal away all for you.

His men bring in what little of the supplies remained, stuffed away in a corner and voluntarily relinquished; even if it means they’ll be fending for themselves like the others in the village rather than feasting on stores, they only seem happy. The red-haired one even flashes you a contented look of admiration on his way out, as though you just being there was enough to soothe and patch some void here.

That may have been the case.

When the door is shut and all falls to silence, the barbarian king kneels before you. His hands find your hips, thumbs grinding gentle circles along them and further down to your thighs, your calves, to everywhere that aches. A gentle sort of worship that coaxes soft sighs and a buzzing of flesh from you.

König brings you to the mattress when your eyelids begin to flutter, exhaustion settling over you in full when you’re lifted and brought toward his chest. You could fall asleep in his hold alone, but you settle to only rest your head there and reach up along his vastness to rake your fingers through his wild hair.

Your voice tells him that you do like it here, with him, in this strange place circled by withering ferns and trees so infinite that you could never hope to find your way away without him taking your hand and navigating through. Your touch tells him the words that you dare not speak, a kiss to voice that you too would burn away everything if it only meant that you could share in this at his side, a mimicry of his massage along his own shoulder to whisper a great confession of adoration and boundless promises.

— — —

When the ferns and flowers begin to grow again throughout the spring and into the summer, you find yourself accustomed to everything. You aid the women in caring for their children, though you begrudgingly swear that it is not for practice whatsoever. The stitching and cooking that is done here feels far less harrowing— you do not put it off and leave it in a heap upon the floor as you would have in the city. There’s no looming dread of what’s to come when you perfect your work: you’re gifted only smiles, blessings and gifts.

Though the woman König had claimed to be your mother is not here, you ask him to recount the way she looked and spoke to you often on quiet nights, where his hands drift over you and his voice comes in a whisper. She may not have even existed at all, some lost spirit amidst the trees that wails and cries and leads men like him to their destinies. Your heart only tears when you begin to wonder if Juno herself had imparted such a quest to him. Save the lost woman that she favored so much, grant him some divine luck and intoxicating charm to ensure your safety and happiness.

He does not understand when you gather up honey and blossoms to pray over, but he does sit at your side and listen when you whisper your thanks to this new altar. Kisses the crown of your head when you’re through and lures you back into an embrace where he reminds you that he knew what he needed to do the moment that you met at the stream. No other woman could have swayed him the way that you have.

His offerings are only to you, even after such a length of time has passed. There’s no goddess that he kneels for other than the one that sleeps at his side and tells him of her dreams.

The day he gifts you his seax is one that resonates more than even the necklaces and gowns of silk and linen. It feels heavy in your hands, the blade almost as soft as gossamer when your fingers trail along it, though it does not yield. It’s only well polished and freshly sharpened. The handle bears a strange carving in it now, one of two wolves staring up at a broad moon. It breaks something inside to know that even he does find some things sacred: beasts, the glow of an untouched paradise and you.

“Why are you giving me this?,” you manage to whisper as your diligently ghost over the carvings in reverent repetition. “Don’t you need it? For hunting and fighting…”

“You like it?” It’s impossible not to notice the cocky expression on his face that tells you full well he’s recounting that experience. You liked it then, certainly, but it wasn’t as if you had any use for it in such a way when he kept you satisfied enough with himself.

“Yes… but it’s yours.”

He shrugs then, a great lift of his shoulders as you’re pulled to him with a careful grip to the wrist holding the weapon.

“Will keep you safe,” he huffs against your neck, leaving a kiss there when you sheath the seax at the strap you had also been gifted pulled taught along your hip.

You didn’t even know how to use the thing properly, and you were not quite fond of the idea of chasing down rabbits or puncturing another human with it. Your concerns fall on deaf ears when you’re led out into the surrounding forest to a thicket of wild raspberries. Your wrist is steadied by a firm hand as König diligently teaches you to carve away limbs heavy with fruit without actually bringing any real harm to the plant itself.

There are many things to forage this season, some you had never even heard of before he explains their significance to your wonder-filled face. You hadn’t thought him stupid, not truly, but it still comes as a surprise that he seems to know so very much.

When you find yourself seated beside a slow-moving stream, a ripe berry crushed between your teeth, you’re finally allowed to put your new blade away and set it aside on moss-covered stones.

“You should keep it close. A bear might want to eat you, hm?,” he playfully chides behind you, lifting your drab little gown up and over your head. As if to further his point, his teeth rake over your pulse, applying just enough pressure to draw a whine from your lips.

“You are not a bear,” you huff and turn to pull away his tunic, pressing a kiss over the scar he now dons just above his heart.

“Ja…” He lowers his head again to kiss along your neck, trailing a heat up to your ear as he maneuvers you into the water to bathe.

Your foraging and banter go forgotten, and a different sort of howling fills the air shrouded in tree limbs. There are no wolves or wind, only two so feverishly desperate and in love that any other with their dowries and arrangements would find it even more compelling than the Empire itself.

He sinks into you when you’re brought to your knees, bellows his contentment when he brushes your wet hair away from your face and dives forward to cover you fully, bury you in a world of love and sweetness. Even when the act is done, König does not pull away, only lies you back along to shore and tucks you further against him.

You remain chittering and laughing until the sky begins to reflect the very stars you see in his eyes, glittering constellations that seem to flicker and echo the steady beat of his own heart as you lie against his chest.

The summer wedding that the fortune-teller had once spoken of seemed to already take place here. There’s no need for a lectus or some grand display to reveal to others that you’ve united, it comes in the stillness and shared contentment when your voices begin to quiet, and at last you resign yourself to tell him that you belong to him just as much as he belongs to you.

The final flurry of surrender comes out as a soft whisper, one that only leaves you with your knees folded back to your chest and an insatiable giant hugging his gratitude and love into your ear with each graceless snap of his hips.

He drags you down to your own ruin, spells his own with haste and what comes as a twist between a dispatch of tears and a sigh. You can’t recall ever seeing him cry, not even now as he burrows against your neck and shakily breathes against your shoulder, muttering such nonsense about how he would still take you up and into the sky if only you would continue to let him stay with you like this.

“Always,” you murmur fondly, cradling him as closely as possible. Inside, outside, embedded into your very flesh you feel him near. He does not pull out from you this night, only falls asleep in your embrace, cloaks you from the breeze over the water with his own heat. You follow suit, petting at him as though he’s far smaller than his massive weight suggests. He shifts just enough to not fully crush you beneath him, just as you begin to drift off.

When morning does come, König is already stood at your side, staring off into the distance with an expression that only foretells of something you’re certain you will want no part in. He shushes you when you part your lips to speak, nervously scrounging up your gown and the strap holding your gifted weapon. There are no protests from you, and only the babbling of the stream and sounds of distant yelling break up the silence.

You don’t need to ask to know what’s occurring. Just as you had predicted before the Romans had come to dismantle the village just as they had many others before, take the women as slaves and force the children to learn and take up arms for their empire. You had never thought of the violence before when it occurred, when you saw the faces of those miserable women at the sides of people they could never afford to feel any fondness toward. You had always been lucky and blind.

König, however, must have only known wraith. His fingernails dig into his palms, nostrils flared and expression pensive.

“Wartet hier.”

He does not even hesitate as he begins to move, leaving you behind along the peaceful shore. As if to spur you forward, the shallow water rises to lap at your ankles, and still you do not budge. Your hands feel heavy, encumbered by the seax still set in its sheath, and only then does it dawn on you that König had not even had a weapon his person. What good would he even be without one? When so many men armed with sharpened swords and spears had come for his head…

Though fear creeps in, subdues your limbs with its stiffness, rakes fangs of pure ice along every pulsing vein held within you… you can not bring yourself to flee or stay put. You follow, quiet as a wood mouse as you walk along the forest with trembling hands clutching a weapon you almost hope is not too late to save your home, your heart.

There’s no clear trail, no sign of König, not even a shadow or a whisper that may belong to him. Instead there are shouts and the heavy smell of smoke. The gray billows up, more imposing than even the oaks and pines. The only comfort you will yourself to take is the fact that the words you can make out are Germanic, not Latin. Not all is lost, not yet.

You steel yourself and push your resolve to the forefront of your mind, creeping ever closer with careful but steps far more swift. You wind past throning brush and sprawling vine, past trees but familiar and not until you finally cross over from forest to the tall grass lining the edges of the village.

There lies chaos you expect, and that which you do not. Some of the cabins have gone up in flame, fire that coils and spreads to set your nerves alight with memory and dread. There are men fighting at the heart of it all, weapons slick with blood dripping down to the fallen at their feet. The women and children have all fled or have been taken captive, you couldn’t be certain amongst all that was already occurring around you and beyond. You couldn’t even count your enemies, a smaller army no doubt, the arrogance of the Empire knew no bounds. Twenty men to take down one was substantial enough when the others could be used for further conquests.

And there is no sign of König.

You feel numb when no matter where you look you can’t seem to catch sight of him, and how easy a task that should have been given his stature. The seax is pulled from its sheath when grief begins to settle, and the tears that threaten to spill are forced back with a grimace. There was still some hope, you knew. The village was not so small that you could map all of it from the small lump of a hill, but that desire to find him, bare your own teeth and fight at his side to protect what was yours brims up and chokes back the fear harbored in your chest.

Lady or wolf, you cared not. You would lose your titles just as he would if it came down to it. When the histories speak of how that city burned, how a king without a name brought the Empire to kneel if only for a moment before they sought revenge, you would be written in ink alongside it. A devotion so strong echoed in each page, as a barbarian queen that chose to keep her heart and lose her head.

But it doesn’t come to that. There’s another woman stood at König’s side when you do find him, wielding a stolen sword from one of the opposing soldiers as sweat and blood paint his face.

Unharmed and unknowing of the presence at his side, a mirage carved of smoke she was, his eyes stared out towards where the blade struck while her eyes only settled over you. Your breath catches when your gaze moves from König to her and you do find a resemblance: the way that her hair, the same color as your own frames her face, her frame, the way that her nose shapes, even the expression upon her face.

The mother he spoke of, the feral love and protectiveness outspoken and proud in her eyes. You do not recognize this woman, even amidst the cluster of sparse memories in your mind. Not until now had you ever seen her, but the feeling you’re gifted then… a roaring settling in your chest to extinguish all apprehension tells all.

As the last of the Romans is struck down by König himself, a blade sunk so deep into the other’s stomach as the other man spits out a gurgled wail, the woman only seems to fade out into nothing, replaced by the backdrop of the trees surrounding. Nothing left behind in the wake of the place she once walked apart from fallen soldiers and a trail of blood and König, safe as he could be.

When you come to him, teary-eyed and fretful, your roaming fingers do not catch on a single gash. The blood painted over his face, neck, chest is none of his own. He’s well, just as the other men from the village as they rush to snuff out the flames and clear away the bodies.

Though König pants heavily and his eyes are still wild, mind momentarily lost to the thrumming adrenaline in his veins, your touch seems to settle him greatly. The sword falls from his hands to clatter in the dust and muck, curling around you to pull you in. You think he should be angry that you hadn’t listened when he ordered you to stay, but he only seems as grateful as you to find his other half alive and longing still. Always.

You tell him of the woman as you sob into his chest, describe her and her vanishing as best you could in your own muffled voice. He grins, strokes your hair as though he truly believes every word even with how ridiculous it all sounds. There are things far more demanding to focus on now, and eventually you fall to silence as he holds you there.

Your home still stands, built just far enough off from the rest that its managed to avoid the battle entirely. Untouched, except from inside. The altar you had dedicated to Juno is gone, vanished just like the woman you had seen before. The scent of cinnamon hangs in the air, misplaced and unannounced, but a comfort all the same. You smile to yourself, bittersweet but comforting, with tears drying upon your face.

— — —

The village takes time to rebuild.

You lose time just as much as you lose sleep helping out with the endless tasks. König, thinking himself chivalrous, or perhaps hinting at what your future may entail if he continues to ravage you as though he would die without your warmth, never allows you to carry anything heavy. Even clay pots filled with water from the stream are swiftly taken from your hands. Gods forbid you even attempt to aid in cooking over the fires, either. He pulls you away with a hand clasped over your mouth and nose, delicately caressing your face and reminding you to be careful.

Something has changed. What you knew to be love before only seems to double with each passing day. He fusses and dotes over you endlessly, ensuring that you’re well fed, trailing behind you to bathe and it isn’t even just for the chance to sink into your cunt.

Often, he sits with you in his lap, guiding a wet cloth up to gently wash you, toys with your damp hair beneath his fingers, tells you stories of his own adventures and the people who traveled alongside him. Not of the hundred wives his men had boasted about him having, a ridiculous statement only meant to make you pine for him more than you already had, you supposed. He even tells you, sheepishly, that most women seemed afraid of him, but never you.

When you do make love, it’s an act of endless desperation. Along the bank of the stream, your shared bed, against any tree he deems fit enough to not budge beneath your shared weight, and even once in a field of wild blooms you two had found along a foraging trek. The floral aroma had kissed your skin each place he had, left you more doughy and sweet even as you took to conquer him, straddled over his hips with your head thrown back to the wind. You laughed with him when it was through, curled your hand beneath his chin to you with the rough feeling of his unshaven hair.

Everything— each new thing you learn and see with König as your guide only seems to melt away any wall you put up. Your life before only seems to fade from memory, that lonely bitterness consumed by the well of love he’s pushed you into.

When autumn comes and the trees begin to turn, each wealth of green faded and given way for yellow and red, your mare has finally become more docile and tame. You’re not even sure who to thank for it, for the way she struts about with giddy children on her back and doesn’t fuss when even you will yourself to settle over her saddle.

The saddle like all else in your life only seems softer, stitched together with leather, a cushion made of a rabbit’s pelt and stuffed full with straw and down so soft you don’t even dread the idea of the long ride to come.

The mountains, here, surrounding the valley and the village are wild and beautiful, still layered near to their peaks in abundant fields of late-blooming flowers. The stars still hang above, twinkling and glittering as if only to silently deliver their blessings for your coming journey. It is only the sea that you’ve yet to venture toward, the last on the list of honeyed promises König has made to you.

Your luggage is packed and spread between the two horses, your mare and his stallion. There are blankets and preserved food, light posts to set up a tent someplace a distance from the shore, even a pearl dangling from a thin chain that König dutifully places on your neck. It’s no exchange of rings, but you clutch the little gem tight as you will yourself not to cry. There was no need to be so sentimental not now, not after you’ve already shared so many moments far more tender.

The seax dangles at your hip, catching the glow of the sun above when you pull it free and polish it alongside König as he does with his pilfered sword. He shows you how to use a whetstone, delicately maneuvering your hand to sharpen the blade before dousing the thing in oil, makes you swear not to accidentally nick yourself when you’re inevitably dragged in the throes of some hunt at his side.

You’ve yet to use it for that purpose, but going alone means you’ve no choice but to offer your support… even with the knowledge that he wouldn’t actually allow you to do much at all, frustrating as that was.

When morning comes, you say your goodbyes to the village. You’re thrown flowers both pressed and new, petals latching to the fur of the pelt tied over your shoulders. König receives wine, far more useful than the delicate little blossoms that you brush away with shy smiles and glassy eyes.

The language is easier to understand now, when the others offer you great fortune on your travels, the women speaking greatly of your fertility despite the way it makes your nose scrunch in distaste. They call you Königin, only that, never any name you’ve offered for them to use. Perhaps even above the name the people of the city called you by it is more fitting.

You settle into the saddle with König atop his stallion next to you, reach for the reins when he flashes you a wary look, tells you that you will ride slow and he will keep you safe in case anything does happen to occur. You only think to remark the same, gesturing toward the weapon strapped to your hip, smirking when he snorts in amusement.

“Are you ready to depart?,” you ask him as you reach a hand out to trail along his arm, heart thumping wildly when his gaze only begins to further soften. You almost fear he may begin to cry, just as overwhelmed and sweetly pacified as you feel now. “We can stay a while longer if not.”

“Nein… we still need to plan for the stars after,” he whispers as he takes hold of your hand, interlocks your fingers and brushes against each knuckle with the pad of his thumb before bringing it toward his chest.

The moment is broken when the horses begin to huff in anticipation. You don’t get the chance to remind him that you still see each constellation he’s shown to you in the glimmer of his eyes, but you know well enough by now that he would only tell you the same in turn.

#könig #könig x reader #könig x you #konig x reader #konig #konig x you #cod fanfiction #okay i lied two hours early but i’m tired of looking at words today #f: only other

503 notes · View notes

borathae · 9 months

Text

↳ Index [Snippet #37 - Pierced]

“When Jungkook’s lip ring finally healed and you can’t resist each other anymore.”

Genre: Smut, married life!AU

Warnings: switch!Jungkook, switch!Reader, it goes from Dom!Kook to sub!Kook to Dom!Kook, tattooed & pierced!JK, he’s got his lip & nipples pierced, he ties his long hair together nfdnf, muscle & strength kink, lil bit of thigh riding, sex outside on a sun bed, messy oral (f.receiving), some biting, multiple orgasms (f.receiving), creampies, she rides him to an orgasm, body hair kink aye, she smothers him with her tits, nipple sucking, lotsa drool, subby boy tears, dirty talk, praise, a lil bit of degradation, he has such a lose tongue, they are very horny & needy & just wanna fuck, cuddly aftercare, they are in love!!

Wordcount: 5.4k

a/n: there is no thought behind this drabble. it’s a crime that i never wrote about his lip ring until now. enjoy besties, this was created from the depths of my pussy 🧡

You are in the little greenhouse in your garden when Jungkook comes home. Your tomato plants, which you and Jungkook have carefully raised from infant seedlings to healthy six foot plants, are finally starting to flower and you are currently making sure that no bugs or other insects nibble on them. Yes, you are very protective over your tomato plants.

After reading an article about self-sustaining living, you developed an obsession with growing as much of your food as possible. You asked Hoseok for help – given how he is already a complete expert at it – and Seokjin gave you some tips as well. Jungkook called it way too time consuming at first, but soon gave in with a fond smile. He even helped you build the greenhouse and soon after, the plant growing fever took a hold of him as well.

It was when the first of your tomato seed experiments grew a little sprout. You can still remember how Jungkook called you in the middle of your shift with the great news of “babe, you won’t believe what just happened but tomato number ten just grew a sprout.” It was a truly exciting day in your marriage.

Now come early summer and all your vegetable and fruit plants are thriving, ready to be pollinated and later carry fruit.

The glass door opens and Jungkook steps inside.

“Hey there.”

You turn, placing the sheers down on your working table.

“And?” you ask him, eyeing it.

There was something else new in your relationship. It was on Jungkook’s body, his lower lip to be more exact. A small metal ring close to the right corner of his mouth. A lip piercing.

It was a well-thought-through decision of his’, one you completely support. Not only because it is his body and he can decorate it with whatever he wants, but also because you always had a gist that he would look amazing with a lip piercing. And you were correct. He looks so handsome with it. Truly, each day you fall more and more in love with this man.

The only downside came with the healing. No touching except for when he has to clean it. That is what the piercer told Jungkook. Which meant no kissing and truly, it left you feeling unbearably needy for him. Eight long and grueling weeks of not being able to kiss your husband. It sounds like torture and it truly was. Especially because you and he were so used to kissing all the time. Soft little morning pecks, sweet goodbye kisses, the relieved smooch of comfort after a long work day, sleepy kisses, desperate making out or the loving surprise kiss throughout the day. You and your husband love kissing. So to be unable to feel each other’s lips for eight long weeks felt like torture. You tried to kiss him one time, but that ended in Jungkook yelping up in pain and bleeding a little. You apologised a million times with tears in your eyes whilst he assured you that it wasn’t your fault and after that, you never tried to kiss again.

Today however, you hope that he comes bearing good news.

“And? What did he say? Has it healed?”

Jungkook steps closer, but stays silent.

“Talk to me, I can’t take the silence” you whine, shrugging off your gloves.

He takes another step.

“Come on, tell me. I wanna know”, you stress, stomping your foot. Truth was, you have been sitting on needles the entire day, wishing for his quick return. All you did today was take care of your garden and think of Jungkook’s kiss. If he doesn’t answer you soon – or take your face to kiss you stupid – you will burst. You can’t bear the longing anymore.

“Kookie, please tell me”, you plead, staring at his lips.

Jungkook breaks the last of the distance between the two of you, cups your face in his hands and kisses you deeply.

Your knees buckle, a moan slips past your lips. Everything that was wrong is right again. The world finally starts turning and colour returns to your universe. You are kissing your husband! You tilt your body back as Jungkook presses himself into you, your arms hook behind his head. Holy fuck. Yes.

You grab a bundle of his long hair, twisting it to the point where Jungkook moans into your mouth. Or perhaps he is moaning because all he has been craving was your kiss. Driving home from the piercer with news of finally having healed sitting heavily on his heart was torture. All he wanted to be was to be home with you and have you in his arms. Eight weeks without your kiss and Jungkook had reached his breaking point. If he had to live without your kiss for even one second longer, he would have actually combusted.

Jungkook breaks the kiss, breathing just as heavily as you. He didn’t want to break it, but air was sparse in his lungs. Fuck, if he could live on only your kiss, he would. But alas, he has to breathe, running his hands over your face as if it was the first time he ever touches you.

“I missed you”, he whispers, “I missed you so fucking much.”

“Me too, Kook. More, kiss me please.”

Jungkook obeys gladly, kissing you so deeply that nothing could separate the two of you. His strong arm slings around your waist, pressing you into his body. His long fingers close around you, reminding you why it is so nice to be touched by him. He does it with so much tenderness, but also with just enough strength to let you know that he was there. That you were his' and that he intends on never letting you go.

You run your hand down his torso until you can touch his waist. He shivers and pushes you until the back of your legs hit the edge of the work table. Like this, he can cage you in and keep you right there with him. Not that he needs to do anything for that. You want to be with him. This is all you crave.

You gasp for air again. Your faces are barely apart. His cock is hard. Well, not completely but still swollen enough that you can feel it poke your tummy. You grind yourself against it, feasting on the desperate whimper he lets out. You are so turned on yourself. Your desperation is soaking your panties. His kiss and loving touch does that to you.

“Fuck”, he chuckles breathily, “you’re messing with me.”

“I can feel it”, you sigh, “I’m so wet too.”

“It’s been too long.”

“Kook, just fucking take me.”

“Jump.”

You follow instantly. Jungkook catches you safely, tensing his muscles just for you. You fucking love to be in his arms and feel him tense. It gets you so fucking wet. Moaning his name, you cup his face and pull him into a kiss.

The walk back to the house gets difficult, but Jungkook wouldn’t want it any other way. These few seconds without your kiss where you talked felt like torture. He needs your faces to literally melt with each other. He missed you so goddamn much.

Jungkook manages as far as the terrace and then he has to drop you. Not because you grew too heavy for him, but because he needed you so bad that it got impossible to walk. So he sets you down gently, massaging your hips. He breaks the kiss, holding your hips to grind you against him. He makes sure to lift his leg so your pussy was grinding on his thigh. You whimper because of it, looking up at him with glassy, droopy eyes.

“Koo…”

“I need you to lie down, baby”, he rasps, “I fucking can’t wait any longer.”

“The sun bed?”

“Yeah, please. If you want.”

“I want to. You?”

“Baby, I’ve been thinking about you the whole drive home ‘course I fucking want you”, he says and pushes his thigh against your pussy, making you moan, “please. Please lie down for me.”

“You’re so hot, fuck”, you say and step back. You waste no time getting naked. You would have to fumble with your clothes later either way. It’s better to get it over with now and safe yourself the trouble.

“Fuck, sweetheart”, Jungkook moans, watching you with heavy eyes. He tongues his lip ring, driving you mad with it.

You step out of your sundress and panties and finally lie down on the sun bed. You give him a sensual writhe, looking up at him with big, pleading eyes.

“And now?” you ask him.

Jungkook takes off his shirt and shorts. He knows that he won’t be needing them anymore. His cock is completely hard, slapping against his toned stomach and leaking the prettiest droplets of excitement.

“So pretty”, you whine, “Koo, I want you.”

Jungkook takes his heavy cock and jerks it twice, “you can”, he lulls, falling to his knees in front of you. He grabs you by your ankles and tugs you to the edge even if that makes you squeak and later giggle.

“This was so much fun”, you squeal.

He chuckles, eyes glued to your glistening pussy and hands running along your inner thighs, “you’re so cute”, he says and pushes gently, nudging your legs open so he can lower himself to your pussy.

“Oh?” you squeak, tensing up, “o-oh”, you relax in a shudder, arching your back seconds later, “holy fuck.”

Jungkook growls against you, gripping your waist to give it a needy squeeze.

“I missed you”, he moans, “holy fuck, you’re heaven”, he adds and buries his face back in your leaking cunt. He doesn’t think about cleanliness right now. He is messy and sloppy and fucking dirty in the way he eats your pussy and he wouldn’t want it any other way. He can finally have you again, taste you, feel you, experience you and make you moan so fucking sweetly. Eight long weeks without your taste. Jungkook never wants to experience such agonies again. He felt like an addict denied of his favourite drug. And now he needs to be covered in you. It is all he needs.

“Slow please”, you beg with trembling thighs, “Koo, you’re too fast oh god.”

Eight long weeks without feeling his tongue. Bear in mind, you weren’t abstinent from each other. You still touched each other, made the other cum and found yourselves lost in deep rolls of your hips. It never felt truly fulfilling of course because you weren’t able to kiss, but you weren’t completely abstinent from each other. So you shouldn’t be that sensitive right now. But you are. His tongue feels like paradise. A paradise which is currently making your legs shake like there is no tomorrow.

He is so sloppy in the way he eats you out. His tongue can’t seem to stay at one place for too long as greed for more of you always keeps it busy. His lips are sucking and kissing every inch of your pussy until she feels all puffy and sensitive. You can feel his lip ring whenever he closes his lips around you. Hard, thin metal, hot from his body and your pussy and incredibly maddening to experience. There is this little grinding sensation whenever he uses his lips on you. You can’t get enough of it, reaching down to twist his hair.

You mess it up the point where it hangs into his face and gets stuck between his lips and your pussy.

“Baby”, he breaks away, “stop tugging so much, you’re messing up my hair.”

“I can’t help it, you’re so good. Don’t stop, please”, you whine, tugging him closer. More of his hair falls into his face. Jungkook chuckles and with a gentle shake of his head, shakes off your hands.

“No, please”, you beg, trying and failing to reach for him.

He leans back. You look at him with a big pout. It gets washed away instantly as you watch him use his teeth to take off the black hair tie from his wrist. He keeps it tangling between them, staring at you with half-lidded eyes. His lips glisten in your juices, his lip ring is wet from your sex. He reaches behind his own head and combs his hair back. His tattooed, sculpted arms flex and tense as he works, making you whimper because all you need is him. All of him. You need him so bad.

Once he is happy with the style, he holds up the ponytail with one hand and uses the other to get the hair tie. His arms pulsate and flex as he secures it, his chest stretches in the position, his nipple piercings practically beg for your attention.

Jungkook finally finishes the ponytail, giving you a taunting smirk. He is aware how into the little show you were.

“Kook please”, you beg, opening your legs for him.

“I’m obsessed with you”, he growls and grabs your hips. He spits on your pussy only to smother himself with you a second later and slurp up the mess he just made. He uses his entire head for the movements, changing between sucking your pussy and grinding the flat of his tongue against it.

“Kook”, you mewl, reaching for his hands. You know that you can’t hold his hair anymore. He made sure of that when he tied it back. But you still need to hold something of him. He makes you shake so much that you need to hold him for encouragement. He allows you to intertwine your fingers with him, running his thumbs over your skin in a soothing manner. It almost feels like mockery, how gently he soothes you while his mouth makes you shake so uncontrollably. A mockery you enjoy to the fullest because you get to hold Jungkook’s hands and that’s the best thing ever!

“You have no idea how much I needed this”, he rasps, letting his voice vibrate against your clit, “I want you to cum like this, baby. It’s all I need.”

“Soon”, you keen, squeezing his hands.

“Mhhm, baby”, his deep voice makes your thighs shake, “you make me the happiest man.”

And with that he disappears in your warmth again, giving your hands a squeeze and growling into your pussy.

You fall apart on his tongue mere moments later. Everything felt way too good. It is all you needed to be fulfilled.

You sob his name as you climax while Jungkook licks your clit through the fire and squeezes your hands.

Seven times you convulse and tense. Seven times you lose control over your limbs. Seven times and then his tongue feels like too much.

“Break”, you beg him and Jungkook listens.

“Good girl”, he praises, kissing your clit as a reward. You are still pulsating. Jungkook wants more, but knows not to overstep.

Instead, he kisses his way up your recovering body, sucking on your nipples when he reaches them. His big hands cup your softness, massaging you gently. It feels so good to be touched this way.

“Kook”, you mewl softly, tangling your fingers in the hair he left outside. He has so much of it that it still easily hides your hand. The softness of it soothes you like nothing else. Jungkook contrasts it by giving your left nipple a soft bite. It stings, making you keen in pleasure.

He purrs, letting your sensitive bud slip from his teeth just so he can drag his lips up to your face. His lip ring tickles wherever it touches you, leaving you to writhe and whine.

“Look at me”, he says once he is eye to eye with you.

You follow instantly, cupping his cheeks because all you needed was to hold him.

“You did so well for me”, he praises, smiling softly, “but I’m not done with you.”

You whimper, arching your back.

“You made me hard and you gotta be my good girl and take care of it. Yeah?”

You nod your head vigorously.

“That’s my good girl, I knew you wouldn’t deny me”, he says and brushes his thumb over your cheek, “can I get comfy and then you ride my cock? Mhm baby? Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, Koo”, you say, trembling in anticipation.

“Thank you, baby. You have no idea how happy this makes me”, he says and rewards you with a kiss.

You moan deeply, hooking your arms behind his head just to make sure he can’t escape. He tastes like your orgasm. Sweet and intense. You want to lick it off of him. He tastes so good. Holy fuck, you need this kiss to never stop.

Jungkook is halfway on the sun bed this way. With one foot he is standing on the ground, while he has the other pulled up on the sun bed, resting his knee between your legs and grinding you against his skin. You’ve got him all sticky and wet like this. Jungkook gets off on the feeling like an addict.

“Koo”, you whimper and wiggle away, “Koo, it hurts. Too sensitive.”

“Hurts?” he lessens the pressure, “I’m sorry, baby. How’s that?”

“Good. Doesn’t….Kook, please fuck me.”

“So needy”, he teases and smiles cockily, “fine, let’s switch places.”

Your places are swapped within seconds. The sun bed is big enough that it can house Jungkook and you comfortably. Your knees have enough space to rest beside his hips and you could even spread them wider if you wanted to. Soft cushioning gives you enough knee support as well. The black fabric has been warmed up by the sun, but it feels comfortable on your skin.

Jungkook falls back and yelps up.

“What’s wrong?” you gasp.

“Ponytail. Uncomfy. It’s poking my literal brain”, he says and sits up. You have to be honest, all you did was stare at his toned abs as he did. They were bulging and shifting like crazy. They still do, because Jungkook opens his ponytail with both hands, using his abs to keep himself lifted.

He is the sexiest man alive.

You reach out and run your fingers over the ridges of his abs. The scorching sun and your body made his skin burn up. The faintest layer of sweat has collected in the valleys of his abs, now sticking to your fingertips and getting spread all over his silken skin.

Jungkook watches you with hungry eyes, lifting himself just a little bit more to make his abs bulge even harder. You gulp, grinding your pussy down on his thick thigh. You are so wet, Jungkook can feel it. Adorable, he thinks, you aren’t even aware of how much you stare.

You dance your fingers down his abs until you reach his happy trail. Jungkook has never been a hairy man. He has his healthy amount of leg and arm hair, can grow out his pits and always keeps his bush well taken care of. But other than that, he has never been one particularly hairy fellow. So his happy trail is faint and you like to call it pretty, but it’s there. Even if just a little bit, it’s there and you are currently dragging your nails through it and Jungkook feels himself shiver at the sensation. You add more fingers once you reach his pubes, burying them deep in them just so you can scratch along his skin. His cock throbs because of you, leaking desperately.

Your eyes finally flit up. They are burning in fiery hunger for him. Your fingers still play with his hair, scratching him just above his cock. He smirks cockily.

“I wanna bounce on your cock till you’re begging me to stop”, you rasp and grab the base of his cock.

His smirk drops as his lips part in a gasp. Jungkook writhes because of how harshly you hold him. The pressure goes straight to his balls, keeping them from leaking any more precum for you.

“Fuck. Sweetheart”, he moans and throws the hair tie to the side. He finally drops down, gripping your thighs to the point where his fingertips dimple your flesh. His hair spreads on the cushion messily. Strands of it fall into his face.

You lift yourself and position your pussy over his cock. You give your clit a soft spank with it, sending a jolt through Jungkook’s legs.

“Ready?”

“Uh...yeah? What a ques-”

You sink down on him in one go.

Jungkook throws his head back and squeezes his eyes shut.

“-fuck!”

“Mhhm Kookie baby….you’re filling me up so well”, you moan and begin bouncing on him. You don’t need to get used to him. He fits you like no other. All you need is to fuck yourself senseless on him and steal his sanity while you’re at it.

Jungkook moans loudly, his hands slip to your waist to hold it. He doesn’t guide you. He doesn’t need to because you know what you are fucking doing, but also because he has no strength in him to tell you what you should do. Once he’s on his back and got you on his cock, he is your fucking slave. If you want it fast and rough? Jungkook is happy to get wet and sensitive in your perfect cunt. If you want it slow and deep? Jungkook is more than happy to grow as big as he can and whimper your name. You want his orgasm quick? Jungkook just hopes that he can breathe between all the moaning he has to do. You want to drag it out? Fuck, he’s going to suffer but he’s not going to complain for even a second. He’s your little sexdoll and you can get yourself off as you desire.

“Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck”, he chants, feeling his brain pound behind his skull.

“You’re so big Kookie baby, I can’t get enough of you”, you moan, leaning your weight on his tummy. You know that he can take it. His abs are rock hard under your palms, convulsing each time your cunt meets the base of his cock and your ass slams down on his thighs. “it’s like you’re made for me. My pussy can’t get enough of being drilled by you, baby.”

“Don’t please”, he begs, “either fuck me or talk, don’t do both”, he whines.

“Why?” you chuckle.

“Cause together is too hot”, he mewls, rolling his head to the side and squeezing your waist, “I’m getting fucked so good”, he keens with his voice pitched in utter pleasure.

“You’re adorable”, you say, sliding your hands up his torso until you can rest them next to his head. Like this your tits bounce all into his face, “open your eyes, Kook.”

Jungkook obeys and sobs your name, reaching for your tits instantly just to press them together and bury his face in them. He sucks and licks and kisses, using way too much spit for it which makes it all the more addicting. You know that once he is done, your skin will be covered in sensitive spots where he sucked for too long and your nipples will be throbbing. Just how you like it. You arch your back to smother him even further and stick out your ass. His cock curves in this position, grinding over your favourite spots inside with each movement.

“That’s it, suck my tits. You’re such a hungry little baby”, you taunt him as you wiggle your hips on him in a skilled rhythm. The kind which makes his toes curl and forces him to make the neediest little sounds into your tits, “so good baby, you’ve got the best fucking cock.”

He is stuck on your right nipple. You know that he has no control over it. You are scrambling his brain. He can’t think. Nor move. Sucking on your nipple is an instinctive, dumb reaction to getting his cock bounced on. This isn’t something he does willingly, it’s the only way he can take what you give him. And it’s starting to hurt. Jungkook sucks with such vigour that it’s getting uncomfortable.

You tug him away with a harsh grip on his hair. His spit drips all over his lower face, his eyes open. There are tears sitting on his pretty, dark lashes. His cheeks are flushed pink, his gaze just that little bit droopy.

“I have another nipple too, you know?” you say, “use your brain to think.”

His cock throbs inside you and leaks angrily. He squeezes your waist, curling his toes.

“You’re so mean”, he presses out and arches his back.

“I am? Oh baby, I’m sorry”, you coo, “you know that I don’t mean it.”

Jungkook whimpers and opens his mouth, sticking out his tongue. You know that he is asking for your nipple. But you are in a teasing mood.

You lean down and lick his tongue before you wrap your lips around it to suck on it to the point where he moans into your mouth and scratches up your back. The sensation leaves a slight burn behind and forces you to growl into him like a needy animal.

Jungkook swears that he is going to pass out. You are messing with him way too much. He expected anything but this. Maybe he should have expected it. He is married to the nastiest, most amazing sex goddess after all.

You release his tongue with a purr, claiming his lips next. The kiss is deep and messy. Tongues dance with each other in an unidentifiable rhythm, teeth manage to clash together every so often which results in you giggling and moaning into the other and your lips can’t seem to get enough of feeling the other’s. His cock feels a million times better now that you are kissing him. You don’t feel the need to give him ruthless bounces anymore. Just deep grinding. The kind which shifts his cock inside you and always keeps it pressed to your favourite spot. Your clit grinds against his tummy this way as well. The pressure and his warmth are enough to send a constant stream of electricity through your veins.

Air is sparse in your lungs. You gotta breathe. You break the kiss. Both of you pant for air. Just ten seconds of distance. He uses the time to hold onto your shoulders, you use the time to twist his hair. His lips call you back. You kiss him, concentrating your attention on his lip ring area. Your tongue traces the metal ring, your lips kiss and suck it and you even dare to tug on it with your teeth as carefully as possible.

“Holy fuck”, his talking forces the piercing to slip from your lips.

“What’s wrong? Hurts?” you ask.

“That feels incredible”, he says.

“Mhm. Yeah?” you flick your tongue over it, “not gonna lie, kinda obsessed with it.”

“Just kiss me, mommy”, he whines and hooks his fingers behind your head.

“Did you just call me-”

“Shut up”, he interrupts you and pulls you down into the kiss. He keeps you close with his nails scratching over your scalp and his puffy lips chasing your kiss. He props his feet up on the sun bed and thrusts up into you.

You squeak, falling to your elbows this way. Your tits squish against his chest, rubbing against his nipple piercings and making him whimper. Your sweaty skins melt together. He took over, now slamming his cock into you in a deep and hasty rhythm. You convulse on top of him and break the kiss just to hide away in the crook of his neck and wail his name.

He hugs you against his chest, burying his nose in your hair.

“I love you”, he growls, “holy fuck, I love you so much.”

“I love you too”, you squeak, “Kook, Kookie, Jungkookie oh god baby.”

“I fucking love this pussy”, he grips your ass and uses the leverage to move your hips on his cock, “shit, you feel so good.”

“Oh god”, you sob, “Kook, this making me cum.”

“Yeah? Good”, he spits and moans squeakily. Despite his rough fucking and harsh grip, he moans cutely. His voice is all pitched and breathy, barely wanting to come out from how messed up you got him. The contrast is making your head pound.

“Holy fuck, I’m close”, you get out, “fuck, your cock’s so good. Fuck baby, fuck.”

“Same, fucking same”, he growls, “don’t hold back, baby. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Deeper.”

Jungkook tenses his thighs and fucks his cock as deep as he can go.

“Yes!” you wail, starting to convulse on top of him as your body prepares for the messiest high, “yes! Yes! Yes!”

“That’s it baby, take my cock. Take my fucking cock, you’re doing so good. Oh fuck, I’m gonna nut so hard”, he is rambling. He always does that when he gets too lost in you and his mind is running on nothing but you, “gonna fucking cream your sweet little pussy, god I want you so bad. Fuck baby, you drive me insane.”

“Koo, I’m cumming”, you mewl and break apart, clutching him for dear life as your veins fill with fiery ecstasy.

“Yes baby, fuck holy fuck”, Jungkook’s voice changes in pitch, he barely gets the words out, “oh fuck, you’re squeezing my cock like crazy. God, I love you. My princess, keep cumming, that’s it.”

You have to be honest, you barely take in what he says. You know that he is talking and it’s making you so wet that he barely manages to stay inside, but his words don’t really stay in your brain. You are so far gone in the blissful embrace of your orgasm. He makes you feel just way too good.

“Oh god, baby I can’t hold back anymore”, he mewls and squeezes you tightly, “___!”

His hips drop and still, his cock throbs inside you and the loudest squeaks leave him. You can feel how his hot cum shoots up your pussy and how it’s leaking out of you because you’re milking him like crazy.

Still delirious from your own orgasm, you grind on him messily and without any sort of rhythm. You just want to make him feel good and be with him for as long as possible.

Your bodies naturally slow down. You know each other so well that it is your bodies’ instinct to stop once it turns from pleasurable to uncomfortable. Messy grinds turn into barely there rocks of your hips, these turn into the occasional clench of your walls until even that stops and you are resting atop his chest while both of you are panting for air.

You don’t need to talk – hell, neither of you could – as recovering with each other is already enough to comfort you.

Once those seconds turned into minutes and Jungkook’s softened cock naturally slipped out of you, you are the one to finally break the comfortable silence.

“So that just happened.”

“Yeah”, Jungkook lets out a breathy laugh, rubbing his palm up and down your back, “fuck.”

“Yeah, fuck”, you agree, “that was amazing.”

“It was fucking incredible”, he says and laughs again.

You join him because it feels good to laugh with him. Especially after sex.

“So uhm”, you say, nudging his neck with your nose, “wanna talk about the M-bomb you just dropped?”

“Shut up”, he whines, “I had your tits in my face and you were so sexy, it slipped outta me.”

“No don’t apologise, it was hot as fuck. You just never said that before”, you say and giggle, “you’re cute, baby.”

“Mhhm, it’s ‘cause you messin’ wit’ me”, he lulls and hugs you tightly, “always makin’ me feel so good.”

“Yeah same. You make me feel so good too”, you say and lift your head just so you can finally look at his face. He looks as ruined as you feel. It’s the sexiest look on him, “I’m already obsessed with the lip ring.”

“Yeah same”, Jungkook says, licking over it, “now I gotta think of techniques to use it on you when I eat you out.”

“Mhhm that sounds like fun”, you say, tracing it with your finger, “I can’t wait to explore it with you.”

He smiles, scrunching his nose up. He is so happy when he’s with you. You feel the same. He’s the best thing in your life.

1K notes · View notes

punkpandapatrixk · 4 months

Text

🌟Blessings to Expect throughout 2024 ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

‘You’re always here. What are you doing?’

‘Nothing…nothing in particular.’

‘You’re Saibara’s grandson, right? Aren’t you working at the Blacksmith shop?’

‘I’m not interested in that. I want to go back to the city.’

‘Oh… I came from the city, too. My dad moved the family to this village because he was going to study plants. I felt lonely at first. But the people here are all very kind.’

‘I don’t feel lonely. But I can’t find what I want to do in this village.’

‘What is it you want that you can’t find here?’

‘Well, it’s…oh, nothing…’

‘My mother always says that if you can’t find what you want to do, then do what you can see to do now. Nobody finds what they want immediately. But if you waste your time every day because of that, you’ll never find anything... To tell you the truth, I haven’t found what I’m looking for yet, either. See you.’

— Mary and Gray’s conversation from Harvest Moon: Back To Nature

SONG: Somewhere Over the Rainbow by Judy Garland

MOVIE: The Wizard of Oz (1939)

[PAC Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – Welcoming Love, True Love

VIBE: Ready for Your Love (feat. MNEK) by Gorgon City

end of a struggle – King of Swords

You’ve been incredibly and marvellously responsible for…quite a number of years, I think? For some of you maybe a couple of months or so. But your struggles have ended; nearing ending; or you just haven’t realised yet how everything has changed for the better now. If you take a moment to really notice yourself, I’m sure you can tell just how much clearer you’ve become about many things pertaining to your surrounding and sense of Self. I feel you’ve worked really hard to overcome excessive trauma noises that have caused you a great deal of psychological pain.

Starting this year, you can feel more confident in your intellectual capacity to gauge situations right in front of you. Making choices will be a lot easier now because you’re clear about who you are as a person and what it is you truly want out of your own existence. You’ve clearly set enough boundaries with those who didn’t have your best interest. Seems to me you’ve learnt the hard way to be more selfish in the spirit of self-preservation. And so, the adventure of a lifetime begins right this moment.

In fact, I feel like your entire Life up until this point has been quite the adventure—only it has been filled with sorrow and misery, sorta. Surely it was your Hero’s Journey taking shape for the early chapters of your Life’s Story. A slow burn of a lifetime, if you will. Beginning this year, you’re entering the most exciting part of your rise to glory and everlasting happiness!

in your favour – 8 of Pentacles

You’ve been hustling behind the scenes for the most part. At least, those who aren’t close to you will never know just how much work you’ve put into bettering your world from the inside out. You worked so much on your mindset; you must’ve exercised a lot, too; tried to eat more cleanly and healthily; worked on your glow-up; brushed your skills; etc. You were investing in yourself for the future vision you’ve always held close to your heart. And for that reason, the seeds are now blooming.

You’re making me think of the bamboo plant. Did you know that a bamboo seedling takes around 5-7, maybe even 8-10, years to gestate underground? All alone in the dark without anyone knowing what’s going on down there. And when the seedling shoots up to the surface, the bamboo plant is famous for being the fastest growing plant there ever is.

So yeah~ fast or no fast in your mind, the point is that you’ve done the work on yourself and all the plans you’ve ever had for your Life. This year, 2+0+2+4=8, is the year you reap all the rewards and grow even faster from where you are now. Whatever undertaking you begin this year will gain traction super fast! Pat yourself on the back because when things get super good, you deserve to take a small break and just enjoy how far you’ve come~! Breathe~

catching stars – Page of Wands

Your Story is totally far from finished. With the Page aenergy—a kid’s aenergy—you’re only on the precipice of entering a Life of passion and purpose. You could almost say, it’s a new Story altogether just because this chapter of your Life is SO SO SO super good in comparison to the chapters about your struggles. I guess you’d call this a new arc huehue

You’re young Hercules now. Pretty soon, there will occur some big event that propels you into a bona fide hero, and then, you’ll meet your Megara~ This part of your Story is where you enter a circle of true—at least truer—friends and lovers who will motivate you throughout the next chapters of your Life. Sure, sure, struggles don’t just end, poof, like that and you will continuously need to learn to sift through these new breeds of friends and acquaintances. But that’s also part of your next level growing up, so don’t sweat the possibilities XD

Throughout 2024, you could be moving to a new environment and then meet new friends. Highkey you’re gonna be meeting Soulmates and Soul Fam members; these are the people who resemble you so much either on the inside or outside. These are people who think like you, care about the same things as you; basically you’re gonna finally feel like you truly belong somewhere on this Planet. Love is in the air because you’ve been giving so much Love to yourself before this point. You are Love. You emanate Love wherever you go because you love yourself, and thus you become a magnet for people who also will love you just as good~

APPLE STRUDEL🔻💛

honey lemon juice – Silver Magus (Merlin)

have a sweet time, honey – Priestess of Love

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – Rising Up to Accept Yourself Wholly

VIBE: She Said from Kamikaze Girls

end of a struggle – Knight of Cups

You’ve kinda just gone through a death of a paradigm of sort. I feel that in the past, you simply didn’t really know who you were or what you were meant to be. This confusion of an identity was caused by your parents/caretakers not really appreciating you for who you were as a child or it could also be caused by your environment, race, culture, custom, tradition, stuff like that. It wasn’t your fault, you know. You literally grew up on your own and finally got clear about your own identity—you stopped caring if your real identity is too weird, too eccentric for this world.

Basically, you got tired of rejecting yourself. And you realised that you were doing that because you knew others wouldn’t accept you. Then you realised people are shitty and lame for the most part anyway, so you learnt to be OK with embracing all of your weird heart’s little desires. And you nurtured yourself and nurtured yourself until you rose above the lameness of most of Humanity. Did you know? You did the right thing, really. Through and through.

You’re definitely an Advanced Soul. I think even when you were a kid you always felt like there was some spirit/shadow parental figure walking behind you, guiding your thought processes. This older/bigger unseen figure was really just your own Higher Self, you know :D More than others would give you credit for, you’ve been such a good gal/boi for always listening to the guidance of your Higher Self~

in your favour – 3 of Pentacles

Beginning this year, you’re going to finally meet people who are similar to you. Similar as in, you’re going to meet a lot of colourful characters, really. People who also feel somewhat like society’s outcast. These people are going to come from various backgrounds and they will each have very interesting back stories and life experiences that will entertain you for a long time. These people could also have very strange, unusual hobbies that will spark your interest in new, alien pursuits.

With that said, this year could be the year you begin a new passion project of your own, with these people, new friends, you share a vision with. They do care about you and want to succeed together, so you can trust that these connections are going to bear sweet feelings for you. Most importantly, this year you’re going to know the sweet feeling of doing something meaningful with your natural talents born out of your innate interests. When you finally get the money, you will first and foremost taste gratitude from those who seem to love and enjoy what you do or have to offer~

Life really is getting better now because you’ve mustered the courage to explore your possibilities in all your eccentricity. Your Higher Self never meant for you to fit in anyway. You were always meant to be some sort of a genius trailblazer—a source of inspiration for the other lameass Humans who are too afraid to be themselves.

catching stars – 10 of Pentacles

What more can be said? On top of embracing yourself fully, loving yourself wholeheartedly, and meeting kindred spirits, you’re also going to gain a massive amount of money! Life’s always good when you have a lot of money! More money means a happier heart and more to share as well. But in your case, if you’ve chosen this Pile as your main pile, know that before a lot of money even trickles into your reality, it is the sense that you’re serving your Life Purpose what will make you feel rich.

After all, there could people reading this who came from a wealthy background and you may think you don’t crave or even care about money. Exactly. You never cared about a lack of money but didn’t you struggle with grounding yourself to this Reality because you didn’t know what you were put on Earth to do? This ‘10 of Pentacles sense of abundance’ encompasses a sense of material abundance that feels deserving; you can now feel worthy of getting paid for some passionate, incredible, show-stopping contribution you’ve made to society. Isn’t that such a wonderful feeling?

Some of you reading this could mend some broken bonds with family; some others could finally find a tribe—a Soul Family—and feel that you belong; some could start a family of your own with someone worthy of your high-grade affection. Congratulations~! You’ve really made it this far~ Things can only get better and better from here♥︎

APPLE STRUDEL🔻💗

honey lemon juice – Green Historian (Herodotus)

have a sweet time, honey – Priestess of Patience

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – Stepping On the Pedestal of Destiny

VIBE: Cheer Up, Charlie from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory

end of a struggle – King of Pentacles

If you’ve chosen this as your main pile, I just know it that you’ve been working so hard on yourself, on a level that’s practically incomprehensible for most people. I’m sure you’ve survived so many deaths of the spirit—and perhaps even some of the more dramatic attempts. And you’ve come on top of your misery now. You’ve gotten healthier and clearer about where you’re going next. I sense sometimes you still doubt yourself but it isn’t a sin to doubt, it’s just a sign that you want to do well. And on so many levels, sometimes you’re afraid because you genuinely want this dream/vision to happen to you.

I assure you with this reading that you’re on the fast track towards a rendezvous with Destiny. Fast…is honestly relative to each Soul’s blueprint tho XD Time is on your side and what’s meant for you can’t miss you. So chillax, OK? One thing to know about this great dream/vision of yours is that you’re going to see it manifest because you’re different from the rest. Different in that you want to see it manifest to be of service to the rest! When you really think about it…

Don’t you just know from deep within your Soul that you’re deserving of this great destiny? It’s because you’re going to serve a massive purpose with it! So many people would benefit from your realising this dream. And that’s the very thing! You’ve been holding on to this vision, and you want it, because you’re MEANT for it.

in your favour – 4 of Cups

I’ll be referencing the 1971 ver. of Willy Wonka here. And honestly, I think you should watch it by the weekend or something because that movie’s whole vibe will feel tremendously validating to you, I sense hahah

Have you heard of the theories that say Charlie was literally singled out by Willy Wonka from the very beginning? That he had chosen all of those horrible brats because he wanted to punish, oops, teach them a lesson, and that principally he had been watching Charlie and wanted HIM to inherit the Chocolate Factory. If you watch the 1971 film you’ll literally get it! And with this 4 of Cups, know that that’s how the Universe feels about you stepping into your destiny. Willy Wonka, or God idk, doesn’t want anybody else but YOU to fulfil this role~!

You’ve literally been chosen and singled out by the Universe to win the grand prize! Just so you know, as I’m typing these words I literally have the Willy Wonka movie playing on another window and as I typed ‘grand prize’, the person in the movie is saying it right at the same time at around the 19:11 minute mark. Things can’t get any more synchronous than that!🤯

This year, you’ll really see how every single thing is going to work out in your favour. And knowing the inner work you’ve done on yourself, I’m sure you’re spiritually mature enough to sense, to notice every small nudge that tells you what you need to do at a given time😊New adventures are just around the corner, baby~!

catching stars – 5 of Pentacles

So you see, how is 5 of Pentacles appearing for a segment about you catching stars? This is, in fact, reaffirming that your dream come true will also serve as a salve for those who are wounded and hurting. You really are a medicine for this sick world. This year, you’re going to see serendipitous events and meetings what will open the door towards the physical manifestation of your dream Reality. Once you step on to the pedestal of Destiny, there’s no stopping you. You’ll be moving so fast it drives you mad!

This card is also saying you must be careful of possible leeches coming towards you; it’s best to use caution and discernment when revealing to others your plans and goals. Be stingy with information as per your gut instinct’s nudges, OK? Be mature enough to know not everybody will be happy at the prospect of your massive success that could potentially change Mankind. People get envious of such ideas, alright? Be careful not to hit the already low self-esteem of some people around you LMAO

I also feel that this year you will begin new routines that benefit your health and physical strength. If this is something you’ve been working on, you will see this year that the implementation of these routines feels more natural and effortless. You’ve managed to master your thoughts, emotions, and time management—or soon to do. Money will also come more abundantly, so all your basic needs are easily met. You’ve become a magnet for good luck—or soon to notice you’ve done so!🍀

APPLE STRUDEL🔻🧡

honey lemon juice – Red Astronomer (Johannes Kepler)

have a sweet time, honey – Priestess of Innocence

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAC Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings]

725 notes · View notes