Qeya River [m] ghosts - Printable Version

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RE: ghosts - Blackfell - January 25, 2025

he is sure. it is something he has known for all the years he has lived. he would die by the teeth of his own son, the way his died. he had wept the day his father died. he had been scarred by the taste of his mortal blood caking his tongue, his mouth, teeth. but the memory of his father is one he honors. weeping was natural. as was grief. it made him no less man. no less crownore.

he repeats his thoughts to her. i am sure, a glance back at her as she pauses pace, but it is ultimately out of my paws. i can only hold close my faith.

he stops, as she had. finding the distance between them lingering with a softness that had not been present between them, ever. it is progress. he knows that. and he knows that he must not push gjalla, he must not rush her. she is not a shield to be used, but a sword to be cherished. and he would cherish her. she must only let him.

he looks at her like she is the stars, all while her eyes are cast to the ones she reveres. she only glances at him again when they fade. her words stir something in his chest, something like hope—but not nearly as childish. he cannot help but chuckle, and engage in her banter, even if that is all it is: banter. any daughter with you would be worth ten sons.

he steps closer to her. perhaps seeking to test the boundaries of their words as his eyes mischievously rest on her own gaze. do you hate the thought? a genuine question, his chin tilting to the side. he clarifies: a little army of fierce shield-maidens and berserkers with our faces.

RE: ghosts - Gjalla - January 25, 2025

Mature Content Warning

This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.

The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: a tad vulgar.

his words catch her off guard, and for a moment, she is speechless. it is rare for her to be at a loss for words, but something about the way he says it—the warmth laced beneath teasing—disarms her.

her gaze narrows, though not in annoyance, but rather as if she’s trying to puzzle him out, periwinkle eyes flicking over his face for any trace of mockery. finding none, she huffs softly, “i don’t usually entertain the idea of children at all,” she pauses, glances off as if debating her next words. she chooses honesty; “doesn't typically get past the part i get fucked.”

a faint smirk tugs at her lips before it settles. “—but I do think you’re being a little generous with your estimations.” her gaze meets his then, lingering for a moment longer than she intends, her sharp edges softening just slightly under the weight of his attention. “i think it would be interesting, at the least. decent bloodline.”

RE: ghosts - Blackfell - January 25, 2025

when he speaks, his voice is low and rough with warmth. he finds himself drifting closer to her. one paw after another, until he is standing before her.

an onyx titan before a raveness queen.

i would have a family, gjalla. the faint curl of his lip reveals it’s not all jest. he is serious, as rain, as storm, as sleet. but this is something he would never force on her. but he must know. he must know if this is something she would ever want, before he commits in fullness to bringing her to wife. attempting to.

if that is not something you want... he pauses, breath growing closer as he leans snout to hers. nose brushing just hesitantly against hers. he seeks her warmth. any touch from her. then i won't bother you anymore.

even the thought pains him. not in the way of heartbreak, but of silly, romantic fantasies crushed.

he allows himself the faintest tug of his lip upwards into a veneer of a teasing smirk. unless you call for me in the night... he trails off. her vulgar language had stoked an ever-present flame in the pit of his gut. he moves to brush down the length of her side if she'll allow him, seeking to press a kiss to her back. when you are all alone, tormented...

RE: ghosts - Gjalla - January 25, 2025

the space between them thickens, her breath catching when he looms closer, pressing against her like a stormfront threatening to break. she stands there, unmoving at first, her dark eyes meeting his with a mixture of anticipation and something far deeper that she refuses to name.

the brush of his nose against hers is tentative, almost pleading. she doesn’t move, but she can feel her heartbeat shift, rapid and erratic beneath her ribs. the look in his eyes weakens her. he wants, he wants so badly it nearly hurts her, too. he had been good. behaved, just as she asked. served saatsine. for that, she would indulge him—he had earned it.

she watched him through dark lashes for a moment longer before she accepted it, accepted him. pressed her nose into his, exhaled slowly. "one day," she breathes, the words soft and unsteady on her tongue. it’s a strange, unfamiliar thought, one that doesn’t settle easily in her chest.

she hums as he moves, drags his snout from her face down the length of her neck, past her shoulder and to her ribs. “don’t make promises you can’t keep, blackfell.” she murmurs. she allows it, the warmth of his touch a stark contrast to the chill that always clings to her.

his tongue rasps against her back. it draws a sharp inhale from her, grounding her in a way she hasn’t experienced in so long. it’s foreign, but hardly unwelcome. when she speaks again, its whisper against the wind. “if i wanted you gone, you would have left a while ago.”

RE: [m] ghosts - Blackfell - January 25, 2025

fire.

it was hot, menacing. lancing over him, a sword to his chest, threatening to burn and etch it's cry into the surface of his very heart. as calloused and black as it was, it beat red for her; a healthy, thrumming, vibrating pulse that did not cease to thrum.

the strum of a songcord.

she does not turn him away. her words fuel to the fire of his affections and desires.

his touch is left behind with heat, lingering and scorching through her raven hide. he unearths the ruff of fur sitting on her shoulders with his scarred nose, seeking out her skin beneath, where he inhales her scent. greedy in his touches. slowly, surely, pressing himself close to her. their sides taut with an electric pull that pulls tighter like a string.

she is irresistible; and he is so often a man of control. always. each decision made with a measured mind rather than instinct—but it is nothing but instinct which he behaves now. he turns, neck over shoulder, bringing his nose up to her cheek and ear, where his breath fans. a heavy swallow that is almost pained as he says: i would take you right now if you wanted, his voice is grainy, raucous with wanton need for her, so perhaps we should head back.

control is waning.

RE: ghosts - Gjalla - January 26, 2025

Mature Content Warning

a spark grew into an inferno, devouring the distance they’d so carefully maintained. she feels his breath, hot and heavy against her ear, and it sends a shiver down her spine, a visceral response she cannot stifle.

her own breath hitches, chest rising and falling more rapidly now, betraying the fire blooming low in her gut. his scent fills her senses, overwhelms her composure. she doesn’t pull away at his suggestion, doesn’t tell him to stop. she tilts her head slightly, exposing the curve of her neck to him, an unspoken invitation. her weight shifts, pressed into his side. encourages.

she was not in heat. there would be no litter if he pressed his paws to her hips and dragged her back, sunk his teeth into the scruff of her neck. no consequence. he could take her, wanted to. she would not stop him.

his words enter the cusp of her ear warm, heavy. his intent is clear. she sucks in a tight breath. she tried to say no, she really, truly did. they should go back. they should.

she cannot bring herself to move from him. this was what they were; ice and fire. there is no room for restraint. only them.

“i do not want to,” she confesses.

RE: [m] ghosts - Blackfell - January 26, 2025

he inhales her scent like a greedy beast. tasting her on his tongue, rasping pink flesh across her ear, down her cheek. he will not just take her; he will not use her as if she is something to be discarded.

first, he will cherish her. afford her the affection she deserves; the affection he feels for her. nosing through the wavy rivulets of her raven fur, as strong forelegs push upon her body. not pushing but guiding her to the ground where his strong body bends and molds against hers. cupping her right cheek with a large, icy paw and pulling her face to his own.

a kiss pressed to her snout, then her nose, while his breath hitches as he strains. how his insides churn with discontent that he does not claim her here, now, take her to wife. but it is not the way of saatsine, the lanzadoii; this, now, is surely frowned upon in some way. but he cannot find himself to care. he has longed for this, desired this for the coming and going of plenty moon cycles.

neither do i. his response comes breathlessly, harsh in it's use like sandpaper. now his crown presses to her throat to beckon her to roll onto her backside, where he hovers half above her, feathering toothy kisses upon her throat she bares to him.

RE: [m] ghosts - Gjalla - January 26, 2025

it is intoxicating. a heady mix of strength and tenderness that shocks through her system. she yields to his guidance, her breath catching as he moves her with a gentleness that feels almost reverent. a worshipper, head bowed to his favorite altar. he is firm yet entirely careful, it ignites a fire within her that she cannot quench, and she leans into it—into him.

she watches him through half-lidded eyes as his kisses trail over her snout and nose, searing themselves into her memory. the touch of his paw against her cheek anchors her even as her senses threaten to spiral out of control. his breath fans across her as he speaks, rough and uneven.

she feels the scrape of his teeth, feather-light beneath her chin, and she cannot help the soft sound that escapes her—a mix of surprise and surrender. her head tilts back to grant him access, a rare thing. he beckons her to roll onto her back. she hesitates for only a moment before giving in fully. the ground is cold beneath her, and yet she hardly feels it, because when she meets his gaze, he sees her for all she is.

a paw comes to rest where his forearm meets his shoulder. the other lifts to trace the line of his jaw. the look in her eyes is heated. she is sure—she wants this, with him.

fade soon i think….

RE: [m] ghosts - Blackfell - January 26, 2025

lher submission, her trust—it undoes him.

the storm raging inside of him threatens to boil over, but still, he tempers it, controls it, channels it. she deserves nothing less.

his lips ghost over her jaw, lingering at the corner of her mouth, teasing, testing, as if savoring her taste before claiming it. crimson eyes stealing away periwinkle. the rough pads of his paw skim over her side, tracing the muscular curves that she possesses. nosing along the delicate line of her throat again, pressing tender kisses to the pulse beneath her fur. a low, rumbling growl is drawn from deep in his chest.

strong paws find her hips at last. locking about the intimate, womanly dip of her waist and pulling her close. his hips finding their place upon hers, interwoven.

>:) fade