#infernului

[zorkaya]

blu will never stop making my heart flutter with her insightful commentary to my asks and her noticing all the treats and easter eggs i leave in terms of symbolism and I just always go

BLU I LOVE YOUUU THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!! THANK YOU FOR TAKING YOUR TIME TO LEAVE SUCH INSIGHTFUL REPLIES IM GOING INSANE. IM EATING IT UP SO MUCH.

[zorkaya]

❅ ― ❝ @infernului inquired:

one muse taking the other from behind from the sugar and spice meme because sir knight is demanding… to be able to touch Zarina while he’s all in, to grab her waist and hold her nicely in place while he absolutely loses himself in the moment. he will still be proper sir knight in the morning but I also think they deserve to make feral love, you know? 🤭

Her Knight is most gallant, the Flaming Sun takes good care of her when they step outside. They dance in both ballrooms and on battlefield, and she always notes on how tightly he holds onto his sword. Marian's been nothing but a dear, his smiles priceless and his touch divine. Despite the Destruction running through his veins, her stagnation sees him as the only proof of life that still lingers inside her chest. He makes her heart skip a beat and warmth spread through body.

And oh, the way his lips slot so perfectly against hers is enough to prove that they fit so wonderfully together. He's always been such a gentleman, such a gallant knight, that she rarely expects him to be anything but. It's always a patient wait, a reminder that he can be whoever he wishes with her for she will accept all he is from his roles to his truths to his personal lies. All will be accepted and she always seals that promise with a tender touch or a meaningful kiss.

He's not so gentle today. A look of fierceness that gives her a new appreciation for fire that burns in the fireplace. The familiar crackling of wood is only drowned out by the sound of skin meeting skin and her sweet sounds. The bed creaks under the pressure, under the passionate taking. The Knight feels like taking tonight and the Ever-Winter is more than willing to give. The hands that held the sword so tightly now held her hips, not allowing for her body to move away from his thrusts.

He looked so brilliant with his braided hair, he felt so hot against her naked body, he felt so real in their embrace. Zarina was initially surprised when she saw his hair done, expecting him to let her undo it yet never doing it after all. His kisses felt much harsher, rougher—it was heaven in its own way, making her body react in a new manner yet uncovered by him. Commanding voice of hers, a daring one and a bold one, changed into something sweeter for him to partake in because she was an adaptive one, if anything. If he wished to have her this way, she was more than glad to have him. Excitement at the newfound ferocity in his touch only made her moan into their kisses, he made sure she was aware there'd be no sweetness until they were done. The moon maiden only gasped a hushed 'yes' as she found herself grinding against his hand that cupped her clothed core.

In such perverse yet intimate way, that's how she takes him with ardor. Her fingers clutch the sheets under her, chest pressed against the mattress. If not for his grasp on her hips, she's not sure she could've stayed in this position without being pushed up by his ferocious and passionate thrusts. Oh, the way he he has spread her legs while pounding into her only causes her to keep her mouth open to let out the sounds of pleasure and attempt to take in some air. The lightheadedness comes from how hard it is to breathe while her chest is against the mattress and Marian delivers to her by pushing himself fully into her before almost fully taking himself out. Such rough and deep sensations make her mind swim, feeling her body ignited by the way he fucks her so well.

"M-Ma—ri…an!" Her attempts to say his name fall short, instead feeling how wet she is between her legs. The arousal slides down her inner thighs, making their lovemaking sound so wet and loud. It's downright filthy, but it only excites her more. "—ahh, haahh—" the only noises that come from her are wordless proof of how good he's making her feel, feeling his reach such depths within her velvety walls. Oh, how good it feels when he fucks her like this. Difference makes it all the more arousing. "—so… so deep!" To be taken like this by him, she's losing her mind. He's melting the control she built so carefully, but for him she drops it and lets herself melt. This fire can have the ice turn to water, he can have her like this until morning and more if he wishes. It feels so good, so fucking good—

Does he enjoy seeing her come undone under him, letting him see such vulnerable and flushed state? Her blabbering, lust-drunk and turned on, are yet another verbal evidence of how her body is responding to him. Even through the mist of desire, as she looks over her shoulder, she's met with a sight so hot that it only makes this pleasure intensify. He's losing himself in her, the way he groans and moans at how good she squeezes his cock only makes her want to have him come undone with her.

A sharper scream comes from within the depth of her chest when Marian buried himself into her aching, wet pussy to the hilt. The tremor that runs through her body makes her clench her jaw, feeling everything from his size to his length to the curve of his dick and where it reaches her. Her body wants to move away from the way his hips are pressed flush against her ass. She feels so full of him, it makes her spasm around his shaft tighter than before. Her pussy both tries to push him out and keep him inside, the paradox of pleasure makes her twitch and tremble. Marian can see how she bit the pillow to stifle her loud exclamation after the first one.

It's hard to concentrate on hearing his own ragged panting when her whole body feels overstimulated and filled to the brim. God, she's going to come undone if he—if he—

"Mhmm!"

She buries her face into the pillow fully now when his hand so quickly and swiftly slid between her legs to reach that one spot that's been aching and puffy from neglect. Her clit responds with a thousand shocks into her body, the pads of his fingers massaging in a circular motion makes her eyes roll back, body shaking from how sharply does she reach her climax with him so deep inside her. It almost hurts, almost. The way her body shakes under his hot touch, she can feel the wetness of her undoing slide between her legs, possibly dripping onto their shared bed. It feels too overstimulation, too much, and yet it's one of the strongest orgasms she had in a while. Her whole body tenses when the peak is reached before relaxing.

Oh, how he makes her whine when he lets her ride that orgasm out by moving in and out of her slower, watching how that pretty white ring 'round his shaft forms and how easily he slides in and out of her. Only when he retreats, not longer supported by his grasp does she flop to her side, body still trembling in aftershock of such a powerful orgasm. She feels wet all over, both from her cum and sweat and spit. Her disheveled look is a beauty to see, hair sticking to her forehead and cheeks as she tries to take a breather.

Golden gaze opens, still muddled by lust and deep passion for him, and she reaches her weak hand out to him. Hold it, she soundlessly pleads, moving her legs ever so lightly. Bent knees and exposed, wet folds of hers is what Marian will see. She takes his hand to place it on her thigh, showing that he can pull the skin a bit more to expose just how pink and yearning her pussy was even after such a roughhousing.

"Come… here," she utters, fingers wrapping around his wrist. Her gaze travels from his gorgeous face to his cock covered in her slick, still hard and not yet emptied from passion. Zarina licks her lips, forcing her tired body to move a bit. He will not have her be on those fours right now, too tired, but he can fuck her mouth and let her taste him as she lays on her side. Her tongue peeks out, mouth slightly open as hunger returns to her expression. "My Knight… My beloved… Use my mouth, too…" her whispers are raw and deep from how he made her sing praises to him. "Please, Marian… Let me taste you."

And he can hold her hair for her.

[zorkaya]

❅ ― ❝ @infernului inquired:

a bruising kiss full of desperation and urgency. ( from sir knight ❤️ )

His touch burns her skin, but she doesn't care when their closeness is far more fiery than the sun's radiance. They are close, so close that breathing on its own is hard. In this garden, hidden behind the eyes of many, they enjoy the company of each other. Even if a guest comes in here, they'd be protected by the wines and blooming flowers. The floral scent surrounds them, a pretty white flower in Marian's hair was left by her only to become such a close witness to their passion. Oh how Sir Knight keeps her so close to him, but she's the one to push him more against the greenery in this beautiful orangery.

Her slender fingers stroke his red locks, undoing his new hairstyle. It's soft to the touch and she lets herself enjoy him with the touch of her lips and the touch of her hands. Combining softness and desperation, cradling his head yet biting down on his lip. It's so hot in-between them, the layer of clothes is the only thing that desperate them from indulging themselves even more. Is it improper? The woman didn't care. If he'd let her, they'd make love in this orangery far away from the party and she'd ensure no one bothers them. But for now, she returns to his lips over and over again.

Golden gaze hides behind closed eyelids as she gives herself into feeling for him, other hand trailing down to undo what she could. She wanted his hands all over her, grasping and squeezing. Her long dress is similar to those medieval aesthetics they had to arrive at. Corsets and pushed up chest, it felt so constricting.

"No," she told him after feeling his hand leave her body. Amidst the flurry of passion, she whispers hotly against his mouth. "Touch me, hold me closer. Make me forget." The boredom, the the boredom, the boredom! Only he is the only living person to her here, a splash of color and the warmth of fire. Only he can melt those icy crystals on her spirit and grant her some moments of salvation. "Keep me close."

Her earnest words are laced with ardor, not unnatural for her, but just that sense of urgency keeps her so attached to this moment. He is a blooming rose and she wants to preserve it in the moment. He may be a man, he may be a protector, but he could be anyone and anything in her embrace. By straddling his lap, by being so forward with her affections, by asserting her interest — she'd be called a slur where medieval etiquette would not approve, they'd call her a witch but she cares not. Any showcase of her confident and assertive traits makes her look like either a demonness or a ruler. Women have it different, double standards and all.

But together, they can enjoy themselves as they are: pure in their true selves.

"Please, Marian."

Heaviness fills her lungs as she presses herself against him once again, realizing only in a moment that his hand only strayed to pick the petal off her hair. It causes her blink at him, hovering just above thanks to her natural height and their position. How beautiful he looks with her lipstick all over his lips and jaw. It's not the red lipstick she usually uses, but a softer shade of pink. But it will be wiped off when they need to return. Her eyes capture the disheveled way she left him, knowing full well she looks just as he does — her wavy hair out of her usual style, her dress a mess, but she likes it. Because he's done it.

The way they kissed must've bruised them, because even if she didn't have red lipstick, she noticed a bite she left on his lower lip. So soft and plump, she wants to bite on it again to make him either scold her or encourage her. Ah, yes, her own bite healed already. The minuscule taste of blood mid-way through their makeout escaped her until now, returning with some reminiscence.

"You're beautiful," her compliment comes out breathless, mesmerized by him as she lets the desperation to cool off for a moment. "Forgive me," her tone speaks of no apology as she brings her lips closer to him. "I can't seem to have enough of you just yet."

And she dives back in, still feeling enchanted by the very knight who once brought her a flaming blooming flower.

[zorkaya]

❅ ― ❝ @infernului inquired:

[ slow ] sender draws everything out. every stroke, every breath, every motion unbearably slow ( from sir knight <3 why rush when they can both enjoy it )

He tastes far sweeter than she expected, embraced the scent of lavender and safety that makes her sigh softly when he kisses down her neck. Zarina is used to ravishing, her body becoming an altar of bloody worship and rough touches. It's what got her to feel, but it's been decades since someone made her feel like this. Decades, indeed. Perhaps, even centuries, if she were even more honest with herself and Marian. His touch is meaningful, every trace of his fingertips elicits a melody within her that is gentler and sweeter than usual. It's not that she dislikes roughness, it's that she's still not used to softness that can persist. A warmer sensation that gets her to look at him with initial surprise before melting into his touch with appreciation and mimicking similarly gentler, softer touches and sounds.

Both verbally and physically, she is more than happy to show him how much she adores the touch of the knight. The foreplay feels akin to a soft cloud of feelings, something that is tender and emotional and intimate in a way that souls could be intimate, would be intimate, want to be intimate. The fire of his touch is not burning, it builds that sensation of heat with intricacies and motions that are so slow that they might drive her insane with desire and yearning. Yearning, such a beautiful word that is so rare for her to embrace but with him? Perhaps, she would embrace it in a blooming way akin to the first snowdrop after winter's melting.

A fire that is he kisses the ice that is she with reverence and respect only he has granted her in a way that mattered, making her embrace him all the more by wrapping her arms loosely around his neck. Slowness comes from exploration, mapping out each and every part of each other to learn where they must travel to truly reach the apotheosis of this shared moment of intimacy. She wonders if he enjoys the taste of the flowery tea with a touch of honey on her tongue and if he finds her cooler body nice to touch.

Back in Greece, on her planet Earth, her body would be seen as one of Aphrodite. But perfection has always been ugly in her eyes, even if she keeps self love in the open, but she wonders if certain 'perfection' would make a man like him look away once he peels off the layers of external beauty to see the horrors of the world within her. Cold, sharp, stagnant, and weeping. Lamenting shadows exist within her and casting a light of his fire onto them? It concerns her that his gaze will change from something searching to something cold and despising. It's a silly worry that gets her to hug him closer to herself, finding the way their tongues intertwining in that deep kiss to be reassuring and tender.

Separation from each other leaves a string of saliva cling to their lips as they gaze at each other in the moment of deep passion, his chest pressed against hers and she almost thinks she cannot breathe from the way her whole being concentrates on him, but she smiles nonetheless, caressing his face with an affectionate stroke, her leg bends in the knee as she moves just a bit to make herself a bit more comfortable.

"How gorgeous you are," she whispers with rare sincerity, in awe at his expression and his pure beauty she finds utterly mesmerizing. It makes her want to worship him back, but every time a move was made to switch, he would push her back with a touch and she'd give him a faux pout that'll melt into soft laughter before she'd give up because there is the depth of respect to listen to those physical cues. Even now, she allows herself to be worshiped in a way that makes her sigh with pleasure every time his lips would leave traces on her skin, be it followed with a suck or a bite or a light peck. He dolls sweet marks over her body, tugging each and every yearning moan from the depths of her chest, making her clench the white bed sheets beneath them and have her eyes follow him wherever he went.

It's torture of fire, but it feels too good to stop. Paradoxes exist within her, wanting this to never end and begging for this to each. The way those knightly hands trace her body creates only the sweetest response from her, parted lips and beating heart that holds back from biting and turning the tables for she is here to let him do as he pleases and god how he pleases her with this slowness, even if it drives her insane with want and passion that wants him to become one with her. Patience is a virtue and the payoff is promised to be so sweet, like hot honey on the tip of her tongue.

He gifted her flowers made of flame the first time they've met and now he inspires the flame to burn within her. The way her body longs for him echoes in the way she moves slightly under him, under each press of his lips and each touch of his hands. The way he'd slide his hands down to squeeze the meat of her ass only makes her want to grind against him, feeling the pulse ringing in her head. Too slow, too slow but it still feels so good; it's like being known, suddenly being seen in these vulnerable moments and still wish they'd be adored in a similarly attentive manner. She wants to call him cruel for dragging it so long, but keeps her tongue to herself for every time he looks up at her, she is lost in those beautiful eyes of his. Blood rushes to her face and down below, making her want to rub her thighs together only to be stopped by the way he makes himself comfortable between her legs, which makes her squeeze him instead, in a needy and whiny manner that makes her breathing stutter when she feels his touches on her inner thighs that started from her knees and went up higher, higher, higher.

"You're killing me," she breathlessly laughs, in a manner that is more affectionate than chiding. How glad she is to be of flesh and blood, not made of cogs and machines for she knew she'd overheat and the whirring of cogs inside her body would be so loudly heard, as loudly as she hears the beating of her heart in her ears. "Don't stop, but kiss me. For a moment, kiss me—"

Zarina reaches out to him, wishing for more closeness that is still within the realm of foreplay. Everything he does affects her and she notices how high-strung she is from his measured touches and kisses. If he were a flame that needed tending, she'd do it. If he were a monster that needed to feed, she'd offer her body as his feeding ground. If he were stressed, she'd offer him her entire being to find solace in and to let go of that stress. Devotion speaks in both blood and flame, but also in emotions and cool touches that let the flame not fully consume you.

But oh, when his hand reaches down below to cup her, she moans louder than before, right into his ear while hugging him closer. Tension strings and throbs as she bucked her hips to meet his hot touch. But still, how slow and unhurried everything is. The slow rubbing, fingers massaging the wet spot on her underwear while dragging out her shuddered breathing and whimpers that mix with kisses. She hopes he'll be ready for when she takes over the next time, her worship of him will match this in intensity and slowness; she'll give him a piece of his own medicine and make him know just how good he was making her feel.

"Yes, yes—" her hushed encouragements continues, breathless in how she feels herself ready to beg. Begging, her? How powerful the knight is to make a royalty of lament to wish to beg. It's hard for her to not want to grind against his hand, get herself off solely from it, but just when she wants more, that hand retreats and she presses her lips together and allows herself to fall back on the pillow. Chest heaving, eyes half-lidded, lips parted in taking those deep breathes. Does he enjoy being a witness and a cause to her debauched state? Certainly, he'll drag everything out of her— a plea, a beg, a moan, a whisper.

Zarina shudders at the thought of how loud she'd get once they finally become one. It felt like her body was already on fire, each cell in it pleading for more stimulation but she is drowning in that slowness and finding herself more allured by Marian than anything, allowing herself to trace up his arm to his shoulder. Their eyes meet then and the eye contact says far more than any words could. There is such intense and deep trust, respect, and knowledge.

Oh, she hopes he knows just how breathtaking he is.

[pitestiprison]

Călătorie spre Centrul Infernului - Ruxandra Cesereanu Volumul poate fi achizitonat de pe website-ul editurii: http://www.edituramanuscris.ro/produs/calatorie-spre-centrul-infernului/ #RuxandraCesereanu #calatorie #spre #centrul #infernului #manuscris #editura #studii #memorialulinchisoareapitesti #detentiepolitica #comunism #reeducare #Pitesti #Cluj #Bucuresti #Iasi https://www.instagram.com/p/BvPk_BansDm/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1lutrmlayyne6

[pitestiprison]

Călătorie spre Centrul Infernului - Ruxandra Cesereanu Volumul poate fi achizitonat de pe website-ul editurii: http://www.edituramanuscris.ro/produs/calatorie-spre-centrul-infernului/ #RuxandraCesereanu #calatorie #spre #centrul #infernului #manuscris #editura #studii #memorialulinchisoareapitesti #detentiepolitica #comunism #reeducare #Pitesti #Cluj #Bucuresti #Iasi https://www.instagram.com/p/BvPk_BansDm/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1811pokli4jv6