#lorebled

[artisanals]

THINGS TO DO ON A NIGHT IN

@lorebled :  [ HAIR ]:    fred and zaf bathe and style one another’s hair.

                 hot water was a luxury since they’d carved out a home in the merciless pile of rocks that was ketterdam. but she’d managed to scrape together enough kruge to book a small pool at one of the nicer bathhouses — one that guaranteed they’d at least be given fresh water and not forced to reuse any. it was a token, one of the little things she could give to him, and in part also give to herself. 

                 there are sweet smells swirling in the steam as hot water — almost hot enough to burn — lapped at their shoulders, her fingers lost in a mess of golden curls, darkened and dampened by the bathwater. she traced the constellations of freckles on his shoulders where they met the water, and scrubbed gently at his scalp with the soap so kindly provided. droplets echo against tiled walls, as they sit there, becoming warm prunes from the lovely bath, an extravagance they likely will not be able to afford for another little while.

                 but for the time being, it’s perfect. the scent of dried flowers, fred’s hands scrubbing a soft soap across her shoulders, the back of her neck. fingertips cleansing her, nearly absolving her of her sins, with all the care in the world. 

[ ... ]

                 he doesn’t let her rise right away, once they’ve dressed and bundled up against ketterdam’s bitter cold winds driven toward the city by a merciless ocean. zafiya doesn’t know where he learned how to braid, but he keeps her sat before him, crossing locks until they’re secured at a small tail, strands folded perfectly behind her. it’s not difficult to take his hand, to leave the few moments of reprieve they’d fought for, to reenter the drab and violent world they now belong to. not when they’re together. 

[artisanals]

w/ fred ahehe.

two bingos for zafy and THREE for sophie ????? fred has a type and its female muses i write

[artisanals]

[ OVERSTIMULATED ]:  sender  repeatedly  making  receiver  orgasm. YOU KNOW FROM WHO & FOR WHO.

she’d thought the first one had been earth-shattering. eyes had rolled back into her head, and her spine had bowed, fingers fisting in their sheets, effectively tethering her to the planet while her body threatened to ascend on a gust of sheer pleasure.

but he remained faithful to her pleasure and she knew somehow that she was still speaking words, still uttering his name like a prayer as his fingers and tongue chased her into another pool of pleasure, thoroughly submerging her until breaths came heavy and skin was dewey with sweat.

but she’d begun to see white, mind addled beyond language as sounds were reduced to whimpers, as thighs quivered and she forgot where her body ended and his began. she’d lost count and his adoring hands, his ever thoughtful lips and tongue hungrier than she could have known, never ceased their ministrations. each touch drove her sensitivity skyward, nerves fraying at the onslaught of pleasure.

it was tenderly that he parted her knees, coaxed yet another orgasm from her, one that left her mute, body quivering in the aftershocks of unnamable pleasure. she doesn’t know where her hands are anymore, what her name is. she knows his, and it’s the only sound she bothers to attempt making.

[artisanals]

" please touch me. " fred, for zaf.

breaths come uneven, shuddering, as lips memorize the line of his throat, the freckles dotting his skin like stars in the night sky. this part was always the most distracting, the slow rising of heat, each deliberate winding of the coil between them. she could feel every inch of him beneath her, only a few haphazard layers remaining to cover them. a few too many.

knees dipped into the mattress on either side of him, arms propping her slightly, though she let her chest rest against his, pressing herself closer, hips hovering just above the hard heat of him. she wanted to take her time.

fredrik's voice has always been something zafiya has delighted in, and when she found out it darkened, sweet velvet of his words curling with pleas, she decided it was lovelier than music. lips curve, a smile against his pulse, one she knew better than her own name, as fingers snaked slowly between them, shifting so mouths mingled breaths. dark eyes were half-lidded, a focus that was thick like honey watching his reaction as she stroked him — slowly. ❛ like this ? ❜ it's a rhetorical question, but she loves to hear him.

[wylanvanarchive]

@drusjer / @lorebled sent:

❝ are they making you uncomfortable? i can do something about it. ❞

It's rare that Wylan ventures into the Crow Club. It's too loud, too packed, too everything. There's dozens of overlapping voices: good-natured conversations about winnings, bad natured conversations about who'd lost. A fight could break out at any moment - although Wylan knew that security was too tight, and there was a reputation to uphold. Anyone who looked even close to throwing a punch would be out on the street in three seconds flat, and none of the other patrons would be any the wiser. It was a safe a spot as any in the Barrel, made safer by the fact that Wylan was, apparently, under Dregs' protection. He could stand the noise and bustle for the sake of not being alone, of knowing that his father wouldn't dare come for him in here. So Wylan had found a secluded table in the far corner, and set about his equations for Kaz's latest problem. What he hadn't counted on that someone working quietly in the corner would stand out, simply by virtue of being so thoroughly out of place. The small group of men were amicable enough, belligerent and disappointed by their losses, but harmless enough that security didn't see the need to eject them. They were an unwelcome distraction, though, and Wylan wanted to be left in peace. He felt Fred's presence before he spoke, and the tense set of his shoulders relaxed just slightly. Wylan didn't know Fred, not beyond a few brief conversations in passing, but he was an intimidating figure and the men sat around the table shifted uneasily as they exchanged glances. Wylan sat back, privately enjoying their discomfort, and tipped his head back to look up at Fred. "If you'd like," he agreed easily, as though it didn't matter to him one way or another. It was important not to look weak, like he couldn't handle things himself, but he would very much like it if the men were gone.

[korinthiakos]

@lorebled has sent in this: " do i know you? " ( bryde ) | what's a meme

Do I know you? The nightmare allows that question to hang in the air. It's like a connection. A dream seeing another dream. ( Or a dream seeing another nightmare. ) The Corinthian stared at the other. Familiar yet unfamiliar. "You were from the Dreaming, weren't you?" The Corinthian adds, eyebrows drawn together. It's a weird familiar feeling. Like you know you don't belong kind of feeling. Like you don't feel right in a world that is heavily based on logic. "Who are you?"

[artisanals]

THINGS TO DO ON A NIGHT IN

@lorebled​  :  [ COOK ]:    fred and zaf go cooking together.

                  they may not have had much, but they had each other, and they had enough to scrape together meals over the rickety stove in the little flat they called home. it was an odd junction of flavors that they mixed. fjerdan and ravkan, and at first there were so many flavors she was not used to, earthier, sturdier notes than the lighter, pepperier ones she was used to. what grew in each climate, she supposed. they’d found a sweet balance now, between the two of them. 

                 now, the stove crackled with heat, casting a yellow glow around their dimly lit kitchen. but it would never not be enough for her. all she needed was fred at her side, and she’d be ready to survive whatever this cruel world decided to throw her way. lucky for them, that evening it consisted of simply cooking a meal, of skimming her finger over his back as she moved behind him, reaching for a spoon, or of his hand at the small of her waist as he did the same.

                 it was one of the rare occasions zafiya hummed as they worked. as comforting, familiar smells began to waft as the heat sizzled. it was time to just let everything simmer, so she leans into fred, eyes shut so as to let her better smell their meal. slim arm wraps around his middle, into the warmth of him.   ❛   i’m sure it’ll be ready soon,   ❜   she murmurs. 

[nectaric]

@lorebled​ asked:  epi (6’6") vs your shortest and tallest muse let's goooooo

heph with his one measly inch on epi, meanwhile there’s hebe just --