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astralnymphh · 7 months

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kneeling for her ⋆ | ellie williams headcanons

༺ ellie x fem!reader sucking her strap hcs/scenario! ༻ ☽𖤐☾

(ellie image from kittaeria on pinterest)

✧˖ ° 🕯 bright blessings!

AN: had the most random scenario blossom in my head yesterday so i wrote it per usual, went a lil more risqué with this one 😜at least to my standards

cw/tags: NSFW!! SMUT!! MDNI!! ellies a lil goofy in the beginning, blunt/straightforward-ish reader, not a fully wrote out fic, small time skips, sitting on lap, cursing, takes place in jackson but not specified to be before seattle (readers choice) soft-dom leaning ellie (except maybe less soft in one instance, nothing rough tho), guiding you verbally and with hands, praises, petnames; (good girl, baby, slut) sucking/choking on strap, clit stim (giving) strap-vag insertion, flatiron position, rewarding, gripping head/hair, deepthroating.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

setting the scene

༻⛧one dusty orange sunset, cooped up in ellie's makeshift 'garage house' relishing a simple meal she whipped up for the both of you, albeit can you really classify her attempts at the art of culinary as five-star cuisine? regardless, the two of you slumped into the gray sofas' sufficient padding and dined like kings; in apocalyptic standards. no conversation had been rustling the space between you until a rather, interesting, unordinary, dare say- scandalous? scenario had implanted its peculiar self into your thoughts.

"hey babe?" you quell the silence, tone arching in curiosity.

"mhm?" ellie garbled through shut lips, chowing down her food.

"you know.. we should- try something new-"

"ooh~ like what?" she instantaneously hunches her back closer to you and tosses her barren plate aside, avid to hear your words go from mind to mouth. she invariably dotes on your ideas.

"uh- it's like.. related to.. bed stuff."

"like sleepin- wait! can we pleaaasee build a display shelf for my comic books above my bed-"

"ellie."

"sorry." ellie, even being an adult, is still crazy about her long-kept hobbies.

"uh- anyways. I'm talking 'bout like.. sex." you impenitently tell.

her eyelids dim, sloping her head to the side in adorned interest, "sex? that's one way to ask."

"no ..seriously, I have an idea.." you stow the plate atop a stubby heap of books, conveying a genuineness in your stare.

ellie sails her tongue briskly through her lips, anchoring her torso back onto the sofas' arm, lengthening her legs out with a faint bend at the knees. her palm drops to her thigh, patting it twice.

"c'm over here." she coaxes sweetly with an alluring gaze, imbued with a pip of power in her vowels.

a suffuse of blush overlies your midface, crawling your body towards her beckon.

her hands steady your hips down on her lap, finding refuge on the back of your thighs thereupon settling.

"what's the idea, then?" the moods' been shifted, emanating one of sensuality.

you nestle near her headspace, whispering, "y'know ur' strap?"

"yeah.." ellie likes where this is leading, clearly by her rapt smirk and tune of chords rising in tempt.

"what if I sucked it?"

⛧ oh boy, that set off a night she wouldn't be forgetting for the inbound days ahead. immediately you found yourself levitating up from the couch by her arms and bouncing on the mattress. a makeout session leads to fated stripping and now, your kneeling in front of her at groin-level and a hunter green mass protruding towards your nose bridge.

her optics glare down at you, the sight of you so keen and willing to do this. sure, it's not the real thing but the sight should and will be fucking exhilarating.

"c'mon, what're you staring at?" ellie's hand gently smacks your cheek and splinters your blurry-minded trance.

you deduct a reply from your mouth, instead, taking a solid grasp of the strap and wrapping your lips round' the tip, all while preserving unwavering eye contact.

"shit.."

her hands ease and twine the locks on each margin of your head, massaging the pads of her fingertips tenderly. her arousals' climbing new peaks every second at this rate. she presses her pelvis further upon your lip, steering you to open up.

your lips part and welcome the rotund tip in, stroking along your front teeth. the weak grasp on your head pushes the strap languidly to a greater extent that bounds it to the back wall of your throat.

"ach-" you jab out a cough.

"good girl, take that shit in.."

⛧she's one to be in control, but it's nothing rough. her hands guiding you back n forth gently as the strap summons spurts of tickles in your throat each time it prods the back of it. it'd be far enough to chafe the hilt against her clit, per usual any time she wears the contraption, so you'd always hear quaint whimpers, curses, groans, etcetera, from above.

"mhh~ fuuhhhhckkkk.." ellie draws out a long euphoric groan, straining her neck back and exposing the mild protrusion of her adam's apple.

catching up with the motion, you begin bobbing your head on your own accord. her hands dull their hold and hover above, letting you work your utter sorcery, mouth wide open and drooling for her.

her head recoils down, "such a slut- oohh~ fuck.."

⛧again, she's not rough without consent and a special occasion, but she'll clutch your hair firmly enough. to you, it's like her non-verbal sign that says 'go faster'.

thrusting your head faster, her own moans begin to burgeon and crowd the room over your sucking and popping noises. she looks so fucking hot from your angle, a clement sweat, fucked out face, leaning slightly back so her pelvis projects closer to you, a solo hand supporting on the back of her thigh, the other latched onto the apex of your head and knotting strands of hair around her fingers. it's all getting to you.

"oh- baby, fuck- keep goin'n.. uhn- shit!" the climax augmenting within her hips jitters the shit out of her knees, begging to just buckle underneath her and collapse on the bed.

"gh- hn.." your words fumble around ellie's cock, still putting your all into pleasing her. adding a grip on the strap and stroking it was endgame for her, the adjoined knocking against her swelling bud ruined her.

⛧ellie's definitely more of a groaner and a huffer when she comes, it's not growling level but it's certainly not fake exaggerated ones.

⛧i think she's also the type who'd want you to come as well, like, there is not a single night where she's the only one getting pleased, she has to see you unravel and lose your shit under her.

"stop, baby- stop.." ellie hastily hushes through heaves of breath, pulling your head from the strap to which it springs off your lips.

"huh..?"

"m'not cummin' without you- fuck.." her fingers take a grapple at your jaw, guiding you up onto your feet.

you give her a blank stare until it's washed away with a surprised one as you're cast onto the bed, stomach down, ass up. she shambles over you and flattens you out till your hips settle in the cloudy mattress.

she mounts your thighs and inclines her crotch to yours, slowly inserting into your cunt from the back. her nails chisel into your plush hips, thumbs notably indenting on your ass.

"oh-my gmm.. ellie.."

"god damn-" she mumbles to herself, cuffing out a quick chuckle, "you earned this.." positively rewarding you for your work.

insert a loooong night spent railing.

⛧random conclusion hc but I feel like in this position where she's behind you she'll litter you with kisses and bites on your shoulder-neck region, especially for being so good and disposed for her.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

MASTERLIST

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sassyfrassboss · 5 months

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So as a daughter of a former courtier, I have some information of such to share.

What Meghan Wants - this wasn’t just about the wedding, as when Harry proposed he proposed with a basic ring and Meghan wanted something more bling so to speak and alongside Harry, approached The Queen and basically demanded that she have the centre emerald of the choker necklace placed into a diamond pavé ring alongside two other large diamonds from the royal collection, which I’ve heard were from the Victorian or Georgian era.

When the Queen said no, Meghan got venomous and is the reason why the Queen said she was evil. When they couldn’t get any further, they apparently approached The Earl Spencer to have him hand over diamonds from the Spencer tiara to place into the tiara, to which he denied. This was among the reasons why he did not attend the christening, the wedding he did attend because of optics.

The hatred of Catherine links back to a time when Meghan got drunk while living in Kensington Palace’s cottage with Harry, and threw a large party that went on for hours. William was apparently away at the time and Catherine was pregnant with two young children living close by. Catherine went down to tell her to stop the partying and the loud music, and Meghan again got venomous towards her. And by venomous, I mean in her face, obscenities falling from her lips and insults right to Catherine’s face. Also Meghan did buy Catherine a set of stainless steel butcher knives and smirked that the blood wipes right off.

Meghan also hates Pippa, because she tried to worm her way into her friendship circle first through the Chelsea society circle but failed as Pippa is very closed off to outsiders and very protective. Harry has had a well known weird obsession over Pippa and Catherine for a long time.

Meghan is behind the Rose rumours, this is a fact known by the family and staff. This is another reason why most have frozen her out and it is indeed due to Rose and Harry being together, and him raving about how “fit” she was to everyone afterwards while Meghan didn’t get to attend.

Meghan didn’t believe Zara had miscarriages and this is a big reason for why Anne, Peter, Mike and Zara hate her guts. Basically what was said is that Meghan didn’t see how an Olympic standard equestrian could have two miscarriages one after another and maybe it was that that caused it.

The racism thing is a nothing burger. Basically Charles and Camilla alongside William and Catherine sat down with Harry, without Meghan there before they married but apparently engaged, and basically brought up about whether he’d be able to cope with racism in the media directed towards Meghan and their child, what I’ve heard is that those shotgun engagement rumours are indeed true. There was a lot of talk about a miscarriage, and it wasn’t about Catherine or anyone else in the family. Which is why his family brought it up, as they knew he wasn’t the strongest mentally or emotionally. But what also was brought up was Harry’s racism and whether he’d be able to handle a biracial child… he had commented on Senna and Tāne Lewis among others.

Eugenie’s engagement announcement and wedding were both pushed back to accommodate Meghan and Harry, and their wedding pushed forward. The Queen apparently wanted a toned down wedding because Meghan was a divorcee and she was pregnant out of wedlock, but then suddenly they were accommodating basically anything she wanted, to which I’ve heard is because she cried wolf over a miscarriage, saying they were the family she never had and really manipulating them as while the Queen and others were strong and smart in the institutional way, they are a soft and supportive family. But she did bring up nonstop questions about Philip’s Nazi in-laws which irked him, The Queen and others massively.

Meghan wanted the Vladimir tiara, but not how it usually looks - basically she wanted to take the emeralds out of it and place those emeralds into the Lovers Knot, which she was told no because it is on lifetime loan to Catherine and its current frame is fitted to her head shape.

Also Meghan kept calling Louis, Lewis instead of the Louey pronunciation because she was jealous of him. Apparently Louis was also the name that she (more so Harry) had approached the Queen and Philip about using for their unborn child.

Doria never got anything. She turned up a few days before the wedding and jetted out a few days later. Jessica Mulroney kept pestering the courtiers and royal staffers to which they ended up blocking her from further communication.

Nobody knew Meghan was pregnant when she announced in 2018 with Archie, everyone literally found out when she posted on the instagram account in the middle of the night in the UK but a good time in California. Nobody got to ask about medical provisions, as the staffers wanted to help arrange the appropriate procedures for her with the Queen’s medical team. But she didn’t take them up, and Harry didn’t know basic things about the pregnancy when asked by family and staff. There is a very very strong case for a surrogate being used, as it was noted that Meghan ate unsafe food, traveled to unsafe places, did unsafe activities, and got basic information wrong about pregnancy when asked like Harry.

Nobody has seen him or Lili, they were not in the UK for the jubilee or any other time. The Queen did not visit them at Frogmore Cottage.

Breaking this down:

So as a daughter of a former courtier, I have some information of such to share.

-So around this time Meghan’s PR was insane. It was clear that she intended on making “emerald” her stone/color like Catherine had “sapphire.” At the time, her PR was claiming that the emerald stone was going to come from a necklace of Diana’s and that Harry was going to take diamonds from the famous sapphire chocker for the rest of the ring. The problem that I always had with this rumor was that the emerald Meghan wanted wasn’t really suited for a ring. Unless she wanted to have it recut.

Rumor was that Meghan asked for the tiara for her wedding, hence why her veil was scalloped to resemble the tiara.

It was also said that the Gloucester’s complained as well. Loud drunken behavior and at one point there were fireworks. But it was more than one occasion. Apparently Meghan made some rude remark regarding them about how they needed to move and it got back to TQ who relayed to Meghan she needed to keep her mouth shut. This is also why William stopped any potential move by them into KP.

I remember there being a rumor that Meghan tried to make friends with Pippa to actually turn Pippa against Catherine. I also remember Meghan putting out PR that she was super close with Pippa and it was causing issues because Pippa was taking her side against Catherine.

Amsterdam SOHO is where she spilled the rumor because some people were willing to out her for her “extra party activities” so she started the rumor.

Yeah, Meghan believes that she is the only one to have ever suffered from a miscarriage…

He felt the conversation was awkward because he knew how much they all disliked Meghan and she knew it as well. So she twisted the conversation to suit her narrative.

Eugenie’s engagement announcement and wedding were both pushed back to accommodate Meghan and Harry, and their wedding pushed forward.

Stole her wedding date from what I heard. Also another rumor, Meghan was FURIOUS because she wanted the tiara, after she had been denied others, that Eugenie wore and her announcing her pregnancy was retaliation.

The Queen apparently wanted a toned down wedding because Meghan was a divorcee and she was pregnant out of wedlock, but then suddenly they were accommodating basically anything she wanted, to which I’ve heard is because she cried wolf over a miscarriage, saying they were the family she never had and really manipulating them as while the Queen and others were strong and smart in the institutional way, they are a soft and supportive family. But she did bring up nonstop questions about Philip’s Nazi in-laws which irked him, The Queen and others massively.

TQ really had an issue with the veil as well. I remember when it was said PP might not make the wedding because of health issues and I always wondered if he was going to use that as an excuse to stay home because he hated Meghan. He also retired when he knew Meghan was coming on board…which is very telling.

It was the Vladimir and the Fife emerald tiara that was on display at the time at KP. At least that is my theory.

That Givenchy anon that was going around? That is basically all true. Meghan hated Charlotte with a vengeance but also Mia Tindall and later Lena Tindall because she like Louis dared to be born in 2018. She hated family members bringing children to events or family gatherings. Also Meghan kept calling Louis, Lewis instead of the Louey pronunciation because she was jealous of him. Apparently Louis was also the name that she (more so Harry) had approached the Queen and Philip about using for their unborn child.

Yeah I heard she was furious that W&C went for Louis because she had called dibs on the name prior to there even being a wedding, let alone a baby. She was also furious because she felt that Charlotte should not have been named after TQ and Diana.

Doria was literally trotted out to remind people Meghan is bi-racial.

Nobody has seen him or Lili, they were not in the UK for the jubilee or any other time. The Queen did not visit them at Frogmore Cottage.

So I did the math and according to Meghan’s timeline, she was still heavily drinking and partying around the time she became “pregnant” with Archie. There is a lot of questionable behaviors surrounding all of this. I did find it odd the left the “kids” at home for the 2022 Jubilee/Trooping because I figured she would at least try to get a photo with them looking out a window.

Thanks for all of this BTW!

#meghan markle #submission #british royal family #prince harry

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 18 days

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But one thing for certain - the story of William being spotted popping into a local pub for a beer with Carole really poked a lot of holes into Harry's claims that the UK isn't safe. If The Prince of Wales can go out for a beer with a friend and no one bothers them, his irrelevant little brother can certainly go out for a church service.

He doesn't care, neither does the world poke holes in his stupid claims, haven't you seen the photos from polo where they're flanked by security? they just love to show off

Oh, no, Harry cares. He cares a lot. He cares only about which makes him look important and equal to William, especially as the Americans perceive it. That's why he's surrounded by security all the time; because it makes him look important and it makes him look equal to William, who's very protected and rarely without security in the photos/images that get published here in the US.

What Harry and Meghan are trying to do is gaslight Americans into thinking they're as important as the Prince and Princess of Wales so that we'll fight for them when the BRF strikes back.

Which is why it's so damaging when stories like William going to the pub for a drink or Kate popping out to a music festival for spicy margaritas or the two of them grocery shopping together get out and start circulating around the US. It contradicts Harry's messaging that being the son of The King is so dangerous that he can't do ordinary everyday things despite all of his PR claiming he's just like us.

So when this does happen, when William does show that Harry's security concerns about the UK are overblown, Harry reverts back to his military "I fought the Taliban" self which he thinks will get him bonus points in the US because we love our military and we love our veterans...right?

Wrong. Let me show you a little perspective. In 2010, the National Academy of Sciences published a study conducted in April 2009 that determined 1.9 million US military members deployed at least 3 times to Afghanistan and Iraq for at least 30 days each deployment. Of the 1.9 million, 582,733 of those people were active-duty US Army soldiers; another 125,595 soldiers were Army Reserve; and another 295,336 soldiers were Army National Guard. That's a total of 947,664 US Army soldiers deploying to Afghanistan and Iraq at least three times between 2001 - 2009.

In 2010, the British Army was 142,000 people: 113,000 active-duty soldiers and 29,000 reserve soldiers.

Let me louder for the people in the back. The entire British Army, in which Harry served and deployed to the War on Terror with, is FIVE TIMES SMALLER than the number of US Army soldiers that had deployed three times to the War on Terror by 2009.

Here in the US, Harry is not the special apple he thinks he is. He wants a ticker tape parade here in the US for his military record but what exactly has he done that's worth it? We don't care that he was the some other country's head of state's grandson when he deployed. But he doesn't get that, the same way he doesn't get that we don't like a foreign immigrant trying to become our military's ambassador. He thinks the work he did and the status he held in the UK is automatically transferrable to us over here here in the US.

It's not. He thinks it is, and Meghan thinks it is, but it's not. Which is going back to your original point, Harry does care. He cares a lot about optics and making sure that if he's not seen as equal to William, he's seen as better than William. So when William does these very normal, very average, very everyday things and gets praise for it, it's discombobulating for the Sussexes. They don't understand how being so common is so likeable, which makes the security fleet they surround themselves with look so tone-deaf and outrageously narcissistic.

#ask #brf #sussexes #pretty sure i lost the plot here

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usafphantom2 · 2 months

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Curious about the glass... And how it held up to the severe heat...I found this air and space magazine article from 1999.

The glass through which the all-important cameras peered had to be free of optical distortion even though the inside temperature was 150 degrees and the outside 550 degrees. (Pilots have reported that the windshield of an SR-71 gets so hot at cruise that they can’t touch their gloved hand to it for more than a couple of seconds.) That one was solved by the Corning Glass Works and Perkin-Elmer, a lens manufacturer, in three years and at a cost of $2 million.

They fused quartz glass windows to the metal frame using high-frequency sound waves, which had never been done before!

William Burrows.

@Habubrats71 via x

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celticcrossanon · 7 days

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BRF Reading - 25th of April, 2024

This is speculation only

Cards drawn on the 25th of April, 2024

Question: What does King Charles think about Catherine, The Princess of Wales?

Note: I asked for three cards, one for her as a person, one for her popularity, and one for her as the wife of his son.

What Does King Charles think of Catherine as a person?

Card One: Justice reversed

This card tells me that The King thinks Catherine is unjust towards him and towards other people and that she judges them unfairly.

The energy of this card is about what The King thinks of as part of diplomacy - little (to him) concessions that make everything smoother, and that Catherine will not make these concessions. An example that comes to mind is Catherine doing something just for PR/optics. We know from reports from her staff that she will not do this. The King thinks this is unfair and that she should do something just for PR if it makes him/the monarchy look better, He also feels, rightly or wrongly, that she judges people for making those "concessions".

I think that Princess Catherine's strong moral stance on this issue and other issues makes The King feel uncomfortable, and so he thinks she is judging him (and his wife), when all Princess Catherine is doing is staying true to her values.

What does King Charles think about the popularity of Princess Catherine?

Card Two: The Star

The Star can be a card of dreams coming true, and her popularity is a dream come true for The King. It is what he wanted for himself and never achieved, and now he sees that dream being achieved by another person. He would revel in said popularity and I think he suspects Princess Catherine of doing the same, even when she clearly does not do so, as he is applying his own behaviour to her.

He is very aware that Princess Catherine is a star of the BRF and I don't think he altogether likes this. The picture on the card is of Pandora opening the box and unleashing all the evils upon the world, and I think that The King feels that the popularity of Princess Catherine has created a lot of evils for the BRF.

The energy of this card is not of someone delighting in the success of another person. There is nothing of that coming from the card. The energy I am getting is more of an "Oh dear. Well, I can work with this, but it creates issues and I would rather it had not happened" energy.

How does King Charles feel about Princess Catherine as the wife of his son, Prince William?

Card Three: The Four of Wands

This is a card of home, weddings, and celebration. The energy from this card is 100% approval and support. The King approves of Princess Catherine as the wife of his son. He likes how she has made a home for his son and he likes how she is bringing up his grandsons. He approves of their marriage and he approves of her role as wife/mother/homemaker. I get the feeling that he would be happier if she confined her role to that of wife and mother and did not do any of her other work and only appeared as a wife on the big occasions (Trooping the Colour, Christmas Walk etc). I think that The King feels that being a mother and supporting her husband is an appropriate role for Princess Catherine. There is an "if only she would stick to this" energy about this card.

Underlying Energy: The Nine of Cups

This is the energy that underlies the three cups above. It is a card of emotional satisfaction and luxury, success, recognition, and pleasure. The energy from this card is that King Charles thinks that Princess Catherine hit the jackpot by marrying his son. He thinks she should be very happy with her position and content with what is offered to her by the blood royals, whatever that might be.

Bonus Question: Does King Charles like Princess Catherine?

Card Four: Judgement in reverse

After I had pulled the cards for this reading, I shuffled again and asked if The King liked Princess Catherine as a person overall. Judgement reversed tells me that he does not like her as a person. Judgement is the card of Pluto, the ruling planet of Scorpio, so it can represent King Charles as he is a sun sign Scorpio, and in the reverse it says No in answer to my question. He does not like her.

This card can represent second chances and in the reverse it says that The King is not prepared to give her a second chance. I think that in the past she may have done something to upset him or made him feel bad by her moral standards, and he decided then that he did not like her and he is not going to change his mind.

This card in reverse can also represent blaming someone else for your mistakes, and I think that The King might blame Princess Catherine (and Prince William) for things that have happened to him in the past. The energy I am getting is that they said something that the late Queen listened to and approved, and as a result The King did not get his own way with respect to the issue at hand.

Conclusion:

The King might enjoy talking to Princess Catherine, and he certainly approves of her as a wife and mother, but if you asked him if he liked her the honest answer would be No. The energy I am getting is that he resents her and her popularity, her firm stance on certain things (like doing things just for the optics) makes him feel uncomfortable and makes him feel judged, and that he blames her for things that have happened to him and/or for him not getting his own way over some past issues.

EDIT: I want to add in here that I don't think that The King hates Princess Catherine or anything like that. In fact, I think he quite enjoys her company. I do think that her firm values make him uncomfortable at times, that he envies her popularity (even if he won't admit that to himself), and that he would be happier if she remained at home and was only trotted out for the big occasions. I also think that she may have refused to go along with something 'for optics' in the past, and that has upset The King. I do think that the King is classist towards her? - thinks he is better than her because he is royal and so she should gratefully accept whatever attention/honours/anything else he gives her - but I think The King is like that with everyone except other royals as well.

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ladykinrannoch · 2 months

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How can you actively work against your own son? How could Charles come to want to bring back this traitor and play behind the scenes against William ? Is there no one behind the doors who can stop him ?

Thanks for the ask. It is an interesting angle.

So I have just drawn cards on the specific question "Is KC working behind the scenes to set William up and make him look bad. Is it deliberate?"

Reading - Apologies and sympathy. throw me some pennies please Sir?

I got Knight of Cups as the situation card, which is being apologetic to William, and underlying energy of Six Pentacles, which is the charitable card, give and take or the benefactor. Below the Knight of Cups I got Page of Wands in RX and so I think the apology relates to the bad press around the absence of the POW at the memorial service, and perhaps apologising for not thinking about the optics of the PA and POW potential reputational harm.

On the matter of whether it is deliberate I got three of wands in RX. This is typically being positive about good things coming and waiting for your ships to come in. In RX it is abandoning hope of those ships coming in. In this case, I am feeling that KC genuinely did not think of the photo opp reputational harm to William being seen with PA, so perhaps it was a genuine mistake. I will give him the benefit of the doubt on this.

The other two cards I got appear to relate to the overseas ones. The Hermit RX and Six of Swords RX. Upright six of swords is leaving something troublesome behind or overseas travel and has come to represent the Duo. In reverse, it is being stuck and having to deal with the troubles. If I read the three of wands RX together with the Hermit RX, I think it is suggesting that KC continues to be extremely disappointed with H&M, while H&M are terribly stuck in a horrible and hopeless situation perhaps involving heavy financial losses, although it is not pentacles the wands could be lost deals and potentially more deals being lost.

The six of pentacles the charity card sits below the Hermit RX, so KC may throw a small sum of money from his own pocket at Harry to help him out in the short term. This is not ongoing financial support, it is a hand out, if it is anything at all it is a small sum to get him out of immediate financial trouble. Think of it as something like paying the nanny, or covering the rates bill so they have electricity, or paying the grocery bill.

I think on the matter of Harry returning, if I read the Hermit RX with six of swords RX, I get the feeling in general of NOT Welcome, stay there. IF, there is any return it will be Harry alone and it will be a family thing and not a public thing/working royal arrangement, because the Page of Wands is RX so not a public role. Wands is PR and Pages are news/communication, so definitely not trusted to take a public role. I think if there is any consideration of him returning, it is sympathy as a father, not as King, which brings me back to the Six of Pentacles the charity/benefactor card. Feeling sorry for H.

Many parents fall into the trap of continually helping out wayward kids, when actually the tough love approach might better help them grow up.

#british royal family #brf #tarot by ladykinrannoch #royal reading #prince harry #prince william

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theofficialastronomy101 · 5 months

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IC 1805, aka The Heart Nebula. Using a William Optics Redcat 51-II-U telescope, using an Optolong L-Quad filter. Stacked 72 300s images. Astrobin link in comments.

This image does not include any data from my previous attempt at imaging the Heart Nebula. This is new data using a different filter.

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cybertroniannugget · 5 months

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Gift Giving Bumblebee x Reader

Dec 6

Look at that cute face

Fyi, I make sure to always use real lyrics for Bumblebee xD List at the end as proof.

Spotify is my best friend when writing Bumblebee.

As much as I love him, writing the bay version is tough. Always searching for lyrics that fit.

It's a little rushed, but better late than never right?

It's pure fluff

🎶Give it to me baby-Boots with the fur-tonight🎶1

“You want my boots?”

The yellow scout nods, pointing at your shoes.

“I mean sure, but why?”

🎶It's a wonderful surprise🎶2

“But that's no American tradition though.”

🎶Cuz I don't care🎶3

“So you wanna gift me something through St. Nicholas Day?”

🎶I love you, always forever🎶4

“Love you too, Bee. I'll give you my boots later, alright?”

He buzzes excitedly.

“Ey Bee, I need you on patrol with me.”, Jazz talks over the comm link.

Bumblebee’s antannae fold back and he whirrs a little annoyed.

You pat his cheek, smiling.

“I know, we rarely see each other, but this is important. I'll be here for a while.”

Another sad buzz echoes from his vocalizer, before he transforms and drives away.

Later in the evening you receive a message from Bee, asking you to put your boots outside your door.

“Okay, that's actually cute.”, you chuckle while walking outside.

Hearing someone round the corner you quickly walk back inside, leaving your shoes where Bee asked you to put them.

He has been busy lately with training under the new agreements between earth's government.

Daily exercises for the soldiers where they have to learn how to fight Deceptions.

And when he wasn't busy with that, he had to go on routine patrols.

When you wake up the next day, the first thing you do is checking outside to find your boots filled with Christmas chocolate and a note saying ‘I love you my honeybee’

Quick on your way back inside with the shoes in your hand, you put them down onto a chair, admiring what has been put in them.

“Oh, he even bought new headphones.”, you say, holding the packaging.

Taking your phone out of your pant's pocket, you dial the access code for his comm link, holding the device to your ear, waiting for him to respond.

“Bee, that's very cute, but you didn't have to do that..”, you say as he picks up with an excited buzz.

🎶I'm hopelessly devoted to you🎶5

“Where you at right now?”

🎶By the hangar🎶6

“Alright, wait for me there.”

A few minutes later, you walk into the wide open hangar where that yellow Bot you have grown to love stands waiting.

🎶Hello🎶7

“Hey there, Bee.”, you say smiling.

🎶How was it for you-Christmas present🎶8

“It was so sweet, thank you Bee.”, you say while walking up to him.

The scout crouches down to be more on your level and whirrs happily.

🎶Because I'm happy🎶9

You smile as you stand before him.

“So, gift giving?”

The scout buzzes confused.

“It's your love language.”

His optics widen, antannae standing up now as you said that.

“Don't worry, I love you too Bee. I figured something was up.”

Hugging him, as much as the size difference allowed, you couldn't stop smiling.

🎶You can be my safety zone-Nothing can come between You and I🎶10

You chuckle as you look at him, a hand on his cheek.

🎶You ready?🎶11

“Let's see how the others will react…”

Bee chuckles.

Here's the proof guys:

1 Pretty fly for a white guy-The Offspring

Low-Flo Rida

don't stop me now-Queen (obv)

2 Friday I'm in love-The Cure

3 I don't care- Ed Sheeran&Justin Bieber

4 I love you always forever- Donna Lewis

5 Hopelessly devoted to you- Olivia Newton John

6 Hangar- 8485

7 Hello-Adele

8 How was it for you-James, Christmas present- Doris Day

9 Happy- Pharrell Williams

10 The Ocean-Mike Perry & Shy Martin You and I- One Direction

11 Price Tag- Jessie J & B.o.B

#transformers x reader #bumblebee x reader #bumblebee transformers #christmas writing challenge #christmas #advent calendar #shenanigans

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beanlot · 2 years

Text

ellie williams x f!reader

you basically find a hot girl at the strip club.

word count: 3.4k

genre: smut

warnings: stripper!reader with subtop!ellie - usual lesbian shenanigans like oral/fingering/facesitting, mentions of alcohol, ellie refers to you as ‘miss’ and other things that aren’t so vanilla

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you’d watched her for half an hour now through the glowrings. a face that, although perennial in remaining innominate, highlighted it’s unaccredited self in psychedelic neon. you can’t decide if it was the way she looked around, eyes mind-altering, or just quick wedges of having worked here for over a year; growing accustomed to older faces that new ones became refreshing.

but even with serving drinks from one booth to another, she’d never looked your way - adhesive to the bar with eyes of timidity that stayed concealed; a face on your list of priorities for tonight.

fishnets suffocate your arms, desirable twirl of fabric that sheathed your chest yet had left your shoulders bare and at the mercy of the lambent. and eventually, you came to terms with the appetency of the taste of liquor against your tongue as much as your skin wanted to be a metres distance from hers.

so you’re traipsing over to the bar, pleather shorts sweltered against your thighs amongst your netted body stocking; carbonados scintillating against your stomach in the fiesta spotlights.

but you feel hedonistic optics leer your way from an approaching booth, a woman shuffling towards the end of the foam seat when you observe them. “excuse me, is it okay if we can get 3 more of the red wine?” her hand enveloping some notes, which empty into your palm when you flatten your hand out.

“yeah, of course.” you nod, scents of apple cider and root beer clouding the ambience when you advance towards the bar, a disarray of empty glasses and decks of cards amongst the elm. you shuffle beside her, and it’s intoxicant - musky firewood contaminating each skin cell in your cheek with lechery, although ironically felt sanctifying when you inhaled. you lean over, sliding the notes across to the bartender. “3 reds please.”

he nods, and you try to inspect the nitery around you - flaxen beams that concentrate to a seductive vermillion against the stage of stripper poles, but your eyes are more obdurate than intended within trying so fucking hard to not look at her. but impulsively, you’re examining her side profile before you can register, unable to escape this hypnotic pool of looking at her that looking away seemed paradoxical.

“hello.” your voice divulges that curiosity you wanted so badly to secrete, and you can’t repress the interminable searching of how perfectly fuckable her face is - eyes that you could decipher were the shade of dresden, framing an intangible sensation of inclination in your stomach when they are too shy to look at you. “hey.” her voice dry and gutless, a creamy tone that anchors at the very pillars of your hips.

her hands superlunary against her glass, fingers that scream they were made for this; your limbs weakening under how godly-structured her veins were along her knuckles. “you don’t look like the type to come to strip clubs.” you smile, and although you felt pathetic for generating ludicrous fantasies of her lips on your body already, you were complacent when you saw the corners of them turn upwards for a second.

“my first time, miss.” she swivels her drink, and you realise how extraterrestrial she made you feel upon the realisation that you were always the grand prize here; having people at your knees for a taste - but now you were the one yearning for just a quick lap of what was infront of you. you watch as she swigs the rest of her glass, lips dewy when her tongue skims them; it’s sexually aggravating to watch, sampling the taste of the bitterness of not being able to lick them dry for her rather than the alcohol she’d drank, amplifying when her sleeve rolls up to exhibit an adorned arm of tatted leaves that fade in the incandesce.

“do you wanna see my tits?” you tilt your head, and she’s wide-eyed at you; almost thankful that she’d swallowed her drink mere seconds before. eyes of eau de nil that are diluted to such submission it catalyses the excitement in your clit, unworldly irises that bite the bait of flickering down to your cleavage every now and then.

she’s about to speak after her train of thought, lips of delectability parting until the bartender calls your order. “3 wines.”

but you feel irked at the epiphany that unfortunately, you were at work, and had some serving to do. so you slide the platter towards your chest, before delving into her with a sultry glance. “it’s free.” you whisper teasingly, which wasn’t contrivance, you couldn’t fabricate the fact you wanted to pay her to lay you bare; unearth every fragment of your body that possessed the most sensitivity and utilise it however she desired.

but once you’d distributed the orders and amassed your own multitude of tips through the art of availing yourself to get what you wanted, your irises blew hot and cold around the club when you’d cottoned on that something just wasn’t right - your coworker ambling towards you.

“someone’s requested you..”

“but i’m not stripping tonight?”

she shrugs. “someone in 03 ordered some stuff and specifically wanted you to deliver it or something.”

“what’d they look like?”

“i don’t know, like.. awkward, freckles, brownish red kinda hair..”

and amongst the blether, your eyes were rifling through the bar; running short of the customarily lascivious vigour of interest it gave you before, stools void of the figure you were hoping to see. at first, you’d thought she’d been intimidated by your valiant act - but you’d read intertextually through the lines of kinda hot, cute freckles, brownish red hair that

never mind, you were stripping tonight.

she was a whiskey drinker, something that was cavernous incongruity to the velvety timbre she had. but she was duality altogether - maple tennessee and vanilla bourbon, the spicy grain of japanese scotch; even the woody and rich malt of scottish barley. you’d chaperoned yourself towards 03, a room in which was enshrouded by rosewood curtains, and a beam of what felt like tuscan sun whenever you’d take a step; with one hand supporting the platter of glasses, the other drapes the curtain to one side.

you step in, walls of boysenberry suffocating you momentarily - that familiarised furore of carnality in your stomach when you inhale her, earthy lemongrass and sage. it’s slightly quieter, stifled music orchestrating in the background as you look around, adjusting to the sentimentality of the onyx sofas; the rhythm of fuchsia and apricot lights against the metal pole situated in the middle of the room.

and then your eyes meet with ones of juniper, so soft and succulent. she doesn’t maintain eye contact for long, staring ahead at the floor - but she’s so divine that it dilutes how fucking awkward she can be. “i take it you accept my offer?” you smile, situating the platter against the table, pouring the rye whiskey she’d solicited into a glass.

she doesn’t answer, only looking up with doe eyes of sheepishness when you hand the glass to her with delicacy. you want her to feel ameliorated with you, because quite frankly, you’re feeling morally profane and unprofessional from wanting to ride her face so fucking bad. “what’s your name?”

she’s intrepid enough to ogle at your body piece, not only the glints of obsidian on your skin, but how your skin embraces the curves. “ellie.” she mumbles, her skin otherworldly with flares of honey and marmalade.

ellie. it was simple elixir, marshmallow and purification sizzling on your tongue. “can i sit on your lap, ellie?” you whisper, fingers tracing the sewing outline of her jacket, calibrating to the faint sturdiness of her shoulder.

she nods after a few seconds, and you feel erotic when you hitch your leg over and plant yourself on her thighs. it’s humid between you, and you can admire the texture of her skin - skilfully formulated freckles along her curved nose as if they’d been saintly sculpted with intense precision, framed with hues of rose on her cheeks that compliment her lips, so inviting and fuck you’re staring at her.

she’s getting flustered, and only amplifying the brewing anticipation in your clit when her thighs rub against yours; with fern globes flickering over your body, you reconstruct what you’re really here for, dipping out of the spellbind she’d put you in when you realise she keeps peeping at your cleavage.

so you swathe the straps of your bra off, glacial wisp against your bare shoulders; your skin feels hounded by taffy fog around you, and the magnetism oozing from her ironically enough to put you at the bottom of the food chain - your breasts recoiling from the material when you slowly pull it down, exposed to the experimental tints of the room.

you hear her exhale, hips tensing when she admires how your fingers grope at them. “you can touch them.” your whisper is reassurance, and you feel the levitation on your knees when angular fingers that you’d pedestaled oh so well tenderly stroke your skin, an epidemic of goosebumps on your netted arms when they reach your breasts. you observe how her pupils dilate, irises surrounded by hankering pits of jade only erupting with predilection when her fingers brush up your stomach.

she’s reluctant, but when she notices the indistinct smites on her fingertips from your cudgelling heartbeat, she brushes over your nipple. “they’re so soft, miss.” she whispers, observing how your nipple erects between her fingers.

you’re unbeknownst to your helpless grinding on her thigh and the lewd arousal between your folds; she’s getting confident, gently rolling your nipples between her fingers with ascendency - it’s astronomical, enough to skyrocket you into seventh heaven, and you hadn’t even taken your pants off yet.

“can i put them in my mouth, miss?” she whispers. you feel as though you’re under hallucinogens, the narcosis that was she, but she’s solemn when you blink at her. your fingers caress at her shoulders, a scorching sterilisation when they touch at her neck, and your fingertips feel so holy upon her skin that you could hear the symphony of each skin cell celebrating. “don’t ask, just do.”

maybe she wasn’t that shy at all, her tongue plumose against your breasts, tactically twirling around your nipple. it’s only when she envelopes it with her lips and gingerly sucks that you distinguished how wet you were, the fabric of your underwear thick with your arousal with every thrust against her thigh. but something’s different, something that was truly incorporeal, your clit blitzed in a way that feels foreign. “fuck..” you whisper, because you’ve clocked that you’d never been this fragile before.

everything is nirvana, the sensitivity in your clit only intensifying when you can feel her lips slurp at your other nipple; tongue flicking against it with enough expertise to force your legs into tremor. you can feel the clarity of the explosive latchstring in your hips as much as you can decipher how desperately you’re rocking against her, and with every sound of her lips leaving your tits with a pop, it’s almost as if fresh nerves that you hadn’t known built you up were being elicited.

you look down to see the blooming disorder she’d made of your breasts, nipples that were swollen and torrent with callous red; unrelentingly vulnerable to the masterly manipulation of her tongue stroking against them, glossing them with her spit. “you like sucking on a stripper’s tits, huh?” you exhale, and feel your limbs tingle when she hums.

you’re still twitching on her in waves of rupture when she looks up, lips glistening so pornographically; lashes that fan against her lacy cheeks so innocently that you feel as though you’re being made fun of.

you can’t comprehend anything through the overload of indecent fantasies - fantasies that became fuelled when you were victim to her hands, staring at how obscenely her knuckles contracted; raunchy veins of lapis operating her fingers so seductively. she notices how you feast your eyes on them, and teases you by slithering them down your stomach, a feathery stroke that explores the ebony pearls on your waist. “do you want them inside you, miss?” she whispers, tongue still fondling over your nipples.

please.

you feel your organs molten inside, and you’re nodding under automatism. you want to appreciate a sneeze-like high; head a carousel with the addiction that she provided, that only she provided, because you’d never nosedived off such a tremendous cliff into such heavenly bliss like she had done just by wrapping her pretty lips around your breasts.

your hands mount her jaw tenderly, because you want a lick of that addiction - her lips a gleam so vivid that it made a dullsville of the neon authenticity. you lean in, slotting in the key with the lock when she tilts her head for you; it’s mellow when you submerge her lips, and although the tempo between you was simpatico, you found that you were the one initiating. so you sink into her, tilting your head to enhance her taste - she’s smoky, with subtle tints of citrus and cedar on your tongue. but it’s medicine, warm and stimulant on your tongue, gentle laps that create a string of spit when she’d part from you - and you’d be quick to swallow, desperate to be polluted by her fluids.

she’s becoming assertive.

“please just fuck me with your fingers.” you whisper against her lips, hand mechanical to glide the fabric shielding your cunt to one side; you can tell by her eyebrows dipping in foreboding and the way basil optics bleach with daunt that her blood’s running cold about this. “i’ve never done this before, miss.” she whispers, and you’re about to ask her if she wants to stop if it wasn’t for her boldly slewing her finger through your folds, the texture of your slick glossing her skin deliciously - you couldn’t only feel it, but you could fucking hear it.

“that’s okay..” you whisper, shuffling against her, your fingers hallow against her wrist as you orient them with your entrance. “i’m gonna ride them.” you hum, and you know she’s taking a shine to the idea by how her other hand harmonises your hip; fingers supporting your weight against her.

and she commends how ravaged you look right now - disordered stray hairs adhesive to the sides of your face, scleras that had adjusted to the holiness of being able to stare at her tongue glossing your body.

it’s euphoria when you slowly descend into her fingers, feeling her fingertips massage your walls when you sink. the raw-boned chords that you’d known were her knuckles stroking against every explicit hormone surrounding your hips, and you can taste the crisp grass from the promised land when she twines both of them inside; it’s not enough to bullseye that spongy target, and so you whisper to her. “just a little more, babe.”

she’s supervening, serenity boiling inside when she wreathes her fingers just a little more for you - that spongy target fondled under her influence. you can’t repress the pathological trembling of your thighs against hers, nor the psychosis of feeling as though you’d been hovering in the untainted vapour of afterworld clouds. “your cunt feels so good inside, miss.”

is she fucking dirty talking?

you’re instinctual to start bouncing on her fingers, that inflammable sponge being hammered with every rock, some more dynamic than others. “fuck, that’s it, babe.” you whimper with breathless difficulty. and she watches how your body reacts, the sensitivity in your clit augmenting whenever she cunningly rubs her palm against it; the way your tits bounce with such sap before her very eyes and how her palm radiates how fucking thickly drenched your cunt is - her tongue ready to onslaught you, sour to stay in her mouth.

she wants to ask you if you want to sit on her face, but upon remembering your don’t ask just do stratagem, she’s conflicted - it still felt wrong for her to assume. so she glissades her fingers out slowly, browsing how your discharge oozes out onto her palm, and looks back up at you. “please let me taste you, miss.” she whispers.

but you want her to lose patience; you want to activate whatever barbarity is concealed in those flaming fucking eyes. so you whisper,

“earn it.”

“please, let me, miss.”

you slowly shake your head with a smirk.

“i’ll make you feel good, promise..”

you shake your head again, and you can see it melting away, irises narrowing with pique - but she tries her luck again.

“i’ll be good to you, miss.. i’ve been so good..”

and when you shake your head and tut, you clock that something’s different in her expression, nefarious globes that pierced through you with such warped lechery and belittlement.

oh, that’s good.

you feel her hand frame your jaw, and it’s claustrophobic when she presses her forehead against yours. she’s not hostile with you, her touch so sincere, and that’s what’s starting to make you feel so hot inside. you can see her eyes look around for the words, but they seem to flow out so instinctually despite the internal struggle.

“you feel this?” she whispers, her tongue wheeling up your cheek, and you nod.

“i’m gonna use it to lick your pussy dry, you hear me?”

bingo.

“and i’m not gonna stop until i can feel your cunt come in my mouth.”

what have you done to this girl?

“so let me taste you, miss.” she’s stern, and slow, and it forces your leg to lift slightly; reserving that special vip seat you were hoping she’d fill as soon as you saw her.

her eyes are venomous when your slit is before her, damp fingers that clamp your thighs and are tender yet so hungry to plummet you down to her face. you can feel her nose brush against your mound, and your legs brandish against her when you feel her tongue flick your clit, your hips can’t repress the pathological shaking; it’s transcendental, the wetness of her tongue making you feel like morphinism. with every swipe against your clit only magnified how eager your back arched, yet had deteriorated the strength in your limbs.

but what was aggravating taps was only a dip in the waters, becoming one long interminable lick - you’re rocking against her tongue tenderly, the planetary strokes of her lips contagious enough. and if the coil in your hip wasn’t assaulted enough, it’s at the edge of the cliff when she teases your entrance with two fingers, your slick glossing the tips. they stream into you slowly, and she goes deeper than intended with how silken you feel inside.

“shit.” you whine, feeling higher than the fucking himalayas when they wreathe into you, searching for that fucking spot.

you’re about to give her a helping hand, but after a few seconds, she finds it by herself - fingers twining into that extraterrestrial latchstring, waiting with anticipation to detonate.

good girl.

she grows accustomed to how it feels, how it moulds itself pathetically around her, impulsive fingertips thrusting against it as your thighs wreak havoc against her shoulders. “fucking dirty talk me.” you exhale, and the saturated slap on your clit was enough to make you squeak.

your cunt leaking onto her fingers, how the skin of your folds slaps against her hand with desire; it’s getting too much, that savage corkscrew spiralling your hips at velocities that seemed inhumane. “you’re gonna fucking come on me, aren’t you?” she hisses against your folds. “i can feel you getting tight, you filthy whore.”

you hear it, translucent and crystal clear. “you like being used as a sex toy, huh?”

oh, you have no idea.

“dripping all over my face, you fucking prostitute.”

you spurt cum onto her tongue, body tense as everything tightens; you can’t bleach the blemishes of beryl in your vision, swimming in rhythms of seraphic orgasm. you hadn’t even noticed how smeared your face was with tears, having being recent since they were still freshly running.

your hips dynamite, thighs shuddering against her violently - you’re catapulted into cloud nine, clit feeling as though it had exploded from the gritting assault of humping against her fucking lips. “fuck.. you just..” you try to speak, but your breath is jagged; prioritising instant relief to alleviate your havocked pulse. “made me come..” you whine, only registering throughout the dopamine that you’d been clawing at her hair, your fingers numb from nipping at her with such hankering. “made me come..” you repeat dreamily, and blink through the haze.

she sits beside you, legs spread and patting the space between them. you can’t decipher her expression through the amaranthine and your smushed cheek against the sofa, only her voice in your ear. “was that good, miss?”

thank god you came to work tonight.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #the last of us #the last of us x reader #tlou

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