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hanasnx · 4 days

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"IF YOU WANT MORE LOVE, WHY DON'T YOU SAY SO?" — anakin skywalker.

6'7!ANAKIN SKYWALKER makes the very ground shake. Vibrations reverberate throughout the floor when he storms through, warning you of his impending presence. His sheer mass cannot be explained, only experienced firsthand. As if reactivating any residual prey instincts sewn deep into your DNA from ancient times, you shy in his atmosphere as he takes up the room with not only his muscled body but his overarching personality. It's strong, potent. Arguments with him are impossible when he can intimidate you with a glance. His permanent scowl etched into his eyebrows make sure of that.

"What?" he asks, and anyone but you would mistake it for irritability, when instead he is concerned. His feathery voice soothes your ears, and you gulp as he searches your body language for signs of fatigue or discomfort.

Caught, heat rises to your cheeks and you avert your gaze. "Nothing." you respond promptly, a twinge of fear that his impatience will earn you some form of lashing. Not that you'd mind. You're hot and bothered standing next to him, and he looks down at you like you're a child to be taken care of or taught.

"You're staring again." he audibly observes, and traces of exasperation are heard within his tone. You chew your lip, punctually swallowing your rebuttal that he has the worst staring problem of anyone you've ever met, constantly observing you as if you're an animal to be studied through experiments he himself design. In a way, you are. Tested through various sorts of stimulation that he calculates, you might as well be his personal pet project. Being stared at by Anakin is an expectation of yours, and a right that he believes to own. Once it's clear you're lost in thought—or won't respond—he leads you away with a large hand grazing the small of your back. The tingles of his contact shoot straight up to glitter in your brain as pleasurable frission, so desperate for his attention that the slightest bit of it sends you into an embarrassing tizzy. "What's gotten into you?" he speaks under his breath, and you're sure a scold is on its way. You fight the disappointment that creeps up when his hand drops from your back, but returns just as swiftly when he tucks you into the atmosphere of his side, corralling you into the privacy of a dark corner.

You can't bring yourself to say anything, hopelessly peering up at him with big eyes to which he gets lost in. Batting your lashes, a tug appears at the corner of his lips as he watches your hands clasp behind your back in an innocent manner, twirling side to side as your chest sticks out from your positioning. As if he can understand your secret language, he sighs, and glances over his shoulder to check for eavesdroppers. One signal in a tilt of his head, and you giddily follow his directions as the flat ends of his fingers give your ass an encouraging pat when you pass him.

You hadn't anticipated that when he was herding you towards seclusion with his massive body behind yours—gently urging you forward with his body heat and curling his frame around you to check the cute expression on your face—that you'd end up tangled up in him again. He hadn't anticipated it either, fully intended to get you off with two thick fingers coaxing a release out of you so you'll stop ogling him like a lost puppy. Instead, you were too good to resist. Poor pussy pulsing around his knuckles, begging for something better had him undoing his pants to bury himself within you.

Grateful, you clutch onto his clothes, bunching it all up in your little hands as you gasp for air over his hulking shoulder. Folded up over yourself like a malleable doll he's molded to his whims, you feel infinitely smaller than before underneath him. Even his head next to yours dwarfs yours, his face longer, wider, more chiseled than your round and soft cheeks. You feel his gentle lips kissing onto one as he begs you to loosen up with shallow ruts into your cunt.

"Why didn't you just say so?" he questions husky and hot in your ear. You shiver, your hole spasming around him, still recovering from the overstimulation of orgasms he pulled before this. "Do I have to read your mind?"

Tears prick the corners of your eyes from how hard you squeeze them shut, willing yourself to nod as he carves out a space for his long cock inside you, able to bottom out. A long groan resounds from low in his throat as he soaks the fit it in.

A moment is spent in content silence as you bite hard into your lower lip. A clumsy thumb wedges in between you two, stroking at your prickling clit. A thankful wetness wells up within you. "Next time I'll make you use those pretty words, my love. For now, let me take care of you."

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ddejavvu · 7 months

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heyyyy! i’m literally in love with you and ur writing. i had a fun idea for aaron hotchner and knew no one could execute it like you! imagine this- aaron and f!reader meet and fall in love but aaron keeps it secret due to not wanting another haley. he likes all of her insta posts and follows her, and reader has a pic with him in it. garcia finds it and goes crazy and looks up reader only to find she has a criminal record for like the stupidest reason- cutting of a cop while driving or smtg! 🫶❤

Aaron isn't often summoned into the lair of the great Penelope Garcia, but he is today. Typically, he walks in himself to talk to her, but at her very stern, 'See me in my office now', he's knocking gently on the door.

"Come in." She calls from inside, voice miles away from its usually bubbly nature.

He feels like their roles have been reversed, the strange urge to keep his gaze guiltily on the ground surfacing in his chest as he opens the door to her office. He shuts the door behind him on reflex, and he's glad he did when she whirls on him, no longer facing her multiple computer monitors.

"You're dating a criminal," She accuses, eyes narrowed. Then, far louder, "You're dating a criminal!"

Aaron winces, peering behind her at the screens. One has your instagram profile pulled up, and another, your mugshot.

"I cannot believe you, Hotch," She berates, "Have you forgotten that you work as a criminal-catcher? I know you work to help the government get these people off of the streets, but that doesn't mean you get to put them in the sheets, you lunatic!"

"Penelope," His voice is stern, and he motions to your mugshot, "Check her charge."

"What?"

"Open her file. Look at what she was arrested for." Hotch instructs, slightly unnerved by the fact that Penelope had correctly assumed he was sleeping with you. Was he too obvious about it? He hadn't been going suspiciously easy on them, he doesn't think, but perhaps he'd been too smiley. Or checked his phone too much. Or clocked a suspiciously low amount of overtime hours this week. Or-

"Oh." Penelope's voice breaks him out of his spiral, and he doesn't need to look at the screen to know what it says: Reckless Driving.

There's a note beneath it though, a subheading: Merged carelessly close in front of a police vehicle.

"She cut them off, it was an accident," Aaron explains, and he watches Penelope's unusually tense shoulder slowly loosen, "I'm not dating a serial killer, Garcia."

"Oh." She repeats, blinking back at your instagram profile, "And- but you are-? You're seeing her?"

Hotch heaves a heavy sigh, knowing the news will spread around the entire office by lunch, "Yes. I am seeing her."

Her lips quirk up in a grin and she watches him with soft eyes, "Good. You should bring her to dinner at Rossi's this Sunday, y'know. I'm sure everyone would love to meet her."

"I might," Aaron's been toying with the idea for a few nights now, but perhaps Penelope will give him the courage he needs to go through with it. He glances up at her from where he'd been scrutinizing the leg of her desk, a barely-there smile curved upon his lips, "But- uh, if I do bring her, I'll drive."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

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dunebrat · 1 month

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FORBIDDEN HEIR ˚ ♡ ˚

Feyd Rautha x reader

Summary : you find yourself trapped in a loveless marriage to Glossu Beast Rabban, a man whose brutality knows no bounds. Unable to bear him an heir, you turn to Feyd Rautha, in a desperate bid to secure your position within the ruthless Harkonnen house

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As a year passed since your marriage to Glossu Beast Rabban, whispers began to swirl among the women of the court. Their curious glances and subtle inquiries cut deeper than any blade, their judgment heavy in the air like a suffocating fog. You, younger than your husband and eager to prove your worth, felt the weight of their scrutiny like a leaden burden upon your shoulders. Each passing day brought with it a new wave of gossip, their tongues wagging with speculation and thinly veiled accusations.

"Why hasn't she borne him an heir yet?"

"Is she barren, or just unwilling to fulfill her duty?"

"She's too young to understand the importance of her role."

Their words stung like venom, poisoning the fragile bond between you and Glossu. As the months pass by, your husband becomes increasingly frustrated by your inability to conceive. He watches as other noble families celebrate the arrival of heirs, while the halls of the Harkonnen palace remain devoid of the pitter-patter of tiny feet. "Why have you not given me an heir yet?" he demands, his voice laced with anger and disappointment.

You feel a pang of guilt and shame as his accusatory gaze falls upon you. You know the truth that it's not for lack of trying, but rather a cruel twist of fate that has left you barren. You try to explain, to reassure him that you are doing everything in your power to fulfill your duty, but Glossu's fury knows no bounds. "You are worthless to me if you cannot bear me a child!" he bellows, his words echoing through the palace corridors.

You shrink back, feeling the weight of his words like a physical blow. You have devoted yourself to him, to the Harkonnen name, and yet it seems that will never be enough. Women were

Later that night with trembling hands and a heart heavy with guilt, you approached Feyd-Rautha. His aura, both dark and dangerous, sent shivers down your spine. But this was your last chance for a child, a flicker of hope in a sea of despair. "Please," you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper, "it's not Glossu's fault. Your brother's health that stands in our way. I beg of you, Feyd, help me conceive an heir or I will be sent away if I cannot do this"

His gaze bore into yours, a calculating glint betraying the mask of indifference he wore. Silence hung in the air. Then, with a tilt of his head and a ghost of a smile, Feyd-Rautha spoke, his voice like velvet wrapped around steel. "I'll consider your proposal, but remember, my dear sister-in-law, every deal with the devil comes with its price."

"I understand. Whatever the cost, I am willing to pay it." You responded

He smirks as he turns to leave, you're left alone with your thoughts

Later that night you found yourself underneath him, his cock pounding into you as he took what was rightfully yours. You could feel the power and dominance of him inside you, claiming your body for himself.

He wanted to breed you, to make you his. And as he continued to fuck you with a primal intensity, it was clear that this wasn't just about sex for him-it was an act of possession and control. He wanted to own you, and he was going to take what he thought belonged to him. He went for hours claiming you as your husband was away on another planet handling business. Taking you in every position and using your body for his own pleasure. He doesn't care about your needs or desires-he just wants to use you as a vessel for his lustful urges.

He cums inside you

you feel his hot seed fill your womb. He collapses on top of you, breathing heavily as he tries to catch his breath. You lay there beneath him, feeling the weight of his body pressing down upon yours. You can feel his heart beating against your chest, and you know that he is still inside of you. He slowly pulls out of you with a soft moan as the last drops of cum drip from him onto you.

He rolls off of you and lays next to you, his breathing still heavy. You lay there for a moment, trying to catch your breath as well. You can feel his cum dripping out of you, and it's a strange feeling. It feels like he has claimed your body as his own-like this is what was always meant to be between the two of you. You reach down and touch your pussy, feeling the wetness of his cum on you. It's a strange sensation-one that is both comforting and exciting at the same time.

The affair between you and Feyd unfolded as the nights passed, your meetings became bolder. As the weeks passed, a wave of nausea washed over you, leaving you weak and trembling in its wake.

Desperate for relief, you sought solace in the chambers of the healers, their gentle ministrations offering fleeting respite from the relentless onslaught of sickness. Yet, despite their best efforts, the cause of your affliction remained a mystery, shrouded in uncertainty and fear. Then, one fateful day, Glossu's booming voice echoed through the halls of the stronghold, his announcement sending shockwaves through the court like a bolt of lightning on a clear day.

"Gather round, my loyal subjects," he declared, his voice ringing with pride and triumph. "For it brings me great joy to announce that my beloved wife is with child."

A chorus of cheers erupted from the assembled crowd, their cries mingling with the pounding of your heart as you stood frozen in disbelief.

A knowing smirk tugged at the corners of Feyd's lips as you make eye contact with the true father of your child

Part 2 coming soon 𓏲◜ 🎀

#feyd oneshot #feyd rautha #feyd smut #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha smut #feyd imagine #feyd rautha x reader #fey

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prettyboykatsuki · 5 months

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✮ tags ; gn!reader, implied bottom reader, semi-erotic and bloody fingersucking, romance, struggling with intimacy on astarions part, not an established relationship fr, 18+

✮ wc ; 1.6k (literally what in the fucking world)

✮ a/n ; *smacks astarions back* you can fit so much projection onto this thing.

canon divergent i.e. this takes place during act two but reader doesn't sleep w astarion in act one. it's explained in da fic.

The taste of intimacy is acrid.

It's bitter and sharp to the senses. In many ways, he finds it unpleasant. Intolerable. He's lost in thought, primarily caught up in the sensation of your skin pressed against his.

Too much, he decides, this entire affair is proving to be too much.

"You know, there's no need for theatrics," He can almost hear the recoil in his own voice, like hiding away into the shadows when dawn approaches. It's instinctive. "All this...poetry is quite thoughtful but very unnecessary."

Yes. Unnecessary. Somehow it feels violent, though it's anything but. You pull away from him and he winces at your expression - genuine confusion draped across your face. Your skin is hotter than the sun, much warmer than his. You're attractive.

Astarion wonders if he can assess you as beautiful. If he's allowed to use something so flowery.

He can't stop thinking about it. He's played the part of a lover before, so kissing and touching in quiet whispers is not unfamiliar. If that's the sort of affair you wish to have, than Astarion can be apart of it no problem. Whatever makes your desire towards him tangible, whatever you want. The last part he doesn't say out loud, or to himself.

But it was real, just a moment ago, wasn't it? The feeling of your lips on his forehead and the crook of his shoulder was real. The words of affection were real. He was looking for fun, debauchery, pleasure.

This is not that, he decides. He decides, too, that he does not like it.

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh don't play dumb, darling," He says, his throat tightening. It's natural to him, in a way. "Though your heroic romantic gestures are quite something, they're very unnecessary. We both know what we're here for, do we not? A little roughing up is fine."

You pause, and you stare. Your eyes are clear, like the water of the open ocean surrounding the lower city. Even in the darkness, he can see you perfectly. You can see him too, but he can't see himself even in the reflection of your gaze. He wonders if that is some kind of mercy, but remembers quickly that no god has ever shown him such kindness.

And you wouldn't either, or you shouldn't. He convinces himself that its a courtesy, and that this conversation is an attempt at honest between you. He's expecting something different. Maybe a snarky laugh of approval, or a widening set of eyes. Lurid with excitement in all the ways you're okay to defile him.

Most people he's laid with have given him the same. They're pleased with his fluidity. He shows it off like he's water in a beautiful chalice, look at all the forms I can take and adore me.

And yet, you're all but silent. What a terrible conversation to have when he's almost inside of you, he thinks.

"If that is what you desire," You says, your words slow. You then, so softly, draw your thumb over his cheek bone. It takes strength not to recoil. He almost wants to mock you. Wants to bite at the gentle caress of your hand, wants to make you bleed. "But I would've hoped my gestures conveyed my feelings a little better than this."

Shit. Shit.

"Feelings? Have you really taken a page out of the wizards book and written me a poem?"

"It would be easy enough to do," You say, so easily and so naturally - he can't help but show that he is startled. Shaken by the sincerity of every word. Bitter. "If you desire such gestures."

A feeling coils in his chest. He cannot distinguish his urges from each other. Whether it is hunger or desire. Whether to push you away or cling to you closer. He cannot make sense of any of it, despite his efforts. He doesn't need any blood, he's sure - but his mind lacks clarity.

Is he afraid or angry? He does not remember how to tell the difference between those two emotions, either.

"We're here for sex, you know?" He says, proactively pushing into old habits. His eyes feel heavy in their sockets, like their weighed by his own need to be desired perfectly. He seduces you easily. Lowers his lids and parts his lips, snakes a hand against your waist and lets you fall forward until you collapse against his chest. "Hot, lecherous, burning pleasure. Such romantics are best saved for..."

You look at him, and you want him. But it is not the same. Even he is not so foolish as to deny something you make so obvious.

"For?"

The words someone you love do not leave his lips, though they threaten to. "Someone more suitable."

"There's no one so suitable as you," You say, and the words do not sound damning. They do not intend to please him. They're not coated in myth or covered in lies. They're like you, honest and rich. "And that pleasure can be found all the same with regards to what I do."

Astarion understands little of you. Never has, in full. He finds your character damning, finds your kindness often irritable. His plan to seduce you had worked, he thought. You had taken some kind of liking to him. Enough that you act against yourself, just to appease him at times. To clumsily win him over by being a little bad, or being silver-tongued.

But you hadn't laid a hand on him despite his efforts. Without taking anything, you shield him from harm. You kill the people who wish to kill him. He'd never stopped trying to seduce you, because it benefits him to play the part of prized possession to the strong.

He thought your acceptance of his request meant you had finally broken. That he could go through with it.

Yet, you touch him like this - as you have been all evening. You brought a bedroll to fuck him in the woods of all places. Your hands are soft, and warm. You're reverent. He's kissed plenty of people, and played lovers even more than that. It was his lifes work, after all.

But it is impossible to deny that you're different, despite his best efforts to believe you are not.

Astarion isn't familiar with your gestures. He cannot hold his ground against honesty when his existence is passing and pleasant - ephemeral as a white lie.

"Astarion," You say, clear. You enunciate his name. It is not intended to have any weight, yet it crushes him. His chest tightens. Aches. It is all so strangely miserable. He wants to interrupt you, but cannot fix his lips to do such a thing "I wish to make love to you. You're welcome to find it unnecessary."

A kiss. Your mouth is warm, and tastes faintly like the sweet wine you had before bed. Your hands cup around his nape, and your other hand keeps you upright. He won't fall for it but his body does not listen, makes him melt comfortably into the bedroll. You kiss and kiss and kiss, and it is well-practiced like you have loved many times before him.

You must know something better than him.

Still. There is not enough strength in his limbs to fight you. His eyes blink open when you've stopped. A scream almost rips from him, but he's frozen in place instead. He can fight now. He could fight this.

The nails he tries to scratch you with, dig deep onto your waist. He closes his eyes. A begging for you to stay.

"Darling, really," His voice cracks. A touch so gentle and unfamiliar may be the thing to flay him open - cut him into pieces and open him up the blackened night sky. His lips feel cracked, hands shaking. "Wholly unnecessary."

There is no way out from this. From his feelings for you. How terrible.

You examine him quietly, then smile like you know everything. He is so much older than you, yet you smile like you've lived one thousand more lives. Maybe you have.

"Astarion," You mumble, your hands finding his hands. You lock your fingers together, your touch making his nerves fire whenever you brush along them. Your free hand ghosts his lips. "Look at me,"

Then, very suddenly, you push your thumb against the point of his fang. It punctures you in no small wound, and you push until the blood spills. You wince, but it's barely there. You let the blood spill into his parted mouth, let the taste of it fetter onto his lips and tongue. It's almost saccharine. He leans up on instinct, latching himself to it. He drinks from your self-inflicted wound with his eyes lidded, with desperation so unsightly.

You don't slink back. You watch onto him fondly. Watch him eat recklessly. Watch him swallow around you.

You already know what he is, he realizes, too late. The weight of your deliberateness nearly buries him. Unpleasant eyes, that know everything about him without any modicum of effort.

The feeling of anxiety, of restlessness well up even deeper inside him. The bitter unforgiving irony of finding intimacy with you lingers still. There is no escaping the thought that it will be you who betrays him first, and not someone else.

But the taste of blood, your blood, washes it all out. The gentle touch of your skin unsettles him as much as it makes him needy. He wants to be adored, and be adored by you.

He wants you in a way that does not incite any instinct. He works against each one trying to look you in the eyes.

When he manages, you are there and you are kind. You want to make love to him. He wants, very desperately, to believe it is possible. That such a ridiculous thing exists outside of a performance.

His voice is soft as a whisper. "I guess it's not impossible to appease you,"

You kiss the corner of his mouth and grin. He doesn't flinch this time.

"I'm quite relieved."

#astarion x reader #bg3 x reader #astarion x tav #astarion smut #writing tag #astarion you are so similar to me!!!!! stop!!!!!!! identity theft is a crime mr magistrate!!!!!!!!!#also someone tell me if this is worth uploading on ao3 lol

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toms-cherry-trees · 1 year

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Thrilling Chase || Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: All the girls want him. One does not. And he wants her

Word Count: 1551

Warnings: Not really. Aemond being a bit more of book Aemond than show Aemond and being overall annoyed with life

Author’s note: I dreamt this plot Sunday night and spend the entire day racking my brains to turn it into a fic. Please let me know about any errors, I am still polishing my English. Also this Aemond I am not sure I got the characterization right but I liked how it turned out. And remember I interact from @finite--incantatem

The ball is being hosted with the purpose of celebrating Aegon’s nameday. What better way to celebrate the anniversary of his birth than being surrounded by fine drinks and lovely ladies, a field full of flower buds for him to pick and spoil? Aemond can barely stand the frivolous pomp and pageantry, the ass kissing lords showering his brother and father in banal pleasantries and praises, as if any one of them paid any heed to such flummery; one too inebriated to care and the other unable to hear anything above his own wheezing.

Aemond has tried to excuse himself three times before the feast has even been served; as dutiful as he could be, even he has a limit, and his limit has been long surpassed by this insufferable event. But his weak spot has overcome his distaste, in the form of his gentle mother, who implores him to play the part for the evening. His sweet mother, who does everything in her power for the family to present a united front, all while sweeping the shambles behind the drapes. Only for her happiness is he willing to endure this foolery.

He hoped that chatting up some minor lordlings and not yawning before them would be enough to fulfil his obligations; but he has not accounted for the unwanted feminine attention. Aemond thought his physical imperfections and his downright hostile demeanour would be enough to ward off the ladies, but he could not deny the facts; as the eldest bachelor in the family, he remains a coveted prize to whom lords would offer their daughters in silver trays. He can vividly imagine them, ambitious men whispering in the ears of their girls and urging them to employ any means necessary to get in Aemond’s good graces. Only then could he explain the parade of fair maidens, all of them more adorned than carnival horses, showering him with their candid smiles and their coy giggles, batting their eyelashes and hinting most cunningly how much they would love to dance. They all seem to ask the same pre thought and bland questions; if one more lady asks to ever see Vhagar, Aemond would go and bring her down to the hall for them to see up close and personal.

Just when he hopes he has done enough to please his mother and the crowds, the first dances begin. One look from the Queen deters his efforts to flee the scene; without word, he has been reminded that his duty has yet to conclude. But Aemond would much rather eat Aegon’s toes than be found dancing with a lady. All his dexterity and gracefulness in the sparring yard do not translate to his waltzing skills; while he could be fast and silent and slippery in the face of the enemy, at the tune of the strings he possesses the elegance of a rotting tomato left in the sun.

The Prince knows the second he sets foot into the dance floor, he will be swarmed with adoring girls. But he cares not for them, since he has already set his eye on one. Just like the others she is burdened by golds and silks and stones, but unlike them, she carries her adornments with such grace and dignity that the opulence of her garments only brings forth her natural beauty.

There is something in her, something unidentifiable and unexplainable, that makes her so…so alluring. It may be the way her lips hold a perennially ineffable smile, so subtle one cannot truly tell it is there, but the mere possibility of its existence is enough to entice the mind.

It could also be her hands. Aemond cannot stop staring at them, from the way her fingers curl around the stem of the goblet, to the particular way they bend when she holds onto the pendant hanging from a fine gold chain around her neck, a subtle move that occurs whenever a young man engages her in conversation. Her left hand holds delicately onto a small fan, although its purpose seems to add to her aura of mysticism rather than keep her cool; her face disappears behind it whenever her smile becomes too wide, only her piercing eyes remaining visible, keeping her expressions unreadable, a most intriguing secret.

Only the greatest artists of the country, working for years on the best of marbles, could even dare to come close to resembling her splendour. The figure of the Maiden brought to life, and that would be a most dashing compliment - for the Goddess.

If he is to dance, he must dance with her.

He cuts through the crowd, moving past wide-eyed ladies and squeezing around dancing couples with one objective in mind. She is right there, standing near the pillar bearing the image of King Jaehaerys. She is alone, and she saw him coming. The proximity of the prey has Aemond on edge, muscles tense and ready to pounce. A man cuts his way, and he pushes him aside vigorously, but it is too late. Her figure has disappeared amongst the crowd like a vision.

Aemond spots her again a few minutes later, near the massive gates of the hall. Once more he approaches her, but he is distracted by his mother asking something, and once more loses his chance. The process repeats several times, with her always standing just at his fingertips but never close enough to grasp, her presence so real yet also so unsubstantial he begins to think he is trapped in a vivid dream.

The Prince is well damn tempted to just order everyone but her out of the chamber, but there is something in the chase, the subtle yet invigorating excitement of the pursuit, the way his pupil is blown wide and his jaw set in concentration. A sensation he has only ever experienced while wielding his sword in the training yards or soaring the skies with his dragon. An unexplainable elation, all due to this little dove who keeps flying away.

Aemond groans in frustration as she evades him once more. How can she be so fast and nimble while wearing a heavy gown? Are the Seven playing a wicked game on him, fate holding the prize above his head just out of reach? He does not care now for dancing nor pleasing his mother. This is a matter of pride; to go through all these obstacles to drop out mid-hunt would be shameful and disappointing.

She is now across the room, now more easily visible due to the dwindling crowds. She is looking straight at him, half her face obscured by her fan. But she pulls it down softly, painfully slow, and Aemond’s heart beats frantically in his chest, like he is witnessing the unveiling of the world’s greatest mystery. The fan rests lightly on her chin, and she rewards the prince with a cunning smirk.

She is doing it on purpose.

It all makes sense now. How could he be so stupid not to realise she has been playing the game alongside him? Evading him and taunting him, letting him think he had her and then slipping away like sand. This newfound knowledge spurs his desires. He needs to have her close, needs to know who she is and why is she doing this to him. His decorum and self-control slips away as a new feeling blooms within him. A warmth blooming in the depths of his body and spreading through his body. The more he cannot have her, the more he wants her. She may be akin to the image of the Maiden, but Aemond is sure the deity has never evoked the thoughts now crossing his mind, nor has any other woman ever before.

Determined to sate his curiosity, and perhaps some other lowly needs, he makes a straight line for her. She does not move nor backs out, and he can already feel the silk of her dress under his fingertips and the scent of her perfume in his nose. He doesn’t understand where the primal urge to crash his lips against hers stem from, but he is ready to give in to that urge as well.

His marching is cut abruptly by the colliding of his body against a long table. He had been so focused and lost, so unlike himself, that he paid no attention to anything or anyone around him, his vision like a tunnel focused upon her. The table is so long he would have to wander half the hall to circumvent it, and he still has enough hold of his wits to know it would be improper to vault over it or slide under the tablecloth. They are so close, yet the brief distance is unbreachable for the time being.

His eye meet hers, the mischief dancing in her pupils. The corners of those soft lips tug just a bit more, sly and bewitching. She backs away slowly, the fan coming up once more to shield her face. She turns around and disappears behind a column amidst the rustle of stiffened skirts and the tinkling of her bracelets

Defeat overcomes the Prince, but a smirk spreads across his own lips. He has not given up the chase; he is just giving the dove a head start before the hunt resumes.

#marsie writes #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond one eye #aemond kinslayer #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen one shot #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond stannies

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shanastoryteller · 7 months

Note

Star Trek please!! Happy Halloween

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6

Admiral Archer is unwilling to take his rescission at face value and demands a more complete explanation. To Spock's relief, and the gathered students' disappointment, he's willing to hear it in his private office.

Captain Pike slips in behind them, which gets him an irritated scowl but the admiral allows it. Spock is only marginally surprised by this. Admiral Archer and Captain Pike are known to be on good terms and James Kirk had entered the academy on Captain Pike's recommendation.

"Explain," Admiral Archer demands.

Spock hesitates.

Starfleet is of course aware of the events that took place on Tarsus IV and so they must be equally aware of James Kirk's role in it. While Admiral Archer certainly has the clearance to know the particulars, it does not mean that he does, and Spock is loathe to reveal these particulars, even to someone who could find them out himself. Additionally, Captain Pike does not have the necessary clearance, and while he does not think that James Kirk would allow his presence if he did not wish him to know, or had not already told him, Spock cannot be certain and there is no way for him to ask.

"Commander," Admiral Archer snaps. "Is this a joke to you?"

"No, sir," he answers. He doesn't find any of this funny at all.

James Kirk steps up next to him and rests a hand on his shoulder. Spock resists the urge to flinch and shoots him a disapproving look. The contact is not skin on skin, but any casual contact is discouraged. James Kirk is very well aware of Vulcan customs.

Then again, his point of contact for Vulcan culture is Sybok. His brother had been significantly more... affectionate after Tarsus IV. Spock wonders if that's something he picked up from his association with James Kirk.

"It's alright," James Kirk says warmly. "Spock, tell Admiral Archer whatever you want him to know."

He doesn't remove his hand. Human's run hot, their physiology not perfectly calibrated to survive in the deep heat of the desert, but even still James Kirk's hand feels unusually warm.

"I was unaware of Cadet Kirk's background with facing impossible odds when I made my accusation," he says. "Having been made aware of it, my perspective has shifted. Cadet Kirk does not allow rules or the constraints of logic prevent him from doing what he believes must be done. This was what he was demonstrating by bypassing and reprogramming my system."

He can feel James Kirk staring at him but he doesn't take his eyes of Admiral Archer.

Admiral Archer frowns. "You didn't know he was on Tarsus IV with your brother?"

That he already knows is a source of relief. The incredulity is less.

"Spock had exams the time I went to Vulcan," James Kirk says. "Sybok loves an excuse to go off-planet, so we usually meet up on Earth. Spock and I have never met before." He turns to him with a grin that Spock is distinctly uncomfortable having aimed in his direction. "I should have known the second I saw you. You look a lot like your mother."

Being compared to one's mother on Vulcan is a high compliment. Or it's supposed to be. Spock's had those same words hurled at him before, but it was with cruelty, as a way to demean him rather than honor the woman who bore him.

James Kirk say the words easily, exactly as they are intended to be spoken.

"You're driving me to drink," Admiral Archer says.

Spock has no idea how to appropriately respond to that.

"What about me? You're driving me to drink," James Kirk says, "which is driving Bones to as of yet unknown heights of nagging. The stress isn't good for him but he keeps threatening me with hypos when I tell him that. Can't I just be concerned for my friend?"

That is not an appropriate response on top of being incomprehensible.

Admiral Archer rubs his forehead. "Chris."

"Sir," Captain Pike returns, grabs the back of James Kirk's jacket, and hauls him out of there like grabbing a wayward kitten by the scruff of its neck.

Spock stands there, unsure, until Admiral Archer glances up and says, "You too, Commander. I'll consider this matter closed."

He nods, "Thank you, Sir," and steps outside to an empty hall. Captain Pike and James Kirk are nowhere to be seen.

Once he returns to his quarters, he video calls his brother.

He doesn't pick up.

Typical.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #anon #star trek #jim: i will refer to spock respectfully and give him typical vulcan compliments #spock who has been disrespected every day of his life: *vibrates in place*

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twisted-tales-of-all · 7 months

Text

First and Last Dance

Summary: After dying, you refuse to follow your reaper into the afterlife before experiencing what sex feels like. Pairing: Park Seonghwa x afab!Reader Genre: Smut, Horror, One-Shot Tropes: virgin!reader, grim reaper!AU, first and last time Word Count: 2.4K Contains: mild corruption kink, mentions of alcohol and drugs, discussion of dying in a fire, waking up disoriented, memory loss, cursing, pet names (sweetheart, love, baby girl, sir), unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), marking, praise, multiple orgasms, fingering (f. receiving)

"Ugh," you groan as you wake up, gripping your head tight thanks to your hangover. "Fuck, did I really do that much last night?"

Looking around with squinting eyes, you find yourself in an unfamiliar room. The dark grey walls and black-out curtains certainly help your headache, but you can't remember how you got here or where here even is.

The creak of the door draws your attention. In walks a beautiful man with hair like raven feathers and an outfit matching the dark room. Quickly, your brain runs through an empty shelf of memories, trying to figure out whether you did something with this gorgeous man and forgot. Patting your body, you find all your clothes on your body, but not quite intact. Noticing holes in the fabric, you push down the covers to figure out the damage. Strangely, you find scorch marks all over your shirt - a burned hem cutting its original length, small holes with blackened edges from sparks flying onto the flammable fabric, even a full sleeve missing.

Before you can ask about the night prior, the stranger speaks, "You probably don't remember. That tends to happen." He pulls a chair closer to the bed, sitting back and relaxing. As if running on a script, he rallies off information, "Last night, you were at a party. An accident happened, where someone dropped a lit cigarette into some spilled alcohol. Not very many people survived, as the alcohol fire spread quickly and most of the party goers were impaired by the various drugs and alcoholic drinks."

A fire? You remember everyone's screams shifting from excited to terrified, but can't remember the flames themselves. With that big of a disaster, you wouldn't have expected to forget, even under the influence.

"At least I made it out safe."

"You didn't, Y/N." The man reveals with a look of boredom on his face, "That's why I'm here. My name is Seonghwa, and I'm a reaper. It is my job to collect the newly deceased and lead you into the afterlife."

"No."

Finally showing emotion in his reaction, Seonghwa doesn't know what to say, frozen in shock. Nobody has outright denied him like this. They've fought, cried, cursed him, and even struck him, but nobody has had your composure to simply say no.

"I can't die yet. I haven't done so many things. I've barely even hugged people I found attractive. What about my first kiss, my first time? Or traveling with someone I love? I can't die when I haven't done any of that. Send me back."

There it is. A line Seonghwa's heard time and time again. But this time, it's framed differently. No first kiss? Seonghwa empathizes with you, as a reaper who often wonders of the joys of living. Reapers, of course, weren't granted that chance; forged by the gods of death with the sole purpose of easing their jobs, reapers often face a tedious, repetitive life. Most were okay with it, as that is all they ever knew, but everyone hears stories of those driven crazy after too many interactions with humans.

"I cannot send you back. You're already dead, and that's out of my powers. I simply lead you to the proper afterlife."

Your posture drops as he explains this. All you ever wanted was a sweet love story in your life, and now it won't happen. Despite this, your urge to at least try something still rages within you. So much so that you don't even try to stop yourself from asking Seonghwa a desperate question.

"Could you show me what love is like? Or at least let me feel what it's like to kiss and touch someone?"

Caught off guard by the unexpected request, Seonghwa forgets his words for a moment, his mouth hanging open slightly. You look at him, anticipating his answer and hoping he'll give in.

"You want to kiss me? To touch me?"

"Why not? You have a pretty face, a nice voice, and probably a body sculpted by gods. Why wouldn't I? You seem nice, too."

Something in the naivety of your words pulls at him. Urges he didn't know he held surface as you pout at him, and he can't stop himself from wanting to show you everything he can before leading you to your final resting place. Here, in the confines of these smoke-colored walls where time stands still and everything lies in limbo, Seonghwa breaks his personal protocol to indulge in something dark bubbling inside him. Without saying another word, he pushes himself off the chair and kisses you. He moves so fast that you can't catch your breath before his lips are mingling roughly with yours. Your hands find their way to his chest while his snake behind you, one on your upper back and the other resting on your hip.

He brings you closer, tightening the gap. As you both pant out in breaks from the sloppy kiss, your body heats up. Although you're certain you can't be kissing very well based on how much more work he's doing, he doesn't seem to pay it any mind. His luscious lips overtake yours with ease, you feel every movement amplified. The moment his cold hands slide under the remaining fabric covering you, it feels so enticing against your hot body, cooling your back down with a simple touch. Slowly, you find him guiding you to lie on the bed. He hovers above you, looking down on you as he appreciates the look on your face - a look begging for more but not knowing what that might entail; a mix of fear and longing.

Your innocence spurs him on more than he thought possible; even just seeing you looking at him and trying to steady your breathing drives him insane. His usually loose pants much more snug thanks to his erection, Seonghwa refuses to hold himself back. With a quick swipe of his hand, your shirt rips apart, revealing your bare stomach and beautifully adorned chest. With a deep growl and another swipe, your pants fall to the sides of your legs, leaving you lying under him in your matching bra and panty set.

"What a wonderful color on you." His hand lingers on your waist as he admires how well the color of your underwear suits your skin tone, "I almost don't want to rip it off of you. Almost."

Leaning in, Seonghwa leaves kisses all over your uncovered body, marking you in places he knows will feel best for you - under your ear, along your collarbone, on both hips, right above the covered portion of your chest. Although his kisses are soft, his marks turn aggressive as he sucks hard and even bites down on some spots.

Along with the rough marking, his hands make quick work of the little remaining fabric on your body. When his lips reach fabric, he quickly works to remove it. Unlike before, he takes care not to rip apart your undergarments, bringing a temporary sense of kindness to his actions. Unbeknownst to you, he's careful with them so he can hold onto them after you leave him - a souvenir of sorts. That kindness doesn't last long, not when your naked body is on full display for him. Looking down at you, he can feel himself salivate at your inexperience as it leaves you slightly covering yourself in nervousness. His eyes darken before he moves further down the bed, spreading your legs to place his face snuggly between them.

"Y-You don't have to-"

"Sweetheart," he growls as he peeks up at you, "What fun would it be if I didn't show you everything?"

Kissing and nibbling the skin on your inner thigh, his silky black hair prickles against your other leg. The closeness of the sensations to your throbbing core makes you squirm involuntarily. Feeling him chuckle against your thigh, your hands fly to your face as it heats up from the embarrassment. After giving both thighs plenty of attention, he centers himself, proud to see you soaking already. Running a finger through your folds, he uses your arousal to coat his fingers before sliding them inside you, one at a time. At the first insertion, your body tenses in response to the newfound sensation. You expected that you'd feel similar to when you do it, but the angle, the size, the speed - everything feels so different. He moves the finger in and out before adding his second one, stretching your tense body out some more.

He kisses your thigh as his fingers curl inside of you, "Relax, sweetheart. Believe me, it'll feel so much better when you untense yourself. Breathe. Enjoy it."

At his coaxing, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. Letting yourself relax, you notice the knots in your body fading, replaced with the intense warmth of your core and the slow, intoxicating movement of his fingers inside you. Noticing this, Seonghwa leans in, swirling his tongue around your folds and quickly finding your clit. He's careful and calculated in his movements here, not wanting to overwhelm you just yet. But he knows exactly how to work you up, and you feel something build inside you. You recognize this feeling and let your hips grind against him as you chase after the high you desire. He flattens his tongue against your clit, the roughness and pressure sending you over the edge. He continues curling his fingers perfectly inside you as you ride through your orgasm, the feeling rippling through you.

Slowly removing his fingers from you, you wince at the emptiness, but he caresses your cheek and shushes you as he lifts himself again. Dragging his shirt over his head, you gawk at his torso. He's slim but well-built. Not quite six-pack well, but the soft lines running down his abs look better without the added dimension. You lift your hand to drag your fingertips over his body, but he's too busy tearing his pants down to give you a chance. Your gaze drops as he moves, drawn to his cock standing tall and proud. You were right - he's definitely sculpted by gods, and whoever made him needed to be worshipped even more. How could a dick be good-looking? Everything you'd seen before was not for looking, but his looked delicious, curving upward slightly and built to spread someone open in the best ways.

While you're busy gawking at him, he climbs above you again. Grabbing your jaw roughly and forcing your gaze back to his face, he smirks.

"My face is up here, love. What could possibly be better to look at than this face?"

Crashing his lips against yours again, he doesn't need to hear an answer. Holding himself up with one arm, he moves a hand between his legs. Grabbing himself, he coats his length in your fluids by rubbing himself between your folds. The small touches leave you begging for more as he pulls his lips off of yours.

"Please... I need it."

"Oh? You need it? What a gorgeous sentence to fall from your breathless lips. Well, let me oblige."

Lining his tip up with your entrance, he slowly pushes in, stretching you out even with such a small amount. Growling with a clenched jaw, he manages to keep his pace despite wanting to bury himself entirely inside you. After a painfully long wait, he bottoms out inside of you. His length brings tears to your eyes, but they don't overflow. The burning stretch shifts away after a while, but your breath remains caught in your throat.

Pecking your lips and rubbing your cheek with his knuckles, he praises you, "You're doing so well. You can take all of me. Good job, baby girl. Let me know when you're ready."

His kind words calm you down, allowing your breathing to return to you. when the burn fades completely and your body adjusts to his size, you wiggle a bit, urging movement.

"Use your words, sweetheart. Are you ready?"

"Yessir. Please move."

Once again, your innocence feeds his urge to ruin you entirely. With your sweet voice and naivety of what it'll feel like when he moves, he throws out his plan to ease you into everything. Pulling back slowly, he slams into you, his hips hitting your thighs on impact. He keeps going at this pace, roughly slamming into you again and again. Your eyes roll back into your head and your mouth falls open, noises messily leaving your lips as your brain muddles. His hands grip your thighs, fingernails digging into your flesh as he uses his grip to pull you into him. Filling the room with the sounds of sex, Seonghwa's head falls back for a moment as he enjoys the feeling of your warmth enveloping him.

"Seonghwa," his name falls softly from your lips, "I'm gonna-"

Unable to finish your sentence as your orgasm crashes upon you, Seonghwa groans at the sensation of you finishing around him. He picks up his pace, sloppily pounding into you as he chases his own high. Leaning forward into you, his head falls into the crook of your neck, teeth gripping onto your skin as he finishes inside you. Feeling the warm liquid shooting into you, you feel strangely complete, as if all you needed to feel alive again was a grim reaper's cum.

As Seonghwa lies on top of you, your collective pants now the only sounds in the small room, you thank him for obliging in your silly request. The embarrassment of begging a total stranger to take your virginity finally hits you, so you add a small apology at the end.

Brushing your hair with his fingertips, he replies, "Don't apologize. Thank you for letting me be your experience, it awakened and quelled a desire I didn't realize I had."

"'Your experience,' that's funny. Since it's my first and last, right? You'll be all I know." You poke fun at the situation in front of you, trying to relieve the nerves slowly gathering about the afterlife.

"Good." He growls out deeply. "Keep it that way. It makes me so happy knowing that you really are all mine."

Tags: @dimpledsatan-recs @mo0nbeams

#cultofdionysusnet #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop smut #ateez #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #seonghwa imagines #seonghwa scenarios #seonghwa smut #park seonghwa smut

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bitethedevil · 2 months

Text

Raphael and the Devils Tango

I'm sorry about the awful pun (I'm not).

It's time for more ramblings about Raphael (as always, these are just the connections I’ve personally made. Feel free to discuss, disagree with, correct, or add anything you’d like).

I’ve been doing some reading of the Fiendish Codex II (credits to this awesome post, since that’s the only reason I found out about that book).

There’s a section that details the physiology of devils that I found interesting. I feel like it has been discussed every now and again if Raphael feels any sexual desires or if it is simply a tool for him. Well, listen to this:

“But even though they have no need to reproduce, some devils receive pleasure from engaging in sexual behavior. The more humanlike the devil, the more likely it is to feel sexual desire, often accompanied by a twisted, selfish need for love and affection.”

I think we can all agree that a cambion is definitely pretty ‘humanlike’ compared to some of the other horrible monstrosities in the Hells, especially with their half-mortal heritage. The “twisted, selfish need for love and affection” part especially intrigues me. It makes me think of the whole thing with Hope. Let’s keep going:

“Likewise, sexual intrigue provides a motivation for many of the grudges and alliances behind archducal politics. Like intoxication, sexual behavior, with its destabilizing and even chaotic potential, is reserved as a privilege of the mighty.”

It goes on to explain that things like sex and intoxication (yes, devils can apparently get intoxicated but not by the same means as mortals can) are basically luxuries reserved for the Archdevils. All other devils are expected to not participate in such ‘chaotic’ things, as their whole purpose is basically just to please those above them.

This is where I can imagine Raphael as a young cambion, trying to explore those natural urges, only for his dad to take him down a notch and send him an incubus instead. Someone who can satisfy his biological urges but never love him. Also sort of as a grim reminder that he is beneath Mephistopheles and not entitled to indulge in such luxuries.

I’m obviously not excusing what he has done to Hope, but it just makes me think. The crazy possessiveness and extremes he’s gone to so she can never leave (and so that she cannot be freed). What if its his sick attempt at gaining love from someone rather than just him trying to break her down because he can?

#raphael the cambion #raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

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joannasteez · 5 months

Text

fall, for me

pairing: roman reigns x black reader

warnings: its smut written at two am, i was listening to pink floyd and was feeling a yearning vibe, sometimes you just want someone to be obsessed with you and vice versa yknow?

word count: 1k

could it be that you were falling, this fast slipping separation, where the earth moves, your feet staggering, the ground cleaving till the drop takes you. and the air here pulls from the lungs, draws up quick and terrible. the heat of your skin building till the fire from the friction of the air leaves you to burn. no, falling is easier than this, falling is simple, falling is old theory come to life. gravity and mass and so on and so forth. but this thing, this sweet aching in your chest, that which you cannot see, but feel all the same, is something else entirely, and to say that you were falling for him...

that you were crashing with abandon for him...

breathless and hot and desperate...

his tongue tasted like everything, well like you and nothing much else really, but the feel of him, the slip of it through your lips, wet and lingering, controlling. it was everything. like when the sun breaks from off the horizon, a slow, sure, rise, burning into that rolling in of the dawn a warming sort of majesty. and your fingers, slipping through his hair till they took to the roots, pain turned pleasure pulsing in his skin as you pulled and formed to him. roughing into him things already understood, that did not have to be explained with great words and phrasings. he could simply feel the scorching in your skin, and know that you were his. that the clinging to him was not in vain.

but you'll say it anyways. speak softly in your delirium. as his hips make no rush to slip into yours, but steady and exacting all the same. cock hard and heavy as it takes to the softness of you. your mouth parting from his, hesitantly so, growing small beneath him, beneath the weight of the ache in your chest.

"would it be too much to-", your lips chasing the curve of his, each breath wanting and scared and needy. "to much to say that i-..."

but then the air about your words breaks, flattening to nothing as his hips dig in, taking purchase deeper. and you pull to take him, wet and hot and ill-controlled, moaning desperate and mindless.

"say what?"

and your nails nearly split into his back, hissing in time with your own pleasures and your pains, thighs burning as they spread wide, the muscles pulling, tired but working still to please the build of him. and you try, even in your failures to speak, to muster feelings into words, for an expression, even if broken, to say the burdening things he already knows. but everything falters, shatters to bits as you tremble beneath him, whimpering pretty nonsense. pleasepleaseplease, before the inevitable gratitude, thankyouthankyouthankyou, light like a feather, so good and so reverential and so needy. so weak and willing.

"say it", he urges. feens to feel the slight of the words beneath his skin. like a cutting into the veins. a rushing in his blood. as you pulse and shake and curse.

"'m a little...", a gasp and then a beat. gathering slowly the words despite the rocking in his hips. the way his hard body grinds and slips at your soft tender skin, at the swollen throb of your clit. and he can taste you still on his tongue, feel the slow sweet drip of arousal, patient in the way it'd met him, as if he'd been graced with something both beautiful and rare, only meant for the one worthy enough to receive it. and he'd taken it well, pushed his tongue in wet till he couldn't anymore, his face buried as he sought hard to please you. lips suckling till they released, teeth hissing, appetite greedy. sofuckingpretty, he'd moaned, rushed, lavishing your slit, his thumb caressing the wet pearl of your clit again, dazed in his own amazements. and the memory forced him to take you harder, to maybe abandon his methods, his steadiness, his temperament. maybe he'd just break you, knock you loose to form you back together again. maybe he'd- "...'m a little obsessed with you", you laugh amidst a moan. amidst the wet stroke he takes to your pussy. "...i think".

"you think?", like mocking. his lips curving amused. it seemed to be a challenge, a call to action. but he would settle it ruthlessly, so that there was neither doubt nor hesitation. he would make up your mind, if you, amidst the delirium, could not yourself. "just a little bit?"

"...Mhmm...", feeling the twist and the burden of the ache. the slow to subside burning that only leads to some unrestrained bliss. "...fuck...maybe-maybe a lot", your body shivering as he shifts, thick fingers pushing into the bend of your knees to fold you in half, his own knees screwing into the bed as your lower lips spread further, splitting wet and messy to stretch perfect for him. and here, vulnerable to him like this, he takes you to the hilt with less consideration.

"it ain't no maybes for me sweetheart", his hips rutting as he goes about fucking you with the deftness of a brute. his tongue pulling to lick over his lips quick as his eyes bare down on the beauty of you, fingers combing against the fall of his hair, his chest rising and falling with every breath, damp and red with heat, with lust and the purity of other things. and he grunts, rushes to chase the soft pull of you, pussy a soaked mess as it disgraces the sheets, tight and greedy as it works to keep him close. throbbing crazily to feel the fullness of him till it seemed impossible.

and of course sooner or later, you'd have him at his knees, again, whether literal or metaphorical it did not matter, but if need be, he'd be the proof, of old theory's come to life. of mass and of gravity. he'd allow again, over and over like he does now, that fast slipping separation, where the earth moves from beneath his feet. he'd fall for you.

"i can't live without you".

#roman reigns #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns fic #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns smut #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x female reader #joannasteez

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astrogre · 11 months

Text

The Planet that is Pluto

Words: power, control, obsession, the underworld, intensity, intense emotions, intense everything, domination, taboo, depth, sex, repressed emotions, shadow self, the survivor, detective, alchemy, dark arts, superiority, fear, bravery

Astrological placements associated with Pluto: Scorpio, 8th house, Aries

Character I associate with Pluto: Femto-Berserk

The way Griffith sacrifices the souls of his people to transform into Femto and have dominance over others. What he does to Casca as well. He is the epitome of an extreme Plutonic character.

Honourable mentions: Homelander- The Boys, Laurie- Euphoria, Makima- Chainsaw man, Erik- Phantom of the Opera, Gaara-Naruto

Places: hades underworld realm, chess tournament’s, hell, anywhere with hierarchy aka corporate workplace, government institutions (because of power play/dynamics), caves, underground tunnel, escape rooms, secret society hidden meetings, nightmares,

Random somewhat astrologically influenced things that personally remind me of Pluto: Rigger, black grapes, death by strangulation, wine, babushka dolls, long nails, snakes, a public executor in the medieval ages, chess, cults, BDSM, the colour black, power play

Song I associate with Pluto:

Listen to this while you read it to immerse yourself in Pluto energy and surroundings, also read the lyrics too it’s very much Pluto energy

For you Pluto dominants:

(Pluto 1st house, Pluto 8th house, Pluto conjunct asc, Pluto conjunct Sun, many strong aspects to Pluto & Honourable mentions: 8th house stellium, Scorpio Stellium.)

This is entire post is dedicated to you

Plutos Traits:

Regenerative and transformative

Think of a snake shedding skin to become anew or when you’ve overcome and left abusive relationships and you’re back in your self confidence. Pluto is a phoenix bird it has a DEEP urge for regeneration and can transform itself from its own ashes into a diamond, Pluto itself is the pressurising machine. Say ashes represent the shittiest moments of our life e.g abuse, relationships, trauma, Pluto has the ability as an alchemist to use this horrible event to make something of more value, it transmutes basic base metal to gold. Transmutes pain and death to renewal. Pluto sees trauma as fuel. Without ashes (intense emotions or experiences) Pluto cannot show up and do it’s thing. Check where you have Pluto in the houses, this may be where you can get hurt most but it’s purposefully for a reason you’re supposed to use those intense emotions and make something beautiful of them

Eg. Pluto in 11th houser may have intense traumatic social circles or communities that ostracise, diminish, use or control them. As a Pluto 11th houser YOU have dominion here, you guys are social climbers the real life underdogs to Royalty stories. Use their exploitation of you as fuel, motivation and a resources to your success.

(Kylie and Kris Jenner have this placement and we all know how they absorb the drama, publicity and negativity from others like a champ, embody it, all to gain constant relevancy, power, influence and fame in their careers. Scandals make their profits go up like the whole Jordan woods drama and using it as marketing to do a sale on Kylie Jenner lip kit, Kris having their children’s private lives scrutinised and publicly available all so her family can gain relevance and wider opportunities)

Dominance and control

The reason why Pluto is known for obsession is because it urges to have the upper hand, Pluto won’t argue when defied he simply acts unbothered but exacts revenge in a cold manner, it wants to dominate and will go to extreme lengths to do that, it will go at all costs, the obsession manifests in an illogical, ego based way think of Gabriel Agreste from miraculous ladybug- how he prioritises triumphing ladybug over saving his wife, that kind of obsession. In my personal opinion I see Pluto as the second ego after Sun. It’s better if I explain by comparison… Think of powerful and dominating planets like Saturn and Mars, imagine if you owed each of these planets money and were in deep debt with them this is how they would respond:

Saturn: would employ you to do gruelling long hard work for many years, no retirement so that you’d die working on their behalf. If you refuse or die before debts are paid they would simply pass your debt onto your children make them do it to repay the money you owe. (If you’ve seen Chainsaw man, Saturn would work/treat the debtors children kind of like the way Denji was treated he had to pay off his fathers debts; in burdensome conditions where his health was being compromised for repayment.)

Mars: if you owed money to mars and were not able to pay it back, mars would most probably threaten you, beat you up, do a drive by shooting, physically destroy your assets like keying cars, graffiti and bulldozing your house, may be very aggressive think of loan sharks and mafia

Pluto: Now if you owe Pluto money.. Pluto is the kind to go further than mars, he would make you pay for it personally, in a way that can be grotesque/dark think of maybe rue from euphoria. When she owed money she just randomly woke up in a strangers bed and the house being filled with men implying she had been sex trafficked. Pluto is very wicked, obsessive and can be unsympathetic. It would not care if you feel pain and regret for inconveniencing them, it does this to put you in your place and prefers you repay the money with your suffering. Pluto may not even want the money anymore but rather the control and prioritises the debtors torture or will get the losses at your expense. eg. Sex trafficking you, have you wake up on the road after being unconscious and notice your kidneys are missing, hold you hostage, torture you, sell your body parts at an elite auction house, make detestable arrangements behind your back like forced marriage etc. This is how Pluto exacts its power and control.

Power obsessed

Pluto gets what it wants and exerts control over others while it does. That’s why it’s described as “scary” and associated with fear, a combination of ego and revenge. This is why wherever Pluto is in your houses it can show where you are intimidating, relentless and powerful and what you have constantly been resiliently obsessing over for years.

E.g Pluto 1st housers feel the desperate need to be in control and that they are seen to be dominant. They’re kind to get insulted if you call them “cute” or make jokes about their authority. (Leonardo DiCaprio, Beyoncé, Britney Spears and Justin Beiber all have this placement and came out of being typecasted or known as the “sweet good girl/boy” stereotype to powerful and to be taken with caution.

Taboo

Pluto is labelled taboo because it inserts itself into light AND darkness. It doesn’t mind and in fact rather enjoys exploring sex, defiance, repressed emotions, any subject that the general public refuse to speak of, Pluto relishes in that. I remember as a child there was a myth that I was told. It was that if you say “Bloody Mary” three times in the mirror you’ll get haunted and a ghost will appear to attack you, while other children may scream and dread in fear to even think of doing such an act, Pluto ruled natives may be the kind when alone to quickly run into the bathroom turn off the lights and try it out alone. That’s why they’re known to participate in dark arts, have interest in disturbing topics, they are fearless, like the challenge and find the minuscule information available on it a challenge. It’s not that Pluto ONLY has interest in taboo topics it’s just that it doesn’t hold as much fear of it as everyone else, talking about sex or death to Pluto is like talking about the weather, it’s no different, after all it’s just another subject.

The reason why they’re so fascinated by such topics and affiliated with them is because they see wasted energy and potential in these dark topics, abandoned resources that nobody wants meaning there’s more for them, and that’s why Pluto wants to explore it. Pluto isn’t wasteful. If Pluto were to kill a cow it would use its meat for food, bones for medicine, skin for rugs and teeth for necklaces, not a part of it would go unused. It gets excited when someone hits them because it means they can hit back.

Hidden self

Pluto is the hidden shadow part of yourself self you may want to hide and refuse to acknowledge. This is because as mentioned before Pluto loves the darkness and inside the subconscious there’s the good stuff and the bad stuff, our subconscious holds our fears, our beliefs, our desires and Pluto brings out all that stuff as conversation starters and wants to explore it and use it as fuel. This is why Pluto is known to be triggering because to be honest who wants to remember the fact they are afraid of touch and their abuser that caused that? But Pluto does. Pluto wants to remember them, Pluto wants to bring it up, Pluto wants to know who they are, Pluto wants to get revenge on them and put them in their place. Wherever Pluto is in your houses can also show how you can exact revenge so that it hits hard on others.

E.g. Pluto 4th house can suggest native can use powerful resources in their family, or their family has status, control, authority over others and can utilise it against others to contribute to their downfall.

(Megan Markle has this placement and she certainly lives up to it. She’s able to use the traumatic experiences she endured as a royal as fuel against them and is slowly contributing to the downfall of the monarchy by using her name and her affiliation to the royal family).

How to activate Pluto

Pluto can only transform and use its powers of Alchemy, transformation, control and power if you tap into its energy otherwise Plutos potential will be ignored. The same with any placement really. If you have a Venus 1st house, you want to be a beauty influencer but don’t put yourself out there, it’s energy will never manifest and remain as wasted potential.

The way you’re supposed to use Pluto is by confronting your fears. When you are most afraid, do it anyway.

E.g. Pluto 7th housers when you’re laying in bed and you’re thinking of that traumatic experience in your relationships instead of suppressing it, allow Pluto to remember it and allow that level of disrespect you feel to take action in the way of your Pluto sign.

(Shakira, Cardi B and Megan Thee stallion all have this placement and exacted revenge on their partners in different ways, Shakira and Cardi did it by artistically exposing them in music and making money form it, Megan did it the same way and also by lawsuits, doing public interviews on torey Lanes and pressing charges)

Anything Pluto touches is where you hold the most power in your birth chart. Usually people say how come i’m not good in that area?? It’s because you’ve not utilised Pluto. It’s because you won’t let Pluto explore it and turn your tribulations into gold.

What can Pluto tell us:

The best way of how you can exact revenge for it to successfully hit hard on others.

Where your wasted potential is. Basically where you allow your fears, desires, trauma to lay dormant instead of using that intense energy for Pluto transformation

Where we get excited when someone hits us because it means we can hit back. (Applies only if native is used to Plutos energy, otherwise you won’t be able to hit back. You’ll know if it’s active if when you have challenges under the themes of the house Plutos in you trust you can fight back like you have in the past)

Where you hold the most power

What you obsess over

How you deal with fears, death, change and trauma

Which part of your life you experience extreme transformation and changes

What you like to fight for

I will most likely be making a series that incorporates all of this for each house. However due to the fact that I am unfortunately very detail oriented this may take a while for me to commit to.

Pluto Series:

Pluto in 1st House

#dark astrology #astro notes #astrology observations #astro placements #astrology #pluto #sagittarius pluto #pluto aspects #pluto in 1st house #pluto 1st house #scorpio #8th house #astro posts #Spotify

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mangosrar · 6 months

Text

Him first.

chris sturniolo x fem reader

part 3 of middle game!!!

part 1 here, part 2 here , part 4 here.

mentions of sex

A fortnight, 2 weeks, 14 days. A whole 336 hours had passed since you last saw Chris Sturniolos face. You had been avoiding him at all costs. However, this also resulted in you ignoring Matt and Nick too. You hadn't answered any of their texts or calls, despite their relentless efforts. Chris had even gone as far as showing up to your house, he spent at least half an hour banging on your front door telling you "I know you're in there just hear me out" resulting in you telling him to take his boom box and get fucked.

Within these 2 weeks, a lot had changed. The day after the party you and Jasper had broken up for obvious reasons, he was angry and hurt, but considering he was a complete and total ass, and so full of himself, he could use the hit to his ego to take him down a few pegs. You had completely isolated yourself from the outside world, not leaving your apartment other than to take out the trash. Your phone had been neglected, going days without charge. Truth was, being lonely was dangerous. Its addicting and once you see how peaceful it is, it becomes a desperate need.

Well all good things must come to an end eventually, and here you were, outside their house, trying to work up the courage to knock. You were absolutely fine with never seeing any of them again, purely for the fact you weren't sure you could face them without throwing up, especially Chris. But Nick at least deserved an explanation. Do it Rue. Just knock pussy. DO IT. But he had you beat.

"Rue hey" His face was one of shock and a little bit of confusion but he was pleasant none the less.

"Hey Matt... um i just came by to see Nick, sorry its un announced, i just....." you trailed off not really knowing how to explain but he nodded his head in understanding.

"Chris and Nick are out right now but they should be home soon, you're more than welcome to come in and wait?" he opened the door further, urging you to come in.

There was a moment of hesitation. The fear of having to actually see Chris fore fronting your mind.

"Sure" now or never Rue.

You sat awkwardly on the couch. It has never been like this. usually you were sprawled out, legs resting on the coffee table or one of the boys, smile on your face. But now you were scared to sit too far back, a heavy feeling hanging in the air. Matt had curtly followed you to the living room, not wanting to be rude, but it was obvious he could too feel the awkwardness.

He cleared his throat and hesitated before speaking.

"I think you should hear him out Victoria, he has been beating himself up ever since that night and i don't know how much longer i can watch my brother hate himself over this whole thing" he spoke with his hands, furthering his point.

"He should be beating himself up Matt. What he did was wrong and he's not the only one suffering. Jasper and i broke up." you were annoyed. Usually you saw Matt as the level headed one but right now you wanted to scream. How was he defending Chris.

"Sophie and Chris broke up too. But you both did this Rue. You both cheated. You both lied. You're both in the wrong. You cannot put all the blame on Chris when its just as much your fault as it is his. Sure the way he went about it wasn't the best but he meant well, he never wanted to hurt you." And before you could even reply, you heard the front door open and lazy footsteps stomping up the stairs. You were sure you could see your heart beating in your chest. Your hands were sweating and you felt sort of dizzy.

The first face to appear round the corner was Nicks. He stopped in his tracks when he saw you. His face was unreadable. You couldn't tell if he was angry at you or happy to see you. You heard a faint and confused 'what' from Chris, after seeing Nicks reaction to whatever mystery the living room held.

His face was next to appear, that gorgeous, chiselled, beautiful face you loved. You watched it fall and the colour drain from it. He was definitely not expecting you.

"Rue" his voice was so quiet you barely heard it. It seemed like it was more of a justification for himself that you were actually there Infront of him.

Your eyes were locked on his, you couldn't bring yourself to look away. You just wanted to jump into his arms and tell him everything was going to be okay, but you reminded yourself of why you came here and made your way over to Nick.

"No" Nicks sharp tone took you back. He held up a hand in front of you, preventing you from coming any closer.

"Nick just hear me out okay?" Your voice was shaking and tears were threatening to fill your water line.

"Him first". He pointed to Chris, his gaze never leaving yours. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Chris raise his eyebrows in surprise, he obviously was not expecting that either. Nicks voice was stern and you knew there was no way you were getting out of this. You looked at him with pleading eyes but he was already motioning matt to follow him away, ushering him out the room.

There was no getting out of this, he looked so weary of you, like he was waiting for you to make your escape. Even if you tried to run he would catch you, there was no way you weren't hearing this. The fact that you were so close he could reach out and touch you was tortuous, the only thing stopping him was the wedge he had plunged between the two of you. He wanted to scream, to go back in time and yell in the face of his past self, to tell him that was the stupidest decision he would ever make. He took a step closer to you testing the waters, stopping in his tracks when you moved away. He hung his head and shoved his hands in his pockets before speaking.

"I know there's nothing i can say or do to make this okay Rue but you have to listen to me. I have been going crazy these past two weeks, and honestly before that, i don't know why i haven't acted on it before but i guess i was scared or insecure or... i don't even know but," he paused, staring deep into your eyes, trying to make you realise how honest he was being. "i know that i love you. I know that every time we hung out or hooked up i was dreading you leaving, i know that i hated seeing you with Jasper, i know that every time i kissed Sophie i wished it was you, i know that i cannot let you go as easily as i did before and i know that if i do i will never forgive myself for it. So please Rue, forgive me, show me how i can love you, show me how i can be enough for you".

You were speechless, the tears that threatened to spill were now full fledge running down your face and neck. You had never seen him like this. In all the times you had had sex, spent days together, late night drives, pillow talk, you had never seen him in such a venerable state. He had ripped his heart out of his body and put it on display for you to examine, with no shame at all. He took your silence as an indication to carry on speaking.

"I don't know if this will change anything or if you will continue to hate me for the rest of my life but god Rue, it hurts, i love you so much it hurts, i love you so much i don't think you understand, you're all i think about, i find you everywhere, everything reminds me of you, my sheets smell like you, my home smells like you, there are pieces of you everywhere Victoria, i can't escape it and i don't want to, i want to be with you every second of every day for the rest of my life, so please try not to hate me Rue". How sweet his voice came out, how his lips had caressed every word like he knew exactly which place in your chest they fit into, taking that space in your heart you had made for him and making it bigger and bigger. His eyes were full of honesty. No matter how hard you tried to find even a fraction of uncertainty, it was a losing battle. His gaze gained a fraction of hope the longer you stared at him, absolutely bewildered with his words, he could see your walls slowly crumbling. This was it.

"How could i hate you" that was all you could muster up. The only words that would even form in your mind. His face lit up. The corners of his mouth lifted and his eyes glowed in your presence.

He wasted no time leaping forward and grabbing your face, almost knocking you over in the process, and kissing you like he would never get the chance again, it was full of passion and love, lungs so deprived of air, you were sure that if it lasted just a second longer you would die.

You both pulled back, foreheads resting together, catching your breath.

"I cant believe I actually just said all that sloppy corny shit" Chris's words were hushed, but his face never changed from that of adoration and love.

You couldn't help but throw your head back to let out a laugh and if Chris could've bottled the sound and got drunk on it, he would have.

literally posting this as i’m boarding my flight 😛😛😛😛

1 more part after this y’all enjoy 🙏🙏🙏🙏

@christinarowie332 @sturniolostvrs @kitaysworld @urmyslxt @biimpanicking @soursturniolo @sturnphilia @cupidtoast @lividnity @freshlovehacker @deatthmatch @daddyslilchickenfingers

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feniksido · 6 months

Text

For some reason my post about the Heist in the Hells has been getting some traction recently so I thought maybe it's time to talk about my actual thoughts on what I would like to see in the hypothetical Heist in the Hells DLC (my personal hell)

I was trying to figure out a whole bunch of stuff about Mephistopheles and the 8th layer of the hells! First, the vaults are in Mephistar, a citadel on top of a Glacier named Nargus, which is piloted by Mephisto all over Cania constantly on the move. Mephisto has his slowly melting throne at the very center of the glacier, and the rest of the city is like a mini-hell with 3 terraced levels where the lowest level is with “lowly least devils” and mid tier for mid devils i guess and then hellfire masters and nobles and the wizards on the third higher levels. It’s heated on the inside of Mephistar! It has baths and scented fires (not sure what they smell like but I assume something other than fire?)

The rest of Cania is just like barren wasteland full of just the weirdest left over arcane energy cus of Mephisto’s experimentation, its cold as fuck and it has constant surveillance against spies, mostly spies sent by Dispater, mr THE Arms Dealer of all the planes, so you know that motherfucker mephistopheles is very used to these types of people showing up and trying to go into the vaults and such

NOW Helsik very specifically used the words “I punched a portal into the Archdevil’s dusty vaults”, so I assume it was directly into the vaults that they fell into. I'm not sure how this is even possible but i'm not one to ask questions that i will never understand the answers to (lying, im seething)

However, regardless of the fact that I don't know how Helsik the queen that she is did that, she did do it. I imagine the vaults are huge and incredibly elaborate and probably several stories? Layers? Deep. The items and scrolls and information must all be neatly cataloged and kept track of in the most particular way because Mephistopheles is nothing if not obsessively controlling of all his knowledge and information

However the whereabouts of the actual physical objects must be like.. Constantly changing or magically protected so that those with no authorization cannot find their way through the vaults

Mephistopheles’s filing system is… insane but i do think he would keep track. Or make someone else keep track. He’s very busy. He typically hands down experiments he ran out of time to deal with in his busy schedule to his lessers so I wouldn't put it past him to have someone else also take care of the cataloging. The Crown of Karsus is NOT high on his priority list so i understand how this was potentially feasible to Gortash and The Dark Urge

Actually Talking about the heist itself now:

I imagine that if a whole heist dlc (don't think we’re getting one but a man can dream) did happen it would start with a bit of exposition. Probably explaining a little bit of the Letters between Durge and Gortash. Specifically these ones:

Then we cut to a scene where they’re already at Helsik’s place. They’ve discussed the plans in depth, they’ve been doing test runs for this in the House of Hope and now it’s time for the real deal.

Helsik “punches” the portal into the Vaults and they jump in. The portal closes behind them, Helsik will not allow herself to be implicated in anything. They take in their surroundings; they have to be quick, although it is heated inside of Mephistar the frigidness of Cania cuts deeper than anything Baldur’s Gate could ever manage. I imagine that they, having never been here before, look for something that can help them navigate/orient themselves in the vaults. Perhaps that whole cataloging system I talked about earlier. You can choose to ignore it and just go straight forwards checking every room making it substantially harder and less efficient which makes Gortash a little pissy at you for not taking his advice and helping him look for that or you can look around for one but the actual system for cataloging is encrypted

Maybe a mini puzzle game can take place here, like the one with the brain in Moonrise Towers

The thingy would then lead deeper into vaults where they would fight Gelugons (the main residents of the 8th layer also known as ice devils) and other assorted devils including pit fiends and pain devils. Maybe a couple dire polar bears also who knows who Mephisto but on his security team

At one point i want to come across an ice devil that much like Yurgir in the house of hope in act 3, can be convinced to side with you and become a temporary ally (perhaps it holds resentment towards Hutijin, mephistopheles’ second in command, and just got sick and tired of the monotony and wants to stick it to the man, i just want a devil in my party even for a second)

If you manage to successfully persuade this devil to join you, Gortash might be impressed and tell you about how tricking a devil is no easy feat, you can ask him to elaborate on that and he might tell you a bit about his time in the house of hope as Raphael’s unwilling guest Who knows

Moving on, I’d like several more puzzles to delve deeper into the vaults, some that lead nowhere some that lead exactly where you need to go, if you did the earlier puzzle Gortash will be able to guide you and say which ones lead nowhere and which ones are the ones you need to do

Eventually I want a mechanically engineered door to be the next hurdle which Gortash takes upon himself to solve on his own since he’s more well suited towards this kind of thing, during this, rounds and rounds of incoming security swarm around you both, and Durge has to defend Gortash while he works on getting the door open. Much like the quest for Halsin looking for Thaniel in the Shadowfell, you gotta keep the portal open but instead of “keep the portal open” its “keep Gortash alive and not distracted”

When the rounds of enemies are done you get a little cutscene where you see Durge being overwhelmed by the many devils and it cuts to Gortash who has just opened the door and he takes less than a second’s pause before he decides that instead of going through the door and escaping to relative safety on his own, leaving durge to die he helps durge and they are both able to get through the door sealing it behind them, now in relative safety, they both take a second to breathe

You as durge now can talk to Gortash and have the dialogue options to say Thank you, scold him for dragging you away from the bloody slaughter, or question his decision to come back for you

I THINK IN MY MIND that the response for all these options would basically be the same, because Gortash is a well practiced speaker and knows exactly what to say but his body language would sort of give him away for the way he’s feeling about the option you choose

Thanking him would lead to a more defensive “pushing away” way of saying “I still require your assistance, we’re not done. Don’t expect it to happen again.” tsundere ass but like imagine that but better written

Scolding him would get a sorta like “I cant fucking believe this” as if he expected durge to be a little more practical about things and not lose focus in the madness that was that slaughter and rampage, like i said still the same but just “Argh! I still require your assistance! We are NOT done. DO NOT expect it to happen again if you intend to act this way.” He needs you to focus, not lose yourself in blood

Questioning and challenging his decision but not outright saying you disapprove would probably be playing right into the whole “equals who challenge each other” thing that he likes to do so it’d probably make him slow down, talk slower, make him really think about why he did it and do the thing where while talking he can't look at Durge in the eyes so he looks off to the side or down at the floor “I still need your help. We’re nowhere near done. Let’s not expect this to happen again, yes?” Like acknowledging that yes that was in fact weakness that neither of their masters tolerate (because obviously the correct thing a baneite would have done is let the bhaalspawn die so that he alone already so close to the crown could take it for himself) and almost regretful that he didn't have a better excuse

You continue forward and finally come into the room with the Crown of Karsus and the portfolio labeled “Accelerated Grand Design”, there they encounter a boss fight, probably not mephisto himself cus they’d be dead tbh but maybe a simulacrum or something idk here things get a bit dicey for me cus what the fuck! How do they get out? I thought maybe they do the fight and once they grab everything they need or want they maybe have an enhanced cloak of dimension door or maybe a scroll of teleportation or something to get them out of the deep deep VAULTS themselves and into a place where they can “safely” create another circle on this side with the components and specific instructions Helsik gave them

They’d arrive home back in Baldur’s Gate and celebrate their victory briefly and bada bing bada boom the dlc is over. If i had it my way at the end right there those two idiot geniuses would get so horny from the powerrush and bloodlust they just experienced that they end the dlc with durgetash fucking nasty

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #enver gortash #the dark urge #durgetash #now when does this take place? great question i dont have an answer for you #do i have it all thought out? no i do not #did i spend a lot of time researching Mephistar just to have nothing to show for it? absolutely baby #helsik #guys please tell me you have your own thoughts i literally feel like im losing my mind #baldur’s gate 3

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fanfiction-blep · 1 year

Text

That's some plant. 2~ Na'vi Miles Quaritch x Fem/Reader

OKAY LETS GO SIMPS.

Warnings: SMUT, High sex, use of substance, ownership kink, dom/sub dynamic, daddy quaritch. (Its gone midnight for me, so this has not been edited)

Okay so when you wake up! He's all smirky.

"Some flower huh?" You blush at the position your in, legs tabled and hand on his bare chest.

"You know you aren't really supposed to eat those raw? that's a really high dose" "No shit" He snorts shaking his head in laughter. "So how do we take it?" "The Na'vi make tea" "Wanna get high?" He has the BIGGEST shit eating grin. He had so many urges and he was just too fogged up due to the plant, he wasn't even able to explain it to you.

Since it was a high dose he just couldn't function which is a good thing cus he totally wanted to fuck you.

So you go over to your cabinet of medical supplies. Find some dried samples of the plant. Putting them in a tea strainer you don't even look at him, you knew what he was thinking. You are just a small shy bean and just need him to take the first step.

You wait patiently for the tea to brew, fiddling with your hands. "so uh the mix is just as potent, just a lower dose" "that's alright by me sweetheart, just wanna see you act as stupid as i did last night" You knew that there was more hidden behind his smirk, by the way he acted last night you're relationship wasn't strictly professional.

When the tea was done you poured it into two cups, and handed him one. "It'll take a minuet to kick in" You blushed as his fingers brushed against your hand. "is all good sweetheart"

OKAy so when it kicks in you get the giggles, Miles is looking around for whatever is so funny. Points to himself and gets all sad and pouty. "why ya laughing at me" He crosses his arms over his still bare chest. "I'm not! I'm so sorry!" You scramble over to him sitting on his lap poking at his chest.

His tail starts thumping on the soft mattress below you both, eyes wide looking up at you. He reaches one of his hands to cup your face, your own tail starts swaying slowly anticipation building in your stomach.

"You are so pretty-" "Thanks you too" He smiles at you and leans his head against the wall behind him, "do you ever think about how weird it is that we glow in the dark" "Oh my gosh! yes! It's so odd" You jump off of him and run to the light switch, throwing the room into darkness. You attempt to walk in a straight line but cannot, causing you to laugh and bend over and place your hands on your knees.

It takes a minuet but you use the bioluminescent freckles dotting Miles chest and arms, to find your way back to the bed his face being the most visible feature to follow. When you climb onto the bed not on his lap this time miles grabs you're hips and pulls you on top of him.

"I want to kiss you so bad, is that okay?" his breath was heavy you could ld see his tongue coming out to brush against your lips. You nod giving him permission. He leans up and places a sloppy open mouthed kiss to your neck. You begin to purr the feeling of his lips sending electricity to your core.

He leaves more kisses and then starts rubbing his cheek and head against your own, craving the feeling of your skin on his. You involuntarily start grinding down on him and he looses his damn mind.

Rutting up into you're clothed core. Moaning and whining. "Ya so pretty, so good to me" He runs the tips of his fingers down your arms and you cant handle it anymore you need his hands everywhere.

You pull your shirt off your heaving chest and pull your shorts off your long legs. More freckles that cover your body becoming visible to the marine who was no palming himself through his sweatpants.

It was like a road map to him. he wanted to trace every spot and freckle with his mouth.

AND THAT HE DID

He makes you lay down, you wanted to grind on him some more. He leaves a trail of kisses starting at the nape of your neck all the way down to the line of your panties. here he looked up at you unable to see your expressions clearly he needed you to talk.

"I want to touch you, I need to taste you" You simply nodded running your hands over his head clumsily

He rips off your underwear, try and convince me otherwise I dare you.

So he is so sloppy and lazy with giving you head, he takes his time trying to make sure he is making you feel good but due to you both being high as a kite the shared expressions was incredible. All the different senses that are heighted by the plant allowing you to orgasm twice, and you taste like the best meal he has ever had due to the plant.

When he is satisfied that he has eaten you out well enough. He steps off the bed and kicks off the sweat pants, the spots and freckles extended down to his throbbing erection so even in the dark you could see how much he is going to stretch you. He climbs back onto the bed clumsy and laughing to himself a deep rumbling purr growing in his chest as he licks and sucks the skin leading up to your lips.

The first time he kisses you on the mouth is so passionate, it is deep and takes your breath away. You hold onto him hands fidgeting in a desperate attempt to pull him closer. The feeling intoxicating, causing you to grind up against him. Bare skin of your core leaving traces of your arousal against him.

The GrOWls PLEASE

He takes your writs in one hand and holds onto his cock with the other guiding it to your entrance. He pushes the head inside you leaning down to kiss you, swallowing the moans that leave your mouth as he pushes in slowly, inch by inch.

The mewls and whines that leave your mouth make him loose his mind. The plant has intensified every sensation up by ten so the feeling of your walls fluttering around him was almost to much. Him even still inside you was too much and you had to fight back the urge to thrust upwards.

"Please, daddy, Please I need you to fuck me" He leans his head in the nape of your neck and starts moving his hips slowly. "Feel so good for me, my pretty lil thing" Your head is pushing hard against the pillow at the pleasure he is giving you.

Then You start getting real close. "Please I'm so close" He starts snapping his hips into yours at a rapid harsh pace. "Ya gonna cum on my cock? huh ya gonna scream for daddy?" You nod whining at the new pace mixed with the plant still in your situation leaving you unable to talk. "Common who's you're daddy? Who ya belong too Princess?" He removed his hands from your wrist's and starts holding onto your hips.

It's too much you can barely respond to his words before you clamp down spasming underneath him. a strangled "Fuuuck Daddy" fell from your lips followed by incoherent cries. Miles followed close behind you. Pulling out and cumming on your stomach. it only took him a few seconds to try and find a cloth of tissue to clean you up.

He didn't even bother to turn on the lights before he climbed onto the bed and pulled the blanket over the both of you. Kissing the side of your head. Both of you purring intensely.

"You were right, that is some flower" You giggled before falling asleep in his arms again.

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