#but it needs to be explored to their full capacity

[willowistic22]

I believe the newsies fandom has unanimously (at least for the majority of us) agree on a few things such as jack, race, and crutchie being siblings. And i believe as siblings they hv a few activities they do together to bond. The activity i want to push into the narrative here is horseback riding. Let me explain.

Jack, Crutchie, and Race were adopted by Medda on various different occasions but were around the same age. It started from Ms Medda being a foster parent to Jack. She had personally knew the boy’s mom. One thing let to another, Jack was forced to be taken cared of by Medda at quite the young age. Not long after, Crutchie came and so did Race (who was just a year younger than the two but accelerated in school so they were in the same grade). It wasn’t long till Medda finalized their adoption paper and they were thrilled.

Growing up together, they soon realized they liked different things from one another. However, they find out horseback riding one day as middle schoolers and has never looked back since. It was one Summer roadtrip to visit Medda’s friend who lived on a farm. They had horses and let the boys have their fun. They begged Medda to learn on their own, and Medda was delighted to hear it. She never wanted to stop the boys from learning and exploring new things. She doesn’t have the means to buy and own a horse, but she can definitely afford them proper lessons.

Idk like the specifics of which equestrians disciplines they would take up + what they are in general (i’m not an equestrian sorry) but they definitely rock a lot of equestrian shit. They enter competitions but i wld say they’re like average at it so not a lot of wins. But also i don’t believe equestrian are their main sports to begin with so it doesn’t really matter to them, they just enjoy horseback riding in general. However if it is important to yall, I believe Race wins the most trophies with Crutchie a close second and jack very far behind the both of them lolz. He’s just too focused on living his childhood dream of being a cowboy. Their favorite thing to do with horseback riding though is to ride freely in an open field and just race around together. It’s not even considerably a race since their riding mostly consists of laughing and feeling the wind when they speed. It feels amazing to go to the country side and go riding on a couple rounds together. Top tier sibling bonding moment. I love them. I love this. Pls love this too random tumblr users.

[frutavel]

I was talking with my partner about my dracthyr and story ideas I had just now and we went down a rabbit hole of questions about the dracthyr as a people that Blizzard won't ever answer so now I turn to the internet

Do you think the dracthyr know what sex is

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Part 2 to Truth or Dare

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: After a game of Truth or Dare leaves you and your lieutenant breathless and yearning for more, will you both be able to leave things alone or will one of you not be able to hold out? And what happens when you meet again?

Word Count: 5 k

Part 3: READ HERE

So many questions are left on Lt. Riley’s tongue as he finishes another cigarette and leaves the group of officers behind in the rec to make his way back to his quarter, the spectre's touch of your full lips still causing the skin on his mouth to tingle from the sudden lack of all that delicious pressure. There is so much he wants to make clear, even more he wants to do, but where to begin? It’s all so confusing.

As he lays down in his empty bed staring up at the ceiling, struggling to relax his feverish limbs as it still feels like he has been struck by a live wire, he fails to keep his wandering mind focused on his breathing to ignore the gnawing emptiness that is filling his chest from the absence of your presence. That’s when the questions start to roll in.

Did you feel something too? Maybe it was all just an act? Does that even matter if it was?

“No,” Simon mutters to himself through the silence to stop his train of thought from running rampant. He’s allowing himself to get distracted worrying about the unknown and that is something that will only cause more problems, but he is in turmoil.

Unsuccessfully he tosses and turns in the darkness that fills the space, his thoughts drifting back to that feeling of heat from the proximity of your bodies, the residual pressure from your mouth plastered to his, the look of pure lust in your gaze, and the gnawing compulsion of his fingers to get at your curves. 

But this isn’t a lover’s island, there is a job to be done here and he has seniority. Maybe it is better to leave this alone where it stands; who knows what disaster could come from getting involved with another officer in such a capacity. And yet…

There is no stopping his mind from wandering ceaselessly back to those breathless moments where his lips fought yours for dominance with the mind-numbing electricity flowing between you, the attraction so strong it did not seem possible for you both to pull from it. 

He has a problem and it isn’t going away.

Across base, laying in the dark in your own bed, your heartbeat pounding heavily in your chest, an ache runs its course throughout your limbs. There is a need for something to ease this overwhelming desire to be craved in a desperate, debilitating way, though you really don’t want to admit it. No, you don’t need something…you need someone. You need him.

You hadn’t been ready to admit it then, but there was a spark between you that is no longer possible to ignore now that you are alone, but you don’t know how to handle things any other way than to just ignore and move on; maybe the desire to have him again will die away if you just let it be. Even as the thought enters your mind you know it’s pure bullshit. There is no denying that things became complicated the second your lips met, that it was like igniting gasoline with a blowtorch. What was once mere infatuation that you could handle, has now grown into an untamed beast inside that leaves you feeling delirious and out of control. 

Rolling onto your side, you convince yourself to leave all these questions alone and focus on something else, anything to get your mind off of what you would be doing with the lieutenant at this moment if you both had not been interrupted. As you close your eyes to force sleep to come, visions of a bare and glistening officer thrusting between your legs fills your subconscious and you hope the morning comes soon enough because sleep is going to be short tonight.

Luckily, life around base rarely stands still long enough for anything other than work to get tended to. Any hopes of exploring that tension and ecstasy has to be put on the back burner as life in the taskforce resumes its usual chaos. Daily operations keep your schedule packed completely full all week so that certain thoughts get pushed to the back of your mind. And yet, during those slower moments of the day, they come creeping back up just like they never left. 

“ ‘ello?” Soap says as he waves his hand in front of your blank face. “Ye in there, lass?”

Your fork hangs limply from your hand, teetering over your plate lunch and threatening to fall with a clatter as you realize that you drifted off again. This is the third time this week that you have gotten so lost in thought trying to recall that feeling of the lieutenant’s lips that it’s becoming apparent to your fellow sergeant that something is off. Blinking a few times, you shake your head to clear your mind.

“What?” you shoot back at him as you stab the food and push it around the plate, pretending to eat even though you aren’t hungry.

“I’ve been talkin’ for a good five minutes and ye ain’t heard a word,” he says with a hint of agitation. His steady glare gives you the once over as he tries to read your face. “Where ye at these last few days, hmm?” 

You mask your face behind your customary smile. “Maybe I’m just trying to imagine a more engaging conversation than the one I’m currently in,” you pick, but Johnny isn’t letting this drop.

His eyes are still on you, scrutinizing your body language even as you stare down into your food to avoid his gaze. From the corner of your eye you can see the gears turning in that mind of his as if he is trying to put things together. You let it go on a few more seconds before you speak up.

“You got a problem or something?”

“It’s just strange,” he chuckles and you raise an eyebrow as you tilt your head to the side. “It’s just…I was speakin’ to Gaz yesterday and he mentioned that the lieutenant seems…distracted…as well lately. Same vacant look ye got goin’ on. Ye wouldn’t happen ta know why, would ye?”

Your heart leaps with a strong thud in your chest. Just what the hell is he implying? You had been certain that Johnny knew nothing, but now you aren’t so sure. Maybe you aren’t being as convincing as you think. “Why the fuck would I know that?” you play it off as you swallow down the lump in your throat. “Do I just know everything that goes on with everyone around here? I’ve got enough on my mind then to worry about the rest of you lot.”

Johnny leans in a bit closer over his plate and lowers his voice as he says the next part, making your blood run cold. “Must be a coincidence then, that both a ye just happen ta be actin’ different at the same time, ay? Ye know, on account a tha other night.”

The heel of your boot immediately connects with his foot only hard enough to make him yelp and pop back upright in surprise. You always forget that Johnny is smarter than he lets on and it’s clear he has been paying attention. Too bad you will never give him the satisfaction of admitting anything. With a laugh he sits back in his seat as you stare him down before rolling your eyes. 

“Why are you so worried about the lieutenant? Seems like someone’s a bit too obsessed and that can be a problem. You should probably talk to someone about that.”

He shakes his head. “Whatever ye say, lass,” he says, punctuating it with another chuckle as he tucks back into his lunch. “Whatever ye say.”

Firearms and ammunition is on the schedule for the rest of your day. It is your job to take inventory of all the munitions you’ll need for tomorrow’s end of week training. At least the repetitious task will keep you busy enough that hopefully you won’t be thinking about a certain lieutenant and what he could be up to right now.

At least that is the plan that you start with, but just as every other day this week soon that hulking officer begins to creep his way into your mind. Has Johnny been lying about how distracted the lieutenant seems lately? Could it be about what happened the other night or could it be something that has nothing to do with you? Little by little, it chips away at your calm until that is all you can focus on, even as you try and get through counting and gathering all the materials you’ll be needing for tomorrow. 

There is no way for you to know, but at that exact moment there is someone coming your way with a burning question that needs answering. 

All week Lt. Riley has gone about his days as usual, except try as he might to focus only on the tasks given to him, all he can do is mull over the same question in his mind: did you feel something in the kiss the way he did? It is eating him alive to know the answer and no matter where he is, who is speaking with, or what he is doing, the question is there to make him restless.

Until finally he has had enough. Just as the question overwhelms his mind again he throws down the work on his desk, shoves his chair back to get out, and leaves his office in a flurry. He doesn’t know where he’s going, but as he walks he passes by Captain Price’s office, the one person that would know where you are stationed today. Quickly he steps inside the doorway to ask. 

Price checks his computer screen that has all that information already pulled up. “She has firearm trainin’ tomorrow with the newer recruits, so she will be takin’ inventory in munitions today,” the captain relays the information, curious as to why his lieutenant seems tense and sounds a little out of breath. 

Before the captain can ask any more probing questions or mention to his officer that he will need to speak with him in a bit, the lieutenant heads off in a rush towards the munitions depot. No matter, the captain will let him conduct his business with you and send a messenger in a bit to bring him back.    

Lt. Riley crosses the base with nothing else on his mind but to get to you and when he does he finds you are completely lost in your work, none the wiser that you aren’t alone anymore until it’s too late. You don’t hear that signature click that means the main door is opening, nor the careful, but heavily booted footsteps padding across the floor in your direction. Just a few feet from you he stops and stares silently, waiting to see if you notice his presence. 

It doesn’t take long for you to feel a pair of eyes on you and looking up you come face to face with the person that was just on your mind. You can’t stop the way you hold your breath the moment your eyes connect as every involuntary process in your body gets interrupted by his sudden appearance. Desperately you try to regain composure and shake off that initial surprise; there is no need to make this awkward, it will only make things worse for yourself in the long run. 

Clearing your throat, you shoot him a smile. “Sir,” you greet him with a nod and a slight tremor in your voice that you quickly swallow back down. “Sorry, I wasn't expecting anyone else to be here. Did you need something?”

The adrenaline makes your limbs tingle and instead of just standing there awkwardly as you wait for him to respond, you put your hands back to the task before you hoping to cause your nervousness to settle. If you have to stand looking into his face in the stillness of the room for much longer, you might combust and the risk of looking like a fool is enough to make you act out being too busy to give him your full attention. 

Standing this close with the lingering feelings from the reaction that happened the last time you were together, the lieutenant is overwhelmed and it makes him pause. That same magnetism that he had felt that night is already pulling him to you, until his composure falls apart faster than he can calm it. Still, there is a question on the tip of his tongue that he is choking to ask; it’s the whole reason he’s here and he’s not leaving without an answer no matter what.

“I need ya to stop and look at me,” he says as he steps in towards you. You discreetly take a deep breath as you set your things down to turn your face back to look up at him. 

He’s already scrutinizing your body language, focusing on any sign that might give him an idea of where your thoughts are at this moment. Those brown eyes catch how tense your shoulders are through your t-shirt, how your pupils seem dilated as you meet his gaze, and finally the way your hands tremble as they hang at your sides.  

“I want ya to tell me the truth, yeah?” he says with a nod.

You stare back at him, big doe-eyes sparkling in the overhead lights as your pulse runs fiery hot through your limbs with the growing anxiety from wondering what the hell is going on. “Yes, sir?”

The mask covering his face clings a little too tightly and the clothing on his chest traps in the heat rising in his body, making his skin clammy as he struggles to vocalize that loaded question he’s had swirling in his mind for days. Lt. Riley clears his throat; he thought he’d come up with something better than this, but thinking clearly has long gone now. All he can do is just spit it out. 

“Mactavish’s stupid fuckin’ dare, ya remember it? I keep thinkin’ ‘bout it and I need ya to tell me somethin’: was it all an act, the way we kissed?”

Fuck, how are you supposed to answer this?

There is warmth blossoming in your cheeks as the thumping grows stronger in your chest. His question is simple enough, yet there isn’t a simple way for you to answer. Tell the truth? Could you actually go through with something that risky? For all you know he could be asking just to tell you that the kiss is to mean nothing because it will never happen again, that he wants you to let it all go to clear the air of any misconceptions. You pray that that is not what he’s about to say, but as you silently think about how to answer, he pushes for you to stop avoiding the question.

“I need ya to answer me,” he says firmly, eyes never leaving yours. “Were ya pretendin’ or did ya not want it to fuckin’ end?” 

A sharp inhale of air does nothing in helping to calm your nerves; you just have to get on with it. “I-it…wasn’t an act,” you say. 

The lieutenant has his answer, that’s what he wanted, right? Just to hear you say that the spark ignited between you in those few ecstasy-fueled minutes were genuine; that is it, isn’t it? His curiosity is sated and he should be able to move on, but he can’t. With your confession comes something more, something that he can’t let go of, and that is now that he knows it was real he wants it again. It consumes him to the point that he cannot move away and instead steps in closer as he grabs your biceps, forcing you to move backwards until you find yourself against the wall directly behind you.

“Sir?” you ask to get his attention as he continues to stand there staring intensely into your face without so much as a sound. You hadn’t felt this overwhelmed by his presence since the night you two kissed, but now it is back to cloud your mind and set your pulse pounding through your limbs. 

Your furrow-browed stare wavers as you clear your throat and repeat your question again. “Sir?”

Consequences are an inconceivable concept right now; the only thing playing in his mind are how fucking soft your lips look and how he desperately wants to get lost in them again. The sensations of reliving that experience from that night in the rec consumes every molecule in his body until there is nothing left inside him except for you. 

He needs it, he needs it now, and as that deep, longing ache settles itself in his chest to cause his heart to pound so hard that he can hear the beat in his ears, he throws sensibility away as he moves to grab your hips firmly in his gloved hands. 

“We really shouldn’t be doin’ this,” he says, his body pressing against yours as he draws you in. “Ya know it’s trouble.”

His actions don’t match his words and the contradiction causes your mind to falter on what you should do. Did he want this to end or not? Does he even really know?  

“Do you want to stop, sir?” you ask timidly as your body begins to vibrate with the sudden, intense pleasure of his hands as they are back on you again. “You know we can just forget it; it’s really fine.”

One of his hands leaves the curve of your hip and travels upwards so that those long, covered fingers can string themselves through the strands of hair at the back of your head. “Who said I wanted ta forget, hmm?” he admits with his eyes firmly on your lips, watching as they part slightly so you can take quick, short breaths in and out. “Do ya think I wasn’t there, that I didn’t feel what was happenin’ between us that night? Ya think I could just forget all that? Do ya think I want to?”

His gloved thumb wraps around your face so that he can brush it over your bottom lip, letting the electricity pass through the fabric from his fingertips into your mouth. You gasp from the ache his touch leaves behind and he exhales heavily at your reaction. “Do ya know the fuckin’ power ya have over me after that? Shit, I’m riskin’ a lot just ta be here like this with ya again, knowing what could happen when we’re alone. All because ‘a one fuckin’ kiss.”

You swear if he doesn’t do something soon you are going to pass out; your mind is spinning in circles as the warm tension gathering between your bodies becomes unbearable. Only a small swatch of fabric covering his face keeps you both apart and yet you can still sense the heated air from his mouth as it sweeps across the delicate skin of your lips the closer he lowers his head.

He can’t do it, he can’t stop the way he craves you to the point of insanity right now. No, if he was going to stop it should have been long before now. As his hands cling to your body, there isn’t any chance that he is going to let you get away. He needs you, he has to have you, and it has to be right this fucking second to ease the painful longing that has kept him up all week.

Lt. Riley is gone; in his place is a depraved being that only yearns to feel that overwhelming passion that you gave him once again.

“I need more of the way it felt,” he groans adamantly. “I need ya, now.”

Before you can properly react to his heart-stopping statement, the lieutenant frantically wrenches his mask up and completely off his face, not wanting to be hindered at all from you anymore. All you catch is a crown of short blonde hair as he lets the cloth fall to the floor, closes his eyes, and leans in without another word to harshly smash his juicy lips together with yours in a reckless abandon that makes your knees buckle. 

Fucking hell it’s everything that he remembered and so much more; you taste like the best type of sin and he is ready to pay everything for it.

The force of his advance shoves your head backward into the wall as he takes your mouth with dizzying harshness, not hesitating to shove in his tongue to fill the cavity behind your lips to capacity. The tip of that wet muscle strokes across the roof of your mouth and the sensation causes your eyes to roll back into your head. If there was any doubt left in your mind, it has all dissipated now that his mouth is back on yours.

“Stop callin’ me sir. Say my name,” he forcefully demands in that husky, breathless tone, a yearning in his voice that makes your soul burn as he speaks those desperate words onto your skin. “Call me Simon.” 

You break from his mouth, your lips instantly desperate to form the word and say it aloud. “Simon,” you moan and it breathes new life into his name that he could never have predicted he needed.

Pining you tighter to the wall, he overtakes you rougher and rougher until the harshness of his movements abrades the skin of your mouth to make it swell and bruise. Relentlessly he siphones the breath from you to keep him going. That moist air fills his mouth so that he can speak. “Say it again,” he orders in a growl.   

It’s like honey as it rolls off your tongue and you can’t help but want to repeat it. “Mmm, Simon,” you whimper onto his mouth and goddamn the euphoria of having to swallow down the desperation in your voice suddenly awakens an insatiable ache that will need more to quench.

His gloves have to go, now, as his bare hands are burning to get their fill of your curves. Those thin pieces of fabric are hindering him from being able to connect with all that silky skin so that he can know what it feels like against his calloused palms. It is torment to be kept from all that ecstasy. Struggling to peel them off his fingers as he cannot pry his mouth away from yours at all, he finally frees those long, brawny digits and they waste no time in pawing wildly at your body. 

Greedy fingers recklessly claw and tear at your clothing, searching for an opening where he can penetrate to find enough balmy skin available to fill his hands until he cannot hold anymore. Deliriously and without looking he rips the pieces of your uniform up until he can get underneath them and let his fingertips get that first touch he has craved nonstop since the second he had pulled away from you that night. Those hungry lips continue to overwhelm your own as Simon is able to grab the hem and his hands have finally found their prize.

Laborious panting breaths fill up the space between you as the roughness of his hands grip into your hips and square them up against his own, pelvis’ grinding together in search of as much friction as they can find. Only a few layers of clothing keep your bodies apart, but that doesn’t stop Simon from rutting against you and you matching his movements. There is nothing else inside your head except the overwhelming euphoria of his touch along the lines of your body and the growing bulge in his pants that drills into you harder and harder the more it grows. 

No immediate danger is there to keep you both tame, no time limit looms over your heads that will force you to stop, and when two desperate things have nothing to lose, they simply let go. 

Every single one of his senses is overflowing with all of you: the feeling of your lips against his, the taste of your sweet breath in his mouth, the warmth of your skin brushing over his, the beat of your heart that he can feel through his fingertips, the sound of your quiet whimpers making his head spin. Goddammit you are eager, so willing to meet his advancements with everything you have; there is no question about what you want. And he cannot lie that he wants it too. You’ve both started down this path and there is no turning back; he knows it’s wrong, he knows he should stop, but he won’t.

You are in his veins, circling inside his mind, part of the very air he breathes; whatever risk comes with this could never outweigh the reward of getting to sate the hunger that has been driving him insane.

“Fuck it all,” he growls and suddenly his hands are under your arms and you are being hoisted up off the ground. 

Your body reacts from pure instinct by spreading your legs wide and wrapping them around his broad hips, securing yourself to him with a clench of your thighs together. Simon knocks a gasp out of you as he slams your back up against the wall to use it for leverage, his body crushing yours as he begins to grind up into you with that throbbing, engorged cock that is straining to break the zipper of his pants. 

Through your clothes he thrusts up into you with powerful strikes, hips rolling into yours over and over with desperation as he tries to get just a little bit more friction between your bodies. You use your thighs to help push yourself up off of him, bouncing over his crotch in response to mimic the way you’d fuck him. 

Simon knows he shouldn’t go any further, that he should slow things down because this isn’t the place, but he won’t. Everything is already so close, but still not close enough. He needs the real thing, not this cheap imitation. Even in the haze of this delirious union, there is only one thing he knows he has to do.

He has to get you both naked. 

Feverish fingers claw into the negative space between your bodies at the bottom of your shirt until Simon can find the hem. The cooler air outside of your clothing hits your skin with a tingle to make goosebumps appear as he pulls it up off your stomach and over the swell of your breasts.

“Lift up your arms,” he says quickly and your eyes flutter open so that you can follow the demand. 

In one swift motion the shirt is off and Simon doesn’t waste any time in ripping off his shirt as well. The feeling of skin to skin sends shivers of ecstasy down his spine as he presses against you. So soft, so warm, fucking hell is he in over his head. He leans in, bending forward so that he can kiss the tops of your breasts through your bra as he hands wander again between your bodies to the clasp on your pants.

Just as his fingers loop through the waistband, you hear the tail end of it. There is no mistaking it, it’s the signature sound of the door to the armory closing shut. You have no time to act as a private with a message from Captain Price enters in a hurry, not paying attention, and stumbles upon something he shouldn’t have under no fault of his own. 

“Lt. Riley, Price needs to see y–” the messenger says as he finally looks up, immediately stopping dead in his tracks as his cheeks flush bright red at coming face to face with the two of you half naked and twined together. 

The private is tripping over his words as an exasperated growl shuts him right up. “Outside; now,” Simon barks harshly through a heavy pant as he turns his head enough to lock eyes with the now terrified private. Quickly the young man turns tail and bolts for the door, stumbling over his feet to get out as fast as he physically can. Once the click from the door closing shut is heard, those brown eyes turn back to you.

Simon draws in a deep breath before his head falls forward to rest up against yours, foreheads pressed together as he just holds onto you for a moment. “Goddammit,” he curses under his breath in disappointment. 

Carefully he untangles his body from yours and sets you back down onto your feet. “Times up,” he repeats the phrase that ended your encounter the last time, though his tone is markedly more miserable this time, and you can’t help the way your stomach knots tightly. 

Simon grabs all your clothing back up off the ground, handing you your shirt back as he goes to put his own back on. You immediately redress and straighten your uniform as best you can with your unsteady hands. Everything gets tucked back in place once again as you wait for him to head out without a word, since this seems to be following a certain pattern now. 

But instead of simply walking away leaving you to agonize about if you will ever get a chance like this again, his arm reaches out and those long gloved fingers wrap around your belt buckle, gripping it tight in his hand so that he can drag you back against him. The other hand finds its way under your chin to force you to maintain eye contact with him; he needs you to hear him and make no mistake about what he is saying. 

“This isn’t over,” he murmurs as he guides your head forward to place one last, lingering kiss on your lips before he breaks away to situate his mask back down over his face. 

With that he turns and heads outside to the private patiently waiting to finish giving him the message from the captain. You let your eyes follow him the entire way out the door and only when he’s gone do you finally release the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. 

This isn’t over. The words repeat on a loop in your mind. Fuck, you sure hope so.

Now the question is: when?

Tagging: @spooky-pomegranate

[onelittlespiral]

FML: Break

It had only been a few weeks, but already I was over this. Three weeks to crush a dream. Honestly, the burnout had been bad but I thought summer would help. I would have more time to myself. Relax. Reset. But as the first deadlines started breathing down my neck, I was this close to snapping.

The longer I stared, the more I couldn’t take it. I needed a break. Something to take my mind off things. Even if just for a few days. I needed Hypnodope.

I first came across their ads freshman year, and I dared my roommate to take the plunge. Their website had a few options, so I popped on a random one, and input one hour, the lowest it went. I just expect it to be a one hour loop of weird mumbling and graphics that we would turn off after a minute or two. But I watched in awe as in a few short minutes, a tan started creeping from his finger tips down his arms. He didn’t react then, nor when hair turned a dirty gold and his body hair vanished. But he certainly did as muscle began pumping into his thin frame, moaning as each pulse stretched his now golden skin taut to his muscular frame. He began to hump at the air as he ripped through his clothes, giving me a full view of his rod between his legs, though it was quickly covered by his thick fingers as he began jacking off to the video. By the time he finally came, my roommate was no longer sitting in front of me. Instead, a horny, golden boy was eying me up and down, as he assessed whether or not I was worthy to suck his perfect cock.

He put in the work for that hour, no position off limits, no taste of his too bold as I submitted to him. But just after our second round, he trembled as his skin lost its hue. His muscles were sucked back into his frame, and my new roommate was back, blushing in front of me, as he rushed to put on some clothes.

I hadn’t been back to the site since then, a little too self conscious to explore the power I possessed. But after a night in the library from dusk to dawn, with no end in sight, I knew it may be the only way to force myself into a break. With caution I pulled up the site and scrolled the options.

I knew I didn’t want anything too serious. Certainly not the extent that my roommate had. But I wanted something that would take the edge off. And I think I found the perfect one: “Fucking Feral, Bro”. The name was a bit much, but it had basically everything I wanted. More muscle, boosted stamina, lowered inhibition and capacity for concern. I figured a few hours would be enough to try it out and have a great night out. So, I laid down, turned on the video, and prepared to be relaxed.

Almost immediately my brain felt fuzzy, like the static that was showing was in my head. Then, an image came into focus. It was some muscled up guy, stripped down to his speedo, not a care in the world as he posed for the camera. He looked like he was having fun. I wonder where he’s going? Must be relaxing…

I stretched out on my bed to get comfortable. For some reason I was just so tight. So uptight too. I didn’t need to be so stressed. A pressure I didn’t know I was holding was releasing from my head. It was so relaxing as I just lay back and stared deeper and deeper at the spiral now on screen. I could be just like the guy on the screen. No.

Like. My. Broooooo.

My hand drifted down to my cock at full attention. I didn’t even pause as I felt the heat radiating from it. My had just began gliding up and down. It was insanely sensitive. I bit my lip to keep the moans from escaping. As I stroked up and down, I felt it pulsing in my hand, swelling from five inches to six, then seven, growing more sensitive with each stroke. My toes were curling in my shoes, but soon felt constrained. I looked down to see the cheap leather straining to hold them in. With one flex of my foot, my size 12 soles ripped clean through. Meanwhile, my legs were getting some love, calves shredding while my thighs swole with muscles and fat. They squeezed against my heavy balls, increasing the raw animalistic pleasure I was devolving into as thick pre dribbled from my thick mushroom-tip and coated my monster.

By the time I started to worry a bit, it was too late. It was becoming hard to focus on my body, even as my gut sucked in and pushed out a perfect 6-pack and pecs chiseled from muscle and fat hung heavy on my chest. I could only focus on the changes rippling down my arms because the pump in my forearms was keeping me jacking and my thick fingers and calloused palms were much easier to wrap around my needy cock. I tried to stop myself, to will myself to turn off the now strobing screen. But the sensation was too much, and I could no longer hold back moans that were quickly deepening.

A fog of hormones was fully engulfing my brain now, dimming any reservations I could muster about my heightened state. I was moaning in heat at this point, ready to bury my cock in just about anyone. The video was edging me now, pushing as much change as it could before it released me. Every muscle in my body flexed, getting one last pump in. But as the video gave its command to cum, one pump was all I needed to coat the wall. I was left hot and panting, but somehow relaxed and insanely horny. As I checked myself out, dude I was sooo much hotter.

I let my free hand trace my abs and grab at my meaty pecs. Playing with my nips was like a whole new level bro, sent me into overtime. I couldn’t stop imagining the holes I needed to split open with this monster, just as I couldn’t stop just flexing, feeling the power surging through my veins. It was almost impossible to pull my hands away, but I knew I needed to hit the bars and get a few drinks in me. Bro, what was old me thinking, setting this for only the night? He was always such a bore anyways. I threw on the tightest tee shirt I could find, and some grey sweatpants. Rocking the fuckboi special, I was on the prowl for some ass to plow.

The night wasn’t great. Naw, it was excellent. Climbing back into my dorm room, I was soaked in sweat and reeked of sweat, beer, and cum. I had lost track of how many men I’d made my bitch that night. I at least remembered ripping off my shirt before sliding into one in the alley outside. God, I was a fucking show dude. Should have seen the faces of some of the dudes, I don’t think they were expecting me to switch so easily from topping to bottoming. I was an animal, I was feral.

I was out of control.

I may have been fighting through that horny haze, but I knew one thing for certain. In just a few hours I would wake up in my bed and immediately worry. Worry about the night, the consequences, the danger. And I would never get to have that much fun again in my life. Bro, it was so damn boring being such a square. Someone had to make a decision.

I turned back to my laptop and began scrolling through options. I needed someone like me, someone who would make sure we had a good time. I needed someone to maintain this lifestyle for years. Maybe we could make some physique upgrades too. But above all, I needed someone who couldn’t ever find a way to set us back. And there it was, the perfect candidate. As I added more and more time, some stupid warnings tried to pop up, but I didn’t care. I was already hard at just the thought of the bro I was about to unleash. I hit play and braced for impact. I was going to be so fucking dumb, dude.

The effect was immediate. My eyes were blinded by a bright flash on screen as a dull ringing buzzed in my ears and rattled my head. The world around me felt heavy and slow. Every muscle was on edge, trembling beneath some unseen weight. The world was pushing in around me. I was frozen in a moment of pressure. But then, at the front of my brain bro, it was warm. And tingly. And soooo relaaaaxed. As it rippled through my head, I couldn’t help but relax my face, eyes half closed, tongue out, drool drip

Drip

Dripping.

With each drip, it felt easier to relax, easier to thaw. And as I let each IQ point drip slowly out of my brain, off my tongue, and roll down my chest, I felt the waves crashing down my body.

It started in my shoulders, rolling into mountains of muscle, absurd in size even against my muscular body. But quickly it moved deep in my chest, pushing out from deep within my pecs. The sensation was overwhelming as with each strained breath muscle and fat hung heavier from my frame. I could even feel it as my nips stretched, wide and hard as diamonds. My arms began to loosen and instinctively brought themselves to massage my fat muscle tits. But soon they had to pull away, locked in a double-bicep pose as they inflated to near absurd proportions. As I flexed my forearms in and out, I felt the resistance growing as my biceps rolled back and forth. I was starting to truly feel hot and sweaty as the waves of muscles continued to ripple downward.

I could feel the heat as it started targeting my lower half. No longer toned muscle, it felt heavy against the bed even as I sat there. It throbbed as nearly any remaining fat on my body channeled into my ass, leaving it straining against the seams of my shorts. They were growing bigger by the minute. Though my cock and balls were certainly trying their best to compete. As my pouch was slowly becoming overstimulated by the pressure in their tight quarters, my cock was snaking down my leg to find space. I was ineptly pawing at my zipper, trying to find some release. But the final blow came as my thighs pushed out. The legs were busting through seams as I finally gave up and ripped through the remaining fabric, fervently stroking my heavy cock. Then it too started to drip…

Drip…

Drip.

As my cock began oozing, I felt like brain was slowly melting down. My thoughts felt heavy. I knew that the video was giving me commands, but I couldn’t even try to process them. I could only feel them slip deep in my brain bruh. I could feel him in there. Some version of me trying to keep it together. But he was getting real confused. And really horny. Heh, he was becoming just like the rest of me. Wasn’t it easier to just let my muscles talk? Wasn’t it easier to just feel out what to do? Wasn’t it easier to just give in and… and… be… duhhhh-

Can’t think. Gotta release. My balls are aching dude. I can’t hold onto these brains any more. I need it… I need… au… AUH… AUGHHHH

As the last of my brains shot out of me, I was left in a state of absolute happiness. No thoughts. No worries. Just heat and muscle. As the last of my brains shot out of me, I was left in a state of absolute happiness. No thoughts. No worries. Just heat and muscle.

I was perfect bro. The world came into focus as I sat up. I didn’t even realize my tongue was still hanging out.

It was a beautiful day outside, bruh. I just needed to find a hole to start it off with.

[obliviouscxnt]

His Shadow pt.2 Azriel x Reader

a/n: all the feedback from the last fic is insane! I can’t even express the joy all of the comments bring me, the kind words mean so much!!! I'm so happy this concept is liked, I definitely want to explore more with it:)) I hope you enjoy!! <333

1.8k words

synopsis: azriel makes a deal with himself to get his shadows back

Warnings: angst, fluff

pt.1

He’d gotten so used to you being there, so comfortable with the shadows that always surrounded him. 

Now that they were gone—now that you were gone—he was left with an inescapable feeling. Loss. 

It felt like lead in his body. It twisted, and turned, weighing itself down on his ribs. Aching at every little thing he began to notice, the little things you did for him. The things he’d taken for granted. 

He missed the way your darkness covered him like a protective blanket. Missed the ease it brought him. Without it, he felt bare. 

He missed your voice, your whispers. If he closed his eyes and thought hard enough he could almost hear it. Almost. He’d never taken the time to memorize it. Never took the time to see beyond what was on the surface. Why hadn’t he? 

How did he disregard you?

You, the first to show him compassion, apart from his own mother. You, who suffered with him in that cold keep, locked away. Unable to grow, to learn, to live. 

You were there for him, with him. 

How could he have overlooked you?

He holds on to your words, the idea that you would answer if he called brought him only a fraction of the comfort you gave him daily. 

You weren’t really gone, he kept telling himself. He’d see you again. 

When it was necessary. 

No longer would you whisper a good morning to him when he woke, or a goodnight when he slept. No longer would you be there, just to be with him. Just to rest on his shoulders, or weave between his fingers. 

He’d used you, like a tool. Like you were just another weapon in his arsenal. 

The pain in his chest swelled, twinging as the image of misery on your breathtaking face invaded his mind. The awful things he’d said, the hateful accusation he’d made. 

You cared so greatly for him, for so long, only to receive cruelty in return. 

How had he ever thought your absence poetic? 

Being away from him was a physical struggle. The need to be there for him, to comfort him, to apologize, and to express your faith in him was undying. You were surprised you’d lasted a full day. 

No matter how he treated you, no matter how much it hurt, he’d always be everything. 

Yet you kept hearing his words. ‘Are you jealous? Is that it?’ Kept seeing that angry glare he’d aimed at you, and how it melted away when you’d taken form. ‘Because I don’t give you enough attention?’

You kept remembering the change in his eyes, in the way he looked at you. Like he’d just then realized you had a mind of your own, that he didn’t have to think for you. 

You’d thought it would make you happy. To have him really see you. 

It didn’t. 

You felt anger and sorrow. Angry you practically had to spell it out for him. Angry the most observant person in the Night Court, if not all of Prythian, had never spared you a second glance. Sad that you had to look like him to get his attention. 

You'd given him every opportunity, you'd shown him your capacity for emotions countless times. He ignored it every single time. No, ignore wasn't right.

Ignorant.

Ignorant was the better word.

Perhaps it was your fault for expecting more of him. 

In the beginning, his neglect hadn’t even mattered. You didn't realize he treated you any differently. That is until you saw him interact with Rhys and Cassian, and then eventually Mor and Amren. 

With them, he was… still distant, closed off in a way. But he smiled, he laughed, he joked. He empathized with them, got angry for them, or sad, or happy. He loved them.

With you, it was just, find me this… bring me here…  go listen to them… keep me hidden… 

He never smiled at you. 

It was your own fault for expecting him to think of you as anything other than a servant. 

That’s what you are, right?

The need to grovel at his feet came back. You felt ridiculous. You lived to serve him. Without him you wouldn’t even have a life. 

You were such a fool, living darkness throwing a fit over some hurt feelings.

He was the only reason you were able to feel anything at all. He gave you meaning. He was your purpose in life, not the other way around. He had no obligation to you, he didn't even have to call on you. The fact that he did was a gift in itself. Just like the pain you felt was a gift.

Without him, you’d just be a regular shadow. 

That should be enough for you. 

So when you heard his call, when you felt that irresistible tug on your soul, you answered. 

You answered though you knew he had no reason for it. He wasn’t in danger, he didn’t want to go anywhere, didn’t need you to spy on anyone or find anything, he was just calling you. 

You answered because no matter what you said, no matter how you felt, he would always be everything. 

Azriel waits for you. Standing in the center of his room, shifting his balance from his right leg to his left. 

He couldn’t keep his hands still, they ran through his hair, adjusted his shirt, got stuffed in his pockets only to leave them a moment later and rub at his neck. His arms cross in an effort to keep them still. 

He was anxious, and restless, and nervous about messing up, but most of all he was angry at himself. 

He wouldn’t be surprised if you ignored his call, even though you said you couldn’t. You’d probably found a way, after all he’s done he wouldn’t blame you. 

It would hurt like hell, but he’d understand. Why would you bother giving him a second chance? 

He’d never even asked you for a name. 

Did you even have one? Do shadows need names? They obviously have a language, one he was able to speak and understand. Did you have a family? A people? Were you born or did you just appear one day? 

These were all things he should’ve known already. Things he should’ve had the mind to be curious about. 

He was too focused on himself and everyone else.

The lights dim, announcing your presence. 

His arms uncross, falling at his sides. You really came. 

Swirls of darkness slip into his room, slowly inching toward him. The way they move is lethargic. It makes him sick.

He speaks when you make it within a foot of him. Pushing past the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry.” 

The shadows stop. Gone was the mighty spymaster. All that remained was the boy who cried out to you on that cold night several centuries ago.

“I’m so sorry.” He repeats. “You don’t have to accept my apology. I don't want you to. I know I haven’t earned it. I just want you to know that If I could go back and change everything I would.” The words were nothing but the truth. He wished more than anything to go back and treat you right. To erase all the hurt he put you through.

His heart jumps when you continue toward him, slithering up his body, encasing him in your energy. 

He feels you curl around his ear, and then he hears your voice. That airy tone reverberating through his head. A sound only he could hear. Only he could appreciate. One he hadn't until he knew what it was like to lose it. 

“I forgive you.”  

Azriel wanted to weep at those words. For you. For him. For what he’d done to the two of you. For what the two of you could’ve been if he’d just sacrificed a little of his time to be with you. Like you always had for him.

“No, you don’t,” He began, “I don’t deserve your forgiveness.” 

The lights flicker, once, twice, then he feels it. Your hand.

His gaze trails down to watch your smokey fingers lace with his. The feeling of your skin touching his had his heart racing for other reasons. Very different from the chill of your shadows.

He lets his hand curl around your own. Squeezing as he went on, hoping you could hear and feel every last drop of his sincerity. “I could apologize to you every day for the rest of our eternal lives and I still wouldn’t deserve it.” 

You step in front of him, meeting his stare. The emotion it held stitched something back together inside of you, something that'd gotten torn apart years ago.

“I will do everything in my power to change that. I promise.” His thumb rubs circles on your hand. “I will spend the rest of my life proving that I am worthy of you. That you chose right.”  He felt his body tingle with each word, the sensation traveling down his arms, his chest, and his back. Ink undoubtedly marking his skin with a visual reminder of the deal he’d just made with himself.

To strive to one day earn your forgiveness. Your loyalty. 

You reach out a hand resting it on his face, so faintly it barely even touched him. Afraid you were overstepping.

He leans into it, covering it with his own, holding it there.

Your mind drifts back to when you met him.

His small voice, crying out for anyone. 

The strength of the Gods couldn’t have kept you from him.  

You didn’t choose wrong. You knew that. It didn't matter if he believed it or not.

“I swear it.” He vows, bringing you back to the present. His hazel eyes so intense, so sure, burning into your own. You couldn't help yourself.  

You kissed him. 

His lips connect with yours and everything stops. Everything fades away until it’s just you and him.  

He knew he’d never stop chasing the feeling it gave him. Something so simple, so easy, like breathing or gravity. Something he couldn’t live without. Not now that he’d had a taste. 

One of his hands land on your waist, pulling you closer. The other leaves your hand to find purchase on the back of your neck, angling your head to deepen the kiss. 

It was euphoric, he wanted to get lost in it, in you. 

You pull away when his tongue brushes over your bottom lip, needing a moment to breathe.

Your eyes remain shut for a moment, stuck in that feeling. When you finally pry them open you study his face, taking in every detail, committing every single bit to memory. 

He's breathing heavily, scanning you with a hunger you’ve never seen before. Eyes darting all over your face, repeatedly drifting back to your lips as if he too was struggling with restraint. 

Then he smiles. Pure elation on his beautiful face. 

The sight was divine. 

You copied the action, smiling wide. You didn’t care if it looked or felt unnatural. You were just happy. 

Happy to be his shadow. 

taglist <33: @sidthedollface2 @mischiefmanagers @theravenphoenix26 @leeknows-wife @fxckmiup

[afewfantasies]

🗡️ꜰᴇʏᴅ'ꜱ ʙʟᴀᴅᴇ 🗡️ - III - Charms

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5K

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Feyd-Rautha X Reader

ᴘʟᴏᴛ: Danger is imminent, as is Feyd-Rautha's birthday celebration in the arena. Passion and fear abound as parties try to nagivate through new realities. Your desire for Feyd-Rautha is growing, along with the trust between you. Secrets are revealed and sexual appetites explored.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: mentions of a sex dungeon, masturbation, aftercare, choking, inexperienced reader, heavy petting.

Part I 🖤 Part II 🖤 Masterlist

ᴘᴀʀᴛ - ɪɪɪ - ᴄʜᴀʀᴍꜱ

Trembling with anger Feyd-Rautha watches as the water runs crimson at the bottom of the cleansing chamber. The self cleaning mechanisms are turned to full capacity in attempt to free him of the sticky blood and debris of the nights terrors. A thousand cuts could never be enough. Your tears were more than that to Feyd. He’d broken his promise to protect you always. He had to send a message, cruelty had never truly come easy to him. After his father’s passing he learned quickly that brutality was the best means of survival. The worse his behaviour the more celebrated he became, soon the fear and respect in peoples eyes became his preferred drug. Pushing out the sadness and replacing it with a simmering rage did wonders for him. It opened the world to him. He’d earned the fear his name illicited. It had been a decade since he felt fear like the fear that nearly paralyzed him last night. The words in his headset had to be repeated several times. He found his chest heaving violently, there was not enough air in his lungs. He’d killed three men while still in the ship from lashing out, he couldn’t get to you fast enough. It was all taking too long. The journey back needed to happen at light speed. His chest felt tight as his head spun. How could he lose you so soon? How could anyone be so bold? So disrespectful, so careless with their life? The thought of losing you before he could ever truly be a husband to you tortured him more than he could bear. He’d found no relief in the fear of your eyes , how you clung to him, your trembling, your racing heart. Typically he revelled in it, but not then not with you. It was harrowing. He’d only found reprieve in the slowing of your heart rate, the slow relaxation of your muscles, the way you melted into him for safety. Then, he was able to take in your scent and how perfectly you fit in his arms. The softness of your flesh, the trust in your eyes, the feel of your lips on his. He hadn’t expected a kiss, nor did he feel he deserved one after failing you.

  Drying himself off Feyd dresses before heading to his armoury, too angry to rest before meeting the Baron. Hesitating he stops in front of your door as he had every day the past week. He’d decided against trying to enter then, but now things have changed. He needs to lay eyes on you before starting his day, physically - a screen won’t suffice. Sliding his hand into the reader it opens. He finds you brushing your hair into place. Your usual apprehension replaced with a surprised smile at the sight of him. He watches you as you put down the brush and walk into him. It takes him a moment to return the warm gesture taking in your scent and the feel of your body against his. Relief at your well being and resilience washes over him. It feels like it’s been minutes when you pull away and Feyd can’t remember the last time he engaged in something as pure and intimate as a long hug.

“Have you slept?” You ask looking into his weary eyes.

“I have to meet the Baron” Feyd responds feeling the need for you more. He stands behind you breathing you in and his hands hovers over the covered bruises on your skin.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore, I was able to brew a tea” you explain and he takes your hands looking at your bruised knuckles once again. It he could revive the men who’d harmed you to give them another million cuts he would. Bringing your hands to his lips he places kisses onto them hoping last night is the first of many kisses.

“I can postpone my fight if you need me to” Feyd says considerate of your mood and mental state. There’d been no time to watch you sleep last night while he had been administering your retribution but he had quickly scanned through the footage from your bedroom finding you tossing and turning all night. He’d never missed a night, not even while with his pets, his pleasure slaves had only been a slight distraction from his need for you.

“No, you must uphold your traditions” you advise.

“New traditions can be made” Feyd interjects.

“na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen has a reputation to protect. The people want to see you in the arena” you remind him.

“The people are not my concern” Feyd says looking into your eyes. His affection for you is clearer now. His level of attention, his concentration, his agony. Feyd is incapable of false moments. Pure passion personified, that’s the danger of him. His strength and weakness.

“Then they must be mine, Feyd there mustn’t be any perceived changes. As heir the peoples adoration of you is important.” You explain.

“Not more than yours” he confesses. He thought he lost you.

“Feyd, please” you whisper holding his hands. Your eyes look up at his and it’s only seconds before you see him cave. “Go to the Baron, prepare for your fight and I will be here with the guards or in the infirmary with Leia” you tell him just as a buzz sounds at the door. His hands go to his knives as he steps in front of you. After a moment he moves aside and you see Leia. She’s in a wheelchair.

“I can wait outside” she says holding up her hand. Feyd watches the girl with appreciation. Had Leia been killed or brutalized more seriously it would have completely ruined his chances with you.

“Leia please come in, we can have breakfast” you smile. For the first time Leia looks to Feyd-Rautha without averting her eyes, she points a respectfully slow nod in his direction in spite of her injuries. He returns the gesture watching as you make a space for your friend at your table. Content with the state of affairs he gives you a final look before heading out.

“na-Baron!” You call out stopping him in his tracks. He raises a brow and you motion for him to follow you into your private chambers. Tracking your steps he enters the room he already knows intimately from hours or surveillance. “You must try to withhold any affinity you have for me or it will be exploited. You have no other weaknesses and I would prefer to be a strength” you whisper. “Honesty” you whisper as his eyes search yours in confusion. He hadn’t known many women outside of handmaidens and pleasure slaves but what he had heard and learned in his years was that women were proud, they enjoyed affectionate displays and declarations, they were in constant competition with others to show and prove their mate to be the best.

“Would you prefer I stayed away as well?” He asks feeling slighted.

“No” you respond in earnest.

“May I return for dinner after training?” He asks.

“Yes” you respond and he recognizes a blush on your cheeks. He gets a head-rush and smiles pleased with your reception to him. If it was up to him the Baron could wait. The scent of your room is intoxicating. Almost as much as the sight out you without fear for him. Pressing his lips to your forehead he breathes you in, restraining his urges for more. He’d never known fear once his parents had passed only rage. The agony of his father’s loss was a suffering he didn’t want to bear again. He would heed your warning. Stepping back he sets the tone, the chemistry between you two is kinetic. He takes your hand placing a soft kiss over your bruises.

Letting go he leaves through the main room casting Leia an acknowledging glance. The main doors whoosh open and you hear him barking orders before they close. Turning to Leia you place a hand on her shoulder before sitting. She sees the change in you, the fall of your shoulders, the ease of your steps. She’d been worried since the abduction remembering vividly how long it took you to be somewhat alright after fleeing your home world. She had been there for the night terrors and the panic attacks, she had been there through your darkest days. In spite of your sometimes tenacious personality she had never seen you fight. You had taken hits on several occasions. It was against the Bene Gesserit way, each sister was to have a strong predisposition to survival for the breeding program - however with you it was never the case. The other sisters stopped picking on you when you were slow to react and a few of the others intervened. Leia knew more than most it didn’t bother you as they thought it did. But she saw you fight. Saw you fight with precision and intention as you reigned your head back to break the bastards nose. You’d waited for her instead of peeling off for the safety of self-preservation. You’d done that for her, for the both of you. Now you were sitting before her with an ease to you she hadn’t seen in years. Smiling she withholds her need to comment.

“What?” You ask looking up at her.

“Careful with that one or we both may be in these chairs” Leia winks and you shake your head at her vulgarity. “You can feel his affection for you from far away, he’s managing his desire quite well. Keep kissing him like you did last night and that restraint may snap” she warns. Sitting in front of her you feed her breakfast so she can nurse her injuries a little while longer.

“He’s in danger” you remind telepathically.

“It’ll be alright” she responds in the same way. Looking into Leia’s eyes gives you hope calming the nerves that have been on edge since the attack. She takes the fork from your hand holding it inspire of her injuries. You squeeze tight thankful she’s at your side. Leia had finished more of the sisterhoods training then you, she had been a successful component of the breeding program, she had been permitted into rooms and special councils. She was being prepared for espionage.  It was during her training when she had used her telepathic power of persuasion that you picked it up. It had worked on the entire room with the exception of you.

Your silence speaks volumes.

The sisterhood was supposed to protect you from the brutality your fathers fall caused not inflict more torture. Had Feyd-Rautha’s intention been to brutalize you, had he been everything everyone said he was you would have suffered thrice. Once with the fleeing of your home world, then for the weeks with Feyd-Rautha and finally at the hands of ‘The Beasts’ men. It was the kind of cruelty reserved for enemies and not allies.

“I’m finished with them” you speak plainly. Leia swallows seeing the seriousness in your eyes. She gives a slow nod feeling less victimized by the politics of it. She believed in the objective of achieving greater goods. As things stood now Feyd marrying the Princess would be ideal.

“As am I” she nods in solidarity.

________

Looking at your reflection in the shiny black stone table its hard to recognize yourself. Life with the Bene Gesserit, is a life of subtlety and intrigue, veils, headdresses and masks, there’s no room for displays of beauty, style or power outside of specific confines. All behaviour would be governed by the objectives of the order - only now you would be done with that. The curl of your lashes is striking, as well as the black lines on your lids. It’s not the Harkonnen way, but your mothers. Leia had been an advisor of sort as you tried your best to fashion an undo from memory to match the one your mother wore on special occasions. You had called in the seamstresses to adjust the fit on one of the robes provided in your closer. A floor length crimson piece with a hood. Cutting bout the high neckline and taking in the sides to fit your figure is a bold choice but it’s Feyd-Rautha’s birthday tomorrow and you intend to try to make it special for him. The replica sword of the one in your home world lays across the table sheathed in an intricate scabbard Leia helped you create over the last week. There would be little time to present it to him tomorrow, so tonight would have to do.

Looking at the clock you see its far past the time dinner is usually served. You hear movement and sit upright in anticipation. It fades and you slouch at the sight of the Mentat. His expression is regretful.

“na-Baroness, please eat something - I do believe something has kept the na-Baron” he says. Nodding you stand slightly ashamed by Feyd’s rejection - another broken promise.

“I will eat in my quarters” you force a smile. He speaks into his earpiece taking the blade in his hands.

“The na-baron will love it” he says to be encouraging. Nodding you smile sure he will appreciate the craftsman ship that went into creating an accurate depiction of one of the galaxy’s most recognizable blades.

“Do you know if he is with his Harpies?” You ask.

“He isn’t” the Mentat responds without hesitation.

“The Baron?” You ask and he swallows regretfully.

“Among others, but you should not worry” the Mentat assures. Swallowing hard you pause for a moment before turning to Feyd-Rautha’s personal quarters. You cross the dining room and head to the unfamiliar black doors.

“Don’t!” The Mentat snaps as you stick your hand in the reader. To his surprise the doors open without alerting the safety measures reserved for intruders.

“I’ll only be a moment” you turn to him stepping into the dark room. The doors close behind you, lights illuminating slowly with each of your steps until the place is fully lit. The interior takes your breath away when you view all the knives, blades and swords hanging on the walls. A number of large portraits of Feyd-Rautha hang all around the large open space. Stepping back you look for his bedroom and stop an open door. Your steps take you there a large statement bed rests in the centre. It’s high with two marble steps to get up surrounding three quarters of it. Chains hang from the ceiling, with straps of all sorts attached to them. There’s what looks like a cage too, and a large X in the corner near it. Swallowing you try to make sense of it until a screen catches your eye. Stepping in you see a screen showing what looks to be your room, you see your bathroom and bedroom. Before you can confirm a red light flashes into your retinas, before you can blink the screen goes black. Stepping backwards with a shudder you place the blade onto the table with the attached note and exit. 

The Mentat watches you closely shocked by your ability to enter the na-Baron’s quarters. Feyd-Rautha’s security had been noticeably ironclad. He’d seen many try to break in or sneak in with no success and somehow you entered so effortlessly. Your heart races as you try to make sense of what you seen, all of it. 

“Can you have Leia, brought to my quarters?” You ask the Mentat. He speaks into his earpiece to have it done immediately.

Dinner is served and Leia consoles you listing dozens of reasons for Feyd’s absence you tell her about his bedroom, the chains, the empty cage the large X, but you omit the screen not completely sure what to make if it. Leia’s eyes light up her penchant for mischief proving useful as she explains in excruciating detail all of the possibilities. Just as your fear had begun to retreat Feyd’s tastes gave you more reasons. He was into administering pain, and having total control. He’d asked for your absolute submission but you had never considered it would lead to being suspended in the air for his pleasure, tied to wooden blocks, spanked, collared, degraded and hurt. 

After dinner you head into your bedroom casting a quick glance into the area the vantage point of a camera would be. You see a sconce in its place, a black ornamental sconce, there’s one in every corner of the room. Swallowing your about to to begin undressing when you hear the door open. Tensing you stay put afraid of another attack, stepping out of room you peer around to the living area and see Feyd. You sigh relieved.

“Apologies, the Baron kept me” he says before stopping in his tracks. His eyes drink you in, it’s like he’s been placed under a trance. You look him over a little confused until you remember he’s never seen you like this before. All done up for him. Feeling a little nervous under his intense gaze you nod.

“I had dinner already, I’m sorry I waited” you whisper as his mouth closes, his Adams apple bobs as he nods his bald head.

“You waited?” He asks his voice grittier and lower than ever before.

“For hours” you respond a little unnerved by the darkness of his eyes.

“I ought to drown the Baron in his tub” he snaps just over a whisper to himself radiating frustration. He couldn’t dream up a more beautiful woman, and you’d put in effort for him after he’d asked you to dinner. 

“I wanted to give you a gift before tomorrow’s celebrations” you confess.

Feyd blinks nodding, grappling with the gravity of your words. Days ago you were running from him. Now you were within reach and other peoples actions were jeopardizing his happiness.

“It’s in your room, I left it on the table I hope it’s no problem” you tell him but he hasn’t moved. His stillness is unnerving, like a snake before it strikes. His muscles contract before his hands unclench.

“You were in my rooms?” Feyd asks with suspicion.

“I hope that’s alright, I placed your gift on the table and left” you explains but he’s suspicious.

“Follow me” he says holding out his hand. You take it heading to the other side of tour living quarters. “Only you can open this door” he says putting your hand in the reader. The doors open and you’re in his quarters. You step into it extremely surprised. Your thoughts head back to the strange contraptions in his room as Feyd moves quickly having the screens put away before heading to the table. His hands hover over the box and he looks at you taking the scroll.

“Dearest na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,

It is custom to give handmade gifts on birthdays. Please do not take offence, this took me ten days to craft with help from Leia and the Mentat. It’s the only thing I could think of that you may enjoy. 

Wishing you the happiest of birthdays and many more!

Y/N”

He pauses smiling at the strange kindness of the scroll, remembering several before. He’d often thought your gifts were juvenile and silly but he’d kept them anyhow. Bracing himself to put on a show of support he opens the box. His eyes deceive him. Narrowing his eyes he takes the blade from the box. He runs his hands over its sheath having seen it before. Looking back at you he turns to the blade knowing it well. Drawing it out he looks at the shiny metal and blood red centre. As legend would have it, the blade could never be turned against the bloodlines of your home planet. It could cut through anything but would dull against the flesh of its own. It had been made with blood from all of the families and brought to a religious order where it was forged in secrecy. There were none like it in the galaxy.

“It’s a replica” you speak as he admires the craftsmanship of your work. You’d been making this for him while he’d taken space, you’d been preparing this for him while others had been plotting on your life. You’d been making this for him in spite of your fear of him and reservations upon arriving. Putting the blade down he turns to you with dark eyes. It wasn’t the gift of a captive, it was a gift from a betrothed. Fighting for control Feyd kisses you once chastely before coming in for another, and another parting your lips. Your breathing changes as Feyd’s kiss becomes more dominant, the fingers on your chin slide down your throat and his strong hand secures around your neck kissing you with force, marking you, claiming you. His tongue sending sensations of pleasure and lust all throughout your body. Foreign sensations that exhilarate you, you feel your skin tingle as the heat rises between the two of you, your nipples hardening as the sensation in your stomach grows. Your knees grow weak and Feyd moves to his couch sitting with you across his lap without ever breaking the kiss. Your heart is racing, a strange want taking you over. You can feel him beneath you, growing harder and harder with every moment. Your senses and emotions come to a head all at once. You feel it happen, you see Feyd laying beside you, shirtless, with a hand around his manhood. His eyes stare at you while you look at him stroking himself lazily. Another flashes and he’s in the area you’re watching him when he’s sliced across the back after sending a smile up at you., while in the arena. Then there’s another you're standing in a brown palace facing a woman with blue eyes.

Feyd’s hold tightens around your neck and you pull back gasping for air. His eyes are black and his breath rugged. Your eyes hold his as he returns to the moment. Closing your eyes you wrap your arms around him terrified on the second vision. Your lips still tingle with the memory and taste of him. 

“Did I hurt you?” He asks with concern. You can still feel the ghost of his touch on your neck.

“No” you whisper fighting for breath as Feyd places his face against yours, your noses and lashes touch against each other. Feyd allows himself to be intoxicated by you. The feeling was singular, he’d never been one for kissing but it was all he could do without causing you dishonour before the wedding ceremony. You wrap your arms around his neck and his muscular arms hold you close. 

“Tomorrow during your fight, don’t look up to me - just focus” you whisper.

“I will do as I please, no one will best me. In the arena I’m king” he speaks confidently. You. Go to withdraw but Feyd’s hands secure at your hips. His eyes challenge you.

“Do you trust me Feyd?” You ask and he takes a breath never breaking the eye contact.

“I don’t know … should I trust someone as perfect as you?” He asks reaching down to the hem of your dress and tearing the fabric up to your thighs. Your heart races with anticipation.

“Yes” you nod breathlessly in anticipation for his next move.

“May I request another present?”

“If you promise to heed my warning” you nod as he palms the flesh of your thigh. Your eyes close.

“May I taste you on my fingers and with my tongue?” Feyd asks.

“Taste me?” You ask, your uncertainty only thrills him more.

“It would make you feel good, I’d use my fingers to give you pleasure and kiss your centre” his words are illicit. Thinking back to his bedroom you hesitate thinking for the both of you.

“I don’t think we should Feyd, I don’t think it would stop there and you need to be focused tomorrow” you respond causing a guttural groan. Your heart aches for denying him.

“Goodnight” he says standing and putting you back on the ground. He storms to his bedroom. Confused and conflicted you head to the cleansing chambers feeling the sting of rejection. The automatic system does as it should, you cover your body conscious of the sconces and walk into the living room feeling restless. Seeing the separation of his skin as it was sliced is haunting. Such a gash would take a long recovery and impair his ability yo protect you physically, it would make him vulnerable. Dressed in a night set you pad over to the joining doors and place your hand in. It opens and you walk to Feyd’s bedroom. Knocking at the door his eyes widen in surprise at the sight of you.

“Could we lay beside each other instead?” You ask trying to bridge the distance.

“We can” he says leading you back to your bedroom. You watch as he knowingly heads to the side of the bed you don’t sleep on. Your suspicions are confirmed, he has been watching you. It’s a strange thrill. He pulls back the covers and you do the same before lying down and Feyd-Rautha draws you into him. He’s all muscle and all man. His shirtless upper half is impressive and warm. You run your fingers over his sides enjoying the feel of his smooth skin.

“Thank you for my gift” he says placing one hand over your breasts and cupping it as you lay with your back to him.

“You’re welcome” you respond and he places a kiss on your cheek.

“Will you give yourself to me after the wedding?” He asks and you smile at his one track mind.

“Yes but you intimidate me Feyd” you confess. “I’ve never been with a man and I’m not sure life has prepared me for a man with your tastes” you confess amusing him. Moving quickly he positions himself over you and between your legs on his knees. He places his hand over your lady parts he presses a thumb against your entrance over your clothes and the sensation is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Leaning down he kisses your lips pressing slow circles against you. 

“There” he says withdrawing his full lips from yours. “It would feel better than that” he explains going back onto his knees. “I would use your breasts to bring you over the edge too” he says touching your chest, Feyd never breaks eye contact as he kneads your breast over the fabric. Your nipples appear and he pinches one before kissing you gently. You miss the feel of his had at your centre and squirm under him as he deepens the kiss. You want him to show you everything he knows. “I’ll do my best not to hurt you” he whispers breaking the kiss and laying on his back. The dim light over the bed allows the two of you to see each other well. He slides his pants down and removes his cock. A large appendage that looks far more alive than those in the library books. It fills his hand and has a weight to it. Its tip is shaped reminiscent of a cherry and beautiful. It leaks clear liquid and he strokes it slowly without any reservations.

You feel swelling at your centre, and a heat there, the pull to Feyd is almost magnetic, it’s strong and undeniable. His eyes look to yours as he strokes himself lazily, more vivid than in your vision.

“Not before a fight” you whisper knowing the custom but he’s too far gone. With his free hand he pulls you into a kiss imagining its your wetness riding his cock with a vice grip. Your body completely naked under his your soft lips on his like they are now. His mouth all over you claiming you as he fucks you hard. He wanted to make you scream and moan for him and only him. He needed to hear those sounds play like a chorus over and over. He needed you feral for him, he needed you on your knees with your mouth open whenever he entered a room. He needed you waiting naked in his bed with your legs open. He needed your obedience, trust and devotion. You to be open to his toys and predilections. He needs all yeses, for all of his desires. He needs you to take control too, make your demands known and be unrelenting until he satisfies them. He needs to see his pleasure all over you and wearing it proudly.

Seizing the image of you covered in his cum sends him over the edge. You watch as his eyes shut and Feyd biceps flex, his body goes rigid and thick streams of cum sprout from him. His chest heaves his strong pectoral muscles fully flexed as is his neck. He looks vulnerable as he fights for air. He’s beautiful, something primal tells you that this is all your doing. That this is the effect you have on him. Wanting to honour it and him you step out of the bed with shaky legs you take a washcloth and run it under a warm tap. You feel his eyes on you as you return stepping into the bed you pull the drapes obscuring the view of the sconces.  Sitting beside him you place the cloth over the mess he’s made and begin to clean him off. He watches you without words still hard as you clean his manhood, stomach and hands. When you're finished you toss the cloth in the incinerator and wash your hands before returning to Feyd.

His eyes drink you in, his chest burning with love for you and the way you just took care of him. Nobody had ever been so gentle with him. Tucking himself away he reaches for you prepared to give you the world. There was no better gift, there never would be the you in his bed in his arms, no better gift then the wonder in your eyes as he pleasured himself. Exhausted and overwhelmed Feyd slips into sleep with his head on your bosom. Running your hands down his muscular back you begin a few Bene Gesserit mantras of protection over him, needing now more than ever before for him to be protected as your heart races because one of your visions had come to pass.

PART IV

_____________

Thanks for reading 🩶 Don't forget to let me know what you think of this chapter, with a like comment and reblog.

I don't think Margot Fenring survives survived her attempted seduction of Feyd. Can they manage waiting until marriage? Are there more assignation attempts? Does the vision come to pass?

hmm....

TAGS:

@elf-punk @dvmb4ssbiatch @thegabbyh @fanfiction-addict22 @meetmeatyourworst @jojoclown69 @lillypink @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @avidreader73 @emeraldsgirl33 @strawberryfieldsforevermore @rose-are-royal @delusionsofnostalgia @szapizzapanda @palomavz @mcswan02 @slutforsmut4ever @emeraldsgirl @jackiekae @sarahhelpimsinking @maat-the-prescriptive

[9800sblog]

pick a card tarot reading;

how your future spouse will pursue you and their love language.

requested by @rosearex

ko-fi for tips

group 1

acts of service and gift giving

they idealize and fantasize you so much, you are so perfect, their everything, sunlight, they don't know how to act well around you. they're probably a little awkward and have so much self doubt when it comes to you, they might be usually super confident but they dont think they are grand enough to have you so they will make themselves useful to you. they'd share your worries and take the weight off your shoulders, they'd be all over you like a guardian angel trying to fulfill each and every of your needs. they may pursue you as a friend first and you'll fall in love with how dedicated and thoughtful they are. they might be overly practical and not know how to deal with romance, so be patient with them! I guess it depends on each culture, but your person would try too hard not to be weird, they'd try hard to look cool, confident or badass, even if it doesn't fit you or isn't your type, they're just really awkward and you'd think they're cute, it will make you wanna calm them down and show them gentle love.

group 2

words of affirmation and quality time

this person is overly dramatic and they won't take no as a definitive answer, they are crazy for you and unconventional. they think you are soulmates and a power couple. they would act super childish around you, doing anything to impress you and make you laugh, they're the type of unusual grand gestures, no one could ever replicate their love for you and they'd make you feel so sure of that. they wouldn't have to think hard, they're so full of passion and love for you that expressing it comes very easily, they're incredibly romantic and you'd feel like you live in your own little bubble everytime. they have difficulty thinking straight when it comes to you, I think they're usually calm and collected and people wouldn't expect this much expression from them, but, with you, they wanna defy time and space and be with you beyond lifetimes, they live you with their soul, they are addicted to you. they would continuously tell you that you are made for each other and they would wait millenniums to find you, matter of fact, by the way this feels, that's probably what happened. they would just make you feel so incredibly loved and desired, they are obsessed and you two together would be like inner child playtime. very action oriented, fire and sun energy.

group 3

physical touch and quality time

they would make you feel safe physically and mentally, so much so that they would take you out to explore yourself, the world and all it has to offer. this person would try to show and give you things, feelings, places you've never experienced before, they wanna give you multiple out of world experiences, this is likely a sex or drug thing, but it doesn't have to be, they might just be weird or not like anyone you've ever met before. they wanna make your shared world be like garden of eden before the disaster, where you have the freedom and capacity to do anything y'all wanna do. they are very focused on your feelings and mind, that's what they wanna love the most, they would love if you are a weird outcast and they wanna continue that forever, like bonnie and clyde, they probably fantasize about running away together. the hipster pile.

(look up the owl and the wolf story)

group 4

gift giving and quality time

this person is probably more traditional, with family heritage around these things, they would just try to be the perfect partner, providing or nurturing. I think a big ring would be involved, family dinner, they would try to impress you with things that they own, their upbringing and knowledge, prove their worth by showing class and power, the gatsby to your daisy, eric to your ariel, very romantic and high maintenance. your lives are probably very busy and full of expectations, they'd make you feel like none of those things matter when you're together and your shared life would be simple, easy and calm. you may have other options at the time, they would win you by acting like you're already married long time ago. I'm really getting old money vibes.

[uchu-no-bashira]

Pleasure on his fingertips - Gyomei x Fem!BlackReader

Authors Note: I have been fantasizing about Gyomei’s hands since the Hashira meeting arc. They’re so pretty ✨

TW: Minors Do Not Interact, masturbation, first time, bodily fluids, Black reader in mind, Orgasm Denial.

His hands are so careful.

They lift the weight of burdens unknown, remaining ever reliable in times of need, the same hands that are able to slowly trace your bundle of nerves with a profound tenderness.

His forearms mold around the curvaceous frame of your waist, his fingers gently digging deep into the comfort of your skin to hold you in place. His index swirls playfully, his eyes closed, a soft smile on his lips.

His abdomen put diamonds to shame, unbreakable and formed from the pressure of his training regimen. Who knew they’d act as a support for your back as it arched from anticipation?

One of your palms just barely graze his upper arm, holding gently for support, and he almost doesn’t feel the way your nails push into to the skin of his wrist locked around your waist.

His voice carries the weight of a rolling storm, deep and commanding. But it’s so soft now, with a bass that fills the ear drum as he whispers, “Very good.” After each of your mewls, gasps and whines, the tendons of his wrist move faster as he picks up speed.

His thighs, unyielding and powerful, keep each of yours propped to the side, exposing your torrid, dripping warmth to the frigid contrast of air in the room.

Even Buddha couldn’t save you now, and you didn’t want him to.

The sensation of your body beginning to coil tighter strikes a change in pace as his fingers delve deep into you, exploring carefully as he toils away, pushing deeper; rubbing ribbed, silken walls and hooking his fingers against that spongy surface within when it’s found.

The feeling of you is overwhelmingly wonderful. He’s used to cherishing your form; your cheeks, your ample soft hands, the incredible feeling of your plush, pouty lips on his thumb when he traces over them to get a vivid description of your face.

But this new side of you, this intimate exploration, is almost too much to bear. The heat radiating on and around his finger with each soft nudge into your flower sends a riveting chill up his spine. The slow, careful insertion of his fingers had his jaw slacked in awe and his attention at full capacity.

His favorite sound? Right now there are plenty, like the gush of slick squelching around the base of his fingers, but the number one thing that stands out is the wind being forced out of your voice box and caught in your trachea.

That soft, pleasured “Gyou!—“ is halted by the feeling of lips crashing against yours, the salty taste of tears from his eyes linger on your taste buds as his tongue dances along yours.

He sensed your hymen breaking a few moments ago and he felt terrible for doing such a thing, but - per your request - it was what was to happen when you asked him to pleasure you with those thick fingers of his.

A soft, fluttering clench coerces him to pull back and tend to your engorged nub once again, slowly letting your high come to a medium, and holding it there with each careful roll of his index and ring finger.

He felt so honored, to have been the one to do this first. He’d never felt anything like it before. His eyes close as he continues his ministrations, stimulating himself with a new softness foreign to his fingers.

As you’re gasping from pleasure - dazed from the lingering promise of euphoria - his lips break from yours and in a soft, pleading, husky tone, he requests only one thing:

“Not yet. You feel so lovely. Please don’t cum yet… Just a little longer.”

[petew21-blog]

Just a party, part 3

"Number 14 and 16"

"Guess it's you and me again." Ben took my hand and we went to the room we were assigned"

We left Ezra and Jason back there. Poor Jason, he was really fed up with Ezra. Hope he'll survive the night in that pip squeak body.

We opened the door of the room. I went on the bed. Ben right down next to me

It was awfully quiet. We wanted to have a party, we were overworked, stressed and probably needed a drink to loosen up a bit. We knew immediately that we both felt the same way. And we headed to the bar of the building.

The emplyees were serving us, asking about our needs and desires. Creepy but somehow nice. I bet the studio must have pay a massive ammount to get us to this event. But they all say that this one even is worth working for Hollywood. It fullfills you.

"You know, we didn't have much time to explore our bodies by ourselves before. With the Comic Con and so on, giving out all the autographs. I'm pretty sure that all the fans that will try to sell stuff with 'your' signature are gonna be pretty sad. I tried to perfect your signature Henry, but it still looks like someone else did it."

"Even better then. Those who really appreciate it get to keep it anyway and the ones trying to sell won't be as succesfull'

"Henry? You know I'm now the one wearing SUPERMAN's body? You don't have to act like him all the time."

"I don't honestly. I am just being polite most of the time. A decent human being."

"How about you show me how my BATMAN body looks like? You know what? Let's call each other by the name of our bodies, ok? To make the experience worth it. I wanna know what it feels like to be you"

"Ok then HENRY, now I wanna show you now what it truly feels like to FEEL that SUPERMAN body"

Henry in Ben's body lowered down to give Ben a head. He unzipped his pants and took out the beautiful hard cock he was already familiar with:"I think it looks even better from this angle" And the he took it in his mouth

It might have been the fact that I knew my cock so well. The way it responded to my tongue circling around the top, sucking his balls made me sure I was making Ben feel good. But I can't let him cum yet.

Suddenly my phone rang. I just looked up at him. He only winked at me and picked up.

"Hey, this is... HENRY Cavill. Sure, I got time. New TV series? The Witcher? I am not sure about that"

I looked at him aggresively. Playing Witcher is my dream, he can't deny them.

"Jeez. Ok, I really want it. When do we start? Ok, thanks. No, I can't talk that long, there is something I need to take care of. Bye."

My blow job was coming to an end. Then I stopped. Can't let him finish that easily.

"Please, go on!"

"Can't do that HENRY! You got an ass to breed. And I wanna have fun too"

I took his hand and dragged him to the entrance hall.

"The room is too far, let's go to one of the closests, I wanna fuck you there."

We took the first door on the right. Passionately making out on the way. Ben pushed me against one of the lockers. Wait, that wasn't a closet. We must have entered the lockers of the employees. We kept on going.

Suddenly we noticed voices from a room around the corner. We stopped and I showed Ben a finger on my lips to shush him. We went closer to get to hear them

"All right. As I have said before, we are now on the full capacity of our guests. They are very busy right now. Each and every one of you has an envelope with a name of the actor or other famous person they get to swap with today. For those of you who haven't read it, the reason of the swap is the Writers and actors strike. You will get a brand new life of a popular person, their money in exchange for absolute loyalty and diacretion about the swap. I am deeply sorry to everyone who wanted to go back to their bodies sometimes in the future, but we have to get rid of them. The actors in your bodies can't let anyone know about this. Is anyone against this?" nobody responded which led us to believe that they agreed"

"Ok. We now have 48 minutes until the door of the rooms get locked completely, sealing our guests inside making it easier for us. We will be going over some details with each and everyone of you. Starting with Miguel who will be receiving Henry Cavil's body..."

I looked in shock at Ben in my body. He was also horrified about what we just heard.

"We have to warn everyone!" Ben said to me

Suddenly a manly voice above us said very calmly:"Haha. But we won't let you, gentlemen" the man above us was Chris Hemsworth, holding a taser. Something was telling me, that Chris wasn't the one controlling his body anymore, or the one of his friends who swapped with him

To be continued...

Story request from inbox by Anonymous: That Hugh and Ryan story was Great! Maybe you can do a swap involving Ben Affleck and Henry Cavill?

And also continuation for part 2.

Inbox request: Your stories are soo good, love the Chris E. and RDJ swap. Maybe a second part involving some actors from dc, like Ezra Miller and Jason Momoa swapping to try new roles & running into Henry Cavill and Ben Affleck in the rooms?

Part 2:

Part 4:

[showmey0urfangs]

Louis' hypocrisy and cognitive dissonance

Oh boy, where to start? Episode 5 gave me a lot to think about. I find show Loumand fascinating™ though I have my (many) gripes with how the show chose to go about them. They have a very interesting dynamic that I think warrants exploring further.

When Louis first arrives in Paris, Armand tries to seduce him with a carefully crafted veneer of the all-powerful coven master. He seeks to impress Louis by playing up his mysterious allure and power. Though Louis is obviously attracted to him, he is very reluctant to take things further, and he insists that the relationship has to be on his terms. “If you want me I'm here.”

Louis is adamant that he doesn't want to be caught in yet another toxic dynamic like the one he had with Lestat. He no longer wants to be in a relationship where he is vastly outmatched and overpowered. The power imbalance is in great part why Louis hesitates to go all the way with Armand, sticking to casual meaningless sexual encounters (none of which we got to see on screen, thank AMCee!) but refusing to acknowledge Armand publicly. Ouch!

We see this dynamic shift in episode 4, when Armand finally manages to reassure Louis that he is “not Lestat”. He does this by allowing himself to be vulnerable with Louis and opening up about his traumatic past—something that Lestat rarely did. He also willingly cedes his power to Louis, allowing Louis to be his “master” and to take full control of their relationship.

This dynamic continues on until present day Dubai, where Armand is utterly deferential to Louis and seems to exist only to serve Louis and see to his every need, even if that means agreeing to things that he does not want to do (like sitting down for an interview with the same guy that nearly ruined their relationship 50 years ago and who has come back to finish what he started. We stan #homewreckerDaniel).

Armand essentially moulded himself to become what Louis told him he wanted in a partner; someone gentle, non-threatening, loving and devoted to the point of being obsequious. Someone who acquiesced to all of Louis' desires, even the most destructive ones. Armand is so desperate for love and acceptance that he will go to diabolical lengths and sink to the most humiliating depth to have it. And Louis knows this; “my daddy vampire groomed you into a little bitch.”

So imagine Armand's shock and horror when in episode 5, a drug-addled Louis tells him he is boring, colourless, flavourless, a beige pillow, so dull and insignificant that a mere human boy that Louis has only known for a few hours is more interesting than him. Louis admits he looks down on Armand for surrendering his power, mocking him for the fact that he is willing to lick Louis' boots, clean after him, and wait for him patiently as Louis goes out to seek excitement in the arms of “low lives, unfortunate and broken children.”

Louis signifies to Armand in all possible ways that what he truly craves is the chaos and the violent passion that Lestat offers. He is bored with Armand's “prison of empathy” to the point that he'd rather yeet himself into the sun than endure it for another second. Armand of course tries to patch things up with a quick mind wipe and restart, but the damage is already done.

The truth is that Louis never wanted a meek subservient partner. He never wanted a love that was easily won. What attracted him to Armand was his power and his capacity for destruction. Louis loves to tame monsters because he is one himself. He loves the thrill of danger and the excitement that comes from the uncertainty. He loves the chase and the loud vicious fights that end in heated makeup sex.

The problem is that Louis does not want to admit that to himself. He probably would have never admitted it to Armand either in his right mind—in vino coke and quaaludes veritas est. The person Louis is and the person he thinks he needs to be are completely at odds. What he thinks he should want vs what he actually wants are contradictory.

Because of this, Louis exists in a state of perpetual cognitive dissonance. He represses his desires in order to strive for some unattainable self-imposed moral ideal. He loves Claudia and wants to be a good father brother to her, but a selfish part of him sees her as a burden and knows making her was a mistake. This is something he verbalizes in many instances this season, consistently and subconsciously; Was she worth it? Speaking of poor decisions, The wilderness that is our daughter, Imagine me without the burden of her. He desperately wants to connect to his humanity and be better than the other vampires that he judges as sadistic and slave to their baser instincts, but he too inevitably succumbs to his bloodlust and often kills more recklessly and viciously than any other vampire. He tells himself that Lestat is the wrong kind of love, but he is irresistibly drawn to him and still hasn't moved 80 fucking years later.

You can chalk this up to good ol' catholic guilt, or to growing up with a shitty mother who made him feel like he would never be good enough no matter how hard he tried, in a society where he has to juggle several masks just to survive. Either way, it always results in Louis being torn between his desires and his guilt for failing to live up to the version of himself he thinks he needs to be.

IDK what the point of this essay was other than to say that ultimately Louis and Lestat deserve each other and Armand needs to stand the fuck up and stop simping for a man who obviously does not want him. Come be with me pookie, I will treat you so much better. 💖

That's all. Thank you for coming to my TED talk. 😊

[eywamygoddesswrites]

— 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝓬𝓬𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓽 — (sully family x fem!sully!reader)

pairing: sully family x fem!omatikaya!sully!reader

tags: mourning, getting therapy

warnings: lowercase intended, implied character death, angst

a/n: characters are aged up! this is inspired by that one tiktok audio and then my curiosity got the better of me and turns out, it was a whole youtube series and i was hooked on it. i've been wanting to make a fic based on that audio for a while but didn't know what characters to use. hope you guys enjoy despite it being angst ㅠㅠ

a/n 2: do you want a longer version of this oneshot? look no further because i will be making a short series based on the youtube series called "LUCIDS" and the masterlist can be found here!

word count: 1.1k

+ gif not mine. ctto.

y/n had been keeping herself busy for the past 3 months. she did everything to keep her mind off of everything. weaving baskets and nets like it was a project to give everyone in the clan, fishing for meals that can have her family full for 5 whole months, collecting and discarding every foraged stuff she could get from her endless walks, riding her ilu further and further beyond the reef just to feel something.

being the oldest of the sully kids was tiring but even being a sister wasn't able to make her feel anything. it was much more numbing than it should be. it made her distant from them.

lo'ak couldn't meet y/n in her eyes. it was like if they looked at each other, the walls they both built would crumble the second their gazes meet. it was like strangers being forced to get to know each other after knowing the horrible crimes they both did.

kiri was very concerned for her older sister. y/n exerts her energy beyond her capacity, does dangerous explorations beyond the reef, and sometimes come back with cuts and bruises, and how she would skip meals to finish all the projects she 'needs' to weave. she was overworking herself and in the 3 months y/n was busy, she had fainted countless times eventually norm and max were called when it kept happening.

tuk missed her big sister so much. she missed collecting pearls by the shore and being carried around while exploring the forest. she was scared at how y/n looked now. from once being a bubbly young adult who was curious and eager to learn something new to a drained-out, almost dead-looking na'vi who would kill people if she saw them looking at her weirdly.

if the three were concerned, imagine how her parents feel. it hurt jake and neytiri to see their oldest overwork herself to distract whatever she was feeling. jake knew how it felt like and he wanted to help his daughter badly. but each time he tried to talk to her, y/n would push him away further and further. she even hissed at him to make her point.

neytiri was angry and concerned. why was her daughter pushing her own mother away when all she wanted to do was help? y/n shouldn't push her away because as her mother, neytiri understands her more than y/n knows, or at least that's what she likes to think.

it was like y/n became a stranger that the sully's just allowed to stay in their home.

when y/n was fishing for dinner, her mind had been wandering elsewhere. her eyes stared down at the net she held as dread slowly filled her mind. it was like her sight was enlarging in front of her until she hears a distorted voice call out her name. "y/n."

she pulled away from her trance, eyes widening as her breathing became slightly erratic. y/n breathed in deeply through her nose and out through her mouth before her attention went to ao'nung, or what looked like ao'nung by the shore.

"hey there! just a quick update. tsireya is still swimming with the ikrans, who were gliding through the mountains on their bellies, then they ate an eye of a seaweed. now, the ilus and tulkans are fighting for some reason." ao'nung said, he was far away from y/n but somehow she heard everything clearly.

"oh… wow…" y/n says, clearly not understanding a single thing from what the metkayina had just said.

"how's your existential crisis coming along?" he asked so nonchalantly.

y/n was bewildered to say the least. this was the longest time she had held a conversation for how many months now.

"uh… fine?" she answered back but it sounded more like a question. "good!" ao'nung exclaimed back before turning around to leave when,

"ao'nung!" y/n immediately called for him, who turned back around to look. "can… can dreams also have memories?" that sounded wrong. "i mean, can you still have dreams even when you're dreaming?"

"oh, y/n. what else are memories if not dreams themselves?" ao'nung replies, not making as much sense as the question she asked.

"what–" "alright then, more soon!" ao'nung cuts her off before running off to eywa knows where.

y/n was left once again with her thoughts. she turns back to the net she was holding, only for it to be gone. this confused her and when she turned back to where the shore was, the next thing she knew, she was sitting on a giant rock.

"do you blame yourself?" the same distorted voice that called out her name earlier asked. distress filled her veins as she looked to where she heard the voice.

y/n's eyebrows furrowed. "what?" she asked. she saw herself, an exact copy of herself wearing human clothes that norm and max wear with a pen and paper held in her hands.

"well, it's quite common in this situation for a patient to feel a kind of guilt." her copy said, voice distorting more and more.

y/n's mind was in turmoil. "what situation?" she asked. the same dread she was feeling came into full force. her chest became heavy as it caused her to not breathe well.

her copy had this concerned look but the smallest of a smirk appeared on her lips, the following words leaving the copy's mouth. "the accident."

that's when y/n was transported back to the day neteyam had died.

she was there when he was shot through the chest. she knew the bullet was meant for her but he pushed her away and in turn, the faith of death fell upon him.

while the rest of her family had cried, she didn't. instead, she felt numb and angry. no other emotions filled her body except these two. it had helped her kill some sky people and some avatars when she came back to save kiri with her parents but after that, all y/n felt was numbness.

the heavy routine she placed upon herself became the only thing that made her feel something through the numbness she felt. it wasn't enough but at least it was something.

the same distorted voice came back. "it's very common for people to invent blame or create a causality" then the voice became normal in an abrupt manner, and her surroundings turned to norm's lab where he used his avatar and where they were able to breathe normally. "when in reality, it was completely out of your control." norm's voice was soft as he talked to the young na'vi in front of him, who in turn was staring off through the distance.

the forest where she and neteyam grew up, only for her brother to never come back home.

[punkpandapatrixk]

✨THAT GIRL ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

‘I know everything has its time and you cannot compete with destiny, is what I say. What I thought I wanted when I was younger, it wasn’t my time to have. I wanted to work with Calvin Klein—I did the fashion shows but I never did the ads. So it took me 34 years to do an ad. And, I said, “Okay. It’s okay. That’s my time.”’ – Naomi Campbell

Hey, Gorgeous~♥︎

Why do I get the feeling your fabulous era is coming fast? There’s this thing with Divine Timing, you know. As you work daily on yourself to become a vibrational match to your D E S T I N Y✨ the time will come when the world is ready to witness your S P A R K L E S✨

Your Light is needed by this world, in whatever capacity you feel a resonance with and in whatever fashion you find most exciting! We each have our divine time to be seen and heard. We can’t rush the caterpillar to grow into a butterfly, right? Often, there’s a painstaking process there. So what to do in the meantime? Become THAT GIRL you’ve always known yourself to be🌷

Who are you at the core of your being, Girl? Basically, if you nurture aspects of yourself that feel natural to you, you’ll discover that the key to your Destiny has always been in your hand. You just need to explore your potentials, experiment with yourself, test your limits and expand your horizon until you find the DOOR that’s the right fit for your key🚪🗝️

Live for yourself. Do whatever you wanna do and find yourself in the midst of novelty and temptation. So that you find your UNIQUE strength from within.

All in Divine Timing. Your fabulous era is coming~🦋

SONG: ♥︎Lonely in Gorgeous♥︎ by Tommy february6

SERIES: Paradise Kiss (2005)

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 2]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – That Happy-Go-Lucky Girl

VIBE: Hot Summer by f(x)

the most UNIQUE thing about you, babe – 8 of Pentacles Rx

ADMIT IT. You loathe the idea of ‘hard work’. Gosh, the world is full of wonders and humanity has found a way to invent boredom and be depressed! You are definitely a Faery Soul. You have a unique, more sensitive point of view which causes the whole notion of ‘hard work’ to get over your head. Why work and not just play? Why is it so impossible for people to embrace lightheartedness and just, BE, happy? You just want to dip yourself in pastel glitter all day long.

For one, you’re definitely a rebel—whatever your style may be. You have so little regard for rules if you’re being honest. If anything, you make your own rules after careful testing and experimentation. That’s what you do with fashion as well. Fashion is fickle, but style is forever. And to you, there can be more than one style that you can call your own. You don’t like to limit yourself when it comes to things you can do, try or wear.

You can be like a chameleon and you love that fluidity/flexibility of yours. But on top of that, you’re also transformative. You’re a highly creative soul who has a penchant for reinventing your personal brand over and over again. You’re the brazen type that can rock ANY style and people still say, ‘That’s totally THAT GIRL’S style no matter what she does/wears!’ You possess a really strong, magnetic, energy signature.

path of least resistance – 8 of Wands Rx

Your aenergy is reminding me of famous rebels of Harajuku. Harajuku is a tiny, tiny, tiny patch of the entire fabric of Japanese society, but the creative souls who dwell there exude such POWERFUL aura. Exactly because they have a rebellious energetic signature that they express rather unapologetically😊

These are the rebels who know they’re meant to carve out a lifestyle of their own in the midst of Japan’s disgusting policy of conformity. The 8 of Wands in reverse here is literally representing the notion of a koi fish that swims upstream to become a dragon… or something like that. This is a Kafkaesque energy! You go the other way, baby—don’t follow the crowd because even they don’t know where they’ll end up!

The more you try to conform and follow what everyone else is doing, the more miserable and unlucky you become! Because doing so is against the policy of your Faery Soul’s authenticity. Whatever line of occupation you are interested in—genuinely interested in—I just know you’re meant to do your ‘job’ playfully, creatively, lightheartedly, passionately, and BEAUTIFULLY. Whatever you do, it’s pointless if you’re not surrounded by BEAUTY.

accept yourself glamorously!♥︎ – King of Swords Rx

Ay ay, don’t use too much logic, babe. You’re magic🧚🏻‍♀️Your intuition is more reliable than your intellect, trust yourself on this one. You possess this peculiar type of intelligence that is fuelled by passion from your heart. That said, your gut instinct is also that much stronger than your capacity for cognitive calculation. Hope that makes sense. You are essentially an otherworldly being. Though you may often feel like you’re a chaotic pile of confusion because of that.

Actually, you have spidey senses that help you notice a lot of things all at once and you don’t always know how to explain that. You just, absorb so much information from visual cues, auditory cues, and other invisible cues you pick up from the collective or aether. There’s always so much going on inside you because of this. But you’re just processing all of that information, so don’t worry, you’re not as chaotic as you think😆This is a SUPERPOWER!

You just need time to learn to accept this superpower and use it to your advantage. Didn’t Peter Parker also go through some hardships in the beginning? Before he knew how to use his new mutant powers? Yeah, something like that. Go do your weird shit and be a maverick. That’s how you become a vibrational match to your SPARKLY DESTINY🌟

ROMANTICISING YOUR FAIRY TALE🔻💗

the Hand of Destiny – Priestess of Enchantment

tick tock tick tock VOILA~♥︎ – Priestess of Divination

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – That NU IT Girl

VIBE: LA chA TA by f(x)

the most UNIQUE thing about you, babe – 10 of Wands Rx

With you, there’s a strong energy of a debutante girl who kinda just popped out of nowhere, springing forth from obscurity. The reality though, is that you worked really hard to grow into this new IT GIRL in town. Your hustle tends to be unseen by others. I’m guessing you have significant placements in the 8th House and 12th House; or those energies ruled by Scorpio/Pluto and Pisces/Neptune.

I think you genuinely like it that way though. Keep ‘em guessing, is your motto. It’s entertaining to you when people can’t figure out how you’re, YOU. Let the mystery of your growth keep ‘em speculating. You love it when people can’t stop talking about you. You don’t even mind the gossip. As long as all attention is on you~ You’ve got the whole world wrapped around your fingers~

You gravitate towards luxury and you love trends. It’s like, following trends is the only way you feel like you still belong to the Human Race. Unless you do so, you feel left out because you’re a real hustler HAHAH You tend to isolate yourself to study and work on building your empire. Though you may seem shallow to those who just know you on a surface level, I think pretending to be normal like this exhausts the living shit out of you.

path of least resistance – IX The Hermit Rx

You’re probably more spiritually attuned than you let out. Especially if you have significant 8th House/Scorpio or 12th House/Pisces qualities to you. Because of this, you tend to be a hermit, enjoying doing your own thing at your pace. Your inner world is more interesting than the outer world full of shallow and stupid people. You can’t stand that their ambitions are so tiny LMAO

However, it does seem like you can sometimes get obsessive with your studies or work. This is giving me that vibe of someone who’s become so comfortable in the darkness they get blinded once the curtains are lifted. You remind me of Sherlock Holmes played by Robert Downey Jr. A smart, calculating, strategizing weirdo who isn’t that great at social settings🤣

Of all the Piles, you seem the least in need of this kind of reading—because you already have a strong sense of self. You seem to me like you have your identity established already. You’re clear about your likes and interests and these aren’t going to change easily. I think this is partly why you can be into trends—all for you to feel like you’re less boring. Hahah I don’t think you’re boring; you’re timeless, babe✨

accept yourself glamorously!♥︎ – 7 of Wands

With your heightened sense of class and timelessness, you could be prone to envy and jealousy, right? You’re essentially someone who’s incredibly blessed, on top of that, you’re hard working. It’s only natural so much good fortune is bestowed upon you. You’re a go-getter. You aren’t afraid to claim your prizes. And I think you should honour and protect this with your life.

Having said that, I still get this feeling that your Higher Self wants you to share your burdens with someone trustworthy. If you could surround yourself with a tiny inner circle of Soul Friends, that’d be more than enough. It’s good to have a few friends you can count on. But if your trust has been broken and your faith wounded, this could take some time to heal, so that’s also understandable.

The most important thing is that you never settle for less in your friendships and even business relationships. You don’t have to ask for much; you just need to ask for what’s true. I have a feeling when you’re older you will be blessed with amazing rendezvous with a bunch of your Soul Family. Until then, enjoy shining on your own terms. You’re IT~

ROMANTICISING YOUR FAIRY TALE🔻🧡

the Hand of Destiny – Priestess of Prosperity

tick tock tick tock VOILA~♥︎ – Priestess of Faith

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – That Transcendent Alien Girl

VIBE: NU ABO by f(x)

the most UNIQUE thing about you, babe – 5 of Pentacles Rx

As per usual, Pile 3 often carries an alien vibe—in this case, almost robotic. You’re futuristic and avantgarde in the way you think, do or say things. With two Major Arcana, I can’t help but mention that you’re likely a Starseed or a Lightworker. Being one usually means you’ve had to face many oppositions in Life to get you all prepped up for your Destiny! What are you gonna do about it? Refuse your tasks and let the whole rotten world kill your Light? Hell nah.

What’s incredibly interesting about you is your morality. You have a super strong sense for justice and you carry yourself with high standards of morality. It’s just…because you’re an alien, what is moral to you might not always agree with the convention. You’re the type of person who notices how justice in this world is totally broken. I’m not even talking about a nation’s justice system—I’m talking about the general sense of what’s right and wrong for reward and punishment.

You’re the type that on the inside could be like Genghis Khan, Joseph Stalin or the Joker and Harley Quinn. You aren’t afraid to blow a damage to someone or a situation that’s been unfair. Your being chaotic, destructive, or simply disruptive as a punishment, is what’s JUST in your book of morality. I’m reminded of the story of the German Revenge Mother, so yeah… That’s real justice because this world’s moral compass looks terribly like a joke to you.

‘I am the punishment of God... If you had not committed great sins, God would not have sent a punishment like me upon you.’ – Genghis Khan

path of least resistance – I The Magician Rx

Because your energetic signature is very alien, you’re a born eccentric. No matter what you do, you’re just…abnormal. Different. Depending who sees you, you’re either an inspiration or an eyesore. You can’t help it. You stand out too much. Those who see you as an inspiration though, usually feel so because your example (or your stories) gives them a sense of validation.

You clearly don’t belong; but you’re carefully doing your own thing; carving out your very own existence; establishing your place in the world through sharing and flaunting your unique talents. THAT is incredibly validating for other rebels, eccentrics, and outcasts who are similar in vibe to you. You are a powerful creator—a Magician—whether or not you’re aware of this at present.

Have you ever had this crazy feeling on the inside, that sometimes, you’ve felt like your moods affect the local weather near you? Or maybe you’ve caused electricity to go haywire when your emotions are heightened? Have you felt like your hands sometimes cause batteries to run out faster? Do you get electric shocks a lot even when the thing you’re touching shouldn’t be a natural conductor for electricity? Wood or even plastic?

Bitch, you possess a crazy amount of creator energy in you. Sometimes it leaks as sparks of insanity in the physical realm because that amount of potent energy needs to be moved. Remember: energy can’t be created or destroyed; it can only be moved or transferred. You were born with this insanity because you’re an alien. You’re more than capable of handling it. All of that is just needing you to learn to channel IT properly into passionate pursuits that can benefit Humanity~♥︎

accept yourself glamorously!♥︎ – VI The Lovers

I know you get shy sometimes. Thinking that your dreams and visions are too cringe or too wild, too crazy. But you wouldn’t even be able to perceive those visions if you weren’t capable of manifesting them. So, there’s a reason for that. And more likely than not, you’re meant to see it through that those visions become Reality. As for the cringe part…

Aish, your imaginations just need polishing. They’ll get better as you refine your senses and develop your tastes. Your Reality is bound to be more high-quality eventually LMAO Trust yourself for that! All great artists also started out quite pathetic if you compare their masterpieces to their pre-debut, or even debut, works. The manifestation of your desires is also a form of Art like that.

The more you merge with your Higher Self the more this will make sense. In the meantime, what you’re meant to be focusing on is your Lower and Higher Selves integration. The Human and the Spirit, ah I mean, the Human and the Alien merging as one navigating existence in this Earth Matrix😉

ROMANTICISING YOUR FAIRY TALE🔻💙

the Hand of Destiny – Priestess of Ritual

tick tock tick tock VOILA~♥︎ – Priestess of Beauty

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 2]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

[beneaththehalo]

nfwmb [rafayel x fem! reader]

an exploration of your married dynamic with rafayel based on the song. there are references to sex and murder, but nothing explicit. the song lyrics are indented, small text, and bolded. 1.3k words. link to ao3!

When i first saw you / the end was soon / to Bethlehem, it slouched /And then it must’ve caught a good look at you / Give your heart and soul to charity / ‘Cause the rest of you / the best of you / honey, belongs to me

another charity gala as rafayel’s wife. parasitic leeches of linkon hoping to boost their image through large donations that barely make a dent in their generational wealth. a drink at the bar, a waltz with a man fifteen years your elder, and the flick of your hair to drain their wallets. it would all be worth it once you could present the large donation check to your favorite ocean conservation charities — saving the sea turtles, clean the beach, etc. in fact, your knack for playing the game is what attracted rafayel to you in the first place. a measly event reporter drowning your sorrows in seconds at the buffet table, ranting to the poor photographer. in a crowd of fairweathers, you were the first real person rafayel had seen. it intrigued him.

you could say the rest was history, but you certainly didn’t make it easy for him as you were wary to trust another snooty, rich man. artist types tended to be uppity, over pretentious, and full of themselves, but their big pockets made them an easy target for charity. you changed your mind on him when you heard him talk about his paintings for the first time, no longer filtered through the PR-lens of Thomas, you saw the true tortures, loves, and muses of a real artist. of course, you were both a bit inebriated at the time which helped forego the filters as you both ranted over the pompous event. when you found out who he was, you thought you’d lose your job and never speak again. you will forever be thankful that the opposite happened.

ain’t it a gentle sound, the rollin’ in the graves? / ain’t it like thunder under earth, the sound it makes? / ain’t it exciting you, the rumble where you lay? / ain’t you my baby? ain’t you my baby?

it wasn’t always easy. the attention that came with being rafayel’s significant other was something you weren’t used too. microphones shoved in your face, constantly ending up on worst-dressed lists, and never knowing who you could trust out of your business contacts. it was fatiguing — this image of mr. rafayel’s perfect wife. she never said anything controversial, so she didn’t have morals or values. she never demanded attention away from her husband. she hardly ate in public or sipped more than one cocktail. yet, she women still seethed with jealousy and found any excuse to tear her down. they told her she would never meet his needs. she wasn’t pretty enough or smart enough to understand his art or tall enough or whatever bullshit excuse the media sold. rafayel’s ability to be a sex symbol as well as an artist was important, you were a threat to the brand.

you can imagine all that external pressure caused an implosion. insecurity breakdowns at home, intimacy interrupted tears, anger, and frustration. rafayel was ever-understanding, his patience with your struggles admirable. and on one such night, he said, “fuck my brand. i fell in love with you because of your capacity to care, tenacity, and raw emotion when you discuss your passions. i could lose my whole career, but i can’t lose you. not to people who don’t know you,” he says, planting a firm kiss upon your forehead. from then on, the dynamic shifted.

nothing fucks with my baby / nothing can get a look in on my baby / nothing fucks with my baby / nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing

you were married within a year or so, quick for some, but why wait for something you know will never change? the wedding naturally received a lot of attention despite it being a private elopement. tabloids clamored for the exclusive interview about the marriage of the famed rafayel and if he had any regrets about marrying at his younger age. would this effect his career? was he considering children? intrusive vultures thinking they were owed answers just because of rafayel’s fame. they never received any.

for rafayel was too busy burning every detail of your body into his mind each night. memorizing his favorite canvas and painting purple hues upon the skin of your neck. he touched you as if to prove that you were the only one who could ever draw his attention. all of your insecurities reduced to ash with his steady rhythm and guidance. he was everything you would ever need, and no one could satiate you more. it was heaven on earth, the connection you both shared. you’d both rather be damned than give that up.

if i was born as a blackthorn tree / i’d wanna be felled by you / held by you / fuel the pyre of your enemies

and here you are, back at the scene of the crime, aka this month’s charity gala to benefit coral reef restoration and preservation. you’re a few cocktails deep, the liquor always making things much easier to bear when conversing with the wealthy elite. men who hated their wives, women who loathed their husbands, and children far too privileged to be well-adjusted. people always found you easy to talk to, a little too easy to talk to, which normally you didn’t mind, it caused them to open their wallets all the same. however, tonight was not your night.

one of the men was blathering on and on about his petulant divorce. nothing you had not heard before. he was bolder than the others though, his words slurring a bit as he drapes himself over you. most people knew not to mess with you. for one, you could handle your own. for two, rafayel was rather possessive. so when this man thought he was clever, groping you inappropriately and making inane comments at your behest, something had to be done. so in your best, pseudo-sympathetic voice, you coax him into a private hall. rafayel isn’t far behind.

ain’t it warming you, the world gone up in flames? / ain’t it the life you, you’re lighting of the blaze? / ain’t it a waste they’d watch the throwing of the shade? / ain’t you my baby? ain’t you my babe?

the smoldering, remnant ashes of the man are promptly flushed down the toilet. rafayel cleans his hands at the sink, the small cut across his face already healing. you fix your hair, and blot at any of the smearing of your makeup. “better off anyways,” rafayel mutters, giving you a once over. he gingerly takes your face in his hands, resting his forehead against yours, “Ça va mon amour? [are you alright my love?]” he whispers. you nod, nuzzling your nose against his.

he peppers delicate kisses across your face. then drapes a few more down your exposed neck and collar. all your worries assuaged for the time being as you float in his attention, the memories of the disgusting socialite washed away as he fans the flames of your nerves. “rafayel,” you sigh, leaning into his touch, “you keep at it and the coral reef will never receive their generous check.” he whines in protest, but ultimately agrees and accompanies you back out to the party.

nobody mentions the missing man, and rafayel was such a smooth talker that any questions were easily forgotten. in the end, you had raised over $1.2 million for coral reef restoration, which was a feat in itself. when the party finally concludes and you tiredly shed your personas at the door of your shared home, you couldn’t be more grateful rafayel was who you had chose to spend your life with. and now that you were finally alone again, he would take that chance to remind you.

nothing fucks with my baby / nothing can get a look in on my baby / nothing fucks with my baby / nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing

beneaththehalo || est 2024

[kitkatscabinet]

Kinktober - 06: Sex pollen/aphrodisiac

John Price x afab reader

Warnings: attempted non-con (not price), dub-con by way of diminished capacity for consent due to drugs. Price is a dirty old man who doesn't resist as much as he should.

Drug busts were not exactly the 141s speciality, so when the orders for the mission came through the team was more than a little confused. Still, orders were orders and the team had to follow, no matter Captain Price’s irritation. 

Another thing you found odd was that Price had commandeered you as his field partner. As a lieutenant, and technically the next ranking officer in charge of the force after Price, you weren’t usually tasked to be on the field together. 

Not that you were complaining. Before the task force, you’d worked with John for years and he was easily one of your closest friends and though it had been a while, the two of you easily transitioned into working side by side once more. 

It was natural, as easy as breathing, everything with John always was. More than one person had made the joke about you two being each other's work wife/husband and it was impossible to ignore how pleased the term made you feel. It didn’t hurt that John never rebuffed the claim, if anything he played into it more than you. 

It was enough to give you hope. Even if your feelings were something that desperately needed to be squashed into oblivion, you took some solace in the knowledge that you would never act on your feelings. You were content to love him silently from afar. 

Or rather, you had been, but then everything had gone to shit in what should have been a routine drug bust. 

Yet as you lay panting, sweaty and writhing from the sudden heat flowing through your veins it quickly became clear that somewhere down the line routine had flown straight out the window. Trying to orient yourself, you manage to roll onto your knees, whimpering as you accidentally grind down against the heel of your shoe when you sit up. 

Your skin is on fire and the mortification, fear, and confusion quickly settle into a sense of amazement and then wonder. You’re so painfully aroused, more so than you’ve ever been in your life. Your underwear is already completely soaked and all you can think about is John. 

You just want John. Nothing else mattered anymore, not the supposed cartel or the drugs, you just wanted-

Suddenly hands are touching you, grasping at your clothes and tearing off your vest and shirt before you can stop them. Initially, you’d felt relief. Relief at the cool air on your sweaty skin and at the fact that someone was finally touching you. 

Though as your blurry vision settles somewhat, that relief fades to terror as you realise the man in front of you is very clearly not John. It’s the man who had managed to get the drop on you, jabbing a needle full of an unknown substance into your neck. You try to scramble away in panic, a half sob leaving your lips before you can stop it. 

Where was John? You just wanted John. 

He’s touching you again and though you kick out with a shaky leg, it doesn’t do any damage. Instead, he simply grips your leg, tugging you closer towards him as he fumbles with your belt. 

Just as he manages to get your pants down to your thighs and you’re practically choking on your tears the man is suddenly ripped off you violently. Scrambling backwards you watch with wide eyes as your captain lays into the man with a roar of fury. 

His hands are covered with the now unresponsive man's blood and even though it's clear he’s dead John doesn’t stop. It’s not until you’re plastering yourself to his back, burying your nose in the skin of his neck and whimpering his name that he turns and pays attention to you. 

You let out a pleased hum at that, your hands greedily ducking under his shirt to explore the expanse of his broad chest. Only to let out a dismayed whine as he grabbed your wrists, preventing your exploration. 

“Darlin, you’re not yourself.” He murmured, though even through the haze of your lust you could make out the clench of his jaw, the subtle shake in his hands and the way his blown pupils stared down at your mostly nude skin. 

You shook your head defiantly at his words, desperate to make him see just how badly you wanted- no, needed him. You managed to guide one of his hands down and inside your drenched panties, moaning at the feel of his thick fingers against you. 

“More myself than I’ve ever been. Need you. S’all for you. Please Captain, hurts so bad” you whined, bucking against his hand that he very tellingly hadn’t pulled away. He’d let go of your wrists in his shock and you used the opportunity to snake your hands around his neck, pulling yourself to rest against his chest. 

He groans at your movements, chest rumbling in a way that sends shivers down your spine. “Please John, been thinking about this for years-” The statement is barely past your mouth before he’s bending his neck down and shutting you up with his own. 

Whether its the use of his name or the knowledge of just how long you’d wanted him, he snaps, unable to hold back anymore. 

His free hand cups the back of your neck, keeping you in place as his other rubs over your clit a few times before two of his large fingers are slipping inside your aching hole. You’re so wet that there’s little pain and you moan pathetically into his mouth as your legs give out beneath you. 

John catches you smoothly and quickly sets you down on a cool metal table in the corner of the room, all the while never pulling away from your mouth. Your hands have managed to rid him of his belt, pawing at his fly and pulling out his flushed cock that betrays just how much he wants you too. 

The sight makes your mouth water and if you weren’t so desperate to have him inside of you you’d have gotten on your knees from him immediately. He lets out a hiss at the feel of your smooth fingers tugging at his length though to your displeasure, he quickly bats your hand away even as you let out a confused whine. 

“Sorry love, but if ya keep touching me like that, I won’t last much longer.” His voice is strained and it sends a whole new wave of arousal through you to know that you affected him so much.

“Need you inside. Now” you tug on his hips, pulling your ruined panties down enough so his cock presses between your wetness. He groans once more and tries to protest but you are determined and so fucking desperate that you snap at him. Using his shock as an opportunity you snake your legs around his waist and start to slide him inside of you before he can stop you.  

Luckily, you don’t have to do all the work, as the moment you get the tip of his length inside of you his hands find purchase on your hips and he pushes the rest of the way in. Your head rolls back at the feeling of being stretched out and filled and John uses the opportunity to nose against the skin of your exposed neck. 

His beard tickles against your skin but you barely notice it over the lingering bites and the brutal pace his hips immediately set. You’re powerless to do anything but grasp onto any part of him you can manage and take what he gives you. 

The sound of your moans and flesh slapping against flesh drowns out everything else in the area. Not that it matters, because nothing else exists outside of John. The world could be ending right now and you wouldn’t notice or care. 

His rhythm starts to falter and he lets out a string of curses against your shoulder, one of his hands quickly snaking down to put pressure on your sensitive clit and it’s enough to make you see stars. 

“Come on love, Cum for me darlin’” He hardly has to utter the words before you’re following his orders, thighs spasming and breath leaving your chest as the most intense orgasm of your life crashes over you. 

John’s swearing but you can’t make out the exact words, though you do feel the result your orgasm has on him as he tumbles over the edge after you, spilling hot ropes of cum inside your greedy pussy. 

A few seconds pass and you manage to regain your breath and some clarity. But the heat has not completely abated and your hips start moving again with a mind of their own as you grind against John with a sob.   

You think you apologise through the gasping breaths for air and tears that have started to spill down your cheeks, but you can’t think of anything other than him and the pleasure you so desperately craved. 

His hands are on your hips, flipping you around and pressing you against the desk, causing you to sob in earnest at the sudden lack of contact. Though he quickly reassures you with a few kisses down your spine, dropping to his knees as his hands keep your hips stationary against the table. 

A bite at the skin of the junction of your thigh and his hot breath murmuring words you can’t even begin to hope to decipher over the roar of blood in your ears quickly appeases you though. John wasn’t going anywhere soon. Not until you were satisfied.

[votive-candle]

So I've been considering a rebrand on this blog for a long time for "professional" reasons... like changing my username, making an official portfolio with my name to it elsewhere, etc.

This idea has been mostly motivated by this deep insecurity I have surrounding what I would say is either NSFW work, suggestive art, "fangirl" energy, all that. And it's... frustrating, to say the least. And difficult express in a way that's coherent. Because my personal feelings are that art, even art that within the sphere of industry that I want to approach (ie. game art & story design, character writing and so on), should not have to be confined within this box of "sensibilities" that I'm told it should be.

If I was doing fine art like painting, or making installations, or sculpture, I get a sense that this puritanical ideology of self-censorship would not be expected of me. I also get a sense that if I was born male and lived as a man, there would be different industry expectations of me also. If I was a cis dude I don't think a game director would mind if I had a portfolio full to the brim with borderline naked, hypersexualised women and girls with big swords and huge racks (no shade, big boobs and big swords are fun and cool). But -- and again I don't have evidence of this, it's just a hunch -- I somehow get this idea that the way I approach drawing masculine figures? The way I write and express myself through, and speak about characters? The sexually explicit artwork I've drawn over the years, which majoritively does not even show genitalia? I get this gut feeling that this would be much less... palatable (?) in the industry for commercial, media focused art.

I've been drawing sexual content since I was a teen fangirl and I think it's really strange that somehow, as I get older and more mature (and I'm serious here, like really, let that sink in? I was told directly "you're not a kid anymore, potential employers won't like this" in response to shipping art an old tutor saw me post online a few years back?), it's considered in many ways less appropriate for me to produce explicit or sexually themed artwork. Particularly when that art has that air of "fangirl" (or "fan-person" in regards to myself) around it. Because "fangirls" aren't professional, are they? They're vapid, of course. They don't consume art meaningfully, not like strong, stoic men do. No, they just want their shipping and their coffeeshop AU's and their moodboards, and there's nothing creative in that, is there? No "professional practice" there.

I just find that... baffling

I'm speaking from the perspective of someone who is borderline asexual on that spectrum, and always has been. Somehow, professionalism is partly hinged on making your art less exploratory of adult themes, once you become an adult, once you're old enough to understand and properly illustrate the importance of adult themes. Isn't that strange to anyone else? Because to me it feels wrong.

Like I said, I'm borderline asexual. I don't draw sexual content to get my rocks off. I draw it because I find physical intimacy to be one of the most multifascited expressions of humanity between people. Sex and sexuality are so dynamic in their capacity for storytelling. With it (and safely so through fiction, if you're careful about it), you can express and explore so much; passion obviously, love, but also sadness and grief and condolence, malice and rage, heartbreak, self-destruction, self-improvement, excitement, fun, even just friendship.

Sex is beautifully dynamic from a humanistic standpoint. It shouldn't need to be considered this looming force of demonitisation, or an industry blockade. And I understand I have drawings that are too graphic, too NSFW to put in a professional portfolio, to leave online for employers to see. But I'm not even talking about smut here.

Majoritively, I really don't want to distance myself from a lot of this work I've created. It means something to me dude, because these characters and stories mean something to me. Sometimes the drawing itself is just... a technically well executed drawing. I don't want to revoke that because there's an implication of "ooh, someone's touching ass, breast and dick in there!"

Yet by expressing my excitement over that, I do feel cornered. Like I'll never get hired anywhere. Which isn't easy given the struggles I already have with disability, mental health, etc. So I feel a need to sort of give in and retcon a lot of my posts.

I don't like that finding work in the fields I'm interested in kind of hinges on a lack of self-expression, I suppose. I find it bitterly ironic since I want to work in creative fields. It feels like a betrayal of the self and of the purpose of art and good media for grown individuals.

But hey, I guess that's capitalism, baby.

This blog might change a bit in the near or semi-near future. Maybe a new username or profile pic, I'm not sure yet. Maybe a second blog will pop up somewhere. I just wanted to vent a bit on my disdain in having to make these decisions. Beg your pardon.

[percyjackson-post]

The Seven as Minecraft player types

Annabeth- The builder. You would think the game's limits would at least prove somewhat of a challenge to her, but she’s somehow mastered the ability to make builds that don’t even seem to be made of squares anymore. You just know she’s one of those people making those giant castles where you have to turn up your render distance to even see them fully.

Leo- Redstone builder. He'll spend the first hour in the mines, but the minute he walks out, he's ready to go to work. He and Annabeth are a force to be reckoned with when they start working together. They will have you sitting there trying to figure out how what you just saw was a part of Minecraft and not some entirely different game.

Hazel- The farmer. She hates going anywhere near the mines, but she’s got the most impressively efficient farm systems you’ve ever seen. All of this is for her real end goal of creating the fastest horse possible on every single world.

Frank- The Pvper. He’s a force to be reckoned with and most of the others have given up trying to beat him in any capacity. He spends most of his time working as a bodyguard for Hazel or collecting mob drops for the others needs.

Jason- The Explorer, the minute he joins a world, that boy is GONE. You ask him where he is at any point, and he’s at least 5k blocks from the nearest player. He will eventually show up with the most insane loot, but that is just so he can drop things off before vanishing again.

Piper- The Achievement Hunter. She is locked into this game and surprisingly great at it. You’d think she’s speed running with how quickly she’s flying through the game. She will always be the first to the nether and the end and almost never has a house, just a collection or weird builds designed specifically to help her with whatever she's working on

Percy- The resource collector. He’s much more likely to bounce between different activities than the others. One minute he’s trying to fight Frank, the next he’s helping Piper try and get some very specific achievement, and then he’s desperately trying to find Jason. The minute Annabeth even mentions she wants a certain type of block, he is laser-focused and won’t even think about doing anything else until he’s got an inventory full of said items.