#but you know I love instant gratification

[yesimwriting]

Felix and lovie:

L: but... arent promise rings meant for bfs and gfs?

Felix: i mean, we made the promise to always be close so its our promise ring i think.

L: i guess youre right!

Farleigh: 🧍🏾‍♂️

i want to queue posts before i go on my trip but i also i love instant gratification ahhh

this isn’t exactly promise rings but i think it feels pretty close

His room still smells the same--faint traces of smoke and cologne blending into slightly humid air. You're not sure what you expected. Felix left for a weekend for some family function his mother wanted him to attend. Two days.

Not a significant amount of time. Not enough time to change anything, and yet you felt every second of it. You missed him. Missed him more than you think you'd ever be willing to admit.

"Did you miss me?" There's no way he knows what you were thinking about, but there's something about the slight tilt of his head and his barely there smile.

You hold his gaze for a beat before letting your attention fall to your shoes. "Maybe a little."

Felix's mouth falls open in a mock gasp. "Maybe?" And then, still completely appalled, "A little?"

You press your lips together into a firm line to keep from laughing at his reaction. Felix moves to stand, leaving his bed in favor of approaching you. In an attempt to hold your ground, you cross your arms in front of your chest. Felix disregards your feeble line of defense, continuing forward until you're within easy reach.

"I could say--" Felix places a firm hand on your shoulder. A sound between a laugh and something slightly more panicked tumbles through your sentence. "I could say I missed you a lot, but--" Another hand on your other shoulder, another clumsy laugh. "But I don't need to feed your ego."

He pulls you forward gently until your face hits his chest. You halfheartedly lift your arm in an empty attempt to push him away. You're quicker to embrace defeat, glad for the excuse to be near him, really near him.

You hugged Felix when he first got back to campus, but with his usual crowd all desperate to catch up with him and Farleigh right there, you felt a little more watched than usual. You couldn't do what you really wanted, couldn't take a beat to just absorb Felix's warmth.

"So you were being mean."

You're only half listening, more focused on wrapping your arms around Felix. The scent of his detergent is stronger than usual, nearly obscuring the scent of his cigarettes entirely. Maybe he smoked less this weekend. You try to picture Felix under some kind of authority, sneaking cigarettes out on a patio to avoid upsetting his parents. It's so normal, a part of you regrets not getting to see him like that.

His hand presses against your back. "Lovie?"

You lift your head enough to look at him. "Yeah?"

Felix's eyebrows briefly pull together. He watches you for a moment before grinning. "You missed me."

His smugness has the instinct to protest crawling up your throat, but there's something so content about his expression, you can't bring yourself to deny it the way you usually would. "I missed you. A lot."

Felix's grin broadens. He tilts his head downwards, his lips briefly brushing against your forehead. He straightens before responding, "You could have come with me."

You did meet Felix's sister during your Christmas break trip, and she was really nice, but Felix's world is still something you're vaguely wary of. Maybe you could have come around to the idea of meeting Felix's parents, but the thought of attending some event intended only for his family was a little overwhelming, especially because Felix didn't invite any of his other friends.

"It was a family thing."

Felix lets out a soft sigh. "I brought Farleigh."

"Farleigh's your cousin, he was already invited."

He pulls back slightly, his hands moving away from your back as he lets go of you. "No one cares if you bring a date to those things." It's the same argument he used in an attempt to get you to go with him. "It's to keep the night bearable."

"Bearable?" You beam. "You missed me."

From you, it's an accusation. Felix's eyebrows draw together, like he's unsure why you felt the need to say something so obvious. "I missed you." He shifts back on his heels in a way that borders on uncertain. "So much, I brought you back a present."

You raise your eyebrows at that. Felix is a thorough person. When he gives someone his attention, that person has his entire focus. When Felix gives presents, he tends to be just as generous. It's not a bad thing, but it is something the two of you have talked about. Yes, you're best friends, but that doesn't mean you want Felix splurging on you. Even if it's not splurging to him.

Felix turns, walking towards the bag that he left on his bed. With his back to you, it's a little easier to watch him openly. He went to English countryside for some charity event put on by some cousin. What could he have gotten? "A present?"

He unzips his bag. "Yes," Felix shifts through his close, "A present."

When Felix turns to face you again, there's a something small and square in his hand. The closer Felix gets, the clearer the object becomes. A box that's oddly reminiscent of a jewelry box.

With an abruptness that doesn't seem to suit him, Felix extends his arm to hand you the box. You watch Felix as you take the box, doing your best to decipher his expression. He's strangely blank.

You open the box, revealing a ring safely tucked between cushioned velvet. There's an image carved into the flat face of the ring. The carving of an arrow-pierced hand emerging from a crown is vaguely familiar. You might have cared about placing the image more if the ring was less stunning.

"You um--you wear a lot of rings, so I thought..."

You do wear a lot of rings, there are several on your fingers right now. "It's really pretty."

"My mum was going through some older pieces this weekend and it reminded me of you." The explanation is mumbled cautiously, Felix's attention shifting from you to the ring and then back to you.

Your lips part, an uncertainty you're not accustomed to feeling around him making it hard to speak. You don't know everything about Felix's family history, but you know enough to understand that when he says something from his home is old, he means it.

"Lex." The gesture tugs at a sentimental part of you that exists solely in the pit of your stomach. "That's really sweet, and it's really pretty, but I can't take some family heirloom from you."

His eyebrows pinch together in a way that feels more confused than directly unhappy. "You're not taking it, I'm giving it to you." Felix shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "C'mon, I've got loads of these, it's just been sitting in some closet."

Felix is watching you with wide, almost pleading eyes. You let your gaze fall back onto the ring. With no warning, Felix places a hand over yours. "We'll trade."

You don't fully understand what he's getting at until Felix starts to straighten your fingers. He twists the ring that's on your ring finger. It's a nice ring, a simple band with thin carvings that you picked up at a vintage jewelry shop on a whim, but it's not exactly an even trade.

Felix slides the ring off your finger. A trade is a little easier to accept. The two of you share things like bracelets all the time. "Okay," you pause to take a breath, "But if you ever want it back..."

"Yeah, I know." The words feel like a dismissal. You narrow your eyes briefly, but don't push the subject the way you normally would. You're too happy to see him to care about technicalities.

Felix pulls the ring out of the box and slips onto your finger. You bend your fingers and turn over your hand to get a feel for the ring and its size. It fits. "It's really nice."

"It suits you."

Before Felix can pull your ring onto his finger, you put your hand over his. He lets take your ring from between his fingers. You hold your thumb beneath Felix's palm, the rest of your fingers curling over his knuckles. Felix keeps his fingers straight as you place your own ring on his finger. "There."

Felix grins. "There?"

"Yeah, it's--" You ignore the warmth attempting to make its way up your neck. "It's in place."

He stretches his fingers, studying the way the band looks on him. There's something about his expression you can't quite read, but it doesn't seem unpleasant. He drops his hand before you can attempt to decipher his thoughts any further. "Do you want to watch a movie?"

You drag your thumb against the side of the ring. "Yeah, a movie sounds nice."

----

fun fact the design carved into the ring is supposed to be the catton family crest :)

taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae @willowpains @ker0senebunny @lilyrachelcassidy @khxna @imbabycowboy

[rhysnolastname]

Need to go home and play bg3 for my sanity

[leverage-ot3]

silly episode idea but hear me out

okay well the first part isn’t silly! so the episode is based around a con they are doing where a polyam triad wants to get married and have been writing to senators and stuff for years but nothing has happened. maybe there is a time element that leeway has to happen soon (not sure what that would be yet, maybe someone is sick???)

(obviously polycules aren’t only and are often more than just a closed three-person system, but I’m saying triad right now bc I feel like that would be an easier and more ‘socially acceptable’ gateway into more accepting legislation for diverse relationship dynamics)

the leverage crew, of course, can’t outright change the public perception of poly marriage, but they can use the ‘enemy’s’ tactics against them and slip stuff into legislation without people noticing like they do. it’s slimy and it’s not a permanent fix, but it’s a start, and it gives people the opportunity to see poly marriage in action and that it isn’t as terrifying or pearl-clutching-inducing as they think it would be. there’s a long way to go, but the seeds of change have been sown and they will make sure everything goes as smoothly as possible

this is one of the cases that they will monitor on the back burner over time. some cons can finish within a few hours (the bottle job), and some things they will follow over time and make adjustments when needed- amplify voices and expose corrupt politicians etc

and then it’s just after 3/4 of the way through but the con has been finished? what is going on? this is where the silliness comes in

the camera turns to the ot3 and…

hardison, pulling out three individualized rings: I know it’s not legal yet, and we have the necklaces, but I think rings would be a nice touch

eliot, pulling out an intricately carved box that also has three self-handcrafted rings: dammit hardison (with feeling and tenderness, and damp eyes)

parker, pulling out three very stolen rings from her pocket: does this mean we’re getting triple married if we all have three rings???

harry pops into the conversation (practically vibrating) excitedly just casually mentioning that he’s a notary and would be honored to marry them to each other if they wanted to

(they do)

wait, did I say silly? I meant unwaveringly tender and heartwarming

[lil-lesbian-historian]

Fanfiction has ruined some of y’all’s brains so badly. Gaiman said to expect 3 seasons of Good Omens. That’s how much content he has planned for the show - meaning there’s a definite end he’s looking towards.

What did you really think s2 was going to be? The two of them running around and then being at the Ritz just like s1? That’s not an interesting show, it’s just fan service fluff. (Which is obviously fun and all but not something you should base 3 seasons of TV show on)

Gaiman told you what has to happen for Crowley and Aziraphale to be together in the show: Aziraphale has to heal from his past ‘relationship’ to be in a healthy one with Crowley. What Nina says about her and Maggie is not just a character talking to fill up run time, it’s the show saying something too.

TL;DR: Aziraphale is in a toxic relationship with heaven and needs to get out of that mindset before he can be with Crowley. It’s natural story progression and some of y’all have fanfic brainrot where everything must be instantly gratifying.

[8bit-mau5]

where are my Athren enjoyers. you’re in for a treat 

[ohfuckihavetofindanameagain]

To complain-

[creativenicocorner]

some gems from 2am  

[missroki]

JJK MEN WANTING TO GO ANOTHER ROUND!

content: female reader × multi jik, black girl friendly, piv sex, vaginal fingering, doggy, anal play, cunnilingus, breeding kink, reader is called sweetheart, my love, pretty girl, and baby. TOJI, GOJO, NANAMI, GETO.

TOJI presses your temple to the blessedly cool sheets, your palms trying their best to find purchase to lift yourself up. you don’t get far before he pins you harder into the mattress. your hands twitch instinctively, longing to trace the plains of muscle and veins that grace his skin.

“be careful, sweetheart,” his voice rumbles, deep and heavy like an impending storm. “almost thought you were trying to get away from me.”

you reply with a sharp intake of breath, your cunt throbbing at the promise of more. excitement makes you burn with unfiltered desire, unable to ignore the sticky wetness between your thighs. toji continues to push his cum back inside your hole in shallow thrusts. it is an act of mercy compared to what you know will come next.

“t-toji, please, go slow.” your voice is hoarse from your screaming, but pleading all the same.

your boyfriend (if you could call him that) keeps close to your back, breathing along the prickling hair at the nape of your neck. a hand reaches down to rub your sensitive clit and the sensation makes you jump, but it only pushes him in deeper. the wet sounds of your cunt are embarrassing in this too quiet room.

“you worried?” toji murmurs, his mouth against your sweat-slick neck. “thought you’d get off easy tonight after that stunt you pulled?”

the scar on his lip curls as toji thinks about you grabbing him through his pants at dinner. such a naughty little girl, always needing more. you shiver as he presses down on your back, forcing you to arch higher for him. “don’t worry, pretty girl. i’ll make sure to kiss it better.”

NANAMI gazes up at you with heavy-lidded eyes, sweat making strands of his blonde hair stick to his forehead. you continue to grind down on his spent cock, moaning as a frothy ring of cum gathers at his base. the sight is sinful as you come down from your orgasm, but it’s not enough to mask the overstimulation from your constant twitching and writhing.

pushing through the sudden sensitivity, strong hands reach up to grip your hips, forcing you to stay still as a shiver runs down his spine. “you are insatiable.” nanami breathes, leaning his head back to rest on a pillow. “but if we keep going, i won't have anything left to give you.”

you whine petulantly, running your manicured nails down his chest and tweaking one of his nipples as you go. nanami growls your name in a stern warning.

“kento,” you whimper, “why so grumpy? i just want to make you feel good. they say third time’s a charm.”

one of his hands reach down to palm your ass, gripping the soft skin firmly as he imagines it littered in red handprints. “i see. was the first time not charming enough for you?”

“no, and i believe you’ve done better, actually.”

he scoffs at your obvious lie, the dry tear streaks on your face enough proof that you are trying to push his buttons. in a move that makes your head spin, you’re lifted up and flipped onto your back, legs forced to fold you almost in half.

the man above you runs the sensitive tip of his cock along your slit, watching as streams of his cum spill out now that he’s not keeping it plugged inside.

“then i must be having issues with my memory,” he murmurs, a cold sweat running down your stomach as he eases his weight onto your chest. “let me demonstrate so that i can jog yours.”

GOJO has always been… overzealous. satisfaction doesn’t come easy when instant gratification is all you know; being handed anything you desire with no questions asked. it is something he is well aware of, but that he chooses to ignore on most days. and though he loves you dearly, it is nice to see you squirm, to feel your hand push his head away half heartedly as you beg for some reprieve.

but gojo satoru always wants more, and his thirst for you isn’t something that can be easily quenched. his hands grip your hips to hold you firmly in place as you gasp and pant on too-damp sheets. his lips press into the darkened skin of your inner thighs, blush pink and gentle as he speaks. “fuck,” gojo breathes out, “you taste so good, baby. you’re gonna give me one more, right?”

you whimper as his thumb presses against your swollen clit, tears falling down your cheeks. “i-it’s too much, ‘toru. n-need a break.”

he grins up at you, voice heavy with desire as his thumb moves against your clit just how you like it. “you cryin’? i make you feel that good?”

you can tell by the look in his eyes that he enjoys this, teasing you so brazenly. he can tell by the look in yours that you love it. “please,” you whimper, gripping his white strands firmly. “i want you inside.”

if your boyfriend was smiling before, he’s absolutely beaming now. “well, since you asked so nicely.” gojo tugs down his sweats so that they rest under his balls, cock standing proud with the tip dripping pre onto your stomach. he runs the length of his cock on your pussy, a long finger reaching down and pressing ever so cheekily to your ass hole. you squeal but he holds you in place.

“satoru!”

“what’s wrong?” he asks with feigned innocence and too smug grin, “i thought you wanted me inside?”

GETO’s brows furrow at the sight beneath him, a small tsk leaving his mouth as he watches his cum spill from you in thick globs, soiling the bed in a mixture of both of your juices.

his fingers lift and thrust his cum back inside of you, grazing your sensitive walls as he makes sure to fill you with as much of him as possible. his thumb idly teases your clit, aftershocks making your legs jelly-like and loose.

you recognize this look in his eye; know that he is displeased in his inability to keep you plugged full of him. “su, baby. you fill me up so well.” you reach up to push his bangs back from his face, the long strands carrying over his shoulder and exposing the deep bruising you left on his neck.

lifting your leg, your husband bites gently on the back of your thigh and eases the ache with a gentle suck. he savors the way you whimper as a crescent shaped mark blooms on your skin. “i’ll make sure to get you pregnant, my love. it’s about time that nana and miko had another sibling, don’t you think?”

you chuckle, lifting a brow as he continues to worship your skin. “you’re very convincing, but i doubt you’ll be able to knock me up when i’m still on the pill.”

as if he didn’t hear you, you feel geto reposition your body in the bed, pressing you firmly into a mating press. you gasp, the room darkening as his hair encloses you both in a curtain of black. “well, that won’t do,” geto murmurs, looking down at the mess between your thighs and tapping the tip of his length against your entrance, “let me try again, yeah?”

MISSROKI. all original work. do not plagiarize, translate, or repost. this includes feeding my work to ai apps and sites.

[garfunklefield]

how the jjk men kiss u? (nanami gojo getou toji hakari choso sukuna)???

Cherry Chapstick

How they kiss you? [GOJO, GETO, NANAMI, CHOSO, HAKARI, TOJI, SUKUNA]

18+ viewer discretion is advised

Fem!reader/JJK MEN Warnings: established relationship, tongue kissing, making out, dry humping, fondling, grinding, sadomasochism [SUKUNA], aftercare Word count: 1209 DESC: On a scale of 1-5 how good are the JJK men at smooching?

If you saw the first one no u didn't

ALL EYES ON RAFAH

Satoru Gojo ★★★✩✩ Tongue!

Satoru isn’t a bad kisser necessarily, but he uses his tongue a lot. If that isn’t your style, you wouldn’t really find it pleasurable. But he loves it. He loves to curl his tongue around yours and lap into your mouth, with your perfect body seated on his lap. It takes everything in him not to push you against the wall and hump your pretty ass until he’s cuming in his pants. 

He has very little self-control, so your make-out sessions don’t stay make-out sessions for long. Within no time, his shirt is coming off and so are his pants. He doesn’t need to fully undress you, just kissing you is all he needs. 

Gojo isn’t gentle and honestly, he doesn’t really think about your pleasure. He can be a careless lover, fucking into you for his sake rather than your own. Doesn’t mean you don’t enjoy it, but it does mean you have to remind him to help you finish. Once you do, however, he’s all on board to make you feel good. He’s just … forgetful. 

Suguru Geto ★★★★✩ Gentle!

Suguru is a good kisser, hands down. One of the most skilled on the list. The only reason why I’m giving him a four instead of a five is because he’s too gentle. His mouth doesn’t dominate you as much as you desire, instead gently massaging your lips with his own. He uses minimal tongue if none at all. 

He opts to use his hands to make you feel better, grinding your clothed cunt on his thigh for you to get more stimulation. Geto prefers if you get pleasure over himself, kind of like a service top in that way? He loves it when you whine into his kisses, breaking away to catch your breath. It’s so hot. 

Kento Nanami ★★★★★ Dominating!

Nanami oh sweet Nanami… Contrary to popular belief I think he’s a harsh and dominating kisser. All that pent-up energy from his days in the office, coupled with pent-up anger and frustrations. He has to take it out somewhere. 

His favorite position is your back to him, against his front, your neck turned at an angle and his mouth planted to yours. He likes it so he can grind into your ass. Almost thrusting, as he tongue fucks your mouth unforgivingly. Kento knows you like it as much as he does, hearing you mewl as you try to keep up with his fast movements. It’s a sort of instant gratification. He starts every fucking session with some simple humping and tongue kissing, to get you throbbing for his cock. He doesn’t always cum from humping your ass, but when he does you know he’s going to fuck you so good. 

Kento is very good about thinking about you as he kisses you, cupping your breasts and fondling your nipples through your shirt. He does every little thing he knows you love, driving you crazy until you can’t bear it. And you’re begging for him to fuck you.

Choso Kami ★★✩✩✩ Needy!

I think Choso is a good kisser, but it’s fleeting. You can’t kiss him for long before he’ll start to grind against you, cock pressed to your thighs. Then he’ll pull away, whining in your ear for you to rub his erection. 

Your make-out sessions don’t last, which could become annoying if you’re in the mood for a long steamy kiss. It starts innocent enough, but by the end, he’s crooning for you to dominate him. You don’t mind, though. It’s cute to see how hot and bothered your mouth makes him. Just from a peck, he can get incredibly hard. It’s cute and pathetic. 

Just like Gojo, he doesn’t think about you in the moment. His head gets so foggy when your lips are on his, he can’t think about anything other than cumming into your plush hands. But after he cums, he goes into a servant-like mode. Begging and pleading to service you in any way he can. It’s sweet. 

Kinji Hakari ★★★✩✩ Sloppy!

Kinji is an inexperienced and messy kisser. He loves to have you in every position you can think of, hands roaming as he kisses you. Slobber and saliva all over your faces as he plants his lips on yours. You can’t take him anywhere. A simple peck turns into a make-out no matter where you are. It could be embarrassing if it didn’t pull you from your body and distract you with a burning pleasurable passion.

He can’t keep it in his pants, rubbing your body against his to get some kind of friction. His tongue licks into your mouth. Teeth collide as he tries to get the best angle, which always ends up in sweet laughter. It’s sweet, he likes you so much he can’t help but kiss you like this. 

I think he’s much more caring than he lets on. You think he kisses you like that because he wants to feel good, rather than making you feel good, but it’s the opposite. He sees how your body relaxes when he entangles your limbs together. He sees how you moan when he swirls his tongue messily. Everything Hakari does is for you. He could care less about his own pleasure as long as he was hearing you moan. 

Toji Fushiguro ★★★★✩ Handsy!

Toji likes to kiss you like there’s no tomorrow. His hands are on your ass, your breasts, your hips. Anything. He doesn’t care for humping, popular to contrary belief, although he’ll do it if you beg enough. He prefers to tease you with his large hands, rubbing your skin as his tongue slides into your mouth. 

His kisses are rough, but they can be sweet. When he’s overstimulated, or just in an intimate mood I suppose, he can be gentle. When you’re upset his kisses switch from being harsh to being soft. He doesn’t just kiss your mouth, he likes to make out with your nipples too. Weird sentence, I know. But he loves to swish your nub around his tongue and nibble on it, like every part of your body. He’ll make out with your neck, your shoulders, your pussy, anything.

He does it for you because he’s in love with you. As simple as that. 

Ryomen Sukuna ★✩✩✩✩ Painful...?

I’m gonna cut to the chase, he could give two fucks if you liked how he kissed or not. The king of curses does it for himself and himself only. His long nails dig into your skin and draw blood. He laughs into your mouth when you cry, and slams his hips into your ass in a way that hurts you so good. He chose you for a reason, you could handle his level of insanity. As he bites your bottom lip, sucking on it and running sharp teeth along the side. 

He knows you like that pain thing, so maybe he plays it up a bit for you. However, he’d never cause you any real harm. I think Ryomen is actually good at aftercare, even though he huffs about it. If he cut up your shoulders too much with his manicured nails, he’ll clean them. Even if he makes a fuss, he’d never let his property be damaged. 

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Christian Woman

(König x Nun!Reader)

Word count: 5.2 k Summary: Yup it’s König with a Virgin!Nun!Reader folks. This is all @wordstome 's and @melancholic-thing 's and their König & religion post's fault! :( Tags/warnings: PINING. Eventual smut, eventual blood & minor injuries. A cute, sweet, silly story with undertones of religious despair. Watch out for possible mistakes concerning Catholicism, I was more interested in the forbidden love trope.

Part 1

You don’t know how it even happened, but you became friends with a foreign man visiting your city. 

You bumped into him one day. Literally bumped into him, or then he bumped into you; you’re not entirely sure who’s to blame here, but you would’ve fallen to the ground had he not grabbed you by the arm and hauled you back up and against him. 

It was just to prevent you from hurting yourself, but your mind short circuits for a moment when you’re pressed against the broadest chest you’ve ever seen. The man is tall, so tall you have to crane your neck to see who has such lightning-fast reflexes.

Worried eyes look down at you from above, but the man’s expression softens when he sees how frightened you look.

“I’m so sorry. Are you ok?”

“Yes… Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”

He starts to fuss about being in such a hurry without any particular reason and asks if he can make this up for you somehow.

Could he offer you a lunch or something? No, how about a drink? He’s truly so sorry.

His accent is charming, and the genuine regret and worry make you quickly judge him as a safe enough person to grab a coffee with. Accidents happen, and it’s not illegal to sit down with a man you just met, right?

You tell him you don’t drink drinks, but a coffee would be nice. The man raises an eyebrow when you reveal to him that you’re not only a teetotaler, you’re also a nun. 

“Ah… So you prefer a simple life?” 

He takes you to a dark, cosy cafe around the corner. His inquiry leads to a conversation on the joys of silence and simplicity, then on philosophy, faith, and the cons of modern life. By the time he grabs you a table for two, you’re already discussing how people are always on their smartphones nowadays, looking for instant gratification and pleasures and how it wrecks their brains. You both gush about how nice it is to steer away from all that. 

You find yourself talking to him with ease about your life choices. How the anxiety reached a point where you wanted to get away from all the fuss, and how much peace this solution has brought you. How you have meaning and purpose these days, and how you doubt you’d be able to adjust into a modern society anymore. He gets what you mean immediately, saying he only feels at home when he’s alone in the mountains. How he’s been alone his whole life, really, and that it doesn’t scare him anymore, on the contrary.

You feel warm and safe with him, lost inside a soft bubble you quickly create in the corner table of a cellar cafe. Perhaps it’s the dimly lit environment or perhaps it’s just him, but you have one of the deepest conversations ever with this mysterious man.

He’s attentive and curious without being your usual pervert on the sly. You’ve had enough of men looking at you like you’re the forbidden fruit after hearing about your life choices. 

This man doesn’t try to seduce his way into your pants; he listens to your insights and agrees with you on how silence does you good, especially in times like this. You wonder what he does for work and why he’s here because clearly, he’s not local. You never get to ask him because the conversation ends far too quickly. 

He receives a message on his phone, cruelly reminding you that the magical bubble has burst and you’re back in the modern world. He looks crabby about the interruption too, especially when he says he has to go.

You both agree that you had a nice talk and should continue it sometime – why not tomorrow? Same time, same place.

So you meet him again. 

And again… And again. 

You find out he’s in town for at least two weeks, but when he finally reveals what he does for work, your stomach sinks. He tells you he’s working for some private military contractor and can’t really share any details about his work. When you ask him does this mean that he kills people for money, he falls silent.

“I guess you could put it like that.”

He’s looking at his shoes when he says it, somewhat embarrassed or sad. His feet barely fit under the table, so he has them stretched out, leading to a waitress almost tripping on them one day. Your heart is squeezing inside your chest when he rises immediately and apologises like the perfect gentleman, helps the lady up and never gets insulted by the murderous glares the woman shoots at him. 

He gives you his codename, König, and that he comes from Austria, but then refuses to share any other personal details. You don’t even get to know his first name. You do talk about your childhood, you talk about your schools and what you were supposed to become when you grew up. He tells you about his love for hiking, and you tell him about your dance hobby. 

The usual “Oh? Nuns are allowed to dance?” comment has you laughing. 

“Well… I don’t do twerking, but yes, nuns are allowed to dance.”

“What’s ‘twerking’?”

It’s so funny how you seem to know about modern trends more than him. You know about Tinder and TikTok through your friends; it’s just that these things are really not for you. Still, this König knows even less about dating apps and internet challenges than you. 

It makes you intrigued: he could have dozens of women right now if he wanted to. And not only because he’s attentive and kind: he’s so big and tall that most women would beg him to whisk them away. All he needed to do was go to a hookup site and deal out some likes. 

Most of his muscles are packed in the shoulders and chest area, making it challenging for him to fit through a door. You can see he hasn’t skipped a leg day either, and immediately chastise yourself for checking out his butt in the coffee queue. You ignore your filthy thoughts of wanting to get pressed against those pecs again, you pay no attention to the fleeting musings on how good that short stubble would feel against your neck if he ever chose to kiss you there.

A soldier and a nun make an odd pair, but you find yourself enjoying his company more than anyone elses. He seems to wait for your meetings with eager but polite enthusiasm, too. You know it’s an attempt to make you forgive his choice of career when he reveals to you that his best mission was when he saved thirty women from sex trafficking. And it does make your heart crack open a little. Killing is a sin, but he has tried to protect life in his own crude way.

You start to include him in your prayers. First, you ask for the Lord to guide this man away from the path of killing. Then, slowly, you ask him to be protected from harm, you only pray for him to be safe. 

And you say nothing of this new acquaintance to the others. You ought to, but your lips remain sealed.

You’re allowed to have friends and visit them, and it doesn’t matter if the friend is of the opposite sex as long as the meetings are purely platonic. Which they are. This man could be your brother, you tell yourself. He could be a long-distance cousin. There’s nothing fishy going on around here, and he’s just visiting, so why would you bother to tell anyone? It would only lead to troubled sighs and concerned questions, and you really don’t feel like answering them right now.

You miss a few midday prayers, and once, your chores. The relationship turns out to be far from platonic.

König can’t even keep his eyes in check. 

They travel down your neck and land on the smallest amount of cleavage, barely visible in the loose, dull shirts you wear. They slip further down and stop to admire your breasts next, then quickly rise back to your collarbones as if this was just a mistake, just an absent, wandering gaze. You know you’re wearing a semi-helpless stare by the time he meets your eyes. The blue steel in his is completely swallowed by hunger.

You want to believe it was only a momentary lapse, but then he does it again. Actually, you catch him looking at your breasts, scanning your body and cherishing the tender spot between your collarbones more times than you can count. They’re quick, stolen moments, so harmless that you choose to stay quiet. He usually starts to talk about something trivial right after, or asks you a quick question as if nothing ever happened.

Those stolen glimpses stay with you for the rest of the day though. They give you intrusive thoughts during morning prayers and evening silence. You’ve never felt this… adored.

He has a quiet, commanding presence, and you feel like a mouse under his gaze, a mouse who’s always thoroughly examined. At the same time, he’s so polite and so charming that you can’t think ill of him. He always takes your coat and brings you coffee, always asks how your day or week has been, and actually listens to you speak. He listens to your every word with a softening glow in his eyes, a shimmer that spreads across the table and makes you feel warm all over. 

König always softens in your presence... You always tense up in his. 

Your face is flushed, and you blame it on the overcrowded cafe. You feel both safe and in danger with him, and it must be the virgin inside you talking. But you sense there’s something more at play here. He’s simply not like other men. 

You fear he’s seen hell; in fact, he must walk there every day. From what he tells you, you understand that he has suffered a lot and could use your prayers. But it’s also quite clear that he’s not a victim anymore. 

It’s difficult to see this utterly charming teddy bear in front of you, enjoying his large cup of coffee and giving you the occasional husky laugh, then imagine the same man bursting through a door and starting a massacre. Marching in some dark, dirty recess with a rifle or a shotgun in his hands, hunting down screaming people and putting down his already bleeding enemies.

Because that’s what you imagine in your mind when he tells you he’s sometimes used as an insertion specialist; a human battering ram in short.

You look at his hands around the mug, long fingers curled in search of warmth. He has short, trimmed nails and no sign of blood under them… But that doesn’t mean it’s not there.

…

"Oh honey. Soldiers are the worst," your friend sighs when you meet her at another cafe, different from where you meet your killing machine. It’s bubbly and lively and colourful, just like your friend; it’s the opposite of König, the special operations soldier who’s dark, intriguing, and intimate, just like the dimly lit cellar cafe you meet him in secret.

"He probably owns a Fleshlight," she mumbles with her mouth full of croissant.

"A… A what?"

She starts to cough at your innocent inquiry, and you know you didn’t hear ‘flashlight’ in the first place, it’s just that you’re not sure if you want to know what on earth she’s talking about now.

When she finally survives the munch she almost choked on, she politely tells you what a fleshlight is, and you find yourself not rolling your eyes, but actually thinking about König using one with need.

Christ have mercy…

"Soldiers are crazy. I once dated this peacekeeper,” your friend continues in her usual chirpy way. “Couldn't hold a conversation for his life. Unless it was about guns... And when I went over to his place, the walls were covered with pictures of naked women. It was so pathetic I had to keep myself from laughing. And oh god, now I remember! He offered me microwaved mac and cheese for dinner…"

You sip your coffee and listen politely to your friend ramble about some guy she used to date. She has a lot of these stories, and all of them are worth hearing. Sometimes you think if you’re living your unlived sex life through your friend, the way you’re so curious about hearing all the different descriptions of male genitalia and the crazy, funny, downright unbelievable scenarios that have happened to her. 

Some of the tales are so gross you’re quite happy you haven’t indulged yourself in casual sex. And at times, hearing about all the things your friend has gone through, being an onlooker to all that heartbreak and pining and loss, has managed to strengthe your resolve.

Being a nun isn’t so bad... At least you haven’t wasted your time on shallow men.

"He put so much chili in that shit that my makeup started to run," she continues her story about the poor excuse for a dinner and a date. Usually, the food leads to sex in these tales, and you’re a hypocrite for wanting to hear more.

"Did you sleep with him…?"

"After that? No thanks," she looks at you and raises an eyebrow. "I pretty much fled the building."

Even the most sad, pathetic, crappy tales make you both laugh, especially if enough time has passed. You laugh now, too, both at your friend falling for a man simply because he was a hot soldier and at the poor man who was in obvious need of an interior designer and a cook. Or a girlfriend… Or a mom.

"Look. I'm saying this because you're my friend." She says after wiping a few tears from her eyes, "And because you’re a virgin and a goddamn nun. Like come on, how many years have you been locked up in that dreadful monastery?"

"Convent," you correct.

"Whatever. I'm telling you this man is just looking for some easy pussy while he's deployed."

“I wouldn't call a nun an easy…ugh, you know.”

“Perhaps he likes a challenge then, “ she shrugs. “Men like to hunt.”

"It’s not like that,” you quarrel, trying to ignore the way her lips purse with amusement. “He's been very nice to me and… we have these great conversations. We talk about really deep stuff, you know? He explained the difference between Schopenhauer and Kierkegaard to me last time we met–"

"Ok, that's even worse. That's a red flag."

You look down at your beverage, sullen and beaten. She’s the first person you’ve told about meeting a man over a coffee, and you’re already doing it wrong.

"Does he ever look at your tits?" She asks all of a sudden.

"What?"

Your friend crosses her arms over her chest and tilts her head, looking like an overly self-satisfied detective.

"Do you ever catch him staring at your breasts," she rephrases the question as if she’s talking to a lame person.

"Well… Uh. Yes, sometimes–"

"Well there you have it. Man's just bored with his fleshlight."

"Shh! Keep it down, would you…? Good God..."

"Don't take the name of the lord your god in vain," she chimes. “But seriously, it’s no wonder. If only we could get you out of that convent, there would be a line of men at your door.”

“Oh for God’s sake…”

“No, seriously. We’re talking about fistfights and broken bones. Dating apps would explode. People would get killed.”

You roll your eyes - your friend always loves to exaggerate things. If anything, you’re scared of men, and you loathe the dating world. You’re put off by shallow commitments and one-night stands and getting ghosted and God knows what else. That’s why you became a nun: to find something stable in your life. You always told your friend that Jesus Christ is the most stable man you’ve ever met, and you will stick with him. As always, your friend was not on the same page with you.

“Stable? Excuse me, but didn’t he start a riot or something at the temple? Are we talking about the same dude who lead an uprising against the Romans? Hung out with whores, raised corpses from the dead, fucked around and found out until someone nailed him at the cross? Stable my ass!”

“Look, even if he wants something more, I’m not up for it,” you try to convince - both yourself and your friend.

“Mm. What a shame,” she smirks. “Is he handsome?”

“Yes, but–”

“Mmh. Deep voice?”

“Umm… It’s memorable?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” you cry. “Okay fine, it’s nice and deep and I like it. And I love his laugh,” you confess, and your friend does a silent little ‘yay’ and ‘I knew it’ cheer. You know it would be a field day for her if you finally got laid. As cliche as it sounds, you’ve always treated your friend as some sort of devil’s advocate.

You allow yourself to gush a minute, maybe two, about his muscles to your beloved devil. You tell your friend about his broad back, how wide his shoulders are, you tell her about the easy smiles he always sports with you. You describe the tactical pants and the snug black t-shirts he wears in detail, you confess he has a nice butt and that he’s so big he can't even fit the table. 

You tell her how König starts to talk with his hands if he gets excited and how you have to fear he’s going to knock something over and make a mess. You tell about his blue eyes and the way they always soften when he looks at you, and looks at you often. All the time, really. He doesn’t even see other women, uh, you mean, other people in the cafe. He’s polite to the waitresses but never fully acknowledges anyone else but you.

Your friend's enthusiastic grin turns into an uneasy, pitying smile when she realises how deep into this man you actually are. 

"I'm sorry babe… Someone has to give you the tough love," she reaches for your hand across the table. "Do you understand that if this guy is not working for the regular military, he's probably doing some war crime type of shit?"

The way you rush to defend your steadfast soldier who probably has his hands covered in blood, would make your abbess sigh.

"No, no, actually, he's working against these human trafficking cells–"

"Ok, he shoots human traffickers too, that's great. Good for him. You're still about to step into a pile of traumatised, immature, emotionally unavailable soldier shit. Trust me."

"Just because your soldier was like that doesn't mean mine has to be," you blurt.

Gosh - that was a good old Freudian slip...

"Yours now, is he?"

"No, that was… It just slipped."

"So you've actually thought about banging this guy?"

"What?! No."

"You have," she insists with a widening smile.

"No. No, I–"

"Oh my god. You're about to forsake your vows," she brings her hands together in excitement. "Oh my god, oh my god. This is amazing!"

You feel your lips snap into a thin line.

Just whose side is this woman on? Does she want to protect you from heartbreak or push you into some man's lap just for shits and giggles? 

If you're chosen by God, your friend is chosen by the Devil, that's for sure. Nothing exciting ever happens behind the walls of your 'monastery', nothing but endless prayers and boring lectures and monotonous chores. Of course she thinks it's about time you got a round of good dick. She just wants to hear a filthy story when you return from your secret little fling, a fling that could get you kicked out of the convent for good. 

"How tall is he exactly...? Does he have big hands?" 

Your friend's eyes are shining with excitement - apparently the possible war crimes and atrocities König has committed are forgiven and forgotten.

"What does that have to do with anything…?" 

"I can tell you what to expect in the dick department," she smiles with an impish grin.

You eventually leave the cafe with a dirty soul and a skittish heart.

The way your friend described your new acquaintance's probable blessings in the "dick department" left little to the imagination, and now you're actually scared. 

This man has been so polite towards you, so kind to you. He's offered you coffee and pastries and cake along with an intellectual challenge, but now it's all ruined because all you can think about is what's inside his pants. How big his hands are, and how they correlate with what's downstairs. How nice it would feel to lay under him, with his chest pressed against yours, how divine it would be to get pinned down by him. How those strong, narrow hips would fit between your legs, broad shoulders eclipsing the view above as he slowly crawls on top of you. How he'd kiss your neck, your collarbones, your mouth, with such hunger that your legs eventually give in and spread wide open.

You return to the convent with a heavy heart and distressed thoughts, but find some solace in your evening prayers.

Nothing has happened, you remind yourself; these are only thoughts. You have seen a man who's interested in you for half a dozen times. You took part in a shallow, mundane, earthly conversation today with your friend, but nothing carnal or wrong has happened. Everything is the way it has always been.

You’re safe now, completely safe here. There’s no chaos and no guns and no tall men with big dicks, no Austrian war criminals trying to seduce you and then discard you after their deployment ends. 

There’s only a man with a kind smile, warm eyes, and a nice, husky laugh. Some good coffee with distant notes of chocolate and perfectly civil conversations about European philosophers and the crisis of modern thought.

Sturdy walls support you; they have held you for centuries, and the crucifix above you has given hope to so many people before you. The ever-safe embrace of your faith envelops you, and you can always trust that you are loved, even when you’re flawed and incomplete.

Even with indecent thoughts, you can pray for mercy and ask for forgiveness. Even if you have impure urges towards your Austrian mercenary, you can still pray for him... It’s the least you can do to repay the kindness he has given you.

But the heaviness follows you to your room; it makes your chest feel dark and thick. You don’t say your last prayer before bed. You don’t want His eyes upon you tonight.

You don’t want to draw the Lord’s attention to you while your hand travels down beneath the sheets, your thoughts wandering to a certain god-like soldier with eyes like burning ice.

…

The next time you two meet, he crosses a clear boundary. 

König has started to take you for walks, sometimes suggesting you two could visit a museum, clearly wishing you’d show him around the city. In truth, he’s the one parading you around like you’re his cute little lady. He pays for your museum tickets and brings you ice cream while you sit on a bench at a park, grabs your arm to draw your attention to a few swans swimming in a pond. And that’s ok - physical touch like that is ok. Holding hands is not.

Because…

One time, when you’re walking down a hill path, admiring the sunset, a big, warm hand wraps itself around yours. 

It finds you in silence, envelops your tiny palm completely, squeezes you softly and emanates so much heat that a cord of fire shoots across your arm and straight into your heart.

You allow yourself to bask in the warmth of the huge, calloused palm for a few more seconds before ripping your hand away. You take a few hurried steps and turn, noticing he has stopped to look at you with guarded hesitation.

“I’m sorry,” you apologise even if König is the one who went off limits, “but this is not appropriate.”

“Entschuldigung… I know. That was out of bounds,” he raises a hand over his heart and bows his head a little, watching you from under his brows. You could keel over from how the gesture reminds you of Arthurian romances, of knights who place their hand on their heart to swear they’ll never disgrace a lady again. 

Instead, you nod, your soul saved but your heart sinking like an anvil dropped in the sea. You’d want nothing more than for him to do it again, to grab your hand in his and never let go.

The rest of the walk happens in awkward silence, and you thought he would keep his distance - Christ, you thought you would keep your distance - but he insists on walking near to you, and so you continue down the path with your fingers still touching each other every now and then. You don't even try to move your hand away.

I’m going to die, you scream internally while looking at the bleeding sunset in the distance. You can’t look at him; you can’t even talk to him. It’s like your body is pumped full of some drug these days.

Falling for someone so hard is making you feel faint; your insides are churning and turning and your brain is a mess. Your heart is racing so fast that you’re afraid you’ll end up having a heart attack one of these days.

He’s probably used to this: the thrill and the adrenaline, a world laced with rush and extremes, indulging in things such as guns and explosions and blood and women and darkness.

You only have your safe routines, your sisters, a few friends you meet over coffee, a family you visit thrice a year. You’re not used to being bombarded with hormones and raw emotion like this. You have never, ever lusted after a man like this. The only thing you ever craved for was another slice of cake.

“Do you still want to see me?” He asks apologetically when you approach the convent which has now started to resemble a frigid, uneventful prison.

“Of course,” you hurry to say. “Just… No more holding hands. Ok?”

“Ok,” he chuckles softly, and you stop and turn.

He’s never been this near to where you live, and you’re afraid someone will see you if he escorts you to the door. You can’t be seen with a man in your current state, that would be a catastrophe. Anyone in the building could tell that this friendship is far from platonic.

“I’m sure you’ll find some other girl to… hold hands with,” you say, hating how bitter and self-pitying you sound. You even swallow when you look up into his eyes. They’re so soft now that the ice has almost disappeared, devoured by longing, a thick and sinful darkness.

“What if I don’t want some other girl?” 

His voice is so wickedly gentle too.

You can see he’s fighting an inner battle to not touch you again; he’s standing toe to toe with you, towering above you, with his shoulders slightly hunched. If someone walked behind him, they wouldn’t even see you’re there because of how close you two are standing to each other. You can’t back away from him because you’d bump into a tall iron gate - in fact, you’re half-pressed against it now. 

“I’ve enjoyed our conversations,” he continues with a throaty voice. God, how you would melt if he used that voice in bed…

“So have I,” your voice comes out as a wavy whisper. “But there can’t be anything more than that... I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” he laments, but the corner of his mouth curves slightly up. “So sorry you wouldn’t even believe…”

It’s mischief and seduction, darkness and deception, and your insides squeeze into a tight little knot.

“Please… Let’s just keep it the way it was,” you plead with eyes that beg the complete opposite.

“Sure... I will try my best, Kätzchen. Is this your convent…?” 

You wonder if he’d pay you a visit if you told him where you sleep. You wonder if your single bed would creak if he tried to make love to you on it... You wonder if you could muffle your cries when you clenched with him inside you. If he’d groan too loudly when he reached his peak…

“It’s just around that corner,” you explain with a frail voice, hating how it betrays every single thing that crosses your mind.

“Good to know,” he replies, with no shakiness to his voice at all. He seems to enjoy making you so flustered; he seems to draw strength from people weaker than him. Which is probably 99 % of the population…

“How so,” you peep, already praying that he wouldn’t come to try his luck with the poorly locked windows. The back door is always open too because some of the nuns are smokers. König wouldn’t even need to use his insertion skills to get in.

“Now I know where to find you if I come to work here again,” he shrugs as if innocent. As if his eyes didn’t betray a few filthy thoughts too.

“Are you… Are you leaving then?”

“Soon.”

Your heart is about to break after two weeks of knowing some random guy, and you feel like the silliest woman in the world.

You try to remind yourself of what your friend said: this man just wants some easy pussy. He’s just bored with his fleshlight. Men like challenges, they like to hunt. You think about Lucky Luke and all the other cowboys who came and went as they pleased, breaking hearts and then riding into the sunset.

This cowboy only got to hold your hand though... And he’s saying he doesn’t want “some other girl”. Of course there’s a chance that he simply visits a brothel after discussing philosophy with you, or goes to a club or whatever, but you don’t want to entertain such horrible thoughts. 

“I’ll miss you, then,” you try to sound neutral while he’s looking down at you like you’re his first love.

“Ganz sicher, I will miss you too. Perhaps I’ll visit you, work trip or not?”

“That would be nice.”

“It might take a while. But you won’t forget me, ja?”

“Of course not. I will pray for you every day,” you smile with a good amount of affection. It has the same effect as saying something like “I want to blow you right here on this street” because your Austrian giant gets visibly excited. His breath quickens, and his eyes start to wander again. 

“...Are you sure I can’t hold your hand?”

You give him a shy smile, then quickly guide your eyes to the pavement. This König is definitely taking it as some love confession when a girl says she will pray for him. Your insides turn to jello when you see his hand close into a loose fist, then open with a spasmlike stretch. He wants to touch you so badly that he has to physically fight against it.

“No…?” He inquires high above you, so desperate that you’re quite sure he’s not frequenting any brothels in the area. He might stroke his cock to the thoughts of you, though…

You shake your head softly, then raise your eyes back to his. What a silly, silly man. If only you weren’t a nun, you’d let him do whatever he wants with you. Even abandon you after using you in every which way, because to be under that adoring gaze is worth a thousand heartbreaks.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

There’s more desperate hope in that question, and you wonder if tomorrow is the last time you’ll see each other. Soon could mean anything, but you can’t bear to hear the exact time and date when he leaves. Not tonight.

“Yes. Same time, same place,” you agree, then flee from under the dark, adoring stare to the safety of your cloister. 

[azure-cherie]

PAC : Who of the nine Greek muses do you embody ? A message from the muse

➪Pile : 1-2-3 ☟︎︎︎ 4-5-6 ☟︎︎︎ 7-8-9

Hii loves how have you been , I'm back again with a reading, I hope you enjoy this please choose with your intuition and take what resonates , Reblogs, comments feedbacks everything is highly appreciated ❤️

If you liked this and would like to book or would want a bigger reading on the same topic :

Masterlist , paid readings , paid readings 2

Pile 1 :

Muse of music and lyric poetry

Channelled messages: " let go of societal restraints " , " paint the canvas of your life , write a poem about a wall " , " often see yourself as an ancient women of honour " , " feed the doves "

She comes forth to tell you about your potential how you're a very meditative being , you are so good at chanelling and you should do it more often , ask her to be your guide and write down all that comes through to you flow in your thinking and the ideas that come forth

Lean more into the devotional aspect of your life , see everything with the vibration of love. The trees the humans the animals , devote more into self love and worship the gods you already do .

Learn the right way to connect to the moon , you're in your journey and this is one of the crucial times , you're almost at the end of a karmic cycle stay stiff and strong

Don't get into arguments , if you do have mishaps with someone , lean into releasing the anger through creating music or producing tunes .

Take practical approaches to life , if someone says no to you do the thing on your own , your guides are always taking care of you .

Pile 2 :

Muse of dance and choral poetry .

Channelled messages : " learn about the folk music and dances where you stay " , " when in the blues play the beats " , " give more to the society in forms of art " , " start the YouTube channel"

Your devotion towards your deity or your guides is really admirable and that is something that's one of your best qualities people online or in person admire your liking towards a deity you inspire them .

The calmness of mind that can be attained through yoga is something she wants you to do , imagine a blue beam of light when you meditate , she tells you to connect to your primordial life form your soul .

Know about the necessary sacrifices one has to do in their life , your sacrifices now will bring you rewards later , don't fall for instant gratification

Abundance is soon to come in your life but work on cultivating a sense of detachment towards money , obsession ruins everything.

There might me a rock bottom moment in your life soon , she asks you to remain in your path as a human and as a soul take the lessons and move on soon you will alchemize your pain into passion and glory . You transform everything you're a becon of light .

Pile 3 :

Muse of hymns and sacred poetry

Channelled messages : " Levitate " , " dream big " , " nice downtown tshirt " , " the life that one has is a sum and minus of that they do "

If you're interested in writing do it , there might be an opportunity approaching you soon in this sector , though there's a warning about a setback if you don't take the opportunity at the right time don't worry you'll do great believe in the power of wishes.

You might rekindle a childhood bond on the basis of liking of movies or songs .

Business sector might have new opportunities your fortune is about to change you're gonna have the power to do what you want in your life because you're the creator of it , your destiny is now on hold make the best use of free will.

Connect more to the oceans and moon , fireflies etc , be in nature more and stay grounded .

Honour your soul by serving the temple you're in your own body , take care of your body give it ample rest and food .

Pile 4 :

Muse of tragedy

Channelled messages : " Dwelling on past has no rewards " , " crazy is as good as the sane" , " time flowes and glows and you grow "

Don't choose a hard life away from your desires because you're scared of disappointing people your path is enlightened more as you connect more to yourself .

Give into dark feminine energy and live in your truth , if you remain often confused or scared work on your root chakra .

Connect more to your guides through paintings and leave offerings of metal , feathers , corn etc

It's time to finally shine you're going from the hermit to an influencer you're gonna be famous it might start small but it will build up .

Keep away from external influences that stop your growth drop bad friends and family .

Pile 5 :

Muse of love poetry

Channelled messages: eat healthy and enriching foods , read about the love you already behold , the depths of see are beautiful and so is your heart of depth.

Abundance in the sector of love is coming soon you're gonna make the haters jealous , might even win a pagent or competition.

You might have felt Beauty is your curse but life's gonna show you how it's not you're gonna be so hight so uplifted I see you shining like a star

One has to prepare for glory start by saying affirmations and working on your third eye and root chakra .

Read more about lovers from mythology like Persephone Hades , Aphrodite ares , Radha Krishna etc

The boons served by the goddess are yours to keep and no one can question that , you're being divinely blessed and you'll be happy and dancing soon .

Pile 6 :

Muse of comedy and Idyllic poetry

Chanelled messages: Search for the small joys, poppies , these boots are meant for walking , spring equinox fairy

There's a confirmation in case you wanna go for the acting sector , this sector will require a lot of hardwork .

There's also a warning regarding someone in your job your boss or your guru they might take credit for some assignment you did beware and if possible say no because that thing might get your superior a promotion

You are to search bliss in satisfaction about what you already have the moon is to be admired by you the power to be soked it , are you ready for the full moon .

You're intelligent and people really admire you for that , gemini energy.

Move in your life in your true path of light don't be afraid or dim your light , your aura might have hints of white colour .

Pile 7:

Muse of epic poetry

Chanelled messages: Blow the bubbles up , get into kitchen witchery, Artemis , cry me a river

Don't give people the benefit of the doubt if you don't like someone let them go .

Fame is eminent in your energy, life coaches might help you , your aunt is giving you good guidence follow her .

Do your school projects and specially eat tangerine and other fruits that make you feel happy

Serve the world and create peace each small step is a long one in the collective , small things create big impact do your part and be sure of the effects .

Moon water energy and full moon is great for you to invite luxuries in your life , ground your root chakra and connect to your third eye your ancestors will be sending you messages.

Pile 8 :

Muse of astronomy

Chanelled messages: Fly me to the moon , peals and sandbox , honesty is the best policy , go go cheerleader

The first message for you is to balance all your chakras it's crazy my oracle deck pulled all chakra cards omg I feel like there soon will be a kundalini awakening for you

You're almost in your last stage of awakening get into the cosmic dance of life your life is about to change , abundance is coming

Hard message to get through but someone in your relationship might be cheating or there might be someone who has an eye on your partner and might try to frame them . Only for some people

Listen to your higher self write a letter to them

Your path from now on is of the hermit it might be lonely but it's worth it discoveries are on your way in fields of history, psychology, quantum mechanics etc.

Pile 9 :

Muse of history

Chanelled messages: 13 missed calls , glow up is loading , search in the Egyptian archives , glow and peach coloured cheeks

The number six is significant, also specifically for someone there's this person who is delaying your glow up by doing some nasty as spell , might be a close friend

You are ignoring some signs from the universe , they're coming again and again and you're ignoring it look into it closely , you're elevating in your consciousness.

Your energy levels are high and you're matching ahead in your journey setbacks are never the end the sheer power of desire iss enough to keep going .

You're slowly climbing the stairs of life to become confident and assertive you might even call upon a partner soon who is very sure about themselves.

You should plant more trees and learn about them about their origination etc , i specifically get about Tulsi and the lore behind it . Some others would be eucalyptus, basil and marigold.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this

Have a great day/ night ♥️🌹

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

🎀💗 Birthday Kisses With Ace and Deuce 💗🎀

Since it’s my birthday (again) I thought I’d give myself a little treat 

Reader is written as female

Masterlist

ACE TRAPPOLA 

If there’s one thing you know about Ace was that he loved affection - kisses, cuddles, you name it. As much as he loved to play up the PDA to feed his ever growing ego, get a rise out of everyone in his vicinity, and get gifted your flustered expression, he truly did love smooching you until the both of you were left breathless, if the way he would smile into every kiss was any indication, or the delirious joy that would spread across his reddened face.

And it wasn’t like you were against his insatiable need for affection, if anything you enabled and emboldened him. If your heads weren’t resting on each other’s shoulders, or his arm isn’t fused around your waist, then you were the one reaching out for his hand, or pulling him in by his collar or tie, or sending him flying kisses or finger hearts whenever your eyes would meet.

The only ‘problem’, so to speak, was that Ace far preferred to give affection rather than receive it and if there was one way to describe Ace’s love it was ‘overflowing’. If you pecked his cheek or forehead or gave him a hurried kiss on his lips, or even just throw your arms around him with words of praise, he’ll instantly wrap his fingers around your wrist, pull you towards him, and cradle your face in his hands before taking your breath away and making you see stars, not caring (or perhaps even because) of the crowd around. Countless times the pair of you have been chided by Coach Vargas for your boyfriend’s late arrival for practice or interschool match whilst the rest of the team would either roll their eyes or send teasing smirks in your direction as you’d hurriedly smooth down your hair or arrange your askew clothes (meanwhile, Ace would make no indication of even thinking of doing the same as he’d stroll into the gymnasium with that lopsided grin).

So knowing that, you weren’t the least bit surprised to find yourself being on the receiving end of an onslaught the first thing on the morning of your birthday. For a boy like Ace, whose daily kiss count is somewhere around a hundred, the idea of not giving you kisses on such an occasion was blasphemy. 

“You-you know,” you managed to gasp out between the split second it took for the redhead to move from your lips to your jawline, switching between slow and tender kisses and a flurry of pecks peppering down your neck, “birthday kisses are really only supposed to-”

You cut yourself off with a keen when you feel teeth lightly graze the junction between your neck and shoulder.

“Psh, only-shmonly,” Ace scoffs after his mouth leaves your skin with a smack, “when have I ever been the one to do things the way they’re supposed to be done. No way am I limiting myself.”

And he goes back to your mouth, kissing you harshly and desperately but still managing to seep in that gentle care you’ve always felt in his embrace. Against your own judgement, your hands find purchase in ginger locks pressing him closer.

Normally, you’d be fine having a make out session but your current position, with you straddling him on the living room sofa of your dilapidated dormitory, one of his hands around your waist to keep you steady, where just about anyone could walk in and see, wasn’t exactly ideal. The ghosts were busy playing their card game in the kitchen, though it was an open secret that they were very much aware of what inevitably happens every time Ace comes makes a visit and Grim could only be distracted with extra servings of breakfast tuna for so long, especially since his clinginess and need for affection and instant gratification was the only one that could rival Ace’s - those two certainly give each other a run for each other’s money and you loved both of them very much.

Once the unfortunate need for oxygen makes you pull away, he is quick to cup your face in his palms and through the hazy vision past your eyelashes, all you could sense was a blur before you were pulled down and felt his mouth pressing against your cheeks, your forehead, your neck, any sliver of uncovered skin he could reach. Fireworks crackled beneath your skin as you panted, red hair tickling under your chin as Ace did nothing to soothe the frantic beating of your heart. You could feel his lips curling upwards at the space between your collarbones, an arm tightening around your waist, as he looks up at you.

“Say, babe?” he sings, a devilish smile betraying the oh-so-innocent lilt of his voice, “what do you say to getting a hickey as your first present of the day.”

Despite the euphoric fog clouding your head, you managed to weakly smack him on the shoulder, “Ace! Don’t you dare!”

“Kidding, kidding,” he chuckles and hugs you, pulling you downwards and sideways so that he was now spooning you on the couch, your back against his chest and his arms wrapped around you, all nice and snug. With his lips to your ear, he whispers, “Happy birthday, Y/N. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You snuggle back against him, “Thank you, Ace. You sure know how to make me feel special.”

Without a word of warning, you found yourself being unceremoniously turned on you back, and Ace was on his knees, holding himself above you, his hands on either side of your head. 

“Ace! What-”

“I want to show just how special you are,” he smirks, a hand trailing down the collar of your blouse and stopping right at the first buttoned-up button, fingers twiddling with the smooth, round plastic, “is that alright, sweetheart?”

DEUCE SPADE

“Happy birthday!” The first thing that greeted you when you opened the door of your dormitory was a bouquet of fresh purple roses, baby breath and caspia, all wrapped up in baby pink and lilac tissue paper and tied together with a delicate blush pink ribbon.

You blinked at the flowers being thrusted into your face before you smiled at the red faced boy holding them, “thank you, Deuce. Would you like to come in?”

Once you’ve taken the bouquet from him, you step aside, letting him enter.

“Do you like them?” he blurts out, rubbing the back of his neck, “I thought I’d get you some flowers since it’s your birthday and all - not that these flowers are your gift or anything. I did get you an actual gift and not just something that would die in like a week. I wrapped it and everything only it doesn’t really look that nice since I’ve never really wrapped a present or anything so I’m really sorry and I don’t even know if you like what I got you so-”

“Deuce,” you say gently, placing a hand on his shoulder, “I love the flowers and I’m sure I’ll love what you’ve gotten for me. Honestly, the best present you can give me is staying here by my side.”

He sputters and coughs before clearing his throat, “well, I don’t plan on doing anything else.”

After unhooking his back from his shoulder, he took out a small box and handed it to you with a shy smile, his head bent so that his fringe shadowed his eyes, as he meekly said, “here you go.” 

Taking it from him, you inspected the packaging. You could see where he was coming from since the clumsily taped on baby chick patterned wrapping paper was far from what most people would call ‘neat’. It was messy and unorganised, with rips and creases and too much cellotape covering it, but it was so quintessentially Deuce you couldn’t help but swoon. Affection bubbled up within you at the thought of Deuce trying his hardest to wrap this, the image of his adorably frustrated face with his furrowed eyebrows and wide, confused doe eyes being brought to the front of your mind. You knew that if you laughed, he would’ve taken your endearment as something to be embarrassed about so you forced yourself to keep silent.

You did away with the covering to find yourself holding a sleek black cardboard box. Opening it up, you found a block of foam inside with a pretty little obsidian coloured, spade shaped metal pendant sitting inside.

“Oh, Deuce,” you gasp, turning to look at him in adoration, “it’s-it’s gorgeous. I love it.”

“Really?”

“Truly,” you carefully pull on the pendant, letting the thin silver necklace it’s attached to cascade below it, and gently place the box down, “would you put it on for me, please?”

He gulped, “s-sure.”

With shaking hands, he takes the necklace from you and you turn around, swiping your hair to the side with a swish of your hand to give him more access. Behind you, you hear the telltale click of a clasp before you feel a thin strand of cold metal rest against your nape. You were about to turn back around but before you could move, strong arms circle around your waist, sturdy enough to hold you in place but loose enough to give you wiggle room, and pull you against him and soft lips press against the back of your neck. Slow and tenderly, his mouth lingered before it pulled away.

You spun around and wrapped your own arms around his neck before drawing him into a kiss of your own. He takes a few steps forwards and pushes you backwards so your spine meets the hard wood of your front door, and instead of feeling pain, all you could focus on was the way his lips moved against yours, at how perfectly the two of you slotted against each other like jigsaw pieces that were made only to complement each other. 

Deuce naturally ran warm but now his calloused hands were burning, leaving sparks in their wake. His mouth finds its home along your neck and your fingers play with the navy strands at his nape.

“So beautiful,” he whispers against you, “I love you so much. It scares me sometimes - just how amazing you are. I’m worried that when I’m with you I will start to believe I'm greater than I actually am.”

“Don’t be silly, Deuce,” you reply, “you’re so strong and brave and brilliant. You’re so much smarter than you think you are and are so much better than you give yourself credit for. All of your achievements are your own. A result of your own hard work. And there'll never be a day when I’m not proud of you.”

“Hey,” he looks at you with almost glowing eyes and gives you a faux-annoyed look, only it doesn’t sell when paired with the redness that has spread across his cheeks, “today is supposed to be about you. It’s your birthday.”

“Exactly, it’s my birthday. And if I want to spend it praising my handsome boyfriend then I should be allowed to do so.”

He huffs, but it’s obviously for show, and leans in to claim your lips yet again.

“Thank you so much for being born,” he says once he parts away, “you’ve made my life so much brighter and you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I promise to make you happy for as long as I live.”

[houserautha]

These Destined Ends

Part Twelve

Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: goodbye to Giedi Prime, no foreplay, fucking with ✨a view✨

A/N: I was planning on making this a long(er) installment but my monkey brain needs the instant gratification of updating the story😂 Hopefully Part Thirteen will be up soon, too. Thank you for being patient with me!

Amongst the hustle and bustle of moving, servants rushing in and out with your belongings and Feyd barking out orders, you kneel down next to the synthetic plant. You check twice that no one is paying attention to you before reaching inside, running your fingers along the inner lip of the pot and past clumps of fake dirt. Finally you connect with something and a triumphant fissure erupts in you at the sight of the fertility necklace.

You clutch it in your hand.

While you don’t intend to use it, it’s the last link to your mother that you have. You can’t believe you almost forgot it — it seems like a small eternity since your wedding. You had almost completely wiped it from your memory since you hid it, remembering only because Jessica and the Bene Gesserits were at the forefront of your mind.

You drop the necklace into a pocket of your dress before anyone sees it.

“Do you know what today is, wife?”

You catch Feyd loping towards you, seemingly having forfeited his supervising responsibilities.

“Mm, the day we get a lovely chat with the Reverend Mother?” You ask, distracted by the weight of the necklace.

“Surely you haven’t forgotten.”

You blink, then center your focus on him, on the fleeting look of smugness he has. “It’s today.”

Feyd’s eyes glint. He pounds his fist to his chest three times, drawing the attention of the servants who stop what they’re doing and straighten in response. You wave them away, grabbing your husband by the crook of his elbow and pulling him into the corner.

“Must you insist on doing that so often?” You chide him. “We would already be on Arrakis if they didn’t have to keep pausing for you.”

The grin on his face tells you that he is not even the slightest bit apologetic. “Can I not dedicate servitude to my wife on our anniversary?”

“Our anniversary of one month,” you remind him.

“A perfect opportunity to laud you.”

“You can laud yourself over there to help that poor man.” You indicate a servant struggling with a particularly heavy trunk of belongings.

Feyd narrows his eyes. “He’s fine.”

“Feyd-Rautha.”

Your husband considers your tone, then turns and delivers another three-strike salute to his chest. He’s darting away before you can reprimand him for it, snarling for a second servant to help with the heavy lifting instead of himself.

Shaking your head, you can’t but smile privately. It warms you to see Feyd like this, the charismatic, alluring side of him that you so rarely glimpse. He usually deploys it in political situations, a switch that he can flick on at will, but it seems genuine today. Perhaps the anniversary of your wedding has lifted his mood in light of his brother’s engagement.

Either that, or the fact that the first step of your plan would be initiated today.

You liked to believe it was the latter.

It’s midday before you’re called to receive the Reverend Mother, and sweat beads between your shoulder blades. To calm your pounding heart, you think of Caladan: the spray of the sea against the rocky crags, the rare peal of your mother’s laughter, and how it all had been stolen from you by those like the Baron and the Reverend Mother. People who thought their agenda more important than the lives of those carrying it out for them.

Your vengeance keeps you sharp, your smile like a knife as you approach the Reverend Mother.

“Thank you for meeting with me earlier than we planned,” you greet her.

She replies, “You said it was urgent, though I sense that, once again, your womb is empty.”

“Yes,” you say, stifling the urge to choke her with those stupid chains. Hopefully the saccharine tone of your voice does not betray your inner thoughts. “I called you here for a related reason.”

“And what might that be?”

“You were wrong about Feyd-Rautha.”

The Reverend Mother visibly recoils. “Tell me what’s on your mind now, girl, I do not have the time for your vague accusations.”

“How do you truly know that he’s destined to sire the Kwisatz Haderach? He is…unpredictable,” you say. “Perhaps your calculations are wrong. It could explain why I am not yet pregnant.”

“Does he know you voice this concerns?” The Reverend Mother asks with a sniff.

Your lips press together. “Of course not.”

“Keep it that way. Feyd-Rautha is just as destined to sure the Kwisatz Haderach as you are to bear it from your womb.” You can feel her scrutiny from under her decorated veil. “You were defiant before about your arrangement. Why are you questioning his authenticity now?”

“As you remember, you assessed me under the Gom Jabbar. Feyd-Rautha has had no such assessment. What if he were to fail?”

The Reverend Mother considers this. “You suggest that we test him.”

“Yes.”

“Do you believe him likely to succumb?”

“I don’t know what I believe,” you reply, “only that his capabilities have not been proven by your standards.”

“You speak as if this is an oversight on our part,” the Reverend Mother says, rising to her feet. A bolt of uncertainty shoots through you.

“I mean no offense. I am simply voicing my concerns, as you said.”

“You leave soon for Arrakis?”

“In a few hours.” You try to look sheepish. “You can see why I demanded urgency.”

The Reverend Mother doesn’t immediately reply. You’re not sure what she sees when she gazes upon you. When she finally does speak, her voice is begrudging: “I shall see that Feyd-Rautha is tested by the Gom Jabbar, though I hardly think it necessary to facilitate now.”

“But what if he fails? I am wasting my time with him,” you counter, perhaps too quickly.

The Reverend Mother must mistake the haste in your voice for panic. “I will visit you on Arrakis in one week. We shall test him then.”

You dip your chin, acquiescent. “Thank you, Reverend Mother.”

The Reverend Mother has no sooner left before Asha scurries to you, her eyes wide. “I overheard everything. It won’t be ready by then.”

“It has to be.”

After your disconcerting dinner with the Baron, you made it your top priority to mend things with Asha. Albeit, less messy than your reunion with Feyd. Asha was only too quick to forgive you and gush her own apologies, which you reassured were not necessary. You had explained to her the plan you created with your husband that very night, while lying side by side in bed, voices whispered, his fingers dragging across your skin.

You had uttered plans to destroy his family like they were sonnets of a poem, threaded with love and unwavering devotion.

Asha, of course, eagerly agreed to assist you with the plan.

“These things, it takes time, and without having an actual reference —”

You lower your voice as not to be heard by anyone lingering nearby. “Tell them I will double their pay. It must be delivered to me on Arrakis in a week’s time.”

“Okay.” Asha hardly looks convinced.

“The promise of coin is an excellent tonic for idleness,” you say. You allow a small smile. “I wish it would change your mind.”

You had invited Asha to join you on Arrakis but she had swiftly declined, ever after you swore a higher salary. You would do anything to guarantee her company.

“I belong here, Y/N,” Asha says, “I know it must be difficult to believe. I imagine you felt the same about Caladan.”

You stiffen slowly. Oh, how lovely it must be to make your own decisions and live where you choose. Subconsciously, you know you could order her to join you and she would have no choice but to say yes. But you would not sacrifice her happiness for your own. “I understand.”

“Are you…disappointed?”

Feyd glances at you. You both stand in the whirl of a thopter’s wings, the force of it billowing your skirts and the red scarf you’ve draped over your head and shoulders in preparation for Arrakis. Your hand sits on your forehead like a shield for the sun — the last time you would see it, a dark, unblinking eye in the white sky.

The light casts Feyd in sharp contrast.

“What do you mean?” He asks.

“This…is your home,” you say, “will you not miss it?”

As if prompted by your question, he surveys the barren landscape, factories belching smoke in the distance as servants finish preparing your things for space flight. You think that he might not answer when he eventually says, “This place has always been more prison than home. I will be glad to rid myself of it.”

You want to reach out and grab his hand, but it feels wrong in this instance, when you wear your mantles of na-Baron and na-Baroness like armor.

Instead, you take to inspecting the same land that your husband does. You can’t even imagine the horrors he’s experienced here. And, unlike you, with your life scattered across several planets, Feyd had only known Giedi Prime — its cruelty and hardships and penchant for violence.

Though Arrakis is hardly a paradise, you hope he will find reprieve there.

“I can’t believe I’m going back,” you mutter. Your throat thickens. “And my parents won’t be there. I…I didn’t imagine it would be like this.”

“A soldier who dies in battle holding a weapon is guaranteed a place in the Heavens. If they were anything like you, they died fighting.”

You smile, blinking appreciatively at him. “I didn’t know you were religious, Feyd-Rautha.”

“I have little care for the Orange Catholic Bible. But there is comfort in knowing that there might be sanctuary for those who have spent their lives in battle.”

“Like you?”

You’re not sure what prompts you to ask it, but he turns sharply to regard you. His eyes scan your face, then the slightest of smiles graces his lips. “I’m afraid that there is no sanctuary for someone like me, jewel, but you’ve certainly ruined me by giving me a taste.”

Your chest tightens with emotion. You want to respond but it’s then that you’re beckoned over to the thopter. Feyd’s gaze flickers behind you and the moment is lost. “Be quick, wife.”

Be quick?

A pair of arms circle around you, making stumble. You automatically lean into their embrace while Feyd retreats to give you time to say goodbye, though you hardly notice with the tears springing to your eyes and blurring your vision.

You’re loathe to leave Asha here. She clings to you tightly, and you know that she wishes it could be different.

“You will come visit,” you tell her fiercely.

Asha withdraws an inch. “Of course.”

“And you will send me monthly — no, weekly updates.” You give her a stern look. “You will spare no details. I command you as your na-Baroness.”

“I suppose I have no choice then.”

You grin at her. “No you do not.”

Asha draws you in again, then whispers, “Your promise of coin worked.” She recovers, saying louder, “Now go. The na-Baron looks anxious for you to join him.”

“Thank you, Asha. For everything. You are my dearest friend.”

Asha offers you one last smile then bows to you. Aware that half of the fortress is watching, you spin on your heel and make your way to the thopter, to your na-Baron, and to your uncertain future.

“I can’t say it’s good to be back,” you report dryly as the heighliner descends. The expanse of desert stretches out before you, Arrakeen, shield wall visible just on the horizon. It shimmers slightly in the low lighting, duel suns casting a glow as they prepare for nighttime.

You’re escorted by a horde of Harkonnen soldiers in their all-black armor through a crowd of Arrakis natives. The handful of Fremen are easy enough to spot with their blue-on-blue eyes — you think them to be hostile of you, considering your Harkonnen marriage, but most regard you with curiosity. As you pass, you hear a rumbling in the crowd that you catch snippets of:

“…the Holy Mother of the Kwisatz Haderach…”

“I hear she’s no Bene Gesserit witch as they claim.”

“…does she already look pregnant to you?”

It displeases you, these vast speculations, but do your best not to reveal it. The truth of your education is not widely known. You were a shameful blot on the tapestry the Bene Gessrits have woven, and instructed by your mother upon first arrival on Arrakis not to tell anyone.

The prophecy foretold you to be part of the sisterhood, so that was the facade you upheld.

A Fremen woman twists free from the crowd. You’re too stunned to push her away before she lays a hand on your lower abdomen. Her blue-on-blue eyes shine vibrantly.

“I have touched the womb of the Holy Mother,” the woman says in a tremulous voice, “the womb which will bear our sacred Messiah.”

You stare, open-mouthed, as two Harkonnen soldiers grab under her arms and drag her away, still spouting heretics about your womb. The last you see of her is her feet dragging in the sand as she’s sucked into the crowd. Unease travels across your skin like goosebumps despite the stifling heat; you’re grateful to have worn the headscarf, as it hopefully masks your alarm.

“I should’ve had her hands removed for daring to touch you,” Feyd hisses under his breath.

He glowers the remaining way to the Arrakeen palace. It’s difficult to say if any of the remaining Fremen are eager to replicate the scene, but they’re surely discouraged now by your husband.

“That would’ve reflected poorly on us,” you say.

“I don’t care.”

You bump arms with him, stepping closer as not to be overheard. “You cannot blame them for their exuberance. They have been manipulated by the Bene Gesserits for centuries now. They believe our child to be their savior.”

A look of discomfort crosses Feyd’s face but he elects not to respond. Together you’re admitted through the airtight entrance into the palace, which is promptly sealed again. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust but when they do, you’re rooted to the spot by confusion.

The palace is exactly the same. You’ve memorized it from your long days stuck inside, but the decor and furniture are completely different. You suppose you expected to see it mostly the same, perhaps ransacked or destroyed, a standing tomb from the life before — not this, a space crafted entirely new.

The Harkonnen soldiers dispatch, probably to sweep for spies, leaving you alone with Feyd for the first time since your exchange with the Baron.

Your brows furrow as you say, “I don’t understand.”

“I hope it’s to your approval.”

“You did this?”

“I thought it would make the transition…easier,” he tells you. “Everything that was salvageable has been taken to a storage vault for safe keeping in case you later feel so inclined to see it.”

Gratitude swells inside you. “The entire palace?”

Feyd indicates for you to continue onward. He trails after you as you explore the halls, amusement etched on his face as he observes you peeking into each room for confirmation. It’s only once you’ve reached the bedroom meant for the man and lady of the house that he stops you.

“I’ve deigned to move our personal belongings to the next biggest suite,” he says, “this room is considered off limits.”

Relief washes over you — you won’t have to stay where your parents slept, where your mother would venture nightly from her quarters to slip under the covers with your father. Your throat thickens. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say nothing.”

His gesture moves you deeply, but it’s hard to miss the streaks of residual lasgun burn marks on the walls, the unfamiliar servants now in your employ. And you’re not sure if it’s your imagination or not but you sense a heaviness within the palace as if the weight of the deaths press on you from all sides.

The intricate care taken to packing your belongings is now undone over the next few hours. At least here everything is in color and there’s a human warmth that was always lacking on Giedi Prime. You sneak glances at Feyd on occasion to gauge his reaction, but he maintains his casual indifference to it all.

It would be impossible to tell if he’s masked his feelings or if he really doesn’t care. Either way, relief loosens your mind when night descends and the servants are sent away to rest, leaving you alone with Feyd. There are no pretenses you need to hold — not that it would matter if you tried. His attention is already fastened to you, analyzing.

“Let me help you out of your dress,” he offers in his rasping voice.

You obey, turning your back to him so that he may untie the laces running up your spine. You suspect that he would normally make quick work of such a task, it’s not like he’s unfamiliar with the process, but his fingers are clumsy, grazing. Feyd crowds close to you, his mouth hovering over the shell of your ear.

“Did everything go as planned?”

You nod, humming. It’s hard not to get distracted with him near you like this. “Yes. She will be here next week to assess you.”

“Perfect.”

“It truly could not have gone better,” you admit to him with a splash of self-satisfaction.

He drops a kiss to your bare shoulder as he eases the dress down over it. “I was talking about you, jewel.”

Twisting, you meet his mouth with yours. Feyd’s hands instantly grab at your waist and spins you the rest of the way until you’re pressed together. You allow the dress to slide down and pool at your feet, which you step out of as Feyd pedals backward, taking you with him. His kiss grows deeper. Attempting to take the lead, you tug him towards the bed, but Feyd has other ideas.

“No, no, come here,” he rasps. Like the tide eroding the sand, you let him guide you to the floor-length window. The glass against your skin is still warm from the twin suns.

“Here?” You gasp into him.

Feyd is too busy discarding his own clothes to answer immediately. “Let all of Arrakis see their na-Baroness,” he murmurs, mouth reuniting with yours with renewed passion.

His touch coasts down your side to your thighs, lifting you so that you can settle your legs around his waist. The vantage point giving your center access to his hardened length. Your body bows in response to him, ribbons of desire reaching out to capture you, binding you to him.

It’s without warning that Feyd drives inside you. He grunts as his cock splits your cunt, walls protesting at his size, the force of his intrusion. You bite down on his shoulder as pain intertwines with pleasure, muffling your cries until his thrusts have thoroughly slickened you. And Feyd never relents, bucking his hips into you with wild enthusiasm.

You’re not sure how it’s possible but every touch — every thrust, every kiss — catapults you to the edge of a precipe from which you willingly step over, languishing in the free fall. Someday you might hit the ground, but that doesn’t frighten you as it should. You would do it over and over again as long as he was the one to bring you there. All things considered, it was his hands pushing you off the ledge, prompting you to fall, to spiral down into the chasm he created — and his hands who ultimately catch you.

Feyd eventually lets you back down on your feet only to twirl you around again. His arms snake around you, hands cupping your breast. You moan as he pinches your nipples, rolls them between his fingers, his breath hot on the side of your neck. Feyd wastes no time returning his cock to your weeping cunt, using his knee to spread apart your legs.

It feels as if you can see all of Arrakis from here as Feyd pummels into you: the cresting desert beyond the city, the shield wall, lights flickering in the distance. You wonder if anyone can see you now, make out your blurred shape high above them getting properly fucked by the man who rules over them. The thought fills you with molten heat, pulsing over you in waves of pleasure as you imagine an audience to your fucking.

Feyd laughs like he knows this. “What shall we say when our people discover their na-Baroness is a whore?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you pant, “you’d kill anyone who even hints at it.”

He snaps his hip to you, grunting in approval.

It’s not long after that he coaxes your final orgasm from you, coming himself soon after. The lights of Arrakeen merge, brighten, as you unravel beneath him; the subsequent bliss of him coating you with his seed. Once he’s wrung his pleasure from you, he pulls you against him, your back flush with his chest. You stay like that for quite some time as you both catch your breath, looking out over the planet you inherited together.

“It’s all ours,” Feyd rasps.

“What an anniversary gift,” you reply, grinning as you watch him in the reflection of the glass.

“If you asked of it I would gift you the entire Known Universe.”

“I know,” you tell him. “Maybe next month.”

Part Thirteen

Taglist:

@moonsoulk @heartarianagran @torchbearerkyle @unicoreads @taleah @mamawiggers1980 @jovialeggsbailiffsoul @harkonnin @avidreader73 @unicorntrooper @beebeechaos @kamcrazy123 @wo-ming-bai @m-indkiller @kpopnstarwars @dacreshoney @stopeatread @the-na-baroness @therealslimshady-1 @unnisumi

[skellys-selfships]

Adam x reader (gender neutral) relationship headcanons

just sumn quick i threw together bc i love this loser <333

• 1000% has a thing for praise, wether it's hyping you up, or you boosting his MASSIVE ego

• calls you pet names like "babe", "danger tits", "sugar tits", he'll talk about your tits no matter your gender >:) "his top bitch", "sexy"

• if you call him petnames like "big guy", "my first man", "daddy" he'll just nod 'n say "fuck yeah", he knows he's the shit. call him anything cute, like "baby", "teddy bear"?? "pigeon"?? he's gonna look around the room, fumbling about, hoping no one else heard that, he likes it but you're never gonna hear that from him ;)

• he subconsciously takes you under one of his wings, you're his after all

• he'll try to deny it but he's so very jealous, please reassure him you're loyal, he needs that more than he'd EVER admit

• he LOVES to playfully pester you. walking up behind you to pinch you, mess up your hair, poke you, he gets a kick outta your reactions

• only when you've dated for a while he'll actually let you see his face, he's really defensive about it, you kinda wonder why tho. he's objectively very handsome

• when he's comfortable enough to let you see him unmasked on a regular basis, he's flop over on the couch, resting his head on your lap, if you aren't taking the hint already, he'll wiggle his eyebrows at you and smirk, this means he wants you to play with his hair

• his favorite place to be touched is between hus wings, rub his back there and he makes the most ungodly noises. if you actually react to the relieved sighs 'n groans he let's out, he'll just smirk at you, "got a fuckin' issue, or something?" he knows wtf he's doing ;)

• he shows you his appreciation of you through material things, he's abysmal with words but actually great with gifts, he's observant and wants to prove he can provide for you better than ANY other man

• he's big on PDA, he's so goddamn proud to be the most attractive couple in all of Heaven

• he's really heavy on making out, he gives no shits wether it's in public or not, when he has a need, it's hard to deny the big baby instant gratification. and he's just incredible with that gilded tongue of his too, that's a bonus :)

• grab his hair, or his horns depending on if he's wearing his mask while making out, he'll go nuts

• sleeping with Adam is actually better than Heaven itself, he's like a giant winged teddy bear, he's already very soft 'n chubby and is prone to spoon you and roll over onto you, but throw those silky soft wings into the mix....you'll never wanna get outta bed

• he loves playing music for you, the man is a complete songbird, any excuse to serenade you and flex how amazingly talented he is

• he's not perfect, Adam is a manbaby at best but he really does love you and the thought of losing another partner silently scares him shitless at times, let him know when he's doing good, because to him, you are the top dog, the best and baddest bitch around <3

[stuckinapril]

You are so productive and living your best life I admire it so much! I don't understand how you do it... do you have any advice for forcing yourself to do the things you know are good for you even when you are feeling sad and not up to it? Have a lovely day ❣️❣️❣️

Plan your day hour by hour. This actually revolutionized my life. Plan when you’ll wake up, plan what you’ll do every hour of the day, and make it as realistic as possible to stick to your goals. Start with simple things and gradually ramp it up. Don’t overwhelm your day with 60 different goals. I’d pair one passive goal (be on your phone less, for example) with one active goal (study more, take more walks, read more) and go from there. It’s better to start small and be consistent than to start big and quit one day in.

Lower the resistance necessary to accomplish tasks. If you have somewhere to be early tomorrow, plan your outfit the night before. If you have studying to do, have your textbooks/notebooks/notes on your desk by the time you wake up. If you have an overwhelming task, break it into smaller subtasks and focus on them one at a time. If you don’t want to be on your phone in the morning, charge it somewhere you won’t be able to see the moment you open your eyes. I’m trying to overcome the phone issue right now, so instead of setting an alarm on my phone I just bought a digital alarm clock bc I know I’m way less likely to get on my phone that way. I’m lowering the effort needed to actually get started on a task.

Have motivational things handy for when you’re down!! I’m a highly visual person, so it actually really helps me to make moodboards. I have moodboards for things I wanna accomplish, moodboards for things I’ve already accomplished, a Pinterest board for affirmations etc etc. I have a list on my notes app for all the reasons why it’s important to me to accomplish my goals. I have another notes app page dedicated to pasting all the motivational quotes that help me whenever I’m in a funk. You could even print them and hang them up on your wall if you want. In times where instant gratification overshadows getting things done, make it very accessible to remember why they’re important to you to begin with.

Romanticize your tasks. I make silly to-do lists, I make sure I’m always in cute outfits when I’m running errands, I put on perfume and mascara and lip gloss even if I’m literally all on my own in my bedroom about to do a 3 hour study session. I love getting manicures bc there’s nothing more satisfying than studying with pretty dark red fall nails. This may sound extra but I go through my notes pretending I’m Elle Woods or something bc it makes it so much fun. A huge part of why I’m consistent with going to the gym is bc I buy pretty workout fits that just make me feel good. I wear lingerie under my clothes wherever I am bc it makes me feel like a bad bitch even if no one sees it. I don’t start a task with the thought in mind that I want to get it done already—I try to make the act of doing it in and of itself as engaging as possible.

To piggyback off that point, switch your environment if your current one isn’t serving you. Don’t just default to quitting if one approach isn’t working. If studying in your bedroom isn’t doing it, go to the nearest coffee shop. If the coffee shop isn’t working, do the library. Study indoors. Study outdoors. Study in nature. Hell study at a beach if you want to. It doesn’t matter where you are if you’re getting things done. Exhaust all your alternatives before calling it quits.

Set firm boundaries with yourself. This is so big. Self-care is absolutely treating yourself, but it’s also being your own parent and disciplining yourself if you feel like you’re not putting your all into something. In a world where it’s very easy to go “just a few more minutes on my phone” “I’ll do it tomorrow” “I can skip working out today” it’s really important to be able to parent yourself and exercise some tough love and do some things even if you don’t feel like you want to. I really struggle with this as a gen z girl bc this is THE era of instant gratification. But my goals are just more important to me than momentary comfort.

No zero days. Just bc you’re not being your 100% on one day doesn’t mean you should just lie down and do nothing. Being at 50% performance is better than being at 0%. I try to make sure I get some light tasks done on days where I don’t feel like going all in. It helps me not feel like I’ve just derailed my whole life, which consequently helps me move on from my ruts faster.

Look ahead. Can not emphasize this enough. Death motivates me like nothing else. You do not have an infinite time on this earth. You don’t want to be at the same place you’ve been at a year from now. Resist the “I’ll do it tomorrow” mentality as much as possible. Change happens in small increments & there’s no better time for it than the present. What may seem like little things you can skip out on now can quickly snowball into the very things that are preventing you from being where you want to be.

Acknowledge your limits. Someone with two full-time jobs and school should not be comparing themself to the progress of someone with one part-time job and like nothing else. I’m currently studying full-time and also trying to maintain a consistent workout routine, so I don’t expect myself to recreationally read more than 30 minutes a day, even if ideally I’d like that time to be way higher. I know it’s pointless to compare myself to someone who reads 70 books a month but has much less workload than I do. Comparison is inherently flawed bc no one else has been the dealt the cards you’ve been dealt. Tailor your schedule to your own unique situation. Make a list of your priorities and assign them to your hours accordingly.

Listen to your needs!! Mental health is the most important thing. You need to be in tune with yourself to know when you could be pushing yourself a little harder, and when it’s necessary to give yourself time off. If I’m in an actual burnout, I go out with friends. I go see a movie. I give myself the grace of being human and step back for a little bit. It’s completely okay to have those days, and acknowledging them helps you recover quicker. Take care of yourself <3

[blackopals-world]

Motherly Advice

Angst to hurt your feelings

Malleus: Do you think you will ever stop loving Lilia? Even when he dies?

Celestial!Yuu: My dear, a time like that will never come to pass. Because even in death he will be with me. One of those perks of my being. Though we will be saddened to not all be together at once.

Malleus: But what if that wasn't the case? What if he died and you have to live without him?

Celestial!Yuu: Then I would still love him. I will love his memory, the joy we shared, and the precious treasures he gave me. When I look at you, Silver, and Sebek I will see him. In your movements, your expressions and hearts he will be there.

Malleus: And you won't love anyone else?

Celestial!Yuu: That is a heavy question. An answer I can't predict. Lilia and I are mature adults. We understand what obstacles we could face and have discussed them. But that isn't something for you to ponder. You do not have the maturity to understand that yet. Malleus I know this is about that human you've developed feelings for but I will tell you now to be careful. Lilia and I can handle anything right now but it isn't easy. Love is complicated and I know you don't want to hear that but you need more than love to make things work. Love alone isn't enough, even true love requires work and effort. Malleus you have a long life ahead of you. Longer than any human. You must weigh the risks of this fate.

Malleus: Mother, it's fine I understand.

Celestial!Yuu: No, you do not. You have yet to grasp what love really means child. I understand your loneliness and your desire to hold on to the one person who treats you as a dear friend without fear. But, love that does not make. It is like that of a child holding onto a comfort blanket and refusing to let go. You know that human desires to return home yet you'd consider keeping them with you. You both will be miserable when they die of old age and never see their home again. We have filled your head with too many tales.

Malleus: Mother, I know I love them. They will be happy with me. Lilia agrees! He said I should marry them. Do you not like them?

Celestial!Yuu: Just the opposite. I care for them as my own. That is why my heart breaks for them. Lilia and I aren't in agreement on this matter. He has always been shortsighted and seeks instant gratification. That is how we go Silver after all. But I look at the big picture. Malleus I'm a goddess. I know how the human feels. I know they have feelings for you but more then that they are full of grief and longing for their home. That is something you can't change.

Malleus:...

Celestial!Yuu: Malleus I am your mother and I know what you're thinking. And no. You can't use Magic to stop them.

Malleus:Mother don't you want me to be happy?

Celestial!Yuu: Not at the expense of others. We raised you better than that.

Makleus: What can I do?

Celestial!Yuu: Think. Consider what you really want and if this is real love you feel or just infatuation. Tying both of you down in something you may not want ultimately will only bring pain. And be honest with your answer for your sake. I want what's best for you.

-later-

Malleus: Your wife said not to listen to you.

Lilia:(shrugs) She's probably right.

Malleus: How did you get her to marry you?

Lilia: Tricked her with a convoluted bet. I think there is a myth about it now.