#the stallion that mounts the world | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

uniteds · 1 year

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stuff that happened in the 2022/2023 football season that should send us into a coma but we’re too desensitized:

1. the whole ass world cup in the middle of the season. what was that

2. manchester united sacking ronaldo and announcing a sale of the club in the middle of the world cup

3. ronaldo getting dropped at the world cup and his replacement scoring a hattrick immediately after

4. keeping up with the belgians (world cup edition)

5. keeping up with the belgians (courtois saying he doesn’t respect kdb after stealing his missus)

6. ronaldo stans beefing with a little moroccan girl

7. the kingdom of saudi arabia buying newcastle united and then telling the premier league that they didn’t and the premier league going “oh okay if you say so”

8. megan thee stallion being romelu lukaku’s date to lautaro martinez’s wedding

9. pique cheating on shakira and then shakira releasing a diss track about it

10. shakira figuring out pique cheated on her because someone ate her strawberry jam and pique doesn’t eat strawberry jam

11. apparently the girl pique cheated on shakira with (clara) cheating on pique with pep

12. wagatha christie libel case

13. real madrid dropping a video accusing barcelona of fascism and the government of cataluyna getting involved

14. the pope coming out as a manchester united fan

15. the one napoli fan that basically made zielinski strip on the pitch

16. mount vesuvius park shutting down because napoli fans wanted to fake an eruption as a celebration

17. frank lampard taking everton into a relegation battle, getting sacked, and then taking chelsea into a relegation battle

18. on that note: chelsea were in a relegation scrap and finished 12th

19. mourinho lost his first ever european final to sevilla europa league black magic

20. whatever the fuck borussia dortmund did on the last day of the bundesliga season

21. anthony martial’s ex wife chasing his first wife down a french motorway with a baby in the passenger seat

22. psg suspending messi because he took an unsanctioned trip to saudi arabia and then unsuspending him two days later because they didn’t want people talking about geopolitics

23. the absolutely bizarre messi apology video released by psg

24. spurs refunding their fans’ tickets after being embarrassing

25. pep’s heartbreak over the fact julia roberts is a manchester united fan

26. chelsea scored one goal in the month of april

27. chelsea and spurs had six managers between them and won one match combined between march and april

28. mourinho fighting anthony taylor after the europa league final

29. milan derby in the ucl for the first time since 2005

30. luis enrique saying he’s cool with the spanish players having sex during the world cup as long as they’re not having orgies

31. luis enrique saying he doesn’t have sex anymore unless his wife wants to

32. man city charged with 115 counts of financial doping and trying to get the barrister in charge disqualified because he’s an arsenal fan

33. mourinho wire-taping himself to catch referees being corrupt

34. ryan reynolds and mac from it’s always sunny in philadelphia buying a football club and that football club getting promoted

35. pele died rip

36. women football awards sponsored by shein and klarna having a category for “male football ally of the year” and it’s just random men that went to one (1) women’s game

37. barcelona negreia case (how do you say calciopoli in catalan?)

38. infantino saying he feels gay, african, like a migrant worker, disabled, arab, and qatari

39. infantino saying he was oppressed as a child because he was ginger and italy is not safe for gingers

40. david alaba’s father in law getting arrested for being one the leaders of a far right group plotting to overthrow the german government

41. richarlison being tumblr’s it girl for a month and then not scoring a goal for the next four

42. juventus being in the middle of another corruption scandal and being docked points because of it

43. two teams getting investigated by the british government for playing football the weekend the queen died

44. gavi getting a yellow card in the first minute of a football match

45. pogba’s brother was arrested by french authorities for being part of a group-organized extortion attempt against pogba

46. richarlison getting a tattoo of neymar’s face and neymar paying him 30k to get it removed

47. iker casillas coming out, puyol implying they had a thing, and both of them retracting it in the most misha collins way possible.

48. sane and mane fight

49. zlatan retired from football

50. barca withholding about 50 million in wages from their players and somehow frenkie still didn’t want to join manchester united

#tp #there’s more but I can’t remember them #manchester united #and others

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pursuitseternal · 7 months

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“Bites in the Night: Part 4” returns hotter bloodier than ever: a series of nsfw Astarion x Reader on the road

“Let me have that sweet ambrosia, my love…”

Astarion x F!Reader | E | 2.7K of Period sex 🩸

Summary: Remaining behind to loot your enemy, the moon is full. Your belly aches. He smells it instantly, the feast between your legs, and he just has to do something about it, for his sake and for yours.

CW: (tasteful) period sex, a ravenous vampire rogue, very attentive care and comfort, blood kink, NSFW, a bloody feeding frenzy for Astarion

A/N: Ambrosia: Ancient Greek for menstrual blood and the perfect Vampire meal😈🩸

Read here if you prefer AO3

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Night is falling, and you are nowhere near the rendezvous point. Your back, your ass, and everything in between is killing you. Astarion had to insist on looting that enemy camp. He left no chest unopened, no stone unturned. You sniff in mild irritation. Fucking rogue.

Your horse begins to slow, another thing he insisted on keeping as spoils. Two beautiful mounts to hurry back on your journey. The rest of your party is half a day ahead, but you should have been there by now.

You turn in your saddle, eyeing the packs of loot on the rump of your brown mare, and the equal amount on that beautiful black stallion your vampire rogue rides on behind you. His eyes meet yours, his mouth twisting in that irritating smirk that drips with sex. “It is quite the view, you know, watching your ass shift and bounce with every step…” his voice is loud, sultry and daring.

When it’s just you two, he hides nothing. Every little dirty thought or suggestion, he proudly voices. In fact, it’s why you’re running late. Your roguish lover insisted on replenishing his strength after the fight almost the instant you two were alone. He fed well, not to mention you just had to help each other burn off your blood running hot after battle. Nothing a quick rut in the forest didn’t fix.

But now you paid for it, your belly aches from

How deep he had taken you, the folds of your cunt swollen and sore from roughly fucking in the dirt.

You tut your tongue at him before turning back around in your seat and urging your horse forward. Faster.

But now your belly burns. Looking into the sky through the trees, you begin to see the world growing dim, bathing in the light of a full moon. That’s when you swallow.

Oh.

It isn’t just from being fucked hard after battle that your belly is sore. You look down at the tan of your saddle, your suede breeches. And sure enough, they darken.

Blood.

You groan.

And of course, Astarion knows. He urges his horse alongside yours now, brows furrowed. “I smell blood, darling, yours no less…”

You reign in your mount. This little clearing among the pines will have to do. “It’s nothing,” you shrug. You pull your cloak over your shoulder, hiding your lap from his crimson prying eyes. “You see to the tent, I’ll tend the horses. We can camp here for tonight.” You’ve decided.

“Wouldn’t it be faster if we simply ride….” he begins to argue, but the way your face screws in hot irritation makes his mouth snap shut. He arches a single brow, but he mumbles his acceptance. He slides from his horse, beginning to unlatch the bedrolls and packs from his stallion. He eyes you suspiciously when he thinks you’re not looking, but you are taking your sweet time, waiting for him to leave before you slide off your saddle. Knowing it’ll reveal the mess you have made.

At last he carries armfuls of equipment away. But you know you don’t have long. You dismount rapidly, grabbing a rag and some saddle soap, trying to work the stain from the leather.

You hurry, but you’re not fast enough. His hand comes to rest on yours, pinning you mid-swipe with the rag in hand. You watch him lean towards the leather, his nostrils flaring and his eyes observing the spots of red on the cloth. He cocks his head, a single finger slinking to lift your cloak ever so slightly. Just enough to show the stains that darken the tan of your breeches.

“You smell of blood, of ambrosia, my darling,” he purrs. Fingers now claw around that edge of your cape, holding you fast in place.

“It’s just the moon,” you grimace, trying to pull away. “Just my monthly bleeding. Nothing so delectable.”

You ache, eyeing the tent he has pitched with ridiculous speed.

But his hand only grips tighter and pulls you harder. “Darling,” he breathes, heavier than before, and you look into his eyes, they catch with the moonlight and glow their deep crimson. You watch his chest heaving, slowly but noticeable. “What am I?”

“You…” you scan him. Every muscle in his body is taught and ready to spring. Pupils dilated. Cock already bulging from his trousers. “You’re aroused?”

“Darling, what… am… I?” now he growls, his finger pointing to the two scars in his own ivory neck.

“Vampire,” you exhale, never feeling more like you are trembling before a blood-sucking monster than now.

“And what are you?” he pushes, raising the stained cloth, covered in your courses and in saddle soap to his nose. Watching him breathe deeply, fairly drooling as his eyes open again.

“Bleeding…” you reply to a look of deep approval from your lover.

“A perfect combination, I would say,” he croons as he tosses the rag at your feet. “Now, you get yourself in our tent, you rest for the slightest moment while I tend to our horses. And then you’ll find yourself in the arms of so much attentive caring, you will beg me never to stop until I’ve had my fill of your ambrosia, darling.”

You shiver, but you can’t tell if it’s from his sweet and dirty words or the fact your body is in such turmoil. Slogging your way, you manage to get into the tent, dropping your cloak and immediately reaching to unfurl the blankets and bedrolls, tossing them all over the ground. Your belly aches and your breeches stick uncomfortably. You need them off. The pressure, the stick.

Shimmying them from your waist, you keep your back to the entrance, because somehow you know he’s standing there. Watching and waiting. Maybe it’s the heavy breathing that you notice first. But you finally step out of the soiled pants, turning in nothing but your shirt to come face to face with Astarion. Your hungry vampire. The very picture of famish and yearning.

He licks his lips, eyes almost black, dilated so wide as he looks at you. His lips pull back, fangs bared, the beast barely restrained.

He crosses to you in a split second, faster than lighting, lest you forget he has already feasted on you once today. His mouth ravages yours, suffocating and consuming. As if he feeds on your air, not your blood. Fingers tangle into your hair, angling your mouth perfectly for his tongue to delve into its warm depths. His other hand grips at your back, pressing you flush against him, the hard, cool plane of his body giving you some reprieve. His touch is hard. Commanding. His hips give a little thrust where you ache. Your vision blurs, but not in pain. No, it feels… good. So good. Pushing and thrusting where your body feels like it’s tearing itself apart.

He doesn’t speak, his heavy breathing deafens you, the little growls he makes into your mouth make you somehow feel even wetter between your legs. “On the ground, darling,” he finally rasps into your kiss. One hand grips into your shirt, pulling it off you so swiftly, your skin becomes gooseflesh with it gone.

Astarion moves your body down, letting you spread yourself over his hips, sprawling himself across the haphazard bundles of blankets. He hushes you softly, “Shhh, my love. Now, you just close your eyes, and I’ll tend to everything. Every little drop of your delicious blood will be mine… if you wish?”

You nod; “Yes,” you breathe.

Large, cold hands grip into your ass, urging you forward from where you straddle him. His tongue is already licking his lips. Splaying your hands on the ground, you let him move you, your drenched cunt a banquet he will savor. You feel him as he licks you so rapidly. Wet everywhere as he centers you over his hungry mouth. Then, he really, truly feasts.

You cant your hips, both hands splayed on the ground as his grip keeps you pinned over his greedy mouth. Your arms shake, your body growing more and more rigid, taught and building and ready to burst.

He gives a light slap on your cheek, making you twitch as his tongue dives right into the center of your channel. Palms cupping you, his tongue slows its lick, languorous now, exploring more than cleaning. Attentive, exquisite pressure catching and swirling in all the right places. His hold on your rear eases, letting you swivel and buck as he licks you, your belly aching in more familiar ways. The clenching of your muscles, the throbbing in your core wants more than just to be cleaned and fed upon.

You clamber off of him, the sight of blood on his chin not unfamiliar, but that greedy, irascible glare makes your blood run cold and hot all at once. He sits up quickly, eager and hungry as he licks his bloodied lips. He will pin you down and keep feeding unless you take control, you see it in his eyes. In the ferocious appetite that claws beneath that hard, flirtatious exterior. You see it in the way his hands clench and open as he scans every inch of your flesh.

But you know what you want, what you need next. Hands tug his shirt from his waistband, pulling it from his ivory skin. “Gods, I’ve never wanted to feel you inside me more than now,” you breathe, one hand bunching the fabric of his shirt.

You use it to wipe the blood from his chin, revealing the dramatic pout of his lips. “Darling,” he tries to purr, but his voice is thick in his throat, edged with the gravelly tones of his appetite, “I was saving that for later.”

“Not if you are going to kiss me as you fuck me, my love,” you offer as lightly in reply as you can.

It makes him smile, wickedly and brimming with delight. His hands already unlacing the band of his breeches, he moves with that near-supernatural speed in his fingers. Before you even can laugh, he is on top of you, the cold, heavy weight of his body stealing your breath. You gasp to feel his cock already straining, pressing at your aching entrance. All that blood, that arousal that pools there, it makes it so easy for him to slip right in.

Groaning, he takes you, merciless, your cunt engorged. Swollen from your courses, he thrusts harder into you, filling you with the delicious drag and pressure of his cock. It presses, hard, straining against the way every muscle inside you clenches. Astarion watches your face, cautiously scanning for your every reaction. He smirks, relishing how your eyes roll and flutter, savoring the feeling of your hips bucking to take every single one of his rapid thrusts somehow deeper into your warm bliss.

He groans, his forehead coming to rest on yours, hand clutching with command into your hair. “I want to feed, my love, I want my mouth on any and every part of you,” he growls, the chill of his breath passing between your lips from where he hovers.

“Yes,” you moan, “yes, anywhere. Everywhere.”

His hand in your hair pulls you slightly, his teeth in your neck again before you even have a chance to finish your words. You shudder, feeling his taught body dancing on the edge of his control. But for as quick and hard as his fucking is, his mouth is tender on your neck. You twist to face him, catching his mouth with yours. You don’t even care as you taste yourself on his tongue. Your body is warm and numb and cradled, his tongue plunging into your mouth as his cock pummels your cunt.

So swollen, so full, so overcome, you can’t even tell when your climax begins to consume you, not until you are screaming into his mouth and clacking your teeth against his fangs. Not until your legs buckle and clutch around his hips. And not until your muscles clench harder than they ever have, even as he persists with his thrusts. His breath heavy in your mouth, grunting with each dive into the wet that comes pouring out of you. His head throws back, and you watch his own wave of ecstasy claim his pale, handsome features. His face tweaks in painful pleasure, and you watch those glowing eyes beam down at you as he eases from his climax, the smile on his mouth covered in equally crimson blood.

You breathe deeply, hand brushing gently to his neck to bring that mouth against yours once more. His kiss is tender—satisfied and soft. “Feel better, darling?” he purrs with a caress of his icy fingers against the flush of your face.

“Much,” you breathe, still relieved at the pressure of his cock deep inside you. “Thank you,” you give a little list of your hips.

“Really, darling, it is my pleasure,” he smirks, heavy lidded eyes regarding you with such intensity. Again. “There is nothing more delicious than you, my treat. I could gobble you up all night…” he taunts, a hint of mischief playing over the lines of his face. “Now, you rest, and let me tend to the cleaning…”

You look at the mess, at your bloodied clothes, relaxing to merely have to rest. He slides from you, and your body goes limp the moment he withdraws that prodding and massive length from your walls. But even as sleep begins to claim you, you feel that wet mouth lapping at you again.

Groaning, you glance between your legs, his face buried deep as he does, in fact, tend to the cleaning.

You drift off anyway, his tongue far less instant than before. But even as you rest, overcome in exhaustion, you stir hour to hour. Stirring every time he comes back to your thighs to feed again. And again. Until finally, sometime during the night, you shut your legs tight, hand reaching to shove him away. “Not until dawn,” you groan as you roll back over.

He only giggles, low and deep in his chest. His cold body lays behind you, hard and unyielding and comforting as you let the waves of sleep take you again deep into their embrace. As you rest, wrapped in his arms.

The moment light breaks, grey dawn filling your tent, a hand spreads your knees apart, throwing one leg’s sleepy weight over his shoulder as he laps and sucks from you again.

“True to my word, darling, I have waited until daylight,” he whispers, breath passing over your still aching mount.

You try to sit up, but a hand presses down on your still swollen belly. You sigh. “We will have to get moving, my love, if we are to meet the others…”

“Oh, my treat, you are in no condition to travel,” he croons between wet slides of his tongue up your thighs. “The others will just have to understand…”

“But…” your words are silenced the second his tongue delves back between your folds, making hard little circles over your clit.

“You are in no condition to have me let you out of my bed, darling,” he replies, hand pressing one leg lower against the ground, opening up your wet slick even more. “It would be dangerous to have you traveling with so much blood… You never know what monsters out there might scent you and try to claim it for their own.”

You give a scoff from your dry throat. “Like a vampire…” you groan as his tongue returns to pleasure you again for a moment.

“They, my pet, are the most demanding of all.” He grins at you, from between your legs again. “Tch,” he sucks his teeth, taunting and arrogant and handsome, “you should know better by now.”

“You are a demanding beast, you know…” you moan before you can finish your words.

“You should see me… if you were to deny me my feast, darling…” he replies between swirls of his tongue. “Now, hold still and let me have that sweet ambrosia, my sweet.”

Hips bucking a bit, letting him in deeper, you relax, luxuriating in his bed. For who are you to deny your vampire such a feast.

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Other “Bites”

Part 1: “Go back to sleep, darling…”

Part 2: “You’ll have to keep quieter than that…”

Part 3: “Daggers are a love language, my sweet…”

Ascended Astarion x Reader: “The Rogue You Were”

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vivacissimx · 6 months

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A Game of Thrones' first chapter being Bran I and last chapter being Daenerys X, and those two chapters being in such strong conversation with each other will forever be what sells me on ASOIAF as a series. The set-up is just it. Consider: AGOT begins with an execution, of Gared the Night's Watch deserter who witnessed The Horrors. It's presented as a part of Bran's coming of age, this complex situation which he's now old enough to grapple with. Gared is sympathetic to us as readers (he witnessed The Horrors!!!) but his life is forfeit. He dies by Ice. After, Jon and Robb argue over whether he died brave or afraid. Ned says it doesn't matter—death is necessary, it is part of a larger Cycle which Bran will one day be a part of though he shouldn't enjoy it any more than he denies it... what makes it necessary though? What is this cycle—because if it's only about justice, well, Gared's execution doesn't feel just. Now we have our first true question of the book.

Daenerys X follows a similar format with a sympathetic Mirri Maz Duur having forfeited her life after killing an unborn Rhaego. Why? Well she also witnessed The Horrors. This time in the shape of a Dothraki invasion & the Stallion Who Mounts The World prophecy. She is set to die by burning (ice and fire babyyy). In the moments before, she appears defiant... but when Daenerys says it does not matter how she dies, then fear creeps into MMD's eyes. Again the interplay between bravery & fear. Again the seesaw, the balance. So now we can return to the first question. Why is this necessary?

Because only death can pay for life... and because you should strive for life. There should be hope and yearning for birth, for rebirth. Gared & Mirri have both given up on their own lives due to their fear while Bran asks, and Daenerys answers, that yes, you must reach for life even when life as you know it has ended. It's a coming of age for Daenerys too. When the dragons burst forth their newborn cries are called music—it's a song!! A Song of Ice and Fire. So yeah. Five fucking stars.

#bran stark #daenerys targaryen #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #agot #text #asoiaf meta

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flying-ham · 3 months

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It’s interesting that mirri maz duur (whether on purpose or inadvertently) kills rhaego to prevent future suffering he and his khalasar might commit, but ultimately causes the birth of a much more destructive entity. She tells dany that, “The stallion who mounts the world will burn no cities now. His khalasar will trample no nations into dust,” after the stillbirth, believing that rhaego would become a Genghis Khan esque figure in essos. However, it is rhaego’s sacrifice that quickens dany’s eggs, allowing drogon, viserion, and rhaegal to be born. In the end, mirri gives dany far more power than she ever would have had under drogo and rhaego, and far more destructive capabilities.

#she wanted to stop a perceived evil #but made an even greater threat as a result #danaerys targaryen #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #agot #a game of thrones #valyrianscrolls #asoiaf meta #I guess?#mirri maz duur #khal drogo

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t-tomuras · 11 months

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Pairing: Khal Katsuki Bakugou x F!reader

Wordcount: 1.7k

Warnings: slight praise ( use of good girl ), slight impact play, hair pulling, reader has long-ish hair but type is non-descript, noncon -> dubcon, mentions of murder (unnamed characters), threats, creampie

Notes: Game of Thrones au-esque. Just a polished draft purge, very loose on the game of thrones like such basic knowledge.

You weren’t afraid of him, even as you’re dressed in sheer fabrics of pristine white instead of the tattered clothing you’d been found in, covered in the blood of your enemies as you’d felled them all in a circle of carnage around you. Adorned in delicate gold chains instead of protective iron but your hair is still done in its signature braid, even if it’s intricately decorated now as well.

The women who dressed and preened you advised otherwise, that the braid meant something different to the Dothraki; as if you didn’t understand that well. You wore your braid because you were a warrior yourself, undefeated. A woman that would sooner rip a man’s throat out with her teeth than submit for her life. Even delicate creatures become violent when backed into a corner.

And the Khal would not be receiving some broodmare, whether he believed so or otherwise. You were someone to be earned, not that you figured the commander of a horde that burned down your village and captured you would be able to.

He likes you though, obviously enough, sees the fire in your eyes accompanied by the thinly veiled sneer and barely there crease in your brow as you fight the furrow. You spit at the smug smirk he gives following his nod when he turns to the bloodriders on his heels, chuckling even as he dismisses them and advances on you.

You were offered as a spoil, lessened to that of some prize to a conqueror; a man with grandiose dreams, believed to be the stallion that mounts the world but so far he’s only interested in mounting you. He was no better than any other man you’d ever met, built the same as the few you’d allowed to warm your bed.

He circles you now like you’re prey he’s cornered, smirking when the vile scowl on your features never wavers. Following his movements with your eyes and only turning your head when he moves behind you before his broad palm wraps around your upper arm.

Katsuki only manages one sharp tug, making you stumble for only a moment as you growl. Infuriated by the mocking bark of laughter he emits, delighting in your fury. But, when he looks at you again you push all of the saliva to pool at the tip of your tongue before forcing it forward, letting the glob land on his cheek and further ruin the smeared ceremonial paint.

You’re ready for a fight, for the seemingly assured retaliation to the insult but still the smirk on his face only splits into a broad grin before he erupts into a hearty laugh. You’re audacious, spirited to say the least and if he didn’t fully believe you’d single-handedly taken down a few of his riders before he could certainly see it now.

And it makes his cock swell, throb needily as it tents the loose fabric of Katsuki’s pants before he’s wrenching you towards his tent at the center of their camp. Your struggling is no issue, easy for him to drag your feet in the loose sand and gravel as you try to dig them in for purchase but it only prolongs the inevitable.

He shoves you unceremoniously to the small gathering of pelts and pillows amassed to form a makeshift bed the moment you’re both passed the privacy flap of fabric.

“I like them when they fight,” rugged Dothraki dialect growled into your ear, bunching the fragile material you’d been presented in while you writhe, some of the stitchings popping and tearing from the force of both movements. Kicking out, the heel of your foot manages to make contact with his crotch, but he’s hardly fazed save for a sudden exhale and growing snarl.

A snarl that becomes manic when he takes hold of your forearm and twists it behind your back, effectively pinning you. Quelling the fight easily though you still squirm, infuriating you with his taunt as he exposes your cunt to his hungry gaze, “keep wiggling yer ass.”

You thrash uselessly, sliding on the furs until you’re flat on your stomach but Katsuki rectifies the position easily. Pulling your hip back up with one arm before returning to push down his bottoms, heavy cock springing free and bobbing with the weight of it. Prodding toyingly at your backside, beading precum smearing against the underside of your asscheek followed by your inner thigh before he aligns himself with your slit.

“Good girl,” he groans appreciatively in the common tongue when you clench your legs tightly, giving him a decent squeeze as he ruts along your folds. Cursing your body for its response, sighing exasperatedly as sticky sounds begin to grow in volume, “knew you’d like it rough.”

All you can do is grit your teeth, hiding your face as he coats himself just enough before feeling him nudge at your entrance. One, two testing prods before Katsuki stretches you gradually, but only for the thick tip. Sinking in impatiently the moment he really gets a feel of your divine heat and you’re thankful the cocky brute can’t see the slight roll to your eyes or curl of your toes at the feel of him.

You opt to just grit and bear it, turning your head in your folded arm to glare at him from the corner of your eye. Katsuki catches your gaze instantly, smirk growing as he sets his pace. Pelvis slapping against your backside with each thrust and you turn to face forward after he releases your arm. Bringing it forward to let it rest and the throbbing pain from being held firmly behind you to ebb but you’re only given a minute of reprieve.

It seems the great Khal isn’t interested in letting you just lie there until he is done. What was the fun in that? None to be had if he didn’t pull sweet sounds from you, noises he doesn’t intend to let you bite back in the slightest. You can hide from him but you can’t hide the way your walls flutter around his girth with each plunge, buried to the hilt each time in a way that had you biting your tongue to inhibit a moan.

With a toothy grin and quirked brow, Katsuki leans forward, cockhead nudging at a sensitive patch as he nestled deeply with the movement. His hand pushes your thick braid to the side, over your shoulder so his chest is mostly flush to your back. Humid puffs of breath fanning over the shell of your ear and back of your neck distracting you from how he toys with the length of your woven hair. Stroking it carefully before twirling it to wrap around his palm once but you only register his, “don’t hide from me,” as if you were his willing lover and bride.

“Repulsive pig,” you bite in his native tongue, imbuing as much animosity in your tone as you can despite the pleasure that builds in you.

Katsuki leans back up, spine straight with that same insufferable smirk on his face, gaze never faltering under your glare before his features morph. The lazy look to him bleeds into something manic, like he’d just found his enemies weakness in the battlefield and perhaps that was true with what he does next.

He moves his arm quickly, the winding of your braid wrapped twice around his fist as he pulls and forces your body upward. Arching as you’re forced into a new position and a throaty moan rips from your lips unbidden with how you feel him now. Cunt hugging his cock and squeezing as he holds you like this for a moment. Barking out a mean spirited laugh before he taunts, “Pretty pussy doesn’t find me so repulsive now does she? Fuck, you like that don’t ya? Course ya do, nothins better than a good fuck after killin a man.”

Hissing through your pants as he angles his hips so each roll of his hips drives him perfectly into you to send waves of pleasure with each thrust. He pulls harder on your braid, worsening the already near painful arch and forcing your head back when he places a harsh slap to your ass. Lips to your ear as he firmly grasps your hip and pushes you into another of his pointed thrusts, “ain’t that right?”

Your eyes roll at how well Katsuki fills you, how deep he reaches and perfectly he drags you to the edge of euphoria with each nudge of his fat tip to that patch within you. He’s merciful for only a moment whenever you hiss out a venomous, “yes.” Admitting to the enjoyment you took in stealing some of his men’s lives before ultimately overpowered.

You fall forward, fisting the fine furs that the Khal now takes you on as the pleasure becomes too much. The coil in your lower belly wound tightly until you’re finally tipped over the edge with the final stroke that proves to be his own undoing as well. Pushing your face into the plush material from the force of his last rut, burying as deeply as he can into you as he paints your velvet walls in thick spurts. His pelvis flush with the curve of your ass before he slowly rocks you through the waves of euphoria, working you both down slowly. Thick digits massaging into your hips in a stark contrast to the rough coupling mere moments prior.

You roll to your back in the cushy pelts of Bakugou’s makeshift bedding after he pulls his softened cock from your abused cunt, panting for breath in your post ecstasy bliss. Head lolling lazily to the side opposite of where Katsuki now lays next to you, taking stock of the rest of his tent while he remains still. He only casts a curious glance in your direction when he sees you shift but lets his heavy lids slip shut.

“Do you want to know what’s better than a good fuck, my Khal?” You keep your tone even as you turn to face him once again, sitting up as he merely hums in response.

You’re on him in the next moment, knees digging aggressively into the crooks of his elbows to keep them pinned to the ground as you straddle his chest. Your fingers hold fast to the biting hilt of his versatile arakh, positioning it so the curve of the weapon rests along the slope of his throat with a delicate yet deadly poise. So close that the bob of his adams apple creates a tiny slit in his skin, warm crimson weeping from the wound as you grin down at the mighty man.

“Freedom.”

#vixen drabbles #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo smut #katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #mha smut

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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jedimaesteryoda · 25 days

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When their lord husbands died and a new khal took his place at the front of his riders, with a new khaleesi mounted beside him, they were sent here, to reign over the vast Dothraki nation. Even the mightiest of khals bowed to the wisdom and authority of the dosh khaleen. Still, it gave Dany the shivers to think that one day she might be sent to join them, whether she willed it or no. -AGOT, Daenerys V

A scene from where Daenerys's unborn child Rhaego is declared the Stallion Who Mounts the World. Dothraki society provides much reverence for horses which serve as both their primary mode of transportation as well as a source of leather, milk and meat. They associate themselves with horses.

It makes sense that their society is modeled after horses even along gender lines to some degree. The leaders of the horse herds are always older mares rather than stallions. They decide when the herd moves and where to graze as well as leading them to food, water and shelter. The dosh khaleen themselves dwell at Vaes Dothrak, which has both the lake of the Womb of the World, the largest source of freshwater in the Dothraki Sea and the only permanent shelter of the khalasars. The khals, who are always men, defer to the dosh khaleen, and see them as the true leaders of their people.

"yet Vaes Dothrak is large enough to house every man of every khalasar, should all the khals return to the Mother at once. The crones have prophesied that one day that will come to pass, and so Vaes Dothrak must be ready to embrace all its children." -AGOT, Daenerys IV

However, interestingly enough, no one among the Dothraki including Daenerys even consider the possibility that it is a Mare Who Mounts the World despite the rulers over horse and Dothraki society being female. It is through Daenerys's basic role that is often assigned to Dothraki women, as a mother, that she manages to become the prophecy figure as her child Drogon gives her a clear military advantage over any khal, including allowing her to kill in Vaes Dothrak without violating the taboo against steel and spilling blood.

#a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #daenerys targaryen #daenerys stormborn #queen daenerys #dothraki

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daenerysies · 2 months

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babes i’m so glad that you feel this way about femicide! really top notch opinion.

anyways daenerys is azor ahai, the prince that was promised, the stallion who mounts the world, the breaker of shackles, the mother of dragons, the fire in ‘a song of ice and fire’, the titular character of the entire series. your gross musty rapist fav only exists because of my girl and her impact on the fantasy genre. she brought dragons back from extinction over a hundred years after they were annihilated because of this unshowered drunken mediocre white man and his fuckass decisions. stay forever mad that george gives even less of a shit about mister hobo cosplayer than he cares about finishing the winds of winter 🥰

#asoiaf #daenerys targaryen #pro daenerys targaryen #not tagging *him* bc i don’t want to deal with rape apologia #ladies. can we learn to think with our brains #instead of our pussies? just a thought

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tonystarksproperty · 2 years

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Hi Milo! would you please write Yandere Khal Drogo x pregnant wife reader? with smut? and that the reader loves it a little as if she had Stockholm syndrome? I am completely in love with my Khal :D thank you very much in advance :))

ps: i love your work it's just amazing <333

ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ Qᴜᴇᴇɴ, ᴀ ᴋʜᴀʟᴇꜱꜱɪ | ᴋ. ᴅʀᴏɢᴏ

yall are so nice omgg :}

this man has me on a chokehold literally

disclaimer: italics indicate dothraki language & female reader

warnings: yandere theme, dubcon sex, breeding kink, mentions of betrothal, possessiveness, noncon relationships, 18+ content.

One thing about this man right here, he doesn't care. Yes, your belly is swollen with one child. Never to late for another? He is a good fuck: its in his blood, his veins, his pride. You will never find another man like him to satisfy you. Your body will never fully be satisfied unless it is him.

However, Drogo is no fool though, he knew you were going to anything in your power to prevent the pregnancy: beg Viserys to kill you? It was such a good act, he must say. You had requested him to threaten you with the blade during the feast so maybe, just maybe: it could all be over with. But Drogo remained calm during the performance because he was well aware of your misery with him. He enjoyed it though, savored you until his heart content. He doesn't give a horse's ass if you don't like your new life. It is what was born for you to do, to breed.

You better pray because you never leave the tent nor lift a finger; the maidens of the tribe live to serve their khalessi. Drogo is the type of lover person to not feel sympathy to others no matter how bad the grief may be. Not really connected with his feelings, just his desires.

You stood up upon his arrival in the tent, no matter how weak or sore your body ache. You were trained to always greet the khal with exact and focus attention. He just walks in while throwing his weapon on the side of him and onto the floor. His dark eyes hadn't left your gaze. He approached you with his heavy footsteps, as his hands coated with one’s blood that was not his own, examining your facial features; observing to see that he had returned to you just had he left you: stable.

He had done this various times but it was a habit to see if anyone would harm the stallion that will mount the world. You were wearing an upper-waist dress with an floral palette and flowiness, the dress dropped to your ankles that hid your recently massaged feet. His hands were on your sore stomach and with a few rubs of gentleness from him: you inhale deeply due to the pain being at ease with his rubbing.

You open your eyes softly as his blood-coated hand print had been on the see-through dress. He cups your cheeks, bringing your face closer to his while examining you once again. He was worried to know if anyone had attacked you, his khalessi. You noticed this because you could see the worry on his stoic face: even if he managed to hide it so well. You grab his rough hand and gently caress his palm, despite the blood that was abusing your nostrils. Drogo noticed your gentleness to him, no matter how bad he treated you in your terms.

He leaned over to and kissed you, which you melted into because you were far to used to kissing Drogo. You had accepted Drogo, and his traditional and somewhat beneficial ways with you. You had no choice. His body weight increased as he was almost falling on you but he had placed you on the clothed rags that you both rested upon day and night. You push him away with all of your strength, feeling a bit more weaker by the second due to your sore belly weighing you down.

You were soon pushed down in a meer manner. You gently caresses your sore belly, Drogo noticed how your body couldn't handle his genetics obviously due to the pain you were enduring. You looked so full, so round. So very plumply. He was mentally smiling, it made him feel proud that your tiny body compared to his was so enjoyably weak. "May we just take this moon to rest?" You attempt to reason with him, you both were fucking non-stop every-night and you were already carrying one, you couldn't handle anymore right now. He shakes his head no. You already knew he was going to reply in that manner.

The traditional dothraki love language will forever be questioned and as much as you didn't feel like it: it was always coming. He had pushed you rather gently this time onto the horse fur and cotton rags that was used to make a makeshift bed. You flopped due to your strength decreasing each second with your stomach. He took the chance to lay himself next to you, as his clothes discarded with yours.

You give a sensual moan at the loss of discomfort your sore body had posses with the clothes that were tight around you. Drogo enjoyed you in clothes that were tightly on you, showing your curves but in your current state, he wanted everyone in his tribe to be well aware that you are already claimed for the stallions that will mount the world. It was usual for the dothraki to become possessive over their beloved, you were far to used to it though.

You allowed his large, calloused hands roam over your body, not even having a say in the first place to be in-fact. You were about to protest, hoping you can take this night to just relax and ease yourself but Drogo had no relief in a few cycles. The healer of the tribe, that is rarely around had told Drogo that sex could harm the baby's life especially your body compared to his size.

He was well aware that his girth was large and did expected the outcome of no sex but that couldn't stop him and his animalistic urges that refused to go away. Before he had walked into the tent, he had mentally prayed to the old wise great stallion to bless your growing child lives under its guidance and blessings.

Perhaps, he should consider what the healer said but his urges had been getting through his head. And he cannot blame them. You were in your glory, laying down with your legs closed together as you turned your body to the side to rest, but Drogo had grew impatient due to the slightest of movements had allowed his cock become erected with pre.

It wasn't him getting excited, he doesn’t believe in such a happy emotion. It was his soul reacting to yours. He had took the chance to come up behind you, laying you down in his grasp as your body still turned. He refuses for you to be on your stomach, even though that was the traditional way to give pleasure in the dothrakian heritage, taking you from behind. You hadn't noticed how his large hands were on your swollen belly as he pushed you gently onto the rags that made your bed.

You arched your back at the sudden pleasure you were receiving as Drogo’s hands moved down to your bare abdomen and soon your pussy. You squinted your eyes as you bit your lip in anticipation as his fingers played with the outer-lips of your bare pussy. You weren't able to look at him. He had laid you down on your side where your back had been facing him.

You quivered as his other calloused hand rubbed your sore, bare back. You whimpered softly while his lips connected to your neck yet again. You were looking down because your body had been so sore from his genetics. He took this opportunity to enter you. You shot up instantly with small pleas for mercy to his force. "Drogo, please! I am with child!" You say in hope for him to calm down as his thrusts increasingly become sloppy.

Drogo snicked indistinctly. You truly had been afraid, never hearing Drogo laugh, cry or lose his cool and upon your arrival to the horselords: you would always find them intimidating, but none as intimidating as Drogo.

His large hands meet your hips, gripping your flesh roughly before bringing your body closer onto his cock with a small grunt. You used your hands to support your body from falling down but the pain was enduring enough. You were moaning as the slaps of both fleshes continued. You closed your eyes; allowing Drogo to continue, he was bound to. Consent meant nothing to him, to his pride. His grunts and groans described the relief he had been feeling as he ached for more of your touch.

Your body was uncontrollably relaxing. You felt yourself reach for your peak. His large cock within you had been so very pleasureful that tears of overstimulation coated your heavy eyes as you saw stars. "Please, I-" You blurt out as your climax was approached swiftly. He leans himself down to your ear. "Do it." Drogo orders while he puts himself into your neck to decrease his echoing groans.

You leaned your head back, while he gave one last powerful thrust and it allowed you to release your building orgasm. Drogo had gritted his teeth furiously while his hot semen was unloaded again. You gasped heavily while a thin layer of sweat coated your aching body.

He leans down to you and kisses your forehead while pulling out. "Rest, my khalessi." Drogo coo's sweetly as he wipes away your tears with his large pointing finger. You nodded in agreement before turning your body to the side where your back had been facing him as his rough hands gently caress your sore belly while you drift to slumber.

Drogo noticed you fell asleep more quicker that usual. He was actually glad you went to sleep as a small smile crept up to the curve of hips as he placed a soft kiss on your shoulder before playing with your knuckles as his other hand continuously rubbed your aching yet growing belly. He knew he wasn’t the best husband but he was glad you were giving into your role as his khalessi.

His khalessi.

credz to @/tonystarksproperty

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esther-dot · 1 year

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“The stallion who mounts the world will burn no cities now. His khalasar shall trample no nations into dust.”

“I spoke for you,” she said, anguished. “I saved you.”

“Saved me ?” The Lhazareen woman spat.

“Three riders had taken me, not as a man takes a woman but from behind, as a dog takes a bitch. The fourth was in me when you rode past. How then did you save me ?

I saw my god’s house burn, where I had healed good men beyond counting.

My home they burned as well, and in the street I saw piles of heads.

I saw the head of a baker who made my bread.

I saw the head of a boy I had saved from deadeye fever, only three moons past.

I heard children crying as the riders drove them off with their whips.

Tell me again what you saved.

“Your life.”

Mirri Maz Duur laughed cruelly. “Look to your khal and see what life is worth, when all the rest is gone.”

I have to be honest, when I first read that scene in 2008, I considered Mirri the monster that deceived and betrayed Daenerys and therefore she deserved to die.

Years later, I reread the books for the first time and Daenerys already did things I found awful so I was more open minded to take in consideration Mirri’s POV… that truly changed my opinion on what GRRM created.

Mirri Maz Duur is a brown woman who lived in a peaceful community when one day a particular strong clan of Dothraki attacked her village and that lead into the slaughter and mass rape of everyone she knew and loved.

Mirri did witness the carnage firsthand and, most importantly, she was also a victim of the Dotharki violence.

When Daenerys “saved” her, Mirri was already a broken soul and rereading that scene it seems really a sinister joke that Daenerys wanted to save a few Lhazareen women when the main reason why Drogo decided to massacre this peaceful group of people is that he needed more slaves to trade for a fleet to invade Westeros and give Daenerys a throne that didn’t mean anything to the Lhazareen.

And there is more: Daenerys “saved” Mirri and made her one of her slaves and as such she was bound to serve the new Dothraki khal, the great khal of khals who would have united the Dothraki as one horde and used them to conquer the entire world, in other words a new Dothraki prophesied to wipe out the entire world… the future looked darker with every day that passed.

From this point of view, I understood why Mirri did what she did and she wasn’t the evil witch that I believed she was at first.

I love how we can revisit a book and understand it in a completely different way!

If Mirri set out to kill Drogo, I wouldn’t blame her at all (I don’t think anyone would if Dany weren’t at the center of this), but I’m not convinced that’s what she did. She had training and experience and gave clear instructions,

But they didn’t follow them,

The same goes for when Dany asks her to save him. She gives warning about the cost and tells Dany no one can enter the tent, but Jorah takes Dany in. Somehow, people still hold her responsible for Rhaego’s death which isn’t entirely fair.

It’s perfectly understandable to not catch details on a normal reading, there are so many things to keep track of, but even if Mirri did set out to kill her oppressor, on what grounds can we object? If I had suffered what she had and Dany reproached me for not being grateful, I’d laugh at that cruel joke too.

Thank you for sharing your evolution of thought here, anon. I enjoyed reading it!

#anti daenerys #anti daenerys targaryen #dot chat

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