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justblades · 9 months

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⋆｡˚ ♰・dan heng imbibitor lunae x afab! reader

┈─ ・(ex)plicit, mdni. dragon fxcking, breeding, cervix kissing, horns stim. not proofread.

"higher elder, are you certain you want to do this?" a doubtful query rises in the midst of shared, saccharine, heated kisses, the higher elder continues to roam his slender fingers on your belly, teal hues fixating on your worry painted features.

he cracks a sheepish smile and lays a gentle touch on your cheek, fingers now extending to your brows, gesturing for you to peel your eyes open— to see him clearly. "i may not be the person you knew eons ago, but given that your warmth exudes that of a familiar makes me yearn for more."

your heart rate picks up and a squirm slips out once he applies more pressure on your pelvis, signaling for you to rock your hips on him faster . . . and harder as he could no longer contain his urges. it was evident from his beetling brows and heavy breaths.

dan heng never breaks the intimate eye contact in spite of the raging temptation coursing through his body, he just persists until he reaches his limit, finally ripping your sheer clothes with his power to wield crystalline waters - an enticing sight welcomes his vision the next second. "h-higher elder!" you were unsure what could a mere calling of his title do in this situation, but all you could deduce was it fueled his lust even more so than before.

your body trembles from the glacial wind blowing upon your dewed skin, glistening from faint aureate lights emitted from the higher elder's palace. dan heng was quick to catch on as he grabs ahold of your wrists and leans forward in, closing the gap slowly between your lustful bodies.

as he does so, pieces of the past flash in his mind like it was a puzzle - the face in front of him now being the very same one he used to share an intimate past with. he could envision everything, from the first moment he laid his eyes on your figure to the very last time the both of you locked gazes when he was exiled.

it has been a very long time.

dan heng glances at your features once more, focusing at every detail of your appearance that the past him had come to adore. "i apologize i kept you waiting for too long." his apologetic tone soothes your aching heart. "i've told you before that no matter what you do, i'll accept you back into my life with open arms."

there was a faint hesitation displaying over dan heng's expression. "however, i am not dan feng anymore. would that be alright with you?"

an action as a response would speak louder than words ever could, you thought. a burning kiss presses on his lips right after, tongues coming next as the dyad tangles in sync, relishing each other's flavors tinged with undying love despite of how many years have passed.

as if your bodies had come to a mutual understanding, basking in pleasure never felt better than before. dan heng flips you around, your naked back facing him now while he rises from his seat, a hand clutches the frame of your waist.

in frozen frames does he flick his wet tongue on your body, tracing lines depending on what earns the most satisfaction judging from the mewls continually slipping out of your lush lips. your knees shake underneath his feathery, light touches — it was clear as a day that he's enjoying your reaction, savoring how you're incredibly sensitive with minimum efforts.

"hah . . d-dan heng . . not your tongue." you protest in the midst of the teasing but as anticipated, he doesn't halt. if anything, he goes deeper down your body, eventually reaching the peeking folds from your ass cheeks. a foreign sensation wells inside you, a searing flame burns bright within.

your body stature wavers, he wanted to see more. the male then gives kitty licks on your flesh, a muffled moan escapes the margins of your lips, he wanted to hear more. he proceeds to prod two digits into your slit, goosebumps ride on your skin. he wanted to feel more.

cloudy white liquids glaze his fingers at the very last thrust while you gasp for air, unable to keep up with the events unfolding. as you were getting lost and tangled in your own thoughts, something brushes past the soft surface of your damp skin. it was long and textured, its temperature the similar with your heating region.

you look back at the higher elder only to be welcomed by his erect dick, twitching in intervals, aching for it to prod through your entrance. your eyes widen into two full moons but little did you know the male was delighted to see you bask at the sight of his cock.

"raise your ass up." a singular order was all it took for you to obey like a second-in-command. you follow suit to his request and bent yourself over on the table across, perking your cheeks in the air - waiting for it to be accompanied.

dan heng inches closer and rubs the tip of his dick right on your sopping wet slit, meriting you his melodic mewls of pleasure and muses of fascination. "let's take it slow from here on." a part of you begs to disagree but you were already drowning in a cesspool of satisfaction. you could no longer form any coherent thoughts but just let out lewd noises alongside him like an animal in heat.

with what minutes felt like light years, he finally slips it in— with ease and intense yearning. the male grits his teeth as he pulls out and pounds back in with force of a tenfold, your body twitches and look back at him with confusion painted all over your expression. "i-i thought we'll take it slow?"

as unbelievable as it is to hear him let out a hoarse chuckle in this situation, "i underestimated my restraint. i keep wanting for more of you." he responds with composure and jackhammers into your pussy at this point in time, emitting naughty, splotching sounds everytime his cock meets with your walls.

every time he kisses the far ends of your cervix, your walls clench around his shape, remembering every detail that undoubtedly drove the higher elder crazy. "hah . . i'm feeling too good . . you tighten up when i do that." he mumbles under his hot, deep breaths.

dan heng proceeds to fill you up until there's no more of anything that can disrupt your rhythmic pace shared alongside him. he persists to thrust in and out of you faster than ever, but something feels rather amiss. something feels different.

"why does it feel like you're getting bigger?" you ask as you racked your head for any idea as to why. "you finally noticed." he responds, licking his lips in anticipation, watching on the beads of sweat racing down your naked skin. "—it's to prevent the female from escaping."

your energy begins to dissipate and as for your body, it felt lethargic and heavy that you could no longer keep yourself up, thus making you drop down on the glossy tabletop. fortunately, dan heng catches your figure before you meet your own fall, he turns you around, piercing ablaze eyes sharing a passionate gaze once again. "i understand, your body can't keep up anymore. just do as i say and everything will be okay." his words were laced with affection, the mien on his face looked sweet and serene.

he casts you a worried look but a lustful one all at the same. when suddenly, with one quick movement, your bare back now sinks in the soft cushions of a mattress — while your lover was atop your messed figure. his azure irises were beaming with intense fervor, "caress my horns."

you do not bother questioning but abided as always with his request as it has been like that since day one. your weak hands raise in the air to reach for the peculiar attributes the higher elder bore to which dan heng lowers his head to make it easier for you. slowly by slowly, you gently touch dan heng's translucent, turquoise gradient hued horns, gliding your fingers on the golden rings, and on to the shaft.

his hands wrap around yours suit, guiding your touch to where it feels the best to be caressed. the suspense was killing him yet it felt gratifying. "mm . . more." he muses and you obey— stroking his characteristics gently yet in a quick pace. your fingers coil around the small branches of his horns that stuck out, dan heng groans, feeling his climax nearing soon.

at the same time, he quickly lets go and fondles your bare tits, while his other free hand's digits fiddles with the clit. your back arches with pleasure to which the male accepts with gratitude, sucking your breast as he nestles the erect tips in between his teeth. he grinds his teeth and toys your hard nipples with his wet tongue in intervals, making your eyes roll far back from the foreign sensation welling up in your stomach.

on the spur of the moment, numerous strings of white cum sprawls out onto your body. the amount seemed rather bizarre as you looked to check . . . you saw two cocks from the same part, both hardened, erect as prominent veins adorn them both. "t-two?" you ask, brows furrowed at the unfamiliar sight.

dan heng pauses for a moment, feeling abashed at how your reaction. he heaves a deep sigh before responding. "yes, this is a state we enter when basking in incredible amounts of pleasure." he replies as a matter of fact, now cleaning up his own cum staining your body with his fingers and tongue. as he watches on you about what's the next course of action, a doubtful look lingers on your features. "what's wrong?"

"i don't think i can take it . ." the raven haired stops briefly to give you a reassuring smile. "don't worry, i'll be gentle until you can finally take all of me in." dan heng says, a dulcet tone underlying his sentence.

he presses a quick peck on your forehead and pats your head for a second, "this will feel good." dan heng leans forward to your body and strokes both his cocks with the help of his hands.

watching the male pleasure himself right in front of you: noticing his jaw tightening and supple thighs flinching, a sudden longing brews in the depths of your body to which your slit aches to feel more of his dick inside you, succumbing to your desires felt like the right thing to do. dan heng seemed so beautiful yet scary from what he can do.

and now here you wound up, facing his pair with a lewd expression carved all over your face. you poke your slick tongue out and brush it on his shaft, while your hands do the work on the other cock, caressing and stroking it in turns - earning dan heng's guttural moans bubbling from his throat.

his gloved hands then tangle themselves from the locks of your hair, he guides your mouth as you now lap all his length, bobbing your head up and down. your wet cavern provides the best makeshift of a vacuum sensation, he slowly rocks his hip, matching your pace, his tip eventually hitting the farthest places of your throat. "ah — okay, that's enough. . you did well."

the male cups your cheeks and makes you stop, the smeared pre cum and saliva over your lips makes the sight of you all the more endearing. he shifts his position and rests against the sofa's back cushions, helping you get up as well and place your slit adjacent to his two dicks.

as you grind your pelvis and guide his other cock with a hand to your other hole, with a slight push, both his erection were quickly clenched around by your two velvet walls. "ah! too big . ." you wail and rest your head against the chiseled plane of his chest, and dan heng pulls you into a tight embrace.

"it's okay, your body will adjust." he says, leaving another heating yet short lived kiss on your cheek. you remain still on your position, taking time to bask in the warmth both his cocks exude while sucked inside you.

there's no rush. after all, you have the night for yourselves to indulge in such carnal desires. as you expected, deeds like this indeed feel better when it's with your lover. a lover whose face you could only remember with the faintest memory, which now feels like complete victory as you two are finally reunited. you've long waited for this moment.

"i think . . i feel better compared to earlier. you may do so as you please now."

with a go signal, he clutches his hands on your arms and pounces into your pussy, once again meeting the far ends of your womb like crazy. your breaths become hitched and deep the longer the session continued, it's as if a switch is toggled in his behavior: you could point out the stark contrast between his instincts as a dragon and a human, a desire to care and protect and a desire to breed and devour.

but surprisingly, his sudden roughness always felt rather satisfying, dan heng is the equilibrium your life has looked for in a millennia. as you look at the higher elder, he was already staring brazenly at your lewd expressions and body, your mounds continuing to bounce up and down, as well as liquids of arousal seeping out like a maniac.

"you're too beautiful that i want to leave my mark on you . . you're way too beautiful that i want to drill into your womb who you'll only belong to." he says out of the blue, obvious thirst adorns his words.

"do it then, plant your seed inside me, do whatever you want to me."

his aquamarine eyes widen in surprise, incandescent pupils dilating. "are you sure? anything i want to do to you?" he reiterates and you nod in agreement. "yes, anything."

"i won't be as gentle as i was before."

#dan heng imbibitor lunae #dan heng x reader #dan heng x reader smut #dan heng imbibitor lunae x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr x reader smut #dan heng

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comatosebunny09 · 6 months

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talk to me | astarion a.

genre(s): erotica, romance (?) warning(s): praise, dirty talk, female reader, blood drinking, p-in-v, cock warming, terms of endearment, language, blue balls of the female kind summary: astarion discovers you have a thing for praise. what sort of rogue would he be if he didn’t exploit such a weakness? now listening: the lost soul down - nbsplv notes: hi. no excuse, just horny. for @nanaoise08squad. 😅😅😅 thank you for reading, my turtle doves. ❤️❤️❤️

Astarion learns all too quickly that you have a thing for praise.

He first discovers it by accident.

After you solve a tricky puzzle standing between you and some much-needed status buffs for your party.

“Excellent work,” Astarion lauds as the magic cools in his veins. He shakes his limbs, sighing like the satisfied cat that finally caught the canary. “I wouldn’t have expected anything less from you, my dear.”

He pats you between your shoulder blades for good measure. A seemingly harmless, friendly gesture that causes your body to tense and the leather hilt of your sword to scrunch in your fist.

Keen ears capture the hitching of your breath, your quickening heartbeat, and a mousy squeak pinched from your throat. The pheromones you begin to ooze are sweet as sunmelon, amplifying his intrigue and filling his head with static.

“Oh? What’s this now?” Astarion purrs, stepping around you to have a look at your face. He wears a smirk that bears one canine, and you try valiantly to tuck your bashfulness into your armor, turning your head with a cough. “Did the little pup like that bit of praise?”

If you had a tail, it would surely be wagging. The idea that something so meaningless could get you off makes something glacial sink into Astarion’s belly.

“Bugger off,” you murmur whilst he leans closer. You dismiss him with the wave of your hand, spinning ’round to mask the waver of your voice and the heat igniting in your face.

You jog away to reunite with the rest of your party at the mouth of the cave, hoping to put an end to this conversation.

Astarion clicks his tongue, drumming his fingers on his chin as he watches you retreat. Can’t help the Cheshire grin that splits his face in twain at his new discovery.

There was no mistaking the look on your face. The widening of your eyes, the sudden clench of your thighs. The musk of your arousal sits fresh on his tongue.

You liked his little compliment, didn’t you?

He entertains this newfound information a moment longer before joining the lot of you, all crinkly-eyed and smug in your peripheral.

Your sigh is weighted, and you drop your shoulders, knowing he intends to milk the hells out of this

And milk it, he does.

He has you spread so pretty on his lap, fingernails digging into the meat of your sticky thigh to keep you nice and open.

Astarion’s free hand manacles your arms behind your back, pinned between your bodies. You could easily break free if you so choose. But you being such an obedient pet for him…

Fucking hells.

His breath is cold and ragged as he roots his nose into the slant of your shoulder, ingesting your earthy aroma and the blood coursing like molten liquid through your veins.

“Darling,” Astarion croons, all teeth and tongue, whilst he nips at the notch of your shoulder. You suddenly feel the hot, lazy drag of a viscous fluid coasting down your arm—your blood. You hadn’t noticed the prick, too swept up in the delightful pressure building between your legs. “Gods, you’re delicious, aren’t you?”

His voice reminds you of rolling thunder and cured leather. The notion, mixed with the blood loss, causes your exposed nipples to tighten against the frigid whisper of the breeze.

He clicks his tongue. “My sweet little treat. You are intoxicating.”

You moan in reply, wriggling in his grip. Try to clamp your legs shut. To bear down on his cock nestled deep within you, having been teased and stroked until the moon sat high between the stars—until you’ve nearly seen stars.

But he won’t be having any of that.

He licks a wet stripe up the column of your throat, the puncture wounds slowly healing. It’s positively maddening and obscene, and you instinctively flex your pelvic muscles to feel him pulse within you. To feel him pressing further against that pleasant mesh of nerves buried deep within. Anything to relieve the infernal ache stewing in your belly.

“Oh no, no, no, my love,” Astarion scolds in the most doting tone. “The party’s just begun.” He notches his pelvis up against yours in warning, eliciting the sharpest yelp from betwixt your lips. “Look at you. You’re absolutely drenched. Taking me so well. Such a tight fit. It’s as if you were made for me.”

Your responding whimper makes something feral brew within Astarion’s chest. It takes every bit of him not to end this tortuous game and fuck you into the forest floor. After all, you’re quite a ways from camp with nothing but the rustle of the trees and symphony of the forest dwellers to accompany you.

No one would hear you—not that he cares.

He shushes you in that dulcet timbre, lazily rolling his hips to continue his torture. You blink sluggishly to dispel the bleariness nestling beneath your eyes. Saliva puddles in your cheeks. You’re teetering along the edge now, your resolve thrown to the wolves.

Sensing your plight, Astarion nips your shoulder to keep you conscious. Tugs on your arms. “Stay with me, my love. I know you can do it. Gods, I love the way you feel. My filthy little cock sleeve. I could stay like this forever, fuck me. You won’t come without my permission, yes?”

It’s more of a threat than it is a request. Regardless, you nod, your tongue lolling about in your mouth. Your eyes roll back, and the back of your head crashes into his shoulder. The stars above ebb in and out of focus. Streaks of curly white stain your vision before your lids shutter.

“Good, good girl,” Astarion husks, rewarding you with a few more shallow undulations of his hips. Languid like the drag of a tide. He chuckles, something dark and guttural, at how greedily you suck him in. How wet you are, your pussy squelching lewdly around him. “It will be a long night for you, my sweet, if you do not use your words. You’d do best to heed me. Do you understand?”

You’ve no choice but to comply. Not that you could deny him, your mind overhauled with only thoughts of your little star, filling you to the brim.

You squeeze out a breathy “yes.” And it makes Astarion smirk into your skin. He’s gentle as he brands your neck and shoulder with slothful kisses. A complete contrast to the debauchery taking place in his lap.

“So, so good for me. I adore it when you listen.”

Tears gather in your eyes. Your lips curve into a crazed smile. You’d give him the world in a handbasket if you could. But for now, you’ll settle for this. Sitting pretty in his lap, leaking around his cock, testing his restraint as much as he pushes yours.

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x female reader #astarion x female tav #astarion x f!reader #astarion x f!tav #astarion smut #tw: smut #tw: blood #tw: language

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synnlyrose · 3 months

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Say It

Levi Ackerman 🩶

{T.W ‼️ LevixReader. A bit of SoftDom Levi. Pussy touching, neck kisses. Light Smut, but smut nonetheless, Levi calls reader "my dear". Naughty words. Read at own risk.// .MDNI.)

Kind of edited--kinda not 🤷🏽‍♀️

😁 did I tag it right this time?? Did I miss anything? Feed back is much appreciated! And thank all you for the likes on my writing! ~Syn~

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Rough finger pads didn't always equate rough touches. The sensation of Levi's finger tips ghosting up your thigh was enough to make you shiver. It always amazed you how the harsh and blunt Captain could manage to be so gentle with you.

Your pretty innocent eyes fluttered up into his dark ones. Your hand wandering up his forearm, tracing the small tattoo that was placed in the crook of his elbow. His skin was warm and inviting.

Levi's face moved towards your neck, placing his soft lips against the warm clammy skin. Goosebumps followed in their absence. Levi let his fingers roam closer and closer to the hem of your skirt, he swallowed in your ear before he spoke, his voice a low husky whisper.

"Tell me what you want my dear..." He purred so effortlessly in to your earlobe making you bite your lip in a mixture of awed frustration. His hand encased the edge of your skirt as he pulled it up around your waist, using that same hand to part your thighs. "I need to hear you say it, Y/n..."

Levi's voice alone could make you submit but yet you held your ground. Levi could sense the defiance in your actions and it made him chuckle in a titillating manner as he sucked in a sharp breath, bringing his lips back to your ear lobe. Levi was a patient man and had no quarrels with getting you to stop being so bratty no matter how long it took. He knew it only made you needier in the end and gave him all the excuses in the world to tease you, until you broke.

"Y/n..." He exhaled, letting his lips press against your ear, as his fingers delicately dug into your skin. "You know, acting like a brat has never gone in your favor...I don't know why you constantly try to defy me..." He finished, his breath hot and heavy rolling through your ear drums like liquid hot honey. Leaving behind a slight tickling feeling, making your entire body hum to life.

His racy threat had you whimpering as he got the natural reaction out of you and you glanced up from where his fingers rested on your thigh up to his lips, before his eyes.

Levi had a swaggering little smirk on his face, as he brought his free finger up to tap your lips as he spoke, his smirk pulling into a full on toothsome grin.

"I know you're wet, my dear, I can smell your arousal from here..." Levi continued to tease the touch of filth in his voice didn't go unnoticed as a tremor ripped through you adding even more arousal to your core.

"Use your words..." Levi coached again, digging his nails into your skin as he dragged his fingers upwards towards your pelvic area, using two of his fingers to hold your skirt back, two of his digits, swiping lazily across your pulsating clit.

That one little touch of his fingers had your eyes going wide. You watched his wrist, with focused eyes, you watched it move back and forth devastatingly slow as Levi teased you.

There was something about him that was so...aphrodisiacal. Alluring. Addicting. Maybe it was the way he always remained so calm, even when annoyed? Or how unbroken his movements were when he pleased you? Or how handsome his face was when he was buried deep inside of you? He always remained glacial, yet he couldn't fight back the tiny pants and groans that escaped out of him as he pounded into you. His steamy remarks that kept your toes curling and eyes merely focused on his. His voice always cool yet lewd as he coaxed you into watching his cock slide in and out of you.

Stoic but nasty and he always drove you to the brink of sexual madness, nymphomania. He managed to create a insatiable hunger for him and him only. It drove its way so deep into your core, that your stomach tingled at the mere idea of Levi having his way with you.

"Y/n?" That same cool tone pulled you back to reality as another sharp swipe across your clit had you gasp slightly. Your lips trembled as you finally spoke up, "Please, Levi, take me..." the erogenous desperation in your voice made Levi smirk.

And he did just that~

#levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman #smut writer #aot smut #anime #aot x reader #levi smut #levi x reader #levi aot #soft d0m #aot fanfiction #levi attack on titan

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389 · 5 months

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In early June, the glacial landscapes of Norway undergo a fascinating transformation as the warming temperatures of late spring start to influence the layers of ice and snow that cover the surface through the winter. The thawing process accelerates during this time of the year as the sun, hanging higher in the sky, intensifies its rays, causing the snow and ice to recede with time. As temperatures rise, the gradual warming triggers a sequence of events that facilitate the abstract transformation of the frozen landscape. Initially, as the ambient temperature surpasses the freezing point, the outer layers of snow and ice start to absorb heat energy. This absorbed energy then causes the snow crystals to undergo a phase change from solid to liquid, initiating the melting process. As the heat penetrates deeper into the snowpack or ice, it melts more layers, turning the ice or snow slowly into water. The melting process results in mesmerizing formations of ripples, cracks, and holes. As the sunlight refracts through the translucent surfaces of ice and water, it creates a captivating play of reflections and blue colorways, evoking a dreamlike quality. A dynamic interplay of textures, patterns, and colors in the evolving landscape.

Melting Blue Roland Kraemer

#art #landscape #photography #ice #nature #roland kraemer #u

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 2 years

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Have You No Idea That You’re In Deep? [Chapter 1: Moonstone]

Aemond is a fearless, enigmatic prince and the most renowned dragonrider of the Greens. You are a (newly widowed) daughter of House Mormont and a lady-in-waiting to Princess Helaena. You can’t ignore each other, even though you probably should. In fact, you might have found a love worth killing for.

This series begins approximately 1 year before the events of Season 1, Episode 8.

Song inspiration: “Do I Wanna Know?” by Arctic Monkeys.

Chapter warnings: Language, truly unhinged flirting, low-level witchcraft, mentions of death and violence, some sexual references.

Word count: 3k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

He changes every room he walks into; he drags your eyes to him like the sea swallows anchors.

You’re lacing up the back of Helaena’s gown—a rose gold color, free-flowing and feminine and delicate, just like she is—when the prince enters her chambers. You know it’s him without needing to look; you would recognize the rhythm of his steps anywhere. It’s a terribly intimate thing to know about a person you’ve never properly spoken to.

“Aemond!” Helaena chirps, beaming, opening her arms to embrace him.

With abruptly shaky, ungainly hands, you rush to finish lacing the dress and then retreat to the other side of the room. You busy yourself with reorganizing Helaena’s vanity as she climbs onto her tiptoes to throw her arms around Aemond’s neck. He is not one for sentimental displays of affection, but he tolerates this for her sake. He has a soft spot for her. When you steal a glimpse of them, Aemond’s glacial blue eye lands on you and then darts away.

“Come, brother, sit with me,” Helaena says excitedly, pointing to her table surrounded by four chairs. Aemond yanks one out and plunks down, swinging his boots up onto the table. He has positioned himself so that you are standing on his good side, so that he could watch you if he wanted to. Surely this is a coincidence. “How was your sparring with Sir Criston?”

“Satisfactory. How are the insects?”

“Oh, let me tell you!” Helaena produces a large wire cage from under the table. Aemond smirks as if he’s trying to figure out how life brought him to this moment. You have been Helaena’s lady-in-waiting for a full month now, and her younger brother is a constant fixture of her routine. At first, he appeared about once a day; now, it’s at least thrice. Sometimes he materializes for seemingly no reason at all, makes a few unurgent inquiries, does a lap or two around the room, and then leaves as unceremoniously as he arrived. Now, he listens politely as Helaena describes each tiny captive creature to him in excruciating detail: the beetles, the crickets, the butterflies, the saintly praying mantis. Once or twice, Aemond seems to glance over at you. It’s hard to tell for sure because you’re committing your full faculties to not staring at him. It is sort of working. You tug at the moonstone pendant you always wear—the one your mother gave you—trying to distract yourself.

“Lady Mormont,” Helaena says. Now she has the praying mantis in her hands and is letting it creep back and forth across her knuckles. “Is there any wine?”

You bring the pitcher to the table and fill two jeweled cups with a sleek, dark, red liquid like blood.

“Thank you, my love!” Helaena trills as you serve her first. She grasps the massive cup with both hands like a child. You aren’t sure how Hightower and Targaryen flesh melded to create something as blameless and benign as Helaena, but you’re certainly glad that they did.

You offer the prince his cup while peering demurely down at the table, determined not to look at him, petrified that once you begin you’ll never be able to stop. He doesn’t take it. You wait, and wait, and wait, holding the cup in midair. Helaena slurps her wine, breaking the laden silence. At last, your eyes meet Aemond’s; and sure enough, then you’re trapped there. It’s only a second or two, but it feels like a lifetime. He’s so beautiful it hurts, it quarries empty places into your bones that scream to be filled. The prince smiles victoriously and plucks the cup from your hand.

“And one for you too, I think,” he says in his low, commanding voice.

“For me?”

“Yes, you.” He takes a swig of his wine and pulls out the chair on his good side. Helaena watches, half-amused and half-puzzled. The praying mantis is now perched on her shoulder, pondering the scene with bulging, unnerving green eyes.

You pour yourself a cup and sit reluctantly beside Aemond. He studies you like you’re a painting or a sculpture or a tapestry, taking in every line and shadow. In truth, it is not ordinarily in your nature to be reserved; you are a Mormont, you were raised to be bold and courageous and self-reliant. It is something you’ve always been proud of. It is the reason why Queen Alicent thought you’d make an excellent companion for Helaena. And yet…here with the prince…you aren’t sure what he wants from you. You so desperately don’t want to disappoint him.

“I know you,” he says at last. In the meantime, Helaena has fetched a deck of playing cards. The praying mantis is still hovering vigilantly on her shoulder. “You’re Lady Y/N Mormont. But that’s what everyone calls you. That’s what my dear sister and my mother and all the people of the court call you.” He gestures with his cup, like he’s referring to the entire world outside of this exchange, this moment. “What am I going to call you?” He considers this…and then his eye flicks down to your pendant. “Moonstone,” he decides. His gaze is mischievous, baiting. And immediately, you realize what he wants. This is sparring, just with words instead of blades. He is giving you permission to be bold. He is giving you permission to be exactly who you are.

“And what shall I call you?” you reply. “Lanky Boy? Eyepatch? Silver Hair?”

Helaena covers her mouth with her hand and winces. No one ever mentions the prince’s maiming in his presence…although you’ve heard plenty of people mutter about ‘Aemond One-Eye’ behind his back. Miraculously, he is not offended. “Just Silver,” he says with a sly, crooked smile. “It’s sharper, it’s cleaner. It could be the name of a sword.”

“See, this is why you frighten people. Because you say deranged things like that.”

“Do I frighten you?”

“No,” you say honestly. He doesn’t. Sometimes it frightens you how much you want him, but that’s all.

Aemond seems to like this. His smile becomes a grin, toothy like a dragon’s. “Come. Play cards with us.”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“Oh, please, won’t you play?” Helaena pleads. “It’s so much better with three. Three is a number of power.”

“There, it’s decided, you cannot refuse your lady,” the prince says. He deals out the cards with precise, powerful hands. “Tell me, Moonstone, how did you come to King’s Landing? You were married to some Hightower, were you not? Some distant relation. Very distant. Practically a nobody.”

You nod as you collect your cards and plot your next move. “I married Axel Hightower almost exactly one year ago. My father arranged it, he and Axel’s father had met while fighting in the Stepstones as young men and kept up correspondence.”

“Yet this was an ill-fated union, I gather. How did your husband die?”

“He was leading a trade mission and his ship sank in the Sunset Sea, gods rest his soul.”

“My condolences. How tragic. And not even a body to lay to rest?”

“The currents are terribly rough there. They found a few pieces of the wreckage and that’s all.”

“Do you still mourn him?” Aemond asks, and observes you with particular interest.

You debate this for a while before you answer. “I…regret that he lost his life and that his family is deprived of his company. But I wouldn’t say that ours was any great love story.”

“But you did fuck him,” Aemond says. Helaena blanches and gapes at him, scandalized. He shows the palm of his right hand in contrition. “Forgive me.”

You are delighted to prove that you aren’t rattled by his question. “Of course, as was required.”

“And did you find pleasure in it? He wasn’t a brute to you, was he?”

“Not a brute,” you say. “There was some pleasure in it.” You smile roguishly at the prince. For once, he seems caught off-guard; he doesn’t know where you’re going with this. “Not as much pleasure as I might have found with a different sort of man, perhaps.”

“Hm.” The prince shifts in his chair and clears his throat. “No children?”

“None,” you agree softly. This is a bit of a sore subject; to be married for nearly a year without conceiving does not bode well for your ability to bear children, a prerequisite for most advantageous marriages.

The prince pivots. “So he bored you, this Axel Hightower. He couldn’t keep up with you.”

“He was pleasant enough. We spoke about the weather and the price of wheat, things like that. Though I did quite enjoy cheering for him during tourneys.”

“Tourneys!” Aemond groans.

Helaena giggles. “He hates tourneys. Though he’d have wicked luck if he ever tried them.”

“They’re frivolous. They’re for cowards who can’t prove themselves in a real battle.” The prince lays down his cards on the table. You and Helaena follow suit. When he sees yours, his mouth falls open. “What…?”

“Not used to losing, Silver?” you tease.

He laughs, incredulous, immeasurably pleased, his eye glinting. He seizes all the cards and reshuffles them. “So you weren’t in a hurry to return to Bear Island after your husband’s untimely death? Well, who could blame you.”

“My father didn’t want me back.”

The prince’s brow furrows as he deals out the cards. “That seems unlikely.”

“He has eight other children and a brand new wife who’s my age to keep him occupied. He’s barely aware of my existence these days, I assure you.”

“I’m sorry,” Aemond says gently.

“Don’t be. It’s not him I miss, nor Bear Island. There’s nothing for me there anymore. My mother…” Fleetingly, instinctively, you clasp your pendant and then drop it. “She died six months ago. In childbirth. They lost the baby too.” You feel your throat tightening, burning…and then you compose yourself. The prince is watching you intently. “After Axel died, his father wrote to his cousin the queen and asked if she had any use for me, and she thought I’d make a fine lady-in-waiting because…well, you know…” You nod subtly to Helaena.

“Because you’re a Mormont,” the prince says, strangely proud. “Because you’re steady and tough and pragmatic and worldly.” Everything my sister is not, he means.

“Exactly.” Wine is sipped. Cards slip from one hand to another. Helaena’s praying mantis is now on top of her head, stepping carefully over her snow-white hair. The servants come in to light the fireplace for the evening and then vanish again, but not before casting wide-eyed, wary stares at the prince. He mystifies them. He terrifies them.

“And so you find yourself here, in our service,” Aemond muses, passing you a card. “Can I ask you just one more impolite question?”

“You can ask her anything,” Helaena murmurs dreamily, and you both turn to her. The praying mantis bobs idiotically on her head. You hate her insects, though you try not to show it.

“Yes,” you tell the prince when you recover.

“What do you think of my loathsome half-sister Rhaenyra Targaryen, plotting her life away up in Dragonstone?”

You ponder your cards. “I feel sorry for her. That she is so maligned, that King Viserys’ affection for her has brought her so much hardship and acrimony and judgement. But she is the king’s choice. There is no denying it.”

Aemond is disappointed in you. “Her heirs are bastards.”

“Of course they are. Everyone knows they are.”

“And yet you don’t find that to be disqualifying?”

“I don’t think it really matters,” you confess. “The king chose Alicent Hightowner as his mate and companion—despite her distinct lack of silver hair or affinity for dragons—and yet their children are no less Targaryens. If Rhaenyra chose Harwin Strong, what is the difference? Her children are equals to you. They are half-Targaryen and half-not. And as far as I can understand it, their right to the Iron Throne passes uninterrupted through their mother.”

“So you support the Blacks and believe Rhaenyra should sit the Iron Throne.”

“No,” you reply simply, and that’s the truth.

“Why?” the prince asks, searching your face. “Because you still feel some helpless, blind allegiance to my mother’s house? Is it really as banal as that?” Are YOU as banal as that, he means.

You shake your head. “I don’t think the nobility would ever accept Rhaenyra. I don’t think the common people would either. Thus she can be no true queen.”

Now the edges of his lips curl into a ghostly, luring smile. “To challenge her claim would mean war.”

“War resulting from this particular dilemma, I fear, is inevitable.”

“And this doesn’t horrify you? Doesn’t make your blood run cold?”

“No,” you answer. “Battle purifies us, it renews us, just like fire. The worthy will survive.”

He looks at you for a long time before he speaks, the only sound the crackling of the fireplace. “This is dangerous, Moonstone. You are beginning to intrigue me.”

“Just beginning?”

The chamber door flings open and Aegon staggers inside. He has dark racoonish rings around his eyes and his hair is in disarray and he is obviously, pathetically drunk. “There you are!” he cries when he sees his brother. He leans against a marble column so he doesn’t fall over. “Mother is looking for you. She says you are supposed to dine together tonight. She wants to discuss a Baratheon marriage…or was it a Lannister marriage? Some sort of marriage, that’s for sure. To a woman. A human woman. A very wealthy and well-connected human woman.”

Aemond sighs as he places his cards on the table face-down. “Yes, it’s always about a Baratheon or Lannister marriage. Or an Arryn marriage. Or a Stark marriage.”

“Well, hello there, Lady Mormont!” Aegon says, noticing you for the first time. He waves from where he is propped against the column. You bow your head civilly in reply. You’ve heard plenty of gossip about Aegon since arriving in King’s Landing, although he’s never done more to you than make a few unsavory jests. You rebuffed them as rudely as you dared to.

Aemond’s eye scans the two of you and then narrows. “Does he bother you?”

“Hardly,” Aegon objects. “When I bite, she bites back.” He snaps at the air like a rabid dog.

Aemond chuckles. “As she should.” He stands. “Don’t clear the table,” he orders you with mock sternness. “I’ll return after dinner. We have our own little tourney to finish here. I’m coming back.”

“As you wish,” you say, realizing that you miss him already.

When he passes the column where his brother stands, Aemond halts. “You will not harass her,” he says darkly. His hand rests on the hilt of his sword. He towers above Aegon, dwarfing him.

“I certainly won’t,” Aemon hastily agrees. He appraises you, gives you a nod of approval—of acceptance—and spins around to follow Aemond out of the room, lurching and grabbing for walls to steady himself against.

“Now, back in the cage, my love,” Helaena informs her praying mantis as if it were an unruly child. She unlatches the miniature metal door and places the creature inside with the other six-legged captives. Then she asks you: “Is it too warm in here? I know we Targaryens like it hot. But you’re from the North. Perhaps you are sweltering. Perhaps I am torturing you.”

“No, I like the heat as well.” In truth, you’ve been too preoccupied to notice it.

“Good, that’s good. Because there is a great deal of fire in your future.”

You startle. Her words hit you like a fist, like lightning. A cold sweat breaks out on your skin; a shudder claws its way up the rungs of your spine.

But when you ask Helaena what she means, she doesn’t remember saying it at all.

~~~~~~~~~~

Long after nightfall—after Aemond wins two card games and you both conspire to let Helaena win the last, after the prince retires to his own chambers, after you fetch the princess’s nightgown and brush her long white hair and accompanied her to say goodnight to her children, after the Red Keep has fallen quiet under the rising full moon—you sneak unnoticed out of the castle and into the godswood. You take only a small bundle of items with you: a candle, a piece of flint, a dagger with a hilt shaped like the roaring bear of House Mormont, other secrets as well. You walk until you find the heart tree, where the Old Gods can hear you even here, so far from the wild North.

You don’t know if you truly believe in magic, but it makes you feel close to your mother. She gave you these spells, and she gave you knowledge of the Old Gods, in the same way that she gave you the moonstone pendant strung around your neck.

You place the candle—vivid red, the color of passion and willfulness and fire and blood—on an exposed, ancient root of the heart tree and light it by striking flint against the dagger blade. Then you wait until melted wax drips down the candle and seals it to the root. With the small dancing flame, you burn three things to ash: the feather of a dove, the petal of a red rose, and a tiny piece of parchment with two words written on it in red ink: Moonstone, Silver.

“I don’t ask for him to want me,” you murmur to the nameless Old Gods. “I don’t ask to change his heart. His heart is his own. But if…if he does want me…in the same way that I want him…” You close your eyes and clasp your hands together in prayer. The night wind tears through your hair. In the starlit quiet, you can hear the distant rumbles and screams of dragons. “Let us find a way.”

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #hotd imagine #hotd #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond imagine

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mewpangxin · 9 months

Text

— ❝ Have You Been Dreaming Of Me? — ❞

FT. OB! Azul X GN! Reader X Azul Ashengrotto |

▍ TW: Yandere, psychological terror, and non-consensual touching.

Inspired by: The claws that haunt you (Leona Kingscholar x Reader x OB!Leona)

WC: 300+ words.

•━━━━༻❝ 🌊 ❞༺ ━━━━•

You couldn't move yourself or wake up either.

The temperature in the venue plummeted to several degrees, you were sweating bullets as you felt the lingering scent of ink, a visage flashing before your eyes, you remembered that dreaded event, it almost like you heard a gurgled laugh, underlying menacing.

Fingertips caught your jawline as if to taunt you, you weren't sure who it was that was doing this.

“You don't look great, jellyfish.”

A lighthearted chuckle emerged as it spoke.

“Don't you recall what you did? Foiling my plan?”

There was a kiss on your nape, its hands running against your hair, splatters the obscure liquid.

Its tender humming contradicted the glacial touch.

“He is not here.. so why don't we-”

And fate has another approach for that.

There was thunder of footsteps in the halls then the door burst open, intercepting the entity's dialogue.

“—Are you alright...?! Please say something!”

A frenzied voice called as you regained control.

When your consciousness was back, you realized you were in the Octavinelle dorm head’s bedroom.

A familiar person with a cane in his hold.

The white haired male ransacked around, his cyan eyes checking everywhere as if a ghost was there.

“Good gracious! Thank The Sevens I am here.”

Azul cleared his throat as he apologized for coming.

“N-no, why do you seem so.. w-worried?”

“It's nothing of concern. I’m afraid I can't disclose the information to you, unless you're willing to-”

“Fat chance. After the stunt you pulled.”

He doesn't look too despondent by your reply. The housewarden merely tipped his hat at you.

“I’m opportunistic, you should get used to me.”

He walked over to you, his gloved hand cupped your cheeks, his expression was hard to convey to you.

“It's a nightmare. And I’ll take care of it.”

He gazed intensely before furbishing off the stains of black that was decorated on your apparel.

•━━━━༻❝ 🌊 ❞༺ ━━━━•

#twisted wonderland #twst scenarios #twst x you #twst x reader #twst imagines #twisted wonderland x you #twisted wonderland x reader #twst azul x reader #twst prompts #gender neutral reader #disney twst x reader #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #overblot azul x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #twst overblot #overblot azul ashengrotto #twst fanfiction

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hunn1e-bunn1e · 10 months

Text

First Act: Episode One

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

In which, [Name], the one and only son of Sakamaki Richter strives to make his dearest cousin's lives a living hell. Or; In which yearns for what can never be his own and will do just about anything to yank it within his reach.

First Act | Ep. One | Ep. Two

🦇•♡•🦇•♡•🦇•♡•🦇•♡•🦇•♡•🦇•♡•🦇•♡•🦇

"Father? They're Uncle Karlheinz's boys, aren't they?"

A boy with steel-grey tresses that faded into a pale silver asks his father; his soft voice catching the older man's attention.

The boy was seated at a beautifully carved, dark wood dining table; his father on the opposite side. Atop the table sat a lovely white, silken tablecloth with lace edges; and atop that sat a beautiful porcelain tea set. Said set was from France, according to what his father had told him, a gift from some noble in a futile attempt to curry favor with him some time ago.

Under the glossy varnish finish was painted a breathtakingly intricate pattern in the color of glacial blue. The rims, handles, spouts, and flat bottoms of the set were dipped in gold that shimmered whenever the light caught it. A lovely piece indeed, but certainly not the boy's favorite by any means.

The amber liquid inside the cup was telling enough, It was Darjeeling. Tasteful but boring.

Perfect.

The boy lifts his teacup to his lips; taking a quiet sip and taking in the taste as it rolls over his tongue. His large, round e/c eyes looked up at the man across from him expectantly; clawed fingers drummed gently on the table with impatience and curiosity that bubbled just under his pale skin.

"You are correct. Why do you ask, dearest [Name]?"

The charcoal-blonde-haired man answered, turning his tired eyes from the book in hand toward his beloved son.

[Name] smiled eerily, the corners of his mouth stretching so far it almost looked as if his face was split in two. He leaned forward, sitting the teacup gently onto its platter and leaning on his forearms.

"Can I play with them?"

He asks cheerily in his saccharine voice, innocent eyes wide with hidden depravity.

The man's sharp burgundy eyes narrow at the steel-grey-headed child. He really is just like her, isn't he? The joy they got in tormenting others, the twisted grins and psychotic glint that hid just behind their eyes was so similar, sometimes far too similar.

He closed his eyes; now is not the time.

"I suppose you can. Don't break them, though. Karlheinz would have my head."

The older man warns, picking up his teacup.

Ah... the tea is cold.

[Name] now sat in his favorite spot, a large tree overlooking the Sakamaki mansion. Far enough away from the structure to where he won't be noticed, yet close enough to observe. He sat on one of the thicker branches; choosing this one in particular after making sure it wouldn't snap under his body weight. The steelhead came here fairly often; every day. He would sit and wait and watch. A repeating cycle that he never grew bored of.

Out of all the ones he liked to watch, there were preferred ones by now. The eldest two's one-sided bickering was always a small threat, the triplets fighting over various objects in the residence was another endeavor, and then there was the youngest, Subaru.

The snarling, hollering, wall punching, fight-instigating youngest child of the Sakamakis. With snow-white hair, dazzling sorrow-filled scarlet eyes with thick lashes overhanging them, and pale skin. A true figment of melancholic beauty. A white rose.

Subaru was by far his favorite. Definitely.

Poor, poor Subaru. [Name] always thought that he'd gotten it the worst. Inbred, scorned and ignored. All culminating in violent outbursts to keep himself afloat. The air of suffering just radiated off of him in waves and the vampiric boy found is simply intoxicating.

It was all just so funny. His cousin's suffering was all so fun to watch. It's not [Name]'s fault that his uncle was a child-abandoning whore of a man. He just so happened to stumble upon their residence on his nightly stroll and had some intense sadistic tendencies.

Just like her... just like—

A sudden light caught his eyes. A car? No, a taxi. The vehicle pulled in front of the rundown mansion and slowed to a halt.

The back right door opened after a few seconds and out stepped a girl. The light from the car bounced off her brown hair and lit up the side of her face, displaying her prominent scowl and narrowed almond eyes.

She walked around to the trunk and pulled out a few suitcases as it began to rain. The girl groaned in annoyance and dragged her luggage into the building, seemingly before anyone answered the door.

[Name]'s e/c eyes stare into the door intensely.

Just who was that girl? Surely not another child of Karlheinz's, right? Do they get a sister now too? That's so... unfair.

The wind blew violently through the trees, and [Name] disappeared with the sway of branches; a scowl on his face.

[Name] had always been the curious type. That was something Richter had known since the boy had been birthed. But now.... he couldn't help but be concerned about his only child.

When he was young, [Name] was so gentle and meek; a quiet and impressionable boy who kept to himself most time. Though, that may have to do with the fact that Richter kept his existence from everyone. Almost everyone.

[Name] was only ten years old when Richter introduced the two, but he didn't expect his son to grow so attached. The young boy liked her so much, that he had turned to his father and asked him, "Papa, is this my mother?". And the look of utter despair when he had to tell him no. That she was already wed with her children that she had with the boy's very uncle. [Name] looked so utterly defeated. His heart completely shattered into millions of tiny pieces.

The charcoal-blonde-haired man tried his absolute best to comfort his son. He should've known not to let them meet; [Name] never had a mother figure after all. He had a mother, yes. A beautiful vampire noblewoman of the family Lucifuge whom Richter had fallen head over heels in love with. One he had made sure not to introduce to Karlheinz for fear that she would be taken by his status as the king and his promiscuous ways.

The two had a long-running fling, though it ended shortly after his love became pregnant and birthed their child. She had then informed him that she was promised to someone else, that the two would be wed the next year and he would certainly reject her if he had discovered that she had carried and bore the child of another man.

She rejected her newborn son, "If only he was never born, we could continue our forbidden union. But with pity, I shall grace him with a name.". That's what she said to him as she gathered all of the gifts of lavish gowns and glittering jewels that he had once so selflessly given her. "[Name]. That is what he shall be called." Were the last words she had ever uttered in their general direction.

Richter thought he would never love again, but he always was quite faint of heart and it continued to beat longingly as it hung on his sleeve.

There's something glittering in the trees...

A key....How interesting....

🦇•♡•🦇•♡•🦇•♡•🦇•♡•🦇•♡•🦇•♡•🦇•♡•🦇

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Return to the Cathedral?

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zegalba · 7 months

Text

Zaha Hadid: Chair 'Liquid Glacial' (2015)

#Zaha Hadid #chair #clear #transparent #Liquid Glacial #art #sculpture #furniture #2015

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firefirefruit · 4 months

Text

Steel in Her Veins, Chapter: Eight

Read On: AO3 | Table of Contents | Next Chapter

Characters: Fem!Reader x Roronoa Zoro

Chapter Eight: The One-Eyed Marimooo

The world’s spinning. You physically can’t breathe. This boy’s whooping in your ear, screaming, “LET’S GOOOOO!” over and over again.

Fucking great. This is it. The end of your journey.

You’re being dragged upwards, a body of limbs flailing from impact. Riding the worst escalator you’ve ever been on. Going up. Up. Up. Up. And up – until, finally, you’re nearing the tip of your ascent.

The moon swallows both of your shadows whole like a voracious celestial behemoth, hungry for the spectacle it's about to witness, and there’s this one second where you and Luffy turn to each other, both flailing in the air.

Just for one second, there’s silence. No whizzing of air or the flapping of bodies, no screams of terror echoing into the abyss – there’s just silence.

Then, you begin your descent.

As the two of you plummet towards the ship, the world speeds up in a dizzying blur of sea and stars and trees and darkness. Ice-cold fear courses through you, as you feel yourself steam in terror, and for a moment, time seems to stretch as if reluctant to witness the impending impact.

Great. This is the way you’re gonna die. Awesome. Well, thanks for everything, Gramps. You shut your eyes tightly, preparing for the sound of God to come thundering down on you.

“Here we go!” Luffy bellows, his voice fighting against the current of the wind. You snap your eyes wide open, undecided on whether to scream at Luffy or at death itself.

With a sudden twist, Luffy's rubbery limbs twang into action. He wraps his arms around you, forming a makeshift cushion against the gravitational pull – you can’t lie, it's a bizarre yet effective mid-air manoeuvre, and you can't help but marvel at the sheer fucking audacity of it.

The wind howls around you, and the world regains its chaotic symphony while Luffy's laughter cuts through the air, a mix of thrill and exhilaration.

And then, with a jarring but surprisingly gentle thud, you land on the Sunny's deck; it's as if gravity itself had a change of heart, deciding to be merciful at the last moment. The ship creaks under the sudden impact, but still, it holds firm beneath you.

Immediately disentangling yourself from Luffy's curling grasp, you stumble off into a direction, steaming with sheer terror and fury. Liquid nitrogen spreads from your feet like wildfire, chilling the Sunny into a post-apocalyptic landscape.

“Woah, woah, what’s goin’ on?” Franky exclaims, gaping at the smoke crackling across the Sunny’s body.

"THAT WAS AWESOME!" Luffy cheers wildly, his arms flinging into the sky. “Did you like it, Raya? Was it fun? You wanna do it again?”

You, on the other hand, are about to throw major hands.

"What. The. Hell, Luffy? What the actual fuck?” you seethe, each word punctuated by bursts of ice shattering beneath you.

"You’re tough, Swordsy. You took it well!" he grins, slapping you on the back with gusto. You stagger forward from the impact, each unintended step leaving frozen disc-like cracks into the floor.

“Raya! Stop moving!” Franky cries out, helplessly gaping at the glacial destruction of his beloved ship.

Arching an eyebrow at Franky's evident distress, Luffy shifts his gaze down to the deck. With a sudden yelp, he exclaims, "WOAH! Why's it snowing in this kinda weather?"

"It's not the weather, Luffy," Robin calmly remarks as she and the others begin boarding the ship. She observes you with a surprised curiosity. "It's Raya."

“But you’re a fire-user…” Sanji’s questions, a curious cigarette dangling in his mouth. His eyes flicker to the floor, staring at poor Franky who’s knelt over the damage, helplessly scraping his metal fingers through the mist. “Isn’t this liquid nitrogen?”

“Yeah, um…I ate the Burn-Burn fruit…” you quickly answer before looking down at Franky. Guilt washes over you as you realise the extent of the damage to his hard work. “I’m so sorry, Franky…I’ll fix this for sure.”

“Mmmh,” Franky responds miserably.

“What’s a Burn-Burn fruit?” Usopp pipes out, squidging his face in the small gap between Zoro and Robin.

Robin smiles at you, her eyes lighting up.

“You burn things?” Chopper cocks his head, crawling all over Zoro’s shoulders.

“Yeah – I mean, I’ve been using fire for my whole life, but I’ve recently been trying to…to burn things with ice…” your voice awkwardly falters when you and everyone else diverts their attention to the snowstorm on the floor, your face heating up – and because you’re aware that your face is heating up, your face starts to grow even hotter.

Fuck. You’ve been working on ice for months, and a single fucking fright leads you to unleashing frostbite hell. You knew it’d be too risky - especially with how closely your Burn’s tied to you and your feelings – but Gramps had insisted…

Well, at least you went with ice. At least you didn’t choose electricity…or, heaven forbid, chemicals…

You want to get stronger, don’t you? Gramps’ voice rings in your head like a persistent echo, urging you forward. Fear is a blockage of spirit.

You mutter to yourself, wondering how the hell to shut this man up in your head. It's a constant nagging now, always lecturing, always trying to sound deep and wise beyond his years and he's all so Wano-esque.

Maybe that's why Gramps doesn't complain anymore; he's living rent-free in your head, and he's probably loving every minute of it.

In a heartbeat, the urgent staccato of anxious heels reverberates against the wooden boards, instantly capturing everyone's focus.

"Out of my way!" Nami's commanding cry slices through the air, prompting Usopp and Chopper to emit startled yelps. They stumble away as a streak of vibrant orange hair charges through them like a bolt of lightning. "Raya! Are you okay?!"

"Absolutely," you respond with a wry smile, your sarcasm laced with a lingering adrenaline rush pulsing in your head. “Had a fantastic flight.”

Nami immediately swivels around to Luffy, seizing his head in a firm chokehold. “Don’t ever do that to people who aren’t part of your crew – you got that?”

Luffy, garbling in her grasp, still manages to force out a pout. “Wh – gah – why not?”

“I mean, it doesn’t look that bad…it kinda suits the atmosphere of my show, if you think about it ….” Usopp thinks to himself, tapping a finger to his chin. He stares at the ice cooling over the deck, then at Zoro straight in his eye. “Cold, brittle and painful to the touch. Juuust like the one-eyed marimooo.”

"Quit that," Zoro hisses, narrowing his eye at him. "I'm not here for your one-eyed marimo exposé."

Gramps Suki amusedly sighs whilst cleaning his hands with a rag. "Enough with the theatrics, already! Don’t you all have a party to host?”

“Yes! Let us commence!” Usopp shouts in his deep, theatrical voice, jumping on the stage with an air of intrigue and mystique. “Gather, my fellow comrades, and let us begin! Jester, play your most foreshadowing tune!”

Brook grins, and with a -- “Yo-ho-ho! I shall!” -- His fingers begin to strum dramatically across his guitar.

Luffy bursts into excited cackles, dashing to take a seat in front of the stage; Chopper's eyes light up with enthusiasm, and he tugs at Zoro's hair like Ratatouille. Zoro huffs, stumbling forward to gently place them both on the unaffected floor.

Usopp gestures everyone else to sit, and as they all obey his command, he raises his arms to begin.

Brook plays the opening to an intense heavy metal riff. Angular shadows crawl up onto Usopp's face like an army of black ants, moonlight shining a thin silvery trail across his silhouette. Then, he smirks.

“Now, let us unravel the story of the One-Eyed Marimo. Possessing three swords in his reservoir, he has no other room to consider fear…

“I don’t care what society says…” Usopp rasps in a Zoro’s low voice, his marked eye shut firmly as he scowls at the audience. “I’ve never regretted doing anything...”

The crew erupts into wild cackles, caught off guard by Usopp's spot-on impersonation of Zoro. Even Luffy’s rolling on the floor, clutching his stomach with laughter.

Nami shoots a playful glare at Zoro. "Well, it seems Usopp has you figured out!"

Zoro grumbles in response, feigning indifference, but there's a subtle twitch of amusement playing on his lips; Sanji, puffing away on his cigarette, can't help but grin at the accuracy of it all.

Usopp, revelling in the attention, continues the act with theatrical flair. "Strive to be complete with everything you have!" he mutters coarsely, mimicking Zoro's trademark three-sword stance. "No hesitation!"

In the midst of the laughter, Luffy, still rolling on the floor, manages to gasp out, "Let me have a go!"

With a burst of energy, Luffy propels himself off the floor and somersaults onto the stage, landing next to Usopp. His grin is infectious, and the crew watches in anticipation, wondering what kind of chaos Luffy's going to unleash this time.

"Alright, alright! Watch this!" Luffy declares, mimicking Zoro's posture with exaggerated seriousness.

Luffy slaps his hand to his forehead, his eye looking as narrowed and sharp as Zoro’s, scanning across the audience with apathy. Mimicking the marimo’s slouched posture and crossed arms, he lets out a half-hearted, "Mmmm. Where are those idiots? You idiots. Bastards. Stupid idiots.”

Nami, still holding onto Luffy's earlier attack on you, can't help but burst into laughter.

"You're an idiot yourself, Luffy," she remarks between fits of giggles.

Luffy continues with the impersonation, exaggerating Zoro's stern expression. "Why are we even doing this party thing? Shouldn't we be out training and getting stronger? You guys are all a bunch of slackers."

Zoro, trying to stop himself from smirking, mutters under his breath, "Idiot captain..."

Usopp, fake gasping, his hands slapped on each side of face, joins Luffy on the stage. "Hey, marimo, look! It's your fan club!"

Luffy continues his impersonation, now adding a comically serious tone, kissing his teeth dramatically. "TCH. I don't need a fan club. I'm just here because I want to be. TCH."

Nami, still holding her laughter from Luffy's antics, suddenly spots Chopper perched on Zoro's shoulder. With a devious grin, she strides over, seizing the opportunity for her own brand of amusement.

"I'm taking over, Swordsmen!" Nami declares with a sly grin, directing a mischievous gaze at Luffy and Usopp. With a swift motion, she grabs Chopper from Zoro's shoulder and cradles him in her arms, adopting the same serious expression Zoro has.

"I'm not a caring guy," Nami says, mimicking Zoro's gruff voice with surprising accuracy. "I don't have time for this fluffy stuff."

Despite her stern words, there's a playful glint in Nami's eyes as she proceeds to pretend to wash Chopper's back, combing through his fur like a loving father-figure. The crew watches, thoroughly entertained, as Nami continues the charade.

"I'm really not!" Nami insists, patting Chopper's head sweetly like he's a child. "Shut up, Chopper! I'm a marimo, not a babysitter!"

With a flourish, Nami pretends to spoon feed Chopper imaginary food, all while maintaining the serious demeanour of the marimo she's impersonating.

"Swallow your food like a man, Chopper!" she exclaims, channelling the essence of Zoro's gruff and no-nonsense attitude.

You burst into laughter, raising your eyebrow at Nami’s interpretation. “Didn’t know you were a father, marimo?"

"More like the guy who tells brats to stay off his lawn," Zoro retorts, slightly amused by Nami's depiction of him.

Chopper, for his part, seems to be enjoying the attention, giggling between bites of fake food as Nami continues her exaggerated impersonation.

"BUT WAIT!" Usopp roars, reclaiming the spotlight at the centre of the stage. "With every move he makes, with every swing of his swords, he bears every burden without a single complaint.. The glint in his eyes mirrors the strength with which he unleashes his fury upon his enemies...While we actors may be well-refined, only the true master, the One-Eyed marimo, can reveal the elegance of his three-sword style."

He dramatically extends his arm, pointing directly at Zoro. "One-eyed Marimo, step forward and grace us with your power!"

Zoro, still feigning indifference but with a subtle hint of amusement, rises from his seat and ambles towards the stage. Everyone holds their breath, curious to see if their stoic samurai is going to play along.

Usopp, ever the storyteller, encourages the act with a flourish. "Behold, ladies and gentlemen! Witness the formidable three-sword style of our very own marimo!"

Zoro, with a smirk playing on his lips, picks up three scrap metal swords from the barrel with practiced precision. The moonlight casts a silvery glow on the blades as he assumes a battle-ready stance.

Usopp continues his narration, his voice filled with dramatic flair. "The marimo's blades move like an intricate dance, a deadly ballet choreographed by the hand of a true master. Each stroke is a testament to his skill and determination. A fearsome whirlwind of steel awaits any who dare to challenge him."

Captured by the performance, you watch as Zoro gracefully manoeuvres the swords, each movement embodying the essence of his true prowess.

Well... You lean further against the ship’s banister, folding your arms in intrigue. Maybe you underestimated his skills a little bit…

Nami, still in her Zoro persona, crosses her arms and watches with feigned indifference. "Hmph. Not bad, marimo. But you still owe me money."

Zoro, not missing a beat, retorts, "I don't owe you anything, navigator. Keep dreaming."

As Zoro continues his swordplay, the crew, now fully immersed in the theatrical atmosphere, can't help but marvel at their powerful friend.

Usopp, revelling in the success of his storytelling, raises his arms for a grand finale. "And thus concludes our tale of the one-eyed marimo and his legendary three-sword style! A round of applause for our fearless swordsman!"

☽

Luffy, having kicked up his feet, sprawls over the stage, his stomach emitting audible growls that resonate with exaggerated hunger. He moans theatrically, a performance of hunger so dramatic that even the stars seem to take notice. The sheer anticipation of food makes him twirl his fingers, mimicking a culinary dance in the air.

Beside him, Brook lies gracefully, his skeletal form seamlessly integrated with his guitar. The moonlight casts angular shadows across his bony joints as he strums, creating a hauntingly beautiful harmony that intertwines with the soft pop melodies. His fingers move with spectral precision, producing notes that linger in the night air like echoes of a distant serenade.

Gramps and Sanji, side by side at the grill, are a dynamic duo in the art of cooking. The sizzle of food on the grill mixes with their laughter as they exchange culinary wisdom. Sanji, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, moves with grace and precision, mirroring Gramps's knife techniques. The rhythmic dance of flames and the clattering of knives creates a symphony that harmonises against the rhythm of the sea.

Gramps, with a twinkle in his eye, reaches into his pocket and retrieves a set of culinary knives, self-crafted with meticulous care. He hands them to Sanji, a gesture of appreciation for the true artistry that the cook brings to the crew. Sanji, looking at the knives with admiration, expresses his gratitude, a genuine smile spreading across his face.

Meanwhile, Zoro lies sprawled on the deck, a bottle of sake in hand. He drinks with a contented expression, lounging beside Chopper and Franky. The trio shares a moment of loud discussion and playful arguments, their laughter blending with the distant sounds of music and fire. Zoro, with a playful glint in his eye, raises his bottle in a silent toast to the night.

Over in a quiet corner, Robin and Usopp are deep into a board game showdown. Glasses clink, and laughter breaks out as they banter back and forth. Robin, grinning with confidence, seals her fifth consecutive win. She shoots a knowing look at a defeated Usopp, signaling that he's now on the hook for three vodka shots to make up for it.

Nami, reclining on the banister beside you, holds a beer in hand as she gazes at the stars echoing across the rippling sea. The soft glow of moonlight highlights her thoughtful expression; the atmosphere is serene, a stark contrast to the energetic celebration unfolding behind you.

You turn to Nami, and a small, comforting smile plays on your lips. The distant laughter and music provide a somewhat comforting backdrop to the quiet moment between you and Nami. As you nudge your shoulder against hers, a silent understanding passes between you two.

In the tranquil embrace of the night, you speak with a gentle hush.

"You okay?" you ask, concern threading through your words.

Nami, drawn from her contemplative thoughts, manages a smile that carries a hint of melancholy. "Yeah, yeah… It’s just – I was thinking… Are you sure you don’t want to join us?"

A subtle ache tugs at your heart. It tempts you; it really does.

You avert your gaze, turning your attention back to the vast expanse of the sea. The horizon, bathed in moonlight, stretches out before you, almost too perfectly serene against the gentle lapping of the waves.

"I have so many responsibilities here…and joining you guys would just be dangerous – I don’t…" Your voice trails off, leaving the unspoken implication hanging in the air. This idea of duty, a tether to the ship and its crew, makes you worry.

Nami regards you with understanding eyes, her own gaze drifting towards the horizon. The night carries a delicate balance of joy and solitude, and in this quiet exchange, the weight of unspoken worries and unfulfilled desires lingers beneath the starlit sky.

“I know…it’s just – the offer still stands,” she says, taking a huge gulp of her beer.

As you casually lean against the banister, soaking in the excitement, joy, and life of these people, your attention is drawn to your old man. A subtle tension rests in his arms as he attempts to force a smile, scanning the surroundings with suspicion.

That can't be a good sign. It's never a good sign.

“Hey Nami, I’m gonna go refill my drink,” you say, your eyes never leaving your Gramps.

You leave Nami on the banister, the rhythmic sound of the sea and distant revelry accompanying your steps as you approach Gramps. He's standing near the edge of the ship, his eyes scanning the surroundings with a watchful intensity.

"Gramps," you call out, your voice a soft murmur, trying not to draw attention. He turns towards you, attempting to force a reassuring smile.

"What's going on?" You raise a brow. "You're on edge."

Gramps looks at you, his attempt at a smile faltering for a moment. He places a hand on your shoulder, a mixture of concern and reassurance in his eyes.

"It's nothing to worry about, Raya. Just being cautious, you know how it is," he says, his voice low and measured. "We're in unknown waters, and it doesn't hurt to keep an eye out. But trust me, everything is under control."

You glance around, still sensing an air of tension, but Gramps' words, combined with the steadiness of his gaze, makes you hesitate a little.

You cross your arms, giving him a look. “Are you lying?”

Gramps meets your gaze, and for a moment, his eyes betray a flicker of uncertainty. He sighs, dropping his hand from your shoulder.

"I won't lie to you, Raya. There's... something out there. A...presence," he admits, choosing his words carefully. "But we're prepared, and I don't want you to worry. I will keep you and everyone else safe."

You narrow your eyes, the worry in your chest tightening. "What kind of presence? Gramps, be straight with me."

"I can't say for certain," he confesses, his voice a low murmur, eyes flickering to the others, then to you. "Until we have more information, I need you to trust me and enjoy the celebration. We'll deal with whatever comes our way."

Your arms remain tightly crossed, the unease settling in the pit of your stomach. You shake your head stubbornly. "I can't just ignore this. What if it's a threat?"

Gramps places a hand on your shoulder again, his eyes conveying a mix of warmth and solemnity. "Raya, we've faced countless challenges together, and we've always come out on top. I promise, if things get serious, you'll be the first to know. Right now, I need you to be with your friends. We'll handle this. Trust me."

You pause for a moment, studying him. Your eyes search his face, catching the flicker of a weary resolve in his gaze. Gramps, weathered by years of navigating both treacherous seas and the complexities of life, stands before you with a quiet strength. The lines etched on his face tell stories of battles won and challenges faced, yet in this moment, there's an acknowledgment that the current unknown carries a unique weight.

Finally, Gramps breaks the silence with a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder, his eyes conveying both a plea for trust and a promise of protection. The distant laughter and music from the celebration underscore the gravity of the unspoken exchange, a delicate dance between the duty to protect and the need to savour moments of joy.

"Go back and enjoy the night. I've got everything under control,” he whispers.

As Gramps' words hang in the air, a sudden shift in the atmosphere unsettles the night. The sea, once a serene companion, seems to murmur in a language of foreboding whispers. The distant revelry dims, and an eerie quiet blankets the ship.

You cast one last glance at Gramps, his weary but determined eyes meeting yours. The unspoken understanding between you lingers, the weight of secrets shared beneath the starlit sky.

"Then keep me updated. Please," you whisper, pursing your lips.

As you turn away, a chill crawls up your spine. The night, once full of promise, now grasps onto something else that eclipses the celebration. With a tinge of tension in your body, you walk into the chaos, the unknown presence lingering in the back of your mind, shaping the contours of the abyss that unfolds. The ship anchors itself into the heart of uncertainty, leaving you to navigate the shadows that dance on the edge of the moonlit waves – one that even Nami won’t be able to foresee.

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bettergeology · 5 months

Text

Remarkable rocks of Pine Creek Pass, Sierra Nevada Mountains, California

Pine Creek Pass is a less-used trailhead in the Eastern Sierra of California. It's a steep slog of about 3,500 vertical feet in about 6 miles, ending at just over 11,000 feet. The scenery is remarkable, but so are the rocks.

This an unnamed pinnacle of dark gabbro which has been intruded by younger granite bands. The gray cliff to the right is intruded by the same younger granite bands!

Fractures in the gabbro of the stripy mountain filled with feldspar crystals (formed when liquid). The lighter band is offset slightly by the white vein, which shows lateral movement across that vein when it was forming. These are called en-echelon fractures.

Younger granite intruding (as bands) older granodiorite and a xenolith eclogite inclusion - a chunk of unrelated rock carried by the original melted granodiorite (complex relationships here!).

Granodiorite polished smooth by the abrasive action of glaciers during the last Ice Age (~21,000 years ago in this area).

Outcrop of glacially polished granodiorite.

Glacially polished granodiorite with a thick intrusion (dike) of pink granite that has been offset laterally by a younger and thinner dike of different granite.

#geology #photography #rocks #sierra nevada #high sierra #granite #eastern sierra #structural geology

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blacktacmopsi · 21 days

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Threshold.

----------------------------------------------------------

| Keegan X Male! Reader | Smut (MDNI) | CW: Blowjobs |

This is filling a request for @shadoesx. I hope I did your request justice. Get ready for some fluffy-ish smutty Keegan!

Note: I did not proof read this and it's been a while since I wrote M/M. Also, preemptive apology if there are format errors. Posting via mobile.

Keegan was never one to blow up on anyone or show direct anger. He was usually the silent observer type and for the most part a level headed guy. So, when you were on the brunt end of a heated argument over a difference in tactical strategy post mission, you couldn't take Keegan's arguing hands down without holding your own.

"You are a fucking asshole, you know that, kid?!” Keegan spat.

"Oh, I'm the asshole?! That's some tall talk from you! If it wasn't for my idea, we would have ended up in a massive skirmish at that Federation compound. So, fuck me right, for doing something that saved all our asses!”

Your fighting ultimately was broken up by Merrick who, quite frankly, told it to you straight, that he was “tired of both of your shit.”

The two of you were both too heated to come down so you stepped away to go cool off in your barracks room. It must have been several hours before you heard three knocks on your door. Opening it, you see the man who pissed you off earlier. He has the look of a man who realized he royally fucked up.

“Hey kid…look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to blow up on you earlier. I shouldn't have done it, let alone in front of everyone. So, I want to do the right thing and apologize to you.”

Eyeing him up, you can't ignore those penetrating glacial blue eyes. Those eyes you've looked at countless times that made you feel a certain deep yearning. Drifting lower, you notice he's holding two red solo cups and a bottle of Jack.

Inviting him in to share a drink to bury the hatchet, you two revert back to how you typically are around one another. As you both drink, it feels good to get back on good terms. It would be crushing if the raven haired operator held a grudge against you and that was absolutely the last thing you wanted. As you both drank, you couldn't help but just admire the man before you. His musculature that was hinted at beneath the old USMC shirt he had on, the way it clung to his pecs, the deep timbre of his voice, even innocuous things like the way his veins wrapped around his arms. You had already come to terms with your feelings for him and how he stirred emotions deep inside you, but you felt you could never give voice to them. It tortured you to hold such an emotional weight.

“You know y/n…can I be honest with you?”

His question pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, what's up?”

Drawing a deep breath he meets your gaze. God, those glacial blue eyes that you swore could bore into your soul. How intense they could be. It should be a sin for a man to possess such eyes.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you…hmm…well…”

You knit your brows waiting for him to finish what he wants to say but he seems to be stumbling over the words.

“Dude, just spit it out. What do you want to tell me.”

You think it might be something pertaining to the Taskforce. He on the other hand is going to do another thing that is kind of out of his character…just in a different way compared to his blow up of anger earlier.

“Uhhhh…you know what? Fuck it. Y/n I want to say…I love you.”

He exhales and slouches in the chair.

“Oh man, that felt good to get out,” he groaned to himself. Maybe it was the liquid courage that gave him that little push to admit this but his words hit you like a brick in the face. You don't know if you're stunned or so elated your brain just pauses everything, but something clicks inside you. It's the match falling in the powder keg of your own feelings for him. Keegan examines your expression and isn't sure what to make of it. Did he cross a line? He was never the smooth type when it came to expressing any kind of romantic feelings. In fact, he could come off so painfully awkward. But here he was, in your barracks room, bluntly laying it on the line.

“Look man, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make-”

He pauses as you go and stand before him. Leaning down, you grab his stubbled chin, tilt it up, and kiss him. The taste of the whisky on his lips and tongue just make this all too perfect for you. As you give him something you had been dreaming about for so long, you can't help but hear a deep moan escape him.

Breaking the kiss and still holding his chin, you meet those eyes of his again.

“Wow…okay…heh,” he chuckles. “So, I take it you feel the same way.”

“For a while now, yeah… I had been falling in love with you for some time.”

Clearing his throat, he asks “Why didn't you say something sooner?”

“Dude, how could I? I'm not good with this kind of thing.”

Keegan laughs. “That makes two of us.”

Keegan looks back up at you and your smiling face and he can't help but lean up to kiss you again. It was like the floodgates opened for both of you as all you wanted to say for so long was spoken by your tongue entering his mouth. His hands go up, sliding across your chest, sending those embers of desire surging. Your fingers start to snake under his shirt, finding the hem and yanking it up over his head exposing that firm and hairy chest. God, how you longed to feel him every time you saw him getting changed on base.

You break the kiss and meet his gaze noting he's flushed. Whether it be from the alcohol or the growing physical desire, you didn't care. All that mattered was that he was shirtless and open to your advances…and boy, was he open to them. It became more evident when he stood up to remove your shirt as well. Locking in a heated kiss, you two pressed your exposed torsos against one another feeling the heat of arousal emanating from your needy bodies. You grab him by his hips and yank him towards yours feeling the unmistakable hardness of his cock.

“Keegan, getting hard already from kissing,” you tease as you run your fingers through his hair.

He cocks a smile.

“I can say the same for you, y/n…”

You can't help but softly chuckle at this back and forth. Before the two of you even realized it, both of you danced your way to your bed, a flurry of hands, lips, tongues and even teeth roaming over each other. Things became even more heated when you had him beneath you.

“Heh…I think I like being on bottom for you,” he chuckles.

“I would hope so. I've been wanting to do this for a long time,” you speak. A potent combination of lust and love tinting your words as you reach for your belt. Keegan got the hint and sat up from under you.

“Hey kid, let me handle that,” he implores as his fingers work gracefully undoing the belt to your pants. With such finesse, you could swear he's done this before and he might as well have but you didn't care. All you care about is making your desires and love for him known. Keegan feels the same way and he DEFINITELY makes that known. Pulling you out of your pants, he envelops you with such ferocity it nearly makes you jolt in reflex.

“Oooooohhh fuuuuuuk…”

You have no control over the sounds escaping you, instinctively grabbing his head and pushing him more into you.

“Oh god…Keegan….Keegan…fuck, that feels good!”

Keegan doesn't listen to your words. He just focuses on his mouth and what's in it. You flick your eyes down to him as you watch him sink further and further into a sexual trance. Oh, this is definitely a man who's done this before! The heated pleasure and arousal he was drawing out of you was too astounding. You found paradise in him and his mouth and he in your taste and warmth. You had rocked your hips with his motion as he brought you into the light of blinding passion. It felt like he had created this ball of white light that was welling up inside you, a sensation that sent every nerve in your body pulsing with such deep emotion for this blue eyed, raven haired operator.

Keegan was relentless, moving up and down as if he was working a sacred ritual upon your body. In some ways, he was; Drawing forth and building upon your mutual passions to create something more immense.

“Keegan…Keegan…I can't…take much more…you're gonna make me….”

He didn't hear, or maybe he chose not to as you rasped your warning about what was going to happen in mere minutes.

As soon as you finished your pained words, Keegan flicked those blue eyes up at you and that was it. You could not stop what he had built up and set in motion. Tensing your core and gripping the hair on his head tightly, you rammed yourself down his throat and let the fruits of his labor be known. The rush of hot and viscous cum hit the back of his throat and cascaded down his gullet. You held him flush against you as you both rode out the shockwaves of what he stirred up.

Panting and sweating, you let Keegan ease himself off you. He pulls back, a glass thread of saliva stringing between his lips and you. Those glacial eyes of his flick up to see the deep flush on your face as you pant and he can't help but feel his heart sing out for you. He's elated you permitted this and he feels like the two of you have crossed a threshold you both so longed to traverse.

You pull him up to you, rewarding how with a soft and tender kiss- a token of your affections.

“I hope we can do that more often,” he laughs as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Definitely… and maybe some other things too!”

#BlackTacMopsi Writes Garbage #call of duty #keegan p russ #call of duty ghosts #cod keegan #cod ghosts #keegan cod #keegan cod ghosts #keegan smut #call of duty keegan #keegan russ #keegan russ smut

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