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xqueen-of-disasterx · 2 months

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Congrats on 1k! Absolutely love your work, especially the darker fics.

Can I request step-sis intersex!Nat walking in on reader as she's asleep and deciding that she's finally going to take her for herself? Nat starts eating reader out to get her wet and the reader moans Nat's name in her sleep, so Nat wakes her up so she can really enjoy it.

Thinking that maybe Nat ties the readers hands above her head, as Nat forces her huge cock inside the readers tiny body, creating a belly bulge. Finishing inside her to breed her and then making the reader cock-warm her so that she can stay full. Belly rubbing because Nat is obsessed with the sight of her cock inside her innocent little step-sis.

Kinks: bondage, breeding, dub-con that turns consensual, somnophilia, belly bulge, Daddy kink and thinking cock-warming too.

Thank you!

Closer

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: fem!reader x step-sis!Nat

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐲: Having your beloved step sister back home for the summer turned more pleasant than expected.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, DUB-con, but the reader is very into it, amab!Nat, dom!Nat, sub!reader, age gap (legal), taboo relationship, kinda mean Nat, tattooed Nat (Nat is just the stereotypical bad boy), innocent!reader, Daddy!kink, alcohol use, bondage, breeding kink, somnophila, cock warming, size kink?

!Disclaimer English is not my first language so please excuse any grammar or spelling errors. This story is completely fictional. I do not own these characters!

𝐀/𝐍: kisses from the hospital guys enjoy the first park of the 1k special I’ll post more requests soon. This request was really fun to write

𝐌.𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Natasha knew how wrong it was to feel that kind of way about her step sister, but she was only a human too. Ever since she had came to visit her father for this summer she couldn't help herself but see you in a different light.

Back when her dad first started to live with your mother, she only had eyes for the many girls tendering to her, who were in her grade or above. She never really noticed you, of course you were her annoying little step sister who could've guessed you'd turn into this?

You weren't innocent either, you were always found of Natasha. In your eyes she was the coolest person you'd know, with her blue tainted hair and fast cars, you were heart broken whenever you saw a different girl enter her room.

Natasha soon went away for college, meaning you'd only get to see her for the holidays which was still enough to keep you crushing on her. It was special that she visited this summer especially since you just turned 18.

This summer had been unusual hot for the colder climate of Ohio, but it's not like you were complaining to see Nat in all those wifebeaters and sport bras. She normally rummaged in the garden, laying at the pool, again in sports bras and swim trunks. It made your cheeks heat, your stomach feel weird, and every once in a while when you saw how she climbed out of the pool, the muscles under her wet skin flexing, it made you feel all itchy down there.

Another hot summer day, another day where you'd relax under the water sprinkler in your backyard, just like you did when you were a child. Except for a pair of eyes watching from the pool. Natasha Romanoff, your step- sister, whose eyes hid under her shades, watched every move of yours. She sat by the pool shirtless to "tan", Natasha never tanned, she had the skin colour of a porcelain doll and always used the highest sunscreen to not end up looking like a lobster. No, she was there to observe, not the local birds, or nature, no, you. How could anyone be so carless, she asked herself as she watched your white camisole top turn translucent.

Shortly after realising what she was doing she, or better what your view did to her prick, she looked back on her phone scrolling on a black screen to look less suspicious. But it's not like you would've noticed anyway, Natasha knew how innocent you were, how your mother had sheltered you in contrast to herself. God, get yourself together Natasha, she thought to herself. If she wanted she could've get a hook up here within the day, but it wouldn't help last time she tried she accidentally moaned your name while cumming. Something so utterly embarrassing the girl left immediately after.

"Natty" you ask in an innocent voice, every other person calling the other woman that wouldn't stand here today, but she let it slide. "What's up" She asked as her eyes wandered over your wet body to which your clothes clanged. Natasha never was a religious person but in this moment she thanked god for the invention of sunglasses.

"Can you get me towel from inside" you asked giving her your best bambi eyes. "Go get it yourself, I'm not your personal servant" She scoffed "Please, Tasha I'm all wet and I don't want it tripping on the floor board" She shook her head "You should've thought about that in the first place" She mumbled under her breath but still got up to get you your towel. She could never say no to one of your pleads.

"Thank you" you grinned and wrapped you up in one of this big fluffy towels. She smirked back at you her hands rubbing over your wet skin. "There you go sweetheart" She mumbled again feeling a tingle in her pants when her hands touched you.

"Where's mom?" You asked stepping into the large living area you parents had. "Out for dinner with my dad" She remarked not even looking up from the TV where some, for me, unimportant soccer game was running. "Why are you still standing there?" She asked in a dismissive tone "They'll be gone the whole night" Oh, the whole night just you and your step sister together, great. Nat chugged more of her beer side eyeing you to leave her alone, of course she wanted you close, closer than close, but you couldn't know that yet. Not to mention that with the more of the bitter liquid she had the less she could control her urges.

It wasn't that wrong, she tried to tell herself, millions of guys before her had fucked their step sisters right? Eventually you opened your mouth again "I'll head to bed now" you started and only earned a little hum from her and some mumbled words you didn't understand before slipping on her beer bottle again.

Her team lost, of course it did, Natasha turned the TV off rubbing her eyes before too going to her bed room but not without making another stop at your room. She slipped though the crack in the door closing it gently before taking a seat next you on the soft cushion of the bed. She always did that, making sure you were save and sound but tonight it was different. She was frustrated, and horney, one more than the other.

"You're so pretty" she mumbled being lost deep in the haze of the alcohol and lust, she knew you couldn't hear her nor feel but she still gently wiped some lost hair behind your ear. You squirmed under her feather like touch. You rolled onto your back the blanket slipping from your body exposing your topless body. Fuck, you had forgotten to wear a shirt to bed, or had you? Nat saw it as an invitation to taste your sweet body.

She stood up pulling her hoodie off to reveal a hard set of muscles covered in tattoos, she strangled your smaller body kissing the valley between your breasts before turning to kiss down your soft stomach. You squirmed again your hands trying to find something to grip on, Nat caught your hands bringing them above your head before using her abandoned top to tie your hands to the head board of your framed bed.

Finally she could turn to your soaked panties tugging them off your legs, your step sister placed both of your legs on her shoulders giving you better access to your sleeping form. She kissed your pubic bone before taking a deep sniff of your glossy cunt. "let my taste you baby girl" She groaned before licking over your weeping pussy, you tasted fantastic better than any girl she had before you.

Your clit was pulsing in need to be touched, standing proud from his hood Nat couldn't resist tasting the forbidden fruit. When she took your bubble of nerves in her mouth she couldn't believe her ears. "Nat" came a sob from your throat she let she teeth scrape over it just to check she wasn't completely mad "Natasha" now it was a full blown moan, she smiled getting more and more bold with her movements.

She kept on licking away on your cunt and thankfully to her many years of experience with the girls in college she had you trembling towards the edge within minutes. She took your clit in her mouth again this time biting down gently, to wake you from your slumber you thought to yourself.

"I- what" poor innocent you were to confused to even grasped what was happening to you you were lost in a haze of mind numbing pleasure until you tried to find to source of it. "Nat-?" you were interrupted by an almost pornographic moan breaking free from your throat. You winded your body on the bed tugging on the restrains before climaxing under her tongue. She made you ride out your orgasm before hushing your quiet sobs. "You're mine baby girl" she kissed your pelvis bone. "Nat we can't" you mumbled "No one needs to find out" She reassured you "Just say no and we'll forget a bout this all, but something tells me, little girl, you want me just as much as I want you"

"You’re right" you mumbled under your breath making Nat smirk she stood up again tugging off your boxers to reveal a dick of a size you had never seen before. Of course you didn't have much experience but she looked inhuman. "Nat it's not-" She hushed you "call me daddy" Instinctively you closed your legs making nat chuckle. "Too big" You mewled again "Oh bunny, I'll make it fit, daddy would never hurt her little girl" she reassured you her hands trailed down her body brushing over the small patch of her which made up her happy trail. She pried your legs open before pushing them to your chest.

She alined herself with you before slowly pushing inside your small hole, bringing tears to your eyes. It felt like her dick suffocated by your tight velvet walls, when she finally did bottom you out she knew it was heaven of earth. She admired the small bulge forming on your lower stomach rubbing over it in an awe.

She waited for you to at least try to adjust before setting a rapid pace giving you no breaks, it felt like she was trying to compare her performance with a machine. I string of moans and whispers left your throat as her hips kept pistoling into your tight heat.

"Fuck" She groaned in between thrusts "I'm gonna fucking breed this little pussy. Wouldn't you like that daddy making you a mommy?" You were too dumbed down to even comprehend her words and the self assigned title made you see stars. "Answer daddy" She commented slapping your tits which bounced with ever vigour truths of her hips. "Yes daddy" you mewl in ecstasy "make me your mommy" You moaned making your step sister grin.

With a few more truths you were both on the edge of ecstasy, especially you saw the stars already. "Cum" she commanded "Fucking cum with me" another sting of curse words left her mouth before releasing her white juices inside of you triggering your own orgasm. After leaving your high she gently rubbed your belly again not dreaming of pulling out from your walls. "mine" she mumbled upon seeing the clear bugle she had formed in your stomach. She freed your hands kissing each of your wrists which made you giggle at the romantic gesture, as if she hadn't just fucked you into oblivion.

She moved you to lay on top of her making you trace the fine lines of her tattoos, she was your step sister but from this night on she was much more than that.

#natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #black widow x female reader #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff #lesbian smut #lesbian #marvel woman x reader #marvel smut

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max1461 · 5 months

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Thinking about this post. "The only way to make a cell is from another cell" is somewhat of a troubling fact to me. I mean, not for any practical reason, just because it underscores the precarity of *gestures broadly*.

It's like, some people talk about trying to de-extinct the mammoth. And people are trying to sequence the genome of the mammoth, I don't know if they've done it yet. But even if they do, one of the problems with the idea of de-extinction is... to grow a baby mammoth, you need another mammoth! Last time I heard people talking about this, I think they were talking about using an elephant as a surrogate mother. But imagine if elephants were extinct too.

The point is that information is often tied to the systems that transmit it; even if you know everything in the mammoth genome, once all the mammoths are gone there's nothing capable of reading and using that information. Like when you can't read the data on a perfectly good floppy disk because your computer doesn't have a floppy drive.

This is related to why language death troubles me so much. Even the most well-documented languages aren't actually that well understood; linguists have produced more pages of work on English syntax than maybe any other specific descriptive topic and yet still the only reliable way to get the answer to any moderately subtle syntactic question is elicit native speaker data. We know almost nothing, we can barely extrapolate at all! And every language is like this, a hugely complex system that we know basically nothing about, and if the chain of native speaker transmission is ever broken it's just gone.

"Language revival", I mean from a totally dead language, is kind of a myth. It's like the "came back different" trope. In Israel they revived Hebrew, but Modern Hebrew is really not the same thing as Biblical Hebrew at all. I mean in a stronger sense even than Modern English isn't Old English. All the subtleties of Biblical Hebrew that a native speaker would have had implicit competence with died without a trace. All they left is a grainy image, the texts. The first generation of Modern Hebrew speakers took the rough grammatical sketch preserved in these texts and imbued it with new subtleties, borrowed from Slavic and Germanic and the speakers' other native languages, or converged at by consensus among that first generation of children. There's nothing wrong with that, but it would be inaccurate to imagine Biblical Hebrew surviving in Modern Hebrew the way Old English survives in Modern English. For instance, you can discover a great deal that you didn't know about Old English by comparing Modern English dialects. There is nothing you can discover about Biblical Hebrew by comparing Modern Hebrew dialects in this way.

There's nothing wrong with this, of course. I'm not like, judging Modern Hebrew. I'm just making a point.

Mammoths died recently, so we still have (some of?) their genome. Something that died longer ago, like dinosaurs, we have traces of them in the form of fossils but we could never hope to revive them, the information is just gone. Even if we're not aiming for revival, even if we just want to know stuff about dinosaurs, there's so much that we will never know and can never know.

We imagine information as the kind of thing which sits in an archive, because this is the context most of us encounter information in, I think. Libraries, hard drives. Well obviously hard drives don't last. And most ancient texts only survive because of a scribal tradition, continuous re-writing, not because of actual archival. So I think that imagining archives as the natural habitat of information is sort of wrong; the natural habit of information is in continuous transmission. Information is constantly moving. And it's like one of those sharks, if it ever stops moving it drowns. And if the lines of transmission are broken, the information is gone and can never be retrieved.

Very precarious.

#navel gazing

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scatteredskittless · 2 months

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Hazbin Hotel crew x Reader: general fluff hcs

A/n: 100+ follower special !!

I’ve been doing a lot of headcanons lately so I pinky promise there’ll be some kind of oneshot coming soon 🙏

Warnings: None !! Just some good old fashioned fluff :3

Fluff✔️ Comfort❌ Angst❌ Smut❌

‧₊˚✧ Alastor ✧˚₊‧

📻𖤐 When Alastor forms a close bond with you (and I’ve mentioned this before), he’d want to spend more time with you. Even if that’s just sitting in silence together and reading your own separate books

📻𖤐 Who knows? Maybe he’d let you lean against him, head on his shoulder, as he reads to you?

📻𖤐 This guys primary love language is quality time for sure. A close second perhaps acts of service.

📻𖤐 Biggest mamas boy ever…. But I’m sure we all knew that already

📻𖤐 LOVES to go on walks with you, especially during the afternoon or at night.

📻𖤐 Would link your arm with his and chat with you as you went on your daily stroll together… you’re not quite sure when it became a routine but it did.

📻𖤐 Huuuggeee story teller

📻𖤐 100% laughs at dad jokes and will also make them from time to time

📻𖤐 Always winning every single IDGAF war because he genuinely, wholeheartedly, just doesn’t give two shits 💀💀

📻𖤐 Can’t swim. I don’t know how to explain why I think this but I just KNOW its true

📻𖤐 Freezes like a deer in headlights (quite literally) when you shine a bright enough light at him

‧₊˚✧ Angel Dust ✧˚₊‧

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Angel would be the absolute BEST at giving out hugs oh my goddd, he’s got six arms for a reason, baby !

🕸️ᥫ᭡ I feel like he’d have fun dancing !! (I mean “Loser, Baby” was enough evidence for me)

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Competitive as fuck, UNO would actually be so fun with him 😭 (gets so genuinely excited when he wins too, gloating about it and everything like he just won the lottery)

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Biggest shoplifter ever and most of the time it’s not even because he can’t afford it, he just does it for fun.

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Smells realllyyy good all the time, he’s got the best perfumes ever

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Spa-days/Self-care days quickly become a Saturday night thing for you two once you become one of his besties. And I’m talking the whole shabang like face masks, candles lit and snack tray out as he paints your nails for you 💕

🕸️ᥫ᭡ It’s something Angel genuinely looks forward to as well (ᵒ̴̶̷᷄⩊ᵒ̴̶̷᷅)

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Primary love language is most likely physical touch, we’ve all seen how touchy he can get 🤞

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Getting to know his real name and getting to call him by it means he trusts you a lot, he doesn’t give that privilege out to just anybody.

🕸️ᥫ᭡ On a less serious note, he’s definitely a huge show off 💀💀

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Amazing at doing makeup, will do your makeup if you asked him to (might accidentally poke you in the eye or something though lmfaoo)

‧₊˚✧ Husker ✧˚₊‧

🍺🃁 Needs glasses and HAS them but just doesn’t wear them for whatever reason. He looks good in them though !!

🍺🃁 Cheats in any card game ever. Wins 9/10 against you because of that reason (he’s also a gambler so that’s a big factor as well obviously)

🍺🃁 Bros the type of guy to call you “doll” and “baby”

🍺🃁 Primary love language?? quality time 🙏 🙏acts of service and physical touch are both tied for second place (but you only ever really get the physical touch one if you’re his s/o)

🍺🃁 Again, we all saw “Loser, Baby” this mf can DANCE and he enjoys it too

🍺🃁 Jazz is one of Huskers favourite music genres for sure

🍺🃁 You two don’t really have a routine hangout type thing but he does enjoy it when you come around to the bar to just hang out with him while he cleans and whatnot :3

🍺🃁 Trust, you will be given a specialized nickname just for you once he considers you a close friend of his.

🍺🃁 He’s a great listener but gives very blunt advice, doesn’t sugarcoat shit if you ask him for his opinion on something.

🍺🃁 Weirdly caught up with mental health stuff, like he knows a lot about it

🍺🃁 Poor Husker does NOT like the cat noises he makes but he literally cannot control them 😭😭 (believe me, he’s tried)

‧₊˚✧ Vaggie ✧˚₊‧

🗡️☪︎ Vaggie is NOT a morning person, usually sleeps in until around noon

🗡️☪︎ Would have good fashion taste

🗡️☪︎ Vaggie is also a very competitive UNO player, probably ends up yelling at Alastor for making her pick up all those “pick up four” cards when everyone plays together (yes, he looks smug as fuck while doing it and yes he was saving them just for her 💀💀)

🗡️☪︎ Has beef with almost all of the guys at the hotel but Husker is chill for the most part

🗡️☪︎ Adding onto that last one, it doesn’t really take much for a man to piss her off tbh (she’s so real for this)

🗡️☪︎ Would spar with you if you asked and gets really into it too !! She’s careful not to actually hurt you though and it’s a great way of bonding with her (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

🗡️☪︎ Verrryyyyy jealous girl, remember when Emily took Charlie’s hands in the heaven episode?? (The look on her face made me giggle)

🗡️☪︎ Hates pickles. She just looks like she’d be a pickle hater

🗡️☪︎ Primary love language is words of affirmation

‧₊˚✧ Charlie ✧˚₊‧

⭐️☀︎ Charlie is infact a morning person and wakes up at the crack of dawn everyday for zero reason whatsoever 💀

⭐️☀︎ She does her absolute best to include everyone in every activity going on, she doesn’t ever want anybody in the hotel to feel excluded

⭐️☀︎ Biggest shipper EVER. You ever told her you have a crush on someone here?? Oh god..

⭐️☀︎ She’ll silently fan girl from a distance whenever you and your crush are together to the point Vaggie has to drag her away

⭐️☀︎ Charlie can be a little bit overwhelming at times but her happiness is suppeerrr contagious

⭐️☀︎ The best way to spend time and bond with her?? Literally just offer to do anything with her and she’ll do it, I don’t think she’s too picky

⭐️☀︎ Learnt some Spanish from Vaggie and tries to use it with her to be all romantic but her pronunciations are fucked up (She’s trying her hardest guys okay 😞🙏)

⭐️☀︎ Totally asked Vaggie one time as a pick up line if she fell from heaven and she broke out into a sweat (poor girl)

⭐️☀︎ Primary love language is words of affirmation. quality time is somewhere up there too though

⭐️☀︎ Will break out into song a lot and it’s kinda funny to watch

‧₊˚✧ Niffty ✧˚₊‧

🧼𐙚 Acts a lot like a hyperactive toddler on crack. Has zero chill and it’s pretty rare to see her actually calm

🧼𐙚 I think Niffty lowkey has stage freight, like we all see how she just automatically freezes up when a camera is on (I mean it’s happened twice in the show already)

🧼𐙚 Takes a lot after Alastor, sees him as some sort of older brother figure as well 😞🩵

🧼𐙚 When playing UNO, she’d fucking EAT the cards so she’d win. Deadass just nom nom nom that shit

🧼𐙚 She’s a big giggler, she’ll laugh and giggle at almost everything so it’s not hard to get her to do so

🧼𐙚 She’d probably really enjoy it if you let her just sit with you for a while and braid your hair (But she’d steal some for her “collection” in the process)

🧼𐙚 I’m actually not too sure what Nifftys love language would even be? Perhaps acts of service (she is a maid, after all)

🧼𐙚 Okay 99% sure this is actually canon but she’s a hardcore germophobe, can’t handle when things are cluttered or a mess.

🧼𐙚 Has a collection of cleaning supplies in her room

+ Bonus !!

‧₊˚✧ Vox ✧˚₊‧

📺☆ Whenever Vox is sleeping or thinking really hard about something, the voxtek symbol will bounce around on his screen like the DVD logo thing

📺☆ Not very big on pda, he has an image to uphold, after all. (But he would enjoy affection in private though)

📺☆ Not above watching you through whatever technology you have, he spies on you a lot 💀💀

📺☆ Also guys…… stop pretending Vox isn’t a whiny little bitch, because he is (trust me y’all, read some of @bigfatbimbo’s stuff)

Please do not repost, translate, or plagarize any of my fanfictions/headcanons/writing without permission ◟( ˃̶͈◡ ˂̶͈ )◞

ᯓ★ Scatteredskittles

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miserable-sarah · 1 month

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I Care 18+

Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: NSFW, smut, 18+, fingering, oral (F), mentions of blood, bad language, unprotected sex, praising. Requested: Heyyy, idk of ur requests are open but if they are can u please write a dean Winchester x ex girlfriend smut who is a hunter and who dean is still not over. Sam and Dean rescue her from a vampire nest and dean is angry and worried after her and she's all like "stop acting like you care" and he says something like "I'll show u how much I care" + angst + kinda enemies x lovers + dark dean? + marking ; ( set in early seasons llke;1,2,3) A/N: I did make a few changes, let me know if you enjoy it! Thanks!

You've been hunting down this nest of vampires for a while. It was a big nest, bigger than you've ever seen. It's a hard job alone but you're confident enough in yourself to do it.

Well at least that's what you thought, you see you went into the nest killing almost all of the vampires that were there. You somehow missed calculated the amount. You got taken down and now you're tied up with no way out. You are dreading this, you have no one coming to save you. You're not scared, you're angry. you're mad that they caught you, and mad that you can't get out by yourself. You don't want to be turned into a vampire or have all of your blood drained from your body. So this sucks. You can hear the vamps talking about something they're too quiet to make anything out.

"Hey! Are you guys gonna do anything with me or?" You ask getting annoyed, you'd rather just die now. They just ignore you of course. So you start singing at the top of your lungs to annoy them, they have "super hearing", you know it bothers them. You continue for a couple minutes until someone, you're assuming the head vamp, comes over to you right in your face.

"Shut up!" He yells in your face "I'll kill you right now!" Just as you were about to say something, you hear a commotion. The head vampire cuts your stomach making you wince, then he leaves without saying a word.

"Aw come on, don't leave me here." You say in a stale tone. "We were having fun." you add. After a couple minutes, you don't hear anything.

"Well, well, look at who we have here."

"Oh, fucking kill me." You mumble to yourself.

"Couldn't handle the nest?" Dean smirks at you. You don't say a word just ignore him. "A thank you would be nice."

"Dean, leave her alone." Sam says to him, Sam comes over to you and unties you.

"Thank you, Sam." You smile at him. You glare at Dean.

"Are you alright?" Dean drops his tough guy act.

"Fine." You say sternly, you walk away from the boys trying to leave the building. You however, weren't fine. You were bleeding and had no idea.

"You're bleeding pretty bad." Dean says to you.

"It's fine, it's nothin-" You look down and see what he's talking about. You're covered in blood. You lift up your shirt and see a huge cut on your stomach. "Oh no." You feel dizzy and then Dean's arms around you as you fall.

You wake up in a motel room, not unusual.

"Dean?" You say softly looking around the room.

"Hey, you okay?" He answers, he sits next to you placing his hand on your back.

"Yeah, fine. Thanks." You mumble. You stand up even though your stomach is in pain.

"You should relax for at least a few more hours."

"Nah, I'm good." You say looking around for your things.

"Y/n, I'm serious." Dean says to you in a frustrated tone.

"Dean, I don't care. I'm fine."

"Y/n! Sit down!" He gets angry with you.

"No!" You yell, you have to hold back a wince. He's right you are hurt but you're not going to sit in a room with your ex boyfriend because you're hurt. You can recover somewhere else.

"You're hurt. Something can happen to you!"

"Oh and now you care?" You roll your eyes. "Stop acting like you care."

That was it for Dean. He stood up and got right in your face. "You don't think I care, huh?" He chuckled at you. "I'll show you how much I care." He said with promise. Dean smashes his lips on yours, at first it took you by surprise but you came around to it very quickly. You kiss back but then pull away.

"Dean what are you doing?" You say trying to push him away but he doesn't budge. "We can't, I mean we broke up. It's been months-"

Dean has been on your mind since you two broke up. It was over something stupid, literally so stupid you don't even remember what it was about. You were in love with Dean, well you still are. He treated you like a princess, but like a bad ass princess. He was your safe place and you were his. When you broke up it just so happened to also be a really bad time in his life and he needed to leave. So he did, you two never got to fix what was broken.

"Stop talking." Dean interrupts you. You go to say something else, Dean cuts you off by kissing you, again. This time you immediately kiss back. You slide his jacket off and tug at his shirt. He breaks the kiss to lift his shirt off. Your hands run down his muscular body. You almost moan in excitement.

Dean carefully took off your shirt, trying not to hurt you. He unclipped your bra and tossed across the room. His hands gently massaged your breasts, you let out a little whine. You've been so needy for him it's pathetic. Dean picks you up effortlessly and drops you on the bed. He unbuttons your jeans and slides them off your body, you can feel yourself getting wet with anticipation. Dean hovers over your body he kisses you softly, then your neck, down to your chest, then down your stomach and all the way to your panty line.

"Dean, please" You beg quietly. You hear Dean chuckling.

"Patience sweethheart." He says as he slowly takes off your panties. He kisses up your legs to thighs incredibly slowly. You groan in frustration Dean ignores your frustration.

"Please!" You beg louder.

"Look at how wet you are." He smiles at you "All for me?" He smirks.

"Yes" You moan softly.

Dean finally enters a finger in you, you moan in relief. He watches your face making sure you're enjoying it, he enters another finger and thrusts them deep curving his fingers to make sure he hits your g-spot. You moan louder at the feeling, it's been months since you've been with Dean, well anyone for that matter. Dean always knew what to do to please you though, he just knew your body so well.

"You like that baby?" He asks, you nod and moan "Words" He says

"Yes, Dean." You say softly.

"Good girl." He smirks at you. Dean dips his head between your thighs, you feel his tongue directly on your clit.

"Oh my god." You let your head hit the bed and close your eyes. Dean continues to pump his fingers in and out of you while his tongue dances around your clit. It feels so amazing. You start to buck your hips, he puts his arm around your hips to hold you down.

He adds a third finger stretching you out for him. You moan and whine, it feels good but you want him. All of him.

"Dean, please" You pant. He ignores you, he keeps sucking and licking your clit. "please." you whimper. He still doesn't listen. Your legs are shaking and you try to squeeze your thighs together but Dean won't let you. Your moans become more desperate. "Feels so good" He keeps going he can tell your close by the way you're squeezing his fingers.

Your buck your hips up, you let out a loud moan, your vision goes blurry and you see stars. Dean slowly pulls his fingers out, you look down at him out of breath. He licks his lips then smiles at you.

"You taste good." He slowly crawls up to your face and kisses you. You kiss back and pull him closer. You reach your hand down his stomach and realize he's taken off his jeans. You palm him through his boxers, he lets out a groan. Dean takes your hand and puts it down his boxers you take his invitation and pump his cock slowly. Dean kisses and bites your neck. You pull your hand out and pull his boxers down springing him free. He moans at your movements.

You tried moving to get on top of Dean but he stopped you. "You're hurt. Let me take care of you." he says kissing your forehead. He lightly brushes his hands down your body to your legs, he places them around his waist. He lines himsef up with you and slowly enters you. You and Dean let out a loud moan. "You feel so good." He says through his teeth. "So nice and tight."

"You're so big." You arch your back.

"I've missed you." He says he leans down and kisses you, you kiss back. He rests his forehead on yours, in this moment everything feels right. It feels like everything is going to be okay. You've missed this feeling.

"You're doing so good, taking all of me." Dean praises "Such a good girl." His words make you weak.

"You feel so good." you moan. Dean switches positions he leans up and places your legs on his shoulders, deepening his thrusts. You moan louder, so does he. His grunts and groans are getting more frequent.

"Damn baby, I've missed this pussy." He brings his fingers to your clit and starts rubbing "I can't believe this is all mine. Only mine."

"Yes, all yours."

"I know." He mumbles. Dean continues to rub your clit causing your legs to shake. You whimper and try to move around. "I know baby, I know." He coos at you. "Feels so good, huh?" You nod. "Words." He reminds you.

"Y-yes." You stutter "So good." He's so focused on pleasing you, his hair is messy, his body is glistening, his grunts and groans are filling the room along with your moans. You can feel your whole body shaking, your walls are clenching around him.

"Damn baby you're squeezing me so tight." Dean moans. His thrusts get deeper and faster. "Are you going to cum for me?"

"Yes" You moan "Feels so good."

"I know, you feel so good too." He groans. "I'm not going to last long with you squeezing me like that."

"I'm gonna-"

"Go ahead baby, cum for me." His fingers rub faster on your sensitive clit, with every thrust he hits your g-spot, his words are ringing through your head. Your body starts twitching, your legs shaking, you close your eyes tight, you try to scream but nothing comes out. Dean helps you ride out your orgasm, soon after you feel him fill you up. He lightly presses his body on yours and catches his breath.

You wrap your arms around Dean and hold him. He kisses your shoulder a few times before rolling off you. "Uh, let me clean you up." He says awkwardly. Dean gets up and grabs some clean towels he cleans you up then cleans himself up. "I'll change your bandage too."

"Dean." You grab his arm. "Just come lay down."

"But-"

"Please." You cut him off. He nods and lays down next to you, you move yourself so you're laying your head on his chest. "I've missed you." You look up at him.

"Me too." He says softly "Sorry-"

"Dean. It's okay. I know you had to go." You cut him off. "I'm sorry I never got to apologize."

"I know." He pulls you a little closer to him.

You're not sure what will happen next, you're hopeful it'll work out between you two. You both have a lot of love for each other, if it's meant to be it will be. But for right now all you want to do is enjoy your night with Dean Winchester.

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester imagine #supernatural smut #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean winchester x you #dean x reader

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onsomenewsht · 2 months

Text

now playing: Don't Tell My Mom

< track 3 || track 5 >

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader (past), María León x Reader (platonic), Leah Williamson x Reader (platonic)

》 words count: +1.5k

》 what you don't know won't hurt you, oh / Mama, I'll lie, just for you

As soon as your phone lights up with a Facetime call, you know.

No warning message, no text just to make sure you’re free to talk. A cold Facetime request from María, one of your best friends but definitely someone who means trouble if calling like that.

Launching yourself on your sofa unceremoniously, you accept the call and your fate as Mapi’s grin appears on your broken screen. How can she be so smug even miles away goes beyond you.

“Who died?”

Not the most warm way to start a conversation.

“Hola a ti también, nena” (Hello to you too)

“You look awful”

She looks amazing, she’s practically glowing and you’re happy for her.

Also, you’re happy for yourself too. It’s a relief this is not the scolding call you’ve been waiting for quite some time. It’s coming, you can feel it, but Ingrid enters the frame and you immediately know this is good news.

“Tienes que ser buena conmigo” (You should be nicer to me)

Mapi really isn’t the type to tiptoe around something so you don’t get why she didn’t start this conversation by screaming the news. Or making the journey and knocking on your door directly.

You let her be, she probably wants to enjoy it.

“Why should I? I moved to another country just to avoid it”

“Nena”, she pauses and her smile dims for a moment.

She knows English better than she lets everyone believe, so she gets the quip - or your attempt to joke about it. You’re not sure if it’s because of what you said or something else entirely, the two of you have yet to talk about the reason why you’re single and in another country.

Your transfer was eventful, to say at least. The faded blonde didn’t handle it very well, having taken you under her wing when you first moved from a mid-table club in your home country to Barcelona Femení - after a couple of years on a loan in different leagues too.

María’s the one who welcomed you in the locker room with rapid words and contagious enthusiasm. She kept talking with you in Spanish, even if you needed an entire year to be able to hold a simple conversation in your third language, but she’s someone you relied on since the very beginning.

María’s also the first one to realise something was growing between you and Alexia, the first - and the loudest - to cheer when you mindlessly kissed in front of the team mid night out, the first one to give you both a shovel talk.

Sometimes it’s way too easy to forget how many people you can hurt with a decision that’s just your own to make.

You feel the need to take the conversation back on track.

“When is the wedding?”

“¿Quién te lo dijo?!” (Who told you?!)

“Your stupid face”, thankfully the Spaniard gets her brightness back at your words, “And I can see that huge rock even from here!”

Ingrid is matching a beaming smile, moving her hand closer to the camera and you can’t hold back your own joy. They truly deserve the devotion and support they share with one another. If you have to be happy for someone else’s love, you’re glad it’s for them.

And that ring is impressive.

The memory of a beautiful ring hidden in a shoe box in the back of a closet makes you shiver. Is it still there or she got rid of it as first thing after dropping you off at the airport? Does Mapi know about it?

“Show off, that’s worth my value”

“Tonterías!, no eres tan buena” (Bullshit, you’re not even that good!)

“You are, she’s just too proud to admit it”, at Ingrid’s first words you immediately remember why lately she’s the one you like the most of the two.

“Haz la maleta y no quiero excusas, volverás aquí” (Pack you beg and no excuses, you’re coming back here)

Mapi’s witty remark is not missed, she saw you growing up and developing your very own unhealthy coping mechanism. Maybe you have a tendency to avoid confrontation, what about that? She goes for any adrenalin rush activity available when in denial so she’s not in the position to judge.

You shift uncomfortably under their gazes, sitting upright but hitting the back of the sofa with your head.

You may be in a different country and there may be a screen between you and the pair, but María is still like a big sister to you and the other girl is basically the only reason you’re still sane and survived throughout your friendship with the Spaniard.

However, you can’t let them know how broken you are, not when you regret nothing that led to this.

“Why not Norway?”, worth a shot.

“We’re basically going to celebrate in any corner of the world, I don’t think you can miss this”

“Then I can be anywhere else, Ingrid”

“Mapi’s family is gonna be here”, and you’re her family too it’s what she’s too considerate to say aloud but you all hear anyway.

“I don’t think is a good idea, no one want me there”

“That’s not true”

“Nena, por favor!”

The silence is deafening, when you find the gut to look at your friends it’s easy to remember the love, the support, and respect that bond your relationships.

A transfer to another country, all the attempts to hide from the consequences of your own choices, the hearts broken. None of those things are really able to cut those kinds of connections.

“I’m happy for you two”, you say with the biggest and most sincere smile in a while.

Mapi accepts your decision to keep the conversation light, focusing on this happy and long awaited news.

She’s glowing and you really are happy for her, for them. The desire to celebrate their love, to be there when they will share such pure joy with all the people they care about, sweeps away your fears of being confronted by the human form of the consequences of your own choices.

When the call ends, the usual weight you feel between your ribs doesn’t make your breathing heavier and the familiar bitter taste of guilt doesn’t pervade your mouth.

You book a ticket to Barcelona before it all comes back to you.

“Mapi and Ingrid are getting married”

“It’s a plague!”

Leah is unlacing her boots, the two of you the last ones in the changing room after an additional training session the blonde insisted you needed.

You’re playing in a slightly different position here, but you feel like those extra hours are more for her sake than your own, scared that you will find a way to avoid your new teammates if not involved in any possible activity.

You indulge her, you’re used to demanding and perfectionist captains after all.

“I have to go back to Barcelona”

“I bet, she’s gonna drag you there personally otherwise”

“María is not that―”

“I’m talking about Engen”, she smirks and she is right, Ingrid is way more effective in her convincing methods.

Still sitting on the bench in your training gear, you let her understand you’re not ready to leave yet. Not the room nor the conversation.

“What’s the problem, trotter?”

She managed to give you the worst nickname possible, making fun both of your way to run on the pitch and the fact you spent the past ten years in five different countries - it’s probably also a quip about the circumstances that bring you here but you give her the benefit of the doubt.

“No problem at all, I’m happy for them”

“They’re really cute”

“They are”, you miss them.

You miss the familiar embrace and the easy banter you share with María, you miss the warm support and the nights out with Ingrid, you miss the silence and the comforting methods Keira always found to take your homesickness away, you miss the funny and the cheerful attitude you wrap yourself around with Jana, Claudia and Ona. You miss them all.

You miss Alexia.

You miss how she always finds time to walk her dog out, doesn’t matter the weather or her busy schedule. You miss the subtle way she turns the radio’ volume up when a song she knows you like is on, and the not-so-subtle way she pretends to hate them all just to sing with you on the first chorus. You miss her body fitting perfectly all over your life, when moving in your house like it’s built around her, or when she’s ideally positioned on the pitch to receive your pass, or even when her hands find yours despite everything and everywhere you are.

You miss Alexia but you don’t deserve to grieve something you killed yourself.

“Do you need a pep talk from Kim?”

“Don’t you dare!”

Last time Leah called on your team captain to put up with your somber mood, you ended on the bench for two games yet sent her a nice bouquet as an apology - and as a thanks for the help.

“Look, you can’t hide from her forever”

“I can definitely try”

The smile she directs to you is both amused and bushed.

“I just don’t think our closest friend’s wedding is the best occasion to meet her for the first time after… well, after everything”, you admit while repeatedly hitting the changing room’s wall with the back of your head.

“Maybe not, maybe we will have to face them in the next Champion League’s draw”

She jinxed it.

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #ap11 #leah williamson x reader #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon x ingrid engen #here we go again #my wo(rd)so #dont know how to fell about this #let me know if you hate or love me #as always #please forgive my english and my spanish #Spotify

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hiya-says-hi-0402 · 10 months

Text

Dripping I jjk (m)

synopsis : You want an ice-cream but Jungkook wants something more.

pairing : bf!jk x y/n

genre : fluff, smut, one-shot, lowkey angst

warning : making out, fingering, explicit language, oral (f.rec), tits sucking, ice-cream play, unprotected sex, tied hands, dom!jk, overstimulation, mention of few health issues.

word count : 1.3k

a/n : its my first fic i hope u like it. feedback and constructive comments are highly welcomed. :)

........................................................................................................................

"Do you want an ice-cream ?" Jungkook ask, eyes focused on the road as he keeps driving toward his apartment after picking you up form your collage. Studying medicine is not an easy job, there is constant stress and pressure with huge pile of workload. He knows how hard you study so everytime he gets a chance to lift your mood he makes sure its not missed. And one of them is to pick you up form collage after his work if both of you warp-up at same time. Diverting your attention from the scenery outside you turn towards him to answer his question "I ate one earlier with the girls but surely won't mind another one." you say with a cheeky smile. He looks at you with narrowed eyes and a hint of anger in them "I don't think its something to laugh about you know how easily you catch cold. You should take care of yourself, the weather is getting colder and you catch cough and fever easily." he pauses then speaks again with a teasing tone "what kind of doctor will you be if you can't even take care of yourself hun?". You roll your eyes saying "OK dad thanks for the advice". He laughs at your annoyance saying "Its daddy to you babygirl."

Jungkook stops the car after few minutes in front of the convenience store and gets out for buying ice-cream. You spot him getting out of shop and narrow your eyes as you ask him "why did you buy tubs you know i like cones more I wanted to eat them now" he sits in car and says "we will eat at home while enjoying. ............................................................................................................................

You step into Jungkook's apartment announcing that you are going to freshen up first then eat the ice-cream he nods saying the same too. After doing so you are sitting now on the kitchen stool when he comes back from bathroom "should i take out the ice-cream in bowls?" with a pause he replies "i don't wanna eat ice-cream in bowls." You look at him with confusion meanwhile he throws you on his shoulder. You protest but its useless to do so if the man is twice of your size.

He throws you on bed and hovers over you delivering a sweet kiss on your lips which you gladly reply. Looking into your eyes and cupping your cheeks he says "I love you bub" you smile and reply "love you more". He kisses again but hands start moving down reaching the hem of your trousers and slowly disappearing inside them and then inside your panties. His head dips down licking your neck then again sucking your lips as your tongues fight for dominance. His fingers brushes your core making you shiver as he lightly starts rubbing your folds in up and down motion. "You are already so wet y/n and I have'nt even started yet . Only I can make you this wet right baby?" You bite your lip at his filthy mouth and agree with a hum. "words baby use your words" he says and you answer him as a moan "yes only you". He starts rubbing your folds faster and circles your clit which makes your eyes shut as you moan his name. He enters two fingers inside your heat fucking you roughly on his fingers as you clench around him. "Let go sweetheart cum for me like a good girl you are." and you do like a good girl. Your first orgasm of the night hits you hard as you lay there motionless. You feel him getting up and as you slowly open your eyes you see him entering the room with the spoon and ice-cream tub as he is setting them on the table. And then it hits you. Ohh

He takes his office tie from the night stand starts tying your hands with one end and other to the headboard after he has open your shirt and thrown it somewhere in the room. He dips down and kisses your earlobes, hands engulfing and lifting you up to open your bra. He stares at your bare chest then diverts his gaze to bring a spoon full of garpefruit ice-cream just above your chest and says " Its dripping , the ice- cream" you watch it as it drips on your chest and the site of it turns you on. He bring the spoon lower and smudge ice-cream on your breast. Setting the spoon aside he starts sucking your soft flesh like there is no tomorrow. He places hot open mouth kiss while licking the ice-cream from circumference of your breast gradually moving towards your erected buds. He closes his mouth around your left boob tongue aggressively flicking the nipples and hands giving equal attention to your right one. You try to free your tied hands screaming his name and begging for his touch. He keeps shifting between the two as his hand again move to your core when he feels you squirming as you can no longer endure the torture. He rubs your clit and your second orgasm of the night hits you. He gets up and rubs your stomach to calm you down then shift towards the end of the bed. He pulls down your trousers along with your panties and says "its dripping again, your sweet little pussy this time" you moan in frustration and his dirty mouth with hands still tied up. Taking a spoon of ice-cream again he traces it from your lower stomach to your pussy smudging all over it. "I love grapefruit" he says then dive down moving his tongue in folds of your cunt and flicking your clit with the tip "taste like heaven" he says. With long lick, harsh suck and hot open mouth kisses you feel your third wave hitting you and then it stops. Tears pooling around your eyes you ask him "why did you stop ?" he replies "its the last one you are gonna cum around my cock."

He moves forward untying your hands giving you a kiss as he made you sit up. Quickly discarding all his clothes he brings you on his lap over his cock lining up to the opening of your pussy, he teases you a few times by rubbing his cock to your opening. He lowers you down on his cock as you both moan at the sensation. He grabs your ass as you start bouncing on his cock, pressing light kisses on your shoulder and rubbing your back while appreciating your efforts. After five bounces you rest your head on his shoulder when the pleasure overstimulates you and you can't take it anymore, you speak softly "kook i can't now, i wanna come" he groans and says " few more love i am almost there please sweetheart". He gives you a hard thrust and starts rubbing your clit "Oh God" you scream "That's right baby I am your God." he says with a grunt. A few more as he said and you both reach your high. He pull out and you whine from the impact. Resting head on each others shoulder to calm down as he hold you tight while you are shaking. "Well it was the best ice-cream i have ever had." he says with a teasing tone you hear it but ignore, beyond exhausted to be in state of talking.

He gets up and goes inside the bathroom after gently putting you down as your still catching your breath. He comes back with a wet towel and starts cleaning your upper body and between your legs. You wince at the impact still sensitive from overstimulation, he speaks softly "sorry love I am trying to be careful". He throws towels in the laundry bags, turns off the lights and gets inside the covers with you as both go to sleep while holding each other.

©hiya-says-hi-0402 2022 ( do not copy or translate) !!Don't forget to like and re-blog.

#jungkook smut #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jk x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #romance #bts x you #bts imagines #bts #jk imagine #jjk fanfics

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flowerandblood · 4 months

Text

The Fall from the Heavens (3)

[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: oral sex, smut, angst, incest, obsession, violence, swearing, humiliation, chauvinism, mention of injury ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

When he learned of the death of Daemon's wife, he knew it was a sign from the gods that his time had come − Vhagar, the largest and oldest dragoness in the world, was left without a rider.

He thought that at last he would make his father proud, that he would take his niece to Essos as he had promised her.

It seemed to him that the heavens were finally smiling on him, that everything made sense and was slowly beginning to come together, that he could see above the mist that surrounded him his destiny.

As he fled from the fortress in the middle of the night he thought only of the fact that he might die and hoped that if he did, his betrothed would mourn him greatly and never marry any other man.

Her sign of love and loyalty, of respect for his sacrifice for her and their future family.

Vhagar was frightening and huge, like a giant, dark, moving mountain, with her every movement the earth shook around her; he couldn't believe it when she obeyed his command, his body trembled as he climbed the ropes to the great saddle on her back, he screamed with fear and joy as she flew with him into the skies.

He was the rider of the greatest dragon in the world.

He was like Visenya, like Aegon the Conqueror, and his future wife was like sweet Rhaenys.

Everything was as it should be.

He ran through the underground caverns to wake her and tell her everything, to kiss her, to spend the night in her embrace and listen to her assurances that he was fearless, that he was brave and that she was proud to become the wife of the man who had become the rider of the most powerful dragon flying in the skies in their lifetime.

It was then that he came upon them.

He thought he would never let them humiliate himself again, that bastards or weak, quivering little girls who couldn't even tame a dragon would never stand in his way again.

All that mattered was her, and though he knew she would be upset, he felt that she would forgive him, that she would understand that this was revenge for all the years of humiliation he had suffered from them.

And then Luke cut his face with his blade − he suddenly heard his own loud, squeaky, almost girlish scream and grabbed his left eye where he had lost his sight completly.

He was given poppy milk to ease his pain and a stick was put in his mouth that he was told to clamp his teeth on; his mother cried out loud, horrified when she saw what had happened to him, the maester said the eye could not be saved and would have to be taken out.

That he would be a cripple.

He wailed and screamed, feeling the cut of the heated blade on his skin, struggling and writhing like an animal, tied to a chair, and then he stopped feeling anything, staring dully ahead, his mother and Aegon unable to look at it.

He saw her as if in a dream, and though she always smiled at the sight of him, this time she screamed loudly, terror and fear in her eyes.

She covered her mouth with her hand trying to hold back the sounds that came from her throat.

Then he understood.

So what if he had claimed a dragon, if she would never desire him again?

How would she force herself to marry someone who was from now on supposed to look like him?

He returned to King's Landing with the thought that all was lost and he didn't want to see anyone, much less her.

He didn't want her tears of sympathy, her assurances that she still loved him, her pity, the fact that in order not to offend him she would refrain from showing how disgusted she now was by his face.

He was no fool.

Her letter only angered him − he tore it into little pieces clenching his lips, thinking she was an idiot, giving him books now that he had lost one eye, reminding him that he would never see well again, that he would always be defective, that he would have to learn everything from the beginning.

However, as soon as he did so he immediately regretted it and burst out crying, looking at the pieces of parchment lying on his sheets, thinking of how he wished he could read it again because it was her handwriting, her words to him.

His conviction of his ugliness and the fact that what had happened crossed him out in her eyes as a man she could desire deepened his state into complete withdrawal, sinking into the darkness of his thoughts, fears and desires.

He needed someone to loathe, to throw all his ill emotions at, and he had chosen Luke as such a person, however it was the thoughts and dreams of her that kept him awake at night.

Waiting for her letters was his obsession.

She sent one every two months, always on the same day, for many years. At first they were short and full of uncertainty, but then it seemed to him that she had the impression that he didn't read them anyway, so she began to write and confide in someone who no longer existed, revealing to him the darkness and suffering of her own heart.

He was embarrassed by his own reactions, that whenever he saw a sealed message from her lying on his table he would take it reverently and sit down on a chair by the fire, as if in some kind of ceremony pulling off the lac and unrolling it slowly, feeling his heart beat fast.

Dragonstone appears to me like a prison, like a black coffin, the sky above me full of clouds. I can't remember the last time light dawned in my heart − when I wake up I wonder for a moment about the meaning of it all, only to realise that thinking about it is pointless, it only sinks me further into the darkness.

It seems that the more I move away from what surrounds me, the greater the silence that settles in my head.

After what happened something inside me died.

Not in the aspect of my body, but in the sense of a conviction that something is missing, like when you look in a mirror reassembled from hundreds of pieces and, even though it is whole again, you can clearly see its cracks.

I wonder, are you sleeping well, uncle? Are you having nightmares again? I often return in my dreams to that night. I see you and although I want to say something, I can't get anything out, just as I did then. I wake up with the conviction that I am still a child.

I pray a lot, although I don't know myself to which gods anymore. I guess to any of who would be willing to listen to me. They don't answer me, just like you.

He repeated to himself in his mind that he would read her despairing, feminine ramblings to mock her, but in fact he was immersed in her thoughts, in her world, trying to imagine her, analysing each word with pietism, returning to the sentences that had taken the most root in his heart and would not leave him afterwards for days.

He read her letters for hours, treating such evenings like a sacred day, running his thumb over his lower lip, staring dully ahead in the light of the blazing fire, thinking of her words.

Although he pretended that what she wrote meant nothing to him, once in a while, usually when he was waiting for her next message, he would take all her letters and read them one by one, analysing how her handwriting had changed, now much prettier and assured, how her choice of words had evolved, rich and full of metaphors.

He knew that, like him, she read a lot.

She never brought up the matter of his or her family, the details of their conflict, their betrothal and the fact that his mother had insisted that he marry one of Lord Baratheon's daughters.

When he learned that Rhaenyra planned to marry his niece to her cousin of House Arryn he grabbed all her letters she had sent him over the years, which he kept locked in his wooden drawer, and almost threw them into the fire, hesitating at the last moment, squeezing them in his hand, panting with rage.

Although he kept repeating to himself that it was a good thing he wouldn't have to take a bastard wife, immediately his mind went into a fury at the thought that she might have become someone else's mistress, borne children to other man, and he found himself sinking into her letters again, as if re-appropriating her in this way.

He feared nothing more than that one day she would stop writing to him.

He dreaded what he would do then.

The days when Aegon could mess with him were long gone. His older brother the drunkard knew he was no match for him in hand-to-hand combat, he was taller, smarter and stronger than he was.

Yet it was Aegon who was to inherit everything that would not fall to Rheanyra as future queen.

He wanted to be his opposite in every sense of the word; his appearance made him even more isolated from the opposite sex and he didn not look at women at all, spending long hours in the Great Sept with his mother praying at her request.

If it had been up to him, he would have prayed to the gods of Old Valyria, but he saw her loneliness and loss, and wanted to be a support for her, a son she would be proud of.

Despite what he tried to tell himself, the tension he felt as a man grew stronger within him, even more so in the evenings when he leaned over her letters again, when he thought of her scent, of her hand holding the quill.

He wondered involuntarily what she looked like now, what he would notice if he undressed her, if he exposed her bare breasts to him.

Would they fit in his hand, would they be soft and warm?

Would she moan sweetly if he touched her there?

He tilted his head back, trying to read further, settling himself more comfortably in the chair, his free hand slipping under his breeches, gripping his already half-hard, throbbing manhood.

He imagined that it wasn't his hand but hers that was touching him, that she wasn't disgusted by him, that just like before her hands were stroking his cheeks, her lips were finding his in a sweet, warm kiss.

A murmur escaped his throat at the thought, a wave of heat surged over him and he quickened, fucking himself with his own hand until he came with a low sigh of relief, imagining that she was sitting on top of him, that he had just filled her with his seed, that she was begging him not to stop.

However, when he regained his sanity he felt rage and shame.

He hid her letters in a drawer and did not take them out for weeks, as if offended that it was their fault he had to pray again and beg the gods for forgiveness.

He promised himself that this would not happen again, however, it always ended the same way.

The knowledge that he could not forget her enraged and calmed him at the same time, as if this state was natural, the parallel hatred and desire for her became one and the same in his eyes.

He hated her because he desired her, desired her because he could not have her, could not have her because he hated her.

He locked himself in this circle, not allowing anyone to see what was poisoning his mind and heart.

If in the poems women appeared innocent and bright, she was to him the symbol of his downfall, his flame of his eternal suffering, which burned him every day, but which he did not dare to extinguish knowing that complete darkness would then prevail inside him.

When it became known that Vaemond Velaryon had challenged Luke's claim to the throne of Driftmark he laughed out loud at the Small Council meeting, amused, embarrassing his mother and grandfather.

He thought the gods were cruel but fair.

The grin disappeared from his face, replaced by a strong heartbeat when their Queen conveyed that Rhaenyra, along with her entire family, would appear in King's Landing in a few days to settle the matter.

With her entire family.

He sat by the fireplace that evening, running his thumb over his lips, feeling that there was complete panic in his mind, hundreds of thoughts running through his head.

He wasn't ready for this.

He didn't want to see her.

He wanted nothing more than to see her again.

He was disgusted by her and her brothers, by the fact that he would be sitting at the same table with her.

Would she touch him with her soft hand? Did she still smell of vanilla? Would she whisper that she missed him?

What was he to answer if she did?

Mock her, tell her that she should retain the remnants of her dignity.

Tear off her gown, press his lips to her bare body, saying that he would sooner kill her than let her marry someone else.

He let out a loud shuddering breath, burying his face in his hand, feeling like his head was about to explode, his heart pounding like mad.

He had the feeling that he was losing his mind, that he was descending into madness.

When he saw Jace and Luke among the crowds, when he saw how small and skinny they were compared to him, when he saw their mouths wide open in shock as they realised who they were looking at, he thought he had never felt more satisfied in his life.

"Nephews. Have you come to train?" He asked in a deep, teasing voice feigning concern as he played with the hilt of his sword in his hand, flipping it between his fingers.

He wanted nothing more than to humiliate them in public.

His musings and wild excitement were interrupted by Vaemond's entrance into the courtyard − he grinned broadly at the sight of him, feeling a sense of satisfaction, sighing quietly, thinking of how the gods had rewarded his patience.

He turned impatiently, extending his hand to his servant, willing him to hand him another wooden shield and froze in half-step, out of the corner of his eye noticing a silhouette looking at him from the cloisters.

It seemed his heart knew who was standing there even before it reached his mind, for it began to pound like mad, his breath stopped in his throat.

He forced himself to look there again and that's when he saw her − he couldn't believe how much she had changed.

Although he could see the obvious features and similarities by which he recognised her immediately, her eyes, her eyelashes, the shade of her hair, the shape of her nose and face, it seemed to him that if she had been a bud when she left the Red Keep, she was now a flower that had blossomed, a ripe fruit that begged to be plucked, to bite into its flesh.

It occurred to him, looking at the unashamedly exposed bare skin of her shoulders, that it must have been pleasantly soft and warm.

He imagined his lips brushing the hollow of her neck, the scent of vanilla he would smell and he shuddered, ashamed and horrified at how hard his manhood throbbed in his breeches.

This sight, so clear, blunt, final, completely shocked him, and though it lasted only a moment, he managed to remember the shape of her breasts and hips, the shape of her mouth, her terrified gaze full of longing, from which he felt a tightness in his throat and this huge, overwhelming, cruel desire.

He turned away from her, furious, thrusting his sword at Criston, their blades clashing in the air with a loud clang of steel.

That evening he felt that something hung in the air, he felt her presence in the keep, he had the impression that if he turned he would see her silhouette behind him.

He played between his fingers with his dagger and looked at it, wondering if he would feel relief if he killed her, if he would then regain control of his body and mind again.

Maybe it was the right path.

Maybe it was because of her that he was unable to move on.

He shuddered and tensed all over when he heard a quiet knock on the door to his chamber − he felt a cold sweat on the back of his neck, knowing that it was her, that destiny had reached him.

He felt it in his bones.

He wanted to remain silent, he wanted to show her that she no longer had access to his world, that he recognised years ago that there was no way for them that they could walk together.

I pray a lot, although I don't know myself to which gods anymore. I guess to any of who would be willing to listen to me. They don't answer me, just like you.

He closed his eye, feeling a squeeze in his throat at the thought of those three sentences that echoed through his mind and heart like a bell, that undeniable desire on her part to be reunited with him that he pretended not to share.

"Come in." He said coldly, feeling the thrill of excitement, his heart pounding so hard that he felt like it was going to burst out of his chest.

The door opened with a quiet creak of wood, and she appeared in it, surrounded by the glow of candlelight, looking like a saint, like a ghost, like an innocent, sweet maiden who was lost in the black maze that had always been meant to lead her to him.

He resigned himself to the fact that there was no escape from it.

She closed the door behind her and turned to look at him; he wasn't sure if it was the flames that was trembling or if it was her body that was quivering all over with fear, in her big eyes terror, desire, suffering, everything she had written to him about.

Only after a moment did he realise that his jaw was clenched, that he was involuntarily still playing with his dagger in his hand as he looked at the indistinct silhouette of her naked body peeking through from under her nightgown, her long dark hair loose, its curls falling freely over her back.

He felt his length throbbing hard at the thought of her coming to him dressed as a lover, as if she were his, and he licked his lower lip with his tongue, catching himself breathing loudly.

Gods, how long he had waited for this.

"Did you received my letters?" She asked quietly, as usual without any further pleasantries, her voice trembled slightly betraying her fear. He shuddered to hear that she no longer sounded like a child, the way she spoke was melodious and pleasant, soft, warm.

"Yes." He replied in a low, deep voice, sounding like an echo in an endless, dark bottomless well. He saw that she blinked rapidly, as if she hadn't expected such an answer; she pressed her lips together and swallowed loudly, gathering the courage to say more.

She knew she had ventured into the dragon's cave and might never leave it again.

He knew, he felt that she was aware of what was on his mind, that she saw it in his gaze.

"Have you read them?" She asked at last, there was something final in her question.

He parted his lips slightly, lifting his chin in a defiant gesture, stretching comfortably in his chair, wondering if he should humiliate her with words that he had burned them all.

To let her know that she no longer meant anything to him.

He wanted to say it, but he couldn't.

"Yes, my Lady Strong. I have read them all. Many times, here, in this chair." He hummed, running the blade of his dagger across the armrest, making a deep, chiseled line on it.

Go on, he thought, ask me why I didn't write back, what I thought of your tendentious, weepy musings, what I thought of your feminine, touching guilt, of your weakness, of your coming to me now like a dog to beg forgiveness.

She, however, asked nothing.

He shuddered and threw her a surprised glance as she suddenly moved ahead and walked around his chamber, as if she had lost interest in the subject, making him feel discomfort, as if he had lost control of the situation, his advantage over her.

"Does your mother-whore know you're here?" He asked dryly, coldly, wanting to take away her confidence, to embarrass her, to strike at her dignity, reminding her that she herself had come to a grown man in such a shameless negligee.

She, however, merely threw him a surprised glance as she approached his bookshelves, the small one he had been given as a child replaced by three new ones, made of oak wood, high to the ceiling, filled to the brim.

She reached for one of the volumes and he felt a squeeze in his throat when he saw that she had taken out The Reflections on the Dignity of the Ancient Philosopher Areon.

"My, as you put it, mother-whore, never knew when I visited you, uncle. I was very determined not to be caught." She said calmly, but with an air of regret and weariness, as if the situation between them was tiring her, as if she believed that facing him like a ghost from the past would allow her to move on.

He thought they both could have done it, but he wasn't sure if the blade he held in his hand wouldn't have cut her neck then.

The thought that someone else might touch her body made him furious.

He snorted, turning his gaze to the flames, involuntarily turning his dagger in his hand − he grinned despite being tense and bitter.

"Do you often visit men like this?" He asked reluctantly, though inside he was dying to prove to himself that surely she had already slept with her guards or other men who would give her pleasure, that the sweet, innocent girl he remembered was long gone.

He heard her footsteps and felt her presence; he lifted his eyes to her, surprised, and noticed that her gaze was cloudy, her brow furrowed.

She looked as if she had been exceptionally offended by those very words.

"Have you no shame?" She asked him in a cool, trembling voice; he could feel the pain in the way she asked the question, his lips tightened into a thin line.

He was struck by how direct the question was.

He wasn't used to being spoken to like that.

But before he had time to respond with anything, to finally stab her in the back with words that were like poison, she began to speak, as if a dam had suddenly burst inside her and her thoughts poured out at him.

"I don't know who you are, the man who sits now before me, but if there is even a fragment of the boy I was meant to marry in you, let that boy know that he was and will be the only one in my heart. He was my best friend and I failed him. It is hard to live with the thought that someone you loved so deeply has died in a way, but there is neither a grave to pray over nor any hope of peace for his soul. What I fear is that the boy I knew has disappeared among the darkness and is dying in it every day."

He was ashamed that he felt a squeeze in his throat, that he felt a burning under his eyelids, that his heart was pounding like mad, that he froze completely in disbelief and shock as he stared at her wide-eyed.

She was crying in front of him, as if she was really mourning someone's death, and he didn't know what to do, even if he wanted to humiliate her, tell her to leave, he couldn't get anything out of himself.

He drew in air loudly and his whole body stiffened, the dagger fell out of his hand with loud clatter when she surprised him completely by sitting down on his lap, snuggling into him like a little child and burst out sobbing.

He had the feeling that she was not embracing him in the here and now, but a figure from the past that she missed so much.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She whined in a desperate, trembling, quavering voice − he felt he was struggling to catch his breath, his nostrils filled with her scent, the smell of vanilla, her familiar warmth, his manhood hidden beneath his breeches swelled in response to this sudden, unexpected closeness.

She shuddered feeling it and looked up at him, her face flooded with tears, terrified and ashamed, her gaze asking him what she had just felt underneath her. He began to breathe through his mouth, feeling the panic rising inside him because of the heat he felt in his lower abdomen.

There were drops of her tears on her eyelashes, her eyes big, her gaze hot, tender, terrified, her cheeks flushed with emotion, her lips puffy and plump, slightly parted in an accelerated breath.

"Can I kiss you?"

He wasn't sure if he really heard it, it seemed to have only resounded in his head as his memory of that sunny day, but involuntarily he leaned lower.

He sighed as if relieved when her arms suddenly embraced his neck, her breasts snuggled into his tunic, and her wonderfully wet, soft lips pressed against his in a sticky, loud kiss.

They both moaned into each other's mouths as they felt him throb under her again, harder this time − he wasn't sure if it was his will that guided the movements of his hands as one clamped down on her hip and the other on the back of her neck, holding her in place, not allowing her lips to pull away from his as he slid his tongue deep into her throat.

They both trembled as he tentatively began to rock his hips, rubbing against her, overwhelmed by her familiar closeness and scent, her so-needed, gentle hands stroking his hair and cheeks, her thumb running over his scar under his eye patch.

The sight of her body, her sweetly parted lips, her hot gaze in which everything lurked, and her scent, the smell of fucking vanilla filled his entire mind.

He rubbed against her his already hard cock again and again, sliding his free hand under her chemise, placing it on her naked, hot hip, digging his fingertips into her skin, his manhood reacting to his movements instantly with a strong, pleasurable throbbing, he involuntarily began to pant.

He saw the blush on her sweet, innocent face, her hips in a slow, smooth motion began to move back and forth, pressing what was underneath her; he shuddered all over feeling it and they both sighed quietly as her fingers ran over his scarred cheek.

"− uncle −" She whispered softly into his mouth, exactly like in his dreams, like when he touched himself between his thighs with his hand, with longing and desire.

He was unable to remember when she pressed her sweet-tasting lips to his, hugging her soft breasts into the fabric of his tunic, what the reason for their disagreement was, it seemed to him to be completely trivial and unfounded.

He thought it was obvious that the lovers had argued with each other and then reconciled.

That was all he thought about as he undid the ties of her nightgown, sucking and caressing her mouth, jaw and neck with his swollen lips, leaving wet, hot marks on her skin, his hands slid it slowly off her shoulders, revealing her bare body, her lovely breasts, unashamedly before him.

He delighted in this sight, almost mythological, noble, for breasts were the joy of husbands and the source of milk for their offspring, something beautiful, admirable.

He could feel her trembling all over in his hands, terrified by her negligee; he was sure now that no one had ever seen her naked before him and this thought spread like a wonderful, hot wave through his body.

"− easy − your husband will treat your body with proper respect −" He murmured in a deep voice trembling with arousal, his large hand grasped one of her breast and squeezed it tentatively; he sighed feeling how warm and soft it was, he heard her surprised moan.

He grasped her cheeks in his fingers, with a brutal, sudden movement drawing her face closer to his; his hand slid lower, ran over her soft, wet, full lips. She moaned helplessly because of the increasingly rapid bucking of his hips, the bulge in his breeches rubbing against the spot between her legs.

"− please −" She babbled, and he decided to take pity on her, sliding his tongue deep inside her throat, stifling her loud mewl, his fingers began to tease and play with her nipple, her whole body shivered; he felt her hands tighten in his hair, her lips melt into his in a quick, hot dance of saliva and teeth.

"− uh − I − I feel a tickling inside me, uncle −" She mumbled out as innocently as if she really didn't know what was happening to her, as if she wanted him to help her understand what her body was trying to tell her, however he, hearing this, lost his temper.

Despite the material of his breeches separating them where their bodies met, he could feel her moisture.

She was wet.

She wanted him inside her.

"− it's understandable − you missed your uncle − hm? −" He whispered into her mouth with a kind of tenderness and understanding that surprised him, as if it had been obvious that this was how it would end. She nodded quickly like a child who agreed with his teacher, who wanted to be guided, to be shown what was right.

She squealed as he stood up with her, holding her in his arms, just thinking about the fact that he hadn't felt this calm for years, the sight of her, the smell of her made his head spin.

He couldn't even remember why he was mad at her, why he hadn't written her back, why he wanted to kill her.

How could he ever hurt her, his sweet little wife?

"− lie on your back − yes, just like that −" He murmured with delight, looking at her partially exposed body; her lips was pink and puffy from his caresses, her breathing quick as she looked at him dreamily, watching as he began to undo the fastenings of his tunic, getting rid of it and his chemise, leaving only his breeches.

He climbed onto the bed with a loud creak of wood, not quite sure what he should do, sensing subconsciously, however, that this was the day of their reunion, their reconciliation after years of separation, the figures of Lord Baratheon's daughters and Lord Arryn's son seemed to him nothing more than a joke.

Aegon spoke to him of how wonderful it was to taste the woman between their thighs, that they quivered with delight when he licked them there, and since he would devour her whole if he could, he decided to try.

She was horrified and distraught when she saw his face between her thighs; she tried to push him away, asking him fearfully what he was going to do, but only tilted her head back as his tongue ran over her leaking, throbbing, hot womanhood, the sound she made surprised even him.

"− o-oh, gods −" She whimpered as he licked devotedly what spilled out of her, the taste and flesh of his wife, her proof that she didn't despise him, that she still wanted him, that her tight cunt was waiting for him and for his caresses.

"− have you touched yourself here? −" He asked between one lick of his tongue and the next, her thighs trembling in his hands, her fingers clenched in his hair, trying to rub against his face. He grinned involuntarily sensing her desperation, seeing that she nodded and ran the tip of his nose over the bud hidden between her folds, she moaned loudly when he did it.

Encouraged, he grasped it in his mouth and began to suck on it, licking it with his tongue; her whole body arched, uncontrollable moans erupted from her mouth. He tried to cover her lips with his hand, fearing that someone would eventually hear it, but she clamped her hands on his wrist, blocking his movements.

"− please, uncle, too much − too much −" She whined out trying to escape; he stopped, seeing that her body was shaking in convulsions, surprised how sensitive the female body was and how many secrets it hid.

He thought he now understood why it was Rhaenys that Aegon the Conqueror wanted in his bed.

In the art of the body, one could not be aggressive and brutal as on the battlefield.

What they were doing was some sort of a feast, tasting and satisfying their desires, full of moistures and hot embraces.

He hummed as he leaned down again and slipped his tongue deep inside her, feeling how rough and wet her fleshy walls were, groaning quietly as her wonderful taste spread across his palate.

"− uncle − mghmm −" She mumbled breathing hard, with each flick of his tongue drifting away more and more, he could feel her insides pulsing all over around nothing.

"− it'll be wonderful to feel it clench around my cock one day − don't you think, sweet niece? −" He asked, pressing his face closer to her body, licking and rubbing her walls at the spot that when he touched it with the tip of his tongue she trembled the most, moaning helplessly, her hips coming up to meet his face, her breathing getting louder and louder.

"− oh g-gods, Aemond − oh gods,oh gods,oh gods −" She mewled, startling him as she raised herself up on her elbow, tilting her head back, bliss and delight painted on her face, her plump, glossy lips parted in sweet moans as if in disbelief that something so wonderfully pleasurable had shaken her body.

It was the first time he had ever seen female fulfilment and it was a stunning, wonderful sight.

He groaned low as he felt how much moisture flowed out of her, kissing her hot, throbbing entrance devotedly, slowly licking everything off, not wanting to waste a drop, even though she begged him to stop.

Everything he drank from her was for him, the wonderful nectar of his sweet wife.

He rose on his knees, wiping his face with his hand, looking at her in disbelief, panting loudly; she lay as if without strength, with her hands spread on either side of her head, her plump, puffy lips slightly parted in ragged breath.

His niece.

"Touch me." He demanded, slipping off his breeches, taking her hand in his, with a desperate, sudden movement clamping her fingers on his swollen, twitching manhood, leaking from his own wetness. They both moaned helplessly when, with movements of his hand, he showed her how she was to touch him.

She looked up at him in shame, squeezing him with sure up and down strokes, feeling him throb all over in her grasp; he rocked his hips involuntarily, sensing that he was embarrassingly close to fulfillment.

"− fuck − fuck, come here −" He gasped, grabbing her by her hair, forcing her to rise up and kiss him − their lips collided in a sticky, messy kiss, the combination of their tongues and their saliva, the smell of her, the sight of her bare body, the scent of her sex, her moisture around them, proof of what they were doing.

Against their gods, against their family.

He didn't care what happened next.

"− don't fucking stop − faster − oh fuck-fuck-fuck −" He growled out and moaned low, surprised at the helpless sound that came from his throat, coming with a sigh of relief onto her nightgown, his translucent, pearly spend spurting out onto her, startling her; he hushed her with his kisses, whispering to her between the sticky brushes of their lips.

"− easy, it's just me − shhh −" He whispered, letting go of her hand, allowing her to release her grip, her fingers all sticky with his seed.

"− lick it off − don't waste a drop −" He growled, wrinkling his eyebrows and she swallowed loudly, obediently licking her finger after finger, looking him straight in the eye. He watched her with satisfaction, thinking of how obedient and good a wife she would indeed be.

"− you are going to spend the night with me −"

______

From the author: In Stay and love, leave and die oneshot Aemond would not allow her to enter his chamber, he would remain silent - in his opinion, she had forgotten about him and suddenly wanted to regain his favor, which he found pathetic and irritating, not worth his attention. None of her letters reached him through the years, having been intercepted and burned by Otto. The next day, he informed his mother that either she would leave the Red Keep or he would, and she decided to return to Dragonstone so as not to escalate the conflict. In that universe, they actually speak to each other only in Strom's End.

______

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

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comicaurora · 1 year

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do you have any tips on writing soft magic systems? I only ever see them talked about when people are comparing it to hard magic systems or criticising it, which is a shame because I love systems where magic is just in the background being unimportant, with implied rules that will never be explained

god I wrote up like eight paragraphs of explanation and I was really working out some cool stuff there and then the app glitched and destroyed it all and I'm so upset

Unfortunately this reduces to a previous problem, which is "figure out how Tolkien did it and then do that."

Middle Earth is laden with magic. Hobbits being good at hiding is magic. There's a random throne in the ruins at the end of Fellowship that lets whoever sits in it see literally the entire world, and that's hella magic. Aragorn radiates One True King magic and occasionally heals people with a touch. Galadriel's mirror lets people see any point in time, past or future. Gandalf knows several spells, but most of the time he's doing less granular stuff by making lights or small fires or going all Servant Of The Secret Fire Wielder Of The Flame Of Anor etc etc. Elves are inherently so magical that the words of their language are never forgotten by anyone who hears them, the laws of physics don't apply to them, their havens are magically pleasant and beautiful, and the planet itself is magical for them - flat for the elves, round for everybody else.

The benefit of a soft magic system is that it produces a feeling in the characters and audience that the world is vast, wonderful and unknowable. It's at its best when it can answer why, but not how.

Why did the old empire of men have a throne that let you see the entire world? That makes sense! It's hugely tactically advantageous! HOW did they get the damn thing? No idea, doesn't matter, they clearly made it work somehow because the throne's right there. Why does Galadriel's mirror give you limited, randomized omniscience? Because while it's a useful tool if you can use it, seeing the future is a dicey and weird game, and the future can change if someone knows it's coming. HOW does riverwater in a birdbath do that? No idea.

Soft magic systems start running into difficulties when the writer needs to decide how it can or can't solve a given situation, which is a very common issue in storytelling, a format almost entirely centered on problems and solutions. For hard magic systems with clear parameters on what is and isn't possible, this is comparatively quite easy. The wizard can't magic this problem away because-

They're out of spell slots :(

They don't know a specific spell that can do that specific thing

There's another caster nearby stopping them

The object that lets them do magic isn't working

They need to speak words/do gestures/use materials to cast, and they can't for whatever reason

There's something "antimagic" around stopping them

Etc etc. The possibilities are easy to run through, because the "how" is clearly defined, and can be negated into a "how NOT." If magic uses spell slots, stop the characters using it by taking those slots away. If magic needs a material focus, break or destroy it. This prevents magic from feeling like an unsatisfying "a wizard did it" fix for all difficulties because the wizards can only do specific things under specific circumstances.

Soft magic systems can contrive answers to this too, but it can be a bit tricky to justify, and if it's Too Convenient it can feel like the magic system really just does what the writer needs it to do. When asked "why can't magic solve this problem?" soft magic systems can answer in several ways:

Too tired, sorry :( magic is Taxing and stuff so the caster can tip over whenever's convenient

They're in a Bad Vibes zone that's hindering their ability to cast because soft magic can be impeded by soft problems like "somebody was very mean here once"

That specific magic is tied to a specific location, like a magical elf forest, and doesn't work outside of it because it's intrinsic to the place and can't be replicated

There's another magical being around and their kung-fu is more powerful

These explanations work, but that's conditional on the story not making the audience think the magic SHOULD work in this situation, and this is entirely based on what's been established in the story thus far. If the wizard has been able to fly up until now, parking the gang at the bottom of the cliff and saying "sorry, fly machine broke" feels contrived. But if we've only ever seen other, intrinsically magical beings fly, the audience is unlikely to expect that the party's humble wizard will suddenly bust out a set of feathery wings as a gift from baby jesus himself. On the writing side, it's really a matter of feeling it out and making sure nothing feels too jarring - if the character who's previously displayed a certain specific space of abilities suddenly does something completely unrelated (like going from clairvoyance to slinging fireballs, or from a healing touch to earthbending) that feels inconsistent AND it teaches the audience that this soft magic system is softer than they realized, and can then make it much harder for the writer to then convince them that this caster CAN'T spontaneously manifest a power or gimmick that'll save them. But if the magical characters or objects operate within a specific space - one character that specializes in fire, one object that specializes in remote viewing, one artifact that lets its holder control the winds - then the audience will expect and accept things that fit in those broad, soft categories without speculating too much on the underlying "how" of their mechanics.

But the temptation to explain "how" is very strong for writers, and soft magic systems especially have trouble with this, because soft magic systems start calcifying into fragmentary hard systems when they're forced to explain "how". It locks in a hard-defined axiom that can be logically extrapolated. Because a soft system is not DESIGNED for that kind of internal logic, doing that will usually cause axiomatic collisions as they contradict one another. If a hard system is a crisp, geometric crystalline structure where any tangent line drawn through it will intersect cleanly with other lines in very predictable ways, adding "how"s to a soft magic system is like drawing tangent lines through a bowl of pudding - you're gonna get a lot of intersections in awkward places.

To pull an example out of absolutely nowhere, if a soft system without clear rules establishes something like "this spell can be used to summon an object towards the caster, but it DOES NOT WORK on living things", there are a number of questions that can become relevant:

Who made that spell to have those limitations?

Why can't WE make spells that DON'T have that limitation?

How is the spell defining "living things"? Would it work on a plant or a skeleton or a piercing in someone's body?

Why did you let this character use it on a living thing anyway, joanne?

In a lot of soft systems that try to lock in hard spell parameters, "who made these spells" and "why can't WE make spells" become the first and most obvious axiomatic clash. If magic can be created to do what the caster wants, why and how does that work, and why can't WE do it? This forces the writer to come up with an explanation to solve the clash without letting the protagonists make up whatever spells they want, therefore solving all plot problems forever - sometimes something like "the inventors of spells were intrinsically magical beings, like elves or dragons or whatever, and thus we ordinary scrub mortals can't make new ones." That's a functional explanation, but it reduces to a previous problem again - that this hard-ish magic system was created by someone with access to an unstructured soft system.

In a soft magic system, the only answer to the question "how does this magical thing work" is "because magic." If any other explanation is needed, things rapidly collapse into hard lines and axioms and covering for edge cases. How can elves run on powder snow, shoot targets in the dark and see for hundreds of miles? They're magical. Does that mean they can fly like a balrog or sling fire like gandalf or control weather like saruman maybe can? No, of course not, that's not their kind of magic and we have no reason to expect it from them. They're just magic. Magic means a lot of different things, and in a soft system the audience has to operate based on vibes rather than rules.

This can be difficult to balance. For instance, Star Wars has a soft system in The Force, and if you squint, every single movie and show uses it differently. It's not super disruptive to the audience's immersion because it's never framed like a Hard System with Hard Rules and it almost never pulls something out of COMPLETELY nowhere, but if you look at what it does from movie to movie and then show to show, it expands from "influence the wills of the weak-minded", "seeing the future a little bit" and "force choking" to "general telekinesis" and "limited telepathy" to "FUCKING LIGHTNING FROM THE HANDS MAN" which is a hell of a twist the first time you see it, to some even more buckwild stuff in the two different animated Clone Wars (like Mace Windu fighting an entire droid army Samurai Jack style and using the force to pull every bolt out of one of them at once, or the planet with the living incarnations of the Light and Dark Side) and the explanation never goes further than "The Force is magic, it's in everything, people who are good at The Force can use it to do a buncha stuff." It's not consistent, it doesn't have rules, but the audience accepts that Force users can just kind of do stuff that fits the Vibes of the stuff it's already been shown it can do. And as SOON as they tried to say "The Force is strong in people who have LOTS OF MIDICHLORIANS" everybody hated it, because it gave us a "how" answer to a question nobody wanted to ask and it made this pervasive, wonderous, soft magic system that Surrounds And Binds Us Luminous Beings Are We into "we are space wizards because we contain an above-average number of bugs."

As a chronic worldbuilder myself, I absolutely understand the impulse to explain and overexplain and lock in the Hows and the Whys, but as far as I can figure it, soft magic systems live and die on the writer's ability to restrain themselves from saying "how." The answer is "magic." The rest is just writing the story in such a way that "magic" doesn't become plot-breaking.

#asks #writing stuff

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the-soliloquies-of-sadists · 5 months

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#381

“Wakey wakey. Time to wake up…. Don’t try to move around too much. As you are realizing, you are in a predicament. You are lying in my basement, buck naked, tied up, gagged, collared, with a fuck pillow under your pelvis. You ain’t going anywhere, anytime soon….

“We’ve never met, but we know each other. We both do the same thing for work, but we are nothing alike. This is what’s happening. I am part of a nameless organization that takes faggots, trains them to be slaves, and sells them to buyers from around the world. From what I’ve been told over the years, the faggots delivered to me want to drop off the grid and sold into slavery. They turn themselves in to a collector, who then has them delivered to me. I don’t know if that’s true as I don’t let any of the faggots talk other than to say, ‘Yes Sir!’

“Now for you, I was told your backstory. It seems that you are a collector for a different kind of group. I train fags who offer themselves up for the taking. You seem to prefer the non-consensual abductions of twelve- to fifteen-year-old girls. I don’t care that you prefer pussy over dicks, but I do draw the line with their age.

“As I said, I was told what you are. That never happens. Ever. But it appears that you approached the ten-year-old niece of one of higher ups in the organization, and he recognized what and who you were. That stupid move brought you here.

“I have no idea who the higher up is nor do I care. Hell, we don’t know any of the men that are in the other parts of my organization, let alone hear from them. So I found it surprising to get a call from a higher up—who I haven’t heard from in a few years—that I am to train you personally. You better fucking believe that I’m going to train the fuck out of you.

“I have been training faggots for nearly forty years. This is my farm you are on. Twelve hundred acres. Twelve hundred acres with some of the most advanced surveillance and anti-escape deterrents. I know of every person who steps foot on my property, and I know if a slave is ten feet away from where it is supposed to be. The ankle cuffs, wrist cuffs, and collar have tracking devices in them. The collar can deliver a shock to keep you in line at a moment’s notice. And the ankle cuffs are set up that if you go beyond a certain perimeter, a numbing agent is injected causing your legs to go numb and become useless. Escape is not possible. In my twenty years at this location, I have only had one slave make it off property, but it was collected within three minutes of doing so. That slave was brought back and tortured in front of all the other slaves as a deterrent. And that was before all the tracking technology was put in. So keep that in mind if you decide to do something stupid.

“Now,… for the past five minutes, I have been telling you the predicament you find yourself in. I have been watching your reaction. Being gagged, you can’t say anything, but your body language says it all. You seem too calm and not surprised at the description of my organization. No reaction really. That tells me that you are familiar with an operation like this. When I tell you that you were collected for stalking that niece, you don’t look shocked by that accusation. That pretty much confirms what I was told,… not that it matters otherwise.

“No, the only reaction I saw was when I tell you that I am going to do your training. You looked panicked. Your eyes went right to my bulge. Oh yeah. I noticed. You are straight indeed. I should say, ‘were straight.’ From this moment on, you will never go back to that life. The only cunt in your future is the one I’m about to make out of this hole between your legs.

“You have a great ass, so flawlessly smooth. On any other slave, this ass would be a huge selling feature. But for you, it’s a source of pain. I need to put out my cigarette somewhere. Your asscheek is the best place to do it…. Scream motherfucker scream. Your perfect ass is going to go through some changes, from being daily whipped to being used as an ashtray. You are going to be scarred up for sure.

“For the next part, I need to take off my boots and get out of these overalls. You are going to get acquainted with Otto. That’s what some of the fag slaves and some of the trainers call my dick. Otto, it means ‘eight’ in Italian. I’m actually closer to nine inches, but nine in Italian is ‘Nove’ which doesn’t sound right. It doesn’t roll over the tongue as nicely as Otto. Hehe.

“Look up at me. Look shithead! Here’s Otto. Look at the cock that is going to own your life. Half hard, it’s bigger than yours. Keep staring at my foreskin. Otto needs to piss. You will be trained on drinking piss. That’s all the liquid you will be given. And if you are wondering if that means that you will be trained on becoming a full toilet, let me say we stopped training our slaves on that a while back. It was too time consuming, and the buyers weren’t interested in that feature. But for you, the higher ups want you trained. But that will have to wait.

“Are you… you are…! You’re crying! About time! Hold still. Let me wash away those tears for you. Piss is the best antidote to tears. There’s no feeling in the world like starting to tear down a once proud man by simply pissing on his face. It’s getting me hard. Otto likes what he’s doing to you. But he wants action.

“Normally, you would be sucking the last few drops out of my foreskin. But I ain’t ungagging you yet. Besides, Otto needs to turn a virgin ass into a gaping cunt.

“Your hole is perfectly displayed, like it’s ready to be destroyed thanks to that fuck pillow and how wide your legs were spread and secured. Oh look. Your cock and balls are just hanging there,… exposed,…

“…Damn! Even with my bare feet, I can deliver one hell of a ball kick. Ha! Ha! Your screams mean everything to me. You know, each and every one of my personal slaves are kicked in the balls every morning. They need to be reminded of their place on a daily basis.

“Now, you will be spared that daily torture. And that’s not because I would never have you as my personal slave, and don’t worry I wouldn’t own such trash. No, I’m going to castrate you, in one of the most painful ways. I haven’t decided how yet. I do know that I will leave your empty sack intact. We have a urologist that will make changes to your dick so that you lose all ability to get hard and with a few snips to the nerves in the area, all physical sensation will be gone. Essentially your dick will constantly just hang there and be utterly useless… other than to piss out of. Every time you reach down there, you will only feel the shell of what you used to be.

“Awww you’ve done full on sob. Here let me collect some of your tears. Tears of cunts are the best lube.

“Do you feel Otto at your hole? Feel his weight in your crack? He’s ready to go. Can you feel his leak. Lucky for you, you really got me leaking. Feel that wetness? That’s all you. Virgin cunt meets wine bottle thick dick.

“Don’t fucking start resisting. Your cherry is going to be popped. Here goes.

“Don’t fucking fight me. It’s only going to be more painful for you. You are making my dick even harder.

“LET ME IN! I’m coming in. Oh, you got my head. You are really starting to piss me off.

“Urg! There. Normally I would let a cunt relax before I begin, but you don’t fucking deserve that. Right to the… goddamned… root! Fuck, you’re tight. By the end of tonight, you will be a gaping mess.

“Not only have I been lucky to have such a big dick, but I can cum multiple times a night. My first load is always quick, but the second one goes on for hours. Then I have a gang bang lined up for this cunt.

“I’ll let someone else pop the cherry in your throat. There’s no way I’m going to let Otto near your mouth, at least not while you still have a mouthful of teeth. Oh yeah, those will be coming out as part of your transformation.

“Keep crying. Oh man. Oh fuck. I’m getting close. You ready to be bred? You ready to make your transformation to cunt complete? Here it cums. Here it goddamned cums! Ahh! Ahh! Fuuuuck!

“Holy shit! That was… fuck.

“Your cunt has one of my biggest loads in it. That should help lubricate you up a bit for round two…. Don’t try to push me out. Otto will come out when he wants to. Right now, he just wants a minute to catch his breath.

“Cunt, you have nothing but hell ahead of you. There will be no let up. Today is about breaking you in. Tomorrow will begin your life of pain. We have a shitload planned for you. I don’t know how long it will be for you to with us, but each day we will strip away what made you a man, a human.

“You know, when we put a slave up for auction, we have transformed the fag into the best slave it could be. We don’t do it for its wellbeing. No, we want top dollar. And we get top dollar. That’s our reputation.

“But for you, I was given the instruction that your transformation should be so extreme that when you are put up for auction, without a reserve price, that you are so repulsively distorted that you are sold for the lowest amount we ever had for a slave. That shouldn’t be a problem with all the branding, scarification, tattooing, deteething, and so on. Your previous profession will be shared with your new owners so that they can keep up your hell. “Oh fuck. All this talk of your pathetic life is getting me hard again. I’m ready to begin round two. This should last a few hours.”

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latenightdaydreams · 9 days

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Trucker!König x Stranded!Reader Part2 (fem)

MDNI🔞

For part one click here!

Part 3

Master List

🚫Same as part one, there are HUGE TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR THIS STORY!🚫

Please do not read if you are not in a good mental health head space or cannot handle extreme content. Your mental health matters more than a story! I have other smut and fluff with a kind and consensual König, please enjoy those instead🥰 Remember you're all amazing and deserve happiness in the world. I hope you all have a fantastic day and take care of yourself🩷

🚫LAST WARNING BEFORE TRIGGERS🚫

>cw: fem/afab, p in v, non-con, recording, threats, breath restriction.

3.1 word count

With the sun in your eyes, you wake up on a groggy state; the sleeping pill having been so strong, you feel as if you’re hung over. At first your vision is a little blurry so you try to rub your eyes awake. Going to pull your hands down, you realize you can’t. Instant fear sets in as you realize your hands are bound together with zip ties attached to a bar over your head. You feel the truck moving, König is driving. In a panic you look over to him and with a trembling voice, you speak up.

“König…” you can’t control your breathing.

“Ah! Guten Morgen, meine Liebe.” König’s voice overly cheerful. He looks at you quickly over his shoulder. “That pill took you out for quite a while.” He chuckles as if this is a casual situation.

“Why…why am I tied up?” You like to think of yourself as a strong woman, but you’ve never felt this level of helplessness before.

“So that you don’t run.”

Silence lingered in the air as you stare at the back of his head. “Please don’t do this.”

“It’s already done.” He shoots you an uneasy glare from over his shoulder.

You take a deep shaky breath as your gaze stays on him. “I have friends waiting for me in Germany-”

“No, you don’t.” He cuts you off swiftly. “You said you were here alone already, remember?” He lets out a low chuckle. “You should know better than to give out that type of information from a man you don’t know Liebling.”

In your mind you begin to play back every action from taking a sleeping pill from him, getting in the truck, getting the piece of shit car, to planning this trip. All the small things that added up and left you here. Tears begin to stream down your face as true panic begins to set in.

König stays quiet and lets you have your little tantrum, smirking as he listens to your sobs. He waits for you to relax before telling you the rules. He’s a patient man, he can wait. 20 minutes pass and he let out a sigh as he hears your sobs quiet down.

“Now, I want you to listen closely please. In public, you keep your head down and don’t speak. You’ll get one chance to use the bathroom a day, so don’t fuck it up for yourself. When I ask for something, I don’t want to get any push back. You’re mine now, you have to obey.”

You stay quiet and listen to the words as the world seems like a blur around you. His voice blending into the sound of the tires on the road.

“Do you understand?” König’s voice tone snapping you back to this moment.

“Yeah…” Your voice cracks as you speak.

“Gut.” König ignores you and continues to drive. His mind preoccupied with the thought of what he recorded last night and what he will record again soon.

A voice comes in over his radio and you see a spark of hope, a way out. You watch König press down on the button and respond in fast German that you can’t understand. An idea comes to mind, if you scream for help when König presses to talk, maybe someone will hear you and track König down to save you. Sitting and listening to the men talk back and forth in a language you don’t know, the urge to do it now just overcame you.

“HELP!” You shout as König presses down to speak, “HE HAS ME TRAPPED IN HIS TRUCK!” Your voice strained from all of the crying you’ve been doing.

Panic sets in as König turns his head to look at you, you’re waiting for him to yell or physically hurt you. He doesn’t. He simply laughs. So does the voice on the other end of the line.

“I can see she’s woken up!” The voice jokes with a strong German accent.

Your heart sinks. He knows? And is okay with this? Tears burn your eyes as you feel stupid now and are scared for how König might punish you for trying to get help. Dropping your head back on to the pillow, you let out a long breath and let the tears roll down your face.

“So,” König has an air of arrogance in his voice, “how did your little plan go Maus? Were you expecting to be saved?” He mocks you.

You don’t say anything as you just lay there feeling defeated yet again. You take a deep shaky breath, trying not to cry.

“I’ll let that one slide, but next time I will have to put a muzzle on you Maus.” König shakes his head. “I have a sandwich and water for you if you’re hungry.”

You look at him, your stomach growling. Did he drug the food? Poison it? You have to eat sometime though… “I am.”

“Good girl, I’ll feed you once we get to the motel.”

“Motel?”

“Well, I have to sleep and there’s not enough room for the both of us. Plus, I want to clean you up.”

His words make your heart sink into your stomach. The thought of him cleaning you- just seeing you naked puts you into a panic. Your jaw beginning to shake as you try to suppress your emotions, not wanting him to know how much he is affecting you.

As hours pass, the sun begins to set again. König hasn’t spoken to you this whole time and you’ve just been trying to dissociate so you can avoid a break down. You look out the windows of the truck and see the sign for a motel. König parks the truck and stands. He turns to you and looks you up and down.

“Now Maus, I’m going to give you a choice here.” He clears his throat and kneels in front of you, “You can either be a good girl and walk beside me with your head down not saying a word or I give you another one of those sleeping pills.”

“I- I’ll behave…” You don’t want to be in that motel room trapped with him and not be conscious.

“You better, I’m not above resorting to violence.” His piercing blue eyes bore into yours. He left the truck, leaving you tied up, to go pay for a room.

While he is gone, you try hard to pull your hands out of the zip ties as they dig into your wrist. Pulling with all you might nothing happens other than hurting yourself. You stop once you hear heavy footsteps approaching the truck again.

He opens the door and steps inside. He begins to gather his things before he turns and looks at you. He took out his pocket knife and kneeled beside you.

“When I cut these, if you try to run, I will catch you and it will be worse for you.” He threatens.

You nod in understanding feeling a deep-rooted fear from his words. You believe him and didn’t want to push him, but also didn’t want to go into that motel room. Getting out alive is your main goal, so you do as he asks. He cuts the zip ties and yanks you up by your sore wrist. With wobbly legs you follow him out of the truck into the parking lot. Looking around there are no other cars other than another semi-truck. Feeling the warm air with a nice breeze makes you feel free, fills you with an illusion of peace.

König pulls you up to the door and opens the door with the keycard. He gently pushes you in and quickly closes and locks the door behind him. You stand there with your body trembling as he turns to look at you.

“Take your clothes off.”

You don’t move and just look at him. In his mind you’re going over a hundred different ways you could possibly try to fight him and flee, but he is massive, has a knife, and you don’t know where you are.

“Now!” He barks taking you out of your thoughts and back to reality.

You grab the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head before pulling down your leggings. His eyes stay on you as you undress. Your hands fumble with the clasp of your bra as you become nervous before finally letting it fall to the floor. He walks to you and yanks your underwear off.

“You’re taking too long,” he huffs. “Hands behind your back.”

You put your hands behind your back as he asked. He zip ties your wrist together again, your wrist sore and in pain. He pushes you forward and towards the bathroom. He turns the shower on and checks the waters temp. His eyes looking back at you up and down, lingering on the bush between your legs.

“Get in.” He demands.

You walk to the shower and step in, the water warm as you stand there letting the water hit your body. König grabs a wash cloth and begins to lather it with a soap bar. He begins to wash your body; you close your eyes and turn your head trying to not get soap in your eyes. He aggressively washes your body. Grabbing the shower head, he rinses the soap off of you.

“Get out and follow me.” König turns the shower off and grabs a blue towel. He walks to the queen size bed and lays the towel down. You follow behind him soaking set, leaving a trail of water behind you as you walk. He points to the towel and you sit on it.

“Lay down,” he walks away back to the bathroom as you scoot back on the towel and lie down. The weight of your body on your hands behind your back is uncomfortable.

He comes back with a soapy wash cloth and a razor. You look at him and watch as he drops to his knees in front of you. He opens your legs and rubs your pubic area with the wash cloth. He began to gently shave your pubic hair. You stay as still as possible so he doesn’t cut you, you keep your eyes directed at the ceiling.

“You have a very beautiful pussy Maus.” König’s voice is full of lust and makes your stomach churn. He uses the wash cloth to wipe the hair he has shaved away. “Perfect…” he mumbles.

His hands caress your thighs before he stands and goes to the bathroom to return the razor and wash cloth. He comes back and grabs you by the shoulders to sit you up. He walks to one of his bags and opens the cooler. Placing the sandwich and the water on the small desk in the corner of the room.

“You can eat once we are done. I don’t want you to throw up.”

Going back to the bag he grabs a tripod and a second phone. He pulls the bedside table away from the wall a few feet. He places the tripod on top and places his phone in the phone slot. Taking the lamp shade off of the lamp the room gets brighter. You begin to realize what is going to happen.

“Don’t worry, this is only for me to watch.” He lies.

König begins to undress, pulling his shirt over his head revealing his scarred body to you. He pulls his belt off and tosses it on the bed before he undoes his pants and pulls them down, stepping out of them. You look forward trying to ignore his body, but it’s useless as he walks in front of you now; his erection in your face now. He grabs the belt off the bed and begins to wrap it around your neck. This causes a fight or flight trigger response and you scream and kick.

He puts his hand on your mouth and pushes you back into the bed, “If you scream and the young man at the front desk tries to come and save you, I’ll kill him. So, either save a human life, or be selfish and take him down with you.”

He phrases this as if you’re the bad guy in this situation, as if it isn’t him that would be killing the innocent man. You lay there looking at him, struggling to breathe with his calloused hand over your mouth and nose.

“Do you understand?”

You nod your head in response and he backs off of you, sitting you back up. He tightens the belt around your neck to the point where talking and breathing was hard, but you could still do it. He walked to the phone on the tripod and hit record. He held his original phone in his hand.

“Lay back Maus.” His voice husky as he begins to stroke his cock with his freehand.

You do as he says. The phone in his hand is pointed at you, you assume it’s recording you as well. You turn your head the opposite way of all the cameras to try and disconnect form this moment.

“Look at me,” he snaps at you. You do as he asks. Your eyes meet his icy pale gaze as he smirks.

König moves forward, dropping his gaze down to your sweet cunt. He nuzzles himself between your legs and began to slap his heavy cock on your clit, slowly moving himself up and down. Finding your entrance, he pushes forward. No prep as he pushes in, your pussy tight and dry as it squeezes around him pushing into without warning. He eyes watch your cunt struggle to take his enormous size through the screen of his phone. The belt around your neck muffling the pitch of your pained sounds.

“Ooh, ja. That’s tight.” He groans as he pushes all the way into you.

As your hips squirm with discomfort your walls flutter all around the length of his cock sending waves of pleasure through his body. Slowly he moves his hips back as he spits on his cock for lubrication. You watch in disgust as he records himself pushing back in. He begins to fuck into you faster, causing the bed to hit the wall. You try to focus on breathing as you feel slightly light headed.

König begins to let out small moans of pleasure as your body begins to react, betraying you, and gets aroused. He smirks as your pussy begins to get creamy and fucks you harder. His hips clashing harshly against yours.

“I knew you’d like this, Kleine Hure.” He laughs as he speaks those words.

With his free hand he reaches up and squeezes your breast before slapping them both harshly; leaving behind red marks and making you whimper slightly. His hand moves to your throat and chokes you. Already struggling for air, you begin to squirm. After a few seconds he lets go and slaps your face lightly.

König suddenly withdraws from you and moves up your body until he is hovering above your face, his cock covered in your creamy white arousal. “Open your mouth.”

You do as he says and begins to shove his cock into your mouth, bucking fast as his balls slap against your chin. The camera in your face making sure to record your struggle. You gag repeatedly, body arching wanting to push him off, but your hands are still bound behind your back.

Finally, he pulls his dick out. A long thick string of saliva hanging from the tip. You begin to cough and spit out more globs on to your own face to clear your airways. König spreads your spit around his cock and goes back down to your pussy. He uses his knees to spread your legs apart to fit his body. His cock easily slips back into you. He lets out a low moan as soon as he feels your grip on his sensitive tip again before pushing fully in.

He bucks his hips in a such a harsh motion he is slamming again your sore cervix. He moves forward slightly to put the camera in your face and record you as you get fucked. You try to turn your head but he quickly grabs your jaw and turns your head back.

“Look into the camera.” He demands and you obey. After a while the camera drifts down your body to your breasts and then back to your shiny cunt. “Schön, I got lucky with this one.”

Not able to hold off any longer, König pulls out of you quickly and begins to jerk his cock over you, moaning loudly. His cum shooting all over your body, landing on your breasts and stomach as some drips down on to your pussy. He stands there breathing heavy as he moves the camera over you to show off his work along your chest and breast. He slaps his cock on your clit a few times, recording himself playing with the cum that dripped.

Finally, König stands up, stopping the recording on his phone. He walks over to the one on the tripod and stops recording as well. He turns to you and walks to the bed beside you. Gently he removed the belt from your neck, it leaving behind a deep mark that will most likely bruise.

“You did well Maus.” His voice oddly soft as he goes into the bathroom to grab towels and wipe you off.

Grabbing your shoulders, he sits you up and turns around to grab the water and sandwich on the dresser. He opens the water and holds it up for you to drink. He is patient with you and doesn’t rush you as you gulp the water desperately. König holds the sandwich up for you to take bites. You’re hungry but lack an appetite after everything that just happened.

“Come on, don’t waste food Maus.” König still speaking softly to you, it disgusts you. Still, you continue to eat the food not wanting to anger him.

Once you’re done eating the sandwich, he moves your body up more in the bed and pulls the covers over you, not allowing you to get dressed. Hands still bound you feel terrible pain in your wrist and arms, causing you to fidget.

“I’m sorry, I hope you understand why I can’t untie you.”

You don’t respond, just look at him. He looks back at you and walks away. He gets dressed, boxers and a blue shirt, and pulls out a laptop from one of his bags.

“Get some rest, sweet dreams.” He gently kisses the top of your head and sits on the other side of the bed.

On his laptop he uploads the videos he took of you. He begins to watch and edit the videos before putting it up for sale. You lay there listening to the recordings over and over again as he works on it. Finally, you’re able to fall asleep. Wishing to wake up anywhere but here.

Part 3

tag: @soosouyoung

#please read the warnings #tw: noncon #konig #konig x y/n #konig cod #konig x reader #könig #könig x reader #könig smut #konig smut #könig mw2 #könig cod #konig x reader smut #konig x you #könig call of duty #könig x reader smut #könig x y/n #könig x you

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loriache · 6 days

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Kabru, impossible mutual understanding & unknowable objects

Despite his concerted and constant efforts to understand other people, it’s established in a few extras that Kabru believes that true mutual understanding between certain different races is impossible. Specifically, between long-lived and short-lived races, and between humans and demi-humans. Partially, we can trace this conviction back to specific hang-ups caused by his life; the trauma of the Utaya disaster, prejudices he carries from his childhood, and his experience of racism among the elves. In this “little” essay, I’m gonna discuss how I think those experiences formed this belief, how it comes out in his actions, and how some of his actions seem to contradict it. The question of whether it’s possible to reach mutual understanding with other living beings despite our differences is one of the core themes of the manga, and I’ll also touch on how this aspect of Kabru’s character links to that.

Seeking understanding

Kabru is a character who devotes a huge amount of time and effort to understanding people, and he is very good at it. In his internal monologue, we can tell how advanced and complex his skills of analysis are. He is able to read a huge amount of information just from looking at people's faces and body language.

People are, to him, what monsters are to Laios. This is something that's been expanded on at length in other, excellent meta. It's the fact that they're foils; it's the fact that Kabru is also very easy to read as autistic, with a special interest which is the opposite and parallel of Laios'. It's something that came out of trauma and alienation, as Laios' special interest in monsters also began as a coping mechanism.

The complicated origin of this "love" for monsters and for people comes through, I think, in the fact that one of the places we see both characters use their fixation is in being very, very good at killing the thing that they love. This also ties into the idea that loving something isn't even remotely mutually exclusive with using it to sustain your own survival; using it for your own purposes; hurting it or killing it. Love can be, and often is, violent, possessive and consumptive. This understanding is part of what makes Kui's depiction of interpersonal relationships so compelling to me.

While Laios fixated on monsters and animals to seek a place of escape, in both his imagination and his self-image, from the humans who he couldn't understand and who couldn't understand him, Kabru seems to have fixated on understanding people in order to navigate the complex, socially marginal places that he has been forced into throughout his life. As an illegitimate child raised by a single mother with an appearance that marked him out as different to the point his father's family wanted to kill him, and a tallman child raised among elves who didn't treat him as fully human and wanted him to perform gratefulness for that treatment – treatment that, after he met Rin at age 9, he certainly always understood could be a lot worse – his ability to work out what people wanted from him, whether they were friendly or hostile or had ulterior motives, wasn’t just an interest. It will have been an essential skill.

Milsiril, I think, was a flawed parent who tried to do her best by Kabru and did a lot of harm to him despite her best intentions. She may have treated him much better than an average elf would have, but like Otta and Marcille's mother, there are other elves with different outlooks on short-lived races. How would they judge her treatment of him? We don’t have any insight on what it could be, but to be honest, the person’s whose opinion of her I’d be most interested in knowing is Rin’s.

But even if she'd been perfect, living as an trans-racial adoptee in a deeply hierarchical nation with a queen who is a 'staunch traditionalist' who wouldn't even acknowledge the existence of a half-elf like Marcille (according to Cithis) is an experience that would deeply impact anyone.

Elves & Impossible mutual understanding

While Kabru was living with Milsiril - in other words, while living in the Northern Central Continent - he came to believe that "there was no way to achieve mutual understanding with the long-lived races."

This is evident in his political project: he wants short-lived races to have ownership over the dungeon's secrets. Despite his dislike of the Lord of the Island, he's a useful bulwark to stop the elves taking over. Despite his doubts about Laios, Laios needs to be the one to defeat the dungeon, because if he doesn't the elves will take over.

Kabru still carries a deep scar from Utaya, one that was exacerbated by the fact that he never got an answer to any of his questions about what happened or why. This, despite the fact that Milsiril knows about the demon and how it works. Do you think Kabru, with his social perceptiveness that borders on the superhuman, wasn't aware that she knew more than she would tell him?

Given that, the fact that he gets to a place where he "doesn't have any particularly negative feelings about [elves/long-lived species]" .... well, to put it bluntly, I believe that he thinks that's the case, but I kind of doubt it. After all, if he did have resentment, of Milsiril (someone who was his primary provider and caretaker since age six, and who despite her flaws, loves him and who I do think he loves) or of elves (who he has had to play nice with for most of his life, in order to survive, and will still have to play nice with in order to achieve his goals, since they hold all the power) what would that do except hurt him and make his life harder? Kabru is Mr. Pragmatic, so I don't think he'd let himself acknowledge any such feelings he did have. Exactly because he can't acknowledge them, they're well placed to get internalised as beliefs about the Fundamental Unchangeable Nature of the World.

However, these stated beliefs seem to contradict his actions. Despite his belief in the impossibility of forming a mutual understanding, he certainly seems to try to understand long-lived people, just as much as he does short-lived people. There's no noticeable difference between his treatment of Daya & Holm versus Mickbell & Rin that isn't clearly down to their relationship with him. His skills of human analysis were honed and developed while living amongst elves, and as soon as he's alone with Mithrun he immediately sets to understanding him - his interests, his motivations, his needs, and his past.

He treats him considerately and without bias, and despite the fact that Mithrun conquering the dungeon for the elves is both a reenactment of a core part of his childhood trauma and a political disaster for his aims, that doesn't seem to colour his perspective on Mithrun negatively at all.

This is something I find extremely laudable about Kabru, and it's another way he parallels Laios. He seems to understand that people, as a rule, (in Laios' case, he understands this about monsters - and eventually, all living beings) will act in their own interests, and if those interests conflict with yours, might harm you. But that's just their nature, and it's not something that should be held against them; you're also doing the same thing, after all. The crux of Laios' arc is precisely that he has to accept the responsibility of hurting someone else in order to achieve what he wants.

Kabru is deeply concerned with his own morals, what he should and shouldn't do, but mostly in the context of responsibility for the consequences - a responsibility he takes onto himself. He isn't scrupulous about what he needs to do in order to create the outcome he wants, but if he fails to create that outcome, then....

He blames himself to the point of thinking he should die. He doesn't blame Laios, or seem at all angry with him, despite concluding he should have killed him to prevent this outcome. That's because in his eyes, ultimately Laios was going to act according to his own nature, and it's Kabru's fault for not understanding that nature well enough. He's extremely confident in his ability to understand and predict others, (including elves and other long-lived people). Then, where does his conviction that mutual understanding is impossible come from?

Partially, it's the "mutual" part. I'm sure Kabru, who isn't able or willing to deny Otta's insinuation that Milsiril saw him more like a pet than a son, has felt that his full interiority, the depth of his feelings and his ability to grow, act, and think as a fully equal being, was something that the elves around him just couldn't grasp. Because that was their excuse for it, he came to understand this as a gulf between short-lived and long-lived beings, an inevitable difference in outlook caused by their different lifespans.

This experience might be part of what leads to his iconic “fake” behaviour. He trusts his ability to understand others, but if they aren’t able to understand him, then there isn’t any benefit to being honest about his feelings and thoughts. If his attempts to reach mutual understanding with his caretakers were never able to be fulfilled, then it isn’t any wonder that he reacts with such surprise and horror at blurting out his desire to be Laios’ friend.

In his experience, making yourself vulnerable in that way only leads to being hurt. Soothing him, hushing him, lying to him, talking to him like a child that isn’t able to use proper judgement – that’s an inadequate and deeply hurtful way to respond to genuine distress, the desire for autonomy, or disagreement. Ultimately, I think that’s why he comes out on the side of being grateful to Milsiril; because she did equip him with the skills and knowledge he’d need to reach his goal, and let him go.

Though he could understand them, they couldn't understand him. To the extent that was true - which I'm sure it was - it wasn't due to anything about lifespan. It was due to the elves’ racism, and the solipsitic mindset & prejudiced attitude that it caused them to approach him with.

Because, if it needs to be said, the idea that there is an unbreachable gap in understanding between the long-lived and short-lived species is not true. Marcille and Laios have a much greater difference in lifespan than any full elf from any short-lived person, and they’re able to understand each other – maybe not perfectly, but better than many other people who are closer in life-span to them.

That doesn’t mean that I think Kabru is wrong about this, however. Because there’s an interpretation of his statement that is reflected in his actions and is true. When he talks about his problem with elves, it’s not just their attitudes: it’s their power, and what they use it to do. They “explain nothing and take everything”. Though it’s presented in the guise of ‘guiding and protecting’, in fact it’s a simple case of a powerful nation using their military power, wealth, access to resources, and historically stolen land – including the island itself – to protect their own interests and advance their own agenda. That’s why they’d be able to show up, seize the dungeon, and forcibly take Kabru’s party and Laios’ party to the West. If Kabru wants to stop that from happening, or change that status quo, persuasion or a bid to be understood would be completely pointless. Between the political blocs formed by long-lived species and the interests of short-lived species, “mutual understanding”, given their current, unequal terms, would be impossible. This is something that we see reflected in Kabru’s actions; before he asks his questions about the dungeon, he grabs Mithrun as leverage. He never really attempts to persuade the canaries to see his point of view, because that would be pointless: they’re agents of the Northern Central Continent’s monarchy, and will act in its interests regardless of any individual relationship with him.

I don’t think Kabru sees the different dimensions of this belief of his in quite such clear terms, however, as is evidenced by the other group who he thinks it’s impossible to communicate with.

Demi-Humans & Unknowable Objects

The other place that we see his conviction about the impossibility of mutual understanding is in the kobold extra.

I'm including the whole thing, because I think it's an excellent and clever piece of world-building. Aside from what it says about Kabru, which I'll expand on shortly, what this extra does is deconstruct and call into question the usual "fantasy ontological biology" present in these sort of DnD-like settings. Essentially, the kind of worldbuilding where a race (such as kobolds) can be described as war-like, and that's establishing something essential about their biological nature. That's common to the point that if Kui didn't include this, some people would probably come away thinking that's the case about, e.g., the orcs.

But here, despite what Kabru is saying, the information the reader actually gets is:

the conflict between short-lived humans and demi-humans such as kobolds is mostly over access to material resources that they need to survive.

These resources are scarce because powerful nations, such as the elves, have monopolised them.

Kabru, who has grown up in a place at the centre of these conflicts, ascribes essential, negative traits to a cultural group which was in direct conflict with his own. Communication with this other group is impossible; they aren't people, they're more like objects.

oh yes! just like this conflict between groups of tall-men, a conflict which the reader will immediately interpret as more clearly analogous to real-life racism. Our other protagonists also carry prejudices from growing up in a place where a marginalised group was in conflict with the dominant group over scarce resources. It's definitely impossible to communicate with these people, and you can only kill them.

Woah, when you say it like that, it sounds pretty bad!

But also, nobody walks away having had a realisation or unlearned their prejudices - because they don't have the tools they need to do that work. Yet. I do think, to an extent, it could happen - especially with Kabru, since it's suggested in the epilogue that Melini might become a safe-haven for demi-humans.

To focus in on Kabru, the key here is his statement that you should think of demi-humans as "unknowable objects". Even his extraordinary powers of understanding have seemingly hit a limit. Part of this is just inherited prejudice, and doesn't need to have a complicated psychological explanation, any more than the elves who were prejudiced against him need one.

But also... this is probably somewhat linked to the way demi-humans seem to be considered "pseudo-monsters". They're the place that the strict delineation between the human and the monstrous is permeated. Laios, who is not interested in humans, remembers and is excited by Kuro. Chilchuck and Laios argue over whether it's OK to eat a mermaid. Kabru's prepared to (pretend to) roll with the idea that Laios ate the orcs.

But these are people, aren't they? Of course, this is a social construction, as we see from the fact that in the Eastern Archipelago, the label of "human" is reserved for tallmen, but in most of the rest of the world it depends on some obviously arbirary classification based on number of bones; "demi-humans" aren't in any essential way monstrous, except to an extent in their appearance, and physical location - due to their marginal social status, they're pushed out to live in unsafe places such as dungeons.

Therefore, Kabru's view of demi-humans as fundamentally "other", unable to be understood - monstrous - could be read as akin to abjection, the psychoanalytical concept described by Julia Kristeva. In order to create a bounded, secure superego, that thing which permeates and calls into question the border between self and other, human and animal, life and death, is rejected and pushed to the margin.

“Not me. Not that. But not nothing, either. A "something" that I do not recognize as a thing.[...] On the edge of nonexistence and hallucination, of a reality that, if I acknowledge it, annihilates me. There, abject and abjection are my safeguards. The primers of my culture.” (Kristeva et al., 1984, p. 11) “It is thus not lack of cleanliness or health that causes abjection but what disturbs identity, system, order. ” (Kristeva et al., 1984, p. 13) “The pure will be that which conforms to an established taxonomy; the impure, that which unsettles it, establishes intermixture and disorder. [...] the impure will be those that do not confine themselves to one element but point to admixture and confusion.” (Kristeva et al., 1984, p. 107) (discussing food prohibitions in Leviticus)

This is both (due to its affinity with food-loathing and disgust) a very fruitful concept to apply to dunmeshi, and a psychoanalytical theory which I wouldn't exactly cosign as True Facts About Human Psychological Development. You may also know the abject from its utilisation in the classic essay "Horror and the Monstrous-Feminine" by Barbara Creed - that's a lot more approachable than Kristeva if anyone's interested.

Key here, though, is that through the symbol of the "demi-human" is embodied a step between "human" and "monster" - and that's a prospect that puts at risk the whole notion of an absolute separation between those two categories in the first place. To Laios, that's something wonderful, and to Kabru, it's terrifying. We can see this principle further embodied in the relationship both characters have with the notion of becoming monstrous.

To Laios, this is transcendent, and represents a renunciation of everything human - in fact, if it didn't, it wouldn't "count".

To Kabru, it's a deeply-held fear, established by his childhood alienation (due to his illegitimacy, his eyes, and perhaps also his neurodivergency), deepened by monster-related trauma and the sense of responsibility and survivors guilt he feels for what happened at Utaya. His identity as a human who is not monstrous is key to his sense of stability and safety; he doesn't want to touch monsters, he doesn't even want to see them.

To acknowledge a kinship, a possibility of similarity between the things he loves (humans) and the things he hates (monsters) would be more than touching them - it would be putting them inside him. We know, quite explicitly, that this notion is triggering to Kabru. He literally has what seems to be a flashback when he's about to eat the harpy omelette.

So he abjects it, classifying the demi-human as fundamentally unlike him - an unknowable object, or an object that he refuses to know. Because in understanding it, he would interject the things he hates and fears into his self, which is already, always under threat by that hated and feared object.

Of course, again, Kabru isn't very good at enacting this refusal in practice. For one, when he chooses between his desires and ingesting the feared object, eating monsters... he eats monsters. Part of this is treating himself badly, the "ends justify the means" mentality. His goal is to destroy all monsters, so if he needs to become monster-like to do that, he will. But part of it is also the other motivation that he didn't even seem to know about until he said it: he wants to become Laios' friend, and to learn from him how a person can like monsters. He wants, at least in some part of him, to reconcile the feared and hated object into something he can understand.

For another:

Kabru can speak the kobold language. In the first place, while this may have been common in Utaya, it also could have been something he chose to learn, an early expression of his interest in understanding and talking to all sorts of people. It isn't the kind of thing you learn if you believe that communication between yourself and the group that speak it is impossible, is it?

It's possible to harbour prejudices against a group while being kind to an individual, and given Kabru has those prejudices regardless of his reasons, that is what he is doing. But also, his treatment of Kuro doesn't reflect a sincerely held belief that he's an "unknowable object" at all. His approach is exactly the same as it is to any other person: an analysis of goal and motive, and an attempt to help if he's sympathetic and their goals align - going out of his way to give language and local knowledge lessons in secret. His conviction that Mickbell and Kuro will truly become friends when they can properly communicate is completely contradictory to any sense of demi-humans as fundamentally different, or impossible to reach mutual understanding with. To me, it seems like this self-protective shield against the corruptive force demi-humans as an idea present to his identity, this abjection, when Kabru is face-to-face with one, just simply can't hold up against his finely honed skill of intellectual empathy. Perhaps because he's autistic, it seems his "empathy" is less an emotional mirror response, and more a set of cognitive skills for analysis of others. That instinctual, emotional empathy might not trigger when presented with a member of an out-group, but if it’s possible for Kabru to turn his cognitive empathy off, we don’t see him do it.

This isn't to say that this prejudice doesn't affect his behaviour. For one, it could negatively impact his judgement of politics and policy, where individual people don't enter into it. For another, I'm not convinced he'd be willing to overlook Mickbell's exploitative relationship with Kuro if Kuro wasn't a kobold. As it is, since both of them are satisfied, he doesn't feel like he needs to intervene, regardless of the fact Mickbell isn't paying Kuro. But if Daya and Holm were in a relationship, and Holm took both Daya's and his own share from their ventures, but only compensated her in living expenses and kept the rest, do you think he'd tolerate it, for example? Even if she said it was OK?

Conclusion

The kelpie chapter establishes that "people can never know what monsters are really thinking." That isn't just true of monsters, though.

True mutual understanding is impossible - between anyone. We can never truly understand another person's heart. This is touched on in, for example, the existence of shapeshifters and dopplegangers. Even a monster that seemed like a perfect copy of a person wouldn’t be that person, and wouldn’t be a satisfactory replacement.

We’re intended, I think, to understand the winged lion's repeated suggestions to just replace people who have been lost with copies as something uncanny, which demonstrates the way that the winged lion never manages to attain a complete understanding of humans. A version of a person who was created to fulfil your memories of them, to be the person who you wanted them to be, would be a terrible, miserable thing.

Disagreeing, coming into conflict, and misunderstanding each other, are essential parts of what it means to be living beings, as fundamental as the need to eat.

The only thing to do is not to take more than you need to eat to survive, and not impose your own desires onto others. To do your best to sincerely communicate your desires, even if they're embarrassing or vulnerable or strange, like Kabru eventually does with Laios; like Laios does, bit by bit, with the people around him; like Marcille does, Chilchuck does, Senshi does... to hope they will accept you, and do your best to understand them in return.

We can re-examine, in that context, Kabru's line about the elves' tendency to "explain nothing and take everything".

They have the power to impose their preferred "menu" onto less powerful groups. And in that context, mutual understanding being impossible just means that they won't give up their power because they're asked nicely. Kabru's goal is to seize the truth that they won't give to him, and to create a situation where they can't take everything. Because he's accurately surmised that nothing about the treatment of short-lived races will change so long as the power imbalance remains. Despite the way he mistakenly ascribes part of that to "long-lived vs short-lived" or "human vs demi-human", the actual gulfs in understanding he identifies are structural, are about power and about access to material resources and safety.

I think he could come to recognise this. Yaad is teaching him political science after all, and while a prince's lessons on political science won't exactly get at much that's radical or invested in the interests and perspectives of the marginalised (Capital is a critique of for a reason after all...) I believe in Kabru's ability to learn critically and get more from a lesson than it was intended to teach.

#og post #kabru of utaya #kabru dungeon meshi #laios touden #dungeon meshi meta #dungeon meshi #dunmeshi #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #dungeon meshi analysis #kuro dungeon meshi #the canaries #milsiril #continuing to develop my kabru theses.#literally sitting and thinking about kabru all day. rotating him.#he's in the microwave. to me.

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