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anantaru · 8 months

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THE PRICE IN MYSTERIES CONCEALED

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — who was the man you fell in love with? why did it seem like he was hiding his true self away from you, and why, at last, was he hesitant to deepen the connection in your new relationship?

— ꒰ word count ꒱ — 3.4k

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ns]fw, fem! reader, first time intimate, playing with your tits (tit lover neuvillette), unprotected, he has marks on his chest, loads of cum lmao, virgin! neuvillette but skilled, quick learner, established relationship, size kink (dragon cock giggles), sweet sweet neuvillette he's the sweetest man

there are no two ways to go on about it, but you can clearly hear the words neuvillette doesn’t say to you, you can see it in the light of his eyes. hidden verses evaporating in slow heaves, how rain puddles disappear on a hot day, when he ultimately decides against reciting his longings out loud to you.

instead, he imagined it in his hankering memories, how you'd feel under him, topless, bare and exposed, how it would feel when he was luxuriating in your velvet walls of your entrance and the vivid heat that would envelope him every time he sinks his cock all the way inside.

nonetheless, it's futile, he couldn't do it, he won't make the first step, but he knows, he could swear on it, that there was nothing warmer nor more welcoming then being inside of you.

in such predicament, neuvillette doesn’t know what to do nor on how to get rid of those improper fantasies circulating in his psyche, because, as it happened, he felt disgusted in himself to even daydream in such manners, about his significant other— someone he regarded as infinitely perfect beyond the limits of his own imagination.

besides, he's never done this before, again, he’s fucked his hand while thinking about you, feverish pants and hot breathes exposing him behind closed doors, most of the times it's uncoordinated and without knowing how to bring himself to a nice, proper climax.

neuvillette could never stop his digits from traveling down south before rutting into his hand so fucking desperate, with a heartfelt heat plummeting on top of his body, shudders when he drags over the slit of his cockhead, brows furrowed, pale skin battered in champagne rose, wishing it was your soft, warm cunt he'd be fucking into instead.

and it's not like you denied yourself to him, because there certainly were enough moments in the past where he was presented with the opportunity of advancing it forward, magnifying your new, fresh relationship— souls nurturing in the most sacred, wonderful way, while right before it could be turning into that direction, his eyes would suddenly be unable to hold yours any longer and his worry kicks in right afterwards.

then, as it happens so often, he could feel his embarrassment bottle up when he pushes himself away from you, leaving you behind, yet— remember, he doesn't lie upfront to you, he'd never defy your trust nor succumb to altering the truth, which made it even more awkward to begin with.

to be transparent, gone were the days where he wouldn't have to deal with the enriched pressure and heaviness in his groin, new, unlocked desires that if he were to ignore them, or at least try, only would bounce back with a more intense power, until he was painfully hard all day, not knowing on how to get rid of it once and for all.

to counterbalance, you eagerly note and remember the words he did speak out to you, and despite the veiled meanings behind it all, sheltered below a smokescreen of mysteries, it's there.

furthermore, it was perceivable in the doubled seemings, and despite that, the mysterious man seldomly exchanged words of affirmations, protecting the hidden truth that had been stored in his heart for decades on end.

the man rather spoke in the elusiveness of his delicate glances, and in his imperceptible touch, because there was a primordial light inside the action of his trails. from first principles, he never sought out any of this, because the way he saw it was that unclouded emotions for another individual are best left unrevealed in life. all that mattered, in the end, was what the brain spoke out to yourself, because strict rules must be followed.

but if any moment in time anchored his very soul, created a strong tether to this plane of reality he found himself bound by, it was the moment he fell in love with you.

neuvillette never let you touch him more, currently, he only kisses you smoothly, plants wet, open mouthed pecks along your collarbones before lapping his tongue up, sharp teeth slowly grazing over the soaked skin. it's as if he was scared of unspoken consequences if he were to move this forward, or of the sudden possibility to hurt you.

humans were fragile, he said, like a vase falling on the ground, broken into a million pieces and unable to be fixed again.

presently, your hands find his hair, and the bed dips as you shuffle your frame into him, smothering the small distance of your bodies, laying your warm hand against his clothed chest, just above the little jeweled medallion he always seems to wear. he gulps out strongly when you lock your digits into his form-fitting garments, just to pull him closer to your body as you open his mouth with your tongue, lapping over his wet muscle before pulling away with a pop.

"feel me." you say intimately, guiding his trembling hand over your chest, and awaiting his reactions, testing the waters, while his luminous eyes watch you contently as you pause, his touch reaching your covered breasts, and neuvillette draws his fingers into the concealed mounds, his lips parting for a low grumble, eyes opening wide as it got hard.

"feel how my body reacts when you touch me," you speak in a hitching voice, whining when he pulls at the erected nipple, whilst the fabric of your shirt turned his traces all the more roughened, intense with the garment rubbing against your sensitive tits, "feel how i love you."

neuvillette sucks in a breath, crossing his tongue over his bottom lip, "i do not want to hurt you." he whispers, his cock growing hard and heavy squished against your core when he unintentionally grinds down a little, both moaning against each other, his breath hot, his noises hanging across the walls of the room. it's without a doubt that this time it's different from prior instances where he was, although with enough discipline, able to remove himself from you, faster and without making a complete idiot of himself.

now, neuvillette was unable to keep his own hips to a complete stand still, he moves them, softly grinds against your clothed cunt before fisting the pillow right next to your head, knuckles turning white at the sheer intensity and power he was graced with, chasing more of the incomparable relief that you are so preciously giving him.

you whine, a noise all winded and hot when you wrap your legs around his hips, "you won't hurt me." you murmur, catching his face with your palms so he could rest in them, "because i trust you."

he believes that maybe you miss it too, desire it, the pleasure that was unlike others, perhaps it had been lacking in every aspect of your relationship which neither of you expected to have in the first place.

and you're ravishing, he can't say if often enough, believing that you were made for living once, because you were one of a kind, made of mesmerizing lights and clear, pure water and a soothing birdsong, sprouting flowers and the finest silk in teyvat.

... unlike him.

neuvillette groans into your lips when you lick across his mouth, leaving his infectious tunes stretch the need in his rough voice, stretching it out long and slow enough until it sounds like a clear beg to fuck you, or at least continue with this.

but besides that, you cannot look into his mind, blinking up at his reddened face that was towering on top of you, "do you want me to stop?" you breathe out, smoothly circling your thumb over his bristling cheek, stilling your hips and attempting to close your legs when he wishes you would just kiss him again.

"no.." he replies almost a little too fast, as if he was ready to beg for it, and his cheeks catch on the color of scarlet red rather quickly, his hands scattering down to your hips to keep you from concealing your movements away from him, fuck, it just feels so fucking good he cannot believe himself.

"i apologize.." his face crumbles with the vulnerability in it, exhaling from his parted lips, "i've never—"

"that's okay." you mouth a spot on his neck, reaching his earlobe, "but i want to hear you." you tip your head forward and give a twist of tongue into his lips, skillfully arching your hips to rub over his erected groin yourself— teeth colliding against each other bound by a crushing sensation that was growing each second.

with a muffled, breathless laugh giving way to a soft whine when he adds more strength to his thrust, you longed to let him know how you felt— yes, right there, you say when he at last, slips his fingers into your shirt to touch your bare breasts, just like that, do it more.

you aid neuvillette in unclothing you as his body flexes under your hands, shivering when your eyes lift to meet his glowing ones, and there’s a moment— you can never forget it, crystalline and trembling on the edge of a leaf, that you could tell that he has been buried inside of his own mind but instead of going back to suppressing his desires, as he did countless of instances before, he answers now, without words— and oh, he gets bolder, the faint, needy whines that crawled into your ears made you rock into him, his digits slipping over your skin and circling on top of your nipples.

the prickles and vibrations in your veins and in your bones multiply and the temperature in your room changes into humidity— your craving body lightening up and threatening to float away by his ever so subtle, sweet traces and rounds on your tits, getting himself to work while you're anchored here only, all eyes on him, under him, by the rhythm of his fingers.

"take your clothes off for me." you say, pinching the hem of one leg and giving it a gentle tug. neuvillette hums in agreement, nodding right after, tongueing at the roof of his mouth in nervousness, because everyone could clearly see that he was tense, yet his cock was turning harder under your attention, he feels like it's going to explode if he doesn't do anything about it now.

he drops all the way back, body lifting off the bed as he slides his high-priced pants down yet not before opening his belt one handed, the "click" of the metal making you tremble, followed by the rest of his clothes which you aided him on, reaching down to drag down your soaked panties as well.

his cock bounces as he kicks the fabric away, and by the time he’s back up on both elbows towering above you, the fullness of it rests long and heavy against the crease of your thigh. His long, slender fingers giving it a slow tug as you watch, entranced by its size and shape— he was way above average, not even that would do it justice, coated with a bunch of small yet thick veins that reached all the way up, hard and aching, right under his cock head that had been desperately glistening with his pre cum.

time slows, stops, holds entirely; he dares to glance down, looking at your drenched pussy and how your hole fluttered around air, shimmering with your slick.

and you wrap yourself around him, arms out so he could lean into you. you know he's sharpening his senses to catch your reactions, adjusting his rubs on your tits when he notes a particular place being a little more sensitive and how you moan out when he touches it.

everything hits all at once, and he cannot get enough, both of you cannot.

for the first time, he experienced actually being free from his shackles and neuvillette needed your affirmations that it was in fact okay, you wanted to continue, because he never kept his eyes off you, always watching you closely through hungry eyes— for all that could happen, despite him continuing to be content with you.

the man was intoxicating, he was handsome from the depth of his ocean eyes to the gentle, sweet expressions of his voice when he whispers sweet nothing into your ears. neuvillette was beautiful, as if carved by literal gods, his chest defined, blue'ish traces, reminding you of tattoos, outlining the sides of his torso— but they weren't tattoos, they appeared to be a part of him since birth, how beauty marks are visible on some bodies, his were larger and resembling the kindest, most soothing waves.

neuvillette kisses down on your collarbone and you gasp out when he suddenly moves a little lower to take a nipple into his warm mouth, shudder when he crosses his tongue over it for the first time, it feels warm and wonderful with his complete weight on top of you.

and you can feel his hand, the rhythm of it on your other breast as it’s wrapped around the solid heat of your bud, continuing to palm your tits when his warm breath fans across your skin.

in this room, the man experienced so many different emotions now, but he feels more alive, within seconds, more awake, more present, and he doesn’t try to talk nor voice too much in the beginning, he just wanted to listen to the pace of your breathing, your whines and what your moans did to him.

he was waiting for your heaves to even out, align in soft decrease whilst he certainly doesn't realize that if he were to continue to hump your bare, thudding pussy the way he did, in accessory to playing with your tits and lapping his tongue across as if famished, there was no way for your heart rate to ever go back in an even pace.

regardless, neuvillette alters his breathing to match your own, his heaves on your wet skin, breathless, hot, when you begin to move your hips up a little, his cock nudging on your hole but never sliding in, his tip alone seemed to be big in it's own right and you wondered if you could even fit him in you.

of course, you were plenty wet, he made sure of that, always so kind and gifting.

your entire face buzzes with pins and needles when he draws himself back from your tits and your hand travels down to catch his girth in your warm palms, fisting him a little and spreading his pre over his drumming girth, grinning when he hooks his hands to your hips, pulling you straight down so his cock would be perfectly situated and ready to feel you, for real this time.

"tell me.." he mutters, "if you want to stop." and you kiss his lips featherlight, "of course, don’t worry about it." and nodding when you drag him across your folds to collect enough slick before slowly, agonizingly slow, push his tip inside.

your eyes flare wide and you arch your back instantly, no thoughts, no judgements, only your breathing getting cut short by the sudden piercing thrust burying inside your tight hole with a stretch that's more shock than anything else, and you hide yourself in his chest when you whimper into his ears, "slower, please". he understands and the restraints in his chest loosen as he wraps his arms across your body, as if protecting you in a sense.

neuvillette shuffles his knees wide and splits your legs further apart, holding you how he wants you, how he thinks will hurt less and even out the burning split on your cunt— he proceeds and fucks into you slowly, inch by inch, waiting a little, before adding another.

you ease up into him eventually, your walls getting used to his girth, the slap of his body against you quiet yet precise, his hips pumping in a slow, rhythmic roll that grinds the low of his stomach against your clit, spotting the prickling point on your cunt. you're turning hazy at the fullness, dipping your fingers into his long hair before pulling him in for a sloppy kiss, lapping across him in slow twists, pinching your hips up to meet his blows.

now, all you could do was to relish in his warmth, curve your back like a bow and let the most desirable, filthiest moans spill from your pretty, pursed lips. neuvillette was quick to catch and watch you, swallowing down every gritty moan and whine that you offered him, because of him, he couldn't fathom that he was the reason you felt that good, passing his cock back into you, in, out, in, out, humming in appreciation between sucking kisses that leave a pinching trail from your neck to your tits that he ever so graciously played with.

neuvillette got a pretty good first impression of it now, and he doesn’t slow, while, his thrusts become faster and more, greedy, not until he unthreads an arm from the mounds of your breasts and caresses the length of your body— slowed and appreciative, sliding his hand over your stomach and up, reaching to your shoulder before hooking his fingers on it— thrusts now faster as he drags you into him, harder, and your tits bounce back and forth with each jolt of his large cock splashing into your hole.

of course he blushes when you tighten your muscles, clenching down on his girth and milking him preciously, it was a dead give-away that he wouldn't last long when he releases a long, lagged moan of your name. like his warm, wet kisses, the drags and fondles of his traces left a wake rippling along your entire skin, a sensory memory, never overridden by anything else.

the coil in your stomach builds up quickly, nerves lighting up when his tongue flicks out to tease the sensitive point of your neck and jawline, body sizzling as if electro infused as pleasure jolts down your flesh until reaching your cunt.

"make me cum," you cry, "i need you!"

"—you have me."

throat tight, body tighter, your hands quick to push him from your neck to your mouth, lips pressing together as you arch and jolt off the bed, up and down, his cock faster than before as the wet, filthy smacking sounds almost overrode your noises. you squeeze around him, hungrily, strongly, suckling in his cock with your thudding hole as his hand on your shoulder clasps behind your neck, pushing you so far up against his glossy lips that you exchanged breathes and whines, throaty groan and cries.

you turn your arms around his chest to strengthen the touch, throat bobbing, mouth dry. there’s no space for anything left and when he pushes himself in you completely, cock disappearing in your used hole, your eyes roll into the back of your head and you shake viciously, climaxing around him, making a mess of yourself, when the bubble in his stomach popped instantly whilst seeing you become free, your liquids drawing a white ring around his girth— neuvillette couldn't go on about it any longer, not when you gnaw down on him so fucking desperate, so loved and fulfilled.

he cums hard, and a lot, and he tenses up, a thrill running over his flesh as his brows furrow, releasing his warm whites with shallow thrusts into your pussy before tucking your body tight to his front and pulls you even more tightly against him, messing you up with his seed. he has been so touch-starved that he can feel drizzling tears form and connect under his lashes in tune with his own orgasm taking him hostage.

his expression softens afterwards, looking like a heavy burden has been lifted off his shoulders, and he dips his head forward, foreheads resting. it's quiet for a while, well, if it weren't for your loud breathes and the clear exhaustion quelling on your facial expressions. the both of you are puffing and blowing out air, finding comfort in the silence when a torrid heat of swirls casts on your bodies, the atmosphere in the room on-fire and fiery.

you decide to kiss his lips, when you finally smirk up at him, eyes aglow, and his own lips are pulled up into an ethereal, handsome smile, his demeanor cascading with an intensity, an honesty, a gentleness and love.

real love.

"i craved you." he whispers, "and i desire you." and kisses your lips one more time.

alas, neuvillette came to terms with himself, knowing that there would never be anything, nothing, that could ever beat the feeling of this.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #neuvillette smut #neuvillette x reader #genshin impact neuvillette #genshin impact neuvillette x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fan fiction #genshin impact neuvillette smut

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chibelial · 1 year

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#personal rant inbound pls scroll past sorry for all these #anyway #why’d I have to find her during one of my mental illness peaks #it’s only gotten this bad a handful of times #and everytime it does I lose damn near everyone and everything #she’s defying a universal law by getting closer to me rn instead of farther away #and god I hope it doesn’t stop #I want to hit the limit of how close 2 individuals can possibly be #everybody always adopts my jokes and my phrases and stuff I encroach into everyone who’s around me #I infect them #and suddenly they adore me and everything I do is hysterical or iconic #I need to see her #she can’t be immune to my revolting power #I’ll infect her so she never desires anybody else #but is that fair? I actually like this girl #I want better for her #she could very easily find somebody better than me she can toss me aside so easily #and on the flip side if she leaves me I’ll never find someone like this again I’ll just be alone #until I find another girl who likes to cut and roofie me #and I’ll just let her ruin me until I try to OD again or something #am I stupid for hoping I can have something real with this girl?#when history repeats itself so much it just feels like a curse that will always tear down anything I manage to grab into #I’m meant to be abused and destroyed and left to die #it’s happened before and I shouldn’t have survived #now they won’t even let me kill myself #she doesn’t realize that I’m nothing and that she showed up at a stupidly fragile time she can kill me with words alone #and if she does I’ll have surely deserved it for wasting her time and thinking I could be good enough #I need her but she absolutely does not need me #please don’t leave me I can’t go back to what I used to be I’ve been mentally regressing lately #I don’t wanna regress back into that but I also don’t want to be the sad thing I am now

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pollyanna-nana · 1 month

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One of the most tragic and compelling aspects of Dunmeshi, to me, is that we’ll probably never know (unless Kui tells us lol) how Delgal actually felt about Thistle. I’ve seen people say that he genuinely cared for him as a brother and his journey to the surface was to save him from his madness as much as it was his people. I’ve seen people say that he saw Thistle as nothing more than a fancy accessory or tool that ended up going astray. Others I’ve seen (and personally agree with) say that the truth lies somewhere in the middle. But honestly, I think any one of these interpretations has the potential to be correct… and that’s just heartbreaking.

After all, Delgal is dead. Like, dead-dead. The very first chapter of the manga starts with his spirit leaving this mortal coil, taking that answer with him. And…

How he talks about Thistle here… it’s interesting. He does not ask for him to be talked down, or captured or imprisoned, but instead “defeated”. Which Mithrun interprets as asking for his death… which is reasonable, because that’s likely how the vast majority of adventurers interpreted his words, too. Obviously as he was crumbling to dust he probably didn’t have the capacity to be particularly verbose or explain the complex backstory to how the kingdom ended up this way, but the effect is the same no matter how he may have felt with it. He asked for Thistle to be killed.

But… even in situations where he wasn’t under any such time limit to explain what was going on, he still seemed not to. Most glaringly:

Yaad seemingly has no idea that it was Delgal’s fault that Thistle sought the demon’s power. Obviously he couldn’t talk to him about it because Thistle was, uh, a little out there by that point, but why didn’t Delgal explain? Was he embarrassed? Mournful? Couldn’t find the words?

Delgal was scared of dying. He wanted prosperity at any cost, and how could Thistle possibly refuse? Did he even realize that what he was the one who pushed his own brother— One who basically helped raise him despite being a child himself, and in many ways is still a child— down this path? Or was it like watching an overzealous employee misinterpret directions?

The way Yaad describes things here makes it sound like Thistle simply dug too deep in his studies and fell into madness, but we know that’s not true. Delgal didn’t “suggest” he learn magic, he wanted a mage who could help himself and his people defy death, which he admits to Thistle openly:

So, why? Why not tell his grandson, at least, the truth of the matter? Did he worry it might make the remaining residents more likely to upset Thistle, and therefore suffer the consequences? Did he just not care? For what it’s worth though, Yaad does suspect the truth from Delgal’s behavior.

He “always blamed himself” for his descent into the dark arts. This is just Yaad’s observation, and that’s without knowing that it was quite literally Delgal’s fault Thistle went down this path. So, why? Why was it all kept a secret?

Of course, this made things ripe for the winged lion to manipulate to its advantage. Clearly despite knowing he’d pushed him into using it, Delgal still thought the lion was a force of good that was misused by Thistle as a result of his madness. His face in that last panel is particularly haunting. He looks terrible, gaunt and pale with overgrown hair and missing teeth. Had he gone mad, with grief and sorrow, as well?

Could he no longer see Thistle the way he did when they were younger? No one can ask him, because he died long before the story even began.

To go back to the original question, well, how did Delgal see Thistle? None of the previous points make a definitive answer any clearer, and I think that’s just brilliant. And so, so tragic.

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torteen · 3 months

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neteyamsilly · 1 year

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i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 1

summary ;; As Jake Sully's oldest daughter, you never see eye to eye with him, always challenging him and pushing his buttons to the limit. What happens when things go too far one day? [PART 2] pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; welcome to the labor of my daddy issues and my very own therapy. this fic is inspired by this one by @layonatanvi and I only wanted to borrow the running away from home to get an ikran idea/prompt! Please excuse my mistakes if you see any.

There’s a widespread belief among sky people that every first-born daughter is a direct copy of her father.

You listened in on your own father complaining to your mother about this privately one time; according to him, this was why you guys kept banging hammerheads like 'angtsìks.

Lo’ak was his troublemaker, yes, but you were the rebel pain in his ass, wouldn’t stop questioning one tiny simple step he made, never took anything seriously when he needed you to be on top of things hundred percent of the time... Even your younger brother knew boundaries after he was given the stink eye, but you hadn’t stopped testing him every single goddamn day after the sky people had come back.

His youngest son and oldest daughter were nearly identical in the speed they got him seeing red, but the similarities ended there. Lo’ak would go behind him to cause trouble, and you would do it right to his face, that fearlessness and defiance made you more dangerous than your brother in your father’s opinion.

His blood pressure skyrocketing was reserved for Lo’ak and the shenanigans he knew right away the boy was getting into, and you got his explosive anger the moment you would open your mouth to defy him — he couldn’t talk to you, a normal conversation even about your mother’s cooking wasn’t possible without you being passive-aggressive and things snowballing from there.

(“This is delicious Neytiri, thank you for the food. Sturmbeest?”

“Sturmbeest meat ran out like two weeks ago, father. You ask this everyday and mom answers the same everyday.”

Cue him reprimanding you for talking to him like that, you saying maybe he should greenlight a hunt soon to calm his nerves and promptly being sent to your room. It was Neteyam who’d saved some food for you that night.)

If only you would stop talking back to him and listen for once, he’d said, pacing in the tent with hands on hips like an agitated viperwolf as mother watched on, most likely tired from going through this loop for yet another day. You are the older sister to Lo’ak, Kiri and Tuk, why can’t you be a role model for them like Neteyam is?

(Mom had given him the flattest, “She is at the age for such behavior, Ma’Jake, we’ve talked about this. Let her be.”)

In your defense, he didn’t make sense sometimes, what harm was there in wanting him to explain the thought process behind his decisions?

Apparently you simply were prohibited from doing that to the Olo’eyktan.

But he was father, he was your family. Why did that have to be disrespect?

He wasn’t like this before.

A small part of you was aware this was you lashing out because you missed your father — the lighthearted rock in your life, the big shadow protecting you from the heat of the world, who knew how to smile and show his love before all of this. Now he was just the leader of the clan, the weight of the revered Toruk Makto on his shoulders made him a total stranger you didn’t recognize.

He barely ever called you sweetheart anymore, punishing you for being a brat, most likely. You tried to act like it didn’t hurt.

But it did. You missed him dearly when he was right in front of you. The rest of the family did, too, they just didn’t say it out loud the way you expressed through what you called standing up to him — in reality, it was a statement about the man he had become, father couldn’t read between the lines to understand.

Mom did.

She would always explain he did it out of love and worry, and his every move had a reason behind it after the scoldings ended. It was as if she saw right through the prickly exterior of her eldest daughter.

Her love wasn’t held back like his was, not shared like military MREs at decided moments in a day in between attacks, raids, meetings and duties. Hers were long touches, hugs, kisses on your temple, shared time and hunts together, her letting you ride on her ikran with her, the warmth of a meal and soft smiles; whilst his was randomly asking how you were after training and where you’ve been if he caught onto your absence sometimes. He didn’t have time for you or your siblings except for Tuktuk these days. That’s why you were now a mama’s girl.

Sooner or later, the breaking point was finally bound to arrive.

Yours did after a particularly heated-up fight about your rite of passage. You had had enough of father postponing it when Lo’ak, younger than you, had already gained his own ikran and gone through uniltaron. He was present in the tent while you were fussing and debating with your immovable mountain of a father only answering with single syllable responses, and his light snickers made you all the more aggressive. He got a strong jab from Kiri after a loud snort.

Kiri, you could get. She was built different from the start — got her mount earlier than anybody else, just walked up to it and asked. Besides, the girl wasn’t a dick about it like Lo’ak was.

“You aren’t ready yet,” father answered the more you asked him. You thought he'd say a different thing the hundredth time, but he didn't. “Your brother was.”

Lo’ak puffed his chest at that, desperate for a drop of recognition as always, and you could only roll your eyes. “So you think I’m weak? I’m not strong enough?”

Father sighed at the provocation. “That’s not what I’m saying. This and being ready are two different things.”

“How are they different? If I’m on top of my training, that means I’m ready.”

“Physically ready, and mentally ready are not the same.”

“How can I not be mentally ready, I’ve already seen what happens—”

“Enough!” He stood up, towering above you and leaning in slightly. Your younger brother had stopped smiling so quickly you almost let a laugh escape you, and father got agitated when he saw that, thinking you were making fun of him. “Some don’t return from the dream hunt. Do you understand? The strongest sometimes don’t return from that. Your mind needs to be strong.”

“And mine isn’t?”

He gave a slow exhale through his nose, not actually wanting to say it for some reason. “No it isn’t.”

“Why?”

There it is. Your signature phrase. ‘Why?’

And it made your father look above, asking silently for patience from Eywa as it always did.

“Ma’ite, why don’t we take a break, hm? Come walk with me,” your mom interrupted, taking your hand and standing next to you, your four fingers got enveloped in her larger, warmer grip, strong and insistent.

“No, I wanna hear it. What do you think makes me not ready?”

You insinuating that your father was entirely going off his own wrong opinion and not knowing any better set him off. You saw the change from ticked off to borderline on edge, but instead of giving into it, he turned his back on you and went back to cleaning his gun, movements choppy and harsh. “That immaturity for a start.”

And you hissed at him—actually hissed at him when none of your siblings would ever dare to talk back to him during a lecture.

The audible gasps, the holding of breaths, and the slow turn of your father’s head looking like he was going through confusion of reality upon being hit on the head had followed. His eyes narrowed and the lines of his eyebrows got gradually lower on his face, his form seemingly expanding in mass from building anger, spine slowly straightening after fully comprehending what you just did.

“I’m way past you giving me attitude missy,” his baritone and low voice was so steady that you’d rather him yell at you like usual, but he was scarily calm, pushing you to raise your chin righteously at him to show you weren’t bothered by him none, but your ears betrayed you by cowering flat and taut against your skull. “But you’re hissing at your father now? Hm? You think this right here is gonna get you the respect you think you deserve?”

“You don’t listen,” you said, ignoring your heart trashing away from how coldly father was to you. “Disrespect,” your fingers quoting in the air resulted only in making him angrier. Neteyam to his right, silent and observant the whole argument, was furiously shaking his head that the beads in his braids were clicking loudly. “is the only way you ever pay attention to anything anymore. See? Look how sharp you are right now. Mission accomplished, I guess.”

“Bro…” Lo’ak, frightened by the wide eyed glare father was giving you, weakly protested, but you knew he would never be able to interfere in the verbal struggle between you and father the way you did to his.

“You will go to your room,” father said between his teeth, “Do not let me see your face. I swear to Eywa—Neytiri, get her outta here.“

“Do you ever want to see our faces anymore, father?”

A beat.

Mom gasped your name in shock, grabbing your arm this time as if she wanted to drag you away.

All his fury froze away immediately. “What did you just say?”

You just stared at him.

“That’s enough,” your mother snapped at you, but you didn’t hold it against her, she was more worried about what would follow if this went on. “Come on, we’re leaving.”

“Okay.” Father slowly shook his head, the storm brewing right under his skin got you preparing for the impact, and all the kids flinched when he threw the unloaded gun back in the crate. “You know so much, don’t you? You’re smart, wise. Know better than Tsahik herself. Fine, you get your way. Go.”

You froze. “What?”

“Yeah, go. Get yourself an ikran.”

“Father—”

“Don’t father me. Go on. I’m not stopping you. Since you’re so ready and you’ll say just about anything to get what you want, who am I to get in your way, huh?”

But you didn’t want it to be like this. Iknimaya was supposed to be something exciting, prideful — a ceremony. He was saying it like you were being thrown out. Who was going to paint your face? Be proud of you?

“Why are you just standing there?” He poked your crushed ego further, confident in the fact that you wouldn't set one foot outside of the cave systems at this hour of the day. “Didn’t you want this?”

You didn’t want this.

“Dad, it’s the middle of the night,” Kiri said, appalled, not quite believing her ears.

“What does it matter?” He showed you in mock pride, up and down that you couldn’t stop the tears from stinging the corners of your eyes. “Mighty hunter here is ready.”

“Jake,” your mother warned in such a threatening tone that he stopped and shifted on his feet, almost uneasy.

“What? If she doesn’t want a father’s concern I’m not giving it to her.”

Like you weren’t standing right in front of him at all.

“Jake!”

That was the final straw. You wrenched your arm free from mom’s iron grip and screamed, “I hate you!” at the top of your lungs at him before storming off the tent.

His ears flattening was the last thing you paid attention to as everything became a blur because of tears swelling. Yeah, right. You wished you could hurt him, unfortunately he was too much of a wall for that. You bet he was scoffing at your declaration right now.

Your body thought faster than your brain did even when the emotions had you drowning under the current, deciding you were going to sneak off to the ikran rookery tonight. You knew he would send Neteyam after you — him barking, “Follow your sister,” at the boy right after you hid yourself between the rocks surrounding the tent was the confirmation of the hypothesis. He was to make sure you didn’t leave High Camp.

Everyone in your family knew your favorite hiding spot to cool off, Neteyam of course was heading there automatically, and it was the headstart you needed to get a move on.

Fine. You would complete your iknimaya yourself without anybody’s support, as if these things had any value anymore with how military he’d conditioned the clan to be. You were going to make him eat his words for humiliating you.

The muffled of father drifting off flared up your determination as you soundlessly sneaked off. "Jesus, I've spoiled her too much..."

#dad!jake x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x reader #jake sully x reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x daughter!reader #sully family x reader #mom!neytiri x reader #neteyam x sister!reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #kiri x sister!reader #irma: 📝#📖: light

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justrustandstardust · 3 months

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the most interesting thing about gojo satoru's character is his irony.

his abilities, while making him the Strongest, are simultaneously his folly. everything "strong" him is at odds with who he is, what he wants, who he wants. this is why geto's question during the breakup was so debilitating— who is he without power? is power all he is?

the answer is ironic. he has the six-eyes, but he couldn't see geto deteriorating right in front of him. he was honing his power, which was ironically enough a key piece in fuelling geto's defection. his power, which is all he understands himself to be, causes him to lose the person he wants most, which has nothing to do with his power at all.

he has the limitless, but he's limited by love. as a literary device, kenjaku is a physical manifestation of gojo's weakness, of his love— shibuya only happened because he couldn't bring himself to destroy his beloved's body, an unmistakable act of overwhelming sentiment and intimacy. gojo's strength is not unidirectional; it bifurcates and goes in one direction while his overpowering love goes in another, leaving him in some liminal place in between. his love imprisons him in his youth (shown by how he always returns to it) and it also literally imprisons him in a box (the prison realm).

he has infinity, which doesn't let anyone or anything close to him, yet he aches for companionship. gojo forms allies so "no one will ever have to be alone again", because even though he has the world in his hand, it's on the condition that it's his alone. gojo craves closeness (from one person in particular) and his powers literally prevent him from attaining it. his desires are not only in direct opposition with his abilities, his abilities prevent him from fulfilling his desires.

he repeatedly tells megumi that sorcerers are alone when they die, but he stays by geto's side til the very end. after geto appears to "come back", gojo's first instinct is to smile, which goes against any and all logic, six-eyes or not. his barest self betrays him despite the fact that he knows he killed geto with his own hands a year ago. when he confronts kenjaku, he does the inverse of what happened with geto— he defies his six-eyes and looks with his soul, something that should've happened when he asked geto if he was okay all those years ago.

the things that make gojo satoru strong are the same things that make him weak. he is supposedly a god amongst humans, but his folly is that he's the most human of them all. he yearns, he loves, he aches, he craves— gojo satoru knows firsthand that love is the most twisted curse of all because he nakedly bears its cross.

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stilljuststardust · 29 days

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You are the void state, if you exist you can enter it.

It is not possible to be "locked out" of the void state. You are the state.

Stop overcomplicating it for yourself.

"I can't enter the void state" yes you can. I think when we put something on a pedestal we put it in our heads that it's difficult to achieve. There is nothing hard about the void state. It is not an epic achievement. Not at all to say you shouldn't be proud of yourself for entering it I'm just saying when we frame it as some kind of reality defying feat we're hurting ourselves.

It was called the "I AM" state by Neville Goddard. He only used one affirmation to enter it. I am.

It is a state of pure consciousness. It can never be off limits to you because you ARE the void. You are always consciousness! The void state is a return to self!

You are the universe experiencing itself. You just are. I don't know how to describe it other than that. If I did not have a name to describe myself I would simply be "I am." If you asked me what you are I would only say "you are"

The void state is something you find within yourself. You are not blocked. You are just searching outside of yourself.

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edenesth · 4 months

Text

The Duke's Weakness

Pairing: duke!Yunho x dancer!reader

Word Count: 1.2k

ATEEZ Masterlist

"May I have the pleasure of this dance, my lady?"

Your eyes widened when you turned around to see none other than Duke Jung Yunho, the second most eligible bachelor in Wonderland after the recently engaged crown prince.

In surprise, you quickly curtsied and replied, "But sire, you mustn't. I'm no lady—"

It was against the rules for you to dance with any lords or noblemen at the ball. After all, you were simply a hired dancer meant to entertain at such grand events.

Yunho, undeterred, smiled cheekily as he extended his hand, waiting patiently, "Not a lady, you say? You do possess the anatomy of one, though, don't you?"

Blushing, you stammered, "W-well, of course, I do, my lord. But that's not what I meant—"

Amused by your flustered response, the duke gestured towards his outstretched hand, "Then please, my lady, I wish to dance with you. Unless you refuse, I will respect your decision."

In a panicked state, you shook your head and quickly placed your hand in his, "N-no! It would be an honour, my lord."

You couldn't ignore the watchful gazes fixed upon the two of you as Yunho gracefully led you into his embrace, twirling you around the grand hall. Sensing the scrutiny, you squirmed slightly, acutely aware of the potential controversy surrounding a man of his status dancing with a peasant like yourself.

"Hey, look at me. Only me. Don't mind them; none of these people matter as long as I'm here," His reassuring words made your heart skip a beat, and you responded with a breathless, "Yes, my lord."

His words had a magical effect, diverting your attention from the envious glares of women and the judgemental stares of men.

As you locked eyes with his gentle gaze, you wondered why people labelled him as the strict and cold-hearted Duke. Yunho inherited his father's title at a young age, and he hasn't been the same ever since. Ruling with an iron fist, he defied societal expectations by refusing to marry despite the persistent stream of candidates presented to him each year.

His reputation preceded him, and your knowledge of him was limited to what most people knew. You've encountered him multiple times at events, you as the performer and him as a distinguished guest.

Tonight, however, he played the role of the ball's host, an attempt orchestrated by his mother to find him a suitable bride. But he remained steadfast in his defiance, his attention solely fixed on his favourite dancer who had captured his interest at every ball and ceremony—you.

In truth, Yunho's struggle with his identity began in earnest after his father's passing, burdening him with responsibilities far too heavy for a child. Forced into the role of a duke, he became little more than a puppet, dutifully following his mother's directives.

Beneath his seemingly detached exterior simmered a reservoir of anger, a lamentation for the childhood he had lost. Deprived of a voice in his younger years, his subsequent decisions reflected a rebellion against his constrained past, resulting in a ruling style that was borderline tyrannical.

For the longest time, he had lost hope and found it difficult to see the beauty in life. But everything changed when he first laid eyes on you. Beyond your physical beauty, the genuine joy radiating from your eyes as you indulged in your passion for dancing captivated him. He saw something ethereal and was determined to shield the childlike innocence that still sparkled in your gaze from potential harm.

Contrary to popular belief, the duke had a weakness that surfaced consistently in the presence of a mere dancer at every event. Tired of his mother's incessant prodding, he had decided to marry as she wished. But he had a very different plan in mind: he would not be choosing from the noblewomen invited to the ball.

Unable to contain the questions swirling in your mind, you mustered the courage to speak, "My lord, if I may ask a question," He nodded, "Please, just Yunho will do."

Your eyes widened at the informality, "But, my lord—" The duke gently silenced you with a finger pressed to your lips, "No 'buts.' Now, ask away."

Taking a deep breath, you cleared your throat before voicing your inquiry, "Y-Yunho, sire, you must be aware that I'm not a noblewoman of any sort, yes? Why would you want to dance with someone as humble as myself? Wouldn't this affect your reputation?"

He flashed a mischievous grin, tightening his hold on your waist and pulling you closer, your foreheads now touching, "My lady, I won't allow you to belittle yourself like that. Let it be known that I've been admiring you since your very first performance."

Your cheeks flushed at the realisation that he had been watching you from the start, "And now, I find myself admiring you even more for the genuine concern about my reputation. I could use a wife like you."

The final sentence nearly caused your heart to stop, halting your feet and leaving the two of you at the centre of the dance floor, all eyes focused on you, "This isn't funny, Yunho. You shouldn't joke about such matters—"

His hand gently cupped your cheek, interrupting your protest, "I am not joking, my lady. If I were to propose right now, would you agree to be my bride?" Despite your initial disbelief, the vulnerability and sincerity in his eyes persuaded you that he was indeed serious.

Anxiety etched his features as you remained silent; his thumb soothingly stroked your cheek, "I know you're scared and confused, but I swear on my life, I will make you happy. So, tell me, my dear, would you be mine?" Unable to trust your voice, you simply nodded, prompting an instant, wide smile to grace his face.

At that moment, he caught the familiar sound of his mother's approaching footsteps, storming over to intervene, "Yunho, my son—" With a sly smirk, he gracefully dropped to one knee in front of you, drawing gasps from the surrounding onlookers, "My lady, would you allow this duke the honour of being your husband?"

This dramatic gesture served a dual purpose: demanding respect for you as his chosen one and signalling his defiance to his mother and everyone else present.

Feeling the intensity of the penetrating glares, you hesitated momentarily, but the gentle squeeze of your hand reassured you. With a firm nod, you affirmed, "Yes, my lord. I'd be delighted to have you."

Without hesitation, he swiftly pulled you into his arms, his words a whispered promise in your ear, "I'm well aware that my reputation may not be the best, but I will be good to you, my duchess. You have my word." Your heart melted at the sincerity behind those words, and he sealed the deal with a kiss on your lips.

By the end of the night, you would come to realise that your trust in him was well-founded. In only a brief span, this man has shown you more respect than anyone ever had throughout your entire life.

It became abundantly clear that any woman thinking they stood a chance with Yunho was sorely mistaken, for the duke only has eyes for you—his one and only weakness.

Y'all, Wooyoung was initially meant to be the duke. But the more I looked at that photo of Yunho, it was almost like he was telling me this role belonged to him lmao.

Thank you for reading and as always, let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #jung yunho #jeong yunho #ateez yunho #yunho x you #yunho x reader #ateez fic #yunho drabble #ateez drabbles #ateez imagines #yunho imagines

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doumadono · 2 months

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Hii douma! May I request Shoto just in love? Just him being in love for the very first time and the concept of love just so foreign to him? Have a great day/night!

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

The cold spring air of U.A. High School's training grounds swept across Shoto Todoroki's face, his distinctive heterochromatic eyes glancing stoically at the horizon. As he approached the courtyard, the brisk wind tousled his dual-toned hair, and for the first time, a peculiar sensation stirred within him. It was an emotion he hadn't experienced before, a feeling that seemed to thaw the icy demeanor that usually defined him, yet he couldn't put a finger on what was it.

As the son of Endeavor, emotions had never been a territory he explored willingly. However, this day would mark a shift, an unexpected twist in the stoic narrative of Todoroki's life.

Shoto was no stranger to intense emotions. Anger, resentment, and the relentless pursuit of self-discovery had been his companions for as long as he could remember. But this was different – a foreign concept that had invaded the carefully constructed fortress around his heart.

As he walked past the cherry blossom trees, their delicate petals swirling in the air, his gaze landed on a figure standing by the fountain.

It was you, a fellow classmate whose presence had recently begun to captivate him. You were a presence in his life that had begun to defy categorization. You were just a person — a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit the mold he'd grown accustomed to. He admired you from afar, appreciating your strength and determination in both academics and combat.

It began innocently, Shoto noticed. A shared glance across the classroom, a casual comment during training, and the casual camaraderie of shared laughter. But as days unfolded, the puzzle piece shifted, creating a mosaic he hadn't anticipated. He was no stranger to intensity; after all, his own quirk bore the duality of fire and ice. Yet, this newfound sentiment was a flame of a different kind, uncharted and unsettling.

"Hey," he called out, his voice surprisingly steady despite the internal turmoil.

You turned towards him, a quizzical smile gracing your lips. "Todoroki, hey. Is everything okay?"

Shoto hesitated, his usual calm exterior cracking just a bit. "I… I wanted to talk."

Curiosity sparked in your eyes as you nodded, inviting him to continue.

"I've been thinking," Shoto began, his usually concise words replaced by a rare vulnerability. "About feelings. Emotions. And there's something I can't quite comprehend."

You listened intently, sensing the gravity of Shoto's words. "What is it?"

"I've always been driven by my goals, my desire to surpass my limits, and the need to prove my father wrong," he continued, "but lately, I find myself caught in a different struggle. It's like a flame inside me, burning with an intensity I can't control."

You tilted your head, intrigued. "Oh?"

Shoto nodded, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that surprised even himself. "It's a distraction, an enigma that I can't unravel. It's like standing at the edge of a precipice, uncertain of the fall," he admitted, a rare flicker of uncertainty crossing his features.

Your lips curled into a gentle smile. "Love, Todoroki. It sounds like you're in love."

Todoroki's brows furrowed, the word foreign on his tongue. Love. A concept he'd analyzed in textbooks but never expected to encounter firsthand.

You smiled gently, understanding the conflict within him. "Love is complex, Shoto. It's not something you can control or quantify. It's a force that binds us together, that makes us vulnerable and strong at the same time."

Shoto absorbed your words, his internal battle slowly subsiding. "I don't know how to navigate this unfamiliar territory."

You reached out, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "It's okay not to have all the answers. Love is a journey, not a destination. Take your time, Todoroki."

"I think… I might be in love with you," he confessed, the admission hanging in the air like the delicate petals of cherry blossoms.

Your eyes widened, a subtle blush adorning your features. "Todoroki, that's…" you began, but he silenced you with a tender touch as he placed his hand to your rosy cheek.

"Let me finish," he whispered, his breath mingling with the soft evening breeze. "I might not fully understand it, but I know that being around you feels just right. I love spending my time with you, it doesn't matter if we just chat or study together."

A heartbeat passed between you, the air charged with unspoken emotions. And then, in a moment both tender and profound, Shoto leaned in, placing a gentle kiss to your cheek. It was a sweet, hesitant kiss, a step into the uncharted territory of love.

As he looked at you, the world around seemed to fade, leaving only the two of you in the quiet embrace newfound feelings. Shoto's stoic facade melted away, revealing a vulnerability.

A quiet moment passed before you chuckled, breaking the tension. "Well, that's unexpected. I never thought I'd be the one to thaw Todoroki's icy heart."

A small, hesitant smile tugged at Todoroki's lips. Embracing the vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show, Shoto took a deep breath. "Would you mind if I… explore this feeling with you?"

"I'd like that, Shoto," you replied, reaching your hand out to intertwine your fingers with his.

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sky-is-the-limit · 2 months

Text

+18

P: Captain Price x 141!F!Reader

CW: NSFW content, Breeding Kink, Unprotected Sex

WC: 1,588 words

@glitterypirateduck

The scent of his cologne enveloped you, mingling with the subtle aroma of your perfume, creating a heady cocktail of pure primal need.

The fingers around your throat flexed, squeezing your neck firmer as he began pushing his cock further into you. Inch by heavy, agonizing inch, his unyielding hardness speared into your cunt, the thick girth of his cock pulling apart your walls.

"You like the thought of that, doll?" Every word that escaped his lips carried the weight of authority, resonating with a compelling power that demanded attention. His voice was deep and rich, with a velvety smoothness that held an irresistible allure.

The image of you underneath him, offering yourself completely to him, your breath coming in ragged gasps as he took you to the brink of ecstasy and beyond, only made John lose all sense of control he had left.

His touch was both commanding and tender, his hands moving with a sense of purpose as they explored every curve and contour of your body. You were clenching around him so tightly, the warmth of your folds urging him to fuck you senseless.. and so he did.

All you could feel was him inside you, grazing on your most sensitive spots and turning you delirious with pleasure. He was stretching you to your limits and it felt so ecstatic as he kept with his unrelenting thrusts, your cries fueling him to push harder.

Every nerve ending tingled with the remnants of bliss, a lingering echo of the intense pleasure that had washed over you in a tidal wave of sensation

''F-fuck, sir-ah!'' Words fell from your lips, incoherent babbles of his name mixing with your moans creating the most beautiful symphony in the silence of the room. ''So good- so full, fuck.''

Though you knew the affair was wrong, your insatiable desire for him eclipsed all rationality, rendering you indifferent to the consequences.

Despite the looming consequences, you surrendered yourself completely to the intoxicating spell he casted over you. From the moment you were assigned under his command.

In his arms, you found solace from the fucked up monstrosities of the outside world, and for a brief moment, the weight of your forbidden feelings felt almost bearable. For you, the allure of this illicit romance was beyond all reason, leaving you willing to risk everything for the sake of his affections.

In the end, what severe consequences could even measure to those eyes. Blue like the stormy sea, deep and intense, holding a magnetic pull that you found impossible to resist.

And in that fleeting moment, of your bodies intertwined and his prominent features illuminated by the moonlight.. You'd defy the most powerful armies to be held by John Price.

He swiveled his hips, your spine twisting off of the bed as you felt his cockhead drag against your sweet-spot before battering into your cervix. With each and every one of his thrusts, his thick shaft opened up your walls, the velvet hardness stimulating every erogenous zone and setting your nerves afire with pleasure.

Hoarse cries of ecstasy teared from your throat, his cock vehemently surging into you over and over again.

"Answer me." His lips left a trail of fire in their wake, igniting a fervent longing deep within your core.

You arched your neck, offering yourself completely to his overwhelming ministrations, lost in the addictive bliss of his touch as his girthy cock was rearranging your insides with the immediate force and pace of his thrusts.

His hands grappled at your hips, your tits, your shoulders, and your legs, anything to get to ram himself into you. Each thrust was punctuated by growls and clicks from the back of his throat and finally, the right words fell from his lips without a trace of shame.

"You like the thought of me filling you up, don't you?" Wired beyond belief, the implications and consequences of his words were entirely lost on you.

"Yes, ah-" In a voice barely above a whisper, you replied, your words laced with a delicate vulnerability that stirred something primal within him as your nails raked down to his pecks, leaving angry, red welts in their wake.

The pleasure was almost too much, your fingers tightening in their grip on the sheets and trying to drag yourself away from the feeling. With a grunt, Price wrenched your hand out of the sheets, hand circling tightly around the bend of your elbow as he pulled you back towards him. His hips picked back up their rhythm, hand landing a thundering smack on your ass cheek as he fucked into you.

"Yes, what?" He asked, his words punctuated by deep, hard plunges. The blunt head of his cock battered against the supple walls of your cervix, a dull ache forming within your womb and hips from the unforgiving power of his thrusts.

"Yes, sir-" You responded immediately, the honorific just sounding right in every context when it came to that man.

A cry was wrenched from your throat at the feeling of him filling you so completely, not sparing a second before he was pistoning his hips against yours. With your eyes rolling back in your head at the feeling of his tip bullying your cervix, you felt the curve of his dick brushing against that spongy spot inside you.

"I want you to fuck me again and again until it's spilling out of me," You whimpered, your brain melting underneath John’s weight as you felt his hands grab at your thighs, pressing your knees to your chest as he settled his weight over you. His cock pressed deeper into your core, the deepest anyone had ever been. "Sir."

Your voice was nothing more than a shrill whine, all the air punched out of your lungs at the change in position. His weight was comforting around you as he molded your cunt around his cock. You were sure you would never be the same after this, he had broken you down and rebuilt you in the same breath.

It was like your normally stoic Captain was lost in a whirlwind of intense emotions. The older man's gaze alone spoke volumes, conveying his depth of feeling and adoration, as words failed to capture the magnitude of his affections.

He could hear the desperation in your voice, the way your lip trembled and brows pinched together as you looked up at him. Surging down to grab your jaw with his hand, he held your face still to press his lips urgently to yours, tongue demanding entrance before he pulled away, string of spit connecting your tongues.

His grip on your throat tightened, blood rushing in your ears at the light feeling in your head. Your Captain cursed, hips stuttering against yours at the way your clenched around his cock, almost making it hard for him to pull out and press back in smoothly.

"That filthy mouth of yours, angel." The aggression only ramped up the more you dug your nails into him and begged for more. His thrusts became more harsh and quick, brutally slamming his cock into you in an almost primal, animalistic way.

"What it does to me-" His words came out in fragmented bursts, a mixture of prayers and curses intermingled with the fervent pleas of a man pushed to the brink.

"I'm gonna keep fucking you-" His voice was a sinful warble next to your ear, his soft pants and grunts making your skin burn with arousal as he kept slowly rocking into you, moving your legs higher up to set on his shoulders for a better angle, "until you're carrying my child, fuck-"

Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead, his chest heaving with each ragged breath. He sounded absolutely wrecked. He sounded like he was begging, like he was praying, even as he whispered crazed little promises in your ear.

A low growl rumbled in his throat, his brows furrowed whilst his mandibles unfolded and folded in an erratic manner. "So everyone in here knows who you belong to." With drool dribbling out from the corners of your bruised lip, you stared down at your tummy, almost mesmerized by the bump inflating your guts whenever your Captain's tip buried itself against your deepest parts. "Is that what you want, angel?"

With every beat of his heart, he felt an overwhelming surge of euphoria, a blissful ecstasy that consumed him entirely.

"That's all I want, sir. Please, please-" Tears welled up in the corners of your eyes as you plead, spilling over onto your flushed cheeks as you surrendered yourself completely to the overwhelming sensation coursing through your veins.

The hand that was once on your midsection, slipped down to your now oversensitive clit. His rapid breathing mingling with your own became increasingly labored, both of your carnal needs for each other nearing the precipice. He doubled down on your sensitive nub, gaining him moans akin to pleasured screams from you.

In the presence of such authority and seduction, it was impossible to resist the intoxicating allure of his voice, his gaze, his every gesture. Captain Price was a master of persuasion and in his presence, resistance was futile.

It was a feeling of pure, unbridled euphoria, a fleeting glimpse of heaven that left you feeling simultaneously fragile and invincible.

And as you looked up at him with eyes brimming with need, you knew that you'd follow him to the ends of the earth and back, if only he'd grant you the privilege of loving you in return.

#ocaptainchallenge #to breed or not to breed #captain price #captain price smut #captain price x reader #captain price x you #captain price x female reader #john price #cod #call of duty #cod smut #141 x reader #task force 141 #cod x reader

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pineapplerightsideupcake · 4 months

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So.. I'm confused about something. If your beliefs in radical feminism say that trans people aren't valid in their feelings of being trans, what's stopping you from making bisexual people not part of the LGB? B stands for bisexual. What if their sexuality is just a phase? What if they are *actually* just heterosexual? For that matter what's stopping you from excluding YOURSELF from the community? At some point, you can't exclude any more people from a space that wasn't supposed to be gatekept to begin with! -Vero of CFC

You people always use that word “valid”. It’s absolutely meaningless post modern nonsense. Trans people feel that despite having a male or female body, their feelings about it change reality. I’m not telling trans people how they feel. Because you’re right, I can’t know that. What I’m telling them is that their feelings don’t change their bio sex. I’m telling them their feelings don’t supersede the rights and dignity of women. That’s not at all the same thing as being same sex attracted.

If I tell you that I am attracted to both men and women you can believe me or not. It doesn’t change my sexuality. You can’t know how I personally experience sexual attraction. But if I tell you I’m an Olympic Figure Skater, that’s something external and material. That’s something that either is or isn’t. And it doesn’t matter how true I want it to be.

This isn’t about people being invalid or valid. It isn’t about telling others I know better than them how they feel. It’s me telling them that their feelings don’t change material reality.

And we don’t get to sidestep reality because language is limited and imprecise. We create words to express ideas and categorize things so we don’t have to start every conversation from the ground up. Think of the quote “a rose by any other name”. The word ‘rose’ is made up but the flower it refers to exists in the material world. And you and everyone on earth could declare a rose a tulip but as long as people needed to specify they’d find a way to invent the word rose again. It’s why every 3 years your movement declares old terms verboten. MtF and FtM got used until people got mad it didn’t erase the reality of bio sex and people just used those terms in place of “male and female”. Then the same thing happened with AFAB and AMAB. Now we’re onto TME and no one knows what anyone is talking about because at the end of the day, people are male or female and no amount of “validation” or the right words erases that reality.

I am bisexual because I am attracted to both men and women. Lesbians are women exclusively attracted to women. Gay men are men exclusively attracted to men. Straight people are exclusively attracted to the opposite sex. The LGB community formed because the thing we had in common- same sex attraction- is punished in most societies. It absolutely was designed to gatekeep. It was a civil rights movement- not a secret club house. The LGB have no more moral responsibility to admit opposite sex attracted people than black activists have to include white or Asian people.

“Queer” has nothing to do with it. Demi flux genderoo aroallo fox kin have nothing to do with it. A group of men that believe their internal state of mind makes them literally a woman has nothing to do with it. You people overran a movement for same sex attracted people, convinced everyone to call our community a slur, and demand that we center heterosexual teens too immature for a relationship thinking that makes them the same as a Gay man.

I’m tired of arguing with 19 year olds that read too much mlm fanfiction that having short hair and wearing hoodies from the boys section doesn’t mean they’re gay men. I’m tired of arguing with those same girls that the 45 year old man with pigtails and a pink pinafore sucking his thumb and holding a dolly on social media isn’t a brave woman defying The Man. He’s just a pervert.

#radical feminism #radical feminist safe #radical feminist community #radical feminists do interact #radical feminists do touch #radical feminists please interact #radblr #feminism #radical feminists please touch #trans

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