#Glacial Domination

[kellymagovern]

Frozen Soul - "Glacial Domination" [x]

[formulas-fatal-to-your-mom]

[depravednotdeprived]

Frozen Soul - Glacial Domination

[gbhbl]

Live Review: Frozen Soul with Creeping Death, Foreseen and Overthrow at The Underworld, Camden, London (12/02/2024)

Its a chilly Monday night in London and things are about to get a lot colder as we head to The Underworld to check out the icy death metal outfit, Frozen Soul. The Texas based band are a few dates into a huge European tour and this is the first of 5 shows here in the UK with Bristol, Manchester, Glasgow and Birmingham next in line before they head to mainland Europe. Well known for their…

[restinfesteringslime]

Frozen Soul (feat. Gost) Frozen Soul Glacial Domination

[nowonlyghosts]

Frozen Soul // Glacial Domination

(2023)

[onlyhurtforaminute]

FROZEN SOUL-MORBID EFFIGY

[skzoologist]

ʜᴇʟʟᴏ(●’◡’●)ﾉ I have a request kinda, Okay hear me out I just my signed album the other day and I got chans signature 🤯 ( I'm still in disbelief... Like is this real life 🥲) anyway its got me thinking how the boys would act. With how much they like bae how would they act to receive his autograph. I feel like since their all in the same group no one would really think about it until their signing autographs for the albums, and person A says that some Stays are gonna be lucky to receive bae's autograph and then person B is like actually I have it and starts to brag about it. Then the chaos would ensues 😈 and or something completely different 😅 but after they have it how would they act??

word count: ~1.3

warnings: none

genre: crack

a/n: Hey-ho dear, good to see you again! I was worried something happened with how you disappeared. But oh my god, congratulations on your album! I'm astounded, just, wow. 🤯 Can't imagine ever holding one in my hands, you're so lucky! I would probably freak out like a certain weasel in this request, haha. Either way, I hope you'll enjoy reading it! 😊

Please let me know if I left a warning or anything out, I will add it in! Reblogs, likes and feedback are greatly appreciated!

!I don't condone anyone stealing my work and posting it anywhere without my permission, or feeding it to AI!

!This is just fiction, my interpretation of Stray Kids. By no means is this how they are and how they behave in real life!

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

With every release of a new album came the time for the idols to sign some of them, letting a few lucky fans get their hands on one. It had always been a fun activity for the band, having some leisure time that they could calmly spend in each others’ presence and simply chat or joke around. They would usually film it as well, or at least a part of it, eager to provide even more content to their beloved fans, showing them every single side of themselves, not just the one they showed up on the brightly lit stages.

Bae liked whenever it came to signing the albums, because with how focused most of the members became, the air around them quieted, letting the male soak in their silent presence. Don’t get him wrong, he loved them in all their loud glory, but sometimes his ears and mind needed a bit of an escape, if he wanted to retain the remains of his sanity at the very least.

The cover of one of their NOEASY albums greeted him, the black paper smooth under his slender fingers. With practised ease and carefulness, he lifted the first few pages, finding the perfect place for his signature. The black marker in his right hand rose, its mission now crystal clear. The lines formed on the hot pressed paper, touching each other at the correct places and curving into that familiar symbol he always placed into his signatures. He started implementing the little crystal star into it years ago, the fans absolutely loving it along with the other members.

Speaking of which, they had all been relatively silent as they sat in their seats, as expected. Only light chatter left their lips, a few of the answers even taking up to a minute or two to arrive. Bae merely hummed when he was dragged into the conversations, not wishing to disturb this rare moment. He even sneaked in a few glances at the others while taking a quick break, warmth dancing in his eyes as he watched them, adoration filling his entire being.

Felix once caught his gaze, breaking out in a wide smile in response and lighting up the whole room with his bright presence alone. Bae swore the room actually became brighter and it wasn’t just his eyes playing tricks on him. The quiet idol watched his little sunshine finish signing the album he’d started on and close it, the marker now left alone on the table as the male walked towards him. Not knowing what the boy’s plan was, Bae silently observed, only a small head tilt indicating his slight confusion.

It didn’t surprise him when Felix stopped behind him, tiny fingers carding through long, black strands that were dusted with a tinge of strawberry blonde at their ends. The digits were careful in their fluid movements, twisting the locks in different directions, never tangling them up or ripping even one out accidentally. The notion was so soothing that Bae couldn’t help but let out a silent sigh, eyes closed in temporary bliss.

“Aw man, the fans who get your signed albums are gonna be so lucky.” - Jisung whined out, successfully breaking Bae out of his cosy headspace and stealing his attention. “Don’t even say it, I’m jealous just by the thought itself.” - Hyunjin replied, huffing in annoyance as he glimpsed at their pouting quokka. “Yah, don’t say that, STAY will think you don’t like them!” - Chan laughed out, amused eyes now watching the scene unfold after a quick glance at the still recording camera. “We DO, but still, it’s unfair they can have Bae’s signed albums and not us!” - even Changbin hopped into this circus, making everyone roll their eyes at the ridiculousness of it all.

Felix’s giggles broke everyone’s bickering and sulking voices, garnering everyone’s attention as he just calmly continued now braiding Bae’s long hair, the strands weaving into each other and creating beautiful waves of midnight and sunset.

“You can just ask him to sign yours later, chill.” - he said, the atmosphere turning silent, as if a pane of ice had been dropped onto the ground, shattering, leaving everyone speechless in its place.

It took them a solid minute to boot back up, their system having done a quick reset. Seungmin and Jeongin just snorted meanwhile, amused by the stupidity of their hyungs. Minho wasn’t far behind, opting to silently watch it with a knowing grin.

“What do you mean?” - Jisung asked, disbelief heavily dripping from each syllable. “I mean exactly what I said? What, none of you asked Bae hyung for his signature before…?” - Felix replied, confusion clearly displayed as he tilted his head, hands stilling in the otter’s hair. “You mean, we could have asked him for it? Just like that?” - it was Changbin this time, hands firmly planted on the table, already halfway to fully standing up from his poor, knocked back chair. “...Yes? What? Don’t tell me you guys haven’t been asking him to sign all his photocards and albums?” “Felix, I am so honest when I say I love you, but I’m stealing all of them.” “What, Bin hyung NO-” “I agree. I’ll help steal them and we split them evenly.” “Sungie, you too?!?”

Bae watched the two chase Felix around, all the while Hyunjin was left freaking out in his chair, acting as if his entire soul had just left his body. Chan was shaking his head tiredly, but you could see he enjoyed it as well from the light smile dancing on his lips and the slight crease in his eyes. Minho grabbed a snack and happily munched on it, loving the show maybe a bit too much. Bae swore the man thrived on chaos, something that was both impressive and fear-inducing. The two youngest reveled in the situation the most maybe, openly laughing as Felix had been caught and held down, the quokka and dwaekki not granting him any mercy.

Not wanting to suddenly become a group of 8, the tallest member stood up with a silent sigh and a fond smile, ruffling a still dramatically unmoving weasel’s hair on his way as he walked towards the roughhousing trio.

“I’ll sign your guys’ stuff too, just let Lix go.”

The speed at which Jisung and Changbin turned towards his direction was worrying, a miracle none of them got whiplash in the first place. There was a dangerous glint in their eyes, telling of a hunger and determination that had Bae take a step back, right into someone’s chest.

“You’ll sign all my stuff first, right?” - Hyunjin’s voice brushed against his ear, toned arms circling around his waist and cutting off his only escape route.

“Hey, no fair, I want him to sign my stuff first!” “NO, MINE, I’M OLDER SO I SHOULD COME FIRST!” “DUDE, who cares, I love him more, so I come first!”

The bickering and shouting merely strengthened with each passing second, the trio at the centre of it all. Somehow amongst it all Felix and Chan joined in as well, the remaining three just watching in amusement and making sure the camera recorded every single moment from the best angle.

Amidst all that was Bae, caged in Hyunjin’s arms, forced to hear everything and be passed around like a child’s toy, everyone arguing about who loved him more. His arms hurt as they were grabbed and dragged into opposite directions, his skin flushed in embarrassment, the hue only darkening with each shouted declaration of love.

Maybe signing albums wasn’t as peaceful as he had thought before.

[multifandomme]

Stolen Power

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Female Reader

Summary: Agent Prentiss cuts you a deal that you cannot refuse.

Genre: Smut, (strap-ons, roleplay, restraints, light gunplay, praise, scratching, semi-public sex, teasing, humiliation, coercion, power dynamics), not suitable for minors.

Word Count: 2.2k.

This piece is for day 2 of kinktober under the 'roleplay' prompt.

More works from me here. || Masterlist here. || Kinktober 2024 Masterlist here.

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The glacial metal of handcuffs encircled your wrists, tightly, bound to leave engravings in the wake of their agonising hold. Emily had delighted in the prospect of incapacitating you, trapped inside the four walls of the interrogation room, anchored to a chair. 

“You’ve been a bad, bad girl, haven’t you?” Her enjoyment was blatant, striding around the room with a confidence that radiated in abundance, a powerfulness that until now, had remained undiscovered. 

“You tell me,” you challenged, dauntlessly, “I thought it was your job to figure that out or am I mistaken?”

“Agent Prentiss,” Emily corrected, sternly, her eyes narrowed in displeasure as she sauntered sexily towards you. “You will address me as Agent Prentiss, is that clear?”

The newfound dominance undeniably looked good on her, the sparkles that flickered in her dark irises causing shivers to suffuse along your spine. A subtle smirk plucked at the corner of her mouth, a glimpse of brilliant white peeking out from behind cherry-stained lips. Suddenly, the countless times she had spent gasping below you evaporated from your mind, replaced with a new reality that rendered you helpless and entirely at her mercy.

“Yes, Agent Prentiss.”

“You know, I’m going to put you away for a long time,” she threatened, huskily, a finger snaking its way beneath your chin, forced to meet her unwavering gaze. “And I don’t think you’ll do too well in prison.”

An audible gulp freed itself from you, your attention momentarily diverted to the cleavage that had jostled its way out from the deep teal silk that shrouded it. The stolen glance did not go unnoticed as Emily withdrew from you, a scoff of disapproval bursting out into the silence.

“Oh, I’ll be just fine,” you countered, smugly, intent on riling her enough to draw her back to you. “I’m sure the girls in prison will really appreciate what I have to give, Agent Prentiss.”

And then, a twinkle of unrestrained thrill flared amidst the onyx and without time to calibrate, she had strutted her way back to you, a hand clasped harshly around your throat. 

“That pretty mouth will get you in trouble,” Emily warned, vehemently, her tongue swiping the underside of her teeth, her glare unabated, stricken with lust.

Emily battled earnestly to conceal her arousal from you to no avail, this pretence of anger as flimsy as the silk she wore. In fact, the fervour that clouded her seemed to permeate the room with such intensity that the air had grown thick, torrid. 

“My mouth can do a lot of things, Agent Prentiss,” you provoked, undeterred by the way her grasp toughened around your words. “But that isn’t all I have to offer.”

With a forceful jolt, Emily released you, a certain curiosity cloaking her expression as she paused to rake her eyes over the entirety of your frame. Boldly, you drove your hips up from the chair, your attempt at an escape thwarted instantly by the sudden emergence of Emily’s gun unholstered and prodding into your sternum. 

The severity of the threat had stunned you into rigidity, oxygen evading you more now than when Emily had deliberately restricted it earlier with her hands. Silence prevailed, obstructed only by the quaking breaths that emitted from you, the force of her gun dissipating until she halted, the pistol trained on the space betwixt your thighs. A subconscious shiver rattled its way over you, secretly enthralled by her supremacy, the gun merely deepening the allure. You weren’t scared at all, no, you were excited. 

“I thought I frisked you for weapons,” Emily uttered, shaking her head lightly as she drew backwards, quick to rescind the threat and deposit her pistol upon the table.

“Not well enough,” you mused, taunting her, the materialisation of Emily’s roaming hands occurring to you as they smoothed over the bulge you were hiding.  “You want to see what it can do, Agent Prentiss?”

A sharp exhale sounded from her, tongue sneaking out to paint a fresh coat of saliva over her lips until they glistened beneath the piercing light. 

“You see, a gun incites fear, will have you begging for your life,” you acknowledged, a short-lived vibration shuddering over you as Emily unzipped your trousers and hustled the appendage from its confinements. “But this, Agent Prentiss…” you smirked, revelling in the way that her lip had found itself pinched firmly between her teeth, “this will make you scream, make you beg for more.”

A wry chuckle sprung from her as she regarded you, surprisingly unaffected by your persistent torment. In an instant, her fist wrapped itself snugly around the base of the strap on. And then, she leaned in tantalisingly close, her breath tousling softly against your ear.

“I’m willing to cut you a deal,” she whispered, enticingly, her head bowing slightly to lick a searing stripe across your pulse point and immediately setting you ablaze. “But, I’m going to need something from you first.”

“I’m listening,” you mumbled, half-convincingly, your mind positively possessed by sinful reveries, Emily at the centre of them all. 

“You get me off,” she drawled, sultrily, a series of fleeting pecks pressed to your jaw, “and I’ll let you walk, no questions asked.”

“You’ve got a deal, Agent Prentiss,” you acceded, keenly, a hum of amusement rumbling from her. “Please, get me out of these cuffs and I promise to give you exactly what you want,” you blurted, “No games-”

“No deal,” Emily rebutted, decisively, eliciting a huff of disappointment from you. “The cuffs stay on,” she reiterated, her eyebrow twitching upwards in a wordless warning, “I’m a big girl, I’m sure I can get what I want from you all on my own. You just sit still and be good for me, hm?”

“Yes, Agent Prentiss,” you nodded, her words inspiring sparks of arousal to form and persist, “I’ll do whatever you ask.”

A palpable tension descended, only amplifying when Emily yanked herself away from you and began to unbutton her shirt. The article of clothing was not entirely abandoned, left to splay open freely as Emily shot a cautious look towards the camera that surveyed every angle of the room from above. Bizarrely, the continual red light that beamed outward from it waned to black, and you were unable to shake the gnawing feeling that it wasn’t quite a coincidence at all.

The flash of indigo lace haunted you, approaching until it saturated your vision and the welcome weight of Emily settled into your lap. The intricate patterns of her bra nuzzled against your shirt, soft strands of silver tickling the skin of your cheeks, her breasts almost close enough for you to pepper kisses upon. 

“You’re going to be a good girl for me, aren’t you?” Emily questioned, a hint of reticence in her voice as though she was not yet convinced, her hands groping roughly at your breasts as if she was trying to coax out a favourable answer.

The pleasant sensation that bloomed below her exertions saw your wrists twisting aimlessly in the handcuffs, intent on liberation. But the flitting pleasure ceased almost as promptly as it had arrived, Emily’s dazzling orbs hurling daggers as she awaited your response.

“Yes, I’ll be good, Agent Prentiss,” you affirmed, eagerly, though on the interior, you weren’t nearly as confident in your claim. “I promise.”

Emily wrestled an arm around your neck for leverage, her fingernails scraping against the bone of your shoulder blade, destined to inscribe crescents of scarlet thereafter.

“Time to put that pretty mouth to good use,” Emily ruled, her free hand tugging at the lace until her breast sprung forth, her nipple tactfully manipulated into your hungry mouth. “Suck,” she barked, her teeth gritted, and you were more than willing to devour her.

A lengthened hum of contentment rumbled in her throat, her rosy bud stiffening as you pursed your lips around it and suckled with vigour, the occasional flick of your tongue across its surface activating an erratic jerk of her hips. Her sturdy grasp locked you in place, her skin smothering you so delightfully that breathing no longer mattered, too absorbed in the task that she had assigned. You vowed to make her time worthwhile.

“Such a good girl for me,” Emily purred, the gyration of her hips becoming more coordinated, a rhythm falling into place, the strap on nudging against your stomach as she rutted fervently against it. “Don’t stop, just like that.”

The pleasured expression that claimed her features blossomed with clarity, the transcendence of her beauty only invigorating your need to please her. Your tongue manoeuvred ardently, desperate to will more of her into your mouth and satisfy your insatiable hunger. And when she rolled her hips with added force, her jaw slackening as she dragged in a panting breath, you were met with the indisputable reality that you were spellbound, foreordained to fulfil her every demand.

“Oh, fuck,” she quavered, an air of franticness befalling as she disengaged from you, her hands in a frenzy as she purged herself of the trousers she donned. “I think it's time for you to uphold your end of the deal, hm?”

Veiled below translucent, indigo lace, Emily presented herself in all of her glory, a knowing smirk glued to her lips. Coherent thought eluded you altogether, the words that lingered in your mind instantaneously kissed away the moment you caught sight of her.

Emily snickered in amusement, “See something you like?”

“Yes, Agent Prentiss,” you choked out, your mouth uncomfortably dry, your thighs shifting in anticipation of her residence upon them.

“I’ll ask you again,” she growled, provocatively, her hands cinching at her hipbones. “Are you going to give me what I want?”

You nodded avidly, “Of course, Agent Prentiss, anything.”

Emily returned to you in haste, her fingers tracing downwards until they had successfully ripped aside her panties, revealing her arousal. She wasted no time, a trembling moan escaping as she sank down upon your strap on, her weight shifting a little as she readjusted to its size.

“Fuck, it’s big,” she hissed, her tone brimming with zeal as she knotted her arms securely around your neck, her lips temptingly close to your own. “Such a good girl filling me up so well.”

A string of stifled expletives tore from her, hips undulating at a painstaking pace, so torturous that you were certain this little display was a bid to stave off a brewing climax. The metal rattled audibly as you writhed forcibly in the cuffs, the dulling pain of their imprints becoming more noticeable, maddening.

“Aww, poor thing can’t even touch me,” Emily gibed, breathlessly. “You just have to sit there and watch me use you to get off. But, I bet you like that, don’t you, huh?”

“I want to touch you,” you protested, mindlessly, too intoxicated by Emily’s sensual motions to think of anything except having your hands on her. “Please, Agent Prentiss, let me touch you.”

“Nu-uh,” she crooned, a slender digit pressed firmly to your lips as she continued to rock her hips, unperturbed by your resistance. “Good girls do as they’re… told,” she explained, her words briefly obstructed by a sudden gasp of mirth. “Keep your eyes on me, pretty girl,” she instructed, “don’t make me call off the deal.”

Shameless groans sprinkled the silence, Emily’s brow tinged with perspiration as she quickened the pace that she had initially established. The sounds that emitted from below were nothing short of obscene, your eyes flickering downward to regard the way her pussy swallowed the length so effortlessly.

Emily noted the shift in your focus, her forehead pressed against yours to hold your attention captive for a moment. “Do you see how wet I am?” She whispered in sheer delight, “and it's all because of you, pretty girl.”

A pitiful mewl discharged from you, unchecked, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment, certain that your skin glowed visibly in pink. Emily let out a breathy chortle, a surge in her expeditiousness only furthering your sense that she was approaching the apex of something more.

Bravely, you drove your hips to meet her movement, her head thrown backwards in utter surprise as you pushed in to the hilt, her hands clinging to you with a force so brutal that it brought a grimace to your face.

“Naughty,” she spat, her breasts bouncing ruthlessly out from her bra as you continued to jog your hips with reckless abandon, her whimpers emboldening you. “Gonna be good and make me cum, hm? That’s it, pretty girl, yes, make me cum all for you.”

Emily’s fingers lowered to rub senselessly at her clit, her climax soon coursing through her body and ripping a loudened squeal from her lips. The muscles of her thighs fluttered in your lap, her breathing heavy, erratic.

“I see why you like being in charge,” Emily admitted, breathily, a chaste kiss delivered to your lips as an afterthought. “It was kind of fun.”

“We could always do it again,” you suggested, observing with a knowing smile as Emily shook her head in conclusive disagreement.

“It’s so tiring,” she whined, wearily, her head drooping forward to rest upon your shoulder. “Besides, I’m all out of favours with Garcia after this one.”

Curiously, you peered upward, noting the re-emergence of the red light and panicking a little inside. “Well, I think she might’ve jumped the gun,” you revealed, nervously, “Because someone’s definitely watching us.”

“Well, fuck.”

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[kagrenacs]

Long awaited, here is the soil map of Skyrim using the Canadian System of Soil classification. Brief description of my conclusions under the cut:

Chernozem: Whiterun Hold is likely home to the majority of Skyrim’s Chernozems. The majority of biological carbon sequestering in grassland environments are below ground, within the root systems. Organic material- humus, builds up, causing the upper layers of the soil to take on a dark colour. Additionally, Solonetzic soils could be present, peppered throughout the hold if the parent material to the soil is salty enough.

Cryosols are formed in Skyrim’s far North and high alpine regions. The mean annual soil temperature being 0 degrees C, with permafrost conditions. Freeze-thaw cycles lead to permafrost at the soils surface, but also cryoturbation: soil movement arising from frost action.

Additionally in mountainous regions, you would find Regosols. Soils which develop on unstable landforms and have had little time to develop, such as mountain slopes, or river floodplains.

Gleysols occur across the landscape of Skyrim, but primarily in Hjaalmarch. Gleysols are commonly found in depressions or low-lying areas where water saturates the soil continuously, leading to a molted characteristic to the soil.

Organic soils would primarily be found in the water saturated soils of Hjaalmarch. These are wetland soils found in forested areas and are commonly known as peat, muck, bogs or fens.

Borrowing from the USDA soil taxonomy, Inceptisols are light colored soils with moderate alteration, occurring under cool and cold climates. These soils would be found in the Eastmarch caldera.

Luvisols are associated with forested landscapes overlying loamy glacial till, or on clayey lacustrine deposits. Lake Honrich dominates a large portion of the Rift, according to UESP, seemingly draining from the lake. I believe this to be the site of a melted glacier, the lake being meltwater. Clay sediments are associated with lakes because of their deposition, coarser sediments bordering the lake near the shore, and finer particles at the deepest reaches. Additionally, at the end of the Karth river, where sandy deposits would be deposited at Solitude, before the stream looses power further down the river, leaving only clay to be deposited.

Podzols are associated with igneous parent materials, coniferous vegetation and high acidity. Primarily they are found in Falkreath Hold and Southern Eastmarch.

Brunisols are an intermediate stage between Regosols (undeveloped soils), and Podzol or Luvisols. I believe with the unstable, mountainous landscape of the Reach, soils would remain still rather undeveloped. Brunisols would also be interspersed among the Luvisols.

[janumun]

Nomos (Xavier - NSFW/18+)

Pairing: Xavier/Queen Reader (based on Xavier’s first myth) Word Count: 3.7k Tags: religious imagery/desecration sex, angst, evol bondage, oral sex, orgasm denial, Knight Xavier on his knees repenting to his Queen MC, spoilers for Xavier’s first myth, female dominating, canon divergence, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned

Summary: The Queen of Philos had sacrificed her heart ultimately and along with it, part of her humanity, in the wake of Xavier’s failed Backtrack mission; binding it to Philos’ core for eternity. Now, returned to her, centuries after, Xavier seeks his Goddess’ audience, and her forgiveness, within the stone-cold chambers of her castle. 

But centuries suffered alone, and with her heart now gone, she is a former frigid cast of the woman he used to love. Xavier is adamant on repenting, even if it costs him his life this time round. 

[A fic where Prince Xavier manages to return to Philos but he is too late; his Queen has long thrown her powerful core, her heart, into Philos’ centre and now, she has nothing to offer Xavier but her bitter resentment.]

O celestial body of mine, Slumbering adrift in darkness, Which never heeds the whispers of life, Till it fades into oblivion, nothingness. 

The rolling echo of thunder — knelling an approaching storm — was the only sound that rippled across the heavy, cold silence that had settled itself across the throne room. Wan shadows clung to the wide, dismal stone pillars of the great hall. Barely quelled by the flickering protocore lamps interspersed on either sides of the room. 

A looming, stone figure of the Goddess adorned the space right behind her great throne, staging Her chosen Sovereign to rule and obey, for all of Philos to see, placed by Her will upon the throne. The Goddess; doused in cool shadow, her sculpted eyes stared down glacial and unforgiving, set into regal stone. Her great Sword aimed at length towards the altar Xavier knelt at. 

The flagstone beneath his knee was a harsh and frigid reminder; Xavier considered, not for the first time how it too had frozen in on desolate isolation, just like his Queen’s majestic figure in front. She stood tall and silent — the paradigm of dignity she’d forced herself to be, for the sake of Philos... and for the sake of a lover who’d refused to accept the wretched Crown of a King.  

Solitary and unattended — he’d allowed her to experience the empty desolation that came with a Sovereign’s crown of lonely leadership. And yet, even confined to the yawning silence of her frigid throne room, she’d ushered Philos into an era of prosperity. While he— 

Xavier had failed her; her hopes, her dreams... her yearnings he’d turned blind to each time she’d granted him the soft brunt of her affections sifting like stone against his heart. So in love with her — she would never know — and yet, the distance he’d maintained stretched flimsy in between them; closer than friends, stranger than lovers.  

The burden of her past life, their first life, lived in futility, through a heart that brought her no end of pain until it had burned her life out of existence — and in turn, ended his, in spirit — with her untimely demise.  

And he had — in misguided intentions, she viewed them as — refused to let the cycle of tragedy repeat once more, in the sacrifice of her sole being. As Xavier, prince of Philos. And a mere man in love with a woman. The one heart he could never bear to let go. In the name of a ‘greater good’, his father, the previous King had called it such. For Philos.  

To hell with a nation his father and his wretched co-conspirators had painted from the ground up, drenched in the blood of numerous sacrifices before her. Xavier had wanted no part in the perpetuation of that horrifying ritual.  

Desperation had eventually led him to adopt far perilous measures, to prevent her oblation in this lifetime — two centuries spent in between their tentative meetings, and then several countless more spent traversing the stars and through worlds in search of a solution. To prevent Philos’ downfall without the need to hold on to age old rustic customs. 

And he had promised her, his beautiful lonely Queen, a victory he had failed to bring to her feet. Swore to her in centuries past, when she’d still looked upon him with love naked in her gaze and worry taut in her features, that he’d search for a better path for Philos from among his travel in the stars, while she’d resolved to stay behind as their planet’s sole Sovereign; their Goddess incarnate.  

The tender warmth of her skin as he’d traced her features into memory on their last meeting all those centuries back, within the plaza rife with life; a reminder of what they were fighting for. The way she’d layered her own hand against his, letting her eyes drift shut as if she too wished to forget their fast-looming separation. 

And on the day of her coronation, he’d left her, branded as a traitor. Chancing one last, proud look upon her majestic form as she’d leveled the blade of her sword against his shoulders apiece, in their private ceremony of two, knighting him as her Grandis Knight. 

A fleeting, tentative touch of her palm she’d pressed against his shoulder in farewell, determined eyes staring into his from beneath the weight of her crown as she’d wished him well. 

“The fate of our nation rests within your hands now, Xavier. And should you fail, the entirety of Philos shall have to pay the price for the Prince’s failings.”  

Her delicate hand had tightened against the pressed shoulder of his regalia, not caring for the badges of honor there, digging into her skin. “May the Goddess be with you. Goodbye, Xavier.” 

 Xavier’s eyes flitter shut in resigned recollection; the very last touch of her warmth still fresh in his mind. In the flex of gloved digits against the badge attached to the hilt of his sword, one she’d gifted to him, in lieu of her star tassel.  

Now, as he kneels at her feet, she hasn’t even moved to touch him. Hasn’t deigned him worthy enough to afford even the mercy of her hands on his body, even if just to strike him. In ire or curses; Goddess, his heart and body have missed her so dearly. And yet, this is not the time for personal weakness. But repentance. And Xavier has always been one devoted to his cause, his one sole duty; to live and serve, to die or be tortured by her will alone.  

His Demiurge regent, his sole Queen.  

She observes great clemency as is expected of a Sovereign of her stature, when her steps shift closer; the dignified brush of her mantle pooling about her feet. Soft fur fabric brushing against the polished heel of pale shoes, the slip of bare skin through the part of her flowing robes at her legs, filling his line of sight as it remains firm, fixated upon the ground. For she has not allowed him leave to freely gaze upon her form. And Xavier is her Grandis Knight, committed to propriety of duty, if it is for her alone.  

He, however, dares: gloved digits reaching for the sweep of her queenly cape brushing the stone-cold flagstone. The pads of them skimming the soft of fur that lines its edges. And when she does not move to refute his brazen touch, he curves his fingers into the fabric and guides it up to his lips, lashes descending shut as he lays a kiss against the cloth, in show of the proper reverence she deserves. “I have returned, my Queen.” 

Xavier feels her shift above his genuflecting form, a response she utters in the voice he has missed. “Why?”  

“I will accept whatever punishment you deem necessary for my failure, your Majesty. If it is my life you seek—”  

“Why have you returned now?”  

“Forgive me, your Majesty.” 

“You are far, far too late.” The first hints of displeasure seep into her intonation, accusing strains of heat Xavier prefers to the thick monotone she’d employed previously.

“Forgive me, your Majesty.”  

An explicable tremor breaks across her still form; minute, missable, were it not for how finely attuned he is to her mannerisms, her emotions, her simmering ire.  

“Why have you returned now, after all this time? You made no promises.” She asks once more, cool resignation in her voice.  

He stares fixedly at the sight of her feet, a response she seeks from him, he has no answer to.  

Silence stretches long and taut, infinite, in between them. 

“After the first five hundred years spent waiting in futility...” she deliberates. “I finally concluded that you’d died. Perished among the unknown.” 

His fist, sunk into the unyielding cold floor at his knee, crushes tighter at her words. “...Please allow me to look upon your Majesty’s face.”  

Her footsteps glide forwards, another step closer. Ignoring his entreaty, she resumes, “I continued to make excuses for your failure to return.” She pauses. 

“It brought me some modicum of comfort to know you had not just abandoned me but that you were simply no more.” The terrifying frigid inflection of her voice numbs Xavier’s heart — cool tendrils of dread coiling vines within his chest, like their first life, he’d held her within his arms. Watched the life pool out of her eyes, leaving her dull and lifeless within his embrace.  

She has lost her heart once more, and the mere thought has Xavier’s nerves driven to near devastation.  

But he is here, he knew of the consequences. And he is here, to bear through them, to accept his Sovereign — and beloved’s — ire; no matter if she remains full or half. She is all he draws breath for, all he fights for, the pinnacle of his existence and his desires. His guiding star, his monarch, his God. 

“Forgive me, your Majesty.” He speaks, once more. 

The first signs of emotion other than cool resentment thread through her low voice: furied indignance. “Utter insolence.” 

The heel of her shoe rises before his very gaze — Xavier’s eyes falling shut to accept the brunt of her oncoming strike. One that does not come. He feels her press the harsh tip of it, instead, underneath his jaw, knocking his face upwards so that his eyes meet hers, glacial turbulence within her gaze. “How does it feel to be demeaned as if you were a mere traitor, at my feet? Do you feel as violated and desolate as I too did all those years ago?” 

She is kind, she remains so gentle; her punishment, she considers it humiliation for him to be put at her feet when it is anything but. As if it could ever be. She offers him her worship instead, and so he follows her regal command. 

Pitching his face to dig deeper against the tip of her shoe, his eyes remain devoted upon hers. Gloved fingers he brings to curl, slow beneath the sole of her boot to support, mouth skimming a kiss of reverence to the polished surface.  

Ire and heat fulgurate within her gaze at his brazen actions, she continues to watch as his mouth parts, pink tongue darting forth to slick a slow, deferential path against the cool leather of her shoe. “This is not punishment enough, your Majesty, when your Grandis Knight has been ever prepared to end his life at your feet, were it your will.” 

The spark of heat within her gaze retreats and shutters itself behind its glacial curtain. “Do you remember what it is I told you when you embarked on your journey, my Knight?” 

“I do.” He murmurs, just as she digs the edge of her heel deeper against his cheek.  

She rips herself away from his worship, sweeping right up close against his kneeling figure, until he can catch the drifts of her perfumed scent emanating from her bone-ivory robes. Can feel the brush of the silken cloth adorning her thighs, against the tip of his nose. 

Wretched, blasphemous desire churns vicious within his belly at having the woman he loves this close, after centuries spent without her — a woman that is not his, never will be. Immoral desires of a sinner for Philos’ Mother. A woman — and their nation — he brought to ruin by his own hand; Philos’ branded traitor. 

“I told you,” she speaks, in the neutrality of a Sovereign, “that were you to fail, all of Philos would have to pay the price for the Prince’s failure.” She stills. “And I am Philos, I am centered to Her core. I am Her life-force as she is mine. Our people paid a hefty price for our peace, oh Grandis Knight.” 

Xavier’s face sinks forward, brushing the edges of her silken robes against his cheek. “Forgive me, your Majesty.” In the harsh clench of his jaw; and when she does not move to spurn him, he devotes a kiss of resigned reverence to the cloth above her thigh. Her body loses part of its stillness at the action.  

“Even after all this time...” she murmurs under her breath. “You refuse to address me by my proper name, like a foolish coward.” A slipping fracture of something akin to torment in her voice.  

Xavier lets his mouth glide further up across the lustrous cloth in begging of her pardon, for the ache he has caused, has continued to cause to her. To Philos. For his protection that he has always known held a double cutting edge to itself.  

He drifts towards her other thigh, mouthing proper worship onto it and his Queen — benevolent, tender in heart still — lets the Sinner at her feet do as he pleases. Canting his gaze heavenwards to watch as she allows; her own eyes that burn into his kneeling form, observing him from her place on high.  

Her legs shift, allowing Xavier the fleeting sight of unblemished skin in between the loose flow of her fabric and like a devotee starved, he’s drawn to the catch of her inner thighs revealed with the slight disarray of her robes beneath his questing mouth. Finding her undeniably warm when his lips brush near the junction of her thighs at bare skin.  

“My Knight—” 

“You may call me by my name, your Majesty.” His hungering tongue slips past his lips to lave gentle at her. “After all, I am no more than servant to your Majesty and her great throne.”  

“Grandis Knight, you are—” 

“I am your Xavier, your sinner.” His hot gaze rolls up towards hers and beseeches. “So, please call me by name so you may curse at me.” 

He feels the fire of her indignant resentment sputter within her gaze, receding the glacial indifference of it. Her cold fingers slink into his hair and wrench harsh at the argent strands, ripping a groan free of Xavier’s throat. The very first gift she makes of pain, to him, one he receives with the reverent ardour it deserves.  

Xavier heaves forward once more to settle in between her legs, nosing at the fabric of her mound, breathing in her scent. Teeth catching at the cloth that keeps her concealed from view before he loosens it apart with a violent jerk of his head.  

Moisture glistens tempting in between her folds — the firm press of her digits against the back of his head is the sole permission Xavier requires to engulf her entirely against an open, hungering mouth, a low moan of desire breaking past his throat at the intoxicating taste of her on his tongue.  

He laps up at her; a man starved — one he is, after the emptiness of her endured in his soul, the burdens of his failures and desires commingled in the wet lave of his tongue from base to hood. Slicking the edge of his tongue against the pearl at her apex. Her low sigh follows the incessant push of his face deep into her mound, his nose brushing at the curls of it, accepting the gift of her benevolence.  

“Did you know, my dear Knight—” her voice skitters mildly in pleasure with the press of the tip of his tongue, cleaving gentle into her slit. “It did get easier.”  

Her wetness seeps past her opening and onto his fervent tongue as he dutifully swallows. He feels incredibly parched, open mouth pressing deeper against her as he works her pleasure, tongue slinking into her depths. She clenches around him at the intrusion, knocking a muffled groan free of his throat.  

“When time finally ran out for your chance to return and Philos neared the end of its life, with our people on the brink of desolate death,” her breath jolts. “I marched out there.” 

His brows knit into a severe frown, stroking his need for her ire to sheath itself deeper into his body. He requires it; his Queen’s rightful anger so that he may take all of it and her, let her bruise her emotions into it, until the moment she’s used him up to her heart’s desires and she finally weeps and hurts no more.  

And so, his lashes descend with the tight spasm of her fingers carded through his hair, steering his mouth however she pleases. 

“And I willingly bound my life force to Philos’ core so that it could continue to live. Cut out the part of me that loved and felt until I turned myself into something entirely non-human for the sake of our people. A true God.” A slow, desolate string of weak sound tapers out of her body before it augments itself into mirthless laughter that rings hollow through the great, empty space of her throne room. “It was all too easy to do so, in a world I knew my Star no longer existed. For my heart had beat for him alone.” 

A heavy bludgeon of agony rips through his chest, tries and clambers its way out of his body before Xavier tamps it mercilessly in the gentle scrape of his teeth against her tight bundle of nerves. Her violent shudders, he feels buffets her limbs before he’s reaching out for her on instinctual, fervid desire in the clasp of gloved palms against the sides of her legs, trekking his touch up her thighs. A low moan parts her lips at the touch. 

Xavier’s audacious attempt at desecrating his God further underneath his obsidian worship is foiled in the twin blades of light that cleave around his wrists, whipping them swift and away from her body to shackle them together at the base of his spine. 

His body jolts through the glaze of his desires, part sense rending through the thick of pain knocking at the back of his breastbone to realize she’s forced his submission in the resonation of her Evol against his. Emulated his Light seamlessly in the binds of radiance — befitting of Philos’ Sovereign — wound tight at his wrists. Even centuries past now, she remembers the precise shape of his Light. 

He tests a flex against his restraints, finding they do not give an inch. “You’ve grown far too bold in your time away,” her voice is a cold dagger that scotches itself right beneath his ribs. She heaves him away from her body, reluctant mouth drenched in the strings of slick and spit that trail from his mouth to the soaked space of her legs. “Grandis Knight, what makes you think you’ve earned even an ounce of me to embrace as you would, a lover?” 

“I have not, your Majesty, forgive—”  

Severing through the rest of his apology in the quiet catch of Xavier’s breath when the sole of her heel comes to rise, knocking a firm, uniformed thigh apart to reveal the indecency of his arousal to her gaze, straining painful against the placket of too tight trousers.  

The edge of her heel trailing the inside of his thigh, she switches towards the heavy length of him. Brushing the underside of his arousal, Xavier’s shoulders tense in heavy need at the barely present stimulation. Before her heel sinks firmer against the length of him, jolting a groan free of him. “Does that feel good then?” 

“Yes, your Majesty.” He breathes heavily.  

“Look at you, coming apart under the mere, filthy touch of my foot.” Her brow bunches in an irked frown.  

“No part of you—” His voice breaks apart into quiet, ragged breaths at the stimulation of her heel against the increasingly sensitive strength of his arousal. “—is filthy to me, your Majesty.”  

Xavier tugs against the leash she’s made of her fist at the back of his head and she allows him, in that moment, to arch forwards and nudge the part of her dress aside. Sink into the wet heat of her; a man imprisoned to her tender mercies and the flood of her taste in his mouth. 

He works her open against his tongue, laving at her desires. Back and forth, he doesn’t let a single drop spill past his hungering mouth until he feels the tell-tale evidence of her orgasm in the insistent clench of her walls.  

Her hips gyrate forward in tandem to the suck of his mouth against her tightened bead and Xavier lets his shoulders fall slack to allow her free reign of her release as she grinds herself against his tongue to a precipitous finish. The gush of her desires Xavier drinks down, humming in dazed arousal, to have let her find her relief; used as her personal seat of pleasure, to be tossed at her will alone.  

Her hands flitter about his head, curling on either side of his jaw to pull away from the heaven of her body, and up as she descends, her mouth settling against his in a violent kiss he receives with vehement pleasure.  

Releasing herself, slow, from him only when her desire to breath turns overbearing. The edge of her thumb slips just past his damp bottom lip, urging his mouth open further. Before she spits against his revering tongue and instructs him to, “Swallow.” 

Xavier’s mouth clamps shut on instinct, working the taste of her against himself. Gaze flittering in darkening, vicious desire at the heat of his Goddess’ gift.  

A low hush of withering laughter leaves her mouth. “I’ve tethered a rabid beast to my side.” 

Her thumb and index cup about his jaw, coaxing his gaze to remain on hers, bright, burning. “Swear to me,” she speaks. “Swear that your loyalty shall never lie with another.”  

He feels his Queen curl a tremulous fist into the robes at his shoulders, crumpling the fabric hard in between her fingers. “Swear that you shall remain mine, my Grandis Knight, for all time. That you shall never abandon me again, Xavier.”  

His gaze quivers in fleeting emotions for a moment’s weakness, steel gray resolve returning once more to utter his vow renewed. 

“I have always been yours to have or reject, your Majesty. This Knight — his Body and Soul is yours alone to wield.” 

Making of himself, a promise, he commits to her in the life she shall have; to end at the sweep of her sword, should he ever dare renege on it.  

Declaring himself, at long last, in his clear devotion; to his one Queen and God.  

Tagging: @samanthagnicole , @catboi-anon , @beebumbo , @hellinistical , @dangerousluv1 , @webmvie , @aria-tempest , @raendarkfaerie , @lamentinee , @unhingedsillygod , @tiredas

(Skipping folks who do not have tagging permissions on, so they cannot be mentioned, unfortunately)

I had the angsty pleasure of reading Xavier’s first myth for the first time a few weeks back and with the help of a Xavier main friend and inspiration drawn from Xavier’s prayer pose in photobooth, this fic was born. I hope you enjoyed your read! 

Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated, if you are so inclined, lovelies!

If you’d like to be tagged in my future stories, you can fill this short form here. If you’d like to be removed, shoot me a DM! You can also find me on Ao3 and twitter, if you’d like to chat or just squeal with me about hot characters, in general.

[gbhbl]

Album Review: Frozen Soul - Glacial Domination (Century Media Records)

This is more than just a cold chill that makes you shiver; this is the howling wind and icy tendrils that suck the life out of you.

Texan death metal band, Frozen Soul will release their chilling new album ‘Glacial Domination’ on May 19th, 2023, via Century Media Records. This is more than just a cold chill that makes you shiver; this is the howling wind and icy tendrils that suck the life out of you. Frozen Soul are back, and more intense than ever. Death metal, sure, but death metal given an injection of ice. Horrible,…

[sashi-ya]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ エロチックトバー２０２４> MDNI / EXPLICIT CONTENT

THE PRICE OF YOUR FREEDOM 💦 TRAFALGAR LAW X GN! READER ＫINKTOBER DAY 28: SHIBARI

🐙 requested by: Anonymous. Trafalgar Law for day 28 shibari? With gender neutral reader or fem reader it's fine. Can Law be the one who tied up instead the reader? ⚠️ tw: mdni. explicit content. law is tied up. jerking off. exchanging "sex" for freedom. dominant gn! reader. maybe sex slave Law. 🐙 wc: 1,1k // kinktober 24 masterlist // join the taglist

With cords around his wrists, the intruder hangs on a room that lacks light. Humid, even smelly. The walls reminds him of a dungeon, and, in fact, he is not wrong.

“They told me you were trying to sneak into my island, pirate” you spit, opening the doors that blind the intruder with a sudden burst of light coming through.

“Fuck you, bitch” he grunts. A man so handsome, covered in tattoos. His muscles are noticeable, he is lean, and his skin has a caramel tint. Oh, what an interesting prey your subordinates just caught.

“That is not the proper way to refer to me, sweet boy…” you giggle, coming closer to his body. Those tight jeans around long, long legs are delicious to look at. But the protruding hipbones are more. Your index reaches for his stomach; with abs spasming to your touch, he lets you know he is more than sensitive to it… oh, are you getting hard just by my simple touch?

“What are these tattoos, pirate? What do they mean?” you ask, coming even closer to his body. Your index still tracing up and around the curls of black ink, bumping with cords that also garnish his thorax.

He looks to the side, a golden hoop on his ear reflects the warm light of torches outside… he isn’t disclosing any good information.

“Ah… come on! Tell me something! I just wanna get to know you, I don’t really plan on hurting you… plus, I know your name… aren’t you…” you laugh, coming closer to his ear as you get on tippy toes and your palms rest on his chest. “…Trafalgar Law? Cooperate with me, come on… I know you are strong” you continue.

He immediately looks at you; he burns holes into your eyes with a glacial look that could freeze you up. An everlasting frown, sweet dark circles…

“What do you want?” he asks, this time serious and more annoyed than before.

You walk away, just a little, with your index closer to your lips and your eyes wondering the ceiling as you act like you are thinking about something.

“Mhh… I am not exactly sure, cause you know… I was just minding my own business when you appeared on the coast of my island… to be fair, you should be the one telling me…also, you looked pretty beaten up” you smirk, showing him something he hasn’t probably noticed yet; gauze patching up here and there, bruises all over, and dry blood that hasn’t been cleaned up properly yet.

Law knows, exactly, what had happened to him. Thing is, he won’t tell you. However, he is willing to negotiate; he is aware the cords aren’t simply cords and that they are, indeed, made of thousands of thin kairoseki filaments.

“Tell me, what do you want? I am willing to negotiate my freedom” he mutters; Law wants to be out of this situation as fast as possible. You smirk and then bite your lower lip; lust takes over, your body getting warmer, your skin bumpier.

“Well, I think you are delicious… what do you have for me? What is the cost of your freedom, Trafalgar Law?”

“Heh, are you that desperate you need to force men?” he asks -insults- you.

This time you scoff; a big smile that’s closer to a demon’s scares him a little bit. You come closer; you don’t walk, you seem to crawl like a venomous snake… with a swift motion, your hand lands on his hardness. A bulge that’s been getting more and more noticeable the more you spoke.

“Are you sure I am the desperate one? What’s with this, mh? Aren’t you a little bit too hard?” you ask into his ear, biting his earlobe right after.

Law gasps a little; probably he wasn’t ready for that sudden touch… but he wants more…

You pull from a cord that hangs behind him, lifting his whole body over the ground. Just a little, enough for his feet to barely graze the floor with the tip of his boots. The cords properly tied around his body carve into his flesh, causing Law to grimace in pain if any part would touch a bruise.

“Does it hurt, Law-san?” you inquire, sliding your index in between a cord and his skin at his ribs level.

“You want my body? Take it” he huffs, squirming when your hand reaches for his stomach from behind.

You smile; you were never using his body if he wasn’t expressly asking for it… With a bite on his side, and a hand sliding up his chest getting underneath the cords on his pecs, you give him what he had been asking for.

His jeans were easy to take off; those slid down and got tangled around his ankles. Boxer briefs of slightly funny heart patterns, show staining from precum sprouting and his sex, that throbs, awaits for your silky hands…

“You want my hands around your sex, Law-san?” you ask, kissing his neck with soft, butterfly pecks.

“That’s the price of my freedom?” he asks, slightly moving his hips back and forth.

“That’s something that is up to you to decide…” you giggle, sliding your hand into his underwear. Hot to the touch, wet and hard is how it feels… pulsating sex in between your hand, that has a little surprise right at the tip; a cold metallic ring.

As you begin to pump, pleased with the soft whimpering coming out of his mouth, his body moves with your jerking off delight; hanging from the ceiling, trembling, moving and with each move carving those debilitating ropes more and more into his caramel skin… ah, delicious!

Law’s boxer briefs also fall, and he wishes his whole body would also fall… his wrists, become redder and painful, the more he squirms to your touch.

You play with your palm on top of his tip, moving the little piercing, getting his gland more and more aroused. It’s so good to see this strong Yonko willing to fuck your hand, as he pays for his “freedom”.

So close, so close… so close until it bursts with grunts and not so manly whimpers… and you leave him there, dripping cum on the floor and into his pants.

“I’ll be back soon, Law-chan” “Free me, (Name)-ya!” “ah... you know my name? then I am sure you don’t want me to do it, right? A simple orgasm is not the price of your freedom… Trafalgar D. Water Law ~”

[headspace-hotel]

I've been reading a lot of articles trying to understand how the ranges of various plants expanded and contracted throughout the glacial and interglacial periods,

and it sucks, it SUCKS that we just cannot know about ecosystems in the distant past with the same amount of detail as today's ecosystems!!!!!!!!!!! I NEED TO KNOW WHAT KENTUCKY WAS LIKE IN THE UPPER MIOCENE. BITING CLAWING KILLING DYING

I've been reading about palynology which is the STUDY of POLLEN, so different plants have very different looking pollen grains so if you get some mud from a sediment layer from 11,000 years ago and look at it under a microscope you can see what plants were dominant in the area and therefore how the ecosystem was different

ONE PROBLEM: Only the especially numerous plants will be easily detected this way, and it is rare for insect-pollinated plants to have detectable records in sediments like this, because pollen made to be carried by insects, doesn't blow away in the air and end up in mud the way wind-pollinated plant pollen does.

TWO PROBLEM, ACTUALLY: Pollen grains aren't that different between individual species, you could only say "This is an oak" or "This is a ragweed" and probably can't detect which kind specifically.

So there could have been all sorts of crazy herbs and trees that we would NEVER KNOW about because they were not very numerous, they were insect pollinated (80% of plant species are insect pollinated!) or they are closely related enough to a species we DO know, that the pollen is indistinguishable.

The quality of data on actual plant fossil records in Southeastern USA is kinda shit for some reason. I've read papers about it where the scientists are trying to make sense of the data and they're like "This paper from 1979 says this species of walnut was found in Tennessee, but we think it's full of shit because the fossil was just a tiny chip of bark" or something like that.

Compared with the rest of North America, we know next to nothing about the prehistory and the Pleistocene environment of the Southeast, I guess because it's so warm, humid and wet, everything rots away super quick.

Which is PAINFUL because the Southeast is the most biodiverse part of North America, and the ranges occupied by various plants suggest some wEIRD SHIT was happening.

There are ~100 genera that have one species that lives in SE USA and a sister species that lives in SE Asia,

and furthermore, there are several species that are found in SE USA but ALSO found high up in the cloud forests of Central America, in a totally different habitat that just happens to be hospitable temperature wise.

There are tons of plant species found EXCLUSIVELY in Florida and nowhere else on Earth. There are also loads of plant species found only in the highest peaks of the Appalachian Mountains. And there's a bunch of species that are found only in random speckle-like patches in various places, like how did it get HERE and then all the way over THERE 200 miles away with none in between?!?!

[ninibeingdelulu]

“I love you” ✧

Plot: Coming home after being away for a game, he realizes how much he love you.

The dull roar of jet engines faded into silence as Michael dragged his battered duffel through the dimly-lit entranceway - sheer exhaustion weighing down every leaden footfall after the grueling overseas exhibition match.

Only the promise of your embrace drove those rubber legs forward once clearing customs.

Simply picturing your adoring smile thawed the lingering chill embedded in his bones beneath those vibrant stadium lights burning so mercilessly hours earlier.

Because no matter how many towering accolades soccer bestowed upon him, nothing compared to the searing flame your love ignited within his once glacial core.

Pulse quickening with every shuffled stride across the familiar foyer's threshold, Michael's slate grays swept slowly in a silent panoramic - drinking in the subtle remnants of you scattered amidst their shared living quarters with a bone-deep fondness once unimaginable for such a self-obsessed prick.

There laid your threadbare sandals discarded haphazardly beside his scuffed cleats - an arresting vision abruptly grounding the blistering drive singularly fixated on fame and championships only twelve whirlwind months ago.

Until your boundless patience etched itself into his stony psyche.

Shucking off his own sneakers with a tired grunt, Michael pressed forwards through the shadowed hallway - only to be enveloped by the enticing bouquets of your favorite incense and bath oils still perfuming the stale air from earlier that morning.

Like an anchor weighing down each footfall in the richest, most indulgent sensory caress he'd been sorely deprived of over these past excruciating weeks.

Every path converged upon indelible impressions you'd steadily embedded throughout his once purely monastic existence devoid of comfort or fondness for homeliness.

Hanging jackets and the random coffee cup abandoned on that antique oak table you both adored for its simple, timeless charm.

A tangible testament to the irrevocably entwined lives you now shared despite his former staunch resistance to any potential distractions from dominating the pitch above all else.

Yet any lingering doubts or caustic voices hissing perpetual disparagement simply dissolved within the syrupy warmth diffusing through Michael's pounding chest.

Smothered beneath a sudden influx of those once unthinkable saccharine emotions stabbing deeper than any cleats raking across manicured turf.

The profound, blooming realization of exactly how far he'd tumbled down into blissful, all-consuming devotion to you slowly crystallizing. Scorching gratitude consuming any shred of self-loathing or toxicity still clinging to the vestiges of his hardened core.

Because Michael Kaiser - the uncompromising god-idol carved from supremely-arrogant granite - reveled in smothering, doe-eyed adulation for the beautifully empathetic mortal whose guiding compassion inexorably reshaped his innermost being.

Reforging those frigid edges into molten tenderness reflected within that wry smirk gracing his features while ultimately breaching the bedroom's threshold.

There you lay tangled amidst the bedding in utter tranquility, ignorant to the world blazing on without you as the vestiges of daylight shifted into inky cerulean along the horizon.

Either lulled into slumber by the late hour or simply overwhelmed by the very same hopeless longing Michael still battled sating with each fruitless deployment.

Helplessly committing your ethereal silhouette within that cozy sanctuary to memory, Michael simply basked in the sight - content to drink in every rise and fall of your serene figure until his own hammering pulse steadied into a gradually lulling cadence.

Because you were his everything now.

His true north and inspiration amidst this turbulent voyage once solely motivated by quenching an unsatiated bloodthirst for public adulation and trophies.

His beacon in life's relentless madness.

So with the reverent tenderness of a man cherishing his greatest fortune, Michael slid beneath those satiny sheets behind your slumbering form.

Enveloping your smaller contour into the protective cage of his solid embrace, burying his stubbled jawline into the nape of your throat to fully inhale your intoxicating nectar.

As your instinctive squirms melted into the solidity of his chest, Michael's lids sagged with sheer contentment.

His possessive grip never slackening even the faintest degree as those fatigue-glazed pewter irises drifted shut - sealing with a featherlight graze of searing lips across your forehead.

"I love you."

Those forbidden syllables ghosted over your cheek with a nearly imperceptible caress, viscerally shocking even himself with its earnest tenderness as the universe slowly dimmed beyond your tangled, intimate cocoon of devotion.

Yet none of the withering venom or defensiveness once characterizing that callous alpha exterior remained even an inkling.

Only boundless serenity in having you exactly where Michael privately yearned for throughout every globetrotting second spanning continents and lifespans.

Secured within that sanctum for the remainder of your days enmeshed as one blessed, completed whole.

[pin-k-ink]

caught in between // grimmjow jeagerjaquez & ulquiorra schiffer (pt. 1)

tw ⇢ mentions of violence and injuries, mild objectification, manhandling, dirty talk, punishment sex, possessive!ulquiorra, anal fingering, squirting, clit play, teasing, vaginal fingering, power play

wc ⇢ 4.2k

part one | part two | part three

The door to your quarters burst open with staggering force, the towering figure of Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez filling the entrance. You startled, eyes widening at his battered state - teal hair disheveled, clothes rent in several places, a vicious sneer twisting his bloodied lips.

"You," he snarled, prowling forward like a panther cornering its prey. The sheer force of his reiatsu battered against you as killing intent rolled off him in waves. "Get over here. Now."

There was no room for argument or defiance, not when his azure gaze pierced you with such ferocious intensity. As Ulquiorra's fracción, you knew the precarious position tending to other Espada could put you in, but Grimmjow left no opportunity to refuse.

With rigid professionalism, you slowly approached him, making sure to keep a safe distance. He merely grunted, allowing you to carefully peel away the tattered remnants of his jacket to inspect the damage.

You worked in tense silence, acutely aware of Grimmjow's eyes boring into you as you cleaned and dressed the oozing lacerations crisscrossing his chiseled torso and arms. It wasn't until the last bandage was taped down that he finally spoke again in that deep, gravel-laced rumble.

"He really keeps you on a tight leash, doesn't he?" There was a taunting edge to Grimmjow's words. "That prissy Ulquiorra, always striding around like he owns you."

You froze, anxiety spiking as his large palm caged you against the wall, body thrumming with subdued power and promised violence. Grimmjow leaned in until his smirk filled your vision, near enough for you to smell the copper tang of blood on his heated breath.

"Tell me, pet..." His free hand drifted up to cup your jaw with deceptive tenderness, thumb brushing your lower lip. "You ever get tired of being someone's obedient little fracción? Always following orders like a good bitch in heat?"

Grimmjow's words had an undeniable effect as he crowded you against the wall, his larger frame radiating dangerous dominance. His thumb traced the seam of your lips with torturous leisure.

"I'll bet you're just aching for someone to put you in your place, remind you what you really are," he rumbled, azure gaze darkening with blatant promise. "A pretty little pet, made to obey."

His palm slid down, calloused fingers curling possessively around the column of your throat as he leaned in closer. You held perfectly still, equal parts intimidated and fascinated as his lips brushed the hypersensitive skin just below your ear.

"I could show you what it's like," Grimmjow murmured, the rumbling timbre sending involuntary shivers down your spine. "Bein' owned by someone who isn't afraid to put a leash on you. Keep you nice and obedient like the bitch you want to be."

His teeth nipped at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, a sharp sting followed by the velvet swipe of his tongue. You couldn't stifle the soft gasp at the bold claim of dominance. In the next breath, Grimmjow sealed his lips over yours in a demanding kiss, all teeth and sin and smoldering want.

The temperature in the room dropped in an instant, a glacial wave of reiatsu crashing over you. Grimmjow's hands fisted in the fabric of your clothes as he whipped around with a feral snarl.

Framed in the open doorway stood Ulquiorra, emerald gaze piercing with frigid contemplation taking in the compromising scene. A hairline fracture marred the area beside the entrance where his bare hand was splayed against the wall.

"Grimmjow," he stated in that dispassionately even tone. "Remove your hands from my fracción this instant."

Grimmjow's expression sharpened into a taunting smirk, not an ounce of intimidation in the face of Ulquiorra's cold fury. His hands remained fisted in the fabric of your clothes, body angled in a clear statement of defiance and challenge.

"Your fracción, huh?" He drawled, giving you a deliberate onceover. "You sure 'bout that, Ulquiorra? Seems to me like your little pet has been dying for someone else to take her for a walk."

The temperature dropped several more degrees as Ulquiorra's reiatsu pulsed with the barest flickers of reined rage. You shrank back against the wall as the two Espada locked in a battle of sheer dominance.

"I won't repeat myself, Grimmjow," Ulquiorra intoned with chilling evenness. "Release her. Now."

The taller Arrancar barked out a harsh laugh. "Or what? You gonna make me?" His tongue traced the corner of his bloodied mouth as he deliberately crowded closer to you, body a mocking provocation. "Maybe I'm gettin' a little tired of you hoarding all the pretty pets for yourself, Ulquiorra."

His large palm cupped the back of your neck as he leaned in, lips brushing the delicate shell of your ear. "Maybe it's time I picked up a new bitch to train..."

The resounding boom of Ulquiorra's Sonido reverberated through the chamber. You flinched violently, held immobile by Grimmjow's iron grip as Ulquiorra now loomed mere inches away. The temperature had plummeted to arctic levels, his emerald stare lasering into you with an intensity you had never witnessed before turning that baleful promise of violence on Grimmjow.

"You will not lay another hand on what is mine, Grimmjow," Ulquiorra stated with soft, undeniable finality. "Unless you wish to have it removed permanently."

The two Espada stared each other down, locked in a battle of sheer dominance and unspoken challenge. Grimmjow's smirk stretched wider, downright feral as he made one last play.

"We'll see about that," he purred, blatantly pulling you flush against his chest as his hot tongue traced the racing pulse of your throat. "I always did love breaking in a new bitch..."

Ulquiorra remained utterly motionless, reiatsu thickening the air with an oppressive, arctic chill as he stared Grimmjow down. There was no outward shift in his stoic expression, but his emerald gaze glinted with a contemplative darkness that promised unimaginable consequences.

Grimmjow met that stare for a tense few heartbeats before throwing his head back with a scoff of dismissive amusement. With one last lingering look at you, he slowly freed his grip, calloused fingers trailing along your jawline.

"You just keep telling yourself that, Ulquiorra," he rumbled, pitched just loud enough to ensure his next words carried clearly. "But I'm going to make that pretty little fracción of yours scream for me soon enough. Gonna have her soaking my sheets, beggin' me to let her be my new obedient pet."

The faintest of smirks pulled at Grimmjow's split lips as he took a deliberate step back, allowing his heated leer to rake over your tense form once more. "I'll be sure to let you hear every desperate, needy sound she makes when I'm pounding into that-"

Whatever filthy promise he was about to make died on his tongue as Ulquiorra's frigid reiatsu spiked in a sweeping arc of murderous intent. Grimmjow's eyes cut towards the fourth Espada, a taunting grin splitting his face at provoking such a rare show of unrestrained fury.

With one final, mocking sweep of his gaze over you, the Sixth retreated towards the shattered entrance, movements rolling with barely leashed violence.

As the doorway fell ominously silent in Grimmjow's wake, you swallowed hard, pinned in place by the circling vortex of Ulquiorra's presence. His stare remained fixated on where the other Arrancar had disappeared, emerald irises glittering with quiet menace.

Ulquiorra's gaze bored into you with an intensity that rooted you in place long after Grimmjow's mocking footsteps faded. His reiatsu swirled in a maelstrom of icy displeasure and barely restrained violence. When he finally spoke, his tone was clipped and brooked no argument.

"Come."

He didn't wait for a response, pivoting on his heel and trusting you to fall into step behind him. You hastened to obey, trailing in his wake as he led you through the maze of corridors in tense silence. From your periphery, you stole glimpses of his ramrod straight back and the subtle flex of powerful shoulders beneath the white jacket.

At last, he ushered you through an unmarked door into his private quarters. The atmosphere was spartan and austere, not a single item out of place. Ulquiorra turned to face you, emerald stare piercing straight through you as he loosed the barest exhalation.

"Explain yourself." It was not a request.

You swallowed hard, trembling slightly under the full weight of his banked displeasure. "I-I was just following orders, treating Grimmjow's injuries as protocol..."

The faint twitch of his brow indicated he was unimpressed with your excuse. In three strides, he erased the space between you, artic eyes blazing as he caged you against the unforgiving wall. His palms slammed on either side of your head with enough force to make you flinch.

"You allowed him to touch what is mine," Ulquiorra stated, each word laced with a dangerous undercurrent. "To make lurid claims and disrespect the order I have established."

His body was a solid, unyielding line mere inches from yours, radiating an intensity that stole the breath from your lungs. You felt utterly pinned, ensnared by the scorching promise blazing in his gaze.

"You have been reminded of your place," he murmured in that low, even timbre that brooked no argument. "Now you shall receive...punishment."

You trembled under the full intensity of Ulquiorra's emerald glare, his reiatsu a suffocating vortex of arctic dominance.

"Strip," he commanded in a tone that brooked no argument.

Your breath hitched, caught between instinctive obedience and a tendril of hesitation. As his sole fracción, you knew all too well how possessive and territorial the cuatro Espada could be. But an intimate act like undressing before him felt...uncertain. You had always sensed an inexplicable connection, but your relationship existed in a careful imbalance, devoid of human constructs like romance.

Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed a fraction at your hesitation, jaw tightening imperceptibly. In two strides he closed the distance, hands shooting out to fist in the collar of your jacket. With one harsh yank, the sturdy fabric parted in a spray of buttons as he laid you bare from the waist up in a single, ruthless motion.

You gasped, instinctively trying to cover yourself, but he was uncompromising. His larger frame boxed you in, hands gripping your wrists to pin them against the wall above your head. His body was an unyielding line pressed against you as he wielded his considerable weight and strength to immobilize you completely.

"Do not test me, woman," Ulquiorra stated in a low rasp that contained no inflection...and every unspoken threat. "You forget your place far too easily."

His free hand scored down your front, blunt nails raking down the exposed skin of your breasts before continuing in one fluid motion. The remaining garments covering your frame parted like tissue paper in his wake, fluttering to pool at your feet in ruined tatters.

You stood utterly bared before him, pulse fluttering wildly in your throat as his hungry stare drank in every unveiled inch. Ulquiorra leaned in, lips a hairsbreadth from your ear, tone softened to a molten rasp.

"You. Are. Mine. This is merely a reminder..."

His muscled thighs forced your legs apart as one iron-cord arm wrapped around your waist, hauling your exposed body flush against his.

A breathless gasp tore from your throat at the feeling of his arousal, heavy and insistent against your core.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, nails scraping against the smooth bone as he held you in a vice grip, preventing you from pulling away. Ulquiorra's palm slid across the swell of your hip, fingers digging in with bruising strength as he angled your hips up, grinding the bulge of his cock against your slit.

You let out a breathless, stuttered moan, arching instinctively as pleasure lanced through you, white-hot and searing. You felt him throb against your core, the sensation only heightening your own growing desire.

"It's my duty to remind you," Ulquiorra continued in a husky rasp as his free hand slid up, calloused fingers curling possessively around the curve of your breast. "To remind you exactly who you belong to..."

His thumb dragged across the taut bud of your nipple, drawing another involuntary moan from your lips. You were already slick and aching, the rough friction of his clothes against your sensitive flesh sending jolts of electric heat straight to your core.

"But you don’t deserve my cock," Ulquiorra continued with deceptive softness. His voice was a velvet-laced threat, every syllable laden with promise. "Not yet."

With a sharp motion, his large hand wrapped around the column of your throat, forcing your chin up and leaving you exposed. He squeezed, a subtle reminder of his unwavering dominance. Your pulse raced under the firm press of his palm, a dizzying cocktail of adrenaline and desire thrumming through your veins.

Ulquiorra's thumb pressed into the corner of your mouth, forcing your lips open as his eyes flashed with dark intent. His head tilted down, hovering close enough for his heated breath to fan over your lips as he murmured a single command.

"On the bed."

You didn't hesitate. The moment his hand left your throat, you scurried to obey, crawling across the stark white sheets. Your knees sank into the plush material, the smooth fabric a cool contrast against your flushed skin. Before you couldeven turn back to look at him, Ulquiorra's hand pressed down against the small of your back, forcing you forward onto the mattress.

"Present yourself."

That commanding rasp had you shivering, a visceral reaction to the unspoken demand. The air thickened with the crackling energy of his reiatsu, a silent reminder that you were entirely at his mercy. You knew better than to test him.

With your palms planted against the sheets, you arched your back, raising your ass high in a display of unspoken submission. You couldn't help the hot flush creeping down your neck and spreading across your cheeks at the lewdness of your position, but there was no denying the answering flood of heat between your thighs.

The bed shifted, a subtle creak as Ulquiorra joined you. Your entire body was strung tight, every nerve alight with a delicious tension at being so thoroughly under his control. You felt his presence, a magnetic pull, even before his warm palms slid along the backs of your thighs, mapping the soft skin.

"Do not move," Ulquiorra stated, each word laden with unmistakable promise. "Unless I instruct you otherwise."

His thumbs pressed into the seam of your legs, parting the sensitive folds of your pussy. The rush of cool air against your dampened slit drew a soft gasp, followed by an unbidden moan as his thumb traced up and down your dripping slit.

"How predictable," he murmured, tone dipping into that darkly amused purr that made your stomach twist with anticipation. "Already wet and wanting. You would present yourself so easily, offer your body up to the first one who asks?"

Ulquiorra's fingertips danced up and down your slit, painting the slick, velvety flesh with feather-light strokes. He dipped in ever so slightly, tracing the puffy outer lips of your entrance. "As if it doesn’t already belong to me…"

Your breath came out in shallow pants as he traced the edges of your dripping slit, not quite penetrating, but drawing forth the slick proof of your arousal. His thumb dipped in, gathering the moisture before circling the swollen bud of your clit.

Your fingers tightened into the sheets, fighting the urge to arch into the tantalizing pressure as he circled and stroked with torturous leisure. It was an effort not to squirm and buck against his hand, chasing the mounting pleasure.

"Be still," Ulquiorra warned.

There was a note of warning in his tone, a subtle reminder that your pleasure was entirely at his mercy. His fingers continued their slow, teasing exploration, spreading your folds with excruciating care.

"You should be grateful," he continued in a dark murmur. "Grateful that I am the one who chose you. That I have allowed you the honor of belonging to me."

His palm slid across the curve of your ass, leaving a trail of slick against your skin. "If I were anyone else, I would have already taken you by now. Pinned you down and forced myself inside you."

A ragged moan slipped past your lips at the thought of being used so roughly. It was a perverse fantasy, one you had never dared imagine with him. You wanted to bury your face in the sheets, hide the shameful heat flooding your cheeks, but you dared not move.

Ulquiorra's thumb pressed into the puckered rosebud of your asshole, making you jerk at the unexpected sensation. He paused, letting the weight of his gaze settle on you, a subtle reminder of his unrelenting dominance.

"But I am not," he continued, the subtle note of amusement lacing his words. "I am not that beast, Grimmjow, who would simply take whatever he wants. I am not that lowly hollow, content to rut mindlessly and waste my seed on the next available female."

You shuddered, torn between the thrill of his words and the fear that he would leave you like this, a desperate, needy mess. Ulquiorra's free hand splayed across the small of your back, a heavy reminder of his presence.

"And neither are you." His tone softened, the faintest hint of approval coloring the deep rasp. "You will know my cock when I decide to give it to you."

His thumb continued its unhurried circle of your asshole, each pass dipping a little further, teasing the tight ring of muscle. You whimpered, torn between the dual sensations, both of which made your cunt clench with white-hot need. "Now, open yourself for me."

Ulquiorra's order had a sharp, authoritative edge that made you ache with arousal. The heat of his palm disappeared, the sudden loss of contact making you feel strangely exposed. Your fingers flexed in the sheets, hesitating for a moment.

"Wider. Expose yourself."

His words were a command, brooking no disobedience. You obeyed, shimmying your knees a little further apart, the movement causing your ass to spread wider. You had never been so lewdly displayed before, never felt so vulnerable.

The faintest exhalation reached your ears, a soft huff of breath that was the closest thing to a verbal acknowledgment from Ulquiorra. His palm trailed down the curve of your ass, tracing a path of fire in its wake. A tantalizing pause before you felt his finger brush against your folds.

"Good girl."

The praise sent a jolt straight through your core, the subtle warmth in his tone spurring you on. His finger slid along your slick folds, gathering the evidence of your desire before circling the puckered rosebud again. The slick pressure had you sucking in a sharp breath, hips twitching instinctively.

"Keep your hands on the bed," Ulquiorra warned. "Or I will tie them down and leave you aching and unsatisfied. Do not think I will tolerate such disobedience."

He emphasized his point with a deliberate swipe of his thumb along the sensitive seam, making your toes curl. You could do nothing but nod and sink further into the mattress, surrendering to his touch.

Ulquiorra resumed his unhurried exploration, dipping his index finger into the tight furl of your ass before circling it with tantalizing leisure. Your breath hitched as he repeated the motion, pressing his slickened finger just past the tight ring of muscle.

You were helpless to the moan that slipped out, a visceral reaction to the unfamiliar intrusion. A momentary pause, as if he was contemplating, then Ulquiorra slowly pressed forward, working his finger inside you.

A breathless moan tumbled past your lips, the slow stretch and burn sending a wave of pleasure-pain coursing through you. The sensation was unlike anything you had ever felt, the unfamiliar fullness drawing a choked gasp from your throat.

Ulquiorra didn't stop, his free hand splaying across your lower back as he worked his finger deeper. You shivered, feeling the weight of his gaze boring into you. There was an element of possession in his movements, his dominance a palpable force as he worked you open, claiming your body in a way you had never known.

"You would allow a beast like him to touch what is mine," Ulquiorra continued. His low tone was laced with subtle displeasure, each word a quiet statement of ownership. "Would you let him defile this beautiful body of yours?"

His finger pumped slowly, sliding deeper, working you open as he pressed his thumb against the puffy, pink lips of your cunt. The dual stimulation had you writhing, a whimper slipping from your lips as he stretched your ass.

"You're lucky I was the one to find you first," he murmured, tone edging towards dangerous. "Had any other male discovered you, they would have mounted you without question. You would have been nothing more than a hole for them to use."

You whimpered, equal parts humiliation and arousal at the image his words painted. His finger thrust forward with more force, making you gasp. You wanted to protest, deny the possibility that anyone else could possess you the way he did, but you knew better than to speak.

Ulquiorra withdrew, only to return with two fingers this time. The sudden increase had you crying out, hips twitching instinctively. You didn't dare move, knowing all too well the consequences. But it was a challenge to remain still when every inch of you ached for release.

"But not me. I am not a beast, woman." His tone had dipped, taking on a dangerous edge. "I will not debase myself by taking you so roughly, like some mindless animal. I am above that."

His fingers scissored and spread, working your ass with relentless precision. He didn't pause or hesitate, not even when you clenched down around him, a natural reaction to the overwhelming pleasure-pain.

Your eyes squeezed shut, unable to stop the whimper of want and desperation as he slid deeper, his knuckles bumping against the puckered ring of your ass. Every instinct told you to writhe and buck, to seek more friction, but you forced yourself to stay still.

Ulquiorra's palm slid down the curve of your ass, fingers tracing the seam of your leg, painting your skin with the evidence of your arousal. You couldn't hold back the moan as he traced your dripping slit, circling your clit with the barest of pressure.

"You are going to come for me," he stated. It was not a request, nor an offer. It was a command, spoken with absolute certainty. "And you are going to scream my name when you do."

There was no room for refusal. Ulquiorra's finger stroked your clit, rubbing slow, measured circles, all while continuing to pump his fingers into your ass. The dual sensations were too much. Your hips twitched and jerked, fighting the urge to buck wildly as heat coiled low in your stomach.

Your thighs trembled, every nerve singing, drawn impossibly tight. All it took was the slightest increase in pressure on your clit. Pleasure exploded, white-hot and blinding, coursing through you like a lightning strike. A powerful rush of hot liquid gushed from your pussy, soaking Ulquiorra's hand and the sheets beneath. The breath was knocked from your lungs as your entire body shook and convulsed.

A guttural cry was wrenched from your throat as you came, vision going white. All the while, Ulquiorra never paused or faltered, driving his fingers in a relentless rhythm. You were continuously wracked with waves of pleasure, the aftershocks rippling through you, spraying a stream of hot liquid with every pump of his fingers until it slowed down to a trickle.

By the time the last shuddering pulse subsided, you were gasping for air, head spinning with the force of your release. You could only collapse onto the mattress, a shivering, spent mess.

For a moment, the room was filled with nothing but your labored breaths. You lay sprawled across the soaked sheets, trembling as your body came down from the intense high.

A firm tug on your arm startled you, jerking you upright. Before you could fully register, Ulquiorra's warm palm gripped the back of your neck, fingers tangling in the sweat-dampened strands. He jerked you forward, pulling your mouth to his.

His lips crashed against yours in a demanding kiss. There was nothing tender or exploratory about it. It was a conquering, a claiming. The hard press of his lips bruised and battered as he devoured you.

It was all you could do to hold on. Your fingers clung to his shoulders, nails scraping against the fabric as his tongue pushed past the seam of your lips. A strangled moan was ripped from your throat, muffled by the ferocity of his kiss.

Ulquiorra was unforgiving. He swallowed every sound, claiming and dominating until the taste of copper bloomed on your tongue. When he finally pulled away, the look he leveled at you was pure, unadulterated ownership.

"It seems I was the one to make you soak my sheets," he murmured, his deep timbre roughened by a hint of emotion. His grip tightened, emerald irises boring into you. "Remember this."

With that, he released his grip, leaving you dazed and breathless. He didn't turn back, merely straightened his clothes and strode to the door, a silent dismissal. As the entrance swung shut behind him, the only thing left for you to do was sink into the damp sheets.