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fuckyeahdindjarin · 4 days ago

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Prima Nocta

Marcus Acacius x Virgin!F!Reader oneshot

{ Main Masterlist }

Rating: E (18+ only)

Summary: Tomorrow, you will marry your husband-to-be. But tonight - it belongs to his father.

Word count: 6k

Warnings: DUB CON only due to nature of prima nocta, both parties enthusiastically consent, twist on prima nocta, unspecified age gap, loss of virginity, dirty talk, oral sex (F receiving), fingering, dry humping, unprotected sex, unrealistic descriptions of first sexual experience, all manners of historical inaccuracies and linguistic anachronisms sorry not sorry, ignores the events of the movie so you can consider this an AU, Marcus is widowed and has a son, shall we call this bfd: Ancient Rome version lmao

Notes: I'm a bit rusty for sure, but I had the absolute best time writing this oneshot. It's a departure from my usual themes to say the least, but once this idea took hold of me it never let go. I know prima nocta is meant to be invoked on the wedding night, but I like the idea of it being the night before so I made it so 🤷🏻‍♀️ Gorgeous dividers by @firefly-graphics as always.

He thought he had gotten away with it. Having lived more than fifty winters in the capital and outlasting eight emperors, he regrets to confess that he is still none the wiser.

It would have been such a clever manoeuvre. Palming off a generous but very much unwanted gift from the emperors, and marrying off his son in one fell swoop.

He should have been suspicious of their swift assent to his proposal. In his eagerness to bow out of their audience, it had been convenient to dismiss the flash of malice in their eyes.

And in the snake pits of Roman court, no misstep goes unexploited.

He is not proud that he is caught off guard by the emperor’s closest advisor who intercepts his walk home from the armoury, even less so of his ineloquent response to the missive handed to him.

‘What is this?’

‘Urgent word from the emperors, sir.’

Cold sweat prickles the back of his neck as he stares unseeingly at what is scrawled on the parchment.

‘I cannot,’ he blurts out, indignance rising fast and hot in his chest. ‘I will not.’

‘You think it wise to twice refuse the emperors’ generosity, general?’

General. To him, the culmination of a lifetime of service and sacrifice. To them, an instrument of bloodshed in war, a plaything in peacetime.

Desperate, he tries a different tact. ‘The right of the first night belongs to the emperors. I dare not commit sacrilege.’

‘It is not sacrilege if it is freely bequeathed upon you, general.’

There is no mistaking the warning lilt in the last word, and he has no answer.

‘The hour grows late. You had better not keep the bride waiting,’ says the advisor with an air of finality before retreating into the shadows.

Marcus shudders at the cold that settles into the empty space, fingers stained with ink from the now crumpled dispatch.

He remembers nothing of the remainder of his short journey to his quarters. As the front door swings open, he realises there is something in the night air that is out of place.

Sea salt.

You are here.

Would you be demure? Frightened? You are of royal lineage, a lady of the small but proud coastal kingdom strong-armed by Rome into an unequal treaty for its profitable trading posts, in return for the mercy of not being razed to its fertile grounds.

And now, you are lowered to marry a general’s son.

Worse, lowered to have your virginity taken by his father.

Candlelight spills from the crack underneath the door to his bedchamber. Marcus takes a deep breath, and pushes it open.

You hear him. The swish of fabric, the slide of leather soles on marble.

The general is here.

Your hand in marriage is part of the terms of the treaty, and the missive that sent for you announced your match as the widowed hero general. You had him cast on the wretched journey from your home as one of the domineering, brutish soldiers now garrisoned at your family’s kingdom - only to be told on your arrival that you will be marrying his son instead.

Relief at the news that your future husband would not be decades older than you is instantly snatched away by furtive whispers of prima nocta.

Your future father-in-law will take you first.

The humiliation is bitter on your tongue. You are Rome’s to marry off, hers to give to whomever she pleases -

But she won’t break you.

The door creaks. You stand tall and hold your ground.

He sweeps into the room with an air of well-worn authority, the cloak on his back dark as the shadows that nip at his heels.

The candles flicker when he sheds the heavy robes with a smooth sweep of his arm.

You stare, in a manner that would have had your lady-in-waiting tutting. But you are alone, very much so, with this man not ten paces from you.

General Marcus Acacius.

He is older, certainly old enough to have a son your age. But you had not imagined him so - strong, for the lack of a more imaginative word. His shoulders are broad under his wine red tunic, and you can see the muscles in his arms flex as he clenches and unclenches his fists at his sides. From where you stand, you can hardly see any silver in his dark curls.

Marcus unflinchingly assesses you right back.

No, you are decidedly not demure. Or frightened. Far from it.

You are defiant, even as you observe him with evident curiosity. Your head held high, a telltale sign of your noble breeding, mouth set in a stern line while your eyes burn bright with a proud fire.

Judging the silence has gone on long enough, he breaks it with a formal, ‘My lady.’

‘General,’ you answer steadily.

The door slams shut belatedly behind him, and you flinch - the first glimpse of weakness you concede.

Marcus breathes in, delivering his next sentence with as much composure as he can muster. ‘I expect you have been informed of the - formalities that we are to perform tonight.’

You grind your teeth so hard you are astonished that your jaw doesn’t crack.

Your virtue is just a formality.

Refusing to dignify his question with an answer, you nod once.

He watches you wordlessly, and you meet his gaze. You thought you would find something else there, not the regret that you see.

Turning away from you, he reaches for the amphora on the table.

‘Wine?’

‘Yes, please.’

The wine is drunk in silence and moderation. Him at his desk, you perched on the end of the bed.

As you sip, pacing yourself, you observe the general discreetly from across the small distance between you.

To say that you are disconcerted by his behaviour would be an understatement.

You assumed that he asked for this - for the perverse pursuit of deflowering his son’s bride-to-be while eschewing the unwanted responsibility of a wife.

Yet, watching him stare pensively into his goblet, lips pursed in a pout that is almost sullen, you are not so certain anymore.

When you bring your drink to your mouth to find it empty, you clear your throat. ‘I have to wake up early tomorrow morning - for the wedding.’

The general starts before collecting himself, drawing himself up to his full height as he sets down his cup with a heavy clunk. ‘Understandably, my lady.’

Then he moves, charting a course across the room, licking his thumb and index finger to douse the candles dotted around the space.

The thought comes to you unbidden - he has thick fingers. And big hands.

Your cheeks tingle with heat.

Soon the chamber is cloaked in darkness, save for the candles next to the bed, the warm light pooling in the most inviting manner on the soft surface despite your trepidation. You long to rest your aching feet.

He comes to a standstill on the other side of the bed, as if waiting for you to take the lead. You cannot decide whether you are thankful for him not imposing on you, or frustrated at him for not taking the lead in what is very much unfamiliar territory.

In the end, the desire to get off your feet wins out, and you gesture at the bed. ‘Shall we…?’

‘Certainly.’ He bends down, you assume to take off his sandals. You do the same, toeing off the soft leather slides the maids had you change into when they dressed you.

Once barefoot, you climb in with as much grace as you can summon, acutely aware that you have an audience. Your knees sink into the mattress, and you’re relieved that it is stuffed with feathers, luxuriously giving under your weight. Shifting primly, you find your back against the headboard, cushioned by equally soft pillows.

The general follows suit, the frame creaking as he eases onto the suddenly too small bed, strong shoulders brushing yours as he settles next to you.

You stare hard at the back of your hands, the only way to stop your gaze from wandering to the span of his fingers splayed wide on sturdy thighs, or lower to the bony ridge of his knees - gods, you must be unwell, since when have you been drawn to knees?

You are still questioning the state of your sanity when the general, who has been nothing but unperturbed and composed since he stepped into the room, stumbles over his words in a manner that is neither, as if he had held the question behind his teeth for too long.

‘Are you - are you absolutely certain - in no doubt - that you are… untouched?’

His question stings like salt in a festering wound. Indignant doesn’t even begin to describe the retort you spit at him. ‘Yes, I am. Are you?’

Peering at you sideways, his eyes widen at your outburst, and fear briefly flits across your heart that you have overstepped.

But then, he surprises you with a smile. ‘You bite, don’t you?’

You let your shoulders sag, too far gone to hold onto your facade.

‘It’s been a long day, sir,’ you admit. ‘To be frank, I just want to get this over with and forget it ever happened.’

He pauses at your confession, as if weighing his options. Then he shifts, and says, ‘The reason I ask if you were untouched is because, if you were not - we could have just pretended we did this.’

You frown. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I did not invoke prima nocta, it was imposed upon me. The emperors are displeased that I turned down the betrothal, this is their way of punishing me for my ungratefulness.’

Oh.

As much as you didn’t want this either, your pride suffers to hear him describe it as a punishment.

‘I know…’ you stumble, halting to steel yourself. ‘I know I am nothing like the women here in Rome. I spend too much time in the sun, and my hands are rough from working with horses -’

‘Why do you say that?’ he interrupts you.

You look away. ‘That is why you do not wish to marry me, is it not? And why you do not want this - why you do not want me.’

The general sits up, palms on the mattress to support his weight, the lines on his forehead deepening with a frown. ‘No, that is not the reason. You are young, you deserve a husband who can build a life with you in the years to come. Not a washed-up widower.’

The bitterness in his voice turns your head.

‘You’re not washed up, from what I hear.’ Somehow, you find the courage to add boldly, ‘Or from what I see.’

Letting your eyes trail unabashedly over his broad frame, a thrill chases through your blood when you notice his Adam’s apple bob with a tight swallow. He’s so close that you know you’re not imagining the heat seeping into your bones.

Silence stretches between you, charged with a consciousness that creeps in and spreads. Two souls from different worlds and stations put in a situation in which neither of you had a hand. This may not be how you imagined giving away your virtue - far from it - yet your stomach twists in anticipation.

You glance upwards, only to find him already watching you.

Something has shifted when you so bravely reached out and tipped the balance with your words. He can tell that you are not one for flippant flattery, and it takes him a moment to collect himself, harder said than done with the blood roaring in his ears.

When he speaks, it comes out in a much lower register than he intends, so much so it sounds like a secret.

‘You say you just want to get this over with. But I can - I can make it good for you. It doesn’t have to be something you want to forget.’

Your eyes widen and your lips part, and heat blooms almost uncomfortably in his chest. ‘You would do that for me?’

‘I will serve you in whatever way you ask of me tonight, my lady.’

Never have mere words, albeit delivered in such a delicious baritone, moved you so. You came in expecting to have your virtue stripped from you, the same way Rome callously stole you away. Where you thought humiliation and dishonour awaited, this man is offering deliverance and devotion - if only for one night.

Your throat tight with emotion, you nod in lieu of a spoken answer.

Marcus is deliberately slow in his movements, wanting you to feel safe in his presence. ‘How much do you know? So I know what I need to teach you.’

Despite yourself, shyness rears its head and you mumble, ‘I’ve - I’ve heard stories. I know what… happens… between a man and a woman in the bed chamber.’

He nods reassuringly, making you feel less of a fool for the juvenile answer you gave. ‘And has anyone touched you before?’

There’s no mistaking the lurch in your stomach as your heart hammers violently. ‘No. No one. Never.’

The protector in him stirs, summoned to duty, warring with the desire that seethes under his skin like the unholy flames of Vesuvius. He fears it is a quickly losing battle.

Reading the desire in your endearingly open face, Marcus reaches over you to settle one hand on your hip as he leans close, his breath warm on your cheek.

‘Have you ever kissed a man?’ he rasps.

You shake your head, eyes fixated on his mouth, framed by a tidy moustache. He is so close that you can see his beard is flecked with silver.

You swear the general is leaning into you, and every inch of you is on tenterhooks, enraptured by his proximity -

‘You should save it for your husband.’

You barely forestall the whine of protest that teeters on the tip of your tongue, pinching your lips together, but his lopsided smile tells you that he knows.

‘I can kiss you elsewhere though.’

‘Oh,’ you inhale shakily when he dips to mouth at the side of your neck, landing on your pulse point in a suckle. Your whole body arches off the bed, hands gripping the sheets, head spinning at all the sensations that are new to you - the burn of his stubble, the cool trail his lips leave behind -

Then the palm on your hip pulls you into him, sprawling you against the wide cage of his body, your breasts pressed against his broad chest. The dress they put you in is thin, and the fabric rubs against your pebbling nipples as his kisses travel daringly low.

‘Am I going too fast?’ he pauses, voice strained.

Breathlessly, you shake your head.

‘If you want me to stop, or wait, you say the word. Understood?’

‘Yes, general.’

Two words he hears daily from his men, and yet from your lips, they unleash a dangerously feral side of him.

More. Is the only coherent thought that remains.

Impatient hands reposition you so that you are astride him, and he groans when you slot flush in his lap. He watches your eyes widen at what you feel between your legs. Your dress rides up, and his blood rushes south at the bare expanse of your inner thighs on his skin.

‘I want to see you,’ he speaks plainly, palms squeezing the dip of your waist. ‘May I undress you? Please?’

All decorum flees you, and you might have chanted yes, yes, yes to his question.

Dropping your chin, you watch his thick fingers nimbly undo the knot holding the front of your dress together. The silk capitulates like water, tumbling down in delicate drapes around your waist, baring you to his heated gaze.

‘You are beautiful,’ he declares with a solemnity that steals your breath.

And it is easy to believe him, the way his dazed eyes trail over your breasts, before his hands follow. Calloused palms, which you are sure have held many a sword in triumph, now cup your tender flesh in reverence.

Your head lolls to the side as he teases you, but when he rolls his hips upwards, your eyes snap to the pained expression on his face. You’ve heard ladies in court whispering over wine about length and girth, but nothing could prepare you for the thrill of feeling a man’s undeniable desire for you.

Instinct guides you, moving your hips so that you are grinding against his length, seeking relief from what is building deep within you.

‘Do what feels good,’ the general murmurs encouragingly, palms on the small of your back to let you take control.

And just like that, you are thrown back to one summer’s day in your youth. You were bathing in a rock pool, under the spray of a waterfall in perfect solitude when you accidentally slipped forwards on the smooth stone surface. The unexpected sensation between your legs ripped through you like lightning on a clear day. And you chased that feeling, hips undulating until you shuddered and cried out. Knees trembling in the aftermath, you never dared to seek it out again, but neither did you forget.

And now, years later, you finally know what had transpired. Pleasure. And this time, under the general’s hooded gaze, you pursue it with single-minded determination.

Marcus wishes you knew how beautiful you are in this very moment. Breasts swaying in tandem while you rock back and forth on his clothed length, eyes glazed, every whimper from your swollen lips making him throb harder for you.

‘Good girl,’ he rasps, throat tight. ‘Take your pleasure. Take what you need.’

And when he sucks your nipple into his mouth, you wail, tipping forward at an angle that unexpectedly takes you apart.

The waves that wash over you are more intense than you remember, and you are sure that has to do with the man holding your hips to his as you buck, and the warm swirl of his tongue against your breasts, sucking and nipping as you come down from your high.

‘That was not your first time,’ he states as a matter of fact when the white noise in your ears finally fades.

‘It happened once, a long time ago, and I didn’t understand then -’

‘And now you do.’

‘Yes, general.’

This time, he lets loose a moan at your words. ‘I can feel your wetness through your dress.’

Confused, you look down, and your cheeks burn when you spot the dark patch on the delicate fabric. ‘Oh, I -’

‘It’s natural,’ he assures you. ‘The wetness makes it easier for -’

It dawns on you when you feel his hardness twitch under you. Oh.

‘It - you feel -’ you stutter, struggling to comprehend how the girth of what you are sitting on could possibly fit inside you.

Taking your hand, Marcus presses a chaste kiss to your palm, eyes warm and open.

‘We will take it slow. I will use my fingers first, to prepare you for me,’ he explains patiently. ‘I promised I would make it good for you, did I not?’

‘You did.’

And you have complete faith in him.

Your knees knock into each other hopelessly when he slides you off his lap, and he has to bodily prop you up against the pillows. Sinking into the soft feathers, you watch him kneel between your parted legs, and you feel so safe even as he towers over you.

‘May I disrobe you?’

You bite your bottom lip, and nod.

Except it’s not a disrobing, it’s nothing near as civil as that. The general rips the rest of your dress clean down the middle, rendering you completely bare beneath him.

Marcus knows should be ashamed of his brash behaviour. But how could he when you react so viscerally, jaw slack as your chest heaves in unmitigated desire?

His gaze shamelessly trail over every curve and dimple, from the breasts he has tasted to where your knees are demurely closed, and knowing that he is the first - the only - to have laid eyes on you makes him impossibly hard.

It matters not that you are not his to keep. This will always be his.

‘You are exquisite,’ he professes, voice tight.

You duck your head, more shy of his compliments than being nude before him. ‘You don’t have to.’

Sliding a finger under your chin and tilting your head until you meet his gaze, he assures you, ‘I mean every word.’

Then he moves down the bed until he can rest his weight on his elbows, and you startle when rough palms glide over the outside of your thighs, stopping at your knees.

He pauses to give you time. ‘Are you certain you wish to continue?’

Your answer is a confident yes.

Then, as if opening the shell of Venus, he delicately pries your knees apart, and his breath hitches as you are revealed to him.

He is aware that he’s staring like an imbecile, words failing him. As the silence stretches on, you become self-conscious.

‘General,’ you demur, moving to cover yourself.

Shaking his head, he finally says, ‘Forgive me, but you are perfect.’

Then he looks up at you with such intensity that has you struggling to catch your breath, and without breaking eye contact, he bows his head -

And closes his lips over you there.

You are wholly unprepared - no one has ever gossiped about this in court. Your hips buck violently off the bed, but Marcus holds you down with reassuring hands, suckling on the pearl between your thighs with gentle laps of his tongue.

‘Oh, oh, oh,’ you stuttter, torn between watching the man wreak the most devastating pleasure on you and averting your gaze.

You’ve only ever known worship to be pious, and yet, this most vulgar adulation is the closest you’ve been to the gods.

His beautiful curls brush the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, catching the candle light as he moves, and the crook of his nose - so proud even with the scar on its bridge - draws patterns on your skin as he stakes his claim where no one has ever touched you.

You quickly realise that what you felt just now in the general’s lap was insignificant and thin in comparison. This pleasure is all-consuming, something divine that has you weak and trembling all over. All you hear are slick, wet sounds of tongues and lips, and your own whimpers between garbled groans.

Marcus feasts on you, unapologetically. Flattening his tongue, he tastes you in broad sweeps, moaning into your sweet cunt as you writhe above him, your needy mewls driving him to the edge of madness. You taste like fig - the earthiness of the purple peel, ripe sweetness of the pink flesh.

Then your hands wind into his hair, pulling him closer, ankles hooking over his shoulders. He groans harder, the sound rattling in his ribs as you soak his beard. Surrendering any last vestiges of shyness, you rock against his tongue, nails scratching his scalp as you whine louder into the night air.

Moans that will echo long after you’re gone.

The thought alone hardens his resolve to mark you unequivocally. You’re close, your pliant body quivering and breaths coming in shallow gasps now. He peers up at you, but your eyes are sealed shut and upturned at the gods, your breasts heaving.

Gently, he eases one finger inside you, and he grunts at how easily he slides in. You barely react, and so he pushes back in with two, coaxing a cry from you. Your cunt clenches as he gently thrusts his digits in and out, stretching your tight walls.

‘Oh gods. Oh gods,’ you pant violently.

You’re close, so close. He wants to warn you of what is to come, but it feels like sacrilege to tarnish the moment with words. When he feels you begin to quiver, he laves at your clit harder, burying his fingers inside you to the knuckle, until he feels you crest and break.

‘Gods, oh gods - Marcus!’

The cry of his name catches him off guard. He nearly loses control right there and then, as you ride out your high on his fingers, but by some miracle he holds out through gritted teeth. He devotes his attention to kissing his way up your body, from the slick inside of your thighs, to the side of your hip, making you jump when he sucks on your sensitive breasts.

You stare at his mouth with wild, dark eyes, and him at yours, but he vowed to leave your first kiss to your husband. Girding his self-restraint, he asks, ‘Are you alright?’

‘Yes, Marcus.’

His cock twitches at the sound of his name on your lips. He wants to hear you say it in all manners of ways - whisper it, gasp it, scream it. And by the cheekiness in your smile, it’s clear that you know what he’s thinking.

Your eyes drop to where his hardness is pressed against you. ‘Will you teach me how to please you, general?’

He swallows a groan, the animal in him rattling the bars of its cage. He replies diplomatically, ‘I will teach you how to teach your husband.’

In one smooth tug, he shucks off his tunic, then his loincloth, and he tries not to be self-conscious under your watchful gaze. Pulling you against him, skin on naked skin, he smears kisses along the side of your neck, smiling at your answering shudder. In return, you run your lips and scrape your teeth over his collarbone.

Taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your palm, he slides it all the way down his chest and wraps your fingers firmly around his throbbing cock, his pained moan in your ear.

Eyes wide, you marvel at the size of him in your grip. ‘You are so big.’

Marcus curses through clenched teeth. ‘You are an insolent girl.’

With a wicked glint in your eyes, you correct yourself, ‘You are so big, general.’

If he wasn’t so aroused, he would have chuckled at your cheek. Instead, he growls, ‘Such insubordination.’

Tilting your head to one side, you grin. ‘And how would you discipline me, sir?’

He lets the silence linger for a beat, allowing anticipation to build as one big hand splays over your ass, hot lips brushing the shell of your ear. ‘I would deny you my cock, my lady. Let your sweet cunt weep for me, empty, not knowing how good it would feel to have me deep inside you.’

You are unsure if you are more shocked at the explicitness of his words, or at the gush of wetness that has you pressing your thighs together. If you had to wager a guess, he is just as affected as you by the way his length pulses in your grasp.

Marcus smiles as he takes in the way your body reacts to him. ‘But how can I deny such a lovely, desperate creature such as yourself?’

A sob escapes you. ‘Please, Marcus - I’m yours to take.’

With that, all self-restraint abandons him, and his lips crash into yours. At the back of his mind, he knows you deserve a better first kiss, something gentle and sweet. But to your credit, you seem to take it in stride, winding your arms around his neck with a deep groan as he deepens the kiss. Opening up your mouth, he sweeps his tongue against yours, making sure you taste yourself and the pleasure that he had wrung from you.

When he reluctantly pulls back for air, you hum, ‘I thought you said I should save that for my husband.’

He all but snarls, ‘Damn your husband.’

The possessiveness in his tone sends you reeling, and his resolve wears even thinner when your cunt brushes against him, so wet and soft, begging for him.

‘I cannot wait any longer,’ he declares.

You bite your lip beseechingly. ‘Please, Marcus, I cannot either.’

He braces himself above you on strong arms, until all you can see is him, backlit by the soft candlelight. Beholding his beauty - the wisps of gray at his temples, the scar lining his cheekbone - your breath catches at the tenderness in his eyes as he stares down at you.

Holding the base of his cock, Marcus notches himself at the entrance of your cunt, trembling as he holds himself back.

‘I will go slow,’ he assures you. ‘If it hurts, you tell me to stop. Understood?’

Your mouth dry, you can only nod.

Holding your gaze, Marcus rolls his hips ever so slowly, jaw slack when he breaches you, inch by tortuous inch.

He is barely inside you and you already feel so unfathomably full.

‘Marcus,’ you gasp when it gets impossibly tight, nails digging into his broad shoulders.

He stops, and whispers encouragingly, ‘You are doing so well for me, taking me so beautifully. Just breathe.’

In between his patient, languid kisses, you unfurl, and Marcus gently pulls back, before pushing into you, deeper this time.

When you cry out, he shushes you, brushing the wet corners of your eyes with his lips. ‘Does it hurt?’

You shake your head. ‘No, it’s just - so much.’

‘I know, I can feel how tight you are gripping me,’ he mumbles into your neck, throbbing inside you while he holds himself still as you adjust. ‘Brave, sweet girl.’

When you find your voice again, you give him cheek. ‘I am a woman now, general.’

He smiles at you - a warm curl that crinkles the corners of his eyes endearingly - and claims your lips again. Feeling the tension seep out of your body, he thrusts shallowly so you can learn the movement of his hips. When he hits a spot that makes your jaw drop and your hips buck, he pulls all the way back, and drives himself to the hilt in one smooth motion.

And with that, you become a part of his soul, and his yours. His chest swells with the fiercest possessiveness and the greatest honour all at once, despite knowing that the circumstances that brought you together will inevitably tear you asunder at the break of dawn.

‘Marcus!’ you choke on a sob, throwing your head back, your walls clutching his cock in a merciless grip.

‘There she is,’ he grunts, mouth scraping the shell of your ear. ‘Say my name like that.’

And you do, over and over again, as he fucks into you. His pants land harshly in the crook of your neck with every thrust, hands greedily squeezing all the skin he can find - the curve of your ass, the dimple in your waist, your thigh to hitch it over his hip.

Looking down at you, eyes drunk and unfocused as you stare back at him, each squeeze of your wet cunt around him, every breath from your lips feels sacred.

He is seized by a sudden need to know. ‘How does it feel?’

Your eyes soften, and he shudders when you cup the side of his face to bring his nose to yours. ‘Divine.’

Marcus loses himself in you, in the wet squelch of your cunt around his length, the way your tightness takes every thrust. Words of praise that he doesn’t even hear tumble from his lips and onto every inch of skin he can reach as you cling to him, scraping your nails down his back and digging into the meat of his ass.

Pitching forward to press a hard kiss to you, he says, ‘I want you to fall apart for me again.’

‘Please, Marcus, please.’

Pushing himself up to his knees, still buried deep inside you, he spreads your thighs obscenely wide over his hips, and he moans at the sight of your cunt so full of him. With hooded eyes, he sucks on two of his thick fingers and brings them between your legs, carefully drawing circles on your clit, knowing that you are already sensitive from cumming twice for him before.

Your face twists in agony as he builds you towards another climax, patiently weaving the web of pleasure that wounds you tighter and tighter until your spine feels like it will snap in two. ‘Marcus, oh - don’t stop, don’t stop, oh gods -’

He bares his teeth as he feels you start to clench around him. ‘That’s it, that’s it. Cum on my cock, let me feel you, give it to me.’

Your peak crashes into you relentlessly, and as you are swept away, you can only wail and thrash, while Marcus curses and stutters unintelligibly above you as he spins out of control.

He had every intention to pull out, but it is as if some higher power is determined to foil his plans. With a guttural roar, his hips snap flush against yours, big palms grasp you so hard by the waist that you squeal, and he spills into you in hot gushes, once - twice - and again until he is spent.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

He doesn’t know if he said that aloud or if it was a trick of the mind. All he knows is that he eventually collapses bonelessly onto you, skin fused together with sweat and cum as your breaths become one in the crisp night air.

It is him who breaks the stillness, his old bones creaking when he stirs to relieve an ache in his back. His softened cock slides out of you, prompting you to whine in protest. He grunts when he looks down to see his cum dribble out of your cunt, leaving a pearly trail on the inside of your thighs.

When he meets your eyes, there is no awkwardness in the silence. ‘Forgive me, I didn’t mean to spill my seed inside you. That was reckless.’

Your heart skips a beat at his admission, and you can’t hide the pride in your voice. ‘Do I make you reckless, general?’

He tries and fails to be stern in his answer, the tenderness with which he brushes his nose on your cheek giving him away. ‘I know better than to encourage your insolence with an answer.’

You are far from discouraged though, quite the opposite. Knowing you have this man - who commands armies of thousands - at your mercy is a siren’s call.

Peering at him from under your eyelashes, you curl one leg around his waist. ‘Do you want to be reckless again?’

He huffs, but a smile breaks through. ‘Have you ever been told that you are a cocktease?’

You hum teasingly. ‘I have never heard that word before, but I like it.’

‘You do?’ he breathes against your lips. ‘You like being my cocktease?’

‘Yours, general.’

Marcus is astounded when he feels himself harden again, and he moans as you press open-mouthed kisses down his neck. ‘What spell have you cast on this old man, my little cocktease?’

You grin, letting him ease you onto your back so he can settle between your thighs again. ‘The kind that lasts until dawn.’

Eventually, morning must break, sure as the moon turns and the sun rises. In the golden rays of day, you will wed his son in ironic, virginal white, showered in rose petals. He will look on from the side in his finest ceremonial robes of red, as you walk away from him and into your new life as someone else’s wife.

But in the velvety folds of this night and many more to come, safely ensconced in the deepest corners of his memories, in lands far away, in war and in peace, there he keeps you - where you are not.

More notes: Thank you for reading! As usual, comments/reblogs/asks would be very much appreciated 🥰 I hope you enjoyed this fic as much as I loved writing it!

#prima nocta #marcus acacius fanfiction #gladiator ii fanfiction #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x f!reader #marcus acacius x fem!reader #marcus acacius oneshot #marcus acacius smut #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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s7nburn · 1 year ago

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NSFW ALPHABET Finnick Odair

WARNINGS: kinky shit, mentions of cum eating, kinks like breeding and exhibitionism, pussy eating, sex, rough sex, vanilla sex, sex, sex, and sex.

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A: Aftercare, what is he like after sex? He's super cuddley after sex. He loves to hold you and talk about random things while playing with your hair until you both fall asleep.

B: Body part, what's his favorite body part of yours? He adores your stomach, no matter how 'big' you think you are. He loves to place his hands there. Whether he's hugging you from the back or he's lying in between your legs eating you out.

C: Cum, Anything that has to do with cum. As I said earlier, he loves you stomach, so he definitely loves to cum on there. I feel like he'll also lick it up? He doesn't mind the mess, actually I think it may be what turns him on even more. Dont get me wrong he LOVES to cum in you though.

D: Dirty secrets. Does he have any dirty secrets? He definitely does. First, he likes to eat his own cum. Second, he for sure gets turned on by the thought of getting caught by someone. God, the amount of times he thought about fucking you during the games when thousands people are watching is insane.

E: Experience. How experienced is he? He's experienced, he had to be for what the capital did to him. All im saying is he's pretty good at what he does.

F: Favorite position. What's his favorite position? He loves the classic missionary. He loves seeing your face as he basically fucks you into next year.

G: Goofy. How goofy is he during sex? He not too goofy, he'll let out a giggle or two for no reason and you'll giggle back, but he's pretty much always is serious.

H: Hair. How well groomed is he? He likes to clean up down there. For you, he could care less. Whatever your comfortable with!

I: intimacy. How intimate is he? He is super intimate. He loves slow and passionate sex. Looking into your eyes as he slowly fucks you.

J: Jack off (masturbation). Do they jack off? Yes, but only when your not there, or if you're sleeping. He much prefers your hands.

K: Kinks. Does he have kinks? Yes. Oh God yes. When it's not slow, it's rough. And I mean rough. As I mentioned earlier, he obviously is an exhibitionist. He doesn't know why but it just turns him on so much. And if you ask, he doesn't mind choking you either. He DEFINITELY has a breeding kink... you'll most likely be on birth control. I feel like he won't actually do it but he fantasizes about blindfolding you. For sure. Also not a kink but he is a MAJOR pussy eater! He loves to look up at your face as he's making you cum with his tongue.

L: Location. Where's his favorite place to have sex? He prefers to have sex in the bedroom, but if he's REALLY horny he absolutely does not mind having it in the kitchen.

M: Motivation. What turns him on? You. Anything you do. You. You. You. But in all seriousness, you in dresses. The way they frame you body or lift up your boobs a little...

N: No. What will he not do? He will not hurt you. A couple slaps on the ass is fine, so is choking but really anything beyond that is a no.

O: Oral, do they enjoy giving or getting? He LOVES eating your pussy, and I mean LOVES 😩. Any chance he gets he WILL eat you out, no questions asked. He does enjoy getting head too, looking down at you as you gag on his dick is like heaven.

P: Pace, slow or fast? Depends on the mood of course. He is a sucker for slow sex though.

Q: Quickie, how does he feel about them? He doesn't mind them, but he prefers longer...sessions with you.

R: Risk, does he take risks during sex? Sometimes.. if you two are at a house party he may take you into the bathroom and fuck you, intentionally leaving the door unlocked. And like I said he has a breeding kink...he will not cum in you if ur not on birth control.

S: Stamina, how long can they go? I feel like he can go for about 3-4 rounds if it's a kinky night ifykwim. But if its a slow and sensual moment probably 1-2 rounds.

T: Toys, do they enjoy using toys? You two probably have a couple of vibrators..maybe a Fleshlight for him.

U: Unfair, how much do they tease? He can be such a tease.. whispering suggestive things into your ear while you two are training.. lingering touches that leave you weak in the knees.. and finally when you two get home.. he'll fuck you over and over again.. with either his dick.. or his tongue.

V: Volume, are they vocal during sex? Finnick gets loud... His moans are like music to your ears..shit maybe his own. He loves to let you know how good your doing. Moaning praises everytime he fucks your face or your pussy.

W: Wild card (random headcanon). He loves to fuck your thighs..he doesn't even know why. Maybe it's the way they hug his dick while he pushes through them?.. Oh, and he DEFINITELY talks you through it. "There you go..." Or "Just like that..let go..I got you.'

X: X-ray, what going on down there? He's around, maybe above, the average. He's 6.3 inches, but he's got girth.

Y: Yearning, how high is his sex drive? I say it depends on you, but it's pretty high.. like i said he can go for 4 rounds.

Z: Zzz, does he fall asleep quickly after? Yes, he gets really sleepy after. All he wants to do is cuddle into you and rest. He can't decide if he likes fucking you to sleep or talking you to sleep more. Even though he's tired he can go on and on about random things, like the stars.

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A/N: HELLOOO my irl friend is gonna read this and I'm freaking out 🤗. Anyways hope you all like it <3

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Tag list: @babygorewhore @taintandviolent

If you want to be added or removed from my tag list, dm me or comment!!

#finnick odair smut #finnick odair #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick imagine #thg finnick #finnick x reader #the hunger games #smut

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hereforthehitsbaby · 20 days ago

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Behave | Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Synopsis: Eddie always told you to behave on game nights - but tonight you were feeling extra bratty.

Warning: Slight Smut, Finger Sucking, Mimicking Blow Job, Spanking, Dom!Eddie, Public Displays of Lewdness, Fingering Mentioned, Language, Drug Use, "Daddy," Choking,

Rating: E - NO MINORS!

Word Count: 3.6K

Best Friend; A person's closest friend. Someone who will be there for you no matter what, someone who you can trust with your deepest and darkest secrets. Best thing about having someone be that close, you could be comfortable with one another and know you will never be judged. That was the best part about it all, knowing you can openly be yourself without the feeling of dread or fear. Everyone needs someone like that in their life, whether they would like to admit it or not. It's the truth at the end of the day. Everyone could use a best friend who will be there through thick and thin, who will pump them up whenever they are feeling low. It isn't to make others jealous, but to help with your own brand of faults and doubts. Sometimes having someone who will openly reassure you is better than just being silent - instead of letting you wallow in your own despair. For you, he was the chosen one. He was the one to take those doubts away, and flourish you into the world of beauty. Though really, he loved when you were more; Teasing, taunting, overall sexy.

Being a tease was in your nature, whether you wanted to believe it or not. Something about riling up your friends was funny. Maybe it was seeing what flustered them, and what made them tick. After all, it was all in good fun - your friends didn't seem to mind. I mean, how could they when you're gorgeous? Especially when Eddie Munson was the bestest of your friends. He really enjoyed when you teased him, openly flirted with him, and even when you would climb into his lap like it was nothing. Though you both were heavily adamant, you were just friends. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. It was a safety precaution after all, in case if things didn't work out the integrity of your friendship would not be ruined. To the naked eye of your friend group, the two of you were platonic with a capital P, whilst in private you could've sworn you were lovers. Just the way he handled your body, making you bend to his will - how you'd give yourself up to him, he was damned if he fell in love. It was normal for you two to experiment with one another - to find what you like and how it should be done. All the best adventures, came from Eddie.

That 5"11' brown eyed beauty would be the death of you at some point, truly a gracious man who would take care of you at the drop of a hat. Eddie Munson was your person, your forever in such a brutal world. When he had slid into your life at fourteen years old, you were a goner. That was around the same time he had grown his mullet out a bit so it was more of a hair metal variety. Bright brown eyes were like a puppy's, constantly begging and pleading to be loved. That is all Eddie truly wanted at the end of the day - to feel the love neither of his parents had given him. Growing up with his uncle, it was rare to show any sign of affection - making him feel almost robotic at times. But, when you were caught on the swings smoking a joint in front of a bunch of kids - he knew you could love him like he needed. He offered you a light to reignite your end of the joint, suckling the smoke deeply as it swirled within your lungs. Simply you passed it off to him; That entire day you spent running through the fountains near Hawkins downtown, causing chaos every moment you could. He was in love with you from the start, it was obvious.

"Sweetheart, I need you to behave tonight. We are at the halfway point in the campaign. No distractions, okay?" Eddie pleaded as he drove down the rickety dirt road near Hawkins High. Thursday nights were dedicated to Hellfire - the D&D club Eddie has ran since Freshman year. When you became the new soul to Hawkins, Eddie was the first to bring you into the sacred circle - loving how easily you fit in with the others and how great of a rogue dark elf you are. It made his heart beam that the girl of his dreams, also loved the same music, books and games. But, Eddie wouldn't admit that he fucking loved when you were being a tease, purposely turning him on during the most inconvenienced of times. There was something about being bent to your will he could not get enough of, especially when he was heavily rooted in the campaign. It wasn't outlandish for all of the guys to see - but enough for Eddie to silently berate you. The other guys were oblivious, which was cute.

You turned to Eddie's side in the van, crossing your arms over your chest and pouting with an audible hmph, knowing that cannot be arranged. A chuckle slipped from Eddie's lips as he heard you sweet little sound, your pout the cutest thing he had ever seen. He was a weakened man for you, that was a no brainer. "I cannot make any guarantees, Eddie the Banished." You knew Eddie was a slut for you calling him by his Dungeon Master name - which you found sexy. Just seeing how his hands gripped the steering wheel a bit harder to make the leather crunch beneath his fingers, was enough ammunition you needed to keep going. With Eddie's eyes becoming hooded in lust, he strained his fingers against the wheel. "Fuck, you love I love it when you call me that, sweetheart." Indeed you did, hence why this was going to be an absolutely torturous night for sweet Eddie Munson - not when the love of his life was bound to kill him with teasing. "If you're going to tease me, at least get it out before the game." Eddie pleaded with you, turning his head to face yours as the light remained red, gulping his worries down.

"Aw, Eddie? Are you okay, baby boy?" You pouted playfully, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. You could hear the strain of the steering wheel beneath your fingers, causing his body to convulse in the slightest. His knee was bouncing up and down whilst waiting for the light, trying so hard to contain his raging hard on in his jeans, trying so hard to not fuck you in the back of his van in the school parking lot. You made Edie crazy, but he fucking craved it. Eddie slammed to 60 when the light turned green, speeding down the last set of dirt roads by the high school while you waited to tease him. Eddie wouldn't give you the chance to do so though, for as soon as he pulled into the parking lot, he left you in the van. No keys, no words, just grabbed his lunch box and that was it. In a way you silently wondered if you took this too far with him, if you made him angry by teasing. Your heart began to race with the possible realization that Eddie was mad at you, causing a sliver of doubt to shine within your bones. But alas, like everything else in life, you pushed it down and never thought of it again.

Slowly you crept the passengers side door open to be met with the cool early summer breeze against your freshly shaved legs; High waisted leather skirt caused the breeze to slide underneath. Adorning your torso was your very own Hellfire Club shirt, tucked into the band of your bottoms. With the blackened boots and studs on your feet, you hopped out of the van with a clank of the heels - sighing out softly. Truly you were worried that you may have pissed Eddie off, which would make the game that much more awkward. But as soon as you were about to be wrapped up in your worries, you heard the infamous giggle of one Dustin Henderson rolling through your ears, shoving your door closed with a smile. "Hello, Lady Thesa! Are you ready to completely annihilate the cult of Vecna?" Dustin smiled sweetly, tagging Mike and Lucas along with him. Smiling widely as you rolled your eyes, you bowed to the boys with a short curtsey, trying not to laugh. "Of course I am, ready to kick that slimeballs ass once and for all!" You exclaimed proudly, causing the three to scream in agreement.

The four of you made your way to the double doors of the school, the only set that would be opened tonight. It was cute hearing how excited the guys were to get to the halfway point - needing to level up and get their steel armor finally. If there was anyway you all would beat Vecna, it was with the best of the best armor. The halls of Hawkins high were bare from the world; Cold, almost decayed with the scent of death - and gym socks. It was weird always being back at the school late at night with nothing else around, no one else around for that matter. Principal Higgins, as much as he was a douchebag, gave Eddie a key to the school for these reasons - though he barely trusted Munson. It was funny, you and Eddie being the oldest of the groups - just due to the fact that he stayed back three times and you, well you had the unfortunate luck of your transcripts getting lost in the mail, meaning you had to repeat freshman year twice. Maybe its because Eddie officially ran Hellfire Club but, you always had a spare.

The chatter coming from the science classroom made your stomach drop, hearing Eddie's loud voice booming through the hiss of the lights overhead. Dustin, Lucas and Mike ran into the class before you did, screaming along with Eddie, Jeff and Gareth. Meanwhile you, you trailed into the class lastly, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you wandered over to Eddie's side. Plopping down next to Gareth, Eddie noticed where was a twinkle of something in your eyes - something that made you not want to look at him. Is she mad I walked away from her earlier? Eddie's mind pondered so many different possibilities and fears, wondering if he was too harsh in what he did. But really, this was just one giant fucking game. "Hey Gareth, could you please be a darling and pass me by dice?" You smiled sweetly at the flannel wearing guy, batting your lashes softly. His face instantly reddened at your flattery, fingers trembling as they grabbed your purple satchel from the pile. Sending him a wink as a thank you, you hummed softly as poured them out beside your character sheet. "You look really pretty today," the soft tone of Gareth's words made your heart soar, the heat creeping upon your cheeks.

You nudged Gareth's shoulder with your own, smiling sincerely at his compliment, not knowing exactly how to function after it. "Thank you, that's really sweet of you to say!" You made sure the sentence was loud enough for Eddie to hear. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Eddie's mouth screwed up into a solid line, his fingers gripping the ballpoint pen as if he was trying to kill it. His leg shook the entire table, making some of the pieces turn over accidentally. "Jesus Eddie, did you forget to pop your quaaludes before the meeting?" Jeff snorted, causing Eddie to slam his hands down on the table, everyone shutting up so quickly. Eddie's beady eyes bored into everyone's, mainly yours with fury. You had never seen Eddie so pissed off before, or just mad in general. Usually if the guys joked around like this then Eddie was all giggles too. But tonight, something was different - something was off. "Listen here you little shits, I am not in the mood to fuck around. Get your shit together, or get the fuck out!" Eddie snapped, surprised with the tone of his own voice. He jumped back slightly at his own harsh remark, wincing towards the group. "I'm sorry - just...a lot going on."

Everyone was understanding, nodding and keeping their lips sealed until Eddie began the campaign. You barely needed to do anything here tonight, Eddie was already frustrated because of you. In a way you felt bad for working him up, but on the same length you were only just getting started. As Eddie began to recite where you all had left off, you leaned into your fanny pack to grab out a lollipop, unwrapping the blow pop - cherry - your favorite. As you popped the candy into your mouth, you wrote down your updated stats on your character sheets, not giving a second glance to the DM. "Lady Thesa, you see a Rust Monster coming your way out of the darkened woods. It's body insect like, the color of rust with antenna's that can easily wrap around you. Do you fight, or do you flee?" Eddie recited to you, cocking his brow as you swirled the lolly against your tongue. Popping it freshly out, dripping with your saliva, you nod to him with a smirk; "I'll fight that fucker." Eddie's eyes were dazzling over the lollipop, breath hitching as you traced your tongue on the underside of the protruding top, wrapping your perfect lips around it.

You grabbed two D7 dice from your pile in front, the purple and black glittering in the overhead lights. Shaking them in your hand was phallic in itself; You were mimicking a hand job directly at Eddie. As the two dice fell down to the board, you noticed how you hit the rust monster with an attack of fourteen, meaning you wounded him enough to take fourteen damage. Everyone around you cheered and Gareth clapped your back, rubbing smooth circles over your shirt. A flush rose to Gareth's cheek as you rested your hand on his lower thigh, gently rubbing his jeans as you giggled. Eddie hated that someone other than him was making you giggle, making your smile so hard your cheeks hurt, fuck even making you shiver with delight. That is something Eddie always did - to see that he was almost being replaced hurt a lot. But he could not let you get away with this. Clutching the dice of the rust monster in his hand, Eddie threw the D20 down with haste, seeing how it landed only on five - meaning you got to do another hit of damage. The way Eddie perched himself in the chair, his back against the wood and his legs spread wide, made you shiver with lust. The way his sinful hands grasped at the arms of the chair, as if he would rip them off at any given moment.

"Kick his ass Lady Thesa, stun them with your beauty." Gareth was on a roll tonight with the compliments. You wondered if it was because Eddie wasn't being obsessive about you, wondering if he was doing it to get a rise out of Munson. Either way, it was sweet of shy Gareth to speak up finally, looking at you like you were a prize. When Gareth leaned forward to whisper in your ear, that was enough to made Eddie snap. "Time out!" His voice boomed over the chatter of everyone, causing the room to stand still. Before anyone could ask Eddie if he was okay, the brute stormed out of the classroom, slamming the door behind. His jackets were laid across his bag on the floor, you wondered if he had a smoke to calm his nerves. Sighing out loud, you slowly pushed out of your chair, rubbing your forehead before heading towards the door. "What's gotten into him?" Mike asked with confusion, causing you to shrug. "I don't know but we will be back, I am going to see what's up."

This was very out of character for your Eddie, and you wanted to do what you could to give him peace in the process. As you left the classroom, you looked up and down both halls - not seeing a lick of Eddie anywhere. Groaning to yourself, you quickly sped down the right side of the hall, heading towards where the gym and locker rooms would be. There were only about four classrooms - all senior level art, psychology, history and culinary. He could be hiding out in one of those, you pondered, but just which one? You reached for the first class which happened to be the art room. Elongated black tables lined each row - showcasing off eight of them with four chairs at each. It was weird to see one of your classes in the darkened night, fluorescent lightbulbs not burning your eyes. "Eddie?" You called out with a hum, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you sighed out. You were nervous he was mad at you, or worse yet - he wanted you to leave. "Eddie I'm-" you began, but were cut off with two strong hands pinning your shoulders back against the air. The slice of tension covered your body like a wet blanket, unable to move under the force. His left hand slid from your shoulder to your neck, pushing down on your pulse point like it was nothing.

"You must think you're real fucking cute, don't you?" Eddie hissed as he tightened his grip, his right hand coming to pin your hip to the board behind you. Easily you could feel your eyes growing darker as they dilated. Eddie was possessive sure, but he never used this sort of force outside of the bedroom. In all honesty, it was hot to you, knowing how much you loved to be choked. Giving Eddie your best impression of doe eyes, you slowly let your smile creep forth, showcasing your reddened lips and tongue from the lollipop earlier, you had discarded when you were rolling. "Mhm, of course I do, Munson." You challenged him back, looking him up and down for two seconds. He was lost in your words, how you played feigned innocence so well. This time around it wasn't going to work on him, no, he was already deep into his mind of fury. Still holding your throat in his hand, Eddie marched you backwards to the emptied desk of the art teacher Mrs. Callough, watching how your bared thighs trembled. Eddie paced himself out by removing one of his hands from your body, using it to push your tight leather skirt over the swell of your ass, showing how you had forgone your panties for the evening, letting your naked core be only a few inches away from exposure.

"Naughty, naughty girl - you fucking menace." Eddie growled from behind, laying a harsh crack against your right ass cheek. The sensation made you jolt forward, stifling a waning moan. Before you could speak out against Eddie's spank, he laid another one flush to the other cheek, feeling the skin heat under his touch. It was like rapid fire at that rate, he kept laying harsh smacks against your ass almost to learn your lesson, but instead it caused you to go dumb. Your mouth hung open, collecting your own saliva as broken moans slipped out. Your cunt clenched around nothing, hoping to god he would shove his fingers or cock within you. Each spank got rougher than the last, his fingertips digging into the rounded, pillowy flesh like it was nothing - almost to show you who you belonged to. After fifteen, you had lost count, the pain mixed with the pleasure, you couldn't control yourself from wanting your best friend. "D-D-Daddy," you let out, tearing welling in the corner of your eyes. "Have you learned your lesson yet, princess?" Ah, so this was a punishment, you thought, feeling your heart swell.

Rapid nods fell from your head as Eddie placed a soothing palm over your now heated ass, letting the cool tips of his rings cool your backside. "Y-Yes, I am s-sorry." You muttered, letting Eddie help you stand up to straighten your tight skirt. Eddie cupped your cheek softly, running the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip, watching how it puffed out just for him. "It's okay, sweetheart. I forgive you. If you can be a good girl, I'll let you come on my fingers under the table while we play - okay?" Eddie smiled softly, peppering kisses to your forehead, cheeks, nose and chin, watching how your heart raced with affection. Eddie did take amazing care of you, even when you were being a brat. That was what you loved most about him, and his darkened side. "I love you, Eddie." You let out louder than normal, causing his plush lips to turn up into a loving smile, leaning forth to kiss you so tenderly. "I love you, my darling."

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x f!reader

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adragonsfriend · 5 months ago

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There are no trash takes on Jedi philosophy, there is contextual analysis.

As may be obvious from the title (humorous--I have gone through several common misinterpretations myself), this is about that infamous scrap of poetry,

There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force.

And the other version,

Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the Force.

I've seen quite a few interpretations of these along the lines of "the second version is reasonable but the first version is crazy and stupid," so here's why I think both versions are actually communicating the same idea, and the wording doesn't really change the meaning much at all.

So just like I did in my post about "do or do not there is not try," let's start by asking some questions to establish context before we look at the text itself.

Is it THE Jedi Code or just a mantra? Legends says it's the Code, canon says it's a mantra. The fact of the matter is that no matter what, it's really a scrap of poetry which couldn't encompass the entire philosophical basis of a culture even if it was trying, so we'll consider it a mantra.

Does the fact that it's a mantra rather than THE Jedi Code mean that we can't get anything deep or meaningful out of it? Of course not. Just because it's not the whole of or a full explanation of Jedi philosophy doesn't mean it's just a nice sounding string of words.

Who is saying this to who? This mantra is often used to focus a meditation, with the first phrasing used by adults in the culture, while the second phrasing is more often used by children.

What were George Lucas' inspirations for Jedi culture that relate to this mantra? (borrowing from this post) A combination of christianity, buddhism, and his interpretations. I'm not an expert in any religion, and definitely not in buddhism, but I know enough to know I'm about to make some sweeping generalizations, so take this with a grain of salt. Disclaimers aside, this mantra, and the way it is phrased, indicate it is being inspired more by buddhism. The way christian texts, specifically the Bible, are written typically goes "here is a story about people doing something, and here is how big G god and/or Jesus reacted." There are metaphors sprinkled in, but they are mainly there to clarify for readers. Buddhist texts on the other hand (and lots of other eastern belief systems as well, like daoism, hinduism, etc. It's an important note that these belief systems don't necessarily conform to the western idea of what a religion is, and often their original languages don't even have a word which is equivalent in meaning to "religion") use metaphor in often deliberately contradictory ways, to make the reader think about things which are difficult to express in words alone. The ongoing struggle to reconcile contradictory descriptions is the point. This doesn't mean those texts can be interpreted however a reader would like. There may be multiple right interpretations, but there can also be wrong interpretations.

What the mantra does NOT mean:

"There is no ___ …" =/= "The experience of ___ is fake news."

"There is no ___ …" =/= "___ is not a useful concept."

"There is no ___ …" =/= "We should totally ignore ___ and pretend we've never heard that word before."

The mantra is not realy a set of advice on how to act. It's a set of statements about Existance. And I do mean capital E, philosophical, epistemological, weird, deep, think-y, Existence.

Temperature Metaphor

You know the first time someone tells you as a kid that cold isn't real, it's just the absence of heat and you're like… "but I'm touching something right now and it feels cold???" It sounds wild the first time you hear it, but as you think about it more, maybe learn about it a second time in science class, get some more context about how molecules work, etc. it begins to make more sense. It gets easier to grasp, until eventually the knowledge feels intuitive--especially if you're a STEM person who thinks about it a lot. We still talk about cold as a concept, because it's useful to us as well--lack of heat can have damaging effects on our bodies after all, and a cold drink is great on a hot day--and it's more efficient to say "cold" than it is to say "lack of heat." But there are some situations, like developing refrigeration or air conditioning, where it is not just useful but essential to think of temperature as it really is--heat exists, cold doesn't--and thinking of it colloquially can only hold us back (if this isn't actually intuitive to you, that's fine, it's just a metaphor--you could also think about dark being the absence of light, vacuum being the absence of mass, any number of things mirror this).

Probably the easiest like to get one's head around, imo at least, is "there is no ignorance, there is knowledge."

Taken hyper-literally it would mean "why seek out knowledge ever when everyone already knows everything?" But if we say knowledge is to heat as ignorance is to cold, then we can understand the real meaning--knowledge is real, where ignorance is only the name of an experience.

The Whole Mantra

This is the way the Jedi are understanding of emotion, ignorance, passion, chaos, death, etc. They are introduced, as children, to the idea that whilst they may feel all of these things, what they are actually experiencing is the lack of the other things--peace, knowledge, serenity, harmony, the Force. That's why they start with the "___ yet ___" phrasing--it introduces them to the first steps of understanding:

They can feel emotions, yet peace is still real and out there to reach for no matter how overwhelming those emotions may be at the moment,

They can feel ignorant or unknowledgeable, yet knowledge is out there to find,

They can experience passion (meaning suffering or pain in this context), yet know that serenity will return to them,

They can find their surroundings chaotic, and yet look for the harmony in the noise,

They can understand that death happens, yet be comforted by the fact that the person dying is still as much a part of the Force as they ever were.

Eventually they move onto the full mantra:

They will always feel emotions, but if they always reckon with those emotions and pass through them they can always return to a place of peace,

If they feel ignorant, they must seek out knowledge, rather than acting rashly. Also, their own knowledge is not the limit--others may hold knowledge in places they consider clouded,

They may experience suffering and pain--it may even feel like a good thing--but there is no wisdom in pain, it is the distraction from serenity, which is where truth can be found,

No matter how chaotic the world appears, it is actually a part of an underlying harmony that makes up all the patterns and the beauty in the world,

Death is not an ending, no matter how much it may look like one. It is a natural transition back into the Force, the place all life comes from.

A Jedi youngling is someone for whom this understanding is an essential part of the culture they are being brought up in.

A Jedi Padawan is someone who is beginning to learn to apply this understanding outside the confines of the Jedi temple, in a world where not everyone shares it.

A Jedi Knight is someone who has learned to apply this understanding on their own, without supervision.

A Jedi Master is someone for whom this understanding has become intuitive and automatic, no matter their surroundings.

All this is to say,

#star wars #jedi philosophy #jedi #jedi code #star wars prequels #jedi order #the force #star wars meta #me a star wars tumblr actually writing star wars meta?#it’s more likely than you think #long post

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aerequets · 2 months ago

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randomly remembered the time when I was 9 or 10 years old and in a Huge online game phase (think club penguin, fantage, Poptropica, etc). my fixation at the time of this memory was fantage, which, for those who don't know, was basically a dress-up game where you could also interact with other players and play games and whatnot.

so I was Obsessed. like begging my dad for memberships (he finally got me one for one month. it cost $6) and beelining straight to fantage when I got home from school and acting like the pixelated clothing items I got for my pixelated avatar were truly treasure. like this was my second world guys. My... happiness? No, not my happiness, but maybe my sanity hinged on this online game.

now one thing about fantage was that they had censored words, like cuss words, because it was a game for kids. if you said something, it could result in a temporary ban, or, if what you said was REAL bad, a permanent ban on your account.

anyways, people found a neat little trick where if you said the word 'sexy' (not a cuss word but also not something you want kids to be using?) the game would automatically convert it to 'cool'. and I was ALL OVER this trick. For some reason 9 year old me found it the funniest thing in the world to see 'sexy' written in the chat bar (which, by the way, I didn't even really know what it meant) only for the word 'cool' to come up in my speech bubble instead. I even started experimenting. what if I wrote 'exy'? (nothing.) what if it was capitalized? (COOL.)

what if I wrote 'sex'?

probably because it isn't a bad word, the orange pop-up of doom only declared I was banned for 24 hours instead of forever. but I can still remember the sheer panic and horror 9 year old me felt at that sight. I was Banned.

i guess 9 year old me also didn't have any foresight, because instead of 1) considering it was only a day long ban, I could wait and 2) considering it was only a day long ban, NOBODY HAD TO KNOW, I instead ran straight to my mom with tears running down my face and loudly asked "IS S E X A BAD WORD?" mind you, I spelled it out S-E-X because I was under the impression that banned fantage words would somehow also get me banned from real life.

my mother, bless her soul, only looked horrified as her sniveling 9 year old stood there after asking that question. after asking the normal questions (where did you hear that, what happened) and getting a hold on the situation, all she said was "Yes it's a bad word" and left it at that. Im glad she didn't put any stock into my panic over being banned for ONE DAY because wtf was I actually doing.

anyways moral of the story?? practice safe sexy I guess idk I have no idea why I was like that

#long post #dia talks #i was reminded of this bc i remembered woozworld (ANOTHER game i used to play)#and i recovered my account that had been dead for 10 years #and everything is so different now #nostalgia hits different

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euphemiaamillais · 11 months ago

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nsfw alphabet with coriolanus snow 🎀

cw: 18+//mentions of sex, cum & other bodily fluids

an: i’ve tried out something new—i hope you guys enjoy it!!!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

he’s not one for affection, but once you or he have finished, he brushes your hair out of your eyes, and presses a few soft kisses to your neck. but typically, he goes back to his cold self. not that you mind, he gets out all his affection as he fucks you senseless—you know he loves you more than any other woman

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

he loves your neck, how his hands look around it, how tiny it is as he chokes you out, especially when you’ve been disobeying him. he adores leaving bruises with his fingers, as well as marking you up with his mouth—another reminder that you are his, and that he owns you

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

coriolanus’ favourite thing to do is to cum inside of you; fucking you full of his spend, knowing that you’re all his and nobody else’s. however, he also likes it when you swallow his cum, and he makes sure that whenever he fucks your throat you lap up every last drop, like the good girl you are

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he loves it when you beg for him like a little whore, but he dreams of you squirming under him, pleading for him to stop. he has this fantasy of kidnapping you, taking you away from the world so only he can look at you, only he can touch you. he’d make you the perfect wife, and whether you liked it or not, he’d get to fuck you whenever he pleased

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

coriolanus isn’t the most experienced man, having had little time for sex while at the academy, but after his stint as a peacekeeper in 12, let’s just say he knows what he’s doing

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

while he adores seeing your fucked-out face as he pounds into you in missionary, his favourite way to have you is in doggy. bending you over, having you on your hands and knees, elicits something primal in him. the way your ass bounces as he drives his cock into you, and how he can grab your hair to pull it if you’re being a bad girl

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he’s a very serious man, and not prone to humour even at the best of times. you’d never catch him cracking a joke while he fucks you. no, you’re all his and he’d never let you forget that

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

although he’s famous for his bleach-blonde waves, the downstairs hints that perhaps his blonde tresses aren’t natural. that’s to say, he grooms occasionally, but he’s not one for the strange beauty regimens in the capital. he’s not bothered by how you choose to groom yourself, only that you know that it’s all his

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

coriolanus likes to be very intimate. he’ll spend hours touching you, winding you up, so that when it’s time to fuck you, you’ll have already been begging him for hours. in the moment, he can’t stop reminding you that you belong to him, that your body is his and his only. outside of sex he’s one for romantic gestures, such as buying you flowers—roses are a favourite of his—but he also likes giving you expensive presents, such as pretty bags or dresses to wear to fancy dinners. in public he has to keep his true feelings at bay, but you know he adores you

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he would rather have you instead, but when he’s away, or he’s had a long day in the office and you’re sound asleep (that’s not to say he hasn’t woken you up at times), he’ll jack off in the shower, not wanting to dirty his expensive sheets, and finish in his hand to the thought of your wet cunt clenching around him. he doesn’t do it often though, making sure you’re always satisfying his needs

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

he’s definitely got a breeding kink—he already loves cumming inside of you, and the thought of you growing his child inside of you, that you’ll have to be his forever now, makes his cock hard. however, he’s also quite into consensual non-consent. he’d never do anything to hurt you, no, but he loves the thought of spoiling you, bending you over while you beg him to stop; too fucked out from overstimulation

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

because he’s one for appearances, coriolanus prefers to keep things in the bedroom. that’s not to say that he won’t fuck you over his desk, or have you on your knees, sucking his cock prettily while he attempts to complete his work

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

whenever you walk around in your tiny little skirts, ass barely covered, knowing that you’re only doing it to tease him. you find that his hands are on you instantly, having you which ever way he pleases. he also gets turned on when he sees other men staring at you; wanting to fuck your brains out, but he knows you belong to him, and that they’ll never get to fill you with their cum. no, that’s his job

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

while he likes spitting in your mouth, and cumming on various parts of your body, he’s too much of a clean-freak to like the thought of other bodily fluids being involved. he’s also not one for you being dominant; always having to have the upper hand—after all, you belong to him

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

coriolanus much prefers receiving; enjoying nothing more than the sight of you on your knees after a long day at work, the way you wrap your lips around his cock and relieve his tension. you’re so pretty, the way you gag around him, your eyes watering because you can’t take him all in. but he’s very good at giving, and when you’ve been a good girl and obeyed him, he’s more than happy to eat you like you’re his last meal, paying particular attention to your sensitive clit, and the way you squirm as he laps at it with his tongue

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

most of the time, he likes to take you roughly, reminding you that you belong to him, and he gets to do whatever he likes to that pretty little cunt of yours. he isn’t fast though, taking his time to thrust into you, feeling the way your tight walls stretch around him, taking you all in. however, if he’s in a particularly good mood, he loves making sweet love to you, kissing you all over, calling you his ‘good girl’ and not finishing until he’s made sure you’ve cum. however, these occurrences are rare, but you relish them everytime

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

coriolanus prefers to stretch out the foreplay, teasing you for hours, making you beg for it, but when he’s had a rough day, or he’s got an extra long lunch break, he’ll find some place to have you quickly, whether it’s across his desk or up against the wall in a tiny closet. you’re there to satisfy his every need, after all

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he’s not one for big risks, but sometimes if you have guests over, he’ll slip a finger in your cunt and watch as you try your best not to squirm and make a fool of yourself in front of everyone. if you’re a bad girl, he’ll make sure to take you back to his rooms and fuck some sense into you, making sure they can hear your screams, knowing that he fucks you so well; that the president’s pretty life wife is always obedient

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

usually once is enough for him, especially with how tired he gets from his work, but on a good day, he can take you two or three times until he’s completely exhausted. it helps to relieve the stress of being the president of panem, after all, and you’re more than willing to oblige

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he’s against the use of toys, much preferring to use his hands, mouth, or cock on you. once he found you pleasuring yourself with a vibrator, crying out his name as the toy rubbed against your clit. needless to say, the vibrator didn’t get to finish you off… coriolanus made you spread your legs like a good girl, and he fucked you until he was sure you were spending all over his dick.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he’s a terrible tease. he likes to wind you up, playing with your hair in the mornings, touching you a little too much when you’re out at events, hand ghosting your ass. he likes to nip at the sensitive skin behind your ears, caress your arms. when he’s going down on you, he takes his time to press kisses up your thighs, his breath hot against your skin. if you’ve been particularly bad, he won’t let you cum, enjoying the way you beg for him, how you’re left whimpering and trembling as he fills you with his cum; but leaving you completely unsatisfied

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he’s not the loudest, but he loves telling you how tight you are, hearing the squelching of your wet pussy as he pounds into you. he groans quite often, but you’re the loud one in this relationship, crying out his name, screaming with pleasure as he takes you so well.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

coriolanus loves when you suck him off while he’s busy working, knowing that you’ll always be there to satisfy his every need. oftentimes, you’ll sneak into his office while he’s hunched over piles of paperwork, and crawl under his desk. he knows you’re there when you unzip his trousers, and wrap your pretty lips around his head. it doesn’t take much for him to get hard, and you suckle and lick until he’s cumming all down your throat. sometimes he likes to pull at your hair, or push your head down, delighting in hearing you gag around his cock. he finds that this helps hone his concentration in afterwards, and he’s able to get his work done much faster

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

coriolanus is big. he’s not one to boast about it, and you wouldn’t have guessed. his ego suggested to you that he was small, but boy, you were wrong. his cock is one of the biggest you’ve seen, at least eight inches, and it has pretty veins running up it. you love to run your tongue over them, watching as he groans as you tease his sensitive shaft. he’s so big that it still hurts, sometimes. and the first time you fucked; you could barely take in half of him—he was delighted to know that you were a virgin, and watched you squirm as he stretched you out.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

he doesn’t seem it to the public, but behind closed doors he’s desperate. he has to fuck you at least once a day, but most of the time it’s more. whether it’s an early morning blowjob to get him ready for the day, or an evening spent fucking you on the sofa, coriolanus snow has a high sex drive. his favourite time is when he gets you with your face down in the mattress, slamming into you as you beg him to fuck you harder; pounding your cunt until you can’t take it anymore. he likes that you’re willing to do anything for him, and you’ll never say no

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

when he’s especially exhausted, he’ll fall asleep almost instantly. but most of the time, he’s up for a while afterwards, always busy and having to settle some sort of affair. he comes back to bed with you eventually, and although he doesn’t like to be too affectionate, he’ll wrap his arms around you to fall asleep. he thinks you don’t know about his little secret, but each morning you wake up feeling his warm embrace—he almost looks like a poor puppy, so gentle as he sleeps—and you rest assured knowing that he does actually love you

—

taglist: @personalque @justacaliforniandreamer @jacesvelaryons (let me know if you’d like to be added!)

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thewritetofreespeech · 5 months ago

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Gale x Tav

WORDS: 1994

RATING: E

PAIRING: Gale x Tav (post game pairing)

SUMMARY: Gale's perspective on how his lovely little ring went while he was all alone, watching Tav through his projection's eyes (part i part ii)

TAGS: magic sex (literally. but also metaphorically), f/m, voyeurism, Gale using magic for naughty reasons, masturbation

-------------------------------🟣--------------------------------

Some of the most gifted, magically academic minds were in this hall right now. And all they could do was argue about table settings.

Gale sighed and stood up from his chair with his drink. Already tuning out the lively debate about Faerûn midcentury design and how one professor could tell that its wood was clearly Zazesspur from the pre-capital era, while another professor stated she was clearly being absurd as the lines in the wood were obviously from a wood in a much more norther region like Neverwinter.

He left his wife home alone for this?

Gale left the company of his fellow academics for his quarters. No one seemed to notice. There was a time when Gale himself would have been immersed in the lively debate along with his other book beaters. Sparing wits and parring with obscure contextual footnotes for no other reason than to prove they were the smartest in the room. It all seemed so trivial now.

Once you’ve brushed against death, not once but twice, and fought the destruction of the world with your bare hands, academic strife seemed…pointless. Absolutely pointless. Like the rest of this week had been.

When he originally received the invitation for the summit, Gale had been overjoyed. Honored, more like. To be recognized as a man of distinction at the school he held so dear, in education in general, for only just starting was a great achievement for him, he felt. Now he wonders if it was just that no one wanted to go, because it was so boring.

He wished that he could have just projected his consciousness here, like Tav suggested, so he could be home with her now. With his much better wine and much less blow-harded company.

The door to his quarters clicked into place behind him and Gale sighed at the quiet. Enjoying it for just a moment, until he opened his eyes and saw just the small desk, by his small bed, in his small room, with his small window. Oh to be home…..

Gale took a seat at the desk as he wasn’t quite ready for bed. He sat his wine down. His magic lighting the few lamps in the room for him to see as he debated about reading or reviewing the agenda plan for tomorrow in want of something to do.

Then his eyes caught a glint of the ring resting on the oak (or was it Neverwinter ashe?) and picked it up. A gift from his wife. One of those spontaneous, no reason, ‘I was down by the market & I thought you would like it’ kind of gifts. Gale smiled wistfully at the memory of her giving it to him. And he thought he was the romantic out of the two of them.

His thumb brushed against the smooth silver. Admiring it, like he wished he could be admiring her right now. This was the longest he and his beloved had been apart since they got married. A few days here and there, but nothing this consecutive nor extensive. Gale doesn’t like it.

He tries not to be obsessive with his love, but when Gale loves he loves passionately. And Tav has been a big part of his life ever since she pulled him out of that misbehaving portal. They’ve built a life together. She’s the first person he wants to tell everything about his day, and eager to hear what she’s been up to when they were apart. And at night...well, let’s just say that it was a good thing this place had the option for bracing cold baths in the morning.

Gale examines the ring further as his teeth pull in his bottom lip. ‘I wonder if it will work’ He mused to himself as he pondered on a spell he had created a few months back but never put into practice.

It started out purely from an academic standpoint. He wanted to make that very clear! Just a simple…trans configuration experiment on magically linking two objects together and see what the effects would be. He hadn’t intended for it to turn into a sort of randy parlor trick, but he had impulse control issues.

Setting the ring down, Gale recalled the simple incantation and gesture needed for the spell. Focusing his magic and the Weave to press not just into the ring but also link to his beloved. He hoped Mystra had her back turned for a moment while he cast this one.

Spell incantation done, Gale picked up the ring and gave it a small nudge. Nothing happened. He supposed that should be obvious. The effects would be on the other side of the link and not here with him. Gale tried it again, hoping to feel some kind of magical sense of confirmation, but still nothing.

Humming to himself in befuddlement, Gale looked over at the clock in his room and did some quick math. It was almost 2:30 in Waterdeep. Which meant that it was almost time for his normal office hours at the academy. Perfect. If Tav was there, which he was certain she would be as she was dutiful to a fault, then Gale knew exactly where they were, and he could see if his ‘gift’ was working out well for her.

Calling on the Weave again, Gale focused his consciousness and perception to separate from him and fly back home to Waterdeep. Silently wishing it was that easy for him. When his projection landed, and the mental link between them righted into a clear picture, Gale’s mouth went slack as he saw Tav. "Gods above...." Her cheeks were flushed. Her breath panting. Her body in clear stages of pleasure as her hands braced herself on his desk. Gods! What he wouldn’t give to be there right now to make love to her on that definitely Sword Coast mahogany.

“Hello there!”

Tav’s head jerked up at his projections greeting, and Gale groaned at the wild look in her eyes. Surprise first, but then bridled arousal. Just waiting to be unbridled and throw her into loss, but his dutiful love was well aware she was still in public and in a school.

When she spat an accusatory remark about him doing this to her and Gale touched the stone of the ring now on his hand. He watched Tav’s knees quake in response. It worked. Oh....goody.

He moaned in tandem with her image but then told his specter to tell her what was going on. Gale didn’t want to leave her in the dark. Tav seemed to accept this, but then asked about all the practicalities of him doing this at work and getting caught. Wouldn’t that be a shame?

He tells his image to tell her about his office hours and the locked down, then moaned along with her as her hold finally became unbridled and she fell into his chair. Limbs asunder as she just accepted what was happening to her and gave into the pleasure.

Gale continued to touch the stone with one hand, while the other went to his belt and quickly undid it. He’s been hard since he first saw her against his desk. Now seeing her give loose to the pleasure, Gale might cum in his pants like he was a novice back in school and Gods could you imagine if he had someone like Tav for a teacher?? He’d still be in his Active Principles of Elements & Arcane lectures.

His hand stroked his erection with the same speed as his massaged the stone. “Tell her I’m happy she likes my present.” He orders his projection. Watching her through their eyes. It did as it was told and Tav opened her eyes to stare right back into them. Gale moaned. The heat in her eyes, the desire, that cheeky grin coiling on her lips almost make him double over against his own desk.

“My present, eh?” Tav answered back, and Gale bit his lip so hard he nearly tasted blood.

“Yes. Of course. I did this for you.”

The projection relayed his response, but that doesn’t seem to convenience Tav. “Just for me?” Gale watched, transfixed, as his beloved began to open her blouse ‘in front of him’.

He whimpered at the sight as his thumb brushed over the aching red tip of his cock. He had to swallow the drool collecting in his mouth before he could respond with, “yes” for his projection to repeat. But the damn thing went rouge and blurted out his secret, so he pressed his thumb harder against this stone to distract Tav from its honesty.

Soon, Tav was begging him to fuck her. Desperate and needy. Mewling like a wanton kitten; or maybe that was just him. She asked if his projection was anatomically correct like last time and before it could fully answer, Gale ordered, “no!” He didn’t want to watch an illusion of himself make love to his wife. It was silly to be jealous of a projection of himself, that he created, but Gale wouldn’t have it.

If he couldn't have her, no one could. Not even his illusions.

Tav whined and looked ready to just do it herself. Gale gulped as he watched her hand move to the front of her pants, prepared to slide down and--Gale gripped the base of his cock to stop himself from cumming. He wants them to cum together, but it seemed rude to have Tav finish herself off.

Conjuring all the magic he could, Gale used the mind’s eye of his projection to summon Mage Hands. They touch her everywhere he wanted to, all at once. Tav seemed delighted, although overstimulated. He would have to remember that for later. Her delicate sweet hands gripping the armrests of his chair as her body arched and bucked against the hands. Gale watching it all as he jerked himself closer and closer to the edge. “Tav…!” He knew she couldn’t hear him, but he had to say it. Almost a reflex at this point as he came.

His hand was a mess. Portions of his desk splattered with it too. Cold baths only negated the symptoms, not the cause. So he was quite backed up since coming here.

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

Gale and Tav look up at the projections ask. Taking it upon itself to check in on her. What a good little ghost.

She told it yes, and Gale felt his cock twitch at the look in her eyes. Perfectly sated and happy, but still that glimmer of ‘more’. He tells the projection to let Tav know that the door would be opening soon, and she should get righted with herself; lest they be discovered. She made a very clever retort about him deciding to do this here if he was so concerned, which made him smile and love her all the more.

Gods how he missed her.

“Ask her if she would like to do this again tonight. When we're at home, and a little more private.”

The projection did as it was told, and Gale groaned as Tav bit her lip before giving an enthusiastic yes. Then, Gale severed the link, and he was alone again. Alone with only his hand and his memories.

He cleaned himself off and thought about going back downstairs for a final nightcap, as he was too riled up still to sleep. But when he opened the door, and heard the architecture debate still going on, only now they had switched to stone, Gale closed the door and rested his head on whatever cheap wood this terrible door was made out of.

He had to get out of here. He had to go home.

So he spent the rest of the evening coming up with a clever plan and semi-lie about how his wife needed him. “Emergency. Unavoidable. Must get home before my wife spontaneously combusts…without me. Should probably leave that last part out.”

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annabelle--cane · 7 months ago

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right, so: mr bonzo is a contractor for the OIAR, that was a commissioned massacre. his official title, according to magp 11, is an "External" with a capital-E, and gwen's job title is "Externals Liaison." in magp 02, gwen says she overheard lena talking about "expanding external operations" and assumes this meant redundancies, but I am not inclined to agree. I think the OIAR needs cases of genuine supernatural experiences to file and, if they've been coming in a bit slowly, will generate them itself, and this is a common enough occurrence that by magp 11 lena thinks gwen should have already worked it out on her own. magp 02 takes place on january 18, and the case from magp 06 is from february 9, so needles seems like a good bet for another commissioned horror. I'm inclined to think ink5oul is as well, though their two cases are from a bit in the past; they were messing around in that graveyard in january 2020 and I'd say they probably tattooed daria in mid 2022. magp 05 with tom the horror blogger might be another engineered one? it's from 2023 and he's put onto voyeur in the first place by a mysterious commenter that he can't find afterwards.

#tmagp #tmagp spoilers #marina marvels at life

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pillarsalt · 8 months ago

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hi! i was wondering your opinions on how hrt affects the body? i hold a lot of radfem beliefs but i am trans (taking testosterone). would being a woman to you have to be completely about chromosomes? for example, trans men years on T do not have the same genetic makeup as cis women. same with trans women on E, their genetic makeup would be very different to cis men, and would more correlate to cis women. does this factor in who you consider female/male or having experience as women?

Hi there, thanks for reaching out.

Firstly, I think you may be a bit confused. Taking exogenous hormones does not affect your genetic makeup. Your dna will stay the same unless you're exposed to something extreme like radiation - this is a good thing because dna mutation is bad for you and causes cancer! Your genetic sex is immutable, a person with XY chromosomes cannot have their dna altered to have XX chromosomes instead.

Hormones will affect the expression of your genes, for example turning on facial hair production in women who are taking testosterone. This is why those patterns of facial hair, even in women, differ from person to person. The genes for it were already there, but hormone replacement therapy uses the endocrine system to change what signals get sent to your genes to tell them what features to express.

Beyond chemically induced genetic expression, there are particular physical features in males that do not occur in males, and vice versa. This is a feature of the /ancient/ evolution of sexual reproduction. Despite the variety of metaphysical beliefs about identity and personhood, the truth is that humans evolved to reproduce between two sexes, and human beings cannot change sex. Every cell of your body has your sex encoded within it. This affects us physically in many ways. I and most feminists believe that this fact should be irrelevant to any person's ability to pursue their passion, be themselves, and love who they love. Even so, recognition of biological sex is something important. This is really critical in a medical context. For example: men who receive a blood transfusion from a pregnant or recently pregnant woman have an increased risk of death by transfusion-related lung injury. Another example: tracheostomy tubes differ in size depending on sex due to dimorphism in average tracheal diameter. A women who is reported as a male risks considerable injury by having a male sized tracheostomy tube forced into her windpipe. A considerable amount of medications differ in dose effectiveness and side effects based on biological sex. Something as straightforward as a heart attack has different symptoms depending on if the patient is female or male. Denial of biological sex is dangerous, and as it stands, medical science has not advanced enough to change the biological sex of an individual. If you are born male, you will stay male for your entire life. You say that a transwoman who has taken estrogen is more genetically similar to a woman, I'm sorry but that simply isn't true. A male person will always be more genetically similar to other males than to a female person.

Determination of sex is very simple, it's about the easiest genetic test to do. They have kits for high school classrooms to try out ffs. We need to leave the "meaningful sex change is possible through medical intervention" thing in the past, all we accomplish with that is giving people false hope and an unattainable goal to fixate on. Sex is real and immutable, I wish it didn't matter, but it does.

And why it matters is, maleness and femaleness have become inseparable from certain stereotypes and assigned qualities by societies in human history. Overwhelmingly, the male people subjugate the female people. Since men, male humans, discovered womens' ability to give birth could be taken advantage of, it was capitalized upon. And this is the foundation of patriarchal society. Religions were founded to justify this as the will of god. To deny that women have historically been persecuted due to their sex is, well, misogynistic. There is no "woman feeling" that makes us targets for child marriages, FGM, trafficking/prostitution, and other horrors from the minute we're born and even before. No, it's the sex we were born with that makes the world think it can decide our fate. In fact, the way that people treat male children differently from female children is so different so early, that we are genuinely unable to study human behaviour unaffected by gendered expectations. This is what feminists are talking about when they discuss "socialization". There is not a single man on the planet who knows exactly what it's like to see the world from a woman's eyes, no matter how feminine that man is. Womanhood isn't something you can achieve or acquire through effort: you were either born a woman or you weren't, just like you were either born with detached earlobes or not. It's so simple.

All that to get to my final point: Yes, I believe the definition of womanhood comes down to biology, because anything beyond that is a meaningless stereotype. Women can do anything, be anyone, look any way they want, go through any experience they do. The one thing they have in common is that they are female adult human beings. There is not way to fail at being a woman or do it wrong, you just are. Womanhood is the experience of having been a female person in this world, and nothing else. There are certain things only female human beings need, like abortion and female contraceptive rights, access to spaces where we can be safe from our subjugators (male human beings), and the ability to define ourselves and fight for our collective rights.

(At this point you may object and point out that male people who identify as trans women are also subject to violence and scorn from men: unfortunately that is often the case, but this does not make male people who identify as women, well, female. We need solutions for them that do not involve requiring women to sacrifice our comfort and safety for the sake of a particular subset of men, because of the inherent risks involved and the fact that women do not owe men anything even when those men have it bad.)

One last thing: my opinion is that prescribing exogenous cross-sex hormones is unethical (so are all elective cosmetic medical procedures but that's a post for a different day). I understand the distress that gender dysphoria inflicts on people, however the ill effects of hrt are too numerous to condone. The huge increase in risk of stroke with estrogen, heart disease and uterine atrophy with testosterone, and the way that trans medicine studies are notorious for losing followup with patients after a year or less... it's short sighted and frankly, financially motivated. The amount of trans patients who are prescribed hormones without access to an endocrinologist, it's honestly infuriating. People deserve the best care possible, not lab rat bullshit where they cut you loose when it's not working out. I won't judge anyone for what they do to themselves to cope with distress, but I want everyone, especially girls, to be aware of the lifetime effects medical decisions may have, and that you also can find happiness within yourself without hurting your body.

Thanks again for your question, be well ✌️

#ask

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