#i can resist a large expansive plot

[allastoredeer]

I discovered Just kiss Already after you uploaded part 3 and I have a question. So Part 1 is 1 chapter, Part 2 is 2 chapters, Part 3 is 3 chapters. When you say your writing "the next fic" do you mean like ALL of Part 4, which you then break down into chapters before you upload them or do you upload chapters individually as you complete them?

The fics themselves aren't so much chapters as they are a serialized collection of fanfics that have an overarching plot.

The reason I'm writing "Just Kiss Already" as a series instead of a multi-chaptered fic is because each fic has its own little mini plot inside it. Each of them are a mini story that's gradually building up the larger story at play.

I'm also keeping it as a series because I go back and forth between POV's a lot. Hopping between POV's in a multi-chaptered fic can work, but I usually like keeping them contained to a single POV. It makes it easier on me and the reader, so I don't have to clarify which character we'll be following in each chapter.

It's a collection of stories that are all linked together, kind of like a TV show, but you can totally view them as parts too.

"De-Lovely" is part 1 , "Holy Suffering" is part 2, and "Damage Control," is part 3.

I've actually split up the entire plot of "Just Kiss Already" into three different arcs (or three seasons if the TV analogy helped), each with their own theme. But I shall not tell you what they are, because that would be spoilers 😈

Sometimes, I don't intend for the fic to be split into multiple chapters, but if it gets bigger than I expected, I break it up because it's easier on me when I get to the editing stage. Editing one large chapter is so much harder than editing a couple small ones 😅

I hope you're enjoying the series! I'm very excited to get into the juicer bits of the story 😏

[vampykween]

real love

simon ghost riley x f!reader this is just porn tiny bit of plot tbh apologies for the abrupt end, but i could not for the life of me finish this all the way through ugh

You're not sure if your husband is trying to kill you; he looks devilishly handsome in the black button-up he's wearing - which he's conveniently left three buttons open on - and the woodsy notes of his cologne have you feeling inappropriately hot for the lively restaurant you two are in.

Simon’s lips are on yours as soon as you two cross the threshold. He his large palms roaming the expanse of your back until he cups your ass and squeezes the round flesh. You moan into his mouth which is hastily swallowed up when Simon sweeps his tongue into your mouth, sending a rush of heat straight to your core. Simon always kisses you like he's trying to simultaneously devour you and convey all the love he has for you.

He unexpectedly pulls away from you and shakes his head, “don’t wanna get too carried away love, I have a surprise for you. But trust, any other day and I’d rip this fuckin’ dress off and have my way with you right here. You look fuckin’ sinful.”

You blush at your husband’s words, somehow you think you’ll never get used to the way he talks about you, like you truly are the greatest gift he’s ever received. You remember that he said he had a surprise for you, but before you have time to question any further, he’s taking your hand and leading you towards your shared bedroom. He stops in front of the closed door and has on, what you perceive to be, a sheepish look on his face. What could possibly have your normally cocky and confident husband feeling insecure?  

“Baby, whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll love it. I love anything you do for me, you know that,” you try and ease Simon’s nerves if only momentarily. He nods curtly and opens the bedroom door, and you gasp, raising your hand to cover your mouth. Tears began to pool in your eyes, “Simon- I- What’s all this for?” you can believe the sight in front of you. There are a multitude of light candles spread out on the surfaces in the room, creating a romantic aura that’s coupled with the vase of your favorite flowers on your nightstand.

You turn towards him in disbelief, not that Simon being romantic was completely out of the ordinary, but you simply weren’t expecting him to do all this. He pulls you into a hug and kisses the top of your head lovingly, “Been a year since the best day of my life, I say that’s something worth going all out for.” Now it was your turn to shake your head at him, you both had agreed that you didn’t need to do anything crazy for your anniversary, just being with each other every day when that wasn’t guaranteed was a gift in and of itself. He had already taken you out to dinner at the fancy place downtown you had been wanting to eat for forever, even bought you a luxurious dress for the occasion.

“You’re too good to me Simon Riley,” you convey your sentiment with another kiss and lead him towards the bed. Simon takes him time peeling your clothes off and kisses ever bare inch of skin revealed to him.

“You’re so beautiful love, I can’t believe I get to spend my life loving you.” He trails down until he’s kneeling eye level with your pussy. You run your finger through his blonde strands, which were starting to get rather shaggy something you loved. You’ve never met a guy like Simon before, a man who was content with simply pleasing and worshipping you. You’re brought out of your reverie by hid tongue circling your clit delicately and your grip in his hair tightens. Your husband alternates between lapping at your clit and sweeping his tongue through your wet folds and prodding at your tight hole. His fingers join soon after and he’s thrusting his thick digits into you slowly but deep enough that is has you seeing stars.

“Okay, Si, I’m good. Baby I need you to fuck me,” you whine desperately. You normally can’t resist Simon, but when he’s looking angelic between your legs with warm candlelight flickering across his face; you’ve never felt so riled up in your life.

Simon groans into your slick cunt, clearly in disagreement with what you said. He pulls away swiftly, “You can be patient, my love. Let me take my time with you. I want you to cum on my face, before I fuck you with my cock, yeah.”

You concede simply because he's making you feel so good you can’t really even complain. Your husband was clearly on a mission now though, the pace of his fingers picking up and he sucks your clit into his mouth so fervently that when you come it hits you like a freight train. You cry out as your legs shake and Simon doesn’t let up, continuing his ministrations until you pat the side of his face, your signal for when you can’t take anymore when takes you apart like this.

"Can't tap out now, love. I'm not finished with you yet." God, even after all these Simon Riley was proving to be the death of you.

[oddinarylani]

1:14 am. hyunjin. you got my heartbeat racin’.

w: use of poppers, drug use, smut w/o plot.

a/n: i couldn't resist. has this been done? idk. couldn't not write this though, and please look at the warnings! also this might suck it's kinda short and i never write smut so  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

mdni i do block ageless accounts.

he had his lip bitten between white shining teeth - the plushness burns a pretty red from your own mouth, the view is delicious, but the sight of him beneath you is even more so. a single hand rests on his chest to keep you balanced over his lap - your hand reaches up to flip your hair from your face as you lean down - placing your mouth over his, not before getting lost in a fit of laughter, the feeling of his chuckling vibrates beneath your palm on his chest. you’re acutely aware of the sensations on your skin, the tight pull of your bra, the feeling of his bare skin under your body, the low drunken shed of his gaze, and the giddy light-headed feeling swimming around in your chest. 

you kiss him like it matters, it always has. you’re already lost in him - hazy and dedicated and committed to anything that was him. he was sickening in a way you never wanted to heal from. 

your hands smooth over his chest, tracing back to his face as you move your mouth against his. he’s plush and warm and your head swims. he finds your waist with ease - his large palms stretch over the expanse of your skin and he lulls you closer without even beckoning you. you feel yourself smiling against his mouth - only earning a yelp of surprise followed by endless laughter as his hands dig into your sides and you roll to your side, trying to fight off his hands. 

“you’re pretty,” he smooches the side of your head, laying back on the pillow as you straddle him again, still coming down from laughing. “no you.” you remind, leaning in more tenderly this time to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, trailing your warm lips down his cheek, slow in your wake. down his jawline and to his neck you follow, situating yourself just right on his lap - the beginnings of your arousal begin to flood in your panties and you nearly whine at the feeling of his hardening length just where you needed him. he sighs a moan, his brows melting together - lip once again found between his teeth, you feel the burn intensify at the sight. 

“want you hyun,,” you grind further down on him, pressing as deep as you could into his lap. his brain is swimming, but he leans up and wraps his arms around you, the palms of his hands flatten against your spine and smooth upwards beneath the back strap of your bra. he breathes, deeply so - sighing periodically as he widens his legs. he closes his eyes, mouth meeting your collarbone in an attempt to drown the hazy feeling in his bones. “need you, baby,,” he mumbles against your skin. 

you reach back, his lips searching for purchase on your neck as he helps unclasp your bra. you shrug the straps off, the warmth radiating from him meets your bare chest; you’re so sensitive you almost whine at the feeling alone. his hands cup your chest, thumbs stroking over your nipples if only just to tease you. even just the lightest touches from him left you reeling - because it was him. you lean forward without much thought, your forehead meeting his own as he smirks at your easy compliance with the lightest touches he could offer. “yeah?” he east up your sighs, stroking over the skin of your chest once more before planting kisses down your neck and chest, his tongue swirling over your nipple with only the lightest touch. 

your hand reaches into his hair, eyes closing at the feeling. “please-” is the only thing you can say before his hands trail from your back to your ass, squeezing the flesh through the fabric of your panties once before he teasingly dips his hands past the fabric, squeezing once more. “you need it huh baby?” he smiles against your chest, kissing a trail up from your chest to your mouth, his hand cupping your cheek as he brings you back down on top of him, fingers tucking under the fabric of your underwear to drag them down your legs. 

“god,, need you-” you mumble against him, your hand tracing his abdomen beneath you until you grasp his length through his underwear, now your turn to smirk as he sighs a moan, writhing beneath you with the prettiest flushed cheeks. “but you’re so pretty like this baby,,” your voice is the only thing in the room, he swears. you stroke him only a few times before stepping out of your underwear and helping him out of his own, tossing them somewhere to the side. 

he leans up only to grasp your hip, his lip swollen in his teeth, “wanna feel how wet you are,” his fingers dive between your folds and you stutter a curse. you need him so badly you think you’ll explode if you don’t get him soon. the tips of his fingers are coated as he brings them to your lips, in the haze of arousal you part your lips and let his fingers press onto your tongue. “suck baby.” he coos, watching with low eyes as your lips wrap around his digits and suck them clean of the taste of yourself. you moan around his fingers, earning a blissful sigh in return as he coaxes them from your lips.

with wet fingers that glisten in the light of the room, he leans back fully once again, head rested on the pillow with his long brown hair sprawled beneath him, and strokes himself a few times, spitting into his palm to give you a show before you adjust on shaky thighs over his length. 

as he warms himself up further, lip pulled taught in his teeth, you lean over to your bedside table and pull the little brown bottle from the mess of the drawer, shaking it in your fingers a few times, raising your brow, “ready sweetheart?” you ask as he groans a yes, his hand paused only to guide himself to you; you pop the cap off the popper, reaching for the side of his face to bring him close.

“no-now,,” you plead, his face close to your own as you stabilize the bottle in your hand, your thighs parted. 

“go baby, whenever you want.” 

you both lean in to the bottle, inhaling deeply only as you sink onto his length. 

your grip on the bottle almost falters as your head lulls back and an utter swarm of euphoria swallows your limbs, reaching it’s pleasurable waves all the way down to the feeling of fullness as you now sat completely on his cock. you hug him so deliciously - there’s nearly a ringing in your ears at how good it feels. your surroundings slow - only to amplify the way euphoria is immeasurable in the moment. your wetness grips him completely and you think you surely must be dripping by now at how good it feels. 

hyunjin has completely lost it, falling back onto the bed with sprawled hair - trying his hardest to not cum right then in there. “f-fuck,,” he stutters out in a delicious groan, eyes rolling back into his skull as his hands grip furiously at the flesh on your hips. time slows, he can only feel the way your pussy swallows him, completely enraptured only in how good you feel. 

your bodies vibrate with a frequency only capable in the hands of immeasurable pleasure - your brain can only think of one thing. him. 

“y-ou’re so,, fucking wet-” he groans and it’s too much but he wants more. his eyes water at the feeling, it’s too good. 

“i’m so,,” your eyes close tight, hands stabilizing on his abs as you place the bottle down. you can’t form coherent thoughts, instead, your head lulls back and you swerve your hips a bit forward, at the feeling your mouth drops open and your brows melt, a moan is caught in your throat. he’s so so good. “fuck, h-yun,,” you already feel like you’re shaking. 

“move. pl-ease fuck-” he clasps a hand over his mouth as you start a slow pace of moving up and down on his cock, swerving your hips to hit all the right spots inside of you. the high is faltering, now your focus is back on him - vision slowly melting into clarity as your brain unfogs and you’re able to focus on your main goal, ruining him to the best of your ability.

“you’re perfect, hyun - fuck - so good.” 

turns out that was his goal too. 

he reaches up, quickly flipping your bodies to lay you down on the bed, his form now hovering over you as he grips at your thighs and works into you at a fitting quicker pace. he needed this bad, the way his jaw clenches and his moans harshen at his own dedicated pace. he needed this control or he’d lose it. 

his body is coated in a pink flush and a thin layer of sweat, his hair falling in front of his face as he pushes your legs up further and leans in to kiss you. your moans are muffled against his mouth, gripping at his face and neck to keep him as close as possible. god, and he moves his hips in that way that hits the soft spot inside you so good - you part from his mouth only to beg for more, eyes rolling back into your skull. 

“please please please, hyun-” he smirks, carding his hands through his hair, chest heaving with breaths as he continues his pace. “yeah baby? so good,, so good-”

you reach blindly for the bottle again as your pussy tightens around his length and you feel your orgasm approaching soon - uncapping it with shaky hands at hyunjin’s relentless pace. “fuck,, please hyun please-”

“i got you, baby. i’ll give it to you,” his hands come to grasp at your chest, leaning down while keeping his pace only to kiss up your neck to your jaw, his voice low in your ear, “cum for me, angel.” he raises your body up by your waist, keeping the pace as you lift the bottle between the both of you.

your arm circles his shoulders, your eyes screwing shut as your moans heighten in pitch a bit, lips parting. hyunjin’s own composure falters, curses falling from his lips like prayer as your chests meet - on the brink of your orgasms you both take another deep huff from the bottle and you feel your entire composure crack at the seams. 

your body tightens then falls limp in his arms - the euphoria this time is immeasurable by any means. you feel him curse, falling forward so his forehead rests on your head as your own cheek meets his chest. warmth floods your body followed by a vibrating ripple of frequency that shakes all of your cells. the ear ringing comes back and tears flood your eyes at how good it feels. you can’t form words or thoughts, your only thought it focusing on how good it feels. good isn’t the word - not even great, it was truly something immeasurable. 

you grip him so tightly so he could never leave, his skin is hot and sweaty and even that feels amazing against you. a chill runs down your bodies followed by a warm embrace - fucked out of your utter mind. you feel the shaking and twitching of your legs around him and when your eyes open, your world is slowed again - eyes low and cut and blurred in the vision of his body. 

your pussy drips around his pulsating length, you feel full and like every cell is vibrating in you. hyunjin’s breathing is the only thing you can hear, soon feeling the grip of his hands on your waist and thighs, urging you only closer to him. 

on the last edge of your high, you reach up to his face, pulling him in to kiss him - reigniting some of the flame from your come down. 

“you’re amazing,” he mumbles blindly, mouth fitted against your own. 

“one more?” you ask breathlessly. 

[yzeltia]

FFXIVwrite2024 28. Deleterious

Characters: V'anille Tia, Koana, Wuk Lamat, Gulool Ja, U'rahn Nuhn Expansion: Dawntrail Rating: M Summary: V'anille has become feverish and Koana seeks to find out why. Notes: @just-a-geeky-therapist Gave me the plot!

“Koana…,” V’anille breathed out, face flushed and damp from sweat. He sat up, pulling on the arm nearest his bed, nuzzling his face into it before trying to pull him down into his blankets.

“Uh Uh! Wrong guy! Wrong guy” U’rahn panicked, tail thrashing as he tried to resist the other’s pull without hurting him. “Koana, are you any closer to figuring out what is wrong! He’s uh, he’s getting kind of clingy here!”

“Anille is dying! Brother fix him,” Lamtay’i cried out, pawing at the end of the bed as she watched V’anille grow faint and fall back into his pillows again.

“Uncle Anille is going to die!?” Gulool Ja cried out.

“Anille isn’t going to die. Panicking does not help,” Koana breathed out in annoyance as he went through his husband's things, flipping through clothes and treasures gathered from his recent adventure. “I just don’t understand what could have happened to him. He has been living here with us for long enough that an allergy should have shown itself by now,” he huffed. “What was he doing?”

“Rahn and I were posing very heroically with Guloool Ja for a portrait. You know, to celebrate. And then he got all wobbly you see. Then fell over panting. And then we called you here,” Lamaty’i said in short bursts between snuffs. 

Koana sighed then went to the paints, examining them closely before looking over to V’anille’s desk where he made his dyes. He furrowed his brow, looking up at a myriad of hanging flowers left to dry out. “Lamaty’i, did you let V’anille gather flowers unattended?”

“Was I not supposed to?” Lamaty'i asked.

Koana reached up and plucked a dried orchid. “This type of cattleya orchid has a certain effect on Hhestaro. V'anille wouldn't know to be weary of such things Lamaty'i. You should have kept an eye on him.”

“I don't know there was either! Is he going to be okay? Did I kill him!?” Lamaty'i cried.

Koana pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “He will be fine with my care.”

“Please let me help! I can gather things for an antidote. Or or,” Lamaty'i offered in a panic. 

“Well, it is something only I can help with,” Koana said, coughing, blush creeping across his face. 

Lamaty'i, U'rahn, and Gulool Ja stared at Koana for a moment before U'rahn perked up and went, “Oooh! Uh. Let's get you back to Solution 9 little guy.”

Gulool Ja blinked then found himself being pulled out of the room by U’rahn. “But I want to make sure Uncle Anille is going to be okay!”

“Uncle Koana is going to take care of him. C’mon Lamatyi. Let’s take the train,” U’rahn suggested.

Lamaty’i frowned then got a nod from her brother that it was okay to leave. “Alright. But as soon as Anille is better let me know!”

“I will Lamaty’i. Go see our nephew home,” Koana said, following his sister to the door and locking it. Turning back to Anille, he loosened his ascot then took a seat at V’anille’s side, brushing his cheek with his palm.

“Koana…I’m so hot. My body feels like it’s on fire,” V’anille panted, pawing at his shirt as he rubbed his face into the other’s palm.

“I know,” Koana said, pulling away to take off his boots before shrugging off his jacket. “The cattleya orchid goes by another name for Hhestaro: Stork Orchids. They’re harmless unless you inhale a large amount of its pollen. When you crafted your dye, you crushed the flowers and thus stirred up enough to get you in this state.”

“I don’t understand,” V’anille said, eyes flitting to Koana’s stomach then up his body as he pulled off shirt.

Koana turned, lowering himself beside V’anille before pulling him forward for a kiss, feeling the other shudder and writhe in the embrace. “You’re experiencing a sort of heat.”

V’anille flushed then nuzzled his head under the other’s chin, pressing against Koana firmly. He swallowed, feeling the other start to rise against him. “I think I…I think I understand. And the cure…is?”

Koana smirked, then leaned in to kiss V’anille again. “Rest and sleep until the effects fade. While I admit this is rather stimulating to have you insatiable, I’d prefer you in an unaltered state. Or have at least knowingly made yourself this way.”

V’anille whined then wrapped his arms around Koana, quietly burning for him until he fell asleep well nuzzled up in his husband’s arms.

[hammcock]

check out this essay i wrote

Native Americans have endured a great amount of hardships for the past several centuries. They have been the target of genocides of multiple types, from outright extermination campaigns in the early days of settler-colonialism, to the culturally genocidal assimilation campaigns of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. They have been forced from their lands several times throughout our shared history into increasingly small plots that the United States government has called reservations, though there is no guarantee that these places will always be reserved for them. Even while living within the reservations, they were not granted any sort of sovereignty. During the period of attempted assimilation, Native American children were taken from their homes and placed in the care of various residency schools. The exterminations, the displacements, and the assimilation attempts have left a highly damaging impact on Native communities. As early as the 1700s, displacements led to the loss of languages, and as many Native traditions are passed down orally, histories of entire nations have been lost to time.

Languages are vital parts of a cultural or ethnic group’s identity. Each language carries with it its own concepts, ideas, and stories. Being around people who speak the same language builds on a sense of community and belonging. If a language is lost, then the people who spoke that language have lost what was once a central part of themselves. Sometimes, as is the case in the United States, the loss of a language is the actual goal of the state. It can be used as a means of oppressing, or assimilating a group of people that the state may deem dangerous or unwanted. In the first section of this paper, I am going to discuss the role that federally operated Indian Residency schools had and continue to have in the loss of Native American languages, then I will discuss how loss is continuing today, and finally revitalization and prevention efforts. 

Part One: Residency Schools and Forced Assimilation

Native American languages began to die out and disappear during the early days of colonization in the American continent. Trade, dependence, and the increased presence of European language speakers forced many Indigenous people simply to switch over to those languages. After the Americans won their independence and began to spread out across the continent, the process began to happen much more quickly. During a period of American history known as the Indian Wars, which spans from the 17th into the early 20th century, colonial expansion westward across America saw the displacement and genocide of several Native American nations and tribes. 

Those who survived the Indian wars were herded onto reservations, ever-shrinking plots of land that were set aside for the tribes that were unfortunate enough to lose their conflicts against the US government. Within these reservations, the federal government allowed Christian missionaries to set up schools with the intention of assimilating Native American children into American culture, meaning that they were intending to teach children that they were lesser than white Americans and that they needed to learn English. 

Attendance of these schools were voluntary at first, with them mostly being located in sparsely populated western territories. However, in 1898, attendance became compulsory and federal officials were empowered to remove students from their homes, with resistance to these attempts being met with the withholding of supplies that were essential to the survival of these often impoverished peoples (Booth 2010). This compulsory attendance policy separated a large part of the young generation of Native Americans away from their elders, and they were forced to miss out on crucial aspects of their own cultural education. Students were frequently punished for speaking in their own languages, often mixing children of different tribal backgrounds together to make communication in their own language more difficult, and upon learning English, most forgot their native language entirely (Booth 2010).

Children who performed well in these residency schools would go on to become “show Indians” for the government and were used in various programs to show the progress that was being made in their assimilation (Gram 2016). These were the children who would, usually out of necessity, play along with the government’s education programs, switch to English, and more or less adopt the Anglo-American cultural norms. For their efforts, they would be rewarded with the privilege to perform in various pageants, parades, and other shows that were advertised by saying that these Indians were able “talk, sing, and learn,” and that they were “docile and obedient” (Moses 1999).

Residency schools continued to operate on the basis of assimilation well into the 20th century, and their impacts are still felt by Indigenous elders today. The post traumatic experience of the people who attended these schools is perpetuated through the generations to the point that, even though the boarding schools are no longer operated as they used to be, the effects of them continue to affect the younger generations today (Duran and Duran 1995). From personal testimonies, we can see that, indeed, the effects of living in these schools and experiencing forced assimilation was incredibly damaging to Indigenous people. The students in these schools literally had their languages beaten out of them, or had their mouths washed out with soap whenever they were caught speaking anything other than English, and that these events had caused so much mental damage to people that they refused to teach their languages to their own children. (Colmant et al. 2004) 

The beating out of their own languages was a clear attempt at the broader cultural genocide of Indigenous people. The majority of Native American culture had been passed down through the telling of oral histories and mythologies. By separating the young from their parents and other elders, the Bureau of Indian Affairs was, even if it was out of ignorance, separating the young generation from their histories and stories. Without these things, the young Native Americans would become depressed while in school, and that depression would continue even after returning home. It continued into adulthood, when these children became the elders, and the effects would prevent these important traditions from being passed on.

Part 2: Loss in the Modern Day

Language loss continues today all across the world, and it is projected that 90% of the world’s languages will go extinct within the next 100 years. (The Language Conservancy 2020). The languages of the world are an important aspect of the world’s diversity, and each language carries its own unique ideas, concepts, phrases, and stories. Most Indigenous languages in the United States are spoken by only a few thousand people. Most Native Americans speak English as a first language, and there are a lack of meaningful ways for people to learn their heritage language. Ideally it would be done in an environment of immersion, but in most places these are unlikely to be available, and learning a language in adulthood often presents frustrations that outweigh the motivation to learn. (Abbott and Metoxen 2012)

The majority of these languages only have a few thousand speakers, primarily the elders, and lack permanent speaking communities. As discussed in the previous section, many of the elders in the nations don’t want to pass on their languages to the younger generation. They had internalized the trauma to the point where they saw their own language as a liability for their children and grandchildren. The younger generations who can speak the languages do so with the knowledge that English is the dominant language in the world of education in America. It is their own dominant language. Most Native Americans only know their language in so much as they are aware of the ritual usages, but the meaning of these words can be lost over time if they do not have a full understanding of their language (White 2006).

Another important factor that many Native American communities lack is the funding. The federal government offers grants to these communities so that they can set up language learning programs, but the terms of these grants are very limiting. An article by Rebecca Nagle (2019) explains that these communities are struggling to keep their languages alive, but lose funding within a few years of receiving it. Most of the people who are interested in operating these language preservation programs are not lawyers and do not know how to appeal for grants. With the vast majority of Indigenous languages falling out of use and edging close to extinction, and the United States’ very expensive part in that process, many people feel that there should be more money dedicated to these programs. Another matter entirely is getting people to attend these programs. Ardina Moore, a speaker of the Quapaw language, teaches lessons to children at her tribe’s museum, but only one family is mentioned as attending regularly, a grandmother, mother, and a daughter (Nagel 2019).

Indigenous continues well into the modern day, often as a result of practices that date back to the late 20th century. The impact of residency schools, displacement, and genocide have left a scar on Indigenous communities that will take a lot of time and effort to mend, if they can be mended at all. Attempts at slowing down the crawl toward disuse and extinction for these languages are arduous and are unlikely to be fruitful unless the federal government is willing to provide stable funding for them. However, it’s not all hopeless. There are several programs that have seen great success, and even instances where the language continues to thrive. 

Part 3: Revitalization and Preservation against Language Shift

There are ongoing attempts within Indigenous communities to revitalize and preserve their heritage languages, though as discussed in the last section, these attempts often face high difficulties. In some places in America, though, there are still some communities in which there are viable language speaking communities, such as Pueblo that have begun to organize events that encourage the learning and use of their language among the younger generation of the Pueblo people (Sims 2005). There are also modern schools that teach Indigenous children their language in an immersive environment, like those for the Cherokee in Oklahoma and North Carolina. Navajo, the most widely spoken Indigenous language in America, currently has immersion programs and schools within their reservation, but still has seen a large amount of language shift among its youth (Spolsky 2002). The efforts continue anyway, and revitalization efforts have begun to spring up across the country as people become interested in preserving or reviving their culture. 

For most Indigenous communities, it is unlikely that there will ever be a situation in which their heritage language becomes the primary language in daily use. The expanded infrastructure, prevalence of media, and American education systems that Indigenous people have come to rely on have made it nearly impossible for them to escape the language shift to English. Most revitalization efforts accept that learning a heritage language will be a second language education, which is unique in that second language education is primarily targeted toward foreign people, while these are people who should be native speakers under ideal circumstances (F. White 2006).

Some revitalization efforts begin in early childhood, like those efforts to encourage learning the Cherokee language. Some begin in the pre-school years, which has shown to be beneficial in helping children understand the language well before they’re able to speak it (Peter 2007). The Cherokee immersion programs are seen as a great starting point, but as both the immersion schools in Oklahoma and North Carolina have a very limited capacity, and the language in both places is endangered, it is unlikely that these will be sustainable efforts to preserve the language. A common problem is that the schools lack the funding necessary to reach out to all of the people who would be interested in the programs and catering to all of them. 

Regardless of the difficulties, these programs continue to struggle on. It has become almost essential for local bands to try to take the education of their youth into their own hands because the government’s education system doesn’t work very well for them. There are some Indigenous leaders who believe that being immersed in their heritage languages are the best means for children to become educated, and that it shows that the Indigenous people of America have potential outside of the American way. (Johansen 2004) Most Indigenous languages today only have a few thousand speakers, but because of these immersion programs, a decent handful are below the age of 35. This is, at least, a small improvement from what the situation was for many of them a few decades ago. 

Conclusion:

The loss of Native American languages has a history that goes back even to the earliest days of colonization. The introduction of certain diseases, conflicts, and displacement were just the beginning for a lot of these people and their cultures. Things only continued to get worse as the United States became more and more powerful, gaining the upper hand against the Indigenous and placing them under a form of stewardship that assumed responsibility to control their rights. 

With this authority they created schools and made them compulsory, forcing people to send their children. At these schools the children were abused and mistreated. They were told that their languages were savage, beat them if they used them, and forced English upon them. As we can see, this process was effective at removing entire generations of people away from their Native cultures. The attitude of savageness was then internalized and continued the cycle onto the next generation, even those who did not attend the residency schools. This almost ensured that the languages would be lost.

Language loss continues today as the Elders pass on and many people do not have the resources to attempt to preserve their languages. Those who do get it from federal funding find it very difficult for them to keep it. Others still find it difficult to even get the federal funding in the first place. Chief among the reasons for language loss in the modern day is that English has become so dominant, even within the boundaries of reservations, that the younger generations have made the shift over to that as their dominant language. 

The situation for Indigenous languages seems hopeless, and it still continues to trend downwards. Even the Navajo language, which is the most spoken Indigenous language in America, is in steady decline. However, over the past several decades there has been a resurgence in programs that are dedicated to the revitalization of these languages. Some are more successful than others, but these efforts have prevented languages that were in steep decline from disappearing completely. The Cherokee language is considered endangered, but it is now the focus of several programs to be taught as a second, and even first, language. 

It’s unclear what the future holds for Indigenous languages. Even with the revitalization programs, they seem to still be declining. Language shift is a large factor in this. The role that the government has to play in the work done to preserve languages is also a contested issue. Some people would like to see the government pay more money into these programs, as they spent a lot more money trying to destroy them (Nagle 2019). Others feel that reliance on Western institutions has failed them and isn’t the way to move forward (Johansen 2004). From what I can see, the best solution would be to provide enough money to be able to educate as many young children in these languages as possible. Even if the education is as a second language and incomplete, the knowledge that you belong to a culture that sounded a certain way can still be very powerful, and may even lead to that language’s adaptation, further development, and continued survival in the 21st century. 

Bibliography

Abbott, Clifford, and Loretta Metoxen. 2012. “Oneida Language Preservation.” The Wisconsin Magazine of History 96 (1): 2–15. https://www.jstor.org/stable/24398962.

Booth, Tabatha Toney. 2010. “Cheaper than Bullets: American Indian Boarding Schools and Assimilation Policy, 1890-1930.” Native American Symposium 8 (1). https://www.se.edu/native-american/wp-content/uploads/sites/49/2019/09/NAS-2009-Proceedings-Booth.pdf.

Colmant, Stephan, Lahoma Schultz, Rocky Robbins, Peter Ciali, Julie Dorton, and Yvette Rivera-Comant. 2004. “Constructing Meaning to the Indian Boarding School Experience.” The Journal of American Indian Education 43 (3): 22–40.

Duran, Eduardo, and Bonnie Duran. 1995. Native American Postcolonial Psychology. Albany: State University of New York Press.

Gram, John R. 2016. “Acting out Assimilation.” American Indian Quarterly 40 (3): 251. https://doi.org/10.5250/amerindiquar.40.3.0251.

Johansen, Bruce E. 2004. “Back from the (Nearly) Dead: Reviving Indigenous Languages across North America.” The American Indian Quarterly 28 (3): 566–82. https://doi.org/10.1353/aiq.2004.0099.

Moses, L.G. 1999. Wild West Shows and the Images of American Indians, 1883-1933. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press.

Nagle, Rebecca. 2019. “The U.S. Has Spent More Money Erasing Native Languages than Saving Them.” Www.hcn.org. November 5, 2019. https://www.hcn.org/issues/51.21-22/indigenous-affairs-the-u-s-has-spent-more-money-erasing-native-languages-than-saving-them.

Peter, Lizette. 2007. “‘Our Beloved Cherokee’: A Naturalistic Study of Cherokee Preschool Language Immersion.” Anthropology & Education Quarterly 38 (4): 323–42. https://doi.org/10.1525/aeq.2007.38.4.323.

Sims, Christine P. 2005. “Tribal Languages and the Challenges of Revitalization.” Anthropology & Education Quarterly 36 (1): 104–6. https://doi.org/10.1525/aeq.2005.36.1.104.

Spolsky, Bernard. 2002. “Prospects for the Survival of the Navajo Language: A Reconsideration.” Anthropology Education Quarterly 33 (2): 139–62. https://doi.org/10.1525/aeq.2002.33.2.139.

The Language Conservancy. 2020. “Language Loss.” The Language Conservancy. 2020. https://languageconservancy.org/language-loss/.

White, Frederick. 2006. “Rethinking Native American Language Revitalization.” The American Indian Quarterly 30 (1): 91–109. https://doi.org/10.1353/aiq.2006.0013.

White, Frederick H. 2006. “Language Reflection and Lamentation in Native American Literature.” Studies in American Indian Literatures 18 (1): 83–98. https://doi.org/10.1353/ail.2006.0020.

[read-marx-and-lenin]

Fascism is a militant counter-revolutionary movement that emerges to oppose genuine revolutionary threats to capitalism through co-opting popular discontent and redirecting the energy into fervent nationalism. Trump certainly seems like the kind of person who would enjoy being a leader of such a movement, but you don't create one through rhetoric alone. The US has backed countless fascist groups abroad, but since the political situation domestically has always been one of bipartisan support for capitalism and imperialism with genuine revolutionary movements remaining on the fringes at best, there's never been a need for the bourgeoisie to upset the status quo. The closest we got was the Business Plot back in the 30s, during the Great Depression and its many social and political upheavals. People may have complaints about the economy now, but we are not living through another Great Depression just yet.

The goals of fascism are not extraordinarily different from the goals of imperialism, mind you. The US has never needed to be fascist in order to commit countless atrocities both domestically and abroad. Fascism was inspired at least partially by US colonialism and imperialism. Hitler's Lebensraum and eastern expansion were directly emulating Manifest Destiny, and Japan's imperial expansion emulated both the UK and the US. There has been no shortage of terrible things that the status quo of bourgeois imperialism has supported, and trying to draw a clear line between "normal" imperialism and fascism is an exercise in futility.

Trump does not need to suspend or eliminate liberal democracy in order to achieve his goals. He does not need to ban the Democratic Party because the Democratic Party is not fundamentally opposed to the goals of the Republican Party and will not offer up militant resistance to anything Trump does. The Republican Party is not operating under the assumption that there is a major class divide in the US that needs to be mediated. The white settler proletariat is still by and large in lockstep with the white settler bourgeoisie, and this will continue to be the case so long as imperial spoils keep pouring into the imperial core.

As I said in the original post, the break with all this that will create the opportunity for fascism is the same event that will create the opportunity for socialism. It is important for us to be prepared and organized and educated so we can recognize what is happening and hopefully strangle fascism in its cradle. The Black Hundreds in Russia were disorganized and fragmented when the Bolsheviks came into power, and few remember them today. The socialists and communists were disorganized and fragmented in Italy and Germany, and even though Mussolini was killed by communist partisans, the communists were utterly defeated in Italy and it was only through the help of the Soviets that German communism could even survive in East Germany.

Without an ideological commitment to opposing and dismantling capitalism and imperialism, a political movement cannot attack fascism at its root. Without a commitment to understanding how capitalism and imperialism have been successfully opposed in the past, a political movement cannot succeed in opposing them in the future. Without organizational discipline and the support of the people, a political movement cannot gain the momentum necessary to oppose anything.

Trump is not a fascist and the US is not going to turn into a fascist dictatorship in the next four years. However, the foundations of fascism have already been laid and exist in any bourgeois democracy. It is important for us to be active and organizing regardless of whether or not fascism is just around the corner, because the material conditions that can lead to fascism are the same ones that can lead to socialist revolution. If we do not put in the work to build our own strength now, if we do not actively support and educate our fellow workers and community members, then we will be overrun once fascism actually arrives.

If you aren't part of a socialist organization yet, then join one. If you don't have one near you, then start one. If you're already part of one, then make sure not to squander what will likely be a surge of momentum for the left. Remember that theory guides practice, but practice refines theory.

[greymoonfeelings]

Don’t Speak

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x fem! reader

word count: 800

warnings: porn w/o plot, sub! bradley, tittysucking, unprotected PinV and premature ejaculation.

•••

You’re fully undressed, straddling Bradley’s thick thighs. He sits on the couch left in only his boxers. As your lips meld together, Bradley’s calloused hands desperately roam your body trying to touch as much of you as possible.

Eventually, his hands land on your ass, groping at the soft flesh as you grind against his bare chest in a desperate search of friction for your aching pussy.

Bradley attacks your neckline with wet, open-mouthed kisses while he works on freeing your breasts from your tank top. You cover his shaking hands with yours and assist him in pulling down the fabric.

Once freed, his large hands cover your breasts, kneading the supple flesh. Your head falls back with a moan as his hot mouth wraps around your pert nipple. Nimble fingers tangle in his amber curls as Bradley soothes himself with your breast. His mustache scratches against the delicate skin as he sucks intently, moaning around the bud and lavishing it with his tongue.

Bradley ignores the ache in his briefs for as long as he can until it’s too much. One of his hands slips from your hip and sneaks below his waistband. He jumps at the feeling of his palm wrapping around his painfully hard cock. The shock causes him to bite down on your tender nipple.

Sucking in a harsh breath, you pull Bradley off your tit to see what caused his reaction. His chocolate brown eyes look up at you apologetically. Brows knit together, your eyes flicker down to his hand in his pants. Precum stains the front of his gray boxers and everything adds up in your mind.

“Sensitive?”

Bradley nods solemnly. “Need you,” he whines. His glazed eyes pierce yours as his bottom lip juts out in a pout.

“It’s okay, baby,” You coo. “I’m all yours. ‘M not going anywhere.” Soft hands wander the expanse of his abdomen before landing on the waistband of his boxers, Bradley lifts his hips to help you slide them off.

You guide his head back towards your chest, grasping one of your breasts and feeding it into his open mouth. Bradley’s face nuzzles deeper into your chest as he gets lost in the warmth you provide.

As he focuses on your breasts, you grab the base of Bradley’s cock, dragging your pussy along his throbbing member, coating him in your arousal.

Bradley’s pathetic whines are muffled against your skin as his hips buck, forcing his cockhead to nudge against your swollen clit.

fuck you could cum just from that repeated action alone (and have before), but you resist the urge to use Bradley for that when he’s in this weakened state. You know what he needs from you and you have every intention of letting him indulge in the feeling of your tight pussy.

Bradley continues suckling on your breast as you guide his leaking tip between your folds and it catches on your entrance. A shutter racks through his body as he finally pushes into your warm cunt.

Bradley can’t help himself, he digs his fingers into your hips and slams you down until he’s fully sheathed inside of you. You gasp, clamping down around his thick cock as it fills you.

Without warning, Bradley’s cock twitches inside your pussy. Thick ropes of cum paint your plush walls. He cries out around your tit, body shaking below you as he pumps you full of his big load.

Bradley pulls off your breast with a wet pop, struggling to catch some air. Your mind tries to wrap around what just happened while his seed leaks out of you.

“Baby, did you just—?”

“Mm so sorry.” Bradley buries his head in your chest to hide his red cheeks. You’re not angry, just slightly caught off guard, but he feels guilty all the same.

“No, it’s okay bubba.” You reassure him. “I’m not mad.” You kiss the crown of his head. “I just want you to feel better.”

You gently guide his face away from your chest, caressing his flushed face. He refuses to meet your gaze. He doesn’t want you to see the tears that have gathered on his water line.

“Hey,” you whisper. “Will you look at me, please?” You lightly brush back a piece of hair that’s fallen into his eyes and wipe away some of the sweat that gathered at his hairline.

Bradley is reluctant but eventually tilts his head up. It breaks your heart to see his watery eyes.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” you promise.

“But you-“

“I don’t care about me right now.” You continue looking deep into his eyes assuring him that you’re being truthful.

Bradley gives you a small nod and with that confirmation, you help him off the couch and towards the bathroom to get cleaned up.

[reve-writes]

—respite. | draco malfoy.

ʚ draco malfoy x reader | wizarding world. ʚ there's something wrong with draco malfoy, and you want to find out. ʚ slytherin! reader; set in sixth year. ʚ a/n me when i suddenly remember my crush on draco malfoy.

“Get off your high horse, Malfoy,” you grumble, pushing your way past the crowd of Slytherins that has gathered over the course of Draco Malfoy's pompous little monologue, doubtlessly echoing his father's hate-filled prejudice and passing them along. “Get out of my way.”

Malfoy's grey eyes fall onto you. His face twists into unmistakable hatred and annoyance. He sneers at you with his arms crossed. Your housemates look in between the two of you with unmasked interest.

He calls your last name with so much bitterness you can almost taste it. “How unsurprising that you'd be willing to come to those muggles' defense. Lately, I've been thinking you're becoming more and more alike to Weasley's muggle-worshipping dad.”

You shrug, making your way up the stairs to your dormitory without so much of a second glance. “I don't care, Malfoy.”

Unable to resist the urge, you throw a glance back at him. His pale face is unusually pink and he looks as if you've just spat on his mother. You bite back a laugh, but before you disappear into your room, you throw one final insult at him. “Git.”

It has become a routine of sorts. You cross paths with Malfoy, and there's always an insult or two being thrown from both parties and then you part ways, plotting for the next time. The next insult. The next little stand off. You don't always emerge triumphant. Sometimes, you end up tongue-tied as he smirks victoriously at you. Other times, you witness his dumbstruck face as if he can't believe someone would ever dare say something like that towards him—towards Draco Malfoy.

When you spot the precisely combed strands of platinum blond hair, you bite back a smile, giddy for the next round of kindergarten insult. During the semester break, you've not seen him at all. As he walks closer, you notice that he looks, for lack of a better word, like shite. His face is gaunt with heavy eyebags under his eyes. His complexion is usually pale, but it's somehow turned dull and paler.

As he walks towards you in the hallway of the Hogwarts castle, he looks distracted, as if he's under mind control and not really there. His gaze is blank as it briefly settles over you. He brushed past you without a word.

To his retreating back, you call out, “Malfoy?”

Without looking back, he raises a hand and waves. He turns a corner and disappears.

Malfoy's peculiar behaviour persists for the next couple of weeks. Even in classes, he seems to have lost his glee in harassing the Gryffindors. He has even stopped doing it completely. During meal times, he picks at his plates, never swallowing more than a bite or two.

When you mention this to Daphne—your longtime friend since year one, she laughs at your face. The cool air blows gently as you sit next to each other on a bench in the large expanse of the school grounds.

“What are you stalking Malfoy for?” Then, her laugh abruptly stops. She gasps loudly with a hand over her mouth. “Don't tell me you fancy him!”

Your jaw drops open. Abruptly, you stand up from your seat. “Have you gone mad?”

Daphne laughs again. “He's a good match. Pureblood family. Tons of money. You'll be set for life and then some.”

You shake your head. “What the hell, Daphne?”

Daphne teases you throughout the day. You're uncomfortable with the thought that suddenly creeps into your mind. Previously, you've never seen Malfoy as someone attractive. Undoubtedly he is, but before Daphne's incredulous statements, you've never really considered it.

You roll your eyes. “If you're done ridiculing me, I'm going to go to the library.”

Daphne ceases laughing, but her eyes glint mischievously. “To meet Malfoy?”

You put a hand over your face and groan in frustration. “Daphne, I will smother you in your sleep.”

She laughs, tells you to be careful and leaves you be. Finally. You trudge through the halls of Hogwarts, your eyes roam over the moving and talking paintings. Some smile at you, others even greet you. Occasionally, a couple of them will try to make small talk. Just before you make a turn, you spot a familiar shine of blond hair at the end of the hallway.

“Malfoy?”

The figure jumps. He looks at you for the first time in almost two months. If he looks miserable before, he looks as if he's been crucio'd three times a day. His hair is uncharacteristically disheveled, the collar of his shirt is askew as he sits on the floor, leaning against the wall.

He acknowledges you with your last name.

“You look horrible,” you state, approaching him.

He runs a hand through his hair, chuckling. “Merlin, you're as obnoxious as ever.”

You're gearing up to tell him that he's not any less obnoxious, but stops when you stand in front of him. There is a cut across his face that starts near his ear and runs all the way down his jaw. His fingers shake as he clenches and opens them repeatedly.

You kneel down in front of him, taking his chin in your hand, turning his face this way and that way to check him for more injuries.

“What in Salazar Slytherin's name happened, Malfoy?”

He jerks away from your touch. “None of your concern. Everything is under control.”

You frown. “You've been acting strange and now you show up with cuts.”

“Sorry if I don't have the time to indulge in your childish round of insults,” he spits the words out angrily. “There are other matters that I find more important. If you've never been told this, I will tell you now: the world doesn't revolve around you.”

You pull back from him as if you've been burnt. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

He, outside of the occasional snide remarks, was always agreeable to you before. In projects where you were paired up together, he was cooperative and professional. Aside from that, you've gone around Hogsmeade together with your classmates. You consider him a friend, somewhat. That's why you've come to enjoy the frequent banter. He's never gone out of his way to truly offend you.

You falter—perhaps his lack of animosity doesn't extend to an entente cordiale. He's never had reasons to be hostile towards you. Both of your parents and their parents before them were a line of pureblood witches and wizards. You don't particularly care for the Gryffindors either. The way he treats you is purely because of your shared house and pure-blooded ancestry.

“Leave,” he scoffs.

You don't dignify him with another second of your time. If he's getting into fights with Salazar-knows-who and refuses to get it treated, it's none of your business. He made it perfectly clear himself.

Despite Malfoy's insistence that he wants nothing to do with you, he caves in one day.

You hate walking through the corridor, past the haunted bathroom. It's always empty and no one ever really comes up here. Your pace is brisk as you hurriedly reach the staircase, although you falter when you see Malfoy leaning heavily against the bathroom doorway, heaving.

You angle your chin upwards. Nonchalantly, you walk past him. You think you may actually leave him there, distressed, possibly injured.

However, Malfoy always has to open his mouth.

He chokes out your name—your given name—and coughs. That's all it takes for your previous disagreement with him to be shoved back into the deepest parts of your mind. You turn around and find him sliding down the wall onto the floor.

“Malfoy.”

There's a bitter part of you that wants to leave him there for the way he has hurt your ego, but your shoes stay firmly planted on the ground.

You think he's one second away from a breakdown, but he looks up at you and smirks. “I remember you demanding me to walk with you because you're too scared of this bathroom in third year.”

He doesn't sound as smug as he thinks he is. His eyes are glittery and red as if he's been crying. The way he is heaving for breath as if he's just been chased by the basilisk itself brings you great concern, but you indulge him.

“I recall you being as much of a wuss as I was,” you shoot back.

He snorts. “As if.”

You walk towards him, folding your legs to sit next to him. If he's uncomfortable, he doesn't show it. In this proximity, you are certain that he has been crying. The tip of his nose is reddish and his eyelashes are clumped together.

“What happened, Draco?”

He shakes his head. “I'm alright.”

“You were bleeding the last time I saw you!”

He winces. “There's no need to remind me. I remember everything just fine.”

Your eyes look over him for injuries, but he looks untouched. Your eyes scan his face and in the bright moonlight, he looks almost ethereal. Your gaze drops to his arm and that's when you spot it.

Your jaw falls open and you stop breathing. Your hands shoot forward before he can react, pushing at the sleeve of his shirt until you find the last thing you ever want to see on him.

A skull and a snake, branded onto his skin.

He makes a sound of protest and yells your name. Your hands are already numb as he wrenches his arm away, pulling down the left sleeve and covering the mark.

“Are you insane?” You hear yourself speak. “Have you actually lost your mind?”

The rising tension of Voldemort's resurrection looms over everyone like an eternal storm cloud. Your mother has sent multiple owls talking about some type of urgency, that she wishes you're able to return for Christmas so that your parents can discuss certain matters to you. Matters that they feel are too private to put on a scroll and owl to you.

You haven't sent a word back.

The threat has hung over you for so long, but seeing the mark, dark and opaque on Malfoy's pale forearm, it finally settles into a tight lump in your throat. Malfoy is silent, but he makes no move to leave. You stare at him, your heart beating fast with terror in your chest.

You swallow. “You're a—You're a—”

The word is lodged in your throat.

He averts his eyes from his lap to look at you. His voice stutters when he whispers, "Death Eater.”

His eyes start to water. As much as you want to panic and be hysterical — you can't. You steel yourself with a staggering sigh, awkwardly angling your body towards him. You pull his head to lean on your shoulder.

You pat his back as he sobs. Draco Malfoy may be whiny, but you've never seen him cry before.

“Have you told anyone else?” you ask, still running your hand soothingly on his back. He shakes his head infinitesimally, his hand moves to grasp at your waist.

An hour passes before he stops crying.

“How long, Draco?”

“Before the beginning of the semester. It should be around two months,” he replies, pulling away from you.

“What happened the last time I found you?”

“I fought with someone because they said something about my mother.”

That's not out of character for him.

“Is there—” You stop yourself, scared that you'd ask the wrong questions. “Are you being made to do anything?”

He doesn't reply. Instead, he tells you, “Don't meddle, ___. You weren't supposed to find out in the first place.”

“Why you, though? I don't understand.”

His answer doesn't come immediately, as if he's picking and choosing what he can tell you without dragging you further into his mess. “My father is in Azkaban, haven't you heard?”

Your eyes widen. “No! What? I'm so sorry, Draco. This isn't— You're not—”

He sighs loudly. “It's not your fault.”

“No. Merlin. I can't believe I've been talking about fancying you to Daphne while you're—while you've been going through all of this. I'm so sorry. How can I help?”

Draco looks at you for a moment, before chuckling. You narrow your eyes at him. Has he truly gone mad?

“Fancying me, huh?”

You're flabbergasted. “No! It isn't like that—She was teasing me. It's not like whatever you're thinking at all.”

You're speaking quickly, words keep pouring out in an almost incomprehensible jumble. He continues laughing. With an annoyed huff, you punch his shoulder. He yells an exaggerated 'Ow!' but it's an effective way to silence him. He frowns as he rubs his shoulder.

“You don't have to do anything. This is already helping,” he says, after a long silence.

“I'm glad my embarrassment is amusing to at least one of us.”

“I mean it,” he says, his hand coming up to pat your head casually. “Thank you.”

You spend the rest of your time there talking—about anything that doesn't include recent tragedies and his Dark Mark. It's easy pretending like the two of you are normal students sharing stories and secrets. His mood seems to have somewhat improved as the two of you walk towards the Slytherin common room. Before you part ways to each of your dormitories, you stop him.

“Be careful, Malfoy.”

[ ]

when i started this, it was intended to be somewhat of a light and fluffy comforting draco type of story because i've just read manacled for the first time and i needed to not feel depressed. as i was writing and reading up on canon lore since ive already forgotten a lot of it, i was reminded that his father is in jail, he gets a dark mark and is ordered to kill dumbledore (and apparently was expected to die in the process). there's not much light and fluffy to work off of.

[thecreaturecodex]

Mahoraga

“Sultai Flayer” © Wizards of the Coast, by Izzy. Accessed at MTG Nexus here

[Commissioned by @abominationimperatrix​. The mahoraga is prominent in Buddhism and found in Hinduism, but is incredibly obscure in English. So much so that its first Google search result is a character from the manga Jujutsu Kaisen. I wanted a piece of art that conveyed size and power instead of “sexy snake lady”, which is what most naga and naga-adjacent art is online, and Magic the Gathering provided in spades.]

Mahoraga CR 9 LN Monstrous Humanoid This enormous creature has the lower body of a serpent, the upper body of a human, and a head that combines features of both. They have muscular arms and their hands have clawed fingers.

The mahoragas are subterranean serpentine giants. They are similar to nagas in some ways, but are in others their opposites. Mahoragas value physical strength more than magical prowess, are more like boas and pythons than vipers or cobras, are social rather than solitary, and are united instead of divided into different castes based on physical appearance and alignment. Mahoragas and nagas typically do not get along, with nagas trying to check mahoraga expansion to the surface world, and mahoragas working to stop naga plots.

A mahoraga enjoys combat, and may initiate it in order to show their prowess. They fight with a combination of weapons and natural attacks, and are highly resistant to magic. A favored strategy is to grab a single foe in their coils while battling other enemies; this also allows them a hostage to negotiate with if the fight turns against them. They can strike the ground to make a localized earthquake, and can and do so with an increasingly battered enemy in their coils.

Mahoragas are good parents and strongly loyal to their extended families. They live in underground galleries that are built as much vertically as horizontally—a mahoraga is an excellent climber. Sources of water are a vital part of mahoraga settlements, and they may charge fees to other subterranean humanoids attempting to use it for drinking, bathing or fishing. Mahoragas are fond of music, particularly percussion, as they are sensitive to subtle changes in vibration. They are quick to anger and take offense, but also quick to forgive, except where nagas are concerned. Mahoragas with class levels are not unheard of; the elder of a mahoraga community is often a cleric or fighter, and mahoraga bards are highly regarded.

Mahoraga              CR 9 XP 6,400 LN Huge monstrous humanoid Init +7; Senses darkvision 120 ft., Perception +13, scent, tremorsense 30 ft. Defense AC 24, touch 12, flat-footed 20 (-2 size, +3 Dex, +1 dodge, +12 natural) hp 114 (12d10+48) Fort +8, Ref +11, Will +9 SR 24 Offense Speed 30 ft., climb 30 ft., swim 30 ft. Melee +1 battleaxe +16/+11/+6 (2d6+6/19-20 x3), claw +13 (1d8+2), bite +13 (1d10+2), tail slap +13 (2d6+2 plus grab) or 2 claws +15 (1d8+5), bite +15 (1d10+5), tail slap +13 (2d6+2 plus grab) Ranged masterwork composite longbow +13/+8/+3 (2d6+5/x3) Space 15 ft.; Reach 10 ft. Special Attacks constrict (2d6+7), rapid coils, tremor Statistics Str 20, Dex 17, Con 18, Int 13, Wis 12, Cha 15 Base Atk +12; CMB +19 (+23 vs. grapple); CMD 33 (cannot be tripped) Feats Combat Reflexes, Dodge, Improved Critical (battleaxe), Improved Initiative, Multiattack, Nimble Moves Skills Climb +23, Intimidate +14, Perception +13, Perform (percussion) +9, Stealth +9, Survival +13, Swim +23 Languages Common, Draconic, Undercommon SQ undersized weapons Ecology Environment underground Organization solitary, pair, party (3-6) or clan (7-20) Treasure standard (Large +1 battleaxe, masterwork composite longbow (+5 pull), 30 arrows, other treasure) Special Abilities Rapid Coils (Ex) A mahoraga can maintain a grapple and deal constriction damage as a swift action. Tremor (Su) As a standard action, a mahoraga can slam its tail to the ground, creating a supernaturally powerful shockwave. All creatures in a 30 foot radius that are touching the ground must succeed a DC 21 Fortitude save or take 2d6 points of bludgeoning damage and be knocked prone. A creature that succeeds its save takes half damage and is not knocked prone. If the mahoraga is holding a creature in its coils at the time, that creature takes 2d6 bludgeoning damage automatically and must succeed a DC 21 Fortitude save or be stunned for 1 round. The save DC is Strength based.

[cursed-herbalist]

𝓙𝓾𝓹𝓲𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓐𝓭é𝓵𝓲𝓮 𝓓𝓾𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭

Slytherin • Pureblood • French/Italien • Cancer • INFP • Astronomer • Poet • Photographer • Dragon and Animal Lover

Pinterest | Spotify | Tracklist

A/N: Jupiter is open for friends, rivals and love interests! So if you’re interested in discussing a plot, hmu!

—

Name: Jupiter Adélie Durand

Meaning: Jupiter – the planet and roman god of the sky and thunder; Adélie – French meaning 'Noble'; Durand – comes from the Old French durant, meaning “enduring,” derived from the Latin duruo, meaning “to harden or make strong”

Fun fact: In Astrology, Jupiter is known to bring fortune, favor, miracles and blessings. Also known as ‘the Great Benefic’, showering us with opportunities for growth, expansion and happiness. Jupiter’s energy is optimistic, hopeful, compassionate and generous and it corresponds with her personality.

Nicknames: Juju (family and close friends?), Pluto (by Dawn, apparently)

Birthdate: 1st July 1997 (13:28 PM)

Zodiac Sign: Cancer Sun, Taurus Moon, Libra Rising

Personality Type (MBTI): INFP

Sexuality: Heterosexual, Bi-curious

Gender Identity: Witch (she/her)

Blood-Status: Pureblood

Nationality: French/Italian

Residence: Skalafell, Norway

Hometown:  Skalafell, Norway / Paris, France (/Fort Durand)

Languages: French, Norwegian, English, Italian

Physical Appearance

Face Claim: Laneya Grace (child); Benedetta Porcaroli

Hair: dark brown, magically altered to blond (Ombré)

Eyes: silvery blue

Height: 170cm

Weight: 58kg

Body Type: tbd

Skin Tone: warm, tan

Distinguishing Marks (scars, birthmarks, etc.): tbd

Voice Claim: tbd

Accent: RP, although a slight French accent still comes through sometimes (but rarely)

What do they carry on them?: (film) camera, a wand, school stuff, her mother's necklace, Jupiter necklace from Jimmy, a notebook and a quill

[sketch is super blurry but you get the idea]

Family

Mother: Clelia Bellona Durand née Rovere was an Italian Spy/Auror for the International Confederation of Wizards. She was a strong-headed woman with strong morals. Tasked to keep an eye on the developments in the UK during the Second Wizarding War, she was killed only a few months after Jupiter's birth, leaving behind her husband and two little children.

Faceclaim: Alessandra Mastronardi

Father: Aldéric Mylon Durand is a renowned Dragonologist from France. He is friends with Kaari Arcano and was part of the Phoenix Resistance and helped to smuggle innocent wizards abroad, granting them refuge at Fort Durand. He was devastated when his wife Clelia was murdered by Death Eaters, merely months after the birth of their daughter, Jupiter. But it only made him more determined to put an end to it. After the war and now a single dad, he decided to move to Skalafell to get away for a while, heal his emotional wounds and work with Kaari at his sanctuary. Between his studies and travels, he’d go back and forth between France and Skalafell, taking his kids with him wherever he’d go. The early loss of his wife caused him to be quite protective of his kiddos—so be aware! He can definitely be a little intimating but he's actually just a soft idiot. He recently agreed to fill in the spot of Professor for CoMC—although only temporarily. Offers extra classes on Dragonology for students that are interested.

Faceclaim: Vincent Cassel

Older brother: Elio Amédée Durand, born in 1995, is Jupiter's older brother and is, and I quote, “the cool sibling”. At Hogwarts, he is the Seeker and Captain of the Slytherin team and would later play for the Quiberon Quafflepunchers and the French National Team. He is outspoken and likes to make things awkward. His best subjects are DADA, Flying and Muggle Studies. Huge film and history nerd! And looooves surfing! Although Elio can be a bit of an idiot and likes to tease her, he always looks out for her and loves her a lot!

Faceclaim: Brandon Flynn

Backstory

Jupiter grew up in a wizarding town called Skalafell for a large part of her childhood. Her father had moved them there after the loss of her mother which was an especially hard hit for him. When she was a little older, she would help out at the sanctuary as often as she could, nursing all the dragons, that her father and Kaari rescued, back to health and thus developed a deep connection and love for animals—dragons especially. With the skies so clear in the Norwegian mountains, she would sneak out at night to watch the stars, believing her mother was one of them or more so liking the thought of it.

With her father being a Dragonologist he was bound to travel a lot but he’d always take his kids along with him—well, anywhere that didn’t propose any immediate threat to them. Travels, dinner parties and lectures quickly became part of their daily lives and so did duelling, physical combat and archery (the standard Durand training, also Kaari was a big influence). Jupiter didn’t mind this at all since it granted her many joyful memories of exploring different countries and cultures alongside her dad and brother. They would go back and forth between the fort, Paris, and Skalafell—and sometimes Florence to visit her grandparents. When Elio was 11 her father was asked to step in to teach CoMC which made Elio want to go to Hogwarts too. Jupiter followed his example and insisted to attend Hogwarts as well.

Magic

House: Slytherin (hatstall, almost Ravenclaw)

Best Class: Astronomy, CoMC, DADA

Worst Class: nothing really, she's a good student overall

Prefect: yes

Quidditch: -

Clubs: hogwARTS Club

Wand: Cheery Wood, Dragon Heartstring Core, 13 1/2” Length, Slightly Yielding Flexibility

➔ This very rare wand wood creates a wand of strange power, most highly prized by the wizarding students of the school of Mahoutokoro in Japan, where those who own cherry wands have special prestige. The Western wand-purchaser should dispel from their minds any notion that the pink blossom of the living tree makes for a frivolous or merely ornamental wand, for cherry wood often makes a wand that possesses truly lethal power, whatever the core, but if teamed with dragon heartstring, the wand ought never to be teamed with a wizard without exceptional self-control and strength of mind.

Animagus: –

Boggart: a death eater

Riddikulus: a gust of wind blows off the robe of the death eater, revealing an imp on stilts struggling to balance

Patronus: Occamy

Patronus Memory: building a snowman with her dad, Elio, Kaari and his kids, in the midst of a snowstorm

Mirror of Erised: getting to know her mom

Amortentia (what she smells like): Chocolate, figs, peonies, petrichor, cedar wood

Amortentia (what she smells): tbd

Magical Abilities: can talk to and understand dragons

Career

11–17: Student at Hogwarts ???

Personality & Attitude

Personality: Jupiter is an imaginative idealist and enjoys spending time exploring her own ideas and values while gently encouraging others to do the same. She's sensitive, caring and compassionate and is deeply concerned with her personal growth. Individualistic and nonjudgmental, she believes that each person must find their own path.

Jupiter tends to reserve her most authentic thoughts and feelings for people she knows well but is quite bubbly and playful when she's comfortable around someone. She likes to explore and express her thoughts and feelings through poetry and occasionally attends slams and plays at the Three Broomsticks. She quite enjoys philosophy and meaningful conversations. Although gentle and calm, she does know how to speak up and, believe me, you do not want to get on her bad side. Also the best person to go to for comfort!

(When she was younger she used to be a bit shy until Rosa pulled her out of her shell.)

Strengths: open-mindedness, diplomacy, adaptability, conscientiousness, empathy and intuition (understands both her own emotions and others), dedication to those she values, self-control, quiet self-assurance

Weaknesses: fairly sensitive and has difficulty accepting disappointment or failure; struggles to share about herself; gets in her head sometimes

Stressors: seeing others in distress (including animals); petty arguments/raised voices; speaking in front of large crowds (but gets comfortable with it over time)

Comfort: sundays, night air, nature, processing her thoughts and emotions in a creative way (poetry or music), animals, her family, her girls, soft and comfy things

Priorities: helping others, harmony, seeing her goals through, personal growth

Favourites

Colours: neutrals

Food: Risotto, Mousse au Chocolat

Drink: Hot chocolate / chocolate milk (plant-based)

Flowers: Ivory Peonies

Literature: anything by Edgar Allan Poe or E. E. Cummings

Music: indie (rock, pop, folk etc.), 70/80s, shoegaze/dream pop, cold wave, chamber pop, classical (especially Debussy)

Weather: rain, thunderstorms, clear night skies but also warm summer breezes

Hobbies: poetry/songwriting, photography, mysteries, animals (dragons), reading, stargazing, playing the guitar/piano, philosophy

Style: casually elegant, neutral tones, french chic, becomes slightly more edgy when she starts hanging around Jimmy more

Relationships

Significant Other/Love Interest: James ‘Jimmy’ Crouch, future Durand @potionboy3 - Although in the same year, Jimmy and Jupiter didn't get close until their 5th year when both of them became Prefects. Intrigued by his ‘tough’ exterior, Jupiter made it her mission to get to know him better which soon resulted in growing feelings. The two became a couple in their 6th year, sometime after Christmas, and continued their relationship until Jimmy took up a job at the Ministry. Jupiter grew increasingly irritated with him for overworking himself and neglecting everything else which ultimately made her end the relationship with him. Jimmy was deeply hurt by it and got involved in not-so-legal activities. The two got back together after Jimmy's trial and conscious efforts to better himself.

Best friend: Rosa Yaxley @potionboy3 - Rosa and Jupiter hit it off from the very first day at Hogwarts and have grown closer ever since. Rosa really is the yang to her yin and she loves her from the bottom of her heart! They often stay up late, talking and gossiping and tend to be quite affectionate with each other. Usually, when you see one the other isn’t far. (Dormmate)

Girl Gang:

Barbara Katz @gaygryffindorgal - Jupiter loves when Barb reads the cards for her—she might enjoy it a little too much. They could literally spend hours predicting the future and listening to music.

Mary Ann von Deyne @endlessly-cursed - French lessons would turn into a party with Mary and they’d just have a great time overall. Admires her for her confidence. Would low-key keep an eye on her when she’d go through her drunken escapades.

Gwendolyn Montague @magicallymalted - Jupiter adores Gwen! She loves her chill energy and ability to ease Jupiter's mind when she gets in her head too much. They’d spend hours just chilling under trees, making art together! They’d be vibing!

Meera Israni @potionboy3 - tbd

Nymeria Lee @gcldensnitch - As she’s also more of an introvert, Jupiter instantly felt connected to her. She talked to her occasionally in their first year and slowly but surely they became good friends. She deeply appreciates her honesty and their cats are besties!! Late-night conversations and reading sessions in the common room are a no-brainer. (Dormmate)

Pandora Lovelace @gcldensnitch - Loves her upbeat energy and fierceness! She definitely knows how to make her laugh. Ngl Jupiter sometimes worries about her and does not hesitate to call her out. Nevertheless, Pandora definitely was one of the leading forces boosting her confidence levels!

Other Friends:

Dafne Arcano @kathrynalicemc - Dafne and Jupiter grew up together in Skalafell. The two often can be found at the library, studying with a nice cup of hot cocoa.

Siv Arcano; Mikael Arcano @kathrynalicemc; Lennox Arcano @endlessly-cursed - They grew up together and basically consider each other cousins.

Dawn Harvelle @potionboy3 - Jupiter befriended Dawn through Jimmy. They share their love for music and sometimes have little songwriting and jam sessions.

Declan Rovere @potionboy3 - They find out they are 2nd cousins in their first year. More loading …

Devil's Snare Members aka Vanille Sparks, Locan Vance, Circe Brattleby, Ethan 'Warsh' Warshaw, Genevieve Cadfellow @magicallymalted - story loading ...

Canon Friends:

Colby Frey - Jupiter bonds with Colby after finding him secretly reading poetry at the library in their 3rd year. They also take care of a baby dragon secretly.

Godfather: Kaari Arcano @kathrynalicemc - She adores Kaari to bits! When she was little he‘d carry her around on his shoulders everywhere. They‘d spend hours taking care of dragons and going for rides. Jupiter would always giggle like crazy when they‘d zoom through the skies.

Godmother: Semele Thorne @endlessly-cursed - Being a strong woman herself, Semele taught Jupiter how to stick up for herself and that softness or ‘femininity' doesn’t equal weakness.

Open for more friendships, rivals and love interests :) Animals: chocolate brown cat called ‘Chou’

Headcanons & MISC:

literally knows every single star in the night sky

as a kid, she loved it when Kaari would take her on magic carpet rides on Ryoko (she still does ngl)

has a penchant to take in injured animals

enjoys bizarre, noir and horror films

*sees an empty chair* *proceeds to sit on the floor*

writes songs and loves to go to poetry slams; after a bit of convincing from her girls she actually agreed to participate from time to time

obsessed with Ancient Rome and the Italian Renaissance

Side hustle: occasionally plays at bars, pubs and cafés

versed in archery and knows how to handle a sword/daggers although looking at her you’d never assume so xD (Occasionally get’s up early to train or go for runs to not grow rusty; she also enjoys running to clear her head)

*accidentally switches languages mid-sentence*

*accidentally speaks in verse*

sunshine™️

*genuinely fond of everyone*

Vegan since the age of 15

had a dragon plushie as a child

[cowboy-like-mee]

my baby

summary: porn without plot

warnings: smut (oral f receiving, oral m receiving, unprotected sex, slight choking, spanking, spitting, daddy kink) 

word count: 2.3k

a/n: haven’t written in a few months so this is probably bad but its’s fine lmao. pls leave feedback and reblog. love yall! also happy hrammy’s day!!!!!!

masterlist

Your eyes are locked on the movie, completely engrossed in the movie playing on the TV in front of you. Suddenly you feel Harry’s lips connect to the base of your neck. Your eyes close and your hands fly to the back of his neck in reflex. You entwine your hands with the curls on the back of his neck and let your head slowly roll over to allow him more access to your neck.

He hums, “Feel so horny right now.” He licks up the expanse of your neck, leaving a cool trail of saliva. He nibbles on your jawline. One of his hands trails up your thigh and he squeezes the top of it near your core. You let out a low moan.

He shifts back against the couch and pulls you on top of him, sitting right over his length, which you can feel is already rock hard. You begin slowly grinding down on his cock and you feel yourself getting wetter. He grips the back of your neck and crashes his lips to yours. You open your mouth in instinct and feel his tongue enter your mouth. Your tongues glide together as you continue rolling your hips down onto his. He bucks up occasionally trying to get more friction.

You pull back, a string of saliva connecting the two of you. His eyes are blown out and his lips are swollen, looking as beautiful as ever. You kiss down the length of his neck, making sure to leave a mark in a few places. When you reach the hem of his T-shirt, you pull it over his head and then continue kissing down his hard chest, making sure to swirl his nipples in your mouth. As you lower down to his cock, he gets impatient and begins unbuckling his belt and slides his jeans down his legs.

“Can I fuck your mouth, baby?” He pants.

You nod and pull his boxers down his legs. His cock slaps against his stomach and he hisses. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock and pump slowly. His jaw clenches and he wraps his fingers in your hair, forcing your head down.

“Open up, darling.” He spreads his precome around on your lips and you lick it up before opening your mouth for him. He lowers your head down on his length and moans at the feeling of your wet mouth around him.

He pushes you down further until he curves down the back of your throat. You gag around him and his jaw drops at the feeling. “Fuck, y/n.” He moans. He begins slowly lifting your head and lowering it again to prepare you. He locks eyes with you and you nod as best as you can with his cock down your throat. He wraps your hair around his fist and begins bucking his hips into your mouth. His tip repeatedly hits the back of your throat. Vulgar noises fill the room, along with his throaty moans.

He feels his release bubbling up in his tummy, and as soon as it’s about to hit him, he pulls you off of him. Your lips are swollen and your chin is dripping with a mix of saliva and his precome. “So fucking beautiful baby.” He rests his hand on the side of your face and leans down to kiss you. You moan into his mouth. He stands up and pulls you up along with him. He picks you up by the back of your thighs and walks into your shared bedroom.

He tosses you onto the bed, before crawling over you. He quickly discards your oversized T-shirt, leaving you only in a small pair of lace panties, which your sopping cunt has soaked up. He rips the dainty fabric in two and brings it up to his mouth. He licks your slickness covering the fabric and moans.

“Mmm, so fucking good. Can I have a taste?”

“Yes, daddy.” Your chest is rising and falling quickly. He quickly pecks your lips and begins kissing down your beautiful body, making sure to spend extra time on your chest and pebbled nipples. He sucks a dark love bite on your inner thigh and then kisses his way to your slick core. He licks a fat stripe up your pussy and then latches onto your clit, sucking it into his mouth. Your back arches off the bed as he continues to eat you out.

He licks into you for thirty minutes, bringing you close to the edge, and then backing off. Every time you get closer to coming, he pulls back and watches you squirm as he edges you. He brings his middle and ring finger to your opening and shoves them in. He feels you clench around his fingers as he continually curves them to hit the spot on your front wall. He kitten licks your clit as he fucks you with his fingers. Your moans are uncontrollably spilling out of you.

“Tell me when you’re about to come.” He mumbles into your core. He picks up the pace of his fingers and nibbles on your swollen clit. You know what he’s doing, and you almost don’t want to tell him so you can orgasm, but you decide against it knowing it’ll only be worse if you disobey him.

“Fuck! I’m about to come daddy!” You scream out. He immediately halts all his actions and leans back from you, completely removing himself from you. You scream at the feeling of your almost orgasm, knowing it would only take the smallest of touches on your clit to send you over the edge. He watched your body writhe on the bed, trying to calm down from the feeling of being edged for nearly an hour.

He leans down and kisses you sweetly on the lips. Your tongue lazily drags against his. He’s careful not to apply any pressure to your body as he hovers over you. He pulls back from you and looks at your appearance. You have tears stains streaking your cheeks and your face is red. “Always so fucking perfect, my love.” He says to you. You whimper in response. He smirks at you and situated himself on his knees between your legs.

“I want you to come on my cock before I fuck you.” He says darkly into your ear. He leans back on his knees, gripping both of your knees with his large hands, and pushes them up to your chest as far as your body will let you. He leans down and presses a wet kiss on the inside of your knee, sucking slightly. You’re panting at this point, desperate to come after being edged for what has felt like hours at this point.

He grips his thick length in his hand and pumps himself while looking directly into your eyes. Your jaw drops at his actions. He grips your jaw to keep your mouth open and spits directly into your mouth.

“Swallow.” He demands. You obey immediately, not wanting to put your orgasm off any longer.

“What do you say?” He says as he pushes the head of his cock into your entrance, not going any further. You let out a low moan at the feeling of him inside of you. Your hips buck, trying to feel more of him. He harshly grips the back of your thigh, pushing it further into your chest. He holds you so firmly you have no room to move.

“Don’t fucking move or you won’t be coming tonight.” You still your body, trying to ignore the sting in your lower tummy. The knot that’s been building up for hours waiting to be released sitting uncomfortably in your core.

“Please, fuck me, daddy. I need to come so bad. Wanna feel you. Fuck, I need you. Make me come, daddy.” You whine out, gripping his biceps in your hands. He smirks and pushes fully into you in one smooth stroke. His tip is touching that sweet spot deep inside of you only he can find. The feeling of him inside of you is unlike anything else. The weight of him on top of you, the sweat that’s glistening on his hairline, the muscles that are clenching on his stomach.

 Everything about him is perfect.

He moans out at the feeling of your tight, hot cunt sheathed around his cock. He so desperately wants to pound into your pussy until he comes deep inside of you, but he resists.

“Fuck, please move, Harry.” Your nails dig into his arms harder as you try not to move to feel even more of him.

“That’s not my name baby.” He smirks cockily and releases his grip on your thighs. They fall down around his waist as he grips your throat, the feeling of his cool rings touching your hot skin makes you gasp.

“Daddy, please. I-i, fuck I-“ Your words get cut off as his fingers start to rub tight circles on your swollen clit.

“Shit!” You moan loudly.

“How should I make you come first? With my fingers or the vibrator?” He continues rubbing delicately on your clit. He’s trying not to burst at the way your cunt is clenching around him. He needs you to come in the next two minutes or he’s gonna embarrass himself.

“You- fuck!” Your words get cut off with a moan as he picks up the pace of his fingers. “You choose, daddy.”

“Good choice, baby.” He grabs the vibrator laying next to you on the bed and switches it to the highest setting. He feels you clench around him at the sound of the buzzing filling the air. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Fucking slut, aren’t you darling?” He presses the vibrator right above where you need it most.

“Yes, daddy. I’m your slut. Please let me come, need it so bad.” You cry out.

“Daddy’s got you, baby. Come for me, baby. Wanna feel you.” He moves the vibrator directly on top of your clit. You moan out loudly and grip onto his shoulders. He loves the feeling of your pussy throbbing around him and your nails digging into his back. He can feel your walls getting slicker as you approach your release.

“I’m gonna come! Fuck, can I come? Please, please...”

“Come.” As soon as he commands you, you release around him. His jaw clenched as he feels you coming. He shifts his hips forward as you come to press against the sweet spot inside of you even more. You’re clenching around him so fucking beautifully and he can’t take it anymore. He begins pounding into you, still holding the vibrator right over your clit. You feel so fucking sensitive, you don’t know if you want him to stop or completely ruin you.

“Fuck! You feel so fucking good. So fucking tight for me. Gonna come again baby?” He moans.

Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as another orgasm washes over you without warning. He groans loudly and fucks into you faster. He switches the vibrator off and throws it carelessly next to you. He pulls out of you and flips you around easily. He shoves your head into the pillow and pulls your hips back to meet his as he pushes into you again without warning.

His hand pushes onto your back to arch it perfectly for him. He’s hitting every spot inside of you so fucking perfect, you can feel another release building up already. You don’t know how he does it, but it’s the least of your worries right now.

He’s gripping onto your hips harshly and pulling you back to meet his thrusts. He’s mesmerized by the way your ass bounces off his hips and the sight of his cock disappearing into you over and over and over again. He slaps your ass, seeing it instantly turn an angry shade of red with the shape of his handprint.

“Shit. So fucking perfect for me, y/n.” You moan in response, gripping the sheets in your hands. He grabs the back of your neck, pulling your back up to meet his chest. He grips your throat and turns your head to look back at him. He meets his mouth with yours in a teeth-clashing, sloppy kiss. He pulls back and rests his forehead in the crook of your neck. His pace has changed to slow languid strokes.

“Please, come daddy. Want you to fill me up.” You whine out, feeling so sensitive.

“So fucking close, darling. Come with me.” He tightens his grip on your throat and moves his other hand to your lower tummy, applying pressure. He feels himself moving in and out of you and it drives him fucking crazy.

“Can feel me right here.” He says lowly into your ear. He moves his hand further to rub lazy circles into your clit.

“Fuck, daddy, I’m coming!” You moan as your release hits you in a weaker, but still powerful orgasm. As soon as he feels you throbbing around him, he grunts and coats your walls with his come. He lazy pumps into you to prolong both of your orgasms before pulling out completely. You collapse onto the pillow in front of you again, and he watches his orgasm drip out of you. It’s the most stunning sight to him, the mix of both of your releases on your core.

He lies down next to you and pulls you into his chest. He kisses your forehead and rests his head in the crook of your neck, affectionately kissing up the length of your neck until he reaches your lips and lazily pecks them. You giggle sleepily and kiss all over his face in return.

“I love you.”

“I love you so much, baby.”

[cherrybombfangirlwrites]

Hi! Happy WBW! What are the politics like in your world? What are some of the major issues and questions it faces?

--Joy (@italiangothicwriteblr)

Happy WBW!

I want to talk politics in the world of Before the Stars Burn Out because it’s going on the whole time in the background while the main cast is doing everything they can to avoid the political plot and just take care of this baby in peace (they are side characters in the 'main' plot line essentially- kind of like how Din and Grogu are side characters in all of the political plot stuff happening in the Star Wars universe, and the story follows and focuses on them instead of the main universe plot which is happening in the background).

BSBO has the Intergalactic Alliance, which is the government system for the entire known universe in this world, where they try to represent each system, galaxy, species, large group, and planet (also referred to as units) where possible. It is very similar to a republic governing system, with representatives from every unit to represent their people.

There is no head of this senate, and no single unit is allowed to be in charge- they all must answer to each other and their people. When proceedings, debates, elections, discussions, negotiations, and such are held, they are held at what is considered the center of the universe, on a neutral, usually unoccupied, planet (if that's not possible, it's held on a neutral spacecraft big enough to hold everyone)- and the proceedings are conducted and directed by whoever the discussion is most relevant to.

Every unit is encouraged to peacefully work out conflict on their own, but they may take it to I.A. if needed. If it comes to that, 90% of the representatives (including the ones involved) are required to attend in order for proceedings to begin, and no weapons at all are allowed on the planet or in the senate building. No physical conflict is allowed either, and there are protocols for how that is handled if it occurs (mostly, the offender is suspended from the proceedings, or their seat is taken away entirely- in either case, someone else is called to represent).

Peace Intergalactic Expansion, or PIE, is a major branch and organization of the Intergalactic Alliance. PIE started out as the neutral scientific research and disease control division, but quickly grew in size and power- and the heads of the organization become more and more obsessed with complete control to preserve “perfect” and “unflawed” life (and get rid of anything that doesn’t fit in their little box of perfection).

And they’ve been trying to take complete control of the intergalactic government, and are nearing this goal when the book starts. They have slowly been infiltrating the senate, secretly killing those who get in their way and replacing them with spies and agents of PIE. Using their agents, they are slowly starting to change the rules so they can take over, preparing the intergalactic universe for them to take over with little to no resistance. (Corie's introduction at the beginning of the books is literally her finishing up a job where she killed one of those senators because whoever hired her is paying her a ton and she needs the money)

PIE rising in popularity and power has actually become a huge debate itself all over the universe, and many question if PIE will really solve all conflict, or if they’ll make things worse by being merciless dictators. They are the whole reason the Black Holes started gaining traction, and are the exact opposite of PIE (in the worst way possible).

And our poor main characters who want nothing to do with this political plot get caught in the middle of it as they have a certain something with them both parties want and are willing to kill for.

I don’t have this wip developed a ton plot wise, but at least i have the worldbuilding (mostly) covered!

Thanks @wearfinethingsalltoowell !

[pinkchanelbag]

— there’s no one else; chapter two. 

a jean kirstein x reader mafia au.

last | masterlist | next

series summary: a boy caught in a web with his survival depending on balancing niceties between his predators. a prim girl on thin ice that leads down the path of least resistance. no one too close and no one too far, no allegiance unquestioned, and no child whose value and future goes without evaluation like a playing card that determines their worth. to be destined for big things is more like being doomed to them, but that’s the way it goes. it’s just family matter.

chapter summary: the party begins.

wc: 1.9k.

cw: still nothing lol

note: putting this out short notice cause it’s JEANBOYS BIRTHDAYYY BABYYY anyway enjoy heeheee and my apologies for the slow plot thus far i swear it picks up trust me bro.

the venue is obnoxiously grand. the garden is more akin to a football field than anything else. there is no central lighting, but rather pure white string lights everywhere, everywhere. tucked behind and underneath tables and wrapped around trees and laying in the overhead greenery and in the bushes that act as walls. wherever you look, your eyes are strained, and you’re sure the dining hall can be seen from the moon. 

speaking of the dining hall, the organizers cleverly blocked off the front entrance to the building so that one is forced to walk the expanse of the entire garden—surely to ooh and aah at its elegant taste—in order to get inside through the back door entrance. in other words, having to greet every single member of the family before so much as putting your clutch down. 

you apply a friendly, attentive expression to your face each time pieck stops to greet someone new, having mastered the art of being engaged but not so engaged it’s troublesome, while in reality being completely disengaged in any way. as pieck converses with a bulky man drinking wine and you pick apart the key points (“we don’t got the ammo to make deals with top contractors—legal team in shambles—not good to have a weak spot”), really you are letting your eyes wander over the shrubbery which has been trimmed to perfection. yes, the lights are a pain and the band is too loud so early in the event, and there is not enough walking space between the bushes so people squeeze together to reach the large clearing of the garden. a perfectly obnoxious party, except you can’t help but appreciate the greenery. somehow, it is the only thing about this evening that doesn’t seem ridiculous. or maybe you’re just unusually irritated tonight. 

your eyebrows knit so slightly at this realization. why are you being so disagreeable? impatience and intolerance seem to grow in your chest for no particular reason. you make a note to identify the source of your mood, and quickly resolve it. there’s work to be done.

karina braun is a kind, opinionated sheep of a woman. she is liked by all, and not because she’s particularly easy to like, but rather because she’s hard to hate. stuck in her times and not having much intellectual value, she is possibly the most important woman in all the families. being the mother of reiner braun and the head of the braun-galliard family, gives her luxury without responsibility. you’ve only met her once before, and she possessed the kind of ignorance many privileged older women have. but still she’s kind, so you can’t justify how she makes you weary. 

her birthday, funnily enough, constitutes one of the very few gatherings that frowns upon trying to discuss family matter during the events, unlike a young girl’s birthday. it has to do with respect, you suppose. 

you spend your first half-hour at the party hovering around pieck as she makes small talk with associates, becoming increasingly nervous at your lack of breakthrough in communication with the family. you know the most important thing is your encounter with karina, and that will open up further talks with others, but you stall to approach her, imperceptibly steering pieck further away from the centre table where the older woman sits. not yet. 

“are you going to keep leading me through the same semi-circle, or are you just going to go talk to her?” pieck asks calmly. you curse her intelligence in your mind. 

“i’m just nervous,” you murmur, smiling politely at a group of men at a distance that eyes you like the business deal you are. 

“you should be, but that doesn’t change that you have to do it.” your eyes flick to look at the woman beside you for a moment. her expression is not encouraging or consoling, nor is it unsettling. it’s fitting. what you and pieck have is less than friendship but more than acquaintanceship. often you feel as thought she’s reading your emotions like an open book, which can be scary considering how many of them you really hide. but if and when she sees them, she doesn’t seem to care, whether they’re incriminating or worthy of sympathy. she sees you, and that is all. it’s not a comfort, nor a curse. 

“what are you waiting for?” she says, but it’s a genuine question rather than a push to complete the task at hand. you realize you’re waiting for porco. you want porco at your side. you want his strength and his jagged-edged ambition, and the forcefulness that makes you do the things your heart has no energy for.

“i just think it would be better if the boys were here,” you breathe. again, pieck sees your meaning, and your fright, and leaves it be. 

for the next eternity, you drink champagne and stretch back your memory to know if all parties are this boring once you become an adult, or if the braun family has a particular talent for making you crave the sight of paint drying. the closest thing to entertainment—and not the hired folk who attempt to call themselves singers—is gabi’s voice, which can be heard no matter where in the garden you stand. she tells stories, strikes up arguments, and gathers food and drink with her friends, all at top volume. for some reason, you don’t find amusement in this either, and really start to worry about this attitude problem you’ve got this night. to add on, porco’s meeting seems to stretch painfully long. it was a short-notice meeting, which either meant something very very good or very very bad—more so when he told you he was being picked up for it by reiner, colt, and annie. some of the most important family members gathering for an emergency meeting means trouble. your anxiety bubbles in your stomach, and you worry that your not approaching the woman of the hour is reaching a point where it might be seen as—rude. 

the guests are alerted that dinner is ready. it’s not long before each person has situated themselves along the tables that line the large garden. the seating plan is loosely maintained, but you have nowhere near the entitlement to mingle among other tables. you find yours and stay at it, and it’s only then that you get an idea of just how many people are at this event. each table is packed, holding roughly six people, and there are too many to count in the chaos, but they create a semi-rectangle in three respective rows. you make out countless bodies but few faces, just an endless sea of tuxedos and lovely dresses. at the front of the garden is the head table, where karina sits alone save gabi’s bouncing body going back and forth. your table is is only a few feet from hers, but you take a seat that puts your back to her front so you don’t make the unforgivable mistake of accidental eye contact. you’re to sit with porco, and his table—the galliard table—is the one closest in importance to the braun table. you are the only one at the table, further reminder of porco’s tardiness. the longer you fiddle with the white cloth on the surface, the more you worry about what exactly the meeting could mean. 

and then pieck comes and sits across from you without a word. as always, you know it’s only family matter—the concern that you look out of place—motivating her and not your obvious discomfort, but you’re grateful nonetheless. 

as the servers stream into the garden like white-clad troops armed with dome platters, a champagne glass’s unmistakeable ding ding ding catches the attention of the guests. a table near karina’s opposite side, not quite flanking her but near enough to display some importance. a man stands with his glass raised, looking unfitting for the position with the way his arm hesitantly dips and re-straightens. bertholdt, yet another notable name in braun-galliard (and it’s your job to know all the names), seems to be the only person around able to give the welcome speech. it’s easy to listen only selectively to the announcements and shoutouts, disregarding all the thank yous and remember whens and listening in for honored guests (who are honored because they’ve proven themselves useful). luckily for you, bertholdt’s clumsy speech has a clear distinction between the two categories, his eyes downturned to cards in which he lists off important guests and whatever thing they did to end up on he list before him. 

“a special welcome to general theo magath of the mexican military, who has been so generous to the family’s trade routes…” bertholdt’s words are careful, partly because of the nature of the things he is sharing, but also because all his actions have been careful since his fall from grace. formerly one of the most reliable heavy men in the family, bertholdt’s reputation was shot to hell when an important—very important—family member was killed on his watch. despite having happened years and years ago now, it took extensive efforts to just convince the higher-ups that he wasn’t in bed with the killer. it’s common knowledge that bertholdt’s incident was the first and last time someone “had it easy” from braun-galliard due to his close friendship with reiner himself. 

“an especially relieving guest to see here tonight—“ 

and—finally—the stragglers stalk into the clearing. like most others, you hear of their arrival from the ripple of murmurs long before you see them, seeing as their whereabouts are blocked off by tables and bushes. a few people stand up, but are quickly beckoned to sit down again and redirect their attention to the speaker, who clears his throat nervously. 

“carry on, bertholdt,” reiner’s affecting voice breaks through the space, and it’s enough to settle the audience, or at least have them pretend to pay attention while the late-comers shuffle through the outskirts of the tables to find their seats. bertholdt proceeds slowly. 

“…a person i’m sure we will all come to rely on during this chaotic time…”

you catch the first glimpse of porco as he turns the final corner of the rectangle, reiner walking before him and colt and annie just behind. reiner is the first to arrive to his table, the invitees seeming to hold their chests a little taller for the family’s true head—in every way except on paper—as he slides into his seat and presses a kiss to his mother’s cheek. 

“…a great legacy behind him and a bright career ahead, and we’re surely glad he’s kicked it off in our company…” bertholdt goes on. you and porco’s eyes meet, and immediately you know something is the matter; you’re just not sure if it’s fury or ecstasy in his gleam. 

colt and annie find their seats in the table just after yours, and finally porco is near enough to see—and ignore—the look of alarmed curiosity on your face. he arrives to the table, giving pieck a look of “we’ll talk later,” and briefly stopping behind your chair. his calloused hands are on your arms for a moment, running up and down comfortingly. 

“—a happy welcome to—“

“hey, doll.”

“—jean kirstein.” 

and your eyes flick away from porco’s and into the crowd of faceless bodies, and the anxieties that kept your brain buzzing with life halt and collapse to the floor of your mind like dead flies.

jean? 

[jamiemackenziefraser]

All That Was Fair

Chapter 21: Faerie’s Bane 

Summary: The day after the storm, Claire wants things to go back to normal. Jamie gets a little carried away, leading to an unfortunate discovery.

Read on AO3

Read chp 21 below the cut

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Chapter 21: Faerie’s Bane

Claire came to consciousness slowly beside the love of her life. Sunlight was streaming through the…— her brain took a second before coming up with the word window. Jamie was still asleep, lying on his side with an arm thrown over her body. She turned over on her side too so they were face to face, lips barely a hair’s breadth apart. Her eyes caressed over his face as lovingly as if she were touching him with her hands. He looked so young in sleep, so content. The morning light made his cheekbones look so defined although his face was smooth and relaxed. He was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

She couldn’t help but reach up to gently stroke the messy curls that framed his face, and to her delight, his lips turned up in a soft smile. He wasn’t awake though, and that simple sign of innocence made her warm deep in her belly. Oh, how she loved him. Her protective Jamie, so sweet in sleep.

It took all of her self control not to lean in and kiss him awake, but she contented herself with watching him for a bit longer.

She felt loads better that morning, and the anxiety of the previous day had dissipated, replaced by the peaceful ease of knowing they had the whole day to spend with each other. Everything in the past didn’t matter, and it best be left there. She was ready to move on and get back to normal.

A few minutes later, when his face began to twitch, she wasn’t surprised to see his eyes flutter lazily open.

“Good morning, my love,” Claire said softly, eagerly raising a hand to stroke his jaw now that he was awake.

He gave a sleepy grunt and smile. “G’mornin’, my Sassenach,” he said fondly.

When his eyes grazed down her, noticing that she was raised up on one elbow and looking down at him, he groggily asked, “were ye watchin’ me sleep?”

Claire smiled affectionately and nodded. “I was. Did you know you smile in your sleep?”

Jamie snorted, shaking his head a little. “Normal lasses would be abashed to be caught watching someone sleep, but here ye are informing me that I smile.”

Claire frowned, feeling a strange mix of embarrassment and feistiness as she often did when Jamie commented on how strange he found her. She knew that he loved her and found her ways endearing, but still— she wasn’t out here commenting on how strange he was!

She decided to tell him as much.

“And most men of the fair folk wouldn’t tease me so,” she shot back.

His eyes went wide for a second, apparently coming to the realization that he did often point out her strangeness when he was just as strange to her. He sat up, the blankit falling from his chest down to pool on his hips, and he looked at her with a guilty expression.

���I’m sorry, lass, I didna mean—”

“It’s alright, Jamie,” she laughed breathily, “it doesn’t bother me when you point things out. As long as…” a wash of insecurity overwhelmed her and she had to look down to her fingers in her lap as she finished, “as long as it doesn’t make you sad that I’m… different.”

“Claire,” her name fell from his lips like it had been punched out of him. His big hand came under her chin and tilted her face up while the other slid down her side. It smoothed down the entire length before coming to rest on his hip. He looked at her with an earnest expression. “I love everything about you. I love that you are a brazen wee thing, so straightforward. I love that ye are shameless in touching me. I love that ye always get cold and are obsessed wi’ fluffy blankets. And I love that ye’re still learnin’ human words. I love those things about ye that are different because they’re what make ye who ye are. And I verra much love who ye are.”

Claire couldn’t fight the smile growing on her face any more than she could prevent the slight blush from heating her cheeks. “Just checking,” she said with a little dismissive tilt of the head.

Jamie laughed and leaned in to kiss her.

***

Once they were dressed and Jamie had eaten, Claire watched him do dishes while she plotted how exactly she could mess with him that day. She managed to keep some distance as she schemed, but her hands were already itching to touch him. An idea suddenly struck her, and she grinned to herself, keeping it in the back of her mind for later. But first, she needed her kisses.

She got up from her spot and made her way over to Jamie as he was drying his hands. He turned just in time to see her coming toward him, his eyes widening a bit, and then she was on him. She grabbed his collar and pulled him down to her lips (he was a great deal taller than her and it was a lot of work sometimes to get him down to her level so she could reach). To her satisfaction, he dropped the small blankit in his hands and they encircled her waist instead, the great expanse of them nearly curving entirely around. Oh, his hands were so big...

She found herself suddenly losing control of the kiss as the element of surprise wore off. His lips grew bolder, pressing more insistently to hers until she opened her mouth enough for his tongue to sneak in. A shiver of delight ran down her spine, and she leaned back into the warm hands on her back. They squeezed her sides in response, tugging her closer to his body. Then suddenly he was walking her backward, pushing against her until she stumbled back and he went with her, exploring her mouth all the while.

Without the faintest idea of what was behind her, she held onto his neck and allowed him to walk her backward. It was nearly a dance. Jamie was kissing her so eagerly that she thought he likely didn’t know what he was doing either. She didn’t mind, though, she just liked being close to him.

The moment her back hit a solid surface behind her as Jamie pushed her against it, there was a slight clatter, and then a burning pain seared her back. She jerked away from it, crying out into Jamie’s mouth.

Jamie broke free from her lips instantly, his beautiful blue eyes huge with worry. There was another clang as something hit the floor, but Claire was still reeling too much to pay attention.

Her hand flew to the middle of her back— the spot just between her wings and just below her neck— where she’d been burned. Air hissed through her teeth as she grimaced.

“Sassenach?” Jamie asked, anxiety evident in his voice.

An “ah!” of discomfort was the only answer she had.

“What’s wrong, a leannan?” he asked gently.

Claire was still too busy being in pain to give a better answer, so she unhelpfully provided, “it hurts.”

Jamie’s brows furrowed. He placed both hands on her upper arms and slowly turned her so her back was facing him. He gently removed her hand from where it clutched over the raw flesh.

“Christ, lass,” came his reaction from behind her, “ye’ve a burn.”

Fingers gently probed the area around the source of the pain, and they were surprisingly cool and soft in comparison to the stinging.

“But what burned ye?” came the next question from low in his throat.

Claire was wondering the same thing herself. She glanced at the large wooden… thing… beside her that Jamie had backed her into. It was a place where Jamie displayed stuff— certain silly little items without function that were just so human. Everything there looked harmless…

As she was looking behind her, Jamie had stooped down and picked up whatever it was that had fallen to the floor. It was a long, oddly shaped thin cylinder, shiny and…

Silver!

She jumped back with a cry of alarm, eying the dangerous piece in his hand and wondering how he was holding it. Apparently it was safe for him...  

Jamie looked terrified, glancing between her and the thing in his hand.

“What is it? My mother’s candlestick?” he asked, bewildered.

“It’s made of silver, isn’t it?” Claire asked.

“Aye. Is… is this what burned ye?” Jamie asked with huge eyes.

She nodded, grimacing in pain. “Silver burns us,” she explained simply. She tried to glance behind her at her back but couldn’t glimpse the resulting burn.

He hastily placed the “candlestick” back on the wooden surface and approached her with a distressed look on his face.

“I’m so sorry, lass,” he said with a choke in his voice, “I didna mean tae hurt ye. I didna ken and I was careless—”

Before he could berate himself any further, Claire placed a finger over his mouth. “It’s not your fault, Jamie. Besides, I’m okay, it just hurts a little is all.”

That didn’t seem to reassure him much. His face was still twisted in a guilt-ridden expression, and he was eyeing her with not an insufficient amount of worry. It pained her to see him worried about her again after she’d been so hoping they’d have a normal day...

“Can ye heal it?” he asked, reaching out a hand to stroke down the length of her arm.

She shook her head. “I can’t heal this.”

Jamie looked heartbroken at her words, and she couldn’t resist bringing a hand out to rest it gently over his heart. The moment her hand made contact with him, she could feel the guilt and concern radiating from him, like a pulse that ran through him into her.

“It’s okay, Jamie,” she said softly, “I told you, it’s not your fault. You shouldn’t feel guilty.”

“It is my fault though,” he said sadly, shaking his head.

“My sweet, stubborn man,” she sighed.

Without another word, she stepped closer, bridging the distance between them and leaning her body against his. She turned her face so that her cheek could rest on his chest and then looped her arms around him.

Jamie was hesitant at first, fearful of accidentally brushing against her burn, but after a second, his arms came around her waist to hug her back.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, softly.  

“Forgiven,” she whispered, “don’t think on it anymore.”

“Come here, puir thing,” he said suddenly, bursting into action. He took a step back, grabbing her hand, and began to lead her into the kitchen. She followed meekly and didn’t resist as he sat her down before rustling around in his things.

When he returned, he knelt down beside her and turned her gently so her injured back was facing him. He had a small blankit in his hand, wet, and with the utmost care, he pressed it to the sore spot. The coolness was soothing, and a sigh escaped her lips.

“Does that feel a wee bit better, a nighean?” Jamie asked.

She nodded, breathing out a simple, “yes.”

Claire allowed him to fuss over her for several more minutes, hoping it’d help him feel better. He applied some sort of white paste to it after insisting it would help, and he finally ended by placing a sweet kiss to the top of her shoulder just above the spot.

“You’re a fine healer,” she told him, “very nice hands.”

Indulging herself, she grabbed said hands, spreading her fingers flat against his so their palms were touching, then laced them together. “Very strong but so gentle.”

“Hmm, I’m nothin’ compared to you, lass,” Jamie hummed, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. She would have preferred a kiss to her lips, but she knew Jamie was still getting over his worry, so she didn’t press him.

There’d be time for that soon enough.

*

a/n: So this was originally intended to be the first part of a longer chapter, but I wanted to experiment with "shorter" chapters (haha this still ended up being almost 2k, oh well). So there are some loose threads in this that are leading into next chapter— such as Claire's plan to mess with Jamie. Also Jamie's gift from last chapter is coming in the second half.

Thanks so much for reading!!

Next

[wondereads]

Personal Review (10/31/21)

Shatter Me by Tahereh Mafi

Why am I reviewing this book?

Technically, I read this book back in middle school, but I didn't remember a thing. It was chosen by my book spinner, but I also know it's been gaining popularity lately, so I've been looking forward to rereading it.

Plot 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Juliet has been kept locked up for years. Her touch drains life of whoever she comes in contact with, so it's a surprise when she gets a roommate. It's even more unusual that said roommate, Adam, is someone from her past, before she was taken away. The new regime has use for Juliet, and it might be her only chance at freedom.

This starts with a good idea, but I'll be honest. It's slow. I very nearly put this book down many times because, while it has a decent beginning and end, the middle drags horribly. The prison cell and the Reestablishment at the beginning and the resistance at the end are good, but the middle is essentially just Warner and Juliet playing a game of cat and mouse while Juliet and Adam pine for each other. It really just needed more in the middle.

I think it would've helped to add more worldbuilding and tension. I never really got a grasp on what exactly the Reestablishment's goal was or how they were going about it, and therefore I didn't really feel the need for Juliet to get out of there. I vaguely knew they were bad, but there was no urgency.

Characters 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

The characters were pretty good in this book, which is really what kept me from leaving it unfinished. Despite Juliet being a very typical YA protagonist (quiet and reserved and basically lacking autonomy until the "big fight"), I did appreciate that she was a genuinely kind person. A lot of YA protagonists are portrayed as cold-hearted and ruthless, which isn't a bad thing, but Juliet being someone who has the potential to be a remorseless killer and instead choosing to be good and kind is a breath of fresh air.

I can see why people go crazy over Warner. While I'm not a fan of the war crimes, he and Juliet did have a lot of chemistry, and I'm really interested in his backstory, especially with his parents. I wanted to like Adam, I really did, but I just can't trust him. He seems too good to be true, and at this point I'm just bracing myself for the betrayal.

In terms of side characters, this book is pretty lacking. There's Kenji, who seems to be the comedic relief, and James, the lovable child, but they don't have much development in the book, probably because they aren't introduced until over halfway through, which is partly the fault of the pacing.

Writing Style 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Ugh. I really hated the writing style of this book. It reminded me very much of poetry, and, in my opinion, it detracted from the plot and worldbuilding. I felt like Mafi was so focused on sounding "meaningful" and "poetic" that the information necessary for a dystopian setting like this was lost in translation. There's far too much attention on Juliet's self-hate and counting obsession and not enough on the actual plot, and it relies a lot on telling rather than showing. This is the main reason I had to force myself to finish the book. If an almost-poetry style appeals to you, maybe you'll like it more than I did, but I just could not get into it.

Overall 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

This book is hyped up a lot in the YA community, so I was disappointed. While I liked the characters, the plot needed more, well, plot, and the writing style threw me off. I'm not sure if I'll continue this series, but if I do it'll probably be for the romance and not really anything else. Give this book a try if you're looking for a typical YA dystopia or if you're interested in an unusual writing style, but I personally found it lacking.

The Author

Tahereh Mafi: American, 32, also wrote Furthermore and A Very Large Expanse of Sea

The Reviewer

My name is Wonderose; I try to post a review every two weeks, and I take recommendations. Check out my about me post for more!

[justthehiddleswrites]

I Like It Neat | Jonathan Pine x Reader | A FrostHiddles Collab

A/N:  A collab with the amazing @frostbitten-written​  

Pairing:  Jonathan Pine x Reader

Summary:  You never expected to get this entrenched in Roper's entourage, but here you were. Better yet, you caught the eye of Richard Roper's right-hand man, Jonathan Pine. You weren't sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing, but you were sure of this: Pine likes his suits and whisky, neat and his martinis and sex, dirty.

Warnings: Vaginal Fingering, Dirty Talk, Blow Jobs, Orgasm Delay/Denial,Orgasm Delay, Punishment,Pet Names, Comeplay, Come Swallowing, Face-Fucking, Name-Calling, Choking, Rough Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Spanking

Taglists are open for both me and frostbitten!  Let us know if you want to be tagged!  Thank you for reading!

-

“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Pine whispered as he pressed the hotel room key card into your hand. “I expect you to be wearing only your heels and stockings.”  

You did your best not to stare at him, shocked. It’s not that you didn’t want to sleep with Pine, because you did; your pussy could attest to that one. The problem, however, was how exactly would you explain that detail, in your report, back to Langley? Your eyes dropped to the keycard in your hand, contemplating whether you should do as he asked or walk out the front entrance of the hotel. Jonathan smacked your ass, causing you to let loose a small yelp.

“Clock is ticking, kitten,” he purred into your ear before taunting you, “at this rate, you’ll never make it on time.”

With haste, you made your way towards the bank of elevators, your heels clacking frantically against the polished marble floor. Roper turned his attention to Pine as he watched you disappear behind a column.

“Everything alright there, Pine old boy?” Roper questioned in his usual suave manner.

Pine offered a thin-lipped smile. “Just sending her off to fetch something from my room.” He pulled his phone from his pants pocket. “I’m going to check on our shipments.” He walked away before Roper called out to him.

“We have reservations in an hour!”

“No need to remind me; I’ll be present.”  Pine disappeared from view and headed for the elevators.  

You were in the middle of unclasping your bra, when you heard the door opening. You scrambled to finish taking it off and tossed it onto the chair, along with your dress and underwear. Upon his entrance, Pine stopped and stared, drinking in the sight of you, practically naked. His lips curled into a smile, but not a warm smile. There was something sinister brewing beneath the surface.  

“Good job, kitten,” he commented casually.  

You thought he would approach you, but instead, he strolled over to the wet bar and poured himself a drink. He settled on the sofa about six feet away from you. He swirled his drink and took a sniff. His eyes raked the expanse of your body. You felt like a piece of meat on display for a lion. He beckoned you over with his fingers, using the “come hither” motion. You scampered over and stood next to him, waiting patiently for his next move.  

“I saw you, back in Spain, and on the plane.” His voice was low and his tone, confident; it sounded like the purr of a car engine. He swirled his drink again.  

“Saw me what?” You questioned, panicking inwardly. Had Pine seen you sneak into Roper’s private office? Was your cover blown? Your head swirled as you contemplated the ramifications of Pine’s next words. You mentally plotted an escape plan where you’d come out of this entire ordeal alive and intact, which included all your major organs. You were so lost in your own thoughts that you almost missed what he said next.

“Fucking me with your eyes.” He gazed up at you and smiled; there it was again that same sinister smile. “I can tell you want me, kitten.” You stood there like a fish out of water, your mouth hanging slightly ajar, in shock. He continued. “You have one hour before I am due back downstairs for a meeting. Put on a good show and I’ll reward you with the fucking you desperately desire.” He practically purred as he made an offer your nethers couldn’t resist.

“I beg your pardon?” You protested but grew wet with his every word. Damn his voice, you cursed in your head.

Pine had his suspicions about you, about your intentions and reason for getting close to him, close to Roper. He wanted to push your limits and test you, to see how far you would go to maintain your cover story. So far, he was impressed with your dedication. Above all, he found him growing more attracted to you as the days went by. So with the opportunity presented to the both of you, the stage was set.

“You can get off however you want, but don’t wrinkle the suit,” Pine growled out in a deep voice. “I like my suit like I like my scotch; neat, and I like my women like I like my martini; dirty,” he stated sternly before smirking and winking at you. He held out two fingers, expectantly; that mother fucker knew exactly what game he was playing at and you were going to lose; you just knew it. 

Pine sat there, nonchalantly holding his drink in one hand, and sipped it slowly. It was, no doubt an aged glass of scotch, neat, just like he likes it. He watched expectantly, like a predator, as you mounted his fingers and started to get yourself off. He didn’t even move a damn muscle, except to smile and sip his drink, of course.  

Pine’s fingers felt better than you could have ever imagined, even in your wet dreams. His fingers were long and his hands were large. The situation alone offered a thrill you had never thought of before, that is not until now. Jonathan kept his eyes trained on you, whether it be on your lips, caught between your teeth or the way your tits bounced in time with your body; he was enjoying every second of it. 

Moving your hips, to get the most out of the intrusion, was proving to be slightly difficult and not nearly enough stimulation. You decided to speed up, just a bit, only to be immediately chastised by Pine. “Ah, ah, ah, darling. Don’t rush it; slow down. Like a good drink, perfection takes time.” He casually swiped his thumb over your clit and watched you shudder. His minimal movements only made it harder for you to get off, but oh, did it feel divine.

You let out a whimper before he sternly gave you a warning. “If you cum before I finish this drink, I’m going to have to punish you, kitten.” He clicked his tongue, before taking another small sip. Did he even drink anything? What the fuck was that? You were frustrated with him. “And if I have to punish you, it’s going to ruin this suit. We don’t want that, do we, darling?” 

You moaned quietly, biting your lip as you nod silently. He broke out into a large grin as he continued to tease your clit and press against the sweet spot inside of you. “Drink faster, please,” you begged him as you clamped down on his fingers. 

Jonathan merely tutted in response and stopped drinking all together. “Au contraire, kitten, I think I’ve had enough to drink for now.” He placed the glass down and you groaned. One gulp was all he needed to finish the blasted thing yet he insisted on savouring it. He eyed you up, from head to toe, even reaching up to grope your breast. “Come on kitten, be a good girl,” he taunted you as his fingers worked wonders below; you’re trembling, barely able to hold on. “Don’t give me a reason to punish you. You know you’ll regret it.”

You did your best to slow your pace, but Jonathan made that exceedingly difficult as he curled his fingers deep inside you. You moaned as he pressed and rubbed hard against your clit.  Your eyes darted to the glass of Scotch left untouched and back to him. He was as cool as a cucumber, of course, you on the other hand, not so much. You bit your lip, stifling a whimper. You shot him a silent pleading gaze, only to be ignored and warned yet again. “Remember, drink darling,” he muttered as he continued to play with you. Yeah, how could you forget it? It was the only thing keeping you from climaxing!

With trembling hands, you reached out to his shoulders and gripped hard, attempting to steady yourself. At the rate he was going, you would hit your high soon. He tutted, yet again, in disapproval as he shrugged you off. “My, my… my naughty kitten doesn’t like to listen, does she?” You gasped when he suddenly pulled out of you and pushed you onto the floor; you were seated on your knees between his legs. “If you can’t simply follow the one rule I have in place, I don’t see why you should receive any pleasure from me.” He chided you before sticking the fingers he previously used to pleasure you, into his mouth. He sucked off your arousal and smiled down at you.

“Although, I’m sure you could change my mind,” he taunted you as he carefully undid his trousers and pulled out his cock. It comes to you as no surprise that he wasn’t wearing any underwear with his suit. With an imprint like that, it was obvious to anyone who dared to peak at that monster. 

His size was considerable and he was girthy; your mouth watered and longed to take him in. “Be a good girl and suck me off; I didn’t prepare this drink for nothing.” 

He laid back and watched as you leaned forward and kissed his tip. You licked and sucked him gently, building up the courage to take more of him. You tried to grasp his shaft, only to be swatted away. “You’re not allowed to use your hands, only that pretty mouth of yours.” 

You obeyed, placing your arms behind your back. “You can do better than that, kitten. Show me how much you want me.” Jonathan placed a large hand over your head, gripping your hair tightly as he guided you further down his shaft. You gagged quietly, tears springing to your eyes. “That’s it, take it all in,” he said through clenched teeth. You obliged and slowly began to bob your head on his length. He did most of the work, using your mouth as a tight, hot and wet hole for his pleasure. Your lipstick even stained the base of his cock with a ring of red.

You moaned around his length sending pleasurable vibrations throughout his groin. “Fuck,” he panted above you before continuing, “that’s worth a sip of scotch, don’t you agree?” His breathless statement only spurred you on more. You took a deep breath in through flared nostrils and began to hum around his cock. “Fuck, yes! Just like that, kitten!” You practically preened under his praise. You heard him gulp before letting out a satisfied breathy moan. You looked up to see his lips glossy with spit, his glass empty in his hand and, of course, that sinister leer directed at you. 

Pine’s head fell back against the sofa and his eyes closed. He enjoyed every ounce of pleasure your mouth gave him. Without thinking, you made two mistakes. First, one of your hands snaked down between your legs; you began to rub yourself in a wanton attempt at relieving some of the tingling and throbbing between your legs. And the second, your hand instinctively fisted the fabric that stretched across Jonathan’s thick thighs.

Jonathan’s head snapped up and his nostrils flared as he glared down at you; you had your hand between your legs and his cock stuffed in your mouth, the perfect slut. It wasn’t until he rose to his feet, did you realise what you had done. 

“I’m… I…”  you stammered. Pine jerked you up to your feet and wrapped a hand around your throat, squeezing the sides lightly with the pads of his fingers.

He clicked his tongue in disappointment. “Twice now, you’ve disobeyed me, kitten.”  He reached up with his other hand and stroked your cheek, almost lovingly. Despite the situation and the circumstances, he was gentle, the intimacy only lasting second. He walked the two of you towards the bed. “I guess I shouldn’t have expected much from a little cockslut like yourself.” His words sent another jolt of arousal throughout your system. Again, damn his voice, his tone, his cock… damn him… 

You twisted in his grip and Jonathan chuckled, the sound coming from deep within his chest.  “Is the little kitty going to fight back?” He leaned close to your face as he taunted you. His breath felt hot as it fanned against your cheek. You could smell the scotch and a hint of your arousal on his tongue. The fragrance was practically an aphrodisiac; you shivered, delighted. “There’s no use in fighting, kitten; no one is coming to save you.”

Before you could say anything, Pine spun you around and shoved you against the bed, hard. The clink of metal led you to surmise that he was removing his trousers. You smirked, feeling triumphant in your endeavour with Mr Pine. You got him to take off his precious suit, despite his initial protests. Your little victory disappeared as quickly as it came when a flash of dark fabric sailed over your eyes, rendering your sight useless. You felt the tip of his cock graze your entrance; he teased your wanton hole mercilessly, coating himself in your slick. 

Jonathan pushed into you with a single, fluid thrust and no warning; you groaned loudly. 

“I told you not to touch the suit,” he growled as he pushed your face into the mattress. You let out a moan akin to a squeak as he began to pound into you. His hips collided with your body with such force that each thrust made your limbs shake. You desperately held onto the bed for support. “Is this what you wanted all along, kitten? My cock splitting your delicate little cunt in fucking two? Are you satisfied now?” Jonathan was apparently a dirty talker and you loved every second of it. You moaned and nodded into the sheets, screaming out a sex-delirious, “yes,” as he continued to plough into you. 

He occasionally swivelled his hips deeply into you, both mercilessly stimulating just the right spot inside of you and irritating your clit perfectly. He threw his head back and let out a low moan. His fingers dug into the flesh of your hips as he continued to pound into you. You tried to push back into his thrusts, only to receive a smack on your ass. You gasped and cried out his name breathlessly. He continued to spank you; his hand came crashing down onto your backside repeatedly. “Do you like being treated like this kitten, like my personal whore? Do you like how my cock fucks you and fills you up so nicely? Tell me, you little cockslut; do you like this?” Of course you liked this; frankly, you fucking loved it. Today turned out better than you expected, although you certainly had no idea you’d end up in Pine’s bed.

“Yes.” It was all you could manage between his savage thrusts.

Pine’s hand landed hard on your ass. “Yes, what?” He growled.  

“Yes, sir! I like being your whore!” You gasped as your release drew closer. “...being your little cockslut.”  Your head dropped to the mattress.

“Then milk my cock, kitten.” Pine snapped his hips hard against you. You came with a borderline pornographic moan, your nails digging into the bedsheets. Your walls clenched tightly around Jonathan, squeezing him, milking him like he had requested. “That's a good girl,” he commented through gritted teeth, “good kitten.” He exhaled sharply as he came, his hips snapping against you roughly one last time before he came. “Squeeze me, hard. We don’t want a single drop to go to waste, do we, kitten?”  

Pine stilled himself but stayed buried deep inside of you. Once you collapsed against the bed, he pulled himself out. He slipped off the fabric from your eyes and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you onto your feet. You blinked to adjust to the room’s lighting and turned around to find Pine tucking himself back into his still pristine trousers. His tie hung loose and undone around his neck. That must have been the blindfold, you thought. Pine glanced at his watch.

“Ten minutes before we are due back downstairs.” He smiled as he fixed his cufflinks. “You are,” he paused and gave his next word thought, “efficient; I’ll give you that, kitten.” He strutted towards you and cupped your face, placing a tender kiss on your lips. “I suggest you dress quickly if you want to get a good spot to eavesdrop on the conversation,” he whispered against your lips before kissing you a final time. 

Before you could retort or deny, he had turned away and left the room, slamming the door shut behind him. You stared at yourself in the mirror hanging on the wall. Your lipstick was smeared unceremoniously from the facefucking of just moments ago. You didn’t have time to waste. You dressed quickly and made yourself look presentable, fixing your hair and make up. It was time for dinner.

Normally elevators played annoying tunes to bide the time, but this one was silent, which allowed you the opportunity to over think. Your mind was racing at top speed. Jonathan’s comment played on repeat in your mind. He said eavesdrop. You tried to dismiss your thoughts, chalking his comment up to you being a nosy lover, but nevertheless, your thoughts gnawed at you.

The elevator dinged as the doors opened, pulling you away from the mental debate.  

You crossed the lobby to find Pine, Roper, and the rest of the group waiting outside the entrance to the restaurant. There was a strange man with them; he must have been Roper’s buyer. You ducked into the crowd to get closer to them, when a strong caught your wrist and pulled you back. It was Pine, looking as fucking pristine in his suit and tie as he could despite the fact that fifteen minutes ago he was fucking you into the mattress and calling you his personal whore.  

“Where do you think you’re going, kitten?” He purred into your ear as he held you tight.  

“Pine!” Roper called out. “Everything all right? We’re getting ready to head in.”

Jonathan’s expression changed to that of nonchalance and professionalism. Again, you could never tell. “Fine. Kitten here was just complaining about being tired; the trip has apparently already taken its toll. Isn’t that right, kitten?” He slid his hands between your bodies to grope your ass. Of course, no one else noticed; he’s too clever for that.  

“Yes,” you squeaked.  

Roper dismissed the remark with a flippant hand gesture. “Why doesn’t she head up early then?”  

Your mouth dropped open, ready to protest, but Jonathan cut you off. “Good idea, Dickie. You don’t mind?”  

“Not at all. I’ll fill you in on the details over cigars and whisky later. Take her upstairs and put her to bed,” he stated with a wink. 

“Yes, sir,” Jonathan stated before bidding his boss goodnight. You wanted, needed actually, to protest against your early dismissal, but Pine already had you halfway to the elevators.  “Come along, kitten. I’m taking you to bed,” he stated with a stern, almost gravelly tone, “and this time, let’s both have a drink.”