#Hall Partition

[rabbitcruiser]

The Partition of Ireland on May 3, 1921: The Government of Ireland Act 1920 is passed, dividing Ireland into Northern Ireland and Southern Ireland.

[vmsplusblog]

Living Room Partition Design Ideas| VMS Plus

Glass partitions have become a prevalent interior design feature for modern homes, mainly in living areas. They can be modified to match your preferences and style and can be considered in different textures and styles, like coloured or frosted glass.

Here in this article, you will find information about the best glass partitions for the living room and how to use them:

Designs of Best Glass Partition for Living Room:

Whether you are searching for Living Room Partition Design Ideas in India or a modern design of glass partitions for the living area and dining hall, some options match your preferences and style.

Wooden Frame Frosted Glass Partition

Wooden frame frosted glass Partition Design Ideas For Your Home are an excellent choice for creating confidentiality while permitting natural light to move through. This type of design can fit into different interior styles, including rustic, modern, or traditional.

2. Black Aluminium Frames Sliding Glass Doors

Black aluminium frames and sliding glass doors are famous for modern living room designs. They provide a stylish, sleek look and can be personalized with different hardware options and finishes. Using this option, you can reveal the benefits of a glass partition for a living room.

3. Living Room Floor-to-Ceiling Glass Partition

Living Room Floor-to-Ceiling Glass Partition can make a theatrical impact in a living area, permitting natural light to come in and making a sense of spaciousness. These hall partition design ideas can work well in minimalist or contemporary interiors.

4. Metal Framing Glass Partition

Metal Framing Glass Partition Living Rooms can add industrial control to a living area while permitting an airy and open feel. This kind of partition can work well in loft-style homes or apartments with uncovered brick and metal touches.

5. Black Steel Frame Clear Glass Partition

Black Steel Frame Clear Glass Partition is a modern and sleek design option for a living area. This form of Glass Partition Design for Living Rooms works well in homes with neutral colour schemes, permitting the steel and glass to stand out.

6. Textured Glass Partition

It can add an artistic and unique feel to a living area. This partition can be modified with different textures and patterns, like frosted, ribbed, or etched designs.

7. Wooden Frame Glass Partition

A wooden frame glass partition can add a cosy and rustic feel to a living area. This partition works perfectly in interiors with everyday materials, like wooden beams or exposed brick.

8. Semi-Clear Glass Partition

A semi-clear glass partition can provide confidentiality while permitting natural light to move through. This kind of partition works perfectly in interiors with a modern or minimalist design style.

9. Built-In Shelves Glass Partition

Built-in shelves and glass partitions can provide storage and privacy solutions in a living area. This kind of partition design for a hall can be tailored with different shelving styles, such as built-in or floating designs.

10. Without a Frame Glass Partition

A glass partition without a frame can create a minimalist and seamless look in a living area. This partition works well in interiors with a standard colour scheme and a touch of simplicity.

11. Curved Glass Partition

This partition type can create a living space's artistic and dynamic feel. It can also be tailored with different angles and curves to make an exclusive design statement.

12. Floral Pattern Etched Glass Partition

This partition with a floral pattern can add an attractive feel to a living space. It is perfect for romantic or vintage interiors and can be modified with different designs and patterns.

VMS Plus can help you with any glass partition ideas for your living room. We use only the finest materials and ensure that the work is done in the finest way possible.

[amara69malik96]

Hall Partition Design: Creative Ideas for Stylish Home Dividers

Discover inspiring hall partition designs on Best Information Today. Elevate your home aesthetics with innovative ideas for dividers that enhance both style and functionality. Our comprehensive guide explores trendy and practical hall partition designs to transform your living space. Explore now for expert tips on creating a modern and visually appealing home environment.

[buff-borf-bork]

[sreegs]

SHIVERS [Legendary: Success] — Before you stands an inflatable pool filled with plastic balls. Despite being referred to as a "pit", it's quite shallow. Currently inhabited by a handful of young denizens, members of a social network, faces painted to look like characters from a story about teenagers who bring about the end of the old world and start anew.

YOU — What else do I see?

SHIVERS — It's flanked by an inflatable castle. The fans used to keep these structures erect fill the conference hall with an ominous drone, washing out the conversations around you. You can make out an utterance about shipping, but it's evident none of these people are involved in freight. Occasionally, a shoe squeaking on the concrete floor pierces the drone. You feel insignificant, and out of place here.

YOU — Embrace the cold.

SHIVERS — Further outward, you can sense rooms partitioned for speaker panels and lectures. Rows of empty chairs facing a podium, soon to be the stage for a one act tragedy. The anticipation of throngs of guests has uncoiled into an underwhelming sadness. The heroes and storytellers the people have been promised will not be making an appearance.

SHIVERS — At the hotel desk, a small calamity is brewing into a storm. A debt must be paid, and quickly, before the people taking part in this little experiment are expelled into the rain.

YOU — Where am I?

SHIVERS — Even further out, you see the building you are within. A cement and steel structure surrounded by acres of wet asphalt, just off the I 90. You are in Schaumberg. You are at Dashcon. You have one more hour in the pit.

[justblades]

⋆｡˚ ♰・priest! sunday x afab! reader

┈─ ・(ex)plicit, mdni. contains 2.2 spoilers, blasphemous themes, impregnation, clit stimulation, oral sex, controlling sunday, not proofread.

Even a mere mortal can sense the regret lingering in the atmosphere of the vicinity, a small space dedicated for confessions and atonement of sins committed by those who believe in the Harmony. Numerous pews stand in rows before a single one, each being occupied by two people at best, to which you draw closer to the confession box— one more person to go and it is time to purify your tainted soul.

It was just muffled murmurs of two people from the latter reverberating inside the hall's six walls, along with the sound of the ceiling fans whirring. Your mind starts to drift onto something else: although you have no idea what others hold with regards to their sins, you still could not help but think that yours is shameful.

You can see the person beside you exit the birch box with teary eyes and stuffed nose as she holds a handkerchief to her face. "Next please." a resolute voice echoes, signalling for you to step forward into the confessional. With a wobbly stature, you stand up and tread forward, proceeding to close the oak door behind you.

The golden lights from the hall seep through the confession booth's partition, gleaming upon your stature - creating a silhouette as to where only the advocate from the other side can peer through the woodworks. You attempt to clear your voice before speaking, a dry throat halting the words you intend to verbalize within.

"I humbly ask for your blessings and the forgiveness of Xipe . . ." You mutter as your eyes dart to nothing that catches your interest except for the parquetry etched on the wooden floorboards. Your head held down low, staring at its intricate designing.

"Please feel free to proceed. I have sought their presence within us." The priest answers. "I have committed a grave sin of succumbing to passing emotions. Primarily, I struggled with regulating the purity of one's mind and it was late that I realized I indulged in an extreme activity to quench the thirst for sexual pleasure." 

A reassuring hum resounds. "As a devout follower of the Harmony, I believe my actions do not align with the path I stride. Therefore, I ask for forgiveness and assistance on how I will repent for the sins I have committed." After forming the confession where in sentences you never thought have ever been uttered, it feels as though a heavy weight was lifted off your chest and the shackles on your feet disintegrated.

Glancing at the frosted, colored glass window in front of you, you noticed how the warm yellow lights in the background flicker repetitively in an instant, as well as the birch surroundings creaking. "By committing a grave sin, you've engaged in an activity with a partner you are not married with." The priest reiterates as if the faulty lights are a common occurrence.

You hum in response. "And by committing an even graver sin, you took part in an activity with an objective aside from procreation. Please correct me if I'm wrong."

"Yes, esteemed advocate. Everything you said was indeed correct." Your heart starts racing, "Do you promise yourself you'll turn your back on this lascivious history to start anew?" He queries.

"Yes, Mister Sunday."

"Even if you were to encounter challenges to test your faith for the Harmony?"

Hesitation ruptures through your composure. Your resolution suddenly cracks, as if it was merely a façade with a longing for forgiveness to move on.

"Be honest." Like the advocate could read your mind as of the moment, you believe in the capabilities of Harmony, so there was no use in feigning cleanliness when you know it in yourself, you still struggle. "I wish to seek assistance from those with wisdom."

You receive another firm hum in response, "Very well. Please see me in the reconciliation room a short time after." Your mind spirals into confusion and bewilderment, the emotions painting your features like you were an open book to the audience.

Trekking off the confessional booth, you did not dare to spare a glance back at the priest and only made your way to the distinct, separate room - the reconciliation. It was small, enclosed, and only an oak table, two pairs of engraved chairs, a single ligneous partition and a kneeler reside within the space. Your vision anchors to the sculpted wooden cross sign hung on the beige walls, illuminated by a faint golden lamp on the table.

Patiently awaiting the presence of the priest, you stood still with a heavy heart, seeming like the relief you felt previously was only a glimpse of what you could've been if you didn't commit such grave sin. If only.

The door swings open, followed by the entrance of the figure you were anticipating. Faded sky blue hues of hair tumble upon the male's shoulders, along with the golden earrings he was donning. Feathered ears diluting into white ripple from his footsteps, and his distinct, golden halo stays afloat behind his head.

Being vis-à-vis with the highly esteemed figure of the Penacony like this tugs your heartstrings in unease. It felt bizarre, as you could recall from others' experiences that when you encounter priests or advocates of the Harmony, your heart rests. As for Sunday, it was the polar opposite. Chills run kilometers up and down your spine, your throat starts to become dry.

You trail your vision downwards, setting your sight upon his graceful features. His eyes were a radiant yellow tinged with an ocean blue, framed by his particularly long lower lashes. He purses his lips tightly, curving upwards, flashing a small smile. "Please take a seat." He motions for the chair in front of your figures, your eyes noticing the cross cut out gloves he's wearing.

Sitting down with guard held up high, Sunday follows suit as he opens the drawer from the oak table, retrieving something of a color white and frilly in texture, as you make of what you could from your peripheral vision. "This will certainly be of help to put your faith to test. If you would kindly turn around."

Your hands rest on your lap and as you hear the last phrase that came out of his mouth, you subconsciously gripped a handful of the fabric you're wearing in alertness. Not until your vision was impaired as Sunday blindfolds you with the latter material, it was soft and delicate to the touch - you could not see anything but faint shadows against the lighting. Everything was ivory white in stark contrast, and you could barely peer through the lace folds to see the priest.

"I will now be tuning your mind with the Harmony to which you will face repercussions if statements untrue to yourself are said." He pauses. Unsure where this will lead to, you had no choice but to nod in continuation. "Under the light of the Harmony, all wickedness is revealed. I implore them to shed their light."

What used to be a blurry white in your vision now fringes into colored edges, the prominent colors being purple, white, red, orange, and yellow.

"This will serve as a gentle reminder that I am assisting you to a path where grave sins  are not succumbed to, and only ▅▅▅ exists alongside philosophy to instill moral duties to a functioning member of a society."

His words cut through the thick atmosphere, thawing the glacial tension growing with each passing second.

He lowers his stature to face you, gloved fingers trailing from the hem of the laced blindfold down to your cheeks, cupping your face lightly with a careful grip. "Does this send a shiver down to your spine?" Sunday inquires and you shake your head in disagreement. It seems like he has a whole plan on how this will play out, and you were merely a pawn in his chessboard to see what you would react under these circumstances he will put you in.

The touch ghosts a caress on your lower parts, specifically, the frame of your chest. His thumb twirls on the middle part with an unraveled goal of making your buds perk up underneath the confinements of your clothing - making you grit your teeth as a poor attempt to stifle the sound threatening to escape.

A question arises amidst the confusing situation, a question that will surely be received in a poor taste as it will question his authority and legitimacy. You wanted to ask, is this really necessary?

However, the aura he exudes now was far different from what he displays when he's in front of the audience of the masses. He seems more strict now, judging from the tone lacing his voice from his query earlier. "Does this feel good?" He proceeds to unbutton your top, letting the fabric come undone and fall down to your lap. A singular  gloved hand of his snakes its way to your back, and with a single fidget, your bra was unclasped.

The priest takes his precious time in all these. He carefully observes the clothing that you wear, as he had come to adore the fact that you were wearing pearly white brassiere, one that was similar to the blindfold's texture and design, it was frilly in the edges and soft to the touch.

A light chuckle slips out, "Well? What's your answer?" Desire and temptation brews within your stomach, even spiking higher as he caresses your mounds with both of his hands. His touches feel light and blissful at the same time, like your body was basking in the warmth and enjoyment the priest had to offer. You struggle to keep your body still, knees trembling even though you were only sitting.

"N-No, Mr. Sunday."

A sharp throbbing ache courses through your head, granting him a wince of both surprise and pain. "It appears that you haven't put your mind and whole heart to this yet." He says as he walks away from your stature, leaving you dumbfounded. As silence encompasses the vicinity, you hear the male seat himself on the chair across from you. "Come to me." He simply orders.

"Just take steps forward and trust me."

With blind faith, you solemnly obey - approaching his figure with an extremely bleary vision. As your feet meet with an obstacle, seemingly the chair's legs, you stop in your tracks. "Now straddle my lap." Following suit, you feel a bulging sensation under your remaining clothing. Your breath becomes even more jagged than before, especially now that your clothed folds come in contact with his throbbing dick. It was clear cut enough that it was his erection continuously growing.

A brief moment passes and Sunday continues to envelop your hard buds within his lips, teeth grinding on your nipples in an attempt to inflict pain and pleasure all at the same time. "M— Mr. Sunday . . !" You yelp but he does not halt. He proceeds to twirl his warm, slick tongue all over your glazed areolas, your boob dancing in rhythm with his mouth in somewhat harmonic tunes played by your stifled mewls.

His other free hand pulls you tighter to his chest as he adjusts his position, bucking his hips upwards to create some sort of friction. The tip of his covered cock brushes against your already wet slit, granting him another lewd sound - this time, a soft moan. "I— I— I can't—" your hands clutch on the man's broad shoulders, feeling his long, muted blue and white locks tangle along your fingers. "You can. Yes you can. Only a little bit more you would be rewarded by proving your loyalty to the ▅▅▅."

Your sense of hearing downgrades as your mind drifts into pure bliss, lower limbs becoming numb as more pleasure courses through your veins. As if it's still not enough, Sunday simply lowers your remaining clothes to your feet, revealing your folds sopping wet with arousal already.

With haste and care in Sunday's every movement, he lays your back on the table in between the chairs, forcibly revealing everything down there to him — for him to revel in. The gelid wind traces shivers upon your sweat dewed skin, especially your folds now glimmering with muddy white liquids.

He raises your legs and stands up, resting your lower limbs upon his shoulders. The position is embarrassing enough as it is, but having the priest tower over you is another experience that feels even more intense than what unfolded previously. Not to mention that the throbbing pang in your head brought by your dishonesty upon the Harmony worsens minute by minute.

The male buries his face in your inner thighs first, flicking his tongue over your soft skin while his eyes are darted on your face, in high alert to which action of his you will react the most to. "Need I remind you to be honest this time around? Or is the headache that you're feeling not sufficient for you to stay true to your words?" He asks with a demanding tone, the margins of his lips drawing closer and closer to your slit.

"I have learned my lesson, Mr. Sunda—"

Gloved fingers begin to stimulate your clit, moving in motions you cannot fathom with your current state - your lower body jerking up in response to the stimulation. A sly smile creeps up on Sunday's face, his navy blue pupils fixating on each of your actions and expressions.

All you could think of was the fact that he didn't even let you finish, he went straight to pleasure you more, the sensation becoming more overwhelming as he starts to glide the tip of his tongue on your folds. "Do you feel good?" Although his voice was muffled from the proximity from his face and your pussy, you could comprehend and immediately answer, "Yes! I-I feel good . . !"

You rack your head back once Sunday buries his face further into your inner thighs, wallowing himself in your slit as he sucked on your sweet spot, sticking his tongue into your velvet walls while still toying with your clitoris. You bite back your moans, you cannot afford to lose the remaining dignity you had in you left - if there was any.

"Don't do that."

His voice sounds stern as ever, you were left with no choice yet again but to let mewls and moans come undone at this point in time. You were noisy, along with the sucking sounds accompanied by your hums of pleasure, continually bouncing off of the reconciliation room's four walls. "Very good. As for the last part, you must continue to be truthful, to stand by the ▅▅▅, and to ▅▅▅ to what I ought to be ▅▅▅ for you. Do you understand?"

Much to your relief, your vision was once again back to normal as he unties the lacey blindfold on your eyes. This time, you could see Sunday's disheveled hair, as well as the golden earrings dangling at every movement he makes. He swiftly unzips his slacks, therefore revealing his cock he had been concealing for so long before. It stands in its full glory, hues of purple and indigo veins threatening to pop - it was evident he's at his limit.

"Use your mouth. Make me feel good." He commands and peers at you with a somber expression. You muster enough strength on your body to stand up and kneel in front of him, positioning your head in a perfect angle to receive him. Slowly parting your lips open, he shoves his dick inside you, granting you a hoarse moan of satisfaction slipping past his lips.

You bob your head up and down and as if it felt natural to wrap your digits around the remaining length of his cock, you pump him in accordance to your pace, taking him inside with no hesitation, with only one goal in mind: to make him feel good. You could feel the crown of his dick kiss your throat every time you go deeper, making your eyes water as you try to keep yourself from gagging for the priest's satisfaction.

"That's enough, stand up." Your momentum was cut off as he hooks his arms on yours, making you stand from your previously kneeling position. It seems he has indulged enough in your submission and now it is time for him to try something new, something far more amusing in his perspective.

With both of your statures still standing up, he flips you around, making your back face him. He can examine every nook and cranny of your body in this way, and with a hum of approval, he bends you over slightly, wrapping his arms around your waist and reach for your tits. Your breath deepens, more beads of sweat proceed to trickle down your naked body. "M-Mr. Sunday, are we really going to do it?" you ask as he wraps his hand around himself, brushing his tip on your entrance.

He stops in his movements. "Do you have a problem with that?" A domineering tone laces that sole sentence, one that a person cannot delve deeper furthermore.

With one more stroke, he finally pushes himself inside your velvet walls, molding themselves around the shape of Sunday's dick - wallowing in the pleasure and warmth he emanates inside you. "So . . . warm . . ." He whispers, his breath ghosting a caress on the shell of your ear.

Sunday builds up his pace from a painfully slow one to picking it up, thrusting into you with additional force, pistoning your pussy as he's balls deep. Sounds of skin slapping add onto the lewd tune you two have been playing for the past hour, a whole sixty minutes of pleasure pooling your stomach and arousals seeping out of your holes.

Your legs start to quiver once more, exhaustion gnawing at your bones. But amidst this, Sunday kept you still with his force, hitting your sweet spots with the tip of his cock. If you could beg for mercy as of the moment, you certainly would take the chance. But to who, exactly? To whoever aeon is witnessing this lascivious act unfold in front of them, committed in such a religious place?

Or perhaps to Sunday, who you've knelt to before, received him inside your body in more ways than one. Perhaps. Perhaps it is he who shall show you mercy in the heat of the moment.

"M-Mr. Sunday, please forgive me!"

Interest sparks inside his mind, revelling in the way of being viewed as someone highly, someone sought out, someone in a legitimate authority. "You shall be forgiven." He states as he bites down on the blade of your shoulder, teeth leaving a bite mark and an aching sensation alongside it. You could do nothing but wince in pain, but waves of pleasure start to crush upon your conscious self.

Surely this is too much pleasure to handle for someone asking for forgiveness as they committed a grave sin for partaking in debauchery . . . but to be done this way by a priest is a little too exhilarating.

He picks up the pace, earning himself more moans of pleasure escape your lips, "I'll ▅▅▅ ▅▅▅ inside you." Sunday says as a fair warning, but a sentence you could only form at the present time was a lighthearted "Do as you please, Mr. Sunday."

With one single thrust, strings of satisfaction sprawl inside your womb. It feels warm yet again, but now, comforting in stark contrast to the nervousness welling up in your heart earlier.

"Well done. As you've shown resolution that you're on a path to atone for the sins you've committed in the past, you shall be forgiven."

[peachdues]

A little softness from Part II of The Great War, featuring Giyuu’s unfurnished manor and the first look at the meeting between Reader and the Uzui gang…

READ PART I HERE

Giyuu watched her survey his estate and he felt a flush of embarrassment. He’d never given much thought to its furnishings beyond the barest essentials – namely, his futon and a mismatched assortment of cookwares for the rare occasion he bothered to prepare himself a meal.

Admittedly, he’d never spared much consideration for how empty and barren his home might appear to outsiders. Never before had it occurred to him to decorate; after all, he’d never had visitors in his time with the Corps, apart from the time Tanjiro had come to train with him, shortly before that final battle. But then, as he watched his new fiance slowly take in the sprawling estate before her, he felt a strange unease.

“It’s not much,” he admitted, quietly. “But you are free to do – to decorate – as you wish.”

Y/N still did not answer, and Giyuu found himself in a rush to explain; to justify. “This is your home, too, after all –”

At that, the shrine maiden’s eyes snapped to his, as though suddenly aware he was indeed there.

“Forgive me, I –,” her voice faltered as her eyes swept across the empty interior of the Manor. “I have never had a place I could truly call my own. But now I do.”

She finally looked to him, and Giyuu realized he expression had not been one of wary judgment; it was awe.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her hand rising to settle against his cheek. “Thank you for returning to me. Thank you for this gift.”

As Y/N hurriedly re-dressed in her shrine clothes, she swore she heard a titter of voices join the one which had loudly disrupted her soft morning with her new fiance.

Once dressed, the young Miko quickly looked around her fiance’s sparsely furnished bedroom, desperate for a mirror to ensure she looked presentable, but to her chagrin, there was none. With a grimace, she fished her small wooden comb out of her bag and yanked it through her hair, scowling at some of the knots which had formed as a result of Giyuu’s enthusiastic fingers.

She moved like a storm through the bedroom, finding the delicate hairpin the Water Pillar had gifted her discarded haphazardly to the side of the futon. Y/N quickly twisted her hair back and slid the pin through the knot she’d made, securing it in place. Her hands patted nervously down her front, smoothing any wrinkles or pulls in her shrine uniform. There was little else she could do to ensure her appearance was proper to greet guests, but she would have to discuss the need for a mirror with Giyuu later.

Quietly, she slid the door of the bedroom open and padded softly down the long hallway which led to the front of the Water Pillar’s estate. As she drew nearer, the muffled hum of voices clarified.

“Kanao and that haughty loudmouth of hers are quite cross with you,” the male voice, warm and rich boomed from the front of the Manor. “You didn’t even allow them to examine you once you woke up –”

“I had something I needed to do,” came Giyuu’s even reply. “It could not wait.”

There was a great snort. “You just don’t think, Giyuu.”

Y/N drew upon the last corner that separated her from Giyuu and his guests and she paused. After two quick, steadying breaths, she squared her shoulders and forced her legs to carry her around the partition, her heart lodged uncomfortably in her throat.

The four strangers gathered in the front hall did not immediately notice her appearance, but the Manor’s raven-haired master did. The moment the shrine maiden stepped into the entry wing, Giyuu turned toward her. Though the man – lumbering and massive as he was – had been in te middle of lecturing the former Water Pillar about the need to take care of his health, Giyuu’s attention on her remained rapt, his eyes full of warmth and longing.

Slowly, each of the strangers – three women and one man – turned their attention to what had so ensnared that of their friend’s, and suddenly, Y/N found herself bearing the uncomfortable weight of four additional pairs of eyes.

Three and a half, she corrected inwardly, noting that the one who’d ben speaking when she’d arrived wore a distinct, bejeweled eyepatch over his left eye.

The four strangers continued to stare at her, their faces contorted in various degrees of surprise, from the stunned, raised-eyebrow expression worn by the woman whose hair was slicked back and up, to the gobsmacked, slack-jawed look of pure awe by the girl whose eyes were a distinct shade of brilliant blue.

The male companion blinked. “Well,” he straightened, a massive arm coming to rest on his hip as he flashed her a crooked smile. “I guess this is the reason you were in such a hurry to leave the Butterfly Mansion, huh?”

—

BONUS:

“Who is this, Giyuu?” The silver haired man prompted, eye flicking back and forth between Y/N and his comrade.

“She is everything.” Giyuu said simply, and Y/N felt her cheeks burn. “She is my betrothed.”

such babies 🥺

[judasofsuburbia]

something something kindergarten teacher! steve who is so tired of going on bad dates. kindergarten teacher! robin who doesn't want him to give up.

“Really? The date went that bad?” Robin asks again. 

“Yes,” Steve drones. “I swear she looked like she’d rather be at the dentist than on a date with me.”

Robin makes a sad face at him. Steve continues to sort the paint jugs and throw out any that have been mixed with other colors. Robin finishes putting toys back into cubbies and sanitizing the fake food. 

“Okay so,” Robin starts. 

Steve immediately holds up a hand. “Don’t say ‘maybe she’s not the one but someone is’. I’m sick of this, Rob. I feel like I’m just better off alone.”

“Not true,” Robin argues. “You’re a catch. You’re attractive and good with kids. You make me laugh so hard my ribs shake. You’re a great listener and you make amazing cocktails. Great helmet of hair. Who wouldn’t want to date that?” 

Steve’s heard it all before. He loves Robin, he does, but it doesn’t seem to matter what she thinks of him because no one in this town wants to make it to date two with him.

He used to be so good at this. Always had a girl on his arm at football games in high school. Always had a date to prom. Always had some girl to make out with at parties. Even when he realized later on in his twenties that he liked boys too, he still couldn’t find one that took his attraction seriously.

Steve Harrington? Like both? Unheard of, apparently. 

Still, Steve didn’t want to start the first day of school on a bad note. “Thanks, Rob. I might need to lick my wounds for a second but I’ll get back on the horse I promise.”

“Good because our marriage pact could be closing soon,” Robin mumbles with a sly smile. 

Steve’s head whips around. “Are you‒”

“I have a ring picked out,” Robin practically squeals. 

Steve does his best to gently set down the paint jugs and rip off his latex gloves before darting across the room to pick Robin up in a twirling hug. He kisses her head repeatedly until she’s groaning, giggling, and shoving him off. 

“Rob, that’s amazing,” Steve breathes. He squeezes her tightly again. 

“You better keep your mouth shut,” Robin warns with a pointed finger. “It’s so hard to surprise Nancy Wheeler but I think I’m finally going to be able to.” 

Steve’s grinning from ear to ear as he mimes zipping his mouth closed. “Secret’s safe with me.”

The alarm on Steve’s phone breaks them out of their little love fest and suddenly the halls are filled with parents, children, and teachers gabbing to high heaven. Robin gives him a salute before crossing over onto her side of the classroom. Technically, there is a foldable partition between the two rooms but it will be a cold day in Hell if Robin and Steve ever actually separate their classrooms. 

Steve goes to stand by his door and greet his new gaggle of students. He high-fives each of them as they walk through the door and points to their assigned cubby and seat.

Fifteen minutes later, he’s looking around the room and sees that two seats are still empty. Dustin and Max Munson. He didn’t see them at parent-teacher night last week but he knows from their file that they’re fraternal twins from a single, widowed dad. He tries to keep an eye out for them but he knows the other kids are getting restless. 

Then he hears, “Oh, Mr. Munson, you’re actually in Steve’s‒sorry, Mr. Harrington’s class. He’s just right across the way.” 

Steve glances across the room and does a double-take. Across the room is the alleged Mr. Munson, this tall, lanky man with curly brown hair that hits his shoulders with a blank bandana tying down the top of his head, big brown eyes, a leather jacket with pins, a white tank top, and coverall sleeves tied at his waist. He’s positively breathtaking. 

Holding either hand are Max and Dustin. A little redhead with a baseball cap, overalls, and a striped shirt. A little brunette curly head with green khaki shorts and a shirt with a dragon on it. Mr. Munson smiles apologetically at Robin and walks across the room to Steve’s. Dustin bolts to his assigned seat and starts talking animatedly to Will Byers who looks a little scared out of his mind but is quickly rescued by Mike Wheeler who is just as excited. Max stays glued to Mr. Munson’s side as he walks up to Steve.

If Steve’s not mistaken, Mr. Munson looks him up and down before speaking. 

“Sorry we’re late,” Mr. Munson says and of course, his voice is pretty too. “This one is a little nervous about being away from her dad.”

Steve draws his eyes away from the strong neck and pale collarbones that poke out from underneath his jacket to the scared girl. He bends down to her level and gives her a soft smile. 

“Are you Max? I’m Mr. Harrington,” Steve says.

Max blinks, inching more and more behind Mr. Munson’s pant leg. 

“School’s kinda scary, huh?” Steve asks. 

Max nods.

“I know I get a little nervous on the first day and I’m the teacher,” Steve admits in a small, dramatic voice. He sees the tiniest sliver of a smile on Max’s face. “I’ve sat you next to Lucas Sinclair,” Steve points to the smiling kid on the other side of the room. Lucas gives a small wave. “He’s a very nice boy and I think he even likes the Bulls,” Steve gestures to Max’s hat. “So, I think you guys will have loads to talk about. We’re gonna have a really fun day, okay? And then you’ll get to tell your dad all about it.”

Max glances timidly around the room again and slowly lets go of her dad’s pant leg. Dustin rushes over and shows Max where her cubby is which detaches her completely. Max sits next to Lucas who does get very excited over her hat. Steve and Mr. Munson watch her relax little by little. 

“Holy sh‒shirt," Mr. Munson coughs and smiles sheepishly. "Wow, uh, you really know how to talk to them. Literally made her a friend within five seconds."

Steve stands and tries to regain composure now that the irresistible dad’s attention is on him. 

“Thanks,” Steve says quietly. “The first day is always a little tricky.”

Mr. Munson holds out his hand and says, “Eddie.”

Steve takes it, feeling a little dizzy over how firm his grip is and the callouses on his hands. “S-Steve. Harrington.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t make it last week. Last-minute towing emergency for Chief Hopper,” Eddie says, finally dropping Steve’s hand. 

Steve playfully rolls his eyes. “I’ve been telling him for years that he needs to dump that old hunk of junk already. I’m guessing you work for Munson Mechanics?”

Eddie smiles boldly and glances down at his attire. “Yeah, that’s where I get this sick uniform. Very exclusive.”

“I’m jealous,” Steve laughs nervously, trying desperately to keep his eyes on Eddie’s face. But even then, his eyes are so pretty and his smile is so radiant. There’s faint stubble on his upper lip and jaw. Steve wants to run his fingers over it amongst other things.

“Well, I won’t keep you much longer,” Eddie smiles, clapping Steve on his back. “Maybe I’ll get you a free oil change for your trouble.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble‒”

Eddie leans forward a little and squeezes Steve’s shoulder. He whispers, “Or maybe I just want to see you when there are not twenty five-year-olds staring at me.”

From this proximity, Steve can smell his cologne and lingering car oil. He can feel his brain cells dying every second he inhales the intoxicating aroma. Steve breathes shallowly, too aware of the growing blush on his cheeks, and says, “S-sure. I’d like that.”

Eddie smirks and has the audacity to wink before going to each of his kids, ruffling their hair, and kissing them goodbye with a big wet smack on their cheeks. He passes by Steve again and murmurs, “I won’t say goodbye to you like that. Not yet, at least. Good luck with my little gremlins” before walking out the door. 

Steve hears the clunk of his boots echoing down the hall and each step makes his heart beat louder against his ribs.

He dares to look at Robin across the room who is staring at him with a smug grin on her face. She mimics getting on a horse and does a little lasso with her hand. 

Steve adjusts his glasses, clears his throat, and says in his best teacher voice, “Alright friends, who’s ready to start kindergarten?” 

EDIT 2/8: READ THE FULL FIC HERE 🤠

[awkwardauthorwrites]

Violets and Verbena

Word Count: 3k

Themes: fluff

Summary: Two years have passed since the events in Hogwarts Legacy, in which Y/N has drifted away from Sebastian. What happens when she has to spend some time in the hospital wing and he comes to visit?

Warnings: Potential spoilers for HL

Noreen Blainey, hospital matron at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, stood in front of the two witches, holding the curtain partition open slightly and blocking the view of the hospital cot and its owner.

“Someone’s here to see me?” Y/N shared a confused look with Poppy, who sat next to her bedside. “Do you know who it might be?”

“Natty and Garreth both have Charms right now,” she shook her head in confusion. “Maybe it's Amit or Adelaide?”

“I’ll see them,” Y/N agreed, still sounding uncertain. Nurse Blainey nodded once and left, the curtain fluttering closed behind her once more. “I wonder who it could be.”

“Maybe it’s Imelda, come to apologise for knocking you off your broom,” Poppy suggested. Y/N let out a quiet laugh and shook her head. 

“You know it was an accident, and she’s already apologised more than enough.”

“Chocolates make for a good apology.”

“I don’t come bearing sweets, but I could come back with some, if you want?” a deep, masculine voice came from the other end of the partition, before Sebastian stepped into view. He fiddled with his robes nervously and gave them both a small smile. “Hi, Y/N…Poppy.”

“Sebastian?” Y/N’s eyebrows shot up slightly in surprise. After everything that had happened in their fifth year Y/N and Sebastian had drifted and stopped talking to one another, with the exception of the occasional hello as they passed each other in the halls. She still spoke to Ominis at times, but they didn’t spend as much time together as they used to. She knew he missed the man that stood in front of her, but wasn’t sure how to approach him after the death of Solomon Sallow. “You know you needn’t bring anything,” she shook her head with a small smile and gestured to the seat next to Poppy. “Come and sit.”

“So there was no need for me to stop and steal these from the gardens?” He produced a small bouquet of wildflowers from behind his back, and Y/N picked out some violets and different colours of verbena clusters among the bunch that would definitely get him into trouble with Mr Moon. Poppy jumped up to get a vase for them, shooting a look at Y/N behind Sebastian’s back as she went.

“These are beautiful, Sebastian. Thank you,” Y/N reached over to squeeze his hand in gratitude as Poppy returned and set them by her bedside. “Are these forget-me-nots? A happy coincidence, or…?” Y/N trailed off slowly and picked out the different flowers she could see. 

“You told me they were your favourite once, I hoped they would help cheer you up.”

“How thoughtful of you Sebastian,” Poppy commented lightly. She turned the vase slowly as she took note of the flowers scattered within the bouquet. “Did you know one of the meanings for verbena is protection and healing?” Poppy touched the petals, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she looked over at Sebastian. “Amongst other things.” A faint pink dusted his cheeks and he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yes, well. The quicker Y/N gets back on her feet, the quicker she can get to doing better than me in almost every class,” he played it off with a nervous chuckle and avoided Y/N’s gaze. “It's getting a little boring being on top.”

“It’s been three lessons,” Y/N laughed quietly and turned to look back at him. “I didn’t think you would miss me so much, Sallow.” Sebastian didn’t have a response to this, and went silent. Y/N couldn’t read the look on his face; another testament to how long it had been since they really spoke. Ominis once joked she was a Legilimens, because she could practically read Sebastian’s mind and predict what he was going to say before he actually said it.

“Is that the time?” Poppy jumped up from her seat and grabbed her bag. “I’m going to be late for Potions, Professor Sharp is not going to care that I was on the opposite end of the castle.” She dug into her bag and pulled out a herbology book before handing it to Y/N. “Here’s the book I said I would lend you, you’ll find what you need in chapter seven.” With a quick wave at a confused Y/N and a still-quiet Sebastian, Poppy turned and left.

Y/N took a moment to study Sebastian, who didn’t seem to be in a rush to get to class. He had always been attractive, that much Y/N would admit to herself only, but he had really grown up in the past two years. The last of the baby fat had disappeared from his cheeks, and his jawline had become far more pronounced. His muscles had filled out as well. He had once mentioned to her, shortly after the death of his uncle and Anne had left Feldcroft, that he had taken to fixing up the house and garden there, and she couldn’t help but appreciate how he looked.

“You’re staring,” he murmured, breaking Y/N out of her train of thought. She felt her cheeks heat up and looked away from him as if he could read her thoughts plainly on her face. 

“Don’t you have class to get to?”

“Not one I care to attend,” he moved to the chair closer to her, the one Poppy had been occupying and leant back to stretch. “Not without you, anyway.” He shot her a cheeky grin and crossed his arms across his chest. 

“I didn’t realise you would miss me so much,” Y/N let out a quiet chuckle to mask the strange feeling in her chest. This was the Sebastian she remembered, the one who made her constantly question if he was flirting or not. “It’s not even been a day.”

“It’s been longer than that, Y/N,” he said seriously. “Far too long.”

“Sebastian, I’m so - ”

“You better not be about to apologise to me,” he shook his head with a dry laugh. “Not after everything I put you through.”

“You didn’t - ”

“I crucio’d you,” he interrupted once more, near hissing the word out as he leant forward. Y/N sucked in a breath at the sudden reminder of the excruciating pain. “Not to mention the path I started to lead you down. My uncle…” he trailed off, his eyes going glassy. “I didn’t - and still don’t - deserve your kindness. Anyone else would have reported me and let them send me to Azkaban.”

“Sebastian…” Y/N reached forward hesitantly and took his hands in hers. “I forgive you. I forgave you before you even raised your wand. I told you to cast the spell on me.”

“You have to mean it to cast an unforgivable, Y/N. It wouldn’t have worked - I wouldn’t have been able to hurt you if I didn’t mean it.”

“If you hadn’t we would have been dead a long time ago. You, me and Ominis. You did what you had to in order to get us out.”

“How can you still defend me after everything that I’ve done?” his grip tightened before he let go and leant back in his seat once more. “I came here to make sure you were alright and here you are, making sure I’m alright.” He let out another humourless chuckle and looked at the cards and chocolates by the bedside. “Looks like our whole house has stopped by to see you.”

“Sebastian…” Y/N trailed off, unsure what to say to him. His sudden change in topic signalled he didn’t wish to continue the previous conversation, but she couldn’t let him keep blaming himself for everything that happened.  

“Has Imelda stopped by?” He continued as if she hadn’t spoken and plucked one of the cards from the table. 

“Between you and Poppy you would think Imelda tried to actively kill me,” Y/N rolled her eyes and settled back against her pillows. “It was an accident, and she did stop by. The hamper is from her.” She gestured to the largest present on the table, a giant basket from Honeydukes. 

“Maybe I should let Reyes knock me off my broom, if that’s how she says sorry,” Sebastian let out a low whistle and picked up another card. “Is this from Ominis?” his eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I didn’t realise you two still spoke.”

“Not as often as I’d like, but we chat occasionally when paired together in class.” She watched as he read the message on the card and cocked her head to the side slightly. “Have…have you spoken to him recently?”

“No. Not in a way that matters, anyway.” He sighed and placed the card back down. “I wouldn’t know what to say to him.”

“I find hello is always a good place to start,” Y/N offered. Sebastian laughed, a real laugh and leant forward once more so his elbows rested on his knees. “He misses you, you know.”

“I know. I miss him too. I miss you both. But like I said, I didn’t know how to approach you both.”

“All it took was me falling fifty feet to get us here,” she remarked dryly. “I missed you too. More than I realised.”

“More than you realised, eh?” he raised a single eyebrow and there was a coy smile playing on his lips. “Old feelings resurfacing?” he teased. Y/N’s jaw fell open and her face flamed.

“What? No,” she spluttered. “I never - I don’t - did Ominis say something?”

“No…but you did. Just now,” he grinned widely and took in her red face. “Did you used to have feelings for me, Y/L/N?”

“Shut up, Sallow,” she muttered, feeling utterly embarrassed. “You can go now.”

“No, don’t,” he laughed quietly and reached out to squeeze her hand gently. “Believe it or not, I used to have feelings for you too.”

“No you didn’t,” Y/N scoffed and pulled her hand out of his. Her heart leapt at the confession, even though she refused to believe he wasn’t just saying that to make her feel better.

“Yes I did. I thought I was so obvious about it. Ominis used to joke about how he was glad he couldn’t see because he didn’t have to watch me pine after you.”

“You’re not serious.”

“Y/N,” he sighed, but there was still a small smile on his face. “You’re hopeless. Give me that book Poppy passed you.”

“What?”

“The herbology book. I recognised it immediately. Turn to chapter seven like she said.” He set the book between them and let her flip through until she reached the right page. The chapter was titled Flowers and their meanings. “Do you recognise any of them?” he nodded towards the bouquet he had given her earlier as she pulled the book closer. 

“Some. The Forget-Me-Nots, verbena, dwarf sunflowers…” Y/N trailed off as she made her way down the page in front of her, reading the meanings behind the flowers he had picked for her.

“Now, I will admit, the forget-me-nots were because they are your favourite, but that doesn’t mean I respect you any less,” he leant forward, face tinged pink as he read respect and true love next to a picture of the small blue flowers. 

“I didn’t think…I thought you had just given me whatever you could grab from the gardens.”

“You didn't think I would put effort into something I gave you?” He gave her a teasing smile and watched as she found verbena on the list. Admiration and respect next to an image of the red clusters that sat in the vase next to them. 

“I’m sensing a recurring theme here.” That strange feeling had returned to Y/N’s chest in full force, the one she thought had disappeared with time and distance. Dwarf sunflowers, adoration & admiration. “Sebastian…” She looked up at him, catching sight of a flicker of emotions across his face. “Are these…do you still…?” Y/N wasn’t sure how to finish the question. 

“Do I still…?” he repeated quietly. His fingers brushed against the back of her hand gently and Y/N felt her heart stutter in her chest. “Have feelings for you? Yes.” He admitted, finally catching her gaze. “Unless you don’t think you could feel the same after everything that happened. Then no.” He added quickly. Y/N let out a breathless laugh, one that seemed to relax him. “I thought they went away some time last year, but when I heard you fell today…” he stopped and grimaced. “I felt like my own heart had stopped inside my chest. I couldn’t breathe until I heard from Poppy that you were okay.”

“Poppy?”

“It seems everyone knows how I felt - feel - about you. Except for you of course,” he paused to laugh and shake his head. “I thought you were meant to be smart.”

“When did you…how long?” To say Y/N was surprised was an understatement. She never would have thought Sebastian saw her as more than just a friend. To find out he returned her feelings from before - that he still felt the same - had left her speechless.

“I’m assuming you’re oh-so-eloquently asking when I first started to have feelings for you?” his eyes sparkled with more life than Y/N had seen in a long time, and she felt her heart swell for him. “I’ll only answer if you do as well and if you go first. I can’t keep putting my heart on the line without knowing anything in return.” His fingers brushed her hand again, a little more firmly as he gained confidence. 

“That night in the library. When you took the fall for me.” Y/N watched as he gave her a surprised look. 

“That soon?”

“You didn’t know me,” she defended her decision. “You had no need to get yourself into trouble and lie for me like that. I didn’t realise it until later, but that was the catalyst.” He mulled over her words for a few moments before standing and sitting on the bed, turning so he could face her.

“If I’m being fully honest, from the moment you walked in late to your own sorting I was intrigued. I needed to get to know you.”

“Is that why you were so snappy the first night in the common room when I introduced myself?”

“Not my finest moment, I’m sure we can agree,” he looked abashed. “I feel it's safe to assume I made up for it, though?” He watched as she nodded in agreement, a breathtaking smile coming over his face. “Looking back I started to fall for you when you beat me in our first duel in class. I didn't realise until later though, like you.”

“What do you think would have happened if we told each other back then?”

“Honestly, I don’t think it would have ended well. I think I needed to do some growing to become worthy of you.”

“You were always worthy,” Y/N took his hand in hers again and laced their fingers together. Her heart jumped as he squeezed her hand affectionately. “We both needed to do some growing, I think.”

“You still haven’t answered the most important question.”

“What’s that?”

“Are old feelings resurfacing? Can you get past everything I’ve done?”

“Sebastian,” Y/N used her free hand to gently cup his face, her thumb running over his cheekbone. “I already told you, I forgave you a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, Y/L/N. If it's alright with you, I would love nothing more than to kiss you right now, but I won’t unless I know you feel the same.” He turned his head to kiss the palm of her hand and leant towards her slightly. “And if you consent, of course.” His eyes darted to her lips briefly before locking back with hers. Y/N felt her heart stutter in her chest as her hand slipped from his face to rest on the back of his neck. It wasn’t even a question she needed to think about. She thought her feelings for the man in front of her had disappeared, but if her thundering pulse was any indication, they had just lay dormant until now. 

“It's okay with me,” she said quietly. He muttered a quick thank Merlin under his breath and let go of her hand to reach up and cup her face in his hand. He closed the gap between them slowly, giving her more than enough time to pull away if she wanted to, and paused right before his lips met hers. She looked into his eyes and saw he was already staring at her, a small smile playing on his features. “What?” 

“Nothing,” he shook his head gently, his nose bumping hers. “I just…I adore you,” he said quietly, before leaning in and pressing his lips to hers gently. Y/N felt her heart leap out of her chest and wound her hand into the hair at the back of his head as he kissed her sweetly. He was right earlier, she realised, when he said they wouldn’t have lasted had they started seeing each other in their fifth year. They both had to go through some much needed growing. It hadn’t been their time back then, and as he pulled away from their kiss, Y/N could only hope that now was. 

[ghuleh-witch]

Title: Fangs Fandom: Ghost Rating: Explict Warnings: NSFW, 18+, unprotected sex, blood drinking, p in v sex, unprotected sex, fingering Relationships: Papa Emeritus IV/Copia x Female!Reader Characters: Papa Emeritus IV/Copia, Female!Reader Additional Tags: Dracopia, Vampire!Copia, no use of y/n, no beta, pwp Word Count: 3,238 Summary: Your best friend wanted you to come to a club with her. You agreed to go even though the club scene wasn't your thing. While your friend went off to dance, you somehow found your way into the office of the club's owner. Author's Note: This fic was inspired by the couch scene in RHRN.

Ao3 || Masterlist

You didn’t know what you were doing there. Clubs weren’t your scene, especially not goth-vampire-themed ones, but yet there you were, at the bar ordering a club soda while your best friend danced with some other girl on the dance floor. You watched the two women for a moment before you moved away from the bar to an empty spot along the wall. The red lighting and fog gave the space an eerie look as “Fangs” by Dionnysuss started to play. 

“Take me through the dark. Hide me from the light. I miss your every touch—”

The music was too loud and you couldn’t hear yourself think. You sipped your club soda and looked around the club again. Your eyes wandered upward to a balcony with privacy shades pulled down over the opening. You briefly wondered what was up there before someone bumped into you and caused you to spill your drink on your dress.

“Hey watch it,” you said. A wet spot began to bloom on the black strapless dress you wore.

“Sorry,” the man dressed in a black Victorian-inspired outfit said before he disappeared into the crowd. 

You sighed and moved along the way hoping to find the bathrooms. You slipped through a curtained partition with restroom signs above the entrance. After you dried your dress with paper towels from the bathroom, you reentered the hall to find the light dimmer and the walk to get back into the main part of the club much longer.

“The fuck is going on?” You muttered to yourself as you came up to a door. You looked behind you and the restrooms were out of sight. You knew you were still in the club. You could hear the music thumping right behind the other wall, so where exactly were you and how did you get so lost so fast? You opened the door and hoped it would lead you back onto the dance floor, but instead, it opened up into an office. That’s when you realized somehow you were in the room above the dance floor.

“Can I help you, piccolina?” 

You jumped at the voice and looked to your left. A man with mismatched eyes sat on an ornate red velvet and wood-trimmed couch. His face was painted into some sort of skull design with white and black paint. His mousy hair flecked with gray at the temples told you he was some years older than you. He lounged back on the sofa in a black frilly-trimmed shirt and jeans textured with unique stitching and sewn-on bits of fabric. He held a wine glass with very dark red liquid in his black leather gloved hand.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I got lost,” you explained, already trying to back out of the room. There was something about the man that just didn’t seem right to you. It was as though you honed in on ancient instincts that warned you of a predator. At the same time, curiosity got the better of you and you wanted to stay and find out who the exquisite man sat before you was. 

“Hmmm,” he responded as he sipped his drink. “You looked bored out there.” He nodded towards the screen that was pulled down over the balcony. You could see out onto the dance floor, but you knew from the floor no one could see inside.

“You were watching me?” You asked as you took a step further into the room.

“I see everything in my club,” he said. He said up and swung his legs off the couch to plant his feed on the ground. “Copia Emeritus. You may call me Copia or Papa, and you are cara?”

“Papa?” You asked curiously.

“Just a title,” Copia said. “Now, what is your name?” 

You swallowed and said your name as heat flooded your body. Now that you could see him better in the dimly lit room, you couldn’t help but notice how attractive he was. There was something about his eyes that bore into you and hypnotized you into approaching. You were so enthralled that you didn’t even hear the door shut behind you.

“And why did you come here tonight, piccolina?” Copia asked. He took another sip of liquid from the wine glass he held. “You’re obviously not having a good time. Why are you still here?”

“My friend wanted to come,” you told him. “She’s been going on and on about this place, so I told her I’d come with her because she didn’t want to come alone.” 

“And as soon as she saw a pretty face she forgot all about you?” Copia presumed as he leaned back on the couch with a confidence that you’ve never seen before in someone. “Come sit? No reason to continue standing there.” 

You nodded and your feet led you forward on their own accord toward the couch. You sat on the opposite end and looked towards the balcony. “You said this was your club?”

“Si,” Copia answered. “If you want to get technical it belongs to the organization I’m affiliated with, but I do run the place myself.” His eyes roamed your body. It didn’t make you feel uncomfortable, but you did feel like a deer in the headlights for a moment. “Can I get you something to drink? I noticed some idiot bumped into you and spilled your drink.”

“No, no I’m okay,” you said. “I should…” You knew you should return your friend. She would look for you once she noticed you were missing, but it was like a magnet kept you rooted in place. Your body refused to move. “I should…”

“Should what, cara?” Copia asked as he leaned closer to you. You could smell his cologne—something earthy and woody that filled your nostrils and caused you to relax. It was then you noticed what was off about him. You got a glimpse of fangs when he opened his mouth to speak. You blinked as though you’d suddenly be able to understand what you saw. 

“You seem confused,” he then said. 

“I…” You trailed off. “Sorry, I think the lighting is just messing with me.”

Copia smirked. “Sure, let’s say it’s the lighting, eh?” 

You didn’t know when he moved from his spot at the end of the couch to the spot right next to you. You had blinked and he was just there like that’s where he sat the whole time. One of his gloved hands came up to your face and gently moved a stray lock behind your ear. “You smell divine,” he rumbled. It sent tingles down your spine as his fingertips traced down your neck. He leaned in close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin. “Divine and downright sinful.”

You knew you were clear-headed. You didn’t have a single drop of alcohol that evening, but nothing made sense. You didn’t understand what was happening. Yet, you still turned your head and pressed your lips to his. It satisfied the sudden urge and lust that had taken you over. 

He seemed surprised. He stilled momentarily before one hand wrapped around your waist and dragged you closer and the other cupped your cheek. “You sure you want this,” he murmured against your lips when the kiss broke for a second. “Because I’m going to do more than just kiss you if you say yes.”

“Yes,” you answered. And you did want whatever was to come. You needed to know what it would be like with him and why he was a predator and you the prey.

“Good,” he said. “Because it was going to be a shame if I couldn’t have a taste.” His lips moved down over your cheek and jawline and pressed kisses to your skin as he went. He came to your neck and brushed your hair aside. “You know what I am, si?”

“I—” You began and then things started to click together—the cup of the dark red liquid, the hint of fangs, his whole aesthetic, the theme of the damned club. “You’re a vampire,” you breathed. 

“Very good,” Copia purred in your ear. “You’re smart, piccolina .” He pressed a few kisses to your pulse point which made your breath hitch. “I’m going to have a taste now, okay?”

“Okay,” you answered. You trembled in anticipation as you felt the graze of pointed fangs on your skin. A sharp pinch and hot pain caused you to gasp, but the sensation didn’t last. You felt good; a feeling of pure bliss filled you as he drank your blood. You could feel hot rivelets of blood flow down your shoulder, back, and chest. The blood was never going to wash out of your dress, but you didn’t care. It was black and no one would notice. All you cared about was the feeling of his fangs in your neck.

Your hand rested on his chest, fingers gripped into the soft fabric of his shirt. “Fuck,” you breathed. “W-why does that feel so good?”

He chuckled against your skin before you felt his mouth pull away. He stared at you, blood on his lips and chin. “Yeah? Does it feel good, piccolina ?” He asked. A finger traced the blood that trickled down your chest and to your breasts. He smeared it against your skin. “I’m glad it does. You make it hard to control myself.” His finger began to pull down the fabric of your dress. “May I?” 

You nodded and watched as he pulled down the top of your dress enough so your breasts spilled out. His tongue was on you then, and he licked the smear of blood clean from your skin before his mouth wrapped around one of your nipples.

 “Oh fuck,” you moaned as a hand came up to card through his hair. 

“So vocal, cara, I like it,” he said. His tongue flicked over your hardened nipple as his hand palmed your other breast. “Be as loud as you want, cara , no one can hear us up here.” His hand moved from your breast and down your body. He pushed up the hem of your dress to reveal the lacey blue panties you wore underneath. His fingers brushed over your clothed center and you involuntary bucked your hips.

“Please,” you breathed. Your heart hammered against your ribs as unfeathered desire and need coursed through your veins. You felt as though you’d die if he didn’t touch you right then and there.

“Please what?” He asked. A sparkle appeared in his eyes as his lips formed a smirk. “Use your words, piccolina .” 

“Touch me, fuck me, I don’t care I just need you,” you whined. You knew how desperate and pathetic you sounded but you didn’t care. You needed to satisfy the craving for him that clawed at your insides like a rabid animal.

“How about I do both?” He proposed. He slipped down off the couch to his knees between your legs. His fingers found the elastic waistband of your panties and pulled them down your legs and around your heels. He bunched them up and stuffed them into his pocket without explanation. His hands pushed your thighs open wider. “Bellissima,” he breathed before leaning forward to capture your lips. 

You moaned into his mouth as his tongue swept through your parted lips. You could taste the faintest hints of coppery blood on his lips. Your hands rested on his chest but soon they gripped his shirt as you felt two of his fingers slip through your folds and to your clit. 

“Jesus Christ,” you swore against his lips as your hips bucked against his touch.

He hissed. “Maybe refrain from saying that name, cara. It’s blasphemous.” 

You didn’t have time to respond as he slipped a finger inside of you. You let out a moan, the leather of his gloves cool on your hot cunt. “Fuck fuck fuck,” you panted as he pumped his finger in and out of you. It curled upward just right so it hit that one spot that drove you wild. “Don’t stop,” you begged.

“I don’t plan on stopping,” Copia chuckled. He slipped a second finger into you and stretched you open with each thrust of his hand. His thumb rubbed tight circles against your clit. “You look so sweet falling apart for me,” he said as he leaned forward and licked at the bite mark on your neck. 

You choked out a whimper as the coil in your middle tightened. “Close,” you managed to say, your knuckles white against his black shirt.

“Come for me,” he said in a low rumble. “Come for me, piccolina .” 

A few more pumps of his fingers and you came hard. Your walls clenched around his digits before you went limp against the back of the sofa. You looked down at him and watched as he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean. You bit your lip at the lewd act and met his eyes. 

“You taste as decadent as your blood,” Copia purred as he repositioned you to lay back on the sofa. He got up, one knee on the couch between your legs. His erection strained against the laces of his pants, and you couldn’t help but sit up and unlace them. Your mouth found a sliver of skin between his shirt and pants. He let out a pleased hum as his hand came up to stroke your hair.

You chanced a glance up to his face to see him staring down at you. His pupils were blown wide with lust and hunger. The look made you bite back a groan as you opened the laces of his pants and pushed them down his thighs. He didn’t have on underwear under the pants, so once his pants were passed his hips, his cock sprung free. He was thick; thicker than anyone you’ve had before and you knew the stretch would be delicious. Your mouth watered at the thought as you wrapped your hand around his length and began to stroke him slowly. Your other hand fumbled to undo the buttons of his shirt.

He gently batted your hand away and began to undo the buttons himself. His head lulled back as a groan escaped his lips. “Cazzo, così buono per me (Fuck, so good for me),” he muttered as he shrugged the shirt off his shoulders. It fell forgotten to the floor.

You admired his figure—from his chest hair that tapered down his torso to his pelvis to the three sixes tattooed on his peck in a swirled pattern and to the little bit of belly he had. You pressed kisses around the soft skin of his belly button as your hand still pumped his cock slowly. 

“Keep that up, cara, and I won’t last,” he groaned before he gently pulled your hand off him. “And I want to last.” He positioned you the way he wanted on the couch so that he was between your spread legs and ready to enter you. “Do you still want this?”

“Yes,” you said as you nodded your head. “Please, I need it.” 

“And you’ll have it,” Copia said. He leaned down and kissed your lips as the tip of his cock nudged your entrance. “Breathe for me,” he said before slowly pushing into you.

You let out a hiss at the intrusion. The breath was sucked out of you. His cock stretched your walls and it caused a sting that became a pleasant burn. He took his time so you could adjust to his size, and before you knew it, he bottomed out in you with a moan.

“So fucking tight,” he gritted as he held himself above you. “Cazzo, you feel so good. Let me know when I can move.” 

“Move,” you panted desperately. “Now.”

“So demanding,” he tutted. He slowly pulled out and thrust back into you. 

He kept the pace steady—not too slow or too fast. The sound of both your breaths and moans filled the room as he leaned down to your neck.

“Need another taste,” he grunted before he bit into your neck once more. 

You cried out; the pain and the pleasure were nothing like you’d experienced. “Shit,” you moaned. “Feels so good.” 

His reply was muffled against your neck as he drank. Between him fucking into you and sucking your blood, you started to feel dizzy which only added to your pleasure. “F-fuck,” you whined as you slipped a hand between your bodies and began to touch yourself. You needed more. You needed every nerve ending in your body to be lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Sì, brava ragazza, toccati per me (Yes, good girl, touch yourself for me),” Copia groaned as his eyes went to the space between the two of you. He watched as his cock disappeared into your cunt before he buried his face in your neck and his fangs pierced your skin again.

Your head swam, but you didn’t know if it was from blood loss or bliss. As you rubbed your clit with your fingertips in time with Copia’s thrusts, you felt your core grow taut. You felt Copia release your neck and raise his head to look down at you. 

“You’re getting close,” Copia grunted as his speed picked up. He licked the blood from his lips and moaned. “I can feel it. Are you close, cara ?”

You nodded, biting your lip.

He tutted. “I want to hear you say it. Are you close for me, cara?”

“Yes,” you panted. “Fuck, I’m so close.” 

“Good girl,” he responded as he thrust hard and deep into you. “So am I. Come for me again, cara.”

His hips snapped against you and the coil snapped. Your vision whited out for a split second as your back arched off the sofa. You cried out in ecstasy. “Papa! Copia!” You whimpered as your legs shook.

“Sto per venire (I’m gonna come),” Copia grunted as his thrusts became erratic. Four hard and deep pumps later and he came inside of you. His seed flooded you and filled you. His arms shook as he lowered himself to the sofa, careful to not crush you in the process. “Cazzo, you are—you are—” He seemed to struggle to find the words.

You smiled and laughed lightly. “So are you,” you agreed.

He chuckled, fangs visible between his parted lips as he moved a lock of hair from your forehead. “Not what you expected tonight, was it?”

“No, no it wasn’t. I didn’t know what—oh shit, my friend,” you said as she sat up. “I need to go before she notices I’m missing.”

Copia backed off of you and gave you space to fix your dress and make yourself look appropriate. “I suppose I’m not getting my panties back?” She asked him.

“Hmmm not a chance,” Copia smirked. “At least not today. Maybe next time?”

“Next time? That’s awfully presumptuous of you,” you responded as your own smirk played on your lips.

“Go find your friend, cara. And when you want to see me again, all you have to do is step into this club. I’ll make sure you get to where you need to be.” 

You heard the door creak open and looked behind you. You never remembered closing it. When you looked back at Copia he was gone and the window behind a large desk was opened to the cool night air.

[lurkinginnernarrator]

MDZS au where WWX isn't rescued by the jiangs and he basically becomes a Mafia boss. Or whatever the equivalent for ancient Xianxia China Mafia boss is

Just, imagine it: An elegant man robed in white ducks into a low den, tucked away in the labyrinthine city alleys.

A fair yet strong hand pushes aside gauzy carmine arrases, yet his keen vision remains partially veiled. Lazy clouds of smoke intermingle with the rich fabrics that cocoon the low-slung chambers.

Men and women alike crowd the ornate hall, a variety of characters all in different stages of repose. The rich tones of liquor, incense and secondhand smoke perfume the room. From respectable scholars to disreputes of society, unowned and owned women, thieves and merchants, criminals.

The low humming of a multitude creates a melodious baseline of noise.

A thin yet surprisingly forceful hand clamps down on Lan Wangji's shoulder. Lacquered nails dig through the fabric and into his muscles. A feminine voice cuts through the polyrhythmic thrum of voices, drawling.

"And what, is a man like you doing here?"

Woman and cultivator meet eyes. She's small, yet her build is strong. Wrapped in vermillion brocade, cold eyes and a strong brow. Hair bound tightly, ornamented with glinting hairpins. There are blades hung on her belt. Lan Wangji bows his head respectfully, baritone joining the chorus of voices around.

"I would like to meet him."

Her gaze is sharper than a serrated edge. She steps deeper into the room, eyes flicking about the occupants and back to Lan Wangji. Back turned, he can only see the profile of her face as she considers the audacity of his request.

"And why should I, Bái-daozhang?"

白 Bái: Artic, Snowy, White, Bright.

Steadily, he replies.

"I would speak to him."

She snorts, swinging her head in his direction.

"I'm afraid a reason like that won't suffice. And quite simply, Bái-daozhang, you remain here on my sufferance.

State your goal."

Four women bleed out from the crowd, penning him in.

Right as Lan Wangji was about to speak, a strong and merry voice calls out from the depths of the chamber.

"Li-jiejie! What have you caught there? Bring it here."

She glares at Lan Wangji but motions him forward, deeper into the den. Two red clad women flank him, escorting him to the source of that mellifluous voice. His eyes search for the other two, but it seems they bled back into the hubbub.

He's hustled through curtains and past partitions, the crowd thinning out the further he's taken. More and more red robed persons flit past his vision.

Two guards stand by a veiled doorway, stances relaxed yet emitting a dangerous aura. They merely observe as Lan Wangji is ushered through the heavy embroidery and silks.

Low tables lurk at the edges of the room, from the rafters hang black tapestries, the smell of wood and candle wax welcomes him in. A draft carries the signature of wine to him.

Littered around the room are people, some caught in amicable conversation, others observing the proceedings.

His generals, perhaps.

At the head of the room is a man. The man. He sprawls on a mahogany throne, cushions and pillows artistically strewn about him, lending his position overabundant gravitas.

An irreverent hand swirls a jar of wine. Leather braces peek out from beneath long black sleeves that fan about his sides. His robes cling to his chest and torso, displaying the man's lithe and powerful body.

Not dissimilar easygoing musculature of a panther. He moved like a river at night.

Black and grey skirts played about his ankles, the polished leather of his boots catching the diffused light.

His waist was trim and firm, wrapped in crimson textile, the red of his waist meeting the black of his chest in pleasing contrast. Lan Wangji's eyes travelled up. Tanned skin parted his collars, revealing a structured collar-bone and sinewy neck. Long hair framed his bust, locks burning copper in the light.

Outdoors from a young age would explain the bronze appearance and sunbaked hair.

Grey eyes caught his.

Ornamented by a winsome face and charming smile, those intelligent eyes took note of Lan Wangji's every detail.

"What have we here?"

The woman, Miss Li he supposes, gave the lissome man a respectful bow.

"Bái-daozhang here claims a desire to speak with you."

The beautiful face turns inquisitive.

"Bái-gege, what can this lowly man do for you?"

"Lan."

Lan Wangji is inwardly surprised at his sudden reply.

Eyebrows raise and the handsome man's eyes twinkle in delight

"Lan-gege, then."

Lan Wangji watches as wine-stained lips wrap around the syllables.

The flippant hand loosely brings the jar to his lips, chin tilted up, exposing the lewd column of his throat as it bobbed.

"What brings a respectable cultivator like Lan-gege to this Wuxian's hospitality?"

No one has ever spoken his name the way he did. Playful, warm and teasing. Flirtatious.

Lan Wangji would like to hear him speak it again.

Wei Wuxian leans forward as Lan Wangji explains.

Their gazes never waver from the other. It was as if they were the only two in the room.

[thezombieprostitute]

Unwanted - Part 2

Summary: Your life is no longer yours. You've been forced into becoming a different species of human. Bought and paid for, what can you do but follow orders and obey your Alpha?

Warnings: Allusions to surgery, human trafficking, kidnapping; Angst; Depression; Suicidal thoughts. Let me know if I missed any!

A/N: Reader is described as big & tall, is female. No other descriptors required.

Part 1

Levinson leads you to car but you pause for a few moments. You haven't seen outside in so long. Tears start streaming down your face as you look at the sky.

"Omega!" Levinson barks. You duck your head in fear and quickly climb into the car. He gets in on the other side and knocks the partition, signalling the driver he's ready to go. "Buckle up," he tells you.

You're quick to comply. You can't do anything else because you feel so dead inside. Kidnapped, tortured, and rejected. What was the point of all of it? Why did you have to suffer so much for someone who doesn't want you? Why did he ask for someone like you? It doesn't matter anymore. All you can do is follow orders and try to shut your brain down. Like post-surgery healing and recovery, the training they put you through. Just shut up, shut down and comply. You don't even bother looking out the window, it would only further remind you of what you missed. What you're never allowed to do again.

Levinson keeps working on his phone. You can only tell because of the sounds. You can't remember the last time you held a phone. But it's not your place to think about it, now is it? You take a breath and catch hints of the driver's scent. He also smells like fire, but more controlled. Like a large bonfire at the beach instead of the wildfire next to you.

You hear the partition roll down. The driver says, "we're far enough away, Ari."

"Thanks, Johnny." Levinson puts his phone in his pocket and turns to you. "I'm Ari Levinson, with the Department of Defense." He pulls out his wallet and puts it on your lap, making sure you see his badge and ID. "They weren't supposed to actually find a candidate. It was a ploy to buy us time until we could get more intelligence on the operation."

You blink, whispering, "I...I was mistake?"

"We're going to take you to a community of others of our kind where you can get proper care."

"I was a mistake?" you say louder. The tears start pouring. You can't hold them back any further. It was bad enough when you weren't wanted but have your entire existence upended for a mistake? It was too much. You collapse into a sobbing pile.

"Told you to be gentler on her, Alpha," you hear Johnny say.

"Not much that I could do to soften the blow," Ari retorts. "Let her cry it out, she definitely needs it. Might want to get some food, too. I can hear her stomach growling from here and I'm sure it's making things worse for her."

"Okay," Johnny shakes his head. He pulls out his own phone and calls someone telling them to have some food prepped for your arrival in a half hour or so.

You're all cried out by the time you reach the gate. It looks like you're entering an army base. That fits with the Department of Defense stuff Ari said. Both men show their credentials and the car is allowed inside.

"We're going to get you some food before we catch our flight," Ari tells you. "Do not speak until after the plane lands. Understand?"

You nod and he accepts that. What choice do you have?

"For what it's worth, I know the guy who works the commissary here," Johnny offers. "He's an amazing cook!" Again, all you can do is nod.

You're let out of the car and walk between the men towards what is labelled as the Mess Hall. Levinson gestures for you and Johnny to sit at one of the long tables. While you do, he goes to the kitchen and comes out with a few trays of food. The entire time you've sat, Johnny's kept a hand on your shoulder, likely as a way to try to comfort you while also keeping others away.

Every so often, as you're eating, someone either brave, stupid or dared into it, tries to approach your little group. But either Johnny or Levinson gives them a look that has them think twice and move along. You don't know if there's some special Alpha power or if they're just that intimidating. You also can't bring yourself to care. At least the food is good, best you've had in ages.

Levinson checks his phone, "time to get moving. Flight is ready for us." Johnny helps you off of the bench and you assume your position between the two men.

When you're seated on the plane between them, you try to buckle up. It's definitely not a commercial flight and you're unsure of all the straps. Ari sees you having trouble and helps you out. Before he buckles himself in he whispers in your ear, "when we land, you will be properly taken care of by a real community. I owe you at least that."

Part 1

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly; @startcarvingdarling

[girlactionfigure]

1948 as the original sin

MAY 21, 2024

1948 AS THE ORIGINAL SIN

There is only one country in the world whose right to exist is persistently cast into question: the State of Israel. It’s no coincidence that it is the world’s only Jewish state that is subjected to this delegitimization, not only in private conversations, but in university lecture halls, the top newsrooms in the world, and the General Assembly of the United Nations. For centuries, the right of Jewish people to live — the “Jewish Question” — was cast into doubt. Today, the Jewish state is subjected to the very same rhetoric. How is “does Israel have a right to exist?” even considered a legitimate question? Why are we even entertaining it, instead of flagging it for what it is — blatant xenophobia, at best?

The anti-Israel crowd justifies its flagrant bigotry by depicting Israel’s founding as illegitimate, thereby delegitimizing the country in perpetuity. This, of course, is a blatant double standard from the get-go, as hundreds of countries across the globe had bloody establishments. What’s worse, though, is that to delegitimize Israel’s founding, these people push a blatantly false narrative. According to their story, European settler-colonizers with the backing of the European empires, America, and/or the United Nations violently came to Palestine, seized lands, and, in 1948, massacred and displaced Palestinians to establish the Jewish state. Except this is not what happened.

To be sure, Palestinians were massacred and displaced in 1948, with 750,000 fleeing or being expelled from their homes. The displacement of Palestinians completely fractured Palestinian society, and it remains an open wound to this day. 

But the very real suffering of Palestinians should not be used to fuel an ahistorical narrative with the purpose of delegitimizing the Jewish state, and, by extension, the lives of nine million people in it. 

SO WHAT REALLY HAPPENED?

The outbreak of the 1948 war was the culmination of almost three decades of Arab-Jewish violence in Palestine. The first of these violent incidents took place in 1920, during the Nebi Musa festival, when Arab rioters descended upon the ancient Jewish population of Jerusalem, murdering, pillaging, looting, and shouting “Palestine is our land and the Jews are our dogs!” and “death to the Jews!”

It was this event that first prompted the Jewish community in Palestine to organize a paramilitary. Arab antisemitic violence continued to escalate, with massacres in 1929, 1936, and 1938. In 1936, the right-wing Jewish paramilitary, the Irgun, began carrying out retaliatory attacks against Arabs. 

Given the rapid escalation of violence, in 1937, the British first proposed partitioning Palestine into one Jewish and one Arab state. The Jews accepted the plan reluctantly — to quote future first president of Israel, Chaim Weizmann, the Zionist movement was prepared to accept a state “even if it’s the size of a tablecloth” — but the Arabs rejected it, so the plan was scrapped. But it wasn’t only partition that the Arabs were opposed to, seeing that two years later, the British offered the Arabs an entirely Arab state, so long as they could guarantee the rights of a tiny Jewish minority. The Arabs rejected the proposal — they wanted no Jews, period — and would continue to reject such proposals well into 1947. 

In 1947, the British handed the problem over to the United Nations, which voted in favor of partitioning the land. The Jews accepted the plan, while the Arabs infamously rejected it. For months, the Arab states had been threatening genocide of Jews should partition come to pass. After the partition vote, the Arab leadership in Palestine issued a leaflet quite explicitly threatening a second Holocaust in the Middle East, writing, “The Arabs have taken into their own hands the Final Solution of the Jewish problem. The problem will be solved only in blood and fire. The Jews will soon be driven out.” 

It wasn’t just threats. The morning after partition, Arab mobs in Palestine attacked Jewish buses, marking the start of the Palestine Civil War, which later turned into the 1948 war, after five Arab states invaded immediately following Israel’s Declaration of Independence on May 14. 

THE JEWS OF 1948

Contrary to the ahistorical depiction of European settler-colonizers with the backing of European empires, the Jews fighting in 1948 were largely refugees and Holocaust survivors. An international arms embargo had been placed on Palestine, affecting both Jews and Arabs, but the Arabs already had established militaries and even the unofficial support of the British, whereas the Jews had nothing and had to go through incredibly risky lengths to obtain the necessary arms and equipment. 

It’s really important to remember that all this took place less than three years after the end of the Holocaust, which eradicated nearly 70 percent of Europe’s Jewish population. For the Jews of 1948, the Arab threats of extermination felt very much existential. For example, prior to the partition vote, the General Secretary of the Arab League had threatened, “Personally I hope the Jews do not force us into this war because it will be a dangerous massacre which history will record similarly to the Mongol massacre or the wars of the Crusades…We will sweep [the Jews] into the sea.”

Imagine this for a second: before World War II, the Jewish population around the world stood at 16 million (to this day, our population still hasn’t recovered). Just six years later, the global Jewish population had dwindled to 10 million. Three years later, the Arabs, outnumbering Jews about a million to one, were threatening to carry out another genocide against the very same people.

Of the Israeli casualties during the 1948, about one third were Holocaust survivors. Many were also Jewish refugees from elsewhere in the Middle East, as the Arab countries expelled some 850,000 Jews from their homes in retaliation for the 1948 war. No country in history has ever had to absorb as many refugees proportional to its total population as Israel did, in such a short amount of time. Because of this, conditions in Israel were dire, with an economy on the brink of collapse and food shortages. This picture is the opposite of that of a powerful foreign empire coming to conquer.

THE SIN OF MORAL EQUIVALENCE

Both the Jews and Arabs — including, yes, Palestinian Arabs — were responsible for expulsions and massacres during the 1948 war. In many cases, events described as “massacres” were actually battles between the two opposing parties. All of this, of course, happened within the context of a war. Framing it otherwise is a blatant distortion of the facts of history. 

Palestinians were not expelled from their homes because of their identities as Arabs or Palestinians; in the cases in which they were expelled, this occurred within the context of the Jewish paramilitaries and later the Israeli army battling with a hostile village, though, of course, innocents were caught in the crossfire and suffered the consequences. Any attempt to frame it as persecution of Palestinians on the basis of them being Palestinian is to try to draw a moral equivalence to the Holocaust, a crime which was entirely unrelated to the German war effort during World War II; in fact, the Nazi extermination campaign of Jews at times hindered the war objectives. The Nazis persecuted Jews because they were Jews, not because they were members of a hostile nation during wartime. 

“Nakba,” just like “Shoah,” the Hebrew word for Holocaust, means “catastrophe.” Constantin Zureiq, the Syrian intellectual who coined the term “Nakba,” described the Nakba not as the tragedy of the displacement of Palestinians, but rather, as the tragedy that “seven Arab states declare[d] war in an attempt to subdue Zionism, then stop[ped] impotent before it, and return[ed] on their heels.” 

The catastrophe, according to Zureiq himself, was notthat innocent people had been displaced from their homes, but that the Arabs had lost the war that they started. 

ERASURE OF ARAB ATROCITIES IN 1948

The anti-Israel crowd depicts the 1948 war as a case of an oppressor (Israel) versus the oppressed (Palestine). In reality, there was was a victor (Israel) and a loser (Palestine), with both sides committing war crimes. As far as who started the war, there is absolutely no question that the Arabs were the aggressors. As always, the true victims of the war were the innocent civilians.

The anti-Israel narrative consistently ignores the Arab atrocities that very much shaped Zionist morale during the 1948 war. The Arabs besieged 100,000 Jews in Jerusalem, depriving them of food and water, and destroying all relief trucks en route to the city. In fact, it was this siege that, four months into the war, prompted the Zionists to go from the defensive to the offensive, and subsequently led to the expulsions and massacres of Palestinians. 

Though the Arabs ended up conquering few Jewish communities, those communities that they did conquer suffered from expulsions and massacres. For example, on December 30, 1947, Arab mobs lynched 39 Jews in Haifa. On April 13, 1948, the Arabs attacked a Hadassah Hospital medical convoy, killing 79 people, mostly patients, doctors, and nurses, and burning most of them beyond recognition. On May 13, 1948, 157-220 Jews were murdered, many execution-style, by the Jordanian and Palestinian Arab forces in Kfar Etzion, with at least one attempted rape documented. When Jordan expelled the entire Jewish population of East Jerusalem, 600 Jews were murdered. The Arab forces also decapitated and paraded the heads of Jewish soldiers, disemboweled pregnant Jewish women, mutilated and dismembered Jewish women and prisoners of war, and more. 

The Palestinian Arabs were not the pure innocent victims of the war. They were the losers of the war. Those are two different things. 

Notably, while Israel has declassified many of its 1948 archives, the Arab countries have not and probably never will. As such, the historiography of 1948 is inherently biased, and the true extent of the atrocities the Arabs committed against the Jews might never be known.

THE EVOLUTION OF NAKBA MEMORY

About 750,000 Palestinians were displaced in 1948. Of these 750,000 refugees, 100,000 or so of wealthy means left Palestine before any documented expulsions. The majority of Palestinian refugees of the war, as is usual during wartime, fled out of fear, with many fleeing their villages before the Jewish forces even captured them. About 5 percent of Palestinians were actively forcibly expelled by the Jewish forces, while some 10 percent were evacuated or encouraged to leave by the Arab forces and/or the British. 

Without downplaying the pain of displacement, it’s really important to note that, unfortunately, every war produces refugees. What happened to Palestinians was sadly not unique. Yet Israel-detractors frame it as such to characterize Israel’s founding, and therefore, its entire existence, as uniquely evil and unjustifiable. If Israel was born out of sin, then Israel’s entire existence is a sin, and therefore, the moral thing to do would be to destroy it. 

As mentioned, the originator of the term “Nakba,” Constantin Zureiq, was describing the Arab military defeat, not a campaign of ethnic cleansing against the Palestinian people. 

Since then, however, the story of the Nakba has been distorted to completely de-emphasize the actual circumstances of the displacement, the genocidal war that the Arabs started.

The allusions to the Holocaust are intentional, beginning with the choice to use the word “Nakba,” a direct translation of the Hebrew word for “Holocaust,”  “Shoah.” In reality, the Nakba and the Holocaust have absolutely nothing in common; a more apt comparison would be the Greek-Turkish population exchange of 1923 or the Hindu-Muslim population exchange during the Partition of India in 1947. But nothing could possibly delegitimize the Jewish state more than comparing the Jewish state to the Jews’ worst historic oppressors. In fact, many Palestinian writers, such as Edward Said, even depicted themselves as the ultimate victims of the Nazis (despite the Palestinian leadership’s alliance with Nazi Germany). 

rootsmetals

let me tattoo this onto my forehead because people love putting words in my mouth: not a single word in this post is excusing, justifying, denying, or supporting any atrocities committed in 1948. Read that sentence again, please. groups like Hamas attack Israel because they believe that Israel is an illegitimate entity that must be wiped from the map at all costs. This idea rests on the premise that the State of Israel could only come into being through an act so egregious, so inhumane, that it has rendered Israel’s entire foundation, and thus, its entire existence, unacceptable. THAT’s why it’s important to address this distortion and weaponization of history. I’m not writing this to minimize the suffering of Palestinians.

[guhmshuda]

DESI JAMES POTTER HEADCANON

Disclaimer: this is not era-typical. this is strictly subjective, this is my way of projecting my delusions and hoping I meet someone like James Potter some day!!

James craves parental and academic validation.

Now before I get jumped, lets all be real for one second. You are telling me James Potter is a desi first gen NRI and he does not crave validation? I refuse to believe that!! And it was not that Effie and Monty pressurized him... it was the opposite actually. they did not say a thing and my boy just felt he had to be the best because he has such nice parents who never ask for anything how can he ever live up to it??

He was the kind to lose sleep before important days. Right before the big matches and papers you would find James F. Potter roaming the halls of the school in the wee hours of morning, hands tightly clutching onto a mug that says, "You are ENOUGH" (his parents gifted him this in 3rd year when they noticed he was not doing well). The mug is obviously filled to the brim with either masala chai or cold coffee (the indian one).

2. He smelled like cloves

now this is something I have observed in my day to day life and feel like James too, would partake in. He would be the kind to use "spicy" toothpaste. simply because he thinks they last longer or smth. Effie also makes him homemade oil that has cloves (idk what they do I just associate the spice with him OKAY?) So basically when his partner(s) kiss him, they taste and smell clove. And it is not a comforting spice like cinnamon but imagine a whitewashed Regulus getting used to the sting of cloves and the horrible dant kanti-esque taste because the boyfriend uses them. There is a point when Regulus just starts carrying around a small bottle of clove oil or a box of clove and elaichi daana because James smells like cloves and Sirius like cardamom (FIGHT ME.)

3. Resident Problem Solver

Was he mischievous? Hell yes. Did he still make efforts to make sure everyone was okay? Duh.

James would be the kind to ask everyone about their day at the dinner table and be actually interested in what they have to say. He would notice when one of his friends were having a hard day and just drop a ladoo on their plate or ask them if they would like "non-spicy" chai. He would be the peacemaker. ALWAYS. He DID not like conflict. It hurt his soul to watch his friends fight or give each other a cold shoulder.

4. He LOVED being Desi.

he had the diaspora issue, obviously. But Effie and Monty came from the pre-partition India and tried to hold onto their country as much as they could. So James was super used to all the desi things. He had a head full of thick luscious curls because his mother massaged oil and gave him champi every week. When he moved to Hogwarts his hair suffered a little before the Summer when Sirius visited the Potters. Effie taught both of them how to apply oil onto each other's scalps and then it became their tradition at Hogwarts.

5. When Sirius returned bald.

there is a very popular HC that one year Walburga shaved Sirius' hair off because he was being disrespectful or smth. That year, James developed a variant of Indulekha x Parachute Coconut Oil (come on Desis i know you know what I mean) and made sure Sirius had his long hair back before Christmas. He would personally look after his diet, forcing amla tea down his throat or making sure he is eating 3-4 meals that consist of healthy things and not just meat as Sirius would otherwise have it.

Regulus fell in love with James around this time because he did smth he could not, protect Sirius. He went as far as daring Walburga to try to do it again, James would make sure Sirius grows his hair longer than ever.

ps. he was the one who came up with curl-care routine for the marauders and all of them had PJO cast like hair it was so cute jadfiqgfuiwgiuu okay

6. He did not practice any religion

James was not religious, he was spiritual. He did whatever his mum, who herself practiced two religions, told him to do. Both Effie and Monty believed in giving back to the society more than giving to some religious institute, so imagine a first year James rushing into Poppy's wing with an injured bird in his hand begging her to save it.

7. He was the people's princess.

fight the wall. everyone, even the slytherins, secretly LOVED him and the gulab jamuns he would give out on Diwali every year.

8. Enjoyer of classical music.

I have said it before, I will say it again. MY MANZ LISTENED TO GHULAM ALI. idc if he was muggle or what, he loved his music, language be damned.

he enjoyed urdu ghazals more than anything else tbh.

9. TRAINED CLASSICAL MUSICIAN

he was trained in sitar and he could sing as well. he was basically an in house singer. He learnt electric guitar in his 2nd year and then there was no looking back. If he would not have been a professional quidditch player he would have been a musician or a music teacher or smth.

10. he was a STEM student.

okay this is non-canon but comp sci major James? who also happens to enjoy botany? yes. just the best.

11. James who would slip into Urdu when he was overwhelmed, who loved when people played with his hair. James who wrote letters in Urdu or Hindi or whatever regional language his parents spoke and wrote.

12. James potter who hated how his eyes were brown, just brown, growing up. but then one day his mother told him it is what she loves the best about him.

13. James Potter with bitten lips, he does that whenever he is nervous.

14. James Potter who was born during sunrise, his mother believes he is the sun.

15. James who would lay his life for his friends. James who loved hugging Peter, James who committed crimes for Remus.

16. James who adored and admired Minerva so much that he would try everything to get her attention, except he was her favourite student after Lily and Remus (Sirius was her son, let us all be honest).

17. James who played Carnatic Music while studying.

18. James who would wear short kurtas. james who is obsessed with shawls.

19. James who carried a bag full of supplies his friends might need. Like imagine a pouch filled with hair elastics for Sirius and the girls, painkillers for Remus, fidget toys and stress ball for Peter, and cloves for Regulus.

20. James WHO FOUGHT THE AUTHORITY!!!

-- I WILL ADD MORE DW LET ME THINK--

ADD YOURS TOO BTW COME ON HELP A DEMIGIRL OUT

[tloubrainrot]

She Knows

Summary: You and Ellie both live in Jackson, with a past “altercation” that’s hard to ignore. Ellie has a new girlfriend, and tries to ignore her feelings for you but since getting paired with you for patrol, she’s having some issues.

As always thank you for taking the time to read our collaborative fan fic!

We ask that minors do not read or interact! VERY NSFW CONTENT AHEAD!

We have prepared a playlist that we highly suggest listening to while reading:

Figure you out - DJO

Wet Dream - Wet Leg

Partition - Beyonce

I Wanna be your dog - Joan Jett & The Blackhearts

Let it Happen - Tame Impala

—————————————

Waking up early really pissed you off, but being paired with Ellie for patrol just pissed you off more. She always had the worst attitude, you never knew why but you felt like she always had it out for you. Maybe it was something that you did, but she should come to you directly rather than being a raging cunt.

You started your morning getting ready for patrol, still unaware of your pairing with Ellie. You didn’t enjoy patrolling, but it was nice to stay familiar with your combat skills. You threw on your usual pair of jeans and a jacket to protect yourself from the cold of Jackson. You sigh as you walk out of the comfort of your home, wishing like hell that you could turn around and ditch all responsibilities.

You walk down the streets of Jackson, watching as the community starts to wake up. You always loved the atmosphere around you, everyone was so sweet. Everyone knew each other, and everyone cared about each other. Well, most people.

You walked into the dining hall, making your way over to the line to grab your usual breakfast before patrol. In front of you was Ellie and her friend group. She had her arm wrapped around her girlfriend, and two other friends surrounded them. Ellie glanced at your direction, looking you up and down and narrowing her brows. The day barely began and she was already pissing you off. You look away, crossing your arms.

The line finally moves along and you grab your food and take a seat at your table. Every morning you bring a book with you, reading it while eating always gives you a much needed brain break before patrol. Several minutes pass, getting lost into your book until a group of people start getting loud. You look across the room, seeing Ellie’s group laughing obnoxiously. You notice Ellie and her girlfriend tangled into each other, Ellie’s arms still wrapped around her.

You manage to look away, looking back down at your book before your friend, Dina approaches you. “Hey babe,” she says sitting down next to you with her own plate. “Hey D,” you reply before you look back over at Ellie’s group. Dina catches you looking at glances at the direction with you.

Ellie looks up for a moment, catching your eye. She maintains eye contact for a few seconds, then smirks at you. She leans over to her girlfriend, whispering in her ear while looking at you. She looks back over at her girlfriend, grabbing her jaw and turning her face towards her own. She pulls her in slowly kissing her on the lips. She pulls away slowly, pecking her a few more times on the jaw. Ellie looks at you again, taking a bite of her food and then smiling at her girlfriend. You roll your eyes and turn your head to face Dina.

“She’s such a fucking whore,” you state. “I’m so sick of her attitude.” Dina laughs, taking another bite of her food.

“Why don’t you two get along anyway?”

You shrug, “I don’t know, she’s just so snobby, we’ve just never got along.”

Dina nods, looking over at Ellie for a second then back over to you, “She's pretty hot though right? Didn’t you two like almost hook up?”

You look up from your plate and glare at Dina. “I mean, almost. But we didn’t.”

Dina nods and smiles, “but almost is still a pretty big deal, what happened?” You roll your eyes contemplating whether you actually want to talk about it or not. You set your fork down on your plate, putting your hands in your lap for comfort.

“We were at a party,” you state, picking at the skin around your finger. “We were drunk, but nothing actually happened.”

Dina looks at you and furrows her brows, “That’s it? I don’t get any more details?”

“I told you, nothing happened. So there’s no details to give,” you say defensively.

Dina shrugs, looking down at her food and eating again. You both start eating in silence, leaving yourself to relive the night you experienced. That night always seemed to linger in the back of your mind. You remember being at the party that night, wasted out of your mind. You left Dina and Jesse to go to the bathroom. You waited patiently for the bathroom to free up, and when it did you walked to the door just as Ellie walked out. She shook the water off her hands. She looked at you, eyeing you slowly from head to toe then walking past you. You rolled your eyes, walking past her and into the bathroom. You look at yourself into the mirror, and look down to wash your hands. You notice a few pairs of rings next to the sink, realizing they are Ellie’s.

You opened the door, to see Ellie looking at you. She looks behind you and puts a hand on your waist, moving you to the side to grab the rings and slide them on her fingers. She goes to leave the room, “Hello to you too”, you say. She turns around to look at you, “Hm? Need something?” she says, still adjusting the rings on her fingers. “I don’t know you’ve been real distant lately and I'm sick of trying to figure out why,” you say.

Ellie reaches over, shutting the door then faces you again. “Who said I have a problem with you?”

“Then why do you have an attitude?”

She takes a step towards you, and seems how the bathroom was entirely too small, she was basically inches away from you. You could now smell the alcohol radiating off her body, she runs a hand through your hair. “You’ve been on my mind lately.”

“What do you mean by that?” you ask. She steps toward you again, pressing your back towards a wall. She puts her arms on each side of you against the wall, blocking you in. “Needed to step away before I did something bad.” She dips her face into your neck, placing a soft kiss right below your ear. You gulp, “Bad?”. She kisses your neck again. You let out a breathy groan, “Bad..” She lifts her head up to meet your eyes, she puts her thumb against your lip. “Pretty mouth.” she says pushing you closer by your belt loops. You squirm, trying your best not to look flustered, knowing well this is turning you on, too much.

You search her eyes for a moment, feeling your core growing more and more wet by the second. “Fuck.” you whisper. She grins at you, “What’s wrong? Hm?” She slides her hand between your legs.

“Please,” you say eagerly.

“Begging already?” she smirks against your ear.

You spread your legs further apart. “You’re so fucking pathetic”. She doesn’t hesitate as she crashes her lips into yours desperately. She breathes heavily and she tastes like alcohol, but you crave her, she craves you. “Fuck,” she moans against your lips. She moves her kisses to your neck, licking a sucking while you grind on her hand. “Gave yourself up to me so quickly.”

She kept kissing you, and started to rub your soaked core over your pants. You whimper softly, “More.”

She smirked at you, reaching her other hand under your shirt and grasping one of your breasts. She kissed your lips again, “Tell me what you want..” She started to slide her hand down your pants, and returned her lips to your own, smiling as you prop your mouth open into an ‘o’. As Ellie finally reaches your soaked core, the door opens. You both look over at the person standing at the doorway awkwardly.

The stranger closes the door and Ellie pulls her hand out of your pants. She looks at you before sucking her fingers, “Tastes good.” You bite your lip at the view, it’s making you wetter for sure. Ellie wipes the corner of her mouth with her thumb and smirks at you. “Another time.” Ellie exits the room appearing unphased by getting caught. You on the other hand were insanely embarrassed. You adjusted your clothes and went back out to the party. Finding Dina and Jesse just to tell them you were leaving because you felt sick.

It had been eight months since then and you and Ellie barely said more than a few words to each other, and if she did she’d be a complete asshole about it, which you don't get. Besides, Ellie has a girlfriend now. You don’t want anything to do with her, and the feeling is most definitely mutual. Yet here today, you look over at Ellie, kissing her girlfriend and can’t help but think about how good she felt touching you that night. You knew exactly what those kisses felt like. Sometimes you wish you got to go all the way.

“You ready?” You look up at Dina, “Hm?” “To check the patrol list? Have you not been listening?” You nod, “Oh right, sorry. I’m ready.”

You and Dina cleaned up your plates then left to the stables to see where everyone was placed for the day. You and Dina were always paired together, which was nice because you both got along so well. You look ahead and notice Ellie and Jesse were already talking. You get closer and Ellie gives you a dirty look. You walk into the stables with Dina and look down at the schedule. You search the list until you find your name and see Ellie’s name written down next to yours. “What the fuck?” You say looking over at Dina. “That’s hilarious.” Dina laughs. “Oh shut up,” you say, nudging her.

“Why the hell aren't we together?” you questioned. Dina looks at the location Ellie and I were placed at, “because you guys are the only ones out of us four that know that location,” she states. “You’ve been there with Maria, and Ellie went with Joel.” You look down at the paper again, “fuck me,” you whisper under your breath.

“Well, it looks like I’m with Jesse. Don’t kill each other.” You nod at her and she heads off to go talk to Jesse. Once Dina leaves Ellie walks in, checking the paper and finds that you are both paired together.

She scoffs, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” She looks over at you and rolls her eyes. “Don’t sound so excited, I'm begging you.” you say looking up at her as you strap your knife to your thigh. You both walk over to grab your weapons. You pull your backpack over your shoulder and reach out to grab your favorite pistol, which you always use. You feel Ellies hand hit your own as you both reach for the same one.

“Oh please.” she says looking over at you.

“Dibs.” you reply.

“Like you can aim that thing.” she says, smirking and pulling it off the wall.

“We rarely find any infected anyway.” you say. “Asshole” you mutter under your breath, rolling your eyes. You end up selecting a different pistol, not wanting to fight her any longer over a stupid gun. You both walk out of the stables, straddling up your horses before heading out. You look around and already notice Jesse and Dina have left. It was just you and Ellie, unfortunately. Both horses were finally saddled and Ellie mounted onto hers, Shimmer. Ellie looks over at you, attempting to mount onto your own. Dina usually helped you up but she wasn’t here this time to help. You jumped and struggled attempting to get on your horse.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Ellie says laughing at you.

“Fuck off.”

Ellie watches you struggle for a little while longer before dismounting Shimmer, grumbling about how “This is so pathetic,” something she’s said to you in a different setting. Before you can open your mouth to retort, you feel her cold hands gripping your waist and lifting you onto your horse. You gasp as one of her hands accidentally slips under your shirt, goosebumps erupting on your skin as you try to control the blush spreading across your face.

“Thanks.” you mumble once you finally settle onto your horse.

“Whatever.” she mutters, avoiding your eyes as she clicks her tongue at Shimmer, urging her to move.

It was finally time to leave, and you prayed this wouldn’t take long. The gates opened and you both set off. Ellie didn’t wait for you, she rode off far in front of you almost the entire way to the lookout location. You didn’t mind though, it was peaceful and you didn’t feel like dealing with small talk with Ellie. As you eventually catch up, Ellie begins to speak.

“When did you take this route last?”

“Last month.”

Ellie goes quiet for a few seconds. “With who?” She seems genuine.

“Maria.”

“Not Dina?”

You’re confused by the question, why would she even care about you or your friends? “No, only me and you are trained for it in our section. Why?”

“I just thought you would have showed it to her by now, considering how close you are.”

“I mean, she is my best friend.”

“That’s it?”

“Why do you care? Don't you have a girl to worry about?”

“She’s taken care of, don't worry,” she says, looking away from you.

“I’m sure she is.”

She looks back over at you again,“What do you mean by that?”

You pause. “Nothing.”

The rest of the trip there is filled with awkward silence and the constant sounds of the horses hooves hitting the ground. You feel yourself becoming more relieved as you see the old supermarket in the distance, the one you once explored with Maria. You both tie up the horses nearby and make your way to the entrance. Ellie walks ahead of you, you put a hand on her shoulder for a moment, signaling her to look at you.

“Slow down, we have to stick together.” Of course she pissed you off but you really didn’t feel like seeing her get killed. She nods at you, slowing down and sticking with you until you get inside. You both only came across a few infected, Ellie took out a couple and so did you. Before you knew it, the place was clear. You feel your heart rate slowing down and you finally start to look around for any supplies.

You find a few things and shove them into your bag, before setting off to find Ellie somewhere in the store. You see her crouched down behind a counter, “anything good?” She looks up at you, searching through a drawer and shakes her head. “Yeah me either.”

“Ready?” she says, in which you respond with a simple nod. You both head for the door, you look back at Ellie adjusting her backpack straps on her shoulders. You take a peek outside before opening the door. You swing it open feeling the cold air hit your skin. You feel Ellie wrap herself around you, putting a hand over your mouth and dragging you back into the store. You feel yourself starting to panic, Ellie’s hand remains over your mouth as she looks outside. She crouches down next to you, removing her hand slowly from your mouth. “Quiet,” she whispers as she puts her pointer finger over her mouth. You search her eyes, trying to read how serious this situation may be.

“Stalkers,” she whispered. “Four of them.” She starts moving back into the store quietly, motioning for you to follow. You both end up in a small storage closet, you and Ellie are facing each other, the sudden closeness makes you feel tense. “Now what?”

“It’s getting dark, let’s just wait till the sun comes back up to take them out.” You nod, sliding your back against the wall to sit down and get yourself comfortable. An awkward silence fills the room.

“So, how long have you and your girlfriend been together?”

“Why do you never say her name?”

“I say her name.”

“Say it then, what is stopping you?” Ellie leans in, her face now closer to yours “What are you afraid of?”

You glance down at her lips, fidgeting with your fingers anxiously “Accepting it.”

You hear Ellie’s breath catch her throat and she lets out a breathy sigh. She leans back again, pressing her back to the wall. “I shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“I can't be thinking about you like this.”

“Like what, Ellie?” You part your legs slightly, leaning closer and looking at Ellie seated across from you.

Ellie looks away from you as she takes her jacket off, leaving her in her black tank top. You notice yourself getting hot too, and you can only imagine how she’s feeling. She looks over at you again, with her head tilted slightly to the side watching as you repeat her actions. You take off your jacket, throwing it to the side then looking back over to her direction. You eye her, looking at her as if you were going to devour her as your last meal.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” she says, leaning her head back against the wall.

“Do I?”

“I am in so much trouble.”

“Come here.”

“I can't sit near you.”

“Why not?”

You part your lips as she leans closer to you. “I want to touch you so bad but I can’t.” she says eagerly.

“Is that why you've been treating me like shit?”

“I needed to push you away.”

“From what exactly?” you chuckle at her flushed face, now it's her turn to be nervous

“Needing you so goddamn bad, always have.”

You lean back again, a moan almost escaping your mouth as you feel the knot in your stomach tighten. You unzip your jacket.

“Do you think about me when you fuck her?”

Ellie’s eyes widen, “I-”

You rest your hands at your waist, “Do you?”

Ellie's eyes follow your hands as you unbutton your pants.

“All the fucking time,” she says watching you remove your pants from your hips and sliding them down until they rest at your ankles. She watches eagerly as you start to play with yourself over your soaked underwear. Ellie fixes her posture, getting more and more flustered by the second. You move your underwear to the side, running two fingers through your slick and gathering it to wetten your clit.

Ellie watches intently, noticing how your breathing gets heavier the longer you circled your sweet spot.

“Fuck.” you whimpered. “Ellie.”

“You are fucking insane.”

“Feels so good, wish it was you.” you said through pants and moans.

“Spread them wider.” Ellie says, lowering her voice. “Now.”

You groan, her stern order sending an immediate sense of arousal to your core. You pull your pants completely off and kick them to the side. You slowly remove your underwear, and spread your legs further apart. You insert two fingers inside of yourself, curling them upward. Wet sounds fill the room, along with your desperate pleads and moans.

“You are so fucking wet, its pathetic, I’m not even touching you”

“I just want you to destroy me. Been wanting it so badly. I think about that night too often.”

“You think about it when you fuck yourself?”

“Every time.”

You continue to curl your fingers and try to desperately fuck yourself and find the right spot to get yourself off.

“You dont even know how to fuck yourself right.”

“You sure about that?” You fix your position so you’re now riding your fingers, bouncing as you finally find a good angle that continuously hits that spot, making your head roll back. Ellie’s fists clench and unclench repeatedly by her sides as she tries to stop herself from giving you what you both so desperately want. Every time she shifts she can feel how uncomfortably wet she is, god she can’t remember the last time she was this turned on. And all she’s doing is watching.

“C’mon, Els, I can see you s-squirming-fuck- I know you wanna-”

“You know I can’t” Ellie interrupts through gritted teeth, pupils blown wide as she watches the way your cunt swallows your fingers, the wet sounds of you fucking yourself filling the small space.

“Please, I’m aching for you, I need you inside me so bad it hurts.” you pout, bouncing faster as you use your free hand to pull your shirt and bra over your tits, exposing yourself to her hungry eyes.

Almost like she's in a trance, Ellie leans forward to get a closer look at you. Her grip bruises your thighs as her warm breath fans over your nipples, which get impossibly harder under her attention. She’s so close her lips are almost touching you, and you feel yourself getting impossibly wetter at just how desperate she looks. Just as you think she’s about to put her mouth to good use, she pulls back at the last second.

“Fuck this.”

Ellie slams herself back against the wall and practically rips her pants and boxers off, tossing them haphazardly to the side as she spreads her legs for you. The sticky sound of her thighs parting makes you gasp, and your jaw drops at the sight of her all soaked and needy for you.

“Do you see what you fucking do to me?” she grunts, her fingers making fast circles on her clit as she bites her lip “oh god- this is so bad”

Her head is pressed back against the wall as her eyes roam your body hungrily. You see her fingers dip down to her entrance to collect more of her slick, and an idea pops into your head.

“Wanna see you fuck yourself” you beg, your free hand trailing up your body to play with your tits “please.”

“Yeah, pretty girl?” Ellie pants, trying to sound cocky but it comes out more desperate than she means it to.

You nod vigorously, earning a low chuckle from her as she leans forward, whispering in your ear “Who knew you were such a filthy fucking slut?”

Ellie gets on her knees and sinks down on her fingers with a groan, eyebrows furrowed as she starts to fuck herself. She uses her free hand to pull her shirt up, toned abs on display as she pushes down on her lower stomach and whines.

“Do you wish you were her? Getting railed by me every night? Filled up with me? Hm?” Ellie pants, the two of you leaning forward like there's a magnet pulling you towards each other. Ellie’s forehead is pressed against yours, your pants and whimpers mixing as you fight every urge to lunge forward and kiss her.

“Come on, just like that.” Ellie encourages you as she notices you slowing down. You’re getting tired and frustrated, your fingers not reaching the spot you know hers would.

“Ellie, please just touch me- ah” you whine, your lips ghosting over hers “I promise I won't tell.”

She moans at that, her movements speeding up as her green eyes pierce yours, her eyes glossy because she’s almost tearing up from wanting to fuck you so bad.

“Don’t say that, I won't be able to stop myself, and you know it.”

You clench around your fingers from her words, and you feel yourself getting closer with each passing second. The way Ellie looks at you isn’t helping, her eyes flicking between your mouth and your tits as she speeds up her movements.

“M’so close Ellie please” you whine into her mouth, her eyes screwed shut at your words as she tries desperately to control herself.

“F-fuck, me too god wanna see you cum so bad, this is all for me, right?” she's rambling now, desperately chasing her release so you can both come undone together

“I'm all yours, this is all for you”

“All for me, all for me” she groans, squeezing her eyes closed in frustration “God I can’t-” Ellie cuts herself off with a strangled moan, pushing you back aggressively and spreading your thighs before you can even realize what's happening.

“Well don’t be shy now, cmon keep going” Ellie says, placing her hand around your neck, spreading your legs further with her knee. “Keep going.”

You let out a strangled moan as the grip on your neck tightens, the pressure making you delirious as you fuck yourself even faster. It feels so good you can barely breathe, your eyes squeezing shut as you chase your high.

“Open your fucking eyes and look at me.” Ellie growls out, her grip on you tightening even more.

You force your eyes open, tears threatening to spill over as your mouth drops open. Ellie’s eyes pierce yours, her pupils are so dilated you can barely see the green anymore. Your vision get foggy from being so turned on.

“I'm gonna come so fucking hard, oh god, I'm gonna c-” you moan, whines increasing in volume as you get closer

Ellie grazes her thumb on your lower lip “You’re driving me crazy looking all fucked out like that”.

You almost let out a sob as you suddenly feel Ellie’s iron grip on your wrist, stopping your movements. You’re so frustrated, and you’re so close. You look up to snap at Ellie for doing that but instead you see a look on her face you haven’t seen before, it almost scares you, but in a good way. She looks like she’s starving and she’s going to put an end to it. “Wouldn’t be polite of me to leave the mess I caused, hm?”

Ellie yanks your wrist, pulling your fingers out before replacing them with her own. You try to squeeze your thighs together at the sudden intrusion, her fingers are so much longer than yours and the pleasure is almost overwhelming, but she forces you to keep them open.

“I dont give a fuck anymore.” She whispers against your lips. “I’ll leave her” and before you can even say anything in return she crashes her lips into yours and puts your lower lip between her teeth, holding on for dear life.

“I don't want to stop kissing you. '' She is out of breath at this point. “Ever.”

You can’t even respond, you can barely even kiss back as you feel your orgasm wash over you. Broken cries of Ellie’s name and the sound of your wetness dripping onto the floor are almost deafening as Ellie whispers praises into your ear.

“Good fucking girl.” You get dizzy at the remark, stumbling to get onto your knees as you push Ellie onto her back, her eyes widening as you smirk down at her.

“Wanna taste.” You spread her legs apart. “Please, can I?”.

Ellie brings you closer to her by wrapping her legs around you, she puts her finger on your chin. “Beg for it” She pushes you even closer, her legs grip around your waist hard.

“Pretty please” you beg, pouting as your eyes flick down to where you know she needs you most. Without another word, Ellie grabs your hair and guides you down between her legs, her eyes tracking your every movement.

You gasp when you’re eye-level with her cunt, she’s so wet it's glistening in the low light of the room as she uses her fingers to spread herself for you.

“Be a good slut for me.”

You wrap your lips around her clit, her grip in your hair tightening as she lets out a relieved sigh. You eat her out like you’re starving, not stopping for a breath as her slick runs down your chin. She tastes so good your eyes roll back into your head as you clean her up the best you can.

“Fuck, doing so good, making me feel so f-fucking good” she moans, her back arching as you flick your tongue over her hole. You push her legs back so you are now fucking her with your tongue.

Her moans and grunts increase in volume as she bucks her hips against your mouth, one of her arms thrown over her eyes while the other one holds your hair as she loses herself in pleasure. You feel lightheaded at the lack of air, but all you can focus is on making her cum. You’d rather die than stop hearing the pretty noises she’s making for you.

“I’m getting close, don’t you dare fucking stop” she groans as she continues slopily fucking herself on your face, your jaw sore from how harsh her thrusts are becoming. You move your mouth back up to her clit, sucking harshly as you remove one of your hands from her thigh, slipping a finger in with almost no resistance.

“Can’t believe you didn’t fuck me sooner.” she lets out.

Her hips stutter on your face as she rides out her orgasm, she clenches around you repeatedly while her thighs clamp around your head. You’re disappointed her moans are muffled, but you don’t stop sucking on her clit until she's practically pushing you off from the overstimulation. You push her arm away from her mouth “I wanna hear you.” You say your cheek pressed against her inner thigh.

Before what you've both done can settle in, Ellie pulls you up by the hair and kisses you harshly, tasting herself on your tongue as she lets out a low moan. You kiss her sloppily, your tongue exploring her mouth as you intertwine your hands in her hair. You kiss until you’re both out of breath, your head falling into the crook of her neck. She puts her hand on your chin and makes you look up at her. “Such a gorgeous girl”

You kiss her deeply, you break the kiss and look at her. She’s one of the most beautiful people you’ve ever seen. Her lips and eyes were addicting to you. You know you aren’t leaving her side anytime soon.

AUTHORS NOTE:

The stalkers listening outside the door: