#bade sucks

[maskedtruths666]

Part 5.4 of the trophy wife series!

As Jack saw Karina walk in, his heart skipped a beat. Both Isabella and Jack could not believe their eyes. They both paused and watch as Karina strolled around the room and what seemed like she was looking for someone.

She seemed to recognize some of the Caucasian males that she met earlier and she appeared to speak to them. When she saw Caylin being fucked and used like the cheap whore she is, Karina left the room.

Jack and Isabella heaved a sigh of relief and they quickly went back to their villa. Back in the room, Jack was reunited with Karina.

“So, I’m assuming you had some fun with Isabella whilst I was napping. I hope you like my little gift.” Karina said as she winked at Isabella.

“Oh yes I did. Thank you my queen. I love that you’re surprising me in such a pleasurable way.” Jack said, as he hugged Karina.

“Anyway, boss, I want to head to the swinger’s room and have some fun. Do I have your permission?” Isabella asked, puppy eyeing him.

“Yeah sure. Go on ahead. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Jack said as he bade her goodbye.

“So, husband, do you want to go to the swinger’s room?” Karina asked.

“I’m down if you’re down.” Jack said.

“I’m curious to see how you’d react to an alpha guy dominating me and I wanna know if your orgasm is better with jealousy.” Karina said.

“Well, I too want to see how you’d react as I’m fucking some Caucasian whore.” Jack replied, smiling devilishly.

“It’s on, let me change into something cute and we’ll head there. And oh baby, if I see you touch Caylin or even look at her, I’m going to show you exactly how much you’re missing out on and I’ll let the caucasians use me like a cheap whore.” Karina said.

“Only you my dear. I’ll only look at you.” Jack said, reassuringly.

As Karina changed out into something cute and comfy, Jack’s mind was wild with thoughts. How could he control himself when the whole reason he came here was to fuck Caylin.

Soon, they made their way to the swinger’s room. In there, Jack glanced around and true enough, Isabella was going down on 2 guys and when their eyes met, Isabella gleefully shouted, “Hey boss! Come on in!”

Karina and Jack made their way over to Isabella who was having fun sucking off two guys.

“Hey man, I’m Aaron and this is my girl, Stacy.” Aaron introduced himself to Jack and Karina.

“Hey. I’m Jack and this is my wife, Karina.” Jack replied, shaking Aaron’s hand.

“Wow, you’re pretty.” Stacy immediately blurted out as she looked Karina up and down.

“You’re pretty sexy yourself.” Karina said, smiling as she surveyed Stacy’s body.

“Shall we swap ladies?” Aaron asked, already eyeing Karina like she’s a tart.

“Sounds like a plan my dude.” Jack said, also eyeing Stacy.

Karina, knelt down, and Aaron unzipped his pants, revealing a huge dick that made Karina gasp. He then grabbed her by her ponytails and started face fucking her.

As Jack, looked in awe at his wife being face fucked and choked by that huge dick, he too could not control his urge. Stacy, in a stunning silk robe and bright blue lingerie, knelt down and starting sucking him off too.

Whilst both men were being sucked off, Jack could not decide between looking at Aaron dominate Karina or concentrate on Stacy sucking him off.

After awhile, Aaron decided that enough was enough and he ripped Karina’s top off, revealing her perky tits and hardened nipples. He grabbed her and pushed her onto the sofa and pulled off her shorts in one swift motion. He spread her legs open and went down on her.

Seeing how Karina was enjoying being eaten out so much by Aaron, Jack too grabbed Stacy and pushed her on the sofa just beside Karina. He began eating her out too. Stacy moaned louder than Karina did and that seemed to make Aaron jealous.

Whilst the two girls were being eaten out, they took the opportunity to make out with each other and grope each other. Within minutes, they were the star of the show. Everyone was watching these two girls have a go at each other. Stacy wrapped her legs around Jack’s head as he was eating her out and being groped by Karina. Karina on the other hand, was moaning as she was groping Stacy. Isabella then came over to Karina and groped her too.

Aaron decided it was time to feel Karina’s pussy. He stopped eating her and teased her pussy with his huge erected dick. Karina gasped loudly as Aaron inserted his tip into her pussy, enlarging her a well lubricated pussy. He kept teasing her in front of Jack, who obviously had a smaller dick as compared to Aaron but still respectable size.

Jack then turned Stacy over, spread her butt cheeks wide open, and without hesitation, took first blood. He rammed his throbbing dick into Stacy first and Stacy gasped loudly with a mixture of pleasure and surprise.

“Oh fuck me daddy, please don’t stop.” Stacy moaned.

Unable to take it, Aaron rammed his thick, veiny cock into Karina. Once inside Karina, Karina could not contain her pleasure as she threw her head back and started moaning and groaning.

“Ah fuck you’re huge. Please don’t stop, give it to me all the way.” Karina moaned loudly.

Aaron, saw this as a win and devilishly grinned at Jack.

As Aaron was thrusting deeper and deeper into Karina, he said to Jack, “Bro, I’m reaching places you’ve never reached before and damn, you’re girl is so tight.”

That statement resulted in more of a reaction from Stacy than Jack.

As Jack was furiously pounding Stacy doggy style, she kept moaning and she said, “Oh fuck, you’re going to make me cum. Don’t stop. Please fuck me harder.”

That seemed to push Aaron over the top. Aaron then pulled out of Karina and shoved his thick veiny dick into Stacy’s mouth. He grabbed her head and started face fucking her whilst Jack was pounding her from the back.

At that moment, Stacy orgasmed twice because she was feeling so much pleasure that she could not contain it. As Karina was breathless, trying to recover her breath, one of the swinger’s earlier, James, came over and penetrated Karina, surprising her. Aaron, then promptly swapped from Stacy back to Karina. He went under Karina and said, “Baby girl, I’m going to destroy your ass now.”

“No no please don’t. You’re too huge.” Karina said to no avail.

Whilst she was mercilessly fucked and pleasures by James, she was too weak to stop Aaron from slowly penetrating her tight anus.

Jack on the other hand, was too engrossed at pounding stacy and staring at her ass jiggle with each thrust. He was just using stacy as a cum dumpster whilst watching his wife get dominated by two big dick caucasians.

“No please don’t fuck my ass, please stop.” Karina half begged Aaron but also, half anticipating it with much excitement. Whilst James was ravaging her pussy, Aaron was slowly feeling her tight anus with his thick throbbing dick. In a sick power move, Aaron gestured at one of the guys to bring Caylin over. At that moment, one of the guys dragged Caylin over.

“Caylin darling, I want you to lubricate my dick and this cum dumpster’s tight anus for me with your saliva.” Aaron ordered.

Caylin who was being fucked doggy style at that moment by another swinger, was too well fucked to stop and proceeded to lick Karina’s anus and Aaron’s dick whilst Aaron was inching his way into her anus.

Jack could only look in horror and lust as his Karina and ex girlfriend were being used like a common cum dumpster whore.

At that moment, his pent up lust only served Stacy well. Jack got rougher and rougher, mercilessly using Stacy like the whore she is. At that moment, he turned her around and without warning, thrust hard into her anus too. Isabella at that moment, came over to join Jack. She sat on Stacy, who was happy to eat Isabella out and Isabella bent over to lubricate Stacy’s anus and Jack’s dick.

Once in her anus fully, Isabella left them to join another group of guys to get gangbanged. But Jack could not stop now. Stacy’s ass was super tight and her tits were perfectly jiggling with each thrust. Stacy kept moaning loudly with each thrust. Aaron and James who were thrusting in unison into Karina weren’t even looking at Karina. They were instead focused on how Jack was fucking Stacy and how he made Stacy orgasm so many times despite having a smaller dick.

Soon, Jack was about to cum. “I’m going to cum, where do you want me to finish?” Jack said breathlessly as he was pounding Stacy’s well fucked anus.

“Right in my pussy. I want Aaron to eat me out because you darling, have made me orgasm more times than Aaron has ever done.” Stacy replied, looking directly at Aaron instead of Jack.

Jack proceeded to penetrate her pussy and decided to fully enjoy the last few thrusts in her. Once he could not control anymore, he unleashed a his hot load inside her pussy and she orgasmed yet again. As both reach climax, they both fell into each other’s embrace.

“Fuck that was good. You really fucked me well.” Stacy said breathlessly.

“Oh yes, fuck. Your body is gorgeous.” Jack replied, breathlessly, smiling at her.

Karina and Aaron who heard it, got jealous immediately.

Aaron who was still fucking Karina, signaled another guy to come over and fuck her face. Soon, all three guys were using all of Karina’s holes. All the guys were furiously fucking Karina harder and harder like she was a cheap rag doll and they did not care if they destroyed her. Thrust after thrust, the guys made use of Karina. Karina could not control the barrages of thrusts coming in and the intensity of the thrusts and she gave into her desires and just let the guys use her as they saw fit.

Soon enough, the lads unleashed their loads into Karina’s respective holes. Karina’s pussy, anus and mouth were totally destroyed by the caucasians and she just lay there with cum flowing out of both her holes.

The end! Stay horny to find out what happens next!

[djarinsbeskar]

Dorne - Boxer!Din AU

A/N: I have no excuses. This is for @asta-lily who claimed she wouldn't know peace until she had this after our many 7some chats so... enjoy??? Consider this a taster of such, since I've never written something like it eheh. Idk if this will be part of the main AU, I just needed to get it out of my head. Really making use of that relaxed fit model, guys. No edits/beta, stream of thought ramblings that I'm just clicking post on. Check out The Prince of Dorne, a modern!Oberyn fic set in the same universe as the boxer!

Word Count: 1.2k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: SMUT! MFF oral sex (male receiving).

Main Masterlist | Boxer Materlist

He felt like a king.

No, even a king worshipped something, money, power, connections.

He felt like a god.

“Fuck—”

Din groaned lowly, his head falling against the plush back of the luxurious chesterfield sofa that decorated one of the private back rooms at Dorne, a casino owned by his most generous and hands on sponsor. Dual heat from two wet tongues lapped indulgently along his cock, soaking him in saliva as small noises of pleasure were mixed with the wet sounds of kissing when tongues met over his leaking tip.

Whiskey eyes, darkened to obsidian under the low lights opened enough to watch you. Pink tongue dragging between painted lips up along the swollen shaft while your eyes – sunlight beneath clouded lust – met his mischievously.

Fucking hell. You were a damned siren. His lips parted on a strained exhale as you curled your tongue beneath the head, the raven haired beauty you had seduced earlier in the evening circling her tongue furtively around the fat head.

You broke the hold you held over him with your eyes when you turned to the woman on her knees beside you. Abby – Ally? – he couldn’t remember her name. You kissed her slowly, every movement of your tongue into her mouth catching the tip of his cock that wept in pearly beads of desperate need.

One of your hands – skilled and strong from the hours you spent a day working with them – stroked him, the wet lash of your palm along his thick girth as your guest ran her hands down your neck—wet tongue disappearing into your molten mouth he was suddenly ravenous to feel on his own. She worshipped your body gently, all soft caresses and delicate grazes of slim fingers, the complete opposite to his own form of worship; devouring, consuming, defiling you with his desire. She worshipped you like one would at a temple, an altar. He worshipped you like a primal sacrifice to ancient, wrathful gods.

You released his cock just long enough to take one of hers from where she was exploring your body, wrapping her fingers back around the base of his cock to continue stroking while her other hand worked on pushing the thin straps of your dress down your shoulders. Din twitched at the sound of your mewl when the woman’s hand found the soft swell of a breast, kneading it hard as your kiss grew sloppy.

You broke it with a gasp, turning to lap at his head, dragging the tip of your tongue to gather his precum, the single contact a frisson of electricity across open water—all his nerves heightened to the combination of pleasure from both your mouths as Abby – Ally? – latched her lips to his shaft, kissing up and down it feverishly as she jerked her hand up the length.

“Fuck, baby—so good,” he moaned, the heavy crease between his brow furrowing further as the tendons in his neck strained – humming – with the tension he held in his muscles. You hummed around his tip, licking it like a damned lollipop you couldn’t get enough of before sucking the head with a dexterous swirl of your tongue.

Your dress pooled lower, just enough for the lace of the lingerie you had worn – his favourite – to be seen peeking out from the collapsed neckline. It slid down further when you turned to caress the back of your guest’s hair, raven locks passing through your fingers when she parted swollen lips from his shaft to kiss you again. But you shook your head.

“Open,” you purred.

Fucking hell, you were so hot—the way your free hand gripped her jaw in a delicate hold to encourage her lips to part, a languid kiss to her cheek—her mouth opening obediently for you to lead her down so she could engulf his sensitive head. Her eyes fluttered, your lips parted—guiding her down further, taking more of him. It was a hedonistic vision. You, guiding her head up and down on his cock – strings of saliva and drool dribbling from her lips and his cock while you murmured soft praise.

He moaned.

You mewled with a kiss to his navel at the sound—a sliver of toned muscle and tawny skin exposed from where you had unbuttoned his shirt in a rush earlier.

A flare of intoxicating arousal, a primordial pride at seeing you with another woman to pleasure him—no combative jealousy or distain present, but an equally wild desire to pleasure one another that had his mind spinning.

“Are you enjoying your birthday, baby?” you questioned as you led the woman’s head down to take in more of him, his cock stretching her lips and throat convulsing as she gagged around his size. You cooed gently, kissing her temple, and running a finger through the tears that gathered at the corner of her eyes—ruining her makeup,

“I know he’s so big… you can take a little more though, can’t you?”

She nodded with a moan, bobbing up and down his cock while he gravelled your name, his hand dropping to card through once perfectly styled hair as you sucked one of his balls – heavy and full with a need to empty inside you – into your mouth, the gentle suck and massage of your tongue over the sensitive sac making him pant, his chest heaving more than it would be even after three rounds in the ring.

“Come here, sweetheart— fuck," he snarled, a warning steel to his voice and the hand that tightened in your hair. He wanted to taste you himself, needed it—needed to regain some control.

You released his balls with a wet smack, climbing up his large frame as he bade to settle half on top of him as your mouth met his. His tongue licked into your mouth with a growl, your fingers massaging his balls in place of your mouth where it was preoccupied with the invasion of his tongue. The taste of champagne and a distinct saltiness mixed on his tongue as you gave into his domination, whimpering your desire for him into his mouth as you released him to tangle both hands in his hair.

“Good choice, baby—she’s almost as greedy for my cock as you are.”

His words were rasped teasingly against your lips, caught on a hitch when she took as much of him down her throat once more—his heavy lids falling to half mast as you watched the pleasure play out on his features,

“Almost,” you growled, and he smirked at the undercurrent of possessiveness in your tone, “but I wanna see if she’s as greedy for pussy too, baby—”

His chest exploded with a snarl of lust, pressing a hard kiss to your mouth, a blind hand roaming down your exposed back to the fabric of your dress, bunching his fingers in the material to drag it up over your ass. A swift slap to your exposed cheek before he kneaded the flesh roughly, spreading it—manipulating the softness to his will, and he grinned,

“Mm, you’re just full of good ideas today, sweetheart.”

Taglist:

@geannad @ayamenimthiriel @sarahjkl82-blog @gracie7209 @pychedelic-star @nova646 @theflightytemptressadventure @wantingtobekorra @computeringturtle @slayerette26 @kesskirata @greatcircle79  @boxdyeblonde @fangirl-316 @niiight-dreamerrrr @tanzthompson @theamuz  @gallowsjoker @helmet-comes-off @jesfreedark @amyk-37 @altarsw @feminist-violinist @spideysimpossiblegirl @lazybeeches @shameless-h @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @mamacitapascal @the-ginger-hedge-witch @disgruntledspacedad @asta-lily @aesnawan @frannyzooey @gaiuswrites @beskarboobs @honestly-shite @sherala007 @cats-are-a-girls-bestfriend @missminkylove @pedros-mustache @headinthestarz @leannawithacapitala @sharkbait77 @radiowallet @librariantothejedi @day-off-inkyoto @danidrabbles @magpie-to-the-morning @mandocrasis @pedro4ever @juletheghoul @javierpinme @voteforpedro09 @theorganasolo @aprilqueen84 @Prostitute-robot-from-the-future @wanderlustmags @darnitdraco @castleamc @outlawedmando @lawfulgranola @jaime1110 @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @taticalsparkles  @chasingdreamer @beautyagegoodnesssize @pintsizemama @lunaserenade @recklessworry @tarolovesyoo @littlemisspascal @jazzelsaur

[finelinevogue]

More subrry pls ? Are you comfortable with a pegging blurb or no ?

i’ve never written something like this before but i will try and give it a go!! thank you for requesting! <33 ;

“Jesus fuck, baby!”

Harry was whimpering away on the bed, hands tied together using his belt and his cock dripping painfully hard. You’d had him bound for the past 2 hours, playing and teasing him to no end, but now the torture was up and you were going to give your sunshine exactly what he deserved.

You were only in your baby blue lingerie, the set that Harry loved so much because it was see-through lace. Harry was completely bade beneath where you were straddling his body. You kept rocking back and forth on Harry’s leg, allowing you your own pleasure whilst Harry got none. You had already drank his cum down your throat as you played with his cock until he nearly passed out from the orgasm denial, which is why it was so red and thick right now.

“I don’t appreciate your tongue, baby.” You said, slapping his inner thigh and then giving his cock a quick squeeze.

“I’m sorry, so sorry.” He panted, chest heaving as your nails ran around his pelvic region but exclusively not touching his cock.

“Oh you will be pretty boy.” You lifted yourself up so you could wiggle out of your panties, before stuffing them inside Harry’s mouth as a gag. He inhaled your scent and it sent him into overdrive, because God did you have the most divine smell. And not to forget the taste. “Now be quiet whilst I fuck the bad attitude out of you.”

Harry moaned and you could see his eyes roll to the back of his head. He was enjoying this, you thought, a lot more than he should be.

You trailed your lips down his body, starting at his neck. You bruised your kisses into his skin to claim him as yours, moving down his chest to his nipples where you kissed and sucked on them harshly. He squirmed underneath your touch and it made you want to absolutely ruin him. Your lips trailed down and down, licking the line of hair that led you, like a treasure map, to his cock. It was say painfully hard against his chest, just reaching below his belly button. You kissed the tip of it, all red and swollen, making him whimper like a puppy. You kissed all the way down it and then ran your tongue up and down it a few times, licking the pre-cum that had so defiantly escaped away.

“Get on your hands and knees.” You ordered, slapping his inner thigh again because this man was a whore for his pain kink.

“Mm.” Was all Harry could muffle out, turning over the best he could with tied hands and a pantie stuffed mouth. Once he was in the position you asked for you spanked his ass red, wanting something pretty to look at when you ate him out. He moaned at the feeling, shaking his ass slightly as if to bed for more.

“Such a whore.” You slapped him again harshly, feeling the sting ricochet onto your hand too. You pulled him up by his hair and took out the panties in his mouth. “Spit.” You held your hand out for him as he collect his saliva and spat for you. “Good boy.” You shoved the panties back into his mouth and pushed his head down onto the bed, his arse sticking up proudly.

You used one hand to open his cheeks to see his arsehole more easily and the other went to rubbing his saliva over it to make it easier for you to squeeze into. You sat on your thighs and pulled his cheeks apart as wide as possible, driving straight in to give Harry what he’s wanted all evening. You licked around the areas you knew would be sensitive, pushing your tongue through his small hole to tease him. You pulled away and spat on your own two fingers, lubing them up before twisting them into his tight little hole.

“Mmph.” Harry wiggled his arse and arched his back over the new feeling. No matter how many times you fucked him, fingers or strap-on, it always felt like the first time to him. His hole was so sensitive, but yet never quite remembered the feeling until the release.

“Yeah, you like that pretty boy? Huh?” You slapped his ass again, loving the way your hand print was stamped into his soft and sensitive skin. It made you feel primal and territorial.

You reached your other hand around to grab onto his cock and pump him to the same rhythm you were pumping your fingers. Slow, but hard. You slide your finger over his slit and gave him a tight squeeze as you thrusted a hard pump with your fingers. You noticed Harry’s toes curl and the way his body moved to your touch proved how much pleasure he was enduring. He couldn’t get enough. He was starving for you, as you were for him.

“Mm.” He moaned and you had to take your panties our of his mouth in case he was shouting something important.

“What was that, hmm?” You asked, moving away from his ass and leaning over his body to hear him better.

“N-need to be fucked baby, p-please.” He spoke in his small voice, trying his best to open his dazed eyes to get a look at how pretty you are. Wow, you were a sight for sore eyes. He gave you a simple smile and waited for your next movement.

“Good for you then, sunshine, ‘cause I need to be fucked too.” You chuckled, before getting off him to reach into the bedside drawer and grabbing out your double ended dildo. It had been custom made for you both, one end being a gorgeous baby pink colour for Harry and then the other end the softest shade of your favourite colour. It was yours and Harry’s favourite toy. It was measured to fit large so you would both be stretched in the most delicious way.

You used a mixture of Harry’s spit, your juices and Harry’s pre-cum to smear all over the toy so it would be easier to fit into you both. You moved back behind Harry and eased it into his tight hole, making him moan and whimper over the extraordinary sensation. “So g-good.” Harry breathed out and you loved his voice too much to keep him quiet now, so you left the panties were they lay next to his head on the bed.

“Yeah? Let me just…” You pushed yourself into your end of the toy, loudly moaning at the feeling. It was so big and thick, but nowhere near the pulsing and erotic feeling of Harry’s cock. “Fuck.” You sighed happily, squeezing Harry’s arse as support to keep you grounded.

Fuck, you felt so good. Too good.

You started the movement moving forwards and then backwards, pulling Harry’s ass back with you to complete the motion. You gave his ass a quick few slaps when his movements were sloppy, but he quickly found your rhythm and you were both soon absolute wrecks for each other. The dildo hit places you’d been craving to be touched all night and you could tell it was the same for Harry as he moaned in heavy delight. You reached around to grab Harry’s cock and start stroking it too, making sure he got the release he so badly wanted. He deserved it too for being such a good boy for you.

“Yes, God yes!” Harry shouted, moving his hips back to meet your pace. His thighs clapped against your thighs and the sounds of you wet cunt filled the room. You squeezed his ass with one hand as your other squeezed his cock tight. You moved your hand up and down, flicking your finger over his tip to stimulate him in ways only you knew how to.

“Feel so good baby.” You moaned out, throwing your head back and closing your eyes as the warm feelings started to bubble up throughout your body. “You’re so good for me.”

“T-thank you.” He sweetly replied and that only made you want to ruin him more, so you built up your speed more and pushed harder into him which pushed harder into you. The place was electrifying and the pleasure was second to none. A compilation of moans and slapping skin could be heard and it made you so weak for your release.

“I’m going to cum.” You warned him, making sure he better cum with you.

Your pace quickly brought you both to your release, Harry spilling himself all over your hand, his chest and the bed sheets beneath him. Your release was claimed all over the dildo and down your thighs. After a minutes breathe you pulled yourself off the toy and slowly pulling it out of Harry too. His hole contracted small again since it was no longer stuffed. You turned Harry’s body around, straddling him and undoing the belt around his hands so he could finally touch you.

You pushed the dildo end that had been yours up to his lips, pushing it into his mouth so he could get a taste of you. You leaned down to lick his chest clean too, smearing all of his sticky cum over your lips and then onto your tongue. Once there wasn’t a drop of him left and he’d tasted all of you off of the toy, you crawled up him and collapsed on top of his chest, humming in delight of his skin against yours.

“You okay?” Harry asked, moving his hand around to caress softly against your back. You chuckled as Harry brought goosebumps to your skin.

“Just peachy.”

[seriouslysam8]

Legerdemain Sneak Peek Number 2

I'll be back this Sunday with a new update!! Are you excited??

Chapter Twenty-Nine: The One with the Vending Fairy

         They bade goodbye to Scorpius once they reached the Obliviator’s Office and continued down to the vending fairy. James rattled his change in his hand as he looked at the options. He plopped his coins into the dispenser and the fairy grabbed the coins one Sickle at a time, her little wings fluttering fast at the effort.

         “Salt and vinegar crisps,” James told her.

         The fairy huffed as she eyed him up. She shook her head and pushed a bottle of water down and gestured wildly at that.

         “No! I don’t want water! I said crisps!” James hissed. “You always do this to me! I don’t need water! I want crisps!”

         Harry rolled his eyes and held out his crisps. “Here, have mine. We need to get going,” 

         James pulled a face. “Ew, no! Nobody likes cheese and onion!”

         Harry’s eyes grew wide as he cocked his head to the side. “Salt and vinegar are the nasty ones.”

         “You’re so wrong,” James said before he pounded on the glass that separated him and the fairy. “Give me my crisps!”

         The fairy huffed once more and shook her head. James growled as Harry grabbed his arm and tugged.

         “We have stuff to do, Jamie,” Harry insisted.

         “I’m hungry!” James protested as he reached down and snagged his water before he allowed his dad to pull him away from the vending fairy. “Fucking fairies.”

         “I’ll buy you lunch after,” Harry said.

         “I’m hungry now!” 

         Harry sucked in a breath. “You can wait. You’re an adult, Jamie.”

         “I’m a Weasley!” James replied. “Weasleys can’t wait!”

         “You’ll survive,” Harry assured.

         “Not bloody likely!” James whined.

         Harry opened his bag of crisps and popped one in his mouth before he held the bag out to James. 

         “I’d rather eat dirt,” James replied as he held up his hand.

         “I think we can arrange that,” Harry retorted with a smile as James shot him his best annoyed look.

[aquato-family-circus]

I could imagine this style of psychic ability usage starts from Raz giving the other junior psychonauts pointers about strength/stamina baded enhancements to their fighting styles, and it blossoms from there

Ah yes, even when he doesn't mean to, he still ends up flipping the Psychonauts upside down.

Though on that note, I wonder how well the major Psychonauts characters would handle psycrobatics training.

Obviously the Aquatos would be fine on the physical part, though their psychic powers would need honing, with Lucrecia being surprisingly limber for her age.

I'd imagine Oleander would be face first in the dirt, sweating and gasping for breath with some war related line for comedy.

Milla would probably be tired but treating it like one of those gogo girl yoga types of people. Sasha would depend on whether he's done any significant exercise since his time as a cobbler, or he'd find some kind of rational sounding excuse before being roped into it.

Not sure how the Psychic Six would handle it, though I'd imagine most of them would struggle due to their advanced ages, with Bob surprisingly handling it better despite ravaging his body with alcohol than most due to sheer endurance from the harder parts of gardening.

And throughout it all, Raz would be pulling a Captain America on Lili, going all "on your left" as he blitzed past, with Lili being very inclined to set him on fire as she stubbornly does her best to keep going. And probably only laugh if Frazie ends up beating Raz in Psycrobatics or something.

Not sure what the interns would do.

I think I agree with a majority of your assessments!

I think Oleander might have a better shot at being able to keep up, just cause I do get the impression he is physically fit, and seemed to have picked up swimming real easily? But he has shit stamina bc he’s sort of stupid, so he ends up gasping on the floor anyways after doing an intense workout without accounting for breaks or stretches.

Sasha I think would suck at the whole thing, remembering that slide from Milla’s Adventures where he’s falling ass over teakettle while Milla retains her composure. Tries to retain his cool about it, looks like a sweat monster.

Definitely agree Bob’s always been one of the more physical of the Psychic 7. I think Bob, Compton, and Lucy are able to keep up well with training (Bob needing to be reminded to take breaks I feel like he could easily zone out otherwise), while the others are different levels of struggling. Otto especially hates physical activity he hates it help him help help mods help. Ford tells him to quit being a baby despite also getting winded real easy, he lost some of that forest ranger stamina from teleporting around everywhere. Cassie’s middle of the road OK at keeping up the workout. Lastly Helmut gets a free pass tbh he’s got to do a completely separate much lower intensity type of physical training bc his body situation is delicate and no one wants him straining or pulling anything out of place.

Re: interns I think Gisu’s the most physically fit of the gang and is more than happy to incorporate Aquato style training into her sick skateboard tricks. Right behind her is Sam, who’s got the most stamina ever and it’s a little scary. Norma hates having to use her noodle arms to do PE and tries to pretend she doesn’t so god help you if you bother her after she’s just done training. Adam and Lizzie are fine enough at keeping up tho Lizzie complains. Morris has a similarly modified training plan that focuses on stamina and the upper body since he, by all accounts, doesn’t use his legs outside the wheelchair; I don’t know enough about working out as a wheelchair user to elaborate more on that.

[paganimagevault]

"Etrusco-Latin bronze votive statue, 200-100 BC. Possibly a priestess or Goddess.". British Museum.

"Now there was an oracle of Tethys in Tuscany, from which there was brought to Tarchetius a response that a virgin must have intercourse with this phantom, and she should bear a son most illustrious for his valour, and of surpassing good fortune and strength. Tarchetius, accordingly, told the prophecy to one of his daughters, and bade her consort with the phantom; but she disdained to do so, and sent a handmaid in to it. When Tarchetius learned of this, he was wroth, and seized both the maidens, purposing to put them to death. But the Goddess Hestia appeared to him in his sleep and forbade him the murder. He therefore imposed upon the maidens the weaving of a certain web in their imprisonment, assuring them that when they had finished the weaving of it, they should then be given in marriage. By day, then, these maidens wove, but by night other maidens, at the command of Tarchetius, unravelled their web. And when the handmaid became the mother of twin children by the phantom, Tarchetius gave them to a certain Teratius with orders to destroy them. This man, however, carried them to the river-side and laid them down there. Then a she-wolf visited the babes and gave them suck, while all sorts of birds brought morsels of food and put them into their mouths, until a cow-herd spied them, conquered his amazement, ventured to come to them, and took the children home with him. Thus they were saved, and when they were grown up, they set upon Tarchetius and overcame him. At any rate, this is what a certain Promathion says, who compiled a history of Italy."

-Plutarch, The Parallel Lives: The Life of Romulus, Ch.2

https://paganimagevault.blogspot.com/2020/03/etruscan-priestess-200-100-bce.html

[kassandras-one-braincell]

Eivor x Fem!Reader - Ink Me Up

Oh, what to do when the Norwegian woman tattooing your thigh is insanely attractive, clearly gay, with a criminally good bedside manner?

Warning: about tattooing and obviously needles.

Word count: 4363

Can be found on AO3 here.

Heavily inspired by this post here. The tattoo itself is purely self-indulgent. Eivor is stupidly attractive and it's not fair. (Y/N) replacer safe.

After months of saving and deliberation, the time had come. For the longest time you had dreamed of getting something big, bold and beautiful permanently inked into your skin. Something meaningful. And you wanted someone talented to tattoo it.

Thus, you found yourself scouring the web for reputable tattoo shops, hours upon hours poured into searching artists’ portfolios, hoping that someone was skilled enough at black-and-grey realism within a relatively close radius. If you were going to pay a hefty sum for a tattoo, you wanted it to be perfect. Your desktop was flooded with reference images of sword lilies – the subject of your desired ink – and about a dozen different parlours, tabs whittling down one by one during your search.

The final tab was the website for a slightly pricier shop, but one of the artist’s Instagrams utterly captivated you. Their artwork was extraordinary, the details in their pieces stunning and intricate; you decided investing a little extra cash would be worth it. Eivor Varinsdóttir, handle @wolfkissed_ink. Grinning, you emailed the artist, requesting a consultation.

You explained to the artist during that consultation that you wanted a composition of black-and-grey realistic gladioli on your left thigh. Sword lilies represented strength, after all, and you wanted to commemorate overcoming a difficult part of your life with something gorgeous and symbolic. That and, well, flowers were pretty. Within the week they had responded with a sketch that was beyond what you could have possibly thought up yourself: two stunning, bloomed sprigs of the flower with petals floating either side, lifelike as a monochrome photograph. Smiling ear-to-ear, you booked up your first appointment.

Unbridled excitement led to the time before your appointment soaring by, with you opening up the file of the sketch almost every day. Bringing us to the present: you stood anxiously outside the parlour door, 12:50pm, ten minutes before your scheduled appointment. Sucking in a shaky breath, nerves both good and bad, you stepped inside.

The tattoo shop was sleek, modern and decked wall-to-wall with flash sheets, the small designs varying in style, colour and detail. Everything was spotless, as one would expect, with shining awards dotted about. Just seeing the various trophies did well to quell some of your anxieties, knowing you were in good hands, that you’d end up with a lovely piece on your thigh. A stout man covered neck to foot in swirling Japanese designs manned the front desk, smiling warmly at you, obliterating any stigmas you had heard from older relatives about tattoo culture.

Biting your lip, you made your way to the desk, mustering a nervous smile. As thrilled as you were about getting the tattoo, the whole pain aspect was still rather daunting. “Hey, one o’clock appointment for (Y/N) (L/N)?” You fidgeted with the hem of your shorts while the gentleman checked his desktop.

“With Eivor, right?” he verified. You nodded.

“Sorry I’m a little early—”

“No, not at all! Rather you be early than late,” he chuckled, clearly sensing your worries. His eyes flickered across a clipboard. “She’s not with a client at the moment, so I’ll send you through now, if that’s alright.”

“Sounds good, thank you,” you bade, pulse quickening. Come on, you’ve wanted this for so long, you can’t pussy out now.

The guy asked you to wait by the desk as he ventured down a long corridor, the black paint giving off an ominous vibe that did nothing for your nerves. A few seconds later, he returned, cocking his head for you to follow. Your knuckles were white from gripping the strap of your purse so tightly.

He led you to the room at the end of the hall, holding the glossy black door open for you. “Go easy on her, Eivor, it’s clearly her first,” he called out, flashing you a wink, before letting the door close behind you.

Holy shit.

She was hot.

Eivor was nothing short of a modern day viking. Tall, rippling with muscle, late twenties to early thirties, blond hair strewn into an unruly braid with a strip on the right shaved clean to the flesh, revealing a fucking skull tattoo of a bird…a raven? Her face was stupidly handsome, eyes blue and icy but warm with greeting, a long and gnarly scar cutting into the flesh of her left cheek with a smaller nick protruding from her upper lip. Hell, the nape of her neck was marred with an even more vicious looking scar. She wore a tight black t-shirt that strained around her deliciously grizzled arms, which were adorned with Norse-looking runes and text curving into circles, ink that carried on to her hands and neck. The smile she offered you made you weak in the knees.

“(Y/N), right? I’m Eivor, a pleasure to meet you,” she greeted, voice deep and gravelly, decorated with a rasp that to you sounded like butter. Fuck me, she’s a tall, tall glass of water.

You shook her hand when she extended it to you, marvelling at the patterns and blacked-out bands on her long, thick fingers. Her nails were cut extremely short, confirming the strong lesbian vibe she gave off. “Likewise,” you squeaked, cursing yourself for acting like some bloody schoolgirl.

She sauntered over to her setup, weight carried in her shoulders, consolidating her already intimidatingly attractive butch energy, sanitised her hands and pulled on a clean pair of gloves. “Come on over,” she said, grabbing a disposable razor from a box. “I’ll just need to make sure the area is shaven, if that’s alright.”

“Of course,” you replied, joining her by the leather chair, covered by a sheet of cellophane. It was a relief to see all the hygiene precautions taken in the shop. Eivor picked up a disinfectant wipe.

“Left thigh, if I remember correctly?”

“Mhm, yeah.”

She dropped to one knee – wasn’t that a fucking sight – and wiped down the expanse of your thigh before gliding the razor over the flesh.

Hesitantly, you asked her what the general procedure was, desperately trying to divert your thoughts from the sapphic spiral they were travelling down.

“Alright, after I’ve finished here I’ll apply the stencil. You’ll get to check if you like the placement, and if you don’t I’ll keep going until you’re happy with it. It’s a big piece, so we’ll have to split this up into two sessions, as we discussed alongside payment.” She brushed away the loose hairs and peach fuzz. “I’ll do the linework this session, and the shading next time.” With one final pass of the razor she pulled back, tossing it into a bin.

Eivor then picked up a sheet of thin paper with the sketch printed on it. She plucked a purple pen from her table. “Give me a few minutes to trace the stencil, then we’ll apply it and see how you like it.” You nodded, trying to focus on your breathing.

While she traced over each line of the sketch, she kindly attempted to soothe your fears with small talk. “I’ll admit, I’ve never heard of a ‘gladiolus’ before our consultation. Any reason why you chose it?”

You smiled. “They represent strength. I finally got through a rough spell and wanted something to celebrate with,” you explained, heart skipping a beat at the soft expression on the artist’s face.

“All the more reason to get this perfect then,” she said with a grin. The way the scar on her upper lip quirked was positively adorable. A couple minutes passed and she re-capped the pen. “Stand up straight for me, darling.” Oh.

Cheeks burning with bashfulness, you complied. Eivor took a second to angle the stencil before smoothing it over your thigh, leaving a purple outline once she removed the paper. “Just have a look in that mirror over there and tell me if you’re happy, okay?”

You walked over to the mirror and stared at your thigh. The tattoo was large – which you expected, with the amount of detail in it – and perfectly central, the loose petals appearing to float down the length of your thigh. “Perfect,” you breathed out, giving the woman a thumbs-up.

Eivor switched over her gloves and gestured for you to take a seat on the chair. “Get comfy, then. Do you have water?” Nodding, you took out your water bottle from your handbag. “Brilliant. Still want to do this?”

“Hell yeah.” Weirdly, the nerves about the pain (not about the sexy artist) had almost wholly subsided, leaving you brimming with anticipation.

She poured some jet black ink into small caps, no larger than the tip of your thumb. “Remember to breathe through it and hold still, yeah? You picked a smart place for your first tattoo, not too close to the bone.”

“I’ll try.” Eivor opened a sealed packet containing a new, sterilised needle, inserting it into her tattoo machine. She switched it on, the buzz of the machine’s piston filling the room with a gentle hum. Looking up at you, she cocked her brow – if only your gay thoughts could bugger off for two minutes – as if to ask, ready? Affirmatively, you beamed at her.

Dipping the needle into the ink, she pulled the skin of your thigh taut. Immediately, you noted the warmth of her hand on your leg, fighting off a shudder. Then came a mildly painful scratching sensation as she brought the machine to your thigh.

Honestly? It wasn’t bad. Irritating, like an itchy eye, but not drastically unpleasant. You followed Eivor’s advice, keeping your breathing steady, averting your attention to the artwork on the walls, some of which you had seen on her Instagram portfolio. Portraits, flowers, animals, realistic-looking jewellery…the woman had mastered black-and-grey. You knew you picked the right artist. The frown of concentration on her face spoke volumes about her dedication to the art, steeled and intently focused on the lines she was pulling.

When she wiped the area and reached for more ink, she glanced up at your face. “All good?” she asked.

“Yeah, no issues here.”

“Wonderful.” She set back to work, positioning her needle over the flower’s curved stem, dragging it downwards in a slow arc. “Your skin takes ink like butter, by the way.”

“Oh, that’s good,” you breathed out. Her hand suddenly felt a little warmer. Tell me this woman does audiobooks, you thought.

After a few more lines, you tried to pepper in some small talk without breaking her concentration. Fortunately, her bedside manner was immaculate, and she entertained your questions without any grudges.

“Your voice is really soothing. Where abouts are you from?”

“Oh, thank you. I’m from Norway, moved here a few years back.” She grinned at the compliment. “It’s funny, people usually say the opposite about my voice.” You wondered if they were deaf.

“It’s a nice rasp,” you chuckled. Buzzing stopped, more ink.

“I was bitten by a wolf when I was nine,” she explained. Buzzing recommenced, scratching returned. “My larynx never properly healed from it, so I’ve sounded like some chain-smoker since before I hit double-digits, despite never touching a cigarette in my life.”

“You don’t sound like a chain-smoker, though. I mean it.”

Her grin widened. “That actually means a lot.”

An hour passed by, most of it spent in comfortable silence, with Eivor checking in on you occasionally to see how you were coping. Certain patches of nerves stung a little more than others, but none of it was unbearable. That was until her machine passed over a particularly rough area. It fucking killed, the burn of the needle seemingly deeper than anywhere else, the sting infinitely more intense than before. You hissed, gritting your teeth together.

“Ow,” you winced, clutching onto your water bottle in an attempt to relieve the pain, to no avail.

Eivor continued pulling her line, her rasp coming out in a low mantra. “Just breathe through it, nice and slow…” You tried to follow, attempting in vain to relax your shoulders. “Keep holding still for me…” Your breaths came shallow but steadily so, the stinging slowly becoming more endurable. The machine reached the end of the line. “Good girl,” she muttered, blissfully of absent mind.

Good girl.

Oh fuck.

Just when your clearly gay tattoo artist couldn’t get any hotter, she comes out with some hot-girl bullshit like that. And fuck, you didn’t think you had a praise kink before, but now this certainly awakened something. Why, why did it have to sound so good in her husky voice? No, you were absolutely not going to fantasise about your artist, not when her hands were on your skin, on your thigh of all fucking places. God, this stupidly attractive Norwegian butch was making you uncomfortably hot.

When she finally pulled away, sweet bloody reprieve, you took a sip of your water. “That wasn’t fun,” you remarked.

“Took it like a champion, though,” she beamed proudly, clearly unaware of the affect her words had just had on you. “Need a break?”

“Just a minute or two, thank you,” you sighed with relief. Eivor wiped you down and analysed her work.

“We’re just over halfway there,” she commented. Only halfway? Fuck. You allowed your eyes to wander over the black lines, all perfectly smooth from practiced precision. Yeah, this woman was talented.

“I mean, that killed, and that was my thigh…” you trailed off, making her laugh. “What was the most painful tattoo you’ve gotten?”

Eivor answered without hesitation. “My head, without a doubt. Packing solid black into that thing was agony. My fingers killed, too, but all completely worth it.” You couldn’t help but agree with that last part. Her hands looked extremely good, both with and without those gloves.

“I’m guessing places with more nerve endings and by the bone are the worst, then?”

“Definitely. The palm of the hand is the most sensitive, and it’s tough to get right. Ink bleeds, skin bleeds…and if you don’t do it well it’ll just fade. All that pain for nought.”

You gulped down some more water. Ouch. “Duly noted.”

After ninety odd more minutes, Eivor switched off her machine for good, the linework finished and utterly flawless. “All done for this session,” she announced, changing gloves once more to clean and wrap the area. There was minimal irritation around each line, and the wipe felt wonderfully cool against the reddening flesh.

Once she finished placing various equipment in a tub labelled ‘autoclave’, she escorted you to the front desk. You paid half the decided fee of the tattoo and booked your second session for three weeks’ time. Eivor gave you an aftercare kit, explaining in detail how to keep the tattoo clean, how to prevent infection, and to avoid direct exposure to sunlight as much as you could. Eagerly, you listened, trying to drink in as much of her voice as possible before departing.

“I’ll see you in three weeks, then. Take care, (Y/N),” she grinned. From the moment you stepped out of the shop, you knew that grin would be engraved into your mind for the weeks to come.

  The second appointment couldn’t have come quickly enough.

You spent an embarrassing quantity of time thinking about your dreamy tattoo artist, right up until the day you walked back into the shop, this time free of any concerns pertaining to the tattoo. The gentleman from before recognised you and asked how the tattoo was holding up, if you’d had any issues keeping it clean, to which you replied all was good. Only this time, Eivor came to greet you by the front desk.

“How’s it going?” she asked, welcoming as before.

“Really good. I just hope I’ve been doing everything right,” you chuckled, anxiously glancing down at your thigh. The redness had completely disappeared a few days after your first appointment, the black ink proudly meandering over your skin.

Eivor smiled reassuringly. “Trust me, you’d know if you haven’t. From here it looks like you’ve done a fantastic job of keeping it clean, anyway.” You followed her to her studio, mentally noting how she was wearing an even tighter black t-shirt than last time, the fabric clinging to the defined contours of her muscled back, biceps, abs… Needless to say, the gay thoughts had returned at full-force.

As before, she shaved and disinfected your thigh, but instead of a stencil she had the full greyscale reference images for the design printed and taped to a metal beam above her table. She took careful time in diluting various caps of black ink into a plethora of greys, experience shining through as she added precise amounts of diluter to each cap. There was something addictive about watching the woman work, with how methodical she was, how delicately she handled the bottles of ink.

When she unpacked a needle, you noted the shape was different to before. “Now, some parts are gonna be only a little rougher than before. Others will suck, I’ll warn you now,” she mentioned as you positioned yourself on the chair.

“Mama didn’t raise a bitch,” you joked. Eivor laughed.

“You handled it like a trooper before. I have zero doubts you’ll do the same today.”

And so she began, making multiple passes with the machine unlike before, packing in the different shades of grey in front of her, scratching into the already broken skin. It wasn’t massively painful, but Eivor was right – last time was a breeze in comparison. You rested your eyes and bore the pain, focusing on the faint music playing from the shop’s reception.

As previously, she was ever considerate, checking up on you as she worked – albeit not as frequently, now that you were accustomed to the needles – and encouraging you through the nastier patches. You tried your hardest to not look at your thigh, wanting the final result to be a surprise, but over time it grew increasingly difficult not to sneak a glance at her hands. Merely the thought of them flustered you (pathetic, you knew) and nothing would be more embarrassing than drifting off into a less than appropriate fantasy about the woman when she was simply being professional.

Time blurred together amongst your inner dilemma – to look or not to look – until Eivor’s signature rasp caught your attention. “Time for your least favourite part,” she said, giving you a knowing look, positioning her needle in one of the petals over the area that hurt like a bitch previously.

“Oh god, I forgot about that area.”

“Just own the pain and keep still, alright?”

“I’ll try.”

Eivor smirked: a wicked thing that could have killed every sapphic in a mile radius. “Squirm and I’ll pin you down. I’ve had to do it before, and I’ll do it again.”

That, under different circumstances, would be an appealing notion.

Closing your eyes once more, you tried to decipher the song lyrics resonating through the shop’s hall, grimacing when the needle penetrated the skin. Just focus on Rihanna, focus on Rihanna…

“That’s…not so bad, actually,” you mutter, not entirely self-assured of the words leaving your lips, hoping some placebo affect would take place.

Eivor chuckled, dipping into another shade. “You sound convincing,” she drawled.

“I’m – ow – serious… Okay fuck, that’s way worse.”

“Shh, it’ll be over soon. Find something to focus on.”

So you did, on what happened to be the first thing in your immediate line of sight when you re-opened your eyes: Eivor’s bicep. God, her shirt strained around the muscle, black fabric against tanned skin and the deep green runes littering her arm. Perhaps the ink had something to do with her ancestry, given that the woman said she was Norwegian – that or she was just a mythology nerd. Your eyes trailed over the spirals of script, the perfectly concentric circles. Mind wandering, the idea that she may have tattoos on her back and front piqued your interest. Then came the delightful image of Eivor without a shirt. Pinning you down. Fuck.

Before long the pain subsided, leaving a dull ache where the needle had worked at your skin. “All done, darling,” Eivor murmured, wiping the patch. Darling. You knew it was simply her bedside manner, trying to keep you as relaxed as possible, but damn was it having the polar opposite effect. Cheeks feeling impossibly hot, you unscrewed the cap of your bottle and took a sizeable gulp of water. She gave you a moment to breathe, now that the most difficult part was out of the way. Still flustered, you drained half your bottle.

Concern plastered on her face, Eivor leaned closer, inspecting your face intently. “Are you feeling faint?” she asked, evidently worried. “It’s important you tell me if you are—”

“No, no, I’m fine, really.” You were stuttering, annoyed with yourself that you made her worry. “Just being weird. I promise.”

“You do?” Her eyebrows were still upturned, not entirely believing you.

You nodded frantically. “Yeah, really. Please don’t worry.”

Taking a slow breath, she restarted the machine, relief flashing across her features. She gestured for permission to continue tattooing, which you granted, and set back to work.

Cursing internally, you let your eyes flutter shut, thoughts full of nothing but ‘good girls’ and ‘darlings’ in a husky Norwegian accent. Numbing yourself to the needles, you drifted off into slumber.

  “Hey, (Y/N)?”

A gentle pressure squeezed at your hand, slowly stirring you, bringing you back to the world of the living. Yawning, you opened your eyes, gaze brought to a gloved hand atop your own.

“Good evening,” Eivor said, retracting her hand and watching as you gasped and scanned the studio for a clock in a panic. Evening?

“Kidding,” she laughed. “I finished up ten minutes ago.” You shot her a half-hearted glare through sleepy eyelids.

“That was mean,” you pouted. She grinned.

“I do stab people for a living.”

Snorting, you swung your legs over the side of the chair, stretching them to regain a semblance of sensation. Chest pounding with excitement, you looked to the mirror at the side of the room, then at Eivor, silently asking permission to peak at the finished tattoo. She held out her hand in gesticulation.

Giddy with anticipation, you walked over and… Holy shit.

It was beautiful.

Each shade of grey blended into one another in a perfect harmony, so seamlessly that the black outline from before was barely visible. The shadows underneath each leaf, each petal looked real. Every speckle and wrinkle on the petals shone through, love and attention going into every marking. The falling petals were akin to a photograph, with the light grey background wash tying them to the main flowers, each little shadow appearing to give them different depths. It was beyond anything you imagined. All that pain, mental and physical, turned into a lifetime of beauty.

You didn’t realise you were crying until the salt of tears rolled into your awe-parted mouth.

“I’m, well… Wow.” Beaming, you turned to face your artist, who looked at her artwork with pride. “Thank you, Eivor. Thank you so much.”

She shook her head and offered you a box of tissues, from which you took one gladly. “I’m just honoured to have helped you lay that chapter of your life to rest. May the sword-lilies battle any shreds of it that remain.”

Stunned by her poetic inclination, you dried your eyes in silence, lips curved into a joyous smile. Meanwhile, she removed her gloves.

“You have tissues at the ready. I’m guessing people cry a lot here?” you asked, finally prying your eyes away from the masterpiece on your thigh.

“Mostly from the pain,” she remarked.

“You know, you could just lie to me so I don’t feel like such a fucking sap.”

The sound that left Eivor’s mouth in response was nothing if not angelic. She practically howled in hearty laughter, echoing through her studio, her eyes crinkling at the corners. You didn’t think it possible for your grin to widen further still, but her outburst was contagious in the best way.

“I’m glad you’re happy with it. Truly,” she breathed out, chest stilling from her fit.

“It’s beautiful. Happy is an understatement.”

Eivor made her way over to the desk in the corner of the studio, where a graphics tablet lay alongside a stylus. “Now, before I dress it, I’m legally required to ask you if I have permission to photograph the tattoo for advertisement purposes. I appreciate it’s a personal subject matter and completely understand if—”

“Go for it,” you shrugged.

“Are you certain?” You nodded.

“Of course. It’s a work of art.” The smile she gave you was genuine.

“This’ll only take a minute. Thank you, really.”

She knelt down and snapped a picture with the tablet, checking the quality. “All done.” Eivor then proceeded to sanitise her hands and slip on one last pair of gloves, grabbing the wipes and plastic wrap from her station. “The photo will be uploaded to the shop’s website and my professional Instagram, if that’s alright with you. Completely anonymous, of course.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Although, it’ll be weird seeing my leg on my feed.” She chuckled.

“Feel free to email or DM if you have any concerns with the healing.” Patting your leg, she stood up to her full height, placing her gloves in a biohazard ziplock. “Well, I’m honoured to have given you your first tattoo.”

“Honoured to be your…canvas?”

And just like that, your time with the artist was up. You watched wistfully as she put together an aftercare pack at the front desk, your previously overjoyed expression drifting into a sad one. After paying, you thanked her one final time.

“Take care, søta,” she said with a wink.

The very moment you arrived back home, you whipped out a Norwegian-to-English translator and immediately tried to replicate her pronunciation of the word she called you, blushing profusely when discovering it meant ‘cutie’. And upon opening your cleaning pack, you found an addition that wasn’t present in your previous bundle:

A small slip of paper. On one side, a mobile number. On the other, in beautifully neat cursive,

I’d love to take you to dinner. Text me if you’re interested?

Yours, Eivor

[glowing-blue-feathermage]

Happy Friday! For DADWC, how about: "i feel like i can tell you anything" from the platonic sentence starters list, for Hawke/Merrill. :D

Exciting! I’ve been developing this long fic over the last couple of months and hashing out who I want these two to be in my ‘verse, and so this Hawke and Merrill will be based on the characters from that storyline! You can read about my Hawke in his blurb here.

For @dadrunkwriting !

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There were the usual number of sordid characters abroad on the streets that evening, confident enough in their right to what others had that they didn’t bother to conceal themselves in the shadows. They did, however, scatter like cockroaches when they saw Hawke. 

They wouldn’t have fled from Merrill. Quite the opposite, though Hawke suspected they’d regret it. 

Hawke was attached to her side, a loyal bodyguard. It was common knowledge within their circle that Varric paid off the local gangs to leave her alone, but not every unsavory person in Kirkwall had an affiliation. What some people truly wanted wasn’t money.

Merrill didn’t notice the man perched on a crate at the mouth of the alley beside her building. He was draped in the semi-darkness of an overhang, eyes like black holes in the late night gloom. This one was bolder than most. While Merrill unlocked her front door, Hawke could sense his gaze. 

The opportunity it presented called to him. Curling his index finger in, Hawke dragged the sharp point of his gauntlet along the thin skin of his thumb. He could sense the blood that welled up, like a copper tang on the inside of his nose, a salty taste on his tongue, a siren call. Merrill stopped in the foyer, hand on the door, and turned to look at him with her wide, round eyes. 

Hawke drew on the essence of the blood trickling down his thumb, tickling the skin, seeping into the hollow of his palm. Then he flicked his hand toward the man in the shadows. It was too dark to see the blood dissipate like water in frozen air, liquid turned to vapor. It would have been hard to see even in daylight, a red mist there and then gone, blown across the space that separated Hawke from this man. 

Run, Hawke thought, pushing the thought with it, imagining the man breathing it in.

The crate toppled in that man’s haste to abandon it, spilling him to his knees on the pavement. He scrambled up just as quickly, sprinting deeper into the alley. The sound of his fading footsteps brought a smirk to Hawke’s lips. 

Merrill’s gaze was unreadable when Hawke met her eyes again, but she held the door back and waited for Hawke to follow her inside. 

“Would you like something to drink?” she asked brightly. She had a way of offering refreshments that made it sound like nothing would please her more. 

Hawke shut the door behind him, lifting his hand to his mouth, sucking at the stinging cut on his thumb. 

Merrill giggled. “That’s not exactly what I meant.” 

Hawke chuckled. “Water is fine,” he said. 

Merrill produced a wooden cup of magically chilled water and they sat at her table. She bade Hawke remove his gauntlet and he sat patiently while she tended to the wound on his finger with a poultice and a bandage. Hawke watched her face fondly as she worked. When she was concentrating, she had a way of tucking her bottom lip between her teeth that made her seem so young.

“You’re not going to say anything about what I just did?” Hawke asked cautiously as Merrill tied off the bandage. 

She looked at him, a smile forming. “What should I say? Wait.” She straightened in her chair and affected a dour expression, folding her arms. “Blood magic is dangerous, Garrett,” she said in a fantastic impression of Anders. “It makes mages vulnerable to demons and is only ever used for dark purposes!” 

She grinned at Hawke’s answering laughter, then she bracketed his face in her delicate hands, holding his gaze. 

“I trust you,” she said. “I know what it feels like for people who call themselves your friends to believe you don’t know your own mind.” 

“You deserve better,” he told her, sighing. 

She dropped her hands, cocking her head with a shrug. “It is good to have one friend I can talk to without feeling judged. I feel like I can tell you anything. You do not lecture me and treat me like a child.” 

“Which you are not,” Hawke added, sitting back. 

She squeezed his knee before waving her hand over his cup to refill his water. “If you like, I can teach you more.” She winked at him. “Our secret.” 

Hawke raised both eyebrows. “Our secret. Teach me everything.”

[starshipsofstarlord]

Online dating

darcy lewis x reader / masterlist

summary; darcy decides to try a dating app, least to say, the guy isn’t anything like his picture. and thus she ditches him, and finds someone else in a hot second / warnings; the oc guys in this fic are dicks, homophobia, darcy being bae, swearing, mentions of sex and cheating, mentions of joy x reader.

he was a polar opposite to what he had portrayed his online self to be, screw the internet! this date was truly tragic, darcy had plenty of things that she could be better using her time for, rather than sitting opposite this oaf, that was licking his unappealing lips, and staring at the waitress when he thought that she didn’t notice.

“huh?” the scientific doctor pulled her phone out, ushering a puzzled expression on her face as she stared at the blank screen. she of course recognised that no one was making any attempts to contact her, but he didn’t know that. “one second.” she held her finger up, bringing the phone to her ear as she blabbered into the speaker that was inherently catching nothing that she was saying.

“slow down jane.” darcy falsely ushered, using her hands to exaggerate the conversation in her head. she put the phone down, a facade of panic elaborating behind her spectacle adorned eyes as she grabbed her belongings in a frenzy, standing upright and out of her seat. “im so sorry, my friend has just hit some guy with her car and she needs some moral support. tonight is going to have to be cut extremely short.”

short was a relief, but the hopeful expression on this dude’s face wasn’t. perhaps it was cruel to leave this guy hanging, and well, she couldn’t blame him for wanting more, she sent him an awkward smile as he began to speak. “we should do this again some time - properly.” darcy wasn’t dumb, she noticed how his eyes sped to the side as the curvy waitress walked by.

“sure...” no, definitely not. darcy was well aware that she was wasting her time with this moron, she didn’t need a man, let alone a dweeb of one. a quick wave was all she bade him as she exited the coffee shop, only to become engrossed in a scene erupting on the local streets. there was a woman, flinging shirts, and a bra within the bundle that looked as though it was not her size, what was she thinking, clearly it wasn’t, at said example of figurative masculinity.

“screw you durkus!” any guy named ‘durkus’ was basically a label confirming that he was a dick. “i don’t need you, nor the next man! i am a well established woman who has done more for this country than you could ever know, you’re dust beneath my feet, a pathetic layer of residue that i want nothing more to brush off.” perhaps she was being harsh, but it sounded like he deserved it.

from the red lipstick, that the woman was not at all sporting, from the random bra that she had flung at her partner, it was a safe bet to assume that he had cheated on her. darcy plodded closer, listening whimsically in, and realising that her life was pretty calm, there were no longer asguardians or dark elves infiltrating her life, nor the work that she had attained to field in.

she had only recently earned herself the title of doctor, and it was frustrating that people would assume that she opted for a profession in a hospital room, or they would forget the professional endorsement all together, and address her as ‘miss lewis’. she was no one’s puppet, she had scaled herself up the ladder of her career to be where she was now, but another thing that she was alongside such a wave of potential was a feminist.

this dick was shouting in the streets, calling her inexplicable names such as a ‘whore’, and a ‘two faced bitch’. having the ability to hear the insults brew anger in her stomach, she couldn’t just stand there. “what are you going to do, turn into a complete lesbian?” now that was the last straw, it had darcy marching over, and promptly she shoved the guy, making him drop all the items that were grasped in the basket of his arms.

a flabbergasted ‘huh’ was riveted from him, and it made darcy smirk as she attuned his attention towards her; the stranger that had gotten involved in his public display of disrespect and homophobia. “how about you watch your damned mouth before i make sure you can’t open it again. and whilst you’re at it, get some new shirts, you’re not a model, unless you’re the kind that are put on prison pamphlets.”

“who the fuck are you?” he spat his saliva on the ground by darcy’s feet, establishing her with the information that her first impression of this dick had been correct. women just knew with this kind of thing, they could sense trouble from a mile away. “you know what, keep that crazy bitch. maybe you can help her store her katanas, and go on double dates with danny rand and his plus one. rather you than me.”

“don’t ask.” the woman shook her head, tired of the drama that durkus always seemed to bring. she had enough trouble, involving work and extracurricular night time activities, without him adding to them. darcy presented her with a sweet smile, picking up the box of random bits and bobs that was on the floor. “that’s just work stuff, i’m moving offices and as i came to collect some things from our apartment, and i found him- well let’s just say he wasn’t alone.”

“that was pretty easy to pick up on. how’d you not realise that you were dating a total sleaze?” she was blunt with her enquiry, though the woman shrugged, a guilty expression cowering upon your features, like an ashamed shadow. a small, attractive smile graced her lips, secrets hidden beneath the span of the expression.

“oh, i knew. i just had to pretend to be happy, so that my ex, or well now, my other ex joy would stop chastising me, claiming that i haven’t got over her. she’s so up her own ass sometimes and it drives me- shit, i’m sorry, you don’t know me, nor do you need to hear about my problems.” the y/h/c haired woman shook her head, stretching her hand out to miss lewis. “i’m y/n, thanks a bunch for helping me out back there.”

darcy accepted her handshake, completing the action as she smiled. “i’m darcy.” this woman didn’t need to know about her doctor title, in fact, darcy was keen on knowing everything about her instead. “so’d how you meet him?” referring to the person that had most recently became y/n’s ex. y/n was relieved that darcy had shown up, she was sure she’d have used her martial art training for more than composition; she’d have kicked durkus’ flat ass.

“on a dating app.” it was a normal answer, she wouldn’t share the intel that before that she had saved his ass whilst wearing a black hood, stopping him from getting mugged in the dead of night. perhaps she should have saved someone else that particular late evening. darcy couldn’t help but let a small laugh out, finding both their circumstances quite amusing. she was sure a similar situation would have unfolded if she had decided to regularly see the date that she ditched.

“online dating man, it sucks, am i right?” it had quite the reputation, for the two of them especially. “maybe we should just date each other.” she joked, though she was being partially serious. it felt right, they had bumped randomly into one another’s faulted situations on the same day, it almost felt like fate, though that subject was too cheesy to say aloud.

“well doctor lewis, i would not at all mind going on a date with you.” darcy frowned at the title that she had been called, pointing at the side of the woman’s jacket, that had a recyclable label stuck upon the material. “so you majored in science, if i am correct?” finally, someone got it! she could get used to that.

y/n did not appear as a deity nor a creature from another realm, she was normal. or so as far as the eye could tell, in fact, she did not suspect a thing from this woman, much less to be a defender of the earth that worked in a small and less know league than the avengers, yet still roamed the us to protect its people.

darcy though had won this battle for her though, giving her a moment of peace from fighting, and had idly sent durkus on his route far away. y/n could get used to not being the hero all the time, more so if this doctor was her knight in shining armour.

[autumnslance]

FFXIV Write 2021 #2: Aberrant

Coerthas, 1551 (About 26 years before the events of “A Realm Reborn”)

“You know once you do this, there’s no going back,” Father Comfraire said in his soft, quiet voice.

Corran nodded, walking alongside the slender old priest. The day was warm and the wind blew through the long grasses, the constant hush muffling their footsteps as they made their way to the old watchtower. Corran looked to the sky, watching to see if the wings cutting the air were birds or dragons.

“There have been some who questioned your commitment to the cause,” Comfraire continued. “You’ve been less...active, since marrying that foreign woman and fathering a son.”

Corran stiffened, but before he could argue, Comfraire shook his head. “If anything, the scandal of your marriage made for a decent smokescreen. You play the part of a good Halonic well; one passionate rebellion is to be expected now and then--and she is lovely.”

“My marriage is neither convenience nor a fit of thoughtless passion,” Corran said in a low, cold voice. “I’ll thank you not to speak of my wife so again.”

Comfraire remained maddeningly calm, gaze fixed forward. “I care not if you love her or simply enjoy what’s between her fine legs--the facts speak for themselves and even after all this time, none suspect where your sympathies truly lie.” They stopped outside the old tower, its shadow shifting with the sun’s movement to fall over them. Comfraire did turn to look at Corran now. “My only concern is if you love our cause as much--or more--as you proclaim to love your Thavnairian beauty.”

Corran ground his teeth and willed his fists to unclench; this was how the old priest simply was, and he knew that. So he nodded. “If I wish my family to be safe and free, then the truth must be known, and this war ended. By any means necessary. I’ve waited long enough, and my boy’s no infant anymore.”

“Very well.” Comfraire tilted his head slightly, toward the swollen old door half-hidden behind ivy. Corran hurried forward and pulled it open, allowing the priest to enter first.

Others waited within, men and women who dared not return to the homes they once knew, branded traitors and heretics by the lying Church. They looked up as the pair entered, some nodding in respect for Comfraire, others watching Corran closely. They wordlessly followed into the center of the tower.

The top had long since fallen in, allowing the sun’s slanting rays to shine upon the creature in the center, she who made her roost here and encouraged those who would seek the truth in this long war. Her crimson scales shimmered in the golden afternoon light, scars marking her many victories.

Avengret, a daughter of Ratatoskr, a general of Nidhogg's Horde.

Her burning orange eyes took in the men who entered her domain, head lifting. “Comfraire. What have you brought me today?” She demanded, voice deep enough to vibrate bones.

“One of our own, my lady,” Comfraire said with a deep, sweeping bow. “One who is ready finally to take the next step in our long and winding path.”

“This you so judge?” She demanded, turning her fiery gaze on Corran. He met her glower with one of his own, struggling not to fidget.

“I have known this man his whole life,” Comfraire said. “He is dedicated, and worthy.”

“Dedicated to his Eastern whore, mayhap,” a rough voice said from the right. Another hyur, pale-haired and ruddy-skinned, glaring at Corran. ��Where was you when we—”

Corran’s fist connected with the man’s jaw before most in the room realized he had crossed the four yalms between them. The other hyur flailed into an old table, the half-rotten wood crumbling under the sudden weight.

“Keeping my head down and keeping useful connections,” Corran said coldly. “That’s where I was, instead of flashing my arse to the Inquisition and giving every damned Temple Knight a target, Breckt.” He leaned forward over the fallen man, still holding his jaw and wincing as he tried to sit up among the ruined wood. “And I did it while earning the affections of a proper and respectable woman. If you call her aught else again, I’ll feed you your own balls.”

Avengret’s laugh rumbled through them, the very stones vibrating. “Disparage another’s mate and reap the consequences,” she said. “I like this one, Comfraire. There is a fire here I would see stoked against mine enemies.”

“I thought you would, my lady,” the old priest’s soft voice was nearly inaudible next to the dragon’s simple breathing, yet he was clearly heard even through the angry rushing in Corran’s head.

Corran turned his back to Breckt to look up at Avengret. “What would you have me do?”

She appraised him for a long time. Finally her great mouth curled into what could only be a smile. “I would make of you a true warrior, though it will take time. Assuming you wish to fight so valiantly for me as you do for your mate.”

Corran’s mouth felt dry as the others whispered behind him, someone helping Breckt to his feet, the wood clattering against the hushed noises. Avengret’s eyes burned into Corran’s soul and he nodded. “Anything, my lady.”

She raised her large forearm, and as they watched, bit her own clawed digit. More of a nip from smaller side teeth, but enough for blood to well, ruby against crimson. Avengret held her wound to Corran; he could barely cover it with his hand. “Drink,” she ordered, a threatening growl to it.

He glanced at Comfraire, who nodded slowly, a spark in his eye the only show of emotion from the old priest, always so controlled. Corran took a breath, bracing his hands on Avengret’s scales; she was hot to the touch, but not unbearably so, her hide pebbly. He leaned in.

Later, Corran couldn’t consciously recall drinking from Avengret, though he knew he had; her blood was unbearable, the flames coursing through his body, spreading until he was going to burst from the fullness of heat. Others held him upright, soothed him with ice and calming words.

Somewhere above them all, the dragon laughed darkly. “What was ripped from my mother, I freely give that you, my son, might become my weapon--my vengeance. Serve well, and someday your reward will be to fly alongside your true family to destroy those thieves and murderers who would deny your stolen birthright.”

—-

Dark had fallen fully by the time Corran saw Comfraire back to the chapel where he pretended to serve the Halonic church. Corran was sure he said goodnight, but it was hard to hear or feel anything past the buzzing in his skull, the sensation of his skin rippling from flames still racing beneath the surface. He felt as if he had to be smoking like a smithy, his hair damp with sweat and the echo of a dragon’s song in his ears. Everything felt unbearably slow and fragile; he had to move, but could not go swiftly enough, could not go high enough.

The door of his home slammed, and even that seemed too distant. “Corran!” a sweet, familiar voice cut through the haze, hushed but scolding. “Are you drunk? You’ll wake Zaine!”

He looked, and sucked in a breath. His Emelia crossed to the kitchen, throwing him a disgruntled look at his antics. He didn’t care; he could drown in those dark blue eyes and thank her for the privilege. Her golden-brown skin fairly glowed in the lamps as he followed her, the light catching on her fine black locks, shimmering in his gaze. Even now, cleaning up after the evening meal, she moved with the grace of a dancer, slim form swaying to music only she could hear, music ever outside his own hearing but he would follow her lead forever if she let him. Even scolding, her voice, with its Thavnairian lilt, was a song he could never tire of, weaving over the dragon’s verse still in his head.

“I knew you meant to escort the Father on his walk but did you then stop by the tavern? I expected you home bells ago! Zaine was disappointed you weren’t here to give him a story, it took me forever to put him to bed.”

“I’ll make it up to him tomorrow,” Corran growled as he crossed the room. Emelia squeaked as he spun her around and pressed her back against the counter, kissing her fiercely. Her stiff surprise quickly melted into pliant response, her cool hands sliding up his chest and around his neck, a balm for the fire still raging through him.

His hands ran over her body, needing more, needing her, naught else could quench Avengret’s heat, as he nipped at Emelia’s jaw, her neck. “I need you,” he snarled.

She yelped, and he stiffened. “I--did I hurt you?” He asked, some of the haze clearing.

Emelia shook her head. “No--not in a bad way, I mean.” She blushed brightly, and he couldn’t help a relieved laugh. Then she cupped his face in her hands and he thought perhaps he could ascend to the Heavens after all. “This isn’t like you; are you all right? Just what did you drink tonight?”

He pulled her close once more. “Something new. Think I’ll try it again--if you’ve no objections.” He rocked against her.

Emelia gasped and shivered, then bade him pause, swallowing hard. “Just the one,” she managed to say.

Corran blinked, confusion warring with the fiery instincts raging within him.

Emelia giggled, still blushing. “The kitchen hasn’t a door, let alone a lock, to keep little boys at bay should they wake.”

Corran laughed now, perhaps too loudly as she tried to hush him. He scooped his wife into his arms, to carry her to their bed where he could ravish her until the fire in his veins abated, the song quieted in his head. To love and worship her as she deserved--before leaving her arms in the morning to do his part for the neverending war.

---

((Immediately followed up by “Passion”, the spicy continuation of Corran & Emelia’s evening.

So in one of last year’s prompts I suddenly learned Aeryn’s dad was a heretic, and apparently this year we’re exploring that more.))

[ktheist]

life is yours

muses. professor!fiancee!namjoon x reader x fiancee’s friend!past life husband! expecting father!yoongi

genre. reincarnation au. college au. pregnancy au.

word. 1.7k

x

you loved min yoongi, you’d die for him.

and died for him you did. when the traitors came for your king, you’d leaped in front of him and took a swing of the treacherous sword. history books portrayed him as the king who went mad. the king who slayed hundreds of lives in one night and ruled for fifty more years as a tyrant.

what are histories if not painted with a tragic romance?

they said it was because of you he went mad. because he lost his queen, his breath.

a few hundred years later, he’d found her again. at the age of twenty-seven and you, twenty-two.

his girlfriend was pregnant with his baby and you were professor kim namjoon’s student-turned-fiance.

“it’s funny, you know,” you took a whiff of the cigarette and breathe out through your mouth, “we can walk out of our current relationships and ruin everyone’s perception of us, or we can just lead the life we’re living like we didn’t remember anything.”

yoongi squints his eyes as he stares up at the sun. lips tucked downwards, as though telling the universe that after one lifetime too many, he’s unimpressed.

“or we could just run away,” he recalls the flames of the torches of that night - not as bright as today’s sun but just as mocking, “forget about everything and run away.”

“you make it sound so easy,” a laugh escapes your smoke kissed lips, “it’s not as if the people we’ve known and loved are fake, faceless puppets.”

this life is just as real.

though it would’ve gone much different if you’d met each other sooner.

yoongi taps the pointed corner of the invitation card on his palm. it tickles but it’s nothing compared to the burning sensation as he held onto the handle of the sword despite it grazing his flesh.

“how far along is she?” his girlfriend, you mean. 

walking into namjoon’s office - the office you’d snuck into a few times too many but felt utterly alien - you saw the porcelain, snow-kissed complexion of your king. all at once, the memories hit you like a rain of shards.

and in each, individual shard, you see the images of your first step, first drawing, first embroidery and the first time you met yoongi. an arrogant boy whom you pushed into the koi pond.

the same boy who smirked at you the whole time during your engagement ceremony while you squirmed in your seat, scheming a runway and an apology at the same time.

and the man who strutted into the room, plopped on the left side of the bed and bade you good night on your first night as a married couple.

it was until three months later, that you trapped him under you and confronted him about it.

you thought yoongi, the crown prince turned king, had a lover. but he loved you too much to hurt you. they said you’re supposed to bleed on your first time. you laughed until your stomach hurt because you were happy beyond words that your husband was abstaining himself for you and not going around fucking a lover behind your back.

not even a year later, you caressed your stomach and giggled to yourself, thinking about yoongi’s stone cold expression turning pink and speechless. that night, the rebellion happened.

your last memories was of him holding you in his arms and calling out your name. 

in this lifetime, your first memory of him is watching him smile a familiar smile that screamed awkwardness as namjoon relayed their youthful tales.

that was, until he got to the part where yoongi’s about to be a father.

all of a sudden, there’s a knot in your stomach. it twists and tightens until you feel like you’re going to puke if you didn’t excuse yourself, saying something about calling your mom that you’d be having dinner with namjoon and letting the two men catch up.

“ten weeks. we’re ten weeks pregnant,” he sucks in a deep, agonized breath - and from the way he’s gazing up at the sky with his hands on his hips, you don’t think he meant to hide his afflictions.

the way he refers to himself and her as ‘we’ makes that knot all the more painful.

“i was a seven weeks pregnant,” you smile softly to yourself, gazing down at your stomach as if you could feel your baby from your previous lifetime.

you shouldn’t have said it.

should’ve just kept quiet.

but-

“they told me you were eight weeks in,” the soft, breathless tone that comes from yoongi is  what makes your heart beat again.

as if you’d come to life. as if min ___, the queen of joseon had come back to tell her king the one thing she wished to say. the one thing she wished for.

a family.

“taeyang. i was going to name him taeyang because he was going to be the sun of the dynasty and bring peace to the nation,” you laugh and it’s the choked up sound that you make that makes you realize you’re on the verge of crying.

“never thought i’d be talking about histories and dynasties with anyone - i hate history,” the confession slips out of you like you’re talking with an old friend. someone you trust wholeheartedly. someone you know you can confide in. 

yoongi was your friend, your lover, your king.

“come with me. i have a savings account, we can start anew somewhere, we can have what we couldn’t have back then.” he turns to you and looks at you in the eye. 

“what about your baby?” you ask because you know it’s meant for his future family.

“i’ll send child support every month,” he says.

“your parents?” you ask because his mother was a concubine and the king barely remembered his name out of the names of his many children.

in this lifetime, from the way namjoon candidly told the story, you know they love their eldest son as much as he loves them.

“they’ll adore you,” he says.

“no one’s gonna love a homewr- ah,” you hiss, dropping the cigarette that was trapped between your fingers until it burned your skin.

“___,” a familiar, deep but less gravelly tone reverberates against the walls as namjoon comes jogging at you like you’re a kid who just bruised her knee.

you study his face and yoongi’s eyes burn holes in your head.

from the way he meets your gaze and gives you ‘your fingers almost got burned and you’re looking at me?’ you think it’s safe to say that he didn’t hear what you were saying.

“i’m fine, i just burned my fingers because i got too engulfed in yoongi’s stories about how you two met,” you laugh at how namjoon’s inspecting your fingers more attentively than a doctor would.

“another reason to include in the long list of reasons not to smoke,” your finacee chides.

“that was my last,” you announce in a higher pitch than your usual voice - and that’s how namjoon knows you’re half-joking, even when you- “i promise.”

“anyways,” you place the injured hand on his chest to distract him - the way yoongi’s jaw tighten doesn’t go past you, “i talked to my dad because apparently my mom was cooking and couldn’t come to the phone and he said to tell you to bring me back before curfew.”

it’s the way namjoon freezes underneath your touch, his eyes blinking once and his soul retreating far back into his subconscious that makes you giggle.

“i’m kidding.”

only then, does he breathe again.

“my mom wasn’t cooking, she was watching her favorite show,” you say again.

it takes a split second for namjoon to put two and two together and tenses up again. as if he feels your father’s hardened gaze behind him. your father didn’t take it too well when you introduced your professor as your boyfriend who proposed to you a week before.

“it was nice meeting you, yoongi, we look forward to see you at our wedding,” you extend a hand, the playful smile reserved for namjoon, now directed at your king.

the king whom you died for. and the king who you’re telling to live his life, as you’ll live yours.

“wouldn’t miss my best friend’s wedding for the world,” he smiles, his hand grasping yours and you thought you’re going to combust from the electrifying sensation that runs through your veins.

but it’s only short-lived. 

you pull your hand away and he summons his back to his side.

he turns to namjoon and gives him a pat on his shoulder, congratulating him again but this time, with a lingering stare before walking past the two of you and towards the parking lot.

“professor, i’ll get my purse from your office and we’ll be good to go.” you say absently before skipping to the opposite direction of where yoongi was headed.

with each step you take, you hear your heart breaking. just like the pieces of your memories that rains down like shards of glass.

you wonder if you’ll make it through this life without dying of a broken heart.

“i thought we fixed that?” namjoon murmurs behind you, just as you sling the strap of your purse over your shoulder.

“hm?” you turn to the man leaning against the doorframe, observing you with a crease between his brows.

“you called me professor again,” namjoon mumbles almost as if he’s sulking.

and your heart warms at the tender sight of a grown man acting like a child. you’re reminded of the reason you fell for kim namjoon. his gentle nature was the opposite of yours yet he laughed at your jokes like he laughed off your flirtatious advancements.

he told you he saw you as a student and lent you his scarf when he saw you shaking in the cold while waiting for your uber. the next time he saw you, at 11 pm before the library closes, he offered to drive you home even though his was in the opposite direction from yours.

“namjoon,” you say his name, a smile tucked on your lips as you wrap your arms around his waist and his arm that had been crossed over his chest instantly makes it way around you, “thank you.”

“for what?” his eyes light up like a christmas tree, dimple digging into his cheek.

“for choosing me,” you stand on the tip of your toes and he meets you halfway for the kiss.

and you loved min yoongi, you died for him.

you love kim namjoon, you choose to live the rest of your life with him.

x

note. so like, the title - technically, it’s like oc saying “my life is yours” to both yoongi and namjoon but in different lifetimes :D

[10millionyearsdungeon]

Praesidium

A/N: Back to our regularly scheduled bullshit...We went into this with zero plan, zero ambition, and came out the other end with something resembling a drabble featuring Hitoshi Shinsou as a hot-shit, Kennedy-esque politician trying to escape from the “family business.” I’d like to thank @dymphnasprose​ for the inspiration, the banner, and for putting up with my crazed plot bunny hunting sessions in her DMs. Proudly part of The Smut Pile Mafia Collab-- huge thanks to @pleasantanathema​ and @present-mel​ for organizing it and keeping us degenerates on time for once. You’re the real heroes.

TW: Wax play, orgasm denial, tobacco use, death threats, graphic violence

=====================================================

You were always used to protection. Your family's name and wealth brought its own Kevlar shield; whether it was the broad shouldered bodyguards flanking you and your entourage during every frivolous shopping excursion or impromptu escape to one of the many vacation homes that dotted the globe, or the mere mention of your father and the weight of his near omnipresence in the highest echelons of high society, protection was almost always guaranteed. You could hear it in the hushed voices of the real estate giants and their trophy wives when you made your grand entrance to every socialite gathering. 

"There she is, Yanai's precious pearl…" 

Dripping in envy and awe, it was no surprise to you when you caught his eye. Heir and only daughter of the wealthiest family in the country, you knew your worth among the elite and so did he. You only knew of Shinsou Hitoshi by virtue of his reputation as a newcomer to the world of national-level politics, but his charm and charisma were undersold by every inch devoted to him in the papers. By all accounts, he left you dazzled by his lazy, almost sleepy smile and the low rumble of his succinct one-liners. 

He played the part of the laid-back Playboy to the hilt, and by the night of your first fundraiser gala Shinsou had you practically eating from the palm of his hand like a hungry stray. By your second date, you could practically taste the Harry Winston hiding in his Tom Ford smoking jacket by the time dessert arrived. Back then you never questioned how he managed to afford the heirloom, four carat diamond he slid onto your finger, nor did it occur to you how he managed to slither his way into the House of Councilors. Blinded by the magnetic sway he held over you and your well-paid collection of sycophants, the how and why seemed largely irrelevant so long as he kept you on his arm. In your waking moments, you could almost catch pieces of a broken conversation from your insomniac lover. 

"Find someone else...I'm done being your enforcer. I have an image to maintain now…"

Many a night he'd stumble in reeking of sweat and sulfur, dark liquor still burning on his lips when he pressed a kiss to your warm cheek as you slept in your shared bed. Morning invariably gave way to bruised knuckles and heavy dark circles as Shinsou hid his fading scars under his slate gray Armani suit. Prior to your wedding night, you thought you caught the rip of his silk and gravel voice grunting from a crooked alley. Following those familiar thunderclap grunts was the crunch of something hard and then a pulpy squilch that made your stomach twist in on itself. The begging that followed was unintelligible from your way to the nightclub, but his voice, your Shinsou's voice snarling a loaded promise of breathing tubes and chronic pain if the offending party didn't pay their due stayed with you until your bodyguard ushered you into the safety of your car. 

"Daddy, I can't do this," you cried. Your father dabbed at your eyes and shook his head at your tantrum. He wouldn't be so blasé about the arrangement or your uproar if he was the one who heard your groom's fist shattering bones just the night before. A vision in white brocade, the four carats on your left hand felt like ten tons weighing you down the aisle as your father all but dragged you to meet your husband at the end. As the crowd rose to receive your grand entrance, you couldn't help but stifle a quiet sob at the sight of Shinsou's surrogate fathers standing in the front pew. Yamada couldn't contain his excitement for his boy, but Aizawa glared on coldly when you met his gaze. Your father kissed your cheek and gave your hands a squeeze before abandoning you before your audience. Shinsou held out his hand, and you choked back another hiccuping sob-- how could you hold those hands the same way when they were capable of such senseless violence? Knuckles cracked and discolored with aging bruises, he groped for your hands and pulled you the extra two steps onto the altar, flashing you that same lackadaisical grin. It was a blur, a bad dream you couldn't wake from. Beyond the sporadic flashbulbs blinking in the crowd, you couldn't pull away from him. 

"I do…" Your voice didn't sound like your own, even as you felt it leave your throat. Shinsou pulled closer and rasped against your lips. 

"This is only the beginning, kitten." 

Kitten...

You couldn't deny how his pet name made you shiver. The single word held a scintillating promise of the night to come, yet all you could focus on were those hands and the crunch of anonymous bones under his blows. Would he ever turn those hands on you? As he gently slid his platinum wedding band over your ring finger, the mate to the ostentatious engagement ring occupying the spot, you melted under the tenderness of his touch. Your Hitoshi couldn't be capable of such violence. Your Hitoshi was a man of change, of reform who wanted to help bring his countrymen into a golden age. Your fingers numbly slid your ring onto your husband's hand and with the action sealed your own fate. The world swam out of view when he overtook you with a blistering kiss, hungry and needy against your lips. He didn't taste like smoke and scotch this time, a flavor you had grown to appreciate the longer you entangled yourself with him. He lingered for what felt like an eternity, the roar of applause and shared joy for the union a soundtrack erasing any fears you might have had prior. 

Your bridesmaids swooned over the intensity of Shinsou’s gaze throughout your opulent reception-- your father sparing no expense when giving away his precious pearl. Shinsou’s family kept to themselves mostly, with Aizawa only stepping from their shadowy corner to address your father over travel arrangements. Hitoshi’s eyes narrowed and that same cocksure grin blossomed over his features as you inched closer, hip pulled closer by that massive hand. “Hey,” you breathed with a soft smile. He returned it in kind and squeezed your hip through the eggshell Vera Wang gown and leaned in to whisper in your ear. Hair slicked back, all that tickled you was the heat from his breath as it fanned against your skin. “I can’t wait to get you out of that, kitten. Gorgeous as you are with it on, the thought of you in nothing but your jewelry has my mouth practically watering.” Predatory gaze amplified by that sex and gravel voice had you melting. He took you by the hand and bade you follow him across the floor of the resort ballroom. Cautiously, you glanced around the room, anxious that someone from the party would notice your sudden escape. Before you had a chance to object, Hitoshi held a finger to his lips and pulled you through the crowd and out of the room. “You really think I can wait any longer when you’re looking like that?” The wait staff cast cursory glances at you and your husband as he continued to guide you away from the noise and bodies keeping him from tearing your gown off and claiming you. “Hitoshi…” you whimpered, pinned with your back to the door of your honeymoon suite. He sunk his teeth into your shoulder and nearly purred at the gasp that left your lips. Fumbling for the key, Shinsou held you from falling into the open door and nudged you over the threshold with an eagerness you couldn’t place. Words were swallowed by hungry mouths and replaced with an exchange of passion tempered only by the quiet frustration of fingering over buttons and parting fabric to unwrap the prize of feeling your skin under his fingertips. Once released from your prison of beaded white silk and delicate lace, Hitoshi pulled away, raking his ultraviolet eyes over your nearly bare frame to further appreciate his prize. 

“Just when I thought you couldn’t be any more perfect.” Instead of shying away from his words, you moved with a certainty that was far from your own. Automatically reaching for his tie, you pulled him down to resume your heated devouring, earning a chuckle and a light spank on your lace-covered cheek in reply. “Impatient, kitten?”

Your fingers worked the buttons of his shirt nimbly, practically digging your nails into his chest just to feel him hiss into your mouth. Tongues waged a war to stalemate status as your husband gave your buttocks a squeeze before hoisting you up and wrapping your legs around his hips. Your sex practically drooled against his toned abs through your useless lace panties. The trail of your gyrating on the ridges of washboard muscle pulled wanton moans from your kiss-bruised lips.

“Feels like you are. Drenched for me already. Who knew my heiress was such a needy slut.” You whined under the degradation he heaped on you as he placed you on the pillow-top bed and guided your hands above your head. Shinsou pulled his tie over his head and wrapped it lovingly around your wrists, brushing his lips and teeth along the gently blushing skin along your blue-blood veins as he finished securing you to the headboard. He moved slowly, teasing every inch of exposed skin with languid grace. A panther in human skin, Shinsou sunk his teeth and sucked purple bruises along your ribs and thighs, parting your squirming legs casually. You felt the weight of his wedding band on your inner thigh and wriggled away from the cold of it. Hitoshi tsked from below, grin tugging on his lips as he pulled your panties down with his teeth. Tenderly, he rubbed a sole finger along your drenched folds. You bucked into the sensation and writhed for more, only to have your husband pull away and drag the slick-stained digit along his tongue. 

“Looks like I’m gonna have to teach you a lesson, kitten.” He blew on your clit, earning a choked moan. “You’re on my time now.” He withdrew, leaving you to whine for him to return, only to be answered by the closing of the bathroom door. You stared at the gold leaf ceiling, seconds dragging on like hours until he finally returned holding a candle, lit cigarette caught between his teeth. Hitoshi took a drag and guarded the flame from his dark red candle as he took a seat beside your whimpering form. He set the candle on the headboard and gently held your face in his hand, blowing smoke into your mouth. The intimate gesture, sharing the air in his lungs made you swoon. Distracted, you barely registered him removing your bra or how he grazed your pert nipples with scarred thumbs. You opened and melted into his attention, desperate for more. You caught his gaze, eyes glazed over with unadulterated adoration, and let out a strangled wail when the first drops of scarlet wax dripped over your shivering breasts. 

The shock of sudden warmth encasing your tender flesh in candy apple red kept you reeling into the next pour. Your Hitoshi leered above you, rapt in your reactions as he brought his free hand to rest on your bare mons. His long fingers grazing along your sopping clit and the continued dripping of hot wax on your skin had you writhing in place. His dark, rumbling chuckle made your blood sizzle under your skin as he admired his work. 

"I think she likes it," he purred, now moving with intent. Arching into the duvet, you pouted sweetly at your husband, legs gently rubbing together as if it would further entice him to continue. "Who knew my kitten was such a kinky slut?" 

"'Toshi, touch me more!" 

His eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline, and he pulled his hand away from your glistening sex. Frustrated whimpers echoing through the suite, you were cut short by another trail of red wax burning down to your navel. He took another slow drag from his slow-dying cigarette and smirked. If it weren't for his hardening cock poking your hip through his tuxedo pants you would have never known how hopelessly he needed every moan and whine he pulled from your tight body. Past games, he would have blinded you, muffled his voice behind black silk and noise cancelling headphones, but tonight was different. 

"Know your place, kitten. You're in no position to make demands."

You bit your lip and stifled another whine as the wax cooled in the mold of your belly button. Shinsou kept the candle hovering just over your bound body, constantly watching you with the same, slow-simmering lust burning in his deep violet eyes. He stopped short over your dripping pussy and licked the nicotine from his lips. You could see the plan unfold in his head before he had a chance to put it in action. Anticipation had every hair tingling as you waited for his next move. Before he could act, there was a stern rap at the door. With all the petulance and frustration of a child forced to share his favorite toy, Shinsou rose from the bed and trudged to the door. 

"Little busy in here."

"Business waits for no one." The intruder's voice was black ice on a fall morning, cold and sharp as Hitoshi shrank back from the door. His shoulders tensed as he scratched the back of his neck, an anxious tic he couldn't shake from childhood. "You can play with your toy when we're done."

"I told you I've gone straight. No more back alley deals, no more blood on my hands. I'm done."

Your blood ran cold and it crept into your belly to make a new home gnawing through the viscera. Unable to make out much more than the broad back of your husband at the door, you strained to listen to the conversation before the cocking of a gun took your breath away. 

"You're done when I say you're done. Never forget who bought you those votes, how you skated into your parliament chair, high councilor." The voice's tone was harsh, mockingly so with an edge of condescension that earned a defeated growl from your Shinsou. The owner of the voice stepped closer, peering over your husband's shoulder with a frigid smirk that nearly made your heart stop. Aizawa raked his dark, abyssal eyes over your exposed body, resting hungrily on your sex drooling into the plum duvet, and turned back to his surrogate son. "Be a shame if something happened to her. All those billions siphoned away…" From your spot on the bed you could feel the noose tightening around both your necks the longer Boss Aizawa spoke. 

"...all to attend a funeral as the dutiful, lovesick widower with his wife's blood on his hands." 

"Enough! That's enough...you win."

Shinsou buttoned his shirt quickly and cast a longing glance over his shoulder at your quiet sobbing. He never wanted you to know the underworld he clawed out of to finally live in the light. It wasn't enough to want change and leave the bloody past where it belonged. Some ghosts had a way of coming back to their old haunts. Tuxedo jacket slung over his shoulder, Shinsou slicked his hair back and turned his back on you, leaving you bound to the headboard with wax, his own Jackson Pollock masterpiece drying on your skin. You could feel your heart breaking with the gentle closing of the door, and the barely audible, "I'm sorry," whispered ruefully by your retreating husband. Protection was something you used to take for granted, but as you found that night and many after, it was something few in your precarious position could do without. 

[fandom-puff]

Little Tease

Pairing: Remus Lupin x reader

Requested by: anon

Prompts: 22 ( If i have to stop what i’m doing, you wont be able to walk for the next week. ) and 45 (You can’t tease me like that and expect not to be punished) from smut prompts

Summary: remus isn’t too impressed with your teasing

Warnings: quite rough sex, swearing, edging

Remus was in ecstasy. Truly. The tight sheath of your throat was utterly magical, and the way you sucked his cock so perfectly sent his head west...

You pulled away, and he was alright with that- you’d stopped a few times to pay attention to his balls or to catch your breath- but when you stood up smirking, wiping your mouth, his eyes widened. “Come on,” you said. “Better get to that meeting,”

Remus stared at you incredulously. “You’ve got to be joking,” he groaned, eyebrows tugged together as his hips strained slightly. “I swear, YN, if I have tk stop what we’re doing, you won’t be able to walk for the next week,”

“A risk I’m willing to take,” you shrugged, smirking coyly as you swayed out of the room and downstairs. Remus groaned lowly and organised himself so it wouldn’t be obvious to the rest of the order that he had a raging hard-on.

***

An hour and a half later, remus’s thighs were shaking discretely and his jaw was clenched tightly. Throughout the meeting, you had been stroking his broad thighs relatively innocently. What wasnt innocent was the palming of his persistent bulge when no one was looking.

When the meeting ended, you bade everyone a good night, and went to your shared room. Not five minutes later, remus arrived, slamming and locking the door behind him. “You’re a little tease, you know that,” he growled, eyes darkening. You gulped, excited, backing up on the bed and spreading your legs slightly. “Now, are you gonna be a good girl and let me devour you?” He asked and you nodded easily. A few clever charms later, you were naked and quivering with excitement and Remus inhaled deeply, smelling your arousal. “Fucking hell...” he groaned. “I bet you taste as good as you smell, darling,”

You barely had time to reply before your voice caught in your throat and you gasped slightly, before moaning his name. His moustache tickled your sensitive flesh deliciously as he wrapped his lips around your clit, flicking it with his tongue. Eagerly, you bucked your hips up to him, circling them slightly. He grunted, letting you do so as he swirled his tongue, drinking you in as if you were a welcome oasis in a barren desert. You loved the feeling of his tongue and your moans and writhing told him as such, and when he pushed his tongue into you, you sighed his name so prettily it was a wonder he didn’t cum on the spot.

You wove your fingers through his hair as he fucked you with his tongue, occasionally brushing his finger over your sensitive bud, and you soon began building up to climax, your thighs clenching and trembling, your sex throbbing with need.

Remus pulled away, smirking up at you.

You glared down at him, groaning lowly as you moved to give your clit those last few crucial rubs-

Your wrists were pinned to the side. “Don’t you fucking dare. You should know, YN, that you can’t tease me like that and expect not to be punished,” you whimpered in response as he waited for you to calm slightly, before diving back in, tonguing your clit with reckless abandon, much tougher than before... or perhaps everything just felt so sensitive after being so close...

You drew nearer to your orgasm quicker this time, and almost sobbed when he pulled away. He settled into a routine, sucking your clit until he noticed your tells, pulling away, letting you calm down. By the fifth time, your entire body was shaking, every nerve thrumming with sensitivity. “Please!” You eventually begged. “Please just fuck me! Remus, please! I need to come!”

Remus moved away from your sex, hovering above you. “You’ve done so well for me, sweetheart,” he murmured, kissing you. You could taste yourself on his lips. “Good girl,” he moaned, lining himself up and slowly pushing into your needy hole. “Taking my cock so well... fuck,” he swore, rocking his hips slowly. Your sweet moans and tight grip on his arm encouraged him to fuck faster and harder, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, trying to meet his thrusts with messy bucks of your own hips. Neither of you were to last long, both so desperately close to relief that when remus painted your innermost walls with his seed, you only needed a few more sloppy thrusts before you were clenching around his cock and biting his shoulder to muffle your shouts of pleasure.

Dazed, comfortable and clingy, you snuggled into one another, and when remus reached for his wand you grabbed his wrist. “Leave it for a while,” you murmured, loving the feeling of his come slowly seeping out of you. He grinned and kissed your forehead gently, holding you close to his chest.

“You’re wonderful,” he mumbled, nuzzling into your hair as you sighed happily. “Bloody brilliant you are,” you giggled, drawing swirls on his scarred back. “But bloody hell, YN... I thought I’d come in my trousers...”

“It’s a good job you didn’t, Rem,” you said, grinning up at him. “Otherwise we would’ve had to wait even longer for that excellent shag,”

Tag List: @obsessedwithrandomthings @haphazardhufflepuff @diksy1112 @zodiyack @axriel @hiddensapphic @samnblack @tinylumpiaa @in-slytherin-we-trust @thatoneasrastan @emmaloo21 @kyn-lyn54-blog @eleven-times-lively @summer-writes @sleepylunarwolf @holysantana @rai-strangebr @moonlover-tobefree @levylovegood @tsuukichan @brainlesspasta

[pub-lius]

ACTUALLY Hardcore Facts About Alexander Hamilton

Alright, take two.

I've already typed this entire thing out once, so this is likely going to be a lot more lazy than anything else I will ever post, so :).

Sources: Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow; John Laurens and the American Revolution by Gregory D. Massy; The Federalist by Alexander Hamilton; George Washington's Indispensible Men by Authur S. Lefkowitz; Lafayette by Harlow Giles Unger; Who Was Alexander Hamilton? by Pam Pollack and Meg Belviso

Hamilton wished for a war when he was like a baby. So if you know Hamilton, you know that one line where Hamilton says "As a kid of the Carribean, I wished for a war, I knew that I was poor, I knew it was the only way to rISE UP-" in Right Hand Man. Well, that line is based off of a letter Hamilton sent to his childhood bestie, Edward Stevens: "...Ned, my ambition is [so] prevalent that I... would willingly risk my life, tho' not my character, to exalt my station... I'm no philosopher, you see, and may be jus[t]ly said to build castles in the air... I shall conclude by saying I wish there was a war. Alex. Hamilton." Okay, dude, calm down, you're like two years old. I think he was actually like 14-16, but for dramatic purposes we'll say he was an actual infant (do I sound like Chernow?). But I hate how much this letter foreshadows. It's like he jinxed himself, its almost embarrassing.

Hamilton ran a business at 14. Now if you've ever been fourteen and you were like "i think i feel like running a business" literally shut up no one asked. I think this is impressive. When Hamilton was at least 14, the guys the owned Beekman and Cruger (it had a different name by this time but this one sounds cooler) just dipped and left Hamilton in charge. This was actually a pretty good decision, since Hamilton managed it well. There was also this one time where Hamilton told a whole captain of a ship who didn't perform up to standard, "Reflect continually on the unfortunate voyage you have just made and endeavor to make up for the considerable loss therefrom accruing to your owners." This man was so arrogant I wish I had his confidence. Yeah that was cool ig, but if I met teenage-Hamilton, I'd literally hate him.

Hamilton saved the president of his college. Ever the dramatic, Hamilton had a thing for suppressing mobs (though he was pretty much never successful). There was this one time at King's College where a mob formed to "talk" with the president of the university, Dr. Myles Cooper (by "talk" i mean make him into a tory bird). And, according to Who Was Alexander Hamilton? (this book gives me so much joy), "Alexander vowed to protect him [aww]... He stood up to the crowd, telling them that violence would only hurt their cause. He couldn't stop the crowd, but he delayed them long enough for Dr. Myles Cooper to escape in his nightgown," (Pollack and Belviso 27-29). This is a really sweet description of it, but Hamilton was probably calling the mob a bunch of insults and stuff, judging by how he later handled riots. Also, Cooper thought Hamilton was rallying the mob, so he was a complete jerk to Hamilton, but rightfully. Everyone, bully Hamilton. He's short and dead like an idiot.

Hamilton was really cool on the battlefield, don't @ me. Now, despite being a clumsy little gremlin and an absolute dork, Hamilton was a pretty good leader, and I guess veterans deserve to be recognized for their victories or whatever. At the battle of Princeton, one of my favorites, Hamilton had very big, cool guns, and did some cool stuff. "Returning to the final phase of the battle of Princeton, British infantry took refuge inside Nassau Hall, the building that housed the College of New Jersey. American artillery commanded by Capt. Alexander Hamilton [ya boy] was brought to bear on the college building... Washington was on the scene and noticed this young artillery officer who skillfully commanded his gun battery. The general would soon invite Hamilton to become one of his aides-de-camp," (Lefkowitz 92). Wow so cool moving on to Yorktown.

When the Americans were building their fortifications, two British fortifications were in the way. So rude. Consequently, Washington sent The Gay Trio, Lafayette, Laurens, and Hamilton, to uh, silence them. Hamilton pulled off a successful sneak attack, and won the battle swiftly, leading to the American victory in the battle of Yorktown, and therefore the war. "...Colonel Hamilton['s] well known talents and gallantry were on this occasion most conspicuous and serviceable. Our obligations to him, to Colonel Gimat [stan], to Colonel Laurens, and to each and all the officers are above expression..." -Major General Marquis de Lafayette. Lafayette is so nice I would marry him if he was alive and single and legal and not old as hell. Like omg he gave credit to everyone but himself that's so nice I'm such a simp for Lafayette. Anyway, Hamilton was cool too ig.

Hamilton caused the evacuation of Philadelphia like an iDIOT. So, after Brandywine (British victory), Washington sent Hamilton on a foraging mission in Vally Forge to get flour, horseshoes, and tomahawks (not quite as exciting as Yorktown). Well, our clumsy ginger rat got caught, and wrote to the president of Congress, John Hancock, "If Congress have not yet left Philadelphia, they ought to do it immediately without fail, for the enemy have the means of throwing a party [party rockers in the house tonight] this night into the city. I have just now crossed the valley-ford [Valley Forge], in doing which a party of the enemy came down & fired upon us."

Surprise, this turned out not to be the entire goddamn British army, it was just a few scouts sooo... let's just say Philadelphia wasn't happy. "Our Removal from Philad. Was owning to information that General Howe was crossing Schuylkill [River]... However tho' this Intelligence was from one of the General's family (Alexander Hamilton) it was not well founded & we wish we had not left Philad.," -James Duane. Yeeeaaahhh, that's awkward. Not the best way to get your name known in the capital, I must say.

Hamilton was possibly bisexual, and this is hardcore because I say so. Now, I'll add more quotes to this later, but basically heres my interpretation of the historical evidence and whatnot. Basically, Hamilton was a really closed off, cynical guy, since like everyone he ever loved died or left him pretty much, and he wasn't really the type to make and keep close friends; "...how little dependence is to be placed on treaties, which have no other sanction than the obligations of good faith, and which oppose general considerations of peace and justice to the impulse of any immediate interest or passion," (Federalist 64); It is a known fact in human nature, that its affections are commonly weak in proportion to the distance or diffusiveness of the object," (Federalist 73). Um, Mr. Hamilton? You're projecting your trauma on the government again.

Also, despite working with him for like twenty years, Hamilton really never got close to Washington, like at all. He even said to Laurens, "I have no friendship for him and have professed none," in regards to Washington, which is kind of mean. But he ALSO told Laurens:

"Cold in my professions, warm in my friendships, I wish, my dear Laurens, it m[ight] be in my power by action rather than words [to] convince you that I love you. I shall only tell you that till you bade us adieu, I hardly knew the value you had taught my heart to set upon you. Indeed, my friend, it was not well done. You know the opinion I entertain of mankind and how much it is my desire to preserve myself free from particular attachments and to keep my happiness independent of the caprice of others. You s[hould] not have taken advantage of my sensibility to ste[al] into my affections without my consent."

*mocking Hamilton* its YOUR fault that i love you and it was RUDE that you FORCED me to love you how DARE you you SUCK i love you uwu.

Also, at the top of that letter, someone mysterious (probably Hamilton's son) wrote, "I must not publish the whole of this," and Massey still thinks Hamilton was straight.

But yeah, that's about it. I had originally written more at the beginning, but I unfortunately lost the original draft, so I'll just settle for this. I hope you enjoyed, though, and maybe learned something or found a quote you needed or something. I did more research than I wanted to in one sitting for this, so appreciate it or I'll cry. Thanks love you <3

[andrasteisolde]

Chapter VI

Save for occasional laughter and shouting emanating from the great hall, the castle sat silent, and save for what guests remained at the feast, the occasional guard patrolling the grounds and the royal family tucked in their beds, the castle stood still. Despite his earlier misgivings, Merek had thoroughly enjoyed the feast, but having had his fill of food and drink and having lost the last few rounds of a drinking game Dionysus Rhys had initiated and ultimately won, he had slipped out of the great hall under the pretense of using the privy and returning, neither of which he planned to do. Wandering the halls, head buzzing from too much mead, he leaned against one of the stone walls and closed his eyes, willing his head to stop spinning. With his eyes closed, his other senses now heightened, he could hear muffled voices echoing off the stone from deeper in the castle and could faintly smell lavender, the Queen's scent. At some point, Andraste had taken the same path as he and the realization made both his heart flutter in his chest and his imagination run wild; the thought of a secret rendevous with her Highness in the dimly lit passageway both cleared his swimming head and aroused him. Before he could truly fantasize about her and the way he wished to touch her, the voices that had seemed so distant were now dangerously close to where he was. Opening his eyes in alarm, wanting to avoid being spotted and sucked into another meaningless conversation with whoever inched closer, he shoved off the wall, retraced his steps and instead of turning the corner to the left, he went right. His body pressed against stone, head tilted to the side to better eavesdrop, he made out two distinct female voices, one which sounded vaguely familiar.

"---the audacity of presuming the Queen would want him escorting her to the parish. Why would any other than the Knight Commander escort her Highness when he is not laden with duty. And did you see how Sir Dionysus Rhys watched him after uttering such foolishness?" "I think it brave," the second female said, the lilt in her voice jarring his memory, "to ask so boldly to accompany the queen. If his plans are to join the Queen's guard, and I do so hope they are, what better way to accomplish it than by volunteering to escort her? Has he not already proven his actions to be just?" "'Tis plain to see any and all his actions to be just according to you, Lisette. There is little doubt that you fancy him. Your reddened face more than gives it away." "I cannot deny that I do harbor feelings for Sir Merek. He's quite easy on the eyes, chiseled and muscled, and has already proven to be chivalrous," Lisette said quietly. "Perhaps it also does not hurt that his posterior fits in his trousers so nicely." "Ebris!" Lisette shouted, then covered her mouth with her hand. "Calm yourself. I only speak what you will not so readily admit. You are not the only to notice his assets." Both women laughed, and Merek found himself grinning ear to ear. "Riordahn's ball is fast approaching and Merek has been bade to attend, which is the perfect time for you to find out if he lusts for you in return and for you to put your shyness to bed. Now, let's away. I must fetch some fresh linen for her Majesty and I know she awaits you as well." "Aye, to fetch some cherry cobbler. Her cravings are without end." Again laughing, the two women headed down the passageway away from Merek. Once he was sure they were long gone, he emerged from his hiding place and came to the part of the hallway where he could either go right, following the two ladies, or go left, hoping to find... What exactly was he hoping to find? He knew what he was trying to avoid, any and all confrontation with Dafydd. Fighting the urge to go right, wanting despertely to see the Queen again before leaving the castle, he reluctantly went left.

The corrider seemed to be endless. Despite making a few turns, he was almost certain he had passed that same painting of King Atticus, Andraste's father, more than once, and each time he did, the imposing figure stared back at him as if boring a hole through him, uncovering the truth as to why Merek was in the Queen's company. Wincing under the glare from the former king, he turned back and this time instead of turning left, he took a right and then another right. Realizing he was endlessly lost, his only hope someone finding him, he turned and halted to a stop. Standing in an archway facing the throne room, he spied a lone figure sitting on the throne. Even without the dim lighting from the numerous candles in the throne room casting shadows, he knew instantly who it was. Hesitant, thinking he could leave unnoticed, he slowly backed up but was stopped short when the figure spoke. "Ah, her Highness's hero in the flesh." Cursing under his breath, Merek stepped through the archway and into the throne room proper and leaned against one of the walls, arms crossed in front of his chest, eyes watching the speaker wearily.

"The hour grows late. I was beginning to think you were avoiding me." "'Twas my wish, but it seems that that, amongst my other wishes, has fallen deaf upon the ears of The Watcher. Tell me, Father Dolane, how must I word such things in the future for The Watcher to hear my prayers?" "Such a smart tongue. One would think you would respect a priest, of all things." "Show me a priest, and I shall." Smiling at Merek, it not quite reaching his eyes, Dafydd stood to his full height and seemed to puff out his chest. "You have me at that, but enough of this banter and to the matter at hand. It seems you have made quite the impression on the Queen," Dafydd said, swirling a goblet of wine whilst sneering, his tone laced with what almost sounded to be jealousy. "You took my words to heart, finding a way into her good graces and gaining an audience with her. 'Tis a shame, however, that that meant saving that brat of hers." Dafydd took a drink of his wine whilst Merek balked at his words. "He's just a boy, barely older than an infant. Idly standing by and letting him be trampled is not something I or any other decent folk would do. I can see how that would be hard for you to grasp." Ignoring the quip, Dafydd continued on, taking yet another sip of wine, but this time letting it linger. "A boy today, aye, but in a few years he will ascend the throne. You had the chance to nip that in the bud, yet you chose to intervene. It, however, makes no difference to me how the child and the rest of his family perish, be it by accident or by the executioner's noose, just that it occurs." "You are gravely mistaken if you believe I will help you murder innocents. That was not part of our deal."

Merek shoved off from the wall and started towards Dafydd who looked unconcerned. "Perhaps I was not clear when we first spoke. Think, Merek. In order for me to claim the throne, I need any and all obstacles out of my way and that includes all members of the royal family, including those unborn. I care not if you are the hand that wields the hammer, but I do need you to find the proof I seek in order for the hammer to strike. That was part of our deal. I do not necessarily need you, Merek. If need be, I can find all the proof I need myself or even fabricate it, but I included you out of the kindness of my heart because I know how much you care for your sister. Although, I must say, she would make quite the queen next to my side." The anger drained from Merek's face as Dafydd pushed past him and started walking toward the archway Merek had entered through. "No," Merek said, shoulders slumped, dejected, "leave Caroline out of this. If there is proof to be found, I shall find it, but I will not commit regicide." "Good," Dafydd said, nodding his head and straightening the front of his wrinkled priestly robes. "I knew you would see things my way. Now, I expect results, Merek. I want to see something incriminating against the Queen soon as a sign of good faith of our deal, or I shall have Caroline brought against her will to me. I would hate for her to learn the reason for her prediciment is because of her brother." Seeing the angst on Merek's face, Dafydd laughed and started to move through the archway, stopping short to speak over his shoulder. "Oh, and Merek, do not think I do not see the way you look at her. I do so hope she has not clouded your mind or the task at hand. If I can offer some advice, I would tread carefully. Not only am I watching you, but so is Knight Commander Dionysus Rhys and he tends to be... very protective of what is his and his alone." With that the pauper priest vanished around the corner. Angry and disgusted, sitting down on the throne, Merek held his head in his hands unaware that he was being watched. Sighing, running a hand through his hair, the sound of an object striking stone brought him back from his self-loathing. Standing abrupty, scanning the room with alarm, he turned toward one of the archways that led to the kitchen and saw it -- a candlestick. Cursing, he moved to the candlestick and picked it up. Squinting in the dim light, scanning every inch, he gently placed the candlestick down and hurridly made his exit. As if there was not enough on his plate. now he had to figure out who had overheard them and what he could do to ensure their silence.

Previous // Beginning

[shoto-hoedoroki]

Cuffed, a smut by shoto-hoedoroki (NSFW, 18+)

Shoto Todoroki x fem reader, Tags: Handcuffs, boyfriend, sexting, spanking, slight pain kink, hair pulling, fem receiving oral, mirror usage, aged up characters

Word count: 4.2k

This is my first smut piece, so I’m super excited about it, just been horny about a few of the mha boys recently tbh, alr here we go :)

PS: would def do a part 2 if this gets appreciated, might do one regardless, lol!

_____

Ah, team dinners. Always memorable but rarely a joy. You sat near the end of the long wooden dining table between Moms and Su. Across from you sat your boyfriend, Shoto Todoroki, who sat between Izuku and Ochoa.

You and Shoto hadn’t been dating for that long — only around ten months. You’d had sex around the six month mark and it had been intense, to say the least. You and Shoto had an immediate, undeniable passion that couldn’t be ignored.

Recently, you’d been testing the waters with each of your respective sexual desires. It was out of both of your controls, for in the bedroom you lost yourselves to each other. Each first attempt at a new kink was hesitant, but once you both asserted that you were comfortable with it, reigns loosened completely and you had each other. You loved seeing the uncontrolled, heated sexual drive in Shoto’s eyes. He was insatiable. He was your drug.

This week of training at UA had been unforgiving. You’d barely had time with Shoto and you were having serious withdrawals. You could tell through the subtle way that Shoto eyed you from across the table that he was lusting for you in the same way. His eyes, unreadable to most, showed you a dark desire that needed to be satisfied.

Your end of the dining table held kind conversation. Su and Momo were giving Ochaka encouraging words about her training, while Izuku and Todoroki listened and interjected when necessary.

“You’ll figure out a way around the nausea, Ochaka,” Su said, “You always have before.”

“Yeah, I’m just stressed out because everyone else is doing great with their new moves. I don’t wanna fall behind . . .” Ochaka lifted her palms up to her blushing cheeks and spared a quick glance towards Izuku.

“You’ll get there. I’m sure of it!” Mom said, giving Ochaka a firm and encouraging nod.

“Yeah, Ochaka,” Izuku pipe up, “I’m struggling with my new move too. I’m trying my best not to imitate All Might with this one, but considering that he’s the best hero of our age why shouldn’t I be? What standard am I setting for myself if I settle, versus if I . . .”

Those in earshot collectively groaned as Izuku began to ramble intensely while staring at his hands. Beneath the table, something nudged your foot meaningfully. You looked straight ahead and saw Shoto staring at his lap. When he looked up, his eyes immediately met yours and you were faced with a look that made your heart beat faster. The lust in his eyes made it clear what he was going to do to you tonight.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. As Momo begged Izuku to stop rambling, you pulled it out and checked the notification — a text from Shoto. It read:

‘I’ve got something I want to try out later.’

You glanced up at him with an eyebrow raised, but he was looking off in another direction. Playing hard to get? Or was he just keeping your communications secret, not giving anyone else a hint at what was happening between you?

Regardless, you texted back:

‘What is it, baby?’

You nudged his foot back under the table for fun. He was looking down, undoubtedly at his phone. Your phone buzzed and you eagerly checked it.

Shoto had sent a plain picture of black-rimmed handcuffs lying on his bedspread, probably taken just before dinner and saved for this moment. He just wanted to rile you up in public.

Your jaw dropped reactively; his boldness shocked you. Luckily, screams burst out down the table at that moment. Bakugo was standing at his feet and screaming about someone touching his damn rice. Kirishima and Kaminari cackled before him. You were able to recover yourself before general attention was drawn away from Bakugo’s scene; everyone had first been alerted by the shouting, but it was just Bakugo being Bakugo.

You looked back to Shoto, who was again refusing to meet your eyes. You frowned, trying to craft up a response to his racy text. Suddenly, he shifted his gaze back to you. The corner of his lip was tipped upwards. His ego was feeling boosted tonight, huh? Maybe he’d already gotten himself off earlier to the thought of you trapped in the cuffs beneath him, squirming while he fucked you until you were speechless.

The response then snapped into your mind. You quickly typed it out and pressed send:

Who’s wearing them first?

Now it was your turn to grin. You looked back up the table to Shoto. He took out his phone again. You carefully watched as his eyes scanned over your daring words. At first, his eyes widened, but just as quickly they narrowed. He shot you a predatory glance up between his lashes.

Your phone buzzed. Shoto said:

I’m in charge of you tonight, baby. You’re mine.

You squirmed in your seat at the words and looked up once more to your boyfriend. He was leaning back in his seat, comfortably smirking at you, his arms crossed and his dress shirt pushed up sexily to his elbows. Maybe what was most sexy was how clueless everyone else around you was, and how meaningful that smirk was to you.

****

The dinner ended, and as everyone walked back to their respective dorm rooms, you and Shoto both lingered in the common area. You bade your classmates goodnight one by one. You could practically feel the passionate heat waving off of Shoto. He didn’t say goodnight to any of your classmates; perhaps he was too worked up to even use his voice.

Finally, the pair of you were finally alone. You glanced up to see that he was already gazing down at you. Something deep and primitive was showing in his eyes.

“Follow me.” He murmured, before grabbing your hand and beginning to walk in the direction of his dorm room.

The walk was silent. You were nervous and so excited. Your heart raced as imaginative images flashed through your mind of what was potentially to come.

Shoto lead you around the corner and finally, after what felt like eternity, you were at his door. He pushed it open and you followed him in. You barely got passed the threshold when he turned and placed his palm against the inside of the door. He pressed it shut, effectively pushing you against the door and trapping you beneath his arms. He leaned over you, and you could merely cower beneath his lusted gaze. His breaths lightly puffed against your forehead.

“I can’t wait to taste you tonight, y/n.” Shoto murmured, leaning close to your ear so his breath tickled it and his gravelly voice was incredibly clear. “I’ve been thinking about touching your little pussy all week.”

You exhaled as the gravity of his words set in. He pressed his lips against your ear, then placed multiple kisses along the side of your face until he made it to your neck. You couldn’t help yourself as your hands reached forward, burrowing under his shirt to feel his abs beneath your fingers. You relished the softness of his skin and reached to grip at his muscled back, pulling him closer to you. He grunted in pleasure and gave your neck a small suck before pulling away entirely.

You released a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. He turned and walked over to his bed. You spotted the handcuffs from the photo behind him. Shoto reached overhis head and gripped the back of his shirt before pulling it off and tossing it aside. Your gaze went hazy as you watched this show. His back looked so damn taut.

Shoto turned around, now just in slacks. He had a thin, short silver chain hanging from his neck that you hadn’t noticed beneath his shirt earlier. The cuffs were in his palms.

“Come here.” He instructed. You obliged. He reached for your hands and you watched as he carefully cuffed your hands together in front of your torso. There was a serene focus on his face that nearly made you shudder with anticipation.

“On the bed.”

You obliged, easily, scooting back near the headboard. Shoto climbed over you, and you tried to keep your eyes on his face but they lowered to see his defined pecs and abs flex as he made his way up the bed, and you were in a trance at how his v-line so suggestively dipped beneath his slacks . . .

While you weren’t paying attention, Shoto grabbed your wrists with his left hand and forced them over your head. You gasped as he used ice to freeze the handcuffs, and your hands, to the headboard.

“Shouldn’t have let your guard down,” Shoto growled, “What were you saying earlier during dinner? That for some maniacal reason you thought you’d be in control tonight? No, y/n . . . You’re fucking mine tonight.”

You pulled downwards a bit as to test the strength of your cuffs, but as usual his ice was impeccable. You looked up and saw that same subtle smirk on his lips, just a mere upwards twitch of one corner of his mouth. And still, ever-present in those eyes, the undeniable, heated lust of somebody who was about to fuck his girlfriend senseless.

“Fuck, Shoto,” You breathed, helpless.

Shoto then bent down and finally pressed his lips to yours. You immediately melted to his touch, giving a small sigh of satisfaction against his lips. While he began to unbutton your blouse, you wrapped your legs around his hips. Shoto gave a low moan and pressed inwards so you could feel how hard he was already. Fuck, each time you felt his hard cock, even beneath his pants, the size of it shocked you.

Shoto pulled away from your lips and began to press kisses down to your chest, eager to suck on your exposed nipples. He gave them sharp flicks with his tongue, and you pressed your chest upwards into his mouth, wishing you could grab his hair but unable to move your arms at all.

“My favorite thing about this —“ Shoto said, pulling up and then going back down for a quick nip, “— is that I could restrain your entire body with my ice if I wanted to.”

You clenched your legs around his hips, and Shoto hummed a small, lustful chuckle against your chest.

“But then I wouldn’t be able to fuck you in any way that I want.” Shoto spared a glance up at you, tweaking your nipple just as he made eye contact. He forced you to watch as his slick tongue darted from his lips and began to encircle on the nub.

Your head fell back and you unashamedly moaned.

“No, baby,” Shoto said, and you felt his hand leave your chest and wrap behind your head, entangling his fingers in your hair. He then forced your head upwards again, “Eyes on me.”

So you watched helplessly as he pulled away from your tits and allowed his fingers to slowly trail down your sides. You squirmed beneath him.

“Please, Shoto,” You breathed, wiggling your hips slightly, pushing up against his. Shoto bit his lip and cocked his head, as if restraining himself, and let out a short groan.

“So impatient,” Shoto said, “You’re lucky that I'm feeling impatient myself. I just can’t wait to feel how wet that tiny little pussy is for me.”

He dug his fingers beneath the waist band of your skirt and panties, pulling both downwards. You lifted your knees to help the process until finally he tossed aside the fabric and you were fully exposed beneath him.

Shoto then bent forward, holding himself up directly over you and giving you a short, deep kiss. He pulled away so his face was only inches from yours. You couldn’t look away from his dark, needy eyes.

You felt his fingers slip between your legs, pressing up against your entrance. Shoto’s lips fell open slightly, and he easily slid a finger in. The maintained eye contact made it all the more intense.

“Fu-uck, y/n,” He breathed out, pulling the finger out and sliding it back in agonizingly slow, “I can’t wait to have a taste..”

“I can’t wait to feel you inside of me, Shoto.” You gazed in his eyes with a helpless look, knowing it would be his undoing. Shoto bit down on his lip, hard; his finger plunged into you, causing you to moan slightly, and he closed his eyes.

He moved quickly away from your face and down between your legs. He placed his hands behind your knees and pushed them upwards towards your head until your ass was entirely off the bed. Your pussy was angled directly into the air. Finally, he moved his large hands down to stretch them over your thighs and hold you there.

You stared up at him, loving the way his muscles flexed as he held your pussy up to him while holding you against the bed.

Shoto bent down and you watched as his tongue darted from his lips. It was cool against your entrance, and he licked slowly up the wet slit to your clit, where he traced small circles around the sensitive nub.

“You taste like fucking heaven,” Shoto breathed against your pussy before placing his lips in a kiss around your clit. He then dragged his tongue back down to your entrance and pushed it inwards. You moaned as his tongue danced inside of you, licking up your wetness. Shoto moaned against your opening, his breath tickling your clit. Your thighs shook, threatening to press inwards, but fuck he was strong and held them steadily spread so he could fully taste your pussy.

Your arms jerked downwards but you were fully helpless. You couldn’t even fight out of this with your quick, not like you’d want to. Shoto’s tongue flicked at your clit, earning a spiral of moans from you. He buried his lips between your pussy folds and sucked, gently applying his teeth to elicit a loud moan and full body clench from you.

“Fuck, Shoto! Nn-h . . .” You braced your teeth and he chuckled against your pussy.

“You like that, baby?” Shoto asked, his voice rumbling low and sending vibrations against your pussy. You glanced downward, met by those damn two-toned eyes from between your thighs, and watched his tongue dart from his lips and press on your clit. You moaned, your head falling back between your arms, and your legs twitching together, but once again held down by his pure strength.

“Mmmm-hmm, yes, I fucking love it . . . Please, keep going.” You panted. But then, his tongue pulled away. Your jaw dropped as he pulled himself back upwards, that stupid victorious smirk on his eyes. You watched his tongue slowly lick your wetness from his own lips and then retreat into his mouth.

“I could eat this pussy all night,” Shoto said, “But like I told you earlier, what I say right now . . . Goes.”

He then pulled down his slacks, allowing his fully hard cock to spring outwards. Shoto brought himself back up towards your head and began to kiss you; he laid a hand around your head and gripped your hair in his hand. You whimpered and clenched your thighs around his muscular torso, and he growled in pleasure against your lips. You knew how much Shoto liked to feel your reactions to his stimulation. He gripped your hair tighter to earn himself more of you wrapping around his body.

“Fuck, baby.” He breathed. You wanted to jerk your damn arms out of the handcuffs so you could feel his slick, sexy torso that was mere inches above yours.

You felt the head of his cock pressing against your pussy and you leaned your hips into it. Shoto didn’t fight it, allowing the head of his cock to slip past your pussy lips. He let out a low moan and thrusted forth another inch, but stopped before he could fully enter you. He remained exactly where he was, only an inch past the tip inside of you, leaving you a whimpering mess on the bed.

“Fuck me. Please,” You whispered. You wrapped your thighs around his back to keep him from getting to far as he leaned back slightly. In the reflecting light in the dark room, his torso looked so damn muscular. The chain on his chest glinted gently in the light, hanging between you two. 

“Beg all you want, but we’re doing things my way.” Fuck, the feeling of him so close to being inside of you but not quite was agonizing.

“You’re going to come on my cock more than once tonight.” Shoto purred before pressing forward again, and suddenly you could another inch of his cock between your pussy, and now that it was in more, you could feel its thickness widening your pussy lips. You nearly shuddered, “So we’re gonna start off slow.”

Before he even bottomed inside of you for the first time that night, you felt his thumb press onto your clit and began to move in slow, teasing, circular motions. He was gazing into your eyes darkly, searching for your satisfaction, and you felt the full length of his cock slowly begin to slip past your folds into your pussy.

“I love feeling your cunt stretch out for me. It’s so damn tight.” Shoto said, continuing to massage your clit as his cock moved slowly into you, inch by damn inch. You panted on the bed, maintaining that eye contact, and already your legs were beginning to tremble.

“Fuck, Shoto, I want you to fuck me harder!” You begged, leaning towards him the most you could while cuffed and looking into his eyes. Damn, you were pathetic. But at that moment, you let out a whimper; his dick hadn’t even fully entered your vagina, but it was already pressing against your cervix.

Todoroki let out a low moan. His eyelids fluttered in pleasure. He leaned his torso down, propped up by one hand, and kissed you, leaving his length as deeply as he could inside of you for the time being. Your entire body was beginning to twitch with pleasure as his thumb’s movements increased in pressure and intensity on your clit.

Todoroki pulled away from the kiss and bent down over your ear, and finally began pumping in and out of you, so very slowly. You wrapped your thighs around his back to keep him from moving away, because you loved feeling his low, deep breaths right against your ear as he fucked you.

You were moaning louder and louder. His finger was now flicking and rubbing your clit just the way you know Todoroki loved to; it’s the way he manipulated you when he wanted you to come.

“Please, make me cum,” You whimpered through moans in his ear. Shoto became riled at the words and gave slow, hard thrust into you. You cried out and clenched around him.

“Cum for me, baby. I wanna feel that little pussy cum all over my cock.” He was flicking your clit so quickly, and you felt the blood rush to your face as you came, moaning and wrapping around him and cooing his name as he eased you to your finish. Shoto matched your moans in your ear, undoubtedly loving the feeling of your pussy clenching and fluttering around his thick cock.

He relinquished pressure on your clit after you finished and leaned up the moment your legs relaxed around him. However, he left his cock in, and as you panted on the bed, you spared a glance upwards to see the deep lust still ever present in his eyes.

One of his arms was reaching over you and you realized he was melting the ice around your handcuffs. As you recovered from your orgasm, Todoroki tilted you on your side and redid the handcuffs, this time behind your back instead of in front of you.

“Are — are we switching positions?” You asked through deep breaths — you couldn’t help the long recovery time it took from the orgasms Shoto gave you.

“What, you thought I was done with you?” Todoroki said in a low, dangerous voice. He grabbed the chain linking the handcuffs together and you arranged yourselves so that you were on your knees facing the edge of the bed, while he was behind you. Both of you faced the mirror that he had just hung before his bed. In the mirror you could see yourself on your knees, face flushed and tits swelled with gravity. Positioned behind you, also on his knees, Shoto was holding you upright by gripping the chain of the handcuffs in his left hand. You watched his eyes rake over your ass before reeling back with his free hand and placing a sharp smack on your cheek.

You let out a squeal, but quickly pleaded, “Smack it again.”

Todoroki obliged, and you watched as his right palm glowed red; he was employing the kink you’d tried last week. As his hand contacted your ass cheek, you let out a yelp, but you loved the pain that his heated hand brought to you, because fuck, it was him. You knew a fire-powered spank would leave a mark, but you loved that it was his mark. 

You then felt his cock, just as hard as before, nestle between your pussy lips.

“Still dripping for me, huh?” Todoroki asked, and you watched in the mirror as he leaned his torso back in order to watch his cock slip into your cunt.

“Shi — i — t,” He groaned and you gave a high moan as he bottomed within you. His meaty cock made you feel so damn full, you could happily sit on it all day. Shit, right now you were essentially trapped with it inside of you, as he was gripping the handcuff chain tight to keep you from rebounding away.

“Your cock feels amazing, stretching me out like it is,” You breathed. You knew how closer to the edge the praise sent him.

He pulled out and gave a heavy, fast thrust inwards, letting himself sink all the way into your pussy with another deep moan. “Y/n, you feel so fucking good. I feel like I could come right now.”

You watched him thrust in again with the mirror, loving the way his abs and pecs flexed as he pushed into you, the way his chain rested on his muscles. When he pulled out again, he looked back into the mirror to meet your eyes.

“But I won’t cum. I’m not done with this cunt yet.”

You shuddered at the intensity of his words. “Fuck me harder, Shoto,” You said breathily.

Slowly, his pace picked up. He was gaining momentum, steadily pumping that thick cock into you, and you could feel him at your center with each thrust, and you watched as he bit his lip and flashed his teeth in frustrating lust as he thrusted.

He maintained a steady speed, not one of a man who was about to come, but of a man who was loving the pussy he was fucking. You continued to watch him and to feel him fuck you simultaneously, letting out especially loud moans whenever he bumped your cervix or g-spot.

“Yes, Shoto, you look so fucking good!” You moaned as you gazed over his muscled, gleaming body, and he let his heated hand fly onto your ass a few times.

“God, I love the way you tighten up when I spank you,” He said, slowing his pace momentarily. As he slowly thrusted inwards, he placed a sharp smack on your asscheek, and another. He must not have been lying about how good it felt, because he growled and immediately sped up once more to a destructive pace.

He reached around and grabbed a fistful of your hair in his palm. He now held total control of your body; the two reigns he held, your hair and your handcuffed arms, allowed him to fucking ravage your pussy.

You were now unleashing endless moans, feeling your pussy close up as his cock continuously slammed onto the sweet spot deep within you, and feeling his hips bump your ass. He’d never fucked you this deep before.

“I’m — I’m gonna cum!” You could barely breathe out the words. His dick was so deep you couldn’t think straight. All you could feel was Shoto.

“Cum for me, baby,” Shoto growled, relentlessly fucking you. The sound of his skin slapping on yours, of his dick slamming into your juicy cunt, of his deliriously luscious and sexy breaths leaving him, was all you could hear.

You let out a moan that increased in pitch until you were nearly screaming.

“Just like that, baby,” Shoto groaned, gripping your hair tighter as you rode out your high on his cock. His balls were tightening and his face was heating as well as his own orgasm rapidly approached. He continued fucking you as deep as your clenching pussy would allow him — fuck he was so close —

With one final deep, hard push into you, you watched in the mirror as Shoto’s eyes fluttered closed, and you felt his cock begin to twitch and release his cum into your cunt. You moaned — your pussy could not be more stuffed — and Shoto groaned above you, his grip on your cuffs and your hair trembling.

Finally, he relaxed, letting you gently down onto the mattress. He nearly keeled over with pleasure, and sat to the side before undoing your handcuffs.

“Mm, that was so good.” You panted, sliding onto your back, eyes closed. You could feel his cum dribbling out of you at that moment.

Shoto peered between your legs, and you watched the focused expression on his face as he pushed it back into you with a finger before bringing the finger to your lips to suck on. After removing it, he placed a kiss to your lips and a much gentler hand in your hair.

“It was amazing.” Shoto said. His voice was so deep that it gave you butterflies.

“I’ll go grab you one of my sweatshirts and we can cuddle, would you like that?” He offered, getting up from the bed.

You sighed in pleasure. “Yes. But . . . Next time, you’re wearing the cuffs.”

You heard his deep chuckle from across the room.

“Fine, give me twenty minutes and I’ll put them on.”