#cannon hall

[theduchessgeorgiana]

My finished toile

After great efforts I was finally able to complete my practice garment. I was able to spot mistakes and errors and have them corrected so that I will not be making them on my final piece. I am really happy with the way it turned out and cannot wait to see the way the dress is elevated when it is created in colour.

[dang3r0usliais0ns-unit3]

This is my customer profile board for Cannon Hall. On here is photos i have taken on my visit to Cannon Hall showing the rooms and different decorative pieces around the house. I also took inspiration from patterns and designs from the rooms such as the design on the celling, the gold in rooms and the flowers.

[ebonyrosefmp]

This is my mind map for the Cannon Hall literary exhibition theme. the mind map shows the direction for research and bits of what the project will be about for the project Cannon Hall are putting on an exhibition where they will be showing ten costumes from the UK's major costume makers CosProp, so for this project I will be doing all of the promotion for the event and creating a magazine talking all about the event, Cannon hall, the films featured at the event, CosProp and so much more. As this project has so many aspect to it and so many paths I can go down and I was really interested in the whole exhibition therefor I have chosen this for my final project.

[thefollyflaneuse]

Piper's Pots: John Piper's rural amusement

Piper’s Pots: John Piper’s rural amusement

John Piper’s paintings of follies and garden buildings are well-known, but less familiar are his ceramics decorated with architectural features, including a series of ‘curly dishes’ with his wonderful whimsical interpretations of 18th century designs for rustic follies. (more…)

[musical-queen-teresa]

I’ll never be able to get over the fact that Jimmy just goes up behind Maya to scare the crap out of her by going hYAA and swinging a bat around, while she just passes out from the fear and shock- then he just drags her to whatever floor he feels like

like please I love him, he’s such a stupid dork

[ufonaut]

Hey there, Carter. You’re a hard birdman to find.

DC vs. Vampires (2021) #9

[lisamarie-vee]

[sailorpants]

RAGE RAGE RAGE RAGE AT INSTITUTIONAL SOLUTIONS THAT DONT ACTUALLY SOLVE FUCKING PROBLEMS

[infinite-wanders]

Realising Daxton is so engrained into me that when Fire For You by Cannons makes an appearance in TSITP and I had to rewatch the scene three times before I could focus on Conrad, rather than getting pulled back into a certain red jeep.

[wutbju]

The Rev. James Reynold Cannon, 83, lately of Travelers Rest, SC, passed away at his home on May 6, 2023, after entering hospice care in January. Jim, as he was known to family and friends, was born on March 27, 1940, in Wilmington, NC to the Rev. Abram Cannon and Magalene Burney Cannon of Wilmington.

Jim left school in ninth grade to enter the workforce and went on to serve in the U.S. Navy from 1958 to 1959 before receiving a medical discharge. He earned his GED while in the military, and later went on to attend Bob Jones University from 1971 to 1976, where he studied to enter the ministry.

In 1959, Jim married his high school sweetheart, Marion Dale Millinor Cannon and went on to have three children: Amelia, who is married to Pastor William Harper; Michael, who married the former Sheila Smith; and Gregory, who is married to the former Susie Roper.

He later married Dorothy Dorman in 1989 and two adult children were added to his family: David, who was married to his wife Bobbi Jo, and Trisha, who is married to Cary Alexander.

Jim worked mainly in sales before entering the ministry at the age of 36. He then became the pastor of Summit View Baptist Church in Greenville in 1976. He served as pastor of that congregation for seven years. He later became the director of the Greenville Rescue Mission, where he served from 1983 to 1986.

In 1990, after his marriage to Dot Cannon, Jim began a new ministry in Greenville called LifeSearch. This ministry worked mainly with homeless men who wanted to seek a new life in Christ and regain a place in the workforce and the community. As an outgrowth of the ministry, Jim began Faith Bible Fellowship church and the Academy of Life in Greenville. In 1998 he also founded KingsPointe Academy, a low-cost Christian school designed to offer an affordable Christian educational option to the families to which he ministered. That school continues to operate as part of the ministry of Bethel Calvary Baptist Church in Taylors.

In 2001, his ministries then moved to Travelers Rest where he also founded KingsPointe Industries to provide jobs for those who participated in the Academy of Life. He retired in 2021 at the age of 81.

Jim's love of God and service to his fellow man were hallmarks of his life and are legacies he sought to pass down to all his family.

Jim was predeceased by his father, Abram Cannon; his mother, Magalene Cannon Downing; his brothers, Kenny, Charles, and Bob; his former wife, Marion Dale Cannon; and his stepson, David Dorman. He is survived by his wife, Dorothy Cannon of Travelers Rest; his sisters, Carolyn Fowler of Benson, NC, Margaret "Mug" Anderson of Belville, NC, and Betty Coleman of Wilmington, NC; his daughter, Amelia Harper of Nashville, NC; his sons, Mike Cannon and Greg Cannon of Anderson, SC; his stepdaughter, Trisha Alexander of Greenville, SC; his grandchildren, Jonathan Harper (wife, Jennifer), Bradley Harper, Nicholas Dorman (wife Nickole), Ian Dorman, Alan Jacob Alexander and Lucas Alexander of Greenville, SC; Thomas Harper of Tallahasee, Florida; Andrew Harper of Lacey, WA; Keren Harper Turgeon (husband, Lane) of Andover, KS; Michael Von Cannon (wife Jordan) of Fort Myers, FL; Debra Prongue (husband Matt) and Ariel Sisler (husband Anthony) of Anderson, SC; Brandon Cannon (wife Megan) of Sacramento, CA; Brianna Walsh (husband Eric) of Atlanta, GA; Joshua Dorman (wife Chrissy) of West Virginia; Nathaniel Alexander (wife Sarah) of North Carolina and 14 great-grandkids: Evangeline Harper; Wally and Freddie Von Cannon; Matthew and Greyson Prongue; Mackenzie Jennings; Julian and Layla Sisler; Robin Dale Cannon, and Sarah, Stephanie, Daniel, Carter and Cooper Dorman. He is also survived by many nieces, nephews, and their descendents.

A visitation with the family will be held at Bethel Calvary Baptist Church at 11 Easy Street in Taylors, SC at 4:30 p.m. Thursday, May 11 with a memorial service to follow at 5:30 p.m. The church will provide a meal after the service.

Jim will be laid to rest at 1 p.m. Friday, May 12 in a family plot in the New Hollywood Cemetery in Lumberton, NC. Anyone is welcome to attend either service. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to KingsPointe Academy in care of Bethel Calvary Baptist Church, 11 Easy Street in Taylors. Donations may be made online at www.bethelcalvary.com .

The family wishes to thank Interim Healthcare of the Upstate for their excellent hospice care during Jim's final months.

[theduchessgeorgiana]

Smocking

I wanted to experiment using smocking as I felt that it could be an option for the bodice of my final garment. I created two samples, a smaller one with larger diamond shaped and a larger one with more layers but smaller diamonds. I feel that I like the look of the smaller diamonds as I just feel it makes the whole look very neat and uniform.

How to create;

- Draw dots at equal intervals,

- Thread cotton in lines, over and under, through the dots,

- Pull the loose threads tight to create folds,

- Sew every other two folds together, differing each time on each row,

- Pull out the loose thread that you began with,

[dang3r0usliais0ns-unit3]

These are my mind maps and introduction to both Cannon Hall and Dangerous Liaisons aswell as some things around the 18th century fashion. I also have created a profile mood board which is towards Cannon Hall as they are who we are creating the garments for.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Hiiii, I loveeeee ur work ❤️

I was thinking about a head cannon of how some of the mw2 characters (ghost, soap, König, etc) would react to their partner sending them a nude photo?👀👀👀

Sorry if you did this already but I’m pretty sure you haven’t tho cuz I definitely would have read it already 😭

MW2 Reaction to Receiving a Special™ Photo from Their S/O

Warnings: 18+ (just to be safe), Non-Specific/Explicit Implications of Smut, No Pronouns used for Reader except 'You', Singular Mention of Graves Throwing Himself off a Cliff, Dominant! MW2, Submissive! MW2, Dominant! Reader, Submissive! Reader, Profanity, etc.

Ghost

He will literally stare bug-eyed at the picture you’ve sent him like 👁️O👁️

Since it’s a physical photograph, he keeps it on him like a chapstick, which is to say all the time.

He isn’t risking ANYONE besides himself seeing it.

And when he’s about to embark on a mission, he keeps it tucked into his vest right where his heart is so that it’s practically part of him.

He likes to think that, somehow, you can hear – feel – his heart beating, know that he’s still alive and fighting so that he can come home and see you.

And when he returns from a mission and goes to his quarters, he has some…alone time.

You know, to really study the picture.

Not that he doesn’t know every curve and edge of your body already.

But that doesn't stop him growling your name into the pillow as he rocks against it, a hole cut into the bottom of it – a poor imitation of you.

A makeshift lover.

If anyone ends up seeing that picture – if they stole it from him, if by some act of God (because that’s what it’ll take) it slipped out of his vest or pocket – they are in for a World of Pain™.

There won’t be a time they won’t flinch upon hearing Ghost’s name, or when they see his shadow like an omen on the wall as he commandeers the halls. Prowling.

He’d feel pretty guilty about someone else seeing you how he does, even if it was only for a fraction of a second.

So he’s definitely going to make it up to you when he gets back <3

König

His heart can’t take this kind of torment.

He’ll be looking down at his phone, the image of you burning into his skin like a holy artefact.

He definitely gets more jumpy around people when he has his phone on him.

Will literally clam up and shove it into the deepest recesses of his pocket if someone comes too close.

Even when your picture is safely stored behind a password-protected photo album.

He has to excuse himself from training or other commitments whenever his mind wanders back to you, and subsequently that image (which is basically all the time).

Sometimes he calls you while he’s sorting himself out.

He just needs to hear your voice – to feel closer to you.

It’s the only way he can finish.

“Engel,” he rasps, his breath stuttering, “I need you,”

And everyone just looks at him like he’s grown a third eye when he returns because, unbeknownst to him, König can’t keep quiet, and everyone who has never heard even a peep from him is suddenly aware of the carnality that lies beneath his skin, wired into his soul.

And at the centre is his love for you, boundless and overflowing so that the rest of his teammates know it, too.

Not that they mind all too much.

They all sit and think that you must be one beautiful person to evoke such a response from König.

Soap

Will tease you back.

Sends a mirror pic of him in a tight black shirt, saying something like ‘You’ll see the rest when I get home.’

Is absolutely ravenous when it comes to you.

No cap, goes absolutely ham in the shower when the image of you in nothing flashes in his mind.

His low moans are enough of a warning for the rest of the 141 to stay away for the next half an hour or so.

Aside from that, he’ll just look at the picture because he finds you beautiful.

Stares at it while he’s in bed. Laments on how much he misses you ☹️.

He’s counting down the days until he can see you again, and with each that passes, he can feel your silhouette becoming tangible in his hands, as if you were stepping out of the photo.

Sometimes, he dreams that you’re there with him, nestled between his arms.

Other times the dreams are a little more…graphic.

But Johnny can’t help it.

He just can’t contain himself when it comes to you.

Valeria

If you thought her violent tendencies could never extend to you, prepare to be amazed.

The second this woman sees what you’re trying to do – or, rather, what she thinks you’re trying to do – she is not happy.

You could have sent that image with the purest (within reason) of intentions; just letting Valeria know that you miss her, wishing her a good day – whatever.

What she sees is you trying to manipulate her by using your body as an instrument of destruction.

Dramatic, yes. But Valeria has never been one to take chances.

She’ll be deceptively calm over text: ‘Don’t tease me, Darling. You know what happens when you do.’

All day, all she can see is that image.

Whenever she turns a corner, you’re there; whenever she’s talking to someone, you’re peering at her over their shoulder; when she’s alone, you’re sat with her – on her – trying to take her attention away from her paperwork.

Redemption is a baseless concept when Valeria returns home that evening.

You will not know rest until she’s done with you.

Price

“Fuckin’ Hell, Love,” he’ll say, the darkness hanging on his voice tangible even through the voice note.

“What’ve you been up to while I’ve been away, hmm ?”

Will not rest until he knows he’s got you hot and bothered.

This entails him sending increasingly risqué images of himself; first, just one of him flexing, his arms thick and crawling with veins.

The next is of his shirt raised just below his chest, the dim light of the room keeping enough of him shrouded that his identity is unknown to all but you, his wide silhouette taking up most of the picture.

And, if you decide to be resilient against his attempts to make you feel as you have him, you’ll receive a series of menacing messages.

‘Don’t get too comfortable, Angel’, he’ll say.

‘You never know when I’ll come through that door–’

He grins as he sees you’ve read his message, hanging on his every word.

‘And ravage you.’

And you know he means it, too.

Meanwhile, he’s multitasking; keeping a clear, professional head and giving orders while resisting the primal urge to drop everything and find you.

And no amount of pleading or tears will spare you from his wrath when he returns.

Horangi

Regardless of how well the military life trained his self-discipline, nothing can dampen the sheer need Horangi feels whenever he receives a special picture from you.

I’m talking: he will literally sit in silence for ten minutes because he’s got a raging issue he needs to take care of but can’t risk anyone else seeing it.

Will thunder down the hall to the nearest bathroom when the meeting’s over and take out his frustrations there.

When he calls, you’d better pick up the first time.

If you don’t, you’ll have Hell to pay when gets home.

“Baby,” he breathes down the phone, the fog already making his mind frost over, his body burning up.

“What have you done to me–”

These brief encounters are the only thing keeping him sane while he’s away; they make him feel closer to you.

And, repaying you in kind, he returns one night, in the silence of the moon hours.

He finds you, pulls you to him, clutching on tight as you begin to wake.

And, between delirium and consciousness, his voice is all you can hear.

“Shouldn’t have tested me, Sweetheart,” he says, whispering as though partaking in a secret.

“Now I’m going to have to challenge you.” His arms are snakes as they constrict you.

“Fall asleep before I’m done with you, and I promise there will be no end to your suffering.”

Alejandro

Teasing a man as passionate as Alejandro is not going to end well for everyone involved.

Expect to receive a barrage of very choice texts back.

‘You have no idea what you’re doing to me’, he’ll say, followed by a photo of the tent in his trousers.

And a sinister: ‘But you will’.

If he’s away on business for even just a few days, he’ll go practically feral whenever he sees that picture of you.

To everyone else, he’ll be the leader Alejandro Vargas they all know him as – ruthless and righteous.

Yet, there’s something different in the way he walks as he excuses himself from the table, his destination unknown.

His gaze is narrowed and his teeth are grinding, rabid in disposition.

And when he gets home, no matter how long of a day it’s been, you’re in for a very long night.

He’ll appear behind you, a spectre, clamping a hand down on your shoulder.

“You shouldn’t test a soldier, Love,” he says, his grip tightening.

You don't turn around, an exhilarating fear keeping you frozen.

He leans down, his mouth just at your ear, his breath hot.

“Because you never know when he’ll snap.”

Rodolfo

This man is usually rather quiet and submissive when it comes to the more personal aspects of your life together.

But when you send him a picture that makes him question how long he can keep his composure for, you’re in trouble.

You’ll be receiving a phone call from a very exasperated Rodolfo, who, despite his best efforts, has succumbed to your charm.

Definitely a growler when he’s in a dominant mood.

More of a whimperer when he’s not.

At times like these, you get both.

“Darling,” he breathes, the back of his head pressed against the cold cubicle wall. “Look what you’ve done to me…”

His whining is more than enough to let you know the effect you’ve had on him.

And it’s what he says next that makes your blood run cold.

“I won’t let you get away with this.”

The husking baritone in his voice tells you he’s being truthful.

And if you try to clap back with something witty, or even an apology, Rodolfo just laughs.

“The time for mercy is long past, mi Amor,” he tells you.

“All you can do now is prepare for the Reckoning.”

Graves

This smug idiot.

Definitely smirks to himself when he gets that picture.

Has to resist the urge to show it off to everyone in the boardroom because he’s just that proud to have you as his partner.

Yes, he is hard. Yes, he’s still going to give this presentation in front of all the major shareholders.

Why ?

Because he’s Graves. Also, because he knows he has more money than everyone else in that room, and, consequently, more power.

Will shoot you back a text like: ‘Mighty fine work, Babydoll’, followed by, ‘You’re getting a promotion when I get home.’

Yes, he uses corporate jargon when discussing intimate matters.

He’s a businessman at heart, he can’t help it.

Definitely more playful than most of the others on this list.

The type to take his time with you and make you laugh while he does so.

But when he wants to be rough (and when you want him to be), he can be.

And he gets mean when he’s like that.

I’m talking hair-pulling, name-calling – basically just bullying you, but consensually.

Does his best to take care of you, though.

If he found out that he’d actually upset you, he’d literally jump off a cliff – he wouldn't be able to forgive himself.

Expect many lavish gifts if this happens, though.

But don’t tell him that I told you that 👀.

Gaz

Will nearly drop his phone – it turns to butter in his hands.

He looks over his shoulder at least fifty times before he’ll allow himself to look at the photo again.

Poor boy’s face is turning red, his palms are sweating, he can’t think straight.

Paranoid 24/7 that everyone knows he has that picture of you.

But it doesn’t intimidate him enough for him to even try to keep quiet in the barracks when he has some alone time.

Similar situation to Soap; everyone knows to steer clear of whichever room Gaz was last spotted walking into for a while.

It would take him a few days for him to send a picture back.

More than likely, it’ll be of him in a scarcely lit bathroom in nothing but his boxers with a very prominent outline in them.

Followed by a text with something to the effect of: ‘Been thinking about you all night, Sweets’

And God forbid you send him another image of yourself. And definitely do not send a message saying ‘Aww, has my good boy been behaving himself ?’

Will literally send him over the edge.

The rest of the 141 can’t commandeer the bathroom for the rest of the day after that.

And when Gaz gets home, just know that your phone screen can’t protect you anymore.

Not when you have a man made of pure intellect and solid mass running full-force at you with all the pent-up energy seen only in a nuclear reactor.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[cryptidcasanova]

The Depths You’ll Go

Namor x Reader

This is a big ol’ fever dream. It’s been a while since I felt this way about a Marvel character.

Summary: The price of protecting a an advanced civilization from the rest of the world is high, but the rewards? Priceless.

Warnings: 18+ Content. Angst, cannon level violence, mutual pining. Namor is overwhelmingly protective. I’m a sucker for a happy ending.

Words: 2.5k

Dividers by the stunning @firefly-graphics​.

You had to keep moving.

You were close to the water; you could feel it deep in your bones.

The little boy in your arms must have felt the saltwater lingering in the air. He was frantic, twisting in your hold as you rushed through the corridor. 

His blue skin was pale, and he was trying to breathe in the air you knew wouldn't sustain him.

"Just a little longer," You cradled him close, whispering reassurances in his hair. "I'm getting you out of here."

But you were biting back tears.

You never expected to be followed home by the young Talokan boy. He was so little and curious and full of love. He had hardly left your side while you watched Namor teach a sparring session. How he trained, moved, and spoke with his people made your heart swell.

And you didn't expect the raid on your home soon after you returned to the beach. You didn't stand a chance against the swat team busting down your door. The boy was the most important thing. You weren't going to let anything happen to him.

Shuri warned you to be careful. The agencies have kept an eye on you since you left Wakanda.

It was everything Namor feared. All he wanted to do was protect his people; you were the reason they were in danger.

Oh, Namor.

Your stomach ached. You wanted to scream and call out for help, but the best thing you could do was sneak around the guards and get the boy back to the water. The boy. The adored one.

Taavi.

You treasured him more than you thought possible. He was strong and curious in the water but bashful and wide-eyed above ground.

Dark hair fell against his cheeks, and his eyes drooped as you turned a corner. You cradled him close.

But you were running out of time.

And then, when you finally kicked open the metal door at the end of the hall, you cried out with joy.

You were close to the water. Closer than you thought. 

It was a sheer drop from the cliffside base into the Atlantic, and it was only then you heard the clinking of footsteps not far behind you. The guards found you.

The boy pushed out of your arms just in time and dove into the brink as the guards pulled you back. You should have jumped. And then you watched the little boy poking his head out of the water and staring up at you with a fearful expression. He didn't know what was happening. 

You cried out when the guards pointed their guns at the top of the water.

"Taavi, go. Get out of here!"

You were wrestled back into the base, frantically throwing your body toward the water. You weren't even sure if you could make the dive. But before you could slip out of their grip, something hit you hard in the back of your head.

And everything went dark.

Your cell turned into an interrogation room. 

The soldiers wanted to know about the little blue boy, that thing. They didn’t even treat him like a child, but an experiment. They wanted to know what was in the water. About the vibranium. 

Interrogation turned from fear tactics to torture. And you were no soldier.

You were trained in the sciences, to know biology, to understand life and nature. That's why Banner recommended you go to Wakanda in the first place.

And with Talokan? You still had so much to learn. Their livelihoods and families were on the line. Hundreds of years of culture were preserved. 

And you cared about them.

You weren't going to betray their trust. That is, if Namor didn't think you already had.

His fatalist streak made you fear the worst. He was fiercely protective of his people, and the way he was around the children? Patient and compassionate. Taavi's disappearance must have caused an uproar.

You hoped he would be merciful.

Time passed. Days passed.

You thought you would rot in that jail cell, battered and bruised, until you just drifted away one day. That they'd forget about you until it was too late. Until you were lost to the wind.

And one day, the guards were given new orders.

They all knew something was in the water. But didn't know what to look for, and they never did catch that little boy. 

If he could make his way out of their surveyed waters, the people in power were convinced something could find its way back in.

All they needed was some new bait. 

There must have been a reason why the boy was with you. You were their best bet for finding out why.

The soldiers changed. At first, it was the Americans, then the French, and the Germans, and then you couldn't tell after a while. 

The thought of all the surface countries working together made your head spin.

They waited until the tide was at its lowest. That's when they drug you out of the cell by your arms, until you were too tired to fight back. 

You were too tired to think. It felt hopeless. You were taken to a different side of the base, where paths of rocks were cut out down to the water.

And then you saw the chains. 

The guards attached arm restraints to the rocky walls, where the water kissed the land. One look at the guards was all it took, and then you knew. They wanted their intel. 

They wanted to know about Talokan, and they weren't above drowning a scientist to get it.

"Last chance, sweetheart," One of the men said, all dressed up to fight off the chill in the air. He was different from the others; you'd never seen him before. He must have been the man in charge.

Your stomach roiled in frustration.

He sauntered up to you, pulling your chin up with a firm grip. You hated his clever expression and bad breath.

"We just want to know about your little blue friend," He tormented, looking out to the water. "It's a little cold for a swim, don't you think?"

Your chest ached. But you had come so far; you couldn't hand them over. Namor would never give up like this.

You choked on a cry before taking a breath of sea air.

"He's in New York.”

The man turned around. You caught his attention.

"Come again?" He smirked, urging you to continue. The others were looking now, waiting for an answer.

"New York," You repeated tiredly. "But he turns green once in a while, not blue. Maybe you should get your eyes checked-"

You were kicked down to your knees without compunction.

"You think you're real funny, eh?” He scoffed. “String her up."

Your fate was sealed. You were gagged and bound like a worm on a hook and couldn't go crying out for help. 

And then they dragged you into the water.

The cold plunge made your teeth chatter, but there was no time to consider it. Your arms were strung against the rocky walls on either side of your shoulders. Your legs were bound and weighed down. The saltwater only came up to your waist, but you knew it wouldn't last. 

You rested your head against the wall in defeat.

And at last, you understood Namor's resentment. It pierced through years of you trying to help people and fight for the right causes. 

At the end of the day, people in power wanted to keep their knowledge, power, and strengths. They wanted it all for themselves.

The water spray against the rocks gave you an excuse to cry, to mourn the life you couldn't live. 

You should have told Namor the truth. You stayed in Talokan to learn, but it was more than that. As time went on, your trips into the sea lost focus. You were enamored by the Talokan people and how their lives were completely untouched by the outside world. 

They were considerate and humble. They cared for one another.

Namor cared for them, for all of them. His icy demeanor was an act. He could talk strategy with his advisors and turn around to celebrate a new baby in their city. He could help by collecting food and scouting the perimeter of their sanctuary. It was no wonder why people worshipped him. 

And his animosity towards outsiders didn't touch you. As much as he resented the world above, it was as though he wanted to show just how far they had come. They were a prosperous and independent nation. Completely indigenous. It was breathtaking.

It was hard not to swoon over him. You should have told Namor how you felt sooner.

Shuri could see it. M'Baku could see it. Hell, you were sure Namora could tell how you felt for their leader. But you could keep them safe. 

They were the best warriors you had ever seen, and now it was your turn to protect them.

When the water cupped around your shoulders, you were pulled away from your thoughts. It was much colder than you thought. Your arms were shaking, and your fingers were numb. 

The water was ruthless against the scrapes and cuts along your body. The weight was doing its job. It was keeping you from being buoyant. You swore you could feel something against your legs and panicked, pulling yourself up as best you could.

But the next wave came at you fast, making you choke on the gag in your mouth. You were running out of time.

The soldiers were looking out over the water with their guns ready, waiting for the call. 

They were waiting to find something in the water. But the night was quiet.

In the last attempt to rectify yourself, you begged for his forgiveness. Namor let you into his home and world, and you almost ruined it. Your heart was hammering as the wave receded, and your pleas were lost behind your water-soaked gag.

You'd never see him again. You'd never hear the low timber of his words or see the passion in his eyes. Your eyes were squeezed shut.

Your heart was breaking and you couldn't stop it. 

K’uk’ulkan

The water was rising, but all you could see was his profile. You could remember the curve of his nose and how his eyebrows moved when he told a story.

K’uk’ulkan

Another wave hit hard, and you choked on the icy water. But you could still see Namor guiding you through his sanctuary, pointing to the paintings on the walls.

K’uk’ulkan

The next wave didn't recede as far as you hoped. Another wave struck you, but you could still see him. You could smell the salt on his skin and hear how his necklaces moved when he walked. You could almost hear his voice. 

He was - the bubble burst.

You couldn't breathe. 

Your body was on auto pilot, thrashing and kicking wildly. Your body was fighting off the water that burned in your chest. It surrounded you in a coccon, murky and frothing against the rocks. 

But you weren't as alone as you thought.

You couldn't feel the little grouping of octopuses at your feet trying to find a way to undo your chains.

You couldn't hear the soft singing above the water, urging soldiers into the brine.

And Namor - you couldn't see the carnage. 

You couldn't see the rage and anguish on his face as he barreled through the base. Their water explosives shook the ground. You couldn't have known he was scouring the ocean for you.

Taavi made it home because of you. 

You protected the little boy like he was your own, no matter the cost, and Namor couldn't see past it. You put your life on the line for them. It was his turn to serve you. 

His chest ached with some long-lost realization, something he never dared to put into words but was forced to face. His heart beat a little faster when you were around. His focus swayed. He cared about you most ardently.

You were his to protect.

After all the time he had to dance around it, humbly flaunting his world to an outsider, Namor finally understood. The moment he let you see his world, he knew; he would protect you. 

The way he flew into the water and pulled the chains away from the rock was terrifying. 

His blood boiled as your hands fell limp into the water. He tugged the gag away from your face and cradled you above the water’s surface. 

But you weren't breathing. 

There was too much water in your lungs. Your heartbeat was faint, straining against your ribcage. 

In a moment of hesitation, Namor pulled you from the water and up the rocky shore. The singing stopped. The chaos stopped. 

And all eyes were on K'uk'ulkan. 

The sea was claiming you for itself, but Namor wasn't going to give you up so easily. His expression welled with power, even when his jaw locked with uncertainty. 

He needed to get the water out of your lungs. You needed air. 

His hand spread over your heart before pressing down, the ridges of his palm digging into your skin. A command left his lips that was sharper than any blade. 

"You cannot have her."

He began chanting in his native tongue, commanding the seas. 

"Her heart beats for my people. It beats for me," He realized. "You cannot have her."

A rush of wind swept through the sky. And the sea, fearful of his wrath, receded from the shore. 

His other hand cupped your face, leaning in with intention. He had never been so close, but it made perfect sense now. It felt important, felt right.

There was another way. 

His eyes lit up. And when he leaned in to kiss you, it was met with lifetimes of bottled-up affection. Slow and intentional, he poured out his power. It was his breath, a kiss from a god. 

The unspoken command broke the spell. 

When Namor pulled back, your body lurched up with a frightful cough. 

The sting of saltwater burned in your throat. Your hands were clammy, reaching out to hold on tight. Your chest ached, and your eyes burned as you tried to move. It was disorienting. 

And then you heard it; the lull of your voice being called out, followed by a string of native words you couldn't understand.

Then you felt it; a strong hand covering yours, warmer and firmer than your own. He wasn't going to let you go.

And you saw it, saw him. Namor looked down at you like you could have hung all the stars in the sky. He was careful, like you could break under his stare. 

But he brushed the tears out of your eyes. You didn't even realize you were crying.

Namor. 

He had more love in his heart than anyone gave him credit for. He deserved the world. 

And when he pulled you up into his arms, you held on tight. 

Namor wanted to burn the world down. He wanted to fight, but for a moment it was stolen by the way you called his name. It was the sweetest sound he ever heard.

He wasn't going to let anything else happen to you. Because while your heart beat for his people, his heart was beating for you.

[ellecdc]

hi again tehe! can i request poly!marauders or poly!wolfstar (whichever you choose) with a reader who's touch starved? like she just really wants a hug and a night at home cuddled up with her boyfriends but she's afraid to ask 🥺🥺🥺 maybe they tell her she doesn't have to ask for anything like that, cue the hurt/comfort?? thank u so much if you do decide to do this babe!!

hi darling!!! so I took this in a bit of a direction (I hope you don't mind): touch starved reader who also happens to be James' sister and it's a secret relationship!! this was so fun - thanks for your request

poly!wolfstar x potter!sister reader

You didn’t even have a right to feel this way right now; this had been your idea.

The three of you had been hesitant to announce your...unique relationship to your friends on account of you being James’ sister. But it was you who had decided to keep your addition to the relationship a secret. You liked seeing Sirius and Remus out in public knowing that they were stealing furtive glances your way every so often. You especially liked the shared looks, the hidden touches, all of the intimate moments you had right in front of everyone that no one ever saw.

But today...today, it hurt.

You felt so unbelievably dejected all day, feeling as if you were crawling out of your skin with want. You wanted to be held, caressed, comforted, squeezed. 

But you were left having to wrap your own arms around yourself and hope for the best.

You��d gotten to the Great Hall and sat in your usual place across the table from Remus and Sirius, each of whom shared a soft smile and wink at you in a secret hello while James lamented about the Chudley Cannon’s most recent win. You felt someone’s foot – Remus’, if what you were feeling was indeed a pair of converse shoes and not Sirius’ Doc Martens – gently nudge your ankle and tried to let that be enough for now.

But it wasn’t enough, because immediately after dinner the gang all gathered together in the Gryffindor common room to set up for the party, and then immediately after that, you and the girls left to change, and by the time you were finished with that, the party was in full swing. 

So, you were sitting on a loveseat pushed up against your brother who was gesturing dramatically as he recounted the Marauders latest prank on Slytherin whilst your boyfriends sat across from you, Sirius’ head in Remus’ lap as Remus ran his fingers through the other boys’ hair, both of their eyes on James as they corrected various pieces of his story. And whilst this view would usually warm your heart or cause butterflies in your stomach, right now it filled you with grief and longing.

It wasn’t fair to even ask because it had been your idea, but why did it have to be you? Why were you the one who had to sit here and pine? The one who had to find ways to comfort themselves while affection was given and taken freely between the other two as often as their hearts desired.

And then you felt guilty because you were happy that they had this with each other. But you wanted it for you.

“Prongs! Do you wanna go see who might be interested in a round of truth or dare?” Sirius asked, interrupting James mid-sentence. You figured that if James a) hadn't been as tipsy as he currently was or b) didn’t really want to play truth or dare, Sirius’ interruption would have vexed him.

“Great idea, Pads.” He opted to say, jumping up to go ask partygoers who may be interested in a game.

“Come on.” He said to you quietly then, gesturing with his head for you to follow him and Remus up to their dorm.

You felt simultaneously overjoyed at the opportunity for alone time with your boyfriends, and nervous that you were about to get a scolding for your sulking.

You walked through the door and Remus closed it behind you as Sirius turned to give you a look laced with concern. “What’s the matter dolly? You seem far away.”

Your eyes welled and your sinuses filled painfully as you let out a whimper. “I’m sorry.” You moaned miserably.

Sirius look like you had ripped him in half as Remus rushed to your side, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Awe, dovey.” He cooed. “What’s going on?”

“It’s silly.” You cried, tightening your hold around yourself as you looked to the floor in shame.

“It’s not silly if it has you this upset, baby girl. Please? What’s the matter?” Sirius begged, taking a step towards you.

“I...I just- ugh.” You tried, looking to the ceiling as if you could convince your tears to ebb through sheer determination.

“I just missed you guys today.” You said, sobbing halfway through your sentence.

“Oh, dovey.” Remus moaned commiseratively. He turned your body towards him and pulled you flush to his chest, and you were abashed at how quickly the tension left your body as you melted into his embrace. 

“Sweetheart.” Sirius called to you. His tone sounded like it wanted to be chiding, but it was too full of love to do much other than make you whimper in response. “You mean you’ve been feeling this sad all day because you wanted a hug?”

You were so unbelievably embarrassed, but you knew there was no point in lying so you nodded miserably into Remus’ chest.

Sirius scoffed. “Well, that just won’t do.” He stated as he came up behind you and hugged you awkwardly between him and Remus, causing you to chuckle wetly.

“It doesn’t have to be like this; you know that, right?” Remus murmured into your hair. “Pads and I are more than ready to tell James.”

“Been ready for far too long.” Sirius pouted behind you.

“I just...I don’t... I don’t know. I don’t want to tell him.” You argued.

“But I want to be able to hug my sweet girl whenever she needs a reminder of how loved she is.” Remus countered.

“And I want to snog you in front of the whole Great Hall so that they all know exactly who you come home to at night.” Sirius added.

You made a sound between a laugh and a groan as your burrowed impossibly further into Remus’ chest.

“James came first...” You admitted, voicing your greatest insecurity. “I don’t want him to have an influence on this. I don’t want to have to share this with him.”

Remus hummed in understanding, but you could feel Sirius shaking his head behind you.

“He’s already been sharing this with you, and you with him; he just hasn’t known he was.”

“He may be miffed at first, you’re right about that.” Remus conceded. “But that won’t change the way that Sirius and I treat you, and he won’t stay mad forever.”

“He’ll likely be the most miffed to find out we’ve been hiding this, quite frankly.” Sirius concluded.

You sniffled and rested your ear against Remus’ chest, listening to his heartbeat as he rubbed soothing circles into your back, and Sirius trailed his hands up and down your arms.

This is all you wanted, right here. You didn’t want your brother to know. Not yet. Because though you trusted Remus and Sirius, you knew that some things were bound to change once James found out.

“It hurts me too, not being able to reach out to take your hand at breakfast. To not be able to carry your books and walk you to all your classes.” Remus said.

Sirius hummed in agreement. “And I’ve wanted to punch every single bloke I’ve ever seen even look at you right in the mouth. And I can’t, because that would be weird, and it sucks.”

“We have to tell him eventually, dovey.” Remus pressed seriously. “I don’t want you feeling like this for a single moment longer.”

You groaned in protest, but you knew that it was futile. You were going to have to tell your brother, or he was going to find out. Either way, one day James Potter would know that his two best friends were dating his twin sister.

“Can we tell him tomorrow?” You yielded. Remus physically deflated and you heard Sirius sigh in relief.

“Oh, thank gods.” Sirius whispered.

“Thank you, dove. You’re so brave.” Remus said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

Had anyone else said that to you, you would have thought them to be patronizing. But you knew Remus truly meant what he said. 

“And just in case James does condemn me from the Potter Manor, I’ll just go stay with Moons.” Sirius said jovially.

You knew that would never happen, and you knew that Sirius knew that would never happen. Which meant he’d only said it so he could see you smile.

“I love you.” You said reverently as you lifted your head from Remus’ chest. “Both of you, so much.”

Remus smiled in adoration whilst Sirius looked proper chuffed with himself. “Still can’t believe a disowned blood traitor managed to land the two most perfect wix in all of Hogwarts.”

Remus snorted. “I still can’t believe this poor half-blood half-breed werewolf managed to pull two of the most wonderful wix in the school.” He countered.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. “I can’t believe I ended up with such saps.”

“Oi!” Sirius barked at you whilst Remus sucked in a dramatic gasp.

“You little minx.” He growled at you before he pushed you backward onto the bed and laid his long body across the top of you. You groaned dramatically, pretending as if you were suffocating under Remus’ weight even though you could tell he was supporting himself in such a way to keep the brunt of his weight off of you, even though this is exactly what you’d been looking for only moments before.

“Sorry Pads, now you gotta go play truth or dare with Prongs while I coddle our poor girlie.”

Sirius scoffed indignantly. “Fine! But if I pick truth and someone asks me who the best snogger in Hogwarts is, I’m saying Y/N!” And with that, he fled the room. 

“You know what?” You said calmly. “If he lets it slip when neither of us are there, that means we don’t have to deal with the fall out.”

Remus chuckled and nosed affectionately at your cheek. “Fine by me.”

Fine by me, indeed.

[wontontrap]

✿ 18+

✿ part I of Eddie with religious virgin!reader

✿ part II will be based on this post

✿ cannon Eddie speak in this, he's very sassy

✿ reader is innocent but not naive

✿ summary: reader looks to Eddie's inventory to help her pass exams and a seemingly innocuous action by Eddie drives her into his arms

✿ content warnings: fem reader, drug use, swearing, fingering, oral (f receiving), handjob, sheltered religious!reader, virgin!reader, experienced Eddie, slightly mean!Eddie in the beginning, poking fun at reader

✿ dividers by the 🐐 @firefly-graphics

You pace the woods nervously. He had replied "3:30" to the note you passed him in study hall. Each passing minute made you more nervous and all you needed was the help of a tiny white pill to pass your exams. You'd taken it before as a child. Your father always said you were "rambunctious and unlearned" the first years of your life, but he made you stop taking it when you hit puberty. "Drugs like that make people your age want to sin with the opposite sex," he had told you.

You never needed medication as a child, you were just too much for your mother. She hated the way you used to ruin your white dresses with mud. You hated dolls. You hated ballet. She let the doctors drug you saying, "She just won't behave!" But, now you did need the meds. You were teetering on the edge of passing chemistry, and you refused to repeat another grade. Suddenly, you heard a rustle in the bushes.

Eddie walked through the brush, swatting at something in the air near his head, metal lunch pail rattling in his hand.

"Hey," he said.

"Hi," you squeaked.

He sat down at the old picnic table in the clearing and popped open the box. You lingered nearby, standing stick straight and holding a heavy textbook close your chest.

"You sure you want the uppers?" he asked, squinting at a handful of orange pill containers with badly handwritten labels.

"Yes," you said. "I need to pass exams."

"Yeah," he says, looking up at you now. "I thought I was a loser, but a 19 year old junior? That's some feat of failure."

"My father doesn't believe in secular education," you blurt out, and he looks at you confused. "He says our true education comes from God, but the truant officers disagree."

"That's stupid," he blatantly says. "Why didn't they just make you do school at home like a Mormon or something?"

You can't help but giggle and you see a smirk threaten to appear on Eddie's face. "Every night I have Bible study with my parents until it's time to go to bed," you divulge. "I've never even opened this, so I have a lot of catching up to do."

"You're planning on reading a 2,000 page textbook in the three hours before 4th period chemistry?"

"Only the important parts," you say, hugging the book close to your chest. You smile at him so the corners of your eyes crease a bit.

He smiles back at you. "You're cute," he says. He tosses the bottle of pills at you and you fumble the heavy textbook while trying to catch it. It thuds to the ground as you scramble for the pill bottle. He's staring at you intently, the threat of the smirk finally carried out on his face. You recover from your cartoonish antics and notice him looking at you.

"What?" you ask, patting yourself down. "Is there something on me?"

You wore a peasant dress and heavy cardigan, sleeves well past your small hands. Your white sneakers were scuffed and the scalloped lace of your old socks was torn.

"It's nothing," he says, afterwards clearing his throat. "That'll be $40."

"$40?" you ask, bewildered. "I only brought $25, everyone I asked said it'd be $25!"

"That's for weed, honey, these are real prescription pills. Worth more because they're harder to acquire. I can't grow Ritalin in my tool shed, now can I?" he explains.

"I'd have to go home and get more," you say, scratching the back of your head.

"You've been quite the character, to say the least, but I don't have that kinda time." He starts to get up from the table and you rush over to stop him with hands on his chest.

"Can I pay you in the morning? Please? I'm only taking just the one and I'll pay you $40 at first bell. I promise!" you plead. The bottle of pills sits on the table where you'd just set it, mocking you.

He looks down at your hands splayed across his chest and then back to you. You remove them, backing away from his personal space with flushed cheeks. You're standing there in your oversized sweater, your long sleeves almost kissing the ground at your sides, pouting like a petulant child. He steps slowly over the picnic bench and takes three large strides towards you. He reaches for your chest and your breath hitches as he delicately picks up your small golden cross necklace. The action puts him only inches from your face as he inspects it. It fell just at your cleavage and you caught him looking at you in that way. You felt warm behind your ears and may have made a run for it had he not spoken.

"Is this real?" he asks.

"I-I think so," you stammer.

"You can have your pills, and I'll take $40 first thing tomorrow morning," he agrees. Not long after he finished speaking did he yank the golden cross from around your neck. You jumped slightly, feeling excitement. He held it up to your face, his own still inches from yours, "But, I'm taking this as collateral."

"W-what's that?" you asked.

"Collateral? It means you give me something valuable to hold onto until I get paid. Something you want back so I know you'll bring my money," he explains.

"Okay," you say, touching the spot where it once laid on your chest as you watched him pack up. As he walked by, he slipped the pill bottle into the pocket of your sweater.

"You have nice tits, by the way." he says.

You walk through your front door, the bottle now safely squirreled away inside your school bag. You kick off your shoes onto the designated rug and quietly walk upstairs to your room. You set your bag in your closet before pulling out an old shoe box from the top shelf. Inside you find about $30, a tube of "Ravishing Red" lipstick stolen from the drugstore down the street, and tampons. You take the money and place it inside your bag, wrapping it around the pill bottle. Just as you're closing the closet doors, you hear your bedroom door creak open.

"Sweetheart?" you hear your father's voice. "Are you decent?"

"Yes, daddy!" you say.

He opens the door with a smile. "Your mother has dinner ready and we're expecting you for your studies afterwards."

"Of course, daddy." you say, wringing your hands under your sleeves.

"Babydoll, what happened to your necklace?" he asks.

"What?" you feign surprise, touching that spot once again. "No! It must've fallen off at school!"

"That's okay, honey. Wherever it winds up is where it's supposed to be. God works in mysterious ways," he says. "Someone must've needed it more than you."

You tuck yourself into bed that night replaying in your mind the moment he'd ripped your necklace from you. It had made you feel primal, the only word that came to mind when you searched for ways to describe the feeling. Eddie was handsome and charming. You heard the way some of the other girls talked about him, the things he'd done to them. You wondered what it would feel like if it were you instead of them, a certain feeling spreading inside you. You'd felt this feeling once before. You'd awoken from an unseen face doing obscene things to you in a dream. The only way to alleviate the feeling was to touch yourself. You'd rubbed yourself raw, fervently trying to soothe the ache in you. You'd touched a part of you that night you hadn't known existed, and every time you grazed it, it sent a shiver through you. You reached for yourself again tonight, thinking of Eddie Munson and all the sins you would allow him to commit upon you. Through your ministrations, you fell asleep with your hand between your legs, never reaching true release.

The entire morning was a blur. Eddie was right to have made fun of you. You only read about 200 pages, a slim number of which were actually on the test. You felt you did well but you'd been in such a hurry to accomplish your task that you'd forgotten to meet Eddie in the parking lot when you'd first gotten to school. He passed you in the hall around 6th period, a stern look on his face. "Four o'clock," he'd muttered.

You lie on the picnic table, legs dangling off either side as you stared at the grey and cloudy sky. Your hands were clasped at your chest, feeling your heart still somewhat fluttering like a humming bird. You heard the leaves rustle and you sat up, smoothing your dress. Today you wore a knee length, sleeveless chiffon with ruffles and the same sweater as always. Slouched socks and dirty white high tops. Your hair fell in messy waves, unkempt. Usually your hair would be up in a tight bun, but today it only gave you a headache. He emerged from the brush and looked at you, almost stunned.

"I'm sorry," you meekly say.

"Was it worth it?" he asks, still staring.

"200," you say, "I only made it to 200, but I think I passed."

He chuckles, reaching under his collar to reveal he'd been wearing your small cross necklace. He started to unclasp it as you stayed sat on the table, legs crossed. He held it up to you and it glinted despite the clouds.

"I fixed it," he said, "I, uh, kinda broke it when I took it from you yesterday."

"I had this weird feeling when you did that," you boldly confess.

"And what was that?" he questions. He's behind you now, ready to return your necklace to its original place.

"I don't know," you answer. "It was like warm excitement."

He clasps the necklace then, dragging the cross along the chain so it laid perfectly between your breasts. As he pulls his hands away, one brushes your shoulder.

"Like that," you say. "It happened again."

"It's probably the drugs," he says, almost shyly. "Sometimes those things can give you hot flashes and shit."

"It's not the drugs," you confidently tell him. "I wasn't on anything yesterday. And I'm not hot on the outside. It's like I'm hot on the inside, you know?"

"Oh," he says, hungrily looking at your open pout, "I know."

"Well," you say, reaching into your bra for the money you brought him, "Here's the rest of it." He takes it, giggling like a child.

"What?" you ask him, laughing now yourself.

"That was pretty wild," he answers.

"What do you mean?" you question.

"A good little Christian girl reaches into the best rack I've ever seen and comes back up with drug money for me?" he says. "That's what's pretty wild."

"I'm wild? You're wild, Eddie Munson!" you tell him, playfully hitting him in the chest. He laughs, grabbing both your wrists as you continue to hit him in jest.

"I am a good girl," you tell him. He pauses for a moment, staring at your eyes, then lips.

"Then why do you look at me like that?" he asks.

"Like what?" you question.

"God," he's says. "The viridity. Such effortless innocence. Your yearning is contagious."

His mouth is inches away from yours. He smells faintly of cigarettes, a smell you never enjoyed until this very moment. Your lip trembles as you're in his tight grasp. That warm excitement fills you again as your heart threatens to escape your chest as you think of last night.

"I don't know what any of those words meant, but I think I want to kiss you." you confess.

"Fuck," he whispers against your open mouth. Dropping your hands, he cradles your cheek in his palm. His other arm is wrapped around your waist as you sit on the edge of the picnic table, your chest heaving with shaky breath. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around him, pulling yourself closer to him.

"Can I actually kiss you?" he asks.

"Would you, please?" you beg.

He leans into you slowly and his lips meld with yours in your first kiss; soft and warm. You're surprised when his tongue slips into your mouth but your body takes over for you again and soon you're exploring his mouth in the same way he did yours. He was gentle with you, rubbing your cheek with his thumb and tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His hand eventually creeped up your waist to your chest and he gently squeezed your breast between a large hand, a ringed finger caressing your peaked nipple. Soon, you began to feel a sticky wetness forming between your legs.

"Eddie," you whimpered. "I'm- I'm wet."

He pulled away from you, lips pink and puffy with pupils blown. "Shit, sweetheart." he whispered. "We should stop."

"No, Eddie." you whine. "Please," you beg. "Please, touch me." You grab his hand, moving it between your legs. "It aches."

Eddie stilled his hand under your dress, grabbing your thigh. "I don't think this is a good idea. I think you still have the jitters."

"Please," you whispered, as you let your sweater fall from your shoulders. You brought your hands up to the straps of your dress, pulling them aside with those of your thin cotton bra, and yanking the bodice down to reveal your bare chest to him.

"I'm fine," you reassure him, taking his free hand and bringing it up to grasp your exposed breast.

"Oh my fucking god," he says, allowing his other hand to slowly trail along your soft thigh and to your soaked center.

"When you swear, it makes me throb inside." you confess.

"Does it?" he asks, finally touching you through the wet fabric of your panties. Your hips lift of their own accord. You start shivering, huffing breaths as he gently touches you. "Virgins always get so fucking soaked. Am I the only man who's ever touched this sweet pussy?" He dips his hand under the fabric of your panties, running his fingers over your wet slit. You would have fallen over had he not let go of your breast to catch you by the waist. He bowed his head, covering your nipple with his hot mouth.

"Oh my god," you said. A silent scream escaping you as you fisted his curls. Your legs spread themselves further, heels on the edge of the picnic table, as he continued to play with your most private parts. He swirled his tongue around your nipple and you felt a dizzying feeling come on. While he had you distracted he slowly inserted a ringed finger into you, the cool metal stopping to rest on that one sensitive nerve. You gasped abruptly, letting out a whine that bled into a deep moan as he moved his finger slowly in and out of you. He released your nipple and made eye contact with you. His dark eyes were endearing, and he looked at you with unabashed hunger.

"Such a sweet girl with an even sweeter pussy," he whispered.

You moaned again at his words. He felt free to say any of the filthy praises that came to his mind, and you enjoyed it. When he added a second finger to you, you spread your legs as far as you could manage, your dress bunching at your waist. You finally saw him plunged inside of you, wetness coating your thighs and his hand. He began to move his fingers in and out of you faster and with his second hand began playing with the small nub of a nerve. Your face began to get hot and your ears rang as you screwed your eyes shut. You felt a strange sensation and reached for his hand.

"Eddie, stop!" you say, and he does.

"What's wrong?" he asks. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, but I think I have to pee." you say, shamefully. Your cheeks would flush if they weren't already.

Eddie laughs. "Sweetheart, you were about to cum."

"What?" you ask, still embarrassed

"You were probably about to have an orgasm. Some girls say it makes them feel like they have to take a piss," he explains.

"Oh," you say, hiding your face behind your hands.

"Hey, hey, hey," he coos. "Look at me," he says. You remove your hands and look at him, his gentle dominance overtaking any embarrassment you still had. "I know a gentler way to make you cum," he says. "I need to make you cum."

"Lie back," he told you, as he pressed you down on the table with a flat palm to your chest. Your necklace fell to the side, draping itself over your shoulder as you lie there still exposed to him.

He hooked his thumb into your panties, dragging them to the side between his hand and your thigh before clasping his other hand in yours and resting it firmly on your hips. You wondered why he would put you in this position, and your silent question was answered when he dragged his hot tongue along your slit. You tried to lift your hips but couldn't, your free hand reaching down to tangle into his thick hair again. He circled your weeping hole, darting his tongue in and out as it tried to close around it. He drank your nectar, feasting on you like some beast. His soft lips kissed your sensitive nerve, wrapping around it to suck and swirl his tongue. Your breathing changed in that way again and you felt that peculiar feeling.

"Let it happen," he said, hot breath fanning over you.

Relaxing fully for only an instant, something inside you burst and you felt a warmth spread inside you. You felt a small gush of more wetness as your legs began to tingle. You saw spots in your vision as you rolled your hips against Eddie's open mouth. He drank his fill of you, until your breathing slowed and you properly came down from your first orgasm. His hand was moving below his waist, and he stood up revealing his hard cock in his hand. You gasped softly, eyeing it and him.

"It's so big," you innocently say.

"I'd like to think so," he jokes.

"Can I touch it?" you ask.

"You don't have to," he says. "You can just watch me if you want."

"Let me touch you," you say. "I want to."

He inches towards you, guiding your hand to him. You wrap your fingers around him in the way his own were, and he sighs.

"Move your hand up and down," he instructs you. "You can squeeze just a little. Twist your wrist sometimes and focus on the tip."

You do as he tells you, listening to the pornographic sounds he makes. Deep moans and animalistic growls each time you reach the tip of him. He unzips his jeans further, taking out his heavy sack and letting it hang free. "Faster," he says, and you pick up your pace.

"Fuck!" he exclaims. "Keep going, sweetheart. Such a good girl. Gonna make me cum for you."

"Please cum," you say. "I want you to feel good like I did. Should I put it in my mouth?" you ask.

"No time for that today, angel. Pull your panties to the side," he orders, and you pull the damp fabric away from your still sensitive sex.

With both hands around your waist he pulls you across the table towards him, rutting his sack and the base of him against your puffy lips.

"Spread yourself open," he says. You spread your lower lips apart, trying hard not to change the pace of your other hand on his cock. He nestles himself against your hole. Still sensitive, you whimper, and you feel his cock twitch in your grasp.

"Faster," he says. "Harder."

You squeeze him harder, jerking your small hand along his hard shaft as fast as you can. He keeps a tight grip on the plush of your hips, staring at your bare chest.

"Oh, fuck!" he cries out, cumming on your chest. Warm, white ropes cover your breasts. He stands before you convulsing as you continue to pump him in your hand.

"Don't stop" he whispers through breathy moans. You continue palming him until he backs away from you. You reach down, gathering his release with a finger and bringing it to your mouth. You let it linger on your tongue, bland but salty, like sweat.

"What are you doing?" he asks, tucking himself back into his jeans.

"I wanted to know what you taste like," you admitted. "What did I taste like?" you ask.

He charges at you, capturing your mouth in a deep and wandering kiss. Your own musk overtakes him in your mouth as he pulls away.

"Fix yourself," he says. "Unless you want more."

"What if I do?" you ask as you begin to cover up. "Want more."

He looks at you with a gentle lust in his eyes, running a calloused thumb across your lips. "I would love to give you more," he says.

"More is all I have to give," you reply.