ride-a-mermaid-blog

[kroner26]

[movies-tv-more]

2013 Horror Movies - Celebrating 10 Years

[diltonsstrangescience]

I want to cosplay Dilton SO badly, but in order to do that I’d need to have:

A: A friend with me who’s cosplaying Jughead, so that (by virtue of the iconic hat) onlookers might possibly recognize what fandom I’m supposed to be from by association.

(Because really, without context, Dilt is just some random kid with glasses.)

B: Ideally multiple other friends cosplaying other Archie characters, because it wouldn’t really make sense to have a tritagonist like Dilly hanging out with Jug, but not The Actual Archie. (And really the whole theme works best with a big group, I’m sure.)

C: An actual place to cosplay at, like, I don’t know, a comic con or something. I have never been to one, and have no plans to go to one, so that’s a bit of a moot point right now. And a comic con is sort of the only place with enough of a payoff for this particular cosplay theme.

Because if I’m not recognized as Dilton, then I’m basically just wearing normal, slightly dated clothes at a time when I could have been wearing something awesome, like a medieval gown or superhero armor or a pirate outfit.

Half the fun of becoming a character is getting to be that character for other people as well. As much as I want to cosplay just for myself, if I’m not recognized at all, it sort of doesn’t feel worth it…

Unfortunately my interests skew towards the obscure.

[fideidefenswhore]

thomas cromwell-coded.

[alwayschasingrainbows]

What I read:

"She saw Murray Dark devouring Thora Dark with his eyes, satisfied if she gave him only one look in return."

Tangled Web by L. M. Montgomery

What was going in my brain, when I read it:

Chris Dark, watching Aunt Becky's jug:

Thora Dark, watching her husband Chris Dark, who is watching Aunt Becky's jug:

Murray Dark, watching Thora Dark, who is watching Chris Dark, who is watching Aunt Becky's jug:

Joscelyn Dark, watching Murray Dark, who is watching Thora Dark, who is watching Chris Dark, who is watching Aunt Becky's jug:

Moon Man, watching Joscelyn Dark, who is watching Murray Dark, who is watching Thora Dark, who is watching Chris Dark, who is watching Aunt Becky's jug:

[archaeolorhi]

No Thoughts... Just Her

Just this gorgeous bronze wine Jug found at Trimontium aka Newstead Roman Fort!

She's now at home in the National Museum of Scotland, and was thought to belong to a high ranking commander within the fort - due to the material and lovely ornamentation!

[thekeytothehighway]

jug window...

[tonytoponi]

Room is ourple now..

[literaryvein-reblogs]

what are some ways to describe people other than eye and hair color

I am assuming you are looking for physical descriptors. Here are some examples. I may just make a different post on psychological descriptors.

Arms: Long, Muscular, Pudgy, Short, Skinny, Thin

Back: Bent, Hunched, Ramrod Straight, Rounded

Build: Anorexic, Athletic, Beefy, Brawny, Burly, Chubby, Coltish, Compact, Fat, Gangly, Gaunt, Gawky, Haggard, Heavy-set, Herculean, Husky, Lanky, Lithe, Muscular, Obese, Overweight, Petite, Rangy, Reed-like, Scrawny, Skinny, Slender, Slight, Solid, Spindly, Statuesque, Stocky, Strapping, Sylphlike, Taut, Thickset, Thin, Trim, Underweight, Voluptuous, Well-built, Willowy, Withered

Cheeks: Blushing, Bold, Curved, Dimpled, Bold, Curved, Dimpled, Disturbed, Glorious, Glowing, Hairless, High (cheekbones), Hollow, Honey, Livid, Pale, Pallid, Pink, Plump, Puffy, Radiant, Reddened, Rosy, Rounded, Ruddy, Shining, Smooth, Soft, Sun-burnt, Sun-bronzed, Sunken, Sun-tanned, Tanned, Tearful, White

Chin: Angular, Bony, Bumpy, Chiseled, Defined, Doughy, Firm, Protruding, Round, Smooth, Soft, Square, Strong

Ears: Jug-like, Large, Protruding, Tiny

Eyebrows: Arching, Bushy, Emphasized, Near, Spaced, Thick, Thin

Eyelashes: Artificial, Beaded, Beautiful, Blinking, Dark, Dark-fringed, Dense, Dusky, Heavily-fringed, Long, Mascaraed, Sandy, Sooty, Sopping, Tear-drenched, Thick, Uplifted

Eyes: Almond-shaped, Bright, Bulging, Expressive, Frightened, Gentle, Languishing, Little, Luminous, Made-up, Round, Shining, Shortsighted, Smart, Stunned, Thin, Wide, Woeful

Face: Baby, Blood-stained, Bold, Chiseled, Contorted, Dead, Expressionless, Fair, Familiar, Fierce, Flat, Frightened, Furrowed, Honest, Indifferent, Little, Pale, Poker, Pretty, Radiant, Rough, Ruddy, Sallow, Square, Stained, Swollen, Trim, Weather-beaten, Wry

Feet: Athlete's, Big, Flat, Pigeon-toed, Small, Sore, Stinky, Stubby, Swollen

Fingers: Gnarled, Long, Short, Stubby

Finger Nails: Bitten, Broken, Claw-like, Dirty, Hooked, Long, Painted, Sharp, Talon-like

Hair: Afro, Bald, Beehive, Braided, Bristles, Bun, Chignon, Coiffure, Combed, Corkscrew, Corn rows, Cowlicked, Crew cut, Curly, Disarrayed, Disheveled, Dreadlocks, Dry, Flattop, Flecked, French braid, French twist, Fringe, Greasy, Grizzled, Knotted, Layered, Locks, Matted, Messed up, Mohawk, Mussy, Muttonchops, Neat, Oily, Page boy, Perm, Pigtails, Plait, Pompadour, Ponytail, Ragged, Receding, Ringlets, Ruffled, Shaggy, Shorn, Shoulder-length, Skinhead, Spiky, Split-ended, Straight, Tangled, Thick, Thinning, Tidy, Topknot, Tousled, Twisted, Uncombed, Unshorn, Untidy, Wavy, Wiry, Wisps

Hand: Big, Elegant, Small

Height: Big, Knee-high, Medium, Short, Shoulder-high, Sky-high, Small, Tall, Towering, Waist-high

Legs: Amputated, Bandy, Bony, Bowed, Brawny, Bulging, Fluted, Gartered, Gouty, Graceful, Hacked, Hairy, Jagged, Knotted, Leaden, Long, Lower, Muscular, Pitiful, Rickety, Shapely, Shivering, Short, Sinewy, Slender, Slim, Spindle, Stockinged, Sturdy, Thin, Thread-like, Tinder, Tiny, Toothsome, Tree trunks

Lips: Blue, Cracked, Cupid's Bow, Downturned, Dry, Fat, Full, Grim, Large, Luscious, Parched, Parted, Red, Ruby, Small, Smiling, Thin, Wet

Mouth: Arch, Ascetic, Baby, Cavernous, Churning, Compressed, Cooing, Coral, Cracked, Cruel, Delicate, Dumpled, Distended, Dry, Fine, Firm, Frothy, Full, Funnel-shaped, Gaping, Grim, Handsome, Hungry, Insistent, Irritable, Large, Luscious, Munching, Musty, Perilous, Puckered, Querulous, Relaxed, Resolute, Sardonic, Sensuous, Serious, Slobbering, Small, Sulky, Sweet, Tender, Thin, Wide, Winsome, Wrinkled, Yawning

Neck: Bullnecked, Elegant, Long, Short, Swan-like, Thick

Palm: Broad, Oval, Rectangular, Square

Skin: Acned, Alabaster, Albino, Apricot, Black, Blemished, Blistered, Blooming, Blotchy, Blushing, Bronzed, Cadaverous, Calloused, Caramel, Clear, Craggy, Cream, Ebony, Fair, Flush, Freckled, Glowing, Greasy, Ivory, Jaundiced, Leathery, Lily-white, Lined, Milky, Mottled, Nut-brown, Olive, Pale, Pallid, Pasty, Peeling, Pimpled, Pink, Pitted, Pockmarked, Red, Rosy, Rough, Ruddy, Russet, Sallow, Scabby, Scarred, Smooth, Splotchy, Spotty, Sun-burnt, Tan, Wan, Waxen, White, Wrinkled, Yellow

Stomach: Bulging, Distended, Empty, Firm, Flabby, Flat, Heroic, Hollow, Lean, Paunchy, Protruding, Unbounded

Teeth: Artificial, Black, Blunted, Buck, Canine, Chattering, Clenched, Clinched, Compressed, Crooked, Dagger-like, Dazzling, Decayed, Deciduous, Extracted, False teeth, Feeble, Ferocious, Filed, Flashing, Fluoridated, Foam-laced, Fractured, Gap-toothed, Gleaming, Glistening, Glittering, Gnashing, Goofy, Grinding, Hooked, Horrid, Ivory, Jagged, Lacquered, Large, Milky, Mottled, Neglected, Pearly, Perfect, Pretty, Protruding, Razor-like, Sharp, Shining, Short, Small, Snowy, Sore, Spaced, Straight, Sweet tooth, Tender, Tiny, Toothless, Toothy, Ugly, Unrelenting, White, Wisdom, Wolfish, Yellow

Hope this helps! If it does, do tag me or send me a link to your writing. I'd love to read your work.

More: On Character Development

[in-class-daydreams]

Imagine first meeting ex-husband Gojo on a clear spring day at Tsuruoka City Jail.

The year was 2001. Young Satoru found himself on a train with his retainer making an extended trip many prefectures away. His retainer flipped through a folder.

"Someone's been exorcising curses in Yamagata prefecture. Must've caused a large ruckus for the local law enforcement to get to them first," they said.

Gojo was expecting someone older and/or rougher. Instead he was met with a beat up looking girl around his age in a dark holding cell. While his retainer went off to speak with an officer, Gojo peered at you and said, "Wow. You look like crap."

He doesn't need the six-eyes to easily dodge the shoe you huck his way. "Why don't you come in here and say that, you Inuyasha wannabe??" you shout.

Gojo touches his hair. "This is my natural hair color," he insists.

"Oh." You nod. "That's pretty cool." You walk up close to the bars and sit down. Gojo follows suit.

"I'm Satoru. What's your name?"

~

Imagine young Gojo being absolutely baffled at the verdict from the Higher-Ups that you're slated to be executed.

"She didn't do anything wrong! Isn't exorcising curses what we're supposed to do?" Gojo asked his retainer.

"The girl is a liability to jujutsu society, Satoru," his retainer explained patiently. "She consumes cursed energy from others. It's dangerous."

"So we should just have her be on our side," Gojo responds, only for his retainer to chuckle and pat him on the head.

It's at this young age that Satoru learns just how much leverage he has in society. When he puts his foot down and demands that the "Nure-onna" be spared and placed into the Gojo Clan's care to be his sparring partner, the demand is somehow granted. There's no way she could get close enough to someone with the six-eyes to drink his cursed energy, so he's the optimal partner for her.

~

Imagine young Gojo being fascinated by you.

"You're crazy for dragging me around with you," you tell him.

The two of you are in a field on the Gojo Clan grounds.

"You want me to let them execute you?" he asks, stretching out his legs.

"I could drain you of your cursed energy right here, right now."

"Do it, then. I wanna see. Just don't drink it all," he says. Gojo sits cross-legged in the grass and waits.

You eye him warily, wondering if there's servants waiting in the trees to jump on you for attacking their precious heir. Deciding that you'd just hold him hostage if they did, you kneel beside him and produce your water jug. He stops you when you make your first hand gesture.

"Hang on, explain it to me while you do it," he insists. You roll your eyes but oblige.

"Okay, well, I need at least about a liter of water." You gesture and the liquid flows out of the jug to form long water snakes that wrap around Gojo and squeeze.

"Do you hold everyone this loose?" he asks half-playfully.

You click your tongue at him and tighten his bonds until he lets out a soft grunt. "And then, I just..." You awkwardly tilt your head this way and that. "Normally I bite the neck, but I don't know if your clan would like that."

"Does it hurt?"

"I dunno."

"Will it leave a mark?"

"I dunno, Gojo, I've never tried it on a human!"

Gojo nods resolutely. "Fine. Bite my neck. I trust you."

You gape at the statement until he says, "Hurry up!" and you lean in and bite down where his neck and shoulder meet. You drink maybe a tablespoon's worth of cursed energy before pulling back and letting the snakes fall away. It does, in fact, leave a mark.

"So? What'd that do?" Gojo asks.

"I have more cursed energy for myself now."

"Show me."

You lift your hands with a flourish and all the water - from the dew on the grass to the nearby pond to the excess in the air - gathers and forms one giant writhing snake that slithers through the grass and settles around the two of you. Gojo watches the beast in wonder, eyes gleaming. He tears his eyes away to look at you.

"Pretty cool," he says.

"Yeah. Pretty cool."

~

Thank you so much for reading!

Click [here] for more of Sen being mean to his dad | Ask stuff about Sen and the fam [here]

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

From the request here

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: When a movie night has you questioning your bodies worth, Simon catches you in the shower to show you that your body is perfect just the way that it is.

Word Count: 4.3 k

Warnings:

“Look at the jugs on her,” one of the guys says at the busty blonde that has just been introduced for the first time in the film. A few others follow suit, whooping at the gorgeous, petite female main character popping up on screen as the movie really gets going. “That’s a woman you could lose yourself in. Fuck, I wish I could find a girl like her; I’d be a happy man for life. To have that waiting at home for me, I’d never even be tempted to stray.”

This is usually how movie night on base goes: people piling into the rec center ready to watch the latest movie from the personal collection from one of the members, but mostly it just devolves into a testosterone fest of horny boys itching to have something to focus their sexual frustrations on by ogling at the new pretty little thing on screen. Usually it doesn’t bother you, you’re used to being around all that chaos, but tonight just feels different.

Simon isn’t one for this type of gathering, but he comes to keep an on the crowd and be nearer to you and as he watches out of the corner of his eye from his place standing towards the back, he notices how your body language changes as the guys continue to raucously talk about the leading lady and how beautiful she is. It’s almost imperceptible the way you shift in your seat while you pick at the skin of your lower lip with your teeth, your shoulders slumping down as you cross your arms, but he catches it outright. He knows you and he knows this isn’t normal. 

Something is bothering you.

The longer you sit there the worse it gets. Their lustful words just cut different tonight; maybe it’s exhaustion from being overworked or perhaps you’re just having an off day, but the longer they hoot and holler over the girl plastered before your eyes, the more you want to crawl out of your skin.

It’s about halfway through the movie when you slowly get up from your seat, trying not to draw attention to yourself by leaving too quickly and exit the rec without looking back. Simon is instantly concerned and wants to rush after you, but one of the newer recruits that seems to be the ringleader in all this turns to him as if to drag him into the depraved fun.

“Whatcha think; gotta admit she’s a fine thing, ain’t she Lieutenant?” he asks, nodding back at the screen. “Come on, even you gotta admit she’s perfect. Couldn’t hope to find anyone better.” 

The look that Simon gives the young man through his mask, that stone cold glare that could make even the bravest man shiver, instantly shuts him up and has him facing forward again to join his brothers in arms in their jokes. His brow furrows angrily behind the fabric as he looks over the crowd of boys once more before heading out, leaving quietly like a specter on his way to find where you had gotten to. 

Simon checks all the usual places, but you are nowhere to be found: the little area outside the rec where you usually join him for a smoke break, the mess hall, even your barracks are empty. Then he hears movement in the communal bathroom and knows he’s finally found you. 

It looks like you’ve been rushing to get done before anyone can catch you. Your hair is damp from the shower and it drips down to leave dark stains onto your t-shirt as you stand staring at yourself in the mirror behind the sink. Simon watches quietly from his obscured place by the door as you look yourself over, scrutinizing each detail from head to toe before you give up with a sigh and a diversion of your eyes, focusing on your toothbrush instead as you pick it up and turn on the faucet. So absorbed in what you are doing, you don’t hear the lock click closed or the pair of heavy boots that cross the length of the room until there is a presence upon you. 

“God, you’re so beautiful baby,” you hear that deep, gravelly voice sound from behind you while a bulky arm wraps itself around your waist from behind as Simon presses up against your back. You look back up into the mirror in front of you and are instantly met with a pair of brilliant brown eyes as he slowly removes his balaclava. “Just standin’ there fresh outta the shower and ya look like a fantasy.”  

Setting the mask on the sink he joins his other arm around you and leans his face in, the tip of his nose nuzzles into the side of your neck before he presses his lips against your jugular. His lips catch the feeling of your pulse quickening through the vein at his touch. Rough hands begin to splay across your clothed stomach, running across and down to your hips with gentle caresses that make you pause. Your eyes stare into the mirror to take in your combined form as he drapes himself over you, hot lips peppering your skin with no sign of letting up.

You chuckle dismissively, trying to play off his words as a joke. Your head still isn’t in the right place and even though you enjoy the feeling of his touch, disastrous thoughts still circle throughout to cloud your mind so that you second guess even his affections. 

“Oh, come off it,” you return as you grab the toothpaste off the countertop. “I do not.” 

There is no hesitation in his reply. “I’m serious,” he breathes that husky whisper against your skin as his lips continue down to your shoulder as his fingers pull the t-shirt away from your collar bone to reveal more skin for him to adorn with his mouth.

You roll your eyes in the mirror so that as he looks up briefly he catches the movement. “Yeah, sure,” you again dismiss him. “Whatever you say.”

Before you can even unscrew the cap to the toothpaste, Simon reaches past you to turn off the tap and take your things out of your hands before he rotates you around so that you face him. Your backside presses into the edge of the sink as you rest up against it, mouth scrunched to one side as he gazes back at you with intent. There is a subtle frown on his lips and an anxious look in his copper eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, concerned. “Somethin’ happen? Cause I did see ya leave in a hurry back there.”

You divert your eyes, ashamed of your lack of confidence that has come forward tonight. “I don’t know, it’s nothing,” you shrug, but he isn’t buying any of it. 

His large hand rests itself up under your chin, pulling your head back up to look into his face. “I think ya do know,” he says. “Will ya tell me?”

Clearing your throat, you give yourself a moment to figure out how best to proceed. “It’s just,” you say hesitantly, “I guess sometimes I just wish I looked like that, you know? I know I’m usually not this self-conscious, but tonight I guess I just hit a rough patch with my insecurities and something about the shit they were saying just got to me I guess. You see the way the guys talk about girls like in that movie, like she’s the most gorgeous thing in the world. She’s so perfect and… I…”

You gesture with your head down the length of your body to emphasize your point that you are nothing like the actress: your breasts are on the smaller side, your thighs are incredibly thick, and your stomach is not completely flat. Simon follows your hand, looking you up and down before his eyes meet yours again.

“I’m not. I know it’s fucking stupid and I shouldn’t care about all that, it doesn’t really matter, but sometimes it’s just hard to ignore. I’m not the standard when it comes to beauty, but sometimes I just want to feel like I’m the most irresistible person in the room.”

It seems like he wants to say something, you can see his mouth shifting, but instead his gaze drifts down to your lips and he pulls your chin forward to close the distance between your mouths. Instantly he overtakes your mouth with his own, tenderly capturing your lips over and over with a gentle desperation that makes him shudder against you as he moves in closer. 

“Who the fuck said ya ain’t perfect?” he asks, his voice breathy against your lips. “Gimme that bastard’s name. You tell me right now so I can go ring their fuckin’ neck. Cause that is a goddamn lie.”

“No one said anything like that, it’s just the way I feel,” you answer honestly. “And you’re only saying that because you like me.” 

Immediately Simon pulls you into another long kiss as if he is trying to take those insecure words right out of your mouth before you can say anything else. Breaking the kiss, Simon licks his flushed lips and shakes his head. “Really? Ya don’t think your body can drive someone wild? Then what’s this, hmm?” he asks, grabbing your wrist to pull your hand forward so that he can place the palm over top of the soft bulge growing in his boxers. “See whatcha do to me, sweetheart? Ya think that’s lyin’?”

Your hand rubs over the swell and his hips unconsciously buck slightly against your hand as he hums in approval of your touch. It is instantaneous the way you have him begging for even a simple touch from you; no other has ever held that kind of power over him, not anyone that he would give it to so freely like he does you. The warm pressure from your hand causes the pulsing to intensify as he grows harder and you find your heart beat starting to match its throbbing.

“Ya don’t think I catch the men lookin’ at ya from time to time?” he asks as he leans his head forward until it rests against your own, hands moving up under the hem of your shirt to play with the toasty skin of your abdomen as he talks. “Ya don’t think I see that their eyes glaze over as they linger on your body a bit too long for my fuckin’ likin’? Just cause they won’t say it out loud doesn’t make it any less true that you have something about ya that would drive any man wild.”

His words are like a balm to your mind and the longer he speaks the more you find yourself falling under their spell. Rough fingers are pushing up higher into your shirt, pulling it up over your waist as he runs his palms across the area while his hips press into yours. He’s not forceful or harsh, his advances are only full of adoration in that type of intense devotion that only Simon Riley is capable of when it comes to savoring the best damn thing he has ever had.   

“Don’t let what ya heard back there hurt ya,” he says softly. “Yeah, ya don’t look like that bird on the screen, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t an absolute beauty. You’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen and I ain’t just sayin’ it, baby. But ya don’t just have ta take my word for it. Let me show ya that no one can hold a candle to what ya got.”

Simon pulls you over to one of the empty showers and gets it going, fiddling with the taps to make sure the water is going nice and warm before he turns his undivided attention back to you. Instantly his mouth is back on yours as one by one each piece of your clothing is removed and set aside in tandem with his own until you both stand before the other bare.

“I’ve already showered,” you mutter out between pauses as merely just a statement of fact rather than a reason to deny him.

Simon murmurs his disagreement into your mouth. “Don’t care,” he replies through a break in his kiss, continuing to take off your clothes as he dizzyingly tries to get at your body. “Can’t be havin’ those fuckin’ negative thoughts in that head of yours. Wanna take care of ya, make ya feel like the true beauty ya are.”

More kissing, so much that your lips are burning and raw from the friction. His mouth must be aflame too, but he doesn’t let up; he can’t, he’s captured in the wake of your allure and there is no getting out. 

“What if someone comes in?” The last of your questions spills out quick.

He chuckles at your needless worry. “Already locked the door sweetheart.”

Stretching his hand out, he checks the temperature to be sure it’s right before dragging you inside the steamy oasis. The curtain is barely pulled closed before he has you pinned at the back wall, his stocky torso rubbing against your voluptuous naked body as he steals the breath from your lungs, kissing you so thoroughly that there is no distinction between faces anymore.

The change in temperature has your nipples hardening, the blossoms spiking forward at attention, and Simon can feel them poking against his chest the longer he has your mouth locked in that dance of back and forth. The moment he is aware of their presence his mouth is salivating to get at them. 

You might think they are not perfect enough, but to him they are exactly what he wants.

Breaking the kiss abruptly, removing his mouth so quickly that a trial of spit still connects your lips a moment, he tilts his head downward. Being on the smaller side, he can fit your breast almost entirely in his mouth and he does, filling the cavity with as much of your tit as he can without choking. 

You can hardly remember anymore why the stupid comments had you so upset in the first place when you have a man like Simon who will dote on you like you are royalty. His is the only opinion you have come to care about and it is clear that there is nothing he will ever want more than you. 

He moans deep and guttural into your breast as he sucks while letting the end of his tongue flick around the nipple, circling the sensitive tissue until you are writhing against him as he holds you steady to the wall so that he can work. There is another breast after all that requires his attention and he intends to show it the same amount of affection as the other. Switching sides, he gets to work, keeping the first breast warm by cupping it in his hand.

It’s minutes of you quivering and whimpering before he emerges panting with his lips swollen and red, satisfied with his work so far. Giving his lips a break, Simon gently strokes your cheek with his fingers as he gazes into your eyes, swaying your bodies from side to side in easy movements. “Stay with me luv,” he says softly as he watches you take heavy breaths, “I ain’t done just yet.”

Those lips are on the move again to decorate your body, over your sternum and waist, until he has to kneel before you to get any further. He’s on his knees, all 6’4” of him bent to you as he places kisses across your belly while the heated water runs over his dirty blonde hair and down his back, rippling across the muscles in his shoulders as he holds your hips squeezed securely between his broad hands. 

“You’re perfect just the way ya are, baby,” he groans against your moist skin, letting his lips linger wherever he puts them. “Just like this: real, curves for fuckin’ days, so much skin I get drunk tryin’ to get at it all. And the best goddamn part is that it’s all mine.”

More kisses he places along all the areas you think unworthy of adoration, but that he finds absolutely exquisite. “Mine, all mine.”

His words devolve into incoherent babble as he nestles his face into your abdomen to leave burning trails of his desire with his lips that even the warm water cannot wash away from your skin. Your body writhes in his double-handed grasp as your head falls back to rest against the wall as every inch of tender flesh prickles with the overstimulating sensation of being doted upon. 

Lips keep trailing further downward from your stomach to the mound of your sex, through the trimmed patch of hair at the top of your pussy, before they sink into the bulk of your thick, stocky thighs.

“Ya think I get on my knees for any girl?” he asks from his place at the bottom of the shower as he stares up into your face with half-lidded eyes that darken the more he plays with you. “You’re the only one who can bring me to fuckin’ kneel, baby. You and your gorgeous body. I’m at it’s goddamn mercy.” 

Placing his hand on your calf, he nods and you know exactly what he wants: that juicy cunt smothering his features, your bulky thighs crush against his ears. Carefully he helps you to adjust your footing so that he can lift your leg. Propping it up on his own thigh, he sits back on his calves so that his face sits at the same level as your pussy and he leans in, smothering his face right between those dangerously thick pieces of flesh as you widen your stance with his guidance to make it easier. Hardened fingertips dig themselves into your body, forcing you even more firmly against his face until his nose is pressed into your clit and he moves his head back and forth to stimulate it with the tip. 

There is little oxygen to be had between the heat from the water and the heat between your legs, but it doesn’t matter. The sound of your soft, breathy gasps and moans as he penetrates your entrance with his tongue is enough to sustain him until he can come up to breathe. Lapping and thrusting, wriggling and applying pressure, if there is even a whisper of a negative thought left in your brain it is overshadowed completely now by the overwhelming euphoria of being devoured to the brink of insanity.

You buck wild and untamed, panting heavily as the warmth in your belly begins gathering quicker than you could have thought, the coil pulling tightly as minute by aching minute Simon draws your body to the edge of its release. He is relentless in his endeavor, putting your needs above anything else- even breathing. That tongue has moved up to your clit now and with weighty presses over the tiny bean you soon are spilling over the edge and he has to hold onto you tight so that you don’t slip and fall.

Simon stays locked to your pussy until the very last second, keeping his movements going even as you try to pry him off from the sensitivity that is almost too much to handle. It isn’t until you finally stop writhing that he emerges from between your legs with a smile that has your stomach doing somersaults as he wipes his mouth clean of your cum. 

“Second course,” he growls before you even have a chance to fully come down from your high.

Oh you have got him down bad tonight. 

He carefully flips you round to face the wall and uses his feet to make you spread your legs as wide as you can get them. A hefty hand runs itself over the curve of your ass, following the line down all the way to the underside before he grabs it in his hand and gives the meat a firm squeeze.

“Those little boys just don’t know how to handle this much woman; all these fuckin’ curves are too much pleasure for a bastard that don’t know the treasure he’s got. But I know what a fuckin’ feast ya are,” he groans as he aligns your hips and enters you from behind with a forceful grunt that reverberates off the enclosed space of the shower. 

You push palms flat against the wall to steady yourself. “They don’t know how ta treat ya right, how ta love a body that just keeps givin’ and givin’. But I don’t have that problem, sweetheart.”

Simon’s devout words are like liquid fire and as his cock stretches you wide, the euphoria of his talk runs through you to make you burn. Your body is his religion and goddamn does he always worship it right. All those cares, all that self-loathing and doubt entirely evaporate from your mind as he pushes your shoulders forward to make you arch your back so that he can pound into your pussy hard and deep from behind, making your plump ass bounce off his pelvis with a recoil that draws his gaze.

“Fuck,” he breathes, so obsessed with the way you look around him that he is trying to ingrain the image in his mind.  

His aching exclamation thrills you, making your heart skip a beat as his thrusts continue to rock through you. To be craved in such a way, to be thought of like the woman in the movie, that is what he is giving you now and it is euphoric. His intensity is orgasmic and your body responds in kind as he grabs you to move you closer.

“Don’t concern yourself with the bullshit ideas of some puny little boys when ya got a man who will always make sure you feel like a fuckin’ princess when you’re in his arms,” he says in a whisper at your ear as he pulls you back to leans against his chest. “Cause ya are, sweetheart. Your my fuckin’ goddess of a woman.”

The way he says it makes you ache all over and you can feel it twinge in your clit. “Say it again,” you beg, needing to hear him make those sweet combinations of sounds once more until your body vibrates with pleasure. 

His hand comes up to cup around your breast so that he can massage the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, causing you to mewl at the sensation. “You are so fuckin’ beautiful baby, so goddamn perfect just like this, and I love every last fuckin’ inch of ya. My princess.”

Your cheeks feel like they are glowing and on fire as thrusts after thrust he pounds into you, stretching you and filling you full on all of his passion for your body. You will never be able to make everyone see you for the gorgeous being that you truly are, but that doesn’t matter anymore. Simon is more than enough to keep you feeling like the most beautiful girl in the whole world; you are safe with him.

Your head falls back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as his arms that are filled with your waist clamp down tighter to secure you to him so that he can shove his cock even harder into your now dripping core. “Yes, yes,” you whimper out. 

“Come for me again,” he practically demands as he watches you falling apart once more. “Come on, pretty girl, one more for me. One more together.”

Your limbs are tingling with each snap of his hips against your ass. It’s close, right there, you can almost feel it again as the coil wounds itself tight once more in the pit of your stomach. You clench down on him, making him falter before recovering and continuing on. A few more pumps of him deep in your core and it is right there at the precipice.

“Let go for me,” he whispers into your ear as you clench once more around him and something about the way he says it sets you off. You come for the second time, the orgasm rocketing through you until you can feel it like fire shooting through your veins as you shake with the intensity of it all. 

Quickly he pulls out just in time as he too pops off and comes between your thighs as you clamp them together around his cock. The ejaculate runs down your legs as he milks every last bit out of the tip until his body hangs limp and his head falls down to rest the forehead against your shoulder. Still he holds you close, murmuring soft praises against your neck about how fucking amazing that was and how there is no one else that will ever look more beautiful all flushed and exhausted.

Holding onto you, Simon takes a few steps back forcing you to come along until you are both submerged under the showerhead to let that soothing water run over your bodies until you can both come back down from your high. There are no words yet, none that need to be said out loud, all he needs to do is keep you wrapped in his arms a little longer.

It’s quiet, just the sound of the water rushing filling the silent space for a while, until a noise breaks you both out of the moment. There is a banging on the door from the outside, repeated knocking loudly and clearly; you’ve been in here for too long, but Simon doesn’t seem to be bothered. There is no attempt to leave the steamy oasis yet and soon the sound subsides and you are both left in the silence once again. 

“They’ll just have to fuckin’ wait,” he says against the side of your head in a hushed whisper, lips tempting your earlobe. “They can consider it a punishment for making ya upset. Besides, I’m still busy and you’re not goin’ anywhere.”

[on-the-clear-blue]

Dead Man's Diner pt3

Dick knew that Tim was sending him looks every few seconds.

How could he not? This places food names were honestly the best, if this was some kinda murder cult Dick would be so disappointed.

Glancing up over the menu at Danny, Dick smiled at the teen who had been whipping down the same cup for five minutes like some wild west bartender while trying very hard not to stare at the two vigilantes.

"Okay, I think I have made up my mind, Red you got what you wanted?" Finally meeting Tim's eyes, Dick mentally winced, Tim's eyes were doing that twitchy thing that happened sometimes...

"Yes. I am." Dick understand slightly but like...the puns weren't that bad

Out of the corner of his eye Dick saw Danny pop up, nearly slamming the mug he had been holding as he fumbled with a note pad, coming closer to the two, he did a pretty decent customer service smile as he waited.

Since Tim was having a problem with words, Dick went first.

"So, I'll have some Boo-berry Poltergeist pancakes, with two sunny side up eggs and a side of bacon?" Dick watched as Danny paused for a moment, let out a little laugh and then started to write before looking to Tim.

"I will have...Ugh, the Wraith waffles with the hunting hashbrowns on the side...please." Dick had seen Tim look less pained over being stabbed than say the wonderful puns.

"Alrighty, anything to drink before I head back and get started on your order?" Holding up a coffee jug in one hand and an orange juice jug in the other, Danny gave a slight smirk.

Perhaps it was the coffee but Tim looked a bit less pained after that.

---

As he slapped down a few pieces of bacon, Danny totally didn't use his ghost powers to bring the bowl of pancake batter over closer as he scooped a ladle full on a freshly buttered side of the flat top, making sure it set first, Danny heard a beep from the frier, heading over he paused to see French fries in there as well.

Shaking his head, he dunked them all into the oil, and moved to set the timer only to see it already clicking down, "Oh um...thank you very much." Patting the deep frier, Danny moved back to the flat top as it let out a gurgling purr.

---

Tim took all of five seconds after Danny rounded the corner into the back of the house to start whispering

"Wing, this place is mocking me. Apple apparition pie? Haunting Hashbrowns? Ethereal fucking eggs benedict." Hissing Tim shifted in his seat, "like I would get it if this place was ghost themed but it very clearly isnt! It is mocking me because I know this place doesn't exist!" Slamming a fist down on the counter, it very much thudded.

Sharing a look with Tim, Dick placed a hand on Tim's shoulder, "Buddy...I agree there is something up with this place but...I very much think it exists? Since we are kinda sitting here."

Dragging his hand down his face with a groan Tim leaned back in his seat, "I know and it is infuriating me..." Grabbing the coffee mug Tim looked at it with a not insignificant amount of distrust before taking a swig, pausing, than taking another, much slower sip, holding the mug with both hands as he lowered it down, staring at the dark liquid with a small glare.

"Red? You okay? Is that the bad coffee look ot oh shittake mushrooms that was poisoned look?" Dick said worryingly, looking to the cup of orange juice that was in front of him with suspicion.

"N-no...I" Tim's words cut off as he took a breath, "Just...tastes just like the kind Mom used to drink, came from this little town in Chile they passed through..." staring at the cup a little longer Tim shook his head, "They closed a few years back, the farmer that made it got killed by a drug cartel that wanted him to plant coca rather than coffee, it's just that this place should very much not have this."

There was a tension between the two vigilantes, Dick moving to speak before being cut off by Danny quickly coming out from the back.

"Order up! Got two pancakes for Mr. Nightwing, side of bacon and eggs and two waffles for Mr. Red Robin with some hasbrowns!" Setting each plate down in front of said vigilante, Danny gave them both a grin.

"And a side of Phantom fries for both of you on the house!"

After refilling the little bit missing out of Tim's cup, Danny seemed to be to there one second and back in the kitchen a moment later.

---

"Phantom fries?" Danny whispered to himself as he started to clean off the griddle, a grin on his face as he did, he might of left the hero business, but oh God was it funny, he wondered if other people got the same fun out of it.

Checking out on he customers through the small window to the front, Danny felt his core thrum at the sight of the two eating, it was a different kind of thrum that he got while protecting people, this one...this one gave him a full body shudder and cleared a fog in his mind he didn't even he had.

Shaking his head, Danny tried not to let the purr building in his chest out.

---

Screw the worries that Tim had, Dick was having the time of his life.

"We can't tell the others about this place Red...Little wing would try and place it in the Alley and B might try and buy it cus holy guacamole this shit is good..." Dick had dug in after Tim's wrist mounted computer had tested the food for any known poisons which said that there weren't any, but still went and saved a few samples for further analysis at the Cave.

Dick didn't know why but the pancakes tasted like those that Alfred made the first week he had been at the manor, he had gotten upset at Brcue and hid in the attic all day, but Alfred managed to lure him down with the promise of blueberries in his pancakes.

They were perfectly fluffy, butter soaked with that little edge around it that was crunchy, the berries were tart enough to battle the maple syrup and...it was just like how Dick remembered.

Shaking his head as he finished up his food, Dick threw a look over at Tim, who was hunched over his empty plate, holding his mug of coffee closer, at Dicks questioning look the teen spoke.

"We have to leave Wing something is just...off about this place, its...they taste like when my dad used to make breakfast after coming home from a dig...has to be brain waves or mind reading or..." Tim continued to ramble on, ideas flowing out of him like a water fall.

By the time that Danny went back to check on the two, they were gone.

[tryagainenthusiast]

thinking about...

how comforting jaehyun would be when you come home drunk from a night out with friends. 

he would be sleeping at first, not hearing you click open the door and stumble into the living room, throwing off your shoes. its only until you call out his name into the darkness of your room that he would stir in his sleep, whispering your name out to you. and when you would slide into bed and mumble drunken thoughts he would wake up, reaching a hand out to stroke your disheveled hair. 

“are you drunk?” he would ask even though he knew the answer, and you would try to deny it out of instinct, but he’s able to see right through you. he nods, caressing your alcohol flushed cheeks. and he would make himself get up, even in the midst of the deepest sleeps he’s had just to take care of you. 

to get you some water from the kitchen, sleepily pouring it out the jug with weak hands; making sure you drink it all, holding the glass up to you and swiping a finger over your mouth to dry you of the left over droplets. 

you would sprawl yourself out on the bed, still dressed up in your clothes and claim that you were “too tired” to change, but when jaehyun would walk towards your closet to grab a t-shirt for you to sleep in suddenly he would find you right next to him again, wrapping your arms around him and leaning your head against his bicep. he would pat the top of your head to savour the moment, knowing how embarrassed you’ll get the morning after for no reason. and when your arms would become too heavy to change yourself he would take his hand and wrap it around your wrists, lifting them up for you and removing your clothes. then guiding them through the arm holes of your t-shirt. 

you would still be attached to him when he takes you into the bathroom, helping you sit on the toilet lid while he turns around to grab some makeup wipes from the cabinet, so he can stroke the makeup off your face with a cold touch, moving so gently that you wouldn’t have been able to notice he was doing so if you hadn’t opened your drunken eyes and see his sleepy, focused face. whether there was or wasn’t alcohol running through your bloodstream, you still wouldn’t be able to resist leaning forward with pouted lips and smooch him on what you think are his lips, but in actuality is the side of his face. 

after all that, he would tuck you into your bed and watch you fall asleep in an instant, as if you were the one dragging around a grown adult the whole time. but when he lies on his side of the bed and sees your content face he would pepper kisses all over it, even if you couldn’t feel them, and whisper a small goodnight. 

[killbaned]

very important to me you all know i finally got my coffee i’ve been wanting for three days except apparently no one fucking sells the jugs of dunkin anymore and i had to fucking get sbux :\

[shattered-earth]

LOOK AT THIS VASE I MADE IN MY CERAMCS CLASS IT WAS REALLY HARD AND THERE WERE SO MANY RISKS BUT I DID IT AND NOTHING WENT WRONG ITS A MIRACLE (also i know NOW it looks like ferrofluid, but it was actually not the intention from the start LOL) If you're curious as to the inspo + process, it was inspired by this minoan jug on the left! It was made in two parts, and was originally supposed to be sleeker, longer, and smaller spikes but uhh look I'm not very good at ceramics LOL. So the size of the spikes and the more round shape.. already not on purpose, a byproduct of my lack of skill.

There was a lot of waffling on what colors I wanted to do, I had floated Squeakoid colors (white base, colorful spikes), all black, tenmoku (black but breaks brown), as well as half and half.

I decided on black in the end because DARK GOTH VIBES and my teacher felt the shape was so much already that simple black would highlight the silhouette and not be too busy. And that's how in the end it turned into a ferrofluid vase by accident LMFAO

[eccentricallygothic]

|| Wrong Turn ||

Pairing: Mountain Man Silver Fox Nomad!Steve Rogers | You. 

Trope: Neat and clean ‘civilized’ Princess-like young trophy wife X Filthy beast of a wild and scary man who only got her because he has the power. 

Description: In a desperate attempt to save your life from the wrath of the mountain people that your friends and you stumbled upon and accidentally killed on a hike gone wrong, you had to offer yourself up to their Leader to use as a ‘resource’. But little did your ‘husband’ know, you had been actively getting rid of his seed to avoid actually getting pregnant. Naturally, when he does find out, he is very unhappy… And also very determined to make sure you don't make it out of your punishment without a child, or two.

Warning(s): Dubcon, barbaric!Steve, breeding kink (gone wild), unprotected p-in-v, reverse cowgirl, doggy style, missionary, he has a wife bod kink (but it is inclusive), misogyny, smut with perhaps too much plot, fear kink, size kink, exhibitionism, possessiveness, jealousy, age gap, hair pulling, spanking, biting, allusions to painal and Steve being a teasing sicko about it but he doesn't actually penetrate, overstimulation, dirty talk, humiliation, degradation, boob play, squirting, Lloyd makes an appearance with his own young bride, dacryphilia (it's me), self degradation, Stevie is a perverted old meanie, infantilization, mind break.

Disclaimer: Very loosely based off of the movie that I do not own. You don't need to know it to read this piece but do note that it takes place in a fictional setting. Minors do not interact. 

Inspo-ish: This post.

Note: For someone who was on their period, I should not have been this horny. But I need this marriage, now. Ps, though this rotted in my drafts for a long time… in honor of Chris growing out his beard again, ig.

MASTERLIST

. . .

You have no idea how long it has been since that fateful twilight when everything changed in your life, leaving you to a lifestyle you could never have even imagined for yourself.  

“Eat up, woman” but as your barbarian of a husband commands you in his rough and animalistically deep voice, you cannot help but break out of your reverie and shudder at the sight of the barely cooked meat piled high on the platter in front of the two of you. “So you can bear me healthy children” although you're the one who was made to prepare his beastly dinner -that never fails to leave you aghast when it's gorged down- as you're his wife, you cannot help but gag under your breath and feel disgust for the loaves that sit before you in the company of a tall stone carved jug that brims full of the foul smelling mead that your husband is ardently fond of. 

You muster up your best coy smile. Keeping up the appearance of a happily mated pair is important. Or people stare. And then the old man becomes unpleasant. “I had quite a lot while I was cooking, dear” your lies sting your tongue out of the fear you feel of getting caught, but the mere hope of not doing so is better than eating this. “Y- You go ahead” you slowly turn in his muscle hardened lap, that you are always to sit on, to give him a small smile but your expression almost transforms into one of horror because of how wildly your heart jumps at the sight of his stern, predator-like face. You are quick to recover though, as it is a usual occurrence. 

“You need it. You work so hard—” there is just something about his rough looks that never fails to send a chill down your spine. You have never seen anything, let alone an actual human man like him before. 

A beard as thick as the very forest his people populate and as dark as the nights can get here in the absence of lanterns due to the heavy trees, age that streaks some of his gold locks with its silver has not marred the sternness of his jaw that remains firmly set under the heavy mane of his facial hair. His shoulders seem akin to the mountains that surround his village and his piercing dark eyes the mysterious waterfall that flows some way down south from the entrance of the settlement. The frightening mass of his shoulders is so toned that if the barely noticeable wrinkles that sometimes appear under the dark of his eyebrows and next to the crow-feather like lashes that frame his eyes, he can easily be mistaken for a man in his primeful late twenties and no older. His unrelenting strength and wolfish stamina would only further serve to bear testament to the misconception. 

Your strict husband bluntly catches your shaky hand that you extend in his direction to feed him some of the meat, the force that he uses coupled with the coarseness of his skin making you jump. You bite back a yelp and whimper when you look up at his dark blue eyes from where you were watching his bearded mouth to carefully place the food in.

“I don't care” Steve does not care much for being polite -unless it is you who disregards it in your behavior-, especially when it comes to you denying or diverting his ‘care’ for you. “You eat more” you bite back the scowl that threatens to break onto your face from how he turns your hand around in your direction instead. “Wives always need to eat more. They do so much at home for husband and children” he probably feels proud of these ‘values’ that have been transmitted to him by his elders. But all they make you want to do is to crack him across the jaw for being a misogynistic and backward shithead. Especially with you. 

Your ‘husband’ believes that everyone has a role to play; a contribution to make to their people and home. That is how this archaic village of theirs has survived in these mountains hidden away from the rest of the world for so long. 

The greasy piece of a disturbing excuse of a rare steak touches your lips and you've been here long enough to know better than to argue or worse yet, fight. So you smile and lean into his arm that cases your form against his through the embrace he holds you in from behind, his fingers playing with one of the many flowered braids your attending ladies had put in your hair a bit before his arrival at ‘home’. 

“O- Of course” you reluctantly open your open and grip your flowy dressing gown for a semblance of support for your sanity, taking the smallest bite you can -which is still a lot as the man pushes nearly the whole piece into your mouth the moment you open up- as you keep your eyes trained on his to avoid looking down. Your mind always becomes more aware of the taste when you look. “Thank you, dear” you focus on swallowing it without gagging and feel your smile split in places because of how uncomfortable you are.

He probably notices it because he slightly raises one eyebrow and snorts before hugging your smaller form -that is tiny compared to his- closer and puts the rest of the piece in his own mouth. If there is one thing you have learnt in your time with him, it's that you can never fool him. Not really. No matter how well you may think you have lied or pretended, he always sees through it. 

Sometimes you suspect he even enjoys it.

Steve finally begins to eat himself, silently offering you another piece that you politely reject by shaking your head and then quickly pressing an apologetic kiss to his scruffy cheek to lighten the blow. Apparently, a wife can never be polite enough to her husband. And though the change in his expression begins with an unhappy frown, your show of ‘affection’ seems to suffice him and he relaxes in satisfaction, now looking down the long table and at his clansmen and maidens that sit enjoying their dinner, their chatter and laughter a dull roar in the large eating hall of the Leader's dwelling. You pick up the heavy jug of mead with both your hands and obediently hold it to his lips to sip from. Steve looks away from what one of his main men are saying and gulps down a mouthful, rubbing your back as a gesture for thanks before moving his hand quickly down to squeeze your ass to heighten the effect of his expression of gratitude. 

His form shakes in mirth when you yelp and blush. He knows how embarrassing you find being openly ‘affectionate’ in front of people and that is one of the reasons why he enjoys it so much besides showing off that a thing of such beauty and youth like you is all his. You rest the jug between your boobs that he has fucked and squeezed into increasing in size and use your other hand to gently finger and stroke his golden locks that he keeps pushed away from his face outside the bedroom. Though he says nothing, you feel his usually vigilant and always firm stature slowly soften and you cannot help but smile, though what he says next quickly deflates it.

“Do you feel any change in you, wife?” You know what it means and now it's you who becomes tense. He only uses that name for you when he speaks to you as a husband inquiring about your marital matters. “Has my seed attached to your womb yet? Does it grow there?” You gulp and feign shyness, moving closer to his hair and nuzzling yourself in him. “Hm?” He closes his hugging arm around you and reaches for your stomach, fingers groping your covered skin as gently as he can -which isn't much- to feel it. “Answer me” he demands when you refuse to speak. 

“I… I don't know, husband” you always promise yourself that you'll demand more rights for yourself; ask him to treat you like the other husbands treat their wives, only to fail the minute he enters your vicinity. 

“What does that mean?” His tone turns blunt and you whimper at the tightness that snaps back in place between his shoulders. 

You get it.

That was the deal, after all. 

Healthy children in exchange for your life that was required by their judicial laws for bearing false witness to your friend accidentally killing one of their people in mistaken defense. Steve had promised you before accepting you as a citizen that if you failed to fulfill your task you'd walk the darkness in the dungeons. He had shown you how it would be before declaring you a member of their tribe and the sight you had seen was something that had given you nightmares for days. 

But that did not mean you actually wanted to have your old captor's children.

You doubted it would ever be something you'd look forward to.

“I- I mean” regret shoots up your spine in the form of fear and you lose your speech to it momentarily. But then two of your main attending ladies -by that you mean Steve's top agents when it comes to you- enter the horizon of your sight and you hurriedly blubber out the first thing that comes to your mind. “I've n- never been pregnant before, s-o I d- don't know how to…” Your husband turns to look at you, his handsome features twisting into a rogue scowl but before he can scold you, one of the two ladies, Kaira, speaks in their language to Steve. 

Not everyone here can speak English and those who do speak it do so a rather odd version of it. Naturally, you don't speak their language and so they give you the full experience of an outsider when they need to discuss the business they want to keep private from you. The thought makes you want to laugh, like you'd be able to do something with whatever informations they withhold.

But it doesn't really bother you, because you don't care.

You've also learnt that ignorance is bliss here. 

Especially for someone like you.

Better to be the doe eyed trophy wife of an angel who can't tell her head from her ass.

“Is that so?” Your heart jumps when Steve chooses to speak English. That means that this definitely concerns you. You place the mead down and wrap one arm around his broad shoulders before nervously combing his thick beard with your other hand. Since you have no interest in or desire to learn their language, the only word you manage to pick up on when you focus really hard is ‘baby’ and that is solely because of the annoying amount of times it comes up for you. 

“Is not this strange?” He speaks once the women step back after finally ending the nerve wracking conversation that seems to go on forever. “Do you hear what they say about you, little one?” Fuck, you're definitely in trouble. 

He is reminding you of your place. 

You put on your best charming smile but you're painfully aware that your nervousness gives it away. You can feel it. “W- What do they say, dear?” They were such bitches. They knew how to speak English, that's why they were your attendants, but yet they chose not to. And now they were glaring at you like you weren't above them— oh no, not these thoughts again. You will never become like them! No, no! 

Steve pushes his plate away now. Your head spins from the realization. It's only half finished. Your husband never wastes his food. It is a near sin for them to do so. “They tell me the most odd things” oh just fucking tell me! You mentally scream but outwardly tilt your head to the side in confusion, your chest vibrating with the rising beats of your heart. “And now that I think about it myself…” His fingers wrap around the mead before he raises it to his lips. “I see the—”

“What did they say, Steve?” Your mouth works faster than your better sense and he pauses mid sip, dark blue eyes flickering up from the stone jug to look at you. Your face flushes a noticeable hot and your ears get sweaty from the awareness. 

Fuck. 

“They say you've been getting rid of my seed” he feels played and thus angry at the both of you. Perhaps more so towards himself than you; his silly little child-wife. How could he let a thing as tender and small as you fool him so? “... Do you?” It is obvious you are guilty. Besides, he is confident that his people would never lie to him unlike one young and beautiful girl that he had found kneeling in front of him in his court while bawling her eyes out one fateful night, fear stricken as his people surrounded him like a doe trapped. 

And of course, your expressions and reactions don't help your case, as always. “W- What? No…” Your mind becomes erratic.

“No?” He himself knows not what kind of a chance he offers you with that. But typical to your nature, you make it easy for him by refusing it.

“N- No! Of course not! W- Why would I ever do such a thing to m- my husb- hubby and my b- babies?!” Steve has to clench down his scoff. 

“You wouldn't, would you?” Your naivete never fails to amuse him.

“No! I- I don't know why they accuse me so—” you mend your speech from the archaic form that tries to leech to it everyday. “I don't know why they would accuse me of that but they must be mistaken! This is a misunderstanding!” 

He hums. “I see…” His scarred fingers begin to toy with your braids again. “So you remain devoted to me and faithful to our family, don't you?”

“Of course!” You nuzzle closer to him, your heart thundering into his chest. “I don't know why they still treat me like an outsider” you purr as you nervously stroke his hair, playing a card of your own and making an absolute fool of yourself by doing so. “I try my best… like I promised.” 

“Yes, your promise” his distant eyes -they get like that when you disappoint him and you hate the sight because it never fares well for you- travel down to your empty stomach. His gaze makes it wrench. Your fear skyrockets at the same rate as your anger. If only there was a way for you to get back at those bitches without having to give birth!

“I- It takes time sometimes, dear…” You hug his shoulders with one arm. “But it will happen. I know it…” Your other hand reaches for his fingers that rest on your abdomen now. 

“Oh?” Steve raises one dark eyebrow at you. His hair is the most fascinating combination of blonde and dark brown. “Is that what your modern day sciences say?” His people were not always like this, he had told you. They did not originate from here. Rather, some families had abandoned ‘civilization’ when it was going to hell -in his words- by killing each other for meaningless constructs such as caste, creed and color differences and migrated up here to establish a system of their own; one free from such nonsense. 

Apparently.

You take a deep breath. “Stevie—” you only call him that when you find yourself dangerously close to the dungeons.

“If that is what you believe in, wife,” he never cuts you off. Usually, that is. His age that streaks his blonde strands with its silver ones has granted him enough patience. Normally, he waits for the other person -who is most often you- to mess up themselves. But whatever the ladies have told him seems to agitate him into rebelling against his own nature today. “I'll do it your way. After all, happy wife happy life, is that not what you tell me often?” Okay, you might have said that during a particularly cocky moment in bed once. 

But the intention behind that had not been nearly whatever he is moving towards now. 

“Y- You don't have to, l- love…” You nervously giggle. “You're perfect the way you are” you run your nails that he insists you keep trimmed for hygienic -as if- and practical purposes through his silver-blonde hair.

“Oh no…” Now he pushes his food farther away. “I will indulge you, little one” he moves your other leg over his laps so now you face the people down the table with both of your legs on either sides of his, ass to his… fuck. “Time conspires against us, and so we must make haste.”

Your eyes widen and your heart leaps up in your throat. “M- My love?!” 

Steve moves your flowy gown out of his way, keeping a firm hold on one of your thighs even though he doesn't really have to. Your fear of him would never let you attempt an escape. “Yes, my stars” the name is so full of sarcasm it nearly pierces you open. “Let us leave time to its devices, and us ours” your husband is usually a very possessive and private man when it comes to you, but his ire seems to get the better of him today. You hear the buckle of his own clothes come undone. The table goes silent and heads turn in your direction once they realize what's going on. Oh no… Your stomach drops. Not in front of everyone. Not when Steve makes you so vulnerable in that condition. Not in front of these lowlifes!

“Husb—” blood bubbles hot under your cheeks as you feel him align himself against you. 

Holy shit.

You feel one of his coarse hands wrap around your throat and he pulls you closer to his mouth so he can whisper in your ear. “You will contribute, my stubborn little wife,” you whimper from the menace his words hold, your well trained cunt obediently squelching open against his thick hard tip as he lowers you on his cock with the hold he has on your thigh. “Whether you like it, or not” sometimes, deep down, you fear that the dungeons are not an option anymore. 

He keeps you in the horizons of his sight too much for them to be. 

It appears as though the sentence has changed. 

It is now Steve, or Steve.

You cry out from the strain his log-like girth puts on the narrow band of your entrance. God. You will never get used to his size regardless of how many times and ways he tames your pussy in. Yes, it does not refuse him or rip around him now as it used to in the beginning -and it did that for a long time- but the size to which his cock makes it expand is like a mini-birth. Feels like it, looks like it. Only, it feels way too good. And that's why you don't mind it—

No. You don't know what that was or meant. But you don't take responsibility for that thought!

“Oh!” The balmy velvet of your cavern grazes down the bulging veins and hard skin of the brute's cock until your petals squish against his heavy and very eager balls. Your head spins when you feel his tip tickle your cervix. It never takes his dick long to find it.  

His hands are pushing you back up almost instantly so he can slide you back down. You look anywhere but at the tens of faces in front of you, instead choosing to look at the wall on the opposite side of the table. You never thought these people were capable of being this quiet until now when your pussy makes an embarrassingly loud squelching noise as Steve tugs you back to his leaking tip and then allows gravity to suck you back down. You desperately bite your lips and try to focus on ignoring the way your insides are beginning to thrum with the excitement and stimulation; to show these brutes that you're better than them and aren't some animal of nature. But to no avail. His slimy precum mixes too well with yours, the rough skin of his hands digs into your thighs too well and the manner in which your petals rub against his cock when he lifts you yet again -now forming a momentum- before letting you slide in again is too much for you mask with nonchalance. 

Indifference has never been among your strong suits.

“Tell me, my pretty” Steve begins again, his dark eyes now finding the young and hormonal pack of unsuspecting boys who clearly do not know better. “Have you ever had a cock like mine?” He says it in their own language so the foolish miscreants see, understand and learn the fact that you’re only his. You belong to him and he will go to war for you, not that a pack of rug rats will ever be a cause of worry for him. “Has anyone ever fucked you as good as I do?” He switches back to the language you understand, roughly fumbling for your jaw before he grabs it and bounces his hips into yours at the same time. 

Your traitorous legs have begun to do what they always do; fuck yourself against him -if he hasn’t bound you, which he hasn’t- in whatever position he has you. You only realize that your breathing has become heavier when you open your mouth to answer. “Only you, my husband! Only you!” Your brain is running too fast for reason or reflection to catch up so you leave wondering why you answer him with the only words he has been able to teach you in his language to later. Your words are muffled as his fingers that grip the lower half of your face nearly slip in your mouth from the disordered urgency of the both of your actions. 

“That's right” your mouth falls open and you begin to softly pant in that animalistic way that you detest when he makes you watch yourself in a mirror while fucking you sometimes. In your defense, it is always unintentional on your part; you barely even notice it while taking his fucking. And yet, it is inevitable due to the force he does it with. “Look at you; dutifully fucking yourself up and down your husband's cock like a bitch in heat” a twinge forms in your knuckles from how your fingers hold the edges of the table to aid the gliding of your fuck hole that now slams up and down his cock in a rhythm you're all too familiar with, the smacks of your bare ass slapping against his naked abdomen making appalling noises that you're too worked up to dread over right now. “And you're a bitch in heat for me, aren't you?” His fingers move down from your jaw to your throat. “Wanting to be bred over and over again until you're so full of my children that your little belly is round and heavy to the brim, hm?” In these moments, you tell him anything and everything that he wants to hear.

Steve knows it all too well.

And he loves it.

“Yes!” Your voice disappears midway from how he squeezes your windpipe. His hips meet yours midway now, the wetness of your cunt and the force of his thrusts causing for his balls to try and push past the tight boundary of your sexual cavern. “Yes! Yes! I am! Please!” Your eyes roll to the back of your head when his free hand finds your petals to play with. “Ohhh!”

“You want to be bred, don't you?” He rubs your drenched pussy lips while his hard cock pistons in and out of your sopping cunt. “Want to contribute…?” He chokes you once more and this time his fingers pinch one of your pussy lips punishingly at the same time and you cry out. “Provide your husband with a house full of heirs?” The oxygen in your mind depletes and your eyes flutter as a result, cheeks turning red and nerves becoming prominent on your glistening temples. Your horny yet defensive pussy finally relaxes around him a bit so it doesn't hurt his dick and he savours the moment by holding you by the curve between your legs and fucking into your form that gets limp by the moment to push you towards your first orgasm. 

It always gets better after that. 

For him, at least. 

You don't choke him out so much then.

“Y- Yes!” When Steve finally lets go of your throat to let you breathe, you blubber out an an answer obediently once the light returns to your eyes. Your walls stiffen around him once more. But by then he has already worked himself closer to your womb. “Yes! Yes!” It is all your mind can muster.

“Good” he makes a point of taking both of your boobs in his hands and thoroughly massaging them to show off his ownership over you. “Now ask me to breed you” the fence of heat that has formed around your loins becomes tighter when his hands that previously fondled your clothed breasts slip under your gown -for Steve is too possessive to actually expose you to the eyes of others- and he softly rubs your tense sides a couple times before his fingers form pinches around your hard nubs. 

“Please breed me!” Your voice is so loud and strained that its quality is nearly blood curdling. “Please breed me and s- stuff me full your children!” Your hands fly to grip his from over the dress as you throw your head back and slip from the edge of your anticipation, parrotting all the words he has taught you over the course of your marriage. “Oh GOD! Please!” Your back arches from the coming undone of the hot belt of expectation and scorching gratification spills from it, seeping down your legs in the form of a nearly unbearable electric feeling that transforms into a subzero energy when it reaches your toes that curl, causing them to feel as though they are freezing. “I need your b- babies so bad, hubby!” 

Steve's own ears blush from the heat that courses through them in the form of adrenaline as he snorts, some of his blonde strands coming loose from the push and tug that he plays with your cunt. “Tell them” his balls ache from the strength it takes him not to fill you up right then. “Tell everyone that you want me to fill you up with my babies” since your sensitive body tries to curl and move away from the overstimulation, the older man wraps both of his hands around your thighs to keep you going. “Say it!” And he makes you say the words that he desires in the language of your spectators that look embarrassed for the first time since you got here. 

Save for your husband's best men who look equal parts aroused and proud. 

You want to cringe and be disgusted but your sensitive pussy is being pounded too hard for you to attempt a conjuring up of any dignity. 

“Need hubby babies bad!” You cry out again from memory when Steve's thick seed begins to fill you up at last. “Oh, my God!” The feeling of his hot cum filling you up and painting every inch of your sensitive walls penetrates your already hazy mind and the warmth that steams out of the pearly liquid steams its way up to your womb, making you shudder at the feeling. Your opening tightens around him in protest of the overstimulation and it instead causes for a barrage of bitter-sweet electric sparks to explode through your abdomen in the form of a half post-climax orgasm. Your body grows tired.

But your insatiable is far from done.

“Flattering, but no” Steve pushes you against the table before standing up when he is done fucking his orgasm as deep as he can reach into you. “The father of your children will suffice” your eyebrows furrow at his words but the older man does not give you a chance to ponder over them because now he is hooking his hands under your thighs that your rapid and messy fucking has covered in both of your juices. 

“W- What?!” Your vision is hazy and your mind dazed as you incoherently tap about. “What's— oh!” You wince from how much easier it is for him to move inside your worked open and much lubricated but torturously overstimulated walls now. “Oh! Oh…” Your hands blindly feel behind you to try and get him to stop. “Oh, no! No, please!” You cry out weakly, your upper body hanging low in the opposite direction from the exhaustion. 

“No?” The older man darkly chuckles, paying no mind to your flailing. “You think you can say that to me?” One of his hands desert their post on your thighs to roughly grab at your hair. He hasn't forgotten what started all this. “You think you have the same rights as everyone else around here, wife?”

But you're scowling from the burning pain in your walls, mind hazy and unwise. “Stop! Stop!” Your puffy folds ache from how his stiff skin rubs against them as he moves in and out of you at a normal pace… for now. “It hurts, stop!” 

“That is the part and parcel of having children” your body curves outwards as he pulls you further back and closer to himself by your hair. “And is that not why you're here?” His cocky tone along with the hungry and wondering eyes of the wildlings make you angry. “What you were spared for in the first place?” A twinkle in the eye of a man pisses you off and…

“It hurts, you old bastard!” Your young blood gets the better of you and your mouth runs before sense can catch up. “Stop, stop, stop it!” Since your hair holds you closer to him you manage to land a few smacks to his rock hard arms before you try to snake your fingers under his to pry off the hand that he coils around your thigh in a weak attempt to move away. 

Steve only chuckles, clearly unfazed by your fighting as he bounces your smaller form up in the air with each thrust. “Did your mother not teach you anything, wife?” He lets go of your hair only to restrain both your arms on the small of your back. “Good girls never tell their husbands no” your body flops forward again and you've no choice but to face the long table full of people. “They lay down pretty with their legs spread and let their husbands fill them with their children and then they express their gratitude for being granted a family.” Though your mind is confused and rather disoriented from the influx of sensation, you can make out new additions to the crowd of your humiliation from the corners of your vision. 

“Ugh!” You grunt from the rapid jabs he gives to your sore pussy, his firm hold nearly searing into your wrists. “I don't wanna have your stupid blonde babies!” Steve breathlessly lets out a real laugh at that. “Let go!” 

“There” he can swear he will never tired of you breaking the little character of the obedient wife that you so naively think you have mastered only to break it when he has you all riled up like this. “Right there, easy now” his other hand leaves your lap and he pushes your head down and against the table in the most condescending manner imaginable. Steve has got you to expose yourself for the brat you are, no need for play anymore. “Now I make a bunny out of you” his dark eyes now meet with those of the boys sitting at the other end of the table and his use of their language is a silent message. The Leader knows how his wife is desired. And he doesn't appreciate it in the least. The young males all panic and look away, gulping to themselves and praying for their lives. 

You try to struggle again, your lip curling in disdain and protest as you feel him fuck his cum right up your cervix. The bitter pleasure you get from it makes your head spin and your fingers and toes flex defensively. “Ooof!” Your cheek rubs against the table and you puff out your face to express how tense you feel down there. 

“Brat” Steve shakes in silent mirth as he reaches for your ass with the hand that he was holding your face down with. “Don't you move a muscle.” You're too busy rocking over the table and being held down to try. 

“Hubby, please!” You whine when one of his veins twitch deep up your walls and your knees shiver from the sensation. “Please!” Maybe if his cock wasn't so comically huge, it would have been easier to move past the rough friction of your raw, orgasm worn skins. But it is and so you are ready to abandon the dam that begins to form in your abdomen again if it means to avoid this pain. “Owwwiee!”

“Aw” Steve cooes as he now moves to a pace that falters your vision and causes for the great table to shake with each thrust that he gives you. “So small and sore, aren't we?” The spank he lands on your unsuspecting ass right after is the stark opposite of his tone. “Maybe we shouldn't act out so much when we are so weak and pathetic, huh, wife?”

“Oooof!” One of the shyer ladies get up before she carries her young son who stood next to the group of the young ones away and the realization of the fact that your spectators are all real people who see you everyday and will continue to do after this drips down your limbs like ice cold water. Your hips cannot help but clench from the embarrassment that you dully feel in some part of your mind way far at the back. “Hubby, please!” The spanks increase with each snap of his hips and though the turmoil between your legs takes up most of your sensory powers, your cheeks now begin to noticeably sting from the pain that builds from how the swings of his hand against your poor ass increase with each thrust. 

“Please?” Steve muses like he isn't balls deep into you and fucking the literal daylights out of you like a crazed heathen. “Oh, but I thought I was a mean old bastard” of course, your pleas always only mean that you want more, according to the brute you are married to. They cannot mean anything else, apparently. “And you didn't want my stupid blonde babies” you grunt from the frustration and land a helpless fist on the table. You are in an uncomfortable tug of war between the mutilation of your sensory glands and the tall barrage of tight hot anticipation that cannot help but form in the base of your stomach again because of how hard and rough he fucks you. 

Your husband's main man, Lloyd, laughs in a comically daft voice to tease you and be the insufferable asshole that he is. “You've got yourself a feisty little pup there, Steve” he is the only one who can refer to the blonde haired man by his name. Or maybe, he doesn't care to use the honorific and his usefulness backs him up. You wouldn't be surprised if the latter really is the case. “Don't you agree, my sweet?” He side hugs his own young bride who ironically is one of the sweetest and perhaps the only nice person in this entire village and Lloyd grins down at the girl whom you now notice is blushing furiously. 

Before you can let the humiliation swallow you whole, Steve spreads your burning cheeks and chuckles at the sight he finds glistening and blinking up at him, the madenned hammering of his cock unceasing. “Look at this adorable little button of yours, darling” you are not personally familiar with any of the faces that witness you trying to pathetically crawl away when your devil of a husband begins to tickle your pucker so you realize it was actually not quite hitting you as bad as it does now when you become hyperaware of Rainie's gaze. If it weren't for how your eyes roll because of Steve's hot seed shooting deep up your cavern again and nearly searing into your very flesh this time around from the brutality of it all, you reckon you would have tried to hide. But now all you do is let out choked blubbers as your wide eyes sting from tears due to the sensory overload. “I think it's time we deflowered it, what do you think?”  

Oh, no. 

His cock is not something that you can handle in your ass without splitting all over the place!

“No answer? No?” It feels as though you are the one who is cumming and not Steve because of how good he is at wearing the mask of nonchalance. “Hm,” he roughly pulls you backwards by your hair before hooking an arm around your waist to keep you from trying to get away from how he toys with your trembling pucker. “Maybe we should let sweet Rainie decide for you, hm—?”

“OH, GOD!” You cannot help but scream over him. 

He is too much.

Steve ignores your exclamation, thrusts delayed -more jab like- but so strong that his tip spears into your cervix with each thrust, thus causing for your head to spin from how he chooses to fuck out his orgasm. “She's your friend, isn't she?” Steve's beard gently stings the sweaty and teary skin of your jaw from how his mouth presses into your ear. “Aren't you, Rainie dear?” 

Yep, you are never looking her in the eye ever again. 

“Answer him, sunshine” Lloyd eggs his wife on and you notice through your cloudy vision that he is making her palm his own bulge. You nearly cringe back into Steve's chest from the obscenity of it all. 

The girl, a new bride herself, is shy and small next to her own flesh boulder of a husband as she meekly peeks up at you through her lashes. “Y- Yes, sir. We are friends” her voice is barely audible and both your husbands chuckle. 

If it weren't from how a dull orgasm rips itself apart somewhere deep between your loins, you would have felt angry.

It is like the assholes know that you're friends, and they're having their fun with it.

No wonder they are best mates.

“Good, good” you can feel Steve's cum splattering your thighs with each brutal jab, the sound and sprays of his shaft making a mess of your juices underneath your dress ample in its audibility. “So, do you think it's time your girlfriend's dirty little button was opened up, hm?” He keeps one hand on your pucker and reaches for your boob to grope with the other.

Rainie blushes again and furiously lowers her head the moment her eyes connect with yours. Though you don't know it, her own has been deflowered not too long ago and she isn't sure what response would be favourable by you, so that and the embarrassment of the Leader questioning her for something like that about his wife when she is on amiable terms with the girl makes her choose silence for as long as allowed. And her own husband cockily leaning into her and mansplaining into her ear how it would work for you by comparing it with what he did to her pretty ass only makes her curl further. 

“Shy little thing, isn't she, my precious?” So your husband turns his unwelcome attention back to you, bending the both of your bodies forwards so he can smack your asshole with the back of his hand easier, the impact making you rock violently forward. “Maybe you should learn some manners from her, huh?” The howls you let out from getting your pucker pinched and hit is something you would rather not narrate. All you choose to disclose of that ordeal is that sobs echo in the hall, another orgasm rips out of you and you are sure your body releases more liquid than normal for an average orgasm. “Look at how polite and nice she is, hm? While all you want to do is to curse your husband and be an ungrateful little sloth” it sounds as though a newfound annoyance causes him to grit his teeth towards the end and the tip of his fingers finds recourse in seeking for itself a passage past the tight barrier of your unwilling button as a result. 

And so your mouth begins to run in the desperate way he loves. “N- No, no, no hubby! No!” You vehemently shake your head as you feel your knees start to buckle from the exhaustion. “I- I didn't mean it!” The bearded corners of his mouth pull into a deep smirk. He knows its coming, and he loves it. 

“You didn't?” How can he not when he is the one who trained you to it and taught you the words to say during. 

“No! No!” Your voice comes out child-like from your mind's succumbing to its defeat. For the day, at least. “I d- didn't!” 

Steve is a jackhammer in how he fucks his children into you and works towards giving you more. “Oh, I see” now he speaks to you like an elder speaking to a young one, like you are no older than five winters. “Then, will you tell me why you said such naughty words to your husband who does so much for you?” He knows you're small now and so he chooses his words accordingly.

After all, it is Steve's meticulous tailoring of your mind and body which brings you to act out this specific sequence. 

Nothing less, nothing more.

Just this. 

A shrew tamed into a compliant wife equipped with the mind of a babe. 

He may never admit it outright simply because it goes against his very code of life but Steve knows in his heart of hearts that it is this very push and pull you put up in your own passive little way that keeps him alert and your marriage interesting. 

Addictive.

“Is ’cause— hnnng, cause—!” He pulls both of your bodies back up with the intention of turning you to face him but he chooses not to do it just yet. He wants you, those silly boys and everyone else who suspects that his judgement grows soft because of his fancy for your youthful beauty and adorable personality, to hear it. Steve can always pull you right back down if wants. Your reins will always be in a hand's reach to him. Just because he lets you sneak in your foolish ways sometimes doesn't mean you've conquered his nature-gifted better sense.

“Because, what?” Everything in life calls for balance and so each time your misbehavior that you think you hide so well from him begins to rise above a level he deems no longer amusing, he is there to hammer it down. 

Quite literally. 

“Because I am j- just an i- impudent,” Steve grunts and moans, feeling his cock twitch from how you always mispronounce imprudent when you are in this state. He taught you that word and true to your little baby self and mind, you can never get yourself to say it right. “Little wife and I am a d- dumby—”

“Fuck…” Steve feels a drop of cold sweat trickle down his back from your little vocabulary. He feels himself pant from how hard he fucks you, his windpipe alight from the friction caused by the air he heaves in with each desperate inhale.

You are a proper trouble; something he has never had before, and he loves it.

“— D- Dumby sloth who dunno any real worries besides e- eating and b- being spoilt b- by my lovu hubbsy—” your tongue is kinetic jelly between your teeth and Steve has begun to moan from how fucked stupid you sound. “So I get shtoopid and u- ungateful” Steve cannot contain it anymore. In a fevered and desperate confusion of how to express the thunderstorm you cause in his head, he slaps your hair away, causing for some of the flowers to go flying about, and sinks his teeth into your flesh, growling so deep into your skin that you feel the vibrations cause ripples in your blood. Perhaps that is what Steve yearns to taste. “B- But husby always fixes” your head goes limp against his as he sucks your skin like a crazed animal for you lose a track of how long. Your vision and hearing bolts away from your comprehensive faculties like a bullet train and your body gets sucked into the vacuum of your husband's beastly grip. You are just a lifeless doll rocking in whichever direction and manner he pleases.

Next time your brain catches on with your reality, your body has been placed under his with your back against the table. You faintly notice when your dress begins to get wet that splashes of mead cover it due to your brutish husband's depraved madness. 

“Look at me, hey” he pats your incoherent face until your wandering gaze settles on him, teary eyes distant. “This is the face that you will see in those of your children, and children you shall have until this residence cannot contain any more” his promise echoes in your buzzing ears like the bestowing of an ultimate truth upon you by some powerful deity. “This is the face you will look up at as you spread your legs,” his tip is so swollen, raw and hot against your worn skin that you can feel it even in this state. Your features scrunch from the discomfort. “This is the face you will kiss and cherish” his fingers find your throat again and your eyes roll to the back of your head when he puts pressure on your windpipe. “And this is the face that you will look at until you breathe your last” he holds you until you are on the verge of losing consciousness, though letting go only to stifle the gasp you let out to resume your breathing with a hot sealing kiss.

Your muscles twitch and your body spasms in the position he has you in. Laxness washes over your limbs and you begin to violently shake from the dull and yet stinging quakes of sensation that bloom through your whole form. 

For some dark, twisted and depraved reason, you cum from the helplessness of your situation and it is present in Steve's amused and proud smirk that the knowledge is not lost on him. Swiping an arm around you from behind with an air of satisfaction, he collects your limp body closer to his and walks off to your chambers with your drenched sexes still connected, leaving a crowd of embarrassed, curious, satisfied as well as tamed spectators in his wake. 

You surrender yourself to him and close your eyes as your body collapses on top of his. Your mind barely works but you know one thing— fact as clear as day; you are not making it out of this without at least one child on the way. 

And there isn't a single thing you can do about it.

. . .