#made this on valium

[sebisrotten]

Meat Angels

[elialys]

"There were a couple of scenes we tweaked quite a bit, particularly one where Lindsay, her boss, takes her home. And it's one of my favourite scenes in the show, actually.

And I think because it is so ambiguous, because it is never commented on after, you couldn't put a scene like that into a modern day show without having some repercussion for it, or having her have a conversation about the specifics of that. But we very, very specifically did not want to do that, we wanted to simply present it. And then the audience has to live with it. And that's the uncomfortable part that they're living with." Anna Torv [x]

THE NEWSREADER | 1.02 "Once in a Lifetime"

[zabadi]

watched the depahted tonight i need a fuckable vulnerable boyfriend on valium or im going to start blowing shit up

[stingchronicity]

my pain levels r getting substantially better but i still have to take some oxy every now & again 😔

[m4ritos]

☆ pornstar choso! ☆

𝘐, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘊𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘰 𝘒𝘢𝘮𝘰 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴. 𝘐𝘕 𝘞𝘐𝘛𝘕𝘌𝘚𝘚 𝘞𝘏𝘌𝘙𝘌𝘖𝘍, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘕𝘰𝘯-𝘋𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘈𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘌𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘋𝘢𝘵𝘦.

pornstar choso who’s just a little fucking weird.

choso seems to be extremely socially awkward when he’s around set. which is a real shame because he’s so.. pretty. he’s standing at a little over 6’4 with broad shoulders and a body carved into perfection, a handsome face with the most gorgeous features— he’s not a conventional kind of attractive but the kind of attractive you get from the art guy who smokes too many cigarettes.

he stands around. not particularly doing anything wrong per se but the way he just idles around with this tiny little water cup in his hand gets a few looks and scratches to the noggin. choso is taller than most people on set so anyone can explicitly see him people watch. usually, the sets are bustling and busy in between scenes. there’s wardrobe personnel, personal assistants, catering, makeup artists and hair stylists frantically working around him and he’s just in the middle of all the chaos with no sense of urgency.

pornstar choso who turns into an absolute beast once the cameras are rolling.

it’s really like a switch in his head flips. choso’s entire demeanor seems to shift into machine designed to fuck and give pleasure. you met him very briefly that same morning and he seemed like a nice guy— awkward but sweet. the scene wasn’t anything crazy in particular; it was a domestic type of affair starring a pining pair who finally give into each other

you can’t count how many times he’s made you cum without trying— but it starts to make you delirious. see, when scenes get really good like this, and both actors are into it as much as they are, it feels like the world around them no longer exists and they’re in their own bubble. they start to go off script and the director typically allows because often times, the method acting and improvising is better than any cheesy lines they get fed from the script. that’s exactly what happened.

choso’s cock is fat just as much as it is long, making it heavy under its own weight. it’s a pretty shade— maybe one or two shades darker than his complexion but when its hard, it’s flushed all over with this pretty mauve color. his actor profile says it’s 9 inches but it feels like its bigger probably because of the way he fucks. choso doesn’t let up in the slightest— you can be twitching, writhing and scratching from the pleasure but if he doesn’t hear an utterance of your safe word, he will not stop. choso switches positions like you’ve never experienced before; you could be in doggy with your back arched at a 90 degree angle then he’s flipping you over like a doll and putting you into a mating press.

pornstar choso who’s confused as to why he prematurely ejaculated because.. that.. never happens.

“cut!” the director calls out before rubbing his eyes with a pinch. “take 30– christine bring me a Valium and a club soda please.”

choso was so embarrassed when it happened— he let out this simple “I’m sorry.” in a low.. almost pained apology before slipping out of you, watching his seed ooze out of you like he disassociated from reality. watching him, watch himself like that.. didn’t feel like he was acting or in character to you. which made you wonder..

it felt.. a little too real for choso and that was something that has always separated work from real life for him. the line was blurred a little too well between the chemistry you and him both had— it took the intimacy to a different level. one he hasn’t had the luxury of experiencing in a very, very long time. in his dressing room he splashed his face with cold water, looking at himself in the mirror before getting a call from you.

“hi.. I just wanted to talk to you in private. you didn’t have to apologize to me back there.. I get it happens, there’s no need to beat yourself up over it, okay? If it makes you feel any better, I think it’s sweet. i’m out on the patio— the weather’s nice if you want to come join me.”

pornstar choso who’s really sweet to his costar even though he’s a bit awkward. he has a crush.

“thank you.. for the talk. I hate to disappoint.” choso says, looking down as he swirls around the cup of ice water in his hand. he finds it hard to keep eye contact with you but doesn’t really understand why. yeah, he’s a little embarrassed but there’s something about you.. his heart is racing and his palms feel clammy. you’re beautiful. “disappoint? kamo are you serious..?” you giggled. oh, did he say something wrong? you have a cute laugh but that’s not the point. what could be funny in this moment? “yeah. i’m serious..” he watches you tilt your head as you look up at him and his cock twitches back to life— just in time too, only 5 minutes left for recess. he notices a white flurry on your hair and he removes it carefully.

“choso.. you were far from a disappointment, sweetheart.. I could barely think straight.” you giggled again, feeling yourself get shy under his gaze. “I’ve been faking it for a long time for the sake of the camera but.. I seriously can’t tell you the last time I’ve came that hard, let alone in a row..” you reached out to caress his face. “Don’t beat yourself up.. you just keep fucking me like that again and again.. got it?”

pornstar choso who thinks he wants to ask out his cute costar but isn’t a fan of rejection.

high risk, high reward. choso has attempted to date outside his profession but it’s always failed. it’s not hard finding a woman he’s attracted to but getting them to stay after they find out he’s in sex work is the part that always seems to fall through. if they’re not scared off during the first week then once he actually has to go to work, it’s more than likely followed up with a “I don’t think I can do this.”

choso has never once blamed any of his hookups for their discomfort because he’s quite understanding. he knows himself that he would probably have a hard time too if he had just been a “regular” guy and never dated anyone who was in sex work. that requires a certain level of maturity, understanding and communication for that to work.

he asks you out once filming is finished and everything is wrapped up. you’re sitting in a plush robe in a director’s chair sipping on a juice box, swinging your feet back and forth as you scroll on your phone. there’s a cute smile on your face, your cheeks flushed and hair a little bit messy. you notice his presence before he says anything and he just kind of.. word vomits before you can greet him. “can I take you out.” sounds more like a statement than a proposal but you smile at him anyway.

pornstar choso who’s pleasantly surprised when you say yes.

“i’d really love that.. pick me up tomorrow at 6pm?” he’s surprised to say the least, he didn’t think you’d agree but he definitely didn’t expect you to initiate when. regardless, choso is excited. the social media platforms will be thrilled to hear their favorite adult actors are dating— eventually, it makes more sense to start an Onlyfans than it does to work under a company.

copyright m4ritos 2024. do not repost or plagiarize. ©

[kremlin]

@wikwalker hi sure yes anything to give me an excuse to procrastinate the post i should be writing right now. here are all teh drugs and how to manage them. you can trust me, a drug addict

first of all: https://www.erowid.org/ , erowid always

don't be afraid of drugs, if they're the right drugs, you should do them since they will be a blast regardless and overcoming fear is also good (but outside the scope here)

OK to do as much as you want: alcohol - social benefit greatly outweighs health effects, no reason to avoid if predisposed to abuse since that'll happen sooner or later. what can i say? don't be a fucking dork. when you start drinking, really overdo it as much as possible without dying and get a few real nasty hangovers under your belt so you know how much is the right amount to drink.

weed - innocuous enough to be fine but will make you stupid in the long term. make sure to only buy from a real drug dealer and never some legal institution. cut it out when you're a "real adult". don't smoke weed and watch TV routinely, go out and do things so you naturally grow to hate it. good to go through this as early as possible to minimize the time you spend as a cringe weed enthusiast

i guess those are the only two.

ok to do infrequently (annually): "lsd" - or whatever it is, probably not lsd, blah blah blah, if it works and is sold on blotter its fine and won't make you go nuts or whatever. opt for a better psychadelic imo. see psych rule at bottom of section

mushrooms - better than acid since you know what they are. rule of thumb is to always do more than you think you want. minimum 1/8oz. see psych rule at bottom of post

dmt - if you somehow have a dmt hookup you don't need to be reading any of this. lasts 10 minutes which leads to tendency to way overdo it, don't do this, my favorite webcomic artist is permanently crazy from exactly that. using a crack pipe is also not the uhhhh most dignifying-feeling thing to do either. it's harder than you think.

mdma - for use at electronic music event or rave. overuse causes brain lesions or something.

coke - wait until you're in your 20s, have maxed out your roth IRA for a couple of years in a row, and havent missed a car payment in a similar timeframe. better still if you've worked a very shitty low paying job and know the value of a dollar. if you still find yourself buying candy you're not ready. too expensive to be worth it to get hooked on. know that you are VERY ANNOYING to anyone who also isn't high. don't fuck around with the guy selling it to you. avoid discussing or thinking about business ideas. you can't afford to make it a habit + kinda turns you into a piece of shit after a while, but at least a very interesting one

ketamine - another sick drug that rules, but save it for a special occasion. don't try and go into the k-hole your first time

rule for psychedelics - you get one good strong trip a year and that's it, make it count, always opt for doing a bit more than a bit less. but don't make it a habit, otherwise you turn into a very stupid very annoying "hippy" style cliché and believe in ghosts, aliens, crap like that.

ok to try once prescription opiates/benzodiazepine (xanax), valium, this kind of shit - worth trying so you can go "holy shit, this stuff is way way way too good to ever use responsibly" and then never do again. especially if you're white. for some reason we just can't handle this shit. if a doctor prescribes it to you, idk, that's your call to make.

ayhuasca - this is just dmt in a different form. do some other psychadelics a number of times before you do this. once you realize the whole "substantial visual hallucinations" thing is made up, its time. do exactly this: -buy root online (legal). receive box of dirt -boil dirt into "tea" (read erowid for exact recipe) -take over-the-counter anti nausea medicine or anything that will give you a stronger stomach -drink tea (its nasty as fuck, get it down quick) -have someone bigger than you keep an eye on you for the next five hours. -have the experience, which is absurdly intense, has no bearing to the real world, etc etc. don't be a bitch and throw up, if you do it'll only last an hour or so. again there is no way to provide a consistent description of the experience except that you will meet god. you only ever need to do this once and never again. trust me

peyote/salvia/etc - try em if you want, you'll never ever want to again afterwords. these are drugs for idiot teenagers too lame to get real drugs. imagine being very very sick from poison and utterly terrified at the same time. No good

whippets/nitrous oxide - just find a dentist that uses it and don't bother creating hundreds of pounds of trash on your floor for this crap that lasts ten seconds. you have to understand the extremely short timeframe coupled with the cost makes zero sense. go to a phish concert parking lot and do some people watching -- you do not want to be these people. only use is as a motivator to get routine dental exam. also if you somehow manage to make it a heavy habit your fucking legs stop working, no shit, but they start working again once you quit.

don't ever do heroin/meth/pcp - is is truly a mystery why you should never do these 🙄

synthetic weed/k2/shit from the gas station - it is so funny that they sell this as "weed that won't pop you on a drug test". its not weed. it is some dubious chemical sprayed on yard waste. smoke it to have a terrible time and go nuts. only buy drugs from legitimate drug dealers!

kratom - anyone's guess as to why this is legal but it's heroin for pussies. its still heroin

dxm/cough syrup - do you ever wonder why it is exclusively teenagers robotripping? it's because it sucks ass. is like a cheesegrater on your brain in terms of health effects with repeated usage. you're better than this king

inhalants - these are at the bottom of the list for a reason. do not huff gas. don't huff paint. do not consume computer duster. not fun + fastest way to make yourself a complete, uh, (word i can't say anymore) and then dead

not listed quaaludes- unavailable due to no longer being manufactured. these ruled apparantly

sincis2c - unavailable due to not existing, i just made this up

amphetamines - cannot provide objective take here. they're my albatross, lifelong (posted 4:55am natch)

[ghostboneswrites2]

Under the Stars || One Shot

New account! @ghostbones was banned! Transferring all my work here slowly!

Anon request from my old blog: "can i ask a tinnyyy request like you know s7 e8 daryl runs off from negans with jesus to hilltop later ricks group comes. How about reader and daryl reuniting after them not seeing eachother since negan takes him hostage and like all the time they spent away from each other in pain they try to make up for it"

Summary: Your mental health severely declined when Daryl was taken, but now he's back, and it's time to begin to heal together.

18+ MDNI || WARNINGS: depression, prescription medication, general unhappiness, but a happy ending (oh, and profanity, duh)

        You had barely taken care of yourself over these last weeks. Minimal food intake, drinking water only when your body painfully begged for hydration, unable to get out of bed to even bathe on most days as the painful sinking in your gut was just too much. You felt dizzy sometimes, either from malnourishment or grief. Two of your friends were murdered in cold blood, horrifically. You still remembered how it felt when Abraham's blood splattered over your face, warm in contrast to the chill of the air around you. You could remember the way your breath made foggy little clouds in the  bright lights, how you felt every ounce of air leave your lungs when Glenn was taken out next. 

        That man -- that monster -- he took more than just your friends. He took your sanity. You didn't sleep because when you closed your eyes it was all you could see. You hummed to yourself for hours because in the silence, you could still hear the whistle of the bat as it was brought down on your family members and the squelching of mangled skulls as he turned them into mere pulp. 

        With all that, the thing that stung even more was the memory of him being dragged away, your best friend, your love. The toughest and strongest man you knew, the one with a dirty abrasive exterior and a sparkling core of gold. They took him away, just like that. You knew he was alive. They brought him once, just to flaunt him in your face and remind you of what they had taken from you. To show you just how miserable they were making him.

        On this day, though, Rick and the others had dragged you out of bed. Michonne sat with you while you showered, and washed your hair for you while you sat curled up under the steamy stream of water. She helped you get dressed, and told you they were taking you with them to Hilltop to see Harlan, their doctor. He would be able to give you a mild antidepressant, and something to help you sleep again. They had other business at the colony, but they decided you'd benefit from tagging along.

        You were reluctant, of course. Why did you deserve peace and rest if nobody you loved could attain the same? But, they insisted, and who were you to  argue when they already had more pressing matters at hand. You all did. 

        "This is setraline, or more commonly known as Zoloft. It can be used for anxiety and depression, and it isn't known to have many side effects. I'm going to give you a 30 day supply. Just take one every morning with breakfast, and it should help you break out of this funk." Harlan explained, handing you a pill bottle. "It wont take away the grief, but it will help balance some of the symptoms of it until you can cope on your own."

        "This one," he continued, handing you a little baggie with ten pills. "Is a basic valium. Take it every night with a snack, you'll get your sleep schedule back on track by the time you run out of them."

        He offered you a thin lipped smile as you stuffed the medications in your bag.

        "Thanks, Doc." You sighed as you stood up. He held the door open and allowed you to exit the medical trailer before himself, shutting the door behind him.

        "Don't thank me just  yet. I want to see you again in 30 days. We can assess how it worked for you and then maybe you can thank me."

        The others were all gathered nearby the gates, talking with Maggie and some others. You made your way over. Michonne smiled kindly as she placed an arm over your shoulders.

        "Was he able to help?" Rick asked. You nodded.

        "We'll see in 30 days." You told them. The conversation resumed where it left off, and you kind of just absentmindedly stood by, allowing little bits of information to register here and there but not enough to follow.

        That was when the gates opened and Jesus walked in, followed by someone you didn't expect in the slightest. Your eyes were dry and wide, throat tight, heart racing out of your chest. Rick was the first to hug him, then Michonne, then Maggie, who he seemed  shocked to see. 

        His eyes landed on you and time stopped. The world simply stopped spinning. He stepped toward you slowly, each crash of his boot into the dirt sounding off like bombs. Tears pooled in your eyes when you could finally reach him hear him, smell him.

        "Daryl." You choked.

        He didn't say a word, but he didn't have to. The way he embraced you and lifted your feet from the ground, squeezing the air out of you was enough. When he set you back down he planted a kiss on your forehead, lingering there as he breathed you in.

----

        The stars had never looked so bright than they did when you were underneath them with Daryl that night. You stayed at Hilltop with him, and instead of enjoying a bed and warm sheets, you both laid on the ground outside Barrington House, breathing easily for the first time since he had been taken.

        "How'd you get out?" You wondered.

        "Nah. Don't gotta talk 'bout that right now." He said softly, sneaking an arm under you to pull you into him. You rested your head on his chest and he ran his fingers though your hair. 

        "Okay." You whispered. "I missed you."

        "Yeah." He agreed. "Me too. I missed ya."

        "I haven't been able to sleep without you."

        "Mm." He nodded, fingers still twirling in your strands.

        "Can you talk? About anything? I missed your voice."

        "Well," he sucked in a breath, searching for something worth telling you. "Every minute I spent away from you just felt longer and longer, ya know? 'N' now that I got ya back I don't wanna think about none of it. Don't wanna think 'bout the fightin' that's comin'.. Just wanna be here. With you."

        You sniffled and blinked back tears as you nuzzled closer to him, wishing he could just absorb you into his very being so that you'd never be apart.

        You peeked up at him through your eyelashes and he looked down at you, pressing a scratchy kiss on the top of your head.

        "I thought about you every minute of every day." You admitted.

        "I know." He said softly.

        "I just.." You sighed. "I'm just so happy to be here with you. It feels like a dream."

        "It ain't."

        "But it feels like one." You countered. "Just so unreal."

        "It's real." He affirmed.

        "I know." 

        "Good."

        "Do you wanna sleep inside tonight?" You asked.

        "Nah. Too closed up."

        "Okay." You smiled. You snaked an arm over his torso, holding him tightly. He returned the gesture, using dropping his hand from your hair down to your back and pushing you against him. You laid a leg over his.

        "Ya been eatin'?" He asked suddenly, running his fingers over your ribcage.

        "No." You admitted quietly.

        "Gon' eat breakfast tomorrow." He instructed.

        "I have to anyways. Harlan said I have to take my meds with food."

        "Meds? For what?"

        "Depression." You huffed, sitting up and reaching into your bag to show him the pills. "Zoloft and some kind of valium."

        "Pfft." He scoffed, taking the pills from you and setting them on top of his own bag as he pulled you back down. You settled back into your previous position. "Don't need no damn drugs. I'm gon' give these back to him tomorrow."

        "I guess they were just worried about me. I wasn't really that great, you know, with everything..." You trailed off.

        "Okay." He nodded. "I'm here now. Ya don't need 'em."

        "Okay." You said sleepily, eyes feeling heavy in the comfort of his embrace. You really didn't need valium, you just needed him to lay with you. He glanced down at you, feeling a bit of warmth in his chest as your eyes began to flutter.

        "Get some sleep, now." He whispered.

[faislittlewhiteraven]

Been having some ISaT tech level and timeline (as in 'when backstory things happened') thoughts and want to ramble a bit:

Tech

ISaT's setting is based on your classic sword and sorcery fantasy JRPG so its easy to assume that tech wise everything is 'fantasy medieval' and call it a day but consider:

Body Craft is at bare minimum is magic sex changing surgery (earliest known equivent in our world dating to 1930) that any old person can learn to do safely on themselves in only a few months, and more likely has many many broader applications like regular old surgery, the 'combat healing' Mira and Sif use, etc.

Cameras and photos are rare enough that Odile comments on it (namely she's happy the group get a photo in the House due to them being 'so rare') yet are also common enough that everyone in the party knows about them and doesn't question the existence of a camera beyond being surprised that the mirror was one. (In our world cameras date back to the 19th century, with the earliest manufacturing of them being in 1839). 

Printing presses and ways to make plenty of paper to feed those presses given absolutely everyone in this game can read, expects everyone else to know how to, and both mass produced book series and newspapers are a thing. (Note: Printing presses have existed since waaaay back but it's the mass paper manufacturing that makes newspapers and The Cursing of Chateu Castle possible that really has my eyebrows raised here, especially since neither Siffrin or Odile find either odd in any way, indicating such things are common everywhere, and while newspapers have been around since 1604 in our world, mass produced fantasy books didn't really take off until the start of the 20th century).

Food production and storage: despite being in the middle of a national disaster that almost certainly cut off trade networks and access to most suppliers for literal months now, Bonnie, a small child, is able to easily get their hands on fresh Pineapple, curry ingredients (for samosa), potatoes, plantains etc with no issues or anyone commenting on this being unusual or lucky. Oh and the only character who even brings up the concept of potential starvation is the Fishing One, and only in a sort of 'we're not at risk now but sooner or later...' kinda way due to noticing that the fish they fish up for fun are disappearing and likely being frozen. So yeah, that heavily implies Vaugarde has very good food storage tech/Craft (possibly better than ours), and likely also good food production and harvesting tech/skills also.

The Island's incredible knowledge of the stars: while the oldest known orrery in our world is dated from around 205 to 87 BC (ancient Greek, earth centric model), the fact Sif -who would've learnt this as a child/teen- is so very certain that stars are big balls of fire made up of gas is interesting as that's something our world couldn't prove the theory of until around the 1900s (note: it'd been theorized a LONG time but Sif talks like its complete facts to them . Additionally the earliest existing record of a telescope in our world dates to a 1608 patent and we see one of those in game.

Post posting EDIT: A wonderful user qds-place pointed out that Mirabelle has anti-anxiety medication in her room. This is in both ISaT and SAaP and though we're not sure what form the medication takes (pills? Valium? Megitech esc Craft boosters???) the fact they specifically have 'anti anxiety' medication at all (as opposed to idk dragging Mira off and drugging her through the gills) is kind of impressive and if it IS modern anti anxiety pills those could be as recent in creation as the 1950s! So um. Some high levels of tech implied in chemistry there <3

So... yeah. All this, plus the fact that the highest tech implied area, The Island, literally specialised in the study/Craft of turning wishes into reality (for a long enough time period that Wish Craft is culturally so ingrained in the King and Sif that they do it without thinking and it seems intertwined with their nation's religion) has been completely erased from memory to the point anything heavily associated with them has been forgotten, and also we only ever see Dormont aka a little village well away from the cities, it's not hard to conclude that you can basically justify giving the ISaT world any level of tech you want, so long as you lock any of the truly 'setting breaking' stuff like planes and rockets behind The Island's forgetting curse (I would've said trains too but thinking about it trains were invented in 1802 so it's honestly easy to imagine that they totally exist in the ISaT setting/Vaugarde but aren't ever on screen because rail is way too dangerous to consider using while the Curse is active and potentially time freezing things on the tracks).

Side note: We know absolutely nothing about Vaugarde's transport system but as a fan of fantasy RPGs it is honestly a travesty I have yet to see a fic that has flying dragons/wyverns or other fantasy mounts in setting. Like, ok yes, the party would probably have wanted to use those but maybe they don't like the Curse and fled? Maybe the King's Curse targeted them first? Maybe all their handlers dropped the heroes off in Dormont and said 'Well Saviors it's been fun, but well me and Scales here are off to Poteria until things wrap up so best of luck to you' before buggering off?

This isn't really a serious complaint just. Me reminding myself/potentially other fanwork writers out there that there's a lot about the setting we just don't know about and limiting all travel to walking, horse drawn carriage and boat is not actually required. (Also please mix up travelling to the Island. Boats are a wonderful classic and have great thematic vibes for Sif's original leaving of the Island but like. Imagine the sheer in-universe wtf of the memories of The Island suddenly coming back and people on the north coast suddenly realising there's a massive bridge, subway or underwater tunnel leading there that everyone just forgot about - potentially filled with all kinds of Sadnesses that need taking down. Or Warp Panels in a House of Change, idk XD).

Timeline

Canon notes first:

Bonnie is a preteen (8 to 12), Mira and Isa are in their early to mid 20s (with Isa slightly older), Sif is late 20s to 30, and Odile is 40+ Nille is stated to be around 18 to 20.

Siffrin ran away from home when they were a teenager (13 to 17? 18?) and this is heavily implied to be when the Island was Forgotten.

Bonnie (in ISaT specifically*) says that Nille told them that when it happened all the adults were talking about it, hence why they think The Island is close to their village. *In Start Again a Prologue, Bonnie says that they themself remember the adults talking about the Island disappearing, which er. Is a bit impossible given they likely weren't even born yet when that happened but that can be explained away by AU differences, InsertDisc5 still finalising details between SAaP and ISaT, and/or OG Siffrin having been in the loops so long they weren't actually listening when Bonnie was talking and just 'scripted' in their head something 'close enough' to what Bonnie was saying to get the idea (note: mentioned that idea before in my post here on the differences between the House and King in Start Again vs In Stars and Time for anyone curious so er please feel free to give that a read if you haven't already).

Odile mentions remembering 'when it happened' as well and has been 'travelling for years'.

The King 'appeared out of nowhere' sometime in his adulthood, and lived in the city of Corbeaux for a few years before he became the King.

The King became the King as was freezing people in time long enough before his attack on the House of Dormont that everyone inside knew he was coming, there were a wall's worth of newspaper articles about him, and everyone was expecting Euphrasie to defeat him.

Mirabelle's quest began 'almost a year ago' and Sif lost their eye 'recently'.

Thoughts on the above:

Calculating when The Island was forgotten:

Sif being mid 20s to 30 and having run away from home as a teen means that The Island has to have been forgotten somewhere between 9 to 17 years ago with nine only possible if he ran away at age 17 and is only age 26 now, and seventeen being the far opposite if he ran at age 13 and is currently 30.

To narrow down the timeline: Given Sif ran away from home because he 'didn't want to eat his veggies' and 'just wanted to scare [his] parents a little bit' it's probably safe to assume Siffrin was likely on the younger end of the teen spectrum (teens run off all the time sure but with loving parents and over veggies? That screams 'kid who has not yet learned that freaking out the parents will get their ass grounded and/or yelled at a LOT and is therefore best saved for doing fun forbidden stuff that ideally the parents will never find out about' XD) Additionally given Siffrin can't remember his age/birthday etc but Isabeau outright says near the beginning of the game "But you're older than most of the people here?" meaning Sif must be visibly older than Isa or Mira, so he's probably closer to 30 than not.

Those alone would imply the Island likely disappeared closer to the '17 years ago' side of things BUT Nille (tops 20 years old) told Bonnie that "[the Island's disappearance] was all the adults would talk about for ages" and kids usually can't remember anything prior to 4 years of age so with that in mind...

I'd say The Island most likely disappeared between 13 to 16 years ago.

Nille stuff:

This is more a general mention but. Nille is tops 20 years old. Bonnie is between 8 and 12 and doesn't remember their parents at all.

This means Nille ran away with Bonnie and gained emancipation and custody of Bonnie (if Vaugarde has formalised that kind of legal stuff) while she was at most 12 years old herself and could have in theory been as young as 6..!

Regardless, it's very likely the original home situation was that bad, Nille deserves a ton of credit for raising Bonnie as well as she has and I'd say it's very VERY likely she had a lot of help from villagers in Bambosche and/or the local House of Change in doing so. ...But also Bonnie is very adamantly 'my sister and village' and not 'my sister and [specific names who live with us]' so there's clearly by the time Bonnie was 4 or so they were living in their own place so... Yeah. Lotta drive for independence there too it seems (so the party might have more trouble adopting Nille into their group post ISaT than Bonnie might expect).

King stuff:

Already an adult 13 to 16 years ago so at bare minimum 33. Given his vibe probably much older though.

Newspapers get printed pretty quick though for there to be so much speculation and research done into his background so quick, either Vaugarde has some form of fast messaging system (something like a Chappe telegraph on top of the Houses of Change? Odile I think does mention that they'll have a message sent to let Nille know they'll be returning Bonnie...) or the King was freezing stuff for IDK around a month or two before reaching Dormont? Alas can't find out how long it takes to walk across all of France out very easily (I'm sure the numbers are out there but my brain is pudding rn) but if we had those numbers we could probably make some guesstimates based off the rough sketched map of Vaugarde InsertDisk5 did... Which I would link but apparently the tumblr post I had it linked on has been deleted???? 'wails at this very unhappy development'

Mira's journey and Sif's eye:

We really don't know a lot but almost a year ago gives us somewhere around 9 to 11 months to spread the journey out along and after eye removal surgery the patient can out and about as soon as 2 to 6 weeks after, maybe sooner with magic healing (though full recovery/growing used to the changed spacial awareness -which Sif clearly does not have- probably can't be sped up and takes around 3 to 6 months) so um. I'd guestimate Sif's eye injury is really recent; like two months ago tops recent. ...Which sorta explains a lot of why Bonnie is not dealing with it right now and also why the others might be trying to avoid bringing it up (since Sif clearly loves avoiding the issue but they haven't yet realised that maybe they really should bring it up even if it annoys them anyway?)

Odile with some Ka Bue speculation:

When it comes to The Island, how did Odile, presumably living in Ka Bue at the time, remember 'when it happened'? Was the Island well known enough even on the other side of the world that it's disappearance made waves? Or was Odile herself or someone she's close to paying attention to the region? (Like maybe her dad or a friend is/was into politics or trade, keeping up with overseas news and got concerned it could happen to Ka Bue? I'd say 'I remember when it happened' line implies it was more immediate knowledge than being informed by a messenger much later though...)

As for Odile's 'years of travel' I have to wonder, what's left behind for her in Ka Bue? She brings up going back there quite a bit, might just miss home and possibly her father if he's still alive, but given it took her years to get here for something so personal rather than idk 'materially rewarding' I think Odile might have some kinda family estate or something back in Ka Bue... Something she wasn't worried about potentially losing while far away, but solid enough to want to return to, beyond her father who she'd definitely want to see again if he's still around. (...But given how open she is to chilling about Vaugarde a few more months with the others, I really don't think he is alive, since well, given their respective ages and travel between Vaugarde and Ka Bue apparently taking years, there'd definitely an uncomfortably high chance of him passing away while she's gone and that seems like the thing that'd stress Odile out so... Yeah. Probably got an estate in Ka Bue she'd like to take the Family to visit/possibly sell off if she decides she'd like to live with them in Vaugarde so... Just my off the cuff headcanoning here and hoping that gives others ideas or something).

---

Anyway that's all the ramble I've got in me so... yeah! Hope this was interesting and useful for those needing a bit of a 'possible tech'/timeline calcs breakdown for the Island + a few more vague things and um. Probably will post a long winding ramble about my attempt at a ISaT Selkie AU fic I've been working on next <3 (Not to be confused with looped-140-and-counting's already existing and quite wonderful Selkie Siffrin AU which already has a completed oneshot fic, a snippet of sequel, two snippets of prequel/Sif flashbacking and I believe a comic too, all of which I highly recommend <3)

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Twice Seals The Fate***

Title: Twice Seals The Fate ***

Pablo Schreiber x GF Reader

Warning: NSFW, SMUUT, Cursing, Male & Female Receiving, Mild Crude Language, Fluff, 18+ Mature Content, Unprotected Lovin, Implied Preggo Talk

Words: 4.2k

Summary:  While Pablo is on location filming the latest season of HALO, you pay him a visit after a nice chunk of time frees up on your calendar. One morning you wake to see him mid workout and laying eyes on this sight, there is only one possible outcome.

Note: I couldn’t resist this one. You’re welcome!

Thank you all for reading. I appreciate it. I hope you enjoy this.

If you enjoyed it, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!!

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

~~~~~~~~

 Chirp-Chirp, Chirp-Chirp.

 The sound was so soft you almost missed it. However, the bevy of animal sounds continued.

 Chirp-Chirp, Chirp-Chirp.

Squawk- Squawk, Squawk - Squawk.

Neeeeeeigh.

Moooooo.

 “Mmm.”

 You groaned feeling as if you’d put yourself through a rigorous two-hour workout. You rolled to your right and your arm flopped onto a pillow—an empty pillow. It took a few moments but when your brain registered that and the sounds you were hearing your head flew up. The brightness around you felt unnatural as if it was artificial. Squinting, you looked around and immediately didn’t recognize your surroundings.

 “What the--.”

 It took nearly a minute for you to remember the last 24 hours. Your head was heavy and everything hazy. You got bits and pieces of your travels. You on the plane after agreeing to make a long-awaited visit to none other than the love of your life. It was a trip you’d both been unable to make but also reluctant to make.

 Your schedule was insane as was Pablo’s thanks to him being on location filming the second season of Halo. To make things worse you hated flying after the two scares you’d had. Flying was the bane of your existence, and you could never do it unless you drank your way through it. Not even Valium fully worked on you, so you incorporated some self-medication—liquor.

 You groaned again as it all came back. 4 valiums, 4 bottles of wine and an eight-hour flight took you all the way out. When you’d gotten off the plane you were more than tipsy. You cringed thinking you may have embarrassed yourself or Pablo when he and his assistant picked you up.

 “Oh god, Y/N,” you croaked as you flipped onto your back.

 You knew you’d gotten into the wrong career for the level of shambles you found yourself in whenever you had to fly. Nothing worked. Pablo knew this and had always been so supportive of you with working around it and it only made you love him even more. You replayed a memory from last night of Pablo putting you in the bathtub and giving you a bath like an actual toddler then tucking you in forehead kiss and all.

 “Oh god.”

 Guilt filled you. He’d probably had a long day on set and needed to be taken care of and loved on too, but you were so out of it he’d ended up taking care of you. Knowing him he was probably feeling guilty making you come all the way out. At the thought of him, you looked beside you and found his side empty. You sat up with the intention to go looking for him but the view out the sliding doors held you captivated.

 “Wow.”

 Thankfully your legs were in full working order now. You walked over to the doors and marveled at the view before you. As far as the eye could see it was white with peeks of greenery. The expansive field was so wide and free of clutter, litter, and people that you could not help but step outside onto the veranda. The crisp, fresh air hit you and it was clear you weren’t in LA anymore.

 Despite the strong chill in the air thanks to the freshly fallen snow, you couldn’t find one fault. This may actually be heaven, you thought to yourself. Off to the left you saw the responsible parties for the farmland orchestra. There were actual cows grazing in the pasture like they had not one care in the world and free roaming horses.

 “Must be nice.”

 A flock of birds passing overhead caught your eye and you watched them flit merrily in the air as their song echoed around. This view and atmosphere made up for the eight-hour nightmare. You took a few more moments to enjoy the view but when the cold got too much to bear in your state of undress, you then went back inside to brush your teeth before finding Pablo.

 When you made your way through the quiet house you wondered if he’d left to set already. Peeking into rooms you found them Pablo free. You thought to go back to the bedroom for your phone to call him but decided to look everywhere first. Turning the corner, you expected to be the only one there, but you stopped in your tracks as the most delicious sight laid before you that cleared any residual haze in your brain.

 Pablo was in the center of the large and minimalistic living room with his back braced on a rolling sit up wheel with his arms behind his head. His feet were firmly planted on the hardwood floors with a pair of brown sweats sitting dangerously low. From the angle you stood you could count each and every ab muscle that popped from his perfect form.

 Slowly, you raked your eyes over every inch of skin that was on display. Have mercy you thought. The pictures he’d been sending you over the last three months had not done an ounce of justice to what you were looking at now. From the pictures he looked good yes, and you’d wanted to run your hand along every inch of him, but in front of you now, you wanted so much more.

 You watched him use the contraption underneath him, no doubt a new torture device from Eddie. He rocked forward and brought himself into a crunch and if it was possible those abs popped even more. He held the position and the longer he did the more parched you became. Thanks to those low sitting sweats you could see those brain numbing indentations at his sides that disappeared inside those now annoying sweats. Your eyes lowered and caught sight of a half-asleep monster skimming the surface.

 Without thought you licked your lips. Pablo rolled backward releasing the position he’d been holding and arched himself back. Your eyes roamed up his sweat glistened body to see he wore headphones. He probably had no idea you were up much less ogling him like this. You slowly and carefully walked into the room taking care to not make a sound. Once you came around him and stood just between his legs you took the time to admire him some more.

 His usual fit and build were always impressive to you because he always kept himself in good shape no matter what. However, his Halo level of fit was insane, and you thanked the producers every day that they’d chosen him for the role and that he was so dedicated to portraying an authentic master chief. Needless to say, your sex life since had been at a whole new level of explosive. It was a level you didn’t think was possible since you were already at wildfire levels.

 Before he could move you dropped down onto your knees and hooked your fingers into the waistband of his sweats and pulled them down. As soon as they moved, Pablo flinched swinging his head up to land on you. Your attention was taken by the half soft meal you’d revealed.

 “Jesus! Y/N, you scared the shit out of me!”

 “Did I?”

 You looked at him without moving your head, so it was only your eyes that bored into him. You always knew this made him weak. Sure enough, Pablo groaned.

 “God, don’t look at me like that.”

 Smirking, you wrapped your hand around his length that was much firmer than seconds ago.

 “Mmm. Looks like you like being scared and the way I’m looking at you.”

 Pablo scoffed and made a move to get off the wheel, but you gently squeezed him.

 Groaning, he met your eyes again. “What’re you doing? You know that’s not a toy, right?”

 “No? I thought it was my toy?”

 His clear hazel eyes darkened as the tip of his tongue dipped out to wet his bottom lip.

 “No worries, I’m not looking for a toy right now…just a snack.”

 You tipped your tongue and licked from the base of his cock to the smooth tip. A deep moan that sounded like a big cat’s purr rumbled in Pablo’s chest and filled the room. You loved hearing him moan.

 “I’m—I’m sweaty. Let me--.”

 His words were cut off by another moan when you sucked his head into your mouth and moaned on it hoping that was answer enough for him.

 “Uuugh!”

 Pablo’s head dropped back to hang down as you swirled your tongue around him quite enjoying the slight saltiness to his skin. A wave of hunger hit you so hard that you couldn’t control yourself. Dipping your head lower, you took him into your mouth until he touched the back of your throat.

 Pablo hissed as his head flung back up to watch you. Using his hands, he bracketed your head holding you gently. His mouth fell open as if he’d planned to say something, but no sound came. Rotating your head from left to right you rolled your tongue along the underside of his shaft.

 “Fuuuuck!”

 “Mmmm.”

 Pablo’s grip tightened. It wasn’t enough to hurt you but just enough to let you know he was quickly losing control.

 “God baby,” he breathed keeping a close eye on your mouth.

 You slowly bobbed on him bringing your mouth all the way down so your top lip brushed against the spray of dark neatly trimmed hair there then up just until his swollen tip slipped out of your mouth. When it did, he grunted and thrusted upward showing his eagerness to be back inside your mouth.

 “Shit Y/N,” he muttered through trembling lips.

 That wasn’t the only thing that was trembling. From the way his body shook, you could tell he was quickly getting to the point where his muscles would give way. Increasing the power of your suck, you clamped onto his need and moaned. Suddenly Pablo jerked up sending his arousal down your throat tempting your gag. Suppressing it, you pulled back lifting your mouth off of him leaving a trail of thick saliva.

 “For fuck’s sake,” Pablo rasped before he yanked you to him. Your body crashed to his and it was at the last moment that you worried the wheel underneath him would break that Pablo smoothly held you to him, rolled to the right while cocooning you so you didn’t feel the impact of the wooden floors.

 “I’ve missed you so much, dollface.”

 You smiled and smoothed the back of your hand against his bristled cheek.

 “I missed you too. I’m sorry about--.”

 That was all you got out before Pablo’s lips pressed to yours for your first kiss in months. You both moaned against each other as your lips sweetly danced together reacquainting themselves with the feel of the other. When you felt Pablo readjust himself so he was perfectly nestled between your legs, you moaned at the heaviness of his length pressed against your core. His lips sped and the kiss turned desperate, urgent, and so much more sinful. He kissed you like a hungry man. A man who’d had to go months without sustenance and couldn’t get enough now with his first taste.

 Soon you both were wildly making out on the floor pawing at each other wherever you could. The t-shirt that you’d found yourself in when you awoke was now pushed to your hips exposing your lower half where you only wore one of Pablo’s boxers. His large hand snaked underneath the shirt to cup your bare breast. You arched thrusting it further out to him like a sacrificial offering. Pablo groaned then buried his head into your neck where he nipped, licked and sucked your skin.

 “Oh Pablo.”

 His roughened thumb swiped across your nipple once, then twice before he flicked the now hardened peak.

 “Yes,” you breathed.

 As one hand cupped your breast, the other dipped inside those boxers and found where you wanted him the most. A high-pitched gasp left your lips when Pablo’s fingers dipped between your folds.

 “Mmmmm,” Pablo rumbled finding you already wet for him.

 Pablo then pressed his forehead to yours as his fingers explored the slickness between your thighs.

 “Fuck dollface, you’re already wet for me?”

 You nodded unable to find your voice. He scissored your clit between his fingers and slid them up and down sending such powerful sparks of pleasure through you, you nearly came right then.

 “Aaah!”

 Pablo must have sensed it because his body stiffened, then he slid one finger home into your core. You both groaned in unison. It wasn’t nearly enough but it was still so fucking good and so much more than you’d had all these months. When you opened your eyes, you found Pablo’s hazel ones locked on you. His mouth was slightly ajar as he continued dipping into your cavernous heat one centimeter at a time. When he’d finally sent that one digit as far as it could go, he curled it up making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

 “You’re so tight. It’s like I’ve never claimed this sweet little pussy as mine.”

 You whimpered when he hooked his finger deeper.

 “Fuck, I’m going to have to teach her again how to take me, huh?”

 You nodded.

 “I can’t hear you dollface.”

 Pablo added another finger rotating his wrist, so his fingers spiraled inside of you.

 “Ye—ye—yes, yes, yes!”

 As if on their own, his fingers pulled out of you only to slam back in again and again before Pablo pulled them out completely. You watched as he licked them clean like a man with his favorite flavored cone.

 “You taste as good as I remember. I want more.”

 Before you knew it, Pablo had flipped you so you were straddling him with his thick, hard cock pressing against your sex. The feel of him nestled between your legs but not inside of you was so tempting that you couldn’t resist ricking against him using your slickness to ease your glide.

 “Aah,” Pablo growled gripping your hips but not stopping you.

 You began slow but that didn’t last. After the second or third rock you were quickly rubbing yourself against his need half using him for your own pleasure and half teasing him. The only sounds in the living room were your combined panting and moaning. Pablo’s grip on your hips tightened and soon he was pulling you toward his face.

 When his mouth latched onto your clit you instinctively bucked against him swiping your pussy across his mouth and nose. Pablo moaned then locked his arms around your waist holding you right where he wanted. His tongue set the pace telling you that he planned on devouring you until you were breathless and trying to run away and even then, he wouldn’t let you.

 Before even three minutes had passed you were so close, and he knew it from the way your moans turned to mewls and mewls turned to pants then finally whines.

 “Ah, ah, ah, Pa—oh my god!”

 You tried to pull away, but his arms held you tighter and deciding to just lose yourself to the pleasure you rocked on him, riding his face. Your wail of pleasure echoed throughout the house as your orgasm crept up on you taking you by surprise. Pablo moaned as he lapped at your flesh taking every drop you gave him. Even then he didn’t releasee you, he kept on coaxing another.

 Trying to pry yourself from him was futile so you gave yourself to the wild, consuming feeling bubbling within you. A feeling that threatened complete destruction and rebirth, a feeling that wanted as much as it would give, a feeling that was almost terrifying in the way that it made you feel so utterly out of control, but you didn’t run from it. You found Pablo’s eyes on you, and you lost your shit. You came so hard you nearly fell back on him. If it weren’t for his strong arms holding you, you were sure you would have.

 The next thing you knew you were cocooned in Pablo’s arms with your head resting in the crook of his beauty mark speckled neck while straddling him. Your eyes met and your hearth thundered even more.

 “Hi,” Pablo whispered before kissing the tip of your nose.

 “Hi.”

 “I’m sorry, I took too much too soon,” Pablo said.

 Your brow crinkled. “Too much?”

 “After flying, now with jet lag, I should have--.”

 You cut him off with a kiss. When you felt his hardness lurch underneath you, you realized then you’d blacked out and he hadn’t come yet. This man was too good to you. Kissing him with renewed need, you shifted just a little so his cock was between your bodies throbbing against your belly. Then you shifted onto your knees and hovered just above his length. Every time your wet entrance grazed the tip of his need he flinched and stiffened.  He was barely hanging on.

 “You haven’t taken enough.”

 You then slid down taking him inside of you inch by slow inch. Pablo threw his head back and clenched his jaw. His Adam’s apple bobbed uncontrollably tempting you to nip him which you did. Biting down on his skin you marked him not caring who saw it. Pablo groaned, wrapped his arms around you and pulled you down onto him filling and stretching you to capacity.

 “Fuck!”

 Pablo shook as he held you still. Every muscle in his back and chest jerked, then clenched and unclenched. He was right, he would have to teach you how to take him again. You were so impossibly full of him you were tethering on that fine line of pleasure and pain, and it drove you mad.

 “So tight, so fucking tight,” Pablo muttered allowing his vulnerability to shine through his voice.

 You slowly raised off of him allowing a few inches to slip from you before lowering yourself again. When you did, Pablo whimpered. Doing it again and again his reaction to you only intensified. By the time you’d picked up your speed both of your pleasure had synced. It felt as if you could feel his pleasure and he could feel yours. You were on the same seesaw ebbing back and forth, up and down on the way to the most powerful shared orgasm.

 “You’re so beautiful,” Pablo whispered into your ear before he bit your lobe.

 “Mmm. You feel incredible baby,” you countered.

 “Did you miss my cock dollface?”

 You nodded before you bit onto his bottom lip then sucked it into your mouth. Pablo squeezed your hips then began moving you on him. First, he rocked you back and forth then lifted you up and down slamming you down every time. By the time you were seeing stars behind your eyes, you pushed him back, so he laid down onto the floor, then lifted his t-shirt off of your body. Pablo’s eyes immediately dropped to your breasts and seconds later his hands cupped them.

 Using him as an anchor you planted your hands on this ripped torso then bounced on him. With every crash down onto him the goosebumps on your flesh beaded tighter and tighter, your telltale sign you were close.

 “I’m so close baby.”

 “Come for me dollface. Come all over this cock.”

 The man was an expert dirty talker. You didn’t stand a chance. As if on command, you did just that. As the sensation wrapped you up and took over you sat on top of him allowing yourself to fully let go after so many months apart. Pablo gripped your hips then jackhammered up into you inching your closer and closer to another release.

 “Ah, ah aahhaa, Pablo!”

 he grunted once, twice then you felt him filling you like a twinkie.

 “Ah, uh, uh, ah, uuuugh!”

 He held you so tightly against him ensuring that not even a drop escaped you and with every spurt he released inside of you, your body trembled. After several long moments, you both were a panting mess as you clung to one another.

 “Mmm, I love you, Y/N.”

 Your eyes met. “Yeah?”

 He looked so open, so vulnerable, so free for the taking.

 “I do. I love you so fucking much. Shit after today you just may be stuck with me for the rest of your life.”

 He kissed your collar then brought sloppy open-mouthed kisses to your breasts before wrapping his mouth around your nipple.

 “Mmm. What’s that supposed to mean?”

 He took his time licking and sucking your nipple reawakening that hungry, desperate need within you. Pulling his mouth from your flesh, he bit his bottom lip then brought one hand to your stomach.

 “I think I may have just planted Pablo Jr and Pabuela right here.”

 Your eyes bugged as you took in his words. Both of you snorted then laughed heartily.

 “Pablo!”

 You playfully slapped his chest.

 “Is that what your goal was? Let’s trap her so she’ll stay?”

 You playfully pinched and poked him until he rolled onto you pinning your arms above your head.

 “Trap? That’s such an ugly word. I prefer locked down, wifed up.”

 Both of you stopped moving as your eyes lingered. This was not the first time ether of you had heard the W word in reference to your relationship. It was however the first time Pablo had used the W word in reference to your relationship. This was also the first time he’d joked about having kids with you. He hovered over you, searching your eyes. You didn’t know what to say so you remained silent as your heart raced uncontrollably.

 “What do you think?”

 “Pabuela is a hideous name. There is no way my—our daughter will be named that.”

 You knew what you’d said, and you’d said it on purpose. His eyes remained on yours, but they sparked with intensity.

 “But Pablo Jr?”

 “PJ, sounds good,” you whispered.

 It was as if you were having two conversations in one. This lighthearted hypothetical one with the real and much deeper one hidden between the words, a serious one, one that was heavy with promise and intent. Pablo bit his bottom lip as he readjusted himself between your legs.

 “It does. Maybe Y/N Jr for—our daughter?”

 Hearing how heartbreakingly soft his voice got when he said “our” made your heart skipped a beat. It was a horrible idea, no way would you want to make your daughter a Jr, but hearing those words from him took your breath away. Shit you were so gone--hook, line and sinker for this man.

 You widened your legs then wrapped them around his waist. “There’s room for improvement but—I think we should be sure they are planted properly. Once may be all it takes but twice—seals the fate.”

 Pablo slowly smiled until he was full on just teeth and gums. With one thrust of his hips, he connected you again, stealing your breath all over again. The whole time he thrust into you his eyes never left yours. You were having a full-on conversation with your eyes and the beating of your hearts. The intensity of the exchange made you overly sensitive. You could feel everything ten times more. Every rub of his skin against yours felt like sparks from fireworks landed on your flesh. Every collision of his hip bone into yours was the rake of nails along your skin. Every tap of his thighs against the backs of yours sent a frisson of fire through you. It all felt so incredible, so completely perfect.

 When you felt his movements lag becoming even less controlled, you knew the intensity of the moment, of your lovemaking was also making him more sensitive as well. He was close and neither of you wanted to stop it or slow down. Pablo quickly thrusted into you racing for his release and you held on to him never taking your eyes off of his. Suddenly he stopped moving leaving your body in heightened suspension. Your first thought was he’d changed his mind and was pulling away from you both physically and emotionally. The thought made your heart clench and eyes prick with tears.

 “I love you, Y/N. Forever and always.”

 His brow crinkled and just like that he’d made the conscious decision and deliberate choice to seal your fate and lives together. A tear rolled out the corner of your eye as you joined him in the sweetest orgasm you’d ever had together. When you felt Pablo’s thick digit swipe at the tear you saw the question, worry and fear in his eyes. Smiling, you cupped his bearded jaw and erased any doubt in him with three words.

 “Forever and always.”

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

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The Sacklers woulda gotten away with it if it wasn't for those darned meddling feds

The saga of the Sacklers, a multigenerational billionaire crime family of mass-murdering dope-peddlers, is an enraging parable about how the wealthy, the courts, and sadistic high-powered lawyers collude to destroy the lives of millions, profit handsomely, and evade justice.

But there's an unexpected twist to this tale. After the Sacklers procured a sham bankruptcy that denied their victims the right to sue while leaving their fortune largely intact, the Supreme Court – yes, this Supreme Court – saw through the scam and froze the process, pending a full hearing:

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/08/10/us/supreme-court-purdue-pharma-opioid-settlement.html

The Sacklers basically invented modern, legal dope peddling. Arthur Sackler, the family's original crime-boss, revived the practice of direct-to-consumer drug marketing, dormant since the death of the medicine show, to peddle Valium. An aggressive and shrewd lobbyist, Arthur built the family fortune and, more importantly, its connections:

https://www.timesofisrael.com/how-the-sackler-family-built-a-pharma-dynasty-and-fueled-an-american-calamity/

A generation later, the family's business company created Oxycontin, and procured misleading and false research about the drug's safety kickstarting the opioid epidemic, whose American body-count is closing in on a million dead. Armed with inflated claims about opioid safety, the Sacklers' pharma reps bribed, cajoled and tricked doctors into writing millions of prescriptions for oxy.

This scam had a natural best-before date. As ODs flooded America's ERs and bodies piled up in America's morgues, it became increasingly clear that something was rotten. The Sacklers pursued a multipronged campaign to keep the truth from coming to light, and to keep the billions flowing.

On the one hand, they hired McKinsey to find novel ways to encourage doctors to keep writing prescriptions and to convince pharmacists to turn a blind eye to abuse. McKinsey had all kinds of great ideas here, including paying pharma distributors cash bonuses for every overdose death in their territory:

https://www.nytimes.com/2021/02/03/business/mckinsey-opioids-settlement.html

When the issue of these deaths came up in public, the Sacklers blamed "criminal addicts" for their own misery, stigmatizing both people who desperately needed pain relief and the people who'd been deliberately hooked on the Sacklers' products. The legacy of this smear campaign is still with us, both in the contempt for people struggling with addiction and in the cruel barriers placed between people in unbearable agony and medical relief.

But mostly, the Sacklers kept their names out of it. They laundered their reputations by donating a homeopathic fraction of their vast drug fortune to art galleries and museums in a bid to make their names synonymous with good deeds.

The Sacklers didn't invent this trick. Think of the way that history's great monsters – Carnegie, Mellon, Rockefeller, Ford – are remembered today for the foundations and charities that bear their names, not for the untold misery they inflicted on their workers, their crimes against their customers, and the corruption of governments.

But the Sacklers made those Gilded Age barons seem like amateurs. They invented a modern elite philanthropy playbook that Anand Giridharadas documents in his must-read Winners Take All, about the charity-industrial complex that washes away an ocean of blood with a trickle of money:

https://memex.craphound.com/2018/11/10/winners-take-all-modern-philanthropy-means-that-giving-some-away-is-more-important-than-how-you-got-it/

As part of this PR exercise, the individual Sacklers kept their names and images out of the public eye. For years, there were virtually no news-service photos of individual Sacklers. When journalists dared to criticize the family, they used vicious attack-lawyers to intimidate them into retractions and silence (I was threatened by the Sacklers' lawyers).

They also worked their media mogul pals, like Mike Bloomberg, who added their names to the "Friends of Mike" list that Bloomberg reporters were required to consult before writing negative coverage:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/02/29/friends-of-mike-enemies-of-the-people/#sacklerbergs

But Stein's Law says that "anything that can't go on forever will eventually stop." As lawsuits mounted, the Sacklers found themselves increasingly synonymous with death, not charitable works. But like any canny criminal, the Sacklers had a getaway plan.

First, they extracted vast sums from Purdue and shifted it into offshore financial secrecy havens:

https://www.reuters.com/article/us-purduepharma-bankruptcy/sacklers-reaped-up-to-13-billion-from-oxycontin-maker-u-s-states-say-idUSKBN1WJ19V

Even as this money was disappearing into legal black holes, the Sacklers demanded – and received – extraordinary protection from the courts, who aggressively sealed testimony and materials presented through discovery:

https://www.reuters.com/investigates/special-report/usa-courts-secrecy-judges/

When this gambit finally failed, the Sacklers insisted that were down to their last $4 billion, and, with trillions in claims pending against them, they declared bankruptcy.

When a normal person declares bankruptcy, they are required to divest themselves of nearly everything of value they possess, and then still find themselves hounded by cruel arm-breakers who deluge them with threatening calls and letters:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/19/zombie-debt/#damnation

But for the richest people in America, bankruptcy is merely a way to cleanse one's balance sheet of liabilities for any atrocity you may have committed on the way, without giving up your fortune.

The Sacklers are a case-study in how a corrupt bankruptcy can be conducted.

Purdue Pharma presents a maddening case-study in the corrupt benefits of bankruptcy. When it was announced in March, many were outraged to learn that the Sacklers were going to walk away with billions, while their victims got stiffed.

First, they converted their victims' right to compensation into "property" that the Sacklers themselves owned. This transferred jurisdiction over these claims from the regular court system to the bankruptcy court. A bankruptcy judge – not a jury – would decide how much each of these claims was worth, and then what how much of that worth these victims (now recast as creditors) would be entitled to through the bankruptcy.

Thus tens of thousands of claims were nonconsensually settled without a trial, by an administrative judge with no criminal jurisdiction, not a federal judge who'd undergone Senate confirmation:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/03/31/vaccine-for-the-global-south/#claims-extinguished

These "coercive restructuring techniques" are not available to everyday people who are drowning in student debt or credit-card bills – these are the exclusive purview of the wealthiest Americans, who enjoy a completely different bankruptcy system that is rigged in their favor.

Three judges – David Jones and Marvin Isgur of Houston and Bob Drain of New York – hear 96% of the country's large corporate bankruptcies:

https://www.creditslips.org/creditslips/2021/05/judge-shopping-in-bankruptcy.html

These judges are unbelievably horny for corporations, embracing a legal theory "that casts the invention of the limited liability corporation alongside that of the steam engine as a paradigmatic development in the pursuit of prosperity":

https://prospect.org/justice/how-do-you-solve-a-problem-like-the-sacklers-purdue-pharma-bankruptcy/

Now there are more than three bankruptcy judges in America, so how do the nation's biggest companies get their cases heard by these three enthusiastic Renfields for corporate vampirism?

They cheat.

For example: when GM was facing bankruptcy, it argued that it was a New York company on the basis that it owned a single Chevy dealership in Harlem, and got in front of Judge Drain.

The Sacklers were – characteristically – even more brazen. They really wanted to get their case in front of Judge Drain, the nation's most enthusiastic supporter of "third party releases," through which bankrupt billionaires can wipe the slate clean, securing dismissals of all claims by the people they wronged.

Drain is also uniquely hostile to independent examiners, "an independent third-party appointed by the court to investigate 'fraud, dishonesty, incompetence, misconduct, mismanagement, or irregularity…by current or former management of the debtor."

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=3851339

If you're the Sacklers, hoping to keep two thirds of your billions and extinguish all claims by your victims, there is no better helpmeet than Judge Robert Drain of the Southern District of New York.

So, 192 days before filing for bankruptcy, the Sacklers opened an office in White Plains, New York (a company may claim jurisdiction in a specific court once they've operated a business there for 180 days).

Then they filed a bankruptcy in which they altered the metadata on their casefile, inserting the code for a Westchester county hearing into the machine-readable, human-invisible parts of the documents they uploaded to the federal Case Management/Electronic Case Files (CM/ECF) system (they also captioned the case with "RDD, for "Robert D Drain").

They chose their judge, and the judge obliged. UCLA Law's Lynn LoPucki is one of the leading scholars of these bankruptcy "megacases," and has written extensively on why these three judges are so deferential to corporate criminals seeking to flense themselves of culpability. She sees judges like Drain motivated by "personal aggrandizement and celebrity and ability to indirectly channel to the local bankruptcy bar. The judge is the star and the ringmaster of a megacase – very appealing to certain personalities."

Thus, these judges are "willing and eager to cater to debtors to attract business…[an] assurance to debtors that…these judges will not transfer out cases with improper venue or rule against the debtor…"

https://www.fulcrum.org/concern/monographs/02870w66d

This kind of judge-shopping goes beyond the Sacklers; the cases that Drain and co preside over make a mockery of the idea of America as a land of equal justice. "Prepack" and "drive-through" bankruptcies are reliable get-out-of-jail-free cards for capitalism's worst monsters: private equity firms.

Whether PE murdered your grandmother by buying her care-home and putting each worker in charge of 30 seniors:

https://www.washingtonpost.com/local/portopiccolo-nursing-homes-maryland/2020/12/21/a1ffb2a6-292b-11eb-9b14-ad872157ebc9_story.html

or poisoned your kids by filling your neighborhood with carcinogens:

https://www.webmd.com/special-reports/ethylene-oxide/20190719/residents-unaware-of-cancer-causing-toxin-in-air

limited liability wipes the slate clean.

30% of America's bankruptcies are private equity companies using the bankruptcy system to wipe away claims for their misdeeds, while keeping a fortune, thanks to the shield of limited liability.

Take Millennium Health, JamesS lattery's fake drug-testing company, which promised to help nursing homes figure out whether seniors were abusing (or selling) their meds by testing their piss for angel dust and other drugs. Slattery defrauded Medicare and Medicaid for millions, borrowed $1.8 billion (Slattery got $1.3 billion of that). He eventually walked away from this fraud after paying a mere $256m to settle all claims, and kept a fortune in assets, including the 40 vintage planes his private company ("Pissed Away LLC" – I am not making this up) owned:

https://prospect.org/justice/how-do-you-solve-a-problem-like-the-sacklers-purdue-pharma-bankruptcy/

For the wealthy, bankruptcy is the sport of kings, a way to skip out on consequences. For the poor, bankruptcy is an anchor – or a noose. This is by design: judges who preside over elite bankruptcies speak of their protagonists as heroic "risk takers" and tiptoe around any consequences, lest these titans be chained to a mortal's fate, costing us all the benefits of their entrepreneurial genius.

PE companies helped the Sacklers design their own bankruptcy strategy, and it was a standout, even by the standards of Bob Drain and his kangaroo bankruptcy court. But now, the Supreme Court has pumped the brakes on the whole enterprise.

The judges ruled that the exceptions the Sacklers took advantage of were intended for bankrupts in "financial distress" – not billionaires with vast fortunes hidden overseas. In so doing, the court threatens all manner of corrupt arrangements, from "the Boy Scouts, wildfires and allegations of sexual abuse in the church diocese — where third parties get a benefit from a bankruptcy they themselves aren’t going through.”

The case was brought by the DoJ's US Trustee Program, which lost in the Second Circuit when it tried to halt the Purdue bankruptcy and argued that the Sacklers themselves had to declare bankruptcy to discharge the claims against them.

Now the Supremes have hit pause on the bankruptcy the Second Circuit approved, and will hear the case themselves. It's only one step on a long road, but it's an unprecedented one. Some of the country's filthiest fortunes are riding on the outcome.

Going to Defcon this weekend? I’m giving a keynote, “An Audacious Plan to Halt the Internet’s Enshittification and Throw it Into Reverse,” tomorrow (Aug 12) at 12:30pm, followed by a book signing at the No Starch Press booth at 2:30pm!

https://info.defcon.org/event/?id=50826

I’m kickstarting the audiobook for “The Internet Con: How To Seize the Means of Computation,” a Big Tech disassembly manual to disenshittify the web and bring back the old, good internet. It’s a DRM-free book, which means Audible won’t carry it, so this crowdfunder is essential. Back now to get the audio, Verso hardcover and ebook:

http://seizethemeansofcomputation.org

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this thread to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/11/justice-delayed/#justice-redeemed

Image: Edwardx (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Serpentine_Sackler_Gallery,_June_2016_05.jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

[t00thpasteface]

i saved and added onto that post in little morsels over the past half hour ish while fillikg out forms and waiting to be seen by the nurse (i'm fine btw) and i think you can see the valium progressively k iking in. don't get me STARTEDDDDDD on shakespeare STOPPPP trying to make batman into fucking idk mac eth or that guy in the tempest who said we are such stuff as dreams are made on. HE'S BATTED MAN HE NEEDS TO BE JUMPING AROUND PLEASE HE NEEDS ENRICHMENT (JOY AND LAUGHTER) IN HIS ENCLOSURE (F SCOTT FITZGERALD'S MIND PALACE OF DEPRAVOTY)

[littlemissmiller]

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑟 𝐻𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑠

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐢𝐦

Pairing: drug dealer!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

Summary: Your last summer before college and Coriolanus is still just as in love with you as the first time he saw you, but all of high school you’ve been taken. Meanwhile Coriolanus isn’t looking forward to college, but at least he can still make money dealing drugs. During the last week of school, he notices how fragile your relationship has become and something makes him think he still may have one last chance with you before the summer is over…

Warning: 21+ (mentions or drugs/ drug use) eventually smut, mentions of masturbation (m and f), mentions of oral (m and f receiving), jealously, slight obsession, possession, toxic relationship.

Word count: 4k

A/N: hello all! my first series! soooo i’ve had this idea in mind for a while, but it felt like a summer write/read and i figured since a good amount of y’all are high school age or older this would appeal more and now that the school year is over i figured y’all have more time to read too. also i have another joel fic so that is coming soooon (closely followed by a billy fic) i’m so excited about this one like…i had so much fun writing it and i’m guesssing it’s gonna be like 12 chapters long…idk we shall see :) i hope you enjoy ❣︎

☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎

Coriolanus was ready for the summer. He was so sick of school, even though he excels at it. He barely has to study and usually did his homework last minute and still got all As. His grandma had encouraged him to go to college next year, even though school didn’t quite interest him anymore. He thought about joining ROTC once he got to campus, but truthfully, why would he give up his little side deal for some army pricks and a “free” ride to college when business was about to be booming.

In his junior year, Coriolanus had taken up dealing drugs. Mainly he stuck to weed or psychedelics like mushrooms or acid, and occasionally ecstasy. He didn’t dare sell hard shit and he always made sure his stuff was clean. He had help. From time to time, his friend, Sejanus, would steal from his mother’s medicine cabinet. Xanax, Valium, whatever Mrs. Plinth’s psychiatrist would prescribe, he would manage to steal a few whenever his mother decided not to take her meds that day. It was a system that worked well for Coriolanus, and a system that he would need to maintain. Which is why he decided to go to college only about an hour away from his town. Being from a small, rural town in Illinois didn’t leave Coriolanus many options except the big public school close to the city. A booming college town, where Coriolanus knew he’d be able to expand his “customers” and still manage to keep up his means of getting the drugs he sold.

Luckily enough for him, Sejanus was attending the same college as Coriolanus. Which meant “visits back home” were opportunities for Coriolanus to stock up on his stash and sell. He would be able to tag along with a homesick Sejanus frequently, or at least that’s what Coriolanus predicts given how nostalgic he has seemed to become in the last couple of months. It’s Sejanus’s new favorite hobby. Recalling old memories and moments from the past. Some of which Coriolanus didn’t even realize how much those mundane moments Sejanus’s brain clinged to. How much he cared about their hometown and especially his family. Coriolanus didn’t understand. It wasn’t like he was going halfway across the country, unlike you.

You were bound for California, had big dreams of becoming a cancer researcher for a children’s hospital, and absolutely over the moon to be going to Stanford. Coriolanus wasn’t as thrilled. He had long desired you, wanted you as his own, but since the first week of freshman year you had been so out of his grasp. Too distracted by someone on the football or basketball team, and by your sophomore year you had gotten with one of those football players, Devon. Coriolanus still saw you around however. You and him had shared every AP science course since sophomore year and you considered Coriolanus to be a school friend. That was all. Yet, all of the science classes you and him had spent together left plenty of room for you to chat about Devon. And for some reason you felt safe to talk to him about whenever he would do something to upset you. But you never left him.

So, Coriolanus had watched you from afar, longing to have you all to himself. As high school went on, you only grew more and more beautiful and Coriolanus would often imagine you laying bare before him on his bed. When he was home, he couldn’t help but jerk himself off to the image of you with your hand on your wet core, playing with your clit in between your fingers. That’s all he could picture as he pumped his length in the shower most nights. One hand against the wall the other stroking himself as he pictures you begging for him to fuck you. Your soft pleas tumbling from your beautiful lips like a prayer.

Why couldn’t he have you? Why did some himbo athlete have to have you when Coriolanus was clearly superior to him. He didn’t blame you though. Devon was popular, which made you popular by default and after being in a relationship for so long, he knew it wasn’t easy to just leave someone like that. If anything he blamed himself for not getting to you first. For not asking you out when he had the chance.

Not thinking you’d be interested, the one time Coriolanus had gotten an opportunity to ask you out was freshman year. It was after biology class right before winter break and Coriolanus wanted to take you to a movie. You were his lab partner that day and it’s all that was on his mind. When just the right moment arose, he first asked if you wanted to meet later that night to finish the lab so they would have less homework over break, but mainly to see if you were free to hang out. Coriolanus was quickly let down when you informed him that you would’ve liked to, but your family was going out of town to visit your grandparents for the holidays.

“I’ll just have to finish it when I get back from break.” You had sighed

And that was the only real time he’d had talked to you still single. What a pity given it was the last week of school now. Exams were nearly over and Coriolanus had told himself to give up on you, but he couldn’t seem to let you go. Even though it was the last week, and graduation was this weekend, he still desired you deeply. More than the day he met you. Coriolanus watched you in AP Literature as the class went over the study guide. You twirled your hair, bored and just as ready for the relaxing summer break as he was. He tried not to gawk, but he couldn’t help it. You looked so god damn precious today. Your green plaid skirt just barely followed the dress code and your white shirt was ruffled around the edges and fit your body nicely. Your black converse high tops dangled above the floor. All he wanted to do was take you into a bathroom stall, bend you over, bunch up your skirt and admire your ass. He bet it was soft and round. He imagined a pair of cotton, white panties under it all, soaked. His cock started to harden in his jeans, so Coriolanus moved in his seat to hide his stirring erection.

The bell rings about ten minutes later and thankfully he’s settled down enough to where his bulge isn’t quite so obvious. He snatches up his book bag and looks up. As the last few students file out, you are asking the teacher a few questions. Coriolanus gets up and heads for the door. As he passed you, you finish your conversation and quickly move to catch up to him.

“Hey!” You shouted

Coriolanus paused at the door, turning his head to look at you

“I know it’s exam week and you are busy, but this physics lab is going to be the death of me.”

Coriolanus couldn’t believe it. Were you about to ask for his help outside of class? You had always been going to him for help with your science classes. Even though you had managed to score higher than him on every exam in science, for some reason physics was killing you. So all semester, you had been asking Coriolanus for help during class, but only during class. You never asked to finish your work with him after school.

“Are you asking for my help?” He smiles

Personally, you don’t want to take away from his time since Coriolanus seemed like the type of man that valued his free time and didn’t like to bother with school outside of school. In addition, his mysterious, stern demeanor was intimidating and you didn’t know if you were bothering him while he was trying to make money. You knew he dealt drugs and frankly, the idea of that scared you too so much as you need his help and your science classes and in all honesty, you were just afraid to ask him for anything at all.

But Coriolanus always assumed it was because of how protective Devon was. Which was also true. He didn’t like you talking to other guys outside of class, and he was particularly wary of Coriolanus. It was no secret that he was handsome. As beautiful as the guys at school thought you were. Coriolanus had built his own reputation as someone who slept around. And as much of a neanderthal as Devon was, he damn well knew that Coriolanus looked at you like you’re his prey.

“Yes” you sighed

“I don’t mind.”

“Really”

“Not at all. I’m free tonight.”

“Thank you so much. You have no idea, I’d seriously be lost without you.”

“Of course!” He chirped

“I appreciate it. Wanna meet up at Panera after school?”

“Sounds good.”

You smiled, waved and walked off

Fuckfuckfuck you said “lost without him.” That felt so personal. And your sweet smile. Why are you so perfect. Your hips sway as you walk away and Coriolanus’s cock starts to get hard again, until he see’s something that makes him want to repulse. Your boyfriend approached you from the other end of the hall. Devon came up to you,hugged you and groped your ass. What an obnoxious ass, can’t he tell you don’t like that kind of attention in school. He gave you a sleazy smile and Coriolanus turned his attention away.

After school, he headed to Panera as instructed and waited for you. You pulled up, your boyfriend dropping you off in his 2016 White Mercedes C-Class. You walk inside and find him sitting in the back.

“Hey. I’m going to order food. Did you get something?” You asked

“Nah I’m not all that hungry.”

“Okay!” You smile and walk to the counter to order.

You came back quickly, sat beside Coriolanus, putting her book bag between them. You pulled out her physics textbook, laptop and the lab. As you explained why you were confused, Coriolanus explained the material to you, but was so tempted again. So tempted by the way your knee peaked at him and when you crossed your legs, letting more of your thigh show, and he nearly fell apart. He hated how desperate he was for you. How badly he wanted you. He’d do anything just to hear you instruct him to get on his knees and bury his face in between your thighs.

When your food came, he refocused his attention on your homework. Why couldn’t he control himself? Why was he so drawn to your temptations today? You always looked so beautiful, but Coriolanus felt feral.

“Ugh what am I going to do next year without you in my science classes!” You sighed

There you go again. Making everything sound personal and intimate. Clever as always, Coriolanus replied.

“Well good thing you have my number right?”

“Yeah, but we won’t be in the same class and I don’t want to bother you.”

“It’s not a bother” he follows up quickly

“You’re always so sweet. I appreciate it.”

“Anytime…” he smiles

Your phone buzzed, it’s Devon. You pick up and he seems annoyed. You tried to calm him down but somehow he figured out that you’re here studying with Coriolanus.

“You’re being ridiculous ok. Let’s just talk when we get back to my house…busy…with what?” You speak in a harsh whisper. “Ok whatever… just come back and drop me back home. Ok please?”

Coriolanus acted like he didn’t notice, but he watched in agony as tears welled up in your eyes. You took a deep breath, close your eyes, and swallowed your sadness along with the last sip of your Cola. Even though he should mind his own business, he couldn’t contain himself. He had to ask if you were ok. Besides, it's not like you don’t already confide in him during class anyways.

“It’s ok. I’ll be good.” You said, your lip quivering

You excuse yourself to refill your drink and Coriolanus packs up his things.

What a fucking insecure dick.

Coriolanus knew that you’re not the type to cheat. If anything Devon would cheat on you in a second. As protective as he was of you, he seemed to have a different set of rules for himself. Coriolanus saw Devon at parties, how’d he flirt with other girls when you weren’t around, or check out the cheerleaders at games. Yet you couldn’t have any real guy friends, and he truly couldn’t stand Coriolanus.

“You sure? I could give you a ride home since he seems…”

“No it’s fine…he’ll be here soon anyways. I appreciate your help.”

Your lip quivers slightly and you hide your face as you pretend to yawn. It’s something you’ve learned to help you to hide your tears and prevent you from falling apart into a big mess. But Coriolanus saw right through it because he had seen it before. He wanted to hold you, tell you to dump Devon and be with him instead. He would kiss you, to show you just how serious he was. He imagined delicately stroking your chin with his thumb and forefinger, guiding your face to his and kissing him deeply. He would be slow, tender, his lips simply ghosting over your own. He would still hold you daintily, his breath fanning over your face as he told you how much he loves you.

You look outside, turning away from Coriolanus, stifling your cries as a single tear rolls down your cheek. Coriolanus can’t help it; he has to say something.

“You know if you ever need someone to talk to I don’t mind. Sometimes it’s easier to tell someone you’re not as close with. Because then it’s like you’re speaking into a void and it doesn’t really matter what you say. But at least you got it off your chest.”

You pause for a moment and look back at him. You contemplate the offer and as much as you want to just talk his ear off about all the ways in which your boyfriend sucks, you’re afraid that he’ll just be more upset with you, thinking somehow he’ll find out.

“It’s ok. I’ll just vent to my mom when I get home.”

“You sure?” He asks, trying to hide his desperation

You reach out and touch his forearm gently. Your affections burn on his skin, your fingertips branding him.

“I’m sure. Thanks anyways.”

You release him, giving him a small smile. You feel like you should apologize and he simply smirks in approval, his eyes following your hand as it leaves him. Then your phone buzzes again. It lights up with a text from Devon and Coriolanus glances outside at the parking lot. He sees your boyfriend pull up, park, and exit his vehicle. For a moment he thinks your boyfriend is about to walk in, but he simply pouts against the car like a grumpy toddler.

“Good luck with your other exams. I know you’ll do fine.”

You walk off, quickly gather your things and walk out the door. He watches you leave and his eyes peer out the window. You trot along to Devon’s car innocently, scared like a newborn deer. He stares at you hawkishly, arms crossed. He shoves his body back into the car once you make it onto the other side, starting it up and you disappear behind the door as it closes. Coriolanus hangs his head in frustration and sighs. You didn’t deserve him.

You belong with him. You belong with Coriolanus.

He felt a tinge of unease thinking about it, not wanting to become as possessive and obsessive as Devon, but he really meant it. He felt he would know how to treat you like a queen. Give you lots of nice things or if you needed cash to buy something you wanted, he’d give it to you. Sell more weed and Xanax to get you whatever you want. But if he could have you, hold you, treat you right, and tell you how much he loves you, he felt like you would want it just as much as he did.

When he gets home, Coriolanus heads up to his room. His cousin and grandma were out shopping for their dresses to wear to his graduation. Coriolanus had picked out a nice pair of black slacks, and a white button up. He wasn’t one for ties normally, and given the heat, he didn’t want to feel too constrained. It was hanging up in his closet, facing him as he enters his room, along with his cap and gown. He sits down at his desk, placing his book bag down and getting his laptop out. He decides to check his grades one last time even though he already knows what it will say. He logs on to his school's website.

Coriolanus C. Snow

Student ID: 1008452024

Current Standing: Senior (Academic Honors)

Current GPA: 4.0

Accumulative GPA: 4.3

Spring Semester 2024

AP Physics A

AP Literature A

European History A

AP Calculus A

Political Science A

Latin Studies A

The corners of his mouth slid up into a half smile. He was of course not upset with himself, but knew that school was the only thing he was really good at, but completely hated. He was still going to go to college, just to get a degree of anything and why would he miss out on the opportunity to sell to his target market. Even though he hated school, and was dragging his feet to go to college, Coriolanus had bigger ambitions. He thought that even if it meant four more years of school and lectures, getting a degree might lead him towards a better career. Coriolanus often heard of people getting into politics and getting intern jobs working for Senators and Representatives. It was truly the only thing that appealed to him. Even though he excelled in nearly every course, politics and civics seemed to have taken over his attention more than his other subjects. And his teachers noted how he seemed to have more interest in those classes versus science or math. So he thought that maybe college could offer an opportunity for him to get him to a place of power, which not even he realizes how much he desires that kind of control.

Then his phone vibrates, taking him off guard and away from his thoughts. It’s you. He immediately picks it up. He can sense your emotions through the phone and the immediate sniffle you give him, confirms his suspicions.

“Hey what’s up?”

“Oh I just had a quick question on this lab I realized I left the last question blank. Do you think we could FaceTime real quick?” You ask tentatively

“Sure.”

You transfer the call to FaceTime him and he picks up. He put the phone against the wall and your beautiful face appears. It’s slightly blurry because of the connection, but Coriolanus can still make out your beautiful features although they are covered by your clearly upset face. You had been crying, hard, your eyes slightly red and puffy.

“So what’s up” Coriolanus continues quickly

“Yeah so it's talking about how I’m supposed to connect my parts of the equation to the students equation in the problem but also explain the reasoning for why part b) works with part a) and show mathematical reasoning.”

Coriolanus smiles and begins to break down the problem in the lab and you start to frantically scribble down on your page, occasionally glancing up showing that you understand and are following along. All the while, he’s just as focused on your beautiful, round eyes, as they concentrate on his words. He tries desperately not to picture those same pretty eyes looking up at him, you on your knees, naked and sucking his cock. He knows that your eyes would look just as attractive and engaged by him. He shakes his head to refocus, but he’s hard under his desk. Luckily it’s just a video call, because his bulge is ever so apparent. Once Coriolanus finishes explaining it, you smile and sigh in relief.

“That makes sense. Thanks Coriolanus…”

“See, next semester I can still help you like this, you know.”

“I guess you’re right” you smile back “is that your bed?” You ask, pointing behind him.

“Yeah.” He confirms, turning around to look at it.

“I like the comforter. Your room looks cool by the way” you follow up

His bed sheets are navy blue plaid with red and white stripes in a grid style pattern. He looks around his room and admires his decor. Coriolanus occupies a room on the top floor. It wasn’t quite cramped like an attic, but it was close to the roof. It was cozy, with a slanted wall. The back wall was uncovered brick, with a wood ceiling. Coriolanus had put a few of his favorite band posters up as well as some vinyl covers. He tried to keep things simple with his bed against one wall and his desk against the other. He had a laptop that sat on his desk and a TV that screwed onto the wall above his desk, which he easily fit his PS4 under.

“Maybe you should come see it in person sometime” he suggests, not realizing what he has said.

When he does, he mentally kicks himself for being so forward, and your eyes dart down to the ground in your own room.

You stupid ass.

As he curses himself, you glance back up with a smile

“Hopefully I can see it at your graduation party. Assuming you're having one?” You follow up

“Possibly. I wasn’t sure, but my family wants to throw me one. What about you?” He asks

“Oh yeah I’m sending invitations out to the whole grade. We are having it at our country club, me and Devon. It's kinda a combination party I guess.” You explain

“Oh fun”

“It’s gonna be at the end of June so when you get the invite, let me know. You can text me and I’ll tell my dad.”

“Yeah sure. Well I won’t keep ya any longer.” Coriolonaus nods, his lips sporting the most charming smile and you match his expression.

“Ok well, if I don’t see you much at school then I’ll see you this weekend at graduation?” You imply, unsure if he would even bother going since he almost never attended non-mandatory school events.

“Yeah, I’ll see you there for sure”

“Hey just real quick, earlier today with Devon, it’s just he gets a bad temper and makes assumptions”

Coriolanus nods, not wanting to scare you off, but he’s invested in having you tell him what more upsets you.

“I’m sorry, that sounds frustrating.”

“Well I guess you’ve always been there to listen so I just wanna say thanks for all these times. You know it’s funny though we get into these fights and I talk to you and feel better then he goes back to normal, well at least for a while then he gets back into his ways, so I’m just hoping he’ll mature more in college. Stop acting like a toddler sometimes” you smirk

Oh you poor thing, you don’t even realize how bad he truly is. You don’t even realize you're stuck in his toxic cycle. Coriolanus wishes he could swoop in and take you away. Treat you better. Coriolanus gives you a sympathetic smile and continues to show he’s listening to you. After a few silent moments, you say goodbye and hang up. Coriolanus feels like he can breathe again. You overwhelm him to a degree he didn’t even think was possible. Which he feels it between his legs, his cock is still rock hard.

Fuck you get him so worked up it’s unbelievable. He knows he’ll have to handle his member in the shower before dinner, but for now he smiles to himself. Coriolanus leans his chair back, mouth agape as he sighs at the ceiling. Maybe he could have a chance with you after all. He doesn’t want to get too hopeful, but something tells him he might just be able to get his chance with you before the summer ends.

꧁🝮❤︎︎🝮꧂

[blackswaneuroparedux]

She was destined to be my Gradiva, the one who moves forward, my victory, my wife.

- Salvador Dali on Gala

Dali always maintained that without his wife, Gala, he would never have been the icon of art as he became.

Gala’s real name was Helena Ivanovna Diakonova, a Russian born in Kazan in 1894. She was 10 years older than Dalí and, when they met in 1929, she was married to the poet Paul Éluard and mother to a little girl. She also had a lover, Max Ernst, who painted her in a number of portraits. It was love at first sight.

In his Secret Life, Dalí wrote: “She was destined to be my Gradiva, the one who moves forward, my victory, my wife.” The name Gradiva comes from the title of a novel by W. Jensen, the main character of which was Sigmund Freud. Gradiva was the book’s heroine and it was her who brought psychological healing to the main character.

She immediately became his muse. Gala is a frequent model in Dalí’s work, often in religious roles such as the Blessed Virgin Mary in the painting The Madonna of Port Lligat.

In the early 1930s, Dalí started to sign his paintings with his and her name as “it is mostly with your blood, Gala, that I paint my pictures”. Gala acted as his agent, very aggressively fighting for his rights with gallery owners and buyers. She was also using tarot cards to influence Dalí’s career decisions. According to most accounts, Gala had a strong sex drive and, throughout her life, had numerous extramarital affairs (among them with her former husband Paul Éluard), which Dalí encouraged, since he was a practitioner of candaulism. Also, Salvador Dalí claims to be a virgin and completely impotent as he was afraid of women’s anatomy and Gala publicly assumes her affairs with other men. Still, it seems that their relationship was quite harmonic and lucrative for both sides.

He wrote: “I would polish Gala to make her shine, make her the happiest possible, caring for her more than myself, because without her, it would all end.”

But nothing lasts forever. At the end of the 1960s, their relationship started to fade away, and for the rest of their lives, it was just smouldering pieces of their bygone passion. In 1968, the painter bought Gala a castle in Púbol, Girona, and it was agreed that the painter could not go there without her prior permission. Gala spent much of her time there in the company of young men, for whom she spent a fortune. In his turn, Dali saved himself for the company of attractive young ladies, although he didn’t want anything from them but their beauty. It was said that they held weekly orgies, though, by all accounts, the artist himself didn’t participate except to watch.

In 1980, at the age of 76, Dali was forced to retire due to palsy. The motor disorder left him unable to hold a brush, and as his condition worsened, he became less tolerant of Gala’s continued affairs. Gala was also using income from Dali’s art to lavish money and gifts on her lovers, who were mostly young male artists. One day, the artist had enough. He beat Gala so badly, he broke two of her ribs. To calm him down, Gala gave him large doses of Valium and other sedatives, which made him lethargic. She then allegedly gave him “unknown quantities of one or more types of amphetamine,” which caused “irreversible neural damage.”

Gala Dalí died in Port Lligat, Spain, on June 10, 1982, following a severe case of the flu. She was buried in Púbol, Spain, on the grounds of a castle that was a gift from her husband. At the time of her death, she was involved in an affair with a 22-year-old Jesus Christ Superstar actor named Jeff Fenholt for whom she left Dalí. But when Gala died, Dalí’s life became dull. He stopped eating and scratched his face. He was constantly shouting and crying. He outlived his wife by seven years.

They lived together for 53 years.

[theunderestimator-2]

Lou Reed performing at Copenhagen in September 1973, as captured by Jan Persson.

"For that 1973 world tour, Reed had put together a fantastic and very energic band they were all from Detroit and they all knew their business. The concept of the tour was to deliver «Berlin» to an eager public. As Reed had been musically brought up in the Warhol’s factory, he had become a master of manipulation and he knew how to bring the hysteria element within his crew. Very high on diverse drugs, Reed silently enjoyed it when all his staff, manager, musicians, roadies and friends, fussed around his person. Andy Warhol had found out the lights concept by himself: «What is needed» suggested the Pope of Pop» is to borrow the light effect conceived by Albert Speer» for what will later be known as the «Hitlerian ceremonies»: White light spots, (whiter than white) and with a tremendous intensity all focussed on Lou Reed on an immense black background. And that’s what they did. The Tour started on September 17 at the Paris Olympia, with eleven European dates to follow. On stage, Lou Reed was wearing black leather. His face was a livid mask and he had an Afro. In Amsterdam, the bootlegers stroke, and realeased a Pirate album called «RocknRoll Animal» That made him laugh and «now here is a title for me» will he declare. Every nights, his big black Mercedes will take him to different venues, and every nights, he’ll arrive at the last moment. And his Roadies had to practically carry him up on stage where he had to stagger to reach the mike. The tour was a colossal success thanks particularly to his guitarists who had found a way to «metallize» his repertoire. His band was driven by an tremendous rhythm section: the drummer Pentti Gian played ocasionally with Steppenwolf, and the bassist Prakash John, had just resigned from Funkadelic to be replaced by Bootsy Collins. The lead guitarist Dick Wagner, had debuted with Frost, a band used to the Grande Ballroom. And so that’s why Steve Hunter was the perfect counterpart: a veritable virtuose who loved to put danger in his technique. Hunter, had once belonged to Detroit (behind Mitch Ryder) and already in the old days he used to cover the Velvet Underground «RocknRoll» on a rather hard mode, and that’s been the option adopted from the beginning to the end of that mythic tour. Every night the two guitarists will have guitar duels in front of eager crowds. Lou Reed was taking all kind of drugs, and his roadies will confess: he took everything coming his way: coke, speed, weed, valium and Johnny Walker Black Label and the roadies had to hide bottles for him into the amps. Rock critics will put it that way: «It’s been like a black mass into a Gothic Cathedral with Heroin as a God». jltambo.wordpress.com

(via)

[carlsdarling]

Please, another part of Sunset Affairs with anguish, where the reader stops the affair with Carl because she loves him and doesn't want to be the lover anymore, but in the end, a sweet Carl who does love her, with some obscenity too. I can't live knowing that Carl doesn't love the reader. 😭🙏💞

Sunset Affairs Part II

Carl finally has to choose between Y/N and Enid because Y/N doesn't want to be just his side bitch anymore. Bit more of a plot, then sex. Everyone is 18 or over.

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw, oral (female receiving)

Your affair with Carl had been continuing for about half a year now, and during the last few weeks your mood had been changing insidiously; had become worse, more and more often you caught yourself feeling sad and angry after one of Carl's flying visits - at first without being able to name a reason for it. At one point, you even cried hard and couldn't stop, so you sought out Denise and asked her for a sedative. "What's got you so upset, Y/N?" inquired Denise, eyeing you anxiously.

"I... I don't know," you sniffled, swallowing the Valium with a glass of water. "Maybe memories have unconsciously come flooding back, of my parents' deaths." But you suspected yourself that that wasn't the case, because the crying episode had only started after Carl had visited you once again, used you sexually in the usual, casual and somehow disinterested way, and then, without saying much, headed back home. To Enid. You had stared at the wool blanket on the couch, and at the soiled Kleenex Carl had quickly cleaned himself with after he had finished, and had abruptly burst into tears.

"It's not healthy to fight negative feelings with pills," Denise preached with a sigh. "It's better to work through them and resolve the situation."

Admittedly, that was easier said than done. After all, after talking to Denise, you got to the point where you finally admitted to yourself that you had developed some feelings for Carl and that it hurt you that he didn't reciprocate them, that for him it was all about pleasure and that you were only good enough for him when Enid didn't feel like sleeping with him, which was often.

However, you had no idea how to "resolve" this situation, to use Denise's words. All that was certain was that your bitterness was growing. Every evening you spent alone in your house, you imagined Carl with Enid, looking at her the way he never looked at you, respecting her and not you, sharing with her all that he was withholding from you. Your frustration kept growing and you suddenly felt hurt, although there was really no reason for it: it had been clear between Carl and you from the beginning that it was just an affair with no deeper meaning, that he was getting from you what he wasn't getting from Enid, and that the fact that you were having sex didn't entitle you to anything. You had to take what Enid left, so to speak, and be happy with it. Carl had never made any secret of the fact that he belonged to Enid and that all he wanted from you was pleasure and stress relief.

Carl didn't show up at your house for a few days, which made you even angrier; you were very torn. On the one hand, you longed for his visit and closeness, but on the other, part of you just wanted to send Carl to hell. And Enid right along with him.

You wanted Carl to look you in the eyes when you slept with each other.

You wanted to cuddle with him afterwards.

You wanted to fall asleep and wake up together with him.

You wanted to share more with him than a quick fuck now and then.

You wanted to stop being his lightning rod.

You wanted to laugh and cry with him and share your life with him.

You wanted to be in Enid's place.

When Carl finally came to see you three days later, the whole thing escalated. You let him in, and as usual, he immediately pulled you to him, threw his hat on the floor, kissed you demandingly, and directed you into the living room - not even taking the time to go upstairs to your bedroom with you, as he so often did. As if you weren't worth it!

But you had sex with him, of course you did, and while he fucked you with his pants down at the back of his knees, not particularly sensitively, without taking off his flannel and shirt and without even really looking at you (his fleeting, disinterested glances to make sure you were coming and he could let himself go didn't count for you) you made a decision.

After Carl finished with a groan, he immediately got up, cleaned himself up, pulled up his pants and walked over to the refrigerator without a word. He rummaged around in it, picked out the cheese and started eating it standing, leaning back against the sink and looking bored. Now that was really the limit. Carl was just using you, even though he wasn't really interested in you, he shot his load into you because it was better than jerking off, and then he didn't care any more about you and now he ate your cheddar with the greatest of ease!

Only with difficulty you could suppress the tears. "Carl," you finally managed to say.

Confused, he looked at you as if you didn't deserve his attention. "What is it? I've had a rough day." His voice sounded annoyed.

"That's exactly what I mean," you replied, unable to keep your voice from breaking. "It's over. I can't do this anymore."

Carl furrowed his brows. "What do you mean? What can't you do anymore?" he asked irritably.

"This!" you replied, starting to sob and pointing accusingly at the couch as if it was the furniture's fault. "You come in here, you fuck me like I'm just a piece of meat, and then you fuck off back to Enid! But first you eat my fridge dry! You treat me like shit!" you screeched.

Carl looked at you as if you had gone crazy. "I thought everything was settled between us?" he asked, puzzled. "I never promised you anything, Y/N, it was clear that I was with Enid, that you and I were just about sex, and that..."

"Yes, and that's over now! I can't do this anymore, Carl! You don't even look at me when you have your dick inside me, probably thinking about Enid!" you sulked.

"Wait a minute, that's nonsense," Carl retorted angrily. "You almost always cum on me, don't you? You have had your fun." He eyed you with folded arms. "You've never complained, anyway."

"That's not the fucking issue! You're only making a point of that so I'll keep allowing you to rail me whenever you feel like it. But I can't anymore, Carl. I... I love you. I don't want to be your side bitch anymore. I want to be more for you. Or never see you here in my house again." Now it was out, and you looked down at the floor with a red face.

"I guess I'd better go, then," Carl muttered, embarrassed and overwhelmed. "Get your mind off it first, and then maybe we can..."

"No, we can't. Why don't you piss off to your Enid, who never wants to sleep with you, and be happy with her anyway, and with your right hand!" you yelled after him as he headed for the front door. "You can pleasure yourself from now on when you're horny and Enid clenches her legs again. I'm not letting you use me anymore, anyway." Carl wordlessly closed the door behind him, and you sank to the floor weeping, broken and humiliated.

                                                 ***

During the next few days, you stayed mostly in the house - no way were you going to run into Carl or Enid. You were mad at yourself, because Carl was actually right: there had been a clear agreement between the two of you, and he had simply stuck to it; and of course you had been willing to let him fuck you. After all, he was Carl Grimes. That you developed feelings for Carl had not been planned, nor was it Carl's fault, and you had no right to expect him to reciprocate those feelings and leave Enid for you.

But anyway, you couldn't continue the affair with Carl any longer because it was breaking you, you had to get over it and forget about him. Of course, that wasn't easy since you both lived in Alexandria and you couldn't stay hiding in the house forever. Possibly moving to Hilltop was an option; you would talk to Maggie, she knew both Gregory and Jesus pretty well. Then you would never have to endure the sight of Carl and Enid as a couple again.

You put your plan into action the very next day and went to Maggie and Glenn's house. Unfortunately, you encountered Carl, of all people, who was sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee with Glenn, but you ignored him and his hello. "Can I talk to you in private?" you said to Maggie. Carl looked puzzled.

The conversation with Maggie revealed that she would help introduce you to Hilltop. Fortunately, she had been discreet enough not to ask why you wanted to go after you said it was private. As you were walking home, you suddenly heard rapid footsteps behind you. "Y/N, will you just wait a second," Carl gasped breathlessly, but you just kept walking. Still, he caught up to you effortlessly and grabbed your shoulder.

"Carl, leave me alone," you spat, "I told you I didn't want to see you anymore! That's so disrespectful of you again!"

He flinched, concerned. "Is it true you want to move away?"

"How do you know?" you asked defensively. "Were you eavesdropping?"

"Yes," he admitted straight out, looking at you faithfully with his one, oceanic eye. "But before you make that final decision...I wanted to talk to you again." Since you hadn't stopped and Carl had followed you, you had reached your house by now and you unlocked the door and allowed Carl to come inside with you, which you were already getting annoyed with yourself for again. After all, you had told him that you didn't want him around anymore, and now you were getting weak again?

You jammed your hands into your sides and scowled at Carl. "So, say what you have to say and then fuck off," you said unkindly.

"I like you too," Carl blurted out in surprise. "I didn't admit that to myself for a long time because... because I wanted the relationship with Enid to work out, but... I couldn't stop thinking about you. I didn't want to let the feelings happen though, so I acted like a jackass and acted like all I wanted from you was random sex, but that hasn't been true for a while now." You were speechless, just staring at Carl until he pulled something out of his pants pocket. It was a jewelry box, and he awkwardly handed it to you. "This... I had gotten it for Enid, but never gave it to her because it suddenly didn't feel right." He cleared his throat tensely. "I'm going to break up with her."

You flipped open the lid of the box. On black velvet lay two gold stud earrings with beautiful purple gemstones. "Carl, these... I don't know what to say," you murmured, overwhelmed by what had happened. "These are marvelous."

Carl approached you cautiously and hugged you more lovingly, unlike before, and he looked into your eyes before kissing you tenderly. "Shall we go upstairs?" he suggested. "I want to make love to you." The new wording didn't slip your mind - earlier, he'd only ever talked about fucking.

Upstairs, you slowly undressed each other, and for the first time you felt that Carl was actually aware of you. You lay down and stroked each other tenderly all over your bodies, kissing each other time and again. "I love you, Y/N," Carl whispered. "I'm so sorry I didn't realize it sooner." He spread your legs and started eating you out, this time taking his time, sliding his tongue deftly over your clit, faster and faster, until you came whimpering and soaking wet, only then he lay on top of you to gently penetrate you. He looked at you steadily as he thrust, and you could have drowned in the blue of his eye. You were squirming underneath him, stroking his lean, smooth back, moaning his name over and over. "Do you like it?" asked Carl breathlessly.

"Carl, yes, oh, I love you, oh Carl, pleeeaaaase," you gasped, kissing his shoulder. This is how you had craved it all along, yearned for this loving kind of intimacy with him. Carl sped up his poundings, paying close attention to your reactions. You came so hard you thought you were going to explode, and Carl brought you to orgasm two more times before allowing himself to cum with loud moans. "Do it inside, please," you begged, wrapping your legs around his hips. You just wanted everything from him, including his cum inside you. Carl squirted warmly inside you, filling your desperate pussy.

Tightly entwined, you then lay together, and Carl tucked the blanket around you, looking at you blissfully. "That's better?"

"Much better," you murmured wearily. "I can finally fall asleep with you."

"I'm yours, Y/N," Carl whispered, kissing you on the forehead. Finally, he was. Outside the window, the sunset was in full view.

--

Tags: @loveforcarl

(Send me a message if you want to be added to the tag list.)

[universitypenguin]

Part Three

The Princess & the Lawyer - Part III

Summary: The bargain is re-negotiated. Lloyd insists on an addendum, then the promise is fulfilled.

Word Count: 4,841

Warnings: No minors. 18+ readers only. Explicit sexual content, dirty talk, mentions of drug use, addiction, brief hint of child abuse in Lloyd's past, previous criminal activity by Lloyd mentioned, and mention of virginity (the reader insert character is a virgin).

Masterlist

Prior Chapter: Part II

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Despite the two drinks he’d consumed, Lloyd was clear headed.

It’d been years since he’d over indulged in alcohol. He was leery of the substance, a natural byproduct of having a raging drunk for a father. Of course, not recognizing the genetic dominance of addiction, he’d gone another direction: drugs. Starting in middle school, he’d smoked weed in bathroom stalls with the rebellious crowd. Then he’d taken to popping an Adderall now and again, to help him concentrate on schoolwork. A few years later, Xanax had been a glorious discovery that made everything just a little bit easier. At Princeton he’d gained access to a wider variety of drugs. Prozac, Vicodin, Percocet, Valium, Ecstasy, Ketamine… and Cocaine. 

The white powder was his biggest weakness. 

He’d taken the first bump sophomore year and been hooked from the get go. His habit was set by the time he’d gone to Cambridge. The NSA hadn’t noticed his addiction problem when they recruited him. Or maybe they hadn’t cared. He never could guess what went on in the head of the decision makers at “The Fort.” He’d worked there four years before getting caught on a random drug screen. Everything had been smoothed over and three more years passed before he’d gotten the ax for a second failed test. 

Things were easier in the private sector. In France, his top desk drawer had been stocked with all his favorite substances. Cocaine, Vicodin, and Xanax. By that point, weed did little for him, which should’ve been a red flag. Detoxing cold turkey in a Paris jail cell had been one heck of a wake up call. Unless he’d experienced that episode himself, he’d still be telling anyone who cared to listen that he was only a recreational user. A person could run their mouth all day, parsing facts and dressing up the truth, but biochemistry didn’t lie. 

He was familiar with being numbed. That was why he was particularly unhappy at the moment. 

You were plastered to him, arms linked around his hips, rambling. Lloyd guided you up the front steps, catching you by the waist as your toe caught on the top stair. He suspected your last drink was hitting, because you were suddenly drunk as a skunk. 

“Careful,” he said. 

“Mmmh.”

You weaved a path down the front hall and turned into the kitchen. Lloyd took a glass from a cabinet and filled it with water. He handed it over and you wrinkled your nose. 

“Don’t you have scotch?”

“You’re way past your limit, Princess. You need to dry out a bit.”

You waved him off. “Nah. I’m more fun when I’m drunk. Is that a bar cart?”

He stepped in front of you, blocking the path to his living room bar. 

“Princess. If you have another, you’re going to pass out in the guest room.” 

“I’ve had way more than this before and didn’t even have a hangover the next morning.”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes as you finally took a sip of water. 

He wondered what he was going to do with you. An hour ago, agreeing had been the only course of action. He didn’t want to risk your safety, and the idea of you taking home a random man disturbed him. Now, his fears had cooled and his more rational brain clicked on to sort through the details. 

You were his soft spot. Everyone from the corner office to the janitorial staff knew he was wrapped around your pinky finger. His buddies often teased him that when you found a serious boyfriend, he’d be devastated. Fortunately, you’d never shown much interest in the courser sex. Until these past few months. 

His friends had been right. Your dating had gotten under his skin, irritating him like a bad rash. The disappointment you showed recounting a romantic misadventure was like a punch in the gut.  Aiden’s disregard for your time, feelings, and effort pissed him off to no end. He’d always been protective of you. Introducing a threatening entity had driven that instinct into hyperdrive. It wasn’t devastation or jealousy he felt, but a helpless anger that melted into hurt. Every sting dating inflicted on you made him bleed. His reaction ran deeper than mere empathy; he could feel your pain. It was as if you were a Voodoo practitioner’s effigy, used to crucify him from a distance. Your dates were a torment he was helpless to escape. 

Lloyd caught your eyes wandering around the room. 

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking this is a big step up from dodging Aiden’s roommate.”

“I bet. Come on.”

He took your hand and led you to the sofa. Lloyd settled into the far left corner. You tucked your knees up and settled, facing him, on the middle cushion. He caught the scowl, presumably because of the distance he’d put between you. It was deliberate. Between the bar and home, reality had sunk in. His worries about your capacity to consent were even stronger now. He needed to test your commitment before this went any further. 

“Wouldn’t the bedroom be more comfortable?”

“I want you clear headed, so we’re going to wait for that buzz to taper off.” 

“But we agreed. You said-”

“I know. Now, I’m stipulating that you’re completely sober before we have sex.” 

Your chin lifted. “This is an addendum to the original contract.” 

“No agreement is perfect on the first draft.” 

“I’m not so drunk I can’t consent.” 

There was a sharpness in your tone that made him suspect you’d been planning on the assistance of liquid courage to get through this. His instincts were usually correct where you were concerned. He felt a rush of gratitude that Aiden had shown his true colors. The boy couldn’t be trusted with this much vulnerability. 

“The addendum isn’t about consent. It’s about your mental state. I want you sober, meaning fully self possessed and aware, not tipsy and buzzed.” 

You pouted. 

“Princess, I have a serious question.” 

“What?”

“Have you texted a friend about where you’re at, who you’re with?”

“No. Why would I? I’m with you.” 

His heart fluttered. Lloyd didn’t know why your casual displays of trust always affected him like this. Even so, he devoured them as if he were a spoiled house cat gobbling down expensive, sushi-grade tuna.

“Alright. But if you’re with someone you don’t know well, make sure you have a friend who can come get you. Just in case.” 

You batted your lashes at him and primped, fussing with a lock of hair. 

“Why can’t we just get started?”

“Because you’re nervous. And still too impaired to satisfy the addendum.” 

“You know, tacking on a bunch of last minute qualifiers to a contract you’ve already signed is rude.” 

“Firstly, I didn’t sign anything. It was only a verbal agreement. And secondly… don’t mistake me for someone who cares about being polite.” 

Your eyes narrowed, and your hands went to the buttons of your blouse. Lloyd seized your wrist.

“What are you doing?”

“Hurrying this along. The agreement doesn’t say I can’t take my clothes off before I’m sober.”

“Let’s obey the spirit of the law, not just the letter.” 

He didn’t expect you to comply. When you lowered your hands he let go, but didn’t relax. Sure enough, you looked him in the eye and kicked off your pumps. They landed under the coffee table. 

“So much for the spirit of the law.” 

You twisted around, range of motion limited by the tight skirt, and crawled into his lap. His lips quirked when you burrowed into his chest, like a kitten nuzzling up to its litter mate. You laid your head on his shoulder, closed your eyes, and moaned when he rubbed your back. You looked so relaxed he almost expected you to fall asleep. 

Then you said, “How long until you agree that I’m sober enough?” 

“An hour and a half.”

“You’re not trying to back out, are you?” 

Lloyd took a hold of your chin. He tilted your head back and watched as your eyes dilated, then fixed on his mouth.

“I won’t leave you hanging. I promise I’ll take care of you.” 

Your lips parted, drawing his eyes. They were still swollen from earlier. He’d kissed the lipstick off and appreciated seeing the plump, unpainted flesh. If you let him kiss you every hour, you’d never need to buy another lip enhancing cosmetic again. 

Lloyd rubbed his nose over yours. He kissed you deep, loving the way your mouth opened instantly for his tongue. He couldn’t help but devour you. When he pulled away, your mouth was positively bee stung. He nipped at the full bottom lip and you shuddered, thighs clenching. Fuck. You were going to be a firecracker. 

You tugged him close and drew his head down. Following your lead, he rolled onto his back. You swung on top and took possession of his mouth. Your lips were satin smooth, and you tasted like whiskey. His hips jerked when you sucked on his tongue. Lloyd groaned at the press of your soft breasts into his hard chest. He doubted anything would ever feel as incredible as having you on top of him, showing him how much you wanted him without hesitation. Lloyd caught your hips as you gyrated against him. 

“Slow down, sweetheart. We have all night.”

You scoffed, and he smiled at the displeased sound. 

“Just remember, you can stop anytime you want. I’ll understand.” 

“Why are you trying to push me out the door?” 

“I’m not. But your feelings could have changed.”

“If they have, they’re more definitive than before. I want this, Lloyd.” 

Relief uncurled in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t want to stop, but he was terrified of damaging your relationship. His jaw tightened and he took a deep breath.

“I… care about you, Princess.” 

The words caught in his throat. It was difficult to shove them past the mental fortifications and articulate how he felt. Your fingers seized on his shirt, as if preparing to hold him down. Belatedly, he realized you’d taken the statement as another attempt to shirk his end of the deal. 

“I’m not backing out. I don’t want to hurt you. What I’m trying to say is that I need you to be clear about what feels good, and what doesn’t.” 

Your expression softened. 

“Okay.”

Then you went for the buttons of his shirt. Lloyd laid back and enjoyed your enthusiasm. How could men think your virginity was a turn off? You were so vivacious. He lifted his hips to allow you to pull out the tails of his dress shirt and finish unbuttoning. Your fine motor skills appeared to be intact. If he were evaluating your ability to drive, he wouldn’t have been comfortable putting you behind the wheel yet, but there were signs you were sobering up. 

“Mmmmhhh… chest hair…” 

Your hands sank into the thickest area, between his pectorals. You licked your lips and stroked. Lloyd’s muscles tightened at the caress. 

“You’re warm,” you said. 

The blood in his veins was blazing from your light, innocent touch. Most of it had flowed south, bringing him to a painful state of arousal. He groaned when you rubbed your thumb over his nipple. Then your mouth was on his chest, trailing kisses down his sternum. 

He hissed. “Fuck.”

You nuzzled the area where his oblique met the swell of his pectoral. Your teeth grazed it, then licked at the sweat. You made a noise like a purr. Lloyd shut his eyes and groaned. He felt as if he were a frog being boiled alive. Your tongue swirled over his nipple and he snarled. He caught the back of your neck and dragged you away. Your exploration was affecting him all too much; if you kept this up, he’d lose control. It was imperative that he remain in control tonight. You wiggled in his restraining grip, but he didn’t let go. 

“Can I take off my clothes now?” 

Lloyd growled. “No.”

“I’m not drunk.” 

“But you’re not sober, either.” 

“Can we at least go to the bedroom?” 

Lloyd flipped you in one smooth move, making you gasp. He used his weight to pin you down and kissed you. 

“Drunk you is willing. But we’re staying here on the couch until you’re totally clear headed. How about you show me all the heavy petting you’ve done? Emphasis on the showing.”

You groaned. He laughed at your frustration. 

“When you’re sober, we can get around to the new stuff. Okay, Princess?” 

You sighed and ran your hands over his shoulders, up his neck, into his hair. He met you halfway for a kiss. It was soft and tender, but sizzling with more passion than any of the sex he’d had in his twenties. When you parted, he was panting, shaken by the intensity. You cupped his face, your eyes filled with emotion. The ease with which you offered such vulnerability captivated him. Like a triple dose of Xanax, it went straight to his head. The sight of your dilated eyes, full of passion, and the gentleness in your touch was dizzying.

Suddenly, he appreciated the danger he was in.  He’d never be able to keep his emotions compartmentalized with you. Fear surged, and he resisted pulling away, only because that would invite another Aiden into the picture. He pushed the negative thoughts away and drew you into a kiss. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Your teeth clashed with Lloyd’s as your tongues battled for dominance. 

His control just wouldn’t crack. Everything you’d done with the boys you’d dated hadn’t even tripped him up. He kept himself in check while teasing you until you were shaking with desire. This time his kiss was hotter, less restrained. You could taste the wildness. You moaned, arching your back and grinding against him, hands fisting in his shirt to hold him close. His mouth veered off to explore your cheeks, the underside of your jaw, and behind your ear. You gasped when he licked behind the lobe and shuddered at the tingle that ran down to your toes when he repeated the action on the other side. His mustache tickled, making you squirm. 

Without warning, Lloyd reached under your skirt. His big, rough hand pushed between your legs. The feeling was new, and thrilling. He nipped at the pounding artery in your throat. You whined. The high pitched cry was startlingly loud in the quiet room. 

“Steady, Princess. You’ve got half an hour of sobering up left.”

You parted your legs and circled his hips. Using their strength, you drew him tight against your heated core. His hand slid to your hip, and he inhaled sharply. 

“Just fuck me right here. On the sofa, on the floor, I don’t care. Please?”  

“You’re all wound up from just a few kisses? Poor baby. I’m going to enjoy taking you apart.”

“I’m ready.”

To prove it, you ground your aching sex against his crotch. The thick ridge under his belt made it obvious he was just as affected as you were. You couldn’t figure out why he wouldn’t give in. 

He flattened his hand on your belly and pushed you down, easily breaking the clasp of your legs. You struggled to hold on, longing for more contact. His eyes flashed in a silent warning as he moved to his knees between your spread legs. You were shocked when he took a fistful of your skirt, right in the middle of the garment, and bunched it up. He eased it higher, over your hips, and took your hand, placing it on the knot of fabric. 

“Hold that, sweetheart.” 

You scrambled to comply. Lloyd gave a low murmur of approval. 

He watched you as he stroked your inner thighs, exploring the sensitive skin. His thumbs rubbed at the hollows of your groin and traced the seam of your panties. The whole time, he studied your expression. You couldn’t help but shiver. His lips curled into a knowing grin. Lloyd stroked his thumb over your cloth covered clit. Your whole body jerked. 

“Lloyd!” 

His index finger slid under the thin cotton. You trembled as the back of his knuckles brushed across your folds. Your panties were soaked with evidence of your desire. He kept rubbing at the cleft of your body, spreading the slickness around, never using enough pressure to give you what you needed. The wildfire of lust inside of you ratcheted higher with each stroke. He slid his fingers down for another pass, pushing the joint of his forefinger into your opening, collecting your juices, and rubbed delicately across the heated flesh, then up, around your clit. You shuddered, tossing your head back, moaning. 

“Please…”

“Shhh.” 

This time he pressed on the little bundle of nerves. Your legs stiffened. You whined and bucked as he did it again. He returned to your opening, collecting more slick, and caressed you again. His fingers move higher and higher… your breath caught in anticipation.

Lloyd stopped. 

“Breathe, Princess.”

You gasped. “Please… oh! Damn it!” 

He pulled his fingers out of your panties and readjusted them. He pried your fingers from the skirt and shoved it down. Your choked noise of protest was ignored. With one arm around your waist, he hauled you onto the far end of the sofa, opposite the corner he’d first sat in. Your back was snug against his front as Lloyd’s arm banded under your breasts. With his free hand, he cupped your right breast. You moaned, arching into the touch. His lips grazed your temple, a soothing sensation amid the raging lust. 

“Someone came prepared. Did you shave, or wax?”

“W-w-wax…” 

He grunted. “Your boy toy wasn’t worth the effort. I’ll make sure you’re treated right. Unbutton your shirt.”

Your hands couldn’t undo the fastenings quickly enough. When you went for the clasp of your bra, Lloyd tightened his arm, preventing you from reaching for the closure. You keened, the firestorm in your belly a painful ache and the heat unbearable. Lloyd kissed your temple again. His fingers teased along the curve of your breast.

“It’s okay. Remember to breathe. It’s just a little foreplay.”

“This… is… torture!”

He chuckled. “Aw, Princess. I bet you did all the teasing with your dates. I think you took charge, set the pace, and never really knew what heavy petting meant.” 

He squeezed your breast, his thumb stroking over the cup of your bra, across the nipple.

“Fuck!”

“Mmmmhh… Have you ever been touched here? Like this?”

“Yes.” 

He petted your nipple through the unlined lace and you arched into his hand. Your brain scrambled as electricity sizzled down your spine, straight to the pulsing muscles in your sex. 

“It wasn’t like this,” you gasped. 

“Well, it takes men a while to figure out how to make a woman smolder.” 

“Smolder?! I’m going to combust!”

Your chest was heaving as he used both hands to lift your breasts, teasing around the peaked nipples, but never touching them. He smoothed his hands down your sides to the waistband of your skirt. His hands were a little rough from calluses, but the toughness was pleasant. Your back bowed as he rubbed your belly. He held you tight, chuckling at your moan. 

“Princess, you need to learn some patience.” 

His hands moved to your shoulders and massaged the tight muscles. You cried, so strung out from desire that you couldn’t form words. You were frothing, livid that he could torment you so effortlessly. The lace bra was suddenly too abrasive on your hypersensitive skin. Your nipples were seized into pinpoints, tighter than ever before. They sizzled, craving his touch. Lloyd plucked at them and you cried out.

“Put your arms around my neck.��

You obeyed, hopeful that compliance would earn you relief. 

He delved into your left bra cup and lightly pinched the nipple. Then he pulled away to knead your breasts through the material. You sobbed, your hands gripping hard around his neck. 

“Come on, honey. Stop whining.” 

“Please. I need more.” 

Abruptly, he undid your bra and pushed it aside. You hissed as his fingers stroked and twisted without the barrier of lace between your bodies. It was electrifying. Your hips wouldn’t stay still. Lloyd’s hand seized your throat. You gasped, not in fear, since the pressure was light, but in excitement at the dominance. He forced your head back and took your mouth. 

He squeezed your throat when you moaned, and it made you quiver. The other hand kept tending to your breast, stroking your nipple. His tongue thrust into your mouth. You whimpered as wetness flooded your panties. He pushed you onto your back, situating your hips on the center cushion. Moving like a predator, he braced his hands on either side of your waist, lingering over your body. Slowly, he lowered his head until his lips touched your sternum. You shivered, so caught up in the moment you couldn’t help but react. 

Desire raced along your nerve endings, straining them until they frayed. Heat poured off your skin. Lloyd licked at the underside of your breast, then lifted it to his mouth. He sealed his lips and drew deeply. Your body jerked. He was merciless as he suckled. It was almost too intense, but so good you couldn’t even cry out. He released the bud and had latched onto the other one before you could take a breath. This time, a yelp escaped as he worked the tender flesh with his tongue. Your arms went around him, fisting in his shirt. 

“Fuck! Lloyd!”

He turned ravenous at your cry. Your body rippled as he lavished attention on your breasts. When your legs jerked together, he slotted a muscular thigh between them, forcing them open. Lloyd made a sound of pleasure as he licked at your straining nipples. You shivered. He nuzzled your collarbone, tasting the sweat that had collected in the hollow before licking it up. 

His mouth slanted over yours for a brief kiss. Then he patted your thigh. 

“Put your legs around my waist.” 

Once you’d locked your ankles around his waist, he stood up. Lloyd squeezed the globes of your ass, his broad hands spanning the entire area. You clung to his shoulders for balance and shivered at the possessive touch. You wanted all the barriers between your bodies gone so you could feel his rough hands on your skin. 

Lloyd carried you towards the bedroom. As he moved, the friction of his chest hair made you gasp. He paused. 

“You okay, Princess?”

“Y-y-yeah… sensitive… your chest hair…”

Your brain was still fuzzy. He caught the meaning and grinned. Then, very deliberately, he pivoted to the wall. Bracing a hand over your head and trapping you with his weight, he pressed himself against you and rubbed. Your muscles went taunt. You quivered, then shuddered. Lloyd crushed you into the wall, flattening you so there was no escape, even as you squirmed. You mewled, keening with physical awareness, and trembled with a tension you’d never felt before. 

“Lloyd! Damn it, please, please…” 

You caught at his shirt, jerking a fist full of material. When he eased back, you moaned at the loss. Lloyd laughed, his eyes dancing with pleasure. 

“Alright, I’ll play nice.” 

In the bedroom, he shut the door and set you down. His eyes were glowing with heat as he stared at you, skimming along your curves like a touch. Awareness sizzled.

“Take it off. Everything. Now.”

Lloyd stepped back. He made no move to undress himself, much to your disappointment. 

His face darkened as you undid the buttons on the waistband of your skirt. You unzipped and shoved it past your hips. Your shirt and bra went next. Getting the uncomfortable lace off your skin was a relief. Finally, you were left in nothing but a pair of Brazilian briefs. You stepped closer to Lloyd and his eyes narrowed. He hooked his fingers under the thin strap on your hip. 

“Everything. Off.” 

You swallowed hard and complied. 

Just as you’d shoved the scrap of material down your legs, Lloyd grabbed your hips and pushed them flush to the wall. You jolted in surprise when he knelt and pushed your legs apart. The broad hands on your inner thighs were a pleasure all of their own. 

Lloyd grunted and glanced up from under his lashes. He nuzzled your folds, his mustache grazing sensitive skin. One leg was jerked over his shoulder as he leaned in, adjusting his position for better access. You were struggling to remember to breathe through the bubbling excitement. Your blood felt thick as if lava was moving through your veins rather than liquid. 

A soft cry escaped when he parted your labia with his fingers and flicked his tongue at your entrance. He teased for a moment, then flattened his tongue, slurping at the wetness that oozed from your body. You grabbed at the wall for balance, and finding it too slick, gripped his shoulders. Lloyd purred. His face was now buried between your legs. You couldn’t see his expression, but his groans vibrated with contentment. Drinking from the wetness of your pussy, he explored higher, each stroke raising just a half centimeter above the last, working towards your clit. 

By the time he licked at the tender bud, you were a wreck of shivering muscles. Your knees were too weak to bear your weight. Lloyd flicked, circled, and stroked. He treated the bundle of nerves like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever uncovered. He was gentle, even more so than you would have been. Despite his delicacy, you were so wound up that every stroke of his tongue was overwhelming. 

“Lloyd!”

“Hang on, Princess. You’re doing great.”

Your hands clenched on his shoulders. It was just in time, because his lips fastened around your clit and he sucked, slow and firm. 

Your knees gave out. 

With a cry, you fell, only to be caught by a brawny arm. Lloyd used the wall and the bulk of his body to hold you in place. When he released your clit, you drew a sharp breath of relief, blinking away tears. 

“Holy shit… Ah!”

He sucked and tapped with his tongue. Your body jerked at the intense sensation. Lloyd growled. He released you, rising to his full height. 

You shuddered against the wall, chest heaving as your head spun. Lloyd wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you upright. His free hand slid into your drenched folds. You lurched onto your tiptoes when he teased your clit. Automatically, you grabbed his wrist to ease the pressure. 

“Let go.”

The tone brokered no discussion, and you released him. He murmured approval and drew you closer. At the moment, he was the only thing keeping you from sliding down the wall. Your hips rolled and your spine twisted as he stroked your clit. You were so wet. His touch was feather light, but so intense that you were already going stiff as your release built. Lloyd kissed your temple. You whined and rutted against his hand, begging for more. 

“You’re so sweet. Kiss me and taste it.” 

Your head fell back against the wall at his demand, your mouth already open in submission. He took your lips, and the added sensation made you quake. You moaned at the tangy zest he pushed into your mouth. 

Fuck, it was so much. Tears streamed down your cheeks as he kept up a steady rhythm on your clit. It was different to feel his big, rough, hand rather than the familiar softness of your own. He gripped you tighter and plunged his tongue deep into your mouth. On the heels of that sensual assault, his finger sank into you. 

His tongue muffled your gasp as he took the access even deeper. You moaned, bucking, taking the digit further, as he eased the kiss into a lazy thrust and parry of your tongues. Your inner muscles rippled around his thick finger. It was much longer than your own, and fit snugly against that sweet spot you could never reach. 

You pushed your hips into his hand and growled in a silent demand. Lloyd broke off the kiss. His finger was still slotted into your pussy as he narrowed his eyes at you. 

“Demanding little princess, aren’t you?” 

“Fuck me,” you said, breathless. 

Lloyd’s lips twitched. He ground his palm into your clit. You keened, your arms snaking around his neck to stay upright as you shuddered. Then he crooked his finger, brushing a spot that made you squeak in surprise as your body rippled. You felt the touch everywhere. Each muscle coiled and quivered as if he’d found a master key to your whole body. 

“Lloyd! Ah, Lloyd…” 

The next curl of his fingers sent electricity zapping through every nerve ending in your body and you wailed. He abruptly withdrew his fingers and raised the creamy digits to his lips. You watched, dazed, as he licked them clean.

“Get on the bed, Princess."

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Next - Part IV