#more hair raisiness

[cheerfullycatholic]

How I feel right now trying to finish this stupid freakin story

[luminalunii97]

I've seen non Iranians admiring the Islamic Republic national football team for not singing the national anthem. And then they were confused as to why iranians were happy that the team lost. Yes not singing the anthem might have consequences for them, but it won't change the fact that these people went to visit Raisi, the Islamic Republic president and bowed to him, posed happily for pictures while we were dealing with Kiam Pirfalak news, and said they don't care about politics and what's going on Iran in an interview, stating that they will focus on the game only. Not singing the anthem is nothing in comparison. And you might think they were under pressure. So were other athletes in Iran, let's see what they did:

Picture on the right is Elnaz Rekabi, an Iranian rock climber who was the first athlete to take off her hijab during Mahsa Amini protests to show her solidarity with people. She's currently under house arrest. she wasn't the first Iranian woman ever doing that. On the left, that's Shohreh Bayat, her story is so sad.

In many interviews I've seen of her, she always cries when she says her story. She was to referee the final of the Women's World Chess Championship a couple of years ago. While in another country she decided to wear her hijab loosely in an act of rebellion. She got warning from Islamic Republic twice and everytime she made it worse. She was asked to apologize but she refused, saying that she wouldn't apologize for what she believes in. At last, even though she wasn't ready to leave everything behind and start from scratch in a foreign country, she decided to ditch the compulsory hijab completely and never come back to Iran, because her life would be in danger if she did. Because of her choice she can't come back to visit her family anymore. her family supported her which made the authorities to force her father to resign (her father was the president of chess association in Gilan, Iran).

Then we had Iranian national beach soccer team. I think they were the first group who refused to sing Islamic republic national anthem. And after they got threatened to sing the anthem, they did something even more iconic. One of the players cut his imaginary hair after he scored.

Then we had these two scenes after scoring. They were recreating an inhuman thing Islamic republic did. The guy on the right is Khodanoor Lajei. He was murdered on bloody Friday in Zahedan. He was a Baloch guy. I'm going to post about Balochs and the thing that's been done to them by Islamic republic in details. For now know that this guy got killed in protests but this picture of him is for a couple of months back. He insulted a Basiji guy or something, Islamic republic police chained him to a pole in the middle of the city to make him an example for others, after beating him. When he asked for water they brought him a cup but they put it out of his reach in front of him and laughed at his thirst. (You see why we hate Islamic Republic, IRGC and Basij?!) The picture got out only after his death because Baloch people didn't think the rest of Iran would care about them enough to react. That broke my heart unspeakably much.

With so much bravery, our national girl's basketball team has been posting photos without mandatory hijab ever since the protests have begun.

Last but not least, Parmida Ghasemi, iranian archer ditching mandatory hijab inside of iran. She took it out for receiving the prize and while she was being photographed.

(Btw, non of these women "forgot" their hijab accidentally. If you're iranian you learn to never forget your hijab since you're 7, the age you start school. Without a formal head wearing you won't be allowed to attend school classes. When you grow up with it, you'll get used to it. You have no idea how weird it feels to not wear a veil in public, I'm still getting used to it.)

we've witnessed many iconic brave moves by our athletes but non of them said we don't give a shit about what's happening in Iran before the game. I'm not saying they won't be redeemed one day, I'm just saying they should work to win their respect back.

[coreene]

Arcane Tower

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Tav

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 1.3k

Summary: Lorelei and Astarion having a little fun on the balcony of the Arcane Tower this time. Happens after the tiefling party, before Astarion’s confession.

Tags: semi-public, p in v sex, creampie.

Read 👇

We used the elevator to travel up to the entrance floor. Turning on the machinery had worked. The defence systems were off. We went around checking the place to make sure it was safe before we called the others over when I stepped onto the balcony. I haven't noticed the view from up there when we were trying to make it down. The Underdark continued to leave me breathless, looking over the water it was impossible darkness ahead but before it was the glow of the land all around us.

"Turrets look offline. Should we get the others?" Astarion asked as he stepped onto the balcony. He chuckled when I didn't respond, utterly lost in the view before us. He came closer and hugged me from behind gazing in the direction I was looking. I leaned into his embrace. For once we were not covered in the blood of our enemies. I smiled as I realized how weird it was to think that.

"It really is beautiful down here." He said with admiration.

I turned around in his arms and looked up into his eyes. "Nothing comes close to you." I said as I put my hands on his face.

He chuckled as his gaze met mine. "Using my lines against me, darling?"

"I would never!" I said with a playful tone.

He leaned down capturing my lips with his. I reached up, my hands wrapping around his neck as his arms pulled me closer to his body. It wasn't long before I deepened the kiss and his hands started journeying lower on my back.

I could already feel my arousal pooling between my legs. It was a crime how easily he turned me on. I felt the push of his body as I leaned on the standing rocky fence. I heard the stone crackle under our weight. Astarion turned us around and slowly pushed me to the wall next to the big doors.

"This should be safer." He whispered between kisses. His mouth slowly moving to my jaw and then to my neck, I could feel myself getting dizzy.

"Others can wait a few more minutes, right?" I said breathless.

"A few more minutes?" He pouted in a breathy voice. "You wound me, darling."

My laugh turned into moans as his hand found its way under my pants. "Astarion," another moan escaped me as he started circling my clit with his fingers.

"What do you want, darling?" He asked in a teasing way. I moved my hand under his coat and started to stroke it over his trousers, earning a moan from him.

"Fuck me, right here, right now." I spoke every between pauses. A groan escaped his lips as he removed his hand and started unlacing my trousers. I tried to do the same but he spun me around, pushing me to the wall with his body. He left kisses to my neck from behind as his hands found the band of my pants and pulled them down. One of his hands continued to work my clit as he freed his cock with the other.

"Look at how wet you are, already," he whispered, amused as his fingers moved on my slit, spreading my arousal.

He stopped for a second, earning a whine from me as he positioned his cock in place. I could feel the pressure from his hand on my stomach as he slowly pushed himself into me. He paused for a second when he bottomed out allowing my walls to adjust to his size. His now free hand found my ass and squeezed it as he started to move.

My hands were on the wall when he leaned over to lavish my neck with kisses. My hands raised to graze his hair as his hips continued their pounding.  Groans and moans were escaping both our lips between their touches. His hand found my clit again as he increased the speed of his movement. My hands moved to the wall for support and I bent over slightly, arching my back. It allowed him to hit that perfect spot while his hand worked my clit bringing me closer and closer to my end.

"Astarion, I'm going to..." I moaned as he moved his hand from my ass to my chest, raising my body.

"Yes, my love, come for me now," he said as he captured my lips.

His pounding has become erratic. I could feel he was getting close to his end. I felt the moans that escaped his lips in our kisses. I felt my legs shake as I came with a scream, my walls fluttering around his dick desperately. I was having trouble standing up as he continued to fuck me through my orgasm. He wrapped his arms around my body as he finally stilled inside me. He moved his hips ever so slightly emptying himself as I felt his climax fill me up. He leaned all of his weight over me, exhausted, pinning me against the wall completely. His head fall onto my shoulder as we both panted.

"I guess we can add this the list of weird places we fucked." I said with a laugh, breathless.

I felt his smile on my neck which turned into a kiss and moved up to my lips. He pulled out of me with care. I could feel his spend dripping out of my cunt as I turned around to face him. His hand moved down to my overstimulated clit, fucking his cum back into me as he whispered. "So delicious."

"You're insatiable." He laughed as he pulled his hand back to tuck himself in. I moved my hands down to pull my pants up and it was just in time.

"Hey guys, we saw the turrets go offline." I heard Karlach say as she stepped onto the balcony. Her eyes went wide, moving from me to Astarion. "By the hells, you two," she said rolling her eyes. "Where the fuck do you find the energy for this every day and every night..."

"Energy for what?" I said with my most innocent tone. Astarion chuckled and I elbowed him.

"Save it, soldier." She raised her hand.

"Did you find them, Karlach?" Shadowheart joined us.

"Yes, I found them." She said with amusement.

"Oh, for the love of... It's not enough I have to hear you two every night – now I have to see it, too?" She spoke in a high-pitched voice holding her hands up to cover her vision of us.

"See what? We weren't doing anything."

“I think they’re onto us, love.” Astarion whispered in my ear.

"Look at Astarion's hair – that's always your mess."

I looked up. His hair did look a little messy. I raised my hands to fix it. I almost forgot the girls’ presence as I did. His deep red eyes, his hungry look whenever I touched him was so captivating.

“Gods, they don’t even see us,” Karlach said exasperated. “We have a tower to explore, come on.”

“Give us a minute, would you?” Astarion asked them in a polite manner shooing them with his hands to the room.

“Don’t do it again,” Shadowheart said as they left. I rolled my eyes – we were not that hungry. Looking at Astarion as he turned back to me, I was not that sure about it.

“We should fix ourselves up a little.” He said waking me from my thoughts. He was right. His coat did cover his unlaced trousers. Mine were truly in need of fixing. We both took some time to look as presentable as possible. He came over combing my hair with his fingers. “There, that should do it.”

I looked up to him with admiration as he straightened my hair.

“What?” He stopped and asked with curious eyes.

I raised on my toes, giving him a quick kiss. “Nothing, let’s go.”

from chapter 15 in Lorelei's Journal

[mariacallous]

TEHRAN—Almost immediately after Iranian authorities announced that President Ebrahim Raisi had died on May 19, black mourning flags were raised across Tehran. Residents in the capital awoke the following day to giant banners on most street corners depicting the late leader with poems and flattering language about him.

Campaign posters are expected to follow soon: According to Iran’s constitution, a new president must be chosen within 50 days of a leader’s death. The vote to elect Raisi’s successor is scheduled for June 28. On Sunday, Interior Minister Ahmad Vahidi officially opened the presidential election season, ordering Iran’s provinces and cities to set up headquarters and committees to run elections within three days. Candidates can register between May 30 and June 3, the country’s Election Headquarters announced.

All candidates must be vetted by the Guardian Council, a 12-member clerical government body, before a two-week campaigning period starts on June 12. The new president will serve a full four-year term after his inauguration.

Saeed Jalili, a hard-liner and Iran’s former chief nuclear negotiator, is considered one of the contenders for the presidency, as is the current acting president, Mohammad Mokhber, who is close to Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei. Former hard-liner President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad told supporters outside his Tehran home that he would consider running. Ali Larijani, the comparatively moderate former speaker of parliament, may also stand in the polls.

The May 19 helicopter crash that killed Raisi also claimed the lives of Foreign Minister Hossein Amir-Abdollahian and six others and triggered five days of mourning—national holidays that culminated in the 63-year-old president’s burial last Thursday at the Imam Reza Shrine in Mashhad, Iran’s holiest site. The funeral drew around 3 million people, according to the city’s mayor. Many traveled from afar by train after a television broadcast advertised free accommodation at hotels and guesthouses. Hamas chief Ismail Haniyeh, who is based in Qatar, visited Tehran on Wednesday for one of Raisi’s funeral processions.

Thousands more gathered at the Shah Abdol-Azim shrine in Rey, a suburb of Tehran, to attend Amir-Abdollahian’s funeral. Chants of “death to Israel, death to America” echoed through the crowds at the shrine, where people waved Iranian, Palestinian, Hezbollah, and Hamas flags. Mourners squeezed tightly into the shrine’s courtyard where, teary-eyed and praying, they threw fresh flowers onto Amir-Abdollahian’s coffin as it arrived for its final rest.

“We’re bidding farewell,” 45-year-old Tahere Mehrabi said, her hands held up in prayer. “The nation is grieving, but we’re hoping for a bright future. That’s also why I’m heading to the polls,” she added.

Islamic scholar Hamid Rajeri, 45, confirmed his intention to vote but added with disgust that he had also seen a different side of Iran “while the whole country was grieving,” referring to social media posts celebrating Raisi’s death. “These martyrs were popular figures and our people are devastated. Those celebrating are hooligans,” he said.

Raisi’s death has exposed further fissures in Iranian society. While millions grieved, others used the unexpected national holiday for an impromptu vacation, traveling to northern Iran’s mountains. In Tehran, groups of students who lacked the funds for trips gathered in coffee shops and parks, playing card games and drinking hot black tea from thermoses.

“Why should we be sad? We know him as the ‘Butcher of Tehran,’” said an 18-year-old engineering student, her bright pink hair uncovered and her ears decked with piercings. She spoke on the condition of anonymity, fearing identification by the government. In the 1980s, Raisi oversaw mass executions of political prisoners, she added.

Under his leadership in 2022, Iran cracked down hard on anti-government protests following the death of 22-year-old Mahsa Amini, who was detained by Iran’s morality police for wearing “improper” clothing and later died in the hospital. “We want justice and political change, but the system is not changing. It’s frustrating,” the student said, sitting on the grass with six of her classmates. When asked if she would vote next month, she shook her head. “Not me, not my friends.”

Raisi, known for his close alignment with the 85-year-old Khamenei, was widely regarded by experts as his potential successor. Raisi assumed office in 2021 after the Guardian Council disqualified several moderate and reformist opponents in that year’s presidential election, triggering record-low voter turnout of 48.8 percent. Experts say that the upcoming election is unlikely to bring significant changes to Iran’s ruling system. Just 41 percent of eligible voters participated in March’s parliamentary election.

“Back in 2021, the supreme leader wanted a true loyalist in power, a supporter of the deep state and the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps,” said Hamidreza Azizi, an expert on Iranian foreign policy and visiting fellow at the German Institute for International and Security Affairs. “Nothing substantial has changed on that front. The government is seeking a safe transition of supreme leaders, so it is unlikely that they will allow outsiders to come in and jeopardize this interest.” Given Khamenei’s age, many are speculating about his health and potential succession.

Azizi does not expect significant changes in voter turnout, either. “Even if moderate and reformist candidates are qualified in the upcoming elections—which isn’t guaranteed—I don’t think people will show up in big numbers,” he said. Dislike of the government is also widespread among Iranians, Azizi said. The urban middle class has expressed this sentiment on social media and via social disobedience, such as women’s refusal to wear the mandatory headscarf. Dissatisfaction has grown in smaller, lower-income towns, too, where residents have launched sporadic protests against the government over economic struggles.

“The reality is that all Iranians suffer from economic, social, and political restrictions, and there is no immediate solution in sight—especially as long as foreign sanctions and systemic corruption exist,” Azizi added.

However, some experts argue that the upcoming snap election presents an opportunity for change in Iran. “Last time, the Guardian Council disqualified several people, but it appears they will have a more inclusive approach this time, mostly due to the low voter turnout during the 2021 polls and the criticism the council faced,” explained Afifeh Abedi, a reformist parliamentary candidate for the Tehran constituency who ran in Iran’s legislative elections this spring.

With official campaigns set to start on June 12, Abedi hopes that a more inclusive approach to elections and candidate qualification will bring Iranians to the polls—especially in the capital, where voter participation has been lower than in other provinces.

As the mourning period and funerals concluded last Friday, Tehran returned to normalcy, save for the Raisi banners and black flags. Shops were open, and restaurants were packed. Over the weekend, students strolled down the city center’s Enghelab Street, rummaging through bookstores and ordering saffron ice cream floats with carrot juice. In the evenings, dozens of people gathered on a hilltop dubbed the “roof of Tehran” to watch the sun set over the city. Children flew kites, young couples sat listening to music, and families poured cups of tea.

“Between sanctions, politics, and the economy, life isn’t easy here,” a 20-year-old woman said as she sat with her friends after trekking up the hill, staring into the city lights. She, too, spoke on the condition of anonymity to protect her safety. “Many young people want to leave, but after all, this is our country. This is our culture. It’s home—and regardless of the circumstances, leaving home is not easy.”

[underthewingsofthblackeagle]

Iran Protests and their history

          Protests in Iran continue after the death of a 22-year-old Kurdish woman in custody of the so-called morality police. Mahsa Amini died last week after being detained for allegedly leaving some of her hair visible in violation of an Iranian law requiring women to cover their heads. Witnesses said Amini was severely beaten by police, but authorities claim she died of natural causes. Thousands of people, often led by young women, have taken to the streets in outrage over Amini's death, chanting slogans against the morality police and the government, with some burning their headscarves in a show of defiance. "This anger against the morality police and the violence they are committing on the streets has been building up for years," says Iranian American journalist Negar Mortazavi.

          Thousands of demonstrators on Wednesday marched through the streets of Iran amid unrest over the death of Mahsa Amini. The 22-year-old woman died in police custody after she was arrested for allegedly wearing a headscarf in an "improper" way under the Islamic Republic's strict dress code for women.

          Iranians in the capital, Tehran, as well as at universities around the country took to the streets for a third straight day to protest the death of 22-year-old Masha Amini at the hands of Iranian authorities. Five people were said to have been killed during the demonstrations in Iran's Kurdish region on Monday after security forces opened fire on the protesters. There were reports of internet outages across Tehran and Kurdish areas of the country, as well as of riot police dispersing crowds in the capital. The London-based watchdog group NetBlocks confirmed, "near-total disruption to internet connectivity in Sanandaj, the capital of the Kurdistan Province in west Iran," according to a tweet released Monday evening. The international rights group Hengaw on Monday claimed two individuals had been killed in protests in the Kurdish city of Divandarreh. Iranian officials rejected, "some claims of deaths on social media," saying only that arrests had been made. Masha Amini was arrested by Iran's morality police last Tuesday after they found her in violation of the country's dress code, which requires women to wear head coverings. While in custody, Amini collapsed and was rushed to hospital where she was declared dead. Police deny Amini was mistreated, claiming she died of a heart attack. But her family says she had no record of illness and was in perfectly good health when she was arrested. Police also released closed-circuit video supposedly showing Amini in the police station at the moment she collapsed. Protests erupted Saturday when Amini, who is Kurdish, was buried in her western Iran home of Saqez. Protesters smashed windows and set dumpsters ablaze before police made several arrests and fired teargas to disperse crowds. Iranian President Ebrahim Raisi spoke with Amini's family and promised a full investigation. Judicial and parliamentary investigations have been ordered, as well. On Monday, more protests were staged at universities around Iran. Demonstrators called for transparency on Amini's death as well as the dismantling of the morality police. The unit, which enforces clothing and other infractions, has been criticized for its treatment of those it arrests, especially young women. In Washington, DC, the White House called for accountability, labeling Amini's death an "appalling and egregious affront to human rights" and demanding that Iran "end its use of violence against women for exercising their fundamental freedoms." France's Ministry of Foreign Affairs also condemned the arrest and violence that led to the death of Amini. The ministry said that the death of the Iranian woman at the hands of Iran's morality police is "profoundly shocking", calling for a transparent investigation to examine the circumstances of her death. Women have been legally obliged to wear hijabs in Iran since the Islamic Republic was founded in 1979.

          Thousands of demonstrators on Wednesday marched through the streets of Iran amid unrest over the death of Mahsa Amini. The 22-year-old woman died in police custody after she was arrested for allegedly wearing a headscarf in an "improper" way under the Islamic Republic's strict dress code for women. Officials said on Wednesday that two people, including a police officer, died overnight as security forces tried to disperse protesters. The figure brings the death toll to six. Meanwhile in Istanbul, a woman cut her hair during a protest outside the Iranian consulate in solidarity with Amini. Dozens of Iranian and Turkish women outside the consulate carried portraits of Amini and banners in support of women's rights. Internet disruptions Access to Instagram in Iran was disrupted on Wednesday, according to the London-based monitoring group NetBlocks. The platform has already been one of the few Western social media sites available in Iran as Tehran blocks Facebook, Telegram, Twitter and YouTube. Separately, Iranian government websites came under what appeared to be a cyberattack. Hackers have claimed responsibility for the apparent attack. In recent years, dissident hackers have targeted the Iranian government with cyberattacks. Tehran has blamed many of those attacks on Israel. Raisi condemns West's 'double standards' Addressing the UN General Assembly on Wednesday, Iran's President Ebrahim Raisi accused the West of "double standards" after several Western countries raised concerns over women's rights in Iran. The hardline cleric pointed to the deaths of Indigenous women in Canada, the so-called "Islamic State" (IS) group's "savagery" against women from religious minority groups and actions by Israeli security forces in Palestinian territories. "So long as we have this double standard, where attention is solely focused on one side and not all equally, we will not have true justice and fairness," Raisi said.

[calacuspr]

Calacus Monthly Hit & Miss – FIFA & Iran Football

Every month we look at the best and worst communicators in the sports world.

HIT – IRAN FOOTBALL

The controversial 2022 FIFA World Cup kicked off in Qatar in late November, engendering mixed emotions with a love of football sitting uneasily alongside feelings of disquiet and anger about human rights.

When Iran faced England in their first game of the tournament, it prompted more political controversy with Iran’s players making a courageous yet silent protest that has had the largest impact of all.

Mass protests have been rife in Iran following the death of Mahsa Amini in custody in September, a 22-year-old woman who was detained for not conforming to the strict rules around head coverings.

Human rights activists have reported that more than 400 protesters have been killed so far, and a further 16,000 detained by Iran’s security forces.

In a pre-match press conference, defender Ehsan Hajsafi expressed his solidarity. “In the name of God, creator of rainbows” expressing his condolences for the grieving families at home.

“They should know that we are with them and we support them and we sympathise with them regarding the conditions.

“We have to accept the conditions in our country are not right and our people are not happy. We are here but it does not mean we should not be their voice or we must not respect them.

“Whatever we have is from them. We have to fight. We have to perform and score some goals to present the brave people of Iran with a result. I hope conditions change as to the expectations of the people.”

The national team had previously come under fire for meeting with President Ebrahim Raisi prior to the tournament, with fans accusing the squad of siding with the government and “not being representative of them but of the clerical establishment.”

In support of the anti-government protests, Iran’s players then refused to sing their national anthem ahead of the Group B match. The statement was both deftly designed and immensely powerful.

This was not the first time the Iranian side had made a protest to distance themselves from their government, having covered up their national team badge during two warm-up games in September. The majority of the side also refused to sing the national anthem in their match against Nicaragua.

Activist Negin Shiraghaei believes their protest is too little too late.

She said: “There are pictures of them bowing in front of the Islamic Republic’s president. And that made people really furious, because for weeks now there has been outcry from the people, from the public, saying you have to show solidarity to the victims of brutal oppression and crackdown inside the country.

“There is a lot of rage and I think it's completely justified. At the same time, they were in front of the president, there were people getting killed on the streets.

“[Not playing is] the only way they can come back from this as the heroes. But I don't have that much hope.”

Masih Alinejad, another activist based in New York added: “Iran is the only country in the World Cup that its people want their national football team to lose since the team doesn't represent the people but the regime.”

The uprising against the national team was apparent in their home country as crowds on the streets hailed the comprehensive 6-2 England victory.

Despite this, the protest of the players was echoed in the crowd. Chants of “Ali Karimi”, a former Iranian footballer and coach, and outspoken critic of the Islamic regime, rang out throughout the game and Iranian fans held signs with the message “Woman, Life, Freedom”.

Amongst the sea of signs and flags, women were seen with their hair fully on display, draped in Iranian flags, a symbolic and poignant image.

Some Iranian players had bravely made their opinions abundantly clear ahead of the tournament.  

Brentford Midfielder and Iranian International Saman Ghoddos expressed his solidarity with the protestors: “Of course, I don’t want to mix politics with football but football is coming to the side right now, because people are losing their lives fighting for freedom.

“Clearly a change needs to come and it’s already been going on for so long. We all want to change.

“If you think it’s the right thing to do, I think you should [speak out] because you are a famous athlete. If you can put a light on what’s going on you should do it – with the pressure or without the pressure because it’s the right thing to do.”

Ghoddos continued “What the people want is nothing special, it’s just freedom. I don’t want to say ‘Yeah, go fight for it’ because I don’t think violence is the right way. But something has to change and this has been going on for too long.”

These acts of defiance do not come without risk for the Iranian team, with the chairman of the Tehran city council saying: “We will never allow anyone to insult our anthem and flag.”

There were also calls from an MP in Kurdistan for the Iranian national team to be replaced with youthful and revolutionary individuals.

The Iranian authorities continue to suppress dissent regardless of profile, as Iranian ex-international footballer Voria Ghafouri was recently detained after a training session with his club Foolad Khuzestan for supporting the riots and taking part in “propaganda against the regime.”

When asked about potential repercussions, Iran’s manager Carlos Queiroz said the players were “free to protest” about their beliefs regarding the situation in their home country as long as it “conforms with the World Cup regulations and is in the spirit of the game.”

However, two members of their international football team were arrested and later released on bail with charges related to the protests hours before Iran’s kick-off against the USA.

Despite extensive coverage of the game around the world, pro-government press in Iran made no mention of the protest and cut coverage of the national anthem on Iran State TV, with the silent protest only reported by reformist press.

To negate the Iranian media’s efforts, Sadar Azmoun, the Bayer Leverkusen forward, wrote on Instagram: “At worst I’ll be kicked out of the national team, which is a small price to pay for even a single strand of Iranian women’s hair. Shame on you for killing the people.”

The potential repercussions of refusing to sing their national anthem has triggered a change in approach from the Iran team. 

They ended their silent protest and sung their national anthem, although for some it was a gentle murmuring, before their game against Wales, to a reception of heavy booing from the Iran supporters inside the Ahmed bin Ali Stadium.

The protest has also highlighted the segregation amongst the fans with tension growing between pro-government and anti-government fans outside the stadium, while security staff confiscated anti-government political materials inside the arena.

However, the ongoing protest in Qatar has conveyed the message that rather than being an extension of the regime, these courageous players are using the platform the World Cup has given them to speak loudly for tolerance and freedom, a lesson several nations would do well to reflect on.

MISS – FIFA

When Russia and Qatar were awarded the 2018 and 2022 FIFA World Cups respectively, cynics in the world of sport were far from surprised.

The word ‘corruption’ should not be bandied around lightly, but the fact that the Department of Justice in the United States served indictments to some connected to the bidding amid accusations of bribery has overshadowed the international governing body ever since.

One could argue that FIFA got away with one when it came to Russia 2018, with little more than murmuring about human rights despite the host’s questionable policies.

There were reports of more than 100 men going missing in the Russian republic of Chechnya after the launch of an anti-gay campaign.

A��UK Foreign Affairs Committee report released ahead of the tournament said that LGBT individuals would be at “significant risk,” as they “not only face the risk of violence from vigilante groups, but lack adequate protection from the state.”

Ultimately the tournament passed without major incident, giving Russian president Vladimir Putin the PR coup he wanted to build his popularity before the move towards war against Ukraine this year.

With the four-year cycle switching to Qatar, the global consciousness – and the global conscience for that matter – has been far more vociferous given the controversies that have overshadowed the tournament.

Earlier this year, Norwegian football President Lise Klaveness, spoke at the 72nd FIFA Congress and remarked: “FIFA must act as a role model. Our game can inspire dreams and break down barriers, but as leaders, we must do it right to the highest standards.

“In 2010, the World Cup was awarded by FIFA in unacceptable ways with unacceptable consequences. There is no room for employers who do not secure the freedom and safety of World Cup workers. No room for hosts that cannot legally guarantee the safety and respect of LGBTQ+ people coming to this theatre of dreams.”

It's fair to say that, while admirable of Klaveness, his sentiments have not been heeded.

While there is a dispute over the numbers, the Guardian estimates that there have been 6,500 migrant deaths over 10 years, with those helping to build the stadia and infrastructure living and working in terrible conditions which has seen the tournament labelled “The World Cup built on modern slavery.”

The tournament was also moved from summer to winter, cutting across the domestic season in European leagues to add further controversy to the event.

While hosting a major sports competition is often positioned as a tool for positive change, Human Rights Watch criticised the Qatari authorities for its discriminatory male guardianship system which gives few rights to women. And little if no progress has been made.

Any faint hope that FIFA President Gianni Infantino would take the Organising Committee to task appeared impossible after reports in the Swiss newspaper SonntagsBlick that he had moved to Qatar himself.

The organisers have done little to change the narrative,  with images of unfinished or spartan fan tent accommodation compared to the ill-fated Fyre Fest, and when FIFA needed some good news on the eve of the tournament, they scored another own goal.

With top sponsors paying up to $100m to be part of the four-year cycle, it came as a shock that Qatar’s strict alcohol controls were being extended with no alcohol sold at stadia apart from in the hospitality sections.

Leading partner Budweiser would be the biggest loser, and have valiantly tried to put a positive spin on developments by announcing that fans of the World Cup winners will get the beer that would have been sold at the event.

On the eve of the tournament, a leader with more humility might have accepted that mistakes had been made and lessons could be learnt.

No leader with a shred of integrity, especially not one with an ego and wanting to leave a positive legacy, would want to have blood on their hands and ignore the huge elephants in the room.

But Infantino is not that man, and used his press conference to lash out bizarrely at his critics.

“Today I have very strong feelings, I can tell you.” said Infantino.

“Today I feel Qatari. Today I feel Arab. Today I feel African. Today I feel gay. Today I feel disabled. Today I feel a migrant worker.

“For what we Europeans have been doing for the last 3,000 years around the world, we should be apologising for the next 3,000 years.

“You want to stay at home and say how bad they are, these Arabs, these Muslims, because it’s not allowed to be publicly gay. I believe it should be allowed. But it is a process. If someone thinks that hammering and criticising will achieve something, well I can tell you it will be exactly the opposite. It will close more doors.

“They (Qatar) have confirmed and I can confirm that everyone is welcome. If you have a person here and there who says the opposite, it’s not the opinion of the country, it’s certainly not the opinion of FIFA.”

We cannot ignore the fact that Infantino, whether as a distraction or as part of some vast stream of consciousness, then suggested that secretive pariah state North Korea, guilty of weapons testing in recent months that could escalate into war, could be considered for a future World Cup, to help bring people together.

Nicholas McGeehan, director of the human rights group FairSquare, was critical of Infantino’s remarks.

He said: “Infantino’s comments were as crass as they were clumsy and suggest that the FIFA president is getting his talking points directly from the Qatari authorities.

“Deflection and whataboutery have always been at the core of Qatar’s PR efforts to defend its rank failures, and now they have the FIFA president doing their work for them.”

Amnesty International also released a statement, saying: “In brushing aside legitimate human rights criticisms, Gianni Infantino is dismissing the enormous price paid by migrant workers to make his flagship tournament possible – as well as FIFA’s responsibility for it.

“Demands for equality, dignity and compensation cannot be treated as some sort of culture war – they are universal human rights that FIFA has committed to respect in its own statutes.”

There is very little at this point that FIFA could do to make things worse – but they have done so by threatening players with a caution or worse if they wear a rainbow armband with “One Love” written on it.

Teams including England, Wales, Belgium, Holland, Switzerland, Denmark, and Germany had all announced in October that they would wear the OneLove rainbow captain’s armband as an act of solidarity with the LGBTQ+ community who are criminalised in Qatar. 

Hours before England’s opening game against Iran, the nations issued a joint statement confirming that they would now not wear the armbands or risk a yellow card.

"We are very frustrated by the FIFA decision which we believe is unprecedented." read the statement.

"FIFA has been very clear that it will impose sporting sanctions if our captains wear the armbands on the field of play. We were prepared to pay fines that would normally apply to breaches of kit regulations and had a strong commitment to wearing the armband. However, we cannot put our players in the situation where they might be booked or even forced to leave the field of play."

America's top diplomat criticised the decision and said it was “always concerning... when we see any restrictions on freedom of expression. It’s especially so when the expression is for diversity and for inclusion.

"And in my judgment, no one on a football pitch should be forced to choose between supporting these values and playing for their team.”

Some would argue that to defy the threats would have been one of football’s ‘Jesse Owens’ moments, citing the black sprinter who won four gold medals at the 1936 Olympic Games in Berlin which were seen as a showpiece for the Third Reich and their Nazi leader Adolf Hitler.

It’s also hard to argue that a protest with permission is as meaningful as one done on instinct or conviction.

The German Football Federation’s media director, Steffen Simon, explained that England had been put under severe pressure not to wear the armbands and that they were considering legal action against the governing body.

He commented: “The tournament director went to the English team and talked about multiple rule violations and threatened with massive sporting sanctions without specifying what these would be.

“We were in an extreme situation, in an extreme blackmail and we thought we had to take that decision without wanting to do so.

“We lost the armband and it is very painful but we are the same people as before with the same values. We are not impostors who claim they have values and then betray them. I can understand the disappointment. We had the choice between the plague and cholera.

“FIFA has forbidden us from using a symbol of diversity and human rights. It said the ban would be linked to massive penalties (in the nature of) sporting sanctions without concretising exactly what it meant. The DFB is keen to clarify whether Fifa’s procedure is in fact legitimate.”

The fact that the German team did their team photo for their opening game against Japan with hands over their mouths and then Germany interior minister Nancy Faeser wore the armband as she sat next to Infantino in the stands of their opening game against Japan.

Germany head coach Flick explained: “It was a sign, a message that we wanted to send out. We wanted to convey the message that Fifa is silencing us," he said after his side's 2-1 defeat.

The Germany football federation (DFB) said on Twitter: "It wasn't about making a political statement.

"Human rights are non-negotiable. That should be taken for granted, but it still isn't the case. That's why this message is so important to us.

"Denying us the armband is the same as denying us a voice. We stand by our position."

In another move to underline a lack of tolerance, FIFA banned Belgium’s away kit which has the word "Love" on the collar and a rainbow-coloured trim on the shirt standing for diversity, equality and inclusivity.

Belgium's Jan Vertonghen said he is "afraid" to talk about human rights after the rainbow-themed armbands were banned at the World Cup.

He said: "I'm afraid if I say something about this I might not be able to play tomorrow.

"It's an experience I've never felt in football before. I feel controlled. I'm afraid to even say something about this.

"We're just saying normal things about racism and discrimination and if you can't even say things about it, that says it all. I want to appear on the pitch tomorrow, so I'll leave it at that."

But the fact that Wales fans later had rainbow hats confiscated by local authorities while renowned journalist Grant Wahl was refused entry to the United States game and blogged: “The entire episode left me wondering: What's it like for ordinary Qataris who might wear a rainbow shirt when the world isn't watching here? What's that like?”

The Football Supporters Association made a statement which summed up where football has descended: “To paraphrase FIFA president Gianni Infantino – today LGBT+ football supporters and their allies will feel angry. Today we feel betrayed.

“Today we feel contempt for an organisation that has shown its true values by giving the yellow card to players and the red card to tolerance.

“Never again should a World Cup be handed out solely on the basis of money and infrastructure. No country which falls short on LGBT+ rights, women’s rights, worker’s rights or any other universal human right should be given the honour of hosting a World Cup.

“Since 2010 we have been raising questions about the suitability of Qatar as a World Cup host. Everyone could see this coming and it’s astonishing that, on the morning of England’s World Cup opener, FIFA are censoring players and the nine national FAs – including the FA and FAW – who wish to share a positive message.”

Qatar hit back, with their World Cup chief Hassan Al-Thawadi said the armbands were sending out a "divisive message", which he thinks it as a protest against Islamic values and an Islamic country hosting a major event. His words could be interpreted as an admission that not everyone would be treated equally if their sexual orientation did not follow Qatar’s laws.

Nevertheless, credit to British Sports Minister Stuart Andrew, who happens to be gay, who wore the OneLove armband during England’s 3-0 victory over Wales and said: "In the unique position I have, as a sports minister, I feel I have to represent everybody and to say to FIFA to please have a look at these issues.

"There are a lot of fans out there who want to come and support their teams. We have a great match going on tonight, it's just sad some people feel they can't come."

With the World Cup being held in Canada, the United States and Mexico in 2026, FIFA has plenty of time to address its own shortcomings.

Whether it has the appetite to do so remains to be seen.

[neil-gaiman]

Dear Neil.

There's a tragedy happening in Iran, we're being shot in the streets, my brothers and sisters are dying, my government is committing war crimes and as a fellow human being I'm desperately asking for your help to raise awareness.

Mahsa Amini was a 22-year-old woman who was brutally murdered by the Islamic Republic of Iran's so-called "morality police." Her crime? Showing hair in public and "dressing inappropriately." Any human being with a pair of working eyes who has seen pictures of her prior to her murder can see that not only was her dress not inappropriate, but also that she (and a lot of women in Iran) had covered herself more than any other woman in any other part of world is obligated to.This sparked fury among the people of Iran and a wave of nation-wide protests broke out as the result. But don't get it wrong. This was only the straw that broke the camel's back and was the result of 43 years of unmitigated oppression and cruelty that the people of Iran have been subjected to. Every Iranian is branded a Muslim from birth and they're not given a choice. You cannot identify as an atheist and other religious minorities are treated horribly with a lot of their rights stripped from them. There's been a long history of cruelty against Bahai people in Iran, for example. We're not forced to be muslims in name only. We're also forced to act like muslims and learn all the muslim teachings, hijab being one of the many ideals shoved down our throat. And of course, converting from Islam to other religions or no religion is punishable by death. This savagery is not part of our culture or law; it is not part of any humanitarian law to kill women for showing hair and exercising their right to bodily autonomy for that matter.Up until now, the government forces have been violent and ruthless in their attempts to stump out our protests. They've shot people from a 63 year old woman to a 10 year old girl, killing them all without mercy. The Internet has been cut out in several places and reportedly, they've brought out tanks and used military-grade bullets in the city of Sanandaj, where the Internet has been shut down for two days as of September 21. Meanwhile, president Ibrahim Raisi is giving a lecture in the UN, babbling about saving the people of Palestine and justice in the world while his own forces are brutally murdering ordinary people and protesters in Iran.At this point, we're in danger of being cut off from the world when the whole internet finally shuts down. This is not a speculation. The same thing happened in the nation-wide protests of 2019 and the government proceeded to kill all the protesters in absolute radio silence. A lot of protesters were found with cement blocks tied to their ankles and thrown in the river after the successfully stumped the protests out. We don't want the same thing to happen to our children and people again. If you hear no more news from Iran, things haven't settled down. We are being silently killed off and executed.You might think you don't have anything to do with this, but think again about why you all involved yourselves in the war between Ukraine and Russia. This is not any different. Our people have waged a war against their government and none of them are people who willingly chose violence. They are normal people who want nothing more than a normal life, which is what the Islamic regime has taken from them. If you have an ounce of humanity and empathy within yourself, you'll spread the word around and not let this injustice go unanswered and unpunished.There's nothing more to be said.

As an Iranian woman who always read your books and who always raised up her voice, I need help now. We can Breathe anymore! I fought for poc, I raised my voice for ukraine. Now I need yours. I'm a young author. I can have a future... a free one! but my government took it from me. Please be my voice ... our voice!!

I'm happy to let people know, yes. And it's heartbreaking.

Here's the BBC on what's happening:

[dispatchesfromtheclasswar]

[VIDEO 🎥] Iran: Hundreds of protesters chase the riot police in Amol city ⭕️ Mahsa Amini, a 22-year-old Kurd, died in Iran on Friday 16 September 2022 after three days in a coma, following her violent arrest by the notorious "morality police" for allegedly infringing hijab rules amid Iranian crackdown on women’s dress.

Mahsa Amini was travelling with her family from Iran’s western province of Kurdistan to the capital, Tehran, to visit relatives when she was reportedly arrested for failing to meet the country’s strict rules on women’s dress, ie, not wearing the hijab and her trousers "correctly" and was brutally beaten in a police van, according to witnesses.

The news comes weeks after Iran’s hardline president, Ebrahim Raisi, called for stricter enforcement of the country’s mandatory dress code, which has required all women to wear the hijab head-covering.

According to Hrana, an Iranian human rights organisation, Amini’s family were told during her arrest that she would be released after a “re-education session”. But Amini was in a coma her family said, adding that they were told by hospital staff that she was brain dead.

The news of her death has unleashed fury in the streets against the unaccountable and often brutal treatment handed out to women by this branch of the police.

Three more people have died since the government launched a crackdown on demonstrations.

As a sign of protest Iranian women are burning their headscarves and cutting off their hair in anger and protest. You can check out also these videos from the riots: Iran: Women burning their hijabs after the death of 22-year-old Mahsa Amini by the morality police: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L7jNwP978Ds Iran: Cops with guns, tasers and batons overrun by unarmed protesters: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1LCqGmDe1a4 Iran: Women smash police cars and set them on fire: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SZ5-eW1BjfE

[blu-joons]

Crisis Talks ~ Bang Chan

A sigh came from you as you placed the photo frame back on the coffee table, reminding yourself of happier times. As you looked at the photo, both you and Chan wore wide smiles as you celebrated backstage at his tour. It was by far one of your favourite photos of the two of you and seemed these days to be nothing but a distant memory too.

The smile that you had that day was a smile that you hadn’t seen for a long time, just like the figure before you. The time that you spent together seemed to not exist anymore as time and time again Chan wrapped himself up in work at the studio.

You were left at home pondering, with plenty of time on your hands to think. You couldn’t remember the last time that the two of you were happy like that, spent time together like that, and loved each other like you did in that photo too.

There was no response from you, like usual, when Chan eventually came home that night. You’d distanced yourself from the situation, isolated him from your life a lot of the time too, treating him more like a housemate then a boyfriend anymore.

“I wasn’t expecting you to still be up,” he smiled across at you as he walked through into the room.

“I didn’t want to go to sleep yet,” you responded.

His head nodded as he sat down on the sofa, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table, with little care his foot knocked the photo frame and sent it toppling. Your eyes watched, waiting for Chan to pick it up, but he didn’t move at all, ignoring what he had done.

Your head shook as you leant forwards and picked up the frame, slamming it down on the table as you put it down to make Chan job. “Careful, you’ll break that Y/N.”

“It doesn’t matter if I do anyway,” you remarked, leaning back against the sofa, “what’s inside the frame is probably already broken anyway, isn’t it?”

Chan’s eyes flickered across to see what was inside the photo frame, feeling his stomach knot as he took a look at the picture. Just as it did for you, it made his stomach knot too, still it was by far one of Chan’s favourite memories with you.

“Y-you think that we’re broken.”

“We’re certainly breaking,��� you calmly responded, staring down to the ground as Chan looked across at you. “When was the last time we were that couple? When was the last time that we spent longer than half an hour with each other and actually talked?”

A sigh came from Chan as his hand ran through his hair, “I admit that maybe things have been a little different between the two of us, but it’s unfair to say that we’re breaking Y/N, we still love each other, don’t we?”

“Is love the only thing that we need to keep us together though?”

Your words cut through Chan harshly, shrugging his shoulders as you continued to look away. He didn’t quite know what to say as you spoke, finding himself feeling as if you were beginning to slip away from him.

“Things are so different these days Chan, it feels like we’re living two different lives these days. This place is more like a hostel for us both than a home, we might be in the same space sometimes, but that’s all it is, two individuals under the same roof.”

His eyes went wide as you continued to speak, “I thought that we were alright, I mean all couples go through a bit of a rough patch.”

“Doesn’t that say a lot about the attention that you pay?”

You were harsh, but it was what you hoped Chan needed to hear to make him realise that things couldn’t continue as they were. He might’ve still been comfortable, but you were far from it, feeling yourself tip towards the edge.

“How long do we carry on barely speaking? Is it a forever thing?”

He could hear the anguish in your voice, the build up of frustration that had bubbled over time, finally surfacing now that you had the chance to talk to Chan.

“If this is how things are going to be forever, then I really don’t see how things can continue like this, we’re going to end up making ourselves miserable.”

“Don’t break up with me,” he suddenly whimpered.

“Then help me to fix our relationship,” you replied, raising your voice slightly as you looked across at Chan with a stare, “we need to make changes here, this is no way to continue.”

Chan knew that he had taken on more work, found himself at home a lot less too. What he failed to realise though was how damaging all of that was for your relationship, how the lack of time and acknowledgement was driving a wedge between the two of you.

“I can spend less time at work,” Chan quickly reassured you, shifting his body so that he was facing you properly. “I can be at home more, I can spend more time with you, all I need to do is tell them at work,” he explained, wanting you to see how easy changes could be implemented.

It was all well and good you hearing it, but you wanted to see it from Chan too. “Is that really what you want though? To spend more time with me and give up doing so much work.”

“Of course,” Chan smiled, “what would make you think that’s not what I want?”

“Suddenly you can drop all that work,” you noted.

“I know it might seem like I’m just saying all of the right things, but I promise that I’m not,” Chan responded, shuffling a little closer towards you on the sofa, “but I mean everything too, now I know what I need to do, for our sake Y/N.”

Your relationship was something that Chan had neglected for far too long, he definitely was learning that the hard way. The thought of you walking away was just impossible for him though, something that he didn’t want to see you do.

“I’m not asking for seven days a week, fifty-two weeks of the year, I’m asking for an evening or two every now and then where we can just be with one another,” you told him, “we’re in a relationship, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to just be a normal couple rather than living two separate lives from one another.”

“And you’re completely right too,” Chan quickly assured you, reaching across to loosely rest his hand over yours. “I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel so distant from me. If you’d like to too, I’d love to try and find that couple in the photo again, the happiness that we both felt in that photo is what we should aim for every day.”

“It might take a bit of time, but I think we’ll get there,” you encouraged.

Chan nodded in agreement with you, “I’m willing to put the work in, and I know that you are too. We’ve walked down a dangerous path for too long, it’s about time that we turn around and start walking down the right wrong again.”

“I think so too,” you whispered, “I don’t want us to be one of those couples that end up slipping away from each so easily.”

“I’ll fight,” Chan firmly established, “I know that you’ll fight too, you never lost the fire for the two of us like I seemed to do.”

Your head shook back at him, “this is no one’s fault, this is us Chan.”

“And we’ll fix it together too.”

---

Masterlist

[fromgreecetoanarchy]

[VIDEO 🎥] Iran: Hundreds of protesters chase the riot police in Amol city ⭕️ Mahsa Amini, a 22-year-old Kurd, died in Iran on Friday 16 September 2022 after three days in a coma, following her violent arrest by the notorious "morality police" for allegedly infringing hijab rules amid Iranian crackdown on women’s dress.

Mahsa Amini was travelling with her family from Iran’s western province of Kurdistan to the capital, Tehran, to visit relatives when she was reportedly arrested for failing to meet the country’s strict rules on women’s dress, ie, not wearing the hijab and her trousers "correctly" and was brutally beaten in a police van, according to witnesses.

The news comes weeks after Iran’s hardline president, Ebrahim Raisi, called for stricter enforcement of the country’s mandatory dress code, which has required all women to wear the hijab head-covering.

According to Hrana, an Iranian human rights organisation, Amini’s family were told during her arrest that she would be released after a “re-education session”. But Amini was in a coma her family said, adding that they were told by hospital staff that she was brain dead.

The news of her death has unleashed fury in the streets against the unaccountable and often brutal treatment handed out to women by this branch of the police.

Three more people have died since the government launched a crackdown on demonstrations.

As a sign of protest Iranian women are burning their headscarves and cutting off their hair in anger and protest.

[a-gal-with-taste]

Gal gal gal!

What about silco with reader as a chem-baron ?

YES. Power-couples of a Underground empire for the WIN-!!!

It's business.

Good, mutual and multi-beneficial, but business is what the two of you have silently chosen to refer your partnership as - it's dangerous to refer to it any anything else.

"It's hardly an enterprise."

Even if sometimes, Silco insists on relabeling it. 'It', often interchanging from a reference to the partnership you've found yourself in with the Eye, or the actual business you are both apart of.

For either topic, you always scoff at such attempts to rename what you have, for it's far easier to keep it strictly business, than anything else.

"I believe the definition of an enterprise is the merge of multi-faceted businesses coming together as one, for common-benefit and profit..." The pillow-talk leaves much to be desired, if it were any other but the King and a Baroness of the Undercity as participants. Smoothing back your hair enough that it won't be immediately obvious to those catching your escape back to your own territory, you raise a brow at the man still reclined-back on his pillows, cigar already finished and wafting in the tray at his bedside. "Feel free to enlighten me if the word enterprise has changed it's definition in the last several hours, but I think it fits well in describing our operation."

Silco's smile is a rare thing to others, but for you, it's a common occurrence, so you're not too surprised to see it. The mirth is a bit different though, and so you pause while reaching for your shoes. "The operation is based on survival, which enterprises hardly lay focus on. While the barons are more than welcome to line their pockets from what they make from the operation, it shouldn't be forgotten why the operation was built in the first place-"

"To gain influence in the Undercity?"

"To redefine control for Zaun." The sole-remaining eye opens, and Silco raises himself on an elbow to look at you, brow raising. "You recall what control meant to Topsiders? How it meant to stifle, instead of inspire that progress they oh-so love to harp on about for the residents above ground?"

You prop your elbow on a knee, chin resting on a fist as you raise a brow at him, curious as you counter, "So, you think the enterprise is an inspiration, then?" Interesting way to spin it... certainly, no one would've expected such leaps in technology, business and powers that the last decade had provided under Silco's control. But regardless of the Zaunite-themed progression the last several years had triggered, you found it difficult to imagine a system built on Shimmer would be one that those would find inspiration from.

"I told you - it's hardly a business." Silco pauses, and you his tongue poke into his cheek as he rolls the word he's considering in his mind for a moment. "It's an empire."

"Hah." You could've told him that - the use of titles like king and baron were rather telling. "And I imagine you fancy yourself it's emperor."

"Of course not. Others may refer to me as such, but I fancy myself a bit more modest than self-titling."

You decide not to point out the fact that there is a giant, neon-green Eye-insignia just outside of the establishment, and instead raise a brow with a small smirk, "Of course not... so, if this is an empire, and some would consider yourself it's emperor... is it everything you wanted?"

Satisfaction is something Silco seems largely unfamiliar with, or at least with display of it.

He certainly never shows it at meetings with the Barons, and you've only been privy to hints of it from the more private meetings between only him and yourself. For those reasons alone, you're unsurprised when he takes a moment to answer, and ultimately responds in the negative - or, in the different, "I had expectations, once. Idyllic, or however close to idyllic as can be gained here. Experience tempered those ideas, and reality forced compromise with much of my plans..."

"But...?" You coaxed, raising a brow and earning the hint of a smirk on his lips.

"But, perhaps the Topsiders have some right ideas with their preaching of progress. Imperfect, but when will Zaun ever be?"

Fair enough. 

You hum your agreement as you stand, reaching over to picking up the remains of the long-sleeve red-shirt from where it’s scattered with the other clothing along the floor. A majority of your own has been returned on your person, but you decide to take your coat back in hand on your return to where the Eye of Zaun lounges, watching you with said eye, and a pensive glint, that grows stronger as you reach out with his shirt, and his question, “So, if we’re all just pieces of your empire, and not partners of your mass-enterprise... should us Barons be expecting to pay a part in your ‘grand dynasty’ for much longer, Silco?”

Business and pleasure goes well between you two - that’s where your relationship seems the most at ease. Teasing is always layered beneath seemingly-innocuous conversations about treaties, heated-debates at the Grand Baron Hall always charged with a frustration not directly related to the topic at hand... 

Your question is drenched in teasing that could relate to both versions of your partnership with Silco, on the future of your business, and where exactly you fit in Silco’s plots of the future of, indeed, his ‘great dynasty.’

You mean it as a joke, a stint of humor, but when he reaches out (hand going to rest over your own, and not on the shirt you attempt to return to him) his expression can only be described as serious. 

"I don't... Barons can be interchanged at a whim. Useful in the moment, but I have no designs for them within the span of the long-term."

You try not to feel the sting from that. You are a Baron, and he's not wrong that your position is interchangeable and regardless - it's just business. "I see..."

There's a squeeze upon your hand, which stops your neutral-response short. Because the squeeze that Silco gives, combined with the look in his eyes, is certainly not one between the label of business-partners you have both agreed to refer to one-another as.

It's a look you're used to seeing, and trying to ignore, while you're in his bed, and the idea of Chem-Barons, Zaun, politics, kings and business, becomes a distant memory for a short time.

"However. I have always envisioned myself with someone at my side. An expectation, if you will, that Zaun would be ruled by myself with another at my side... strictly, in a none-business sense." He adds, a hint of a smirk dancing on his lips that you cling to as evidence that he's joking - but the serious look, combined with the warm squeeze of his fingers around yours, confirms your worst fears that he's not.

"That's... a dangerous expectation to have. Especially for an enterprise of this size-"

"I told you, it's not an enterprise." Silco retorts, then that smirk grows wider, and that hand tightens around yours, burning as much as his eyes are as he guides your hand close, and scarred lips brush over your knuckles, as dangerous as the edge of a knife. "And I expect that every empire is to come-complete with a queen..."

This isn't just dangerous territory; this is catastrophic. A disaster waiting to happen, and you can't believe he's doing this...

"The assembly is next week," You interrupt him, before he could damage the reputation of the partnership between you any further with any further talk of expectations and empires, all-but shoving his shirt back into his hands as you free your own. "I'll draw up the proposal that myself and Chross discussed, I know how little you enjoy conversing with the ex-Piltie. I trust my favor to be rewarded with properly - that factory-line bordering Smeech's territory looks promising."

"Done." Silco is always rather accommodating after your meetings with him, so you're no surprised he gives you what you want without a beat of pause. "But we aren't finished here. There is still much we ought to discuss before we conclude our meeting."

But you are - because you know if you go any further, not only is your partnership at sake, but Silco might just give you an offer you can't refuse, and more concerningly, you're unsure if you want to refuse him.

Turning and heading to the door, with faint brushes of your hands over clothes and hair to smooth back any evidence if your time with the Eye of Zaun, and the more-recent flusteredness he'd triggered within you, you only stop-short at the sound of your name, and the creak of the bed shifting beneath Silco. Your fingers are already at the doorknob, but you know full-well this meeting isn't over without his say - which he hasn't given, until you answer one final, dangerous question.

"Will you be back for our next meeting?"

Can I expect you to consider being at my side?

Dangerous, foolish question to have, and it brings the work-and-pleasure balance to an uncomfortable edge that has you gripping the doorknob with a tense, tight grip.

In the grand-scheme of the enterprise that is the Chem-Empire of Zaun, it'd be best to walk out this door without looking back, and leaving without saying a word.

In the short-term, a shorthanded no would be enough to free you for the moment, and also free you from this partnership with Silco. Now that you know of his ulterior motivations, and such a direct refusal of them, would instantly be the death of he business-pairing you have put together between Baroness and King.

The third option, and the one you pick, could also be the end of your business-partnership. It would need to be discussed further, at the next private-meeting the two of you would share, with many details to iron out, but... well, for the first time, it's not work or business that you think of when you open your mouth.

But the idea that maybe, just maybe, you can start to see the world of Zaun as less of an enterprise indeed, and more like an empire.

"... Yes. I'll be... eager to iron-out the... details, at our next meeting."

It's still buisness.

Good, mutually-beneficially, and as you leave the bedroom to the silent, hopeful approval of your King, you're starting to think it's past-time to refer to it as something else.

From enterprise, to empire.

From baroness, to, as dangerous as it is, his queen.

-

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[beardedmrbean]

Videos have emerged of fresh protests across Iran five days after Mahsa Amini died after being arrested by police earlier that week.

The 22-year-old Kurdish woman was arrested in Tehran by morality police, who accused her of breaking Iran's strict law requiring women to fully cover their hair with a headscarf.

Amini, who was reportedly beaten after her arrest, died in hospital after spending three days in a coma. Iranian authorities claim she suffered a "sudden heart failure," but this explanation has been rejected by her family.

On Wednesday, protests continued across Iran including in Tehran, Shiraz and Mazandaran.

In Urmia, Piranshahr and Kermanshah security forces opened fire with live ammunition, resulting in three deaths, according to activists speaking to the BBC.

Journalist Golnaz Esfandiari posted a video on Twitter, reportedly taken in Kerman's main square, showing a crowd cheering and chanting "death to the dictator" as a woman cuts her hair in protest. The clip went viral on the social media platform, receiving more than 1.9 million views so far.

Esfandiari wrote: "Unprecedented scenes in Iran: woman sits on top of utility box and cuts her hair in main square in Kerman to protest death of Mahsa Amini after her arrest by the morality police. People clap their hands and chant 'Death to the dictator.'"

Iranian human rights campaigner Masih Alinejad, currently living in exile the United States, tweeted footage she said was from Mazandaran, in northern Iran. It shows women burning their headscarves as a large crowd cheers, with one bare-haired woman dancing in front of the fire.

Alinejad wrote: "The brave people of Mazandaran, my birthplace dancing for the freedom they deserve. I am crying by watching women burning their headscarves. Mahsa Amini got killed because of this headscarf but she became a turning point for Iranian women and a tipping point for the regime."

Another clip posted by Alinejad purports to show female university students in the Iranian capital of Tehran removing their black headscarves whilst chanting "we don't want forced hijab."

They are cheered on by other protesters, including male students, some of whom have protest signs.

Violent clashes broke out between police and demonstrators in a number of cities, including Rasht where video shows riot police being forced to retreat as they fight with a large crowd.

Iranian authorities claim a police assistant was killed by protesters in Shiraz, though this hasn't been independently verified.

Iran has been ruled by an ultra-conservative theocracy since the 1979 revolution, which deposed the last shah. Earlier this year, an Iranian human rights campaigner was sentenced to eight years in prison and 70 lashes, according to her husband.

On Monday, Iranian President Ebrahim Raisi attended the United Nations General Assembly in New York.

Raisi was accused of Holocaust denial after an interview with CBS during the trip, in which he did not say definitively that the mass murder of six million Jews during World War II took place, claiming the subject needed to be "investigated and researched."

[hansensgirl]

cattivo fino all'osso.

summary. | He’s bad to the bone, sick as a dog. But he knows that you like him a lot. 

warnings. | Dubcon (dubious consent), dark themes, thievery, malicious intentions, smut, slight angst, unprotected sex, naivety, manipulation, gas lighting, obsessive behaviourism, Daddy kink, spoiling, major age gap (she’s twenty, he’s nearly touching forty), face fucking, corruption kink, virginity loss, overstimulation, grooming, step dad/step daughter relationship, cheating, infidelity, fingering, finger sucking, smoking, spanking, use of a hitachi wand, thigh riding, slight mean!dom!charles, soft dom!charles, slight dacryphilia, humiliation, praise kink, degradation kink, breeding kink, choking, slight violence + more. 18+, DARK FIC

word count. | 15,433 words.

pairings. | Dark!Step Dad!Charles Blackwood x Innocent!Step Daughter!Reader.

authors note. | thank you so fucking much for 4.8k!! i’ll forever be grateful to everyone who supports and follows me, i love you all so fucking much. i wish everyone good in life and i hope you’re all happy and doing well. if you ever wanna talk i’m always here, no matter what! (unless i’m asleep or a bit busy.) i’m so sorry for the long wait, please enjoy. <33 also in this fic, hitachi wands exist so yeah! thank you so much @mypoisonedvine and @bbbbearr for being amazing betas! love you guys!

Fine wool that comes from Italy tailors his suit, only the best of the best. He barely remembers how he met her, as certain memories might as well be forgotten. The ceremony is small, only her and the priest. He doesn’t mind — he rather prefers it, actually. He doesn’t know much about his wife — other than the fact that she has a daughter and is quite wealthy. His best bet is that the daughter is some bratty five year old. A clandestine jewel slips onto her old finger whereas an expensive gold ring adorns his. He looks down at it, watching his 24 karat reflection stare back at him and he just can’t help but smirk. “You may now kiss the bride.” The priest says cheerfully, and Charles has no choice but to hold back a devastating sigh. He leans in for a kiss hesitantly, ready to convince her to do all kinds of things. The wedding ends with a small cake, gifts sent from family members that weren’t invited and aching limbs.

“Honey, you’re too tired for us to have fun… We’ll save it all for tomorrow, okay?” He says, pressing a lame kiss to her forehead. She simply hums and drifts off into dreamland, leaving Charles behind. He waits for her breathing to slow down and then starts planning his next move. A glass of whiskey sits in his hands and he’s leaned back in an expensive leather chair, plush velvet pillows comforting him. Tones of beiges and browns compliment his caramel twisted hair perfectly, all falling under the same colour palette that would have an artist drooling in awe. He looks around the house — admiring the fact that portraits of her father and rare paintings are decorating the house. Not one photo though, no. They’re too ostentatious for photographs — photographs wouldn’t flatter their ego like portraits do.

He loathes it all, that big green monster known as jealousy peering over his shoulder. He wants the glory, he wants the richness, he wants it all… and in due time, it’ll come. It’s a mix of jealousy, envy, anger and frustration. He downs the rest of the amber liquid, exhaling as it burns his throat. He sets the glass down and stands up, shoving his hands in his pocket. His feet pad against the expensive floors, and he wanders about the house. He pulls drawers open, empties different vases and boxes and he even takes down those paintings and portraits. His eyes go wide as he marvels at the sight behind one of the portraits, a safe. It’s almost laughable, an heiress who’s worth millions of dollars has a measly, pathetic way of hiding her safe keepings and valuables. He carefully hangs the painting back up, remembering it very well for another time.

He wonders where else there could be hidden in the large castle-like mansion. Jewels, money, papers for properties… god — he nearly swoons at the thought of it all. He decides to retire to bed, knowing he’ll need enough rest for his shenanigans that’ll soon begin the next day. He slips into a silky set of pyjamas, before slipping under the cashmere blankets and turning on his side. He shuts his eyes but occasionally opens them up every now and then, far too excited and nervous to get some shut eye. Sleep sleep sleep… His mind chants, begging for some rest after tiresome spinning like a spindle with devious schemes. Soon, though, the liquid amber takes him over and he eventually shuts his eyes, not at all prepared for the true treasure he is going to find.

The day starts early for the newlyweds, butlers pulling open the lavish curtains that decked out the grand windows. Sunlight fills the room and blinds Charles at the same time. His wife is long gone, off to do some pre-honeymoon treatments and shopping trips. He shoos them away and gets up from the bed eagerly, his caramel laced locks are twisted in knots. He threads his fingers through his hair and waltzes into the lavish bathroom — admiring his reflection in the spotless, large mirror. The bathroom alone was more opulent than anything Charles had ever laid his eyes on. He felt like a newly crowned king, getting ready to sit atop his diamond throne. Charles chuckles at the absurd thought, before reaching for the toothbrush that was laid out for him. After numerous minutes of self-pampering and whistling, Charles was finally ready.

He walks with a bounce in each of his steps, a cheerful smile on his face and his hands stuffed in the pockets of his pants. His breezy, light linen shirt perfectly frames him and he doesn’t care about anything menial anymore. The enticing smell of breakfast fills his nostrils and his stomach sounds with a loud grumble, demanding food. He sighs and thanks one of the butlers as they pull out a chair. He sits at the head of the lengthy oak table that had numerous engravings on the legs. He politely asks the butlers to serve him two waffles with syrup and blueberries on top. “Thank you, kind sir.” He smiles at the older man who simply keeps quiet and nods — already working his way onto Charles’s list of who to be wary of.  

Charles moans at the sweet, delectable taste of his breakfast. The noise makes everyone in the room shy and they quickly leave him alone — ready to keep the house in shape. He scarfs it all down with ease and tops it off with a glass of earl grey tea with some honey drizzled in. It soothes his throat and calms him down. He leaves his dishes on the table and starts to wander again -- through the kitchen and other rooms in the house. The mansion is no different to something like a palace. “Hey, you! Come here.” He calls out to a maid who was silently dusting one of the many fireplaces. “Yes, Mr. Blackwood?” She sheepishly asks, bowing her head as she looks at the floor. “I want you to get everyone here, right now.” He ordered.

“E- Everyone, sir?” She squeaks out in shock. He grumbles because he absolutely hates repeating himself. “Mhm, and if you don’t get them in the next two minutes, you won’t see the inside of this house again.” He growled, sending her off. He watches as she leaves and picks up a box that had his name on it. Along with it were many more gifts that were sent from almost every high society blue blooded person there was in America. He opened it up and pulled out a pipe — a beautiful one to be exact. The wood has speckles of the finest gold in it and a gold band wrapped around the bowl of it. He lights it up and takes a drag from it, before pulling it away from his mouth and puffing the grey smoke away like it is a habit of his. “The staff, Mr. Blackwood.” One of the butlers says, making Charles turn around.

About two dozen people stand in front of him, all of them wearing simple cotton shirts as their uniform. “I want you all to go home and do whatever you miserable people do, only come back when I tell you to.” He orders, before taking another drag from the pipe. “But Sir-” One of them speaks up, their voice quiet. He quickly shuts them up with a death-like glare and he dismisses them. Hushed voices whisper on and on about him but he doesn’t care — no, why would he? He just became a member of one of America’s most richest families. He knows people are bound to talk, he’s known that all his life. Charles puts out his pipe and lets out one last puff of smoke. He opens up more gifts, scoffs at the fake well wishes and moves onto the next thing that he lays his eyes on.

The clicking of heels grabs his attention. “I said to go home!” He yells out, before looking back to his pile of gifts. “Well, I mean… This is my home.” You shyly say, clasping your sweaty hands together. Charles turns around abruptly and god, he’s breathless. Innocent beauty fills his eyes and you’re the only thing he can focus on. “You must be Charles, my new dad!” You cheer, walking up to him. He only nods his head, not able to find any words to even cultivate a simple phrase. “I’m your step daughter!” You say, before giving him your name. He repeats it and you can’t help but smile at the way it rolls off his tongue. “It’s nice, very beautiful.” He compliments, placing his hands on his hips.

“Like you.”

You can’t hold back the strong smile that creeps onto your face and neither can he. “Your mother never mentioned your age.” He adds and you look down at the floor. “I… It’s a thing… usually, when she tries to remarry, nobody wants to marry someone who has a twenty year old daughter already.” You explain, your voice a bit sad. “I’m sure it hurts, right?” He pokes and prods, testing to see how far you could handle him and his intrusive questions. “Never really thought about that, to be honest.” You confess bluntly. But you have, and boy does it hurt. “My mom told me all about you!” You exclaim after a few moments of awkward silence. “Really, huh?” He baits, raising his eyebrows. “Mhm, she’s so whipped! She always lights up whenever I bring you up, it’s so sweet.” You admit, pulling at the sleeves of your knitted cardigan.

He smirks, knowing that his own charming ways have successfully worked it’s magic. “Anywho, enjoy your gifts! I look forward to getting to know you.” You quickly bid, before scurrying off. Charles’s eyes follow you, until you’re out of his sight. His tongue pushes at his cheek and he can’t help but to chuckle to himself. He rewinds the interaction like it’s his favourite film and it replays in his mind. He can’t forget the way you fail to look him in the eyes, the way you were shy and oh, he could just tell you were an innocent little thing. A poor girl who has the luck of not being corrupted by the nasty world that turns saints into sinners. He then realizes that out of all the money, out of all the jewels and out of all the gifts there were — you were the most precious one of them all.

You don’t know what to do, truly. These… tingles aren’t rare for you. They were quite common, actually. You never knew what to do about them, hell, you don’t know what they are and you’re too scared to ask anyone. But they’ve never been this strong. You like Charles, and those few minutes of interaction only have you confused about how you like him. You rub your thighs together and it does nothing but worsens the feeling, making you let out a loud whine. You decide to ignore it, but you can’t help but to notice the pooling slickness in your panties. It’s a lot and for a second you’re worried, but then you get used to it. You already had your period for the month, so you just leave it as it is. You groan as you realize what you forgot to tell Charles.

You rush out from your bedroom and walk slowly to the foyer. Each step made you whimper, the slight friction to your pussy teasing you. “Charles?” You call out before you’re greeted by him sitting in a chair whilst he has his new pipe in his mouth. You frown at the smell of smoke and tobacco, hating how disgusting it was. But the sight of him was delicious. You bit your lips and admired his hands, his lips, his face, just everything about him. “Charles?” You called out quietly before looking down at your feet. “Yes, babydoll?” He looks at you, exhaling one last puff of smoke before putting the pipe out. “I- I forgot to tell you, my mom is going to be coming home tomorrow night — she gave me this note to give to you.” You tell him, handing him the folded up piece of paper.

Charles silently celebrates, hoping that your mother would have to push whatever spontaneous trip she went on forward. He silently nods at you, “Thank you, babydoll.” You let out a small whimper and rub your thighs together at the nickname. “What’s wrong, baby? Hm?” He asks, beckoning you towards him. “N- Nothing, Charles.” You lie, trying to disregard the very obvious tingles in your core. “Now, now… I hate it when people lie to me, okay? And don’t call me Charles.” He growls and it goes straight to your pussy. You whimper again, only this time it's louder. The overly debauched sound makes Charles’s cock stir to life, throbbing in his expensive boxers.

“I’m so sorry, I just don’t know what’s happening… It’s really weird and plus, I don’t know you that well.” You shamefully squeak out after apologizing to him. “Hmm…” Charles’s mind travels to the deepest, darkest parts ever. Such a soft, innocent, sweet, docile little doll I have all for myself… “What should I call you?” You ask, inching closer to him. He rakes his blue-grey eyes up and down your beautiful body, only now realizing how short your dress is and how strong your arousal was. The bitter scent of it fills the air and he lets out a hum of both satisfaction and delight. “...” He ponders in silence and gets distracted every now and then by you, before he comes up with the perfect name.

“Call me daddy, babydoll.” He smirks.

“Ok, Daddy…” You sheepishly smile. “Good girl, now come here.” He orders and pats his lap. You sat on his lap gently, figuring that this was normal — it felt normal, right? He grabs your thighs and slides his hands up and down your bare, caressing you softly. He inches closer and closer to your soft panties and soon pulls them down, making you gasp and nearly jump off his lap. He growls and grabs your hips harshly, pulling you closer to him. “Don’t be scared, baby… Do you want to tell me what’s wrong? I just wanna help my babydoll out.” He says softly, rubbing small circles on your skin. “Uhm, well…” You didn’t know how to explain the weird feeling to him. You had so many questions about it too, but you were scared that he would judge you.

“It’s my job to take care of you now, okay? And if you don’t tell Daddy what’s wrong, how can I help you?” He reasons. You nod your head and realize he makes a good point — but you’re still hesitant. Seconds that are almost silent soon pass by — the only sounds being your heaving chests and your thrumming hearts. His grip on you tightens and you whimper, the slight pain being too much for your sensitive body. “I have these uh… these tingles?” You say, sounding so unsure of yourself. Charles can’t help but coo at you, you really were an innocent little girl. “They started when I was a wee thing, or a uh, a teenager! Sorry…” You ramble adorably.

“Tell me more, dove.” He probes, daring himself to inch his hands to an intimate part of your body. “Oh, uh, okay!” You chew at your lip as you think about what to say. “Spit it out, dove… I hate waiting, and I’d hate to force it out of that pretty mouth of yours.” He growls as he quickly grows impatient with your shy ways.  You gently grab one of his hands and settle it above your core, but it isn’t touching your mound. Charles so desperately wants to inch his hands into your panties but he knows that he has to be patient, he has to wait. “Sometimes they’re not too strong, and sometimes they’re so unbearable and- and I just don’t know what to do! Is it normal? Am- Am I weird?” You prattle.

“It’s not weird at all, baby. It’s completely normal…” He trails off, thinking about what you said. “I just don’t know what to do!” Charles looks at the times and notices that it was almost lunch, and he wasn’t going to miss out on eating expensive food. “Well, since it’s almost lunch time, we need to eat! Can you cook?” He asks, pulling you off his lap. He throws one of his arms around your shoulders and leads you to the kitchen. “Mhm…?” You sound so unsure — because you are. One minute ago he was touching in places your mother told you that no boy your age should be and was demanding you to tell him a secret of yours. But the next, he treats you like you’re nothing more than a friend.

He stands behind you and follows you around like a shadow as you do your dance around the grand kitchen. You feel like prey and he’s the predator, just waiting to pounce on you whenever he wants. You light the stove up and heat up some leftovers biscuits from yesterday's lunch. “I uh, I made these yesterday…” You say and the crackle of fire coming to life fills your ears. “I love biscuits, they may be basic but they’re still one of my favourites!” He joins in, standing right behind you. Gently, he settles both of his hands on to your waist in a calming manner, making you sigh in delight. His touch sends shivers to both your spine and core and you furrow your eyebrows together.

“What’s wrong, hm?” He poses his question with a playful squeeze to your waist and you giggle with pure innocence. “When you- Actually… nevermind.” You trail off, thinking he’ll be disgusted with you. He squeezes your waist again and rests his chin on your shoulder before leaning close to your ear. “Hmm, maybe I should tell your dearest mother that she raised her daughter to be disobedient…” He threatens out loud and you quickly shout out in protest. “No! Please don't, ‘m sorry!” You plead. Your mother is quite strict, and god forbid that you’d ever disobey her or anyone. “When you t- touched me, more tingles came…” You tell him, staring at the biscuits. “Aw… Well if you bear up with them just for a few more days then I could help you out!” He exclaims, turning down the fire for you.

“Really? You’d really help me out?” You ask enthusiastically, your eyes lighting up with disbelief. Charles raises his eyebrows and smirks as he nods his head in conformation. You squeal like a little child on their third birthday, wrapping your arms around the conniving man who is your step father and you push your head into the crook of his neck. He hugs you back and presses a kiss to your cheek, making you smile. You pull away and take the biscuits off the stove before ushering Charles to sit down. “Hmm… How about we eat outside?” He asks, opening the door to the lavish backyard. “Anything you want, Daddy.”

Your leg bounces as you become increasingly nervous. Ever since Charles came, your tingles have grown to worsen. You remind yourself constantly that it’s normal, and that he’ll help you out. You’ve begun to be weary, though. So here you sit, in Charles’s bedroom, waiting for him to finish his bath. You flop back into his soft bed and your dress rides up your thighs, scrunching up at your hips. You hear him whistle an Ella Fitzgerald tune, and you can’t help but to sway your head in rhythm. Charles continues to whistle as he steps out of the tub and drains it before wrapping his lower half with a cotton terry cloth towel. He swings the door open and the calming tune stops abruptly, and you frown like a brat.

Charles’s eyes went straight to your bare thighs that he would just adore to have  wrapped around his head. He catches a glimpse of your soaking panties and clicks his tongue. The sound itself isn’t too loud but it’s enough to snap you out of your hazy daydreams of paradises and false promises. You sit up and don’t bother pulling down your skirt. “Uhm, hi?” You squeak out, waving at him. He disregards your greeting and stalks closer and closer to you, a dangerous scowl on his sculpted face that all but terrifies you. Drops of water cascade down his body and you eye him with no shame at all. You look back up at him and stifle a whimper and you feel your tingles come back.

“Didn’t I tell you to be patient?” He asks with a menacing growl that rumbles in his chest. You nod silently, too scared to even dare to utter a single word to him. “Words, doll, or else you won’t like what’ll happen next.” He threatens, leaning down to trap you under him. You gulp thickly and your bottom lip trembles in fear. “Yes, daddy…” You whisper quietly, bowing your head down in disgrace. He grabs your arms roughly and pulls you closer to his frowning face and his eyes are blown out with both anger and lust.  “So then why can’t you wait? Hm? Are you that Goddamn desperate?” He queries, and you can’t hold back the sudden flinch that jerks your body. “N- No! I’m sorry, I really am!” You apologize to him softly.

Once again, the slightly bitter yet sweet scent of your arousal fills the air and dwindles there. “Fuck, so damn needy.” He curses under his breath -- the scandalous, foul word making you gasp. “I think you’ve been a bit of a bad girl, hm?” He ponders out loud but leaves no room for you to speak. He sits down on the bed and pulls you with him, laying you across his lap. “Daddy? Are you gonna hurt me? Are you gonna tell my mom?” You ask him innocently — your voice filled with worry and curiosity. You squirm in his lap and furrow your eyebrows when something touches your stomach. It’s long and as hard as a rock. “Not if you tell her, princess. Everything we do is our secret, okay? And you don’t reveal secrets, ever.” He reassures you before pulling up the skirt of your dress.

Cool air hits your scantily clad butt and you giggle at the feeling. Goosebumps crawl all over your skin and a shiver runs down your spine. You don’t even realize that he dodges your first question as you are too distracted by him. His large, warm hand caresses your ass and your eyes flutter shut. It’s soothing in its own way and you realize that nobody’s ever touched you the way he does. He pulls his hand away and your bottom lip juts out in a bratty, needy pout. His hand returns to your ass, smacking it harshly and brutally. “Ow!” You cry out in pain, choking on a gut wrenching sob that would make the bullies at your school call you a cry baby.

“Shh, it’s okay angel…” He soothes, gently rubbing the irritated skin. Your chest tightens at the pain and Charles can’t help but pity you. “It’ll be over soon, baby, don’t worry.” He lulls to you, making you nod your head. “O- Okay, Daddy…” You whisper out, trusting him. He pulls his hand away and spanks your other cheeks with a sounding pop that reverberates throughout the room. The thing touching your stomach is even harder now, slightly throbbing under your soft skin. He does the same to the next cheek, delivering an even harder blow that makes your whimper louder than before. The tears have started ages ago and they stream down your face quicker than the way rivers flow. They soak into Charles’s left thigh and he lets out a “sh” to soothe you.

He continues to spank you until his hand hurts, until his skin is aching but not as much as you are in pain; and even then he didn’t want to stop. He feels your arousal leaking out of you like a waterfall, slickness coating your inner thighs and his towel. He can’t deny the fact that he’s so aroused that his cock hurts. It throbs and weeps, pre-cum leaking from the tip and the clear fluid stains his blue towel. “Shh, it’s okay now, baby. I’m all done now, Daddy’s finished.” He lifts you up with ease -- large muscles bulging -- and he settles you onto his lap. You wrap your legs around his well-built torso and the squelching sounds from your pussy makes you furrow your eyebrows. Your wet pussy rests right on top of his hard cock and the tingles are stronger than they’ve ever been.

You push your tear-soaked face into the crook of his neck, sobbing at the immense pain that radiated from your butt. He runs his hands over the bruised skin and whispers sweet nothings to you -- they aren’t nothing to you, though. You soon calm down and your pain dwindles down to nothing as you choose to ignore it. You look up at Charles and he looks at you, smirking at the love in your eyes. “Such a good girl, took your punishment so well.” He praises and you can’t help but to giggle at his words. Your face flushes with heat and you shy away from him. Involuntarily, your hips buck against Charles’s cock and you both let out lewd sounds. You moan softly and whimper, but Charles growls ferociously like a starved animal. Your pussy throbs at the sound and you whine loudly, clenching around nothing.

“What’s wrong baby? Hm? Tell Daddy what’s wrong and I’ll fix it.” He slurs slightly, moving your head from the crook of his neck. “The tingles…” You tell him, your voice small and weak. “Aw… Poor baby, you want Daddy to make your tingles go away?” He asks, pinching the bruised skin of your ass. You groan at the pain and your clit thrums under your panties. He fondles with the skirt of your dress and finds the zipper with his broad fingers. Slowly, he teasingly pulls it down and passes the soft fabric over your ass and down your beautiful legs. He throws the now pointless fabric onto the floor and admires the way your breasts bounce as they’re freed. He wants nothing more than to suck one of your hardened nipples into his mouth whilst he fucks you into oblivion.

But he has to wait, he needs to be patient.

He watches as goosebumps crawl all over your skin and he listens intently to the breathy moan you let out. Your nipples twist into harder peaks and they ache in such a way that you’re desperate to do anything so that you’re relieved of your tingles. Charles hooks his fingers into the band of your panties and he pulls them down, softly apologizing when you let out a whimper as the fabric passes over your bruised ass. You’re bare in front of him and you feel shy, slightly insecure under his gaze. You move the hands that were wrapped around him and you use them to cover up your naked body.

“No, no… Don’t do that baby, you’re so fucking beautiful.” He husks, roughly pushing your hands away from your body. “Daddy? I have a question…” You tell him, pure wonder and curiosity laced in your gentle voice. “Tell Daddy, go ahead baby.” He ushers, pressing a few kisses along your collarbone. “What that pointy, hard, big thingy there?” You ask innocently and Charles nearly chokes. What a fucking jackpot. “This, baby?” He asks, bringing your hand to wear his hard cock is. “Mhm! It’s very, very big… What’s it supposed to do?” Your words make Charles blush and you’ve truly flattered him. “That’s my cock, baby.” He tells you, and you can’t help but to repeat after him. “Your cock…” You whisper back and he nods.

“And it’s all yours baby, but you wanna know what isn’t yours?” He insinuates, and you nod desperately. One of his hands cups your bare, wet pussy and you moan at his touch. “This is mine, you’re mine.” He growls, unable to control the ferocious animal inside him. You nod in agreement and buck your hips against his hand, grinding yourself on him. “Shit… So slutty, hm? Just can’t help yourself, can you baby?” He degrades, groaning at the way your slick covers his hand. You gasp at the insult but also furrow your eyebrows with confusion at his second sentence. It then dawns on you as to what he means so you decide to nod in agreement and he chuckles at you.

He flips you over abruptly and you’re amazed at his strength -- even though you’ve ogled at his large muscles quite a bit beforehand. He crawls in between your legs and slots himself there. You’re forced to keep your legs open, even though you’re skeptical. It felt wrong… Maybe it was? “D- Daddy, is this wrong? I mean, it feels wrong…” You ask, looking down to your barren legs. “No baby, you’re doing great!” He answers incorrectly and you shake your head. “N- No… Not like that…” You whisper, scared to look at the burly man that knows you better than yourself.

“Baby… Do you think I’d let you do something bad? Hm? Never, this isn’t wrong… Everything I do is right!” He explains and then it dawns you. Everything he says is true and god, how dare you not believe him? He’s older, wiser and he knows better than you. “‘M sorry, Daddy!” You apologize, voice sincere and you’re ready to repent for all your sins. “It’s okay baby, just lay back and Daddy will make those tingles go away…” He whispers and you eagerly obey him. “Do you ever get tingles?” You ask him, parting your legs even wider than before. “Of course… I have tingles right now.” He tells you, his patience ebbing away at the edges. “Can I make them go away?” You follow up, your eyes brightening with interest and intrigue.

Charles lets out a coo, and he revels at how innocent and adorable you are. “Yeah, you wanna make my tingles go away?” He asks, his cock throbbing as millions of lewd, obscene thoughts run through his already twisted mind. “Yes please! Please Daddy?” You beg him desperately and he chuckles. “Such a needy little slut, aren’t you? You want my cock so bad…” He degrades and the words send a wave of neediness throughout you. A spark of confidence ignites in you and even though you don’t know much of what he said, you still choose to repeat them all after him. “Mhm, I’m such a needy slut for you, Daddy!” You squeal, and Charles can’t help but moan.  

Suddenly, he wraps his large hand around your throat and squeezes the sides. You don’t know what succubus has possessed you but you let out a wanton, salacious moan anyways. He pulls you close to his face -- which was flushed red -- and he stares into your eyes. His beautiful, steel blue orbs are now blown out with lust but the feral look he gives you is just as good as the rest. “Such a dirty mouth, should I wash it out with soap? Or stuff it full with my cock?” He growls and smashes his lips against yours. The kiss is messy… It’s sloppy and you have no idea as to what you’re doing. You try to keep up with him and you easily let him dominate you.

His tongue explores your mouth and you try to do the same to him, but you just can’t. You whimper against his mouth and slick drenches your thighs. Years of pent up arousal only now coming back at ten-fold and the dam just breaks. He pulls away and puts you on your knees. You look up at him like a kicked puppy and he swipes his thumb across your bottom lip. Both of your chests heave and you’re face to face with his cock. He pulls the towel away and you gasp, earning a chuckle from Charles.”Daddy… It’s so big…” You tell him and he’s flattered. “Thank you, baby. I’m truly flattered, do you want to touch it?” He says, smiling down at you. “Yes please! But- but, how?” You ask him, a bit nervous but also excited.

He takes your hand and brings it up to his cock. His other hand plays with your fingers until they’re wrapped around him. It was hard and hot under your soft touch. It throbs and thrums, veins trailing the sides and his aching tip weeps with pearls of pre-cum. The slick stickiness of it rolls down his cock and soaks your hand. You can barely fit him in your hand, his cock being impossibly thick. He groans under your touch and he places his hands on the back of your head. Roughly, he guides your mouth towards his cock and shoves it past your spit covered lips. You gag and try to push against him -- a silent way of telling him “no, it’s too much.”

But he only just pushes your hands away and thrusts his cock deeper into your mouth. His manly flavour fills your mouth -- soaks in your tongue and you find yourself falling in love with it. Lewd gags and chokes reverberate around the room and they’re music to Charles’s ears. His cock is all the way down your throat and you’re struggling to breath, but that doesn’t matter. He moans loudly and then abruptly pulls his cock out from your mouth. You gasp for air and take in a deep breath before smiling up at him. His cock glistens with spit and you’re ready to take him again. Your jaw already hurts but it’s okay. “Shit, so good. You look so fucking gorgeous with my cock stuffing your mouth, can’t wait to see you covered with my cum.” He groans, holding your chin up.

You tilt your head to the side in confusion, not understanding one of the words. “You see, baby, when you make the tingles go away just like that then something will fill up your mouth -- and you’re going to have to swallow it, okay? Can you be a good girl and do that?” He tells you and you immediately nod your head. “Good.” He nods, before squeezing your jaw open with one of his strong hands. Your mouth pops open and is soon filled with his cock once again -- your gags spurring him on. Saliva and drool leaks from your mouth in waterfalls, and so does your tears. He bobs your head up and down his cock, moaning loudly and cursing under his breath. “Oh fuck, yes yes, your mouth feels so good!” He shouts loudly, the praise going straight to your aching pussy.

“C’mon baby, suck my cock like one of those cherry popsicles I bought you, use your tongue.” He orders and you obey. You hollow your cheeks out to the best of your ability -- not knowing what you’re doing. Your tongue weakly drags along underneath of his cock and it bumps up a few throbbing veins every now and then. You spread your legs and sway your hips back and forth against the bed and you don’t even realize what you’re doing -- but Charles does. The head of his cock bumps up against the back of your throat and you let out a moan, sending him closer and closer to his release. Spit travels everywhere and strings of it are leaking down to your chest. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum… And you’re going to swallow it all up, right? That’s all you’re good for, just a cocksleeve for me to use- fuck, just to make Daddy feel good.” He growls like an animal, thrusting his hips into your mouth.

He fucks your mouth at a brutal pace, his heavy, swollen balls slapping your spit-soaked chin. He grips your head tightly and then his hips still. His balls tighten up and a groan rumbles in his chest. “Oh fuck, yes yes yes!” He moans as he hits his climax. Warmth fills your mouth and his cock spurts out thick, white ropes of cum. His cum slips down your throat but also fills up your mouth. The copious amounts of his cream leaks out of your mouth and drips down to your chest. Charles thrusts his cock into your mouth a few more times, dragging out his orgasm until he’s almost on the brink of being overstimulated. He slowly pulls it out of your mouth and your jaw aches immensely.

He reaches up and softly massages your face, easing the pain away. “Thank you, Daddy…” You whisper out, your voice all hoarse yet still so soft. “You’re welcome, baby.” He smirks down at your tired face. “I like that a lot, Daddy… I like making your tingles go away!” You shyly admit -- flustered and even more aroused than ever. “That’s the point my dumb little baby, you’re supposed to like pleasing Daddy!” He tells you and you let out a gasp of realization at his words. “Now lay back, kitten, Daddy needs to make your tingles go away.” He pushes you back against the soft bed and spreads your legs wide open. Your slick has leaked everywhere -- all over your thighs, on the bed sheets and down to your butt too.

He rubs your glistening folds with his fingers and your wetness nearly drowns his digits. A searing, hot, burning feeling comes alive in your pussy and you let out a loud moan. Your body heats up at the pleasure and you’re hot to the touch. He teases you, fingers running through your folds, dancing around your clit and they also prod at your incredibly tight hole. “Daddy… That feels so good!” You moan out loudly, your doe eyes rolling back into your skull. “Yeah it does, just wait until I fuck you -- God it’s going to be amazing.” He groans, rubbing your clit in soft circles. More slick drools out of your hole as he plays with your sensitive pearl of nerves. Pleasure shoots up your spin and you’re unable to describe what the feeling is like, but you’re sure it’s something sent from heaven.

You can’t stop moaning as his fingers bring you closer and closer to your release. “D- Daddy? I feel like I uh, like I need to use the bathroom!” You sheepishly tell him, and he lets out a coo. “No you don’t, it’s going to make the tingles go away baby, you’re going to like this a lot.” He growls, rubbing your clit even harder and faster. A searing flame spears through your stomach and the knot that inside your tightens up. Your moans of pleasure grow loud, maybe a bit too loud for Charles’s taste. He shoves his other fingers into your mouth to quiet you, and you immediately suck them just as if they're his cock. The sight makes Charles even harder than before, as he hadn’t become flaccid yet. Your back arches off the bed and your eyes shut tightly as you cum for the first time ever.

“Oh Daddy!” You shriek behind his fingers, the knot inside you bursting. More stronger tingles pierce through your poor spent body and your clit is throbbing. Slightly creamy, almost clear cum leaks out of you and the feeling becomes too much for you. He continues to rub your button, and your body squirms immensely. You feel like you should tell him to stop but you know you shouldn’t. “There you go, my slutty little baby… You liked that a lot? I know you did.” He coos, making you heat up from his attention. Your cunt is coated with your cum and it drips everywhere, the sight makes Charles go feral. You clench around nothing, pulsing with pleasure. He soaks his fingers with your cum, absolutely drenching them until your pussy is a bit more cleaner than before.

He brings those same digits up to his mouth and sucks your delicious, sweet cum off. He moans around his fingers and stares at you dead in your doe eyes. You whimper and feel more wetness gush out of you, your tingles coming back once again. You spread your legs a bit wider and Charles already knows that you want him to help out. “What do you want, baby? Hm? You gotta tell me, or else I can’t help you out.” He husks salaciously after pulling his fingers out of his mouth with a sounding ‘pop’. “I have more tingles, Daddy… Can you make them go away?” You shy ask, slightly ashamed yet so goddamn barren. Your words are mumbled and garbled, as his fingers still occupy your mouth.

“Of course my little whore, anything for you.” He grins at you, his pearly whites making you giggle with butterflies in your stomach. His fingers are now spit soaked, adding onto the slick that pours out of you. This time, prods at your tight hole and your whimper. “D- Daddy, that feels funny… Kinda like that, that thing that happened… Why did stuff come out of me? Is it good?” You ask behind his digits that are soon pulled out. Wet fingers caress your beautiful, innocent face and he simply chuckles. “It felt good though, right? That’s supposed to happen, and that wet stuff is perfectly normal… It’s like sweet syrup, okay?” He shuts down your pondering mind and you nod your head.

He pushes two fingers into your spasming cunt, making you unexpectedly shriek. “Oh!” You moan deliciously as Charles quickly finds your sweet spot. Your entire body is filled with immense pleasure and Charles begins to pull his finger out. You squeeze him tightly and all he can think about is stretching you out with his thick cock. “Felt full…” You whisper to yourself, and he quickly pushes two digits into you. You let out whimpers of pain and pleasure from the stretch and he scissors you open slightly. You don’t know what to do with your empty, sweaty hands except for gripping the bed with them. Beneath your fingers is crumpled cloth and your arch your back off of it.

He pushes his fingers deeper, filling you up to the hilt. They're pressed up against your g-spot and he begins to thrust his fingers at a rapid pace. His palm rubs your little clit and you can’t control your loud moans. The obscene, wet sounds of your pussy makes a flush of blood flow to Charles’s cock. It swells with arousal and he can’t take it anymore. His other hand goes up to his cock and he begins to stroke himself at the same pace as his fingers. Your silky walls squeeze his fingers and sticky wetness coats them. Charles groans as you clamp down on his long digits. The hand on his cock speeds up and you watch him as he chases his release. It’s a sight that you just can’t tear your eyes away from. You feel that intense build up again — impending fireworks ready to burst in the sky. Broken pleas leave your mouth, litanies of please please please and Daddy Daddy Daddy.

He speeds up both his hands and you’re soon creaming around his fingers. You cum with a scream of euphoria, “Daddy!” You clench down on him tightly and your cum leaks everywhere. Your pussy throbs and he fucks you with his fingers until you’re overstimulated. You unconsciously grind against his hand and your clit is overwrought from the two powerful orgasms.  Your heart pounds heavily and your chest heaves as you try to come down from your high. He takes his fingers out of your worn out cunt and shoves them in your mouth. “Suck them, yeah, just like my cock!” He growls, speeding up his hand on his cock. His foreskin peels back and forth, and beads of cum and pre-cum drip onto you. With a shout and growl, white strokes of hot, sticky cum lands on your skin. You moan at the lovely feeling and he just admires the sight of you covered in cum. Beautiful.

Days pass and you’re on the edge, but so is Charles. He can barely control himself from jerking off almost everyday ever since that afternoon after the bath. The sight of you sucking his cock and fingers, hearing you moan, watching you cum and oh the innocence you still have makes him harder than a rock. You’re no better, though. Ever since then you’ve been insatiable. You linger around Charles all the time, following him around like a shadow of his. The tingles haven’t ceased either, no. They’ve come back even more and you want your Daddy to make them go away. You want him to make you feel good and you want to return the favour so fucking badly. “Daddy… I have tingles!” You whine needily, dragging your feet behind you as if you’ve been raised with no manners. “I know baby, but you gotta shut the mouth of yours up and let me do my work!” He growls, the ever impending arrival of your mother being today.

You flinch at his tone but your panties slicken up at it too. You continue to waddle behind him, not even paying attention to how he was searching for all your treasured goods. “Please, Daddy? Please, please, please? I have so many tingles! Do you have any tingles? If you do, can I make you feel good? I think I got better at sucking my cherry popsicles, can I please suck your uh- your thing? I’ll be good at it, I swear-” You ramble on and on until Charles cuts you off with his booming voice. “I said that’s enough! Not another goddamn word!” He yells at you so harshly that you’re on the verge of crying on the spot. His cheeks are shaking with anger and frustration and his face is flushed with heat.

You open your mouth to apologize to him but the hand that is now wrapped around your neck stops you from doing so. “Are you too much of a dumb slut to understand? So desperate for attention, and you just wanna cum so bad… Tsk tsk, such a whore. You want Daddy’s cock so bad, you don’t care if he’s busy, right? Aw, don’t cry now… Daddy wants to see you cry when you’re choking on his big fat cock, I want to see you cry while you’re cumming over, and over, over…” He ferociously whispers in your ear, making you gulp in fear. He squeezes your throat even tighter and you gently wrap your hands around his wrist. You struggle to breath but you also can’t help but to enjoy the feeling of him choking you. You whimper at his words and rub your thighs, thinking about how he can make you feel good. “Nuh uh, none of that.” He wedges a thigh between your legs and rests your cunt on it.

He moves his thigh back and forth, clenching the muscles in it to make the friction increase and a breathy moan catches in your throat. You whimper and instinctively, you grind yourself against his well-built thigh. Pleasure blossoms from through your core and Charles stops moving his thigh — leaving you as a whining, needy mess. “No, Daddy’s not going to let you cum at all, and don’t even think about trying to convince me. You’re a bad, slutty little whore — And you need to be punished. Go to your room, and if I hear you crying then I’m going to bruise your ass.” He snarls, ending his long string of words with a sharp spankl to your butt — a warning. He lets go of your neck and you bolt past him, locking yourself in your quaint yet luxurious room until your mother comes home.

Your mother comes home — chaotic and stressed out. Being a large person in the highest of society was tough. She locks her lips against Charles and jealousy’s big, ugly, green head rears itself from behind you. You watch through the cracked door and your mother hurries to get ready for drinking with Mrs. Dubois and Mrs. Caroline -- two of her many rich friends. You feel hurt when she doesn’t search for you, a pang in your sweet heart but you ignore it. You want to step out of your room to go visit her, but you don’t want to upset Charles again. You remind yourself that he’s your step father, and your mind wanders to all sorts of doubts. Was this wrong? Sometimes it felt wrong… But Charles would never do anything wrong! You giggle away at your silly mind, oh how it would come up with the most absurd things.

You watch her leave and sigh heavily to yourself before plopping down on your bed. Swinging your legs back and forth, your tingles still there in your pussy. Your tits ache and you kick yourself for poking at Charles. A knock on the door startles you —two raps that are harsh. You hesitate from getting up to open the door, but after two more raps you decide that it’s for the best. “Baby? Open up, Daddy’s ready to play now.” he calls out from the other side, a devil luring you to commit sin after sin. You giggle with both glee and excitement, ready for playtime with him. You open the door with a smile on your face and then you gasp at the large stack of gifts that Charles was holding in his arms. “Hi, Cha- Daddy…” You say breathlessly, meeting your eyes with his silver-blue ones. They’re blown out — just like how they usually are whenever you see him.

They hold a certain darkness that you’ve never seen before, a sort of storminess that you’d love to revel in. “Hi, baby… Let me in now, I have the rest of the night planned out for us and I’d hate to have to punish you for bad manners.” He says with a sweet baritone, but his threat is bitter. You’re easily charmed, though and you don’t even pay attention to his warning. You let him in and shut the door behind yourself. “I’m so sorry, Daddy! I’m sorry I was annoying you- I just had tingles and I wanted you to help out, that’s all!” You apologize, wrapping your arms around him before he could say anything. You nuzzle your nose in the crook of his neck and he urges you to sit on his lap — your favourite seat ever. “Mhm, I know you’re sorry baby, thank you for apologizing so nicely. As much as I like seeing you in pain, I just can’t do that to my sweet little girl.” He whispers in your ear, before kissing your cheeks.

“Do you forgive me, Daddy? Are you still mad at me?” You pull away and look him in the eyes, demanding honesty. “Of course I forgive you, baby… You’re such a good girl! Look at what I got you, I bought you some gifts.” He smiles at you sweetly and your insides flip with happiness. You squeal and immediately thank him, before trying to give him a kiss on the cheek just like how he did to you. He hands you a box and you immediately unwrap the floral wrapping paper. Your furrow your eyebrows in confusion but are grateful nevertheless. “D- Daddy, what’s this?” You ask him, handing him the box. Inside is something that resembles a microphone. It is a pastel pink and has a few buttons. “This is a magic wand, baby! Like the ones that fairies have, and this one can make you feel really good.” He explains, and hands you another small box. Inside are batteries — something that your mother told you not to mess with. You whimper and gasp before handing them to him. You wiggle yourself further into his lap and wait for him to set up your wand.

He hands it to you and it’s quite weighty, but you take it anyways. “Whenever you get tingles, Daddy can use this on your little button — okay? But we’ll save this for another time. You like Daddy’s thighs, don’t you?” He asks, taking the wand away from you. You sheepishly nod and wiggle in his lap again. He grips your waist tightly and squeezes, before moving you so that you’d straddle his left thigh. He clenches the muscles in his thigh and the already stiff muscle becomes even harder. Charles’s large cock bulges through his pants, all hard and aching already. “You like that, baby?” He asks again, reaching his hands up your dress and tearing away your cotton panties. “Mhm!” You nod harshly, your cunt sopping and drooling. He drags you back and forth slowly and the arms that are wrapped around him squeeze even tighter.

Your clit grinds against the rough material of his pants and he moves you back and forth. He bounces the same thigh slightly and a series of moans rumble through you. “O- Oh my… Daddy, that feels s- so, hng, good.” You whisper, moans cutting through almost every word you utter. “Look at you, a dripping mess all over my thigh. Can’t help it, hm? Just feels so good, only Daddy can make you so slutty.” He groans in your ear, before sucking a few hickies across the bare skin on your neck. Your eyes roll back into your skull at the euphoric feeling. “Look at you, all dumb and stupid, just drooling at the thought of being my slut.” He chides, smearing the saliva that leaks from your mouth. “Daddy, I have lots of tingles now!” You squeal as he presses you further down on his thigh. A burning feeling spreads across your pussy and abdomen and your drooling hole clenches around nothing.

“Yeah, baby, I bet it feels so good, right?” He purrs, moving one of his strong hands to your ass. He gives you a few spanks, pushing you closer to your release. “I think that thing is happening again… Those fireworks!” You tell you, gasping and moaning at the pain and pleasure. “Fuck, got me so hard right now.” He groans, roughly grabbing one of your hands to palm his cock. “Feel that, baby? That’s all for you and your slutty pussy. All yours- God, fuck” He swears after you accidentally rub your hand over his cock and squeeze it. You let out an extremely loud moan, not even caring if anyone was home. The staff was gone and so was your mother, so who are you to care? “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” You cry out as your beautiful face frowns in pleasure.

You can feel that high building up and Charles grinds his clothed cock into your hand. “Go on, cum, cum all over my thigh like the needy little baby you are. God, everyone in this damn town would be so ashamed to know you’re such a whore for your Daddy’s cock. And I bet you don’t care, do you? You just can’t get enough of me, cumming all the time, making a mess of that pussy of yours…” He growls at you, his words making you gasp and moan. He continues to rub your pussy against his thigh even though you’re pushing at him slightly. “Daddy, the tingles are too much,” you whine desperately, trying to writhe and push away from him but only worsening the tingles. “Shh…” Charles sibilates, holding you still even though your fussing didn’t stop.

Tremors claim your body and Charles drags your pussy against his thigh even harder. You fall against his chest and the fight in you leaves your body. A lewd, guttural moan leaves your mouth and you’re cumming all over his thigh. “Oh Daddy!” You squeal as pleasure overtakes your body. Your cunt throbs and you’ve soaked his pants completely. Charles gets harder at the sight of you cumming all over him. Your cunt gushes all over his pants and you’re moaning loudly. “Good girl, such a good girl for Daddy!” He praises, smiling at your writing form. You gasp as he continues to rub your pussy on his thigh, letting you ride out your orgasm and slightly overstimulating you. You babble like a baby and your grip on him is flimsy at this point. Your chest heaves and he lifts you off his thigh.

Suddenly, you’re kneeling on the ground and he’s freeing his cock from the confinements of his pants. It’s leaking, crying fat beads of clear pre-cum and suddenly you remember his husky, mainly taste on your tongue. “It’s your c- c…” You’re not sure whether or not you should say it, so you decide to keep your mouth shut. He laughs at you and his cock is a raging red, almost purple. He brings you a little closer to his cock and your face to face with it. Your mouth salivates at the sight of it and you want nothing more than to suck him off. He slaps his heavy cock against your cheek, once, twice, three times. You moan at the delicious pain and it sends a rush of blood to his cock again. He begins to stroke himself in front of you, knowing that you crave him in your mouth so desperately. “Look at me, baby. Watch Daddy jerk himself off, yeah, just like that. You want my cock so bad, don’t you? In due time baby, don’t worry.” He tells you in between moans.

You feel more tingles building up in your pussy and more wetness leaking out of you. You impulsively open your mouth up, ready to welcome his cock. But instead he shoves two fingers into your mouth and you take them delightfully. His digits are soon covered in spit and his pre-cum has been smeared all over his cock. He begins to pump his hand up and down -- base to tip. His thumb occasionally swipes over his leaking tip and he moans throatily. “Can I help you out, Daddy? Please?” You beg with puppy eyes, and he just can’t resist. Though your words are garbled, he still knows what you need. He keeps his two fingers in your mouth and takes his hand off of his cock. It bounces up and slaps against his stomach, weighty and thick. He grabs one of your hands and guides it until it’s wrapped around his cock.

It’s heavy in your hands but God, are you grateful to have it all for yourself. You try to mimic his movements, moving your hand up and down even though you don’t have a good grip on him. He moans loudly as your thumb accidentally swipes over his red tip. He further pushes his fingers into your mouth until you’re choking on his digits. “Oh, god, yes…” He groans, and your mind rewinds to the times where the priest from church always told you that anything involving private parts is wrong. The memory makes you stutter and your morals are now conflicted. He takes notice to the slowly disappearing eagerness you had. “Oh baby, do you think Daddy’ll ever let you do something bad? Never, everything they tell you... it’s all lies, okay? Daddy knows what’s best, and you should listen to Daddy. Now stroke me just like how I was, okay?” He tells you, pushing his fingers against your gag reflex.

You once again mirror his movements, enjoying the fact that you’re the reason as to why his tingles would go away. You quicken up your movements on his cock, and he asks, no, he orders you to tighten your hand and you’re trying your hardest. “Now twist your hand a bit, baby, and move a bit quicker.” He gruffs, and you try to do as you’re told. Your hand moves in corkscrew-like motions and Charles begins to grind into your palm. His cock throbs and twitches under your touch and his balls are slowly beginning to tighten up. His fingers swirl in your mouth and your other hand comes up to cradle his swollen, heavy balls. He lets out a guttural moan and more pre-cum drips from his tip and stains your soft skin. “Oh god…” He groans and he hits his release. Hot spurts of thick cum drips from his tip and copious amounts of it leaks everywhere. You continue to stroke him until he tells you to stop, and even then you don’t want to.

He takes his hand out of your mouth and guides you to his cock. “Clean Daddy up, yeah… That’s it, lick up all my cum... Tastes so good right? Swallow it all like a good girl.” He commands and you greedily lap up all his cum. You’re addicted to the taste, even though it’s slightly peculiar. Salty yet sweet, manly and husky. You try your best to clean him up until he’s satisfied, You smile up at him shyly, staying in your place on your knees as you wait for your next order. You watch as his cock slowly begins to soften and as he shoves it into his boxers. Your gaze lands on the gigantic wet spot on his grey linen pants and your eyes bulge out in shock. He looks down to his thigh and back to you before chuckling in such a swooning way. “Look at the mess you made, baby!” He cooes, reminding you of the way you were grinding on his thigh like it was a normal thing to do. You’re flustered and you shy away from him, embarrassed with all the attention. “Aw, don’t be coy now; you were just riding my thigh like a bitch in heat, and now you wanna be innocent?”

The blunt scent of smoke fills the room with ease. Charles sighs in delight, knowing that his plan was taking place at the very moment. You sit between his feet, re-reading the letter that Charles has given you. “She’s gone already? Didn’t she just come back, Daddy? We haven’t even spent time as a family yet!” You cry out in both distress and sadness as Charles continues to take a drag from his pipe. He smoothes a soothing hand over your hair and tears begin to fall from your eyes. She’s gone for two darn months? There’s no way you’ll be able to handle that! You stifle your sobs to your best ability and oh how Charles’s cock throbs at both the sound and the sight of you crying. “Don’t you feel sad, Daddy?” You ask through your tears, hiccuping and sobbing.

“No, baby. Do you wanna know why? It’s because I support whatever your mother wants to do… And you should too, baby. Now stop being a crybaby and let me take your mind off it, Daddy has some things to tell you.” He shuts you up and puts out his pipe before pulling you onto his lap. You gladly let him do so and he wipes your tears away for you. He lets out a breathy chuckle and smiles, before kissing the tip of your nose. “If I see you crying then I’ll put you over my knee, okay? None of that right now.” He orders, and you sheepishly nod. You hate being over his knee just as much as he loves it. You quickly blink away any forthcoming tears before your bottom is bruised up. “Have you ever been to Italy? It’s quite the beauty, to be frank.” He begins and your ears perk up.

“I have, and it’s quite lovely. There’s nothing as beautiful as the sunset in Florence from the top of the dorm room… It’s the most exquisite sight, I’ll take you some day.” He reminisces, staring at nothing as he recalls the lovely trip. “Oh, to bask in that lovely sunlight again would be delightful, and to drive down the streets as it rains…” He sighs blissfully and you let your imagination run wild. Images of you in Charles’s car brings you joy and you can’t help but to hum in agreement. “Mother always tells me about Italy, mostly about the stores and beautiful men but I’ve always liked the scenery.” You tell him, and he nods as he listens to you speak. You continue, “I’ve seen paintings, and photographs! I have a few cousins that live there too, I love it whenever they phone us and tell me about their home.” You giggle to yourself as you remember all those times.

Charles grabs your chin gently and makes you face him. You look into his eyes and then to his lips. They’re plump and pink and all you’d like to do is to press your own against them. You’ve always liked his kisses, no matter what. The ones on your hands, legs, shoulders but god do you love the ones he leaves on the inside of your thighs. You shiver at the memory of him kneeling down and spreading your legs wide open. As if he could read your mind, his other hand begins to run up and down your thigh. You’re both insatiable -- addictive and you can’t get enough of each other. “Are you close with your cousins, baby?” He asks out of the blue. You clear your throat before responding. “Ahem, uh, we were before Mother married for the third time, I think they should let her be!” He’s told. Your cute lips have formed and slight pout and all he wants to do is bite and suck on them until you’d tell him to stop.

“So you don’t talk to anyone else in your family?” He questions you, raising his eyebrows high up to the sky. “No…” You sigh and start playing with Charles’s fingers. “Uh huh…” He nods, letting your words sink in. You trace little invisible shapes on his hand, slightly ticking the brooding man. “Can you take me to Italy, Daddy? I would truly love to visit!” You ask suddenly, pouting at him. “Sure, baby, but you have to let me do a few things to you first, okay?” He negotiates, and you easily agree to whatever conditions he has for you. “Of course, I’ll do anything for you, Daddy!” You exclaim, accidentally putting an emphasis on ‘anything’. He smirks and cracks his knuckles. The pops make you cringe and squeem in his lap, earning yourself a slap to your thigh.

“Go get the gift I have for you, and be quick, you know I don’t like waiting for too long.” He warns you warily. You quickly dash up to your room, bare feet pattering against the hardwood floors like rain falling on an umbrella. You ravage through your closet and pull out the box before running back downstairs. Your dress gets caught on a piece of stray wood that had been broken from when the butlers were bringing in the new furniture and you huff in annoyance. You impatient yank the cloth from the wood and wince as it rips. You turn on your heels and continue to rush back to the smoke room where Charles was. You pant heavily and struggle to form any words, making Charles chuckle. “What happened to your dress, baby?” He asks, furrowing his eyebrows. You look down and suck in a sharp breath, not realizing that the rip was that bad.

“It had gotten caught on some broken wood…” You admit under your breath. “Hm?” He asks again, not hearing what you said. “It had gotten caught on some broken wood, Daddy… I’m sorry!” You repeat a bit louder, adding an apology at the end. Truth be told, you’re slightly terrified of Charles as anyone would be. “Aw, you’re so clumsy and stupid aren’t you? Just destroying your clothes as a dumb baby would.” He tuts, taunting you and your accident. “Don’t worry baby, Daddy is going to take care of you and that stupid cunt of yours.” He growls, making you gulp. You don’t even think about the overwhelming tingles that have taken your core -- no, instead you think about what he could possibly do next. He pulls the left strap of your dress down, revealing your bare breast. He is closer to you than before and you can’t even remember when he had gotten up from his seat.

He smiles down and you and you look up at him with your lips slightly parted. He does the same to the other strap and exposes your chest for himself and himself only. Cool air hits your tits and your peaks turn rock hard. They twist up painfully and ache for him and his delightful touch. You lose your breath for a few seconds and he pinches your nipples and plays with them -- and you accidentally end up dropping the box. He tuts at you again and you’re quick to pick it up before he takes it away from you. “Such a stupid baby, you need Daddy to help you out because you can’t do anything right, hm? Other than sucking my cock, of course.” He degrades, making you whimper. He guides you to the throne-like chair and makes you sit down. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion and tilt your head at him as he gets down on his knees.

He places the box next to him and spreads your bare legs far apart from each other. He hikes up your dress to your waist and lets out a coo as he spots the evident wetness that has soaked through your panties. The light beige cloth is tarnished and he’s the reason why. “Daddy… What are you doing?” You nervously ask him as you crane your head down to look at him. He looks up at you with an almost devilish smirk and hooks his fingers into your panties before pulling them down your legs. He admires the healed cuts and bruises that probably came from your childhood. He throws your panties behind him and places your legs onto his strong shoulders. You’re not sure what he’s about to do and millions of questions run through your mind.

“Daddy, wh- what are you doing?” You question him, watching as his tongue runs over his plump pink lips. His nips at your thighs -- biting, kissing, and bruising the skin. Arousal leaks from you and smears onto your pussy. He inches his face closer and closer to your pussy before finally answering your question. “I’m going to taste your cute little cunt, baby.” He bluntly tells you before licking a fat stripe up your cunt. “Hu- Oh!” You let out a lewd moan and tangle your fingers in his fluffy caramel hair. The feeling is overwhelming as Charles laps up your wetness even though each lick makes more leak from your drooling hole. He drinks up everything you have to offer like an animal, wanting more and more from you. His tongue travels through your folds, just barely brushing over your clit and you’re writhing above him.

The lewd sounds of his mouth on your pussy echo throughout the rooms but are soon drowned out by your moans. Suddenly, he latches his lips onto your swollen clit and sucks hard. Stars fill your vision at the unfamiliar feeling and you accidentally buck your hips up. He growls in your pussy and slams your hips back down before laying a heavy hand on your lower abdomen. His tongue swirls around your bud and flicks over your clit. You feel dizzy and his tongue and lips continue to send you into oblivion. You slightly tug on his hair and another growl rumbles from Charles, pushing you closer to your release. The fireworks aren’t sparking as much as you’d like them to and you feel empty. Under Charles’s strong arm, you wiggle your hips as you spew alphabetical nonsense.

“Daddy…” You moan out, your voice soft and sweet. He knows what you want but god -- seeing you all needy and desperate makes him even harder than a rock. He relents his sucking on your clit and you whine until he runs his middle finger through your wet cunt. He lightly flicks your clit with his tongue as he suddenly pushes his long digit into your cunt. He quickly finds your g-spot and the build up inside you hits its limit. You cum with a guttural shriek and he continues to abuse your poor cunt with his mouth and finger. Your pussy clenches around his finger and your clit throbs under his tongue as cum gushes out of you. He drinks it all up and stares right at you as he does so. Your sweet taste fills his mouth and he craves you even more -- but his cock is far too hard for him to do anything else.

He pulls his head away from your pussy and looks up at you again. He watches you as he pulls his cum-coated finger out of you and he shoves said finger past your lips. Your taste fills your mouth -- sweet yet a little bitter. It’s a stark contrast from his taste as it was more husky and manly. His finger leaves your mouth with a distinct ‘pop!’ and you look up at him with a face that just begs to him. He latches his lips onto yours and kisses you ferociously. Charles lifts you up from the chair and your sensitive pussy presses against him by accident. You whimper at the unexpected feeling and cry out against his lips. “Daddy! D- Daddy…” You try to keep up with his lips but you can’t, so you decide to give up. His tongue searches your mouth and he occasionally sucks on yours. He’s so experienced, he knows exactly what he’s doing. He knows how to make you easily submit to him, he knows when to nip at your swollen lips and he knows exactly what you need.

He carries you to your bedroom, each step of his adding friction to your pussy. You’re sopping wet and you’re so damn needy for him. You whine against his lips and he pulls away as he climbs the steps. Strong, veiny hands squeeze your ass roughly and his marriage ring digs into your skin. You look ruined -- dress torn and your tits exposed, lips plump and hair disheveled and your cunt is rubbing against Charles. He enters your room and throws you on the bed. You look up at him and he rips your dress off of your body roughly. He pulls the pink wand out from the pocket of his pants and you realize you had forgotten about it. He sets it on the bed and quickly undresses himself, desperate to relieve his ache. You watch him intently, spreading your legs out of instinct and you can feel more wetness dripping out of you.

You can’t keep your eyes off of him, the sight so enticing. Bulging muscles and a beautifully sculpted face that you could look at forever.  He crawls on top of you and puts his hands around your head. He’s left in only his boxers and you can see how hard he is. He’s huge, and sometimes when you think about his cock you can barely get the size right. “Daddy… What are we going to do now?” You ask sweetly, looking up at him. “Daddy’s going to take your innocence away, baby. I’m going to ruin you, turn you into my little minx.” He tells you bluntly, cutting right to the chase. You unconsciously moan at his words and your pussy clenches at the thought of him ruining you. What would that entail? He growls lowly in your ear before attaching his lips to the sweet spot of your neck.

He sucks a hickey onto your skin -- licking, biting, sucking like it’s a hobby of his. You moan at the sensation and he chuckles against your neck. “So sensitive… God, what am I going to do with you, baby?” He sighs, asking himself a question only he knows the answer to. “You can do whatever you want, Daddy! Anything you do is right!” You giggle, answering his question. He groans and a rush of blood heads straight to his cock. He pulls his boxers down, sliding them over his built thighs and past his legs. You watch carefully as his cock bounces up and slaps his lower abdomen -- a sight you’ll never get used to but always love. He grabs the base and spreads your legs even wider. He slaps the tip of his cock on your clit, earning a squeal from you.

“Do you like that, baby doll?” He questions, slapping your clit again. You mewl and nod your head feverishly. You stare up at him and he looks down at you with a Cheshire smirk. He runs his cockhead through your wet folds, smearing the few drops of pre-cum that leaked from his slit. The large, bulbous tip teases your pussy. It bumps up against your clit and as soon as it prods at your tight hole, you feel a bit of panic. Your mother had told you all sorts of horrid stories about those types of things, but you never thought much of it. “Daddy, what are you doing?” You ask him, scrambling to hold one of his hands for comfort.  You lace your fingers with his and he coos at how innocent and docile you are. “I’m going to turn you into my own little angel, okay baby? What’s wrong, hm?” He questions, squeezing your hand tightly.

“I- I’m scared… Do I have to do it, Daddy? I mean I really wanna do it! I’m just unsure, I guess…” You ramble adorably, looking deep in his eyes. His features don’t soften, no, because he knows that deep down inside, you'll do anything for him. “Baby, you’ll make me the happiest man alive if you do this! Don’t you want to make me happy like you always do? C’mon, baby doll, don’t make Daddy upset… You’ve been such a good girl for me! And I know how much you absolutely love being my good girl.” He frowns slightly, beginning to pull away from you. You quickly pull him back to you and Charles smiles at you. “I’d like to still be your good girl, Daddy! I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I swear!” You beg and apologize, tears glossing over your eyes. He shushes you and your chest heaves in a panicking manner.

“Hold onto my shoulders, baby, but don’t hurt me. Okay?” He orders, placing your hands there for you. You nod your head and easily obey his orders without a single peep of objection. He wraps his left hand around your neck, and his right hand goes back to grip his cock. Charles drags the fat tip up and down your wet pussy against, bumping your sensitive clit with it and covering it with your juices. He slowly drags his tip down to your hole and begins to push in, enticing a slightly muffled shriek from you. He shuts you up by pressing his lips on yours and squeezing your throat slightly. His thick cock pushes into you, stretching you out painfully. The burn of the stretch makes you squeeze his shoulders tightly and you whimper loudly into his lips. Charles moans loudly as he sheathes his cock completely into your cunt.

The stretch turns into a dull ache and it’s soon pleasurable. Your wet velvet walls hug his cock tightly, perfectly, as if you’re made for him and him only. “God, so damn tight. Just squeezing my cock like a little slut.” He groans, pulling away from your lips. Both of your faces are frowning in pleasure. He digs his fingers into your hip as he fully bottoms out. It felt like it would never end, as if he would keep pushing into you. Charles swears under his breath and savours the feeling of your pulsing walls squeezing his hard cock. You writhe under him, growing desperate. “Daddy… Please, please, please…” You beg, eyes rolling into your skull out of desperation. “So needy for my cock, just begging for it already…” He tuts and you feel your cunt flutter at his words. He pulls his cock all the way out from your wet pussy and it glistens with your wetness. You feel too empty, far too empty for both yours and Charles’s liking.

He suddenly pushes back into you and begins to pump in and out of your cunt without any warning. You moan loudly, litanies of “Daddy” continuously leaving your mouth like a mantra. His cock practically splits you in half and he fucks into you with a carefree pace. The sounds of skin on skin are drowned out by your moans and groans. His cock hammers against your poor g-spot, pummeling in and out of you with no relent. “Oh Dio, che puttana per il mio cazzo, eh? La mia puttana, solo la mia. Ti rovinerà per ogni altro uomo — anche se sei mia e solo mia.” He groans loudly, the foreign language igniting those fireworks in your core. “Oh Daddy! Oh- oh my…” You cry out, your body jerking with each thrust of his. Charles deepens his thrusts and his cock pummels against your cervix, making you cry out. He whispers a soft apology even though he loves seeing you in pain. He pulls out of your cunt, leaving you a needy, desperate, pathetic slutty mess under him.

The hand around your throat tightens a bit more, causing you to choke on your whines. He grabs the wand behind him and flicks it on, letting it come to life. Charles pinches the bottom of his cock to stave off his release, his balls swollen and heavy. He trails the wand on your inner thighs and watches as you let out a silent scream. “Pretty little angel, my angel… You’re so stupid for my cock, aren’t you? Don’t worry, Daddy’ll take care of you. He moves the hand that was on your throat down to his cock. He slaps the velvet tip on your pussy and runs it through your slit again. He pushes into you and continues to drag the wand along your body. The vibrations tease you and so do his slow thrusts. “P- Please, Daddy, it’s not enough for my tingles, please!” You beg, your hands still on his shoulders. He smiles down at you and lets out a coo, before turning off the wand and throwing it to the side.

“Mia bella sgualdrina, ora mi prenderò cura io di te. Ma ti prenderò a bordo, ti prenderò in giro e ti porterò al tuo rilascio più e più volte, solo perché mi piace vederti tutto più profondo per me.” He husks in your ear, before dragging his cock in and out of you even quicker. He throws one of your legs over his shoulder and fucks into you harshly. His swollen balls slap against your ass and his pelvis grinds against your clit — pushing you closer and closer to your release. He watches you fall apart under him, turning into a little whore just as he had planned. “Please, please, please, please, I want the fireworks so bad Daddy!” You beg, not even realizing that you’re talking. His cock throbs at your words and with one particularly hard thrust, you come undone. You bite back a scream as you cum all over his cock — coating it with your cum.

He looks down to where your bodies are connected and lets out a loud moan. The sight of your poor abused cunt being pounded by his cock makes him harder. He watches as your cunt clenches around him tightly and his grip on your hips becomes tighter. You squeeze his cock tightly and your chest heaves gravely and you’re overly sensitive. He snaps his hips into yours and occasionally grinds his cock into you, just to see you writhe. “You’re taking my big cock so fucking good, baby.” He husks in your ear, before letting out a moan that would make a nun blush. “I can hardly believe you’re taking it all, dove. I was so damn afraid it wouldn’t fit.” He groans, nudging his cock against your g-spot. Your eyes roll back into your skull. You nod your head, realizing that deep down you had thought the same thing. “Aw, too dumb to speak?” He asks tauntingly, bringing his hand to your clit.

He rubs your pearl of nerves that had been abused by his mouth. “I want to fill you up so bad, baby. I want to see you swell up with my seed… Want to see your belly grow with my baby, la mia piccola sgualdrinella.” He moans in your ear. His words set you off again and you arch your back off the bed as you hit your release for the third time in one day. You wriggle away from him as the fireworks become too much for you. You moan loudly and your pussy clamps down tightly on his cock. You squeeze him with all your might as you cream yourself around his cock. Charles shudders at the sights and swears in Italian under his breath. He rubs your clit even harder even though you’re shaking your head and trying to get away from his cock. “Don’t run away from me now, gattina… C’mon, I know you can’t handle my big fat cock, but don’t be like that…” He mopes before letting out his signature breathy chuckle.

You dig your nails into his shoulders as you continue to get railed by him. “Oh my god!” You squeal as you struggle to come down from your high. “C’mon dolce ragazza, give me one more…” He growls, making his thrusts slower and deeper. “Anything you w- want, Daddy.” You croak out between your pornographic moans. He swears he’s about to break you with how hard he’s gripping you, but he can’t find it in himself to stop. His cock head bumps up against your g-spot continuously and lewd, wet squelching sounds fill the room along with the smell of sex. A thin sheen of sweat covers his forehead and he’s panting non-stop.  He grinds his cock into you, enticing a loud scream from you. He immediately clamps a hand over her mouth and presses his forehead to yours. “Shh, shh… Do it, cum on my cock, baby.” He growls, before letting out a loud moan.

You cum with a loud, incessant moan that’s muffled by his hand. Charles groans as his orgasm is triggered too. He pushes deep into your pussy and his cock stills. His balls tighten and your cunt clenches around him as you both cum at the same time. The feeling of his cum filling you up makes you moan pathetically. White, hot, stickiness coats your walls and fills you up to the brim, the never ending amount of it making you sigh is pleasure. Charles watches as some of his cum leaks past his cock and he’s instantly hard again. He waits until he fully comes down from his high before pulling out from your pussy. He’s not sure whether he should go for a second round or not, but you’ve already made up your mind. “Daddy… Can I have more, please? I love it so much, a- and I’d really like for you to help me with my tingles again!” You beg with puppy eyes and an irresistible pout.

He moans at your desperation and neediness before laughing breathlessly. “Oh la mia principessa, you’re already such a slut for my cock…” He smiles down at you and you just whine, making grabbing hands at him. He rolls you over and sits down with you straddling him. Charles’s cock is right against your used pussy and he drags the head through your soaking, cum-coated folds. “Please, please put your c- cock in me…” You beg in a hushed voice, falling onto his chest. He bucks his hips up and enters your pussy in one smooth thrust. One hand lifts you up slightly and the other wraps itself around your throat. “Oh please!” You beg even louder, your face all contorted in pleasure. A growl rumbles in his chest and he begins to fuck up into your pussy. You cry out, and feel tears stinging your eyes from the overwhelming feeling. Both yours and Charles’s cum leaks out of you and drips all over his cock and even leaks down to his balls.

“Cosi' dannatamente bisognoso, Dio. Non ne hai mai abbastanza del mio cazzo, eh? Voglio toccarti tutto il tempo, piccola, voglio vederti gonfiare con il mio sperma. Non vedo l'ora di vedere le tue tette riempirsi di latte, guardarle rimbalzare mentre ti scopo.” He moans softly, panting like a dog. You have no idea what he’s saying, but you just nod in agreement. He chuckles and squeezes your throat just to watch you squirm under his touch. “Oh my god, Daddy! That feels so good, please…” You whisper to him, and he moves his hand on your throat to your ass. He grabs the supple flesh before spanking you for fun, enjoying the way you whimper and clench around his cock. He spreads your butt cheeks and his ring finger dances over your puckered hole. He chuckles as you begin to panic, not even knowing what he’s doing.

He lets go and spanks your ass one more time before making sharper thrusts. He’s deeper than before and you can barely handle it. You dig your nails into his chest, leaving crescent shaped scars that he’ll look back on in the near future. Both of your moans become louder and more desperate, the fireworks in your cores intensifying slowly but surely. “You’re going to cum, aren’t you? Go ahead, do it, cum all over my big fat cock. I’ll fill you up again, don’t worry my little slut.” He smiles, ghosting his lips over yours. On command, you come undone around his cock again. You squeeze him tightly and grind down on his cock on instinct, earning a loud moan from Charles. He spanks your ass again and the delicious sting has you cumming harder. You coat his cock with your juices and tiredness takes you over. You let him rail into you non stop — even though there’s a tinge of blood mixed with your shared cum.

“Oh don’t tell me you’re done already, baby. Daddy’s not even finished with you, yet. We’ll have all the time in the world baby, don’t worry. I’m going to breed you with my seed once we get to Italy, gonna make you needy for my cock all the time; it’s going to be the only thing on your innocent mind.” Charles promises, and you only smile and nod at your Daddy. He groans under you and you can hear the rumbles of it in his chest. “Please f- fill me up, Daddy!” You beg, not even knowing what you’re asking him to do. He lets out a moan at your words and begins to bounce you up and down his long, thick cock. He drives his cock in and out of you incessantly, chasing his orgasm for the second time and you’re whining loudly.

“Oh god, I’m going to cum so fucking hard baby, I’m going to fill you up just like you want me to… Fuck yes!” He shouts, watching as your tits bounce with his each and every movement. He stills and brings you down on his cock, painting your walls with his sticky, copious amounts of cum. He watches as it leaks past his cock that is stuffed in your abused pussy. He rubs your overwrought clit just to see you in pain, before pulling his hand away. You both sigh and Charles rubs his nose against yours, making you bubble in giggles. “Daddy?” You call out to him after a few moments of peaceful silence. “Yes, baby?” He answers, smiling down at you wickedly. “I… I love you…” You whisper to him, before breaking out in a smile. He lets out a hearty chuckle that you’re all but used to.

“Oh princess, if only you knew.”

[radicalfeministnews]

Murder of Mahsa Amini (مهسا امینی), 22, by Iranian police over hijab dress code violation and subsequent mass protests | 16 September 2022

"A 22-year-old woman has died in an Iranian hospital days after being detained by the regime’s morality police for allegedly not complying with the country’s hijab regulations.

Mahsa Amini was travelling with her family from Iran’s western province of Kurdistan to the capital, Tehran, to visit relatives when she was reportedly arrested for failing to meet the country’s strict rules on women’s dress.

Witnesses reported that Amini was beaten in the police van, an allegation the police deny.

The news comes weeks after Iran’s hardline president, Ebrahim Raisi, ordered a crackdown on women’s rights and called for stricter enforcement of the country’s mandatory dress code, which has required all women to wear the hijab head-covering since the 1979 Islamic revolution.

Amini’s family were notified that she had been taken to hospital hours after her arrest. She was transferred to an intensive-care unit at Kasra hospital.

According to Hrana, an Iranian human rights organisation, Amini’s family were told during her arrest that she would be released after a “re-education session”."

"The mandatory dress code, which applies to all nationalities and religions, not just Iranian Muslims, requires women to conceal their hair and neck with a headscarf and wear a loose tunic or coat over their clothes.

Over the decades, women have increasingly pushed back, particularly in the big cities, pushing their headscarves far back on their heads to reveal their hair."

Following a familiar playbook from previous protests and subsequent government crackdowns, internet access is being restricted including messaging apps.

The message written on Mahsa Amini's tombstone reads,

"Zina (Mahsa), you will not die, your name will become a symbol "

in Kurdish.

Many people have been injured, detained and killed by authorities in the following protests, which are ongoing. Women are at the frontlines of these protests, often shaving or cutting their hair, taking off or burning their veils, and being targeted by authorities.

Please see the original posts made by @menalez and especially @aftabkaran for more on what is happening.

[thehuntiswhatdefinesus]

I love the wolf’s and Cassandra’s bickering so much.

Why does it feel like they would use the ‘your mom’ jokes on each other 😭

(Sorry for the long wait! I saw this ask the day it was sent, but I just had this urge to write a little text in reply and I couldn't come up with an idea until today, haha.) They absolutely would use 'your mom' jokes! They might also definitely resort to using 'your mom' as insults in an argument! And the werewolf would immediately fuck up by using a 'your mom' insult in a place where Alcina can hear her. Like, imagine this scenario…

The werewolf shook her head, sending little droplets of water splashing. It had been raining all morning and noon but that sure hadn’t stopped her from heading outside, hoping to hunt. The urge had been prodding her for some time, had made falling asleep as much of a difficult task as staying asleep. More often than not it had even startled her awake with blood-soaked dreams and a gnawing hunger.

So, out she went, weather be damned.

Her hope had been that a certain huntress would join in, accompany her, but the weather made it difficult, what with the temperature of the rain and the moisture in the air making it hard for the daughters to take on the shape of a swarm.

So, alone she went.

And alone, she returned.

Soaked and with nothing to show but wet soil on her pants and twigs in her wet hair.

“Enjoyed your little hunt, pup?”

The werewolf’s eyes darted across the hallway, where Cassandra stood leaning against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest with a playful little grin on her lips. She could feel the huntress judging her appearance and the werewolf huffed in return.

“I did.”

“Where’s your prey?”

The two stared each other down and with each second of silence that passed, Cassandra’s grin grew a little wider.

“… it escaped,” the werewolf begrudgingly admitted, shifting her weight from one mud-covered boot to the other.

“Did it now? I wonder how that happened? Wait, no, let me… guess,” Cassandra whispered, pulling away from the wall and stalking towards the werewolf. “Mud on your boots… and you leave tracks without an impression of the shape of your sole… mud on your knees and sleeves… hmm. Alright, here’s what happened. You lost traction and slipped on the wet soil.”

The werewolf grit her teeth. Caught. That’s exactly what had happened. A turn that was a little too tight, a slip and… the buck ran and she just barely managed to catch herself and avoid face-planting into the mud.

“So?”

“You didn’t shape-shift?”

One eyebrow raised, the huntress approached the werewolf, circling around her with a curious expression and a little tilt of her head.

“And return to the castle with my fur soaking wet and covered in mud and twigs?” the werewolf grunted, half-serious, half-amused. As if Lady Dimitrescu would forgive her for shaking the excess water off in the main hall…… again. It was bad enough that she left tracks of mud in her wake.

“Oh, you know Daniela would bathe you, if you did,” Cassandra teased. Her fingers touched the smaller woman’s shoulders, walking alongside from one shoulder to the other as she circled.

“Maybe that’s the problem.”

“Sounds like you’re a water-shy little puppy.”

“Says the one that didn’t want to accompany me for fear of getting wet,” the werewolf took a step forward, blocking Cassandra’s path, leaning into her vision. An amused chuckle was all she got in return, with the huntress giving her a little shove, forcing a separation.

“You know there’s a very valid reason for me to avoid getting wet,” she said, but remained in place, eyes now focused on the werewolf. “Hmm. Maybe you just want to see this white shirt soaked and see-through, don’t you, pup?”

As if for emphasis, she brushed down the front of her own shirt, up to where the bodice started.

“You wish,” the werewolf snapped, glaring at the woman before her.

If only her reply didn’t sound so half-hearted and rushed.

Cassandra chuckled.

“Maybe I do. But not in the main hall,” she murmured, raising one hand to caress the werewolf’s jawline, drawing her in closer, the beckoning eagerly followed. From nearby, she could hear footsteps, slow, purposeful, but heavy. It could only be the lady’s.

“What, scared someone is going to see?” This time, it was the werewolf that couldn’t stop the grin on her lips. “Didn’t expect you to be so shy.”

“Ha! That’s a lot of bark for someone with no bite,” Cassandra withdrew her hand and the werewolf had to hold back a whine at the loss of contact. “You’re the one that would panic if someone were to walk in on me bending you over that vanity and making you cum at the mere touch of my fingers. All flustered and shy.”

The werewolf struggled to stop her mind from derailing into inappropriate thoughts while she was still very much soaked to the bone and half covered in dirt. She took a breath, furrowing her brows. Focus. Don’t let Cassandra get the upper hand.

Do something. Say something.

“Your mom is all flustered and shy.”

Silence.

The slow steps had stopped.

Both of Cassandra’s eyebrows shot up. In disbelief, perhaps? Maybe she didn’t expect the werewolf to resort to this level of petty? Then her eyes followed the movement, darting up, fixating on something behind the werewolf, something very tall.

“I beg your pardon, mutt?”

The werewolf’s breath caught in her throat, heart leaping in her chest and stomach plummeting all at once. She didn’t dare turn her head, didn’t dare face who was very much the lady of the castle, who had literally just overheard her.

“I-”

Something grabbed her by the coat, slowly, slowly lifting her off the ground and turning her until she was face to face, eye to eye with Lady Dimitrescu. How had she gotten this close, this fast?! Without the werewolf’s ears picking up the noise?!

“S-sorry?” the werewolf spluttered, hanging limp in mid-air, trying not to let out an excessive amount of little canine whines and whimpers. The lady fixated on her for an awfully long time – five seconds? Ten?

Finally, mercifully, the lady seemed to have decided that today was not the day that the mutt would be kicked out of the castle for being a nuisance.

“You are lucky, I am aware of the increased use of this specific vernacular in the past decades,” Lady Dimitrescu said and lowered the smaller woman back down. The werewolf’s feet touched the ground but she didn’t dare make a move yet, still staring up in fear. “However, my patience only lasts so long and the current state of the main hall is rapidly draining it. If this floor is not clean within the next twenty minutes, we will be having words, mutt.”

[dcbutinamrev]

Has executed Hamilton’s commission

On this day, 241 years ago, while still being on parole in Philadelphia, Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens enters a talor shop to commission a hat in which I think to bring hope and comfort and assurances to Hamilton who was still in New York at the time if I remember. So here. Have this fluffy little ficlet based off of that. Also, it states that there are no historical evidences of Mulligan meeting or personally knowing Laurens but since he’s a tailor I thought, why not?

*** 

Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens walks the busy streets of Philedelphia with his hands stuffed into his coat pocket, his posture rather straight and rigid as though General Washington himself were standing in front of him. Even though his head remains facing forward, Laurens’s bright blue eyes scans around him, watching the other citizens and pedestrians mill around him, chatting lively and laughing and children squealing as they rush around him. Laurens smiles fondly to himself as he watches them rush by. 

A young boy who perhaps looks more like Meade, with dark tangled shoulder-length hair and bright green eyes sprints down the sidewalk, his shoulder knocking into Laurens’s side, causing the boy to tumble over his own feet. Luckily, Laurens notices this and catches him in time, standing him upright and dusting the boy off. 

“Easy, lad,” Laurens says, a small smile upon his face as he dusts the boy’s shoulders. “Make sure you watch where you’re going.” 

“Yes, sir,” the boy huffs, clearing his throat. “My apologies, sir.” 

“It’s not a worry,” Laurens hums, watching the boy run off again. 

Laurens sighs to himself, waiting for the boy to turn safely around the corner before turning back around and head towards the nearest tailor shop, a letter close to his pocket and money too. Laurens stuffs his hand back into his coat pocket and pulls out a small sketch of his dear Hamilton into his palm. He feels the corners of his lips quirk upward as he strokes his thumb over the rough lines indicating Hamilton’s curls. He glances around him, pressing his lips together firmly before bringing the sketch up to his lips, giving it a small kiss. 

“My love,” Laurens whispers agaisnt the paper before stuffing the drawing back inside his pocket. 

After about fifteen minutes more of endless walking, Laurens reaches his destination. Laurens glances up to read the sign on top of the brick building before him, above the door. He grins. 

Mulligan’s Tailor Shop. 

Laurens puffs out a breath before pushing the door open, causing the bell to chime unformfortably loud. He presses his lips together, furrowing his brows as he cautiously scans the building’s interior. He sees racks of coats, breeches, boots and dresses in multiple colors around him, giving him little walkspace, He sees a rather long wooden desk at the front, a stool behind it and no one sitting. Laurens awkwardly stands there like an idiot, feeling himself shrink a little as he steps hesitantly towards the desk. 

After a few more minutes of silence and waiting, Laurens clears his throat and says, “Hello?” 

“Ah! Yes!” a rough, Irisish accented voice bellows suddenly from behind the rack of clothes. Laurens grimaces when he hears metal clinging against metal, a curse being hissed and what sounds like the person tripping over thier own feet. “My apologies! I’m on my way! Agh, damn!” 

“Are you...are you alright, sir?” Laurens says cautiously. 

“Oh, yes, I’m fine, thank you,” the man says as he comes around the corner, huffing and puffing as he dusts himself off and his hands as well before slamming a stack of parchment and a quill down. He turns to Laurens sharply. “How may I help you?”

Laurens pinches his lips, pulling out the change and the evelope onto the desk, sliding it towards the strawberry blonde haired and hazeled eyed man before him. The man raisies an eyebrow as he takes hold of the envelope. Laurens leans against the desk, his chest pressing agaisnt the edge and he matches the man’s suspcious expression. 

“I’d like to commission a hat,” Laurens says. 

“A hat?” says the man. “What for?” 

“Does it matter?” Laurens counters, his jaw clenching. 

“What? A man can’t be curious, can he?” the man says. Laurens doesn’t reply. He extends his hand towards Laurens with a chuckle. “The name’s Hercules Mulligan, by the way. A pleasure to meet your acquaintance Mr...?” 

“Laurens,” Laurens huffs, shaking Mulligan’s hand. “John Laurens.” 

“Laurens?” Mulligan repeats with clear surprise in his voice. He grins. “Ah, yes. You must be the son of Henry Laurens? A South Carolinaian, are you not?” 

Laurens nods with confirmation. “I am indeed.” 

“A pleasure to meet you in person, Mr. Laurens,” Mulligan says. “And who might this hat be for?” 

“Hamilton,” Laurens says instantly, a small grin on his face as Hamilton’s beautiful visage flashes before him. Mulligan snaps his head up at Laurens, both eyebrows raised an eyes wide. “Alexander Hamilton.” 

“Hamilton...” Mulligan huffs, a small smile on his face, followed by a short laugh. “Ah, yes. Hamilton. How is he, by the way?” 

This catches Laurens’s eye. “You knew him?” 

“Why of course,” Mulligan says as he reads the measurements on the paper for Hamilton’s hat. Mulligan sighs as he jots something down on the parchment. “He was seventeen when he arrived in America from the West Indies. I was thirty-two when I met him. I took him in instantly under my wing.” He glances up at Laurens through his spectacles. “I haven’t seen him since King College years, since the war broke out.” 

A pause. 

“He’s never told me about you,” Laurens as he watches Mulligan run around the rack of clothes to gather supplies to begin making Hamilton’s hat. 

“I wonder why,” is all Mulligan says. 

Laurens smiles to himself as the room falls silent again. 

“Have you been keeping an eye on him?” Mulligan asks as comes around the corner agaiin. “He’s known to be a little rascal sometimes.” 

Laurens chuckles and nods. “Hm. Yes.”

“Good.” Another pause. “What’s he up to now?” 

Laurens clenches his jaw, swallowing hard which causes him to grimace, as though a hand were clamped around his airway. He bites his tongue as he remembers the letter he recieved not long ago about Hamilton announcing his engagment to a Miss Schuyler. His hear clenching, making it difficult for him to breathe. 

“Well...” Laurens begins. “He’s uh...” He clears his throat and blinks his eyes. Blinks them fast. “He’s now an aide-de-camp to General Washington and a Lieutenant Colonel such as myself in the American Continental Army.” 

Mulligan huffs. “A solider. My God.” 

“Yes...” Laurens says. He glances down, watching Mulligan begin to adjust any final touches to the black tricorn. 

“Anything else?” Mulligan wonders. 

“He’s...” Laurens swallows. “He’s...He’s engaged.” 

Mulligan suddenly yelps, dropping his work and supplies, stumbling backwards over the stool. Laurens panics for a moment, eyes wide with slight concern as Mulligan stumbles backwards still into the racks behind him until he finally regains his balance and catches the stool in time. He sits the stool back up right, blinking his eyes as he shakes his head, gaping at Laurens who frowns with confusion. 

“Engaged?!” Mulligan shrieks. He laughs suddenly, running a hand through his hair. “He’s getting married?! My God, Hamilton!” 

“Yes,” is all Laurens says. “Are you alright?” 

“I am,” Mulligan says. “The news just took me by surprise is all.” 

“Understandable. I was quite...” Laurens lets his voice trail off and pinches his lips. Angry, upset, hurt, betrayed. He shakes his head, clearing his throat, and glances back up. “Surprised as well.” 

“Well then,” Mulligan says, finishing the last touches. “Here we are.” 

Laurens grabs the envelope and quill and dips the pen into the ink before writing in elegant cursive handwriting: 

Has executed Hamilton’s commission by arranging a tailor to make a hat for him.

-John Laurens 

Laurens sets the quill down, folding the envolope and hands it to Mulligan. 

“Send this to Colonel Alexander Hamilton of General Washington’s Army,” Laurens whispers.

Mulligan nods and takes the envelope. Without another word, Laurens pushes the door open and out into the bustling streets once more. He stands there, hands clenched at his sides and closes his eyes, breathing in deeply once before puffing out a breath. 

Laurens makes a right. 

And grips hold onto the sketch of his Hamilton.