#and an irishman all walk into a bar

[mythawolf]

I apologise for the sideways image, in which a Dutchwoman, an Englishwoman, and an Irishman in ww2 all wonder how the victim's spleen got there.

(Idk if dirty great is something that has been used in Ireland... Ever lol)

[leo-muscle]

Kings of the World: Caribbean Waves

Kai knew he was far above the rest. Born into money and power, he got everything he wanted, exactly when he wanted it. Women, cars, planes, food... all at the drop of a dime. He dressed in designer suits, which he constantly bragged about the price of. He wanted the whole world to bow to him, and worship the very ground he walked on.

This leads to Kai's 22nd birthday party, taking place in the Bahamas. He had invited five of his wealthiest friends, the only people he deemed worthy of associating with. They had spent the entire month on Kai's father's dime with women, watersports, booze, and dice, all leading up to one final drinking night on Kai's actual day of birth aboard his luxury yacht, moored to a private island. The party was too much: strippers dotted the decks, fireworks went off every half hour, loud music floated about, and poker chips poured like honey. Kai himself sat at the head table with his five rich friends.

"Here's to one more year of life!" Kai cheered, his voice slurring.

"Hear, hear!" His friends replied, and they all chugged down their liquor like it was water.

"Alright, guys, I've got the next round coming!" Kai shouted, as he dashed back to the bar... only something was amiss.

The scantily-dressed barwoman was nowhere to be seen. Instead, an absolute giant of an irishman stood behind the bar, dancing to the beat of the music. He wore no shirt, just a bowtie with a nametag reading "Dom," and short shorts, accentuating his enormous muscles. An easy smile sat on his face, accented by the enormous emerald earring in his right ear. Just by being in the room with the man, Kai felt a need to compete with him.

"Where's Chrissy?" Kai asked, a simmer of anger in his voice.

"Ach, she was feeling a tad ill, so she came to fetch me." The bartender replied in a soothing Irish accent. "Watcha looking for tonight?"

"Something powerful and special." Kai said. "You'd know a thing or two about that."

The bartender's smile twitched. "I think I got just the thing for a birthday boy like you. Little something from back home, you aught to enjoy it."

The bartender turned around, and started pouring a variety of liquors into a shaker, then dancing to mix it all up. Kai couldn't stop looking at his ass: while Kai was incredibly straight, he could easily tell that this man had a great, bouncy bubble butt. His pecs too were incredible, the girls should be all over him-- why weren't they?

The bartender brought the shaker right up to his enormous left pec, opened it up, and dumped something in it that Kai couldn't see. He then presented the drink into a tall tankard. It was a sparkling emerald green, unlike any drink Kai had seen before.

"What is this shit?" Kai groaned.

"Special recipe of mine. You'll learn to make it yourself, someday."

"As if. People make my drinks, not the other way around."

Kai took a big swing of the emerald drink, chugging it all in one go. Instantly, he could feel his insides bubbling.

"Did you poison me?!" Kai screamed, but was inaudible over the clamor of the party.

"Nope." The bartender said. "Enjoy." And with that, he vanished.

Kai ran to the restroom as his muscles began burning and pulsing with new strength. He could barely make it to the bathroom before he began to shake, shiver, moan, and grow.

As Kai grew, a single thought entered his head.

My behavior is not suited for a King.

----------

Kai's friends were starting to wonder where their leader had gone, when suddenly, a single text appeared on their phones.

Kai: Everyone, come down to the island. There's someone you need to meet.

The group stumbled to the beach, where a single man awaited them, carrying four drinks with him. He was enormous, seven feet tall, and was a stunning example of peak masculinity. He was clearly from the islands around here: his beautiful, dark skin reflected the setting sun perfectly, while saltwater trickled through his tight curls, mustache, and goatee. His gigantic, bouncy, fuckable pecs sat atop a tight muscle gut, indented with the turtle-shell pattern of abs. His biceps outsized his head, and were crisscrossed with a pattern of veins showing his strength. His legs would have been incredibly oversized on any other man, but on him, they were glorious, perfect cylinders striated with pure strength, able to cut through water with ease. His ass was a perfect breeding site for any cock able to work its way past his thick muscle cheeks. An inviting aroma of saltwater and musk wafted from him, beckoning the boys over. It assaulted their nostrils, the scent unimpeded by clothes, for this beach hunk wore only a speedo and a necklace of purest silver. It smelled divine, and although these boys were straight before, this musk was worth far more than any feeble heterosexuality. They almost climbed over each other to get closer to the man.

"Now, now," The beach hunk said. "We can take me in some other time; I'm not the important one here. What is important, is you."

"What do you mean?" One of the rich boys asked. "You're perfect!"

"And you can be too." The beach hunk replied. "You boys want a drink?"

"Yes?" Another rich boy said.

"I made them myself," The beach hunk said, gesturing to the drinks in his hands. They gleamed a pure silver, like liquid mercury.

"From this big boy down here." He continued, patting the massive cock straining to break free of his speedo.

By this point, every single boy had a raging-hard on. They needed to know what this man tasted like. They dashed over to the beach hunk, and each grabbed a glass from the man's enormous hands, and drank the whole thing in one gulp each.

Instantly, their bodies expanded. Their thighs grew from twigs to tree trunks, laced with power. Their arms mirrored their King's, bursting with strength the size of coconuts. Their abs, one by one, popped into existence, forming tight eight-packs on all of their cores.

Soon, one boy started noticing how hot his neighbor was getting. While the beach hunk was a true being of masculinity, his friend was definitely becoming capable of rivaling him. He reached over to his friend's chest, and touched his nipple--

And suddenly, his friend's chest ballooned past almost every letter of the alphabet with mass, growing larger and darker and more sensitive, until his pecs were just as bouncy and voluptuous as his King's.

"B-bro..." He moaned. "I... I need you to touch them..."

His fellow transformee showed no slowness as he latched his rapidly-expanding hands onto his friend's enormous muscle tits, pawing and kneading the muscle and nipple. His friend moaned with pleasure. How could his chest feel so good?

The other two had noticed what their friends were doing, and immediately joined in. One began worshipping another's ass, while the final one began giving his friend a blowjob. Soon, their asses and dicks had all expanded into pillars and beautiful mounds of dark flesh, sensitive and plush, perfect for kneading. The friends grew closer and closer together, their hair darkening and tightening as they went, until they had all become a massive literal clusterfuck. Each man was sucking a nipple, taking a dick, fucking an ass, all in the most intense pleasure any of them had ever felt in their life.

Though, eventually, it was all too much. They felt their load coming right from their new enormous bull balls... and they just couldn't hold it any longer. In a burst of cum, they all released each other, panting on the sand in their beautiful new forms.

King Kai knew his new boys would make great citizens of his kingdom, but there was still much work to be done. He would go about this subtly, with his own line of drinks laced with kingly fluid. Soon, the islands would be peaceful, and everyone would live freely and without strife.

[starlightsreigns]

serial lover | j. uso

chap. one: new flame

summary: jordyn will tell you she's a levelheaded person, but that's a lie. she caught at crossroads, and she doesn’t want to choose.

warnings: 18+, smut. mdni

word count: 3.4K

author's note: welcome to serial lover: the series! haven't stopped thinking about this storyline for MONTHS. truly was the best couple of weeks in my entire life. so, this was birthed from missing seeing these two interact on tv. sorry for the lowercase, it's my bad habit. also can't decide if I should post part two to this... let me know.

baby try a new thing, let’s spark a new flame

Jordyn wasn’t an insatiable person and neither was she jealous. let’s just make that clear. she was cool, levelheaded, and had the biggest crush on the strongest woman she knows: rhea ripley. it was a given. the crush that she had on rhea had made her a jealous, petty, and slightly unhinged person. she couldn’t help it. Jordyn knew that the relationship with dominik wasn’t a real one, but one played for the cameras. but, it didn’t make it easier seeing the pair always hanging out with each other - yes, they’re friends, again she wasn’t as level-headed as she used to be. it wasn’t just dominik, everyone hung onto every word that came out of The Eradicator's mouth, not that she didn’t completely understand. 

celebration for night one of WrestleMania was in full swing at a private club downtown. the place was filled to the brim with superstars, both the WWE kind and the Hollywood kind. replays of the matches filled TV screens and she found herself entranced by the one playing the ending of Rhea’s match against Becky. She watched as Rhea hoisted Becky’s legs up for the pin that solidified her continued reign as champion. she groaned internally as she turned, forcing herself to think pure, innocent thoughts. 

why was she here? she had her own match that she needed to be focused on. yet, when her eyes fell on rhea near the bar, it all clicked. of course, she’d be wherever the australian woman was, even if that meant a lack of sleep leading into wrestlemania sunday. 

“jordyn, come take shots with us!” naomi waved her over. 

rhea’s eyes fell on Jordyn, flickering on as she watched her walks towards naomi, jade, and bianca. she straightened out her shoulders, taking peeks at Jordyn while pretending to be listening to the conversation that was happening between the rest of her faction. Damian noticed it first and bumped shoulders with Finn who only snorted. 

“i should go buy Jordyn a drink,” finn started, watching rhea closely for her reaction. “see if she’s interested in getting to know this irishman a lil better.”

“fuck off, balor.” rhea shot him a looking before glancing at Jordyn again. “i’m gonna go talk to her.” she muttered to no one in particular. 

dominik applauded, “good luck!” 

as the foursome downed a shot, bianca was standing in front of Jordyn smiled, and pulled her closer. without saying a word she wiped some of Jordyn’s smudged lipstick of and fixed her hair discreetly as she watched in confusion. 

“rhea is walking towards us, acting normal you fool.” she smiled through the words. 

Jordyn almost went rigged before relaxing her shoulders. she set the shot glass down and pretended to be engrossed in the fake conversation that jade had thankfully started. rhea though had feigned in confidence for a moment, pausing at the bar behind them. she took a deep breath before finally making it to them. 

“do you mind if i steal Jordyn from you?” she asked no one in particular. 

few places were crowded with people, but rhea had scooped out a spot in the farthest corner for them to sit. Jordyn sat near the wall, crossing her long leg as rhea situated herself. their thighs were slightly pressed together, but neither one of them dared to move. 

“how are you?” rhea asked. 

Jordyn smiled, “you’re asking me how i am after you just opened wrestlemania? are you kidding?” she playfully punched rhea’s arm. “i’m whatever, how are you ms.champ?” 

rhea’s cheek reddened. she shrugged her shoulder in contemplation, “it’s unbelievable.” 

“i think you were fucking awesome, i would’ve bet money on you if it wouldn’t cost me my job.” 

the women laughed for a moment before falling into a comfortable silence. some nerves sat in both of their stomachs. Jordyn looked over to where her friends were standing. jade, who was the newest to the group and newest to finding out about Jordyn’s crush, widened her eyes in a do something kind of way. 

“how’s the celebration, you know, with your crew?” Jordyn motioned to where the rest of the judgement day sat trying to pretend like they were watching them. “priest hasn’t looked away, am i keeping you from something?” 

“nothing at all,” rhea respond without looking away from Jordyn. “they’re just.. you know.” 

Jordyn nodded slowly, “are you okay? you seem quieter than usual.”

it took everything rhea to find a response. she finally glanced around the room. she took in the fact that the other three women were also watching them before glancing at her stablemates. she turned her attention back to Jordyn who was studying her. 

“your girls are staring too,” she responded finally. 

a laugh passed Jordyn’s glossed lips, “yeah, they’re my cheerleaders.” 

“cheerleaders?” rhea questioned, slightly moving in closer to Jordyn, closing more space that they didn’t even have. “in what way?” 

Jordyn uncrossed her leg to turn slightly towards rhea. she searched her eyes trying to figure out if this was her opportunity to just tell the woman what she was feeling. fuck it, she was going to throw caution to the wind and get it all out in the open. they were being watched by their friends and when she caught a glimpse of dominik walking up the girls, it confirmed that maybe rhea felt the same way. 

“you know, when they see me talking to someone i find very attractive, they always want to see me win.” Jordyn spoke softly, her eyes flickering to rhea’s lips before meeting her eyes. “they know i like you, so they’re on the sideline waiting to see if i have enough balls to finally tell you.” 

rhea didn’t say anything for a moment, but her eyes seemed to twinkle in the darkness of the bar. she leaned in closer to Jordyn and glanced at her lips. 

“so, if i kissed you right now, do you think our friends would get the message that we both had the balls to tell each other how we feel?” rhea’s voice was lower, darker. “will you let me kiss you?” 

“rhea,” Jordyn breathed out. “you’d be the one playing with fire.” she murmured as she allowed her hand to touch the warm skin on rhea’s torso.

finally, and after an agonizing minute, rhea leaned into kiss Jordyn. it was slow and deliberate. Jordyn sighed into the kiss and cupped her face, deepening it before they pulled away. their chest heaved as they caught their breath. 

“can i call you later?” 

“i’ll be waiting,” Jordyn answer, standing first to leave. 

she could hear the clapping coming for the judgement day boys as she walked past. her face felt hot but she stopped and gave them a bow before returning to her friends who were quick to envelop her in a group hug, playfully smacking her ass. naomi handed her a shot that they had ordered. 

“to this bitch finally having the balls!” 

they clinked their glasses and bottomed up. she stole a glance at Rhea who had made it back to her friends. they met eyes, both smiling. 

ꕀ  ꕀ  ꕀ

the night felt long, but in the best way. after several more shots, some that she took with other superstars, Jordyn knew she was drunk. her six inch heels no longer felt like needles in the soles of her feet, she felt like she could party until the sun rose. yet, as everyone started to head out, she hitched a ride back to the hotel with the twins and naomi. Jordyn rested her head in Jey’s lap, trying to keep her eyes open. Jey was kind enough to rub her arm through his own drunken state. 

“you still breathin’ ma?” jey leaned down to whisper in her ear. 

The couple in the front seat were in their own conversation leaving Jordyn and jey in their own world. she shifted around onto her back to look up at him as she nodded. he let out a little cackle at the goofy smile on her face. 

“what’s so funny, uce?” Jordyn gripped his arm that came around her stomach to support her. “you look drunk as shit.” she teased. 

Jey brought his face down closer to hers, “not as drunk as you jo, you look like them white girls outside the club.” 

“take that shit back,” she protested softly, swatting his arm. “you’re just jealous cause i can get down.” 

“nah, i’m jealous cause i ain’t taking you home with me.” he whispered with his tone turning serious. “gotta celebrate the winning twin, right?” 

Jordyn was lost for words. she stared into his eyes while she nodded, “right.” the word caught her in her throat but coming out in the tiniest of whispers. “and you want me to be the prize you won tonight?” 

“we all want different prizes, Uce still gets to be with his woman tonight.” he joked, leaning back into the seat to stare at the roof of the car. 

his comment laid thick between them. and in that moment, she completely forgot about the woman she had made out with earlier in the night. coincidentally, jey wasn’t there when it happened and she battled internally with the situation. she wasn’t in a relationship and rhea never said she wanted a relationship. it was an internal battle, and her drunken mind wanted the one thing she could have right then and there. 

Jordyn slowly moved her hand up to rest against the hem of his shirt. jey’s focus slowly fell onto her hand before her. a smirk played on his lips as she lifted the shirt to allow her cold hands to run over his warm skin. 

“i wanna celebrate jey uso.” she whispered softly, sitting up slowly so the two in the front seat wouldn’t catch on. “how do you celebrate?” 

her hands lowered from his stomach to the waistband of his joggers. she watched as Jey took a deep breath, glancing to see if his brother had noticed. he turned his face towards Jordyn, their nose barely touching. the tension was thick as her hand slowly made its way down to his growing erection. jey had seemingly held his breath when her cold hands wrapped around him, and moved at an agonizingly slow pace. 

“i got something for you,” jey muttered into her ear, inhaling when her finger slightly grazed his sensitive tip. “jo,” and it came out almost as if he was begging. 

“don’t worry about me,” Jordyn shifted closer to him, her lip close to his ear. “im gonna celebrate you, uce, maybe i'll even beg.” 

when the car turned into the parking lot, Jordyn withdrew her hand and rested her head on his shoulder, pretending to be fast asleep. she could hear naomi complain about how tired she was then jimmy making a joke about her not getting any sleep. 

“don’t worry, i’ll get her to her room, y’all go do y’all stuff.” jey ushered them off before look down at Jordyn. “c’mon, they’re gone.” 

Jordyn couldn’t contain the soft, drunk laughter that tumbled from her lips and she stumbled out of the car behind jey. he held onto her hand as they walked into the hotel. the tension from earlier returning with a vengeance. their hands gripped one another’s as they made it to the elevator, every now and then they’d sneak a glance at each and Jordyn couldn’t help but bite her lip. his simple merch shirt, gold necklace, and black joggers shouldn’t be as sexy as it was. 

when the elevator door opened, the pair rushed in. jey barely had the chance to press the floor number before Jordyn pulled him into her. her back pressed into the wall as he gripped her waist. their lips met in a hungry kiss that felt desperate. they barely pulled apart when the door opened. from there, Jordyn allowed jey to lead her to his hotel room. 

they separated when they walked into the room. Jordyn threw herself back onto the mattress, sighing in content while jey raided the bar. as the true star he was, he was in one of the fancier suites and she took a moment, even through the drunken state, to appreciate it. 

“here mama,” jey stood in front of her laid out body, situating himself between her slightly parted legs.

Jordyn sat up slowly, staring up at him through her eyelashes. she wrapped her arms around his stomach, opening her mouth and titling her head up for him to pour the dark liquor from the bottle. jey grinned as he started a light pour down her throat. He stopped when her mouth was nearly full, allowing her to swallow. it tasted like nothing but water and instantly made her go limp with a laugh. she knew she was too drunk to be drinking, and it was only going to push her closer to a blackout. 

“what’s so funny?” jey asked as he tilted the bottle back to drink. when he sat the bottle down and turned his attention back to her, she was flipped onto her stomach with her legs crossed in the air. “fuck,” 

“what?” Jordyn glanced back at him with a knowing smirk. “come lay down.” 

her descent to the ground was a little wobbly, but Jordyn watched as jey laid in the spot she once occupied. his eyes were fixated on her, never straying even when she did a meaningless spin. after a moment, she stood between his legs, running her hand up and down his thighs. 

“say you want me,” she murmured while climbing up to straddle his lap. Jordyn raked her fingers through his hair making his eyes slowly close. “say it, jey.” 

“i want you, jo.” 

Jordyn finally connected her lips to his. the kiss was hungrier than before, grinding her ass on him. She was hornier past the point of comphrension as she whined into the kiss. Jey’s eyes opened at the sound, biting down on her bottom lip causing her to whine louder. 

“Jey, i want you,” She whined as their lips pulled apart. 

That was the only thing he needed to hear. He flipped her onto the mattress, slipping his shirt over his head then helped take off her dress, tossing it over the edge of the bed. Jordyn stared up at him with hunger in her eyes. When Jey got off the bed to drop his joggers to the ground, her legs slightly pressed together in anticipation. Restless, Jordyn leaned up to pull him back on top of her, wanting to feel the warmth of skin again. 

“You real impatient, ma, do somethin’ for me,” He murmured with his lips on her neck. “Sit on my face, baby.” 

The air got caught in Jordyn’s throat at the request. She bit her lip as he massaged her ass, continuing his attack on her neck. She moaned softly, only yelping when he had slapped down on her ass cheek. Jey tapped her thigh as he lay on the bed, motioning her to take a seat. Jordyn wasn’t usually worried or self-conscious, but even through her drunkenness, she felt her heart beating out of her chest. She crawled up his body cautiously, feeling his chest under her hands. 

When she straddled his face, Jordyn licked her lips unable to move, “this is what you want?” 

Jey hooked his arms under her leg with a nod, pulling her down so she would meet his tongue. Jordyn threw her head back as he instantly started to tease and suck on her clit, wasting no time. Her juices collected on her tongue as he licked up her slit. The moans fell from her like a river as she gripped his long black hair that had fallen from the ponytail long ago. Jordyn couldn’t help it as she grinded her hips against his face, chasing the high that was so close. 

“Fuck you, jey.” Jordyn moaned, grazing the tip of her finger on his cheek. 

The feeling of his tongue on her folds started to make her legs tremble, unable to hold herself up Jordyn gripped the headboard to keep steady, making his grip on her legs tighter to his face as she squirmed. Her moans intensified, not caring who the neighbors were and if they could hear them. Jey alternated between sucking on sensitive bud and fucking her hole with his tongue. 

“Holy shit, Jey, please,” Jordyn plead. 

Her orgasm rushed over, allowing the most delicious moan that Jey’s ever heard fall from her lips. Jordyn fell limp with her breast pressed against face as she moved her heat from his face in attempt to take a breath. Jey chuckled while she was too tired to protest. He wrapped his arm around her waist and took a nipple into her mouth. 

“How you feelin’ mama?” He asked. 

Jordyn, after finally catching her breath, “fuck me,” she rolled onto her stomach on the bed, turning to look at him. “Please?” 

Jey groaned at the sight of her, watching as Jordyn arched her back. He ran his palms over her ass, smacking roughly as she gripped the sheets. 

“Don’t worry baby, ima take care of you.” her murmured as he gripped the back of her neck and pushed her cheek into the bed. 

“You takin’ too long.” Jordyn huffed then gasped when she felt his finger in her slick entrance, teasing her mercilessly. “Jey…”

Watching Jordyn squirm around made him chuckle, but finally gave into the one thing that she wanted. His tip teased her entrance, slowly pushing into her as she moaned into the mattress, squeezing her eyes shut in pleasure. Jordyn forced her eyes open to watch as Jey focused on his deep strokes that felt like they were hitting her in the stomach. 

The sound of the bed shaking mixed with the moans from Jordyn and Jey’s grunts. Her mouth felt dry and she didn’t know how much she could take before she exploded. And when she tried to crawl away for a breather, Jey tightened his grip and slammed into her. 

“Don’t go runnin’ from me now, baby, you was beggin’ for this.” Jey kissed her hip. “Say my name, Jordyn.” 

Jordyn choked out his name, feeling the lack of air in her lungs. Jey reached around to wrap a hand around her throat and bring her up against him. He kissed on her neck as Jordyn tried to breath through all the strokes. She could feel the climax in the pit of her stomach and didn’t know how to vocalize it. 

“Please, please, please.” Jordyn begged, resting her hand over his around her neck. 

“You wanna cum?” He questioned in her ear. Jordyn nodded fervently with her mouth dropped open as soft cries fell from them. “Cum for me, all over this dick.” 

It was too much to hold any longer. Jordyn came so hard she was pretty sure she died and went to Heaven and Jey could see it painted by the dumb look on her face. Yet, that didn’t stop the pounding and the sweet nothings that he whispered in her ear and she begged hom to continue. Gosh, she felt like the biggest and luckiest slut in the world. One tear and another fell down her cheek - truly the best fuck she’s had in a while. 

As Jey’s pumps turned sloppy, Jordyn found her voice again, “come in me, please.” She wasn’t sure where those words came from, but she meant it as she squeezed around him. 

“Fuck, Jordyn.” Jey bit her shoulder as he twitched inside her and moaned as he filled her deep. “So sexy.” He muttered as she sunk back into the bed. 

Their labored breaths is all they had as they laid beside each other. Jordyn turned her head to look at Jey and when they made eye contact they couldn’t help the laughs they shared. Jey pulled her into him, wrapping his arms around her stomach then resting his chin in the crook of her neck. 

“Did we just do that?” Jordyn murmured, staring up at the ceiling. 

Jey hummed, “I been waitin’ years to do that.” 

“Was it everything you imagined?” she turned slightly to meet his eyes. 

“Fuck yeah,”

They didn’t say anything else until they fell asleep, completely and utterly shocked on how one night changed their entire relationship.

:) welp, this my homecoming gift after being gone for so long

[wackapedia]

The Lady Of Devon

Sihtric x Reader, Finan x Reader Summary: You are a daughter of the ealdorman of Devon, you bothered Uhtred to let you join his band of merry fighters, and you live the best months of your life. Warnings: none, sad times Wordcount: 1,382

“Think about it, Sihtric, you don’t have to pay a girl if she truly loves you, eh?” You gave the Dane a raised eyebrow when he asked to borrow a few coins from you. He looks down at his ale and sighs, not wanting to hear your reprimands. “If you’re refusing me, then just say it! I don’t need to hear your sermon.” He slams his tankard against the table, startling you and Finan, sitting side by side. It is clear to the both of you that Sihtric has had enough drinks for tonight, evident in his slurred tone and rude approach.

“Maybe we should sober up a bit…” Finan reaches over to retrieve the Dane’s ale, swapping it with a mug of water, “.. before we say something we regret, aye?” “No!” Sihtric keeps his ale close to his chest. “What is she even doing here?” He glares at you, tucked in a corner of the booth. “Daughter of an ealdorman who’s done nothing significant, so now you’re pretending to be a warrior so you could be lady of Devon, when all you do is flirt with me and give me unsolicited advice?!” Sihtric raises his voice, loud enough to silence half the alehouse and turn their eyes on your booth. Finan clamps the dane’s mouth under his palm, but the damage has been done. He has said what he wanted to say. “Excuse me…” You mutter under your breath as you make your way out of the crowded room while Uhtred walks in with a couple more drinks in his hand. “Check your manners, boy.” Finan points an accusing finger at the younger Dane before leaving him with his lord as the Irishman follows you out. “I’m sorry about Sihtric, he’s just drunk and frustrated…” Finan knocks at your door, hoping to comfort you. “It’s not your doing.” You try to keep your voice stable, hiding the fact that you are crying. “What he said was true anyway…” The door creaks open, and you see the Irishman’s kind eyes searching your watery ones. “Oh, y/n..” His heart breaks as he steps in, taking in your appearance. No man should ever let you cry. “What he said was mean..” “But it’s true.” You sob into his broad chest, allowing yourself to drown in his warmth. “I’ve proven myself useless to my people; I ran away from my responsibilities; and I’ve embarrassed myself in front of him!” Everything Sihtric has accused you of is true. When your younger brother was named heir, Uhtred and his men happened to be passing by your hometown. The morning after the witan, you ran away and followed (more like bothered) Uthred until he accepted. Over the course of eight months, the exiled lord of Bebbanburg and his men treated you like family. In those months, between battles, shield walls, and Coccham, you found yourself gravitating toward Sihtric, that kind and mysterious Dane who was so fierce in battle, yet so nice, gentle, and funny when he was hanging out. You were certain he has noticed how often you prefer to sit next to him, set your bed roll next to his when you’re camping, and check on him during battles. Finan thinks Sihtric should be grateful to have your attention. It’s not everyday you have a beautiful, young, and gentle lady care for you. Unfortunately, the young Dane sets his sights on that one woman from the brothel who was very obviously ripping him off all his coin, even getting into bar fights because of her. You cry yourself to sleep that night, and Finan ever so kindly stays with you, sitting on the floor and resting his head at the edge of the bed. In the morning, Finan groans at the pain shooting up his neck from sleeping in an awkward position. Sunlight beams through the open windows of the lodge, brightly illuminating the room and the empty bed. His eyes immediately darted through where your belongings were supposed to be, only to find them void of your riding boots and your bag. The Irishman rushes out of the lodge, clocking Sihtric, who was on the way up to your room. “Is she awake?” He asks, bringing a bunch of flowers, probably for you. Finan was still too angry to give him an answer, and he was in a hurry to check the stables. This time he comes across his lord Uhtred, hastily marching back to the inn. “Where is y/n?” He bellows as Finan approaches. “Her horse is gone!” Finan snaps into action and mounts his horse, beckoning it to ride fast to catch you on your way back home. The sound of distant hoofbeats startles you on your way home. You prayed that whoever was on the way would not bring danger. “Y/n!” Finan yells as soon as he sees you miles ahead in an open field. You pull your horse to a stop as the Irishman catches up. “Y/n, If I have offended you, I apologize…” Finan sighs, still catching his breath. “You have not offended me, dear Finan.” You gave him a sad smile. “I have wasted enough of my time rebelling against my family. "It’s time for me to go home.” Finan is at a loss for words. “Please extend my gratitude to Lord Uhtred,” You begin to tear up. “And to every man and woman in Coccham. I’ve never felt so at home during my brief stay there,” You try to hold down a sob. Finan wishes to unmount his horse and take you in his arms, to tell you how loved you are, and to express all the love he’s ready to give you. “I thank you, Finan. For everything.” There was pain in your eyes as you said your thanks. You forced a smile for him, and somehow it felt like a goodbye. The Irishman watches you fade east, toward your home. Maybe your father would reconsider and appoint you as heir to Devon, or maybe he’ll arrange an advantageous marriage for you, and you’ll live the rest of your days learning to love someone. He hopes you find the happiness you deserve. The happiness he was ready to give, if only you felt the same way for him. A year has passed since your departure from Coccham. Things have become awkward between two of Uhtred’s best fighters. Finan and Sihtric would often have a random lull in their conversation, as if stopping themselves from mentioning a certain ealdorman’s daughter whenever something reminded them of her. Nonetheless, both still treat each other with respect, having each other’s backs on the battlefield and looking after each other as if they were blood brothers. Uhtred watches them and figures he should just avoid asking about her in fear of sparking something distasteful in their mending relationship. The lord of Bebbanburg now feels anxious to deliver the news to his men of King Alfred’s instruction for them to visit Devon and see how the new ealdorman is managing the land. “Where ‘east’, lord?” Sihtric asks as they journey on the road. Uhtred figures he’ll wait until one of them figures out on the way, “East.” He answers. Finan already suspects where they are headed as they move closer to Devon. The gates of the stronghold creak open as their band of ten men arrive. “Welcome to Devon, Lord!” A young man descends the stairs and greets Uhtred. The young man’s eyes shift, looking into every single man’s eyes as if looking for something or someone. Uhtred dismounts from his horse and gives the young ealdorman a firm handshake. And for the first time in almost a year, someone directly refers to you. “Did my sister choose not to come with you?” Your younger brother, now the ealdorman, inquires. Uhtred, in his surprise, twists around his band of men, carefully making eye contact with Finan and then Sihtric, who were both equally giving him an unreadable look. “Isn’t she here, lord?” Sihtric questions, remembering to show respect. “Why would she be? She left to join you a year ago…” The young ealdorman raises a curious eyebrow at the king’s men. “She left us a year ago; we thought she came home!” Finan exclaims, forgetting to show respect. There was an uneasy silence in Devon’s courtyard.

[igncrxntripley]

their secret weapon: little black dress

request: Okay so secret weapon doesn't wear black often right? What if she finally wears smth black for when they all go out and they all die? Maybe smth like the iconic black dress Maddie wears in euphoria?

tags: NSFW 18+, alcohol, exhibitionism, public touching/public sex, dom!finn, slight dom!damian, poly!judgement day, sub!reader, bottom!reader, teasing, fingering, humiliation

A/N: it was time for some TJD smut again SKJDKS also this is NOT part of the regular their secret weapon series, it’s just a one shot that is aside from the usual storyline so there won’t be much plot in this!! this is also for the finn lovers out there bc it was time he had his moment

mentions: @babybatlover​ @ripleyswhore​

Y/N was sick and tired of hearing from her partners that she didn’t wear enough black, or that she didn’t match the group. So when the group had decided they wanted to go out to a club on their weekend off, she decided it was time to give her partners what they wanted. An all black outfit consisting of a short black dress that accentuated every curve of her body, black heels, and a black purse was what Y/N went with, and she even did dark makeup on herself like Rhea’s to really give them what they wanted. 

The other four were downstairs waiting for their girl to finish. “Y/N, niñita, are you almost ready?” Dominik yelled up to their room where she was supposed to be finishing up. “We were supposed to leave thirty minutes ago.” Rhea playfully rolled her eyes and put her rings on her fingers. “I don’t know why you thought we were going to be on time.” She mumbled. “We’ve never been on time.” Before Dom could even give her an answer, the four of them turned to see Y/N walking downstairs; needless to say, every one of them was speechless at what they saw in front of them. She giggled at their reactions and gently tapped Damian’s cheek. “Close your mouth or you’ll catch flies, papi.” She teased and pulled on a jacket over her dress. 

Finn blinked a couple of times before he finally managed to speak up. “I…wow, baby. We just…you look so…” Y/N raised her eyebrow waiting for a response, in which Finn cleared his throat without finishing his sentence. She playfully rolled her eyes at him in her own response. “You told me to match you guys, so I did.” She said before giving each of her partners a gentle kiss on their cheeks. “We’re ready to go now?”

The fivesome left their house and went out to a nightclub, once again showing that The Judgement Day gets rowdy when they party. Y/N was shocked they didn’t run the bar dry with how many rounds of drinks and bottles they were ordering, but after a certain point none of them cared. They were all in their own little world, in a private booth at the club where each of them were touching and kissing one another without a care in the world. Rhea and Dom were on one end of the booth, cuddling and swaying to the music while Y/N sat between Finn and Damian on the other end. 

Finn couldn’t get enough of Y/N with this new look of hers; to be honest, he didn’t even think it would have that much of an effect on him. He sat behind her with his arms around her body while Damian was in front of her, the Irishman leaving kisses on her neck and shoulder as she exchanged kisses with ‘The Punisher.’ “You don’t even realize how fuckin’ crazy you make me,” Finn mumbled against her skin. “You look stunning, my love.” Y/N smiled at his words, one hand holding his while the other was holding Damian’s cheek. “I gave you what you wanted.” She teased. 

Even though the music around them was loud and the club was busy, it felt like the five of them in the booth were the only people in the world. Specifically, Y/N felt like it was just her and two of her boys giving her all of the attention she deserved. No one ever made her feel like this before she met The Judgement Day, but here she was; making out with her partners in the middle of the club, their hands dangerously close to places she’d only let them have access to. One of Finn’s hands had snaked its way to the inside of her thighs and was slowly getting closer to her panties. It made Y/N shiver with anticipation and need, so much so that she pushed her hips closer to his fingers just so he’d be able to touch. Finn chuckled once he felt her clothed pussy and immediately began to move his fingers in a circular motion. “Let me take care of you, babygirl.” He mumbled into her ear. 

Rhea and Dom had taken note from their end of the booth and began to watch. They couldn’t expect the two of them to not do anything, especially when Y/N looked the way she did. Damian took note as well and took hold of their girl’s chin to make her look up at him. “She doesn’t even understand what she does to us.” He said, turning her face to show Rhea and Dominik. “Our girl knows exactly what she did when she left the house like this.” Y/N smirked at his words and bit her lip as Finn’s fingers worked their magic. The other two smiled at Y/N and Rhea couldn’t help but let out a small moan at the sight. “Make sure there’s some left for us when we get home.” She teased. 

Y/N tightened her thighs around Finn’s hand and finger as he got her closer and closer to her breaking point. “Oh my god…” she whined softly, leaning her head back against Finn’s shoulder. He pulled her into a passionate kiss and squeezed her body tighter to his. “Cum for us, baby.” Y/N blushed and looked at him as she whined, all of a sudden very aware they were doing this in public. Finn noticed though, and that only made him work harder to get what he wanted out of her. “It’s just us. Show us you’re a good girl.” He encouraged, his thumb working her clit while his finger teased her entrance; Finn was only giving her a sneak peak of what she was going to get when they got home, he just couldn’t help but do it now. 

With Finn’s encouragement in her ear and Damian’s hands still gently wandering over her body, Y/N stiffened under their touch and reached her climax for her partners in the middle of the booth. She gasped against Finn’s lips and moved her hips against his fingers to work herself over, and she could hear all of her partners encouraging and teasing her as they watched. Her cheeks were bright red from embarrassment and stimulation, but Y/N still smiled at each of her partners while catching her breath. Dominik was the first to speak up as he finished his drink, Rhea’s hand palming him and not once leaving that spot the entire time they watched. “Please tell me it’s time to go?”

[thlayli-ra]

Ficlet~

I'm so nervous leading into Bad Blood, as much as I'm so here for Punkintyre, I could use some fluff

Drew/Sheamus ....(wouldn't say no to Wade being around either)

Treat: Remembering the littlest of things — activities they like and dislike, favourite brands of stationery, go-to ice cream flavour, choice of popcorn

I'm sorry I didn't get this one out to you in time for Bad Blood but hopefully it can help with the healing process (Also, apologies, I went really self-indulgent with this one 😅)

Treat - 'Remembering the Littlest of Things'

Characters - Drew McIntyre, Sheamus, Wade Barett

Rating - Teen and up

Warnings - Typical sports banter

An Englishman, an Irishman and a Scotsman walked into a bar.

That... sounds like the start of a joke, but honestly, it isn't. Wade Barrett, Sheamus and Drew McIntyre were heading out to their usual joint, one of those tacky ye olde English pubs that could sometimes be found if you dared to venture into the more touristy parts of the city. It didn't quite hit the same as the pubs back home in the UK and Ireland, but the owner, Big Jim*, was an ex-pat so the place had some genuine charm about it that came close enough.

Also, it was the only place in the entire US that showed the Six Nations every year so it was either there or stay at home, and at least at the pub there would be some form of atmosphere. Also Big Jim really liked his unusual patrons. 'There's never any trouble when you three are about,' he'd said once, and they had to agree, mainly because whenever any trouble did brew, they were the first ones to leap into action and put a stop to it.

It was week three of the rugby tournament, and a tense clash was looming (particularly for the throuple.) Scotland V Ireland! Normally Drew and Sheamus were as sweet and loving as can be, but when it came time for their home nations to butt heads, things could get a little... well, competitive. Ireland, as per usual, were on a winning streak and had their eyes set on a grand slam, while Scotland, by some miracle, had not fluffed up their chances in the first two weeks and were aiming for the same, or at the very least, the Triple Crown.

(England was playing Italy the next day so nobody particularly cared about that. Sorry, Wade. And sorry, Italy!)

Things were running smoothly up to the point the players came out of the tunnel and onto the pitch. The drinks were lined up on the table (Wade, the neutral, got the first round) and the national anthems began to play. Ireland, being the visitors, went first and Sheamus got up onto his chair, hand on his heart to belt out the rallying tune of 'Ireland's Call'. Drew, not to be outdone, stood up to sing along with 'Flower of Scotland', encouraging the rest of the bar's patrons to join in the added chants during the chorus;

'And stood against them ('GAINST WHO?)

Proud Edward's Army (WANKERS!)'

(Again, sorry Wade!)

But then the whistle blew, the game was kicked-off and soon the nastiness began to creep in.

'There's no way that was a knock-on!'

'Penalty! Penalty!'

'HAHA! We're slaughtering yer boys up front, fella!'

'Pass it! Pass it to him, ye dobber!'

'Forward! Hah!'

'HE GOT IT DOWN, REF! ARE YE BLIND!'

'It was held up!'

'NO IT WISNAE!'

And just as the pressure erupted on the pitch with a brawl between an Irish prop and a Scottish second row, Drew and Sheamus got up and squared up to one another too.

'Woah there,' Wade jumped in between them to separate them both. 'Come on chaps, we're all mates here, right?'

Well, the last thing anybody needed at that point in time was an Englishman of all things stepping in and the pair immediately directed their wrath at Wade who cringed away with his palms raised. Sheamus snorted at Drew who glared in return before turning their backs on each other and stomping off to opposite ends of the pub. Wade sighed and sat back down at the now empty table.

But as the half-time whistle blowed and the pundits began to dissect the first forty minutes of the game, the two men began to calm down and regret their rash actions. Sport had a way of raising the blood pressure like few other things could, especially when there was something on the line, but they had let their emotions get out of hand.

So they each began to plan and scheme, Wade watching both of his boyfriends warily as they scuttled about the place, sometimes heading to the bar to speak to Big Jim, until finally they both sheepishly approached the table with their hands behind their backs.

Drew, the softest of the three, apologised first. 'I'm sorry for getting all riled up Sheamo,' he dipped his head with shame. 'I just get... very jittery whenever Scotland play, but that's not an excuse, so here...' and he brought out a platter from behind his back. Immediately Sheamus' eyes grew to the size of dinnerplates. 'I know how much ye love those pickled onions on the bar, and I mind you telling us how yer maw used to put them on a cocktail stick with pineapple and cheese so I asked Big Jim to cut up some cheese and find some cocktail sticks for ye. He didn't have any pineapple but he asked Debs to nip out and buy a tin and, well... here you go.' He placed the lovingly crafted platter on the table in front of the Irishman who eyed it in wonder.

'T'ank ye,' he hushed out. 'I can't believe ye even remember that story about my ma.' He took in a breath to compose himself then straightened up. 'I got you something too.' He placed a bowl of hot french fries in front of him, topped with a type of dark brown sauce. This time, it was Drew's turn to looked stunned. 'Ye know how you said you once went on a night out in Edinburgh and tried chippie chips with salt n' sauce and loved it so much ye converted to it for life and everybody in Glasgow called you a traitor for not liking salt and vinegar? Well, Big Jim and I tried to concoct something similar with brown sauce and vinegar. It took a few attempts to get it right - Debs was our taste-tester and she said the fifth one was the closest so...'

'Wow...' Drew scratched the back of his neck, a little blush forming on his cheeks. 'That's... really kind of you.'

They both locked eyes, somehow understanding the other and slowly turned to face the final member of their throuple. 'Uh, Wade...'

'Oh no, what?' The Englishman looked nervous.

'I also asked Big Jim to make you this,' Sheamus said, placing down yet another plate. 'Fruit scone with jam and cream. They didn't have quite enough cream so Debs made some more. I insisted they put the jam first then the cream second, just how you like it.'

'It's not just how I like it, that's just how it should be,' Wade argued, playfully. 'Anyone who has cream first is just plain wrong!'

'And I asked them to make you this,' Drew put down another plate. 'Cornish pasty, with the crust doing down the side, not on the top.'

'Well, yes, of course or else it's not a Cornish pasty!' Wade lightly protested, making Drew chuckle.

'I know, I know. Big Jim had Debs check them in the freezer beforehand to make sure.'

'You two are the sweetest,' Wade chuckled. 'And here,' he pushed two glasses forward,' I got the next round. 'Guinness for Sheamo (and yes, I made Big Jim wait for the head to form properly) and an alcohol free ginger beer for Drew with no ice.'

'Awww, you shouldn't have!' They sat down and accepted their drinks gladly.

'So...' Drew drummed his large fingers on the table, looking at each of their specially prepared plates in turn, 'are we all forgiven?'

Wade and Sheamus hummed, making a silly display of thinking hard but eventually smiled widely. The throuple wrapped their arms around one another in a huge bear hug, their petty difference put aside just in time to watch the final moments of the second half.

'I don't even know what the score is anymore,' Drew noted, tucking into his fries.

'What does it matter?' Sheamus shrugged, spiking a pickled onion with a cocktail stick.

'Poor Debs,' Wade sighed. 'All that hard work she put in. We need to leave her a huge tip.'

'Yeah, and Big Jim,' Drew agreed. 'After all he did cook up some pasties for me, and even made a platter that wasn't on the menu.'

'And he helped me invent a new sauce recipe,' Sheamus added. 'And even made a fresh scone when he got the jam/cream sequence wrong the first time round.'

'Um... lads.' They looked over to Wade who seemed a bit unsettled. 'Did Big Jim really go to all that effort just for the three of us?' All three pairs of hands froze inches from their mouths and all three pairs of eyes glanced across to the bar where the older man smiled broadly and threw a thumbs up at them all.

'Oh...' Drew whispered. 'That's a bit...'

'Creepy,' Wade finished off for him.

'He must really like having us as regulars,' Sheamus said.

'Maybe it's time we look for another pub,' Drew leant in and whispered.

'Except we have two more weeks of the Six Nations and no other place in town is showing it,' Sheamus pointed out.

'Ok, ok, fine!' Wade chimed in. 'We come back here for the last two weeks then never again. Agreed.'

'Agreed.'

'And we're never going to fall out over something as stupid as sports again? Right?'

'Right!'

'And hey, look,' Drew said, pointing to the screen. 'Now, we can all enjoy watching Wales getting gubbed by France!'

'YAAAAASSSSSSSS!'

And all three stood up, arm-in-arm to belt out 'La Marseillaise'. (Sorry, Wales!)

*Big Jim is a nod to Jim Hamilton, a favourite ex-rugby player of mine (yes, he's tall with dark hair, a beard and tattoos - I am aware I have a type!HAHA!)

(Also the home-made brown sauce was disgusting but Drew ate it all anyway ❤️)

[mrsarnasdelicious]

Ah yes, more Sihtric BS, because I have brainrot

More in accordance with Book Canon than Show Canon.

"I have found you a wife." Uhtred says. Sihtric huffs and looks up from sharpening his axe. "I don't want her." He sneers. "She is a Shieldmaiden, Sihtric! You should be honoured! Now get up and come!" Uhtred barks. "Yes Lord." Sihtric mumbles. He hangs his axe from his belt and gets up. Finan claps him on the shoulder. "Good luck, boy." The Irishman says.

Uhtred leads Sihtric to his hall. There, you are waiting at his table, talking to his wife.

"Y/N, I have brought you someone." Uhtred says loudly. You and Gisela look up. Gisela gives her husband a slightly disturbed look. "She does not need a husband." She says firmly. "But Sihtric needs a wife." Uhtred replies. "Let him marry whom he pleases." Gisela argues. "I will not let him marry a whore!" Uhtred snarls. Sihtric flinches away from his Lord.

"Uhtred, I am disappointed in you. Never would I have thought you'd look down on a working woman." You say. Uhtred looks utterly reproached. He opens his mouth to make a feebly defense, but you shake your head. "Here I thought you better than thinking low of women who have to earn their keep with their body." You say. "She takes all his silver and his armrings, he has nothing to show for the love she says she has for him." Uhtred bristles.

That statement does unsettle you a bit.

You place your hand on Sihtric's bracer. "Is this true?" You ask softly. Sihtric casts his eyes down. "Don't reply, you don't need to." You tell him. You slip your hand from his bracer to his palm. You twine your fingers with his. "Come, walk with me." You say softly. You figure you and he have a lot to talk about.

Sihtric allows you to draw him from Uhtred's hall.

He gives your hand a little squeeze. "She does not tell her other ... men she loves them." He mutters. "But she takes your silver all the same." You reply gently. "You would, too." He retorts. "Yes, but not because you hump me, but because I am responsible for the running of the house." You remind him.

Sihtric presses his lips together in a thin, bloodless line. He is thinking on your words. "You are right. Of course you are." He then murmurs. His lips curls back into a tentative smile. It is a beautiful smile. And you know then that you will have him as your husband, one way or another.

"Come." You tell him. "Whereto?" Sihtric asks softly. "My home, so you can hump me." You reply. A slightly fluster rises to his cheeks. "Why-why?" He stammers. "There has to be a reason that this whore says she loves you. She says this to no other of her clients, yet she keeps taking your silver. I want to know why." You reply. Sihtric bites his lip and makes a thoughtful little noise. "I'll show you." He says. It is not like he'll say no to sex with a beautiful woman when the opportunity arises. Especially not one his lord might urge him to marry.

He knows Uhtred will not truly force him, but he also knows you are someone his lord approves of and Ealhswith is not.

He allows you to take him home.

Once you have barred the door, you turn to him. "I think it is now time you kissed me." You purr. Sihtric wets his lips with his tongue. He closes the distance, pressing you gently against the wooden surface of the door. He leans in and you close your eyes. "Gods, you are beautiful." Sihtric whispers. He presses his lips slowly against yours. They are warm and soft and sweet. You heave a little sigh and kiss him back as tenderly as you can manage. Sihtric moans ever so softly.

That little moan is like magic. You grow slick right away! "Bed, now!" You growl into his mouth. "Yes please." Sihtric whines.

He backs up the alcove and kicks off his boots. The kiss can't last and you use that opportunity to also take off your boots.

Sihtric lays down, drawing you on top of his strong yet lanky body. You lean down to kiss him again. Sihtric moans into your moan and rubs his hands from your waist to the back of your shoulders. He is entirely unreserved. He gives himself fully to you. There are no inhibitions and no shame. You moan in your turn and he licks into your mouth. You can practically taste his joy.

Already you are beginning to understand why that prostitute says she loves him. The joy in his kisses already makes you feel like the only woman on Midgard. Maybe even in the nine realms.

His hands begin to carefully tug at your clothes. He very clearly wants you out of them. He is so delightfully eager. You can hardly wait to have him for true. But you tell yourself to take it slow. So you take his hands and place them back on your hips. Sihtric whines against your lips. It is rather cute.

"Take it slow, sweetling." You murmur into his mouth. "Yes, my love." He replies airily. "Good lad." You purr. Sihtric whines softly. He arches up to be able to deepen the kiss a little. You moan into his mouth, gladly sampling of his passion. His tongue licks at the seam of your lips, before he nips at your upper lip. You moan a little bit louder.

He most certainly is not hesitating.

Sihtric's tongue slowly explores your brain. You moan warmly for him and roll your hips. Sihtric breaks the kiss to moan almost desperately. It is an intensely arousing sound. You instantly seek to draw more of those moans from him. You lean in to kiss at his throat. "Ooooh... oh yes." Sihtric moans. He arches up at your touch. "More.. please." He whispers. "Gods." You swear under your breath. His reactions are perfect.

He makes you so wet.

"I .... I smell you. I want to taste you. Please, please let me taste you." He says airily. He wets his lips with the tip of his tongue. There is a mischievous shimmer in his mismatched eyes.

He puts his arm around your waist and flips you over with one swift motion. You squeal in surprise. Sihtric grins down on you. "My turn." He murmurs. "Show me what you do." You tell him. "Gladly." Sihtric nods.

He makes short work of your clothes and his own. You are not allowed to assist him. He brushes away your hands when you try. Once you are naked, he wastes no time in shoving his face between your thighs. He inhales and moans. "Gods, this is the best smell in the world." He whispers. "Now now, don't overdo it." You say.

Sihtric parts your folds with his tongue. You moan sweetly. "Oh yes, yes." Sihtric hisses. Then his tongue finds your clit, circling around it in the most slow and sensuous way. "Ooooh Sihtric." You can't help but moan. Your back arches and your toes curl. He smirks against your folds and then sucks down on your clit. You squeal once more. He is so fantastic at this. You get how any woman would want to bind him to her.

But he is yours now. No way you are going to let him leave your side.

He sucks on your clit and fucks you with his tongue. He laps up your wet arousal and moans at the taste of you. He brings you to the very edge of a mindshattering climax. And then he withdraws. You make a frustrated little noise. "Don't stop." You huff. Sihtric chuckles. "Don't stop what?" He dares to tease. He is bold, too.

"Please don't stop." You don't miss a beat. Sihtric swears under his breath. He licks his swollen lips and dips his head down again.

You moan loudly as he suckles down on your clit again. But then he also pushes two fingers inside you. "Oh gods!" You cry out. Your climax swiftly comes back in full force. You are teetering on the very edge within seconds. "Gah! Gods, Sihtric." You cry out. He arches his fingers into the spot that drives you absolutely wild. It is that last little nudge you need. Your inner walls clench on his fingers and you arch your back. Sihtric releases your clit and instead works it with slow kitty licks. "Yes, yes, Gods!" You moan loudly.

Lightning flashes down your spine and there is a fire in your extremities. Your inner walls contract rhythmically and you feel slightly hoarse from all the moaning.

Sihtric slowly retracts his fingers from your wet core. He sticks them in his mouth and sucks them clean. "You wild, wild man." You pant. Sihtric chuckles and sits upright. "Shall I hump you now, or would you prefer to calm down a little?" He asks. "I think I am going to need a moment." You reply. "And when I am ready, I will ride you." "Yes please." Sihtric murmurs. He crawls over you and kisses you sensually. You moan in unison and Sihtric lowers his pelvis onto yours.

He is so hard and so shapely. You can barely wait to ride him. You need him inside you. Though you know to delay that gratification. There is more to this man than his cock. His mouth keeps you plenty enthralled for the moment. He rolls his hips and he kisses you. You moan and he licks into your mouth. You taste yourself on his tongue. He moans, too. It is an amazing desperate sound. He wants to be inside you so bad.

His mouth slowly wanders from yours, to your jaw. His teeth scrape over your skin and you moan. "You are so good to me, Sihtric." You praise him. He moans in response. He likes to be praised. You commit that to your memory. From your jaw his mouth lowers to your neck and throat. You moan, arching into his touch. Sihtric groans in reply and sucks a small mark at the base of your throat. You are his now, there is no going back.

You will wed this man.

Sihtric bites the junction on your neck and shoulders and then his mouth trails to your breast. He noses at your soft, pliant flesh, inhaling your scent. He presses kisses to your skin and then his lips seek out your nipple. You moan sweetly and so does he. Eagerly he suckles on your nipple, while his fingers press into your breast. You pull at his hair and hear him moan loudly. "So good for me." You praise.

After a good while, Sihtric switches to your other nipple. He works the harened bud with his tongue and teeth, all the while looking up at you with absolute doe eyes. You run your nails over his scalp. "I need to ride you." You whisper. "Right now?" He asks. You nod in affirmation.

He lays down on his back, looking at you almost breathlessly.

You straddle his pelvis, your folds kissing his cock. Sihtric moans with something akin to desperation. "Please, please." He whines. He is just as needy as you. You decide to put the both of you out of your misery. Sihtric moans loudly when you sink down on his cock. "Haaah haaaah ooooh Gods, you feel so amazing." He groans. His hands claw feebly at your hips and his thighs quiver. "You do too, you fill me so perfectly." You cooe.

You begin to ride him slowly. Sihtric rolls his hips ever so slightly, he can't help himself. He looks up at you like you are a Goddess come to Midgard. He looks at you like he can barely believe what he is seeing. He barely understands that you are actually riding him, or so it seems.

His nails start to dig into your skin. "Gods." You whisper. It feels amazing, it is everything you would want from a man.

You roll your hips and Sihtric groans wantonly. "Fa-faster, please." He whispers. "And have you cum already, no. I want this to last." You cooe. "I will last, I promise." Sihtric says softly. But you keep your place slow and steady. Sihtric grians every time you sink down on him, but you can see it is not quite enough for him.

And then he topples you over. For a brief moment his cock slips out of you, but he is swift to thrust back into you again. You moan loudly. "Oh Gods... Gods yes!" You cry out. Sihtric moans back at you and leans down to kiss you fiercely. He ploughs you and it is amazing and filthy. The sounds coming from your body and his are obscene and your moans mingle with his.

After a while, Sihtric sits back on his haunches. His thumb finds your clit and his hips keep rolling. It is so good that your mind almost immediately spins out of control. "Gah .. Si-si-Sihtric... so close." You moan. "Cum for me." He whispers. 'Almost." You reply. "What do you need?" He asks. "Just a little more of the same." You breathe. "Yes, lady." Sihtric nods. He keeps rubbing your clit, steadily and gently. Fire begins to spread through your body and you can almost feel the lightning in your spine. It is so good!

"Sih-Sihtric!" You cry out. Your inner walls contract on his cock and you surrender to the fire in the pit of your stomach. Your climax overtakes you and you can only hang on to him for dear life. "Oh yes, yes, God cum for me. Cum on my cock." Sihtric groans. He is succumbing, too. "Do it, give it to me. Fill me with your seed. I will give you sons and daughters." You moan. It is the undoing of him. "Oh ... oh Gods... yes Gods... yes!" Sihtric moans back at you.

He spends himself deep inside you. You imagine you can feel his seed deep inside you. "Thank you." You whisper, arching up to kiss him slowly. "No, thank you." Sihtric whispers. "You made me realise what the right choice is." He kisses you back slowly. "What is the right choice?" You ask him sweetly. "You. I will wed you, like Lord Uhtred wants. And I will build you a house and you will give me children." Sihtric replies. "And we will fight beside each other and head to Valhalla, hand in hand." You purr.

"Hand in hand." Sihtric agrees, kissing your breath away.

[allwaswell16]

All the One Direction fics I read and enjoyed in September 2023. You can listen to my podcast to hear me talk about each of these fics as well as an overview of what was posted on ao3 including the fics on this month’s fic roundup which you can find here! Please let the writers know if you liked the fics by leaving kudos and comments! Happy reading!

Fanfictional Podcast #54 |  ko-fi | fic recs

—Harry/Louis—

🍁 And What If I Were You by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom

(E, 109k, famous/not famous) For Louis, will losing his sight give him the clarity to realise what is right in front of him? For Harry, will losing the love of his life give him the strength to finally open his heart? And can they find their way back, before they lose each other forever?

🍂 Suddenly Last Summer by @disgruntledkittenface

(E, 44k, mystery) Suddenly he has someone who listens to him and cares about what he thinks. Someone who really sees him. But their happily ever after is forever marred by an incident at a party during Labor Day weekend, and Louis is left with a choice to make.

🍁 Endgame by @brightgolden

(E, 38k, royal au) Where omega Crown Prince Harry Styles is trying and failing to get pregnant for four years, but all that is about to change when courtesan alpha Louis Tomlinson comes into the equation.

🍂 That Howling Infinite by @sweettartine

(E, 27k, uni) the one where Louis and Harry fall in love while reading Moby Dick.

🍁 Might've Took The Long Way by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove

(M, 21k, exes to lovers) Now Harry is back in town, and no matter how many times Louis tells himself they can't be together, they keep falling right back into each other.

🍂 Ace of Hearts by @allwaswell16

(E, 10k, historical) Louis Tomlinson, the alpha Duke of Yorkshire, had returned to England to stay now that he’d married and mated. But since his husband was also the omega he’d once held captive aboard his half-brother’s pirate ship, he held back from pushing Harry into parenthood. Part 3 of Ace of Spades

🍁 Feels Like Magic by crimsontheory / @ireallysawanangel

(M, 10k, Marcel) It's been two incredible years with the best boyfriend Marcel could ask for, but is his biggest fear starting to become a reality? Has it really all been too good to be true? Part 2 of Marcel

🍂 Light Up Any Room by crimsontheory / @ireallysawanangel

(E, 10k, Marcel) Marcel is a little nervous about having to give a speech at the library’s annual charity gala, but thankfully he has Louis right by his side supporting him. And later that night, Louis shows Marcel just how proud of him he is. Part 3 of Marcel

🍁 In Shining Armour of Trackie and Trainers by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

(T, 9k, famous/not famous) Online dating isn't exactly working for Harry. In fact, it couldn't really be going much worse. But then the door of the bar opens, and the pack of friends walking in parts and - that’s Louis Tomlinson.

🍂 Court Wine by @enchantedlandcoffee , red_panda28 / @red-pandaaa

(T, 7k, a/b/o) after a misunderstanding during a scrabble game, Alpha Louis starts courting Omega Harry without the latter being aware of it.

🍁 I Remember (The Distances We Covered) by @lululawrence

(NR, 5k, famous/not famous) @ColleenisStylish: @LouisTomlinson my dad thinks he’s sat next to you on a train from Edinburgh right now, so if you could confirm that would be amazing. His name is Harry and he’s just had white wine and says you’re on red

🍂 U-Pop Truck Stop by @kingsofeverything

(E, 4k, truckers) After driving their big rigs all day, Harry and Louis park at the same truck stop.

🍁 Eyes so blue, Shorts so red by nonsensedarling / @absoloutenonsense

(G, 2k, alien Harry) Alien Harry discovers poetry.

🍂 Tongue Tied by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf

(G, 1k, roommates) “I wish that I could tell Harry that I love him, instead of getting all tongue tied and chickening out.” The Irishman winked. “You never know, your wish may just come true.”

🍁 Enemies to Lovers by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(G, 1k, poem) There's something happening at Styles' place. Louis can sense it. He's good like that.

🍂 My Muse by skipper / @skipperxao3

(NR, 1k, older Harry/Louis) My love, my life, my everything. Until the day I die, you will never cease to be my muse.

🍁 The Lovers by @reminiscingintherain

(T, 1k, tarot cards) “Come inside,” an eerie voice seemed to echo from the darkness. “Come inside, and seek your destiny.”

🍂 Are We In the Clear by asphodelknox / @iamasphodelknox

(M, 1k, historical) Louis and Harry meet across a crowded court at a time when falling in love would mean their destruction. With help from a friend, they run for their freedom.

🍁 Gaydar Lessons by @homosociallyyours

(G, 1k, girl direction) While standing around after softball practice for the company's women's softball team, Harry gets caught (and caught up) in staring at Louis as she eats a ripe, juicy peach. If only she could be certain that Louis was into women.

—Rare Pairs—

🍂 You Are A Song by @lululawrence

(NR, 3k, Louis/Nick Grimshaw) To Louis, Nick felt like poetry in motion. He was a bit of chaos surrounding Louis’ otherwise monotonous days, and Louis was quickly becoming addicted.

🍁 bet on it by @nouies

(E, 2k, Louis/OMC) a fic inspired by Louis at the barricade during AFHF

🍂 you are the magic in me by @beardyboyzx

(NR, 2k, Zayn/Liam) Zayn is eight when he meets the Prince for the first time. His dad is being knighted — the King has seen the way he fought to defend his village from the enemies of the Kingdom and has decided to gift him a piece of land and a title.

[accidentally-in-fictional-love]

📖 ⛵️ 🩹 + something to do with his hair? I’m obsessed with his hair and decided he should be too (I love the sailor boy now damn)

Morning Tide - Wojchek/Reader

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, bit of drinking, the sad sailor is even sadder.

Wordcount: 2697

Summary: When his crew walks in, all of them garner your attention with their stories and toasts, but it's him who makes you leave your place behind the bar when you spot him drinking alone.

Notes: This is the second fic where I get him into bed for softness, I just can't help it 😌 Thank you for your patience! I know it's been a whiiiile since my last request, but from now on I'll be writing these at work when it's not super busy so I can keep up~ It'll be slow work, but I'd rather do that than wait for the weekends when my shifts are shorter, so as I get back into the swing of things I hope you enjoy 💗💗💗

It was a busy night tonight, all the ships seeming to come in that weekend as your work was flooded with sailors, some there for a drink, some there to borrow company, all of them there for a good time. You liked sailors, they tipped very well generally, your pockets full of coins of all shapes and sizes by the end of the nights when they crammed themselves in from wall to wall, and tonight was just as successful as the old clock outside ticked over into the early hours of the morning. 

You were washing off the bar from a rowdy spill with his crew walked in, all of them tired and downtrodden as they pushed through the doors and looked for an empty table; this wasn't new, you'd seen your fair share of sad sailors after bad hauls or near wrecks, but this was different as one of them, an Irishman with a loud voice, tried to cheer them up and bring them over to grab some drinks, his energy clearly forced even as he hopped onto the barstool and slapped down a handful of coins.

‘A round a’ pints fer the lot a’ us,’ he declared to you as the others started to join, your co-worker coming over to help fill the order now that his own patrons were heading out. You filled mug after mug of the foaming liquid, each one sliding down the bar to outstretched hands, the mood rising as they downed them all back and reminisced about good times. You smiled as you listened, getting to know them through their stories, how close they all were after many years on the seas together. Their captain had retired years ago so he could buy a cottage and let his grandson experience life on land for once, you'd learned as they raised their glasses to him for bringing them together, tears in their eyes as they grinned wide and drank it all down, cries for more getting you to cry out right along with them as you raised your arm high and hit the tap.

You loved happy sailors most of all, but one of them caught your eye as you noticed him sitting by himself, no longer with the others as he sipped at his beer and stared out the door like he was waiting for someone else to walk in. He was captivating, nothing like the other men with their loud singing and stories, and you felt something settle in next to the greed for another good tip as you signaled to your co-worker that you wanted a break. You filled up another mug and brought it over to him, his eyes glancing up at you through his bangs, his expression hardening from longing to annoyance at you disturbing him. 

‘On the house,’ you said as you pushed the drink towards him, and he eyed it before grabbing onto his current one and pulling it a little closer to himself.

He muttered something you didn't understand, and your smile faltered a little as you tried to recall the few words you'd learned from your patrons to see if you could guess what he was speaking. ‘I'm fine with this,’ he repeated in English, his tone alone warning you to go back to work and leave him be, but never in your life had you ever seen a sad sailor turn down a drink, not in all the years you'd worked there, and you looked back to the bar before grabbing onto the cold handle.

‘Mind if I sit, then?’ you asked as you pulled out the chair, and even when he shook his head slightly you still let your tired legs rest as you hit the old wood. ‘Your crewmates are having fun without you,’ you told him as you watched the condensation roll down the glass, and he looked at them before focusing on the table.

‘My crew, I'm the captain,’ he corrected you with a grumble, and you felt your cheeks redden because he certainly didn't make that obvious at all.

‘My apologies, sir,’ you quickly said, the beer offered to him again before he waved it off, he really didn't want it. ‘Well, they seem to be in good spirits now,’ you led, turning to face them as your eyes looked back at him, but he didn't notice as he stared at the door again.

‘They needed something to enjoy,’ he still agreed with you despite not looking, that forlorn expression returning as he gripped his mug a little tighter. You turned back to him, that something pushing the greed more out of the way as he took a deep drink then, your quest for tips falling to the wayside as you spun the mug back and forth a little, the foam rolling over the side and dripping down to the table.

‘Bad voyage this time, Captain?’ He glanced at you, trying to find the reason why you were still there, still trying to get him to speak, and you just flashed him your best bartender smile to get him to open up; he looked from you to his men and sighed, he was tired, weathered by too many storms, and for a moment you thought he might take the mug from you when he took another drink from his own.

‘We ran aground coming to port, hit some rocks we didn't see in the storm when we veered too far south,’ he told you seriously as he kept looking at the door, and as you followed his eyes you realized that he wasn't waiting for someone to walk in, he was gazing past the wood to watch the docks outside. ‘Been years since I took over the Demeter, she's been good to me for decades now, but the damage is too much for her… for us to pay for…’

So that explained their moods, they were here to drink the night away since they were all losing their jobs.

‘I know plenty of shipwrights, maybe I can help broker an arrangement?’ you offered, and you were a bit surprised with yourself as soon as you'd said it, since you actually wanted him to get his boat fixed, no strings attached. 

He considered it a moment, a bit of hope showing on his face, but then a resigned misery took over instead, he'd already accepted he was going to lose his ship, they all had.

‘She had a good many years, it might be time to let her rest,’ he mumbled into his mug, and you felt a genuine sadness at his loss as his crew loudly toasted to the Demeter behind you. You watched him go to take one last drink, and your hand moved on instinct as you held up your own mug in a matching toast; he stared at it before clinking your glasses together, and you could feel the sadness radiating off of him as he gulped down the final drops. When he was done he slammed down the glass and went to stand, he was done already, his hand in his pocket to count the coins he owed you, but you stopped him before holding onto his wrist and giving him a small tug in the direction of the stairs.

‘I'm not just a bartender, Captain,’ you let him know, and he eyed you before starting to pull away, ‘and… borrowed time can be anything you need it to be.’

He looked down at your hand, and you felt the way he shook as he gave the door one last glance. ‘I can hardly afford to pay my crew for their final voyage,’ he admitted softly, he was ashamed that it'd gotten this far, but you just shook your head and held on a little tighter.

‘On the house, since you didn't want the drink,’ you offered gently, and a small bit of life came back to him as he stood. No one noticed that their captain was leaving as you signaled your co-worker again, and he just shouted for some assistance from someone else as another round was demanded.

This part of the building was for paying customers only, no one was allowed up without being escorted by a, well, escort, and it'd been a while since you'd been up there since patrons were more likely to pick one of your prettier and promiscuous fellow servers. You unlocked the first door at the top of the stairs, the captain following you in and looking around. You went to light the lamp nearby but he stopped you, he wanted it kept dark, and you were okay with that as you shut the door and walked up to him. You placed your hands on his collarbone, pushing aside his tattered sweater to touch his heaving chest, but he took your hand and simply kissed it before letting go.

‘No,’ was all he said, this wasn't the company he needed, and you nodded before climbing onto the bed and holding out the hand he'd kissed. He took it and climbed up after you, laying down and resting his head on your lap, and you brushed his windswept hair out of his eyes before getting caught slightly, it was a little too windswept.

‘Can I?’ you whispered, and he nodded before sitting up just enough for you to brush his hair carefully with your fingers.

‘She was only mine a few years,’ he confessed to you as you worked, and if you hurt him at all he never let it show. ‘I've been part of the Demeter's crew since I was a boy, picked up right off the docks of my home back in Poland, and ever since I stepped foot on that deck I knew I was home.’ He spoke so quietly, almost like he'd forgotten you were there, and you just kept brushing while he let it all out to you. ‘I knew better, but the storm was coming in stronger and the shore was in sight…’

He shuddered and you didn't say anything, just cooed comfort to him as you brushed out the last tangle and got him to lay against your chest. He was tall, curled up between your legs and still reaching the end of the bed, strong from working every day out on the sea, his facial hair scratching your arm as you kept brushing; he was intimidating, anyone else might've been too nervous to approach him based on looks alone, but you saw the real him, how much he was hurting over losing not his job or his ship but his home, and you couldn't help but press a kiss to the top of his head when he trembled again. 

You didn't know how long you stayed there with him as he told you the same stories the others reminisced about downstairs, all of them from his point of view sounding so much more full of life if that were even possible, his voice so quiet and holding even more emotion than the others as they shouted and laughed so loudly you could still hear them through the floor. He was passionate about his time on the sea even when he was telling you about not just the good times but about all the bad times as well, the voyages that went wrong, the close calls, all of them dear to him just as much as the good ones. 

The clock outside chimed loudly to signal the hour, you'd be closing soon, and you finally stopped brushing his hair as you shifted and got ready to finally speak; you stopped when you noticed that he'd dozed off, his tired eyes looking like he really needed the rest as he gently snored into your chest. You gave him another kiss, something so soft you were sure it wouldn't wake him, and he didn't even stir after so many years being rocked by the sea. You couldn't wake him, couldn't bring him back to his reality, and the longer you stayed the more you couldn't let this be the end for him.

Your co-worker unlocked the door and peeked in to look for you, obviously worried when you'd never returned, and you just placed your finger to your lips and shushed him as your captain lay there blissfully unaware. You motioned for him to come over, keeping your voice down as he leaned in. ‘Write to O'Brian, tell him I want to trade in that favour,’ you whispered, and he just nodded before running to find the quill and ink you kept in the office for end of the day tallies; you wouldn't let him give up after everything he'd been through, not when the others downstairs were counting on him.

You let him sleep for another ten minutes or so, long enough for you to almost join him, before waking yourself up and giving him a little nudge. ‘We have to close for the night, your crew might be waiting for you,’ you let him know softly, your voice still just barely above a whisper, and when he opened his eyes and gazed up at you you could've sworn he looked a little less lonely.

‘One more night to call me that, need to see if anyone needs a strong pair of hands tomorrow.’ He was still resigned to it, and you crossed your arms over his chest to keep him from leaving just yet.

‘Maybe good luck will come on the morning's tide,’ you promised as you brushed his bangs aside, and he held your hand in place, soft against his rough cheek and stubble, and for a moment the thought of him going back out there made you understand why people flooded to your bar after the boats left.

‘Maybe…’ He let go of you then so he could sit up, and he held himself so proudly you could finally see why he was made captain as he stood and looked down at you. ‘Thank you, for your time,’ he said as you also stood, the sounds of his crew heading out onto the street and calling for him the only reason you were both able to turn away from each other. You cleared your throat and gestured towards them, and you saw his eyes glance at the sea beyond the pane before he reached into his pocket and pulled out what little he had on him to hand to you.

‘I already said it was on the house,’ you reminded him quickly, but he shook his head and pressed the money into your hand. 

‘A tip,’ he explained, and then he was gone, the gold weighing you down as you looked at all the money you usually strove after during your shifts. Your fist clenched as you then raced downstairs, the letter waiting to be signed by you on the bar, and you set down the coins before going to the stash you'd been collecting the entire day. You didn't answer as you were asked what you were doing, all of the money sliding into an envelope along with your letter after you'd added more details, and the entire crew was gone when you raced out onto the dark street.

He wouldn't be up but you could at least leave him this as you slipped the packed letter under O'Brian’s door, a talented but very thirsty shipwright who frequented your bar and often built up his tab with the promise of paying you back later, since he'd known you for so long. The letter promised his tab gone and free drinks for the rest of the year if he accepted your job, as well as all the money you’d made that day along with your final tip, and you hoped he would as you walked back to the bar and saw them all still celebrating what they thought was their final night on deck on what had to be the Demeter.

‘May you find good luck with the morning's tide, Captain,’ you wished him from the doorway, and you swore you heard his voice join in with the shanties before you headed inside for the night.

[g00seg1raffe]

A (comparatively) Brief Thought about Steve Harrington's Names

Lucky Stevie has full names in three different languages and they're all equally incriminating in different ways!

For context: Steve's parents meet just as the summer of '66 is ending, in a perfectly legitimate bar with absolutely no connection to organised crime in Chicago. They introduce themselves as Christopher (call me Chris, Christopher is shite) Harrington and Anita (but you, bello, can call me Tina) Martino. They are both lying.

See, America is it's own little world. Founded by desperate refugees and religious extremists, the USA is the New York of the western world - the perfect place to disappear, because no matter your sins, there's always someone weirder. And in this totally not shady bar in Chicago, these two strangers have a lot of sins.

Mr. Ciarán Ótis Marcin Ó'hArrachtáin is what some might call a terrorist. Those 'some' are, of course, all eejits who seem to be fecking delirah with the Brits treating the Irish Free State as a colony. But Ótis and Martyna didn't raise a spineless dosser, not on tales of the shite they saw in Nazi Poland. Ciarán wants to be just like his mama, so does the only thing he can at sweet sixteen and joins the IRA. It was a grand old time - until some spanner decided to start the boarder campaign, make some things go boom, then it all goes arseways and suddenly he's a wanted man. Now he's legged it all the way out to this bar in Chicago where he can find some mostly-legal work, set himself up as someone who doesn't need to check over his shoulder every five seconds - and maybe he can take a chance on this absolute ride of an Italian who's just walked in, Jaysus -

Sig.na Alessia Stefania "Pieterina" Serafini has made a name for herself as a mafiosa. Beloved, wild, ruthless granddaughter of Don Alessio - caporegime since nineteen and well on her way to consigliere - and, right now, in molti problemi with la Cosa Nostra. So much problemi that she's been effectively smuggled into the US, like that goddamn heroin shipment that started all these problemi... ah well. She just needs to lie low for a bit (a decade) with her American cousins on the less than legal side of Chicago before she can return to her cosca and the people she actually trusts not to stab her the moment she turns her back - and maybe she can have some fun with this bello, bello Irishman who's looking her way, dannazione -

So. Discussing the evolution Mr and Mrs Harrington's relationship is gonna have to wait (though I'd love to hear from you guys) - the important thing here is the family history.

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

Tina's side: Alessia Stefania "Pietrina" Serafini.

Tina's father is Vincenzo Serafini and her grandfather is Alessio Serafini. Her first name is the feminine of her paternal grandfather's name. Steve's middle names are also from them.

(In case it wasn't obvious, the Serafini family are heavily involved in the Italian mafia - potentially involved in the Ciaculli massacre in '63 - and also have ties to the American mafia.)

Tina's mother is Pietra Tedesco and her grandmother is Stefania Tedesco. Her middle name - Stefania - and her son's first name - Stefano - are from her maternal grandmother. "Pietrina" is a diminutive nickname for Pietra - they're saying she's just like her mother, and since they figured this would be easy and natural enough for Steve to remember, his agreed Italian 'cover' surname is Di Pietro.

(Pietra is the feminine of her father's Petri Tedesco - which is itself the new name chosen by the German runaway Peter Thälmann. No relation to German Communist Party Leader Ernst Thälman, no sir, nothing to see here.)

So: Stefano Alessio Vincenzo Serafini - or, when he doesn't want to advertise the mafia part - Stefano Di Pietro.

Chris' side: Ciarán Ótis Marcin Ó'hArrachtáin.

Chris' father is Ótis Ó'hArrachtáin, and his paternal grandparents Steafán and Keira Ó'hArrachtáin. He gets his first name from the masculine of his grandmother's name, his middle name from his father, and gave Steve his grandfather's name.

(Steafán and Keira worked their asses off their whole life to put their kids through school, ennabling Ótis to work at the Irish embassy in Poland, where he managed to smuggle a handful of refugees past the Nazis to Britain, of which his future wife, Hannia Marcinkiewicz, was one.)

Chris' mother is Anita Marcinkiewicz. He gets his middle name from her surname. Steve gets his Irish 'cover' surname from that.

(Anita and her son are very similar as teenagers and young adults - the same heady cocktail of jaded rage and a naïve sense of justice, motivating spiky teens in parallel shitty situations to commit near-suicidal acts of heroism, with similar results. Just what did Anita do? Nothing you can prove, of course...)

(Yes, Anita Marcinkiewicz and Anita Martino - a wild coincidence that kicks of conversation for our young lovers in Chicago. Not in any way manipulated by an omnipotent fangirl who wants her OCs to have something neat to make slightly awkward but unexpectedly wholesome small talk about over a Guinness and a Negroni in a bar in Chicago). (This is why Chris calls his wife Tina all the time when anyone else would get shot if she's feeling anything less than saccharine.)

So: Steofán Ciarán Ótis Ó'hArrachtáin - or, when he'd rather avoid any connection to the wanted terrorist - Steofán Ó Máirtín.

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

Of course, as half Irish and half Italian - or, well, 1/8 German, 2/8 Polish, 2/8 Irish and 3/8 Italian but who's counting. Aside from me -

The point is, he's Catholic as fuck. He can be non-practicing and still Catholic (bc fuckboi), he can lose his faith and still be Catholic (bc interdimensional hell monsters), he can be an atheist (bc Irish) and still be Catholic, ok - he is Italian and Irish, there's no cure.

So, yeah, he's definitely been christened. And sure, you can old give any old name to the government (fuck them anyways) as long as it suits your purposes. But your christening name is the one that God knows you by, okay, you don't want to lie to the priest and end up with the wrong name tag when you get to heaven (or if, I guess).

What I'm saying is the paperwork says Steven Otis Harrington, but some poor Father/Reverendo gets hit with Stefano Stiofán Alessio Ciarán Vincenzo Ótis Serafini Ó'hArrachtáin. Good fucking luck!

[foone]

The fundamental problem with comedy is that the highest form is improv. Not "Whose Line Is It Anyway?" style formalized improv, where you ask the audience for suggestions and build a comedic scene around that, but the basic skill of "something just happened, make a joke about that". This got long, so it'll be after a readmore

It's a life skill, not a type of art you produce. Jokes like this don't make it into movies and shows and blogs, it just happens. You're with a friend or two and something funny happens and you make a joke about it, everyone laughs. It's personal, you tell the best joke because you know your audience, you have shared history.

And you can see how we try to capture this in produced comedy: it's why we have comedy movies and sitcoms, literally "situation comedy". It's not just half an hour of stand-up, telling joke after joke, it's about setup and putting the protagonists into situations, and having it be funny, usually with them making a joke about the situation they're now in.

But there's an artificiality to it: the same people writing the situations are the ones writing the witty jokes. They set up the dominoes and they're the one who knocked them over.

And hell, even stand-up is rarely as simple as just "setup->punchline, rinse lather repeat". There are some comedians who can pull that off, but it seems far more comedians are "observational comedians", meaning they're making jokes about the absurdity of the world and modern life. They'll tell a story, even if it's as simple as "so I went to the post office and it was annoying and people were mean and I made jokes about it!". They're doing storytelling: here's the situation, and here's what I said in response, either in the moment, later during this retelling, or some combination of both. (Ed Byrne has a bit where he says "yes I was very witty that day, almost like I had several weeks to come up with the perfect response!")

And maybe the closest we can get to this "in the wild" (meaning in a produced media form) is MST3K and similar riffing. The people making the jokes didn't make the story, so they have plausible deniability. And even if they've seen the movie several times and written out jokes ahead of time, they can feel like they're reacting in the moment.

But the funniest jokes will never be made this way. No sitcom or comedy film will be the funniest, no stand-up one liner or knock knock joke, not even an improv scene that makes you nearly piss yourself in laugher.

The funniest jokes are when you and an old friend are getting ice cream and the person in front of you asks for vanilla with extra sprinkles then sends it back because there's "too many sprinkles" and you turn to them and say "I thought my ex-wife moved back to Chicago!" and you have to leave the establishment because you're crying with laughter and can't get it under control enough to actually make your order. It's something that'll probably only ever make sense to you and your friends, and in that particular moment. You could sit down and explain the situation and the back story but that would never capture one tenth of the humor, and even if they understood, so much of why it's funny is that it happened in that moment and without the setup.

Because even if you are truthfully recounting what happened to someone else later, and don't need to explain all the back story, you're still implicitly telling a story that sets up a situation. This is now a joke, and you might as well start it with "so an Irishman and a Rabbi walk into a bar..."

You're setting then up for all the expectations of comedy. And that inherently ruins some of the comedy! Because comedy, in a way, is an error message. It's a mis-prediction. It's your huge brain trying to do what it does and predict what will happen and what you'll say next and understand the situation and figure out how it'll go, and realizing it's wrong, and fundamentally wrong. It made assumptions that were reasonable to make, but it had those assumptions proven very wrong.

Like, one way this has been described is the idea that jokes are telling two stories: the one you assume, then at the last moment they pull the rug out from under you and reveal there was a second story, and you have to mentally backtrack and retrace your steps to see how the second story is the correct one.

Like, simple example, and I'm sorry to ruin the joke (as someone said, explaining a joke is like dissecting a frog: no one's that interested, and the frog dies)

Doctor: I'm sorry, we had to remove your colon

Me Why?

See, the humor comes from how the setup primes you to think that "colon" means the body part, but then the punchline reveals it's talking about the punctuation. The way the first line is interpreted is totally changed by the second, and the humor is how your brain handles to "whoops made a big mistake in how I understood/predicted that!"

And that's why it's never going to be the same level of comedy when telling jokes as just improv'ing a joke while out in the world. You tell someone a joke, they know a joke is coming. They have heard jokes before. Their brain is in joke mode. They are trying to imagine how things could be taken different ways, how the joke could work, what the punchline is.

This is why "a comedian's comedian" is a thing. Your Milton Jones style comedy ("My grandfather invented the cold air balloon but it never really took off"), where it's very absurdist and includes a lot of anti-jokes. It's why simple jokes like the above are often called "dad jokes", because they're the kind of jokes you tell kids. Not just because they're not raunchy or anything, but because they're lessons in how jokes work. They're jokes that only work on people who don't yet know how jokes work.

Whereas absurdist comedy and anti-jokes can work amazingly on people who know how jokes work, if you're aiming for that audience. You basically write your jokes so that the audience expects the joke, predicts the punchline, but SURPRISE! the punchline is completely different or not a joke at all. For example:

I'm not like other dads

I’m a 19 yo woman with no kids

The comedy is your brain going into joke-mode and getting ready to figure out all the ways this joke could go and then WHOOPS the joke is that there isn't one and this is a straightforward statement that you got mislead into thinking was going to be a joke.

So, having said all that, hopefully you can understand what I mean. The best jokes are the ones that come out of nowhere because you are 120% not in joke mode. You're out somewhere with a friend trying to do something serious, something happens, then BAM! one of you comes up with something that just perfectly fits the situation and references some shared background/history you have together, and you were not at all expecting it. All your brains predictions were taken up with sensible boring things, and then suddenly BOOM! IN THE COMEDY!

And I think in a way, all produced, scripted (or hell, even unscripted) comedy is about trying to recapture that perfect moment. It's setting up situations for funny punchlines to exist in. It's making the setup so that the punchline works. But it can never fully match that unexpected moment, that perfection, because at its core its always artifical, or at least staged (as there's an expectation for this to be comedy). No one goes to an improv show expecting it to be Macbeth, but a production of The Scottish Play that turned into a comedy could be unexpectedly hilarious, if the audience wasn't expecting it.

But at the same time, even staying in the area of Shakespeare, there's clear differences between, say, Twelfth Night and Romeo and Juliet. The former sets up a bunch of elements that are clearly going to be used for comedy: identical twins, crossdressing, recursive crossdressing, metacrossdressing, unknowing homosexual relationships, disguises, and mistaken identities... All are clearly set ups for comedy. Even at the time, nearly half a millenia ago, these were old, well known tropes in comedy. Shakespeare sets up all the cans knowing he can knock them over later. These things exist in the story so they can lead to comedy, and they do. Maybe not in the ways the audience expects, but they'll lead to hilarity.

And even if there's not a specific punchline, the two-stories thing can be the joke, even when the audience is on it. Like, in the scenes where Olivia is professing her love for "Cesario" (who is actually not a man, but Viola dressed as one).

The audience knows Viola is a woman (and they presume a straight one), but Olivia doesn't (and she's also presumed to be straight). Even without a punchline about this situation, there's inherent comedy in the two separate understandings of the situation. Olivia thinks she loves this nice young man, and wants to woo him. Viola is stuck trying to politely reject her advances, without revealing her disguise. That's uncomfortable (for her) and amusing (for the audience) enough, but then Shakespeare goes one step further and has Viola asked to woo Oliva for her employer, Duke Orsino. That would really twist the screws and make the situation more awkward as Viola has to attempt to woo the woman who is already in love with her, but under false pretenses... Except Shakespeare goes ONE FURTHER and has Viola fall in love with Duke Orsino herself! While Viola can't herself express this love, because as far as Duke Orsino knows, she's a man named Cesario.

And then Viola's identical twin brother shows up and marries Oliva, who thinks he's Cesario, and IT JUST GETS WACKIER. There's plenty of jokes to be had at this absurd situation (and many of them are made!) , but the "first joke" of the whole situation is the way different characters have completely different understandings of what's going on. Olivia thinks she's just in love with a nice young man, Duke Orsino thinks his page is wooing Olivia for him (and definitely his page isn't in love with him), while Viola is stuck in the middle, having to balance maintaining her disguise with not offending Olivia, not failing her master, and then her own love for the Duke just makes everything more complicated.

It's an old story. Literally and figuratively. You set up a weird situation so that it's inherently somewhat funny, then you can put jokes in the moutha of the characters, and you can make the audience laugh at how you took a bunch of people stuck in this absurd situation and then made it weirder.

Anyway, so the reason I wrote this was because I was leaving my house this morning to go grab a coffee, and I saw a truck for a local construction company, "Tech Line". I immediately shouted "Tech L9ne! Cha!" which would have been the funniest thing in the world except no one else was there to hear it, and explaining it ruins the joke.

So instead I just rambled on about the nature of comedy and the truest form of it for 28 paragraphs. This is called a "Shaggy Dog Story". It's also called "ADHD".

[leo-muscle]

Hey, I love your stories so far :)

I'm visiting France right now, and I'm struggling feeling like I stand out. But maybe an encounter with King Dom can make me feel more at home with the locals?

The moment you got off the plane in Paris, you didn't feel like France was going to be nice to you. Each Frenchman eyed you with a look of disgruntlement, or even gave you an eye-roll and a groan of "Tourists." You wished you knew how to make them like you.

One night at a gay bar, you were nursing a drink when an enormous Irishman slid into the seat next to you. His biceps looked like they could crush your skull with ease, and all of his shirtless body was covered in a fine coat of red hair. He was beautiful.

"Is this seat taken?" He asked you.

"N-no..." You replied. "Never was, uh, never will be."

"Thanks, mate." He said. "What's a handsome man like you doing alone on a late night?"

"Uh... me?" You stammered. "The... the french don't really like me. They see me as nothing but a tourist."

"A tourist, eh?" The Irishman said. "Well, let me fix that and give you a proper greeting to the country. Come on back."

He beckoned you to the bathroom, and soon, you were on your knees in front of his monolithic cock. You worshipped and licked every inch of his gorgeous Irish sausage, while he pinched his nipple and pushed your head further onto his cock.

"Good boy..." he moaned. "You'll be a proper Frenchman when I'm done with you... ach!"

His cock exploded in your mouth, filling your insides with hot, sticky, emerald cum.

"Thank... you..." You moaned as he put his pants back on.

"It was no problem. Now, you better put that gift of yours to good use." He said, then walked out of the bathroom.

You turned to follow him, when a wave of pleasure washed over your entire body. Your muscles contracted and expanded, contracted and expanded, shredding your clothes to pieces with every pulse and twitch as they grew to match even bodybuilders in size. Experimentally, you touched your enormous bicep, and it felt as hard as any rock. Your legs had grown powerful and strong, able to kick down the feeble walls of the bathroom with ease.

Brown hair, a far cry from your normal blond, exploded from your chest, forming a light, but obvious pelt around your enormous, voluptuous pecs. You began to stroke and pet your new pelt as your pecs and abs continued expanding, tweaking your nipples as you went. Your pecs had become a tertiary sex organ, easily capable of delivering pleasure to match your cock and ass.

Speaking of, another wave of pleasure washed over your cock and ass, forcing a moan of pleasure from your thicker lips. One of your meaty paws began stroking your mediocre cock, while the other began fingering your tight hole. Slowly, with every stroke, your cock expanded and thickened, becoming a mighty pillar of masculinity, easily capable of rendering any man unable to walk for days after sex. Your ass then became thicker and bouncier with every thrust your massive, cock-sized finger gave it. It was bigger than the ass of any woman, so hypnotizing and voluptuous that even straight men would be tempted to fuck it.

As your height expanded from 5'5 to an enormous 6'3, your hair began to shorten as your beard grew. Your voice became tinged with a sexy french accent, perfect for you to whisper sweet nothings in the ears of men as you pounded them. Your mind filled with knowledge of the French language and culture, ensuring that no self-respecting Frenchman would turn down advances from such a pinnacle of French masculinity as yourself.

You stroked and fingered yourself harder and harder, until your cock finally burst with a torrent of cum far larger than you had ever came before.

You were forever grateful to your new King for giving you this second chance.

[redemn]

the  night  seems  still  young        at  least  to  a  very  drunk  arthur  ,      whose  fingers  can  hardly  even  hold  the  cards  in  his  hands  against  the  swaying  of  the  earth  beneath  his  seat  and  the  numbness  which  encases  his  fingers  .      he's  lost  track  of  time  and  doesn't  care  to  check  it  ,      but  there's  great  fun  to  be  had  here  ,      trying  to  keep  the  faces  of  all  his  cards  and  the  houses  and  the  suites  all  straight  in  his  mind  .      for  what  it's  worth  ,      he  really  can't  keep  any  of  the  right  by  now  ,      and  he's  just  barely  present  enough  to  know  that  ,      just  maybe  ,      he  needs  to  fold  and  take  his  losses  .

@ofsoul  .  “ need a little help ? ” raven approaches arthur from behind his sitting frame, whispering feathery against his ear as he rowdily indulges in poker. “ sean is bluffing, ” empath privilege that secures him a win. an hour in a dead town's bar is enough to overwhelm her,  but for his sake she tried. and although so much drunkenness is a complex beast to tackle, she found his daredevil demeanor amusing. “ i think i will head to bed now,  tonight’s full moon is beacon for recklessness, but i did not want to go without thanking you. ”

if  he  were  sober  ,      he  might  lift  his  head  with  great  speed  and  risk  knocking  his  skull  right  into  raven's  .      but  his  body  moves  as  sluggishly  as  his  mind  does  now  ,      and  he  moves  his  head  back  slowly  ,      and  he's  so  uncoordinated  that  he  nearly  topples  back  in  his  seat  despite  his  upwards  position  .        ❝        ah  huh    …      ?      now            ❞        she's  leaving  .      and  sean  is  bluffing  ,      and  that's  all  he  has  running  through  his  dizzied  mind  now  .        ❝        now  wait  .      wait'm  m    …    minute  ,      raven  .      wait    …    i'll  go  witchu  .        ❞        he's  quick  enough  to  turn  his  attention  back  to  the  game  ,      banging  his  palm  against  the  table  as  he  declares  he's  going  all  in  for  the  rest  of  the  round  .

a  minute  later  ,      he  leaves  the  table  ,      several  dollars  richer  and  weighing  down  his  pockets  ,      and  a  very  unhappy  irishman  behind  .      he's  got  his  last  bottle  of  whiskey  in  hand  still  ,      and  staggers  after  raven  with  all  the  determination  of  a  bull  elk  .        ❝        raven  …  raaayv    …    ven  ,      hold  your  horses  now  .      m'comin'  !        ❞        he's  a  mess  ,      the  way  he  catches  up  to  her  side  ,      half  out  of  his  mind  but  still  smiling  .      that  smile  ,      too  ,      is  a  mess  .      as  is  the  way  he  reaches  right  for  her  upper  arm  ,      a  bit  tactlessly  ,      unthinkingly  ,      tastelessly        not  something  he  would  ever  think  of  doing  sober  .      but  he  holds  onto  her  ,      although  firmly  ,      with  a  certain  gentle  grasp  .        ❝        'ey  .      m'lady  …  i'll  walk  y'back  .        ❞

╰ ゜UNPROMPTED .  /  𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜  𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 .

[nikethestatue]

The Date

Happy birthday to my sweet bestie @fawnandshadows

I wish you all the very best for your next quarter century. Have a wonderful day and an amazing year ahead.

Preface:

This is a bonus chapter for The Kings' Wife. I've had the idea of a Ruhn and Elain date for a long time, but did not want to include it in the story. It contains some interesting background about Ruhn, but otherwise, it's just indulgent fluff and smut.

Warning: Explicit language and explicit smut (anal sex)

Fenrys Moonbeam was right. 

Was it embarrassing? Perhaps. But Ruhn Danaan King was never one to follow prescribed rules. He was never ‘normal’ and wasn’t one to hit all of life’s milestones when he was supposed to have. 

He started walking at 10 months, talking before he was two, reading when he was barely five. Early. He was early in everything. He didn’t remember when he began drawing, maybe he was still in the womb, when he began seeing images and colours. He skipped grades, because he was too smart, but then he was held back, because of his behavioural issues. 

He kissed a girl when he was six. His girlfriend, Millie Kalinowski. Well, technically, he had two girlfriends when he was six–Millie and Aurora Esposito. An overachiever even then. It was Millie’s birthday: he stole her cupcake, she called him a ‘butthole’ and then he smacked a big juicy one on her cheek. She hit him and ran away, crying. 

That was his first foray into romance.

He didn’t kiss anyone else until he was almost fifteen. 

He remembered the kiss, because that was also the day when he killed someone for the first time. Not a crime of passion, or uncontrolled rage of a teenager. He, and his brother Azriel, found and tracked the people who had kidnapped Azriel years before, beat him, tortured him, and attempted to rape him. Azriel broke his wrist in order to escape, and succeeded, but he never forgot. The two of them spent years trying to locate the men who held Az prisoner in an abandoned farm in upstate New York. It was an intricate and thorough investigation–the first time they worked so closely together on a task that consumed them. Along the way, they built a network of informants, spies, made connections, found hackers among gamers, and guys who were really, really good with money, and breaking into banks and accounts, or discovering hidden assets and identities. It helped that neither he, nor Azriel, looked like they were fourteen. They were big, brawny and muscular, their balls dropping early and testosterone flooding their growing bodies and making them strong, agile and by then, already six feet tall. They had money, they could pay, and when someone talked back, they had other ways of convincing people to do what they needed. 

Ruhn remembered his first kill pretty well–a guy named Bobby, a scrawny, but wiry Irishman, who moved fast, and was an ace with a knife. Ruhn’s first kill wasn’t elegant or cerebral. He beat Bobby to death with a baseball bat. The shower of warm, salty blood is what he remembered the most from that evening. Az slitting another guy’s throat, his grip on the blade so strong, that he almost decapitated him. Together, they killed two more that night–but they were no longer counted as the ‘first kills’. 

The murders gave him a high like he’d never felt before and his skin itched from the adrenalin and the memories. He thought that he wouldn’t mind doing that again. He was so jacked up that he wandered the streets until it was late, unable to settle down, unwilling to go home, replaying the murders in his mind. It was awesome! At last, grateful that he had his fake ID in his pocket, he stopped at some dive bar. He wasn’t much of a drinker, and hardly knew how to order a drink properly, but he recalled his father’s bar and the bottles of Jameson’s whiskey on the glass shelves, and figured that he’d order that. He thought that he did it like a pro, but the bartender gave him an assessing look, which told him that he wasn’t fooling anyone. But Ruhn was big and bad, and already sported a tattoo sleeve, and no one in their right mind would want to mess with him over a shot of whiskey. 

When he went to take a piss, he was accosted by a girl. A working girl? Maybe. He never found out. A little buzzed from the drinks and the kills, he liked the feeling of her hands on his body, when she slipped her fingers under his t-shirt. She was thin and delicate, and reminded him of Audrey Hepburn. She behaved in a very un-Audrey way however, when she tugged him into the bathroom, dropped the latch on the door and then dropped to her knees in front of him. Well, that was fucking unexpected. Having his dick inside the wet warmth of her mouth was incredible, and when she began to suck, it was borderline sublime. He understood the appeal of blowjobs very, very quickly, watching her pink tongue lave over his shaft, her eyes hooded, her hands grasping his thighs, her face looking like she was truly enjoying it. And when he gripped the back of her head, trying not to be forceful, but kind of failing, though she didn’t seem to mind, the sensation was even better. The sense of control, of utter dominance, the pleasure of thrusting into that willing mouth, the feeling of his cockhead bucking into the back of her throat, the pathetic little noises that she was making–it was unforgettable and unbelievable. It was a shame that he didn’t last as long as he would’ve liked to, but he lasted a decent amount of time for a fourteen year old. Like a good two and a half minutes. 

He came in her mouth, but she spit it out discreetly, which he didn’t love so much, but he couldn’t be choosy.

Wiping her lips, she winked at him and then asked a question that murdered his boner completely.

“How old are you, stud?”

God. It was only marginally better than her asking him if it was his first time.

“Old enough,” he grunted in response, and then fished out a hundred dollar bill and slipped it under the strap of her bra. She didn’t argue or anything, but got up and then pecked him on the corner of his mouth, biting on his lip ring and making him hiss. 

And that’s how he got his first real kiss.

But Fen was correct–Ruhn’s never been on a date. Ruhn had less than zero interest in dating anyone, and no one really wanted to date him either. The girls, the brave ones, thought that they did, but then, they quickly changed their minds. He wasn’t romantic. He wasn’t kind. He was barely nice. He fucked hard. Without tenderness or words or emotions. At least he always made sure that they came. However, he rarely, if ever gave head, didn’t cuddle, wasn’t interested in staying over or having them sleep over at his apartment at the hotel, and if he was being honest, he wouldn’t date him either. He was kind of an asshole. 

As usual, his life didn’t follow any normal patterns. He went from a post-kill blowjob, to a little kiss, and then nothing at all. During his formative years, he only had four girls that he fucked, and tried as he might to build a reputation as a manwhore at his boarding school, he couldn’t. He dominated the scene, he was one of the most feared guys in school, respected, obeyed, admired, but a player, he was not. 

His twenties were wild. A whole decade drenched in blood and cum.

Now, he was almost 32 years old. 

And Ruhn Danaan King has never been on a date.

The way he saw it, it wasn’t the end of the world, but it was weird. It definitely wasn’t normal.

Azriel’s been engaged to Morrigan. And then he married Elain. Those were pretty serious plays in the dating department.

Fenrys couldn’t stop dating! He dated everyone. He liked them, cherished them, adored them, used them, left them, and moved on to the next one.

Cassian’s been in a couple of semi-long term relationships, and also dated casually. And now, he was after the eldest Archeron sister, though without much success.

Rowan was once married, and then widowed. He was raising his four year old son by himself, and was now seriously involved with a girl named Aelin, and it definitely seemed like things were getting serious between the two of them.

Rhysand’s been with Feyre for almost 3 years now. Yes, he was a wealthy playboy prior to meeting her, but the pretty Bohemian artist enchanted him instantly and all women ceased existing for him. 

Ruhn…Well, there was that one time when he took his not-exactly-wife, but kind-of-wife Elain Archeron to Subway. He bought her a sandwich and Fanta. He took her to a museum as well, but truthfully, none of it was planned. Initially, he just wanted to tattoo her, and then he ended up fingering her and after that they went out on a whim. Ruhn was mostly curious about Elain’s knowledge and interest in art, which, to his great relief, was present–she wasn’t an expert, but she was well-versed in popular art and had appreciation for it. 

The thing was…well, Ruhn was hopelessly, passionately and irreversibly in love with Elain. He fucking loved his wife. Looking back, he wasn’t even sure when and how it happened. At what point did infatuation and mild obsession turn into love, into adoration, into soul-mating. Or, as Elain said, heart-mating with him. 

He didn’t mind sharing. That was the agreement, and it was the healthiest way for the four of them to live and exist in their relationship. They shared Elain and there was enough love in her for all of them, to satisfy them sexually and emotionally. Ruhn wouldn’t have it any other way. However, it didn’t mean that he didn’t want her for himself at times. Just the two of them, doing things as a couple, having a private relationship that was exclusively theirs. To some extent, it was happening between Elain and the men in her life–each one had a marriage with her, which was both public, but also private. 

Ruhn, however, figured that he wanted to have a proper date with his girl.

Elain was young and a romantic at heart, and obviously she wanted dates and flowers and all that cheesy shit that Ruhn knew nothing about. There was a reason why she screamed at Fenrys to fuck her ‘romantically’. He was the only one who would. From Ruhn, Elain came to expect rough–marks on her hips, imprints of his teeth on her skin, hair pulling, swollen nipples and aching pussy. She liked the pain, but she was under no illusions that Ruhn would be tender or sweet. And Ruhn was determined to prove her wrong. 

He couldn’t ask Fenrys–who would probably know and have a decent recommendation, but would also make it bigger and better for Elain, and would leave Ruhn in the dust. So that was out of the question. Azriel would just steal the idea, hog Elain, and leave Ruhn in the dust. And then, there was Google.

~

Cassian made it to the office early, as usual. He wanted to stop by Nesta’s office and bring her coffee, but then he thought better of it. Not the coffee part, because he would’ve gotten her that gross green water that she called ‘tea’--but because it seemed to him like Nesta truly moved on and was interested in Eris Vanserra. He didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to wound his bleeding heart anymore than it’s been sliced open already. Nesta was a bad idea. Always a terrible idea that promised to end badly, and here he was, being smacked in the face by his terrible ideas.

“Oh hey,” Cassian stopped abruptly, seeing his cousin Ruhn sitting in the still-empty room, long legs crossed and propped on the desk. “Why are you here? Is Elain okay?”

Somehow, and he didn’t know how it happened, but Cassian began worrying about Elain. It was like a contagion that was passed down to him and his men from Azriel.

“Yeah, she is good,” Ruhn said lazily, putting his phone away.

“What’s up?” Cassian took a sip of his coffee. 

Ruhn was unpredictable and Cassian never knew what would come out of the man’s mouth. Could be something nice. Could be something utterly horrible.

“Do you have Pinterest?” 

Yep. Weird.

His brow knitted in confusion, and Cassian asked,

“What?”

“Pinterest. Do you have it?”

“No. I am a man,” he reminded Ruhn slowly, enunciating every word.

Ruhn sighed and nodded, shoulders falling.

“Yeah, I get it. I figured I’d ask.”

“And you thought that I’d be the guy to have a Pinterest account?” Cassian raised his brow at him. “I feel like Fen would be more likely,”

“Maybe,” Ruh agreed with another sigh. “But I can’t ask him.”

“What do you need on Pinterest?” Now his interest piqued and Cassian bit into his blueberry muffin, looking at Ruhn expectantly. 

“Ideas…”

“What kind of ideas?”

Ruhn mumbled something unintelligible, but Cassian wasn’t going to give up and pressed him.

“Come on. What?”

“For a date!” Ruhn snapped, his normally dark, placid face suddenly turning kind of red.

“You need ideas for a date?” Cassian was confused. “With whom?”

“Elain!” Ruhn opened his arms, like he was talking to an idiot. “Who else?”

“You are taking Elain on a date? And you need Pinterest?”

“Whatever man, you won’t understand,” Ruhn rose and grunted dejectedly.

“Wait, wait. I am trying to. Let’s think about this.”

Exhaling loudly, Ruhn explained,

“I want to date my wife. Okay? And I want to go on a date with her–but not just a lame dinner or something. I don’t want to sit in some restaurant, but I also don’t want to go to some flower show! I don’t want people around. Just the two of us. Our date.”

“I hear you,”

“So I was thinking, I want to do a picnic,”

“That’s a good idea!” Cassian nodded enthusiastically.

“But I don’t know how to do a picnic!” Ruhn ran his hand through his hair, huffing in frustration. “I googled it, and it’s giving me all this shit that I don’t know how to do!”

“Like what?”

“I dunno, man. Fried chicken and deviled eggs and potato salad,”

Cassian smirked.

“Buy her a bucket of chicken,” he laughed.

“I am serious, Cass,” Ruhn said, sounding nervous and hopeless. “What am I gonna do? I want to do something nice and romantic and I can’t show up with a bucket of KFC chicken and some potato salad. She’d think I am insane.”

Rapping his long fingers on the desk, Cassian thought and muttered,

“Okay, okay. Let’s think about it. I think you googled stuff for 4th of July,”

“I just typed in ‘picnic ideas’,” Ruhn explained defensively.

“What does Elain like? Sweets, right?”

“Have you seen Elain with an eclair?”

“Yeah…She likes sweets and pastries. So buy some champagne, a few pastries…No offence, brother, but Elain seems like a cheap date.”

Ruhn laughed,

“I mean, yeah, she is.”

“Let’s face it, this is a chick who loses her mind over soccer and is ready to throw fists. She likes beer. She eats Fen’s horrid English sandwiches with white bread and fucking potato chips inside…This is not a fancy girl!”

“I know…But I also know that Lorcan made her pasta! And took her to the opera! I can’t beat that,”

“Well, of course you can beat that. But Elain likes beer and tacos. I mean, I don’t think she’d be opposed to you cooking dinner for her, but I also think she’d like you as you are,”

“A talentless hack?”

“Don’t cook her a crap meal, if you don’t know how to cook,” Cassian recommended bluntly. “Do something nice and something she’d enjoy. It would go a long way.”

Ruhn got up and squeezed Cassian’s shoulder.

“Alright, man, thanks!”

Cassian smiled and told him gently,

“I don't think you need to worry. It’s not like you have to close the deal.”

“Yeah,” Ruhn agreed. “But it’s also for me.”

~

Meet me at the King Tower, on the 44th floor at 8 pm

And…send. 

Elain: What’s happening?

She responded almost immediately and Ruhn smiled. 

Ruhn: Are you going to meet me?

Elain: I will. But should I worry?

Ruhn: Don’t need to worry.

Elain: What is this about?

Ruhn: Surprise.

Elain: I hate surprises! Tellllll meeeeeeeee.

He chuckled, imagining her cute little face, and how she was probably bouncing on her heels, like she always did when she wanted something. 

Ruhn: Nope, beautiful. But you can lube up your ass for me, like a good girl.

A lengthy pause.

He frowned wondering if he pushed it too hard.

He wanted to make it a joke, but it was his way of asking for it, and he hoped that she understood.

Elain: What? You wanna do the butt stuff?

Ruhn: When don’t I want to do the butt stuff? Will you surprise me?

Elain: I thought you were the one doing the surprising?

Ruhn: You want me to lube up my ass? As my lady commands. 

The conversation made him smile. Their conversations always devolved into something ridiculous, but that’s what he loved about Elain. He didn't know what to expect, and that was good. 

He wouldn’t have minded some anal. Just the two of them. For the first time, between Ruhn and Elain. 

The first time was special. Absolutely unforgettable. Completely, utterly amazing. Was it the best anal he’s ever had? Yes. Yes. Yes. No contest. But his brothers were there, there was the nervousness and the pressure of the ‘first time’ and now, he yearned to relive it again, but intimately, with just Elain and him.

But first, the date. 

~

Elain had no idea what was going on. Though she tried to figure it out and even texted Ruhn a few times during the day, he didn’t respond or was very vague in his answers. Which annoyed and frustrated Elain to no end, and she couldn’t concentrate at the shop and even messed up a bouquet and had to re-make it. 

Therefore, by the time it was 7:46pm, she was stomping across the lawn, heading from her house to the looming skyscraper that was the King Tower, which housed the King Enterprises, Azriel’s office, their businesses and the security arm of business. She took herself up to the 44th floor, using the secret elevator which only the family utilised. Floors 44-53 were where most of the businesses and offices were located, but it being almost 8 pm, she didn’t expect anyone to still be here. However, once she came out of the elevator and walked down the dimly lit hallway which had an original Rothko hanging on the wall, she was stopped in her tracks, because she saw Ruhn. And some woman. And she was the type of woman that was impossible to miss–statuesque, wearing neck-breaking stilettos, reedy thin, with perfect make up at eight in the evening! She wore an expensive satin blouse with a giant bow on the side and an elegant, tight skirt. Ruhn looked relaxed, propped against the wall, his massive arms folded over his chest. He wore a Guns-n-Roses t-shirt, black jeans and boots. His long hair was braided in a tight, neat braid. The woman said something, her perfectly manicured hand lightly touching his forearm, and he laughed, easily and openly. Then he said something, and she laughed as well, throwing her head back and exposing her throat to him.

They looked like they knew each other, because there was familiarity and an ease in their gestures. 

Elain didn’t think of herself as a jealous person, but she totally was. She didn't like her men talking to strange, attractive women. Especially when she looked the way that she looked right now–wearing Converse, cutoff denim shorts and Ruhn’s hoodie, which she picked up on the way out, because the evening was promising to be chilly. She dabbed some lip gloss on her lips and her wild hair was barely tamed in a messy bun.

Ruhn noticed her at last, his handsome face breaking into a welcoming smile. It was a nice smile. Genuine and happy. Like he was glad to see her, and the glamazon next to him didn’t matter. Ruhn was not an expressive man. Generally speaking, he maintained the same expression around people and whether he was angry, happy, hungry or murderous remained a secret for most. But Elain knew how to read him, just as she knew how to read Azriel. And currently, Ruhn was thrilled. 

“Ellie, you made it!” he gave a brief, disinterested hug to the gorgeous woman, and she winked at him and then smiled at Elain, as she passed them by and headed to the elevator.

“Well, you said 8 o’clock,” Elain crossed her arms and let some of her displeasure bounce off of him. Let him know that she was pissed.

“I did!” he nodded and then wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “And you are here.”

“Who was that?” she demanded rudely and impatiently.

He glanced at the elevator and the shrugged,

“Oh, that’s Em,”

“Who is she?”

He grinned and then growled and butted her face with his, biting softly on the apple of her cheek. She attempted to swat him away, screeching loudly, but he only laughed and licked her face like a dog.

“You are gross!”

“Yeah, grossly in love with you,” he agreed and then stopped and cupped her face in his hands.

She looked up at him, feeling both insecure and elated. 

“I love you too,” she murmured quietly. “That girl is very beautiful,”

“She is,” he nodded. Watching Elain’s scowl, he barked a laugh and then softly, tenderly, kissed her lips. “She is also very, very queer and Cerrdiwen’s girlfriend. So…..”

“Oh.”

Oh.

“I…I, that’s,” she mumbled, while he chuckled, “it’s not how I meant it…I mean…”

He pulled her to him and kissed the top of her head. 

“Yeah, I know what you meant–jealous little thing you are.”

“I am so not!”

“Oh, you so are.”

“Ohmygod!” 

Elain gasped audibly.

“What is all this?!” 

Ruhn tugged her by the hand and said, “Come on, beautiful.”

“You did this?” she gawked at the romantic setup.

They were on the roof of the building, 55 stories up in the air, the shimmering cityscape of Manhattan all around them. Millions upon millions of lights twinkled and sparkled all around them, and the noise of the city was muffled this high up. 

“I did do this,” he confirmed, looking slightly tense, maybe a bit uncomfortable.

She clutched his hands in hers and looked around, face full of wonder.

“But why?”

“Wanted to go on a date,” he muttered gruffly. 

“I love dates!”

“I hope I did okay,” he rubbed the back of his neck.

He didn’t miss her wearing his hoodie, and how sexy she looked in it. Not really sexy–the thing swallowed her whole–but to him, it was the sexiest damn thing there was. His woman, huddling in his clothes for warmth, getting his smell all over her.

A fluffy comforter pulled out from the closet. Check.

Another blanket, in case Elain got cold. Check.

A chocolate and caramel cupcake. Four bonbons. Two truffles. One glazed doughnut. A small loaf of bread. Check.

A bag of chips and a tub of dip. Check.

A bottle of Fanta. Check.

A chunk of cheddar. The good stuff. English. Check.

A bottle of Prosecco. Check.

Elain considered the odd assortment of foods, while Ruhn glared at her, his gaze hopeful, and seeking approval.

“The bakery didn’t have a lot of stuff left,” he explained quickly, and then added nervously, “and I know you love cheese.”

“I do love cheese,” she confirmed and then breathed, “it’s perfect! It’s a nighttime picnic!”

He smiled broadly,

“Yeah…yeah. Exactly.”

So what if there was expensive cheese, and cheap dip and potato chips, which made no sense? So what if there was Fanta on the menu? It was perfect.

Elain leapt into his arms and gushed,

“It’s perfect! It’s everything I ever wanted.”

“You wanted to go on a picnic?”

“Always! I love this!”

“Okay, well, sit down then,” he offered her, pulling her down on the blanket awkwardly.

He was terrible at this date thing, and Elain’s heart burst into a thousand million sparks of love for him.

He wasn’t confident and sleek like Azriel, or experienced and loose like Fenrys. He wasn’t even like Cassian, with his smirks and his fast mouth. He wasn’t brooding and amorous like Lorcan. 

This was Ruhn. Her Ruhn. A brutal, terrifying gang leader, who strung people from bridges in a cruel and odious display of power and dominance, someone who once shot seven people in a span of 13 seconds, a guy who cut off someone’s balls and then delivered them in a package, complete with a rose, to the man’s wife. Ruhn did a lot of crazy, unhinged, violent things. 

But he didn’t know how to date. And he loved her, his wife. 

He sat cross-legged next to her, and fumbled with his phone.

“I have some music,” he said, uncertainty lacing his voice, “or if you want to watch today’s Manchester City versus Arsenal match–we can do that,”

Elain smiled at him, and then keened towards his large body and pressed her lips to his neck, lacing her fingers with his.

“I love you so much,” she whispered, feeling the pulse of his jugular under her lips.

“I love you too,” he said softly, and then pulled her hair out of the bun and his nose brushed against her cheek. “So much.”

“The music,” she requested. “Let’s do the music tonight.”

Of course he realised too late that he forgot to bring any cutlery, plates or even glasses. 

Fuck his life!

But thankfully, there were napkins in one of the bags, and Elain didn’t even bat an eye. She smoothly arranged the napkins like place settings for them, and Ruhn handed her a knife–not one of his murder knives, thank god–and she sliced the bread and the cheese. He popped the cork on the Prosecco and it was cold enough not to bubble violently over everything. 

“Sorry baby,” he whispered and she laughed, took the bottle, and pulled a healthy swig of the bubbly. Patting her thigh, she had him lay his head on it, and then tore into the chips and dip and fed him a hefty helping of both.

He smiled, looking up at the starless skies above and lightly wrapped his arm around her bare leg, before kissing the inside of her knee. She plopped a piece of cheese in his mouth, and then said,

“I didn’t know you were romantic like that,”

“I really am not,” he protested.

“I don’t know,” she tutted. “Champagne, and pastries and a picnic.”

“Just keep it to yourself, beautiful,” he suggested with a grin.

“Street cred?” she confirmed knowingly.

“You know it.”

The music that they were listening to was mellow and old-fashioned. Elain sang along to some of the songs, because it was all the stuff she grew up on–Sinatra, Dean Martin, old Italian songs.

“How do you have these songs?” she demanded, bobbing along to ‘Pennies in Heaven’.

“Ummm,” he grunted, looking embarrassed. “It’s a Pandora radio station. Italian dinner…”

“You even thought of that?” she stroked his forehead, tucking his silky black hair behind his ear.

He shrugged like it wasn't a big deal.

“I know you like this music. So I thought it would be a good soundtrack to the date.”

“Strangers in the Night” came on just then and he sang along quietly, 

Strangers in the night

Exchanging glances,

Wondering in the night

What were the chances

We’d be sharing love before the night was through

Elain squeezed his hand and asked shyly,

“Dance with me?”

“Any time, sunshine,” he sat up and then wrapped his arm around her, and landed them both on their feet, as he swept her in a wide, exaggerated circle across the rooftop. It was a nice rooftop, made for parties and dancing and celebrations. Now it was empty, the space entirely theirs, the lights of the city and Frank’s smooth voice as their only companions. 

“You must really love me,” Ruhn mused, watching Elain’s elated face, as he spun her around. His hoodie, which she tied around her waist, flared dramatically, like a ball gown. 

She laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck, and he lifted her off the ground and waltzed with her, as she dangled next to him, his arm supporting her entire weight.

“I do,” she nodded, giggling, her converse-clad feet floating above his boots, “but what gave it away?”

“I am gonna go with you opting to dance with me, and eat cheese and laugh and listen to music, instead of watching football. And that was one hella big game too!”

“I love you more than football,” she confessed, looking into his brilliant, cold blue eyes. “I want to date you more than I want to watch football.”

He smoothed her hair lovingly with his available hand and whispered,

“I want to date you too. More than anything.”

Suddenly, the sky came alive.

Elain gasped and stared open-mouthed at the Thursday night fireworks.

“Oh my god! I forgot about these!” she cried out, her face happy and brightly illuminated by the explosions of green and purple and pink. He held her to himself, and looked up at the sky as well, where giant flowers blossomed and stars streaked across the darkness and exploded in silvery glitter.

The song switched to ‘My Way’, its bombastic, dramatic vocals and lyrics a perfect foil for the fireworks. Ruhn carried Elain back to the blanket, and then lay down, spread-eagled and threw their heads back, watching the show. 

“Wow,” she marvelled. “This is the best!”

“You like it, beautiful?”

She pointed to the sky and whispered,

“That’s how I feel with you, Ruhn. Like my heart explodes with love when I am around you. I dunno why.”

“I don’t mind,” he pulled her into his embrace and kissed her brow. “I don’t mind at all.”

She flipped onto her belly and pressed her lips to his. 

“Can I ask you something?” she inquired.

“Obviously. Because you will, regardless of what I say,” he smiled at her, his large, warm palm sliding down her back and cupping her ass.

“Okay, okay,” she pouted, but obviously his comment didn’t deter her from asking,

“If you didn’t have to do any of this…Like, if you could do anything, what would you do?”

“You are assuming I don’t like killing,”

“No, I am not. Perhaps you do. Obviously, you don't have any qualms about it. But I don’t know if you woke up one day and decided to become an assassin and an enforcer. So if you didn’t, then what would you do?”

Ruhn scrubbed his hand over his face and then looked at her, before kissing her gently. He was nice tonight. Softer than usual. Elain wondered if it was going to last.

“A house husband,” he announced easily.

“What?”

“That’s what I’d be–a house husband.”

She frowned thinking that he was joking.

The fireworks were still exploding above them and he popped a cigarette between his lips and lit up. 

“Honestly,” he turned on his side and brushed her cheek with his knuckles, “that’s what I want to do. Or rather, I don’t want to do anything. I want to tattoo, paint and sketch, and do fuck all else otherwise. If Az needed me to go and whack someone, I’d do it. But I’d love to be a house husband–keep a tidy, elegant home, do some cooking, some entertaining,”

“Are you for real?”

He shrugged,

“Why not? Everyone assumes that every man is full of wild ambition and needs to do stuff all the time. I don’t need to do anything. 

“My ideal life would be to wake up, fuck you, go get a professional shave at the barber’s, stop for a coffee, read the paper, shoot the shit with Cass, go to my shop, sketch, tattoo, meet you for lunch, fuck you, eat with you, maybe fuck you again a little bit. Go back to the shop, then maybe wander around some galleries, look at art, pick up stuff for dinner, go to the gym, pick you up from work, have a cocktail. On occasion, I’d talk business with Az and Fen. Dinner. Maybe even cook it myself for all of you. Have a couple more cocktails, play in the pool, play cards, fuck you.”

“How many times a day are you planning to fuck me?” she pondered.

“I dunno. Five-ish?”

“You are ambitious.”

“A man can dream,” he concluded, puffing out a cloud of smoke, his expression pensive and thoughtful. Like describing her perfect life made him wish for it to be true.

Elain sat up, and his palm landed on her upper thigh, squeezing lightly, while he made a little disgruntled noise when she separated from him.

“Come back,” he urged her, opening up his arm for her, but she just looked at him, cocking her head. Then she reached into her pocket and took something out, but didn’t show him.

“Do you still want to do it?” she asked at last.

“Do what?”

“You know,” and she tossed whatever she was holding atop of his chest. He craned his neck and picked up a tube, looking at it in confusion.

“Anal,” she pressed. “Do you want it?”

“Huh…Yeah,” he finally managed to say, looking dazed. 

Finally, when he dawned upon him what she was offering, he sat up abruptly and she laughed at his eagerness.

“You serious?” he pressed, twisting the tube of lube in his fingers.

She nodded and whispered, “Yeah. I want to do it again.”

“Did you like it the first time?” he asked.

“It was a lot,” she admitted. “But I loved it…how you did it.”

She blushed, and unbuttoned her shorts. 

Ruhn almost tore the shorts off her slender thighs, rolling them down so quickly, it almost gave her a fabric burn. 

“Take everything off,” he ordered, as he pulled his t-shirt over his head, his icy blue eyes never leaving hers, “leave the keds.”

She was completely naked in front of him in less than a minute, but still wearing her converse, her long hair spilling all over her body. He crawled towards her over the blanket and kissed her knee, parting her legs carefully, eyeing her pink slit. 

“How do you want it?” he asked, his voice hoarse, his rough, large palms smoothing over her inner thighs, parting her legs even further, opening her up bit by bit.

“How you’d normally give it to me,” she requested shyly, stroking his arm. “Rough. Deep. How you always do it.”

He looked at her intently, seeking any hesitation or falseness, but found none.

“I love you, Ruhn,” she reminded him calmly. “Just the way you are. If you are going to ride my ass, I want you to ride it like Ruhn would.”

He smirked and spread her legs widely, as she slid back and propped herself on her elbows, watching him and his ravenous gaze, tracking the movement of his eyes, as they took in her wet, slick pussy, before he pushed her back a bit, so he could see her other hole.

“Did you lube it up for me?” he raised his brow, just as his finger slipped from her opening, dragging some of the moisture down below.

“Nope,” she popped her lips. “My holes are yours, but you do the work.”

He grinned savagely and nodded, muttering, “just like I like it!”

The sight of her so nicely spread for him, so ready and willing made his dick hard as a fucking rock and he knew he’d have to pace himself, because he was in danger of blowing his load before he even got inside that sweet ass.

“Spread it for me a little bit, sweetheart,” he urged her, “show me how much you want it.”

She looked so adorable like this: completely naked, with her large, round breasts and the soft thighs, and the little keds, which skirted the edge of some sort of fetish, but he wasn’t going to think about that now. Not when she reached down, and pulled her cheeks apart for him, opening that cute little hole a bit more. She was looking at him, biting her lower lip, her ass nicely stretched, and he brought the tip of his dick to her lips. She kissed it immediately, and caught a bead of precum with the tip of her tongue, gliding her tongue over the smooth cockhead.

“Put it in, Runnie,” she requested with a pout. “I want it!”

“Do you want me to stretch you a little bit first, beautiful?” he asked, and dipped his cock between her folds, gathering some of the slick with his shaft. She shuddered when he brushed over her clit a few times, her back arching, her hands kneading her pale lovely butt cheeks impatiently.

“No,” she moaned. “I want to feel it…How you fill me up.”

He wasn’t going to argue and squirted a generous amount of lube between her cheeks, before placing her feet on his shoulders and pushing her legs way back, as he leaned into her. 

“Relax, sunshine,” he kissed her lips softly, with a kind, soothing kiss, seeing how she tensed beneath him. “I am going to make it good for you. But your pretty asshole belongs to me, doesn’t it?” he asked, while the tip of his cock circled the tight rim of her anus. “Will you give it to me like my good girl?”

“I am your good girl,” she muttered, as she looked between their bodies, back to biting her lip in anticipation.

“That’s right,” he growled, pressing into her tiny hole, as her breath hitched loudly in her chest, “and good girls get their tushies fucked,” propping himself on one arm above her shoulder, he pushed his cock forward, breaching the ring and eliciting a loud, pained moan from her. 

Fuck it felt good. So good. 

Her head lolled back, as her thighs trembled around his shoulders, as she took inch after inch after inch of his thick shaft inside her narrow, scorching hot rectum.

He knew he’d never get enough of this. The sensation of possession, or her complete submission, her sad, pretty moans, the nervous twitching of her long, tight passage was simply amazing. Was ‘amazing’ the right word? It wasn’t enough. Amazing wasn’t enough. 

“Ohmygod. Ohmygod,” she cried out again and again, while he licked his lips, muttering, ‘just a little more, sweetheart. You are taking it all in, my love,”

“Yes, yes,” she gasped quietly, “ohmygod, it’s so much!”

“You like getting your pretty ass filled,” he insisted, “it needs my dick in there,”

“I am having second thoughts!” she complained and he laughed, kissing the top of her head. 

“No you are not,” he tsked. “Look at you! Your hole is packed with dick, just like it’s supposed to be,” he added proudly, bottoming out. 

She bit his chin, his neck, licking mindlessly on whatever she could reach with her tongue and her lips, moaning loudly and unabashedly. She didn’t give a shit if she was making a ton of noise–she was being fucked in the ass by a nine inch dick, and his balls were currently slapping against her skin. She was panting, sweat trickling down her brow, the bead immediately licked by Ruhn’s eager tongue. 

He kept himself fully sheathed inside of her, but didn’t move, though she noticed the strain of his muscles, the tension of his cobbled abdomen and the bulging of his biceps, as he kept himself back and allowed her to adjust.

Taking deep breaths, she nuzzled into his neck and whispered, “you can move now.”

He exhaled and replied, “give me a sec, beautiful.”

He smiled against his skin, realising that he was straining not only to keep himself in check, but also to keep himself from coming. 

“Do I feel good for you?” she asked, kissing him around the ear. “Is my poor ass nice for your mammoth cock?”

“Better than anything!” he assured her and then pulled back at last, before gliding back inside.

The drag of his dick was mesmerising. The most glorious feeling that Elain could imagine. Sure, she loved orgasms–who didn’t?--but it was this that she cherished. The long pull of the thick length, emptying her almost completely, before filling her back up. God she loved it. It was so painful, the burn acute and deep, as her passage accommodated the unbelievably tight fit of him in her, but it also felt absolutely indescribable. 

“God, you are so big,” she choked out, knowing that she probably shouldn't be stroking Ruhn’s massive ego right now, because his cock’s been praised and admired plenty, but she couldn’t help it. He was huge, and he felt so, so good inside of her.

He fucked her with deep, firm, but languid thrusts, only his hips working atop of her thighs. He readjusted his position, lifting himself off of her, and holding her feet to his shoulders, while he pumped hard into her ass. Her tits bounced and jumped with every powerful push, and he was watching her huff and grunt beneath him, ordering her to ‘keep your cheeks spread, sweetheart. Are you my sweet girl?”

“Yes,” she nodded, knowing that she was weak and needy for him, and would probably do anything to have him continue pounding into her ass. “I love it,” she moaned. “I love it so much…”

He smirked indulgently at her, nodding slowly,

“I know, sweetheart. I know. That little hole was made just for me. You can take more, can’t you?”

She nodded, watching his stunning body flex and work atop of her. All the ink, the sensational musculature, the smooth, dark golden skin painted with intricate designs–a living canvas of chaos. 

“Isn’t it good to be mine?” he asked.

“Always, my house husband,” he smiled widely at him, relishing the glorious burn and build up of pleasure inside of her. 

He barked a laugh, nosing against her nose, whispering, “Not yet. But something to aspire to.”

Elain knew that Ruhn was holding himself back a little with her, and she appreciated it. He was loving her in his usual manner–forceful, open, unrestrained, yet slightly more careful and caring. Her clit demanded attention, and without her even saying anything, he was already on it, his thumb pressing on it firmly and rubbing steadily. 

“Oh it’s good, it’s good,” her eyes closed and she indulged in all the sumptuous, gorgeous, erotic sensations that currently engulfed her body. The even, unfaltering rhythm of his cock in her ass brought her to an orgasm quicker than she anticipated, and she shook and screamed until she was hoarse, not caring about anything, but the beautiful slamming of his cock and the magic of his finger. 

Ruhn wasn’t far behind. His arms clasped her now-pliant, softened body, and he pulled her up into his embrace, holding her like a ragdoll on his lap, as he fucked easily into her, and she kissed him sleepily, draping her arms around his shoulders.

He finished deep inside of her, hot and abundant, and didn’t release her from his hold for a long time, kissing her and stroking her hair.

“Noooo, not yet,” she pleaded, when he made a move to withdraw.

He kissed her again and smiled, laying both of them on their side, his soft cock still nestled inside of her, just like she wanted. 

“Let’s eat more chips and drink Fanta!” she proposed decisively.

Ruhn chuckled, arguing, “this is supposed to be a romantic date. Chocolates and music and wine,”

In turn, she reminded him, “Instead, we got chips and dip and dancing and anal. All of my favourite things!”

He hummed to himself and thought that this was not a bad first date.

Not a bad date at all.

[delilahcalicocat]

★~Good Boy~★

{Rating: Smut}

{Warnings: Unprotected sex, Creampie, Oral Sex, Dom!Fem!Reader, Sub! Finn Balor, Kissing, Dom / Sub dynamic, Drinking, Mommy Kink}

{Pairing: Sub!Finn Balor x Dom!Fem!Reader}

(This is an alternative universe)

•《Summary: Finn comes back after a long trip with his gang and asks Y/N to help him calm down, The Reader owns a Private little club cabin in scotland, where she provides men with a woman after rough days》•

It was finally Wednesday, Finn had just got to your cozy little cabin in Scotland. He was tired and his face showed that.

"Um, Ma'am?" He spoke up slightly, seeing you reading a book at the bar

"Yes? What do you need Finn?" You asked

Your Scottish Accent Thick like honey as you spoke. It sent Finn in a daze before he came back to reality.

"Uh, Ma'am.. I want to release some.. Tension." He said.

"Ah, of course.. you want my services." You spoke, pouring him a shot of his favorite brandy

"Yes, Indeed Ma'am.." He said softly

"So, Which of the girls can I provide you with tonight? Liv? Rhea? Who?" You asked

He thought for a moment, staring into your eyes. He then spoke up

"Y-You.. Madame.." He said quietly

You sighed, and blinked putting the bottle of brandy away.

You Looked over, at Naomi. You called her over to watch the bar.

"I'll be back Naomi, keep watch. In-case.. y'know.. they come back." You said, Naomi nodded as you and Finn walked up the stairs

You walked up to your quarters with Finn, he hadn't been to your place for a while. So he was worried that you'd be mad about this.

You Locked the door to your quarters, and let Finn sit on your bed

"So, Mr. Balor. It's been quite long, where have you been?" You asked

"Fuckin' Hell, I've been fighting with imperium. Dom and Damian are in the fuckin infirmary.. we can't fight back until their healed." He sighed

"Finn, are you saying you've been fighting with the imperium.. why would you pick a fight with them? They have more power than you think.." You spoke

"Chad sold them phony bullets, and told them he got them from us. Gunther threatened us all, to shoot up yer saloon unless we pay up.." the Irishman spoke with a sigh

"Oh, Finn.. ye shouldn't be fightin' bloody hell. I'll fuckin' punch them in the face if they leave another mark on one of me girls." You sighed

"I know, but if they shoot up yer saloon. I'll have no place to go if I need me woman.." He said

"But.. Finn. Your gonna fuckin' die if you keep fighting. Please. Your more important than some stupid saloon." You admitted to him

"Please, Mommy. Just shut up and fuck me..." He spoke quietly.

You walked over to your bed, sitting next to him.. your purple maid-like dress was in the corner with his garments in seconds.

You started to creep your way up his thighs, making your way to his cock. Before starting to Bob your head up and down.

"Gah.. Ple-Please Mommy! I'm gonna cum.."

"Go ahead, cum." You spoke firmly

Your words made him instantly cum, he looked a little embarrassed. Until you hopped up onto him

"Y'know, I've missed you a lot my love" you spoke, grinding your hips down swiftly

Your actions made Finn groan a little.

"I've.. missed.. you... too.. Mommy..." He said through small choked little groans.

"So, I'll ask ye now. What's more important? Me or the phony blame from Gable?" You asked

"Y-Y-You! M..Mommy." He moaned softly

You leaned down to kiss him, you trapped him into that kiss.

"U-Uh.. M-Mommy?"

"Yes? Finn?"

"I need to... Cum... the rules say-"

"The rules don't matter to me, I'm the owner of this place now. Your my only clientele. You can do whatever you want." You spoke

Finn sighed, and then came.

He tried to be quiet but failed, you sat there because you had came before him.

Your cunt milking every drop of cum he had in him.

He wanted to drift off to sleep, but he was hesitant.

"Go ahead, my good boy, I'll make sure you'll be ready for tomorrow when Damian and Dominik come to get you" You spoke, standing up and putting your dress back on.

[futuremrshoran09]

Catfished

Pt 2 : It was you all along?

I fiddled with my thigh high boots while holding the phone up to my ear, "i don't know what I'm thinking Mel, i just know that whether he shows up or not i have front row seats to see Niall Horan and I'm taking this opportunity whether i end up kidnapped later or not" my best friend sighed on the other end of the phone. "you stress me out, make sure your location is always on okay?" "yeah yeah i mumbled" cursing myself for wearing these stupid boots. I wasn't much for getting dressed up but tonight i actually put some thought into my outfit. A short black mini skirt white tank oversized leather jacket and black thigh high boots. I stood in line waiting to get my ticket scanned nervously looing around for Adams dark hair and green eyes. i texted "where are you I'm almost at the front of the line" nothing. This has got to be a fucking joke i think to myself. Then anxiety took over my mind, what if Adams really a weirdo and he snatches me up after the concert, what if the tickets are fake or stolen and i go to jail, what if he shows us and... my anxious thoughts were cut off by the big guy in the security hat yelling "next" at me. "I guess I'm about to find out if these are real or not" i muttered to myself.  He scanned the ticket and looked at his screen for a second. "to your left all the way down to the first row" no fucking shit the tickets were real, so if the tickets were real did that mean Adam was too?

My phone finally buzzed with a response, "running late love, be there soon, oh and have that kiss ready for me" i couldn't help but smile at his message. But now i was getting nervous, Adam was really coming... would i really have to kiss him? i mean not that i would mind, he was cute and we have been flirting for a few weeks but like what if i didn't like him in person. I walked up to the bar "long island" i asked the bartender "make it a double please" $22 fucking dollars for a drink i muttered, i fucking hate New York. I made my way down to my row, all the way to the front. i couldn't help from fangirling internally, the idol I've had a crush on for like 10 years would be right there, right in front of me in just a few minutes. at this point i didn't even care if Adam showed up in a few minutes Niall fucking Horan would be a few feet away from me singing like the angelic Irishman he is. I texted Adam again " 5 min to show time where are you :(" no response. i take a sip from my drink quickly remembering why i stopped ordering doubles as my chest started to burn. The lights dimmed and the intro to "meltdown" slowly started playing. "NEW YORK CITY HOW ARE WE TONIGHT" a loud Irish voice yelled. i could literally feel my heart start to race as THE Niall Horan walked on stage. "Fuck me i think I'm gonna faint" i said to myself.

I smiled looking up at Niall singing his little heart away, but still no Adam. At moments it felt like Niall was pointing, looking, or smiling right at me i was literally living out my teenage dream. "slow hands" started and i freaked, i didn't expect to hear this song so soon into the concert. I watched as Niall jumped from the stage onto the floor everyone freaked but my phone buzzed. "I'm here love" it read .i looked down at my phone and around, looking to see who was walking towards me. I didn't even notice Niall directly in front of me singing straight at me, a grin across his face. i could feel myself blush, as i stared at him, i was directly in front of the man who i fangirled over for year. Niall's hand reached out grabbing mine interlocking his calloused hands within mine but not for a second did he stop singing or looking at me and not for a second did the smirk leave his face. I watched as he almost laughed at me, he took out his phone and did god knows what i was too busy taking it all in, his eyes, his voice, that smile, i felt like i was 15 again. At that same time my phone began to buzz, "Adam" it rang i answered the call finally breaking my gaze away from from Niall "hello" i said looking looking around. it wasn't until i looked back up at Niall that i understood. in front of me he stood with his phone facing me a big grin on his face "priscilla" the called ID on his phone read. My phone dropped to the floor.. i didn't understand Adam was Niall?? Niall was Adam?? The Niall Horan Niall gave me a little wink before running back around and up onto the stage. I didn't know what to think, i mean should i be mad? i had a gut feeling that the person i was talking to wasn't really Adam but for that person to be fucking Niall Horan was a whole other thing. I mean was it him the whole time? Was this some kind of prank? my thoughts were interrupted by a tall man dressed in black signaling me to follow him, i looked up to see Niall shaking his head yes, telling me to follow the man. i frantically looked around the floor for my phone, fuck me i thought hoping nobody had snatched it up, after a few seconds i found it underneath the seat next to me. i stuffed it into my purse and started exiting the row following the strange man. i stood at the edge of the row and watched as he opened the gate signaling for me to walk through. "what the actual fuck is going on right now" i thought to myself as i walked up the stairs. back stage was full of random people running around doing various tasks some yelling others untangling wires and some looking through a rack of clothes. "OUTFIT CHANGE READY UP PEOPLE" a lady with a short pixie cut yelled. "excuse me" i say signaling her "why am i here?"" I'm sorry what?" she asked "are you not supposed to be here are you a fan?" " Oh no she's supposed to be here" i heard a  deep accented voice say behind me. I turn around and was met with brown hair blue eyes and a smile that could turn a nun into a hooker. "Holy fucking shit" was the only thing that came out of my mouth. 

Niall was immediately bombarded with 2 women holding clothes up to him trying to decide between two outfits for the other half of the show." You're Niall fucking Horan" i said," and you're priscilla" he smirked. "How the fuck do you know my name", at this point i was full on anxious and i began to pace back and forth. I turned back to face him "are you fucking Adam" i almost yelled. i watched as his smile faded a bit, "yes I'm Adam" he said " BUT i promise i have a good explanation for this i swear."  Without even thinking my arm flew across hitting him right on the shoulder," a good explanation for what ?! catfishing me !" " i didn't mean to" he said as he pulled a new white tank on," i swear." i crossed my arms and looked straight into his eyes, i wanted him to know that i could see right through his shit. "back on in 30 seconds" someone yelled in the back. Niall grabbed his guitar and looked back at me, "listen i know this might all seem fucked but stay, just stay okay? just let me explain everything. please". between the way his blue eyes twinkled at me and the sincerity in his voice i couldn't help but fold. "UGHHH fine!" i yelled.  a smiled crept up on his face and as he turned around and started walking away. i yelled after him "you're explaining this over a bottle of tequila" he turned to face me walking backwards to the stage with that big ol goofy grin he's always had and hit me with a "and you still owe me a kiss"