#and helen delivers 100% of the time

[sailoryooons]

Incubus yoongi x reader

Go wild with smut maybe theres fluff and angst too! Love your writing so much

☾ Pairing: Incubus!Yoongi x archdevil!Reader

☾ Summary: 

Sunder (sun·​der) transitive verb : to break apart or in two : to separate by or as if by violence or by intervening time or space Sunder (sun·​der) intransitive verb : to become parted, disunited, or severed

☾ Word Count: 5,297

☾ Genre: Smut, Forbidden Romance, Angst, Fated Lovers

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Vague worldbuilding - this takes place in a Hell setting so.. Lots of talk of literal hell, implied violence and war, themes of classism/species racism, hint of political scheming, depiction of servants who are chained/collared, implications of sex work/incubi being bread specifically for sex work, honestly Yoongi and reader kinda give co-dependant vibes, explicit language, explicit sexual content including oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, a little bit of overstim, cum eating if you squitn, multiple orgasms, bleeding/scratching/biting, possessive themes… um I don’t know the smut scene is more PrOsEy than straight-up smut. 

☾ Published: Sunday, April 7 2024

☾ A/N: We are using Forgotten Realms (dnd) lore because I was randomly inspired to do so. You need zero knowledge of Forgotten Realms or dnd lore to read this - there is vague world building and references to a plot on the side that I imagine Yoongi and reader are a part of but that does not happen in this little one shot. I just did it for the tension and because I’m out of control. 100% change I got some dnd lore wrong - don’t care, I kinda made it my own in parts as needed!!! Thank you!!! 

☾ A/N 2: Dear anon, I don’t have a clue what this is, but it was inspired by a very specific scene in the movie Troy when Paris (Orlando Bloom) sneaks up to Helen’s (Diane Kruger) room while the Greeks and Trojans are downstairs partying and he’s like hehe let’s bang it out. That’s it. I really hope you like this because sometimes I fill requests and I'm like ..... that probably was not what they had in mind and yet here I am, delivering whatever ??? this is ??

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Main Masterlist ☾Filled Requests ☾ Masterlist  Milestone Request Event ☾ Ask

Note: I don't use my tag list for requests!

A pair of dark eyes in the shadows around the party catches your attention as you listen to Archdevil Belial's drone about his victory in Phlegethos. The fiend’s words fall on deaf ears as your gaze narrows to a deadly point on the man lingering in the shadows across the room, keeping away from the revelry with a single chalice in his hand.

And he’s staring at you. 

You feel your muscles constrict as you flick your gaze away, your heart rate picking up speed as you try and focus on Belial again. It isn’t a story you care to hear about - he’s been droning about his defeat of the Kelemvor worshipers on the fiery planes of Phlegethos. Hardly a battle as much as a skirmish outside of the city gates that demanded his attention. 

Archdevil Belial is none the wiser that the creature he really desires to kill is lurking at the edge of the party, burning eyes on you as he cocks his head and glances toward the empty staircase that leads toward the living quarters. 

There’s a twitch of irritation in your stomach as Yoongi turns and vanishes into the shadows. He is good at being seen only when he wants to, which works in his favor when he enters the hall of his greatest enemies, all in one room because of war meetings against the very fiend who now slips upstairs to your bedroom. 

It was only a matter of time before Yoongi showed up - despite the level of stupidity it takes to show up in the hall of your sworn enemy. Yoongi likes to show off though. He likes to remind his enemies - and himself - that he is not so easily kept out of places that he wants to be. 

Especially if those places he’s being kept from have you inside of them. 

“Thank you for the conversation, Lord Belial,” you interrupt. The devil looks at you with his mouth open, eyes blazing as you interrupt him to dismiss yourself. You feel a small twist of satisfaction. “I must retire for the evening. I am returning home tomorrow before starting my campaign through the realms to ensure my father’s army are being… led properly.”

Belial’s face twitches in irritation. You’re above his station - though not too far - and decorum is everything in matters of spoken insult. “Yes,” he agrees. “It is important for our… figureheads to inspire. The Whip of Asmodeus paints a threatening picture, to be sure. It is hard to be of influence on the battlefield - we do appreciate your efforts off the field.” 

A laugh like cutting glass bubbles from your lips. “You honor me.” You feel the ice in your mouth when you dip your head politely, pretending to be unbothered by the implication that you’re nothing but an empty threat. “I will see you in a tenday, Lord Belial, when I come to inspire in Phlegethos.”

With a curt turn, you cut through the party toward the stone dias. Those in attendance part for you like water parting around a sharp boulder, hurrying to get out of your way. Figurehead or real threat doesn’t matter - you’re the daughter of their lord and by rights their lady. 

Your father sits on his throne of twisted bone and fire ahead of the party, crimson eyes drinking in all that happens from his seat of power. Yet he has missed something incredibly important that now lingers upstairs waiting for you. The thought makes your lips twitch in a smirk as you ascend the stairs to where Asmodeus sits, a giddy tingle in your belly. 

A beautiful incubus boy sits next to the throne on the floor, a gold collar around his neck with a glittering chain that leads to Asdmodeous’ hand. The incubus looks at your father with adoration, gold eyes burning. Mouth agape. Breath catching. 

You don’t know how much of it is performance. It’s always hard to tell with the lower level fiends what is real and what is an act. It’s part of the dangerous game they play, and thought you’re more accustomed to their kind - especially the one lurking in your room - you’re still unsure how to tell the difference with this one.

You catch the scent of honey and vanilla as you step nearer, though the incubus doesn’t look at you. You immediately feel the ebbing power of allure from the creature, battering your senses just being so close. Asmodeus seems unaffected by the battering power of lust radiating from the incubus, but you see the two guards behind him glance toward the creature on the floor. 

You grit your teeth and ignore the twist in your gut, trying not to be irritated. Only one man has power over you this way. It isn’t the incubus’ fault that he’s doing what he was trained to do, but the sudden pitch in your stomach and dizziness you feel around him unsettles you. 

“I am returning to my chambers, Father,” you murmur, bowing deeply. “I have grown wear of Belial’s peacocking.” 

Behind him are two massive Orthons, no less than eight feet in height and wide like a troll. Their horns are curling and battle-scarred, ugly tusks showing from thick, fat lips. The beasts are hellish weapons from wars passed, now assigned to the personal guard of your father. You note that they also did not notice the shadowy incubus slipping into their party and up the stairwell.

It almost makes you tsk. Even for a creature as skilled and powerful as Yoongi, slipping past an entire party full of the most powerful infernals in the realms is impressive. He is, of course, more than just an incubus now, but still. The sheer magnitude of doing it successfully is not lost on you - and makes you worried for his sanity. 

“Sleep well,” Admodeous voice rumbles, his voice like stones grinding together. “Tomorrow, you return to Malbolge and ready to set out on your campaign.” His fiery eyes turn to you and you feel the weight of the burning Nine Hells press against you. “They will feel the crack of the Whip of Asmodeous and know that we are mighty. 

“It will be done.”

“She is as pretty as My Lord is,” the incubus boy purrs from where he sits at the foot of the throne. You glance at him, realizing that his golden gaze has broken away from your father and turned to you. Your stomach twists in equal parts anger, guilt, and disgust as you feel the lick of his power. “The House of Asmodeus is as beautiful as they are powerful.”

Again, it’s hard to discern if the incubus is performing or if he means it. Asmodeus pulls the chain hard, yanking incubus toward him. You hear his neck pop, though it doesn’t break as the creature wimpers at the sudden show of violence. “Do not speak to her, worm. You are nothing. She is the Heir Apparent and Princess of the Nine Hells. You are fodder.” 

The incubus cowers, and ducks his head away from you, curling in on himself. The sensual allure to him lessens distinctly, the energy souring. You feel your fingers twitch as you think of Yoongi. It is not difficult to guess that Asmodeous’ newfound desire to humiliate and dissipate incubi and succubi are inspired by his hatred and inability to rid himself of Yoongi’s stain. 

Swallowing thickly, you bow once more, slipping backward off the dias and toward the stairs that lead upward. No one guards them - there are supposed to be no enemies at this party - and shadow falls over them, the torches flickering as though watching you ascend.

Music and voices follow you up the stairs, the soft click of your shoes against the carved stone louder in the growing silence as you navigate to your bedrooms. The staircase winds and the sounds drift further away from you until it’s only the crackling of occasional sconces and your steps.

Two heavy doors in the west wing of the Citadel belong to your bedroom. The crackling energy of the arcana buzzing along them acting as a lock makes your skin tingle. You mutter the password and feel the pop of magic as it vanishes, allowing you to push heavily against one of the doors to grind it open. 

The room is both yours and not. It was your room for most of your life growing up under the ruler of the Nine Hells, opulent and dark, full of old possessions and heavy, draping curtains to keep out the smoke and ruin, rich art painted by careful hands with red and purple splashed across canvas. 

Now, it feels like a room that belonged to someone else entirely. You’re no longer the vicious little thing that thought would sit on the throne in Nessus one day. You’re no longer the unthinking weapon that Asmodeous uses to maintain order and public punishment. 

A large bed stands on a lifted dais, covered in silks and piled high with pillows. They lay undisturbed as you close the door behind you and mutter the password again, feeling the static of magic seal them shut behind you. It would take a small army to batter through them, thankfully. 

Your eyes scour the room. Embers burn in a smoldering fireplace, offering little light in the dimness of the bedroom. A large sitting area stretches to the right with leather chairs and velvet chaises, tables covered in untouched books and scrolls. 

To the left is an open study, a heavy wooden desk in the middle of the room backed with bookshelf-covered walls and heavy chests locked with tombs inside. You see the cover of a journal flipped open, the only sign that Yoongi had been lingering in your study snooping. 

Your mouth twitches at the corner as you look away from it. Yoongi leaving something out of place is only ever on purpose, a confirmation to you that yes - his visit has double meaning. You might be the primary reason the incubus and favored chosen warrior of a death god has snuck into his enemy’s home, but you’re not the only reason. Of course he is looking for any extra information he can use against his enemies. 

It stings a little more than you’d like. 

Stepping further into the room, you swivel your gaze back and forth, looking for a sign of the slippery man himself. A master of shadows, Yoongi is only seen when he wants to be. Strange, for a fiend whose very nature is to be seen and devoured, to give and to receive, to lure and enjoy. Most of his life has been spent in spectacle, and now he spends it in the shadows. 

Warm breath brushes against the back of your neck, making your skin prickle. “I like this dress.” 

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Yoongi’s callused fingers brush up your arm. It’s a ghost of touch but it makes your eyelids flutter shut, warmth thrumming in your stomach immediately. Unlike the incubus downstairs, you don’t feel a magnetic pull that is arcane here. You just feel the pull to Yoongi - a desire that is your own and fueled by nothing else. 

He has no reason to use his charm here. It makes you shiver as you lean backward into him, eager to feel the solidness of his chest and smell the sweet wine on his breath. 

“You always say that,” he purrs, the words low and scratchy. His other hand comes up to brush his fingers up and down your other arm, pulling you toward him full. You melt, fading into him faster than you should. “When will you learn that I will go wherever you are?” 

“Even if it means your own demise? You’re in the Citadel of Asmodeus.” 

“He’s killed me before.” Yoongi’s touch is more solid now, hands exploring your waist and curves, squeezing your flesh, pressing you against his waist. You rest the back of your head against his neck, inhaling cedarwood and sage. “I’m not so easily destroyed.” 

“Don’t.” 

You don’t want to recall the many times Yoongi has been wrenched away from you. Each time a little closer to permanence than the last. Time and time again, he has been ripped from your hands as your father attempts to destroy the fate linking you, to burn it until there is no tether there. 

“You’ve been good,” Yoongi notes. His hand goes to the silk strings on the side of your dress, pulling them undone. “He truly thinks you no longer think of me? That he has succeeded where he has failed a dozen times before?” 

“Yes.”

“His arrogance knows no bounds. He’ll think he’s a god, soon enough.”

You turn your head to the side, brushing your mouth against Yoongi’s. His lips are warm and taste of wine, urging your tongue to swipe across his bottom lip for a taste. “Is he not?” you ask against his mouth, fighting the need to shiver as one side of your dress falls open. “He rules the Nine Hells absolutely.” 

“Oh come off it,” He laughs. “You and I both know that isn’t true, otherwise he wouldn’t be in a civil war. Plus… I have recently acquired Avernus and Dis.” 

You straighten and turn around sharply to look at him, brows furrowing. For a moment, you forget what it is he’s said to shock you. You’re hypnotized by eyes dark enough that they reflect the stars when in the mortal world, a mouth that is soft and sensuous, a gentle, round nose that is opposed to the way he can turn it up at someone in a sneer. A faded scar over one eye - one of many that he's received over the years.

Yoongi is beautiful the way the moon is, distant and cold, but with a glow of softness that is often underestimated. 

You had made that mistake before. A long time ago, incubi and the lower creatures of the Nine Hells hadn’t been a blip on your radar. They were nothing to a princess of the Nine Hells, someone whose entire purpose for existing would be to one day step into ruling over all nine of the realms crushed in your father’s fist. 

Now, you know better. You’d been a silly, arrogant girl then, head filled with dreams of ruling over the dread cities and bringing the dukes and duchesses to heel. You’d never considered that perhaps your existence was more for appearances and leverage than anything else. 

A puppet. 

Belial, was, unfortunately, quite right about that. 

“What do you mean you have Avernus and Dis?”

“The skirmish in Phlegethos was a distraction. The dukes and duchess’ have been so frenzied about making sure they don’t have any disruptions in their rule that Belial scrambled to deal with his, turning his eye away from the others. Mammon… well you know Mammon. He is not a concern, for now. He cares little who holds Avernus and Dis.” You narrow your eyes at him. “I had help with Dis.”

That sours your stomach. “Bel.” 

“He has no love for Zariel. And he’s from Dis.”

“He’s a traitor. You’d do well not to trust him. Who knows when he’ll turn on you if promised something.”

“The Nine Hells are full of traitors.” Yoongi’s deft fingers undo the other side of your dress. “Including me. You think I would not sell out every single one of my fighters for you, hmm?” Yoongi presses a wet kiss to your jaw. You lean your head back to give him access to your throat. “You think I wouldn’t throw away being Kelemvor’s chosen and carrying his mantle for a chance to have you forever?” 

“You do have me.”

“Not in the way we are designed.” His voice is a growl as he bites at your throat, teeth scraping. You feel dizzy in his arms, but he holds you steadfast. “You were designed for me by the wheels of fate, and I for you. All of this - war, death, political scheming - it stands in our way and I would betray the god who gives me my many lives to cut to the chase in an instant.” 

The rage-laced words are an anger you’re familiar with. Two creatures born to exist for one another - more than fated mates. Your very existence tied to Yoongi’s is a matter of universal balance, two threads of fabric that must remain woven together, lest the realms collapse. 

Divine Scales. Two lives bound together that must remain in balance for the rest of the world to exist. You and Yoongi are not the only Divine Scales in the realms, but you’re perhaps one of the most difficult to balance in a world set on keeping you apart. 

You, the daughter of the Archduke of the Nine Hells. Yoongi, an incubus servant whose purpose was to lure, steal, and spy on behalf of Asmodeus. It was an unfit match that your father was set on destroying - his daughter an heir would not be tied to a lowly creature of lust and servitude. 

“Careful,” you murmur as Yoongi peels the fabric from your skin. The air is warm but you feel a shiver anyway, nipples pebbling at the temperature change. “Your god might not like to hear you say such things.”

“He is not my god,” Yoongi mutters. His eyes are hungry, burning with desire as he drinks you in, his fingers gripping the flesh at your hips. “He is a convenience. I need power to take control of the Nine Hells, he gives me power. You are the only being I worship. The only goddess I recognize.” Yoongi sinks to his knees and your stomach flips. He looks up at you, lips parted and pupils blown, eyes so dark you could spill into them and never find your way. “Let me prove my devotion. Let me worship the only divinity I’ve ever known.”

Yoongi’s words are a spell on you, and not because he’s in an incubus, created and bred to be alluring and lead mortals to the Hells to give up their souls. Yoongi’s words have power because he is Yoongi, a being who he designed to be your other half. Another being you love so entirely that you intend to sacrifice the realm you call home, that you actively betray the people you’ve known since you were a child in order to be with him. 

These snatches with him are so few and far between. He fights a war against your father and his archdevils while you unravel them from the inside. Two knives carving away at the system which fights to keep you apart. 

You forget about all of the atrocities committed and to come. You push away the anxiety that Yoongi is thwarting his power by coming to the seat of his enemy’s power, just because he can and because he wants you. 

Instead, you focus on the way his mouth leaves wet kisses across your thighs. Yoongi’s fingers press into the back of your legs, holding you to him as his tongue lavs at a small scar on your hip, his teeth nipping the flesh.

Your world falls away as his tongue and mouth suck at your skin. Heat gathers between your legs, feeling the wet ache in your folds as Yoongi purposefully avoids going toward the apex of your thighs, instead showering your inner thighs, calves, and hips with soft kisses. 

Strong hands pry your legs apart. You let him slide your foot over, widening your stance easily. You cannot recall a single person you have ever been pliable for. You are the Whip of Asmodeous, a sharp weapon made to force subservience and delve out punishment. 

You are no whip in Yoongi’s hands. You are silk, sliding through his fingers as his mouth presses closer and closer to your heart. To everyone else, you are a weapon. To Yoongi, you’re just you. A mind to adore, a body to worship. 

Your knees threaten to buckle when the first, slow swipe of his tongue runs up your drenched folds. Yoongi chuckles, the sound throaty. Gently, he lifts a leg and pulls it over his shoulder, providing a counterweight as you stand but also giving him access to your aching cunt, pressing his face close as he licks you from hole to throbbing clit again. 

“Yoongi,” you whisper, a hand shooting to his hair. Your fingers slide through soft, silk strands and twist, rooting him there. He groans in appreciation, focusing his tongue on slow, up-and-down licks, avoiding your clit as he works. “Fuck.” 

He hums, the feeling buzzing through your pussy as he closes his mouth over it, sucking gently. His mouth is wet and warm, tongue soft as it circles your aching bundle of nerves. Your legs feel gummy as you waver, holding onto him to keep yourself standing as much as you are to keep him in place.

Yoongi’s hunger can rarely be sated. He devours you, mouth eager as he sucks and licks at you, lips smacking loudly as he does. You barely register the obscene noise, canting your hips up into his mouth as the pleasure begins to build slowly. 

A hand presses into your ass, pressing you harder against the flat of his tongue. Yoongi opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, looking up at you with fucked out eyes as he urges you to fuck his face at your pace, to use him like a god would use a conduit. 

Yoongi is your conduit, and you are his. You vowed centuries ago to be his whip, a weapon at his command. He vowed to be your shield, your knife in the dark. 

The powers of the Hells would keep you apart. Beyond the impropriety that someone so lowborn could be fated for one of the highest powers among the infernals, the two of you together are too much of a threat. Too much power tied to one another, a divine match that cannot be broken.

Still, they try. 

The two of you have died before. Keeping you dead isn’t easy, though. Neither can truly die while the other lives and no one has quite managed to kill you both simultaneously - a familial crutch that Asmodeus cannot seem to overcome. 

You’d die every day to have this moment with Yoongi, your breath caught in your lungs, sweat beading on the small of your back, head tilted back as your heart beats so loud it's all you can hear. You feel every part of your body coil before there is a moment of white noise as your orgasm crests over, your cunt squeezing, your hand pulling his hair. 

Yoongi drinks you in like he cannot get enough. Gluttonous, ravenous man, pressing into your heat as he sucks. Your hands tug at his hair, the stimulation going from warm and fluid to sharp and biting. He grows a little when you pull his face back by the strands of his hair, a picture of madness with the lower half of his face covered in your slick, lips red and swollen, eyes unfocused. 

You pull and he stands, knocking you back as he does. You stumble the remaining footsteps to your bed, mouths connecting in a tangle of teeth, tongue, spit and cum. You taste yourself on him, sucking his tongue greedily into his mouth as your hands claw at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours. 

He complies, letting you push the shirt off his shoulders as he climbs over you, pressing a knee between your legs as he traps your lips in a searing kiss again. Your lips feel bruised where you kiss, his mouth demanding. His hands claw at your hips, pulling you down into his knee, grinding your slick cunt against his leg.

You let out a breathy sound, both from the feeling of pleasure blooming between your legs once again and the warmth of his skin, your hands rubbing across his chest, seeking to chase the inferno within. Yoongi has always been warm, but something hotter burns in him now. Something divine, vicious, and powerful lurking beneath his skin, the unlikely power of a god of death lurking just beneath the surface. 

You know that Kelemvor, the God of Death and Lord of Judgement has chosen Yoongi as a conduit of power because Yoongi seeks the balance of the world - he is a part of the balance of the world. His very existence is paramount to a deity whose very nature is to maintain the scales. 

It doesn’t stop you from wanting to eat away at the divinity under Yoongi’s skin, to drive out the influence that isn’t yours, to assert your dominance over a god and remind him that Yoongi does not belong to Kelemvor, he is not an extension of death. He belongs to you and you alone. 

It is an irrational, violent bout of jealousy that overtakes you for a moment. Your nails rake down his chest a little too hard, leaving trails of blood beneath. You bit his bottom lip a little too hard, the taste of iron and salt spilling into your mouth with his tongue. 

Yoongi smirks against your scarlet mouth, pulling back to look down at you. He knows what it is you seek. Yoongi always knows. Your minds are not connected, but your souls are and there is little you can hide from him. “You cannot rip him out of me, no matter how much you want to.” 

“I will try.” 

“Good.” He leans down and bites hard on your collarbone, making you gasp. “I will tear Asmodeous’ influence from you in kind.” 

Your hands are less harsh as you undo the laces of his pants, pulling them down powerful thighs. Your viciousness cools in the shower of the whisper of his love against your ear and the scrap of his tongue against your skin. Every single part of you burns hotter than the deepest part of the Hells, driven there by him alone. 

You love him - such a simple word could convey it accurately, anyway.

It seems too small of a word, unable to fit the fountain of want, desire, trust, and yearning that spills out of you into such a small cup. You don’t know if love can truly hold everything you feel for him, if it conveys that there is nothing god, archdevil, or fate that would stop you from being here with Yoongi, getting to touch him, to taste him, to whisper into his mouth as he presses the head of his cock into your weeping entrance. 

“You’re mine,” you gasp, rolling your hips forward to meet the slow, powerful strokes of his cock. Yoongi cradles you to him, his hands gripping you tighter as he presses your bodies together, as though you could meld. “Mine mine mine.” 

“I’m yours,” he agrees, voice throaty and strained. “Who else could I belong to?” 

You have no answer. Stars dance behind your eyelids as you move to his rhythm. Yoongi’s skin is heated and sticky as he moves against you. You feel his heartbeat in exact time with yours, twin rhythms. Your arms wind around his shoulders, fingers twisting in the hair at the nape of his neck. You feel the muscle of his back and shoulder flex as he fucks you slowly, each stroke pointed and driving you to the edge again. 

Yoongi’s mouth brushes yours. You breathe in his air, unable to put anything else into words, thoughts consumed with him. With how he tastes, with how he smells, with how he feels. Nestled in the deepest part of you, you feel home. It is such a rare feeling, only discovered here like this, connected. 

It makes your breath catch, barely audible above Yoongi’s low groaning and the loud smack of skin against skin. Your heels dig into the bed, head pressing into the mattress as you throw your head back, unable to do anything but take what Yoongi is giving you. 

His pace quickens, slamming into your cunt with enough force to break you. But you do not break - you could never break with him. You squirm in his hold, babbling and panting and trying to breathe as he drives you to the edge of madness - and then you peak. 

A wild sound escapes you as you seize into him, muscles clenching, cunt spasming. Yoongi’s thrusts turn vicious, fucking you through your orgasm as you clench down on him with a vice grip. His fingers grip the back of your neck, pulling you toward his chest as he leans backward, your legs sliding as he seats you in his lap, fucking up into you. 

“Imagine thinking they could take you away from me,” Yoongi hisses. His thrusts are sloppy and hard, spearing you and sending you hurtling right toward the edge again. You submit to him, head lolling to the side as he takes you. “Imagine thinking that you could defy a prewritten fate that you are mine, that you are anything less than what was made for me.” 

A sob slips through your lips. You cannot think of a response, only able to cling to him as though to say yes. 

“They cannot take you away from me,” he growls. “I will destroy this world again and again if they try. They cannot sunder what is here, they cannot rip you away from me any more than you can rip the stars from the sky.” 

Just as you begin to teeter on the edge, Yoongi slams his hips home, clenching as he comes. “You cannot be anything else but mine.”

It sends you hurling over the edge again, so powerful that you forget where you are for a moment. It is intoxicating, this bliss that unfurls like the flowers of a petal. Nothing exists here but calm water and the scent and taste of Yoongi. There is no war here. No fight to keep you apart. No demands, no expectations. It’s just you and him. Like it was always meant to be. 

Slowly, awareness creeps back toward you. It is a lumbering, lazy thing. You only feel somewhat aware that you’re in a bed and that you feel the heat of Yoongi next to you, the press of his mouth against your shoulder. The aftereffects of sleeping with an incubus are not lost on you, even as a powerful infernal. 

Everything feels melted, like it could fall through your fingers like grains of sand. Perhaps you could float away if you tried, but Yoongi grounds you. The feeling of his hand on your hip and his mouth on your skin is the most solid thing that exists in this world in between, keeping you tethered to something real. Something substantial. 

When you blink away the sticky high of the post-orgasm daze, Yoongi is watching you with soft, round eyes. The burning desire is still there, but at the forefront is adoration. Worship. Love. Anything stronger than words can describe. 

“Are you okay?” he kisses your jaw before drawing back to examine your face. You nod, head heavy. “Too much?”

“No. Not with you. Never with you.” 

His mouth twitches like he’s unsure. You nestle closer to him, closing your eyes as you’re cupped in the safety of his presence. “With Avernus and Dis at your command, you can take Phlegethos,” you murmur. “Mammon will give you Minauros if you can do that.” 

“Hmm.” 

Your eyes flutter open, watching as Yoongi closes his. You can tell by the twitch in his mouth that he is thinking. “I will deliver you Phlegethos.” He cracks an eye open and looks at you, seeing the hunger that burns there. “Belial needs a good whip to put him in place.” 

“The Whip of Asmodeous?” 

“No.” You grin. “The Whip of Kelemvor’s Chosen.” 

[annabelle--cane]

do we have any information on the approximate dates or year that TMA takes place in? I’m obsessed with timelines and I’m so curious about if those dates are Known or not or can only be guessed about

yes we do! some parts of the timeline are a little vague, but every live and "in situ" statement (with a few exceptions) has a date attached to it. I won't go through every known date, and I'm also not scrupulously checking to make sure I've copied all these numbers down correctly so there's probably an error or two in here, but some significant ones include:

s1

mag 13 - alone: the first live statement and the first hard date for the show, 13 january 2016

mag 22 - colony: martin's statement after being trapped by jane prentiss, 12 march 2016

mag 26 - a distortion: sasha's statement about meeting michael, 2 april 2016 (<- that was my fourteenth birthday :3)

mag 38 / mag 39 / mag 40: jane prentiss's attack on the institute, sasha's death, and all the debrief statements afterwards, 29 july 2016

s2

mag 41 - too deep: jon's statement about exploring the tunnels and his first supplemental tape about gertrude's murder, 2 september 2016

mag 43 - section 31: basira's statement about diego molina + the start of her giving gertrude's old tapes to jon, 19 september 2016

mag 47 - the new door: helen's statement about the hallways, we meet michael in person for the first time, 2 october 2016

mag 61 - hard shoulder: daisy's statement about seeing the coffin for the first time, 1 december 2016

mag 73 - police lights: basira's statement about rescuing callum brodie from maxwell rayner, 11 february 2017

mag 76 - the smell of blood: melanie's statement about her investigations into war ghosts, at the end she and jon have a bit of a fight about how That Is Not Sasha, 13 february 2017

mag 78 / mag 79 / mag 80: jon releases not-sasha from the table, martin and tim get trapped in the corridors, jon meets leiter, elias smashes leitner with a metal pipe, all on 16 february 2017

s3

mag 81 / mag 82: jon makes a statement at georgie's place about a guest for mr spider at the same time as daisy interviews the remaining archives staff to try and ascertain his whereabouts, 18 february 2017

mag 89 - twice as bright: statement of jude perry, ft. jon hand crispification, 24 april 2017

mag 91 / mag 92 (/ maybe mag 93?): statement of mike crew, death of mike crew, jon daisy and basira's encounter in the woods, the big elias conversation at the institute, 28 april 2017. mag 93 might also be recorded on this day, I'm not quite sure, because georgie's statement (mag 94) is 29 april, but I don't know if that's fully the next day or if jon got back really late on the 28th, recorded mag 93, and then georgie gave her statement in the wee hours of the 29th. up to interpretation and how little sleep you envision jon as having.

mag 100 - I guess you had to be there: lynne hammond's is 2 may 2017, robin lennox's is 20 may 2017, brian finlinson's is 26 may 2017, and "john smith's" statement doesn't have a date.

mag 111 - family business: gerry's posthumous statement about smirke's 14, 30 june 2017. again, trevor and julia's statement about how they met in mag 109 is dated 29 june, and I don't know if it's an either-side-of-midnight thing or a full day elapsed between them.

mag 118 - the masquerade: martin and melanie pull a fast one on elias while the rest of the gang sets up explosives in the unknowing, 6 august 2017.

mag 120 - eye contact: elias's statement about jon's coma dreams + elias's arrest, 9 august 2017.

s4

mag 121 / mag 122: oliver banks gives his statement about point nemo and jon wakes up, 15 february 2018

mag 128 - heavy goods: breekon deliver's the coffin and jon slurps a statement right out of his head, 3 march 2018

mag 132 - entombed: jon buries himself alive to rescue daisy, 24-26 march 2018

mag 141 - doomed voyage: on the boat to norway jon slurps a statement about mikaele salesa out of a shiphand's head, 11 june 2018

mag 142 - scrutiny: jess tyrell comes in to complain about jon slurping a statement out of her head and haunting her nightmares, 12 june 2018

mag 146 / mag 147: jon gets intervened on about all the brain slurping, they go to hilltop road and find annabelle's statement, 20 july 2018

mag 157 / mag 158 / mag 159: peter releases not-sasha and brings martin to the panopticon for a showdown with "elias," julia and trevor attack the institute, daisy goes monster mode, and jon follows martin into the lonely and saves him with the power of gay love and also slurping peter lukas's brain so hard he explodes badly, 25 september 2018

mag 160 - the eye opens: jon reads a normal statement and nothing bad happens, 18 october 2018.

s5

fuck if I know

[confoundedpangolin]

What the fuck. I'm sorry, I don't understand why I never give myself time to process before getting in here and writing out posts, but Nikola? A plastic manikin from a seemingly random mall who stole a voicebox somehow just to talk? That's such an odd season protagonist, not that it's bad, it just leaves so many questions, like how she has sentenence, how she can even move her plastic limbs, if she's a soul trapped in s manikin or just genuinely alive. I think it's a sign of what to come, that fact she's a literal manikin is, I think, not do subtle symbolism that she working for something much more dangerous. And Mike or The Spiral, and Gertrude... was she that desperate? How did she figure out where to find the secret spiral of entities, how did she map the endless hallways to have an end? You can't exactly use trial and error, and she succeeded! She bound a primordial figure, something with the power to kill her and everyone around her, to an archival assistant that was eventually killed, and I hope The Spiral as well, though I doubt it can be killed. Breekon on Hope is proven to ship much more, quite a lot actually, and have connections to Nikola Orsinav's dad, I assume, the ringmaster. I actually think that the manikin is being possessed, since I don't get how having a plastic child would work. I think that, when the whole crew had to get off The Arctic while it disappeared, that it was going to the secret, hidden place where the patrons swirled... for some reason, I don't know what. I also think that one of the secret, hidden places that they got flung off to might be the staircase in the coffin, especially since Breekon and Hope delivered it. So, Helen Richardson, the one who vanished into the hallways, what is she now? She's not the sitter, she's not Helen, but she helps. She rescues Jon from death by Spiral or Circus, I assume she's truthful at least. Gertrude somehow stole a vital skin that would be worn by Nikola at the ritual, but that means the manikin is very important... maybe she's more powerful than I thought? She knows where Georgie lives, and I think Georgie will be bound to the Magnus Institute as well. That weird, loud, screeching sound, I think it means Nikola, or the Circus, or even the Stranger, because it appears when Nikola is there, and never anywhere else (I think) and it's not even the finale. I should've known that something big was coming after episode 100, completely full of random people giving (most likely) fake statements, but I didn't expect this! And why did Nikola think Jon is Elias? Can she not distinguish between two avatars of the Eye? An I just confused? I checked the credits, and Elias isn't even in this episode. I assume this is the same circus from Gertrude's tape, the one that makes weird amalgamations of human parts like messed up legos, in that case I think everyone is fucked completely. Maybe with those cool new eye powers Jon can persuasive essay the Stranger to death, ohhhh if this is only halfway through then the season finale is going to be fucking crazy... and there's two more after that.. aaaaaaaah noooo

[comedicallyterriblemasky]

hi, could i request BEN, eyeless jack, and bloody painter with a S/O that a twitch streamer

Characters: BEN Drowned, Eyeless Jack, Helen Otis (Bloody painter)

S/O?: Yes

S/O type: Gender neutral

CW: None

Tags: SFW

A/N: Anon I hope I delivered

Headcanons below!

BEN Drowned:

Hacks, walks in, pops through the computer during the stream

Supportive, words of positivity

Does not care whatever you do on stream, quote "You do you boo!! Get that bag ❤❤" (I cringed at my own words)

Might randomly spam the chat for funsies

-------

Eyeless Jack:

Accidentally will wander into the room when the stream is happening

Tries not to like, eat organs and stuff if he hears the stream (Due to him being blind he can't actively see when it's happening so he has to listen) Or he might just not care and will eat them right then and there

Supportive, doesn't understand it though like wym there's a service where people can watch you live???

Tries his best to not judge (Judgy ass mf)

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

Bloody Painter:

Stays tf away from the setup 100% of the time

So very camera shy, stays away at all costs, even when there's no stream

Mainly draws in the next room over

Supportive but doesn't want to be associated with the streams (No bringing up this man at all)

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this New York Times story:

California draws more electricity from the sun than any other state. It also has a timing problem: Solar power is plentiful during the day but disappears by evening, just as people get home from work and electricity demand spikes. To fill the gap, power companies typically burn more fossil fuels like natural gas.

That’s now changing. Since 2020, California has installed more giant batteries than anywhere in the world apart from China. They can soak up excess solar power during the day and store it for use when it gets dark.

Those batteries play a pivotal role in California’s electric grid, partially replacing fossil fuels in the evening. Between 7 p.m. and 10 p.m. on April 30, for example, batteries supplied more than one-fifth of California’s electricity and, for a few minutes, pumped out 7,046 megawatts of electricity, akin to the output from seven large nuclear reactors.

Across the country, power companies are increasingly using giant batteries the size of shipping containers to address renewable energy’s biggest weakness: the fact that the wind and sun aren’t always available.

“What’s happening in California is a glimpse of what could happen to other grids in the future,” said Helen Kou, head of U.S. power analysis at BloombergNEF, a research firm. “Batteries are quickly moving from these niche applications to shifting large amounts of renewable energy toward peak demand periods.”

Over the past three years, battery storage capacity on the nation’s grids has grown tenfold, to 16,000 megawatts. This year, it is expected to nearly double again, with the biggest growth in Texas, California and Arizona.

Most grid batteries use lithium-ion technology, similar to batteries in smartphones or electric cars. As the electric vehicle industry has expanded over the past decade, battery costs have fallen by 80 percent, making them competitive for large-scale power storage. Government mandates and subsidies have also spurred growth.

As batteries have proliferated, power companies are using them in novel ways, such as handling big swings in electricity generation from solar and wind farms, reducing congestion on transmission lines and helping to prevent blackouts during scorching heat waves.

In California, which has set ambitious goals for fighting climate change, policymakers hope grid batteries can help the state get 100 percent of its electricity from carbon-free sources by 2045. While the state remains heavily dependent on natural gas, a significant contributor to global warming, batteries are starting to eat into the market for fossil fuels. State regulators plan to nearly triple battery capacity by 2035.

[justforbooks]

Alfred Nobel stipulated that his annual prizes be awarded to those who “have conferred the greatest benefit to humankind”. Few scientific advances have had a greater impact on our lives than that made by the American materials chemist John Goodenough, a chemistry Nobel laureate in 2019 for his role in inventing the rechargeable lithium battery.

If you are reading this on a handheld device, it will almost certainly have a lithium battery inside. These power packs have been instrumental to the advent of electric cars, and their ability to store power such as that generated by ephemeral renewable sources could aid the transition away from a fossil-fuel energy economy.

For year after year Goodenough, who has died aged 100, featured in the list of Nobel predictions. Only his remarkable longevity saved the Swedish committee from an embarrassing injustice – he is the oldest person to have been awarded a Nobel. He seemed phlegmatic about being repeatedly overlooked, even though he did not enjoy any financial reward for his breakthrough either: in the 1980s he was not encouraged to take out a patent on the battery breakthrough he made at Oxford University. He was glad enough still to be able to do research, which he sustained almost until the very end of his life.

He left Oxford in 1986 for the University of Texas at Austin to escape compulsory retirement at 65, convinced – rightly – that he had a lot more still to offer. “Why would anyone retire and simply wait to die?” he asked. His vitality and enjoyment in the lab well into his 90s, punctuated by his loud and high-pitched laugh, was a constant cause of amazement.

One would hardly have guessed from that demeanour how unhappy his childhood had been, as the second of three children of extremely distant parents in what he called “a disaster” of a marriage. He was born in the city of Jena, Germany, to Helen (nee Lewis) and Erwin Goodenough.

They were both Americans who were living in Oxford – Erwin was studying for a DPhil at the university and, according to his son, “enjoyed the culture of the Weimar Republic; he spent much of his long summer vacations in Germany as well as in Rome”.

John was taken as a baby to the US, where his father became a professor of religious history at Yale University. John grew up mostly in a boarding school in Massachusetts, from where, despite being an undiagnosed dyslexic, he won a place to study mathematics at Yale. After wartime military service as a meteorologist, he gained a doctorate in physics at the University of Chicago and in 1952 began research on magnetic materials for information storage at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

That work qualified him to switch to inorganic materials chemistry when in 1976 he moved to Oxford. At that time, interest was growing in electric vehicles, which were being held back by the lack of suitable batteries.

The potential benefits of electric cars as quieter and less polluting than those using the petrol-fired internal combustion engine had been recognised since their inception. But the lead-acid batteries used as starter batteries and the power source for vehicle electronics were utterly unequal to the task of supplying the motive power: they were too heavy and offered too little power.

The dream of battery-powered cars was resurrected in the 60s, but it was only a decade later, with the Opec oil crisis in full swing, that the industry took them seriously.

The key was to find the right materials for the battery electrodes. Lithium metal looked attractive because it is lightweight and capable of delivering high voltages. The idea was that lithium at the positive electrode would provide electrically charged ions that travel to the negative electrode, where they could be trapped between the layers of atoms in materials called intercalators.

The British chemist Stanley Whittingham, one of Goodenough’s co-laureates, working at the Exxon laboratories in New Jersey, found a suitable intercalator called titanium disulfide in 1976. Four years later, Goodenough in Oxford identified the material – a form of cobalt oxide – that became the industry standard, offering a higher voltage and greater power density.

Early lithium batteries had a tendency to catch fire because of the high chemical reactivity of pure lithium. But the third 2019 laureate, the Japanese researcher Akira Yoshino, of the Asahi Kasei Corporation in Tokyo, replaced lithium electrodes with graphite-like carbon made from petroleum coke, which also intercalates lithium so that the ions merely shuttle back and forth between the two sets of layers, making them easily rechargeable.

The lithium-ion battery was commercialised in 1991 by the Sony Corporation, and now commands an estimated $92bn market. Without it there could have been none of today’s handheld electronics – laptops, smartphones, tablets. Elon Musk’s Tesla electric cars depend on them.

There is still room for improvement and Goodenough never stopped seeking it. In the past decade he was working, among other things, on making batteries that operate at low temperatures, suitable for powering cars in the winter.

He was also seeking a new, safer way to reinstate pure lithium electrodes, which could give lithium batteries more energy capacity. At the same time, he expressed concerns about the international tensions that might arise over the limited global supplies of lithium.

Goodenough maintained a strong Christian belief throughout his life, seeing no conflict with his scientific work. “The scientist is trying to do something for society and for his fellow man,” he said. “In that sense why should there be a conflict?” During his 90s he cared for his wife, Irene (nee Wiseman), who had Alzheimer’s disease. They had married in 1951; she died in 2016.

“I’d like to get all the gas emissions off the highways of the world”, Goodenough said in 2018. “I’m hoping to see it before I die.” It was always an ambitious aspiration, even for someone with his staying power. But if it happens one day, Goodenough will have played a central part in that.

🔔 John Bannister Goodenough, materials scientist, born 25 July 1922; died 25 June 2023

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

[bakerstreetbabble]

Granada TV Series Review: "The Speckled Band" (S01, E06)

"The Adventure of the Speckled Band" seems to be a favorite with many readers, despite its many obvious plot holes (snakes don't drink milk or climb ropes, for example). Holmes's cool head in the face of the belligerent Grimesby Roylott's threats and the middle-of-the-night stakeout waiting for "the speckled band" to arrive are fairly dramatic and entertaining scenes, and the gothic horror of Mr. Roylott's messy end is rather gripping.

The Granada adaptation is quite well done, and it adheres very closely to the outline of its source material. There are a few changes that the viewer will notice in comparison to the original story. A few examples:

The sisters are no longer twins. Julia is 5 years older than Helen.

The cheetah on the grounds of Grimesby Roylott's estate has been replaced by a leopard.

Holmes wears the "traditional" deerstalker cap, rather than the bowler shown in Mr. Paget's illustrations. (To be fair, there is no indication in the text as to Holmes's choice of headwear.)

Other than those (very minor) changes, the episode proceeds in much the same way as the Doyle narrative.

As I mentioned above, the nasty confrontation with Mr. Roylott at the Baker Street flat is one of the more enjoyable scenes in the original story, and the adaptation in the TV episode does not disappoint! The little twitchy half-grins that Jeremy Brett flashes, as the angry Grimesby delivers his monologue, are absolutely priceless. Brett's gleeful laugh in the face of the verbal onslaught is the cherry on top of the sundae. And, of course, the lovely moment when Holmes bends the poker back into shape is delightful as well.

“Ha! You put me off, do you?” said our new visitor, taking a step forward and shaking his hunting-crop. “I know you, you scoundrel! I have heard of you before. You are Holmes, the meddler.” My friend smiled. “Holmes, the busybody!” His smile broadened. “Holmes, the Scotland Yard Jack-in-office!” Holmes chuckled heartily. “Your conversation is most entertaining,” said he. “When you go out close the door, for there is a decided draught.”

Just a bit later in the episode, when Holmes and Watson meet up with Helen Stoner again, the writers add a funny little moment in which Watson, clearly still very impressed with his friend's handling of Mr. Roylott's bullying manners, tells Miss Stoner that "Holmes sent him off with a flea in his ear!" I'm not 100% sure what that phrase actually means, but it made me chuckle. David Burke's excellent portrayal of the faithful sidekick never ceases to impress me.

​Before Holmes and Watson encounter the deadly snake face-to-face, there is an intense monologue from Jeremy Brett that is very effective in setting up the scene to come, as he meditates aloud on the dangerous nature of the evil Grimesby Roylott, a doctor gone wrong. The monologue is very nearly word-for-word from Doyle's orginal:

When a doctor does go wrong he is the first of criminals. He has nerve and he has knowledge. Palmer and Pritchard were among the heads of their profession. This man strikes even deeper...

My only real quibble with this particular adaptation is the scene that comes after Mr. Roylott meets his demise. After the horror of the snake, Holmes's brief explanation of how he put together the last few details seems just a bit anti-climactic. His somewhat emotionless statement that the death of Grimesby Roylott does not weigh heavily on his conscience, followed by the whistle of the train, is a bit too abrupt an ending for the episode.  Overall, though, I found the episode a very engaging one, and quite a bit more interesting than the previous episode, "The Naval Treaty." A faithful adaptation and well worth my time.

[dr-george-shapirony]

Amway River Bank Run attracts thousands to downtown Grand Rapids

Amway River Bank Run attracts thousands to downtown Grand Rapids https://healthbeat.corewellhealth.org/139406-2/ Thousands of eager runners gathered in downtown Grand Rapids on a hazy and warm Saturday morning for the 46th annual Amway River Bank Run. Runners flooded the streets and sidewalks on May 13 as they prepared to take their first steps, weather they were running the 5K, 10K or 25K. Alejandro Quiroga, MD, president, Corewell Health in West  Michigan, was on hand delivering welcome remarks. “It’s a great day and we’re so happy to be here,” Dr. Quiroga said. “This is all about having fun, being healthy and enjoying ourselves.” He stressed the importance of keeping healthy and active as Corewell Health staff were on-hand to offer medical support to anyone in distress. At the ready with medical assistance Corewell Health has been the official health partner and medical provider at the River Bank Run since 2018. Nearly 100  Corewell Health orthopedics providers were on hand to help any runners who needed assistance. And another 100 volunteers staffed hydration stations along the way. The race also included a 10K and 25K option, as well as a 5K walk and 25K race for hand cyclists and wheelchair racers. Results from this year’s race can be found at amwayriverbankrun.com. Kids can run too Earlier in the week more than 500 local kids participated in Amway Junior presented by Corewell Health’s Helen DeVos Children’s Hospital at Kentwood Middle School. The race organizers worked hand-in-hand with school running programs offered in elementary schools across West Michigan. “Running in this race is just the beginning of an understanding of healthy living for kids,” Stacy Emmert, a physician assistant at Corewell Health, said.  “We see a lot of obesity in children and getting them up and moving at this age is so important.” Parents and kids took off at the starting line running in groups while a crowd cheered from the bleachers. “Look at you go, you can do it,” one parent said. Two-year-old Matthias Benavides participated in the Amway Junior for the first time and was very excited. His mother said he loved seeing a bunny and turtle run but got a little emotional with the size of the crowd. “One thing is for sure … these kids are going to sleep well tonight,” race director Russ Hines said. The post Amway River Bank Run attracts thousands to downtown Grand Rapids appeared first on Corewell Health | Health Beat. via Corewell Health | Health Beat https://healthbeat.corewellhealth.org/ May 13, 2023 at 08:53AM

[chorusfm]

Taylor Swift Dominates the Charts

Taylor Swift’s latest is the second biggest opening week in recorded history. The Tortured Poets Department racked up 2.61 million units in its first week, including 1.914 million physical sales. Taylor Swift’s 11th full-length studio album, The Tortured Poets Department, shattered countless records upon release. Notably, “Fortnight” featuring Post Malone has landed on top of the Billboard Hot 100 this week. “Fortnight” becomes Taylor’s 7th Billboard Hot 100 #1 debut, and her 12th overall #1 on the chart.    See below for other key highlights and listen to The Tortured Poets Department — HERE.    The Tortured Poets Department Highlights: Only artist to ever hold the entire top 14 on the Hot 100 Breaks record for most consecutive new albums with a Hot 100 #1 hit (8) Breaks record for most simultaneous Hot 100 debuts (31) All songs from The Tortured Poets Department debut top 55 Only artist to ever hold the entire top 10 on the Hot 100 twice Ties for most #1 hits on the Hot 100 this decade First female artist to earn at least 50 top 10 hits on Hot 100 First female artist with twelve #1 hits on the Hot 100 and twelve #1 albums on the Billboard 200.    WHAT THE CRITICS ARE SAYING ABOUT The Tortured Poets Department   “5 Stars” - Rolling Stone, Rob Sheffield   “Instant Classic” - Rolling Stone, Rob Sheffield   “The Tortured Poets Department combines the intimacy of Folklore and Evermore with the synth-pop gloss of Midnights to create music that's wildly ambitious and gloriously chaotic” - Rolling Stone, Rob Sheffield   “5 Stars” - Helen Brown, The Independent   “With its playful narratives and hooks like anchors, Swift’s 11th studio album is a terrific reminder of her storytelling powers” - The Independent, Helen Brown   “The whole album is a terrific reminder of the intense, personal connection Swift can conjure in song. She fills arenas and dominates the news agenda because listeners can relate to her starry dramas – her tales endow their own experiences with new electricity…Her ability to put her lines over is as compelling as ever. I defy anyone not to lean into Swift’s concisely charged storytelling.” - The Independent, Helen Brown   “5 Stars” - The Times, Will Hodgkinson    “The Tortured Poets Department is an ultra-confident, ballad-heavy, poetic yet grounded reflection on love in all its forms: destructive, blissful, fantastical, embittered and idealised. And although plenty of the scenarios are imagined, these poetic visions of love’s tangled strands come alive because they are grounded in real feelings.” - The Times, Will Hodgkinson   “5 Stars” - The Sunday Times, Dan Cairns   “Again and again the songs hit the mark, as rich and concise as a great short story collection and, as ever with Swift, conjuring a scene in an instant.” - The Sunday Times, Dan Cairns   “5 Stars” - iNews, Ed Power   “The Tortured Poets Department is an aesthetic triumph – who knew books and sad bangers could go together so well? But more than that it is a new chapter in Swift’s ongoing quest for pop perfection and a record brimming with moments to beguile fans new and old.” - iNews, Ed Power   “5 Stars” - The Arts Desk, Ellie Roberts   “Taylor Swift has once again alchemised pain and criticism into art, surpassing her own already astronomical influence on the music industry with an artefact that deserves to be celebrated forever.” - The Arts Desk, Ellie Roberts   “Taylor Swift's 'Tortured Poets' is hauntingly brilliant” - USA Today, Melissa Ruggieri   “Taylor Swift’s vulnerability is her superpower.” - USA Today, Melissa Ruggieri     “‘I Can Do it With a Broken Heart’ is one of Swift’s best Trojan horses” - USA Today, Melissa Ruggieri    “...her 11th album feels like a bloodletting: A cathartic purge after a major heartbreak delivered through an ascendant vocal run, an elegiac verse, or mobile, synthesized productions that underscore the powers of Swift’s storytelling.” - AP News, Maria Sherman    ““Clara Bow” enters the pantheon of great final tracks on a Swift album.” - AP… https://chorus.fm/news/taylor-swift-dominates-the-charts-2/

[whatsonmedia]

Best Offers of This Week!

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Menu: - Starters: Cauliflower with miso, Burrata with pesto, Korean fried chicken. - Mains: Salmon burrito, Potato gnocchi, Thai green curry (chicken or aubergine). - Dessert: Coconut panna cotta, Valrhona chocolate brownie, Ice cream selection. Need to Know: - Valid Mon-Fri, 5 pm to 7 pm. - Book via info@100wardourst.com with clear voucher details. - 21+ only. - Present voucher on arrival. - Valid until Nov 6, 2023. At Dockside Vaults, you can get a pint and admission to the Rugby World Cup for $5. Join us in the heart of St. Katharine Docks for an electrifying Rugby World Cup 2023 experience. Skip the crowded pubs and watch the games in style at Dockside Vaults, London's freshest event venue. With its modern ambiance and a 160-year history, it's the ideal spot to catch the action on ten large TVs while enjoying food delivered to your table. Plus, you'll be greeted with a complimentary pint of beer. 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Enjoy performances from 20 talented vegan comedians over two days and groove to the music of Vegan Queen V, Barbara Helen, and Giles Bryant. Hungry? You'll find a wide array of delectable vegan food options. Quench your thirst with mocktails, cocktails, or choose from teas, coffee, and juice from inspiring independent vegan vendors. All of this for just £9 – don't miss out! Highlights: - Located in the heart of Kensington. - Featuring top comedy talents like Tom Ward and Carl Donnelly. - Receive free gifts upon entry. - Grab your tickets now for just £9! When and Where: - Dates: September 30th and October 1st. - Venue: Kensington Town Hall, Hornton St, London W8 7NX. Need to Know: - Ticket valid for entry to the London Vegan Comedy Festival. - Only valid for the selected date and time. - Present your booking confirmation at the box office. - Venue: Kensington Town Hall Hornton St London W8 7NX. - This voucher cannot be canceled, amended, exchanged, refunded, or used with other offers. 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Need to Know: - This voucher is valid for a BYOB (Bring Your Own Beer) ultimate pottery experience. - Please note there's an additional £10 charge for firing and glazing your pottery. - Booking instructions: Email info@tokenstudio.co.uk or booking@tokenstudio.co.uk with your preferred date and time, ensuring that your booking confirmation, voucher, security, and QR codes are clear. - You'll receive an automated response with instructions on checking session availability and redeeming your voucher. - Once redeemed, you'll receive a checkout code and a booking link to choose your preferred date and time. - Present your voucher upon arrival. - Bookings are available seven days a week from 11 am to 7 pm. - Voucher valid until October 31, 2023. Don't miss this creative opportunity! Read the full article

[atlastrust]

Mxgp pro mods for windows 10

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Use your items to speed up your motorbike. Blow up obstacles with the rocket launcher. Wohoo!ĭash through the tracks and race others to win items. Especially if you combine it with a nitro booster. Once you have got the hang glider mounted on your dirt bike you will spend a lot of time in the air. Wohoo! Race through the tracks and compete against others to win items. Once you mount the hang glider on your dirt bike, you’ll be spending a lot of time in the air.

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Don’t forget to enjoy Airborne Motocross game with MOD APK free for Android on. Players have excited when joined this game. At the moment, this game is over 100+ downloads and installs on Google Play. Your devices have to be Android 5.0 and up. Welcome to Airborne Motocross game for Mobile. Thanks to arshiya, Helen and Amireza for their reports!ĭownload Free Airborne Motocross APK (Full Mod) + OBB for Android on Description + Errors fixed (CreateAbilityItem, DialogConnectionLost). + Added new languages: French, Spanish, Portuguese It has a lot to offer for a sandbox game that only takes up 1 GB of storage space.After two years of hard work it is finally here. But, this is a small inconvenience compared to the game 4K resolution on widescreen or multiple monitors. Spintires missed the mark on creating a true simulated experience with its lack of borderless windows. Your primary controls are on the left-hand side of the keyboard, creating a more ergonomic gaming experience. As long as you familiarize yourself with key parts of the car and how it works, you will be able to play this game. It is also very lenient towards how you will complete your tasks. The main objective of the game is easy to fulfill. Spintires is a game for players of all user-levels. The game also lacks support for borderless windows, which would have added to the true-to-life appearance of the game. The gameplay is capped at 60 frames per second but its use of fast approximate anti-aliasing should smoothen out any jagged edges. You can enhance your gaming experience by raising its resolution to 4k Ultra HD on either an ultra-widescreen monitor or on multiple monitors.

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Operating System: Windows XP or Windows Vista GraphicsĪs both a simulation and sandbox game, Spintires gives you freedom to deliver the cargo however you see possible. You can also run the game on the following minimum system requirements: Oovee games recommend this set of system requirements: Spintires will work on most desktop and laptops as it takes up 1GB of space. Other than these key parts, Spintires is a straightforward game you will use W, A, S, and D as your primary navigational keys. This knowledge will come in handy when working with the gearbox, lock differential, winch, and all wheel drive.

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This means you will have to have basic knowledge of manual cars. But, it will not show information about the part’s uses. The main menu will allow you to view the keyboard controls and its corresponding actions. You must plan accordingly to avoid getting stuck in the mud or wasting your fuel reserves. The catch is that you must plot your own route. The success of your mission will depend on your ability to deliver the cargo securely and safely. The task is to collect and deliver logs across rugged terrain, with only a map and compass to guide you. You will be responsible for your fleet off-road trucks. The game was first launched in 2014, but it’s still being supported by its developer, Oovee Games. Ideally, you would be able to transport the goods without excessively spending your resources or totaling your car. Your job is to deliver cargo through the Russian wilderness. Spintires is an all-terrain simulation game.

[clumsyclifford]

here is my 💛 emoji bc i wanna see what you pick but being totally real our girl reblogging ur stuff (those rocket man fics tho) and mentioning you a couple times in convo is what alerted me to how sweet and kind u are and really the both of you have just really brightened up the summer Indoors Bc Of The Pandemic so my favorite thing about helen (and also you) is just the love for the community that exists over on good ole calumcest like what a big cheesy love fest it is

sam you said it so fuckin well but im like. blushing this is very much true for me too helen is one of the main reasons lockdown hasnt sucked nearly as bad as it couldve done for me like i feel so so fortunate to have her in my life i think we found each other at the best possible time and i think all of us in this lil community lovefest kinda found each other at the best possible time? and it warms my heart. constantly. i love you so very much

right okay i got suuuuper sappy and intricate in the last one but im gonna go a slightly different route here and say that one thing i love to no end about helen’s fics is that they make me laugh. like? she’s fucking funny. i KNOW she would disagree with me but she’s asleep rn so she can’t <3 and i am the kind of person who really doesn’t tend to enjoy consuming media that i can’t laugh at in some parts. hence why (as previously mentioned) i only watch action movies that have an aspect of humor to them, i watch romcoms and not straight up romances, like...i need to be able to laugh. and helen’s fics do that for me. every single one. the earlier 2014 ones KILL me i know that she hates them but i absolutely love them and is the banter ridiculous and silly? sometimes yeah but it doesnt matter because it’s fucking funny and helen will say often that she hates that it sounds like she’s trying to be too clever but i disagree (im like writing a whole essay here complete with rebuttal of the opposition’s points lmao) like you can definitely tell when someone is trying to be funny but failing and helen doesn’t fail at it ??? because she’s genuinely funny like she’s written so many good one-liners just off the top of my head there’s “what are you, the bread police?” from the lashton you belong with me fic which i shit you not stuck in my head since the first time i read it IN 2016 helen and i really do have a soulmates situation what a story indeed also “you wanna say that to my ALBUM?” and also the band leggage vote and “why would i kiss luke, of all people?” 

and also again to do with how she and her writing have matured but i think it’s a testament to her writing skill that she’s phased a fair bit of the banter out, like she doesnt write the sort of banter-driven fic that she did a lot of in 2014, but the humor is still just as sharp and witty when it’s in there and in a way that’s so much more fun because i know it’s going to make me laugh at certain points and so i get the enjoyment of being emotionally invested in a more serious, thoughtful fic but also the certainty that im going to laugh and given how important that is to me to the enjoyment of a thing that is just wonderful. it really is

tell me what you love about helen!

[ncssian]

Hi!! I miss you and your ‘a favor’ series! I hope you are doing well.

I was wondering if you’ve read any good (preferably romance) novels lately, and if you have any recommendations! Particularly books similar to Beth O’Leary’s the Flatshare or Helen Hoang’s the Kiss Quotient: books where sweet and consensual romance takes place. Given the caliber of excellence in your own romance writing, I thought I would ask if you had any recommendations!

A bit of an entirely unnecessary context-dump: Currently I am, in real life, in the midst of what feels like the first third of a romance novel wherein the protagonist and love interest have just met, sparks have been emitted, but the grand moment of new romance has yet to take place. If you I am in desperate need of a book that delivers on that front, as I’m tired of waiting on the front of current reality.

You didn’t have to read all that, but if you did I really appreciate it. Thank you so, so much!

hi and i missed u too!! hopefully i can go back to posting stuff soon so you'll have something to read.

in answer to your question, it sounds like you're into what i call "cartoon cover books" which, admittedly, are my least favorite type of romance novel, but i have been trying to get more into them this year. (ironically, a favor would 100% be a cartoon cover novel in terms of content and genre)

my favorite romance of all time is probably always gonna be warnette from the shatter me series, but even though their love is very intense and epic it is definitely not sweet and wholesome in the beginning (idk if you've already read it ive noticed that even though it's super popular barely anyone on tumblr has read it). another rec is You Deserve Each Other which is a cartoon cover book with my favorite trope, relationship in crisis. the beginning makes u think wtf is wrong with these people they need to break up now but it does a neat 180 and has you believing in true love by the midpoint. also hilarious mcs and lots of couple shenanigans.

im afraid that's it though because i very rarely read and finish books these days, so i dont have a lot to recommend. i know tons of books that ive never read but could probably recommend anyway though based on others' reviews of them if u want

[thegracelessfaceless]

*slithers in*

Can I request some Helen headcanons? Just like general dating him and maybe some nsfw if possible.

@mutat-ad-astra , ₐᄂᵣᵢg𝓱𝚝 yₒᵤ'ᵥₑ 𝚍ₒ𝚗ₑ ᵢ𝚝 𝚗ₒw. ᵢ'ᵥₑ 𝚋ₑ𝚌ₒᗰₑ ₐ 𝘴ᵢᗰ𝐩 fₒᵣ Hₑᄂₑ𝚗 . W𝓱ₐ𝚝 𝚍ₒ yₒᵤ 𝓱ₐᵥₑ 𝚝ₒ 𝘴ₐy fₒᵣ yₒᵤᵣ𝘴ₑᄂf??

(づ￣ ³￣)づ

ꇙꄲ ꇙ꒐ꋊꉔꏂ ꓄ꁝ꒐ꇙ ꉣꄲꇙ꓄ ꉔꋬꂵꏂ ꄲ꒤꓄ ꇙꄲ ꒒ꄲꋊꍌ, ꒐'ꂵ ꍌꄲ꒐ꋊꍌ ꓄ꄲ ꅐꋪ꒐꓄ꏂ ꋬꋊ꒯ ꉣꄲꇙ꓄ ꁝꏂ꒒ꏂꋊ'ꇙ ꋊꇙꊰꅐ ꒐ꋊ ꒐꓄ꇙ ꄲꅐꋊ, ꍌ꒒ꄲꋪ꒐ꄲ꒤ꇙ ꉣꄲꇙ꓄ ❤

ᕼᗴᒪᗴᑎ ᗝ丅Ꭵᔕ/ᗷᒪᗝᗝᗪƳ ᑭᗩᎥᑎ丅ᗴᖇ ᖇᗴᒪᗩ丅ᎥᗝᑎᔕᕼᎥᑭ ᕼᗴᗩᗪᑕᗩᑎᗝᑎᔕ

(With a fem!SO)

♡Let's just get canon out of the way real quick.

♡Helen is very calm and quiet

♡He isn't very expressive and doesn't speak much, but when he does, he's always the picture of the perfect gentleman.

♡If something doesn't concern him, Helen is pretty apathetic towards it. However, if it's something he cares about, Helen will be very passionate.

♡His parents treated him as a pet or toy, and this caused Helen to have repression issues.

♡He won't show emotion towards a person unless they show emotion first, then he will reciprocate. This is essential to remember as Helen's significant other; you'll have to make the first move every time.

♡Helen's a Libra. His birthday is October 1st

♡Helen's parents were so excited when they found out they were going to be parents. That night, Helen's mother dreamed that she had a beautiful baby girl with delicate features, the deepest blue eyes that she had ever seen, and coal black hair so fine that it looked like dark lace against the baby girl's alabaster skin. She woke up certain that she was pregnant with a baby girl that looked just like in her dream. Mrs. Otis went into labor and delivered a baby that indeed looked just like in her dream, but it was a boy. So they decided to continue on and name him Helen, and raise him as they would a little girl.

♡This treatment continued until he started school at six. Then his parents decided to dress him as and refer to him as a boy in order to not draw attention.

♡Helen still suffers from body dysphoria because of this. For a long time, Helen couldn't reconcile whether he was male or female in his mind, so he existed in a chaotic state of one, the other, both and neither all at the same time. Now- after years of therapy, and a great deal of time building his trust with Reader, Helen identifies as agender preferring he/they/it pronouns and a refined but masculine aesthetic.

♡Reader is the only person allowed to call him Helen. And even she doesn't do it often, only when she's serious. He prefers Reader to call him darling, love, honey, dear, and, if he's feeling frisky, Sir 😍. All others may refer to him by his surname, Otis.

♡Helen can be quite manipulative and his intelligence is obvious

♡While in "working" mode, Helen is very cautious of the scene he his creating, and presents every body as if it were a canvas to bear his work.

♡His fascination with blood stems from his childhood. He had always had trouble making friends, only managing one at a time and spaced distantly apart. His only childhood friend had been murdered by bullies in the park, rocks thrown at him for being friends with that "weird sissyboy kid" until one struck his temple, killing him instantly. The bullies had hurriedly buried his friend in the deep snow from the night before. Helen knew this, he had told you, because he had watched it all from his perch in a tree. After the bullies had fled, Helen had uncovered his friend and stared at his body lying in red stained snow, and the bullies later blamed Helen with his friends death. Ultimately, he had been cleared, as there had been a witness in the park.

♡The false accusations of murder didn't stop there, much to your displeasure.

♡In high school, a classmate of Helen's, one who happened to be Helen's only friend, fell from the building and died. A witness said that Helen had killed him, but no concrete evidence was found.

♡Not to say that Helen is an angel. You know he's far from that, too.

♡Later, the same year, as a freshman at university, Helen killed 17 people from his dorm building, and wounded 5 on Devil's Night (October 30th).

♡Helen was found insane by the courts as a minor and received 6 years of inpatient treatment before being released back into society.

♡He started "his work" again three years later, and then met you two years after that.

♡Helen smokes cigarettes (though not as much as Tim) and unwinds after "work" with music and a rum and Coke or whisky on the rocks.

♡Helen enjoys lofi hiphop; classical music; instrumental and instrumental covers of songs; music from the early 1960's like: Frankie Valli, The Big Bopper, the Animals, and the Zombies; and indie rock like The Flaming Lips, Harvey Danger, Dinosaur Jr, and The Smashing Pumpkins.

♡He loves discovering new music with you, listening to playlists you make him for hours. But you're gonna listen to some of his music, too and he makes playlists for you to play according to mood.

♡Helen's love languages are: quality time, acts of service, and words of affirmation. But the love languages he craves are: all of them except receiving gifts! Getting a gift is uncomfortable for Helen, especially if he has no gift to give back. He wants you to feel just as appreciated as you feel, if not more.

♡Helen thought that he was completely asexual before he met you. No one he had met had ever... Moved him in that way. And he was fine with that. Why should he mourn something he'd never even wanted?

♡And then he met you at an antique art showcase of pieces by and inspired by René Magritte. (Example here: ◎▼◎) After you spent hours together at the show, exchanging witty banter, and eventually, phone numbers, Helen found himself thinking about you that night, alone in bed. And then his mind wondered something it had never thought about anyone else. He wondered what you looked like naked. What your skin would feel like. How would you taste?

♡He frowned to himself, confused by the foreign thought for a moment before he realized that he felt sexual desire for you.

♡It still took him a long while of dating you before he felt comfortable enough to even kiss you in a sexual way. The two of you were practically engaged when he gave you his virginity.

♡Bonus wholesome content headcanon/drabble: Once you convinced Helen to bleach his naturally blue black hair. Not wanting to disappoint you, and telling himself that it was just hair, he consented and you happily set to work. An hour later, he emerged from the shower with a shock of platinum white hair 😱. He had to support himself with a hand on the back of the couch because his knees started shaking when he caught a glance of himself in the mirror over the fireplace. A long, thin fingered hand with a fine tremor lifted to cover his mouth. You knew without him telling you that he absolutely, 100%, no doubt, undisputedly hated it. His already porcelain skin had paled even more, now trembling chalk instead of bone China. His midnight blue eyes held a sort of flinching terror in them as they tried to look anywhere but the vicinity of the mantle mirror. You approached him gently and pulled the towel thrown around his shoulders loose and used his shoulder to balance you as you went up on tiptoe to finish drying his now shockingly white hair.

♡You leave Helen waiting shirtless in the living room to deal with putting his shoes and socks on and you pull on a light jacket to guard against the chill that manages to never be around when we need it during the daytime hours as you enter yours and Helen's shared bedroom. You find Helen a clean black tee shirt and pick up one of your beanies from the coatrack behind the bedroom door. This one was black with a tree frog leaping over the words Frog Leap Studios done in a typewriter font in white thread, a circle of bright blue making the frogs eye stand out.

♡You take the shirt and beanie to Helen and he pulls the shirt on. You feel a little sad that he's covering up, but there would be time to enjoy his body later. Helen sits on the couch so you can slip the beanie over his baby fine hair easier than going up on tiptoe to match his 6'2" lean frame. The bleach may have stolen its darkness, but it couldn't steal its softness. Helen's hair was probably the softest thing you'd ever touched.

♡Hair sufficiently covered, you and Helen get into your car and head to the only place open at the hour of 3:24 in the morning. Walmart. Your sleep schedule had never been normal and Helen didn't help you normalize it at all. In fact, if anything it had gotten worse, the two of you wrapped up in your own hyperfixations, leaned up against each other back to back, or one of you holding the other as one of you writes while the other draws.

♡You feel Helen's hand find your thigh and squeeze it, letting you know he's not upset with you. You reached down and covered his hand with yours, returning the squeeze and you finish out the short ride more relaxed now that you know Helen isn't mad at you. Helen follows you to the beauty section once you're inside the store. He patiently watches as you pick out boxes from 4 different companies.

♡An amused Helen watches you as you quibble with the four boxes. You shuffle through them, running through them over and over like a person considering their hand while playing cards.

♡You end up with him bending down slightly again so you can compare the dyes to his eyebrows. He thinks it's the sweetest thing that you're going through such a clear effort to fix his hair. Obviously you feel responsible for the mistake and he hates that.

♡Gently taking the boxes from your hands, he picks a random red and black one from the four you were debating between and puts the rest back on the shelf.

♡Then Helen pulls you into his arms and holds you tight and close, burying a kiss on top of your head. You smile into his chest, breathing in the scent of paint, paint thinner, lavender shampoo, and jasmine soap. On anyone else, the paint thinner smell would have made you sick. But on Helen, it just smelled like home. You two stay in your embrace, Helen swaying slightly to a beat only he could hear. A stolen moment, a stolen dance, to help ground yourselves.

♡Helen broke the hug after a few moments more, but kept hold of your hand. You walk to the checkout line and pay almost $10 for the dye. The price gave you a mild case of sticker shock, but you shook it off and smiled at the older cashier, who was beaming as her eyes moved between you and Helen. The two of you seemed to get that reaction from older people. That look of pure hope that more people got to experience the love that shone between you. You both thank the cashier repeatedly as Helen payed her the money needed.

"You two have a good night" she smiled at us, "the world needs more couples that look at each other the way you do. You look, at each other like you're reach others entire worlds."

"She is" Helen says softly, pulling me into a hug and a quick kiss, "She's my whole universe."

♡You're pretty certain that the woman's smile could not get bigger. But you didn't really want to find out, since you were starting to notice that her teeth were huge and you were starting to get squicked out by it. Helen must have picked up on your discomfort because he led you away in the protective half circle of his arm.

♡"My knight in shining armor" you croon at him as you walk back to the car, "Thank you for saving me. I am forever in your debt. However could I repay you, Sir?"

♡Helen took in a sharp breath and chuckled as he slowly let it out, "I can think of a few things."

♡"You'll have to show me when you have the time" I teased as Helen opened your car door for me. He'd taught you that chivalry was not dead, and you'd realized that it would be easier to let Helen be a gentleman than it would be to convince him that you could open your own doors.

♡You drove home and locked the doors behind you. You headed straight for the bathroom and Helen borrowed a stool from the island bar to sit on so you could reach all of his head.

♡Twenty minutes later, you threw dye covered vinyl gloves in the trash and settled an old towel around Helen's shoulders and neck to keep the dye from dripping on him. You'd clipped a pillowcase over his hair and you had just finished hitting the dye with heat to assure his hair took the dye well, absorbed it.

♡Helen smiled contentedly up at you from his spot on the stool.

♡You tilted his chin up to kiss him. He kissed you back and then sent soft kisses across your cheek and jawbone, and then kissed and nipped down your neck. Helen focused his kisses back on your lips, kissing you like the kisses would magically cure everything, would keep you alive.

♡The timer you'd set so Helen would know when to wash the dye out of his hair went off, and Helen stood

♡Having already taken off his shirt, Helen unfastened his jeans and let them slide down his legs, stepping out of them as they pooled around his feet, leaving him completely nude, comfortable.

♡instead of getting in the shower, Helen pulled you closer to the shower and used his nimble hands to liberate you of your clothes. Before you could protest, or even decide if ypu wanted to get in, Helen had pulled you under the spray of the shower and he stood in it now, extra dye streaming in lines

♡You turned Helen's back to you and massaged his scalp as the water rinsed the excess dye down the drain. When the water ran clear, you massaged some of the color protect conditioner that came with the dye and Helen switched places with you, his hands never leaving your hips so he could catch you if you slipped.

♡Helen washes your back for you and then your hair, lathering up a clean washcloth with jasmine soap and making sure not to miss a spot. Then he rubbed some lavender scented shampoo into my hair. Then he rinsed it and repeated the process before leaving some conditioner to sit in my hair.

♡Finally Helen worked some conditioner into your hair that matched the shampoo. You help Helen rinse everything from his hair and you condition his hair with the rest of the conditioner that came with the dye.

♡Showers with Helen always end up with him bathing you, his hands and keen eye not missing a single millimeter of your skin. Showers rarely turned sexual between the two of you, instead the two of you focused on the intimacy of showering together.

♡After all the soap and hair products are rinsed from both of you, Helen turned off the water and wrapped you in warm towels, quickly drying himself off and slinging a towel around his hips.

♡Helen obviously felt better once his hair was back to its natural inky darkness.

♡You could tell from the mischievous grin he wore as he escorted you to the bedroom.

AN: so I wrote on this well into the night... Fell asleep in the process a few times 😅. If you see continuity issues with the POV, let me know so I can fix it. I kept wanting to write in first person 😂

[dinklebat]

YOU ASKED ME FOR TIM HEADCANONS BUT IVE NEVER SEEN U TALK ABT UR HEADCANONS🔫🔫🔫

AAAA IM SO SORRY FATHER FORGIVE ME FOR MY SINS

- ✨bisexual icon✨

- absolute garbage fashion sense. he sees clothes as functional first, nice-looking second. he wears flannel. please save him he looks like a lost lumberjack

- one time Doby accidentally called him ”dad” and now all the other proxies have started calling him “dad” as well- even the ones older than him

- he acts like he’s annoyed by this, but he secretly likes it. he’s always wanted a family and he‘s always had that dilf energy anyways soooooo

- adores cats. 100% believes that cats are the perfect pet.

- also cats love him. he is the cat whisperer.

- this includes “little timmy“, toby’s cat. and yes, toby named him little timmy just to piss off tim and it worked

- closest with hoodie but also friends or at least friendly with ej, jane, helen, and jane

- also will occasionally deliver a terrible dad joke/pin with a straight face and never acknowledge it again, leaving the others dumbfounded

[dadolorian]

Seven Days of Valentines, (Diamonds and Daddies side story) Whiskey x F!Reader CH 2

A/N: Thanks to @talesfromtheguild​ for Beta reading and helping me with many ideas for this! This will be a weekly series leading up to Valentines Day

I try to keep Readers physical appearance as open as possible for this story, but please note in these chapters shes going to become more of a ‘character’, some specific interests of hers are going to come into play.

This is canon to the main Diamonds and Daddies story, but i am uploading as its own thing. You do not need to have read Diamonds and Daddies to read this, just know its a fic about Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels being a Sugar Daddy and the reader is a professional Sugar Baby.

Fandom: Kingsman the golden circle Ship: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x Cis F!reader  Warning/tags: established relationship, fluff, semi-public sex, sex against a window, P in V sex, fingering, Oral (M and F receiving) , multiple orgasms, slight over stimulation, dirty talk, choking, Daddy kink, DD/LG/BDSM style relationship, creampie,biting/marking, possessive language, aftercare, Jacks both a gentleman and a DIRTY BASTARD, Reader is 100% into it all

Word count: 6K +

My master list Seven days of Valentines masterlist  AO3 LINK Buy me a Kofi

Summary: Whiskey whisks his Sugar baby away for a romantic Valentine’s getaway. Day two he takes her to see her favorite work of art. 

Tuesday  9th of February

The second morning in Rome started with an early morning makeout session, soft, gentle kisses roused you from sleep, followed by a shower and a traditional Italian breakfast delivered to your suite as the two of you sat watching people make their way to the coliseum. 

The coffee and crespelles were a perfect way to start the day, made all the more better by Jack’s large hand resting on your thigh, drawing gentle patterns with his thumb as you each sipped your mugs in comfortable silence. 

By eight thirty AM the two of you were dressed in your warm clothes and out the door, ready to partake in whatever adventure Jack had planned. 

You sat literally on the edge of your seat in excitement as you were driven around Rome to our destination for the day. Jack warmly chuckled beside you at your boundless enthusiasm, smiling wider to himself as you began snapping pictures along the way of the general beauty that was Rome. 

Once you were dropped off Jack took your hand in his, leading the way up the road and round the corner. You practically hummed in excitement beside him, bouncing in glee as the large walls of Vatican City loomed over you. 

“Jaaaacccckkkk!” you squealed delightedly, as he led you to the back of a growing queue. “Are we going where I think we’re going?” 

He chuckled at your excitement again. “Couldn't take my girl to Rome without letting her see her favorite work of art could I?” 

You bounced in place, trying to express your excitement and gratitude in any articulate way you could, you cupped his face and pulled him down for an expressive kiss on his cheek. 

“You have no idea how excited I am Jack!” You elated, almost jumping for joy beside him. 

He tried to calm you down and keep you still by resting his hands on your hips, pulling you to his front in a gentle embrace. 

“I have a fair idea Sugar,” he hummed, kissing your brow affectionately. “I remember when you mentioned wanting to visit Rome, on our New Year's trip, just a passing comment, but your eyes lit up when you mentioned the Sistine Chapel, I just knew I had to take you one day Darlin.” 

Your hands rested lightly on his chest, with your gaze cast down you smiled, tenderly remembering the brief exchange you had shared months prior. At the time you never took much note of your conversation, having forgotten all about it until Jack had surprised you with this trip, but clearly Jack had taken notice, and went through great pains to make your wish you had barely ever shared before a reality. 

You had lost count of the amount of times he proved himself of how utterly perfect he was for you was incalculable. 

He amazed you every day, outdoing himself with each little surprise or adoring words, each grand gesture or gentle peck, each casual touch or passionate kiss.

Jack Daniels, as cocky, ridiculous, and flirtatious as he was, was everything you had ever hoped for. 

“I wish I knew, just how to show my gratitude to you Jack,” you whispered softly to him.

He gently pulled your gaze back up to meet his.

 “Darlin, you don’t need to do anything other than stay with me. You’ve made this lonely heart feel something again for the first time in years, and that's more than enough for me.” 

Your lower lip wobbled and your eyes threatened to spill, Jack preemptively stopped your sappy tears from spilling with a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“Come on Darlin, lines moving.”  

Jack walked arm in arm with you throughout the whole tour of Vatican city, your gaze was often fixed to the beautiful architecture or paintings, but everytime you glanced over at Jack, his eyes were fixed on you. You had his whole attention, not the paintings, not the tour guide, you. 

“Jack?” You asked softly, concerned he was only humoring you and didn't actually care about anything you were seeing. “Aren't you interested in all this?”

“Oh I am Darlin,” he reassured. “But I love watching the way your eyes light up, better than any painting here.” 

“You’re just trying to butter me up Cowboy,” you smiled up at him. 

“Can’t help it Sugar, pretty thing like you on my arm? Who can blame me?” 

“You flatter me Jack, You’ve been sweet talking me from the moment we met, I don't even think you would know how to stop,” you teased. 

He chuckled and kissed your cheek. 

“No Darlin, I don't think I would know how to either.” 

It was impossible to express just how fantastical it felt to see some of the famous pieces found in the Vatican museum, Raphael’s ‘Transfiguration’, The statue of Laocoön and his sons, The Vision of St. Helen , Da Vinci's St. Jerome in Wilderness, masterpieces you had only ever seen photos of on the internet or in your meager collection of art History books. Completely indescribable.  But these experiences paled in comparison to seeing Michelangelo’s Creation of Adam, photos could not compare to how breathtaking it was. It loomed above you, alongside dozens of other High Renaissance masterpieces, but your eyes were pulled back to that one each time. 

You imagined Michelangelo, centuries ago, in his genius, laying on his back atop the precarious scaffolding as he painted it, how grueling it was, how long it took.

You never thought you would ever see it, not in person, it had been such a fantasy to you you had never really mentioned it before until Jack had asked you those months ago.

Daddies had taken you on vacations before, trips to sunny beaches and tropical getaways, when they wanted to impress you and have you show some skin, but not once had they ever asked you where you wanted to go, what you wanted to see. 

There had been no desire to share your interests, to take you to experience culture and art over bikinis and parties. Jack had been right, you had been with some shit Daddies before you met him. 

The picturesque beaches and clear oceans may have been pretty to look at, but it couldn't hold a candle to the beauty above you.  

Standing there, with your neck strained up at the ceiling, your eyes began to water for the umpteenth time since you had landed in Italy, but you willed them away this time, focusing on the painting to burn the experience into your memory and refusing to let the tears fog your vision as emotions overwhelmed you once again. 

“Baby?” Jack’s soft voice cut in, his arms wrapped around your middle as he came up behind you, kissing your forehead. “You good?”

“Perfect, Jack,” you whispered back, giving your neck a break by resting the back of your head on him. 

“Everything you ever dreamed about?” He asked, following your gaze to the painting.

“Better,” you sighed, squeezing his arms around you. 

You clung to Jack’s arm as you made your way out of Vatican city and back to the streets of Rome. He patted your hand affectionately, placing a kiss to your temple. 

You had been so...so... moved, by Jack's surprise, by the artworks, by the experience and you knew you couldn’t express it to him. And you knew he knew.

You were beginning to understand the magnitude of his affections, he wasn’t just trying to impress you, to show off and boost his ego like many men before him. 

No, Jack's masculinity wasn’t so fragile that he had to prove himself like that, he may flash his money for you, to buy you trinkets and clothes just as they all had before, but the way he went about it was so different. 

Stuff wasn’t what he relied on to keep you with him, no, he kept you by his side by paying attention, by caring about you, for you.

He wanted to make you happy, truly, and he expected nothing from you in return apart from your companionship. 

His words from earlier in the day were really starting to strike a chord with you.

“You’ve made this lonely heart feel something again for the first time in years.”

You looked up at him from the corner of your eye as he led you through the streets. He seems to know where he wanted to go, and you trusted him not to get you lost. 

“Jack,” you whispered softly. “I-” 

“Don’t need to say a thing Baby,” he interrupted. “I know.” 

“But, I-” you sighed. “How?” 

“How do I know?” he asked, amused. “Baby you thank me every damn time I do something for you, no matter how big or small, I've picked up on a few things. I can tell when you’re struggling to figure out how to thank me.” 

He stopped in his tracks, guiding you to his front and pulling one of your hands up to his lips to kiss it. 

“You tear up when something specially meaningful, those are the times you can’t figure out what to say,” he cupped your face in his large, warm hands. They felt nice against the chill that had clung to your cheeks. “But you don’t need to say anything Sugar, I can tell just by lookin at’cha you’re grateful. It made you happy, that's all I wanted. I don’t need a ‘thank you’, I just need you.” 

Your lip wobbled and you pouted up at him, making him chuckle. 

“See? Just like that, and I get yer waterworks running,” he teased, thumb wiping a tear that was threatening to spill.

You rolled your eyes and swatted his chest playfully. 

“None of that Darlin” he laughed, ducking his head to kiss you. “My Baby gets all sappy for Daddy’s sweet words huh?”

“Don’t get cocky,” you giggled, trying to duck from him gleefully. 

“Thought you liked me ‘cocky’,” he joked as you turned and tried to walk off, pulling you back into his grip, back flush against his front. “Specially when it’s inside-” 

“Jack! People are watching!” you laughed, swatting at him over your shoulder, grateful at least your conversation wasn't too loud and probably not understood by the locals who rolled their eyes at the childish tourists as they passed. 

He laughed merrily, letting you go and gently taking your hand. 

“Such a killjoy,” he joked, leading the two of you again. “Come on then Sugar, lets get some lunch.”

Lunch  turned out to be in this adorable local cafe hidden down many sidestreets. 

Jack told him a work colleague told him about the hidden gem, unknown to most tourists, and had made a point to bring you there. 

You sat inside, safe from the bitter cold as you sipped your hot drinks and shared croissants and muffins.

Silence passes between you, as you watch from your window the small trickle of locals walk by, trudging through the remaining snow slush, on their way to wherever it was they were going.  It was a perfect way to relax after your tour, Jack told you to enjoy it while it lasted, because he had one more surprise for the day. 

Jack’s second surprise was a tour of Castel sant'angelo. 

It was originally built as a mausoleum, over the centuries it became a fortress and castle, in modern times, it had become a museum. 

“Two museum tours in one day?” You asked, humming as the two of you walked over the beautifully sculpted bridge leading up to the impressive building hand in hand. 

“Well with it being so close to the Vatican, I thought ‘Why not?’ , and I know how much my Baby appreciates her art and history,” he smiled.

Taking his words from earlier to hear, you thanked him with just a kiss on the cheek.

Jack insisted the two of you could walk back to your hotel by the time you were kicked out of the castle at closing time. 

‘Just a forty minute walk’ he promised.

You pouted at him, shaking your head no.  

“My feet are killing me Jack,” you whined. 

“Won't it be romantic though Baby?” He asked, trying to convince you.“Walking through the streets of Rome at night? Just the two of us?” 

 It did sound nice, in theory, but the sky was clouded over, your feet hurt, the ground was covered in slush and it was starting to seep into your supposedly waterproof boots. 

“My toes are going numb and it’s freezing Jack!” 

“But Baby-”

“Daddy,” you sniveled, trying to appeal to his dominant, caring role over you. You wrapped your arms around yourself to block out the cold as the temperature dropped further. It was bearable in the day, sunlight and warm clothes enough to keep you reasonably warm. But you weren't dressed with the expectation of being outdoors too long, and as the snow began to fall you pulled yourself to his chest, snuggling into his warmth. 

“Please Daddy, I don't want to walk like this.” 

He sighed and wrapped an arm around you, caving to his instincts to care for you. 

“Alright then, let me call a cab Honey Bee,” he relented, pulling out his phone. 

You groaned when you made your way into the hotel room, throwing the keycard on the table and collapsing by the door , tearing off your boots and letting your soaked, numb toes free. 

Jack chuckled at your dramatic behaviour, not removing any of his gear much to your confusion. 

“There’s a few more presents on the bed for you,” he smiled, heat in his eyes and flashing his canines at you as he crouched down in front of you, stroking your cheek. “Want you to go in there and put them on-” 

“Jack, my feet are too sore for any heels toni-”

“No heels, Honey Bee,” he said, his tone and use of your moniker a clear warning for you to fall in line. “You’ll like it, I promise. Now go open your presents and get dressed while I go pick up dinner.” 

He stood up as you nodded and took his hand when he offered it, helping you up and grabbing the keycard from where you discarded it.

“Be back soon Baby,” he smiled as he opened the door and left. 

Alone, you padded into the bedroom, your feet grateful for the plush carpet as you made your way over to the bed. 

Laid out across the sheets was a beautiful little pair of pink and black satin sleep shorts, a matching bralette, a cute pair of pink fluffy bunny slippers, and a long fuzzy pink gown. You ran your fingers over the material of them all, amazed at how soft they all were. 

Atop your outfit for the night was another folded up note. You picked it up carefully and opened it up, greeted by Jack’s familiar scrawl once again. 

“Day two of seven, I know your feet must be real sore today Baby, I hope a relaxing evening with Daddy makes up for it. Get dressed and go pick out a movie out in the livin room for me.  Happy Valentine’s Week Sugar,  Love Jack” 

You softened, reading his words, again as you folded the note back up and began redressing. 

The satin felt even smoother as it covered your skin, and the fuzzy robe and slippers helped warm you up after your cold trip back to your suite. 

Once dressed you wandered out into the living area,  delighted to see the couch covered in soft blankets and pillows, a gift hamper sat on the coffee table containing sweets, a bottle of wine, glasses and some foot lotion. Your heart warmed at the thoughtfulness of it all and how intimately comfortable it was.

As you snuggled under one of the blankets and flicked on the TV, scrolling through movie options you heard the keycard beep and the door unlock. 

“Back Darlin!” Jack called from the entranceway , you heard him put something down and head to the bedroom. 

He joined you a few minutes later, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants that hung low on his hips and his trademark stetson, carrying a large pizza box. 

You smiled and bit your lip, admiring his little tummy that you loved so much.

He placed the box on the coffee table and snuggled under the blanket with you. 

“Pick something out Baby?” He asked, one arm over the back of the couch and other hand wandering up your thigh under your robe and resting there. 

“I think so,” you hummed, relaxing back into his embrace and warmth, head resting on his shoulder. “Sci-Fi movie by the looks of it.” 

“Prospect?” Jack questioned. “Don’t usually sound like our kinda thing Darlin.” 

“Yeah, but one of the actors caught my eye in the preview clips,” you giggled. “He looks like you Daddy.” 

He quirked his eyebrow at you and gave you a shrug, letting you click play as he pulled the pizza and wine over for you to share. 

You almost choked on your pizza when the actor showed up and Jack exclaimed in annoyance that he looked nothing like him. 

“What are you talking about?” You laughed. “He could be your twin!” 

“I know for a fact my Mamma only gave birth to one Daniels boy thank you very much!” He proclaimed. 

You giggled hysterically, curling into him, trying not to knock the pizza box onto the floor. 

“He’s just you with more scruff!” You gasped for breath between your laughter. “Listen to him he’s even got a southern accent too!” 

“I resent being compared to a scruffy, sweaty, bastard space man who talks so damn weird Darlin!” 

You covered your mouth, biting back a sassy comment about the ‘talks weird’ comment and tried to compose yourself. 

“How can you not see it?” You asked when you finally calmed down. “The similarities are scary.”

The two of you eventually agreed to disagree as you finished your pizza and wine and moved on to a few after dinner chocolates from the hamper. 

Jack rubbed your feet with the lotion as you lay on the couch sideways, easing the tension and soreness from your feet in his lap as the movie went on. You melted to his touch, unwinding from the long day on your feet. 

You had taken quite a liking to the southern spaceman with the silver tongue, much to Jack's growing annoyance, he grumbled as you cooed at the man on screen.

But as irritated as he was, he pulled you to his side in comfort as you watched your little crush have his arm amputated, hiding your face in Jack’s chest throughout the difficult scene. 

“Poor Ezra,” you murmured when the scene was over. 

Jack rolled his eyes and kissed the crown of your head. “I don’t know what you see in him Darlin.” 

“He’s your scoundrel, space-cowboy twin Jack. What’s not to like?” 

“Think you need your eyes checked Darlin. I might actually be bothered ‘bout your little infatuation if you didn’t insist so damn hard that he looked like me.” 

You giggled and settled down again against his bare chest.

“Hmm...”

“What are you hmming about over there?”

“You’d look good with a little blonde patch.”

“Shut up.”

When the credits rolled Jack switched off the TV, shrouding the room in darkness and stood up, gently pulling you up to your feet beside him. You were tired after such a long day, and the movie and snuggles afterwards only made you more tired.

He rested his hands on your hips and gave you a tender, soft kiss. 

“You like your new jammies Baby?” He asked, smiling when you nodded. “Yeah? You look so dang cute in them.” 

He nuzzled his nose against yours. 

“Is my Baby too tired tonight? Or do you want to have some playtime with Daddy before bed?”

You whined in response, resting your hands on his chest. 

“I always want to play with you Daddy.” 

“Oh I know you do Baby, but Daddy thinks you need your rest. Bed time for you I think.” 

“I don’t want to go to bed Daddy.” 

“Think you’re awake enough for it Honey Bee?” he asked, gently shoving your new robe off of your shoulders and onto the floor. 

“Yes,” you nodded. 

“Prove it,” he rasped, firmly pushing you to your knees in front of the couch and pulling his sweats down enough for his balls and hardening cock to hook over them. 

You licked your lips and looked up at him, taking him in your hand at the base. His eyes burned into yours as you opened your mouth and began kitten licking at his tip, circling your tongue around him.

You kissed him, from base to tip, worshipping his cock. 

He moaned at your teasing little touches and you felt him twitch in your hand, hardening slowly under your touch. 

‘That's it Baby, Get Daddy nice and hard,” he sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back to lose himself to the feeling of you coaxing his cock.

You felt the crotch of your sleep shorts become wet, aroused by his raspy voice and lewd moans. But you kept your hands where they were, on his thigh and cock, knowing if you touched yourself without permission his ‘playtime’ with you would become a (delicious) punishment. 

You relaxed your jaw and took him into your mouth, letting your tongue run along the underside of his length as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper into your mouth. 

He let out a loud guttural moan, hands cupping your head to keep you in place. 

“Hmmmmm fuck Baby!” He spat, looking back down at you and gently thrusting his hips into your face, careful not to choke you. “You’ve gotten so good at that! Can take me so well now can’t cha? Almost all the way!” 

He rocked into you slowly, now fully erect in your mouth, you concentrated on breathing through your nose as he pushed himself deeper with each thrust. 

You had succeeded in taking him easier than when you first had gotten together, but it was still a struggle to truly deepthroat him and supress your gag reflex, so far you had never managed to take him all in before you backed out. You kept your hand on his thigh, ready to tap out when needed. 

Your eyes never left his face, and his never left your lips, watching as inch by inch his cock went further into your mouth. 

“Breathe Baby,” he encouraged, hungrily watching his spit covered cock push and pull in and out of you. “If you can take me all the way in tonight Baby, I’ll give you a big reward.” 

You mewled around him, excited by his promise of a reward. He always delivered on those promises in a spectacular way. 

You took a deep breath through your nose and relaxed your throat as best you could, successfully taking him further, your jaw hurt and your throat protested as he pushed in even deeper. 

Your eyes watered as your lips finally met the groomed hair at his base. You blinked up at him, waiting for approval and praise for having taken him all the way for the first time triumphantly.

“Hnnng! Fuck! Good girl! Good Girl!” he panted, watching you, transfixed on the way his cock looked shoved all the way down your throat. “Perfect, warm wet little mouth fuck!” 

He reached down cautiously, fingers tracing over your neck gently, feeling the bulge in your throat. You whined, feeling light headed as he gripped your neck and squeezed lightly, he gave an experimental thrust, even with the awkward angle and groaned at the feeling of his own hand squeezing your throat tighter around him. 

“Oh fuck Honey Bee I’m so deep,” he moaned, squeezing tighter, making you more light headed. “Doin such a good job, you need to tap out Sugar?” 

You shook your head no as best you could, head swimming and body buzzing as he chokes you with his hand and cock. 

“Can feel my fat cock moving inside you Baby, so damn hot, making me even fucking harder.” 

He kept thrusting into your throat slowly, careful to not actually choke you. You were getting a little high from the lack of oxygen, far more aroused by it than you ever thought you could be. You only tapped out when black dots started to swim in your vision. 

Jack pulled free without hesitation, crouching in front of you to check you were alright as the obstruction in your throat was gone and your lungs heaved in oxygen. 

You gulped down air hungrily as Jack kissed your face in praise. 

 “Did so well baby, so proud of you, you took me all the way,” he murmured, nose nuzzling along your hairline. He waited for you to be ready to continue , and when your breathing had calmed and you gave him a nod to continue, he kissed your forehead, stood up and pulled you to your feet with him. 

“As promised, my little girl deserves her reward,” he growled, nodding over to an armchair by the sliding door. “Go sit,” he ordered softly. 

You scrambled to comply, anticipating your reward with glee. 

He sauntered over, discarding his stetson on the coffee table before kneeling down in front of you, hooking his fingers into your sleep shorts. 

“Up,” he gently instructed, pulling them down your legs as you lifted your hips for him.

He brought the shorts up to his face and inhaled your scent, licking up the crotch of them to taste the juices that soaked them. 

“My baby tastes so good,” he praised, discarding the shorts over his shoulder. “Spread ‘em wide for me Sugar,” he said, gently coaxing your leg apart and licking his lips. 

He didn’t tease, intent on giving you your much deserved reward as he drank you down and shoved his tongue deep into your dripping hole. 

Your back arched, eyes closed and thighs shook, he pulled them over his shoulders to give himself more room, his strong arms wrapped around your thighs to hold them still.

You whimpered in delight, gripping his hair and pulling him deeper, his eyes cut up at you, letting you know that at any other time, an action would not be tolerated, and he would have you reprimanded for being greedy. 

But this was your reward, you deserved it. 

Jack did not hide his messy noises as he ate you out like a man starved, wet smacks of his lips on your lower lips, the sound of his skin coming into contact with your dripping thighs, his moans and your sounds of pleasure filled the room. 

You gasped when you felt a thick finger prod at your hole, pushing up into you beside his tongue. Your head snapped down to watch as he slowly pumped his finger into you, his tongue began lapping up your folds until he reached your clit, suckling on it gently. 

“Daddy!” You whimpered, pushing your hips up further into his face. 

He gave you a cocky grin as a second finger joined the first, stretching you out so perfectly, his fingers were so much thicker than yours, fuck you loved his fingers so much, and he knew just where to stroke to make your body sing. In such a short time he had learnt your body better than you ever had. 

“My Baby wants to cum?” He asked, running his tongue over your folds again. 

“Yes, please Daddy,” you pleaded. 

“Daddy prefers when you’re patient Baby. But you earned it tonight,” he growled, standing up with his fingers still inside you. Your legs dropped from his shoulders as he leant over you to nibble at your ear, you felt your juices that still coating his jaw as his skin met yours.

He abandoned his slow pumps of his hand, fucking you hard and fast with his skilled fingers. You keened under him, writhing at the sudden change. 

“Look outside that window Baby,” he ordered in your ear hotly. “There's still people out and about, all they have to do is look up here, and they’d see you getting fucked by my hand.” 

You felt your core clench around his fingers at his words, a wave of your arousal flooding out, soaking his hand. 

“You like that idea Sugar? You like the idea of some stranger seeing my fingers buried in this pussy?”

You whimpered and tried to thrust up into his hand. 

“Answer the question!” He growled.

“Y-Yes Daddy!” You cried, panting hard as you felt your pleasure building. 

“Yeah? You get off on the idea of someone else seeing you? Seeing what’s mine?”

He sucked a mark into your neck, hoping it would show tomorrow, his secret little claim. 

“Want everyone to see you? Like some kind of common whore? You’re mine Baby, don’t you forget that.” 

“T-that's what i want them to see!” You whined, racing towards the edge, hoping he wouldn’t deny you as he often did to tease. “I want them to see who-who I belong to!”

He growled in approval. 

“Yeah? What else Baby?” He asked, encouraging your line of thought. 

“W-want them to see...That you’re- you’re the only one who can make me cum, that you’re the only one good enough!” 

“Oh Baby you sure know what to say to stroke your Daddy’s ego,” he hummed in pride. “Go on then, show them, show anyone watching how hard Daddy makes you cum.” 

You were already well on your way to your pleasure when he gave you permission to cum, but he helped you along by diving down and sucking hard on your clit. 

Your back arched further as you screamed out his name, your walls clenching hard over his furious fingers, as they attacked that sweet deep spot inside you on a mission. 

It hurt how powerful your orgasm was, how hard his fingers fucked you through it. And as it washed over you you were ready for him to pull out, for him to let you come down from your high, but his fingers did not slow. 

You mewled, sensitive and sore from your first orgasm as you felt him forcing your body towards a second one already. 

“D-Daddy, too- too much!” You whined, wriggling in his grasp. 

“Yeah?” he asked, his teasing tone told you he didn’t believe you, he moved his head away from your clit to look you in the eyes, speeding up his fingers. “What’s your color then?”

Your hips began thrusting up to meet his hand again. 

“Color Baby?” He reminded. 

“Green,” bucking up hard now into his hand to chase your fast approaching second high. 

“Thought so,” he hummed, taking your nipple into his mouth through your bralette, gently sucking on it and tugging it with his teeth. 

When he had soaked the fabric and thoroughly teased you he released it.

“You’re going to cum again for me, that's your reward. Daddys going to make you cum so hard your pretty little pussy will be ruined tomorrow.” 

You sobbed under him, anticipating how tantalizingly sore you would be with great delight. 

“Come on, be a good little girl for me and cum,” he cooed, grabbing your jaw with his free hand to make you look at him, his face only inches away from yours. 

“Cum for Daddy, and I’ll fuck you right up against that window for everyone to watch.” 

Your stomach flipped at the thought and your core tightened around his fingers again. 

“If it weren't so damn cold out there I’d fuck you right on that balcony, so the whole of Rome can hear your screams for me.” 

He brushed your clit with his thumb as the words fell from his mouth, pushing you over the edge for a second time. 

“That's it Baby, cum for Daddy,” he cooed softly, lips ghosting yours. “Squeezing my fingers so tight. Can't wait till my cocks all snug up in there, my favorite, perfect little hole.” 

His words made your second orgasm just as powerful as the first, you shook hard in your chair and screamed loudly until your voice was hoarse. You tried to muffle the scream with your hands which, until now,  had been gripping the armrest for dear life ever since Jack removed himself from between your legs. 

He was having none of that however, grabbing your wrists in his hand and pulling them away from your face to hear your screams of pleasure. 

He coaxed your orgasm as long as he could, slowing his fingers but still thrusting them hard inside you. Dragging it out.

You shook from the aftershocks each time his fingers shoved up against your cervix, whimpering as your breathing struggled to return to normal and body tried to unwind. 

He pulled his fingers free from you, loving how your pussy tried to suck them back inside. You mewled at the loss despite how oversensitive you were. 

He held up his hand to inspect it, proudly displaying how drenched it was in your cum. 

“Look at that Baby, down past the wrist...You horny little thing,” he rasped, letting you watch as he wrapped his slick coated hand around his neglected cock, pumping it slowly, you could hear the wet pass of his hand with each pump.

“Stand up,” he ordered gently, not helping you as you stood up on shaky legs, struggling to comply as your legs threatened to give out underneath you.  

“Top needs to go too Honey Bee,” he instructed, watching you with predatory eyes as you raised your arms, taking the sexy little Bralette off and discarding it somewhere behind you. 

“Up against the window, arms up.” 

You wobbled over slowly, sighing as your body touched the cool glass. 

You felt so exposed up against the glass, despite the fact there was no one currently walking about outside, and there was no light in the living area now that the TV was off,  the only light source being the lights outside, lighting up the coliseum. 

You could see Jack's reflection in the glass as he came up behind you, stepping out of his sweats. You could hear him still pumping his cock with you slick.

Your back arched as he ran the tip of his cock over your dripping folds, making you gasp and shudder.

“Poor Baby, still so sensitive,” he teased, pushing you against the cold glass with his free hand, making your nipples tighten painfully at the chill. You wriggled slightly as he pushed his hips forward, tip entering your hole. 

“Shhhh Baby, Daddy needs his fair share too, needs to fuck your pussy,” he sighed, your tight wet heat slowly enveloped him as he slowly inched his hips forward. 

“Need to make you cum. One last time.” He emphasized the statement by snapping his hips forwards, filling you up completely as his hips slapped up against your ass. 

He gave your oversensetive body only a moment to adjust to the stretch before wrapping an arm around you and fucking into you hard and fast. His free arm grasped your neck, lightly choking you again as his cock hammered into you.

“Fuck, so wet baby. Your cums soaking me, dripping down Daddys balls,” he rasped into your ear.

Slap.  Slap.  Slap.  Slap.  Slap, filled the room as you were shoved up against the glass with each thrust. 

You cried at the delicious stretch, at how he made your tender, sore hole buzz with pleasure every time he shoved himself inside,  at how your body stung from the cold glass, and at the filth he rambled into your ear. 

“My perfect pussy, Daddy’s pretty little princess. Think about how anyone could walk past. Could see you,” he teased, turning you on more. “Stuffed full of my cock, wouldn’t be hard, this low down, just need to turn their head a lil bit, ‘s all it would take to see you.” 

You moaned at his words, tightening around him. 

“Fuck, squeezing me so tight,” he whispered in awe,thrusting harder into you. 

You closed your eyes and lost yourself to the delirium of being fucked by him, trying hard not to cum around him until he gave you permission. 

He didn’t like it when you came without his permission.

He chuckled darkly into your ear, slowing his thrusts down to teasing rolls of the hips. “There's someone now,” he rasped, watching someone walk by further down the street, you cracked your eyes open and could see just how close they were, close enough that if you called out with the window open, they would hear. 

“I don’t think they’ve spotted us. Let’s see if we can change that shall we?” He suggested with another dark laugh, letting go of your neck to grip your hips with both hands, making it much easier to thrust inside you and leaving nothing to silence your noises as he slammed into you again with the same speed as before. 

You shrieked, watching with wide eyes at the passer by, hoping he did not hear.

It was annoying just how arousing the idea of this stranger catching the two of you was. 

Before you could even stop yourself, you came around Jack’s cock without warning. No build up, no tensing, it hit you so suddenly you couldn’t have stopped yourself if you had tried. 

He growled angrily behind you, pausing his thrusts as you squeezed him hard, as your walls fluttered and tried to milk his cock. 

 There was no way you could hide what you just did, it may have snuck up on you fast but he felt it. Felt you squeeze him and shake in his grasp. 

“Did you just fucking cum Baby?” He snarled. “Without Daddy’s permission?” 

“I’m sorry!” you sobbed. “I didn’t mean to, it happened so fast!” 

“You got off  to the thought of some stranger seeing you, isn’t that right?” 

“Yes, Daddy,” you whimpered pathetically, not wanting to anger him further by lying to him.

“Such a filthy little slut,” he berated, rocking back into you. “If Daddy didn’t need to cum so bad I'd punish you right now. Throw you over my knee and remind you that Daddy owns your orgasms.” 

“I know Daddy! I’m sorry! So sorry!” 

“I believe you Baby, but that don't change the rules. Doesn’t mean you get away without some sort of punishment.” He licked the shell of your ear, nibbling at you lightly. 

“Tomorrow night, I really will destroy your pussy. I’ll hold you down and fuck you so hard, till you cum so many times you pass out, never letting up until you’re beggin me to. Daddy will choose how many times you cum, when you cum, and how hard you cum, to remind you your pleasure belongs to me.” 

You sniveled, panting as your breath fogged up the glass.

“Y-Yes Daddy,” you agreed. 

“Now stay still, Daddy gonna fill you up, get you nice and creamy.”

His rocks built back up to the harsh thrusts, reserving no gentleness for you as his grip would no doubt leave bruises on your hips the next day. 

He growls, the steady slap of his thrusts, bumping of glass and the blood rushing in your ear was all you could hear. 

And even though you had already cum three times, you could feel a fourth bubbling deep inside, warming you up. 

He pounded you against the glass. 

He cursed as his thrusts became frenzied, violent bucks up against your ass as he chased his release. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, here it comes!” He bellowed, digging his teeth into your shoulder and marking you hard. He groaned against your skin as his hot cum flooded you. You felt it fill you and warm you up, even if he didn’t let you cum again, you adored the sensation of him filling you up each time.

His thrusts slowed as you felt his seed begin to leak out around his length. 

You mewled at the loss of the orgasm you knew he wouldn’t have given you anyway. 

He pulled out slowly, releasing your shoulder and watching as his softening length fell from you. 

Your knees buckled, but Jack was quick to catch you before you fell and scoop you up into his arms. 

“There we go Baby,” he murmured, gently nosing at your temple. “Let's get you sorted.”

As usual Jack’s aftercare consisted of his soft praises as he tended to your physical needs. 

He washed you, tended to your marks, dressed you back into your new pajamas, and tucked you into bed. You drifted in and out of his care, only catching a few words here and there.  

“Good girl”, “Did so well,” and “So proud,” were the familiar praises you heard.

 He joined you under the warm blankets when he decided you had been thoroughly cared for, pulling you close to his chest to snuggle and murmur affections at you. You nuzzled deeper into his warmth, completely boneless and spent, listening to the gentle timbre of his voice as you drifted off. 

That night you dream about old castles and handsome southern princes.

credit to @talesfromtheguild​ for this little bit

“Hmm...” “What are you hmming about over there?” “You’d look good with a little blonde patch.” “Shut up.”

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