#is it really that hard. to imagine a black woman being loved and desirable. is it that hard

[ahqueinfortunio]

𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝙱𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝙻𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙻𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜

“You scare me too, but in a good way.”

Her apartment was a reflection of the woman Luke couldn’t get out of his head: organized, charming, and with a hint of quiet personality. It was nighttime in Newark, the sound of the city echoing softly through the half-open windows. They had planned to watch a documentary about players from the 90s—something casual, with no intentions. But everything between them carried something more, even when they tried to pretend it didn’t.

She wore an oversized Devils t-shirt and gray sweatpants, hair tied up loosely, bare feet resting on the couch. Luke was sprawled beside her, a little too close for someone who was just a “frequent interviewee.” And still, she didn’t move away.

He turned his head and watched her silently for a few seconds. There was a small wrinkle of concentration between her eyebrows—he loved that. The way she dove into everything, even a simple documentary. When she realized she was being watched, she gave a small smirk.

— “Are you going to stare at me all night or actually listen to what Brodeur is saying?”

— “I think I’ve memorized his lines already. I’d rather try to figure you out.”

She let out a short laugh, but her eyes didn’t laugh with her. He was getting good at noticing that.

— “Don’t start, Luke.”

— “Why not? Because I’m younger?”

She sighed, turning her eyes away from the TV.

— “Because I feel ridiculous. Eight years. It’s not a small gap.”

— “You feel ridiculous for making me want to be a better man?”

The silence between them thickened. She lowered her gaze, lightly biting the corner of her lip—a gesture Luke already recognized. She was about to give in, even if she fought it.

— “You scare me too,” she whispered. “But in a good way.”

He moved closer slowly, his hand gently touching her chin, lifting her face.

— “Then let me really scare you.”

And she let him.

**

It was a slow kiss. Nothing like the urgent kisses she remembered from her youth, driven by impulse. With Luke, it was different. There was intention in everything—in the lips that explored hers with care, in the tongue that met hers with tenderness and restrained desire. It was like he’d waited too long for that moment to ruin it with haste.

Her hand moved up to his chest, feeling the firm muscle under the black t-shirt. He came closer, until she felt the warmth of his body completely envelop her.

— “Do you have any idea how much I’ve thought about this?” he murmured against her skin, now exploring her neck with kisses that made her fingers dig into his back. “How many nights I imagined what it would be like to touch you?”

She cupped his face in her hands, looking into his brown eyes with a new kind of glow.

— “Then show me.”

**

They went from the couch to the bedroom unhurried, but hungry. Luke took off her shirt slowly, like someone unwrapping an old, precious gift. His fingers slid along her skin as if memorizing the map of something sacred. He admired her. And she felt it in every touch.

— “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, as if he were seeing a woman’s body for the first time—not in the physical sense, but in the weight of her vulnerability. She was real. Whole. Self-possessed. And still, she was there with him.

His clothes soon fell to the floor. When she pulled him onto the bed, Luke lay between her thighs, keeping his eyes on hers the whole time. Their bodies fit together naturally. He didn’t rush to enter—he wanted to tease, to explore. His hand roamed her curves, the touch firm yet gentle. His fingers found her center, and the way she moaned, biting her lip, was more than encouragement.

He leaned in to kiss her breasts, then her stomach, then the inside of her thighs. When he finally tasted her with his mouth, her body arched, fingers burying in his brown hair, pulling hard. Luke was intense. He knew what he was doing. And he did it with pleasure.

When he came back up, lips still wet, she kissed him hard, almost desperately.

— “You make me… lose myself,” she confessed between quick breaths.

He entered her slowly, keeping his eyes on hers the whole time. She let out a low moan, and Luke growled against her mouth.

— “I want to feel all of you.”

The movements started slow, deep. They touched each other as if they were learning to love for the first time. She moaned his name like a prayer. He held her like she might disappear. And every time their hips met, it was like the world outside faded away.

Luke rested his forehead against hers as their bodies moved together, breathless, sweaty.

— “You’re everything I never knew I needed,” he whispered. “Let me stay. Let me take care of you.”

She moaned in response, words slipping from her mind, only sensations remaining. Pleasure, heat, feeling. The climax came like a wave—her first, nails digging into his back; then him, panting against her neck, their bodies trembling together.

**

They stayed there afterward, bodies intertwined, silence filled with soft caresses and slowing breaths. She ran her fingers through his hair, and Luke traced imaginary lines on her bare skin.

— “You know this changes everything, right?” she said.

— “I hope so. Because I don’t want to be away from you anymore.”

She smiled, tired and happy.

— “You’re going to be trouble, kid.”

— “And you’re going to give me peace.”

**

The documentary still played on the TV, forgotten. But in that room, between sheets and truths whispered in the dark, a story began—one neither of them dared to deny anymore.

[sashi-ya]

𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 [+18] 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐰 𝐱 𝐟! 𝐩𝐫𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 [final chapter]

ʚ masterlist: part 1; part 2; part 3 ; part 4; part 5 ʚ tw: finally, some good smut! love making. fingering. oral. vag. love love love confession! this is the last part of this story, but... is it really? 😏 wait and you will see...

𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫: 𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐚𝐬

“Nevermind…” you sigh, going back inside. The night is too beautiful to be enjoyed on your own, and you should be finishing some last details on your cosplay. “Back to sewing…”

As your fingers work with the last part of the hem of Sora’s wife’s cape your eyelids feel heavy. And even if your mind won’t stop thinking about Law and his “surgery”, soon the sound of the waves outside lull you to sleep.

Her hand on his inked one, their bodies sweating on a tiny hospital office. A woman so refined, so pretty, and desirable, lets her white coat fall back as he pins her against the desk.

“Dr. Trafalgar… do you think this is proper?” she asks, giggling so devilishly as his kisses attack her neck.

“Even if it’s not proper, I can’t wait no more… Nico-ya…” Law sighs, loudly, opening the blouse to reveal the turgor of her breasts. He is desperate, in need of sex and release. And the tanned skin of his colleague seemed to be the right place to dig in.

Her deep blue eyes scan with lust the way Law opens his ripped jeans and lifts the yellow shirt up. He tucks it under his chin, while the white coat still remains on.

Dr. Nico Robin’s tight black skirt ends up looking like a belt around her waist as Law comes closer and lifts it up to gain a better access to her core.

“Let me fuck you now, Nico-ya” he grunts, pumping his hardness closer to a dampened fine lace panty of hers.

“Fufufu- fuck me now, Dr. Trafalgar… this surgery can take as long as this night lasts for ~”

Tears sprout from closed eyes, a painful image to look at. Your head over the table of your kitchen, and a ray of light hitting your eyes making you wake up.

In between sobbing you notice it doesn’t seem to be the sun but artificial light. The little led of your sewing machine reminds you that you had fallen asleep while working on a costume.

“Fuck…” you swear. “It was just a dream. That’s it… just a dream…” you try to calm yourself down as you check the time on your phone. Four hours have passed since you started working, enough time to finish if you hadn’t fallen asleep.

Dragging your feet to the refrigerator, you search for a trusty energy drink. The sweet and sour flavour of chemicals will do to keep you awake. However, you are sure that it won’t be the only thing…

You take a look through the window; the noctilucas are on full display over the coast and the blueish gloom tinting the beach looks like a perfect magical place. Maybe the doors to a different universe in which pirates rule the world and people have powers like being made out of gum.

“I wish you were here Law…” you sigh, painfully remembering the dream you just had. Imagining Law being with another woman breaks your heart…  but seeing him unleash sexual desires over her; that’s even worse.

You decide to check your phone; the last time Law used his was the exact moment he bid you goodbye. You are not very sure if he is indeed operating, or he simply turned off his phone so that you wouldn't bother him while being with another girl.  In any case there is no point on keep worrying about it. So, you sit down again at the table and start sewing the last part of your cosplay.

A sudden knock in the middle of the silence of the night, creeps you out. “Who could it be at this hours?”

Carefully you stand up and walk towards the door. By taking a swift look through the peephole you discover that nobody’s standing there. A shiver runs through your spine, and you wonder if you are again in danger or not…

Immediately, the memories of what happened six months ago hit you;  however, this time there isn't any hero around you called Law. This time there is no officer Roronoa, nor Penguin, Bepo or Shachi.

You silently grab the keys, squeezing the white fluffy ball that Law gave you. You take them from the door trying to make the least sound possible and walk backwards. Grabbing your cell phone, you check on your security camera app discovering that by the porch off the door there is a package with a bow that looks like a gift.

A million thoughts run through your mind; you are sure that this is something similar to a scene you saw on a Halloween movie. You feel like you're sweating, but it is cold. You ponder if you should call 911 or not… after all if there is nobody there, and it’s just a package they will probably call you crazy.

You take a deep breath. You ponder all of the possibilities.

“All right this is probably someone trying to kill me. And if I open the door to grab the damn package, for sure someone will come in and try to kill me. YES! that's it! What if it’s a fucking murderer clown? Or a guy wearing a coat with pink feathers and glasses that wants to kill me with strings around my neck??!”

You think of the stupidest things, even if today they do not sound that stupid… And frankly, when you grab your phone, you realise that you shouldn't be calling the person that you're calling… But you can’t help it…

The ringing tone seems eternal. Law isn't answering his phone. Of course he is. And if he's either operating or not, he is busy… he won't pick up the phone.

“This is Doctor Trafalgar Law speaking. I am not available in the moment to answer but please, leave a message after the tone. Thank you.” His voice resonates in your head like echoes of losing hope.         And as you curl up into a ball, by some corner of your kitchen in total darkness, you speak to him.

“I don't know why I'm calling you… but I'm scared, and I know you can’t do anything because you're on the other side of the country. But I really think you are my safe place… so, if something happens to me tonight, I need you to tell you something… I’m madly in love with you Law. Goodbye.”

Which theory eyes the next you hear is a new knocking on the door. This time it isn’t suspicious, this time is desperate.

“(Name)-ya! (Name)-ya! It’s me!!! Open me please!”

“LAW???” you stand up, sniffling. At this point you are sure you are hallucinating.

“(Name)-ya, please open! It's me, Law! I didn't mean to scare you; I was hoping that you will find this a pleasant surprise!” the desperate voice of your lover sounds in your eardrums like a balsam.

You wipe your tears with the back of your hand and run to the door. Unlocking the latch, you let the summer breeze hit your heated cheeks.

His image, standing right by the door, feels like a dream… what is Law doing there? He was supposed to be on a surgery, or… or with Dr. Robin.

“L-Law?” your lips tremble, giving your beloved doctor a sweet look of helplessness. Like a scared little girl to his father, you stretch your arms to him.

Law sighs; he is so relieved to see you safe and sound. He immediately hugs you, lifting you up and pressing your body against his.

“I’m here. Don’t panic…” he murmurs, nuzzling on your temple while you do the same on the crook of his neck.

The scent of his skin, something you wonder you had forgotten, still is as delicious as you remember. Once again the feeling of safeness with his arms around your frame. Once again him, nobody but him.

“Wha- what are you doing here, Law…?” you whisper, both unable to move nor break the hug. The need for one accumulated all throughout six long months.

“I- I wanted to come and see you…I am aware that this wasn’t very well planned, but I…” he whispers back, inhaling, after, the perfume of your hair.

You giggle. He shouldn’t be apologizing; it was you who ruined his surprise.

He puts you down, carefully, and softly.

“Law… I…” you lift your eyes to look at him. You wanna say something, but the sudden memory of your love confession strikes you. Did he hear you through the door? Has he already listened to the voice memo?

However, none of that matters anymore because without warning, neither mercy, desperate lips crash with yours in a scorching kiss.

Law’s mouth feels like paradise. A heaven you never knew it existed and to where you wish to be taken. The taste of his tongue on yours, so deliciously intrusive… for how many nights you imagined this?

When the first kiss finally breaks - because your lungs were rioting for at least a molecule of oxygen- he fixes his needy orbs into yours. “I owed you this since the airport” he pants.

You blink slowly, still unable to process what has just happened. He still feels the salty taste of your tears, while you drown into a pit of butterflies attacking your stomach.

“And… I’ve been waiting for it since that day…” you murmur, biting your lower lip too sexily for the surgeon’s imagination.

He moves that mysterious box that was still resting on your porch, inside. He didn’t even lift it up, he just kicked it in, with care.

Closing the door behind you, he lifts you up again, this time by your legs. You, quickly, surround his waist with them trapping his body for it to be only yours.

He walks towards your kitchen, kissing you so desperately with grunts and growls that sprout so easily from his throat. Law moves inside as if he knew your home, as if it was his own.

Of course, had other type of stuff be over your table he would have pushed them away, but he didn’t want to ruin your progress. So, Law keep walking through the little glass door that you kept open in your kitchen. Such door leads to a little deck that offers you the most beautiful views of the beach right across the street.

He deposits you over the little railing of your deck, amazed by the breath-taking scenery ahead of you. However, Law still believes that there is nothing more beautiful than you. That nothing, not even the Noctilucas, shine as bright as you.

His tattooed hand lands on your cheek; soft blessed fingers, trained to save lives, killing you slowly with a loving caress.

You enjoy the way his caramel skin shines bright by the blueish phosphorescence of the Noctilucas on the coast. Under a dark sky, a dot of brilliance beats like two hearts finally able to join after so long.

It is impossible for you not to get emotional. Eyes once again getting humid, this time because of pure joy.

He gets lost in the view of the coast; and the beating sounds of your hearts that match the waves crashing against the sand create a beautiful melody of love.  

“I missed you so much…” he murmurs once he looks back at you. “I missed you too, Law… I… I…” you need to tell him how much you love him; even if he really knows. Of course, he does.

Law’s lips get closer to yours, barely touching them. His hand slides from your cheek to your shoulder, a finger tangling on the strap of your lose dress. And it falls, uncovering your body, showing the man of your dreams a skin so ready to be loved. So ready to be adored.

“Don’t say it just yet…” he utters, as he begins to kiss your shoulders with loving pecks that will remain carved in your flesh for the first time and for the rest of your life.

You nod, because you understand completely why he wants you to wait. And you really don’t mind about the rest of the world, even if your bare back is on full display towards the coast during a lonely Friday night.

As Law goes down with his kisses, leaving a trail of lust, you play with the soft yet messy hair of his. Combing through it, with your nails, you watch him approach your breasts.

He discovers, with love and praise, how perfect your anatomy is… this time for real, because you both are willing to offer one to the other. Cupping your right breast, he gets your protruding nipple in between his lips.

Sucking, ever so softly, you feel like exploding. The sleepiness has eased away, and now there is just love and need. Desire and lust.

Your throw your head back, with your mouth wide open, letting a low moan to scape your chest. The way he pulls, and nibbles so delicately, is like the delicious starter for a full curse banquet.

And a banquet, a feast is what Law wants from you. To do with you. He finds your skin taste to be delightful, and he can’t wait to check that indeed your core is as ambrosial as he imagined it to be.

He kneels in between your legs, spreading them from your inner thighs. A place where he firstly squeeze, and then kiss. Diving underneath the flowy skirt of your pleaded yellow dress.

Your belly spasms in anticipation; Law’s hardness seems too painful for those blue jeans. The wet spots on your panties are everything the surgeon desires to enjoy, and little by little the tip of his nose reach for them.

You try to close your legs as in an unvoluntary muscle reaction, with knuckles turning white as you grab yourself from the railing not to fall.

“Keep… them open, (Name)-ya” he orders, sending a sting of pleasure with a simple command that sounded so dominant.

“Y-yes…” you barely mouth, knowing that you must try your best to spread your legs so that he can rejoice with your sex.

You can sense what he is doing right under your skirt, with playful finger that graze the dampened fabrics that cover your sex. Law uses his thumb, rubbing it up and down, painfully slowly over your covered slit. And taking all of his sweet time, he finally moves away your lacey coverings.

“Heh” you hear him scoff, followed by the warm sensation of his breath getting closer to your labia. You squirm, passing your nails through his nape, or at least the little part you can reach as you don’t want to lose your balance.

First, the tip of his tongue. Then all of it, eating your whole, drinking your elixir drop by drop. The technique, so immaculate. Sucking, touching, licking the right parts, showing you exactly how much of an expert he is in terms of knowing the human body.

And when your legs begin to shiver, to quiver instead of spasming, and your moans become louder… Law knows it’s time to enjoy the beautiful expression of raptured pleasure your face must be holding.

He stands up, cleaning the brilliance off his lips but never taking two fingers out of you. Those two fingers that keep you at bay, won’t let you finish but won’t let you lose the heat either.

“Can I make love to you, right now?” he asks, with his lips grazing yours, in a sexy and raspy voice.

You swallow. He said “make love…” not “fuck”…

“Ye-yes, please… make love to me, Law ~”

The surgeon smiles sweetly. Even if lust would lead you both, there is also something deeper. There is love with no words, pure adoration.

“Where is your bedroom?” he asks, taking his fingers out of you and holding you back in arms.

You point at the glass door next to the kitchen one. Your cheeks on fire, your insides too. Your heart combusting, with sparks flying from such burning.

He slides open the door with a swift motion, grunting to discover you didn’t lock it. “You should close this…” he scolds you and you simply giggle.

When he gets to the foot of the bed, he kneels with you still in arms. You sit on his lap, with noses grazing, both breathing desire, with your sex over the bulge forming underneath his jeans.

“Are you sure?” he asks, again. “Yes, because I…” you wanna say you love him, but his inked index stops you from doing so. Not just yet.

Law slowly takes his finger from your lips and kisses your forehead.

Your breasts pressed against his chest are dying to feel his skin against them. Thus, you surely begin to pull up from his shirt.

Caramel skin, yet again barely bathed by the blueish light filtering from the coast through the glass door. The black lines, tracing a heart pattern forever carved on his flesh like the memories of that man who saved his life… the man he told you about during endless texting before bed nights.

Planting sweet kisses on his neck and collar bones, you enjoy with no hurries every inch of skin. But it isn’t enough, he is hurting. The jeans jail’s been too much already, and he needs relief. He. And you, too.

Surely and quickly, you stand up just enough for him to take his jeans off. And Law delivers almost instantly. You discover clean legs, this time with no tattoos like the rest of his body and wonder if there is something he is waiting for to get them permanently drawn with.

Your fingernails trap the hem of his boxers, and pulling them down, you finally give his shaft a so needed freedom.

It is hard, it is perfectly sized and healthy too. The way its tip is covered in shiny essence, pushes you to gloat before such tempting imagery.

But he can’t wait no more. Law needs to feel the warmth of your insides surrounding him, like a wet hot hug of clenching shelter.

His nails bury into your hip sides, guiding you towards his dripping masculinity. As drippy as your core that drizzle with connecting strings of wetness, his purplish tip.

Looking up, with pleading eyes, Law awaits. You put an end to the torturing inches that separate both bodies, sitting so perfectly on his lap, letting his sex slide inside you, feeling the way it opens its way towards your centre.

As you finally reach the deepest point, Law’s arm surround your lower waist, pressing you so hard against him. Both take a moment to enjoy the connection, looking into each other’s eyes before he starts ramming in and out of you with merciless hips thrusts.

Your body on its own coordinates its motions to match Law’s, going back and forth, around, and up and down. Lips grazing, sloppy wet kisses, grunts, and whines…

It is time now, right? When the body, the soul and the heart reaches its climax…

“(Name)-ya, I’m madly in love with you ~” “Law, I loved you since the very beginning…”

You want an epilogue?! Yes! And it’s coming soon :3

[milkbean69]

X-Men 97- OC

Sorry y'all, long ass post

Full Name: Shantel Latoya Warrick

Nicknames: Sunshine, Moonshine, Dixie

Alias: Moonshine

Age: 31

Appearance

Height: 5’10

Eyes: Onyx brown irises , White eyeballs (while using powers)

Hair: Curly Reddish-Brown, Green and Blue glitter hair (while using powers)

Teeth: Retractable fangs (while using powers), star tooth gems (while using powers)

Ears: Long elf ears

Birthday: Atlanta, Georgia June, 10th, 1966

Nationality: American

Ethnicity: 60% West African, 20% Cajun, 20% French

Gender: Female

Species: Mutant; Omega Level (Feral), Sorcerer (Voodoo)

Family: Scott Summers (Husband), Drusilla Warrick (Mother), Marcel Laurent (Father), Collette Warrick (Sister), Henrietta Warrick (Maternal Grandmother), Winston Earl (Maternal Grandfather), Bernice Warrick (Maternal Aunt), Francis Warrick, Deniss Warrick, Lance Warrick (Maternal Cousins)

Personality:

Trustworthiness: Shantel’s resourcefulness stems more from a place of her being innovative and imaginative rather than tactful on the battlefield. Not saying that she can’t be smart on the battlefield, but that like to use it more for personal reasons or in higley complex social situations, I mean she was a superstar after all, weaving through the social scene is her thing, she is quite the trendsetter. She is always there for her friends and family, whether it’s to be a shoulder to cry on or to kick someone's ass, she’s got you covered, and got your back in the battlefield. Don't worry, despite her love for gossip, she is quite the secret keeper, I mean she is immune to telepathy so your secrets are safe with her. She is basically the team's therapist, the amount of things she’s heard from her teammates that they wouldn’t dare tell anyone else.

Loyalty: Shanel has unwavering loyalty to her goals and motivations, she will live and die for the mutant liberation and very few when it comes to people. Despite her unconditional love and compassion, her loyalties can override the other and when the people she is close to overstep the boundaries she has to handle business. Scott, her parents and her sister, are the people she is most loyal to, even Really? Scott summers? Militant, strict and kind of introverted Scott Summers, look when I tell you she loves this man to death i mean it. She loves her leader and would go to bat for him, she respects him so much because she sees what he has been through the most, they have been through everything together, if she is near she will handle the disrespect. The amount of times people have had to break up fights with Logan and her is crazy.

Compassion: Amongst the rest of the X-Men she had the most stable upbringing, it explains why she came out with a non-tragic backstory. Her genuine interest and empathetic nature makes others feel heard and understood, giving back the same kindness and compassion she grew up with. She constantly praises friends and family, naturally lifting others up with positive genuine words making everyone around her feel more confident and valued, and always expressing her appreciation for them whenever warranted, Shantel is the team's morale. She is very perceptive, noticing the little details with ease, and is good at reading body language.

Fiery: She is not afraid to express herself openly and raise her opinions when asked for, is confident in herself and can embrace risk and accept any challenge thrown her way. She is very prideful, she is by no means narcissistic, she has been in the spot life most of her life, but that doesn’t mean she can crown her achievements. She is a black woman after all the world is already hard enough as it is to mutants, so she shows what she's got. But she is also impatient and her desire for action can make her a bit impulsive at times, she tries hard to control herself in public but when it is battle time it's the only time when she can really let loose when her feral side takes over. She is a bit short-tempered, mostly due to her mutation, and is likely to go to the danger room to duke out her emotions to burn herself out a little bit.

Backstory;

In Atlanta, Georgia on the cool spring morning of June, 10th, 1966 Drusilla Warrick and Marcel Laurent welcomed into the world they're beautiful set of twins, Shantel and Collette Warrick. Born to the magical Warrick bloodline, Shantel had already been destined to do great things like her ancestor before her, but soon problems would later arise when her mutation was discovered. As a young child Shantel and her family grew up on the Warrick’s family property, Magnolia Springs Ranch, she comes from old money and was brought up in an exuberant southern lifestyle. 

Shantel loves to sing, dance and act. She loved going to places where she could perform on stage for people, she begged and pleaded with her mother to let her audition for things, but because shantel was going to a magical academy, her mother didn't want to make the move to LA. Finally when Shantel was 12 years old was thrust into the world of acting, her father had quite the connections to Hollywood and was able to get her her very own TV show just for her to film back home in Atlanta. Black Beauty it was called, where she played a pistol whipping cowgirl on an adventure with a magical horse in order to tame the wild west against outlaws. The show was a massive success, in the 80s and her career. The show runs for the next couple of seasons, until 1982, she records the first song for the tv show that blows up her music career, she's getting calls left and right in order to produce her music.

But her superstardom takes a turn when she suddenly develops her mutation, while in the midst of filming for a new movie she kind of explodes, not literally her mutation, Stardust, explodes in an array of dead stars and energy beams. Which gave the crew on site quite the startle, in the mutant hating world, this was quite the dangerous situation to be in luckily her father was able to wipe crew's memories and able to play it off as a light paneling exploding leading for the set to be closed off for a while. After a couple of months with  no other options left her parents head to the Xavier school in order to seek out advice about what to do about the situation, they were skilled in magic not mutations, so they were honestly kind of stumped. 

Now it was quite the surprise for the team to see a superstar standing in their living room, and coming to join their school.Now her parents weren't exactly playing on sending her they're just yet, they had some hesitations, not for them being mutants, but the family being magical and it being kept secret was also a liability, and the dangers of her daughter being totally outed was hanging in the air. So they made a deal, Shantel could come to the school and train her powers only if they did it in secret. Their family was pretty respected in the world and weren't willing to ruin their reputations over this, even though they love their daughter very much. So she moved to New York to train and do secret missions on the side while getting to keep her superstar life for a while, it wasn't until after some time of being an X-Men her superhero had been uncovered and was shunned out of the superstar life.

Hobbies and interest

Music: I mean come on y’all she was one of the biggest singers of her generation before she got exposed for being mutant. She is a bit of an audiophile as well, she was on the track to producing her own music but then her career got sidetracked. 

Acting: Being a performer was something she was always passionate about since she was little. She loved going with her parents to the country club to perform, hell honestly wherever there was a stage, she was there to light it up. 

Horseback Riding; Her mother used to take her out whenever she could to go horseback riding. The wind blowing in her hair in the cool spring breezes  was enough to bring Shantel to a state of calm. 

Swimming; Shantel really never likes swimming in pools, there's something about swimming about floating in a lake or a swamp that feels so much more natural to her. The Warrick family lived on the lake and all of the cousins could regularly be seen playing and roughhousing out on the water,

Powers:

Stardust Manipulation: As a mutant Shantel has the ability to create, shape, and manipulate and generate  stardust, mineral grains and particles of cosmic substances originating from or embody remnants of dead stars , nebula , and meteorites. She can use stardust to attack of various shapes or intensities, either projected, or used as part of melee attacks, ect, from huge rays that can obliterate targets.

Enhansed Senses: has extreme accurate senses, allowing her to see, hear, smell, taste and feel like other feral mutants.

Magical abilities 

Voodoo: For Shantel magic is a birthright, and being a Warrick means having great power. Voodoo mysticism is utilized in various practices of mixing  white magic and black that involve rituals, prayer, sacrifice, herbalism and communing with Iwas and Loas to achieve various effects. The Warrick family had been Voodoo practitioners since the mid 1800s, and the knowledge over the years they had collected was extraordinary, with its own collection of hidden musical knowledge.

Psionics 

Divination; She can read the future, present, and past or provide help to a problem by using occultic practices, Or whether it be using divination to communicate with the supernatural, and consoling in matters of love, health, fortune, guidance,and clarity. Mostly using chicken bones and tarot cards for more practical means, but her astral sight can also be applied to being able to see as well, astral sight might not give the  most accurate or clear readings. 

Astral projection: Shantel is able to project the consciousness of herself and others out of the body and into the spirit realm. She can pull things out of the astral realm into physical reality. And even cloak, shield, locate, imprison, or destroy any individuals and/ or objects whilst on the astral plane. Using her door ability, she can even pull out anything in the astral realm, whether or not what she pulls out has a corporeal or incorporeal state.

Telepathy: Though she tends not to use it for her own personal reasons, Shantel on many occasions uses her telepathy for tactical and medicinal purposes. Shantel is not malicious with her metal abilities, she is a shielder and a protector, despite her more feral nature, she doesn’t have the heart to manipulate or mind control. It's why her psionic shields are the most extraordinary of anyone in her family, or known telepath, she can  even have her shields up while asleep or unconscious. She has even been known to have used her healing magic and telepathy simultaneously in order to heal mental and psychological trauma. 

Psionic shield; Shantel has impenetrable psionic shields, she is resistant  to any and all mental intrusion including psychic or empathic powers, hypnosis, hallucinations, deception, mind control, and telepathy, thought she can turn this on and off at will and allow anyone to enter and exit her mind as she pleases. As a child her mother and grandmother put her through ruthless mental training, The Warrick family is known for their telepathic immunity, it explains why in the early years Charles Xavier was not able to locate Shantel using his cerebro.

Telekinesis: She has the ability to move and manipulate objects with the energy he wields, though she is not the best at doing this with her mind, most of the energy she uses to channel her telekinesis come from her hands, hell even her legs if she feels like it. Her legs are actually better at channeling her telekinesis than her hands because the muscles in her legs are the ones she uses the most for combat, they are very strong and most force sensitive. 

Portal Creation; Shantel has only ever been able to open portals to magical realms, which in most cases has led her to trouble. Most portals are mostly just doors, which are always different and specifically tailored to whichever realm she chooses to inhabit; doors can appear floating in the air, tilted, or even pre-existing doors and still be usable as passageways. She can even open doors to places you should not be able to get into, anywhere from realms that are closed off to realms that no longer exist or ones that have yet to exist, she can even pull or put any items or persons that exist in these spaces as well, as long as it is a magical realm she can access it. At first know one really knew why Shantel could do this, she developed this power at a young age and no one knew where this powerful magic was coming from, but it wasn’t until she was older she found out what she was. She is a Gate, not a gatekeeper, just a gate or doorway to magic, she can tap in and channel other realms, it's the reason she can see literally everything. Other people, if powerful enough can even pull things out of her, as a child whilst stuck under an entrapment spell by Marie Laveau, she was able to reach into her chest and pull out the Golden Arrow of Eros, able to use it for her witchery. 

Transmutation: She has lower levels of transmutation, like being able to change her clothes in an instant/ into her superhero suit. Using her lasso she can extend it past its usual length and even infinitely, by using her stardust. 

Astral sight; Can see overlapping dimensions and planes of existence and the unseen creatures, spirits and psychic phenomena (auras, souls, energies, emotions, thoughts, memories,ect.) inhabiting them, but not into other realities that do not directly overlap their own. Through divination and doorway magic, she can see things that have yet to exist or that existed in the past.

Hellfire Manipulation: Shantel was bestowed with the ability to manipulate the flames of “Hell”, by “Satan” who wasn’t actually the devil but actually Mephisto in disguise. As a child Shantel and two of her cousins, Lance and Dennis Warrick, wound up in “Hell” due to Shantel wanting to control her portal abilities, and they ended up somewhere they shouldn't have. Mephisto, wanting to claim they're souls, takes the two cousins, intraping them in hellfire with only Shantel escaping, so in order to rescue them Shantel strikes up a deal with him in order to save them. In order to play “the devils game” she needed to be magically imbued with hellfire, and after miraculously won and had saved her cousins she ended up keeping the hellfire, her fire various shades of purple and blue, 

Healing: She can heal others or herself, while her healing is instantaneous it can take some time, but nonetheless it is sound, she has saved her teammates on numerous occasions. Though there is one person she is magically connected to, well used to and it was Scott. Scott used to have terrible migraines and had linked herself to him so she would have to always be able to help him whenever. It went until she found the source of the problem and figured out a way to make them stop happening permanently. While she wasn't able to completely heal his brain damage she was able to at least stop him from having migraines

Necromancy: Shantel is mostly able to communicate with the dead, she can reanimate and control them in some instances. For divination purposes, she mostly uses it to discover knowledge or foresee events. She doesn’t exactly know how to resurrect using voodoo, that's not really her specialty, but she can resurrect and summon souls temporarily from Hell using Hellfire. Using portals she can summon souls from anywhere on the astral plane or another realm, but that doesn’t mean she can control what she summons.

Siren song: Through her natural singing, she can enchant her voice to hypnosis an individual. She has been able to use it for undercover missions, especially when the public didn't know she was a mutant. She even has the ability to put people to sleep by singing someone a lullaby. 

Paraphernalia  

Vibranium Revolvers: Shantel was gifted a set of vibranium revolvers by the king of Wakanda after Shantel saved the young princess Shuri at the time, while they were visiting the USA. Since regular pistols cannot contain the blast of her stardust without braking, a special set was made just for her.

Orion's Belt ; Her stardust lasso is woven from her actual stardust particles itself and the meatal of Uru. One speck of stardust is tiny and invisible to the eye, but through magic. After one to many of her lassos breaking she needed a new one, she searched many weeks for someone who could make something, one that would contain her magic, so she decided to use her portal ability to let her take her to a place where someone could make her a weapon. She let her powers take her randomly, any place was a good place as long as she got what she wanted, and she ended up in Nidavellir, the Darven realm. After many negotiations with the dwarves, she would be allowed to have a weapon forged for her unless she did them a task, if she was able to find and rescue one of there dwarves who had gone missing. Shantel was able to find him in a couple of hours by opening a portal to him, near death and trapped in Hel. 

Bag of Bones: It is a small hand held pouch, filled with rune inscribed bones, that are used for divination. By scattering them one can gain wisdom and insight to form a more clear view of the issues presented. This method is easy, rather than using astral sight because the intention of certain events is not always the most fortelling. 

Tarot cards: A deck of tarot cards used to foresee the events of an individual rather than the whole picture. Scott and Shantel love to sit together and read the cards to see how the plays on the battlefield will potentially play out and alter the strategies 

Silvermist: A magical ice horse Shantel tamed in her youth, the Horse of the Silver Mist was a water spirit which Shantel spent many days down by the river the spirit occupied, after her battle with it she was able to form a companionship and now they go wherever they are needed, which can also be used for combat.

Horseshoe hat; She is never seen without her lucky cowboy hat, it's mostly normal, other than the golden horseshoes on the front of it, which she can use for combat purposes, she can take it off the front and throw it like a boomerang.

Familiars: It's not typical for a witch to have multiple familiars, but if there is a will there's a way. Shantel’s familiar help her do daily tasks, mostly simple errands and providing counsel in magical spells. But they are mostly trained in protection, as their weather be it for herself, family, or the institute, they know how to throw down. They can be seen patrolling the grounds of the mansion and watching over the students. Scott likes having them in the danger room so they can train or whatever even though they don’t need it. It's rare but they have been on a couple of missions. Shantel has three chicken familiars, Foghorn, Angelus, and Lottie, Foghorn was supposed to be her only familiar, but she ended up finding two different witch familiars after they had been lost due to a another magical bet, man how does she keep getting herself in these situations.

[authoralexharvey]

INTERVIEW WITH A WRITEBLR — @angelsofprey

Who You Are:

Angel || He/they

I’m a queer black man fighting against the shallow nature of love. I tend to lean towards stories with loving GNC people. Being never-T as of now, this is important to me.

What You Write:

What genres do you write in? What age ranges do you write for?

Adventure, drama, fanfic, fantasy, horror, paranormal, psychological, romance, and sci-fi. Adult.

What genre would you write in for the rest of your life, if you could? What about that genre appeals to you?

Romance. As long as you don’t limit yourself you will have endless possibilities on what to write. This is from experience! The messiness on what romance can be is what really draws me in, how you can write a pair of world shattering lovers who are terrible apart, but would be destroyed if not together. Some find it disturbing—in real life it would be—but in stories it’s beautiful to see through my mind’s eye (maybe especially if it’s wonderfully queer)!

What genre/s will you not write unless you HAVE to? What about that genre turns you off?

Mystery. ‘Cause that sounds HARD! One day I might touch on a whodunnit, but as of now just imagining trying to weave and mislead a reader when I’m such a… literal(?) person would be difficult. I do have a story where it’s an “opposite mystery” of sorts where the killer is the protagonist and we watch as they stumble around to get away with it.

Who is your target audience? Do you think anyone outside of that would get anything out of your works?

GNC and Enby people would be my target audience, them and those who relate to mlm attraction I suppose? It depends on the project! I think anyone outside could get a kick out of the things I make from beta reading experience— as long as they have a tolerance for love.

What kind of themes do you tend to focus on? What kinds of tropes? What about them appeals to you?

For themes I for some odd reason drawn to religious imagery in larger projects and larger projects only… it’s odd. If I thought about tropes or anything my head would hurt so I kind of just do my own thing lol.

What themes or tropes can you not stand? What about them turn you off?

Nowadays I’m saddened by other’s intolerance. I find myself to be open to anything, really.

What are you currently working on? How long have you been working on it?

I have gay novellas in the works and a gay flash fic as well (at the time of writing), but my baby is Before Flowering Hands. BFH is a Wild West, cosmic horror romance where a young man falls in love with an older woman (this woman is in a relationship with three other men as well) who, not to his knowledge, is a ‘horror beyond comprehension’ as the saying goes. She has her own agenda or taking over her kingdom with her cowboy outlaws and, later, the world. He has his own agenda of finding himself and his purpose which he discovers through and after meeting her.

Why do you write? What keeps you writing?

To indulge myself. My own desires and yearning keep me going.

How long have you been writing? What do you think first drew you to it?

Around 2015, maybe earlier. I can’t remember if I was interested in writing and stories before Her, but I knew she really pushed me into it. It was math class in middle school, I was sat next to a beautiful girl and somehow we got to talking about kpop fanfiction and I said something like… ‘I like writing too’ and the rest was history.

Where do you get your inspiration from? Is that how you got your inspiration for your current project? If not, where did the inspiration come from?

Music, but not the lyrics. What a song makes me feel, not what it’s really about. The scenes that play in my head during songs are not at all related to what’s happening in the lyrics—it’s almost funny.

What work of yours are you most proud of? Why?

I’d say my recent flash fics “Vulgar” and “New ‘Us’” over on my tumblr. They absolutely flopped, but I love them dearly. I’m proud because I was able to really dive into two characters and their feelings after a three year hiatus, it represents that I’ve still got it in a way.

Have you published anything? Do you want to?

No… and I have grown to want my writing to be accessible. I want everyone to be able to read it. The closest thing to having a pay wall before my writing might be Substack if I decide to do it in the future. Actual publishing… considering I write erotica mostly it’s not very much in the cards for me. It’s kind of hard to exist even in an online space while writing erotica. Everyone is too ashamed to reblog for one, lol, but ‘tis their right.

What part of the publishing process most appeals to you? What part least appeals to you?

You have to pay to get paid. It’s like a scheme, a grift lol.

What part of the writing process most appeals to you? What part is least appealing?

I think I love outlining, it’s like a zero draft for me! I get to know exactly what’s happening and how everything feels with zero effort of pride or syntax! I don’t think I have anything I don’t like about writing; if I did I don’t think I’d write. I learned that art is about enjoying the process in the first place.

Do you have a writing process? Do you have an ideal setup? Do you write in pure chaos? Talk about your process a bit.

My process is nearly pure digital (quick notes go on my flip writing pad); I open a new doc on Pages and just start writing notes after a new idea comes to me. After notes I start outlining and after extensive outlining I start drafting. When I actually follow my process of deep outlining I sometimes only need one draft (this is based off of feedback)! I wish I listened to myself.

Your Thoughts on Writeblr:

How long have you been a writeblr? What inspired you to join the community?

I only recently rejoined at the time of writing. Three years ago I was writing fanfic and having a hell of a time! I wanted my writing to be seen; I wanted to make people feel things and hear about it. I wanted to hear what I did good and what I did bad, how I could improve. I want my writing to get to the next level.

Shout out some of your favorite writeblrs. How did you find them and what made you want to follow them?

@arijensineink was my first friend on here. I found her through tumblr live! @coffeewritesfiction I met through Ari, he’s just really cool with many great ideas!

What is your favorite part about writeblr?

The mini events where it forces everyone around to ask about each other’s W.I.Ps like W.I.P Wednesday!

What do you think writeblr could improve on? How do you think we can go about doing so?

We could ask each other more questions.

How do you contribute to the writeblr community? Do you think you could be doing more?

I think I myself could be asking more about people’s W.I.Ps. Think after this survey I’ll be doing exactly that… on anon cause I’m shy.

What kinds of posts do you most like to interact with?

Things directly about people’s stories like a bit of characterization or dynamic between OCs.

What kind of posts do you most like to make?

I post my writings and soon links to my writing on AO3. When I’m not doing that I wanna blabber on about my W.I.Ps and reblog writing things and sometimes visual art as that’s another passion of mine.

Finally, anywhere else online we may be able to find you?

I’m angelsofprey over on AO3. Time or writing nothing is there yet, but there will be!!!

[multiocmenagerie]

𝔈𝔳𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔄𝔟𝔟𝔬𝔱𝔱

(Her marble fox familiar will have a little section at the end)

Face Claim: Ashley Greene

Info/Bio:

Full Name: Evangeline Ruth Abbott

Nickname(s): Eva, The Colour Witch

Species: Witch

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Pansexual

Age: 27

Birthday: June 7th

Height: 5'3

Distinguishing Features: Eva has varying length dark hair, as she changes it a lot, and sea green coloured eyes. She has a single lip ring in the middle of her bottom lip. She has multiple identical scars around her ankles and wrists from being bound with wire as a child.

Disabilities: Achromatopsia (Fully colour blind, can only see black/grey/white), POTS.

Powers/Abilities: Colour Magic, teleportation, minor healing abilities, can create small force fields, summoning abilities, telepathy (Mainly just with her familiar Arthur).

Loves: Her beloved marble fox familiar Arthur, bees, toe socks.

Hates: Big cars, waxy tasting sprinkles.

Phobias: Arachnophobia, Thalassophobia.

Allergies: Poison ivy, bees.

Favourite Colour: She's never seen colours before, but she finds descriptions for the colour red to be really intriguing.

Favourite Animal(s): Foxes, bees, dogs.

Favourite Song(s): Demons by Imagine Dragons.

Favourite Food(s): JellyBeans, Mac n cheese.

Favourite Drink(s): Anything with caramel in it.

(Dark themes/matters ahead)

Evangeline was born in Las Vegas, her mother was a stripper and her father was a random passing client. Her mother was severely addicted to crack and alcohol and abused her through her entire childhood. Her mother would tie her up with wire to keep her from moving during the day when her mother went to work. That happened until she was old enough to learn to be completely obedient and stay still on her own, roughly around 5 years old. Once she turned 15, her mother made her dance for money, and if the money was good enough, even spend a night with the buyer. This went on until she turned 22, when she got pregnant and realized she needed to get away from her life.

She managed to run away while her mother was passed out drunk on the couch, ending up on the streets for a few months. She miscarried after being pulled into a back alley and raped. After she was left in the alley, she saw a marble fox pup under a newspaper, and took it as a sign she needed to fight harder to get out of her situation. She took the kit and spent the next few months discovering she could understand the fox and what he told her changed her world.

Finding out she's a witch and could do colour magic, which is ironic given she's completely colourblind and has a hard time figuring out her spells correctly, she managed to magic herself a quiet life out in the woods. She has her own little wooden cabin, the little fox is her familiar, and she's finally gotten a good life alone. Though she does accidentally mess up spells due to her Achromatopsia, and she can get into trouble sometimes.

She has a very deep distrust for people and cities, preferring to be alone with Arthur and the nature of the woods. She's a very sweet, kind, caring, shy, and fairly naive young woman. While she does feel the lonely desire to have other people around, she'd much rather be alone. She'd rather be safe over anything else.

Little Bonus: Arthur (Marble Fox Familiar)

Face Claim: Guy Fieri

Arthur is Eva's familiar, having appeared in her life when she needed him the most. He's her protector and her best friend, and she has a habit of caring for him like he's her baby.

He always had the ability to have a human form, but for a long time he never used it. Until one day he was watching Guy's grocery games and decided he wanted to be Guy. From then on he's been causing trouble and messing around as a celebrity chef. He's a bit of a trickster but his first priority is always going to be Eva.

[aizenat]

I think the biggest factor in this is when Johnny Depp was huge: the mid to late 90s and 2000s. For boomers, I would imagine most wouldn’t know much about his movies other than pirates. And while a lot of younger gen xers would have been the target demographic for some of his works in the 90s, I don’t think older generations are that emotionally attached to Derp as they would other actors.

For example, my gen x mother doesn’t care one way or the other for Derp (and def wouldn’t go see a movie just for him); however, she was very much so questioning all the woman who came out against Bill Cosby, still watches the Cosby Show (almost defiantly as tho to say she stands by him), and even if she finally came around to believe (SOME of) the women, was one of those ppl who felt given his age he shouldn’t face any jail time.

The biggest difference being she grew up with Bill Cosby. He was a comedian in her childhood, and she would have been in hs when the Cosby show came out. My mother loved how he pushed education with black ppl, loved a different world (she would have been college aged when that came out), etc. He was more prevalent pop culture wise in her time than mine. Sure I watched the Cosby Show reruns growing up, but when I heard the allegations, it was nothing for me to dead him in my mind. But my mother had a much harder time (and still doesn’t) after growing up seeing him in a good light. And so turning her around is hard.

Meanwhile, as a millennial, Derp was inescapable at a point. ESPECIALLY if you were an alternative kid, he was in every movie the weird goth/emo/punk/burnouts would like. Pirates, the Corpse Bride, Sweeney Todd, etc. He was even in Willy Wonka, and most ppl didn’t hate him in that (just hated the overall plot and story changes). And when that Willy Wonka movie came out, gen z would have been kids. They would have been kids during Pirates, during the Alice in Wonderland movies (that my ass had no desire to see with it’s weird cgi ass), etc.

This is why older generations get so mad when they get cancelled by younger generations because their real fans don’t have a problem with them. It’s the younger generation looking at them like “uh dude wtf.” The people loudest against Dave Chappelle for example probably weren’t huge fans of his when they were young. They probably saw a few sketches from the chappelle show and that was it. Gen Z were the ones mostly pissed at his first comedy special on Netflix, while gen xers and millennials mostly (not all, but mostly) rolled their eyes at the “controversy.”

A situation like how libs turned on JKR is rare: it’s easier to convince ppl who already don’t like you/don’t care one way or the other/don’t know you to dislike you than someone who was a fan. Look at the different responses between Keke Palmer’s no name having baby daddy and Jonah Hill who both got outed essentially doing the same thing: trying to control women’s bodies as tho expressing yourself is somehow a slight against the man a woman is with. And yet while Keke’s bd got nothing but hate, there were a lot of sympathetic takes to Jonah as he had a legit career and most ppl like him generally.

People always have a hard time letting go of their idols, but I think that millennials and gen z’s tendency to really go balls deep with their favorite celebs/influencers (how easily and commonly they form parasocial relationships with them, fan culture/fandoms, etc) it means that millennials and gen z are primed to be so emotionally invested in these ppl, as well as build huge chunks of their identity to worshipping these ppl (kpop stans are a great example of this), that disavowing them is impossible for them. And especially with how mental health/therapy talk and social justice language is what they use to both stan and dislike people, they build up defenses that will only be deterred by a huge social movement that vilifies people who think like they do.

What’s going to happen is in 15-20 years, hell maybe even within the next ten years considering things get “renaissances” despite only being around about a decade (“Twilight wasn’t THAT problematic; it was just a bunch of hate on something girls liked” or something), someone will make a documentary or a revisit of the trial. And they’re going to review the court documents and see clearly how Derp was obviously the abuser, and whoever does this deep dive will criticize millennials and gen z for siding with Derp. And the younger generation will turn to their parents and ask what they thought and be aghast to learn their parents were team Derp. And it’ll only be when public opinion changes that they’ll disavow him.

As bleak as the numbers for younger people are, I have faith that public opinion will change. In the 90s, a lot of people believed OJ was innocent. Especially black ppl who believed this was society’s attempt to (yet again) vilify an “innocent” black man. But let’s be real: we know he did it. And if that same trial happened to day, his ass would be in prison. This trial is our generation’s OJ trial. And in due time, the tide will change and people will see him as the evil, drunken bastard he is. And anyone who defended Derp then will have nothing to say.

Johnny Depp’s Popularity Decreased During Trial—Despite Social Media Craze—Survey Suggests

This is from June 2022 . The fact millennials and gen z had the smallest change and we want to mock boomers for being brainwashed by Facebook. You're going to hell

This feels like a, how addicted to social media spectacle are you? with millennials not doing good and gen z fully suffering from some brain damage

[sashi-ya]

Sashi! Your latest event looks really intriguing; I hope you have a lot of fun writing for it. I'm really excited to see what you create for us.

If you haven't received too many requests for him, could I request Pharaoh Law x F!reader NSFW and arranged marriage? Whether you accept this request or not, thank you so much for the wonderful content you provide!

Hiii baby!! thank u so much for your support you are amazing!! I hope you like this little twist of the prompt!! It's been challenging and I LOVED IT! I hope you do too! 💖💖

👑Oh, Royal Lust Event ~ Royals AU event.

𝕟𝕤𝕗𝕨 ~ ℙ𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕠𝕙! 𝕃𝕒𝕨 𝕩 𝔽! ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣 ~ 𝕆𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕝𝕖 𝔻𝕖𝕤𝕚𝕣𝕖𝕤

tw: nsfw. inspired in Ancient Egypt culture, pure research as I'm not an expert much less a descendant, please forgive me if there are any mistakes. It's in no way intented to disrispect any culture. Law is a virgin (Pharaohs ruled when they were pretty young, tho he is 18+ of course, it's up to you to imagine how old he was) Reader is a slave so expect to read some whipping on your back and hot sand on your feet. Also, can you guess in which OP character I based the Oracle? 👐

wc: 3.2k

specific vocab: Nun ➡ the equivalent to the sky for the egyptians. Heqa ➡ typical Egyptian crosier that Pharaohs wore, let's say Law's Kikkoku.

Nemes ➡ were pieces of striped headcloth worn by pharaohs in ancient Egypt. It covered the whole crown and behind of the head and nape of the neck

Want more? visit the masterlist

His caramel skin covered in beautiful kohl paintings; his hips move as he climbs the stairs of the sacred oracle and with them the white fine linen of his royal clothes. The gold that covers his body shine with a setting sun that hides behind endless desert dunes and the atmosphere feels hot and heavy.

“Oracle, I’ve come to hear your predictions” he says, hitting his black, red, and white heqa against the floor. The pharaoh lays over the stone bed where he will wait for the deity to reveal the truth of his next steps.

His body rests over the rock, his inked hands over his stomach. He is ready to leave the real world behind. His eyes slowly close and his consciousness floats away to a sacred domain.

In between silky purple clothes the silhouette of an ethereal being appears, it calls him to walk further with the sweetest voice ever. “Come, Law… Come”

And he walks towards it, the being begins to take the form of a naked woman. Untouchable, dancing like a snake to the melody of darbukas playing.

And just like flowers, hands, many hands sprout from the woman. His blue eyes fixing on the Pharaoh aureate ones. The many hands touch his golden covered skin. She is the only who can touch him. His temples, and cheeks, his neck, his chest, his abs, down, down. Sexily grazing every inch of the king of the land crossed by the Nile river.

The woman giggles, and smiles at him. Her dark, dark hair goes up to the small of her back. “The Pharaoh has grown, and it’s consumed by lust…” she whispers in his ear, making him shiver.

“But the Pharaoh doesn’t want any of the royal wives…”

Her hands go down, down to his sex. And they graze, they play with it. Hard, hard the king becomes.

“Indeed, you are consumed by lust… you want to fulfil this need, don’t you?” 

He moans, the many hands around his body are making him weak. He wants what she says, he feels the extreme need to bury himself inside the warm folds of a woman.

“It’s done… The Pharaoh will marry a slave… search for her, her eyes will guide you, and she will satisfy every itch your majesty has… she is consumed by lust, she is consumed by need, she wants your body as much as you want hers…”

His eyes suddenly open, they fix in the ceiling of the sacred Flower temple. Law, the Pharaoh, is panting, sweating, hard. Dilated pupils, high in exhilaration and desire. The reddish colours of a new day tint the sand that seems suspended in the air.

The Oracle has spoken, he will have to marry a slave…

Hot breeze, a sun blazing your skin.

Kohl lining your eyes and the marks of a whip in your back.  

“Move, keep working!” they say, the leathery infernal pain flogging on your skin is barely compared to sun turning it into a dry cracked one. But you still are the most beautiful woman around, your eyes, your hair, everything of you…

To the side of the Nile, you pick the Lotus flower that symbolized purity and light, one by one. You were brought there because your hands were little and delicate, as well as your whole image and so that’s what they needed… but you were still painfully punished if you dared to stop.

As you cut the long stem of a beautiful pinkish tinted petals lotus, you hear bustling around. You stop for a second, just to look back, just to see what was all about.

“Who told you to stop, disgusting slave?” a guard shouts at you, and the sound of the whip cutting the air announces you, you were about to experience another scolding pain on your back. But you don’t. The leather never touches your skin.

You cover the back of your head, maybe waiting for some other type of hit, but as the previous, never comes.

“Slave, turn around” a new voice, husky, and peaceful orders you. Slowly and scared you turn around to appreciate the most beautiful man you have ever seen in your life, covered in gold and jewels, wearing royal clothes.

Is he… is he… the Pharaoh?

Your face, covered in some mud stains and still beautiful make the Pharaoh instantly widen his impressive, lined eyes. He smirks, as he had finally found what he had been looking for, for so long. “What’s your name, Slave?” he asks to a startled you.

You instantly bow before him; your eyes immediately fix on the humid ground above you. Who are you to look at the King in the eyes? Nobody. But he is asking for your name…

“My name is (----), my Pharaoh!” you quickly respond, pressing your forehead in the mud as a sign of utmost respect. You can hear him play with the name in his mouth, whispering it over and over. A growing smirk on his face that you can’t see, but you can feel.

The guard, that had been scourging you nonstop, is taken away pleading for mercy by his royal guards and under the aghast looks of the rest of the slaves around you, you hear words you will never forget coming from the Pharaoh’s mouth;

“Slave, you will be taken to the Oracle. And she will tell me if you are the chosen one to be my Queen”

You can’t help but look up at him, his Queen? What? 

“Your eyes are the ones I’ve been looking for through this vast desert, you will be mine. I’m sure” he says and offers you his inked hand to stand up. You blink repeatedly, you are sure you had passed away and now this is just your imagination or even a dream while you walk into the Underworld where Osiris rules.

But his hand feels extremely real, and when his fingers graze your chin up you can already taste a glimpse of your new life. A miracle just happened to you, and now you are sitting next to the maximum ruler of your life.

“Servers, water!” he demands and soon as he asks for it his servants give a vessel full of beautiful and so needed clean water. But he does not drink it and instead he takes the water to your cracked lips. “Drink” he orders and spills the fluid in your mouth. Water you don’t waste a single drop of it, and it feels so incredibly refreshing, it feels like walking into the doors of Nun.

It takes little time until you arrive to the boat that will take you to the palace. Getting into the sacred boat, something you have only seen from a far it’s enough reason for you to gasp in awe. The Pharaoh looks at you and in his chronic sever frown a glimpse of sweetness draws.

“Sit here” he commands, pointing at a fine wood seat. Surrounded by the most luxurious gold details you accomplish your first mission, obey your king. He sits right by your side and scans the many marks on your back as the boat begins to sail to the north. The papyrus leaves move as the ship makes its way into the Nile, and you smile at them as you think the flowers are saluting you.

The golden bangles chime when he moves his arms, and you flinch as you are used to protecting your head. But Law is not gonna hit you. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. I wanna take a look at your wounds” he whispers, low so low so nobody outside could hear him. “I will take care myself of those, not only I’m a king but I’m also a surgeon with the power of the Gods”

You look at him, still scared but amazed. He is not only the most beautiful man you have ever seen in your life, not only the king of this land, but also a God and a Surgeon?! “You are amazing, my Pharaoh” you mumble, taking a further look to his well-trained abs. His skin has become caramel, sun kissed as the inclemency of the desert likes to do with its habitants, but his eyes are golden, and they shine so bright like the sun.

He smirks, he looks intimidating, but he is not bad. He is good and his fingertips graze your back so subtly, almost barely touching not to hurt you. Your hair gets brushed to the side over your shoulder, and as he takes his time to inspect every inch of your flesh you remain silent fighting against the bumpy skin forming when he touches you.

“You… are beautiful” he exclaims, looking at your hurt still cover in mud palms. You widen your eyes, still unbelievably seeing how a sacred person like him is touching scum like you. But he keeps going as if he was looking straight into the image of a Goddess.

Soon, the ship docks at a port you have never seen nor even Imagined. “Welcome to Luxor” he says, when the curtains open and the shine of prosperity and wealthiness hit your eyes. “This place is called Malkata” Law informs you, as you cannot say a word because your mouth is occupied being opened in awe. “Our palace”.

He helps you descend the boat before startled eyes of his royal guards. Your mud-stained ragged clothes don’t belong in here, but still the Pharaoh insists on calling you his next queen.

Coming at you slaves and guards come to surround the Pharaoh from you. “Who is this?” one of his guards, white hair and chubby cheeks asks inspecting you up and down but with a sweet smile. “The woman that should be present to the Oracle, her eyes are what the sacred goddess told me to search for” Law says, whispering but sure of his own words.

Two more guards come at you, dark hair and red-haired men with white coverings and spears salute you. “Please, follow us” they say at unison, and you instantly look at Law for approval. “Let’s go” he says in a rather serious tone but nodding. You begin to walk, even if the heat of the stone under your soles is way hotter than the sand and you are not wearing anything to cover up. But you endure the pain, as you have always done.

You walk inside, beautiful gardens, water so much water. Damsels giggling and saluting the Pharaoh as he passes, ignoring you as if you were invisible. The joyful sound of melodies you haven’t ever listened. The smell of food you haven’t ever tasted.

“Pharaoh! Let us take care of her!” a sudden woman voice stops you all. Beautiful older women surround you, taking a closer look at your poor state. But Law doesn’t seem to allow anybody to touch you and he hits his heqa against the ground. “I will take care of her myself. I will prepare her to see the Oracle this night”.

And as the Pharaoh says, it’s done. They quickly disappear bowing, scared. Law speaks a little more aggressive than he had actually talked to you to the rest of the people.

“Follow me” he commands, talking only to you and just you. His lined eyes fixed on yours, no need to say anything else. His guards dissipate in a matter of seconds, and you are left alone with him at the entrance of the biggest building in front of you, the Pharaoh’s palace.

Inside it’s fresher, the smell of lilies invading the place. Surrounded by huge columns and beautiful architecture so weird and imponent for you a big tub of crystalline water awaits. Law smiles at your amazement and begins to undress. Out his royal pieces of clothing, nemes head off, the piece of leopard skin that was resting over his right shoulder too. And finally, the kilt that surrounded his hips.

The protrusion of his hip bones, the single vein showing on the tight skin of his sculpted V at the end of his stomach, even his sex… everything flashed before you. You, blink several times. His long black locks that are now visible falling over his shoulders, the many drawings over his sacred skin, the perfection of a God in the mere Earth right in front of you.

You quickly turn around; you are sure you are gonna get beheaded if you keep looking. “I’m sorry my King I didn’t mean to…” you try to excuse yourself, but you are cut short. His hands rest over your shoulders so ready to strip you from the rests of clothes that once were new.

“Let me undress you, we have to clean these wounds and take care of them” he says from behind, making you shiver. You nod, allowing him to untuck the little pin that held your rags together. They fall into the ground, as your old life did the moment, he called your name.

Law turns you around, silently, you can only feel the sound of the water rumbling as it falls from a little built-in cascade. He takes a look at your nudity for the first time, his lips apart, golden eyes scanning you. “Come on…” he commands, so sweetly pulling from your hand into the water.

The refreshing feeling turns into stinging sensations when the whip marks on your back touch the water, but soon it eases. Law sits behind you and begins to wet your back more and more with some water his beautiful hands collect. The water around tints maroon, and you can sense Law grimacing to imagine how much pain you must have suffered.

A soapy material then slides on your skin, you have never experienced that feeling but it’s smells amazing. “This is Natron, it’s a mineral mixed with oils to clean your flesh and wounds” he informs you, proudly using it on you. And you smile, you don’t know what it is to be cured or even treated like a human.

When Law finishes his procedure, he can’t stop himself and plants a kiss on your shoulder. “It’s all done” he says, looking at you after the peck. You blink, should you thank him? Of course, you should.

But he doesn’t allow you to do so, and instead he swims to face you. His hair dripping and thrown back and the kohl around his eyes a little smudged as well as yours. Everything feels peaceful and Law seems happy. “I’ve been looking for you for so long” he says, looking straight into your eyes.

“Were you?” you whisper back, lips apart allowing his body to come closer to yours. His thumb grazing your lips attracted by your beauty, by your skin. “They told me I should wait, that we should present ourselves before the Oracle and she will tell us if you are my future wife… but I can’t wait, what if the god doesn’t allow you to marry me?” he says, with a deep pain in his voice.

“Then try me now, my Pharaoh… use me now” you mumble as your skin burns, itches, dies to be touched by his inked hands.

He sighs, the building up desire for your meat is unbearable for him and he doesn’t care to be punished, he doesn’t care to be forbidden from the sacred positions when he passes to world of the death. His hand snatches your neck and pulls you so close your lips are about to touch.

“You have the face of a goddess, the body of one, you can’t be a sin” he whispers with his lips pressed on yours, turning that kiss into a violating tongue dance inside your mouth. Law’s arduous desire for a woman it’s unleashed, and he doesn’t wait a single second to sit you over his lap. The water splashes around you two and he kisses and bites your lips. He bites and pulls and then sucks on your neck, down, down to your nipples.

He lifts you up, like a beast drooling for more. His mouth reaches your belly, your belly button too. “Sit here” he says, using strong arms to put you over the edge of the huge tub. “Spread” he commands, separating your thighs to fit inside. He kisses the inner side of your legs, worshipping you as if you were his queen. Bites that leave marks, this time not from torture but from pure lust. A little peck over your labia, a little lick in between your slit.

“Let me taste you” he moans, attacking your sex with his tongue. Separating your anatomy he devours you, up and down and around. He knows exactly what he does, the little button of pleasure you rarely touched is now being attacked by him. And it’s wet, wet, and dripping. And you throw your head back, pressing your heels against his shoulder blades. But he is not mad, he is desperate, more and more for your reactions.

Law smiles, he even moans muzzled by your sex. I wanted to do this to a woman, you are so delicious I could …. I could do this for ages” he says, trying to stick his index inside you, too.

At this point you feel an electricity coming from your sex taking over your whole body, confused you let your nerves explode. Climax, that’s what it is. “This is an orgasm!” Law chimes like a crazy scientist cheering you up to finally make a woman experience something he learned in the Ebers Papyrus.

“Law…” you whine and scream coming so perfectly into his mouth. You fall back, panting feeling your heart jumping out of your chest, but Law is not satisfied yet, of course he isn’t.

He uses his arms to get out of the bathtub too and lies next to your still spasming body. “You… so perfect” he says, grazing your cheek looking at your eyelids fall sloppily halfway over your eyes. You smile lovingly, receiving even more needy lips on yours.

“I can’t stop myself, you are so perfect” he says, helping you lay on your side to look straight into your eyes. “My Pharaoh… you are absolutely amazing…” you moan, wrapping your leg over his waist as a sign of wanting more, of wanting him to dive deep into you without any waiting.

His hard, throbbing sex graze your still sensitive entrance, his nails carving on your thigh. “Can I-?” he asks, he knows he should ask, but he does it either way… it’s Law’s first time.

“Don’t ask me any longer, my King. Do me as many times as you want” you tell him, this time kissing him with pure love. “My Queen…” he whispers, penetrating you and saying goodbye to both purities. Sin committed, sin so unchaste, so lascivious. In and out, pounding in you. Breathing into each other’s mouths, pressing foreheads, like serpents tangling into each other.

Soon that amazing sensation hits you again, the heat, the electric feeling, pure pleasure. Law opens his eyes, and moans repeatedly, he is getting there too and as he does you feel him bathing your tremoring walls with his release.

Trembling bodies, exhausted, delighted. Both falling into reverie states, cuddling, naked, wet.  

“Did I commit an unforgivable sin, Goddess?”

“You did just as I predicted. Good Job, Pharaoh… You have found her… now both rule this reign”

“We will, Oracle”

[aesopsharpmybeloved]

Just You Wait

Father Paul and you enjoy a steamy little 'recreation' in the recreation centre. Set during Pirate Priest, or Halloween On Crockett Island.

I had this idea I thought was hot, but didn't know if it wasn't too freaky, so I went and got a second opinion from @blackberries45 and she also thought it was hot. So I hope you'll find this hot as well :)

Basically, Paul and reader being switches who love each other and their fun. 

NSFT/18+, I SWEAR TO GOD, GO AWAY CHILDREN

Just You Wait - 4.8K

tw: explicit sexual themes, slight femdom, oral sex (woman receiving) consensual unprotected sex (het), rough(er) sex, semi-public sex, comeplay, swearing

“Oh, just you wait till I get my hands on you, father.”

Father Paul shivered. While your voice was cheeky and teasing, it had that unmistakable undertone to it, one that was a promise as much as a warning. He also couldn’t have imagined that look in your eyes, that dark intense expression which made his heart thump loudly and heavily within his chest as pins and needles of excitement and anticipation settled in his belly. Your relationship was based on mutual adoration and trust, but also openness, in every aspect of it. Therefore, when Paul learned he really likes it when you take the lead and full control every now and then, he told you so openly. Turns out, you also liked to take on the dominant role sometimes.

And so, the priest knew he’d be on the submissive side of today’s activities, at least at first, and this knowledge brought a flush to his cheeks and a rush of blood to his groin. Still, he kept teasing you, riling you up, just to make sure you kept your promise. And by the time the two of you waved goodbye to the last few volunteers who helped hauling the pumpkins into the rec centre, he was positively desirous. He stood, still as a statue with his hands on his hips, watching the backs of his neighbours disappearing through the door with a friendly smile. The door closed with a little thump and his eyes immediately turned to you.

You too observed the now closed door, not making a sound. After a minute or two, during which Paul felt his sanity slowly melting away, you finally moved. You walked over to the door and turned around to face him. Your eyes boring into his and claiming the priest’s entire attention, you made a big show of reaching for the key in the lock. In the absolute silence broken only by a light buzzing of the fluorescent lights above, the click of the key turning around in its lock penetrated the air like a gunshot, and made Paul’s wildly beating heart skip a beat.

Like a predator nearing its prey, you made slow, calculated steps towards the man, keeping your eyes on him the entire time. He watched, transfixed, not daring to move a muscle until you appeared right in front of him, showing no intention of stopping. Paul took a step back, then another, then another, up until his back made contact with the cool wooden wall of the rec centre. You looked at him appreciatively, his pupils were blown so wide it made his eyes appear entirely black, and it was rather obvious the priest was trying very hard to control his breathing.

You were in his space now, so close you felt each of his shuddering exhales on your cheeks. A single sweet, reassuring smile is what you gave him, before looking down slightly and placing your hands on his shoulders. They made their way down his arms little by little, fingers squeezing the muscles there, the muscles he’d been teasing you with the entire afternoon. Finally, you reached his wrists, and, in a single quick movement, closed your fingers around them hard and lifted his arms up to pin them against the wall above his head. This move caused his body to get effectively trapped between you and the wall. A single small whimper escaped his lips.

Father Paul was obviously stronger than you, could easily escape the confinement, could push you back and flip you around without the slightest difficulty and both of you knew it. Neither of you cared. Paul obediently held his hands up against the wall, a little shiver involuntarily running through him as his t-shirt rode up and exposed a strip of the soft skin of his lower belly. Giving him one more smile, this time a devilish one, you lunged forward to capture his lips in a rough, bruising kiss. The man let you ravish his mouth to your satisfaction, feeling each little nip and bite shoot straight into his already painfully hard cock.

Soon your mouth left his rapidly swelling lips to latch onto his neck instead. His eyes were fluttering now and more little sounds were leaving him. A bit of shuffling and suddenly his chin was grabbed, forcing him to open his eyes. In his haze he hadn’t even noticed that his wrists were crossed and held in a single hand, while you administered attention upon his throat. You held his gaze firmly, your thumb now stroking against his lower lip: “Now… behave.” Paul nodded. You returned to sucking on his neck while your free hand now travelled down, across his chest and stomach, before it snuck below the fabric of his t-shirt and moved back up.

You drew circles around his nipples with your thumb until they hardened into little pearls, and only then you lightly pinched one of them. At the same time, you bit just a little harder on a spot which would be hidden under his collar, and ground your hips into his. His loud gasp turned into groan and the priest was now an absolute putty in your hands. Leaving his nipples be for the time being, you let your hand go down again, until it reached the waistband of Paul’s work trousers. You ran your fingers up and down his dark happy trail, making him squirm and thrust his hips, trying to get some friction against his aching member. You moved back before he had the chance however and he let out an unhappy whine, hips thrusting into thin air instead.

“Shh…,” you said, moving so you could whisper in his ear, “I told you to behave, didn’t I?” Paul whined once more, but his hips stilled. You waited for a little while, letting him calm down slightly before you carried on. “Good,” you whispered at last and moved back close to him, fingers reaching to tease at the hair leading to his crotch again. He didn’t try to buck into your hand now, so you took mercy on him. “Very good,” you praised, “you’re doing so good, love.” Finally you slipped your hand past the waistband and into his trousers and underwear. His organ was damp and hot, releasing little drops of precum from the tip. With hands still pinned to the wall above, Paul let his head fall down on your shoulder, releasing an almost pathetic little sound as you finally took hold of him.

You pumped his cock slow and hard, sucking a mark onto that little spot just above his collarbone. You chuckled when you felt Paul’s knees buckle slightly, and a deep moan sounded right next to your ear. “Mhm, f-fuck … you’re going to make me come into my pants,” said the priest, his voice high and breathy. It was neither a question, nor a warning, it was a simple statement of the truth - he knew that was your plan from the start. You grinned against the already purpling spot circled by a reddened imprint of teeth and pulled your hand out. After you made him raise his head and turn his attention to you, you made a show of sucking the remains of his precum from your digits, humming appreciatively at his taste.

He looked like a glorious mess, with his hair out of place and sweat glistening on his skin. His beautiful mouth was raw from your bruising kisses and eyes unfocused. You moved closer again, your free hand moving up once more to grasp at one of his wrists. Placing one of your legs between his, you pressed your thigh against his poor clothed member, slowly moving in an up-and-down motion before stopping. One more intense look was all it took for him to understand and he thrusted his hips, rutting against your thigh. “Go on, love, you’re doing well,” you breathed and put your leg even closer to help him.

He gave a thrust after another, finding a rhythm, before his head fell onto your shoulder once more. His arms stung with fatigue after being pinned above his head for so long, so even if he wanted to resist your hold, he now physically couldn’t. Of course, resisting was the last thing he wanted. Right now, the only thing on his mind was the tremendous need for release, as he desperately dry-humped your leg, his pace growing faster and faster. His face was contorted and he was certain some of the sounds he made were positively whorish, and that he’d be very embarrassed about them, hadn’t his brain been drowning in endorphins and his cock throbbing violently, pre-cum flowing in a steady stream and ruining his underwear.

His pace was feverish now, frenzied, and he rutted harder and harder to get more friction on his weeping organ, you had to hold onto his wrists extra hard to not get thrown off by the ferocity of his thrusts. Finally you had enough leverage to move one of your hands down again and into his hair. You grabbed as many strands as you could and tugged hard. The priest’s head fell back and his hips stuttered. A broken moan fell from his lips and his hips jerked involuntarily for several seconds, as Paul’s orgasm rolled over him like a hurricane and his cock finally released a thick spurt after spurt of cum.

You slowly let go of his wrists and the poor man nearly collapsed on you right there and then, his body overcome with pleasure and exhaustion, but you managed to hold him up by pressing his body against the wall with your own. You felt wetness on your thigh, as Paul’s spunk actually managed to seep through both his pants and trousers. After a while you shifted slightly and accidentally ground your hips against him, which made both of you whine, Paul with overstimulation, and you with your own until now ignored arousal. The priest’s long arms landed heavily on your shoulders, but they were entirely too weak now to really embrace you. Yours were too, after all, you had been the one to hold them there. Even in his post-coital bliss, however, father Paul got a brilliant idea, and slowly he slid down the wall, taking you with him, until he was sitting down, his legs bent at the knees. You automatically climbed into his lap and curled into him, pressing little soothing licks to the love bite you made.

Paul's breathing and heartbeat slowed down little by little, and he finally closed his arms around you with his head craned back and eyes closed, still riding out the last remains of his orgasm. You stayed like this for a while, with Paul’s arms slowly regaining their strength he started stroking intricate patterns on your back and hips, sometimes sliding underneath your top to feel your soft skin. The priest then lifted your head up from his neck by putting his finger under your chin, just so he could capture your lips in a messy delicious kiss, the intensity of it growing by the second. The flame in your core returned and you shifted your hips a little.

Father Paul pulled back to look into your eyes, his own darker than night. “Ride my face,” he said, his voice deep and rumbling, but there was a pleading undertone to it. You smiled softly, your thumb stroking over his pretty lips. “You want me to ride your face?” you asked teasingly, “want me to rut against your mouth, make your face all wet with my juices until all you can see, smell and taste is me?” The priest groaned and licked his lips, and you felt a stir under your backside. Paul’s cock was getting interested once more. You wiggled a tad, pressing yourself against the twitching organ before moving away and standing up. Paul looked at you, alarmed. “Be good and wait here, I’ll be right back,” you said and started walking towards the rec centre’s supply cabinet - there were blankets, pillows, some simple lightweight mattresses, all the things one would need were they to use this place as a shelter.

You came back with these items. They were all light enough to carry in a single arm. Paul eyed you questioningly, sitting in the exact same spot where you left him, not appearing to have moved a muscle. “I don’t want you just lying on the floor,” you explained. Some dominant play from time to time? Sure, but even when you got a little rough, you still wanted the other to feel comfortable. The rec centre’s floor was cold and hard, and you didn’t want Paul’s head dragged across the linoleum each time you thrusted against his mouth. You set the mattress down and put the pillow on it. The blanket you set aside for now.

“Get up,” you spoke softly with a smile. It wasn’t really a command, but it wasn’t a question either. Paul obeyed and stood, his legs just a little unsteady. “Come here, love,” your hand extended towards him and he took it as he reached you. “Now strip. I want to see you.” Not breaking eye contact unless inevitable, the priest began pulling at his clothes. First to go was the t-shirt, slightly stained from when he wiped his hands against it while carrying the pumpkins. His skin was soft and smooth, with a golden hue to it. His dark pink nipples hardened under the chill of the room and gooseflesh appeared on his arms. The mark you made above his collarbone stood out beautifully. He carelessly kicked off his shoes and toed off the socks. Paul reached for the zipper on his work trousers, but then stopped.

“Is… is the back door locked?” he asked quietly then. “Locked, and the key’s in the lock. I checked when I fetched the mattress,” you replied patiently, standing with your arms crossed and admiring the view before you. Finally he pulled the zipper down and popped the button open. Hooking his thumbs under the waistline of his trousers and underwear, he pulled it down, cringing at the wet sticky mess inside. “I think these are beyond salvation,” he murmured as he finally got rid of the clothes. He unceremoniously dropped them at his feet and looked at you expectantly, waiting for your next directions. His shaft was half hard again, glistening wetly with his release still, and throbbing slightly every now and then.

“Lie down, make yourself comfortable,” you said and began undressing as well, slow in your movements. He lied down, naked as the day he was born, resting on his elbows so he could watch you better. The priest didn’t care how many times he saw you bare before, each time it felt like the first time. Each time he was just so fascinated with how beautiful you are, every inch of you was an inch of perfection, your flesh made to be loved and adored and worshipped. He marvelled at your breasts, freed from the confines of your bra, the way they moved and bounced depending on what you were doing. He ate up the sight of your hips as if he were a starving man, the feel of them in his hands as he held them to thrust into you was tattooed under his skin, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Once you too put away your shoes and socks and began peeling off your own jeans, his breath caught in his throat.

No, he decided, he will never have enough of this. Unlike him, you kept your panties on, and he shivered once he saw they were soaked with your arousal and clinging onto your most precious jewel, the sweetest forbidden fruit he wanted to taste over and over and always. You walked over to the mattress and onto it, your feet on either side of the priest’s rising and falling chest. Very slowly you kneeled, your clothed sex no more than twenty centimetres from Paul’s face in this position. He wasted no time. His hands took hold of your backside and the priest pulled you closer, his mouth immediately finding your clitoris through the damp fabric and he licked at it desperately. You sighed in pleasure, your ache finally attended to. Your hand went back into his hair and you gently massaged his scalp. You gave a little tug each time Paul’s wicked tongue sneaked under the cotton to lick at your folds. “Alright…” you breathed out airily after a while and pulled his head away, “lie down.”

Paul did just so, and you stood up once more to remove your last piece of clothing. Then you went to straddle him once more, this time right on his chest. You sat down now, your knees on each side of his head, his arms on your calves and hands closing around your thighs. “Please…” he said with that soft smile, his expression completely open, love and lust written on it so clearly, like black ink on a white page. You leaned forward to brace your hands on the mattress behind his head and he helped move you until your cunt was lined with his face. And then he lunged forward.

He moaned against your sensitive skin once he was flush with your dripping sex, tongue instantly darting out to lap up your juices and taste every single inch of your womanhood. Still, he pulled at your thighs, until you were close to sitting on his face. You let out soft gasps and sighs, feeling the knot in your stomach slowly coming into existence. You then shifted more of your weight onto your hands and rolled your hips, making Paul’s mouth drag over your slit and nub, and moaned at the sensation. The priest's eyes bore into you from his position, cloudy and half-lidded, but unwilling to miss a single second. You rolled your hips once more and released another moan, when his tongue slipped into your fluttering hole.

Now every time you thrusted, the tongue moved within you, his mouth was sucking hard and Paul’s nose bumped into your clit, sending tremors through your body. You found a rhythm and slowly climbed up the hill of pleasure, your moans becoming louder and more frequent under the priest’s wicked mouth. Your arms began shaking slightly and you were forced to relieve them of some of the weight, sitting on your lover’s face even more. He didn’t seem to mind however, his arms still pulling you closer and closer. Your mewls and whimpers filled the room, along with his own. You looked behind you to see his hips jerking unconsciously, his cock completely hard and dark red, standing against the priest’s stomach and leaking drops of precum into his own belly button, the clear fluid sticking to the hair underneath.

Paul felt you getting close, your walls fluttering around his probing tongue, his greedy mouth hungrily swallowing everything you could give him. You really were the only thing he could see, smell and taste, and he never wanted to stop. He was getting close too, your taste, all those sounds you made, the way your face showed all the pleasure he was giving you. The man was certain he could come untouched just from having you ride his face. You had different ideas, however. He whimpered when you put your weight back on your hands and lifted your cunt from his face. He even tried to pull you back, but you slipped from his arms and sat further away, on his waist.

Your pupils were blown so wide, only a tiny strip of your iris was visible and you were breathing hard. Paul felt your wetness mixing with the pre-cum on his stomach and it pushed him ever so closer to his peak. “I want you inside,” you said between rapid breaths, your voice no longer a command or a direction, it was a plea. “I’m not going to last,” Paul replied, barely recognising his own voice. You smiled at him from above, a drunken smile, white teeth contrasting with your flushed cheeks: “Yeah, me neither…” His hands took a hold of your hips and then travelled north, over your sides, sliding behind to stroke up your back until they reached your neck. He pulled you down, gently and connected your lips. His mouth, nose, cheeks and chin were all wet with your arousal and Paul wasted no time in pushing his tongue into your mouth, fucking it like he fucked your hole.

“How?” he asked after you had to part for breath. You thought for a moment, pleasure clouding your mind: “From behind, please.” Paul nodded and you went to change your positions. In the end, you were on your hands and knees, pushing your bum up into the air. Paul’s hands were spreading your cheeks apart, his thumbs parting your sopping wet folds and revealing your pink entrance. A tiny drop of arousal slipped out and rolled down your aching sex. “Oh, fuck ,” groaned Paul and moved forward once more, chasing the drop with his tongue and licked a long stripe between your labia. You shuddered and your head dropped forward: “Please Paul, please just take me already!” you were openly begging now, last bits of your dominance melting under the need for release, the need to be filled.

The priest climbed over you, his chest resting on your back and one of his hands moving to turn your head to him. When you did, he kissed you again, softly at first, but then he once more pushed his tongue past your lips and, at the same time, pushed his hard cock into your warmth. He easily slid all the way in on the first thrust and you had to pull away from his kiss to gasp and throw your head back. Your fingers dug into the mattress and a shiver ran through you. The priest filled you so perfectly you could cry. He gave you a few moments to adjust, but then his hips snapped harshly and you very nearly fell forward, all the while releasing a pathetic needy whimper.

Paul grabbed your face now and kissed you again, his other arm sneaking under your body to take a hold of your shoulder from below, and with that he began thrusting. His hold of you allowed him to deliver deep, hard thrusts while keeping you in place, all yours for him to take. The kiss was positively filthy, all tongues and saliva, shuddering whimpers and needy whines. “L-look at you, taking my cock so well…” said father Paul against your mouth, the snapping of his hips becoming faster, “like you were b-built to take me, and only me. I-I’ll, ah! Oh God, fuck! I’ll fill you so good, pump your pretty little h-hole so full of cum.” It was your turn to produce a very whorish sound as your eyes closed in rapture.

It drove you mad when father Paul talked dirty. Words that would sound crude from anyone else made your cunt clench on its fleshy intruder when they were spoken by him. You didn’t know why it was, perhaps it was the way his rich voice kept breaking, maybe it was the fact the pleasure he was feeling made him stutter. Maybe it was because he spoke them while kissing you, looking at you with such wonder and adoration. You were so close, your and his arousals were seeping out of your clenching heat and running down your thigh, and you felt blissful tears in your eyes. His hand finally released your face and stroked down your body, over your bouncing breasts and down your belly before it found its goal.

His fingers harshly pressed against your lovebud and your arms finally gave out. With a moan you fell forward and your face hit the mattress. Your hands were in front of you, scrambling for anything to hold on to, before they found the pillow and you buried your fingers into it, knuckles soon going white. Paul’s pace was brutal now and he ground himself into you, his bollocks slapping into the back of your thighs, his shaft hidden within you completely, all the while he carried on with the merciless attacks on your clit. You could no longer moan, only able to release small wretched whimpers as your lover pounded into you with reckless abandon. Your whimpers, his moans, the skin slapping against skin wetly all echoed through the mostly empty space, sounding extremely obscene and the air was filled with the smell of sex.

Paul leaned down and pressed open mouth kisses on your neck, shoulder, cheek, everywhere he could reach. “I’m so c-close, my angel. Come on, c-cum for me,” he said, his voice an octave higher and flicked over your clit hard. Your toes curled and your back arched, and you came so hard you nearly lost vision. Your walls squeezed the priest’s manhood in a vice grip and that was all he needed as he sheathed himself into you completely once more and released. He shuddered out a long groan and ropes of hot cum filled you, so very deep you could almost feel them in your belly. He shallowly thrusted as he was riding out his second orgasm that day, pushing his seed even deeper into you.

You lay boneless, too exhausted, too fucked out to move. The priest pressed more kisses against your shoulder and then pulled his softening member out of you, making you wince. He fascinatedly observed your still gaping, fluttering entrance as pearly cum began weeping out of it. He used his fingers to catch a few drops and push them into his mouth. Then he gathered more of your mixed releases and held the hand in front of your face, your head still on the mattress. You obediently opened your mouth, sucked the cum off his fingers and swallowed. Finally, your lover lowered his head to catch the escaping proof of your passion from your thigh before pushing it back inside of you with his tongue. You whined miserably, overstimulation and the sting from your wild coupling making you shy away from Paul’s soft tongue.

He took mercy on you and helped move you on your side on the mattress, your head on the pillow. He lied beside you and covered the both of you with the blanket you brought earlier. His strong arms enveloped you and you nuzzled into his neck, breathing in his usual scent mixed with the unmistakable smell of physical pleasure. You couldn’t stay long, of course, you already felt Paul’s come dripping out of you, and your thighs were getting sticky with the drying remains of seed your lover hasn't licked away. Right now, though, you were simply happy to be held and cuddled by him while you came down from your high, your bodies calming and cooling, brains regaining control of higher functions once more.

“You okay?” Paul asked after a while, his voice back to normal. “Yeah,” you whispered back and pressed a kiss on the mark you made earlier, “are you?” His fingers began combing through your hair softly and he sighed happily: “Couldn’t be better. Though, I’m not looking forward to putting on those pants again,” his nose crinkled cutely, “even if it’s just for the walk home.” You giggled quietly.

You got a little cleaned up in the rec centre’s restroom and wrapped your filthy underwear in some paper towels. You both decided going commando for the short walk back to the rectory was more agreeable than the mess you made of the undergarments. To be safe, you also pulled the sheets off the mattress to take with you, the pillow and blanket as well. A quick cycle in the washing machine and no one will be the wiser. Paul opened all the windows to get the heavy odour of sex out and you both inspected the floor for any proof of your little tryst. Feeling content nobody would ever know, you finally left the recreation centre, turned off the lights and locked the doors from the outside. Darkness fell while you were seeking the pleasure of each other’s arms, and the only sound around was the crashing of waves from the shore and a light gust of wind blowing through the wooded area behind the rectory.

You made your way to Paul’s little home, holding hands and enjoying the sounds of night. Once inside, you kissed his upper lip and excused yourself, so you could go load the washing machine in his bathroom. He joined you there not five minutes later, pressing his warm body against your back and gently curling his arms around your waist. He began pressing small butterfly kisses on your neck, while you fiddled with the washing cycles. You turned in his arms once you finally set one and the machine’s deep rumbling tore through the quiet. You reciprocated the kisses slowly. “Mhm… shower?” he offered. You smiled against his neck.

Hiya, I hope you enjoyed reading the 4.8k words of unashamed p0rn, because I sure enjoyed writing it :3 If you’d like, check out this story and the entire series on my AO3. I love feedback so much, if I’d love it any more I’d propose to it <3

[tosxah]

Slow soft moments were hard to come by. But only for lack of trying. Stagnation made his insatiable need for violent stimulation go wild; the copper taste of blood was his alcoholism. Yet in the quiet of the night, in the warmth of her radient company, his itch was soothed, the poison ivy on his soul loosened it's grip and there was something like peace.

Childe listened to each tender word that fell from her lips, a traveller's tale of life so fondly lived. Part of him envied it. She could just seek and run without anything holding her back. Well, there was this situation with her brother... He couldnt imagine what he'd do if his family became so far out of reach he was forced to traverse all of Teyvat in search for them. He'd sooner burn every village and slaughter every passer by than accept the idea of not seeing them again... the longing in her voice made him wonder how far from that prospect she could be.

In honesty, his ability to distinguish one set of stars from the rest was never really his forte. His own, sure, but to get a better understanding he scooched closer, so close his head was practically on her shoulder as he followed her finger as it traced the sky.

Almost on queue, he turned his head too, facing her in the darkness of the moons heavy gaze. She was closer, as close almost as they had been when they danced. What an honour it is to fight someone as strong as her, to dance in the arms of someone as beautiful as her, to even hold a moment of her finite time felt like an infinity of itself. "Not at all." Childe had been staring, almost as though the longer he poured himself into the honey of her hues the closer to her he could be, the more he could loose himself to another abyss. He licked his lips and continued, "I spend more time away from my family than I do with them. It's been that way since the day I went to join the Fatui. I was only 14. Two years later and I'm a Harbinger." He let out a little chuckle at his own triumph. His gaze turned back to the heavens above, the inky sky made him think of the Abyss, the inifitne blackness. There were no stars there. Just demons beyond his child's mind's comprehension. Where Ajax became Childe. Where his desires and depravity were tested. What was it Skirk had said? 'If you gaze for long into an Abyss, the Abyss will gaze into you'. "The youngest Harbinger, that's why they call me 'Childe'... I think my family were happy my- 'energy' was being spent on something more 'productive'." He couldnt cause his poor Batya issues if he was off fighting for the Tsarista. And what an honour too, he thinks it might be the only time in his life his father was ever proud of him. Tonya and Tuecer would probably love him less if they saw him more too... At least that's how his older siblings felt about him. And Mama... she was a strong woman. 7 kids, a sick husband, a damaged son. She carried it all like it was never a burden.

Childe turned his head back to look at her, he could smell her faint scent over the grass and night breeze. She was so close he could kiss her. Gods how he wanted to kiss her. "You'll find him."

As every time Childe was by her side, the ocean shifted the tides of that world, the air thinning around them. Or perhaps was it just her lungs thta found it harder to breath? She felt the grass move around her, his heat radiating from his arm that was barely brushing against hers as he took place next to her on the ground.

"Will you now?" the corner of her lips raised, her eyes searching for Aether's constellation on the night sky. "I guess I will really need to be there to make sure your words are not just pure arrogance" her line of sight fell towards his features, but only with the corner of her eye "As you're usual to let things get over your head." words spilled from her lips like pure honey. There was no trace left of that cynicism that once followed her once towards a Harbingers that had almost taken her own life.

Every night she had looked up at the sky surrounding Teyvat, every time searching for answers that plagued her mind. However, for how much she searched, she never received any response from it.

Almost as if the universe itself had abandoned her completely.

A comfortable silence fell between them, she only agreed to his comment in her mind. Surely Teyvat was extremely small compared to the view she had seen travelling between galaxies, finding world after world to explore by her brother's side.

Finally, she found Aether's constellation, always right by her own. In Fontaine it seemed like they were slightly further east compared to Sumeru.

"Me and my brother used to do this every night" Her voice was as soft as the scent of rainbow roses, nostalgia washing over as she recalled those times by her family's side "we would point at the star we would like to visit one day, wondering what kind of adventures we'd get into. Pondering of what new landscapes we would be able to witness." each word was heavy with nostalgia, each memory sitting like a stone in her stomach, dragging her further down in the depths of a sea she didn’t know how to swim into.

"That's my constellation." Her index pointed up east "and that's my brother's one." She went quiet once again, chewing thoughts that she always struggled to voice out loud.

"I always hope we can at least look at the same sky. It makes me feel closer to him, knowing that even if we are apart our constellations will bring us back together one day." Her small fingers clutched at the fabric of her dress, her eyes reflecting the stars above her. "Is that a silly thing to say?" She turned her heard towards her company, the moonlight illuminating his sharp features.

[diedbutterflies69]

Drunk in love- Bang Chan imagine.

This is pure imagination. Minors don't interct.

Contains: explicit stuff fingering, blowjob, sex etc.

Red lights mv is the reason for this imagine.

Being alone never bothered you until now. Being alone at a place you don't belong. Sitting in An expensive night club, after quitting your job you decided to have time for yourself and do all the things you missed out so and the sixteenthth goal of your list was drinking in the city's most stunning and expensive club, you decided to get Fully wasted while slurping various wines, champagne, sweet Mimosa etc. but after seeing the price you realised that the one shot of vodka's price was equivalent to your whole month's grocery budget.

So yeah this is how you were struck, with a beautiful woman who gave you rich CEO vibes slightly drunk and was ranting about some buisness stuff you barely knew.

And she was really something else so damn pretty, elegant even her voice was sexy even though you were quite straight you wouldn't hesitate to be her sugar baby cause Money .

You don't understand how a powerful women like her was being so vulnerable infront of you, maybe because you helped her fixing her expensive backless dress, which was on edge of tearing, who didn't expect her to give you such a great treatment and open up to you. It has been 2 hours since you have been with that stunning women, but now you were really tired and was just wished to go to your nest. While being deep in your thoughts that women whose name was Sana (pretty people have pretty name too) her phone ranged .

" hey, your phone is ringing", you said her softly resulting her in giving a whiny look.

" whoever that is calling can suck fuck itself, you hear me , ignore it", Sana said after silencing her phone and again giving you some great intellectual knowledge.

The phone may have vibrated more than 6 times before Sana decided to to pick it and you again knew however was on the other line will be hearing tons of unique insults now ..

"hello, Bang I am absolutely fine and just having drinks with my new found friend, you relax and go, bye" Sana said screaming her lungs out as the music was hella loud. You were quite surprise by how kind she sounded, She called someone Bang as far you remembered , Must be someone special to her you thought.

"who was it? ", You asked her cautiously trying to not appear too nosy. In answer to your question she gave you a big smile and continuing " My little brother, you already know what kind of shit I am going through so he just worried for me, I am lucky right?", While describing her little bro there was a big smile on her beautiful face and yeah she surly was lucky cause the brother you had was a druggist because of whom you used to get really low on money back in days. And now the phone again rung and she picked up guess she really hated how the person on other side of line was feeling.

"Hello again", Sana said her voice really tired and vulnerable. You guessed that person on the other side asked her where she was as she said the club's name next. You really hate this club from the depth of your heart, cause you didn't got any alcohol to taste nor good food. You were bought back to reality As Sana yelled at the person who was on phone.

"I will kill you if you come here", Damn Sana sounded 1999 times more dangerous now and you were scared to death. But a little glad as someone was coming to pick her up and that meant you can go back to your dead apartment too.

"Guess he will eventually come here, I should just get fully wasted than hearing his boring lecture" Sana said after cutting the call , she signalled a waiter to your table and ordering some great quality of alcohol. Yess finally you could too get a little raste too of that sweet paradise drink, you were internally screaming as the waiter bought some nice too good to be true shots. Sana immediately gulping down three shot one after another means she just swallowed your three months grocery.

Now pushing your urge to atleast try one shot, you stopped Sana from getting wasted and distracting . Once again you killing your desires, after about 20 minutes you saw a drop dead gorgeous Man approaching your and Sana's table . That man was wearing an expensive black suit you could feel his intimidating aura even from a distance, his eyes darker than your future, even in those blurry red lights you can easily notice every feature of that hot stranger. You were bought back to reality when that stranger straight up goes to Sana who was little wasted but still sane. You salute her alcohol tolerance level.

" you fine?" The man asked Sana, now you were sure that he was Sana's little bro but you didn't thought by little she meant such a great human with outstanding body proportions. He was so sexy you were internally drowling over that sexy human's visuals.

" You seriously came here? Damn I love my brother so much", Sana said in her voice clearly indicating how drunk she was. She was smiling adorably at her bro but he looked at her with a annoyed gaze.

"get up, let me take you to your house, come", the stranger said and helped Sana to get up from her seat, which made her stumbled and now you clearly knew her alcohol tolerance level was trash, she wasn't able to even stand without any support . Your hands reached her waist in attempt to save her from falling. And that action finally made the man to look at you . your heartbeat increased so much just by his mere gaze at you . And for the first time in night he talked to you.

"who are you", he asked you . Ouch, that was an obvious question to ask but you were disappointed because how boring and uninterested his tone was with you while with Sana he sounded so fuckin caring. But regardless gulping down your nervousness, you replied to him politely.

"umm, I helped Sana slightly and from then we are talking", you knew your explanation was just trash but it atleast made that man realise that you were the 'new found friend' who Sana described on call.

"Okay, can you help me carry her back till parking lot?", The Stanger asked you, his voice now laced up with little gratitude and expectation. You simply nodded your head and wrapped Sana's one arm to your shoulder and helped her walking while that man went to pay the bill.

At parking lot you were standing with a little dead women, while waiting for him , all you saw at parking lot was beautiful and costly cars, something which you won't be able to afford it this lifetime. You never felt this much out of place before. That man's presence bought you back to reality, again feeling insecure as you standed next to Sana. She was a goddess and her brother an alluring devil.

He didn't spoke much to you and simply helped you carry Sana to the Car.

Now, an overdramatic old aged man coming out of car, which you think you knew, her deceased husband's dad, Sana had gave you her whole family history , future and economic information, apparently that old man treated Sana as his own daughter and today Sana lost the lawsuit related to her late husband's death and that was the reason for Sana's mad women behaviour today. That old man looked as Sana and it seemed like he was controlling his urge to cry, but nevertheless got inside the car with her to tired to even thank you.

Now here's when the fun begins. You were left alone alone with that alluring devil. But you sadly knew he wasn't even interested in you even 1 % so you got ready to go back to your nest and started walking until..

"wait!, Let me drop you to your home please", he said and wooow how could you say no to that glamorous offer as it was too late at night to get a bus and too hard to get a cab. You acted like a little hesitant but eventually said yes, as you didn't knew how less time it will take him to take back his offer. Following him to his car And again your jaw almost dropped it was the hottest car you ever seen in your life. And it was honour for you to get a chance to be inside it. The man opened the door for you, you not being sure if he was being a gentleman or to was preventing you to touch his car, but nevertheless you got inside it the temperature was warmer inside the car and the air freshener was doing a great job. He got on driving seat next to you and started driving.

After exiting the parking lot he asked for your address, and you just told him to drop next to bus stop cause the building you lived was apparently more like a abandoned haunted place.

he didn't forced you for further answers and started driving to your direction.

You were lost in admiring the Stranger's car from inside and literally got startled by his deep voice.

"listen, can I please drop you somewhere , your place is too far from here, I need the go somewhere today", he said you and your mood literally dropped, yeah it was true that you lived far away from club it took you 3 hours to reach there in traffic, so swallowing your disappoint you replied.

"it's okay, drop me here only", you didn't knew why your voice was so weak at the moment maybe because you wanted a little bit kindness from that man but he just ruined your every expectation.

"I am sorry, but there is another option too" that man said to when you were getting ready to yeet yourself out of his useless expensive car.

"you gonna call cab for me, no thanks I will look for it " you Said and you didn't expect to sound rude. You thought now that man will now won't hesitate to throw you out of window.

But in response he smiled, for first time in night but his smile a little evil.

"no, I meant you can spend the night at my house", he said voice laced up with nothing but purness.

And your heart stopped. Spending a night at someone else house and that someone was a dangerous devil. You immediately said no to his tempting offer but

"Please,it doesn't make me feel good to drop off a such a fantastic women of my car and you even helped my sister, I should repay your kindness, please.."

You were more than just shocked, whatever he just said was something you least expected, he fucking called me gorgeous you thought and your heart literally flied in the sky.

"no, it's okay please drop me here", you said impatiently, the nervousness kicking you on head.

"Relax, I am not gonna do anything to you, don't be afraid" he said you in such a calm tone fully opposite of his devil like demonor, you immediately melted and tried to consider his offer, his house won't be less than any luxury hotel and you being you..

"are you comfortable, letting a stranger in your house?" You asked him honestly you didn't wanted to make yourself a burden to that man. In response to your question the stranger let out a soft chuckle.

"forget me,are you comfortable being in some Stranger's house?", He asked you with strange curious tone. You honestly didn't knew the answer.

"Yes, I am comfortable, you only told you won't do anything so", your voice coming out softer a little innocent. He smiled at your answer, somehow satisfied.

"So should I take car to my house?", He asked you again, damn you wanted to shout a big ass yes, but suppressed the desire by simply nodding. And so the stranger reversed the car back to his house direction.

"what's your name ?", He asked you, looking at you finally he initiated a conversation.

"Y/N, what's your name?", You asked him.

"Chan", he simply replied.

"nice", you said and again silence. You were a super awkward person and that fact wasn't hided from Chan.

"What do you do for living?", Chan asked after some second and you frowned upon hearing that question.

"I am sorry, if it was too personal", he quickly noticed your behaviour you tried to say something "No, I am just unemployed at the moment and I am writer, yes writer", you replied what you said wasn't completely a lie you used to write some articles back in past but your recent job from which you quitted was at a restaurant.

"Wow, writers are amazing, it's great make people connect to your work", Chan complimented you for something you really didn't did. Still you took it and smiled back.

" your work must be tough sir, balancing off an company ain't easy", you complimented Chan back.

" Sana must have told you about what I do, right?", Chan asked you to which you nodded.

Again silence and in 5 minutes the car stopped infront of a skyscraper.

Rich people really live in sky. You thought.

"here we are", Chan said after opening the door for you and handing off the keys to guard.your neck almost got twisted to see end of the building.

"Done looking?", Chan asked you slightly waving his hand infront your face and damn he was veiny. Having a thing for hands was definitely your thing and Chan must have noticed your hungry gaze on his hands but didn't said anything .

"yeah let's go", you replied and started walking with him.

You both entered in heavantor. And again the same awkward air surrounding you both. Maybe it was sexual tension in Chan's mind which you scrapped off as awkward.

"Do you perhaps... Have a boyfriend?", Chan asked with a little hesitation in his, and for the first time in your whole life you got this nervous, he didn't proposed you but his question was very suggestive.

"no I don't, do you have girlfriend?", You answered and asked back.

"No", Chan answered and again silence.

"why you asked?", You again questioned him

"To know if I can make you interested in me or not", Chan said back a proud smirk dancing on his face and you were dead. He said something bold so confidently your mind pure hazey now.before you could say something the doors of hellevator opened.

"let's go", Chan said immediately getting out like he just didn't almost gave you heartattack. Nevertheless you followed him.

He put on the passcode and you both entered in his luxurious house. The house something you didn't expect. Dark, just as much dark as your future, but it looked freaking classy.

Chan showed you a room, to spend a night, but you noticed how he was holding back from something and as well as you. And you knew it was now or never.

"I am already interested in you, why would you want to make me though?", You asked if you thought it was bold but you stuttered as much as students who gave presentations.

But Chan find it alluring about you. Cliché but, he was too in daze after meeting you. And now finally his wish coming true. He smiled and come a little too close to you.

"Because, I am really interested in kissing your beautiful lips", Chan said , if this line would be came out of any normal guy then it would be to cringy, But Chan was your alluring hot devil and fantasy, someone so beautiful interested in me you thought. you tried to say the first thing that came to your mind.

"Then kiss.. me", You said the last word almost like a whisper , Chan smirked at you, you were literally his ideal type he knew you weren't innocent but ironically you were.

Chan's hand reached your cheek and made you look at him, being too embarrassed you avoided his eyes.

"Look at me, Y/N", Chan almost said as a whisper. Gathering your scattered courage you finally managed to look in to Chan's eyes and his eyes were .. scary.

"I can kiss you, right?", Chan again asked you and you sweared nothing is as hot as consent. You nodded a yes to him.

"Baby, use your words", Chan said the word baby rolled of his tongue so erotically.

"Yes", you said not breaking the eye contract.

"is it okay to Call me sir?", He asked you, now you were dead sure that this man was Kinky af. And you won't be surprised if he had a tons of chain in his bedroom.

"Kiss me, Sir", you said literally feeling so submissive to him. A last smile Chan gave you before his lips touched yours and the butterflies in your stomach exploded. His lips were soft, but the kiss wasn't he sucked at your bottom lip almost painfully and when his tongue entered your mouth, butterflies again exploded, his tongue doing wonders in your mouth , you didn't even knew a kiss so deep, so sensual can happen. With Chan's right hand at back of your neck ,the other one reached down to squeeze your hand in a tight yet sensual grip you finally feeling those veins and the kiss getting more heated.

"let's continue this in bedroom, Chan said after finally breaking the kiss to catch breath, he lifted you up in his arms and it felt so fuckin great, he was so strong even though you were little heavy Chan showed no sign of uneasiness. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and while he carried you to his bedroom, you never felt this much safe in anyone's arms as much as this hot Stranger's.

He put you down while unlocking his door, after unlocking he again carried you and softly laid you down on his grey bedsheets. His room was a mix of grey and blue a little weird but you didn't got much time to explore as Chan immediately started his ministrations on your body. He was a great man who believed in foreplay supremacy.

"Aah", you moaned a little as he sucked at your neck the little sound of yours making his dick painfully hard. He got on his knees towering your frame.

"Can your mouth handle this?", Chan asked you pointing at his memeber and were glad to give him a positive answer. Getting up, you undid his belt and removed both his pants and briefs simultaneously, Chan looking at you like a animal the whole time. The moment his erection was visible to you , you were beyond shock, he was so fucking big he won't obviously fit in your mouth, but you didn't wanted to disappoint Chan so you slowly entered the tip of cock in your mouth going little by little back and forth slowly till it was deep enough to hit the back of your throat. You slightly gagged and that sended shivers to Chan's spin ,to get that feeling again his hand wrapped around hair and detaching you from his cock.

"will you be comfortable, if I go rough?", Chan again asked you , and without any second thought you said yes to him. After being satisfied with your answer, he immediately tightened his grip on your hair and shoved you back on his cock, his tip directly coming in contract with back of your throat and a gagged being heard, you didn't expect him to be this rouf but it was such a turn on for you. You stumbled a little as he was ramming himself inside you hands gripping on to his thighs for support. He wasn't moaning too much but grunting and occasional deep breaths.

"Fuck, you have wonderful mouth babe, so fucking perfect", Chan praised you that resulted in your pussy skipping a heartbeat and encouraging you to go Even deeper.

Your one hand coming in contact with his balls which maybe was his string before cumming. He was grunting too much which meant he was close .

"keep going babe, I am gonna cum inside your mouth, will it be okay?", Chan asked and to affirm him you just increased the speed.

"don't let it fall" , Chan said and after a few seconds he bursted in your mouth, a warm feeling welcoming inside your throat and just as Chan commanded you swallowed it all without letting his seeds fall. After fully empting himself inside your mouth Chan removed his cock from your mouth.

"let out your tongue", Chan commanded you in his breathless voice you immediately following his words. Slowly removing your tongue.

You looked so submissive to Chan, the perfect person to fuck he wished to fuck. Chan spitted inside your mouth, your eyes widen on his sudden such a filthy yet hot action.

"Swallow it, babe", Chan said voice fully filled with lust. You obeyed him without any hesitation, whatever Chan was doing to you made you feel like being on cloud nine.

Chan again made you lie on the matteress , him staring at you from top, ever so submissive. Chan's hand directly reached your Fully clothed breasts his mere action made you whimper, your small little sounds were giving him so much satisfaction.

"so fucking sensitive", Chan said to himself as he his fingers were dancing on top of your breast. To eager to see your naked body, he slightly tilted your body to undo the dress zipper after successfully removing it he undid your bra next. Your breasts immediately being exposed to his eyes and Chan just lost his sanity, immediately slapping your right breast as an instict,. You moaned loudly at the sudden pain but it was pleasurable enough to make your panties wet.

"Do you like it, you like being gropped and slapped ,huh?", Chan asked you and your head in pure haze .

"yes sir I like it", you breathlessly said causing Chan to smirk , he loved to know what kind of effect he had on your body and mind. After twisting and slapping your nipples Chan finally decided to take them inside his mouth and paint them with beautiful marks. You were questioning his real identity at this moment his teeth felt like Some wolf was devouring you but it was damn pleasurable.

You were a moaner even a screamer during sex , which fueled Chan's lust to give you even more pleasure.

Being done with your boobs now Chan's hands reached your most sensitive part. He wasn't really surprised to know how much wet you were down there when his hands cupped your pussy through the panties.

"my baby is dripping, who caused her wetness?", Chans asked you in dangerous tone you just moaned at his words but he harshly slapped your cunt.

"I asked a question, answer it", Chan warned you his sudden rude tone again surprising you you stuttered as you answered him .

"you sir, I am dripping because of you", you answered Chan and he was satisfied. He entered his middle finger inside your pussy with through the cloth, the harsh texture of cloth making you moaned out. He removed your panties and without a warning entered his 2 fingers inside you and twisting them ever so harshly , Chan was a sex God.

And it was just the beginning of night.

Thanks for reading ❤️.

[mrsavery]

I am not going anywhere

Massimo Torricelli x Reader

Warning: Smut, curse words, fighting.

Summary: You are Massimo’s mistress that he fucks every night wants. One day you get enough and want to leave, because you have fallen in love with him.

Words: 2329

Note: The text in cursive means that they are having a conversation in Italian.

You had enough of him, of his body, voice, and touch. You were tired of not being able to be his, not being able to call him yours, not being able to tell how much he meant to you. The last few months were filled with pain and sadness, as he continued to come and go in the nights. He did not see the pain in your eyes, the tears that fell after he was gone. You were just a toy for him that he used whenever he wanted.

It all started with a one-night stand two years ago. You were on a family vacation and decided to walk around the city alone, while your parents and siblings decided to go shopping. You never liked shopping, and as usual you went your own way. The city was magical, and you spent hours walking around, taking pictures, and learning more about the history from a few guides that were with a group of tourists.

Around six in the evening you decided to finally return to your hotel and meet your family for a diner. On your way there you were too distracted by the beautiful pictures on your phone that you ran in the man.

“Please forgive me!” You said in Italian without looking up. You had learned Italian in school, and this one of the rare places where you could use it. Nobody in your family spoke Italian, since you decided to learn it instead of German, and in your country, there was no need to use this language.

When you moved away and looked in the eyes of the man you had run into, you were taken aback by his features. He had short, midnight black hair and piercing brown eyes that bore into your soul and made your knees weak. He was powerful and dangerous, you could see that by his posture, clothes and two bodyguards behind hm.

You did not want to get into trouble with this Italian god, so you apologize again, ignoring his hands on your waist and butterflies in your stomach. “I am truly sorry for running into you. I was in my own world and did not watch where I was going. If there is anything I can do – “

His hand moved from your waist to your arm, and you stopped talking. “Go out with me.” He said and with that everything started.

You spent almost every night of your vacation with him, and when it was time to leave, Massimo persuaded you to stay. Your family supported your choice, but made you promise that you would fly home and visit them as often as you could. As they left, you found a nice and affordable place in the city, ignoring the fact that Massimo wanted to pay for it. You had stayed here not only because of Massimo, but because of yourself too. You knew that Italy would be the best place for you to find yourself, be yourself and most importantly be happy. Back in home you did not feel happy, but here things were different.

You got the job as an architect and divided your time between it and Massimo. He came every night, sometimes took you to his house and sometimes took you out on dates. Soon enough your one-night stand had changed into an arrangement where you spent each night with him. No strings attached, no feelings involved, no sleeping with other people.

Without realizing, you had fallen for him. You loved everything about him, his voice, his eyes, his touch… everything. As your day went, you thought about Massimo and counted hours to see him. When he was getting ready to leave you in early mornings, you silently prayed for him not to leave, but Massimo never stayed.

The few last months were hell for you because your feelings grew stronger and stronger, and you were not able to stop them. This whole thing was hurting you, and you decided to do the only thing you could to make the pain go away – leave.

You were almost done packing your things when your doorbell rang. It was two in the day, and you had taken a day off to pack your things and write a goodbye letter for Massimo, knowing that you will not be able to look into his eyes. You walked to your front door, wiped away the tears that had fallen, and opened doors without asking. Massimo had made sure that you lived in a safe neighborhood and that no one would ever try to lay a finger on you.

You cursed under your breath when you realized that the person in front of you was Massimo. He changed all your plans, and with him here it will be harder to leave, but you will have to do it. There was no other way how to end the pain in your heart. “What are you going here?” You asked him.

“This is not how you greet me, baby girl!” He said louder that he was usually talking and stormed in the apartment. “Are you going anywhere?”

You rolled your eyes and closed the doors. “I am leaving.”

These three words made Massimo stop and turn around to face me. “What do you mean? Where are you going?”

“Home.” You moved around the room and stood in front of a carbon box, where you had put all the things Massimo had given to you over the two years. You took it in your hands and went to Massimo who was watching you with a furious expression. “Here are all the things you have given to me. I am returning them all to you.” That made him angrier.

Massimo took the box out of your hands and threw it on the floor near your feet. “You are not going anywhere, [Y/N]!”

“You don’t have any right to tell me what I can or cannot do!” You shouted in reply.

He walked closer to you, but you took a step back. “Baby girl, you are forgetting who I am and what can I do.”

You laughed and moved even further away from him. You were not afraid of him, and you will not let him get under your skin. “I don’t care who you are, Massimo. The only person who would have any right to say something in this case would be my husband, but I do not have him, so I am making my own decisions. I am leaving, and nothing is going to stop me from doing that.”

Massimo was even angrier than before. If a look could kill, you would be dead right now. It took him two second to be in front of you and trap you between his body and the wall. “What are you – “

“Shut the fuck up!” He almost shouted in your face. Now you were scared. You have never seen Massimo like this, and it was scaring you. “You are not going anywhere; do you understand me? You. Are. Not. Going. Anywhere.”

You closed your eyes, without wanting to look at his beautiful but painful face. You were on the edge of crying, and you did not want him to see you crying, because you did not want to look weak in front of him. You were strong, and you knew it, and because of that you decided to leave this all behind.

“Why are you doing this to me?” You whispered in the silent room. The only thing that could be heard were our breaths.

“Why are you leaving?” He asked me in return.

“Don’t you see it? Are you really that blind?” You opened your eyes and let the tears fall. This was not the way how you imagined telling him about your feelings. You never imagined telling him about your feelings at all, since you were just a fuck buddy for him. Your eyes met his dark ones, and you poured your heart our through the tears. “I am fucking in love with you, Massimo! And I cannot keep letting you to fuck me every night and then leave, knowing that you will never love me! I am tired of crying my heart out every night, I cannot -”

Massimo did not let you finish, because he kissed you with a force. His hands went around your waist, and he pressed you harder into his embrace. You tried pushing him away, but his hold on you was too strong.

“Stop fighting me, woman!” Massimo said, after you did bite hard onto his lower lip, resulting with blood coming from the wound.

“Then let me go, jerk!” You fought against his hold, but not every single one of your attempts changed the situation. You were still in his arms, and Massimo was a long way away from letting you go.

“Never, my love, never.” Massimo moved his face closer to yours, and this time you did not protest, knowing that it would not change anything. You were trapped under his strong body, without a chance to get free. Tears were still falling from your cheeks, but Massimo managed to wipe them away with his hand.

He looked into your eyes. “I love you. I have loved you from the moment you ran into my arms that day.” Massimo smiled, moved his head closer to mine and pressed a light kiss on my forehead. “I thought that you would never love me, and that is why I continued to come here every night. I could not let you go, and, at the same time, I could not reveal my feelings for you. I was afraid that you would – “

You could not believe what he was saying. Massimo, the man you thought would never love you, admitted his feelings for you. He was in love with you, and it was everything to you. You forgot about your plans, about the position you were in, about time and place. You forgot everything and did the only thing that felt right at that moment – you kissed Massimo, pouring all your love into the kiss.

You moved your hands from his chest and wrapped them around his neck to move his head closer to yours. Your lips started to move in one rhythm, and you opened your mouth to allow Massimo’s tongue to enter. As you continued to kiss, he took you in his arms and moved to the bed.

“Fuck the clothes!” With one fast movement Massimo threw your suitcase off the bed, and all your things fell on the floor.

You helped to take of his black dress shirt by ripping it apart. The buttons flew everywhere, and it made Massimo chuckle. He freed you of your shirt and then shorts, leaving you only in your gray underwear. You were able to see desire in his eyes, as he took a step back to take of his pants and look at your body.

You bit your lower lip at the view in front of you. A hot and very naked Italian god was standing in front of you, ready to take you. Scars and tattoos covered his body and made him look even hotter in your eyes. “Such a tease.” Massimo groaned, as he climbed over you.

You felt his member against your wet core and that turned you on even more. You closed your eyes, as his hands started to move over your stomach, towards your breasts. Massimo grabbed your breasts through the bra, and you pulled his hair when he bit into your neck.

While he was kissing your bare neck and shoulders and at the same time massaging your breasts, you grew impatient. Massimo moved lower and lover, and his lips found your breasts. He took of your underwear and took your left nipple in his mouth. He sucked and bit it, and with every movement you pulled his hair harder and harder.

While he continued to tease you by kissing and licking your body, you grew impatient and squeezed his member with your hand. Massimo hissed in return and stopped his actions, only to move higher and meet your lips. “I. Want. You. Now. Massimo.” You said between kisses and pressed your lower body closer to his. You were ready and wet for him. 

With one fast movement he trusted into you. Your walls wrapped themselves around his body, and you both moaned from the sensation. This was the first time when Massimo was inside you without any barrier. You could perfectly feel his long and hot member moving inside and outside you.

At this moment you did not care about getting pregnant. Everything was possible, and even if you would get pregnant, the baby would be loved by you and Massimo. You both had though about family together, but never talked about it loudly since both were afraid of rejection. You were afraid that he would leave you if you got pregnant, Massimo, on the other hand, was afraid that you would do an abortion.

Just like you, Massimo understood that from this moment everything changed, but most importantly, your relationship. You did know where this will go, but you knew only one thing – you will be in this together.

His trusts became faster and harder, and brought you closer to your release. “Let it go, baby girl.” Massimo groaned and then kissed you when you finally let it go and came. A Few trusts later he came too, spilling his hot seed inside you.

“I love you, Massimo.” You pressed a light kiss on his nose and smiled. “So, so much.”

Massimo took his member out and moved to the side to take you in his arms. Your head rested on his chest, and you felt his heartbeat under your hands. “You are my world, my everything. My heart is beating for you, and that is the reason why I cannot let you go.”

You moved your head to look at his face and with a smile said, “I am not going anywhere, not anymore.”

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Draw your swords, pt. 8

Summary: Forced to face their feelings, neither the Darkling nor his wife dare to speak them out loud. Influenced by Genya’s words, Y/N starts to wonder about her husband’s past.

Warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of alcohol, sexual content

Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four // Part five // Part six // Part seven  

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

As a young girl, Y/N often daydreamed about her first time. She believed it would be with a kind man who’d move mountains to find her if she called his name. Reality was quite different – this man wasn’t kind, but he’d burn the world for her.

Whether he realized it, she saw through him easily. The Darkling is a symbol, the fear surrounding his name is all for show because he’s not evil. In fact, she’d go as far as say he’s redeemable. Anyone capable of love is capable of being saved and while she didn’t know what he needed saving from, her heart told her he’ll need her. And she knew he cared, she felt it in the way he held her in that tent, and again in the way he’d touch her when he had all the power just the night before.

Moving her head toward the other side of the bed, Y/N looked at her sleeping husband. His lashes are long, thick and dark, a beard that tickled her neck adorning his face. Asleep, his cheekbones were not as sharp, his face much more welcoming and relaxed. He didn’t seem as the formidable foe she imagined him to be.

Aleksander laid on his side, facing her. Pursing her lips, Y/N allowed her eyes to roam over him. His broad chest had a small area of dark, curling hair. His muscles are made large, shapely mounds. His arms are capped by a round, firm muscle. Biting her lower lip, her eyes continued down to his hard, flat stomach with faint lines forming separate areas of muscles, making her swallow thickly. It was only after a moment that her eyes went lower. What she saw did not seem so powerful as it felt the previous night, but as she watched, his manhood began to grow.

She gasped and her eyes flew back to his. He was awake, watching her intently with a smirk, his eyes growing darker by the moment. No longer was he the gentle man she had awakened to, but a man of passion, the general who showed her he was just as capable of leading a woman in the bed as he was of leading an army on the field.

Y/N tried to move away but Aleksander still held her trapped by her hair that strayed on his side, under his back. What was worse, she didn’t even want to fight him. Y/N recalled her plans for him clearly; but this was more than a plan she carelessly implemented. Everything was different now when she had the memory of his body and the pleasure he infused her with when he made love to her. Could that term even be applied to them, she wondered. Did he see it as making love or simply satisfying his needs?

“Stubborn wife,” he whispered and the tone of his voice made chills run along her arms. It’s more than the tone he used or the look of his dark eyes that had her insides turning, but the words he had spoken…it almost felt like a term of endearment coming from him.

Grimacing, she rolled her eyes at him, “Dreadful husband.”

Pursing his lips, he seemed amused rather than insulted.

She was right, their relationship has changed.

Irrevocably.

Last night she had thought she learned all there was to know about love between a man and a woman, but now she thought, perhaps she knew very, very little. There was much more to learn from this man and of this man and how to use that knowledge for her own gain, but right now? She just wanted to let herself go. She wanted to enjoy his company. For once, he was good-natured, playful even. She felt genuinely happy in their little bubble.

For a moment, Y/N wished to stay there. She wished he could always look at her as he is now.

She looked at him, his hair still a mess in the bright morning sunlight. She watched him intently, perplexed how he could look more handsome and more human than she’d ever seen him.

His eyes are nearly black as he pulls her to him again. He runs his tongue along her lips, touching the inner corners especially. She parted her teeth for him, desperate for a taste of him. He’s better than the richest honey; hot and cold, soft and firm. She explored his mouth as he had explored hers, no longer shy or reserved with him. How could she be when his fingers have delved lower, pushing inside her?

Gasping, she smiles against his lips. “Genya will be here soon”, she warns him.

"I don't fucking care", he insisted as he crashed into her, his arms wrapping around her like a cage she never wished to escape from. He brought his mouth on hers, inhaling her, "Do you even know what it feels like to be around you?! I can't", he paused as his arms drew away from her and she shuddered as he took the warmth they provided. With bruised lips, she watched as he ran his hand through what used to be perfectly tousled hair. Disheveled, he turns to her, "I can't breathe around you."

She chuckles at him, "Well, I am breathtakingly beautiful."

Rolling his eyes, the Darkling shakes his head, "Well, you're not unattractive. I'll concede on that."

She ran her hands over his back as he lowered his head to her neck, running his tongue along the pulsating beat of her carotid, the only friend he had in her – her pulse couldn’t hide how enamored or exhilarated he made her feel. Instinctively she leaned her head back, her breathing turning deeper, quicker.

When his lips and tongue touched her breasts, she nearly cried out. She thought perhaps she might die under such torture. Trying to pull his head back to her mouth failed as he gave a deep, guttural laugh that made her shiver, her insides turning with the sweet melody and her heart? Her heart felt warm, big and incredibly full.

Maybe he did own her.

A knock on the door had interrupted their bliss as Y/N stiffened, looking at the door in slight panic. If someone saw them right now, no one would doubt their marriage was a successful love match. They seemed happy, truly in love. That’s not how it was meant to be.

“Someone doesn’t value their life”, he grumbled under his breath. “GO AWAY!”

Clasping a hand over his mouth, she chuckled. “Who is it?!”

“General?” Ivan’s voice faded her smile instantly.

Even with Aleksander’s hands cupping her bottom, his body covering her and the door being shut, Y/N felt ashamed as if she was bare in front of the entire world.

“Unless the world is burning, leave me alone!” Pecking Y/N’s lips, he smirked, “I never get a peaceful morning anymore.”

Come to think of it, Y/N never found him in the bed when she woke up. This was the very first night they spent together and he stayed by her side. Considerate was never a word she’d use describing him before, but he is considerate, kind and incredibly cautious when it comes to her. It made her heart sink.

Hearing no word from Ivan, Aleksander’s hand moved. Caressing the inside of her thighs, he made her shake in desire. Holding her breath, she bit her lower lip. Still sore from the night before, she felt her stomach twist as he lined himself up with her entrance once more. Pushing himself inside, he captures her lips as she cries out. The pleasure is undeniable, but she couldn’t deny there was pain too. She clutched at him, her legs pressing around his waist as she rose to meet each thrust. Sweet torment he had inflicted felt as if it would split her in two - one Y/N to plot his demise and the other who’d never let him leave her bed.

Finally, when she was sure her heart would explode, she felt the pulsing throbs that released her and soon after, Y/N felt him speed up and his own release followed. Collapsing on top of her, Aleksander held her so close that she could hardly breathe. In that moment she didn’t really care if she ever did breathe again.

Aleksander didn’t move, still buried deep inside her as if she is his saving grace. It’s insane to think he could fuck her into submission and feelings. It was impossible to ignore the fact that she developed feelings for him, but that realization created doubts. Eventually, something will have to break – and the thought of hurting him suddenly felt too much to bear.

“Are you alright?” He moved her hair out of her face, remaining on top of her as if she’s a conquered territory he refused to leave.

Swallowing thickly, she nods. “Why aren’t you moving?”

Eyes widening, the Darkling felt heat rush to his face. He was trying to be sweet, to show her it was more than a quick fuck. It was indescribable for him – a dawn after a long night he’s lived in. No woman ever lessened the loneliness inside his heart and then she waltzed into his life. He couldn’t imagine living without her again. She was the northern star in his dark sky and he never wanted to leave.

“I should see Ivan about earlier”, he murmured, nearly wincing as he pulled out. She wrapped herself up in the sheets again, her eyes wide as she stared ahead, thinking about how badly she’s already failing her mission.

Frowning as she shifted, Y/N felt Aleksander’s semen leave her. She cleared her throat, her eyes watering. She felt disgusted with herself, like she needed her skin rubbed off with scalding hot water and peeled off if that didn’t work. She could feel him, smell him on every inch of her skin and the worst of it all? She loathed just how cold she felt when his arms weren’t wrapped around her. She absolutely detested how giddy her heart felt when she saw the shit-eating grin on his face as he brought her to climax.

“When will we visit the armies by the fold?” She asked, switching into the woman she is instead of the woman she’s molded into by his lips.

Impassive, he looked back at her as he worked on the buttons of his shirt. “Why? Don’t believe I’ve kept my word?”

It unnerved her just how cold his voice felt, how impersonal. Standing, she wrapped the nightgown around her body. Taking his kefta in her hands, she held it open for him to slip into.

His eyes flicker from the kefta to her, as if he’s confused as well. It felt odd not knowing their place now. Their previous dynamic was easy to settle into, bickering felt like second nature. Conversing without spewing venom brought unfamiliar discomfort mostly because they’d much rather return to the bed behind them. Leaving that room carried an unspoken possibility of their time together being nothing but a fluke – a onetime deal. The outside world carries responsibilities, the kind that places them on opposite sides of the war.

“Thank you”, he turns around, allowing her to help dress him. Wives do that, he realized. Loving wives help their husbands dress just as often as they help them undress. Husbands do the same for their wives – though he much preferred the undressing part.

He kissed her brow unexpectedly, eyes flickering to her trembling lips as they passed a surprised gasp. “I know you want to see the results on a field, but rest assured I’ve kept my word.” Licking his lips, he reached for a glass from behind her. Pouring himself a glass, he watched her gnaw on her lower lip. For once, the ice queen showed there are emotions inside her capable of more than just disdain.

Breaking out of her daze, she cleared her throat. “I prefer to have confirmation”, she remarked.

Snorting, he looks up in frustration. He wanted to grab her by the throat as he would with any other human who’d dare challenge him, question him. In his mind, he pinned her to the bed, his hands wrapped around her delicate little wrists. ‘Don’t play games with me’, he’d say, ‘Don’t ever think you’re capable of that.’ He wanted so badly to treat her the same, as an enemy, but she had done something to him. No matter how hard he wished he could fight it, something inside him came to life – his heart beats unburdened by the shadows, for her. It was always going to be her.

“I guess I’m asking you to trust me”, he looked at her with a softness he visibly struggled with. His hand griped the glass far too tightly for it to fool her. He was hurt by her insinuation and she didn’t know how to respond.

“Aleksander.” Calling him by his first name for the first time felt so natural, but terrifying as his eyes lit up when it crossed her lips.

He shuddered. “Say it again”, he commanded, his eyes darkened as he pressed his lips together.

The look on her face would surely haunt him for an eternity. She was shocked, maybe even frightened. She didn’t mean to call him by his name, she had made a mistake and he could read it on her face.

She spun, fleeing into the bathroom. She ran from him like he had come to steal her soul. He thought about chasing after her, but it would be futile. She would return on her own. She lost the game, she was his. He swallowed his whisky and smiled. Perhaps the way his heart fluttered at the sound of his true name passing her lips should have been a sign he lost the game too, but he didn’t give it a second thought.

She is his.

Once he left, she did exactly as she wished – she scrubbed herself clean of any remainders of him. He’ll walk around with her scent clinging to him, but she will not be branded his. Though her hips bear his markings, she felt satisfied they were easily covered with a kefta.

“You don’t have to say it”, Genya raised an eyebrow at the shadows of Kirigan’s fingertips across her friend’s hips.

“Say what?” Y/N narrowed her eyes, her heart picking up pace.

Smirking, Genya lowered her voice, “You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N, exhaled audibly through her nose. “It wasn’t terrible.”

“Ha!” Genya clapped her hands, “We are winning today!”

Raising her eyebrows, Y/N turned her undivided attention to an overly excited Genya. “Care to explain?”

“Well”, she shrugged innocently, “I may have found us a new ally.”

Stunned, Y/N sat on the edge of the bathtub. “Who?”

“David”, Genya exclaimed.

“Isn’t he Kirigan’s little…pet?”

Knitting her eyebrows, Genya huffed, “No! He’s a brilliant man and he believes in equality and a brighter future.”

“But can we trust him with the secret?”

Swallowing thickly, Genya paused. Inhaling deeply, she nods. “I’d vouch for him.”

“I need concrete proof”, Y/N sighs, “This isn’t going to end well for us if he decides to spill everything to Kirigan!”

Rubbing her temples, Y/N felt as if the pressure inside her head would cause her brain to burst. It’s pressing in, choking every good idea she’s ever had.

“What would happen if he did know?” Genya crouched before her. With her hands on Y/N’s knees, Genya sighed. “Maybe he’d be receptive too.”

Snorting, Y/N couldn’t believe how naïve Genya is. “No. He’d be too angry to see the big picture.”

It didn’t matter that he’s begun colonizing Y/N’s heart or that every inch of her skin craved the touch of his hand. It felt as if she were invincible when he stood beside her, as if he had made her fireproof. No scar hurt when he kissed her, no grief was too difficult to bear when he looked at her.

“Damn it”, Y/N covered her face, “I want to believe in him, I do.” She couldn’t help but wonder if her feelings are the aftermath of the night he saved her life or the night of ecstasy he had given her. Is it really genuine emotion or did her heart move to her vagina?

“So believe”, Genya encouraged. A sympathetic smile adorned her full lips, her eyes kinder than before.

“How can I ever trust him when he’s got a superiority complex regarding humans? He’s never going to willingly protect one!”

“He did with you”, Genya pressed her lips into a thin line. “You’re paranoid because you are afraid allowing yourself to see the good in him might actually make you love him.”

And she is. She’s afraid to love him or let him love her. What would be the point? In the end, they’re too different.

“Talk to David again”, Y/N stood, sniffling. “I’ll head to the library.”

Genya raised an eyebrow. “Library?”

The first casualty of war is innocence and Y/N had none left. She was once called ‘angel’ by her father, by her comrades in the army too. She was the epitome of a pure heart who would sacrifice itself for others. She didn’t feel like an angel anymore, but she will play the part. No one expects an angel to set the world on fire.

“Yeah”, Y/N breathes out. “I want to look for something.” Truth be told, she wanted to research Aleksander and his lineage.

If the dark heretic is from his bloodline, she needed to know everything about him, about the hearts of those he came from. If she’s ever going to consider her husband as an ally, she has to know him – all of him. If she asked, she worried he’d cover up the darkest parts of him. He’d deem her too human to understand, too fragile to know all the horrors that tie into who he’s become.

It was time to find out if she could trust Aleksander.

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

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Part 9

[faneposting-my-beloved]

Guess I am legally obliged to yap now. Just so y'all know my Godwoken function on a shit ton of lore headcanons (and they have their own fanfic) so I'll try to explain this and not weird you out to the best of my ability.

[art by _itsmegara] Who are they? (in bg3 character creation voice)

Elane is not sure who she is herself. Hunted down by her kin for as long as she could remember, then taken by a couple of human nobles, her whole life was marked by a dreadful sense of not quite belonging. But since then she's been civilised and raised in a little dreary town in Lower Stormdale. She was more than happy to settle down, running her parents' estate until the Magisters came. And they came asking questions.

[art by DragonsAria] What is their damage?

Learning the 'kill or be killed' mantra the hard way ever since you first opened your eyes to the cold, ruthless world around can be quite scarring. Oddly enough, Elane's body is resistant to all kinds of permanent physical damage. Her psyche tho? It's an ongoing, ravaged battlefield. Every little thing chips away at her carefully cultivated image of a sensible and collected woman. The beast underneath lies dormant, placated by the sense of safety in a controlled environment. Once the chains of comfort are stripped away,however...

[art by Ace.Vermillion] What do they look like?

Elane is shorter than most elves, standing at around 2,35 m. Her complexion is perpetually pale, unable to catch any sunkissed shade. Her black hair is slick and touches the ground. There's always one shorter strand hanging over her face, pulled out of her updo, but its' length varies, depending on the time of day. Similarly, eyes are either dull black or glowing silver depending on the phase of the moon. It's just an elf thing, really.

Are there any differences between their in-game model and how you imagine them?

It's mostly the hair. Plus Elane NEVER wears any elven clothing, even if the alternative means going around naked! Throughout her story she scavenged for human clothing, putting up with the ill fit.

[art by thedreamingqueen] What is their fighting style?

Savage, rapid, bloodthirsty. The force of the swing pulls the entire weight of your body forward after your blade. You soar through the carnage, headless of exposing yourself to the potential blows. When they come, grab the blade buried in your flesh and hold it, thrusting the point of your sword blindly, repeatedly, till the other end of the weapon embedded in your guts hits the floor. Their blood rejuvenates you, this can go on for hours.

Elane is a Necro/Warfare physical damage dealer who dabbles in Hydro to cast Blood Rain and Storm. She favours two-handed swords. She also makes sure her party keeps standing, be it through her own blood, or the enemies'. Her favourite Source skill is Summon Inner Demon. Her own Source skill would be 'Bloodlink'. Same idea as Guardian Angel, only that the damage reflected is 80% and it heals all linked allies an equal amount.

[art by lex] Who do they love and why?

The simplest answer would be that Elane loves her parents the most, despite them being dearly deceased for over a decade now. They shaped who she is and she honours their memory by acting the part that would make them proud. However, that fundamentally is an illusion. The truth is, Elane only loves herself, a wicked kind of affection that stuck to her when she was forced to fend for herself deep in the Elven Forests. She was alone for so long that by force, she became her only and best friend. She could only trust herself and only she knows the secrets that her body hides. The irony is that the desire to know, a drive Elane tragically suffers from, is the easiest way to melt the pretty, stoic facade she's built around herself. Because she desperately wants to know what she is. Who she is. And who would aid her search for answers better than a scholar asking himself the same questions? Fane needs Elane, as she not only knows the world better, she can also strongarm her way out of any situation. She's more than willing to put herself between him and danger just to preserve his brilliant intellect that may explain the intricacies of her affliction, given enough leads. Elane needs Fane because he is so much like her. Strange, timeless, unfitting of everything and everyone she knows. She knows he yearns to know and she's willing to tolerate his unpleasant company for getting to the bottom of things. This very transactional relationship slowly bubbles into something sincere if addicting, once the mystery slowly unveils.

[art by DragonsAria, sketch of Elane's human parents] Anything else you'd like to share about them?

Elane's a great cook AND a picky eater. Though, not the way you think. She can eat meat just fine without getting the elven memory flashbacks. She can still do the memory reading, as long as the meat's bloody, but she doesn't like the act one bit. She picked her birthday to be on the 12th of Fengali Her instrument is the cello. I based her whole playlist around strings...

Tagging: @laytonsgal @sabin1108 @sadhaappreciationsociety @arnaerr @aetherneadraconis @blackstaff-blast

DOS2 fandom, show me your Godwoken? Tell me about your Godwoken? (For example:) Who are they? What is their damage? What do they look like? Are there any differences between their in-game model and how you imagine them? What is their fighting style? Who do they love and why? Anything else you'd like to share about them?

Everyone who sees this post, consider yourself invited. And feel free to tag your friends if you'd like.

@flower-khajiit, @divinityiswasted

Just do it. This is a threat.

[rocorambles]

Beginning of Forever

Pairing: Iwaizumi x Reader x Oikawa

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Greek Mythology AU, Poseidon!Iwaizumi, Zeus!Oikawa, Kidnapping, Non-Con/Rape, Non-Con Drugging, Attempted Suicide

Summary: You learn the consequences of rejecting a god.

It only makes sense that when the two gods meet, they meet on Earth, the middle ground between the sky and the sea. A neutral space where they can throw off the responsibilities and weight of being Zeus and Poseidon. A free for all zone where they can pretend to be as human as they possibly can, donning the names Oikawa and Iwaizumi as they challenge each other, seeing who can seduce more mortals, indulging in carnal pleasure.

The competition is always stiff between the two of them, equally overwhelming crowds naturally flocking towards the two men. They never can decide on a clear winner in the writhing, moaning mess of naked bodies sprawled across their hotel room. Counting is the last thing on their minds as they toy with mortals, bringing them to delirious levels of pleasure unlike anything they’ve felt before. The details don’t seem important as they stick their cocks in the countless warm holes aching for them. And as they finally sit back and relax, watching as a few insatiable lustful humans go at it with each other while the others slump in exhausted post-coital bliss around them, Iwaizumi and Oikawa smirk at each other.

Another successful conquest. Just more proof of where humans are on the totem pole compared to gods like them. Mere playthings for them to have fun with.

So imagine their shock and annoyance when they meet you on their latest venture to the mortal world and you don’t spare either of them even a second glance, eyes brushing past their figures blankly before you turn to a bartender and order a drink, back turned to them as you walk away.

Maybe you just don’t appreciate the already swarming crowd forming around them. Maybe you think that they wouldn’t spare you a glance when they already have so many people vying for their attention.

They take pity on you, going out of their way to make the first move, approaching you, gracing you with their full attention.

So imagine the fury in chocolate brown eyes, the hardened edge in green eyes, when you brusquely wave them away from you as if they’re nothing but annoying bugs flitting around you.

The. Fucking. Audacity.

Neither god has ever been completely graceful about being denied, rejected, or told no, even if it came from another deity. So to come from a worthless mortal, a speck of dust in their lengthy existence? Unacceptable.

The gods always get their way.

You learn that the hard way when your surroundings suddenly change, the background noises of music, voices, and glasses fading to nothing, the dark ambiance replaced by pristine white and blues, shimmering seashells and pearls, and the crowd around you gone, leaving only two familiar faces left staring back at you.

Your first guess is drugs and you curse yourself, fear building inside of you as you try and think back on when someone could have possibly slipped something in one of your drinks. Anxiety has you scrambling away from the two men who just impassively continue observing you, green eyes curious, brown eyes amused. And even as you turn around and race away from them as fast as your shaky legs can take you, you can feel those burning eyes on you, waiting, watching.

You almost sob in relief when you see a doorway ahead of you, praying that despite the hallucinatory imagery swirling around you that this is real, that you’ve found your escape. And you prepare your lungs, ready to scream for help the second you step outside. But as you open your mouth the same time the door flings open wide, water crashes around you, overflowing all your open orifices, soaking you, drowning you, until you feel nothing except the accelerating drum of your frenzied heart.

All you can think as your vision goes dark is that this feels all too vivid, all too real.

Dazzling white blinds you as your eyelids flutter open and you wonder if this is heaven, if you’ve passed on. If only you knew how wrong and right you are. Not that the knowledge will do you much good, as Oikawa is eager to show you. Iwaizumi snorts at how Zeus radiates with dark glee, handsome face twisting in something cruel as he revels in your almost tangible fear that permeates in the air when he reveals exactly who they are and the consequences of your disrespect. He’ll never fully understand his fellow god’s obsession with these silly mental and emotional games, but he can be patient and let Oikawa have his fun before they both indulge in you.

After all, meat is always so succulent after being tenderized and marinated.

Oikawa’s always loved the surge of power he feels at being the reason a sweet little thing’s heart races, pupils blown wide in fear, sparkling watery gems forming in eye ducts. And all this just from revealing his name. Zeus. It’s not the joyous worship he’s used to from the old world, but there’s a certain reverence in the way his title incites recognition in you, the way he sees an unbeliever like you finally forced to faith.

He’s not as much of a fan of the way you still shy from him, hands futilely trying to keep him at arms length from you as he insistently approaches you. But he understands. You’re scared. You don’t know how to worship and love him yet. You’re still a new believer.

So it’s up to him to guide you.

You’re not the first terrified and reluctant follower he’s met and Iwaizumi watches in appreciation as Oikawa uses a blend of force and sway to have you bend to his ways. It’s always fascinating to see how pleasure and fear intertwine and mingle in humans and Iwaizumi can feel his arousal grow as you can’t stop the litany of moans forced from your mouth, can’t stop the sticky river beginning to trickle from between your legs despite the way you cry and beg to be released.

Humans really are such simple creatures so vulnerable to their base desires. Even cornered and hopeless, you writhe and wantonly groan as Oikawa’s mouth and hands thoroughly touch every part of you, back arching and eyes rolling back when his cock easily slips inside your drenched cunt. You don’t want to feel good. You shouldn’t feel good. Yet you can feel a familiar coil tightening inside of you with every slide of his shaft against your walls and when he forces you to gaze into those hungry eyes and orders you to cum, you obey.

You’re so malleable, so well-behaved, by the time Iwaizumi finally has his way with you. It’s hard to believe you’re the same arrogant woman who dared to turn them away when you easily let him spread your legs, not even bothering to hide how lost in pleasure and desire you are, clenching around his cock and begging for more, more, more. And Iwaizumi almost feels a pang of regret, wishing you had a bit more fight and resistance left in you, not as into the mindless sex doll appeal Oikawa enjoys.

But he’s not disappointed when the haze of sex fades and the fire returns to your eyes, fueled even more by disgust at yourself and them for the night of decadence. And he laughs when you lash out at them, vicious scathing words dripping like venom from your lips, claws sharpened and ready to strike. It’s his turn to break you apart and he relishes in the way your nails painfully attempt to pierce his skin, the way your eyes glow in their rage.

He’s not Oikawa and you learn that the hard way. He knows what this is. He’s not arrogant enough to believe you truly want this, that you’ll ever want this. But he doesn’t care. If anything it only excites him more, the way you ferociously fight him. And he grunts in pleasure as he pins you from behind, forcing your head into the ground as he thrusts into your raised and exposed ass, marking and claiming you inside and out, treating you like nothing more than a prized animal.

It’s disarming and overwhelming how different and similar the two are, your mental barriers unable to keep up and adapt to their various approaches. You try to resist, try to look for ways to escape your luxurious prison deep under the ocean surface. But you find your resolve crumbling, find yourself craving Oikawa’s filthy demeaning words, find yourself waiting expectantly for Iwaizumi’s more physical proof of ownership. And when you look in the mirror one day and see yourself covered in bite marks and blooming spreads of purple, black, blue, and red, you sob, unable to recognize the woman staring back at you.

Your resistance has been laughable as of late and Iwaizumi sighs as Oikawa gloats, taking bets on how many more days it’ll take before you completely break and accept your place, before you grovel on your knees and beg to please them and praise them. How much longer until you become a true believer?

But it’s Iwaizumi’s turn to excitedly smile when he senses you attempting to leave his domain once again, in desperate pursuit of a watery end. And he chuckles at the irritated tsk from the god beside him as he leisurely takes his time to forcefully rescue you from the liquid flooding your lungs.

“You have some work to do on your seduction skills, brother, if she'd rather die than be with us for a second longer.”

Darkness has never felt so welcoming and you bask in the feeling of your consciousness fading to black, finding peace even as your lungs ache and burn from lack of oxygen. But you thrash as much as you can while submerged when a pair of strong hands grab you, wailing in denial as air rushes through your heaving body.

“Oh, darling. You didn’t think you could escape us that easily did you?”

A handsome face crowned by wavy brown locks sweetly smiles at you and dismay numbs your body, making your limbs heavy, your mind blank. And you just dumbly stare back as Iwaizumi moves behind you, lifting a golden goblet to your lip, submissively sipping whatever he offers you, thinking it’s just water to help clear your mouth of the salty ocean still clinging to your senses. But what you aren’t expecting is the unnatural warmth that floods you, has you gasping and contorting, only Iwaizumi’s reassuring hold and Oikawa’s voice grounding you throughout the chaos.

“Ambrosia…”

You can hardly believe your own word as you voice it outloud. A nectar meant only for the gods. A substance created for longevity and immortality.

Oikawa coos as hot tears run down your face when realization sinks in, when the promise of a lifetime and more, of forever, settles in the pit of your stomach.

“Oh sweetheart, don’t cry. We knew this would be a difficult change for you, so we added something else to the ambrosia to help ease you into things. Can you feel it?”

And you do feel it, whimpering and moaning as the aphrodisiac they had mixed with the fragrant beverage streams through you, nipples hardening, pussy aching and dripping, staining the ground underneath you that you find yourself helplessly grinding against for delicious friction and relief.

You shake your head side to side as both gods surround you, but as the hard toned planes of their chests press against you, any resistance disappears and you greedily rub your tingling buds against Oikawa’s bare skin, hands clinging onto broad shoulders, back arching as you shake your ass against Iwaizumi’s hardening cock.

Oikawa’s cruel laughter fills the air, but you don’t have it in you to feel a shred of humiliation, not when everything feels so good, so addicting, and you plead for more even as he mocks you, his fingers meanly twisting and pinching your nipples, sneering at how well you’re responding, how you were made to be used for all of eternity. And how can you even argue against him as you’re forced over the edge again and again, cumming with seemingly every simple touch, body jolting in pleasure with even just a brush of his fingertips?

Is this what it means to be fucked silly? To succumb to lust? You don’t know how much longer you can survive, how much longer you’ll be yourself when they’re through with you, if they’re ever through with you. And you sob in fear? Overstimulation? Overwhelming desire? You don’t know.

You don’t know anything except for the way two cocks stretch you more than you’ve ever thought possible. You don’t know anything except for the joy of having your two holes stimulated, stuffing you full of sticky warm spurts. You don’t know anything except the intoxicating smell of musk, sweat, and sex as your face is shoved between strong thighs, your nose and mouth forced to clean the mess you’ve made of their shafts and balls, only for your lewd messy appearance to cause their dicks to rise in interest and start the entire process all over again.

When your head finally begins to clear, rational thoughts and shame flooding through you, it’s too late. And despite the desperate words of denial you manage to use the last of your will to utter, even you can hear the tremble in your voice, even you can’t deny the way your hips continue to bounce up and down of their own will on the two cocks still buried balls deep inside of you.

You sob as Oikawa tenderly kisses you, nuzzling his forehead against yours in a grotesque version of a lover’s touch, croaking out “no, no, no” as the goblet is held to your mouth once more, Iwaizumi’s hand warningly wrapping around your throat when you take a second too long to part your lips.

“Drink up, darling. It’s the beginning of forever.”

[yasminbenoit]

“A Romantic Partner Won’t Complete Me, Because I Was Born Complete”: How Identifying As Asexual & Aromantic Brought Me True Freedom & Happiness | Yasmin Benoit for British Vogue

There is a phase in our lives where everyone seems asexual and almost everyone seems aromantic. It wasn't until puberty kicked in that platonic relationships seemed to take a backseat. My peers stopped wanting to play together and started wanting to 'date' each other. That was when I started to realise that there was something different about me. I didn’t seem to be experiencing the same urges as those I was around. I chose to go to an all girls school in the hopes that – in the absence of boys – everyone would stop caring about sex and dating. It actually had the opposite effect. There was a sense of deprivation in the air and the heightened desire to project their sexuality onto anything and everything.  

Therefore, my lack of interest became even more obvious, and it became a not-so-fun game to work out the source of what should be troubling me, but hadn’t been until that point. Having a sexual orientation isn’t just natural, it’s essential. It’s part of being a fully-functional human being. And to be romantically love and be loved by another is the ultimate goal. It’s part of being normal, which made me both abnormal and puzzling. When your asexual, people think there’s something wrong with your body. When you’re aromantic, they think there’s something wrong with your soul. Even for a teenage girl who internalised all of Disney Channel’s “be yourself” messages, it’s never nice to have people publicly debate your supposed physical and psychological flaws.  

My nickname in school was “hollow and emotionless.” I was a joker with a decent amount of friends, but I was lacking something crucial, the kind of love that really mattered and the kind of lust that made life exciting...so I was practically Lord Voldemort with braids. I sat through the regular DIY sexuality tests, having my peers show me graphic sexual imagery, have very sexual conversations in my presence, and ask me inappropriately intimate questions to gauge how far gone I truly was. These tests lead to the development of theories, most centred around me having some kind of mental problem. After a while, you start to wonder if everyone knows something you don’t.

When they said that I must have been molested as a child and “broken” by the trauma, I wondered if I had somehow forgotten about sexual abuse that actually hadn’t happened. I looked at some of my own relatives with suspicion, the same people who would later ask me if I didn’t experience sexual attraction because I was a pedophile. It was suggested that I was “suffering” from my “issues” because I was socially anxious and insecure. The suggestion that my ‘issue’ was pathological stayed with me for a long time, but not as much as the widely accepted theory that I was mentally slow. Unfortunately, that one stuck. I was referred to as “stupid” and I started to believe that was the case. It would impact my experience in education for the next eight years, long after I realised that there was a word for what I was.

Asexual.

I first heard the word during one of the near-daily sexuality tests that I was subjected to. I was asked if I was gay, to which I said that I wasn’t interested in anybody like that – men or women. At fifteen, I was asked, “Maybe you’re asexual or something?” but it wasn’t quite a lightbulb moment. How could it be when I had never heard the word outside of biology class? After an evening of Google searching, I realised that there were many people with my exact same experience, complete strangers whose stories sounded so strangely similar to mine. I also stumbled across the word ‘aromantic,’ but at the time, I didn’t understand the need for it. "Wouldn't all asexual people be aromantic? A romantic relationship without sex is just friendship with rules,” I thought.

Either way, my discoveries showed me that I wasn’t alone, but that only half helpful. I now had an identity that no one had heard of or understood. Most didn’t believe that being asexual or aromantic was a real thing, and I doubted it to. I had been taught to after years of armchair pathologisation. If asexuality was real, why did no one tell you that being sexually attracted to nobody was an option? What if it was just an internet identity made up to comfort people with all of the issues that had been attributed to me? I didn’t have to go far down the rabbit hole to realise that asexuality, like many non-heteronormative identities, had been medicalised. What I had experienced as just the tip of the iceberg. As someone who hadn’t been prescribed drugs I didn’t need or subjected to unnecessary hormone tests, I was one of the lucky ones.

My activism would be my gateway to the community. Despite being the ugly friend at school, I ended up becoming a model while in university. I decided to use the platform I had gained through my career to raise awareness for asexuality and aromanticism. It gave me the opportunity to encounter a range of asexual and aromantic offline, it was then that I learned the significance of having an aromantic identity. There are many asexual people who still feel romantic attraction, as well as aromantic people who still feel sexual attraction. They have their own range of experiences, their own culture, their own flag, and like the asexual community, I was relieved to see that they are just normal people. These intersecting communities are not stereotypes. They weren’t just thirteen year old, pink haired kids making up identities on Tumblr to feel special. They were parents, lawyers, academics, husbands, girlfriends, artists, black, white, young, old, with differing feelings towards the many complex elements of sexuality and intimacy. Most importantly, they were happy.

I am proud to be part of both, and I know that while being asexual and aromantic, I am a complete person and I can live a perfectly fulfilling life. Since meeting members of my communities, I’ve become more open about my identities in real life, and a reaction I’m often met with is sympathy. “You must feel like you’re missing out,” “I can’t imagine being like that,” “It must be hard for your family,” “Do you worry no one will want you?” “How do you handle being so lonely?” “You’re so brave and strong,” “What will you do with your life now?” Even in 2021, a woman who isn’t romantically loved or sexually desired by their “special someone” is perceived as being afflicted with some kind of life-limiting condition.  

Asexuality doesn't make undesirable or unable to desire others. It is a unique experience of sexuality, not a deprivation from it. Even if it was, there is so much more to life than what turns us on and what we do about it. Romantic love is just one form of love, neither superior nor inferior to any other. Being aromantic doesn't mean that you can't love or be loved, it does not mean you are void of other emotions or capabilities. I am not lonely with my friends, family, co-workers and supporters. I feel confident not when someone wants to date me but when I meet my goals and form worthwhile connections with others. My success isn't determined by whether someone will want to marry me someday. What we want out of life is our decision alone, our sources of happiness should not be defined by our ever-changing, culturally relative social standards. The love of a romantic partner won't complete me because I was born complete. Feeling sexual attraction to others won't liberate me because my liberation is not dependent on other people.

Valentine's Day is on the horizon. It's an occasion that amps up the focus on (and the pressure to achieve) a very specific type of love and sexual expression, one that is actually alienating for people inside and outside of the asexual community. During a pandemic where many relationships have been strained, tested, formed or distanced, it's important to keep the diversity of romantic and sexual feelings in mind. Many expect me to feel annoyed or lonely during this time of year, but I actually feel empowered and excited by the way sex, romance and love are discussed more deeply around this time. These conversations are constantly expanding to become more inclusive for everyone, and that's what we need to see all year round.

https://www.vogue.co.uk/arts-and-lifestyle/article/asexuality-and-aromanticism

[0heymoon]

Delicious answers! Rooney seemed so out of the blue at the end there! But I think energetically, yes, I could see it.

I liked your rundown of your character. It shows you definitely look inward and have some self awareness.

Also brow pit woman in Lancashire, again, so surprising! Not at all a story I would have predicted or chosen for you. But admirable.

I love 1930s too. My wooden dresser and wardrobe are from 1930s. Very romantic.

Ok, so moi

With unlimited funding I would visit Iceland because it's magical and it's scenery is so unusual, like it's black beaches. Plus if I went in the Winter I'd probably see aurora which is on my list of things to see before I leave this chapter.

I do like who I appear to be presently. For the most part. I like my contrasts and paradoxes. I love that I am gentle, but I love that I can be vicious (I believe in loving your dark side), usually only of thought, but I have wished bad things on those that crossed me, that have then come true. Moral is, don't take my sweetness to mean I am not a force to be reckoned with lol! I like being understanding, I like that I have connection and love of the natural world. I like being sensitive to energy. I like being imaginative, I like my ability to pull a portrait from nothing into existance and people being able to see who it is! I like my ability to find things out, like I would be a decent private investigator haha.

The Seven Skins Of Esther Wilding by Holly Ringland was the last amazing book I read. Which I loved so much as there was so much in it that felt like it had been written for me, from the natural world and use of symbology to the music in it. An Amazing book to me is one that gets under my skin, feels like it's truly talking to me somehow and leaves me feeling inspired.

I am finding the inspiring/role model one too hard to answer presently because there are many wonderful characters but I have no desire to be like anyone.

Fave meals - Eggs Benedict. Green Thai chicken curry. Fish & chips with curry sauce specifically from The Lizard Cornwall lol. Belly pork with roast spuds and veg. Cauliflower Cheese with sausages. Pan fried Salmon. <3

There's nothing wrong with the world, it creates the perfect amount of contrast but on my days of feeling blue I would say humans belief that it is it's thoughts, is what is wrong. (can we all collectively wake up please!)

Last person I hugged was Doreen my mom's friend. Last creature I hugged was Febs the cat and I hug my cats very very often. But I could use more human hugs for sure, but quality ones with people who uplift.

Last incarnation, as I mentioned, I see myself being a 1920s actress or performer, as I always had a pull to that time. I was probably born like 1900, so I was in my twenties in the 20s and then I died in 1977 to be reborn. Cool story!

Three movies I want to see: Nosferatu (new one), ...that's the only one I can think of presently.

Meditation - I realise I am a natural at transcendental meditation. The mantra method where you say a mantra over and over in your mind. Well for me, I naturally play music in my mind which stops unwanted thought. So I feel that must have a similar effect.

2 worst traits - Greed & cruelness. Or psychopathy & narcissism

Any animal for a day- a golden eagle, in the highlands of Scotland.

Home aesthetic - I still love maximalism, mixing some modern aspects with antique & vintage. But I also ADORE art nouveau.

14 . Best onscreen kiss. I really enjoyed Spike & Buffy's first kiss, but I have to mention that everytime Claire & Jamie kiss in Outlander it feels and looks proper genuine.

15. Who would play me in my life movie? hmmm

@vernicosa Some questions for you, if you will <3

If you had unlimited funding, what country would you like to visit first and why.

Do you like who you are presently? List some of your favourite aspects of yourself.

What was the last most amazing book you read and why was it amazing? What constitutes an amazing book to you?

Outside of people you know in real life, who, if anyone, do you see as a role model, or inspiring, name one woman and one man (if poss)

List some of your favourite meals.

In one sentence, tell me what is wrong with the world, from your perspective. If anything.

Who did you hug last? Do you get enough hugs?

If reincarnation is real, who or what do you see yourself as being in your last incarnation?

What are three movies you want to see that you haven't already seen?

Do you meditate? If so, describe your process.

What in your opinion, are the worst 2 traits a human can have?

If you could be any animal for a day, which one?

What is a home aesthetic (interior design style) that you love? (share an example)

What's one of the best onscreen kisses you've seen?

Which actor would play you in a movie of your life?