#this is exactly what i fucking mean. they never accurately display strains so no i wasnt going to gamble and buy a straight indica strain

[swagging-back-to]

weed shop keeps lying and listing hybrids as purse and pure indicas as hybrids so i called them out on it today bc i ordered a 'sativa dominant hybrid' earlier only to show up and be told that no it's a pure indica.

so i said im not buying it give me something else.

they got a bit huffy, had to 'double check' if i was right, and then said they'd 'alert management about the issue'.

it isnt an accident. you people do this intentionally because no one wants hybrids and no one wants indica--but you refuse to actually sell sativa.

so many times ive bought sativa and then have been knocked on my ass exhausted bc surprise surprise it was actually an indica dominant hybrid.

[gryffindor-glizzy-gobbler]

Out Past Curfew (Pt. 5/5)

How did you get here?

With Draco’s hand clamping against your thigh, your wonder and confusion on how you went from patrolling the ground to his thighs clamping your thighs while his hot tongue glided over your folds was merely pushed into the back of your mind.

Your brain was in a frenzy as he held you steady as to not have your hips accidentally buck into his face. Accidentally.

His mouth was amazing. He knew exactly where to put his tongue and exactly hot to explore you. Your entire nervous system was being filled with pleasure as your hand found it’s way to clamp onto his hair. Denying it was useless, because even Draco could feel that you were melting under his tongue.


It could feel you tighten around his tongue, but the rest of you was melting. Your arms were limp as you had your hand under your ass as to keep the coldness of the counter from infecting your skin, but it was no use. Every other inch of your body was freezing, but your lady parts were hot.


Scorching even.

Sealing his mouth over your clit, you could only let out a moan that sounded like an “oh-hu-hu” if your shuddered voice had to be spelled out on parchment. Dragging his slick tongue up and down the top and bottom of your vagina, your walls were surging up under his touch.

You felt your pleasure climb, almost like it was trudging up it stairs and at the end of the stair-riddled hallway there was a door. A door that, if opened, would open you and unfold you like a piece of paper. And a result of it’s opening? Thick, white, and hot.

But you weren’t there yet. You were reaching towards your climax, and Draco could smell it. In fact, he could smell everything. Your sweat, your pussy, and even the perfume you lightly sprayed yourself with before you came to patrol.

One hand in his hair and the other running through your own as a stress-reliever, you were reaching your peak. You were almost over the edge due to the pleasure that was arching through your spine as you shakily gasped his name. His name rolled off the tongue, that’s how perfect it was.

He got made fun of his name when he was a kid, but oh you loved it.

You loved the way it was spelled. You loved the way it looked. You loved the way it sounded when you moaned it out as he took his tongue out of your folds. Right before your climax.

Right before you could cum.

“Bastard..” You panted, feeling a sourness in your throat as he pulled his entire body away from you, his hands practically having to peel off of your thighs. You were sticky, and you felt like a gross mess as he ran a hand through his hair that you had messed up even further beyond repair.

“Turn over for me, squibby...”


“I don’t want to do shit for you.” You pouted, and the smirk that twitched at his lips was enough to make you want to slap him. Or kiss him. You hadn’t quite decided yet.

“Do it or I’ll do it for you.” He threatened, and the feeling that consumed your chest was the farthest thing from fear. “God that’s hot..” You purred in the quietest voice that your voice would allow without it being complete silence. Not wanting to piss him off in fear of your legs being intact tomorrow morning, you shifted a bit forward away from leaning against the mirror to adjusting yourself to be on your stomach, your legs dangling off the egge of the counter. Your ass was being displayed. Just for him. Just for Draco.

He used his foot to kick your legs apart, which surprised you as your chest moved down the counter a little bit in response to the sudden lowering of your hips. “Shit-“ You felt the cold air seep in between your cheeks, causing a chill to flatten your stomach against the counter completely. He hadn’t even touched you, yet the pure thought of your ass being at his mercy was enough to make you even wetter than you were already before.

“What did you say?” He was referring to what you had muttered earlier, and you cursed mentally, a bit regretful he heard what you were spitting against yourself. Feeling a fit of nervousness begin to flutter in your stomach, you pursed your lips together, not keen on filling his ego more so than it already was.

“Nothing..” You hummed with a buzz of your lips as your eyes were guided to the mirror where you could see him, Draco finally slipping down his pants, the belt already being on the ground thanks to you. “I think I heard you say something..” His eyes were looking you up and down, almost like he wanted to eat you - literally, not like how he just did - and you felt your chest tighten as your eyes trailed down to the bulge in his boxers.

He was bigger than you thought.

“I-I think you made your point, Draco. You have a big cock, whoopee.” You quivered out of fear and.. desire. Your tone was half-joking, of course. Despite the fear you had for his size, you still wanted him. Oh fuck you wanted him.

“I don’t think you’ll understand until you taste it.”

Holy shit...

Finally positioning himself behind you to where he could press his hand against your back to feel over the curves of your spine, his hand was cold against your skin, which was now beginning to heat up. His hands were so much bigger than yours, and they were a lot more calloused as well. You could only imagine what his dick felt like.

After a moment of palming your ass and feeling over the softness of your rear, you felt your legs turn into practically jelly as Draco eased the thick length of his member deep inside of you. Your brain turned into mush as well as the pleasure that was contained at your womanhood was spreading throughout your body, causing your fingers to clench hard against your palms, leaving crescent-shaped indents from your fingernails.

He was huge.

Feeling the texture of his cock run inside your walls, he was going slow in and out of you, not wanting to hurt you yet. The piercing of your sex was enough to make tears bubble up at the corners of your eyes, but nonetheless you didn’t let out quiet sobs. Rather, you let stifled moans escape through your gritted teeth, not wanting to alert the entire school that you were getting fucked by one of the hottest guys in schools.

Draco was pumping his length in and out of your ass for what must have been 30 to 45 minutes before you began to feel the closest to your peak than you ever had that night. You had many chances to cum beforehand, but Draco could feel your liquids around his dick way before you could, so he was edging you. Oh boy, he was edging you hard. Every time you felt like you were going to cum, he would pull his dick out of you and stick his thumb in your entrance, arching to dig his teeth into your shoulder.

Him not cumming really quickly did a bit more than hurt your pride, but the prolonged pleasure was something you weren’t exactly against. Though that didn’t make him ripping your climax away from you any less painful every time he did it. Just as you felt yourself beginning to go over the edge and release, Draco pulled you by the horns backwards just so he could keep railing into you.

This boy had the stamina of a horse, it was insane.

“You’re such a little whore, squibby.. For years you said you hated me but here you are, bent over the sink counter, feeling my cock all up in your tummy. You like that, don’t you?” The dirty talk that convulsed out of the blonde as a surprise, but a welcome one as you felt your wetness increase due to the words that rattled your brain.

“Stop choking back your moans before I give you something to choke on.”

As your eyes rolled into the back of your head due to ecstasy, he reached his hand around the side of your frame to shove two of his longest fingers in your mouth. His middle finger and his pointer finger pried open your lips like a clamp, and you couldn’t choke back the pent up moan through your teeth due to this action.

“I want to hear your voice. I want the whole school to hear your moans. I want everyone- and I mean everyone.. to know your mine.”

The noise that escaped your throat was one that you were a bit ashamed to admit even came from you. Your voice seemed to fuel Draco’s ego, though, since this noise began to make his speed in and out of your pussy increase. He was going rougher, harder, and holy shit was he going a lot faster. You could only wonder how many women he had done this with before, considering how good he was as it.

You were damn sure though his dick hadn’t gone anywhere near Pansy though, which gave you some solace.

Lifting your chin up off of the surface of the counter, he used his other hand to wring it into your hair and yank it backwards, causing some strain in your neck that was beautifully intertwined with the pleasure in your womanhood.


You were beginning to become overstimulated at this point, but damn did you love it. Hearing a muffled grunt from Draco’s end, he was now beginning to go faster than he ever had gone before. The weasel was breaking you open, and you know after tonight your virginity could never be restored. Not like you wanted it to be, anyways.

He had two hands on you, one in your hair and one in your mouth, causing your head to arch back in a way that forced you to look at your face. You looked pathetic. You felt pathetic. Completely at the mercy of this jackass’s cock, it was a place you never wanted to be for years. But now, you couldn’t picture yourself anywhere else.

Collapsing wasn’t the correct way to describe it. Melting seemed more accurate. As his fluids began to spill into your insides, pumping into your tummy like disposal, you contracted hard around his cock as your own liquids sloshed around his shaft while crying out his name.

Hips stuttering backwards when he pulled out of you, his cock coated with a thick whiteness, your knees knocked together as you slid off of the counter to crumble onto the floor, only having one hand on the marble surface. You were a panting mess when his cum began to seep out of your soaking hole and leak onto the floor, not being able to hold all of his juices in your stomach from how much he cummed inside of you.

You were only so lucky that you began taking birth control a couple months ago to reduce your period cramps. The heat of his liquids inside of you continued to move around a bit, there still being little increments of white spilling onto the floor every time you moved to breath. Glancing over at Draco, you noticed he was on his knees leaning against one of the stall doors, looking absolutely spent. You gave him a run for his money, that’s for sure. He could’ve edged you as long as he liked and the two of you still would’ve been brought to this point.

Tired, out of breath, and basking in the afterglow of the best sex the two of you ever had. Well - for you, at least - it was the only sex you’ve ever had.

For about 2 minutes you didn’t say anything to him, and he didn’t say anything to you as you began to hop back into your clothes after wiping yourself down from sweat and cum. Once you were both dry enough, Draco looked at the clock and broke the awkward silence with a shaky warning.

“I think we’re out past curfew, squibby.”

[watchingtheroad]

Be Your Run-To

Damen struggles in the aftermath of his injury and the reality of losing his remaining family. Laurent helps him cope. 

Post-Canon | Hurt/Comfort | Mourning | First Time Bottoming | 

POV Switches:  Damen >> Laurent >> Nikandros >> Damen

+

Damen watched as Laurent dissected another letter from Arles over his makeshift desk at Ios, a table and chair he had dragged into what was now Damen’s office space. Laurent loved it for the massive library attached. He had already brought in an entire new shelf on which he would display the books he planned to read separately from the ones he did not. It was very charmingly involved. 

Damen loved it for the memories of his childhood—sitting on the King’s lap and reading as a boy, growing and studying alongside him as he worked at his desk—and hated it for the exact same reason. 

Reality was strange to think about, stranger for it to be so. That was his father’s desk. His father’s books. His father’s rooms. His father’s throne. His father’s crown. His father’s city. His father’s kingdom. 

His father was dead. His brother was dead, buried in the royal crypt with family rather than treated as the gullible traitor he proved himself to be. 

Damen had thought he could save them both, will them to life and reason. 

He had been wrong. 

Grief crashed over him in inconvenient waves in the weeks immediately after his own injury and Kastor’s bitter end. It was different without the constant drama of plotting against the Regent and running around the continent with Laurent. Forced to endlessly sit and heal, Damen had time to dwell in his misery—entirely too much, arguably, that drained him to exhaustion in moments meant for rest—all while continuing plans to stabilize his own government and attempting to solidify an official unity with Vere. 

It was quite a lot of work, investigation and tedious conversation: drafting documents, arguing more treason and laws, deciding which policies would be adopted kingdom-wide or remain independent to either Akielos or Vere. The matter of slavery was the most pressing to attend to, and one on which Damen and Laurent vehemently agreed. Total abolishment was the goal. It was a matter of implementation, and not every kyros in Akielos was as amenable to change as Nikandros. 

They spent the majority of their days in grueling meetings once Damen was lucid, which began at his bedside, then expanded to common rooms as Damen grew stronger. Laurent had done an invaluable job at handling things when he was not, but there was still substantial progress to be made. He had named Nikadros Kyros in Ios, summoned the few, trustworthy members of the Veretian Council, new appointments included. 

It added another layer of difficulty on both sides, given Vere’s chaotic political climate and Kastor’s treason. It was hard to know exactly all the places evil had touched their kingdom, and Laurent’s extended stay in Ios was a disadvantage in finding out and achieving true peace for Vere. None of the Veretians in Ios liked it there, and none of the Veretians in Vere liked that their future King was still away. Laurent’s focus should have been that, not shouldering Damen’s burdens beyond necessity.

As it was, Laurent refused to be parted from him until he was well again. Damen had been adamant for some time that he was well again, despite some moderate discomfort during his deep breathing exercises and soreness that lingered with certain movements. He seemed to be singularly convinced of that. Even Nikandros was on Laurent’s side, a rarity of astronomical proportion. 

Under different circumstances, Damen would’ve already progressed his training to more rigorous levels, used physical exertion and pain as a distraction for everything else, then pushed through until it became tolerable. The lack thereof was making him incredibly irritable, but Laurent insisted he take it torturously easy, fretting about him every step. 

From the look on Laurent’s face, it appeared whoever wrote the latest letter from Vere was returning the favor in making one irritable. 

“What’s the matter?” Damen asked. 

With reluctance, Laurent said, “I have to leave for Vere. The people have started congregating outside Arles, which I suspect is diplomatic phrasing for rioting. Resistance from the Regent’s leftover filth. Fucking brilliant.” 

Innocently enough, Damen noted, “Going back sooner would have eliminated that.” 

“Just what I wanted to hear, Damianos,” Laurent said, voice like the edge of a knife. “Thank you for your helpful counsel.” 

“Laurent, I didn’t mean—” Damen started, then stopped, closing his mouth with an internally audible clack of teeth. He took a deep breath, blew it out. “I only meant that Vere needs to see its King. They’ll settle as soon as you enter the city.” 

“Do you want me to go so badly?” Laurent asked. “If it will help, you can say it. Let us not pretend I haven’t been worrying you mad.” 

“You haven’t,” Damen fibbed. 

He had, at times, but only regarding certain things. Being fussed over had never been something Damen was particularly keen on.

Damen said, “You’re the best part of every day I live.” 

The former did not make the latter untrue. Their stolen moments were the only thing that kept Damen holding himself together. The source of his foul mood wasn’t Laurent; his concern came from a place of love, Damen knew well enough. It was the circumstances, a result of sadness and lethargy and days and days of complete uselessness that Damen was unaccustomed to and despised to his core. It wasn’t fair to lay his frustrations on Laurent simply because he had nowhere else to aim them, but it’s what he had done. 

“Am I?” Laurent asked, the prick self-deprecation clear and sharp. “You haven’t even pretended you want me to stay to spare my feelings.” 

Laurent was talking nonsense. Damen ached to erase the doubt in his voice. He went to him, yielding before crossing completely into Laurent’s space where he sat at his table. It was clear when Damen needed to tread more carefully, when Laurent’s defenses were momentarily raised. Damen fancied himself safely inside them, not out in the cold. Still, he waited, until a nearly-imperceptible nod and a softening of eyes gave him the permission he sought. 

He slid Laurent’s chair away from the table to better get at him, kneeling in front of him on the floor. Laurent looked at him as though he might break during the mere act of kneeling, but thankfully, held his tongue. 

“Laurent, I don’t want you to go,” Damen explained. “These cuffs on our wrists?” He held Laurent’s hand in one of his, and with the other, let his fingers trail across gold. “Everything they stand for, I want. You, I want. But I don’t want you to stay here to the detriment of Vere because you think I need to be watched like an invalid. I am fi—” 

“Don’t. Don’t say you’re fine,” Laurent stopped him. “You’ve said that since the moment you very nearly bled to death under my hand, through every complication. Are you so stubborn you cannot see you’re the least reliable regarding your own condition? Your physical state is not my only concern—” Laurent took his face in both hands, his touch gentle as he leaned forward to press his lips to Damen’s forehead, murmuring, “You’ve not been yourself, Damianos. I’m worried about your mind, your spirit.” 

Damen clutched Laurent’s wrists, letting out a ragged breath. The whole truth spoken aloud unsettled him to the bone, made everything he fought to bury swell up inside, threatening to burst through his skin. His voice was strained, on the verge of disproportionate emotion, “It’s not you, Laurent. I swear it. It’s me. I’m—”

Broken.

He thought he had been managing, that the moments of shared happiness between them would disguise the torment in his heart. 

Laurent cradled Damen’s head to his chest, and Damen’s arms found their way around him. 

“You’re grieving, Damen. Your opportunity was stolen from you after your father was killed. It’s perfectly normal to need that time now, after everything. When Auguste died, I—” Damen sensed Laurent hit a wall and bear through it in the next breath. “It took months for the agony to subside enough that I felt I could breathe again.” 

It only added to Damen’s guilt. 

“Your brother was good, Laurent—” And I took him from you, Damen thought. “Mine tried to kill me more times than I’m likely aware of to accurately count. And my father— You hated my father. He was a ruthless conqueror, and I worshipped him in blissful ignorance.” 

“My opinions about Theomedes are irrelevant. He was your father, your only living parent, your King,” Laurent listed, pressing a kiss to his hair, then another. “What you feel is acceptable, no matter how conflicting…There’s no proper strategy in mourning, my love, but you do not have to do it alone in silence. I am here.” 

Damen felt his cheeks wet with tears he hadn’t known were trickling free. He buried his face in Laurent’s chest, a choked sob escaping with his words. “It’s impossible to be here, Laurent. Everywhere I look, I see them. I feel like—”

An imposter. 

Laurent was the last person who needed to hear that from him. Damen had been groomed for kingship his entire life and felt fraudulent when faced with it now amidst his sadness, particularly having evolved so drastically from who he last was in Ios. Even so, he couldn’t fathom having it thrust upon him as a boy as Laurent did, his grief unimaginable and obstacles unnumbered, the unspeakable abuse he endured. 

“Tell me,” Laurent coaxed, his fingers moving in soothing strokes against his scalp. “Let me inside this head of yours.” 

A deep, steadying breath. 

“There are times I feel Ios doesn’t belong to me. It’s as though my father’s still here, alive in every hall and chamber. I’m so far from the Prince Akielos once knew,” Damen confessed. 

Laurent lifted Damen’s head to meet his eyes, delicately wiping beneath them with his thumbs. His smile was soft, compassionate. His eyes shone with love Damen felt unworthy of receiving. 

“Damianos, my King,” Laurent said, with a reverence in his voice that throbbed in Damen’s chest and ached through his ribs. “You are twice the leader and ten times the man your father and brother were. Not all change is unwelcome. If you stepped onto the balcony now, Ios would chant your name in the streets. Not your father’s. Not Kastor’s. They adore you. I adore you. Your effortless confidence, the power you hold in your body and words… I aspire to it. Your brother played at ruling. You were born to it. Akielos is yours. These ghosts won’t haunt you forever.” 

His words were fleeting warmth wrapped around Damen’s body. He longed to feel it deeper, for them to speak to something solid inside him and hold.

“You’re kinder than I deserve,” Damen said. Then, eager to shift the conversation away from himself, split open as he was, he returned, “It was born in you, too. You’re brilliant, Laurent. I’ve never known a mind like yours. Arles will receive you with open arms, whenever you choose to return. I’ve seen how your people look at you.” 

They had lined the streets of every town in Vere, ecstatic to catch a mere glimpse of Laurent as he rode through on their journey to Akielos. If there was residual unrest in the capital due to the Regent, Damen imagined the faction was small. 

“If it hasn’t been ripped apart brick by brick before I arrive,” Laurent mused, with an exaggerated sigh. He caressed Damen’s face from brow to jaw. “You look exhausted. Let’s have a hot bath, shall we? Wait for me in your chambers, and I’ll attend you? I have one thing left to do here.”

Damen nodded. That did sound nice. 

He shifted to stand, pausing to kiss Laurent on his way. His breath caught, lips trembling as the kiss deepened. His emotions were all out of sorts. Nothing meant more to him than making Laurent happy, merging their lives into one as Damen felt bound to him. He wished to feel better, and he wished to do it beside Laurent. 

“Thank you, Laurent… Hurry to me,” Damen said, and because it was all he could muster while keeping his composure, he hoped it conveyed everything he meant.

+

[THE REST IS HERE]