I passed out I couldn’t believe I passed out, I don’t know how long I was out but I coming back and slowly opened my eyes and to blue one looking at me. He leaned down and kissed me, and then I felt his fingers touch my pussy and I flinched then ostentatiously raised them to his mouth and sucked them. I lay limp, a rag doll.



I was dimly aware that he’d disappeared but frankly had nothing left in me. Next I was aware, he was settling into bed beside me and offering me a tall glass of orange juice. I downed the glass in seconds, eliciting a smile from him.



“Oh baby, I’m sorry; I want to do you too but I’m totally spent.” I said



“I can see that Darien. And baby, I will gladly take a rain check. I’m just going to lie here and congratulate myself while you rest.” He said I wanted to punch him but I was too tired so I just grinned at him and burrowed into his chest, inhaling his musky scent and feeling his arms wrap around me as I drifted off to sleep.

I wake up and stretch looking around I see Marcellus on his tablet either reading or typing. I lay there watching him, I didn’t want him to know I was awake watching him, till I saw the dimple in his cheek and he raised his eyebrow and looked at me.



“Hey” I said



“Hi, finally awake so hungry?” he asked I nodded sitting up. He got up he had on a wife beater and black sweat pants. I got up and he handed me the shirt he had on and I put on my panties. I was looking for my shorts and he waved me on to follow him. We go all the way down the stairs. On the way to the kitchen we pass a few guys standing guard they just nod to him and me as we walk by.



Once we get downstairs He reaching for my hand, he leads me into the kitchen and pulls out a bar stool at the island. Helping me up, he looks down at me.



“What would you like to eat?” he asked as he reaches down to lightly grasp my chin between his thumb and index finger. Tilting my head up, he looks into my eyes. Sweeping back my unruly hair, he bends down to lightly kiss my lips. When I don’t pull back, he grabs the back of my head and deepens the kiss, biting my bottom lip. Lightly caressing my neck, he runs his tongue against my lips, probing them open. He hears my gasp and plunges his tongue into my mouth, memorizing all of its contours, seeking out that sweet taste that has been haunting his senses since I fell asleep. Running his hands down my back, he cups my ass and picks me up from the stool. Placing me on top of the counter, he steps in between my legs and runs his hands against the side of my breasts. He feels my fingers run through his hair and groans, pushing his groin against my mound.



“Marcellus…” I moan as I slowly trail my hands down his back, feeling the strong-corded muscles move against them. Moving closer to him, I run my fingers down to his waist and hook my fingers in his pants. Pulling, I bring his hips closer to me and rub against him.



“Fuck Darien…” he said as he feels me pull him down and lightly bite his ear. “I want you”


“Then have me.” I say sliding my hand down his sweat pants. Grabbing me by the waist, he stops me before I can go any further. Stepping back while holding my waist, he bends down and places a light kiss on my lips.



“Later later. Right now you have to eat.” He said and walks towards the refrigerator. “Like I was saying, you need something to eat. What would you like?”



“I don’t know. Anything really.” I said was he really going to cook for me or warm up something.  Nodding his head, Marcellus looks in the refrigerator and starts to pull out some food.



“Anything okay” he says



“So what are you making?” I ask, watching as he moves around the kitchen with such ease.



“Food” he says and looks at me and smiles.



“Simone is she your only sibling?” I asked



“No I have 2 more sisters and 2 brothers. Jon and Troy are my cousins so is Zack, Nick and Aaron” he said



“Is your whole family in the business?” I asked I watch as he nods his head before going back to cooking the food. I was expecting him to be tense, like most men are when they hide secrets, but he wasn’t. Taking a piece of chicken out of the skillet, he turns back to me.


“Try some.” He said I ate some it was so fucking good.



“That may have been the best piece of chicken I ever ate.” I say with a smile. I see him swell up with male pride and can’t help but laugh.



“I’m glad you like it.” Marcellus says, before placing a kiss on my lips. What should have been a light, playful kiss quickly turns into a heated one. Plunging his tongue into my mouth, he lightly runs it against mine and hears me moan. Mimicking what he really wants to do right now, Marcellus gently tugs on my lower lip. He watches as my eyelids flutter open, he takes one last kiss and steps back. “Go over and sit down on the couch. I’ll bring the food to you.” I get off the counter and go to the dining room sitting down a few minutes later he comes and sits with me and we say grace then start eating. While eating we talk about a lot of stuff mainly me he was asking question after question and he must have loved my answers cause he was smiling and hanging on every word I was saying.



After we was done eating when sat in the tv room I felt his arm wrap around the back of the couch behind me and leaned into him. Looking at the T.V. I watched as he turned on a movie and felt him settle down beside me. I watched as the many scenes rolled by on the screen. I couldn’t believe what my brother did and how hurt was behind it, if he could do this what else could he do, I didn’t like that thought so I settled closer to Marcellus, needing to feel safe; that’s all I wanted right now.



He felt me move closer to his body and wrapped his arm around my shoulders.  Bending down, he kissed the top of my head and heard me sigh, we watched the movie till somehow I ended up straddling him, kissing him, soon he stood up and I wrapped my legs around him, as he carried me upstairs and right to his room. Laying me on the bed he slowly removed my clothes from me then took his off.



“You are beautiful. Do not let anyone tell you any differently.” He said



I couldn’t help the smile that crept onto my lips, “Beautiful?”



He nodded and paused bringing his forehead to mine and staring deeply into my eyes. “Darien baby, you are you the most beautiful girl that I know; you’re gorgeous. Now shut up and let me make love to you.” He said and I nodded weakly as he began to more fervently kiss my neck while his hand continued caressing my breast.




He fingers had begun to deftly travel along the tender flesh of my nipple, randomly pinching and tugging it lightly. He guided me back onto the pillows and he allowed his hand to travel further down, trailing the sensitive flesh between my breasts, down over my rib cage, the over my navel, pausing to circle lightly.



Every nerve ending inside of me was on fire and I squirmed beneath him wanting needing. His fingertips glided down over my stomach and down across my hip bones, then they continued downward. He passed my aching pussy and ran the pads of his fingers along my inner thighs, gripping the inside of my leg and pulling them open; teasing me. I could feel muscles that I had never known before tonight clench, taking my breath away.



Then he touched me, although he only allowed his fingertips to lightly graze my clitoris before moving away. My entire body shuddered and he smiled proudly. I could feel my molten core simply melt, vibrating on its own.



“Are you ready?” he asked



My breath hitched but I nodded, “I’ve never been more ready.” I said. To my surprised he sat up and reclined back on the pillows. Only when he began to guide me over toward him did I stop him, confused. “Where are you going?”



“You should ride me, so if anything hurts, you can control the movement.” He said and I nod, and he leans in and sucks on my bottom lip. “It’ll help make it easier for the first time, and not to mention it’ll feel even better this way.“ I looked at him cautiously but his eyes radiated truth so I followed his lead. He helped me to position myself over his lap and holding his dick in one hand and with the other on my hip he began to guide me downward. I placed my hands on the tops of his shoulders for balance and continued moving down until I felt the tip of him pressing against me. I knew by looking at him that he would be big but feeling him there made it real how much bigger he was and I looked into his eyes, worried.



He looked back intently, “Do you trust me?” he asked I nodded softly and he smiled “Good, then just follow my lead. Let me guide you. Now take a deep breath… good girl.”



With that I felt him push upward against me slightly with his hips and he steadily guided my hips downward. I felt the tip breach my tiny slit filling me and I fought the urge to pull away.



Then he inhaled deeply, “Okay now the head is in, this is the tough part. I will make this as swift and painless as I can, don’t be afraid to make all of the noise you need to. You are so tight, this is not going to be easy, but you will enjoy it more after, okay?”



For a moment I sat, letting my nerves get the better of me until I realized that he was waiting on my answer.


“Oh, um, okay.” I croaked softly.



He gripped my hip more firmly moving the other hand to my opposite hip and pulled firmly downward, quickly forcing himself inside of me. In a moment I was overwhelmed by a flash of pain but I didn’t move, afraid to make it worse. He continued pushing until he filled me completely. I froze, tears stinging the back of my eyes.


He kissed me sweetly, “I know it hurts, bae it will start to get better, trust me, I love you.” He said



With that he began to move inside of me, at first I put my hands on his chest to stop him but he didn’t stop working me up and down in small increments. Tiny whimpers escaped my lips every few moments until the pain began to ebb. Eventually I found that I was the one moving, which drew a smile to his lips.



“Oh” I moaned



“Go slow, baby.” He said kissing my ear.



“Umm Marcellus… oh shit.. Can you lie over me. I think you’re free to move now.“ I moan as we shift, and Marcellus supports himself on his elbows over me. He gently reaches over and grabs a pillow.



"Arch your back, bae. It will make things feel a little better.” He said kissing me. I arch my back, and wince as the act of lifting my hips pushes him in a little more. He  slides the pillow underneath my lower back, and we shift, adjusting our position.



“AH” I say closing my eyes tight.



“Am I hurting you?” He asked as he pressed his face into my hair and I clutch his shoulders.



“Mm Mm. You’re so gentle. It eases the pain.” I moan He lifts his head and looks into my face and very gently slides out about an inch. Then, slower than the first movement, presses back in. My mouth opens, but no sound comes out, as I feel a different sensation than the pain start to surface. he stops, unsure of my expression. With each stroke getting a little longer than the one before. Almost all the pain is gone now, and I slide my hands down to rest on his ass. We start to go faster he goes in for a deep kiss. I realize that he is still being careful with his movements, so I wrap my legs around him.



“Faster please.” I moan it’s just what he needs to hear, and pretty soon our bodies are moving together in a heavenly rhythm.



I look up into Marcellus’s face, and watch as his breathing becomes faster, and mine begins to follow.



“Oh god, you feel so good, so fucking tight so fucking tight bae shit.” He breathes, and those words send goosebumps over my body. I start to lift my hips against his, and the buildup of pleasure begins again. Marcellus suddenly moves faster, and I can tell the blissful end is close for him too. Our hips collide one more time, and it sends me over the edge. I groan, and he kisses me, and takes my cries of pleasure.



I feel his hips clench, and he reaches under my hips and holds them to his, grunting, as I feel his warmth fill my body. He’s still, while I continue to move underneath him, waves of pleasure getting smaller, but still sending a jolt through my body.



We lay there, tangled in each other, panting. As our breathing slows, I close my eyes.



“I love you Marcellus.” I said oh God did I just say that I cover my mouth with my hand, embarrassed, but he moves my hand kisses my damp skin.



“I love you too.” He says kissing me then slowly slides out of me, and I wince one last time, as my inner walls are returned to their normal size. He pulls the cover over us he wraps his arms around me.

More Evidence Supporting Komaeda's "Crush" on Hajime

In the trivia section of his Wikipedia article, it says how Komaeda has a penchant for “salty things.” Note that this doesn’t specify what sorts of “things,” so not only can this fact be accounted for food, but it can be used for other objects. Or people.

So if we abide by this fact… Let us think for a second.

Who, out of the entire cast of Dangan Ronpa characters, has salt like no other? Who has saltiness incomparable, that even bulldozes the rudeness and brash remarks omitted from others because they are just *that* salty? Who harnesses enough salt that you don’t even need an open wound for it to burn one’s skin? Who has the overcapacity of salt, overflowing to the brim, that their exterior says so with the sassy placement of their hands on their hips and their luscious, spiky locks ostentatiously screaming salt?

That’s right.

That’s right.

anonymous asked:

hi! what kind of wedding ring would the slbp lords give there lover?

This isn’t going to be the most historically accurate answer design-wise, but let’s just ignore that for this ask~

Nobunaga: Something ostentatious. He’s not much for sweet and simple so his love will be expressed in the extent of the ring’s flashiness. Also, the flashy ring will serve to indicate that his lady belongs to a powerful man…..so hands off.

Keep reading

While I can’t vouch for Hamilton’s level of accuracy (there are plenty of other web pages dedicated to that), it aptly tells the tale of an immigrant who came “impoverished, in squalor” and worked his way up “by working a lot harder, by being a lot smarter, by being a self-starter.” Miranda’s Alexander Hamilton has a grittiness that’s ostentatiously idealistic, legacy-centric, and unceasingly eager to make a difference. As a new immigrant, each of those drives played a part in my choice to disassemble and reassemble my life. Thank G-d, life in America was and is good. I wasn’t running away from something, but toward the focus, values, and legacy that I want to define my life.

See, there’s something that Miranda’s Hamilton – and perhaps the real Hamilton – knew about being an immigrant: immigrants can’t be successful without believing their stories matter. Of course, everyone, whether they move to a new country or not, has a life story that matters. Immigrant stories, by default, amplify this truth because starting over – acclimating to a new culture, and language, and any challenges that ensue, all follow this one move they made. As I folded my clothes and nearly mummified my toiletries in cling wrap, I couldn’t help but feel that, like Hamilton, “I’m just like my country – I’m young, scrappy, and hungry” and that though I was taking a risk, I was also ready to put my all into “not throwing away my shot.” This is my way of “thinkin’ past tomorrow,” the next year, and the next decade.

For the last 68 years, Jews have had the shot to make Israel home. No matter where I lived or what I accomplished in America, I couldn’t get through a day without thinking about building my life in Israel. This year, I knew it was time to decide whether I really wanted to make Aliyah, or if  I would put away with my other forgone dreams. I tried to talk myself into staying at some points, believe me. Jewish life in America is rich, meaningful, and immensely growth oriented. Yet deep down, I always knew that if I didn’t take the historic shot in my grasp, I’d wonder about it every day of my life.

—  How ‘Hamilton’ prepared me for aliyah (The Times of Israel)

anonymous asked:

what do you think a courferre wedding would be like?? <33

You know what I’m so torn between Courfeyrac wanting a BIG ostentatious wedding and Combeferre wanting a close-knit reception.

So they get BOTH.

The ceremony is PACKED with people because let’s be real Courfeyrac knows a lot of people and has a lot of family. Enjolras was, of course, Combeferre’s best man and Marius was Courfeyrac’s. They write their own vows  and Courfeyrac is like… bawling before he even gets to the second like because he just loves Combeferre so much. Combeferre has to remove his glasses at some point because they are too misty and Courfeyrac says:

“Don’t kiss the priest instead of me, eh. Giving you a clue: I’m the devilishly handsome one. No offense, padre.”

Afterwards they have this thing called the “vin d’honneur” (honour toast? French is weird) during which everybody can drink a bit and talk, and congratulate the newly-weds. Only then do the guest start to trickle out, only to leave Les Amis and the grooms’ family to the reception.

Combeferre and Courfeyrac rented a little castle  for the occasion (believe me, it’s more common than you think, we have castles EVERYWHERE) so the location is pretty fairytale like. Courfeyrac chose to wear a white suit and Combeferre a black suit and UNDERNEATH, Courfeyrac had a black waistcoat and Combeferre a white one. So it looks VERY PRETTY when they dance.

My only certainty about this is that their first dance was “Thinking out Loud” sung by Jehan with Grantaire playing the guitar.

The Arrow House Portraits

The lovely @thereshegoes-beyondthehaha asked me about these pictures, gosh, at least a fortnight ago, and being an Art History Honours and chronic procrastinator this is both super-long (near 4k words) and really delayed. I hope you find it interesting, it was a lot more rewarding than I thought it was going to be. The works pick up on themes of love and grief that were perhaps more present than I initially thought. 

The production designer and the artist himself say that the paintings are ‘massively important to the script’ x and ‘key to the plot,’ x so they must be. Cillian spoke about them being ostentatious chattels - “All the shiny, horrible things in the house are Tommy’s! It is a very nouveau riche thing: ‘What are we going to do now we’ve got lots of money? We’ll put up portraits of ourselves.’ It’s very telling.” x While there’s an element of that - a way to emphasise the new level of wealth and lack of taste that has been a Shelby theme (remember the Garrison makeover?) There’s a fair bit more to it. Under the cut are some thoughts about the artist’s technique, portrait iconography, hanging locations, appearances through and relevance to Series 3.

NB - Polly’s portrait is an essay in itself so I haven’t done more than mention it here.

btw, I’d love to know what you guys think @road-to-j0y & @apeakyblindersfangirl​ :)

Keep reading

Hi everyone, me again…just wanted to let y’all in the scoop. 

1). Still trying to grow the group and we’re accepting applications daily! Would be cool if you could reblog the network post with the application link so people can know that we exist and stuff. Tell your friends :)

2). Admin Ashling came up with the idea to start using and tracking the tag #filmblrnetwork, I think it’s a good idea. If you want to post anything there so other members can check it out/reblog or whatever go ahead :) (btw I’m going to start tracking the tag ostentatious-filmblr. I would love to see yalls original stuff hint hint)

Hope everyone is enjoying the rest of the summer (unless where you live it isn’t summer..then enjoy your winter!) And for all of you going back to school, good luck!!

anonymous asked:

Would you say that France made a good decision by banning the burkini?

Meh. Limp-wristed little provisions like this are insulting to everyone’s intelligence. Why snip at the branches when you can rip out the root?

David Lisnard said he supported a ban on “beachwear ostentatiously showing a religious affiliation while France and places of religious significance are the target of terror attacks.” That’s also what the rest of them are saying. So why is this just about burkinis? Support a ban on all displays of Islamic religious affiliation if that’s the reasoning. The worst reaction possible would be more terrorist attacks, radicalism and riots, but it’s not as if inclusivity and liberty has ever acted as a successful antidote to anything the first instance (on the contrary, it’s absolute intolerance that would have prevented the cancer from appearing in the first instance). The peaceful ‘moderates’ can claim persecution and hop on the next plane if they have such a big problem with it. Until westerners have the right to ostentatiously parade their religious or cultural affiliations around the Muslim world (which will be never), they can quit with their oppression olympics and either suck it up or piss off. 

{ open to: females }

“Sorry to ask, but can I see your identification?”, the rare occasion that Maddox worked behind the bar of which he owned he always seemed to get the customers who seemed younger, it was a godsend this time it was a female. No ostentatious chest banging and credit card waving, all he wanted was to ensure she was old enough to be served. It wasn’t exactly a wild bar he owned either, although it was just a short taxi ride away from the local college and dorms. Flashing her a reassuring smile the large man tended to some orders while he waited on her to complete the request. On a Friday night his usual customers were floating around, some college students dotted around either downing shots in record speed or chatting loudly. He was quite proud of the bar he had bought and renovated himself, which was exactly why he didn’t want to get it closed down for serving a minor—no matter how attractive she was.

Donald Trump.

Are we seriously fucking serious? I ask this seriously.

Is half the country really fucking considering voting for this nutjob? Donald Trump is a living, breathing, speaking piece of garbage who stands in direct contrast of the ideals this country was founded on. He’s everything parents teach their children not to be. A perfect combination of everything good-hearted, decent people should be against. He’s a hateful, arrogant, racist, prejudiced, sexist, misogynistic, idiotic, bombastic, ostentatious, pretentious, narcissistic, egotistical, backwards-thinking, simple-minded, thin-skinned, fear-mongering dishonest, ignorant, violent, xenophobic, overbearing, sociopathic blowhard.

The thing that scares me most about Donald Trump isn’t Donald Trump. It’s that millions of people across this country have been lured in by Donald Trump. No matter how the election turns out, the fact so many have taken this man so seriously for so long is one of the most troubling things I’ve ever experienced.

So here’s a message. It’s not a message to the people who are already on Donald Trump’s side. Nothing I nor anyone else can tell you at this point will convince you. You are too far gone. You are too narrow-minded. This is a message to the people in the middle, who aren’t quite sure what to think, and who I believe make up most of this country: Think long and hard before you cast your lot with this man. He will not solve your problems. He will not be a good role model for your children. He will not leave this country better than he found it. He will hurt our world and especially our future. Deep down, you already know this.

Whether you like or dislike Hillary Clinton is irrelevant. Yes, she is a career politician who I am sure over 40 years has had dishonest moments. But she is experienced. She is steady hands. She cares about people and works for them. Donald Trump does not. He is a legitimate danger to our society, and we need to band together to keep a person like this far away from the most powerful position on Earth.