Dany found herself looking at the knight curiously. He was an older man, past forty and balding, but still strong and fit. Instead of silks and cottons, he wore wool and leather. His tunic was a dark green, embroidered with the likeness of a black bear standing on two legs.
a/n : i’ve been making my friend watxh stranger things so i’m in a writing mood to write some stanger things stuff AND YES I MADE IT SO STEVE AND NANCY NEVER HAD A THING OOPS
“Time to get sheet faced?” I questionee as I held the neon orange piece of paper.
“Come on (Y/N), it’ll be fun.” Nancy nudged me as we walked down the school hallway.
“I don’t know, these kind of parties aren’t my speed.” I argued and she rolled her eyes.
“Everyone is going to go, even Steve.” Her voice was almost taunting at the last part. My heart leapt into my chest when she said his name.
“You’re going, end of story.” Nancy smiled before walking into her classroom leaving me speechless.
My heart was racing and my hands were shaking as I scavenged through my closet for a costume. As I frantically searched, my phone rang. I raced over answering to Nancy claiming that she’d be over in 10 and we’d go to the party.
“Nance, I can’t even find a costume.” I complained as I flopped down onto my bed.
“Come on, that’s easy. Wear that black and white stripped shirt you have and put on a black hat, bam you’re a bank robber.” She explained.
“You think that’ll look good?” I asked.
“Yes now get ready! I’m leaving now.” She said before she hung up the phone.
Nancy’s car pulled up as I put together the finishing touches of my costume, slipping a black beanie over the top of my head and checking the outfit over once more in the mirror.
I could see her headlights through my window, signaling for me to hurry up so I quickly escorted myself from the house, entering her car and greeting Nancy with a warm smile.
“You look like you’re about to steal some hearts.” Nancy winked at her clever comment and I rolled my eyes.
“Very funny.” I laughed as she drove off to the party.
Before we even entered the house I could already hear the loud music coming from the house. The silhouettes of the teenagers through the windows showed they were all dancing carefree without any doubts.
Once Nancy and I entered, one of our other friends Olivia called us over. A large group of people were sitting in a circle.
“Nancy! (Y/N)! Come join us in a game of truth or dare.” Olivia called happily, patting at the space on the couch next to her. Nancy and I complied and Nance sat next to Olivia and I sat down next to Nancy.
“What are you guys doing?” Steve Harrington himself walked over to the group, drink in hand.
“We’re playing truth or dare, you in Harrington?” A guy named Joshua called to him. Steve let out a huff and nodded, moving so he could sit in the only empty spot which was next to me.
“Alright guys, it’s Halloween night, so no holding back on dares you got it?” Olivia asked the group and everyone agreed.
As the game pursued, the dares slowly began to amp up. Barely any truths were asked, and it went from simple pecks between strangers to lap dances and strip teasing. More people have joined and I was silently praising that I was able to sink down enough into the couch so I wouldn’t be called on.
“(Y/N) has anyone dares you yet?” Nancy asked, finally looking over at you.
“No but it’s fine.” I quickly spewed our knowing that she was now going to dare me.
“No! You said you’d play so you should. So, truth or dare?” Nancy asked as my heart rate escalated.
“Dare, I guess.” I said softly and Nancy smiled.
“I dare you to play seven minutes in heaven with…” She eyes the group of people even though I knew very well who she’d pick. “Steve” She finished the sentence and Steve and I both made eye contact. He grinned and nodded giving a simple okay. We both stood up, walking over to the small closet and closing the door behind us.
“So, enjoying the party?” Steve asked as he finished closing the door and scratching the back of his head.
“Yeah it’s alright, what about you?” I asked trying to remain calm.
“It’s going really well now.” He smirked taking a step closer.
“Why?” I asked growing even more nervous.
“Because I’m in a room with the hottest girl at this party all by myself.” He took another step closer so now we were only a couple inches apart.
“Really?” I asked, my voice timid.
“Really (Y/N), I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off you the whole night.” With that he sunk his head down, connecting my lips with his. To my surprise, the kiss was slow and sweet, as if Steve was trying to savor every taste as well was I.
Steve’s hands gravitated to my waist, sliding around it and holding on loosely but with a firm grip. My hands flew into his hair, tugging harshly at the soft strands causing him to let out a low moan.
Steve’s tongue ran across my bottom lip and I opened my mouth, granting him the access he was asking for, swirling our tongues together in a fiery dance of passion. Steve began taking steps forward until I was pushed back against the wall, Steve’s mouth moved from mine to my neck. Leaving harsh kisses down my neck and then he immediately stopped.
I whined at the loss of intimacy and he took a step back grinning. As if on command, the door flung open with Olivia with her hands on her hips.
“Did you guys just stand there? That’s boring. Well, while you guys just chatted in here the game ended and a lot of people left so you guys can leave if you want.” Olivia explained, before walking off. Steve turned to me smirking slightly.
“What do you say we go back to my place? My parents aren’t home right now, actually they won’t be home all weekend.” Steve offered and I happily agreed.
The minute we walked into Steve’s house, Steve pushed me up against the door, kissing me once more but this time it was filled with passion and lust. My arms wound tightly around his neck and his large hands went for every inch of my body, exploring as well as discarding articles of clothing.
“Wow.” Steve breathed out as I stood there shirtless. He quickly grabbed my hand, pulling me over to the couch in his living room. Laying me down and then throwing off his shirt before hovering over me. He kissed down my body, only stopping to replace his kisses with a harsh bite. I moaned out loudly at the feeling and I could feel Steve smile against my skin.
“That’s right, baby. Be as loud as you want. Nobody will hear.”
With that I flipped us over so I was straddling him and his eyes went wide.
“The same goes for you.” I smiled seductively to him as I slowly undid his belt and the button of his jeans, I pulled them down, allowing for his concealed hard on to spring free. I admired his naked body before I lowered my head towards where he needed me most. I licked a long strip on the underside of him and he let out a deep growl at the feeling. I wasn’t satisfied with his reaction so I decided to completely take in as much of him as I could.
Once he hit the back of my throat I began to pump him through my mouth at a painfully slow movement. Using my hand to caress everything else I couldn’t fit in. Steve’s mouth was filled with whines and whimpers at the pace. Finally getting closer to the satisfaction of his actions I began to pump faster on him, swirling my tongue around him as well. He began to buck his hips, making me take even more of him into my mouth.
He began to let out loud groans in pleasure at the feelings and once I reached a speed and could feel him twitching, he pulled me off.
“As much as I love you for that, I’d rather cum inside you.” Steve admired and I blushed. As I sat there straddling him, I slowly unclipped my bra and felt the cold air hit my chest. Steve’s hand gently brushed up against my face as he brought my face closer to his.
“You are absolutely beautiful.” He gushed to me and I smiled, nuzzling my face into his hand. Pushing my lips to his, Steve moved his hands to remove my pants as well as my panties, leaving us both completely naked. He switched positions so I was once again my back was resting against the couch and Steve used his upper arms to hold himself up.
“Are you ready?” Steve asked almost in a whisper and I was caught off guard by his sudden carefulness. I nodded at him and brought him into another sensual kiss as he began to insert himself into me. We both moaned into each other’s mouths as the level of pleasure filled us both. Steve began to thrust in and out, slow and steady at first and then picking up the pace. My nails raked against his back and pulled tightly at his hair.
His head ducked down to rest in the crook of my neck and I decided to switch positions one more time. I flipped us so I was riding him as Steve laid back, letting me do the work. I bounced on him quickly as Steve tightly gripped my hips, helping me get into a rhythm that suited both of us. A knot tied tighter in my stomach at the new position I threw my head back, moaning out.
“You look so hot.” Steve moaned as he took one of his hands to massage my breast. The knot tied tighter and tighter until I couldn’t bear it and I came down from a strong high. I screamed out and Steve came to, moaning out.
As we both came down from our highs I fell flush against Steve and he wrapped his strong arms around my torso.
“I really think we should do that again.” Steve offered.
“What about your parents?” I inquired.
“Like I said, they won’t be home all weekend.” Steve smirked.
So its been um…like 6 months since I’ve painted Connor. Life keeps GETTING IN THE WAY, and WORK in the hospital is still KICKING MY BUTT, and OVERWATCH IS FUN HAHA BOOP BOOP MOTHERFUCKERS and convention prep is KILLER, but God sitting down to paint this man bear child is like coming back home. Y’all have no idea how sad I’ve been cuz I haven’t painted him in forever. :< High five to @teal0gic and @thefluxvoice for feeding me Connorline headcanons until I could calm down enough for an hour for a therapeutic doodle~
tell me why is it that… GRRM wrote one of the most sexually suggestive and raunchy songs in asoiaf, the bear and the maiden fair… and explicitly tied it thematically to Jaime and Brienne… yet people still… don’t think they’re going to get it on at some point???
categorized and generalized all the types of tumblr aesthetics i have come across.
I have been going through archives for the last five years on tumblr now, and i can’t help but notice that a lot of blogs are the same. There seems to be a pattern in the sorts of aesthetics i run up against. So, in my exhaustion, i tried coming up with all the different aesthetics, and i tried to put them into certain categories. Obviously, some of these categories are mixed with others.
-daddy dom stuff - tied up boobies
-just unrealistic nudes
-just realistic nudes
-vintage porn, and occasionally porn that is so old that it was drawn by someone in the 1800′s
- hentai and erotic animal people
cartoon characters going at it
-person who took about five pictures of
themselves naked five years ago who has not come back
RICH KID TUMBLR
-super modelesque kids in their super
rich cool kid clothes and fashion in Starbucks taking pictures of
their food and their trips to Europe in 1st class
- incredibly expensive looking sunglasses
-rich kid travel blogs with hundreds of
thousands of notes of pictures from rich people buildings
-quotes that say ‘be happy’ or stuff
about saying anyone can just travel anywhere at any time, just the
general advice you might get from someone who doesn’t know how the
other half lives
-the greatest generation stuff,
forgotten early hollywood actors/actresses, very old movie gifs,
Theda Bara, Clara Bow, Carol Lombard, early Joan Crawford, Gone with
the Wind ect..
-50’s, 60’s and 70’s, Nancy Sinatra,
Brigitte Bardot, Marilyn Monroe, Audrey Hepburn – generally a lot
of Audrey Hepburn
-Posts old advertisements and old cars,
sometimes old toys, a few pinups, vintage comics, kinda weird
- vintage toy blogs - just toys, named and dated
-sometimes retrospace stuff
-sometimes just old comic book stuff
FEMINIST/ GENDER STUDIES TUMBLR
-intersectional feminists who post
mostly text and back and forth writings, sometimes they fight
-radfems and turfs, unpopular minority
of angry at the intersectional feminists
- Fat Acceptance movement, chubby
-other girl’s selfies, lots of girl
power related drawings of gender symbols and the like, Grimes, being
a witch, Courtney Love, sailor moon, and so forth, sometimes bleeds
into soft grunge
-topics on transgender, gender fluid
and others that have informative
- asexual community
BLACK LIVES MATTER TUMBLR
-black lives matter awareness, police
brutality, pointing out flaws in legal system
-lovely stylish selfies
-call outs of racism, lots of dialogue,
and the extension of twitter
80’s + 90’s GIF TUMBLR
-like gifs of scratched up VCR obscure
film openings, and repetitious obscure 80’s gifs in general,
everything is fuzzy and looks like it came from an 80’ infomercial,
kinda makes you feel scared
-90’s gifs of Pee Wee Herman, Catdog,
Clarissa Explains it All, Chucky Cheese, Fruit by the Foot, Beavus
and Butthead, Bart Simpson, and so on
-just like the rich kidz, only they
have white kid dreads and post a lot of vanlife stuff, lots of
-mostly psychedelic gifs, with
occasional trippy art, Foster the People is their favorite band
-real hippies, who post pictures of
communes and people making tyed dye things, nonsexual nudes with
hairy women, Grateful Dead stuff
-Buddhist and Hindu quotes, sometimes
SOFT GRUNGE TUMBLR
purple and pink skies, water,
windows with lace
girls with pale skin and perfect
make up, and chokers, bruises, sparkly skin
mermaid texture, mermaid hair
Lana Del Rey
kind of like 90’s only more melty
quotes about good vibes
Eternal Sunshine for the Spotless
dream pop bands from the early
GROWN UP SOFT GRUNGE TUMBLR
picture of Uma Thurman overdosing
in Pulp Fiction
lots and lots of flowers
lots of sensual pictures of pale
skin under certain lighting
pictures of sunrises
kind of like the Soft Grunge, but
just a little bit more subtle and film tumblry
ART BLOG TUMBLR
old roman art
chinese, japanese and korean art
from long ago
renaissance and medieval art with
just like medieval art of
18th and 19th
century portrait paintings
Scenic paintings of hills, Van
Gogh, Toulouse-Lautrec, Monet
Dada, Pablo Picasso, Jackson
Pollock, Salvador Dali, Andy Warhol, Adolph Wolfie
Modern art that is squiggly,
slimy, and bizzare, breaks art rules but looks good, David Shrigley
ARTIST BLOG TUMBLR
posts really great homemade gifs
that nobody knows about infrequently
blogs that only have the artwork
of the blog owner – generally post infrequently and not given
enough credit ever, except maybe one of there works has a whole
bunch of notes
person who keeps painting the same
thing over and over again and does it a lot for years at a time, 0
notes usually – who are you??
collage artists that mix 50’s
scenes with hyperspace backdrops
FILM BLOG TUMBLR
-Stanley Kubrick, Jean Cocteau, lots of
black and white french films
-that movie where the two people are
sitting on the ledge of a building and the other one jumps off
Blue Velvet, Twin Peaks (gets stolen by
other kinds of blogs frequently)
Rare film art from Poland in the 70’s
Man Ray, Max Ernst,
cool quotes by philosopher, artist,
psychologist, or film director
sometimes Wes Anderson
abandoned places, gas stations,
archaic cafes, falling apart amusement parks
uses too much dark fade out in the
background pictures of fields and stuff, overused filtering –
posted a ton three years ago and then left
girl who takes pictures of herself
Nature pictures, animal pictures
person who just takes pictures of
textures and minimalist buildings – usually colorful
person who’s personal Instagram
picture just automatically post to tumblr also, probably never
checks up, usually pictures of them with friends as a pub
Indigenous pictures from around
the world, some of them from books, some from National Geographic,
some from other places
Super old pictures from old
newspapers, the great depression, WW2 – generally black and white
Really likes Led Zeppelin, The
Doors and The Who, sometimes mixed with other vintage, often posts
the same pictures and songs for years – you feel bad because no
new music will be coming out from these artists
super cheesy Van Halen, Kiss,
Styx, Ozzy person, Big Hair, likes 80’s pin ups and skulls,
sometimes into martial arts
super cheesy death metal fan, lots
of pinups, corny black and white pictures of skulls and such
REALLY likes British Invasion, The
Zombies, The Kinks, The Hollies, The Animals, will occasionally post
Detroit girl groups from the 60’s, some Velvet Underground, pictures
of the Beatles girlfriends
Just David Bowie, Lou Reed, Patti
Smith and Iggy Pop. Maybe some New York Dolls
Old Blues and Jazz, Etta James,
Son House, Nina Simone, pictures of Leadbelly and Howlin’ Wolf and
especially Miles Davis
really into post punk, Nick Cave,
Siouxsie, Bauhaus, The Cure, Einsturzende Neubauten, Lydia Lunch, PJ
Harvey and Rowland S. Howard, sometimes Morrissey. also generally
mixes film and art blog stuff in with occasional feminist things
Just Morrissey, they call him Moz.
Fan clubs for specific bands that
are newer and popular like Arctic Monkeys or Fallout Boy, but also
ones blogs that really like emo lyrics from early 2000’s and such –
scene kids that are still scenin’ it up
loves Jens Lekman, Belle and
Sebastian, The Magnetic Fields and The Pains of Being Pure at Heart,
Cigarettes After Sex. Usually posts really cute modern art, and uses
tumblr mostly for writing, has the cutest hair cut and can pull off
overalls, never posts too little or too much, extremely twee
ancient mesopotamia, greek and
Egyptian history and relics
Blogs that are specifically about
one place in one era - Ancient Russia, Ireland before it was taken
over, precolonial India and so on
Samurai, Geisha, and scrolls
Swords, knights, castles, kings of
Europe in general
Specific Wars, examples: 7 Years
War, Revolutionary War, WW1 + 2
France from before the revolution
– pictures of wigged men, Napoleon, Marie Antoinette
Jane Austen time era anything 18th
and 19th century, slight excuse to post lots of Pride and
Prejudice gifs with Keira Knightly and that Mr. Darcy in the rain
Outfits – just outfits that are
person who is obsessed with the
Nazis and seems to like Hitler
Flappers and earlier 20th
– often an excuse to post gifs of Downton Abbey
Vintage books, often children
books, but sometimes others
really fucked up pictures of the
Simpsons melting and stuff
gradient graphic art with symbols
or words meant to convey a product that I don’t understand for an
obscure magazine subscription
graphic squiggles without form,
minimalist graphic pictures of beach balls, tennis bats, and
bizarre smiley faces made from
smaller smiley faces
80’s inspired design
odd looking models with undercuts
and no eyebrows
cartoon dogs and cats
just static and glitches. Nothing
more, nothing less
either they make their own graphic
designs and they rarely post, or they compile reblogs of everyone
else’s and they post all the time
insane family pictures of family
who all has mullet dressed as bumble bees
Lots of Robert Crumb, some vintage
stuff, but nothing remotely main stream
Some of the modern art, but only
the weirdest of it
art from early Power Point
100 piece sculptures with melted
paintings of monsters
children’s fan art of Smokey the
Bear – looks disturbing
Items that are too kitschy to be
accepted by your average vintage indie blog
sometimes a specific blog centered
around some kind of crazy event where everyone dresses completely
the communists and Marxists
a mixture of BLM and LGBTQ stuff
anarchocapitalists, Ayn rand folk
the left wing anarchists,
freegans, graffiti punks, garden punks, possums
informative left wing news that
explains to us everyday how the GOP is fucking us
alt. right creeps who are simply
here to be trolls and upset everyone else – anti SJW, that stupid
frog, nationalists, trump supporters and such – irrelevant poorly
I miss Obama memes
Bernie Sanders forever and always
pictures of rainbow candies, toys,
designs, clothing and so forth all of it rainbow
people who post one color at a
time, so when you go through their archive it’s all gradient and
neat looking – usually the pictures are a little stock photoish
The Cramps. Reverend Horton Heat
Psychobilly pin ups, old cars,
burning skulls, vintage B horror movies, The Swamp Thing
Legitimately obsessed with the
activities of Halloween – posts witches, devils, trick or treat
candy, Bella Lugosi, The Monster Mash, Halloween decoration - and
doesn’t ever forget how many days away Halloween is
Jack the Skeleton
American Horror Story
K Pop and J Pop + Korean Drama
boy bands in general
My Little Ponies
Various anime shows
fat Disney princesses
Big Bang Theory
Phantom of the Opera
Orange is the New Black
Alice in Wonderland
Game of Thrones and Walking Dead
any television show really
lots of spacy quick anime chibi
versions of characters who are hooking up and wouldn’t normally in
scenes from movies with subtext
that comes from a different movie or show
probably countless others i am not thinking of.
serial killer blogs
unexplained mysteries, ghosts,
pictures of galaxies with
information (not sparkly silly ones with no context)
sewing and yarn
religious blogs, either Islam,
Christian, Jewish, Hindu or Buddhist
specific animal blogs, snake,
spiders, wild cats and such
science blogs about technology and
stock photoish pictures of camp
grounds and misty mountains – often taken by the hippies
angelic looking deer, and
occasional animal burials with flowers’
person who takes pictures of
flowers all the time
granola type fellow who loves
juicing and backpacking – doesn’t get on tumblr much
BLACK AND WHITE GOTH TUMBLR
slenderman fan art, actually just
about anything creepypasta related
you have to turn off the music
when you visit their page because it’s just too much
fan art of black eyed children
pictures that were turned into
Gifs because they shake
Alice in wonderland with X’s for
occasional serial killer
skulls and references to Edgar
GIF MEME TUMBLR
just a sea of Gifs and memes
relating to anything about life ever – almost shitposting but not
eventually one of the gifs got
100,000 notes for it’s relatability so they get a lot of traffic
lots of pictures and circumstances
from The Office, Parks and Rec, and It’s Always Sunny in
kind of a little girl dom thing
Kawai and lots of Japanese girls
cute colorful make up
plushies and toys
references to fantasy cartoons
from the 80’s, the last unicorn, or that one with the girls in that
Polly Pockets, Furbies, trolls
gifs of stars and hearts
occasionally more on the vintage
ravens, bats, candles
pentacles and other symbols
sometimes there is dreads
occasionally, it is a serious
practicing Wicca who posts spells and gives witch advice
lots of personal reflections
Tim and Eric, Steve Brule centered
blog that are mostly in the act to make you feel queezy
like, people eating cheerios with
ketchup and people wearing shoes with the soles cut out, people
putting their feet in spagetti, bad tattoos on foreheads
snails, beetles, bird doing mean
things to people
mostly moldy things, moss, strange
things that look like they came
from the dark crystal,
delapitating bedrooms that once
belonged to a little girl, torn wall paper, old porcelain dolls that
are slightly upsetting
occasionally a blog so gross you
will be ruined for having seen it – Two Girls one Cup sort of
old video game start up pages
Super Mario Bros.
Other video game characters
chibis of video game characters
interacting with one another
Final Fantasy references
randomly doesn’t post for a year
SELF HELP TUMBLR
blog that gives dumb advice that
only works if you were already happy anyway
either semi fake or oversimplified
blogs from people who suffer from
addiction or mental illness and want help and use their blog to vent
blogs ran by people who enjoy
crystal meth and don’t give a fuck.
worthy of mentioning, blogs that nobody ever posted a single thing or just one thing, like, really cryptic blogs that nobody could ever understand, blogs that were taken over by some kind of virus and they are trying to sell you male pattern baldness remedies, or they are now call absurdly pornographic things because the virus took over and now they are like blonde cumfuck creampie or something of that nature, and blogs were the person was basically saying they have found a girlfriend/boyfriend now and don’t need tumblr anymore so goodbye
and in my experience …
anybody can post pictures of jiggly
anybody can post Grace Jones
anybody can post a Bjork song
these seem to be universal truths that defy limitations
Someone recently asked me what I thought about American Horror Story Coven. And my honest response? It was a shit-show. There were a lot things that I criticize it on, from portrayal of witchcraft, the abandoning of folklore, a poor rewrite of history, etc. However, there was one above them all that I was most disappointed by. That’s the portrayal of Vodou.
The creators researched vodou, talked to practitioners, just enough to have an understanding of the basics. They knew what it was, how it functioned, and the goal of ceremonies. Yet, they either threw that aside or twisted it into falsehoods. Why does it matter? Vodou is not only a religion that comes from the cultures of minorities, but it also has heavy ties to the Slave Trade that happened in the Americas, Africa, and Haiti. The Slave Trade cannot be separated from or expunged from Vodou. It is the history. Ironically, we have a show that was meant to spark discussion on racism, but takes this religion and makes them into Devil worshippers.
But this is no new idea and it doesn’t originate with AHS. In fact, I’m sure that they were inspired by the massive amounts of creative misinformation that is spread about it. Dolls, baneful magic, demons, pacts, orgies, baby sacrifice, wooded rituals, manipulative spells, etc. Does it sound familiar at all? It’s the European idea of witches.
Let’s talk about how this came about.
Vodou is a religion that has its roots firmly planted in West Africa. There, it focused heavily on ancestor worship, land spirits united under titles (Mami Wata for example), the veneration of intermediary spirits, and connection to both the natural world and the supernatural world. Just as any religion, this was strongly connected to finding a link to divinity. There were some hints of magical practice, but not as prominent as later divisions.
Then the Slave Trade happened. West African slaves were taken to the Haiti and from that, the religion spread. It didn’t stay, the same, however. This is why there is a difference between Haitian Vodou and African Vodou. When the slaves were taken to Haiti, they were not allowed to practice their native faith. Thus, syncretism in Vodou was born. Roman Catholic saints were used as disguises for their Loa, their spirits. As time went on, the Haitians decided to revolt, but in the name of a spirit, Ezili Dantor. They gave her a black pig and pledged to fight. So they did. They drove out their oppressors.
Of course, this act of rebellion doesn’t go unnoticed. From 1685 until 1804, European colonists were exposed to a native religion that dealt heavily in spirit work, possession, and some magical practices. Even more so, this religion employed magic and spirits to help secure a rebellion against the French colonists. To the mind of a European at the time, this magic was Devil worship. It was veneration of demons and the working of black magic. To them, it was witchcraft.
Vodou became more involved in magic as time went on. By the time it got the the Americas, it was filled with both spirit worship and folk magic. Traditional charms empowered by ritual were used to obtain results. America already had a sordid history with fear of the supernatural. Rumors about Vodou, now Voodoo, flew about cities with large ports. One large name city was New Orleans. Again, to colonists, this magic was one they weren’t familiar with. It came from the wilderness and from their slaves. Of course they would call it witchcraft.
What they didn’t know was that those people already had the idea of witches in their countries, which were not so far different from the European idea of witches. They didn’t see themselves as witches, and in fact, some of their magic was employed against such practitioners and practices. While it is true that there are some practitioners of Vodou who adhere to different standards than those of a more popular standing, it’s not so radically different as to force them out of their own community.
This idea of Vodou carries into today. Perhaps the most shameful part about it is that it’s not only believed among people who practice no magic, but it’s a belief held very strongly by many people who call themselves witches today. When referring to evil spells, dark powers, and overall baneful intentions behind magical acts, they lump the words ‘voodoo’ and ‘voodoo dolls’ in. Perhaps the most intriguing part of it is how ironic it is. The meaning of the word witchcraft has changed over the years, and in Modern Western culture, it doesn’t always refer to the same idea that was held years in its own past, or even still in some minority cultures and communities. It refers to magic and general practice of it. This is most definitely not applicable outside of Western Pop Culture. Yet, despite all of that, they persist with the idea that Vodou and its practitioners are sorcerers who work with darker spirit powers. They’ve abandoned a past that they feel is shameful and condemned someone else to bear it.
This ties into the discussion on ‘Magic vs Witchcraft’. People always ask “What’s the big deal? Why does it matter? Who does it hurt?” And these folks are a great example. In most minority cultures, the distinction between witch and magician (of whatever kind) is an important one to make. Otherwise, it not only accuses people of things that would never think of doing, nor does it only create a large barrier in communication, but it erases the traditional beliefs held within communities and cultures that have somehow managed to somewhat survive after being shipped from one country to the next, forced religious conversions, and centuries of oppression.
Be just as skeptical about what you might hear about Vodou as you are about what you might hear about witchcraft. Listen to the practitioners. Read their words and hear their truth. Don’t forget that you’re talking about someone’s native faith. True, it incorporates magico-religious rituals and folk magic, but above all, it is connection to spirit forces.
So @whenimaunicorn sent me the prompt: “Truth or Dare? I dare you to spend the rest of the night tied to Prince Ivar at the wrists.” Thanks for the prompt!
Here is the result. More angst than originally planned. Oops?
TW: mild sexual content, infidelity
You had never known Hvitserk to be cruel.
Okay, that was a lie. You had never known him to be cruel to you. Other people were another story. But tonight, tonight you fell into that category of “other people”. For what he had done, you would consider the cruelest thing of all.
It had started innocent, a game of truth or dare among brothers and friends. It was a game played often, as you had known the Ragnarssons since you were all grubby children, playing in the mud. The ale and laughter had flowed, to the point where you could almost forget the aching hole that was etched permanently upon your heart. But then, it had been your turn. You had chosen dare. And Hvitserk, drunk and careless, had dared you to spend the rest of the night, tethered by the wrists, to none other than Ivar.
Ivar, the man you were hopelessly in love with. Ivar, the man you could not stay away from. Ivar, the man who would never be wholly yours.
You agreed to the dare, not only to be spared the severe penalty but to savour any sort of closeness you could get with the Prince.
You moved to sit beside Ivar. Someone came and bound your wrists together, you didn’t know who. All you could focus on were her eyes, staring at you from across the table, hating you. Wishing you would one day take to your father’s fishing boat and not return. Drowned, dragged to the bottom of the sea, a sea that she could somehow bend to her will. She knew, she knew that his heart lay with you and not with her. She was a pawn, a token used for land and power and offspring with a strong bloodline. You, you were the fire in his blood, the beating of his heart, the name on his lips when he took her to bed.
But you were a nobody, and princes did not end up with nobodies. They had mothers and fathers and brothers who pushed for alliances, for duty, for the good of the people. They ended up with someone who could give them those things.
You were not that someone.
You could feel Ivar’s skin next to yours, where your wrists touched, warm and familiar. It made you ache for an easier time, when there was nothing but bare skin and love and the hopes of the young and foolish. Hopes you could one day be together, love freely and without restraint. You hardly got any time with each other now. Every moment you could spend by his side was a precious one.
As if he could sense your distress, your lover placed your linked hands under the table, onto your thigh. He had not said anything when Hvitserk had issued the dare. He had not protested, had not insisted it be an insult to his wife to be tied to another woman. He had simply let it happen. A choice. A declaration. You over her, every time. And she knew it.
The weight of your joined hands on your thigh was comforting, a balm amidst the tension that was threatening to suffocate you. She flicked her eyes down to the table, disgust marring her pretty face. To her, you were worthless. She could not see what kept drawing him to you. You both knew she didn’t love him, only married him for the name and the power and the role of duty. But it irked her to no end that he did not fall at her feet like all the others, did not desire her body. She wanted to catch her prey, but he kept slipping through her net.
The game continued on. You could not focus. Ivar’s hand had inched higher up your thigh, fingers stroking over the soft material of your dress. Her eyes were now on her husband, cold and stony. He growled, baring sharp white teeth as his fingers sunk deep into your thigh. Baiting her, showing her what she was to him. The title of wife meant nothing.
It should have comforted you, to know he only wanted you. That she was nothing to him. But it still hurt. It hurt to know she carried the title of wife, and not you. It hurt to know she was by his side, would one day grow round with his child in her belly. She would have his future, and you would be naught but a secret in the dark. You did not want to share, you wanted all of him. Every moment, every look, every touch. It was not enough to know he loved you. Your heart was greedy. It wanted everything, for it and it alone.
Ivar pushed your joined hands further into your lap, fingers teasing your flesh. You could feel the desire flowing through them, his simmering need for you. With her, it was all about business, securing a child. With you, it was love and passion and burning, all consuming need. You did not get many chances to be together, and every encounter was a like a wild summer storm, fierce and raging.
He stopped his movements on your thigh, instead leaning over to ghost his lips over the shell of your ear. No one was watching but her, no one cared but her. You should have felt bad for her, how must it feel knowing your husband cares not for you? But you did not. You would never see her as anything more than a thief. A thief who stole your happy future.
“Truth or dare?” Ivar whispered softly in your ear, voice laced with a dark lust. You shivered as his words slid over your skin like a silken scarf.
“Dare,” you whispered back, not daring to look at his face.
He leaned closer, his heady scent enveloping you like a tender embrace.
“I dare you to take me to bed. My bed.”
He meant the bed he shared with her, in the back of the Great Hall. You sucked in a breath. You had always met somewhere, never had he taken you in that bed, since he had gotten married. It was probably a bad idea.
But you did not care.
You stood up, grabbing Ivar’s crutches for him from where they leaned upon his chair. He allowed himself to give you a heated smirk, before the two of you awkwardly made your way towards the back of the Hall.
Her eyes followed you the whole way there.
But once you were enclosed in his private quarters, all thoughts but Ivar left your mind. He somehow managed to get his knife out of his belt, cut your bonds and throw you onto the bed with a few smooth motions. You eagerly reached for him as he lowered himself out of his crutches, desperate to feel all of him against you.
You needed him like air, you craved him like a drug. He fell upon you with a fervour only he could have, all groping hands and hungry kisses and loud, needy moans. He did not try to quiet himself, he did not care if she heard. If anyone heard. You found you did not care either. You arched into him and let him sweep you away in a tidal wave of pleasure.
He took you fast, and he took you hard. No loving caresses, no soft teasing, no slow and sweet build up. Pure carnal desire, the kind that leaves delicious aches and bruises to savour. Ivar in his truest form, making you cry out, making you beg for more, more, more. You knew nothing but the slide of hot, slippery skin, the taste of salt and sweat, the stars exploding behind your eyelids.
After, you curled yourself around him, pressing your shaking body as close as you could get. He enclosed you in his arms, letting you rest against him as you both caught your breath. As you laid there, your euphoria faded, and the ache in your heart returned.
“It should be enough,” you said softly, tracing a pattern over his chest with your fingers. “It should be enough to share you, and know that it is me who holds your heart. People do it all the time. Look at your brothers, sharing Margrethe between them. But I am selfish. I want you all to myself. I want to be your only wife, and the only woman you take to bed. I want to give you all your children. Is that wrong?”
He began to stroke his fingers through your long hair, blunt nails scratching gently over your scalp.
“It is not wrong,” he said, voice rumbling in his chest. “It is not wrong, for I feel the same way. I do not want to be tied to her. I do not want her to bear my children. I chose you, and only you, a long time ago. When I think of how I would feel if our situations were reversed, I want to kill something. The thought of another man touching your makes me sick.”
It made you sick, too. You twisted so you could press a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw.
“If only I was not who I am. If only I was like her, from a family worthy-”
He cut you off with a firm hand to your throat, pulling you on top of him so he could look at you with angry eyes.
“Do not ever say that again,” he growls, fingers squeezing, squeezing. “Do not wish you were anything but what you are. You are perfect. You are not less than her. Do you hear me?”
You nod, and his fingers relax. His eyes, however, stayed hard and blazing.
“I will find a way,” he vowed. “I will find a way to weaken her father, to make it so he is not more powerful than us. I married his daughter so he would not overpower us; I will make it so he has no power, and so I will no longer be in need of my marriage. Then,” his face softens ever so slightly, “then I will be free to marry whom I wish.”
It was a lot to promise, and probably very much unlikely to come true. But you clung to his words like a child clings to its mother’s skirts. A distant hope. You leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips.
“I should go,” you whispered, thinking of her sitting in the Great Hall. “I should go before she comes to you.”
His grip on you tightened, possessive. “No. You will stay. She will not come to me tonight. You will stay, and let me hold you. I will wake at least once with you in my arms.”
You knew you should leave, before leaving got any harder, but a night in his arms was more than you ever got. So you agreed, nestling down against him, letting him wrap himself around you. The darkness pressed around you like a comforting blanket, wrapping you up in a world where you could pretend only the two of you existed.
“Truth or dare,” you whispered, finding his hand in the dark.
“Truth,” his hand was warm, calloused, perfect.
“Will you always love me? No matter what our lives become?” You knew the answer. But to hear it was a bandage across your broken heart
A sigh. A kiss on your head. Broad fingers squeezed yours.
I known with Vikings sharing is caring, but I imagine some of them are not into it. Happy Sunday! ❤️
Happy Valentine’s Day to all of my dear followers! You guys are amazing and I love you all. <3
Quick shout out to my girl @noenoemi for helping me find the cards. They do not belong to me and were found through Google.
Jonathan wasn’t the biggest fan of Valentine’s Day; though it had more to do with the fact that he rarely had anyone to celebrate with, than the idea of it being a made up holiday for stores to sell overpriced candy and cards to the unsuspecting public.
He dreaded the day, because it just reminded him how horribly lonely he was, and how his romantic life was virtually nil. It also emphasized how deeply in love he was with his best friend, with no hope for the future due to the fact that said best friend was straight, and completely unavailable.
Which is why, when he opened his locker on the tenth of February, he was extremely surprised to find a small red envelope sitting among his books.
Lunarian is the replacement for “fem-aligned”. It means having a complicated but nonetheless existing relationship with fem genders and/or alignment.
Solarian is the replacement for “masc-aligned”. It means having a complicated but nonetheless existing relationship with masc genders and/or alignment.
Stellarian is a new term used to describe rejection of the gender binary and any and being categorized as either binary gender. Someone who is stellarian can also be lunarian or solarian (stellunarian/nebularian, stelsolarian/novarian) but is defining their relationship with fem/masc-gender and/or alignment by how much they reject the ties they bear to said genders/alignments.
It’s a bit confusing, seeing as the whole point of ‘stellarian’ is to align yourself with rejecting alignment, but they’re two different kinds of alignment I believe.
You can be sollunarian (eclipsian), or even solstellunarian (galaxian). It’s all very complicated, and I recognize that it’s quite vague terminology, but at least it’s a replacement for the exorsexist terminology cis and binary trans people have been using for us.
I call it the galactian system. It isn’t perfect, because it relies on a trinary range of identities that can be categorized into 3 different sections, but it’s a far cry from the gender binary. Also, I’m bitter because someone who is violently nbphobic took several of the urls of these terms, so that people who need them couldn’t use them.
TRIGGER WARNING– mention of past sexual assault/Tonys reaction to it. It’s not graphic at all, nothing is described or anything, it’s just brought up and there are a few paragraphs where Tony/Loki discuss it. I will mark ****where it begins and ends. This sort of thing can be particularly triggering for people, so just be careful.
Can’t wait to hear what you guys think of this chapter, other than the TW it’s honestly beautiful and sooo cute and the boys kiss a little! Long Chapter 4200 words!
“You have been avoiding our Anthony, and it is hurting him.” Thor said disapprovingly as he fastened his warm cloak over his riding clothes.
“Your forgiveness.” Loki murmured, staring down at the ground. “Things did not go as planned the other day and I–”
“Anthony mentioned your change. He also said that you ran from the room before he could even try and understand what had happened. Your brief explanation only confused him more.”
“Yes. Well when he came running to you, did you tell him of the demon that lurks within me?”
“Your Jotunn form is not a demon, Loki.” Thor said patiently. “You have hated it for so long, but it is not as monstrous as you believe. And it has no bearing on your personality. “Tis just cosmetic. Our Anthony does not care about such things.”
“Easy for you to say.” Loki retorted. “You have poems written to your beauty. I am the thing that lurks in the night, what we tell the children in horror stories.”
“You are not.” Thor shook his head. “And by denying Anthony to chance to see you, to even talk to you, is hurtful to both of you. It pains me to see you miserable. It has been a long few days.”
“Yes well.” Loki folded his arms, shook his head in defeat. “While I have missed Anthony, I am at a loss as to how to talk to him again. We were close and then I–” he closed his eyes. “I changed and I couldn’t–”
“He mentioned you were close.” Thor agreed, a curious light in his eyes. “I take it after our conversation, you were eager to further your relationship with our Anthony.”
“I attempted.” Loki emphasized. “And look what happened. Obviously Anthony and I are not meant to–”
“You need to talk to him.” Thor insisted. “You are doing him a disservice by assuming that he will reject you over something cosmetic, something you have no control over. What you are has no bearing on who you are, and it is high time you realized that. Our Anthony is only a man and yet he is stronger of will than most immortals that walk our realms. What if I had discounted him because of what he was? I would have missed out on my love and I cannot abide that.”
Thor frowned at him. “Do not leave our hjartslattur lonely, wondering why one who shares his heart is trampling so thoroughly on it by hiding himself away. Go to him.”
“I will be gone for several days, and if I return to hear that you have avoided him, I will be very angry with you.”
“Loki.” Thor grabbed him in their almost-hug, their arms clasped, their foreheads touching. “Swear it. Swear you will go to him. I will not leave while you two are at odds with each other.
“I swear.” Loki agreed, even as he fought against the panic in his chest, the thought of facing Anthony again enough to make him tremble. “I swear.”
“Very well, then.”
Thor held him for another moment before pulling away. “I have already said good-bye to Anthony, left him sleeping in our chambers.”
“I will find him when he wakes.” Loki promised. “Safe travels. Return home to us.”
Loki didn’t think anything about his words, it was a standard enough thing to say in parting. But this time something flickered in Thor’s blue eyes, something Loki didn’t quite catch before the giant turned and headed out the door.
It’s not his fault. It really isn’t his fault and he’d like to say it isn’t anyone’s fault either. It just happened and he couldn’t control it because this type of situation isn’t something you can choose to have– it’s not something you can think away. However, Harry will admit to one thing: he does get horny at the worst possible times.
He wouldn’t necessarily call it a habit because habits are something you do consciously– something you have restrictions on and you can manage if it occurs or not, like biting your nails. But getting turned on? He’s absolutely powerless over that. Harry really wishes he could just make it stop but no matter how hard he tries (no pun intended), he’s never successful. Much like now.
There’s nothing around him that can contribute to the sudden occurrence but the lack of action didn’t affect him either way.
He and Y/N are laying in bed, nuzzled up in the warm, flocculent duvet with The Polar Express playing on the flat screen television that’s mounted on the wall. Y/N is tucked securely into the crook of his side, his left arm slung loosely across her shoulders while his long fingers play at with tips of her soft hair.
She’s snuggled up in a pair of fluffy pajama bottoms that have pink polar bears riding sleds, paired with one of his favorite t-shirts– the white one with the doodles of the hands holding cigarettes. It fits him a bit baggy so she’s almost drowning in it, the sleeves stopping at the dip of the inside of her elbows as the hem reaches her mid-thigh, decapitating a random polar bear. Her hair is tied up in a careless bun, silky strands sticking up here and there while others tickle her cheeks but Harry loves the way she looks– loves how relaxed and naturally limpid she appears, the beauty she exudes being at its purest and most untainted form.
He finds himself with a small smile tilting the corners of his lips, absentmindedly fonding over this simple girl. He catches himself doing this often, just sitting there in slight awe and admiring the small things about her, like the way she snorts loudly when she laughs a bit too hard or the teeny twinkle of childish excitement that sparks inside her eyes when Harry offers to take her to see a film. Y/N is the type of person who appreciates the little things in life and those people, he believes, were made to be cherished. And, fuck, does he cherish her– considers himself incredibly lucky to have such a positively radiant person in his life to keep him anchored.
Y/N now cuddles further into his body, one of her legs slipping in between both of his as her head sinks further into his clothed chest. He snakes both his arms around her, squeezing her reassuringly and laying a gentle kiss on the very top of her head, reveling in the faint saccharine scent of clementine he knows too well.
“My favorite part’s coming up.” She murmurs gently, smiling as the conductor in the animated movie offers the kids refreshments. One of her hands runs under the hem of Harry’s Packers sweatshirt, following the tiny slopes of his stomach, rubbing affectionately.
His abdomen instinctively tightens at her cold touch, small ripples of heat flashing down to his groin and up his clenching thighs. The action is one of innocent adoration because Y/N always loved touching Harry’s tummy– liked the way the skin felt hot and smooth under her fingertips as it rose and fell rhythmically with his breathing. But it had managed to convert into something much more explicit in Harry’s perspective, her feathery fingers igniting sudden fireworks of sensual turmoil within his docile body.
His throat constricts, his words solidifying in his windpipe and preventing him from communicating. He forces the syllables out of his vocal chords, his sentence coming out croaky and strained. “The hot chocolate song?”
Y/N hums quietly, a certain giddiness lacing the sound. She looks up at him from her cozy spot in his chest, a smile peeking through as her eyes light up with delight. Her legs shift as she pushes herself up into a sitting position, her hands digging into the lower section of his ribs as her knee unintentionally applies a small pressure against his girth. The change in movements startles his suddenly sensitive cock and he has to swallow down a garbled squawk as she stares down at him with excitement.
“When I was younger, one of my primary school teachers taught gymnastics and she brought in a couple of her students to do some tricks for us. It was right before holiday break and they would go around the room doing cartwheels and hand springs! It was incredible, Harry.” Y/N leans forward and folds her arms against his upper chest, resting her body against his side as she plops her head onto her arms, her nose a few inches from his chin.
Harry wants to warn her that her leg is really starting to become an issue. He can feel blood starting to drain towards his crotch, a familiar itching filling the underside of his balls as a tiny twitch bucks his knee. His inhales of air turn bitter, the oxygen stinging the back of his throat as it goes down into his lungs and the way Y/N’s big, harmless eyes gaze at him with childish glee makes him want to tear out his hair by the fistfuls. He feels the edges of his eyes begin to water as he grows more desperate, the bulge in his sweats starting to throb for attention.
He wonders momentarily how it is possible for him to feel how warm her body is through her clothes, the heat she radiates reflecting off his own flesh and making beads of sweat pop out along the nape of his neck. She’s blabbering on about the similarities between the dancing servants in the film and the gymnasts she had met back when she was ten and, honestly, if she had offered the story any other time he would have loved to listen to her go on about it but his dick’s too hard, it’s too hot around his proximity and he really just wants some relief.
“…and this one boy– I think his name was Steven but don’t quote me on that because there was another boy with the same name but it was spelled with a ‘ph’ instead of a ‘v’, which would technically be pronounced ‘Stefan’ but it’s all about personal preference, right? Anyhow, he could juggle– just like you– and he was tossing around some pencil pouches and I guess he miscalculated a move and it socked him right in the eye!”
“Did it, now?” Harry’s breathing is coming out shallow and labored in tiny puffs, his sweatpants seeming to shrink around his hips and he starts to squirm. His prick is pulsing underneath Y/N’s knee and he doesn’t understand how she can’t feel it. “Hey, listen, doll, I really don’t wanna interrupt you but I’m– uh– having a little issue…”
“Harry, he had to go to the nurse! His eye got swollen shut although he wasn’t really cryi– wait, what?” Y/N’s expression molds from one of comical amusement into one full of concern. She leans in closer to him, her hair falling across her face and tickling his neck, only making the whole situation more unbearable. “What’s wrong?”
“I know you’re probably gonna be a bit pissed because you told me I had to learn some self-control but…” Harry trails off, one of his hands moving down her spine to cup the back of her left thigh. He hooks it up higher, moving her kneecap away from himself and onto the other side of his hips so that’s she is half-straddling, half-laying on him.
He hums, his eyes fluttering shut as he feels her muscles slide over his thighs, the momentary weight giving him a tiny spoonful of the ecstasy he is so badly craving. His eyes gaze up at her, her brows furrowed in misunderstanding. Harry softens his eyes to make them look doe-like and glossy, knowing very well that Y/N is a sucker for when he looks unsullied. His confession comes out panted and small but persistent nonetheless. “’M hard.”
Y/N stares at him for a few seconds with her eyes owlish and blank, her hands gripping the loose cotton material of his jumper in her fingers. Recognition seems to surge into her, the palms of her hands quickly lifting from his chest to smack back down, hard and angry, her expression cracking into one of inflamed disbelief.
“Ow!” Harry jerks against the bed, his eyes going wide with unsettled shock at her spontaneous reaction.
“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Y/N’s voice crackles with outrage (something he rarely sees in her) as she digs her nails into his collarbones. “I can’t believe you, Harry! After all I’ve told you about this happening you still won’t listen?”
“It’s not on purpose!” He counters, squeezing the thigh of the leg that had just been propped against his ballsack. “You’re the one that was rubbing me through my joggers! You weren’t really aware of it but–”
“Don’t pin this on me! Was I touching you last time you decided to go full on hard at your Mother’s birthday party? Or that time I had to suck you off in Niall’s coat closet because you had one too many beers at his FIFA World Cup Game Night?” She’s flapping one hand in the air for emphasis as she crawls off of him, heading for the edge of the bed with a look of utter disgust scrunching up her nose.
He knows he shouldn’t– he really shouldn’t because it’ll probably make her more upset– but his naïve instincts kick in at the sensitivity of the event she had taunted and he reaches out and grabs her ankle, his hand tightening around the knobby bone near her foot with his fingers tangling in the flimsy material of her pajama bottoms. Harry gives it a rough tug, the waist band of the pants giving out and gliding down her thighs and bottom to expose her baby blue panties with little blueberries dotted across the fabric.
“What are you–? Stop!” Y/N fumbles with her nightwear, glaring so hard at him that he feels he’s being sliced down the middle but he returns her grimace with one of his own.
“You said you wouldn’t bring that up!” Harry whines, kicking his legs out in what he knows to be a bratty, childish manner but he had sworn her to silence on that subject after it had happened. The boys already had a knack for pestering him on his low tolerance level on alcohol and the last thing he needs is his girlfriend using that weak link in his self-esteem to try and rid him of his erection. It’s not his fault that anytime he consumes liquor it tends to send his hormones into a frenzy.
“Yeah? Well, you said you’d try to keep this–” Y/N stares pointedly at the rising tent in between Harry’s legs, “– at a minimum. And look at you now, barely a week after your last ‘issue,’ doing it again on our movie night!”
“I didn’t mean for it to– oh, for fuck’s sake! Will you just suck me off real quick and this can all be over and forgotten?” Harry pushes himself up until his back is fully pressed against the headboard of their bed, his colossal hands drowning in his burnished curls. He quickly twists the slightly damp mess of strands into a disheveled bun, tying it off with an elastic he had on his wrist. It is insufferably hot in the room and he feels like he’s just opened up an oven and been blasted with waves of rigid heat.
Harry pins his eyes to Y/N’s, sexual rashness expanding into the shiny jade of his irises as he wordlessly begs her to aid him. Her aspect is smoldering, her lips tilted down in a disapproving frown as she gives her head a firm shake.
“I’m not going to get you off. If I keep giving you what you want every time this happens it will never stop. I’m sorry, H, but you’re not getting anything from me.” Y/N’s voice is steady and stern as she locks gazes with him, her legs crossing beneath her body where she resides across from him– to far from reach– arms folding across her chest with finality.
Harry keens loudly, his lower lip quivering with frustration as he watches her turn her attention to the dancing characters on the television. Her back turns to him cruelly, the excess material of his t-shirt she’s wearing pooling around her waist and exposing the curve of one of her shoulders as she settles herself comfortably away from him.
“Are you really doing this?” He whimpers brokenly (he knows she feels guilty anytime he whimpers– it’s worked miracles before), pouting his crimson lips at the back of her head, hoping she turns around.
Y/N’s body doesn’t react at all– not a twitch of an arm or a shake of her head– but continues to sit stiffly unresponsive, her back frigid with defiance.
Harry looks down at his pulsing center, feeling precome slowly oozing out against his underwear briefs and wetting the entire head of his hyperactive cock. His sweaty thighs squeeze together futilely, complaining about the lack of release that is being provided. He heaves a sigh, fingers curling into his palm with his nails digging crescents into the mounded flesh, his body threatening to implode on itself.
“Fine.” He huffs gruffly, reaching behind him and tugging at the hood of his grey sweatshirt until it is removed from his skin and discarded in a pile beside him, goosebumps washing down his inked arms and chest as the significantly cooler air caresses his pores. “I’ll do it myself.”
He smirks triumphantly as he sees his girlfriend’s right knee buckle for a second, the reaction showing that she is indeed aware of what he was doing. The silent treatment she is bent on following won’t be lasting for much longer, Harry concludes. Not if he has anything to do with it.
His back is sticky with sweat as he shifts, his legs stretching out fully before him so that the tips of his toes brush the curve of Y/N’s lower spine. Her back spasms momentarily but her head keeps itself trained towards the flat screen across the room. He widens out his knees a tad, enough so he can feel his balls settling against the cushioned surface beneath him. A teeny wisp of relief slips his lips as he feels his prick rubbing against his joggers, cool air flooding the crevices of his groin and airing out all of the pent up arousal.
Harry proceeds to shimmy his way out of his bottoms, kicking them off and scooting them towards Y/N. The piled up black cloth ends up right next to her, tempting her to look back to see him promisingly pantsless. When she doesn’t oblige he just shrugs, peeling of his undergarment and tossing it into the tiny mound of clothes adjacent to his stubbornly unshakable girlfriend.
‘She’s got stamina, I’ll give her that.’ He thinks to himself, glancing down at how his dick is flushed against his abdomen, standing up proudly as if celebrating its freedom. He takes a hold of it, purposely not filtering the shaky hiss that streams through his gritted teeth.
“’M slick and hard,” he calls towards her invitingly, one of his brows lifting up curiously to see if she would finally give in. “Won’t even need lube. Would be a shame to let this go to waste.”
No answer. The colors from the ongoing movie wash across Y/N’s slightly slouching form, casting a dull blue shadow behind her to be Harry’s only physical companion. She’s holding up her end quiet strongly and he wishes for her to just agree to his suggestive actions and fuck him senseless so they could move on, but he knows she won’t. Y/N has too much strength of will and when she wants to prove something, she will go to the ends of the universe to accomplish it. But Harry will be damned if he doesn’t at least try to shackle her loose.
His fist begins to move steadily against himself, his palm stroking against his veiny foreskin as his index finger swipes over the slit of his glossy tip. He begins to rub circles around the head with his thumb, milky precome bubbling freely from his tip to cascade down his whole length, dripping over his balls and onto the creme beige sheets of their queen-sized bed. The tortured moan that pours from inside him is so raw it makes his throat ache, the sheer need for climax clawing at his lungs.
Harry’s hand picks up its pace, jerking him off spastically with short pumps that have his legs thrashing against the comforter as cries for mercy scrape from his throat. “Y/N, baby, please…Help Daddy, yeah? Need your warmth– mmhhhh…”
Harry can see the way her body is quaking at his words and he leans his head farther back against the wooden bed-piece, a smug grin creasing his cheeks and making his dimples pop into place.
Y/N’s smaller hands fist at his rumpled mound of clothes, trying to keep her composure but he can see her collectedness dwindling down to a scarce drop. It’s obvious from the way her breathing has become fretful to how her legs buckle under her and the muted light of the TV reflects off of a few beads of sweat that glide down the side of her neck that she’s done for– signed, sealed and delivered.
“You can punish me, if it suits you fit.” Harry’s words carry over in airy groans, his toes curling against the sheets as his knees intuitively spread open wider, hips thrusting up into his palm while his other hand reaches behind him and grips the edge of the headboard. “Feelin’ it kinda rough tonight, actually. A little bit o-of– fuck– choking, maybe some spanking– you know where my belts are, angel. Knock yourself out.”
Y/N finally caves in, whipping around onto her hands and knees, her eyes shiny in the dim lighting of the bedroom. Anger swirls with lust within her, all control over herself being flung across the room and forgotten.
Harry stares down at her over the tops of his cheeks, teething at the corner of his lips as he waits for her to advance onto him. His hand doesn’t seize its movements, his cock twitching within his fingers and she stares at it with an ominous hunger he recognizes too well.
Y/N’s glare grazes his willing body, tracing the outlines of the muscles in his arms and along with the sharp structure of his glistening collarbones. His head is thrown back, his jawline on full display as the tendons along his jaw tick with excitement. The veins in his neck bulge under his skin, ready to burst spurts of euphoric kerosine, flames lapping across his wet arms and fire boiling inside his bones.
Harry gives her a conceited snort. “Why don’t you come over here and teach me how to be a good boy?”
She’s toppling him over before he can realize what is happening, clothing items flying around him in a blur of polar bears and light blue. He is slammed back against the headboard with an extreme force, Y/N’s nails digging into his throat and making it a bit difficult to breathe, but he enjoys it– lives for it. He feels her weight sitting into his lap, cold, bare thighs brushing the warm skin of his own as she towers over him a few inches.
Harry stares up at her with an arrogant, lob-sided smile as his eyes gleam with hazy victory, a small cough grinding from his strained jugular. Her eyes are alight with desire as her arms wrap around his neck, her bare crotch dabbing against his shaft as it is pressed against his thigh, neglected.
“I’ve been so bad, Y/N. I know I don’t deserve this…” He speaks shakily to appeal to her weaknesses but a part of him really means it. He knows she was excited to see this movie with him because she had finally gotten a month off for her holiday break from uni and her job had given her an early rest as well so, naturally, she wanted to cuddle up with him to enjoy the film. His irresponsibility had ruined their movie night but he swears it to her he’ll make it up– he’ll rent a load of Christmas movies and buy mounds of junk food and they’ll pig out an entire night just watching anything and everything she wants to. But as of right now, he was going to get so fucked over his balls would be numb for the next hour.
“I hate you.” Y/N states flatly, digging her nails into his shoulder blades as her heat rocks against his awaiting hard-on. “But I don’t care about it right now. Just tell me how you want it.”
Harry dwells lovingly into her eyes for a few scarce moments, thanking her silently for understanding his problem. He then snakes his arms loosely around her waist, pulling her down by her borrowed t-shirt (which she had decided to keep on) until they are at eye level. He kisses all over her face, along her nose and cheeks and across her eyelids until a small smile plays with the edges of her rosy lips.
“Can you bounce on my cock, moppet?” He huffs out against her right cheek, swallowing the lump in his throat as she shifts herself steady onto her knees on either side of his hips. “Think you can do that for me?”
“Yep,” Y/N answers swiftly, reaching down and gently tucking the swollen head of Harry’s prick into her tight, hot hole. She eases her way down his length, savoring the watery whine that gurgles deep inside his throat. “Yeah, I’ve got you.”
“Good– s'good…” Harry leans the back of his head against the hard surface of the headboard again, soft weeps gulping the tense air around their heated bodies.
Y/N burrows her face into the dip of his neck, her teeth biting into the side of his throat and he cries out, gritting his own teeth as delicious pain twists into his nerves.
“You need to learn to keep yourself in check.” She rolls her hips in small circles, drawing herself up slowly only to allow her walls to sink back over him at an agonizing pace. “You’re impossible sometimes, goddamnit.”
Harry gazes up at her, pleadingly apologetic, his large hands groping her sides to help her ride him to subspace. He nods his head furiously, promises of better behavior gushing from his mouth without restraint as his eyes flick to her bouncing breasts under the thin material of the shirt she’s wearing, the outline of her nipples standing up nice and perky. “I’ll be good, I’ll get better, I swear.”
“I’m sure you will.” Y/N hums, raking her nails over his shoulders and down his chest to leave angry red scratches in their wake, a satisfying pain rippling across the affected skin.
“Close– ’m close.” Harry swallows down pitiful whimpers, his voice coming out gravely raspy. His release is radiating in his girth, threatening to spill into her at any second.
Y/N has picked up her rhythm, slamming down onto him unforgivingly as his body begins to come apart at the seams. Climax is burning through the air as her thighs twitch against Harry’s, the sweet caresses of his skin against her’s tearing her down layer by layer yet she knows she won’t fully come undone in time, but she doesn’t mind. Her full focus is on Harry and only Harry.
Y/N pulls at the messy bun he has put his hair up into, snapping his head back so that the front of his throat is exposed, pliant and vulnerable. She gently suckles at his bobbing Adam’s Apple, winding her fingers ‘round and 'round in his silky ringlets.
His mouth falls open with spastic intakes of air, whole body beginning to flail and wriggle under her own. His eyes are flooding with sensual relief, brimming over to the point where tears squeeze out of the edges. “O-Oh, yeah– right there, kitten, right there! Oh, God, baby girl– fuck Daddy raw! Fuck me so hard, so g-good– ahhh!”
Y/N trails one hand down to Harry’s chest as she bites down on his quivering lips, her index finger and thumb tweaking at his right nipple as he grapples around. “So, apparently, you have a pain kink?”
“That obvious, h-huh?” He jerks against her, hips ramming up unconsciously to try and reach his tipping point. His nails are indenting crescents into her sides, secret evidence of this encounter that will mark her for days to come.
Y/N squeezes his nipple a little harder, revering in the carnal scream that tears at the atmosphere around them. “A bit, yeah.”
Harry’s eyes seem to shatter into a billion shards, splintering from the intensity of the orgasm that rocks his being to the core. He floods her insides with his load over and over, spurting out until a tugging sensation writhes at the pit of his stomach. A feeling of being submerged in a vat of pure warmth washes across his limbs and numbs his face, features going slack as the last of his release drains away.
“Well, that didn’t take very long.” Y/N pants out, giving his shoulder a playful shove and then pressing her chapped lips against his damp forehead to soothe him.
He leans his head forward into her soft chest until she tumbles onto her back, him following suit. Harry tangles his legs with her’s and cracks a wry, tired smile. “Told…told you it wouldn’t…”
Y/N smooths back the loose strands of hair that had dismantled from his up-do, kissing the tip of his nose as his eyes flutter shut. He slowly withdraws himself from within her slick warmth with a sharp hiss, feeling a slight suction as she slips away from his hypersensitive, softening dick.
She leans over and picks up his briefs from the pile of his clothes, crawling over to his feet to help him slip back into the undergarment. The soft cotton glides over his knees and up his thighs, causing a shiver to vibrate down his spine. Y/N carefully takes hold of his flaccid, fluid-glazed prick, tucking it into the briefs and patting his thigh when done. She flings back next to him, cozying herself against his side.
Harry takes comfort in the steady rise and fall of her chest as she focuses her attention back onto the once-forgotten film, it being about three-fourths of the way over by now. He pays it his full respect, a wistful residue of his gut-twisting release lingering in the pit of his stomach as he lays there in full relaxation.
When credits roll around he has finally recovered enough to sit up onto his elbows, his body flipping over onto Y/N’s as she stares up at the ceiling blankly.
“You didn’t come.” He sighs blatantly, one of his hands squeezing the curve of her bum while he brushes his swollen lips up and down her left shoulder. She just shrugs, seeming indifferent to the conversation.
His brows dip downwards, mind confused. “You don’t wanna come?”
Y/N shrugs again, sighing lightly as she passes one hand over his bare chest, pressing her hot lips to his jaw. “Don’t really care. Not that horny right now.”
“Wanna eat you out, though.” Harry murmurs, turning his head so that her lips smear against his.
She laughs into the kiss, bopping their foreheads together. “What’d you say before? 'Knock yourself out.’”
“Alright.” He grins at her brightly, sponging his lips down the slope of her neck, following her chest further down. “Gonna tongue fuck you, yeah?”
Y/N stares at him with awed surprise, the subject completely foreign to her. “Tongue fuck? Like, put it inside?”
“Yeah. Heard it feels real good. Like, good g-spot stimulation and what not. Y'know, since the tongue is flexible.” Harry’s sentences are muffled by her flesh as he is halfway down her stomach now, suckling the skin along her navel into his mouth and biting gently. He sneaks a finger into the band that is keeping his hair out of his face, pulling it loose so that his stringy curls fall down against his jaw. He knows Y/N can’t resist diving her hands into his hair because she always tells him how much she likes feeling the softness against her fingertips so he looks up at her through his heavy lashes, waiting.
“Sounds promising. Think it’ll work for the g-spot, though? It’s kinda high up in there, innit?” Y/N is rolling around in the pillows to adjust herself correspondingly to him, spreading her legs wide open for his taking. She notices his change in scenery and immediately goes for his roots, curling her fingers in so tight it makes Harry let loose a sharp little whine.
He rests himself between her legs, rubbing his knuckles tenderly against the fleshy skin of her inner thighs and then pushing his t-shirt up onto her soft tummy to expose her fully to him as he eyes her. “Guess we’re about to find out.”
A few moments later Harry is nose deep into her cunt and from the way she’s screaming and thrashing, he thinks it’s safe to say it worked.
__________________________ A/N: heyooo! Thanks for reading my imagine :D I really hope you enjoyed it and I apologize for any typos or any other flaws. As always, all the love! x – Andrea :-)